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witchthewriter · 2 years

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𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 & 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐳 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧🌼 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭🌻 𝐁𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞?🎁

𝑨𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 (not taking requests)

𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑰 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 🔮

➥ (requests are open) ➥ smut ✅ (18+ only) ➥ comissions

𝑊𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑐𝘩-𝑢𝑝 𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑?

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈

⸻ ✶✺✮ ⸻

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚.

𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

・Game of Thrones / Merlin ⇢🦋Merlin and Pod pining over you would include ⇢🦋Jaskier and Jesper pining over you would include ⇢🦋Ivar with a Targaryen s/o would include

𝐴 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑠 & 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 🌹

↳ “ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʙᴀᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴏʏ.”

⭑ Feyre Archeron ⇢ fancast ⇢ being in a poly relationship with her and rhysand

⭑ Rhysand ⇢ fancast ⇢ being in a poly relationship with him and feyre ⭑ Cassian ⇢ fancast ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship with him and nesta ⭑ Azriel ⇢ fancast ⇢ being a witch & his s/o would include ⭑ Mor ⇢ fancast

⭑ Amren ⇢ fancast ⇢ being her mate would include

⭑ Nesta Archeron ⇢ fancast ⇢ being in a poly relationship with her and cassian ⭑ Elain Archeron ⇢ fancast

⭑ Lucien ⇢ fancast

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒓🥕

↳ "ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴇꜱᴛᴀᴜʀᴀɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ʟᴏꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ."

⭑ Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto ⇢ being the new employee at the shop would include

𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑆𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠 🏴‍☠️

↳ “ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ. ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴀᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ɪᴛ.”

⭑ John Silver ⇢ being a fearsome pirate and married to him would include

𝐵𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑉𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑆𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟🌷

↳ "ᴅɪᴅ ᴡᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ‘ɢʀʀ’ ɪɴ ɢɪʀʟ?“

⭑ Buffy Summers ⇢ dating would include ⭑ Willow Rosenberg ⇢ dating would include

⭑ Angel ⇢ dating would include ⭑ Xander Harris ⇢ dating would include ⭑ Rupert Giles ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Spike ⇢ with a short s/o would include ⇢ with a british s/o would include ⇢ with a trans ftm s/o would include ⇢ smitten spike (imagine/drabble) ⇢ how he would win your love ⭑ Faith Lehane ⇢ being her s/o would include

𝐶𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑁𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑎 🍃

↳"ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴏʀ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ɴᴀʀɴ��ᴀ, ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴏʀ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ɴᴀʀɴɪᴀ."

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

⇢ being a fairy and the pevensie’s s/o, visiting them in the human world would include

⭑ High King Peter the Magnificent ⇢ being his wife would include

⭑ Queen Susan the Gentle ⇢ being a fawn & dating her would include

⭑ King Edmund the Just ⇢ being his wife and part narnian would include

⭑ Queen Lucy the Valiant ⇢ being her best friend would include ⇢ being Lilliandil’s sister and lucy falling in love with you would include

⭑ Prince Caspian ⇢ being married to him would include

⭑ Eustace ⇢ visiting narnia with him would include

⭑ Mr Tumnus ⇢ being his s/o would include

𝐷𝐶 ⚖️

↳"ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?”

⭑ Harley Quinn ⇢ dating would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship with her & ivy would include ⭑ Black Canary ⇢ being a vigilante & her s/o would include ⭑ Poison Ivy ⇢ fancast ⇢ being in a poly relationship with her & harley would include ⇢ being a gotham city siren & dating Ivy would include ⭑ Selina Kyle/Catwoman ⇢ dating would include

⭑ Wonder Woman ⇢ dating would include ⭑ Aquaman ⇢ being a gotham city siren as well as his s/o would include

𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆 & 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅

↳"ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ ʟɪᴋᴇᴡɪꜱᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴅᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ꜰᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘɪᴛʏ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ."

⭑ Visenya Targaryen ⇢ fancast ⇢ being a Velaryon and her s/o would include

⭑ Rhaenys Targaryen ⇢ fancast

⭑ Aegon Targaryen ⇢ fancast

𝐺𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 ♔

↳"ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪꜱ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀꜱ.“

⭑ Daenarys Targaryen ⇢ being her s/o would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her and sansa would include ⭑ Sansa Stark ⇢ being her wife would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her and margaery would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her and dany would include ⇢ her falling in love with a serving girl would include

⭑ Robb Stark ⇢ being a secret lannister and his wife would include ⭑ Jon Snow ⇢ being his s/o would include ⭑ Sandor Clegane ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ sfw alphabet ⭑ Podrick Payne ⇢ being a witch & his s/o would include ⭑ Brienne of Tarth ⇢ being her chaotic s/o would include ⭑ Margaery Tyrell ⇢ being a baratheon and her s/o would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her and sansa would include ⇢ being Dany’s sister & in a secret relationship w/ Margaery would include ⇢ how she would comfort her s/o would include ⇢ sfw alphabet

⭑ Jaime Lannister ⇢ being a Targaryen and his s/o would include ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 ⚡️

↳"ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ.”

🇲🇦🇷🇦🇺🇩🇪🇷 🇵🇷🇪🇫🇪🇷🇪🇳🇨🇪🇸

⇢ Smut with them includes ⇢ the marauders as dads would include

🇵🇷🇪🇫🇪🇷🇪🇳🇨🇪🇸

⇢ the gryffindors as dads would include

⭑ Harry Potter ⇢ dating would include ⇢ your wedding

⭑ Hermione Granger ⇢ dating would include

⭑ Ron Weasley ⇢ being his chaotic s/o would include

⭑ Fred Weasley ⇢ being muggle-born and his s/o would include

⭑ Neville Longbottom ⇢ being married would include

⭑ Luna Lovegood ⇢ having a transgender s/o would include

⭑ Draco Malfoy

⭑ James Potter ⇢ being in a poly relationship with him and remus would include

⭑ Sirius Black ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Remus Lupin ⇢ fancast ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship with him and james would include ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑏𝑏𝑖𝑡 ※

↳“ɪ'ᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴀɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ!”

⭑ Kili ⇢ being a hobbit & his s/o would include

𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛 🐉

↳"ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴜꜱ ᴋɪɴɢꜱ. ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴꜱ ᴅɪᴅ."

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

⇢ reacting to a bad dream ⇢ holidays with them would include ⇢ how they show their love

⭑ Rhaenyra Targaryen ⇢ having a crush on you would include ⇢ in a secret relationship would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & harwin would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her, daemon & harwin would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her and alicent would include

⭑ Daemon Targaryen ⇢ being his wife would include ⇢ being his s/o and bonding with caraxes would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ him, harwin & rhaenyra would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ him & aemond would include ⇢ with a chinese dragon seed s/o would include

⭑ Ser Harwin Strong ⇢ being his wife would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ him and rhaenyra would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ him, daemon & rhaenyra would include ⇢ first interaction ⇢ him falling in love with you would include ⇢ nsfw alphabet

⭑ Rhaenys Targaryen II ⇢ her falling in love with a younger woman would include

⭑ Alicent Hightower ⇢ in a secret relationship would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her and rhaenyra would include

⭑ Aemond Targaryen ⇢ being a stark and married would include ⇢ with a dragon seed s/o who claimed cannibal would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ him & daemon would include

⭑ Otto Hightower ⇢ nsfw headcanons ⇢ with an enfp wife would include

⭑ Jacaerys Velaryon ⇢ fancast ⇢ being the firstborn baratheon princess, a witch and his s/o would include

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐻𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝐺𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠🥂

↳"ᴍᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴅᴅꜱ ʙᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀ!"

⭑ Katniss Everdeen ⇢ having a crush on you would include

𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐴𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑢𝑟: 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 🗡

↳“ᴡʜʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ?”

⭑ King Arthur ⇢ having a crush on you would include ⇢ being betrothed would include (pirate!reader)

𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑅𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ֍

↳ “ᴅᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴠᴀʟɪᴀɴᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇᴅ.”

⭑ Aragorn ⇢ with a chaotic s/o would include

⭑ Legolas ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ being his pregnant wife would include

⭑ Arwen ⇢ being a witch under gandalf & her s/o would include

⭑ Boromir ⇢ being a witch & his s/o would include

𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑙 / 𝑀𝐶𝑈 ☾

↳ "ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴅᴀʏ.“

⭑ Wanda Maximoff/The Scarlet Witch ⇢ being Ultron! Wanda’s s/o would include ⇢ being WandaVisions! Wanda’s s/o would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & nat would include ⭑ Natasha Romanoff ⇢ dating would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & wanda would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & steve would include ⭑ Yelena Belova ⇢ being a witch & yelena’s s/o ⭑ Druig ⇢ being a witch and dating would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ him & bucky would include ⭑ Steven Grant / Mr Knight ⇢ steven helps reader while at work on her periods ⇢ how you & steven got together ⇢ dating the avator of Ra would include

⭑ Frank Castle ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Loki ⇢ dating would include ⭑ Frost Giant Loki ⇢ dating would include ⭑ Thor ⇢ dating endgame thor would include ⭑ Bucky Barnes ⇢ being his plus-sized s/o would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ him & druig would include ⭑ Steve Rogers ⇢ with a plus-size s/o would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ him & nat would include

𝑀𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛 ♚

↳"ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜱᴘᴏᴏɴ?"

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

⇢ how the knights show their love ⇢ how they court you ⇢ the knights as fathers ⇢ your first time together

⭑ Merlin ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ with a s/o who doesn’t have magic would include

⭑ King Arthur ⇢ falling in love with a kindhearted witch would include

⭑ Queen Guinevere ⇢ being her s/o would include ⇢ sleepover w/ her and morgana would include

⭑ Morgana ⇢ being a princess who falls in love with her would include ⇢ sleepover w/ her and gwen would include

⭑ Sir Percival ⇢ being a witch & his s/o would include

⭑ Sir Lancelot ⇢ being fae and his wife would include

⭑ Sir Gawaine ⇢ being his wife would include ⇢ being merlin’s best friend and having a crush on gwaine would include

⭑ Sir Leon ⇢ being his wife would include

⭑ Sir Elyan ⇢ a journey with him would include

𝑃𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑦 𝐵𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 ✧

↳"ᴍᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ʜᴀʟꜰ ʜᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ.”

⭑ Thomas Shelby ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Alfie Solomons ⇢ being his wife would include

⭑ Arthur Shelby ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ John Shelby ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Ada Shelby ⇢ being her s/o would include

𝑃𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑛 ☠

↳"ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʀᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱɪʟᴠᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏʟᴅ, ᴍᴀᴛᴇ.“

⭑ Captain Jack Sparrow ⇢ him being fond of you would include

⭑ Elizabeth Swann ⇢ being her pirate s/o would include

⭑ Will Turner ⇢ being an immortal pirate & his s/o would include

𝑆𝘩𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 & 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑒 ✺

↳ "ꜰɪɴᴇ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ.”

⭑ Kaz Brekker ⇢ being his s/o would include

⭑ Inej Ghafa ⇢ being her s/o would include

⭑ Alina Starkov ⇢ being her s/o would include (sfw)

⭑ Nina Zenik ⇢ being an inferni grisha & her best friend would include

⭑ Zoya Nazyalensky ⇢ protective headcanons ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & genya would include ⇢ with an INTP s/o would include

⭑ Matthias Helvar ⇢ being his wife would include

⭑ Genya Safin ⇢ being her gf would include ⇢ zoya’s younger sister being with genya would include ⇢ being in a poly relationship w/ her & zoya would include ⭑ Nikolai Lantsov ⇢ dating would include ⇢ having a pirate s/o would include

The Darkling ⇢ being a moon summoner and his s/o would include

𝑆𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑠 ⛺

↳ "ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ: ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴀʙʟᴇ."

⭑ James Cook ⇢ being his s/o would include

𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑐𝘩𝑦 🍀

↳"ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴜᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ.“

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

・how they act when they have a crush on you

⭑ Jax Teller ⇢ being his old lady would include

⭑ Chibs Telford ⇢ being his old lady would include

𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ☢

↳"ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ. ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ'ʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ. ɪɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.”

ᴍɪsᴄ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs:

─ being the resident badass in hawkins ─ being a witch in the hawkins group ─ being the chessmaster with heart in hawkins ─ being the cranky grandparent in the hawkins group ─ being the wine aunt/uncle in the hawkins group ─ movie night with the gang

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

⇢ being their short s/o would include

⭑ Eddie Munson ⇢ dating would include ⇢ modern dating headcanons ⇢ Vampire! Eddie headcanons ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ s/o with arthiritist would include ⇢ drabble from his secret admirer ⇢ nsfw alphabet ⇢ having a platonic autistic relationship would include ⇢ with an ENFP s/o

⭑ Steve Harrington ⇢ babysitting w/ steve ⇢ dating would include ⇢ having a relationship like goose & carol ⇢ with an autistic s/o would include ⇢ your cat liking steve includes

⭑ Jim Hopper ⇢ dating would include

⭑ Joyce Byers ⇢ dating would include

⭑ Jonathan Byers ⇢ dating would include

⭑ Argyle ⇢ dating would include ⇢ with an autistic s/o would include

⭑ Nancy Wheeler ⇢ dating would include ⇢ lil date drabble ⭑ Robin Buckley ⇢ dating would include

⭑ Chrissy Cunningham ⇢ going on a date would include

𝑇𝘩𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐺𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 ♚

↳ “ɴᴏ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ— ɪꜰ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴀʟ.”

⭑ Aelin Galathynius ⇢ fancast ⭑ Rowan Whitethorn ⇢ fancast

⭑ Dorian Havilliard ⇢ fancast

⭑ Manon Blackbeak ⇢ fancast ⇢ dating would include

⭑ Yrene Towers ⇢ fancast ⇢ being a witch and her s/o would include ⇢ poly relationship with yrene, elide and reader

⭑ Chaol Westfall ⇢ fancast

⭑ Aedion Ashryver ⇢ fancast

⭑ Lysandra ⇢ fancast

⭑ Elide Lochan ⇢ fancast ⇢ being her s/o would include ⇢ poly relationship with yrene, elide and reader

⭑ Lorcan Salvaterre ⇢ fancast

⭑ Fenrys ⇢ fancast

⭑ Gavriel ⇢ fancast ⇢ being his mate and looking after him would include

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑀𝑎𝑧𝑒 𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟🌳

↳“ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ… ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ.”

⭑ Thomas ⇢ being with someone who has ADHD would include

⭑ Newt ⇢ jealous of his medjack gf would include

⭑ Minho ⇢ with a plus size s/o

⭑ Gally ⇢ being his s/o would include ⇢ with a short s/o

𝑇𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 ✺

↳“ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɴᴏᴡ.”

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

⇢ the cullen’s nicknames for you

⭑ Bella Swan ⇢ being her s/o would include ⇢ being her witch s/o would include

⭑ Edward Cullen ⇢ with a witch s/o would include

⭑ Carlisle Cullen ⇢ nsfw headcanons ⇢ with a shy s/o would include

⭑ Esme Cullen ⇢ nsfw alphabet

⭑ Rosalie Hale ⇢ being her vampire mate would include ⇢ nsfw alphabet

⭑ Emmett Cullen ⇢ with a witch mate would include

⭑ Alice Cullen ⇢ being a human and dating would include ⇢ having a witch mate would include

⭑ Tanya Denali ⇢ being her vampire soulmate would include

⭑ Paul Lahote ⇢ nsfw headcanons

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝟷𝟶𝟶 ⚘

↳"ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ɪᴛ.“

⭑ Bellamy Blake ⇢ being apart of the 100 and his s/o would include

⭑ Octavia Blake ⇢ being her s/o would include

⭑ Raven Reyes ⇢ ’the raven & the wolf’ (imagine, wife reader)

⭑ Commander Lexa ⇢ being her wife would include

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑈𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝐴𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑦 ⛱

↳ "ꜱᴏʟɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ.”

⭑ Klaus ⇢ with a writer gf would include

𝑉𝑖𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ⚔️

↳ "ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇᴍꜱᴇʟᴠᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ.”

⭑ Ragnar ⇢ sfw alphabet

⭑ Bjorn ⇢ being with bjorn would include ⭑ Ivar ⇢ ivar with a chubby s/o

⭑ Ubbe ⇢ sfw alphabet

𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑑 💀

↳"ʀᴇꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ. ɴᴏᴡ ɢᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ, ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀʀ.“

⭑ Daryl Dixon ⇢ dating would include ⇢ proposal imagine ⇢ with a plus size s/o would include

⭑ Rick Grimes ⇢ being coleader of the group and his s/o would include

⭑ Negan ⇢ having a crush on you would include

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑊𝑒 𝐷𝑜 𝐼𝑛 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑠 🥀

↳“ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴꜱ."

⭑ Nadja ⇢ nsfw alphabet

⭑ Guillermo ⇢ being a werewolf and his s/o would include

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟 ✶

↳ "ʙᴇᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴀɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴇɴ ᴜꜱᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴅɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ."

⭑ Yennefer of Vengerberg ⇢ nsfw headcanons

⭑ Jaskier ⇢ falling in love with a princess would include ⇢ falling in love with triss merigold’s sister would include

𝒀𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆

↳ "ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪᴢᴇꜱ. ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ."

⭑ Rip Wheeler ⇢ being his wife would include

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morallyinept · 1 month

Text

Lovely @the-blind-assassin-12 set a cool challenge called March Madness where the challenge was to read and re-blog 63 fics in the month of March.

So, here is everything I read & re-blogged during this month...

TOTAL READ & RE-BLOGGED ACROSS BOTH POSTS: 100 🥵

PART 2 OF 2 - Part 1 here

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics 🖤

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES: (In No Particular Order)

Babysitter - Dave York - @auteurdelabre

Is There Space Left In That Bathtub? - Ezra - We Should Probably Leave Before We Start A Scandal - Javier Peña - @jksprincess10

Mutual - Lucien Flores - @luxurychristmaspudding

Chained - Lucien Flores - @5oh5

Chevelle - Joel Miller - @strang3lov3

Come In, Atled Air, Come In - Frankie Morales - A Baker's Dozen Ezra Part 2 - Ezra - @avastrasposts

Glory O - Javier Peña/Steve Murphy - @milla-frenchy

Knife - Dave York - Scandal - Dieter Bravo - @wannab-urs

Scars - Joel Miller - @romanarose

Some Good Friend - Tim Rockford - The Howler Monkey - Dieter Bravo - @covetyou

Not Without You - Lucien Flores - @musings-of-a-rose

Whatever My Wife Wants - Javier Peña - @javierpena-inatacvest

Hungry Eyes - Lucien Flores - @missredherring

Two Pack Habit & A Motel Tan - Lucien Flores - What Have I Done? - Frankie Morales - @trulybetty

This High Of You & Me - Lucien Flores - @kedsandtubesocks

Sunrise - Imagine Your Own Pedro Boy - @sawymredfox

Nicotine Kiss - Lucien Flores - @maggiemayhemnj

Que Manera De Despertar - Javier Peña - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Keep Me In Your Glow - Javier Peña - @atticrissfinch

It's Hard - Joel Miller - The Worst - Tom 'Redfly' Davis/Frankie Morales - @toxicanonymity

The Rite Of Movement Drabble - Joel Miller - @tightjeansjavi

Midnight Strikes, Where Is My Prince? - Frankie Morales - A Debt To Pay - Frankie Morales - Cinema Drabble - Frankie Morales - @undercoverpena

Go Your Own Way - Javier Peña - The One - Dieter Bravo - @schnarfer

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - Marcus Pike - @whataperfectwasteoftime

Three's A Crowd - Dave York - Constellations In His Eyes - Dave York - @janaispunk

Amateur - Joel Miller - @ezrasbirdie

The Sequel - Marcus Pike - @toomanystoriessolittletime

Aquarius - Javier Peña - En El Mar - Joel Miller - Taurus - Joel Miller - Vote For Ted - Ted Garcia - @magpiepills

Please, Mister, Please - Joel Miller - @grogusmum

Between Two Lungs - Joel Miller/Tess Servopoulos - Sweet Days Of Summer - Joel Miller - Breath By Breath - Joel Miller - @ozarkthedog

Memories - Dieter Bravo - @bitchesuntitled

Cabin Fever - Joel Miller - @gutsby

Nylon Lust - Joel Miller - Beskar & Pearls - Din Djarin - @decembermidnight

Toy Story - Joel Miller - @sweetenerobert

House Arrest - Dieter Bravo - @rulexofxnines

Only For You - Marcus Pike - @burntheedges

First Time With Joel - Joel Miller - @wildemaven

Say Goodbye - Dave York - @quicax3

Movie Night - Zach Wellison - @munsonownsmyass

Out Of Sight - Dave York - @goodwithcheese

Practice Makes Perfect - Ted Garcia - @notjustjavierpena

Taste You - Dieter Bravo - @alwaysmicado

Cruel Summer - Dieter Bravo - @fhatbhabie

Something To Prove - Frankie Morales - @writefightandflightclub

Let Me Lay Down Beside You - Joel Miller - @jomiddlemarch

TOTAL READ & RE-BLOGGED ACROSS BOTH POSTS: 100 🥵

JETT'S FAV FIC RECS MASTERLIST

#marchficmadness24 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #everything I read in march #jett's fic recs

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lorcandidlucienwill · 1 month

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Many people have a headcanon that the stranger who appeared at the Archerons’ door asking Papa Archeron to invest was Lucien, so I decided to write the scene! This is the first coherent thing I’ve written in ages so don’t judge me too hard😭 Also I have no idea what currency is used in acotarland so I’m using pounds because it’s based on Britain.

Lucien had not even seen a human house yet and he already felt like an outsider. He was no stranger to the feeling; it was how he’d felt when he’d first shown up in Spring, covered in his brothers’ blood, steam curling off his body from the fire in his veins, his ember smell and red hair both clear signs that he didn’t belong. However, at least, while his magic had felt weaker outside of his home territory, it had still felt potent. Even with Amarantha’s stupid curse. But here… By the Cauldron, this place was so dreary. So ordinary. If this was where Feyre had grown up, no wonder she was such an ignorant mortal fool. Her human life was so mundane compared to his. Lucien couldn’t imagine living here his whole life like this.

Tamlin had offered to send an entire entourage to protect him, but Lucien had insisted that just a horse would do. He needed to look wealthy, not like a prince. He wasn’t going to be slain by two girls and their absentee father. Andras had only been killed because he had willed it. Lucien shut down that thought, not wanting to think about the pain he’d felt when Andras had died. His closest friend in Spring, most likely. Tamlin was his friend too, but he was also his High Lord; the relationship was inherently unequal, unlike with Andras.

At last, Lucien exited the forest. The clearing was even more boring than the trees. The ground was a yellowish-green reminiscent of dying grass, and every step was a loud crunch under the horse’s hooves. Pahhh. No wonder Feyre was half-dead when she’d first arrived. Then Lucien felt guilty for thinking that way. It wasn’t her fault the humans were left like this. Prythian before Amarantha had ample resources to help out the humans, but they hadn’t. They’d freed them from slavery to the Fae, only to make them slaves to their basest instincts.

They were even worse off than the lesser faeries. Lucien’s eyes stung as he remembered Jesminda’s dream of an equal Prythian, the dream Tamlin was working hard towards. She would’ve loved Tamlin and the Spring Court.

Calm down Lucien, he chastised himself as he urged the horse onward. Holy shit, Tamlin hadn’t exaggerated; these homes and buildings were tiny. He moved through bustling streets with little humans pushing carts full of wares of some kind. Several stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Excellent; he set himself apart plenty simply being astride this mare.

As Tamlin had said, the Archeron home wasn’t hard to find. Mostly because of the lingering faerie scents that he followed all the way to their house. He didn’t remember human etiquette as it had been ages since he’d met one, but it couldn’t be that different from Faerie etiquette, right? Right?? Cauldron boil him, he should’ve done more research, but he didn’t think it would be that big a deal. Tamlin’s glamour magic that he’d cast as he kidnapped Feyre should hold, plus Lucien’s own glamour magic.

He didn’t have anything to tie his horse to, so he gently descended the horse and led her near the side of the house, praying that she wouldn’t run. Then he knocked on the door, internally cussing at this infernal hat he was wearing. Some gentlemanly human fashion that he despised.

The door opened a minute later. Lucien looked down at a small woman who looked a lot like Feyre- only, her features were sharper, stronger. Her dirty blonde hair was up in a braided crown, her angled brows were arched as her silvery-blue eyes assessed him with a courtier’s precision. Lucien instantly recognized this one as Nesta- the older sister. Cold, cunning, and more beautiful than Lucien had expected. He gave her a practiced courtier’s smile as he bowed to her. “Hello, Lady. I was wondering if your father was home?” Nesta stared at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. “What could you possibly want with him?” Another feminine voice in the background gasped, but Lucien maintained his smile, only replying, “He is a merchant, is he not, Lady? I have a proposition for him.”

“Our father hasn’t been a merchant in many years,” Nesta said coldly. Oh, she was a viper, alright. She’d fit right in at the Autumn Court. Unfortunately for her, Lucien had far too much experience with people worse than her. “Perhaps what I suggest will convince him to get back into it.”

Nesta looked him up and down again. Somehow, Lucien got the feeling that she could see through the glamour. Impressive. Lucien’s smile morphed into a smirk as Nesta continued to stare her displeasure. “See something you like, my lady?” Nesta’s eyes instantly snapped back to his. “How dare- oh just come in; let’s get this over with quickly.”

Lucien bowed again, and unable to help himself, he sent a wink and grin Nesta’s way before he turned towards the man sitting on the chair. Lucien repressed his wince of sympathy at the ruined leg. That must have hurt a lot when he got it. He didn’t know the story, but it made Lucien’s face twinge in memory of his own eye getting carved out. “Does that hurt?” Lucien asked the man, nodding at the leg. The man blinked, as though surprised to be addressed. “Often,” he admitted. “Particularly when I try to stand up.” Unable to help himself, Lucien blurted, “I could give you supplies to help you with that, you know, Lord.”

The man cringed. “Please just call me Tristan. And I couldn’t possibly accept-“

“Please, Tristan. I insist. It’s just in my satchel here. Give me one moment.” He bowed to him and turned around, the scent of jasmine wafting into his nose. That’s when he saw her.

The younger sister: Elain. She had the same burnished gold hair of her sisters, but her eyes were wholly different; she had lovely doe eyes that you could drown in. She had a slight blush on her face, and she had an inviting smile on her face as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Won’t you tell us your name, my lord?” Lucien had fully intended on giving them an alias, but he fumbled on his words, instead saying, “I-my name is Lucien.”

“Lucien.” His name on her tongue-

“Pretty name for a pretty lord,” Elain teased, and Lucien felt his face heat up. His shirt sleeve sparked with fire, and Lucien hastily patted it down. Why was he so nervous? Elain wasn’t the first beautiful woman he had ever seen. “Why, um, thank you, Lady Elain.”

“How do you know her name?” Nesta cut in, and Lucien sighed. She was even worse than Feyre. He turned to her, letting that practiced smile return. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about the family of the man who I’m trusting with my money, did you?” Lucien tried not to laugh at the expression on Nesta’s face as he sauntered out of the cabin to get the faerie pain killer and tonic. He made a mental note to get new ones once he went back home. This man needed it more than him, and he could just get more when he went home.

Thankfully, his horse was obediently standing near the side of the house, and Lucien rustled through his satchel, getting the two bottles he always kept on him. Then he strolled back towards the front door, knocking politely again. This time, the door was opened by Elain, who gave him that adorable smile again. “Lord Lucien.” Lucien gave her a real grin, replying, “Lady Elain.” “Please don’t worry about my sister. She can be a little…overprotective, but she means well, I promise.” Lucien lifted a hand to place on Elain’s shoulder assuredly before he remembered that humans were really weird about physical contact.

“Rest assured, I understand your sister’s misgivings. I’m a strange man entering your home, and I know of the struggles ladies must go through in this world. I do not resent her for her attitude.” Elain beamed. “Does that mean you’ll visit us again?” While Lucien had been careful to avoid physical contact, it seemed Elain had no such qualms; she grabbed his forearm with her small, surprisingly strong hands. Lucien stiffened slightly in surprise. He was going to say no when he caught a glimpse of her expression and scented her mood. Her excitement was so contagious. “You seem a worldly man. Have you traveled much?” Lucien blinked. “Yes, I have.” He opened his mouth to say more, but his mind was blank. Cauldron boil him-

“Excellent! Then it’s settled then; you’re coming back so you can tell me all about your travels,” Elain said firmly. Lucien blushed again. Think of something intelligent to say! “As you say, my lady,” Lucien finally managed. Then the two of them walked back to her father, Elain’s hand still on his arm. Lucien felt Nesta’s glaring at it, but he didn’t care; he was glowing at her hand on him, and he was too giddy to wonder why. “Here it is, Tristan. When you feel pain, take two sips of this red liquid and your pain shall go away. Rub this purple liquid into your leg every day to help relieve the bones in that area. I shall leave them on this table.” Lucien placed them on the wooden table where he noticed Tamlin’s claw marks punched into the table. By the Cauldron, Tam. You went all the way with the theatrics, didn’t you?

“Now, for my request: I know of your reputation, so I am asking you to invest some of my money for me.”

Tristan inquired, “And how much do you wish me to invest, Lord Lucien?” “Twenty thousand pounds.” Elain gasped and Nesta moved to cover her younger sister’s mouth. Tristan stared at him in disbelief. “Twenty thousand? Really?”

“Of course. Will that be a problem?”

“Well…it’s just so much money…”

Lucien resisted the urge to snarl at him. His patience was waning. “No, it’s nothing to me. Just a small sum to see what you can do. I’ll think of investing more if I am interested.” Tristan stared at him some more. “That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Elain exclaimed, walking forward as her sister tried to shush her again. “My father would be delighted to accept your investment, my lord.” Lucien sighed slightly in relief as Elain met his eyes. “Thank you,” he mouthed at her. She merely winked at him, and Lucien blushed again. Something was wrong with him; must be the human weather.

“Erm, yes, of course I would,” Tristan said with slight confusion. “Father-“ Nesta began, but Lucien spoke over her. “Splendid! I could not be more grateful.” Lucien reached his hand into midair, searching for that small bag of gold Tamlin had given him and stored in the ether. At last, he found it, handing it to Tristan. “Here’s another token of my gratitude.” Tristan blinked, as if he could not possibly believe his luck, and Lucien handed him another back, this one with the twenty thousand pounds. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Tristan, and meeting your wonderful daughters.” He bowed to each of them in turn before exiting the room.

“Wait!” Elain cried, just as Lucien mounted his horse. Lucien turned to Feyre’s sister. He tried not to get distracted by her big brown eyes as she said breathlessly, “You will come back, won’t you, my lord?” He hadn’t planned on it, no. But he couldn’t bring himself to say that to her. “I swear it, my lady Elain.” She grinned then, her fully smile so brilliant it took Lucien’s breath away. “Until then, my Lord Lucien.”

That expression remained imprinted on Lucien’s mind all the way back to the Spring Court.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #elucien #nesta archeron #papa archeron #elain archeron

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the-lonelybarricade · 10 months

Text

A Blaze in the Dark - (5/10)

Chapter Title: Tell Me to Run

Summary: On the eve of her wedding, knowing nothing about her husband besides his apparent disinterest in his soon-to-be wife, Elain uses a spell to meet her true love in her dreams.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 5: Nature

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist・Previous Chapter

Lucien Vanserra was going mad.

When he was a child, his mother once told him a tale of a boy who went out into the forest intending to bring back food for his family. As he went, the boy happened across a blackberry bush, filled with berries that were oddly ripe for the season. He picked enough to fill his shirt and when he was prepared to take them home, he caught sight of another bush further down the path. Then another, then another. In the end, the boy picked far more than he could carry, and they spilled from his shirt throughout his journey home. Later that night, a pack of wolves followed the sweet scent of berries to his front door.

It was an unhappy story. Lucien had never much enjoyed it, though he couldn’t help feeling he was the boy, tangling his fingers through the bramble of thick hair that smelled of jasmine and honey.

Time passed differently in sleep. He could not tell if it had been hours or mere minutes that he’d spent holding his true love, savoring the silence that was disturbed only by her steady breathing.

A moment like this, so tender and quiet, should have been peace-giving.

Instead, he was holding his true love in his arms, and he felt nothing short of agony. It was so wrong—so wrong that she was married to another man, who had treated her so poorly on their wedding night that she’d come to him in tears. And equally it was wrong that he was with her at all, when his own wife was in the waking world, eating dinner on her own, sleeping in an empty bed.

He hadn’t expected to like Elain. That was the worst thing of all—that his wife was lovely. Beautiful and kind and disarmingly clever.

Lucien had meant to suggest to her that they take on lovers outside of their marriage. For weeks, he had planned what he would say to her, rehearsing it in the quiet so that when he finally came face to face with his wife, he would be prepared. Never, in his imagining, had she had such rich brown eyes that could cut through him to the very core. With one look he was no longer a prince, nor a scholar, nor a gentleman capable of articulating himself, all because she had pink, bow-shaped lips that curved into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

Not that it mattered, that she was beautiful. What mattered was that each time she spoke, he found himself hanging on to her every word, eager to know what she might say next, what insight she gleaned from the world when she thought no one was watching. Suddenly, it was excruciating to suggest she find fulfillment with another man, when he doubted that any living mortal could match her for wit.

He hadn’t said what he was planning to say—what he ought to say. She deserved honesty, and equity, especially given that she was a woman of grace and honor. And yet, here he was. Holding another woman on his wedding night.

And that muddied his feelings all the more. Because he knew this woman was his true love, his perfect match in every way, and he felt equally beguiled by her wicked temper and sweet soul. It was not that he wanted his wife more, it was that he wanted her equally. Greedily seeking a second berry bush when his shirt was already full.

The problem with the boy from the story, the problem with Lucien, was that he wanted too much. He wanted to allay his true love’s grief. He wanted to protect her from her husband. He wanted Elain to smile at him. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted his true love and he wanted his wife and he wanted so many things that he thought he might simply be torn apart by the number of contradictions he chased.

Lucien knew he could not have them both. Elain was not his true love and his true love was not his wife and he was going to die trying to decide which should matter more. True love seemed obvious, but there would be no escaping his marriage to Elain. It would follow him as long as they both lived. They could stay on separate sides of the palace, but she would be an ever-present fixture in his life and he thought, if they were both willing to give it a chance, they could be happy together.

His true love was… a dream. One he could chase, but never hold, not past daybreak.

She belonged to another man.

She was in so much pain.

She smelled like jasmine and honey.

Letting her go sounded as inviting as peeling off his own skin. She felt just as much a part of him. No. No. He had to be honest with Elain and tell her that he intended for them to take on lovers. And then he needed to get his true love away from her husband.

“Are you still awake?” his true love asked, voice soft and berry-sweet.

“No,” he said lightly. “You and I are both asleep.”

She laughed. It was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard.

“Where are you from?” He couldn’t resist. Now that he’d made up his mind, he needed to move quickly. “What kingdom?”

From the fragments of information she’d shared with him, he had his suspicions, but he needed to know. If she was close enough, he could ride out to her as soon as he escorted Elain the rest of the way to his estate. In his head, he saw it playing out perfectly. He would pay off his true love’s husband and her back to the Eastern Kingdom, where she could live in a cottage nearby. He could visit her regularly without needing to offend Elain by putting them in company of each other.

His true love did not answer him. Lucien understood why she was scared to tell him. He had the capacity to ruin her by going to her husband and telling him what they’d done together. Even with good intentions, if he handled things inelegantly it would result in scandal. She didn’t know that he was a Prince, and he hesitated to tell her lest that terrify her, too.

“It can’t be the North,” he said. “There’s not much to farm up there this time of year, and certainly the conditions are too severe for a poor farmer’s daughter to get her hands on a butterfly. To me, that narrows it down to the West or the South. But I have a suspicion, from the way that you speak, that you must be from Carterhaugh.”

Carterhaugh, the land of eternal spring. He was just there, which was utterly predictable. Of course the Cauldron would put his mate and his true love in the same duchy. It felt like the Mother was mocking him.

When his true love tensed in his arms, that told him everything he needed to know.

“I’ve been to Carterhaugh several times,” he told her, pointedly excluding his most recent visit. “Did you know that there is a garden there open to the public that boasts every plant grown naturally in the Southern Kingdom? There’s a hedge maze in its center. Meet me there in two days time.”

“I can’t.”

“Name any sum of money.” He knew he was beginning to sound desperate. “However much you think you’ll need to make the journey, I will send it.”

“I can’t,” she sounded desperate now, too. He braced himself for the return of her tears.

“I understand.” And he did. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her distress. Seeing her in person was a selfish desire, and it would no longer be worth it if it would pain her in the process. “It will be difficult to escape from your husband so soon after marriage.”

“It will be impossible,” she corrected. “We’re on our honeymoon. Not to be disturbed for the next 30 days, at a minimum. What excuse could I possibly have to leave the house without my husband?”

Lucien was painfully aware. She would have as little excuse to the leave the house as he would. What would Elain think if he left for Carterhaugh only three days into their honeymoon? From the way that she’d looked at him just before she’d shut the door in his face, he wondered if she would even care.

“If I can ensure that your husband will be out of the house that day, and if I could send you the means to attend, would you consider it?”

“I don’t know how you would possibly—”

“Would you consider it?”

He could feel her silence like a chasm yawning open in his chest, some ever growing wound of rejection that flared at her uncertainty. He was teetering on a sharp edge, suddenly terrified that she would say no and he would be left to face the painful reality that even his true love had decided that she did not want Little Lucien Vasnerra.

Damaged, scarred, impure.

To think he could come to her stripped of labels, with no name or title to live up to, bearing only the truth of who he was at his core, and she would still find him insufficient. Well, he supposed that was to be expected.

“I’ll consider it,” she said finally, allowing him to breathe once more.

“Good,” he murmured, wishing he’d managed to sound composed, but his short breath gave him away. It hardly mattered. She would consider it, and for that he gently turned her chin so he could kiss her cheek. “Then tell me what you might say to me, so that I can know it’s you.”

“It has to be something so unusual that it couldn’t possibly be mistaken,” she said, sounding lost in thought. He allowed her a moment to consider it, patiently stroking his hand through her hair where she laid against hist chest.

“I know,” she said finally. “I will come up to you and I will say, ‘I can hear your heart beating through the stone. Can you hear mine?’”

Lucien smiled. Had she come up with that because she was, at present, listening to his heart beat? Did she hear it stutter with his affection for her?

“And how will you know it’s me?” He asked.

“Call me your sweet soul,” she hummed. “And perhaps I will bring some sweet alyssum with me, so that I may cure you of your wickedness.”

Lucien liked the way her voice warmed when she teased him. She could get him to do anything, so long as she spoke to him in that voice.

He lowered his mouth to her neck, crooning, “I fear it is too late to save me from my wickedness.”

“Then perhaps I can save myself,” she said. Now she sounded breathless, and he liked that, too.

“Hmm.” It was an effort to keep his hands off her. He knew he ought to, after what she had endured tonight, and yet she was so soft, so pliant beneath his touch. And when he kissed her neck, he could feel her arch further into his touch. “I have the sense you don’t want to be saved.”

Just as she was turning into him, finally beginning to take charge in the form of throwing her leg across his hip, the darkness around them began rippling. He groaned, sliding his palm to her cheek so he could steal one final kiss from her lips.

“Think on it,” he said against her mouth.

Then he was torn from her, startling awake atop the covers of a foreign bed, the oak door rattling beneath a pair of fists. He was still in his damn wedding clothes.

“What?” He called, too irritated to summon any eloquence. If he didn’t need to be awake, he would have appreciated a few moments longer with his true love.

“We need to leave at daybreak to make it to the manor before nightfall, your highness.”

Lucien cast his eyes to the window in the corner. It was tedious to travel in winter, when the length of daylight was so greatly reduced.

“It is not yet dawn,” he said in complaint.

“No, your highness. But neither you or the princess had any supper—”

“Elain didn’t eat?”

“No, sir. She has not left her room, nor responded to any knocking. We’ve left her trunk in the hall, but we thought perhaps the two of you would prefer to have breakfast before we depart.”

Lucien had known she was upset—though, truly, it perplexed him given that she had agreed to the arrangement. He hadn’t realized that would mean she would deny herself dinner, or even a fresh pair of clothes. He swore, thinking of the state of her dress when he’d last seen it. She hadn’t slept in the wet clothes, had she? Was she so stubborn that she would deny looking after her health as a means of spite?

Quickly, Lucien changed into a pair of fresh trousers and a white linen shirt. While he and Elain weren’t married in the traditional sense, he felt no compulsion to dress himself up as though they were strangers. She was his wife, and he could knock on her door in a loosely buttoned shirt without being improper. Or so he hoped.

She didn’t answer after one polite round of knocking, so he tried a second, then a third.

Losing patience, he called through the door, “Elain, I hope you haven’t attempted to escape out the window. I’d feel wounded to discover you’d sooner brave the winter than be my wife.”

“I am here,” she called, feintly.

“Can you come to the door, then?”

“I am indisposed.”

Her voice was small—embarrassed. Ah. Lucien turned his eyes downward, spying the trunk that rested just beside the door.

“I have a change of clothes out here,” he said. “Will you let me in?”

“Absolutely not!”

“I am your husband. It won’t be improper to assist you.”

When Elain said nothing, he sighed. “I promise to close my eyes?”

It was an absurd solution, and while he waited for Elain to snap at him for it, he pondered if there was a maid in the inn who might be able to assist.

“…okay.” It was a meek, defeated concession.

Lucien blinked. “Okay?”

He hadn't expected her to agree, and for all his assurances that it hardly mattered between a husband and wife, he felt his pulse jump the slightest bit.

“You’re going to need to unlock the door for me, then.”

Lucien leaned down to lift the trunk into his arms. As he straightened, the locking mechanism clicked, and the door handle angled downwards as though Elain were pulling it on the other side. But the door stayed shut.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

“As my wife commands.”

“Are they shut?”

“Yes,” he said, with a laugh.

The door creaked open. Lucien stepped through carefully. He was heaving the trunk with exaggerated ease, catering to some juvenile idea that Elain might be impressed at his strength. Though from the sound of it, she was scrambling to shut the door in such a hurry she wasn’t at all paying any attention to what he was carrying.

“Where should I set this down?”

“Just on the floor,” she said. “At your feet.”

He complied, trying not to entertain the thought that Elain was standing just before him in some state of undress—completely naked, if he had the liberty to imagine, but perhaps that was a step too far for the prudent Elain Archeron.

“Would you like me to go?”

When Elain didn’t immediately say yes, he straightened, surprised.

After what seemed like a great deal of consideration, she asked him, “Do you have experience lacing a corset?”

“I fear answering that question,” he said, but his sly smile would give an answer all the same. “Though I feel I could manage it competently.”

“Competent enough to do it with your eyes closed?” She challenged.

“I don’t like to boast,” he said.

Elain padded across the room to him. He could have been imagining it, but even her steps sounded haughty. A little vixen, set on proving him wrong. He liked that she was competitive. He hadn’t expected that from her.

“Go on then,” she said. Now, he could tell she was just in front of him. He could smell lavender, and also a hint of firesmoke, like she’d fallen asleep in front of the hearth.

Cautiously, Lucien extended his hand forward. He’d underestimated how tall she was. His fingers grazed the bare skin of her shoulder blade, and she gasped.

“I…” It was unreasonable to feel nervous. But her skin was so soft. He cleared his throat. “This may require a fair bit of touching. Is that okay with you?”

Elain’s voice was stern. “You may touch my waist and my back. Nothing more.”

Gods. Lucien reminded himself that he was a gentleman, though his thoughts were far from that variety. He’d just woken from a night of holding his true love, and one would think he’d be satiated, but all he could think as he gathered up her hair was how desperately he wished to pull, just to see what noise she would make. No wonder the Mother had punished him by marrying his true love to another man. He was not deserving of either woman.

Lucine shook his roguish thoughts long enough to follow the path of her spine down to the unlaced corset at her waist. After finding that Elain was securing both stays in place, he felt blindly along the edges for the first eyelet, before he began threading the lace through. It was clumsy at first. He needed to prod often with his fingers to verify he was looping through the correct hole, but as the stay tightened around her body it became easier. A shame, because he had less of an excuse to trail his fingers over the curve of her hip.

“Not bad,” she hummed, once he’d finished tying the knot at the top.

Lucien smirked. “I think I’d do a better job unlacing it, if you’d like to compare.”

“Rake. I thought you said you weren’t boastful.”

How could he not be boastful, when his hand was still on her hip and she was not stepping away from him? The recollection of what she tasted like flaunted through his mind. She’d kissed him back standing on that altar, lips honey sweet and petal soft. He felt dizzy at just the memory of it.

“What’s there to boast about in untying a corset? The compliment is the company of the woman wearing it.”

Elain snorted. “Do all princes have such smooth tongues?”

He needed to bite back a crude remark about how smooth his tongue could be. He had been honest when he’d said he wanted them to be friends, and the snide comments certainly weren’t helping.

“I could answer honestly, Elain, but I’ve already told you that I am not boastful.”

“How fortunate that my husband is so humble,” she said dryly.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Not yet.”

Lucien couldn’t resist smiling, albeit ruefully. It would be a long journey to the Eastern Kingdom.

#Elucienweek2023 #Elucien #Elucien fanfiction #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fic #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain #A Blaze in the Dark

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achaotichuman · 5 months

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*Hops down from the rooftop* What are your headcannon on Rhysand and Lucien fighting over Tamlin?

Also have a cookie 🍪🍪🍪

*Takes cookie and eats it, begins talking with my mouth full* Well I have quite a few headcanons on Rhysand and Lucien fighting over Tamlin, I'm so glad you asked about them. Here are the scenes I imagine.

When Lucien waltzed in alongside Tamlin to the High lord meeting, Rhysand initially thought nothing of it. So, the fox boy he had heard so much of had run off to Spring when his little lover was slaughtered. Of course, Tamlin, the bleeding heart, let him in and gave him a fancy title. Anything to save his broken ego. A stupid decision of course, letting in the disowned son of Autumn into the Court semi-new untrained High lord. But that was Tamlin, never thinking beyond whatever injured, pleading Fae laid at his feet.

Too kind, untrained, unknowing, untested. That would be killed soon enough, perhaps the fox would have something to do with it.

But Rhysand was quickly taken aback by just the sort of person Lucien Vanserra proved himself to be.

Tamlin had said something, adding to the conversation about trade between Summer and its neighboring Courts. Rhysand made a snickering comment he didn't care to remember, why would he? He made many snickering comments about Tamlin.

Then Lucien had looked him dead in the eyes, fire burning in his gaze, cracking in the air, he had murmured in a low tone, "Watch that forked tongue, Rhysand, we wouldn't want the new High lord of Night to be proven as a witless fool."

Rhysand's eye had twitched, but he smirked and drawled, "And what is the disowned Prince talking about? Surely you know better than to invoke a High lord's wrath, we do know what happened last time you tried that." Rhysand flicked his eyes pointedly to Beron.

Lucien had simply lounged back in his chair, "Would invoking your wrath lead for a more interesting subject of conversation? Every word that has so far come from your side of the meeting has been nothing more than bland. Though I suppose I shouldn't expect more from someone who wears the exact same jacket every day."

Rhysand blinked, and Tamlin snickered under his breath. That snicker, the look of mischief in the Spring Lords eyes when he turned to Lucien was what pushed Rhysand over the edge.

"I'll have you know; I do not wear the same jacket every day, little Lucien." Rhysand drawled.

"Ahh, so it is the latter option." Lucien looked at Tamlin and quirked an eyebrow, at which Tamlin had to bit down on his lip and look away from his emissary, lest he burst out laughing.

"Excuse me?" Rhysand said, confused.

Lucien then turned his sly fox eyes back to the Night Lord, "Well, Tamlin and I were just discussing on our journey here whether or not you wore the same jacket every day or had a wardrobe full of the exact same clothes. We both decided it was in the fact the latter that was more pathetic."

Every High lord had then pointedly looked at the floor or celling. No one meeting Rhysand's eyes.

That day a war was waged, and Rhysand swore he would win it.

***

Tamlin had always been receptive to Rhysand, always. Even before he considered them 'friends' the Springling was drawn to the realm of Night. Asking one to many probing questions at meetings, watching Rhysand and his circle at parties. Even following Illyrian warriors around at a distance when the Night and Spring armies had a brief few weeks of training with each other.

Even after their fallout, even after Rhysand couldn't look him in the eye and see his friend anymore. The Night Lord enjoyed toying with him. A conversation here, a whispered comment there, a torturous trailing of fingers along the collarbone or thigh would have Tamlin ready to fall to his knees. Whether to beg for forgiveness or beg in another... more sensual way, Rhysand would decide once he got him that point of desperation.

But Rhysand was never able to get him to that point. Because a certain red-headed bastard who had no right playing in territories that weren't his always managed to intervene.

Helion's father had thrown some gathering, of course Rhysand was invited. Everyone was invited, including Tamlin.

It hadn't taken long before Rhysand decided he wished to play. He snuck up behind the Spring Lord, whispered a few back-handed compliments and hidden insults about his reign. Along with the cutting words, his fingers danced on Tamlin's waist.

The Spring Lord had taken in deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as if praying to the Mother for strength. She would not answer his calls, she had gifted Rhysand with his powers after all, the Mother was yet another delightful worshipper of the ground the Nightling walked upon.

Rhysand finally whispered a cruel taunt in Tamlin's ear, something about his mother being a bitch-slave to her mate. Claws had shot through Tamlin's fingers but he couldn't lay a hand on Rhysand, lest he start a battle he would not win.

Rhysand then wrapped his hands around Tamlin's hips and slowly began to pull him away from the party, back into the shadows.

"Come play in the dark with me, won't you Tamlin?" Rhysand spoke softly in his ear. Tamlin nearly fell back into him, lulled into the false sense of safety that was the Night Court.

Then there were clicking footsteps. A shock of red hair appeared before them, and then Tamlin was being reeled away from Rhysand. The Night Lord stood shocked for a moment, then he saw the offender.

Lucien Vanserra grinned at Rhysand, only innocence in that beautiful face. But fire crackled in his eyes, a warning that had Rhysand stepping back and brushing himself off.

"Tamlin, I'm so thankful to have found you." Lucien said, turning back to his High lord, pointedly ignoring Rhysand.

"There are some esteemed courtiers that would love to meet your acquaintance, I have told them all about your ideas for installing a filter through-" Lucien wrapped a hand around Tamlin's waist, keeping him close, far, far too close for Rhysand's liking.

Rhysand cleared his throat, cutting Lucien off abruptly. He turned to face the Night Lord, his face still perfect and calm, but those eyes... Rhysand nearly shuddered.

The Night Lord straightened, "A pleasure to see you as well, Lord Lucien Vanserra."

Lucien looked him up and down slowly, then he looked over at Tamlin who was glancing between the two of them, looking at Rhysand like he wanted to cut his throat and the only thing stopping him was Lucien.

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Rhysand. Now Tamlin, if you aren't preoccupied, I must take you to meet these guests."

With that Lucien swept Tamlin away into the ground, but not without a final glance over his shoulder at Rhysand.

Rhysand wanted to pounce, to run forward and drag Tamlin, drag his Tamlin back into the darkness.

Then the Night Lord nearly jumped when something like fire burned at the entrance of his mental wards. Nothing to suggest a daemati playing in his head, but some person with a great deal of power asking for an audience in his mind.

Rhysand allowed a small window to reach and speak to this unknown power.

"Don't ever touch him, Night Lord. Don't even come near him." Lucien whispered along the makeshift bridge between them.

"Or what Fire Lord?" Rhysand taunted.

"Or I will see to it your death is worse than that of your own sister's."

Rhysand stilled, he felt all the blood drain from his face as anger took hold but before he could latch onto Lucien's mind and make him pay for his words, the Fire Lord was gone.

Still when Rhysand looked around the party he saw them. Lucien and Tamlin together. Tamlin now happily enjoying the conversations he was having, no doubt forgetting about his earlier encounter with Rhysand.

But Lucien caught his eye. Lucien saw right through his diplomatic act.

Violet on burning embers.

Lucien grinned. It was full of fury and hatred.

Rhysand grinned back. It was laced with the promise of retribution.

***

"What is your problem?" Rhysand hissed, pulling Lucien aside and into the shadows, where they couldn't be seen or heard.

They were in Spring. Celebrations were under way for Calanmai. Tamlin's tenth Calanmai since taking to the throne. Rhysand loved to blend into the celebrations, appearing beside the Spring Lord when he least expected it.

Morrigan had asked he stay in his own court for this Calanmai, considering he never seemed to partake in the celebrations of Night. He didn't know why he had to, considering it wasn't as if Night took the holiday nearly as seriously as Spring, there was no 'renewal of the earth' in Night, if there was rest assured Rhysand would be there. As it were, he preferred to join in on Spring.

He preferred to fuck around with Tamlin's heard. He liked to set off the already on edge High lord. Liked to prove he had little control on his temper, which Rhysand already knew he tried hard to keep in check.

However, the last few years Lucien had landed a keen eye on Rhysand. Swooping in and intervening whenever Rhysand managed to rile Tamlin up almost to the point of attempting to strangle Rhysand.

At first it had been funny to watch Lucien intercept Rhysand's dealings with Tamlin, now it was getting old.

"My problem, Rhysand, is that you just can't get over your obsession with him." Lucien hissed back.

Rhysand let out a barking laugh, "Obsession?!"

"Yes," Lucien crossed his arms, "Why is it that you are all over Tamlin at any given opportunity? I first thought it was because of what went down between you that night, but now.... watching you try again and again to get your grimy hands onto him, it just looks like some creepy fetish you're chasing."

Rhysand balked. He let out a wild laugh, "Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten exactly who you're speaking too?"

"I have not forgotten who you are at all. You are the creep who continues to try and prey on my best friend." Lucien said, eyes lighting up with that fire, "And I sincerely suggest you step away from him."

"If he doesn't want me around, why does he not send me away himself? Tell me Lucien, if he afraid of me?"

Lucien leaned back on his heels, looking Rhysand up and down like he was little more than a bug under his foot. Rhysand found his own anger starting to push to the surface.

"If you want to be picked by the High lord." Lucien said slowly, "Go line up with the other maidens by that cave and wait your turn."

Rhysand was stunned into silence. Lucien took the window too walk out of the darkness and back into the light of Spring.

"Oh, you're good Vanserra." Rhysand whispered to nothing, "But not better than me."

***

"I'll forgive you." Rhysand said.

Tamlin's green eyes welled up with tears, glistening in the moonlight, he could only manage a weak, "Really?"

No, never, "Yes. I'll forgive you, Tamlin Darling."

Rhysand reached out and took Tamlin's hand intertwining their fingers, the smell of roses from the gardens around them was sickeningly sweet, "I'll forgive it all."

"Rhysand." Tamlin whispered.

"Come back with me to Night, Tamlin, I've forgiven you." Rhysand whispered.

Oh, he was too easy. Tamlin gave him a smile that the Night Lord would've once said was brighter than any star in the sky. But as they were, Rhysand hated it and couldn't wait to ruin it.

He wouldn't lie, there had been a time Rhysand had truly loved him. Had admired and respected Tamlin. Had cleaned the wounds his brothers gave him, had sung soft songs in his ear in the language of his mother. They had held each other in the coldest, darkest nights. They had hidden under blankets during the fiercest storms.

He hadn't always wanted Tamlin's ruin.

But he wanted it now.

He wanted to sweep Tamlin away, pretending to take him back to Velaris. Then leave him in the Court of Nightmares to find his own way out, to find his own way back to the Spring Court.

He wanted to see him break again.

Tamlin stepped closer to Rhysand, hesitating, like it couldn't believe this was real.

"I forgive you." Rhysand whispered again. '

"No, he doesn't." A cunning voice cut through the dark of Spring night.

Tamlin and Rhysand looked up to see Lucien pacing leisurely towards them.

"Lucien-" Tamlin started.

Lucien cut him off, "He doesn't forgive you Tam. There's nothing to forgive."

The Fire Lord held Rhysand's gave with every lethal word he said, cutting through the trance Rhysand had carefully lulled Tamlin into with his sweet words and promises of forgiveness.

"You did nothing wrong. You were drugged against your will. You were kidnapped by your own flesh and blood and forced to watch this low life's sister and mother killed. There is nothing to forgive of you. You did nothing wrong."

"That is not true!" Rhysand snapped, finally and fully fed up with this fox's lies, "You weren't there, you have no clue of what went down! He is guilty of their deaths, and I won't have you coming along and trying to rewrite the narrative!"

Rhysand in a blast of anger had caused the very sky to darken. His eyes blazed with power as he surged towards Lucien, fully prepared to take his head off.

Then vines wrapped around his arms and legs, reeling him right back. Rhysand whipped his head around to see Tamlin standing there, staring into nothing but with his hand raised as he called on the power of the earth to hold Rhysand.

"He lied to you Tam." Lucien said, brushing past Rhysand in favor of standing before his High lord, "He'll never not hold you accountable for what happened, no matter what the truth actually is."

"You lied to me." Tamlin whispered in Rhysand's direction.

Rhysand barked a laugh, finally being released by those vines. He straightened and brushed his jacket off, "You're actually going to believe this little Autumn reject over someone you've known almost all your life?!"

Tamlin's eyes turned from blank to rage. He squeezed his hands into fists. At that second a gust of wind blew through nearly knocking Rhysand off his feet. Tamlin remained upright like a rock in a storm, holding onto Lucien to keep the fox steady.

Rhysand stared at their conjoined hands, wanting nothing more than to cut Lucien's off.

Tamlin's voice then rang through the gardens with the power of a High lord, "You have come into my Court, insulted my emissary, sewn discord and chaos amongst my people and to top it all off you have played with my head like I am just a toy to you."

Roots shot up out of the ground, all around Rhysand like a cage growing from the very land.

"You have five seconds to take off and never set foot in my territories without an explicit invitation ever again. And you will never dare speak an untrue word or lay a hand on my Lucien for as long as your miserable life continues."

Rhysand stared at Tamlin, stared at those glowing green eyes, alight with power. He was serious. He was actually banishing Rhysand from his Court.

"You-"

Those roots shot up faster, and Rhysand had no choice but to grit his teeth, extend his wings and take off into the night.

When he returned to the Night Court, he found Azriel in the threshold of the townhouse, his arms crossed and his eyes... disappointed.

"Come on Rhysand, time to give up."

Rhysand snarled and he strode past his brother, "Never."

***

When Rhysand was finally gone Tamlin fell to his knees. Those roots going back down into the ground. Lucien was done in the dirt beside him in a second.

Lucien put his hands on his friend's shoulders, "He's gone now, you're okay."

Tamlin opened and closed his mouth, looking at the place Rhysand had been and then back at Lucien.

Then he all but fell into Lucien's arms, hugging him tightly and burying his face into the crook of Lucien's neck. Lucien hummed softly and rubbed circles into his back, just being close to him.

"I'm such a fucking idiot." Tamlin spat, voice breaking.

"No, no you're not. You're hurting and he took advantage of that, Tamlin he manipulated you, you aren't at fault for that."

"Yes, I am, I'm a High lord, I should at least expect that from him."

Lucien sighed and started to rock gently from side to side, "Maybe, but I don't know how well I would fare if I was in your position."

"You're smarter than me, you would've figured it all out."

"Hindsight is 20/20 Tam. Rhysand is a snake; we just need to keep him out of our gardens."

A moment of silence passed them, one heartbeat, then the next.

"He'll be back." Tamlin whispered.

Lucien pulled back just enough so that he could see Tamlin's face, he pressed their foreheads together and murmured, "And I will stand by your side and fight him to any ends if that's what it takes to keep you safe."

Tamlin screwed his eyes shut, "I don't deserve you."

"I love you." Lucien just managed to say.

Tamlin finally opened his eyes again, "I don't deserve you."

When they kissed it was like sweet wine. Delicious like honey and sending them higher than the clouds. Everything in the world slowed to a halt. No Night Lords, no Inner Circle, no darkness could have torn them apart.

Rhysand would be back.

But Lucien would fight him. Tamlin would fight him.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much strength it drained them of.

They would fight.

I know this isn't really a list of headcanons but I couldn't resist writing these scenes. Thank you for the ask!

#acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #rhysand #pro tamlin #pro lucien vanserra #tamsand #tamcien #acotar headcanons #acotar au #acotar fanfiction #anti rhysand

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separatist-apologist · 4 months

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A Lost Princess of Sunlight

Summary: Lady Elain has spent her life in the idyllic countryside wanting for nothing, so when her adopted sister Vassa begs her to accompany her to court, how can Elain say no? The roguish prince is in need of a wife and Elain, certain she'd make a terrible princess, has no interest in such theatrics.

But something about the palace brings back memories lost to the sea ten years before. Memories Elain had been certain she'd never get back…memories that speak of a colder place, and sisters long forgotten. Amid the tumultuous politics and the looming war, Elain finds herself embroiled in a mystery to find out who she really is.

And where she really comes from.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS @writtenonreceipts! I hope you like this- I tried so hard to give it TOG vibes AND to incorporate nessian and feysand because you said you love them (and I in turn love you).

@acotargiftexchange

Major thanks to @velidewrites and @wilde-knight for the moodboard + beta-ing this fic when I was laying face down in a puddle of my own tears.

Read On AO3 | Chapter 1

In recent memory, Lucien couldn’t remember ever feeling fouler than he did that day, standing in the throne room between his parents to greet a personalized list of women his mother hoped might one day be her future daughter-in-law. Lucien had tried in the beginning, offering a smile as he kissed gloveless hands. He’d filed away names for later, trying to paste them against genuinely lovely faces.

He’d expected to meet five women—maybe ten. But this had been going on for hours and he’d lost count of how many women he’d been shown. Fifty? With more that had arrived that his mother deemed otherwise unacceptable and therefore weren’t worth his time or attention. They’d be looking for him, too. Lucien felt like a piece of meat dangled before a wild animal gnashing its teeth hungrily.

“Mother,” he said when the doors closed, catching his parents before they could beckon for another. “Surely this is too much. Please.”

“It’s good for you to meet your future court,” his father said, drumming long fingers against an ivory carved throne. Gold crowned both his fathers dark head of hair as well as the back of the chair, making it seem as if the King of the West radiated pure sunlight. His mother was a vision just beside, draped in a cream dress and a threaded crown of gold woven through her vivid auburn hair.

“Isn’t that what all the activities are for? I feel…” he couldn’t say it, couldn’t force those spoiled words from his lips. “I need some air.”

He could see their frustration etched over their features. Was this truly the life laid before him? Would he one day be sitting in his fathers chair beside a woman his mother arranged for him, their son between them? The thought made Lucien want to gag. He hadn’t asked to be a prince, after all and right then, resentment burned hotly through him.

“Take a breath, son—”

“I won’t,” Lucien interrupted, fingers curling to fists. It wasn’t the first time he and his father had disagreed, though it was the first time that his mother would witness it. “This is too much.”

“This is duty, Lucien. Or did you imagine it was all dress up and sword fighting with your friends? We are on the precipice of war and every man has converged on our home to demonstrate their loyalty to our family. You repay them poorly by scowling and acting like a tantruming child,” his father cautioned, gold eyes narrowed in warning.

“They’re delusional if they think I’ll marry one of their daughters and elevate them far above their stations!” Lucien snapped, stepping from the dais to the swirling gold and gray patterned floor. “There are simply too many women and not enough time—”

“You will choose one of them,” his father said again, harsher this time.

“Let’s not fight,” his mother interjected quickly, also rising to her feet. Biting her bottom lip, those russet eyes were swimming with apprehension. “Surely there is a compromise to be found.”

“Amera,” Helion chided, his tone softer than before.

“If you want to pick a wife, I won’t stop you. Any available woman in this city can be yours…so long as you choose one before the end of the summer.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will choose for you, based on your mothers recommendations,” his father snapped impatiently, crossing one powerful leg over the other. “There will be no more scheming or whoring, Lucien.”

“I know you were hurt when Lady Jes—”

“Don’t,” Lucien whispered, unable to hear his mother speak her name. “Please, mother. My heart can’t bear it.”

“There will be another, my sweet boy,” his mother murmured, reaching up to cup his face in her soft hands. Lucien pulled himself from her grasp, heart thudding in his chest. He hadn’t dared to ask if she was coming, too. He didn’t want to see proof that she could be happy with someone else. That she’d made the right choice in leaving and she’d been right—they didn’t belong together. “Any woman?”

His father pinched the bridge of his nose, recognizing Lucien’s intent but his mother was sincere. “So long as she is of southern birth, yes. Any woman.”

“Fine. I will bring you a daughter to dote on by the end of the summer if you free me from the obligation of choosing one specifically from your list.”

“You better take this seriously, Lucien,” his father warned, leaning forward to look at his only son. “Or it will be me who chooses.”

Lucien had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His father would do whatever his mother told him to, and his mother would look out for Lucien’s happiness as best as she could. It wouldn’t be love, but it would be tolerable.

How delicious, he thought, to pick some commoner from the city. A woman who knew how to clean her own laundry, something Lucien had never been tasked to do. With the added bonus of keeping him out of the palace and the madhouse of his mothers machinations.

“I accept this arrangement. I won’t let you down,” he added to his mother, guilt pricking at his conscience. His father understood this was malicious compliance based on the hard set of his mouth but his mother’s eyes were shining with hope and Lucien so hated to disappoint her.

Perhaps his father was banking on his sons better nature because he waved him off. “Go get your air. I expect you at dinner tonight. Sober,” he added, guessing Lucien’s plans.

Lucien exhaled a breath, slipping down a corridor and away from the madness that had befallen the palace. Jurian wasn’t hard to find, leaned against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest as he stared out toward the gardens.

“Washed hair?” Lucien began teasing his friend with a bump to the shoulder, “That must mean Lady Vassa has arrived.”

“She has,” he admitted, dark eyes nodding toward a mass of bouncy copper hair half hidden amongst the foliage. She was with a friend, back turned so Lucien only saw the long, thick tumble of loose golden brown curls and a lavender dress clinging to a slight frame. “Playing her favorite game, of course.”

“The one where she pretends you don’t exist? Has it occurred to you that perhaps she doesn’t like you?” Lucien asked, poking Jurian in his bare arm. “Maybe it’s time to move on.”

“That would show her, wouldn’t it?” Jurian muttered.

“Here,” Lucien said, stepping from the veranda onto the stone laid path that wound through his mothers rather impressive garden. “I’ll say hello for us both. You can stand beside me silently brooding. I’m certain that will win her affection.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

Lucien only grinned, swaggering as he made his way toward the pair of giggling women. There was no possibility either of them didn’t know Jurian was approaching, though Vassa was the first to look at Lucien. Beautiful as always, with her full mouth, her pert nose, and those big, cerulean eyes brimming with mischief. He liked her, if only because she was so unafraid and unimpressed by him. Lucien imagined if he asked Vassa what she thought of him, she’d tell him frankly and without an ounce of flattery.

Lucien opened his mouth to tell her she was looking lovely. “You look…” The words died on his lips as her friend turned at last, looking up at him with the biggest set of brown eyes he’d ever seen in his life. The tumble of her hair, the slope of her neck, the way her mouth was shaped…Lucien’s palms began to sweat.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. How had he never met her before? Who was she?

“Stunning? Perfect? Like the woman of your dreams?” Vassa’s voice cut through the buzzing in Lucien’s ears. He couldn’t take his eyes off her friend long enough to even respond to Vassa. Instead, he found himself sweeping into a deep bow, all the while holding her gaze.

Her cheeks flushed but when she tried to curtsey back, Lucien was quick to catch her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles. She smelled like jasmine and honey. She looked like a daydream. Perhaps the heat had finally gotten to him and this was an angel coming to usher him into the afterlife.

“This is my sister,” Vassa told Lucien, her amusement burning. Beside him, Jurian coughed pointedly, a mere blur to Lucien. “Elain.”

“Elain,” Lucien replied before Vassa’s words settled. “Since when do you have a sister?”

“Since always,” Vassa retorted, arms crossed over her verdant dress. “Sorry you’re so unobservant you never noticed.”

“I would remember you,” Lucien insisted, memorizing the shape of her face. “Where have you been hiding?”

Cheeks flaming, Elain’s eyes slid to her feet. “I ah…”

“She doesn’t come to court precisely for this reason, my lord,” Vassa interrupted, unaware Lucien was moments from throttling her. “Vultures, the lot of you. Men are so obsessed with finding wives they can’t allow a lady even a moment of peace in the garden.”

Jurian barked out a laugh, causing Elain to jump back just a little. “I prefer the quiet of the countryside,” she said, her voice somehow more beautiful than her face. Lucien wanted to bathe in it, wanted to close his eyes and listen to her speak. And it was becoming increasingly clear she did not want to be anywhere near him based on the way she looked as though she might bolt at any second.

“I’m glad you made it,” he said, releasing her hand with great reluctance. “That both of you made it.”

“Oh, I’m certain you’re so delighted to see me,” Vassa chided playfully, thrusting out her own hand so Lucien could give her a similar kiss. He did, grinning like an idiot while watching her companion from the corner of his eye. Let her see he wasn’t a threat—that he was charming, and funny too when he wasn’t struck dumb.

“If you knew the day I’d had, you’d know just how grateful and relieved I am to see you.”

“Do you need me to check your ego, prince? You’re not that handsome, you know.”

Lucien tipped his head back to laugh, genuinely delighted for the first time all day. He needed to hear that and perhaps wanted Elain to see that he could laugh at his own expense. He was a prince, sure, but also the kind of man she could tease a little.

But when he looked back, Elain was still watching with a carefully guarded expression.

“And how have you been, Captain?” Vassa asked, finally turning to look at Jurian.

“I count the minutes you’re away,” Jurian replied dryly. Lucien swore Vassa’s cheeks flushed and a touch of shyness slid over her features. Just for a moment. Just long enough for Jurian to catch too. Her father would never allow this match—Lucien knew for a fact Lord Koshington was looking for someone for his daughter. Perhaps them both. Lucien could ask for either woman if he wanted but Jurian would never be able to convince a lord of Koschington’s merit for the hand of his only daughter and heir. Whatever man Vassa married would be entrusted with the estate and Jurian, for all his accomplishments, was simply not the sort of man Koschington envisioned for her.

Lucien suspected Vassa would do her duty and marry as she was told to while carrying on an affair with Jurian as so many other ladies at court did. That was an open secret no one did much about so long as there were no disputes over it. Occasionally some errant husband would become enraged and kill another noble, giving them all something to gossip over while Lucien’s father dealt with the headache.

If Vassa asked him, though, he could have interceded on her behalf. Perhaps he could make Jurian nobility if he went to his father shamefaced and apologetic and agreed to be a better son. Lucien’s gaze cut to Elain. She was a lady, wasn’t she? Southern born, which was the only true criteria his mother had laid down. Perhaps, he reasoned, he could use his marriage as a bargaining chip for both Vassa and Jurian.

He’d elevate one daughter to a princess and in exchange, Koschington would allow the other to marry his Captain, now Lord of some tract of land further north. Of course, that all hinged on Lady Elain even wanting him and as they stood now, things looked bleak for Lucien. Not to mention if he had such a visceral reaction to this woman, perhaps he would to others that were more agreeable.

Still. It was a thought he wasn’t willing to wholly discard. Not yet.

“I’m sure you two are incredibly busy,” Vassa said, still looking at Jurian. “We should—”

“Will you be at dinner tonight?” Lucien blurted out, once again looking—and speaking—to Elain. Her eyes widened, glancing over at Vassa to answer for her.

“Only if you promise us a good table.”

“Consider it done,” Lucien said, sweeping into another bow. It was an instinct that told him when true danger was approaching. Some call in his blood, a pull that turned his usual heat to ice.

Eris was near.

He could feel the prickling on the back of his neck, the awareness that he was being watched much the way prey must feel when a predator was near. He didn’t want to be caught here by Eris—didn’t want this showdown to happen in front of a woman he might want to court.

“Until this evening, then.”

Vassa merely waved him off, looping her arm through Elain’s to guide them further into the foliage while he and Jurian watched, both enamored. Just until the rounded a corner and Lucien could shake off whatever spell Elain had unwittingly cast.

It was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head.

“Eris is near,” he said, his voice slipping into a growl. Jurian cast one last love-lorn look in Vassa’s direction before setting his jaw.

“Well. Let’s give him a southern welcome.”

Lucien grinned. “After you.”

The moment Elain and Vassa were out of earshot, Vassa immediately burst into laughter.

“Stop it,” Elain chided, bewildered and a little embarrassed. The prince—the actual prince—had been gaping at her like he’d never seen a woman in his life. Elain hadn’t expected to meet him so close. He was handsome, just as Vassa had promised, though she’d undersold how attractive he was. Even with the trio of brutal scars raking down one of his russet colored eyes, gouged so deep into his cheeks they still seemed fresh, Lucien was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Beautiful in a dangerous sort of way.

Beautiful and he knew it, had been told so his entire life. Something about that annoyed her. She didn’t want to be another fawning woman, delighted he’d paid her a moment of interest.

Exhaling, Elain rounded on her friend. “You couldn’t say one nice thing to Jurian?”

“No,” Vassa replied quickly, some of her amusement fading. “I wouldn’t know how.”

“He’s handsome.”

“As handsome as the prince—”

“That’s enough,” Elain interrupted primly. “The prince is not hurting for beautiful company. I doubt he will be thinking of me come this time next week.”

“And if he is?”

“Then I shall disabuse him of the notion,” Elain replied, biting her bottom lip. “I have no interest in being an amusement and later discarded when he grows tired of whatever country charm he imagines I possess.”

“Oh, but how fun to watch him run himself ragged for your affection. You’re better off just letting him trail after you for a few days—the longer you resist, the more he will imagine you as his great love.”

“You’ve read too many novels,” Elain complained, reaching for a pretty pink rose. The petals were satin against her fingers, the scent of it sweeter than she remembered. Perhaps there was magic in Rhodes that didn’t exist in the country.

Or perhaps she, too, had let romantic notions cloud her senses.

“Maybe. If I…” biting her bottom lip, Vassa faced Elain fully. “If I told you something, would you swear yourself to secrecy no matter what you heard? No matter how much trouble it would cause for you?”

“Of course,” Elain swore, standing upright again. “Anything you need, consider it done.”

“Father is never going to let me leave the city unmarried. He hopes, distantly, the prince might finally show some interest in me beyond friendship but realistically he intends to shop me around to other lords who are suitable enough. I’m being allowed a small taste of freedom but by the time the summer wanes, he’ll have me married and he’ll be looking at you, too.

“It will take time and he’ll need the kings blessing. As long as the Sun King is preoccupied with his son, he’ll move slowly on everyone else. If I had a mother, perhaps she might appeal to the queen… and I need to take advantage of it.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

Vassa shot Elain a confident smile that didn’t meet her eyes. She was scared. “It is my hope that Jurian will make an offer of marriage. And if he does…I intend to accept. To marry him in secret and ruin myself before father ever learns. There is nothing you can do to help me, nor could you stop me. I just…wanted you to know that I brought you here because I wanted us to have one last summer together. And perhaps I was hoping you might find someone and I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty leaving you behind.”

Elain flung her arms around Vassa, burying her face in her friend's neck. “Don’t worry a jot about me. I’ll be fine. And your secret is safe with me—if anyone asks if I knew, I’ll lie so convincingly it’ll make the gods weep.”

Vassa hugged her back, exhaling a warm breath against the skin of Elain’s newly exposed neck. “I knew I could count on you. Let's speak no more about it—Jurian hasn’t asked and maybe he won’t. For now, let's discuss what we’ll wear to dinner tonight. Something that will ruin Prince Lucien’s evening.”

“You’re a menace. Do you know that?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon giggling through the garden, all talk of Jurian and Lucien banished from conversation. In truth, Elain forgot about the prince entirely by the time she reached their shared chamber to wash away the sweat of the day and to change. The clothes she’d brought with her had been neatly hung in a nearby closet along with a row of new gowns likely purchased on her behalf by some harried servant. Elain laid a few out on the bed before deciding it was far worse to be the only person out of fashion in a room filled with worldly ladies than it was to worry so much about modesty.

Besides, the gowns hid everything—they merely lacked so many of the stiff layers she was accustomed to. Elain wouldn’t pretend she didn’t like the ability to button herself rather than needing two servants to help get her into her layers and tie everything up, even if she did feel a tad exposed in the silken jade gown she found herself in. Wishing she’d paid more attention to how everyone else was dressed, Elain elected to leave half her hair down with pins in her little wristlet, just in case she had to quickly pull it up.

Vassa was waiting in the wide, marble lain halls in a gown of violet that looked utterly stunning against the golden brown of her skin. If Elain was terribly out of fashion, her friend surely would have said something, but instead she looped her arm through Elains and began walking her through the palace.

Vassa had been before enough times to know the layout, allowing the pair to dawdle as Vassa pointed out paintings she thought Elain would enjoy and or explained what marble bust belonged to what long-dead king. There was something deeply thrilling about seeing the history of her home up close and personal—something that made her feel strangely proud to live there.

A feeling that slid into anxiety the moment she and Vassa walked into the grand hall. Reproposed for a banquet, at least a hundred little tables dotted the expansive room, all facing the long, high table where the royal family would sit. The king was already there, a golden goblet dangling between his fingers as he surveyed guests pouring in.

Was it her imagination, or was he looking at her? Definitely her imagination, Elain decided. She wasn’t nobility, and Vassa’s family was minor nobility at that. Still…those golden eyes, set against warm, dark brown skin, seemed to stare right through her, seeing everything she was and everything she had ever been.

Someone she didn’t recognize approached the king, drawing his attention—which had never been on her—far, far away.

“We’re probably back here,” Vassa murmured, clasping Elain’s between her own. “If we get seated quickly, we can eat before anyone else.”

“I am starving,” Elain admitted with a breathless laugh. The entire thing was exhilarating, so decadent that Elain felt utterly alone in that room as she drank in the gilded walls, the high, arching ceilings and the glass windows that rose up to meet them. Beyond them, Elain could see the placid sea, brighter than any blue diamond and clearer than any sky.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Prince Lucien appeared from seemingly nowhere, eyes bright. He looked…well. He was absurd in his beauty, so lovely in his gold trimmed blue jacket that

Elain’s teeth were set on edge. He’d braided the top half of his head, pulling it back with a leather strap that somehow made his cheekbones seem sharper, his jaw more defined. The rest of his hair curled loosely about his shoulders, longer than Vassa’s when her friend wore it unbound, though not half as curly.

He was looking at her again and Vassa knew it.

“You’re much more accommodating this time than you were the last time I was here.”

“Give it time,” Lucien replied with genuine amusement. “When father begins one of his terrible speeches it will be nice to have someone nearby to rescue me.”

“You tease me,” Elain complained. As if she could rescue a prince from his wordy father.

Lucien placed a large, ringed hand against his heart. “Lady Elain, I would never.”

Elain doubted that given the twinkle in his russet eyes. Still, though, it was kind of nice to be the object of his interest, however short-lived she suspected it would be. Warmth flooded through Elain’s face, impossible to hide given how fair her skin was.

Lucien’s smile was laced with pleasure. “This way, ladies.”

Vassa merely rolled her eyes, bouncy curls blowing in a nearby breeze. Elain kept her eyes down, well aware everyone in the vicinity was looking at her. Oh, how she wished they weren’t—not like this, at any rate. It wasn’t that she hated being the subject of their attention, but she would have preferred it be because she was stunning in some new dress and not because the prince’s fingers were grazing her elbow.

The table wasn’t just close—it was the first one before the high table—a seat reserved for people far more important than Elain and Vassa. They weren’t alone—Lord Koschington was already there flanked on either side by men at least a decade older than him. All three rose from their seats to bow to the prince before returning to their conversation, leaving Elain and Vassa awkwardly staring Lucien down.

“Well,” Elain finally said when she couldn’t stand it a moment later. “This was generous of you.”

“You’ll find I can be very generous, Lady Elain.”

“Just Elain is fine,” she promised, embarrassed all over again.

“Well, just Elain, my generosity comes with strings, if that helps to put your mind at ease.”

“Oh? What strings are those?”

“Lunch with me? And if it goes well, a turn around the garden.”

Elain nearly said no. The urge was automatic. Something stopped her—the notion that if Lucien spent a few hours alone with her, he’d realize how woefully plain she was, how inept her social graces in comparison to other women. His interest would wane and she wouldn’t have to be firm with him at all. That was, truthfully, a best case scenario.

So Elain nodded, lowering her eyes demurely. “That would be lovely.” Lucien’s delight radiated like pure light just beneath his skin. “You’ve given me something to look forward to.” And then he was gone, leaving Lord Koschington watching with curiosity and Ealin even more embarrassed than before.

“I’m not surprised he likes you,” Vassa began, but Elain wasn’t having it.

“Sit down,” she demanded.

Vassa only laughed. “Bossy. You’ll make an excellent princess.”

Rhodes.

Curling his upper lip, Eris glanced at the dirty streets beneath his gleaming boots. How he loathed the Southern Empire. The city itself was too self-satisfied with itself, certain they were the gods favored people. A blessed empire, having risen from the ashes of centuries of subjugation by the north. The scars for the people weren’t healed—it had been King Helion’s grandfather who’d shaken those chains and thirty years of bloody fighting just to establish a true home with recognized borders. Recognized, Eris thought bitterly, by his father and the late King of the Spine.

Helion had ended that conflict, invading the north's once impenetrable capitol and genuinely terrifying the realm with the might of his military. If he could break down those walls and get inside, he could potentially cross the spine to the east or the desert to the west. He could have the whole of the continent if he wanted it.

Of course, Helion’s reign hadn’t come without its scandals. His victory cost a princess her life and Archeron his wife. It had also cost the west their queen when he’d stolen her away in the dead of night, declared her marriage to Beron Vanserra completed under duress, and married her himself.

North and west had a reason to hate the south. Eris had never forgiven Helion for losing his mother and Nesta Archeron, heir apparent to the Northern throne, had never forgiven Helion for the loss of her mother and her younger sister. Eris had heard rumors of her fury.

But meeting her was another thing entirely. He’d made her no promises, of course…but he knew she was thinking the same thing he was—if they married, they could unite their kingdoms and turn their eyes to the south. They could eradicate Helion and take it, too, if they wished. And oh, how Eris wished.

The prospect of asking for Nesta Archeron was the only reason he’d accepted the invitation to the south. Might as well look around for himself. Helion would be looking for peace and his mother absolution, but Eris was looking for exploitable weaknesses.

Something he could offer up to Nesta Archeron so she had no recourse but to tell him yes. It wouldn’t be love, but Eris didn’t require that. Didn’t want that. His would be a marriage of political convenience and if he needed genuine companionship, he could always take a mistress.

So there he stood, soaked in sweat and angrier than he’d ever been as he stared up at the monstrosity that was the palace. His half brother was being fussed over—a golden prince Eris would keep alive as a political prisoner in his court, forcing Lucien to do his bidding with the threat of a sword hanging over his head.

It was Eris’s favorite daydream. The destruction of Helion’s court, the ruination of his empire, and his son and wife forced to live in Eris’s home under Eris’s rule. Despite himself, he smiled, ignoring the butler who wanted to give him a tour as he strode into the palace. He knew it well enough and didn’t want the royal family to know where he was until he was ready to make a grand entrance.

Helion’s kingdom was said to house an impressive collection of knowledge and the rarest (and items stolen he didn’t want found) were housed within his personal collection within his palace. Eris had never been interested before, annoyed by the philosophers and scholars that inhabited these spaces. Old men obsessed with the sound of their own voices who had never been told their ideas weren’t interesting.

But today was pure chaos and if the Sun Palace was anything like his home, everyone would be congregated wherever the wine was, neglecting their responsibilities under the deluded belief no one would find out. Eris took the stairs two at a time, eyes darting around him to be sure no one was watching.

Though if they were—and if he was caught—he’d simply feign ignorance. No one stopped him, allowing him to climb higher and higher, walking down halls with his hands jammed in the pockets of his cream colored pants. He opened bedroom doors like they belonged to him, ran his oily fingers over windows and paintings, and kicked over a potted plant just because it amused him to do so.

And when he reached the room he’d come all this way to see—Helion’s famed library—Eris found it delightfully abandoned, just as he’d expected it to be. There were three more towering floors, attached to what he supposed was the highest tower of the palace. Spiraling stairs led to rows and rows of books unreachable even by the rather tall ladders. Desks and chairs on the first level were, he supposed, for scholarly pursuits that seemed to vanish once one reached that second level.

The third was entirely off limits to anyone but Helion’s most trusted. And they were gone, Eris thought, stepping through the arch way. The room itself could be hidden behind wooden ivory double doors carved with some brightly painted fresco of a heroic battle long faded from memory.

Eris made it two steps before a woman materialized from a too-bright golden sunbeam pouring into the room. One moment he’d been walking toward items hidden from everyone else in the realm and the next a curved blade was pressed against his neck and his back was slammed against a wall. A slim knee slid between his legs, pressed threateningly against his manhood while a pair of vivid green eyes stared him down cooly.

“I’ll need to see your pass before you take another step,” she said. Eris blinked, taking in the shape of this woman. Thick waves of blonde hair cascaded down her back, tumbling against her shoulders and framing what was, objectively, a beautiful face. Her bronzed skin seemed to shimmer in the light as though dusted in sunlgiht and those eyes of hers—green and flecked with gold—were lightly lined in black kohl.

“I don’t need a pass—” he began, utilizing the haughtiest voice he could muster given the position he found himself in. In any other circumstances, overpowering her would have been a simple thing.

But Eris wasn’t willing to risk his throat, nevermind his cock and balls.

“You do,” she replied, both her knee and her blade pressing just a little rougher.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he demanded.

“Why don’t you tell me?” she challenged, one eyebrow raised as though it wouldn’t matter. He was going to see her personally punished for this, he decided.

“Prince Eris—”

“Oh, a prince,” she interrupted, her voice dripping with disdain. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Do you have a pass?”

Eris was rarely speechless. But right then, looking down at a woman that was primed to kill him over a book, Eris found himself at a loss for words.

“No,” he spat, outraged that some nobody was preventing him from snooping. And no one, in his life, had ever dared such defiance. This woman did, though. She didn’t care he was a prince or the queens eldest son. She merely saw an intruder and felt empowered to spill his blood against her feet if need be.

“I’m glad we agree. If I remove my knife from your throat, are you going to leave peacefully?” she asked, her tone dripping with condescension. Had they been home, Eris could have thrown her in a cell for that hateful look on her face alone, not mentioning the way in which she addressed him.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” Eris promised, his lip curling with disdain. To her credit, the woman stepped back, removing herself entirely from his body, though that knife remained between them. “I’ll see you punished for this.”

She smiled, smoothing one hand over the yellow of her dress. “Of course, your majesty.”

“You think I won’t?” Eris hissed, unsure why he hadn’t stormed out. Just leave. Fuck the last word.

“Oh, I’m certain you will,” was her reply, eyes burning with amusement. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and the king will allow me the privilege of hearing your explanation as to why a future foreign king was skulking about a room filled with state secrets. Surely you must have known, but maybe they educated you poorly back home and you can’t read?”

Bitch.

“I can be wherever I like—”

“Wrong, majesty. You know, we hear rumors about you here. Of your…ambitions. I’m sure your impending marriage to a northern princess is mere gossip hardly worth the rags it's printed on, of course, and this little trip was merely an accident.”

Eris’s lips parted, an insult on the tip of his tongue. Who was this woman? Eris wanted her family name more than he’d ever wanted anything, if only so he could burn it from the face of the world. When he came marching into Rhodes with an army, she could be the first person to meet his sword.

“Some people would think it was unwise, insulting a future king.”

Her eyes flicked to the knife in her hand. “I think some people might thank me for protecting my home. In fact, I think a parade might be held in my honor if you took another step toward me and fell on my knife.”

“Is that a threat?” he demanded.

She smiled. “I’m glad you noticed. I was starting to think these subtleties were flying right over your poor, illiterate head. Yes, your lordship. This is a threat. A wiser man would recognize he’d been caught and leave, but I can see you’re not wise and so perhaps I ought to spell it in simple terms you’ll understand: your mere presence in this room could be considered an act of war. Remove yourself, or I shall do it for you.”

Fuck her.

“This isn’t over.”

She followed behind as he turned on his heel, burning with an anger so hot it would have manifested as flame against his skin had he any magical ability. Eris could feel its heat shimmering off him, fingers curling and uncurling with the urge to teach her a lesson she’d never forget. She was no one, some lowly peasant made to feel important and elevated by a bastard king.

Eris expected one last quip—turned around to face her. She flashed him a smile, those eyes still sparkling with amusement.

And then slammed the double doors in his face. On the other end, he swore he heard soft laughter though maybe he imagined it. Eris exhaled, overwhelmed and frustrated and furious all at once.

It wasn’t over between them.

Eris would have the last laugh.

Ellesmere was easily the worst city Cassian had ever visited in his life. Velaris was the best, of course, and Rhodes was nice if a little hot for his taste. He’d seen Allfeld once which personally was enough given how much pollen seemed to be in the air, though it had been autumn at the time and he’d quite liked the glittering jewel-top trees that dotted the sloping hillsides.

Ellesmere had no charm whatsoever. Only fog and a constant misting of rain that left Cassian damp beneath the leathered armor he wore.

He’d put on wool socks to keep his feet dry that day, tucked into boots that were supposed to be waterproof and hoped for the best. Rhys was supposed to be out charming the nobles and who the fuck knew where Azriel had gone. By the time Cassian dragged his ass out of bed, Azriel was nowhere to be found and Rhys was agonizing over a lock of hair that wouldn’t lay just right.

Cassian was grateful no one expected perfection out of him. He’d shaved his face—though the dark stubble would be back before noon—and pulled the thick, dark waves that cascaded to his shoulders into a half messy bun. Good enough.

Dumb brute, remember?

As if he could ever forget. At home, Cassian was a hero. People cared about the words that came out of his mouth, respected him as someone of great intelligence. But out here, he knew what they saw. The other kingdoms must employ idiots to lead their armies, or something particular about Cassian gave off the impression he liked the taste of blood. And Cassian had never once tried to correct that notion given he did like a little blood smeared across his mouth.

But it irked him at times, chafing against him like rough material against soft skin.

He had a job—only one, at least, while he was trapped in this gloomy hellscape, which was to get a sense and scope of the military power Ellesmere commanded. How did they fight, how many of them remained, their tactics, their training. Anything Cassian could weaponize against them. Cassian needed them to believe he was one of them.

Less than, even. That he couldn’t take even a day off from swinging his swords when truthfully, were he back home, Cassian would have been parked at Ritas waiting for a massive plate of eggs and bacon. Ah, well. There would be more of that later, though he couldn’t help but feel like he was wasting the best weather Velaris had to offer to the rain.

And breakfast wasn’t horrible, at least. He’d been allowed to eat alone given there was no expectation he would eat with the royals. Cassian picked through one of his books, wasting time hoping the weather would clear and the sun would come out, even if it didn’t warm the air. When it became clear he wasn’t going to get his wish, Cassian sighed, armed himself, and made his way toward the training yard housed within the palace walls. He’d seen barracks on his way in, tucked off in the distance, when he’d first come into the city. That was where Cassian really wanted to be.

If Rhys did his job well, Cassian would be invited to watch them train and possibly train alongside him. It was ego the way so many cities assumed they had something to teach him. There was a reason Velaris hadn’t been invaded, though Cassian knew everyone loved to chalk it up to The Spine. The mountains were passable, their coast relatively undefended. There was little need, though they did have a Navy.

Cassian was always waiting, sword in hand.

Today, though, was just about seeing the best of the best. They’d be looking to impress him, knowing full well Cassian would tell Rhys. All in good time. Cassian liked to think he was clever enough to keep his mouth shut with a face that always seemed pleased right up until his sword was pressed against someones throat.

They expected that from Azriel. Maybe they expected that knife in the back from Rhys. But despite his titles, no one ever expected that from Cassian, though he was always the quickest to jump to bloodshed.

Eloquence was Rhys’s domain.

Cassian shuddered when he stepped outside, shaking out his hands to try and keep himself together. This period of time in his life would pass until he forgot it entirely. There was no way in hell he’d ever agree to return here and was grateful Rhys wasn’t actually interested in any of the princesses on offer.

Cassian wished he could say the same. He’d half forgotten Nesta Archeron—could have forgotten her completely for the majority of the day, even—had she not been walking toward him in a well-fitted violet coat dress, the hood pulled over her face and lined with immaculate white fur.

Her fair cheeks were flushed from the chill or exertion, making those silvery eyes of her brighter by comparison. The scowl on her face couldn’t diminish the beauty that radiated from her and just like it had the day before, Cassian felt struck by her. Nesta’s whole person was its own blade at his throat, threatening to spill him open at any moment.

She halted when she saw him, hands jammed into her pockets. Eyes narrowed with suspicion, he wondered if she’d speak to him. It was only after a moment of staring that Cassian remembered he probably ought to bow. That felt strange—Rhys had never required that and Helion was so casual it was cause for teasing if Cassian were to try. Something about Nesta demanded it, though, and so Cassian felt himself bending at the waist, one hand on his stomach.

“You mock me?” she asked, unaware of the sincerity of his pounding heartbeat.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cassian heard himself say, his every word laced with amusement rather than the reverence he felt. And though he was so much taller than her, Cassian felt small as Nesta approached, her spine ramrod straight. He wished he could convince her to come to Velaris and teach his soldiers that sort of posture.

Hell, maybe she could teach him, too.

“Where are you going?”

Straight to hell, he thought privately as he tried not to imagine what she was like when she liked a man. Jealousy gnawed at him knowing Rhys was here to court her, swallowed quickly before Cassian was consumed. Glancing at one of the hilts peeking over his shoulder, Cassian offered her another quick smile. “To train with your guards.”

She scoffed. “I should think one sword would be more than sufficient.”

“Oh? Something you want to tell me, princess?”

He hadn’t meant for his words to sound suggestive. Cassian was genuinely asking her—were they not capable of fighting off a warrior holding a weapon in each hand? But something about her made everything he said sultry and Nesta’s cheeks burned with heat.

She was sweet. Cassian wanted to taste her.

“Just…they’re more…” Nesta was flustered. He knew if he came any closer she’d take off like a skittish baby deer, fortifying herself for their next interaction. Put her at ease, a voice whispered in his head—it sounded suspiciously like Mor. So Cassian relaxed his posture, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He was, afterall, just a man.

And he wasn’t a threat to her. Everyone else, perhaps—and one day she’d hate him for the part he was playing to keep her father from starting another war—but not her.

“They’re mostly decorative,” Nesta finally said, coming back to her senses. “And I suspect you are the opposite.”

“Shrewd of you,” Cassian praised, taking in this information. “I would think the palace guards were the best your kingdom had to offer.”

She rolled her eyes. “If that were true, Feyre would be easier contained within its walls.”

Cassian filed that away, too. Where did the little princess run off to, he wondered? And why was Nesta telling him this? She didn’t strike him as the uncareful type. No, Nesta was giving him little crumbs he was certain were leading somewhere. The expression on her face was too well guarded for anything else.

“And you?” he guessed.

Nesta only shrugged. “Where would I go beyond the palace walls, General?”

Cassian’s body went tight all at once. Fuck, but that voice… “Anywhere you like, I hope. Unless this is a cry for help and you’ve actually been held hostage?”

The faintest whisper of a smile spread over her features. Pretty thing. Cassian wanted to touch her and thought that was the quickest way to lose a hand.

“My life is one of endless wonder,” she assured him, her voice dry and laced with sarcasm. “I am incandescently happy.”

“My apologies, my lady,” Cassian murmured, needing to get some air before he did something monumentally stupid. “Far be it from to cast aspersions on you and your life. But…if you find yourself wishing you knew how to wield a blade so you could…I don’t know…move more effectively in the world…you know where to find me.”

And then he kept walking, refusing to touch her as he passed though it was hell not to even brush a wisp of hair from her cheek.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta asked when they were shoulder to shoulder, staring straight ahead. Cassian watched her from the corner of his eye.

“You’ll need to know if you’re going to marry Rhys,” he replied, the words ash on his tongue. Nesta didn’t move.

“That’s it?”

“Maybe I want a reason to see you again.”

Her breath curled around her face like a shadow, vanishing in the gloomy morning light. “I’ll think about it.”

There was nothing Cassian could say that wouldn’t make him sound insane. So he nodded, clenching his jaw to keep his words leashed before he took off walking again. There was no reason to arm that woman—and every possibility she would take everything she learned and turn around and use it against them.

And yet the thought of Nesta pressing a blade against his throat was so erotic that Cassian had to lap around the garden twice before making his way to the training yard, later than he’d meant to be.

And still—it was worth it.

#elucien #nessian #eris being the worst #all the usual shenanigans #tragically as i wrap up chapter 5 i think i need 5 more chapters #I will keep clackity clacking away

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thesupreme316 · 10 months

Note

bronco nima & lucien price x female reader (platonic) the boys help their best friend through a rough break up. i could imagine bronco wanting to kill the guy and lucien comforting the lady.

Bronco Nima & Lucien Price Comforting You After A Break-Up:

Word Count: 1K

Supreme Speaks: Thanks to @hooks-martin for requesting this, I hope it lives up to your expectations. Please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: barely proofread, sorry about that

If ya’ll haven’t checked out Bronco and Lucien, do yourself a favor and go do it now

I think that they would be at your house before you could even finish your sentence

You and your partner of 2 years broke up due to differences yesterday

You were okay because you two just grew apart

So you thought

But then you found out they had a secret affair with someone going on for 1 year…and he proposed to the girl today (this was inspired by a reddit story)

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back

You were hysterical, letting out every drop of anger and sadness in your body

You were also currently on the phone with your best friends; crying about the situation

Next thing you know, your doorbell rang

You opened the door, eyes full of tears, to see your best friends standing with your favorite ice cream, tissues, car keys, and a blanket

Lucien: get your shoes on and get in the car. We’re going for a late drive

He’s the calm one in the situation; thinking logically and believing that you need fresh air

You quietly got in the back of Lucien’s car and ate your ice cream as the blanket was draped over you

And Bronco?

Bronco wants to kick someone; he didn’t say a word, he just sat in the front seat, seething

He literally wants to kill your ex, and quite possibly the girl too, but he’s restraining himself

For you, the drive made you feel a little better and definitely allowed you to cool your head with the radio playing in the background and Lucien asking different questions to distract you

After driving around, they went back to your house

“Thanks guys for coming out here at 11 PM to deal with my dumb issues,” You said, flopping on the couch.

Lucien rubbed your back, “Your issues are never dumb. We’ll always be here for you. Your issues are our issues,” He said looking to Bronco for reassurance, who was just pacing with his arms crossed. “Right, Bronco?”

Bronco quickly snapped his head up, “Yeah. Sweetheart, you can always come to us about anything.” He stated before he started to pace again.

You leaned up to whisper to Luicen, “What’s wrong with him?”

“You know how he gets when someone messes with you. So he’s a little angry right now,” He whispered back

“Y’all talking about me?” Bronco's voice slightly boomed, making the two of you shake your head. “I’m gonna make you a sandwich 'cause I don’t think you ate anything besides that damn ice cream,” He said before going to the kitchen. No matter how mad he may be, Bronco always made sure to take care of you first.

In the meanwhile, Lucien was putting on Netflix for y’all to watch while y’all waited. As the show of your choice was opening, there was a knock at your door. Lucien, looking confused, got up ad went to the door. He looked in the peephole, rolled his eyes, and sat back down. “Who was it?” You asked

“It’s your ex, with flowers.” Lucien said before whispering “Jackass” You looked at the door, before looking down. Lucien spoke up again as your ex continued to knock on the door, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Just know, I fully support whatever it is that you do.”

Sighing, you get up and decided to answer the door. Your ex was standing there as Lucien said with flowers and a remorseful face. “Y/N! I thought you would never answer!”  “What do you want?”

“You back.” He said, almost making you laugh. The same man who cheated on you, left you, and tried to marry another girl wanted you back? Crazy. “I made a big mistake! I know it wasn’t right, but I’m back now. We can be together again, like how we should be,”

You bitterly chuckled, “What about your fiancé? She kicked your no-good self to the curb?”  “We’re over, it’s you who I want.”

You were about to speak until Lucien's voice called out, “Well she doesn’t want your stupid ass!”

Your ex tried to look over you to find the voice, “Who was that? Oh, so you moved on that quickly? I should have known.”

“What? You moved on first, before we even ended our relationship! Look, can you just leave before there are more problems, please?”

“My pleasure. Enjoy being right back where you were.” Your ex said turning his back as you closed the door. You huffed, before taking your original seat next to Lucien.

Lucien wrapped his arm around you, “You did well. Not the way I wouldn’t have done it, but you did very well.”

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, “How would have you done it?”

He smiled, “I wouldn’t have answered the door.” You both laughed as Bronco entered the living room and plated the sandwich in front of you. He then started to move towards the door. “Where you going, man?”

“I need to take out the trash,” Bronco said as he walked out the door. You took a bite of the delicious sandwich, but then you realized something.

“Lucien, the trashcan is in my backyard.” You said.

His eyes widened, “And he didn’t have a trash bag with him.” As you both looked at each other with wide eyes, a scream from outside broke the moment of silence. From what you could tell, it was your ex’s voice. Lucien looked out the window, briefly smiled, and turned back to you. “Bronco’s fine.”

As if on cue, you heard tires screech away from your house and Bronco entered your house, huffing. His man bun was now lopsided and his right hand was turning red. Closing the door, he simply said, “I’m gonna go ice my hand.” He walked to the kitchen, making a small smile appear on your face.

“See? I told you, he’s fine.” Lucien said, clicking back to Netflix.

You don’t know what you would do without your boys protecting and comforting you.

And to be honest, you didn’t wanna find out.

#wwe #wwe nxt #nxt #nxt imagine #nxt headcanon #bronco nima #bronco nima imagines #bronco nima x reader #lucien prince #lucien price #lucien prince imagine #lucien price imagine #wrestling fic #wrestling imagine

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theladyofbloodshed · 8 months

Text

Neris Week - Day 4 - Love

High Lord Meeting from Eris’ POV (aka the first time he sees Nesta) - Majority of the text is word-for-word from ACOWAR including all of the events, but switched to Eris' POV rather than Feyre's.

There was just enough time to glimpse the polished, marble floor and the deep-cushioned oak chairs arranged in a circle that his father would recoil at. Delegates from Winter, Day, and Night had already assembled alongside Thesan’s number. They were gathered around the gem of the chamber; a reflection pool with pink and gold water lilies floating upon the dark water. The atmosphere was tense enough to be cut with a knife. Eris spotted Mor, thin-lipped and pale, refusing to glance their way as he filed in behind his parents. The Night Court had their hackles raised though they were not the only court which had stiffened at the arrival of Autumn. It was to be expected for a court in a state of perpetual decay.

They had come as allies, not enemies. Apparently. Hostility seeped from those gathered but Beron merely gave a brief glance to the high lords. Eris noticed his mother’s shoulders stiffen as her head swept through the room. No Lucien. That was the only reason why she had petitioned and begged to be allowed to attend the meeting. All of those nights pleading and needling at her husband, promising to behave and do whatever he wanted, for a son who was not here.

His brothers sneered which ruffled the feathers of the Peregryns and had one of the Summer Court princes baring his teeth in warning.

‘Enough,’ murmured Eris, pulling them back into line since Beron wasn’t about to do it. He needed today to go well. Needed to prove to the Night Court he was worth aligning with. He had heard rumours of the mortal sisters forced into the Cauldron; one had been blessed with foresight, the other was more complex. The world had shuddered when that one came out. Eris imagined something grotesque and wicked, warped by the might of the Cauldron.

Beron paused halfway through the room, surveying it again with his keen, brown eyes. Disgust had his top lip curling.

Rhysand stood. ‘It’s no surprise that you’re tardy, given that your own sons were too slow to catch my mate. I suppose it runs in the family. Mate—and High Lady.’

The female levelled a flat, bored stare in their direction. Eris met it with an amused, if not bland smile. He had known the instant that Feyre Archeron had crossed into his court thanks to his smoke hounds. It would have been too easy to drag her before his father. No, Eris had his eyes on a bigger prize. He could feel the burn of Cassian’s eyes on him. Eris deigned a glance at the Illyrian general and inclined his head in invitation, subtly patting his stomach. It was always too easy to push the general’s temper. To see how she’d react, Eris turned his amber eyes to Morrigan. A blank stare was his only response. Her white-hot anger writhed beneath the surface, but it had been her own blood who had driven the nails in, not him.

Thesan, as host, began once they had all seated. ‘Rhysand, you have called this meeting. Pushed us to gather sooner than we intended. Now would be the time to explain what is so urgent.’

Rhys blinked—slowly. ‘Surely the invading armies landing on our shores explain enough.’

‘So you have called us to do what, exactly?’ Helion challenged, bracing his forearms on his muscled, gleaming thighs. ‘Raise a unified army?’

Unification? Beron would rather see all of Prythian turn to ash than stand alongside the Day Court.

‘Among other things,’ Rhys said mildly. ‘We—'

Like a crack of lightning, vicious as a spring storm, Tamlin winnowed into the chamber itself. Now this meeting would be interesting, Eris thought. Never one for opulence, Tamlin did not bother with the landing balcony, or the escorts. He did not have an entourage. He had never needed one to assert his dominance; the size was enough and the brute force.

Absolute silence. Absolute stillness. Shields locked into place. He felt the soft hum of his father’s covering all of them. Tamlin was not to be underestimated. They'd chased naga from the border only to run them into Tamlin's claws where they were shredded like ribbons. Eris did not want to be on the receiving end of those. His clothes were too expensive.

Eris skimmed his eyes over the Night Court, tantalised with anticipation of the expected maelstrom headed their way. Rhysand appeared bored but Eris could see the tightness behind his expression, just as he used to wear when carrying out another of Amarantha’s more savage punishments. The ever-dramatic Morrigan made a show of her disgust, but it was the female beside her that Eris was more interested in. The cold caution on her face made her look as though she was made of ice, but there was a flame in her heart that flared. Eris felt his own chest go tight at the sight of her, the breath catching in his lungs on an inhale. Pale gold hair was drawn into a neat coronet to highlight the sharp planes of her elegant face. There was no mistaking the relationship to the high lady of the Night Court, but while the latter was more restless and freer, the sister seemed steadier. There was a sophistication to her; a trained stillness that ought to come from holding court. Her grey eyes flicked towards him, noticing the attention. For all the steady calm she displayed, those eyes churned like storm clouds barrelling his way. She was the riptide waiting to drown its victim and Eris would be happy to step into her path.

Thesan rose, his captain remaining seated beside him—albeit with a hand on his sword. ‘We were not expecting you, Tamlin.’ Thesan gestured with a slender hand toward his cringing attendants. ‘Fetch the High Lord a chair.’

He was more used to sleeping on floors as a beast, Eris thought. Tamlin did not tear his gaze from his runaway bride. His smile turned subdued—yet somehow more unnerving. More vicious. Eris knew the male well enough; enough to know that he could shred his enemies quicker than any spell could be cast. He wore his usual green tunic—no crown, no adornments.

Beron drawled, ‘I will admit, Tamlin, that I am surprised to see you here. Rumour claims your allegiance now lies elsewhere.’

He was feeling brave because Tamlin’s gaze had not moved from Feyre Archeron. It landed on her ring finger then the tattoo beneath the glittering, pale blue sleeve of her gown. Then it rose—right to that crown on her pretty, little head. Rhysand’s play thing, all dolled up for the show.

The attendants hauled over a chair—setting it between Autumn and Day. Alastar was smart enough not to physically recoil as Tamlin’s arm brushed against his own as he took the seat.

Helion waved a scar-flecked hand. ‘Let’s get on with it, then.’

Although Thesan cleared his throat, no one looked toward him.

‘It would seem congratulations are in order.’ Tamlin’s words were flat—flat and yet as sharp as his claws, currently hidden beneath his golden skin.

Rhysand only held his once-companion’s stare. Held it with a face like ice, and yet utter rage roiled beneath it. Cataclysmic rage, surging and writhing. This would be a fun day, Eris thought. Perhaps there was a bet to see who was most likely to draw first blood. His money was on the holier-than-thou Night Court who were always above any restrictions.

‘We can discuss the matter at hand later.’

Tamlin said calmly, ‘Don’t stop on my account.’

‘I’m not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies.’

A pissing contest between the high lords then, that was what it was to be.

‘No,’ Tamlin said with equal ease, ‘you’re just in the business of fucking them.’

Eris pressed his lips together to fight back a grin. Tamlin had never been one for subtlety. Despite the mounting tension, Eris found it all highly amusing. These fragile males and their egos. Tamlin had spent years in war bands; his words could be crass and brutal.

‘Seems a far less destructive alternative to war,’ replied Rhysand.

‘And yet here you are, having started it in the first place.’

Claws began to slide from Tamlin’s knuckles. Eris measured the space between himself and his mother – how quickly he could winnow her away if Tamlin leapt across the pool to rip out Rhysand’s throat. He wasn’t the only one calculating the space. Kallias had drifted a hand over to the arm of his new wife’s chair.

‘If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.’

Feyre said quietly, ‘The sun was shining when I left you.’

This was better intel than any of their spies had managed. Perhaps they should make these meetings a regular thing.

Kallias asked, ‘Why are you here, Tamlin?’

Tamlin’s claw dug into the wood, puncturing deep even as his voice remained mild. ‘I bartered access to my lands to get back the woman I love from a sadist who plays with minds as if they are toys. I meant to fight Hybern—to find a way around the bargain I made with the king once she was back. Only Rhysand and his cabal had turned her into one of them. And she delighted in ripping open my territory for Hybern to invade. All for a petty grudge— either her own or her … master’s.’

‘You don’t get to rewrite the narrative,’ she breathed, colour dotting her cheeks. ‘You don’t get to spin this to your advantage.’

Tamlin only angled his head at Rhysand, a cruel glimmer that Eris was familiar with lightened his green eyes. ‘When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?’

A bit of a low blow, sharing bedroom habits. This was a war between two egotistical males, he supposed. Eris had no doubt that his father would be grinning.

It was the shadowsinger’s cold, deep voice that spoke. ‘Be careful how you speak about my High Lady.’

Surprise flashed in Tamlin’s eyes—then vanished. Vanished, swallowed by pure fury as he realised what that obscene tattoo coating her hand was for. ‘It was not enough to sit at my side, was it?’. A hateful smile curled his lips. ‘You once asked me if you’d be my High Lady, and when I said no …’ A low laugh. ‘Perhaps I underestimated you. Why serve in my court, when you could rule in his? They peddle tales of defending our land and peace. And yet she came to my lands and laid them bare for Hybern. She took my High Priestess and warped her mind—after she shattered her bones for spite. And if you are asking yourself what happened to that human girl who went Under the Mountain to save us … Look to the male sitting beside her. Ask what he stands to gain—what they stand to gain from this war, or lack of it. Would we fight Hybern, only to find ourselves with a Queen and King of Prythian? She’s proved her ambition—and you saw how he was more than happy to serve Amarantha to remain unscathed.’

An impassioned speech, but Tamlin had never been a wordsmith. A razor-sharp claw through Rhysand’s skull was a better avenue for his rage.

Rhys let out a dark laugh. ‘Well played, Tamlin. You’re learning.’

Ire contorted Tamlin’s face at the condescension. But he faced Kallias. ‘You asked why I’m here? I might ask the same of you.’ He jerked his chin at the High Lord of Winter, at Viviane—the few other members of their retinue who had remained silent. ‘You mean to tell me that after Under the Mountain, you can stomach working with him?’ A finger was flung in Rhysand’s direction.

He supposed Tamlin had a fair point. They had all been at the mercy of Rhysand’s tyranny for fifty years and he had certainly delighted in selecting members of the Autumn Court to enact his punishments on as if that might have bothered Beron. He cared little for his people, only saw them as possessions himself.

‘We came here to decide that for ourselves.’ The soft, silvery glow that had been emitting from the Lady of the Winter Court had dimmed somewhat under Morrigan’s scrutiny. Eris knew there was a bond there. An old one, rarely used, but strong. Did Morrigan know how many children died under Rhysand’s command? How much Winter Court blood soaked her cousin’s hands.

Rhysand said softly to them, to everyone, ‘I had no involvement in that. None.’

Kallias’s eyes flared like blue flame. ‘You stood beside her throne while the order was given.’

Eris remembered that day. It was near the end – although there had been no signs that the end was near. The guilt and horror had threatened to drown him. Worse was the relief that it was not their children. Not Autumn Court children. Another court would pay the debt for rebellion. Another court would bleed.

‘I tried to stop it.’

‘Tell that to the parents of the two dozen younglings she butchered,’ Kallias said, voice as cold as the season he owned. ‘That you tried.’

‘There is not one day that passes when I don’t remember it,’ he said to Kallias, to Viviane. To their companions. ‘Not one day.’

‘Remembering,’ Kallias said, ‘doesn’t bring them back, does it?’

‘No,’ Rhys said plainly. ‘No, it doesn’t. And I am now fighting to make sure it never happens again.’

Noble. Noble to say when he was stood on the winning side until the tide changed – as did his allegiance. It wasn’t his court which bled. It wasn’t the Night Court who prayed to the Mother that their children would be safe.

Viviane glanced between the two high lords. ‘I was not present Under the Mountain. But I would hear, High Lord, how you tried to—stop her.’ Pain tightened her face. She, too, had been unable to prevent it while she guarded her small slice of the territory. It was a miracle, really, she had survived unscathed without Amarantha – or Rhysand – finding her.

His father snorted, unable to suppress his comment. ‘Finally speechless, Rhysand?’

‘I believe you,’ said Feyre.

‘Says the woman,’ Beron countered, ‘who gave an innocent girl’s name in her stead—for Amarantha to butcher as well.’

That one had given Eris nightmares. The damn mortal female had locked eyes with him as she begged one of the fae to help. It still happened sometimes, even now. He’d wake in a cold sweat after dreaming he was back in that place with a young woman crying and begging for her life even as she bled out across the obsidian floor.

‘When your people rebelled… She was furious. She wanted you dead, Kallias.’ Viviane’s face drained of colour at Rhysand’s words. He went on, ‘I… convinced her that it would serve little purpose.’

‘Who knew,’ Beron mused, ‘that a cock could be so persuasive?’

That was too far, even Eris could acknowledge that. He did not fancy his father’s odds with the Night Court staring him down. He had no love for his father, but his mother didn’t deserve to be hurt in the crossfire.

‘Father.’ Eris’s voice was low with warning.

But Rhysand went on to Kallias, ‘She backed off the idea of killing you. Your rebels were dead—I convinced her it was enough. I thought it was the end of it.’ His breathing hitched slightly. ‘I only found out when you did. I think she viewed my defence of you as a warning sign—she didn’t tell me any of it. And she kept me … confined. I tried to break into the minds of the soldiers she sent, but her damper on my power was too strong to hold them—and it was already done. She … she sent a daemati with them. To …’ He faltered. Rhysand swallowed. ‘I think she wanted you to suspect me. To keep us from ever allying against her.’

How convenient for Amarantha – and Rhysand – that there was another daemati in play all that time. One who had never stepped out of the shadows. Eris picked at his nails, bored by the tale being spun.

‘Where did she confine you?’ The question came from Viviane, her arms wrapped around her middle.

‘Her bedroom.’

‘Stories and words,’ Tamlin said, lounging in his chair. ‘Is there any proof?’

‘Proof—’ Cassian snarled, half rising in his seat, wings starting to flare because he could never quite manage those emotions.

‘No,’ Rhysand cut in as Morrigan blocked Cassian with an arm, forcing him to sit like an obedient hound. Rhysand added to Kallias, ‘But I swear it—upon my mate’s life.’

Tamlin rolled his eyes. Eris was not convinced either. He had seen enough schemes, enough masks, to know when one was not truly honest. It wasn’t Eris that Rhysand was trying to persuade. Whatever Kallias read in his face, his words, it was believed. He pinned Tamlin with a hard, blue stare as he asked again, ‘Why are you here, Tamlin?’

A muscle flickered in Tamlin’s jaw. ‘I am here to help you fight against Hybern.’

‘Bullshit,’ Cassian muttered. If the Illyrian learned to hold his tongue, amongst manners, he might not be as uncouth.

‘You will forgive us,’ Thesan interrupted gracefully, ‘if we are doubtful. And hesitant to share any plans.’

‘Even when I have information on Hybern’s movements?’

Silence. Tarquin, across the pool, watched and listened. For one young and inexperienced, it was the best option. Maybe they’d battle it out amongst themselves and he and Tarquin could rule a new Prythian.

Another sharp-toothed smile was offered by Tamlin. ‘Why do you think I invited them to the house? Into my lands? I once told you I would fight against tyranny, against that sort of evil. Did you think you were enough to turn me from that?’ His teeth shone white as bone at Feyre. ‘It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family.’ A sneer towards the beautiful sister, who was frowning with distaste. ‘Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?’

‘Watch your mouth,’ Mor snapped.

Tamlin ignored her wholly and waved a hand toward Rhysand’s wings. ‘I sometimes forget— what you are. Have the masks come off now, or is this another ploy?’

‘You’re beginning to become tedious, Tamlin,’ Helion said, propping his head on a hand. The low timbre of his voice had Beron stiffening. ‘Take your lovers’ spat elsewhere and let the rest of us discuss this war.’

‘You’d be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one.’

‘No one says war can’t be lucrative,’ Helion countered.

‘Enough,’ Kallias said. ‘We have our opinions on how the conflict with Hybern should be dealt with.’ Those glacial eyes hardened as he again took in Tamlin. ‘Are you here as an ally of Hybern or Prythian?’

The mocking, hateful gleam faded into granite resolve. ‘I stand against Hybern.’

‘Prove it,’ Helion goaded.

Tamlin lifted his hand, and a stack of papers appeared on the little table beside his chair. ‘Charts of armies, ammunition, caches of faebane … Everything carefully gleaned these months.’

That was priceless intel. Autumn was already exposed to Hybern sweeping in from Spring and Summer; they needed that information.

‘Noble as it sounds,’ Helion went on, ‘who is to say that information is correct—or that you aren’t Hybern’s agent, trying to mislead us?’

‘Who is to say that Rhysand and his cronies are not agents of Hybern, all of this a ruse to get you to yield without realizing it?’

The gorgeous female carved from marble murmured, ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘If we need to ally against Hybern,’ Thesan said, ‘you are doing a good job of convincing us not to band together, Tamlin.’

‘I am simply warning you that they might present the guise of honesty and friendship, but the fact remains that he warmed Amarantha’s bed for fifty years, and only worked against her when it seemed the tide was turning. I’m warning you that while he claims his own city was attacked by Hybern, they made off remarkably well—as if they’d been anticipating it. Don’t think he wouldn’t sacrifice a few buildings and lesser faeries to lure you into an alliance, into thinking you had a common enemy. Why is it that only the Night Court got word about the attack on Adriata—and were the only ones to arrive in time to play saviour?’

‘They received word,’ Varian cut in coolly, ‘because I warned them of it.’

An interesting development. Now, what business would a prince of the Summer Court have with the Night Court? Especially as Eris had heard a whisper on the wind that blood rubies had been sent north. Tarquin whipped his head to his cousin, brows high with surprise.

‘Perhaps you’re working with them, too,’ Tamlin said to the Prince of Adriata. ‘You’re next in line, after all.’

‘You’re insane,’ breathed Feyre to Tamlin as Varian bared his teeth. ‘Do you hear what you’re saying?’ A trembling finger pointed towards her sister. ‘Hybern turned my sisters into Fae—after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!’

It was true then, the rumour carried on wings. Two mortal women went into the Cauldron and a pair of high fae emerged, one beautiful, one terrible. Eris surveyed the female again. Her spiked ears were hidden amongst the soft threads of her hair. She was more than high fae. He could not explain it. Her eyes were different; a never-ending grey that spelled the end of worlds. The elegance of her face would not be out of place in an ancient tale. It was one that could spark wars; a face that males would die for. Her attention flickered to him again, eyeing him warily like a predator deciding whether he was worth the chase.

‘Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress—I’m sure the trait runs in the family.’

The female, Nesta, let out a low laugh. Hatred simmered in her expression. ‘If you want someone to blame for all of this,’ she said to Tamlin, ‘perhaps you should first look in the mirror.’

Tamlin snarled at her. Cassian snarled right back, ‘Watch it.’

Oh. The brute had set his sights on this one then. She was too good for a bastard like him. Tamlin looked between the pair —his gaze lingering on Cassian’s wings, tucked in behind him. Snorted. ‘Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.’

Surely this beauty wouldn’t truly sully herself with a male like Cassian? He had no love for Illyrians but surely a shadow singing one was better than the average, grunting one.

‘What do you want? An apology? For me to crawl back into your bed and play nice, little wife?’

‘Why should I want spoiled goods returned to me?’ Tamlin growled, ‘The moment you let him fuck you like an—’

One heartbeat, the poisoned words were spewing from his mouth—where fangs lengthened. Then they stopped. Tamlin’s mouth simply stopped emitting sounds. He shut his mouth, opened it—tried again. No sound, not even a snarl, came out. There was no smile on Rhysand’s face, not a glint of that irreverent amusement as he rested his head against the back of his chair.

‘The gasping-fish look is a good one for you, Tamlin.’

The others, who had been watching with disdain and amusement and boredom, now turned to Rhysand. Now possessed a shadow of fear in their eyes as they realized who and what, exactly, sat amongst them.

‘If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern, consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.’

Only his damn father was stupid enough to scoff and draw attention to themselves. Eris angled his chair, ensuring he would take a blow from Rhysand rather than his mother.

‘Yet here I am,’ Rhysand went on, not deigning to give Beron a glance of acknowledgment. ‘Here we all are.’

Absolute silence. Then Tarquin, silent and watchful, cleared his throat. ‘Despite Varian’s unsanctioned warning…’ A glare at his cousin, who didn’t so much as look sorry about it, ‘You were the only ones who came to help. The only ones. And yet you asked for nothing in return. Why?’

Rhys’s voice was a bit hoarse as he asked, ‘Isn’t that what friends do?’ A subtle, quiet offer.

‘I rescind the blood rubies. Let there be no debts between us.’

How terribly boring.

‘Don’t expect Amren to return hers,’ Cassian muttered. ‘She’s grown attached to it.’

Rhysand turned to Tamlin. Were they enemies or allies now? Eris couldn’t tell. He doubted they would never see eye to eye again. Rhysand dipped his head. ‘I believe you. That you will fight for Prythian. War is upon us. I have no interest in wasting energy arguing amongst ourselves.’

Beron said, ‘You may be inclined to believe him, Rhysand, but as someone who shares a border with his court, I am not so easily swayed.’ A wry look. ‘Perhaps my errant son can clarify. Pray, where is he?’

Beside him, his mother sat straighter in her seat, hope lifting her. Just one glimpse of Lucien. That was all she wanted. All she ever asked for. I just want to see my son while he still lives.

The curt reply from Feyre was, ‘Helping to guard our city.’

Although his brother could wield a blade as good as any, Lucien had spent his patrols charming females, singing to their mothers or slipping away from their fathers. His life in Spring had been no different. But, perhaps, if a mate had been created by the Cauldron for him, Lucien might have turned over a new leaf. Eris snorted and surveyed Nesta, who stared back at him with steel in her face. He liked this one. He fancied testing her mettle.

‘Pity you didn’t bring the other sister. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty.’

Mor replied smoothly, ‘You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things don’t change over the centuries.’

An unnecessary jab from a female who still clung to the past like a shield so she never had to face the truth. Eris’s mouth curled into a smile at the words, the careful game of pretending that they had not seen each other in years still in play. ‘Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut.’

The wood shattered beneath him. His head met the floor with an agonising intimacy as scarred hands wrapped around his throat. A wall of blue was in his blurred vision as the Night Court’s shadowsinger unleased his wrath on Eris.

A knee pressed into Eris’s gut. It was the silence that unnerved Eris most. Not wholly the shadowsinger but the entire room had fell into quiet.

His vision began blotting as he choked for breath. A blur of orange met the blue shield but could not manage against the writhing shadows.

Azriel stopped.

The high lady was there, a hand against the shield. Eris gasped for air as those scarred hands loosened. She extended a hand to him, but the rest of the room was revulsed. Mor, the female that Azriel wished was his, had gone pale and shaky. Eris hid his gloat.

‘Come sit beside me,’ the high lady crooned like Azriel was nothing more than a child.

The shadowsinger leaned in towards Eris as he sucked in breaths. His voice was low enough for only for Eris to catch it. ‘Your father will be interested to know about your alliance with us. Yours and your mother’s.’

He wouldn’t. Azriel wouldn’t implicate his mother in a plot that had nothing to do with her. The shadows around them lightened to sunshine but Eris was sick to his core. It wasn’t only his life on the line by gambling with the Night Court. His mother would be an unwilling pawn in their blackmail. Lucien’s life balanced against hers.

Beron struck—only for his fire to bounce off a hard barrier.

A smug look was plastered on Feyre’s face. ‘That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.’

Helion laughed at the comment. As Eris expected, Mor had recoiled from Azriel. She looked as if she’d like nothing better than to be away from this room, from him.

Feyre took a deliberately slow walk to the table to fill a glass of wine for the feral one. ‘They are my family,’ she said, handing Azriel the wine. She met Eris’ gaze. ‘I don’t care if we are allies in this war. If you insult my friend again, I won’t stop him the next time.’

With his mother’s neck at the mercy of the Night Court, Eris straightened the lapels of his jacket. ‘Apologies, Morrigan.’

Thesan rubbed his temples. ‘This does not bode well.’

But Helion smirked at his retinue, crossing an ankle over a knee and flashing those powerful, sleek thighs. ‘Looks like you owe me ten gold marks.’

Helion waved a hand, and the stacks of papers Tamlin had compiled drifted over to him on a phantom wind. With a snap of his fingers—scar-flecked from swordplay—other stacks appeared before every chair in the room. ‘Replicas,’ he said without looking up as he leafed through the documents. A handy trick—for a male whose trove was not in gold, but in knowledge. No one made any move to touch the papers. Helion clicked his tongue. ‘If all of this is true,’ he announced, Tamlin snarling at the haughty tone, ‘then I’d suggest two things: first, destroying Hybern’s caches of faebane. We won’t last long if they’ve made them into so many versatile weapons. It’s worth the risk to destroy them.’

Kallias arched a brow. ‘How would you suggest we do that?’

‘We’ll handle it,’ Tarquin offered. Varian nodded. ‘We owe them for Adriata.’

Thesan said, ‘There is no need.’ The High Lord of Dawn folded his hands in his lap. ‘A master tinkerer of mine has been waiting for the past several hours. I would like for her to now join us.’

Before anyone could reply, a High Fae female appeared at the edge of the circle. She bowed quickly, displaying her light brown skin and long, silken black hair. She wore clothes similar to Thesan’s, but her sleeves had been rolled up to the forearms, the tunic unbuttoned to her chest to show a golden hand. It clicked and whirred quietly, drawing the eye of every immortal in the room as she faced her High Lord. Thesan smiled in warm welcome.

‘My Lord.’

Thesan gestured to the female standing tall before the assembled group. ‘Nuan is one of my most skilled craftspeople.’

Rhysand leaned back in his seat, brows rising with recognition at the name, and jerked his chin towards them. ‘You might know her as the person responsible for granting your … errant son, as you called him, the ability to use his left eye after Amarantha removed it.’

Nuan nodded once in confirmation, her lips pressing into a thin line as she took in the Autumn Court delegate. They weren’t the ones who caused it, Eris thought bitterly. That had been Tamlin sending his emissary into the lion’s den and expecting Lucien not to argue back. His little brother had never learnt to tame his tongue in matters of love or war.

‘And what has this to do with the faebane?’ Helion demanded.

Nuan turned, her dark hair slipping over a shoulder as she studied Helion. And did not seem impressed. ‘Because I found a solution for it.’

Thesan waved a hand. ‘We heard rumours of faebane being used in this war—used in the attack on your city, Rhysand. We thought to look into the issue before it became a deadly weakness for all of us.’ He nodded to Nuan. ‘Beyond her unparalleled tinkering, she is a skilled alchemist.’

Nuan crossed her arms, the sun glinting off her metal hand. ‘Thanks to samples attained after the attack in Velaris, I was able to create an … antidote, of sorts.’

‘How did you get those samples?’ Cassian demanded.

A flush crept over Nuan’s cheeks. ‘I—heard the rumours and assumed Lucien Vanserra would be residing there after … what happened.’ She still didn’t look at Tamlin, who remained silent and brooding. ‘I managed to contact him a few days ago—asked him to send samples. He did—and did not tell you,’ she added quickly to Rhysand, ‘because he did not want to raise your hopes. Not until I’d found a solution.’

Always so clever and ahead of the curve, that Lucien, the clever fox. He had kept Eris on his toes when they were younger. Their chess games would last for hours with only a handful of pieces even moved across the board.

Nuan went on, ‘The Mother has provided us with everything we need on this earth. So it has been a matter of finding what, exactly, she gave us in Prythian to combat a material from Hybern capable of wiping out our powers.’

Helion shifted with impatience, that glistening, white fabric slipping over his muscled chest. Thesan read that impatience, too, and said, ‘Nuan has been able to quickly create a powder for us to ingest in drink, food, however you please. It grants immunity from the faebane. I already have workers in three of my cities manufacturing as much of it as possible to hand out to our unified armies.’

Tarquin asked, ‘But what of physical objects made from faebane? They possessed gauntlets at the battle to smash through shields.’ He jerked his chin towards Rhysand. ‘And when they attacked your own city.’

‘Against that,’ Nuan said, ‘you only have your wits to protect you.’ She did not break Tarquin’s stare, and he straightened, as if surprised she did so. ‘The compound I’ve made will only protect you —your powers—from being rendered void by the faebane. Perhaps if you are pierced with a weapon tipped in faebane, having the compound in your system will negate its impact.’

Quiet fell. Beron said, ‘And we are supposed to trust you’—a look at Thesan, then at Nuan—'with this …substance we’re to blindly ingest.’

Eris’ toes curled in his shoes, bracing himself for whatever would spew from his father’s lips next. He did his best not to grimace.

‘Would you rather face Hybern without any power?’ Thesan demanded. ‘My master alchemists and tinkerers are no fools.’

‘No,’ Beron said, frowning, ‘but where did she come from? Who are you?’

The others assembled weren’t old enough to remember little beyond the war five centuries ago. Beron’s memories ran deeper. The war had been brewing for a long time with small battles, ambushes and assassinations. He had only spoken of it a handful of times to Eris as though the words had fought their way to the surface. Beron had only been a boy of eleven years when his own father was betrayed and taken to the Continent. They only knew he had been murdered when the magic transferred to Beron. Then, his tar-dipped head was delivered to the boy high lord days later.

‘I am the daughter of two High Fae from Xian, who moved here to give their children a better life, if that is what you are demanding to know,’ Nuan answered tightly.

Helion demanded of Beron, ‘What does this have to do with anything?’

Beron shrugged. ‘If her family is from Xian—which I’ll have you remember fought for the Loyalists—then whose interests does she serve?’

Helion’s amber eyes flashed.

Thesan cut in sharply, ‘I will have you remember, Beron, that my own mother hailed from Xian. And a large majority of my court did as well. Be careful what you say.’

Before Beron could hiss a retort, Nuan said to the Lord of Autumn, her chin high, ‘I am a child of Prythian. I was born here, on this land, as your sons were.’

Beron’s face darkened. ‘Watch your tone, girl.’

‘She doesn’t have to watch anything,’ cut in Feyre Archeron. ‘Not when you fling that sort of horseshit at her. I will take your antidote.’

Foolish, he supposed, or a way to freeze them out from the antidote. The effects of the faebane were catastrophic. If the caches couldn’t be destroyed, the Autumn Court needed access to the antidote.

‘Father,’ murmured Eris. He was met with those hollow, chestnut eyes as Beron lifted a brow.

‘You have something to add?’

Eris didn’t flinch, but he chose his words very, very carefully. ‘I have seen the effects of faebane.’ He nodded toward Feyre Archeron, thinking of her bumbling through his court with her stolen powers stripped away. ‘It truly renders us unable to tap our power. If it’s wielded against us in war or beyond it—'

‘If it is, we shall face it. I will not risk my people or family in testing out a theory.’

‘It is no theory,’ Nuan said, that mechanical hand clicking and whirring as it curled into a fist. ‘I would not stand here unless it had been proved without a doubt.’

Conscious of the storm cloud grey eyes trailing over his face, a moment of rashness overwhelmed Eris’ sense. ‘I will take it.’

Beron’s gaze promised retaliation when they returned to their lands for speaking too boldly.

In that unflinchingly cold voice of his, Beron only said, ‘No, you will not. Though I’m sure your brothers will be sorry to hear it.’

Rhysand said simply, ‘Then don’t take it. I will. My entire court will, as will my armies.’ He gave a thankful nod to Nuan. Thesan did the same—in thanks and dismissal—and the master tinkerer bowed once more and left.

‘At least you have armies to give it to,’ Tamlin said mildly, breaking his roiling silence. ‘Though perhaps that was part of the plan. Disable my force while your own swept in. Or was it just to see my people suffer?’ The claws came out once more. ‘Surely you knew that when you turned my forces on me, it would leave my people defenceless against Hybern.’

The high lady had no words to offer.

‘You primed my court to fall,’ Tamlin said with venomous quiet. ‘And it did. Those villages you wanted so badly to help rebuild? They’re nothing more than cinders now. And while you’ve been making antidotes and casting yourselves as saviours, I’ve been piecing together my forces—regaining their trust, their numbers. Trying to gather my people in the East— where Hybern has not yet marched.’

Surprising Eris, that beautiful female beside Feyre said drily, ‘So you won’t be taking the antidote, then.’

Tamlin ignored her, even as his claws sank into the arm of his chair. Eris braced himself to move if needed. She was too gorgeous to see her neck shredded by the beast.

Thesan cleared his throat and said to Helion, ‘You said you had two suggestions based on the information you analysed.’

Helion shrugged, the sun catching in the embroidered gold thread of his tunic. ‘Indeed, though it seems Tamlin is already ahead of me. The Spring Court must be evacuated.’ His amber eyes darted between Tarquin and Beron. ‘Surely your northern neighbours will welcome them.’

Beron’s lip curled. ‘We do not have the resources for such a thing.’

‘Right,’ Viviane said, ‘because everyone’s too busy polishing every jewel in that trove of yours.’

No. Nobody was allowed in there. His father believed everybody to be a thief and would entrust none to the vault.

Beron threw her a glare that had Kallias tensing. ‘Wives were invited as a courtesy, not as consultants.’

Viviane’s sapphire eyes flared as if struck by lightning. ‘If this war goes poorly, we’ll be bleeding out right alongside you, so I think we damn well get a say in things.’

‘Hybern will do far worse things than kill you,’ Beron counted coolly. ‘A young, pretty thing like you especially.’

Kallias’s snarl rippled the water in the reflection pool, echoed by Mor’s own growl. Beron smiled a bit. ‘Only three of us were present for the last war.’ A nod to Rhys and Helion, whose face darkened. ‘One does not easily forget what Hybern and the Loyalists did to captured females in their war-camps. What they reserved for High Fae females who either fought for the humans or had families who did.’ He put a heavy hand on his wife’s too-thin arm. ‘Her two sisters bought her time to run when Hybern’s forces ambushed their lands. The two ladies did not walk out of that war-camp again.’

Any trace of colour drained from his mother’s face as she stared down at the reflection pool.

‘We will take your people,’ Tarquin cut in quietly to Tamlin. ‘Regardless of your involvement with Hybern… your people are innocent. There is plenty of room in my territory. We will take all of them, if need be.’

A curt nod was Tamlin’s only acknowledgment and gratitude.

Beron said, ‘So the Seasonal Courts are to become the charnel houses and hostels, while the Solar Courts remain pristine here in the North?’

‘Hybern has focused its efforts on the southern half,’ Rhysand said. ‘To be close to the wall—and human lands.’

At the mention of her previous home, Nesta’s face tightened. He saw the grief for the mortality that had been stolen from her.

Rhysand went on, ‘Why bother to go through the northern climes—through faerie territories on the continent, when you could claim the South and use it to go directly to the human lands of the continent?’

Thesan asked, ‘And you believe the human armies there will bow to Hybern?’

‘Its queens sold us out,’ Nesta said, voice hard. She lifted her chin, poised as a trained emissary. ‘For the gift of immortality, the human queens will allow Hybern in to sweep away any resistance. They might very well hand over control of their armies to him.’ She gave a sweeping glance to the courts assembled. ‘Where do the humans on our island go? We cannot evacuate them to the continent, and with the wall intact … Many might rather risk waiting than cross over the wall anyway.’

‘The fate of the humans below the wall,’ Beron cut in, ‘is none of our concern. Especially in a spit of land with no queen, no army.’

‘It is my concern,’ Feyre said. ‘Humans are nearly defenceless against our kind.’

‘So go waste your own soldiers defending them,’ Beron said, dismissal ringing out in his tone. ‘I will not send my own forces to protect chattel.’

A crackling of magic was felt in the airy room along with a deathly silence.

‘You’re a coward,’ breathed Feyre to the High Lord of Autumn.

Eris clenched his jaw, unable to believe her daring. It had to be ignorance to ever speak against him that way.

Beron just said, ‘The same could be claimed of you.’

‘I don’t need to explain myself to you.’

‘No, but perhaps to that girl’s family—but they’re dead, too, aren’t they? Butchered and burned to death in their own beds. Funny, that you should now seek to defend humans when you were all too happy to offer them up to save yourself.’

Blood and bones. The girl’s wet breathing. Her sobs as she lay broken on the dais. And a family home burnt to cinders.

‘As my lady said,’ Rhysand drawled, ‘she does not need to explain herself to you.’

Beron leaned back in his chair. ‘Then I suppose I don’t need to explain my motivations, either.’

Rhysand lifted a dark brow. ‘Your staggering generosity aside, will you be joining our forces?’

‘I have not yet decided.’

His own amber eyes pleaded with his father to see reason. If war came to their shores and Autumn didn’t take up arms, they’d stand alone in times of turmoil.

‘Armies take time to raise,’ Cassian said. ‘You don’t have the luxury of sitting on your ass. You need to rally your soldiers now.’

Beron only sneered. ‘I don’t take orders from the bastards of lesser fae whores.’

A wave of rage and disgust washed over many faces in the room. His father’s prejudices ran thick and oily through his blood.

Despite the burn in Nesta’s eyes, she said coolly, before any other had a chance to speak, ‘That bastard may wind up being the only person standing in the way of Hybern’s forces and your people.’

Hm. Maybe Eris hadn’t read the situation fully. She didn’t so much as look at the male but his gaze was trained on her like a moth to the flame, pride blazing in his hazel eyes.

’Get out if you’re not going to be helpful,’ clipped the high lady of the Night Court.

Beron ignored Eris’ stare that was a desperate plea for him to stop talking. ‘Did you know that while your mate was warming Amarantha’s bed, most of our people were locked beneath that mountain? Did you know that while he had his head between her legs, most of us were fighting to keep our families from becoming the nightly entertainment?’

Tarquin murmured, ‘That’s enough, Beron.’

Beron ignored him. ‘And now Rhysand wants to play hero. Amarantha’s Whore becomes Hybern’s Destroyer. But if it goes badly…’ A cruel, cold smile. ‘Will he get on his knees for Hybern? Or just spread his-’

Fire exploded out of Feyre. Raging, white-hot flame that blasted into Beron like a lance. The shield went up quick enough to shield his father, but Eris’ clothes smouldered. Beside him, he heard the sudden gasp of his mother as red, blistered skin covered her arm. He shot to his feet torn between burning the world to ash and taking his mother far from this place. Eris pulled her out of her chair and onto her knees so she could plunge her arm into the cold water of the reflection pool in the centre as gold and silver fish scattered from them. He was only vaguely aware of the battle raging between his father and Feyre Archeron or the yelling around them.

‘That was how you got through my wards,’ Tarquin murmured as the magic in the room ceased.

Beron was panting so hard he looked like he might spew fire, but Eris helped his mother back into her chair.

Helion rubbed his jaw as he sat down once more. ‘I wondered where it went—that little bit. So small—like a fish missing a single scale. But I still felt whenever something brushed against that empty spot.’ A smirk at Rhysand. ‘No wonder you made her High Lady.’

‘I made her High Lady because I love her. Her power was the last thing I considered.’

Helion asked Tamlin, ‘You knew of her powers?’

Tamlin was only watching the happy lovers, eyes glinting with hatred. ‘It was none of your business,’ was all Tamlin said to Helion. To all of them.

‘The power belongs to us. I think it is,’ Beron seethed.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Feyre, eyes landing on his mother clutching the angry red splatter of a burn on her moon-white skin.

Beron spat, ‘Don’t talk to her, you human filth.’

Rhysand shattered through Beron’s shield, his fire, his defenses. Shattered through them like a stone hurled into a window, and slammed his dark power into Beron so hard he rocked back in his seat. Then that seat disintegrated into black, sparkling dust beneath him. Leaving Beron to fall on his ass. Glittering ebony dust drifted away on a phantom wind, staining Beron’s crimson jacket, clinging like clumps of ash to his brown hair.

‘Don’t ever speak to my mate like that again.’

Ah, so the Night Court could enact violence for those they loved, but not the Autumn Court. As always.

Beron shot to his feet, not bothering to brush off the dust, and declared to no one in particular, ‘This meeting is over. I hope Hybern butchers you all.’

But Nesta rose from her chair, that beautiful pillar of steel. ‘This meeting is not over.’

Even Beron paused at her tone. It was rare for him to listen to a female in any matter, especially not a once-mortal one, but there was something ancient and other worldly in her tone like the lure of a siren. Eris sized up the space between them. If his father reacted, sought retribution for his wife on the sister of the high lady, Eris would have a split second to send his own fire against his father’s to shield her. She stood taller than he expected, almost reaching his chin, and as beautiful and devastating as a storm.

‘You are all there is,’ she said to Beron, to all of us. ‘You are all that there is between Hybern and the end of everything that is good and decent.’ She settled her stare on Beron, unflinching and fierce. He’d like that spirit. Or scorn her for her lack of manners. It was like flipping a coin each day to know which Beron would greet him in the morning.

‘You fought against Hybern in the last war. Why do you refuse to do so now?’

Beron did not deign to answer. But he did not leave. Eris subtly motioned his brothers to sit and listen to her. If she could command their father here, she was a female worth listening to. Nesta marked the gesture—hesitated. As if realizing she indeed held their complete attention. That every word mattered. And it did matter. Eris wanted to hear everything she had to say. He gave her a small nod of encouragement, the corners of his mouth turning up at their interaction.

‘You may hate us. I don’t care if you do. But I do care if you let innocents suffer and die. At least stand for them. Your people. For Hybern will make an example of them. Of all of us.’

‘And you know this how?’ Beron sneered.

‘I went into the Cauldron,’ Nesta said flatly. ‘It showed me his heart. He will bring down the wall, and butcher those on either side of it.’ Nesta’s face revealed nothing. And no one dared contradict her. She looked to Kallias and Viviane. ‘I am sorry for the loss of those children. The loss of one is abhorrent. But beneath the wall, I witnessed children—entire families—starve to death.’ She jerked her chin at her sister. ‘Were it not for my sister … I would be among them. Too long. For too long have humans beneath the wall suffered and died while you in Prythian thrived. Not during that—queen’s reign.’ She recoiled, as if hating to even speak Amarantha’s name. ‘But long before. If you fight for anything—fight now, to protect those you forgot. Let them know they’re not forgotten. Just this once.’

Thesan cleared his throat. ‘While a noble sentiment, the details of the Treaty did not demand we provide for our human neighbours. They were to be left alone. So we obeyed.’

Nesta remained standing. ‘The past is the past. What I care about is the road ahead. What I care about is making sure no children—Fae or human—are harmed. You have been entrusted with protecting this land.’ She scanned the faces around her, imploring, begging. ‘How can you not fight for it?’ She looked to the Autumn delegate as her voice ebbed away. Eris was mesmerised by her. If he was high lord, they would already be marching to war with banners of crimson streaming behind them bearing Nesta’s alluring face on them. A champion of the quietest voices.

Beron only said, ‘I shall consider it.’

The look on his father’s face was the signal to leave. They hadn’t packed to stay. He wouldn’t ever leave his court overnight. Eris’ heart was tangled by duty and desire. An alliance with the Night Court meant more opportunities for his path to cross with Nesta Archeron. His people’s blood would water the earth if it meant he could ride into war beside her. He dipped his red head low, eyes meeting her simmering gaze as he winnowed away.

#the sjm bits are the ones with ten thousand dashes fragments of sentence and ellipsis #this was actually painful to flip POVs #but i kept in all the times feyre noted something about helion's muscled physique so it looks like eris is thirsting after him #neris #nesta archeron #eris vanserra

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wellthebardsdead · 9 months

Text

Me just imagining marigold arriving home in the summerset at around 250ish years old, Kaidan passed away some time prior and now he’s too weak to take care of himself alone anymore and Lucien and inigo passed and the kids are all either dead or old and far away with their own families.

He’s rolled off the ship in a wheelchair and Caryalind, now king, is waiting for him with his prince consort Taliesin. They both know marigold being half bosmer and already in so much pain, doesn’t have long left. Still they give him a hug as he cries and tells them how lonely it’s been on his own, and they take care of him and keep him company in his final days.

He passes away peacefully in a late afternoon nap, resting in the palace gardens holding a half made flower crown of forget me nots and lions mane marigolds, and a dried dragon tongue flower Kaidan had given him long ago.

All the while the dragons that had followed him to the isles roar out a mournful cry and sing his eulogy to the isles and all of tambriel.

#marigold dragonborn #skyrim taliesin #Kaidan skyrim #Caryalind skyrim

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labellefleur-sauvage · 10 months

Text

(Can I Handle) The Seasons of My Life

Summary: The former Lady of Autumn reflects on her difficult history, and hatches a plan while observing her mate.

Helion reminisces over what could have been when presented with intangible proof of his mate’s past.

Or: The private yearnings of a newly reunited MILF and DILF

For @sunandflameweek, Day 7: Free Day!

Despite only having hints written about them, Helion and the Lady of Autumn have such an interesting history and relationship and, I believe, lots of potential. I've wanted to try my hand at writing these two for a while, and what I imagine for them in the future, with a very healthy smattering of smut, of course, and this event gave me the perfect motivation! Thank you so much to @starfall-spirit for creating and hosting this event!

Title is from Landslide by FleetWood Mac.

Rating: Explicit. Word Count: 3.9K

Read on AO3

The woman surveyed the scene in front of her, leaning on a tall marble column with a small smile on her face. Even in her wildest imaginations during her darkest days, Adeline, the former Lady of the Autumn Court couldn’t have dreamt of what she was witnessing now.

The High Lord of the Day Court - Helion, the Sun personified, one of the oldest and most powerful High Lords in all of Prythian, the love of her life, her mate - stood in the palace’s private courtyard, his arms wide, palms facing outwards. Next to him was a younger male with the same build and confidence and hints of features as Helion - Lucien, a prince of Autumn, master emissary, a powerful fae male in his own right, their son - standing opposite him, staring at their surroundings with a concentrated frown on his face.

“My wards are tight, and cannot be broken easily. Most wards can’t, unless you can find a flaw.”

“And what if there is no flaw?” Lucien asked through gritted teeth, his eyes darting to the space between Helion’s spread arms.

Helion grinned. “Then you make one. Whether by unraveling the ward as you see it - like purposely fraying an edge on a piece of clothing and pulling it - or by overtaking it completely, and making it your own.”

“You can do that?” Lucien asked, flabbergasted.

“For the High Lord of the Day Court, and those with my blood, yes,” he said. “And you can too, since you’re…”

Helion trailed off and cleared his throat, looking away from Lucien. Lucien ducked his head and ran a hand through his long red hair - her hair - a blush staining his cheeks.

“Well,” Helion went on. “Shall we continue?”

Adeline continued watching them from the shadows. It was the closest the two of them had come to acknowledging their undeniable relationship. She wasn’t sure they’d ever get to the point of calling each other what they were - father, son - but Helion clearly cared for Lucien in his own way.

“Good,” she heard Helion murmur. He and Lucien were staring at something only they could see, their son’s eyes dancing with excitement, his arms aloft. “Clever, using your fire and light magic together. You’re a natural.”

She could see a few glowing embers in the air. Adeline shuddered. Even after all these months, anything that reminded her of her home court sent a shiver of dread through her.

She hadn’t been back to Autumn, not since that hazy, blood soaked night when Eris had ascended the throne, his father’s mangled head in his hand. She’d fallen to her knees and taken her first wracking breaths as a free female for the first time in centuries. Smoke filled her lungs but it was the sweetest breath she’d ever taken.

Fortunately, Beron’s body had burned to nothing but dust and ashes before anyone could see the ten small stab wounds that suspiciously matched the ornate dagger she kept in her bureau for her protection.

But that was all behind her. Adeline continued observing her mate and their son together - Cauldron, would that ever fully sink in? - as Helion roared with approval at Lucien’s actions, smacking him firmly on their son’s shoulders. Happiness and pride shone in Helion’s eyes and it was unlike anything she had seen on his face before. He and Lucien wore matching smiles and they looked so similar.

This is what your life should have been. She took a deep breath. It was an ugly thought, but true. This is what she should have had for the entirety of her long life: a loving mate, a family with even more red haired, dark skinned children, living not in constant fear and anxiety but surrounded by warmth and love.

But if Adeline could turn back the clock, make one or two different decisions, would she change anything? She loved her six other sons - four, now, she thought with a sharp pain in her chest - some, more than others, and some only in the most biological way a parent had to love its offspring; would she sacrifice their existence for her own happiness?

Lucien, at the very least, deserved better. Lucien deserved a mother who didn’t need to shield him during his childhood, then was forced to watch helplessly as the Autumn Court and all of Prythian tore him apart. He deserved a father who could have protected him, taught him everything he knew, guard him, love him -

It was what Helion was doing now: stepping up and being the father Lucien never had but deserved.

And he looked delectable doing it.

Helion’s dark skin, a few shades darker than Lucien’s, shone with sweat, his broad chest and thick thighs barely covered by his short, one shouldered white toga. A pair of gold sandals wrapped around his graceful ankles and calves, and a matching gold arm band barely fit around a large bicep.

Helion said something to Lucien that had the younger male laughing and Helion reached over to pat him on the back. It was hardly anything, and so simple, but he looked so fatherly, so lovingly paternal, and Helion looked so natural at it -

The beginnings of arousal coursed low in her body. Adeline sucked in a deep breath, then another. She would not have anyone be able to smell how desperate she was for her mate, especially not her son. Controlling her breath, she stepped out of the shadows and into the courtyard.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Helion was saying to Lucien. “You’ve made remarkable progress for a late learner.”

“You’re certainly doing things I never thought possible,” she piped up. Both her mate and her son turned towards her and gave her the same matching smile - how odd, being able to pinpoint where each of Lucien’s features came from - before Lucien jogged over to her.

“Oh, you’re sweaty,” she laughed as he approached, batting him away. “And smelly. I hope you’re not planning on seeing anyone until you can change.”

“I was actually going to go for a walk with Elain soon,” he replied. “She mentioned collecting shells on the beach for the garden.”

“Did she,” she mused, sneaking a peak behind Lucien. Helion had the same shit-eating grin as she did. “Well, I suppose a change of clothes won’t really matter with what you’ll be doing, hm?”

Lucien blushed despite himself. “Well, I shouldn’t keep her waiting,” he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek and walking away.

“Take a towel with you!” Helion called to Lucien’s back. “Take it from me, it’s not fun when sand gets -“

Lucien yelled with disgust and shot his parents a crude hand gesture, fleeing the courtyard. She laughed. Her son and his lovely mate had only been mated a month, and the bond was just now beginning to lessen its all consuming hold on them.

“And what are your plans for the day?”

Helion’s strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Adeline lifted her head up against his chest and peered up at him.

“Not much,” she answered. “Perhaps a walk myself, or some reading. Yourself?”

“I have a meeting later today and several proposals and drafts to review. I think I’ll be stuck in my office the rest of the day,” he sighed wistfully.

“A shame,” she murmured back sadly, a plan forming. She pulled away from his embrace. “Well, I don’t want to keep you -“

“And leave me with nothing to remember you by?” he asked in mock hurt, a hand over his chest.

“I thought what we did this morning would have sustained you for the entire day,” she shot back. “My jaw is still rather sore.”

“Ah, but that is in the past and I’ve already forgotten it,” he teased, grinning wickedly. “One kiss to power me through the rest of my dreadful day without you.”

Sighing exasperatedly, she leaned into him and pressed her lips chastely against his. His hand cupped her jaw as he deepened the kiss, nipping her bottom lip, his tongue probing her mouth -

“Have a good afternoon!” she called, dashing from his side before she got sidetracked from her plan. She left him standing alone in the courtyard, his hand in the air where it had been caressing her jaw, as still as a statue.

Adeline wanted him, desperately, but he wouldn’t have to wait long. Dashing to their room, she opened her wardrobe. She couldn’t admit out loud how excited she became at seeing Helion being a father to Lucien, but she could at least show him how much it turned her on.

XXX

Helion stood up from his desk and stretched. He had been curved like a crustacean over his papers so long his neck and bore were stiff, and would most likely remain so for hours. He glanced at his sundial. Only an hour had passed since his mate had left him alone and hard in the courtyard, flitting away to wherever she might be.

He crossed the room to sit in the wide, low chair next to the window. He was irritable that he was stuck here alone, going over inane paperwork, with a meeting still later, rather than with his gorgeous, delectable mate.

Helion groaned softly and leaned back, letting his eyes drift close. What he wouldn’t give to have Adeline here with him right now. He remembered their parting kiss, how soft she had become under his touch. He could almost smell her -

Two sturdy knocks at the door broke him out of his daydream. “What?” He snapped, too wound up to hide his displeasure.

The door opened and his mate’s head popped around the corner of the door. “Are you busy?”

He perked up and grinned, his foul mood already gone. “For you, my dear, never.”

Grinning softly, Adeline hurried into the room and Helion let out a sharp gasp at her appearance. She normally favored long, flowing dresses that covered her shoulders and legs but she now wore a dangerously short one-shouldered stola. Her slim legs were on display, the tops of her breasts peaking out from her low neckline. She stole through the room on quiet, bare feet. Not giving him the chance to move, his mate climbed on top of him, bracketing his hips with her own.

“This is… unexpected.” Helion peered up at her, his hands automatically finding the indents of her waist. “Come to break up my boredom? Or was our parting kiss not sufficient for you?”

“Perhaps I too have a short memory,” Adeline said, leaning down and slanting her lips against his.

Helion hummed against her lips, moaning a little when her hands tangled in his thick locs and gently tugged. She was like a hellcat possessed above him, her hips moving over his lap as she wildly kissed and touched him.

“Here, let me -“ he began, grabbing her underneath her ass and moving to lift her. Her small hands shot out and planted themselves firmly on his chest and shoulder.

“No! I want you like this. Under me. At my mercy.” Adeline’s cheeks were pink, her mouth slightly open, like she was a bit surprised at her own tenacity. She licked her lips and gave him her stearnest glare, refusing to back down and let him lead as he always did.

Who was he to deny his mate?

Settling back down in the accent chair, he swiftly pushed the shoulder strap of her toga down her arm and pulled the top of the dress down to her waist, too impatient to get her fully naked if it meant she had to leave his lap for even a second. Her full breasts were heaving with her labored breathing, her nipples peaked. What drew his attention this time, however, were the faint silver marks running down her pert breasts.

He knew from their frequent and numerous couplings that Adeline had matching stretch marks on her hips and thighs and lower stomach, the only remnants of her pregnancies. He’d spent hours re-learning and exploring every inch of her body over the past few weeks, and these stripes received the same love and attention as the rest of her.

Here, in his arms in the sun, the stripes on her breasts shone and glowed. The stretch marks adorning her body were evidence of her fertility and fecundity, of all the babes she had brought into the world -

A stab of pure anger shot through him. Those should have been his children his mate conceived and carried and bore, not that bastard’s. Adeline’s body should be wonderfully soft and gently stretched because of him and his cock, no one else’s. He gripped the cushion on the chair beneath him so hard he heard the fabric rip.

They struck gold already; they made Lucien in a single, heady, lust-filled night, a young male with power and abilities that rivaled his father’s, even after only a short period of studying and training. The potential of any future offspring could be enough to cement Day’s glory in Prythian for ages. Helion wanted it - wanted to have another child with his mate, watch her stomach swell as she grew their babe within, establish a dynasty in his court and the entire world, parade her around to the other high lords and beat his chest, Look at my mate, look what I’ve done to her -

“You're angry - what’s wrong?”

His mate had that all too familiar furrow between her brow, her eyes weary. Her breasts were still exposed, body taut with anticipation, but she had subtly shied away from Helion’s body and looked ready to run away if needed.

Like she could if she wanted to. Helion mentally beat that animalistic part of himself that was always so near the edge whenever she was around him down deep into his psyche. Guilt and shame welled up where his inner beast had been only a moment before. Adeline had spent nearly her entire life afraid due to one male - he vowed to himself when she first came to Day that he would never frighten her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, trailing soft kisses along the delicate skin of her wrist. “Just thinking of all of our missed time together.” Not entirely a lie.

But he would never ask that of his mate, never put the burden of another pregnancy, wanted or otherwise, on her. Adeline had already spent so much of her life in service to others - Helion would be damned if he added any more responsibility for her.

“It’s never too late to start making up for lost time,” Adeline said quietly, a soft smile on her lips. Helion hummed his agreement and leaned up towards her at the same time she lowered her face towards his for another kiss.

He gently dug his fingers into her luscious hair as they kissed, keeping them together. She spent so much time on her hair, he almost felt bad undoing it. Almost.

She grasped one of his wrists now lazily twirling her unbound hair around one of his fingers. Keeping her heavy lidded gaze on him, Adeline slowly dragged his hand under her short stola and between her thighs.

Helion swore. “So wet for me already, my mate?” He swirled his fingers through her soaking folds, enjoying feeling her tremble in his arms. “And what has gotten you so excited already?”

She blushed a red so deep it nearly matched her hair. “N-nothing,” she stuttered shyly. “Just thinking about you.”

Helion hummed. She wasn’t being truthful but he wouldn’t press her - at least not now, anyway. There were better, more pleasurable ways to get information out of people.

He sunk a single finger inside her at the same time she brushed his toga away and pulled his length out into the open, her soft lips grazing his. Helion hissed as Adeline began pumping him leisurely, in time with his finger inside her. He broke their kiss to gaze down. It was a sight he’d never tire of: her small, pale hand, wrapped around his straining cock.

There were many sites he’d never tire of, all of which concerned the female in his lap, but this was one of his favorites.

Quickly, she shifted so she was squatting over him on the chair and angled his cock between her legs, still obscured by her clothes.

“I was planning on eating you out, you know,” Helion groaned, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back as his mate began working him inside her tight channel. “It’s been nearly a day since I put my mouth on you. I’m overdue.”

“Later,” Adeline said distractedly. She bit her lip as her hips finally met his, letting herself get used to him (as she always needed to do, he thought smugly). After only a moment, however, she raised herself over him then brought her hips down.

They groaned in unison. She set a steady pace, rising and falling in his lap, occasionally taking his entire shaft and grinding her lower body against his. She moaned loudly when his cock hit deep inside her, uncaring about who might hear as she chased her pleasure.

Adeline was never this forward with him. He had had to coax her into more adventurous love making, his cock a proverbial carrot on a stick as they tried new positions and acts together. This was the first time they had fucked outside of their bedroom and Helion was already thinking of the places he could get her next.

He bunched up her toga at her waist and groaned. Her pink lower lips were stretched obscenely around his thick length, her small bud jutting out for any attention. Helion watched, transfixed, as Adeline bounced in his lap, his cock shining with her essence every time she took him to the hilt.

“You look so good taking my cock,” Helion rumbled appreciatively, still watching her pussy grip him. He brushed the red curls between her legs before swiping his thumb over her clit. She whined low in her throat. “My beautiful mate, fucking herself full of me.”

Her breasts bounced in his face and he took a peaked nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue against her skin. His mate whimpered above him and thrust her hips down even harder and faster against him.

“That’s right,” he murmured softly, his thumb still caressing her clit. “Take what you want me from. Want to feel you break around me.”

“Cauldron Helion,” she groaned, digging her fingers into his shoulders. He could feel her legs shaking and he gripped her under her thighs and ass to help her move up and down his length.

She threw her head back and closed her eyes, her long hair grazing the tops of his thighs. She was so damn beautiful, and he was so fucking lucky to have her in his life.

Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Helion started thrusting up into Adeline’s tight depths every time her plush ass met his thick thighs. She gasped in pleasure as she stopped moving and let Helion fuck her, lowering herself to her knees and throwing her arms around his neck when her legs gave out.

“Helion, please, yes!” she cried, burying her face in his neck. He gripped her hips to keep her steady as he continued to thrust into her wet heat. His balls tightened underneath him; the wet smack of their flesh joining, combined with his mate’s soft cries and gasps against his skin, pushed him dangerously close to the edge.

“Touch yourself,” he grunted out. He wasn’t going to last much longer and didn’t want to come before his mate. Adeline’s hand ghosted down his front before it delved between her thighs, her fingers occasionally grazing his shaft as it pistoned in and out of her.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hauling her even tighter against his body as he finally felt her break around him. Her inner walls fluttered around his length and she cried into his shoulder, her moans muffled against him, her short nails digging into his muscles.

Helion didn’t care to silence himself. With a loud groan that reverberated through his chest he came, emptying himself completely into his mate. He moaned through the aftershocks of his orgasm, lazily thrusting into her until he was fully spent.

They sat there together in blissful silence for several long minutes. Helion ran a hand up and down her spine. Even after all the sex they had, each time was still better than the last.

His mate sat up. She had a happy, satisfied grin on her face.

“I’ll have to visit your office more often,” Adeline said, nuzzling his neck. “Make sure you’re not working too hard and what not.”

He chuckled. “After that, I don’t think anyone will be under the impression that there’s any work being done here.”

She sat up. “Did… did you not set a silencing ward?” Alarm bloomed in her eyes.

“Didn’t really have enough time, since you sauntered in here and had your wicked way with me before I could even think to put one up.”

She groaned feebly. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your afternoon meeting.”

Helion shrugged. “I’m sure I won’t have a problem rescheduling. Besides finding increasingly bizarre places to bed Elain, I don’t think Lucien has much else penned in his daily planner.”

She blanched, her eyes wide. “You’re meeting… was supposed to be with Lucien?” She gulped. “Oh Cauldron, what if he heard us?!”

“Lucien is a young male with a very happy and content mate,” he said pointedly, running his hands soothingly up and down her arms until she calmed down. “I should know, I’ve heard and seen them going at it everywhere. They destroyed a perfectly good reading table in the library -!”

“And we haven’t managed to destroy anything with our lovemaking,” Adeline said thoughtfully. “Perhaps we’re losing our touch.”

He scoffed. “Are you implying we’re old?”

“Well, you discovered you were a father not too long ago,” she said slyly. “How would you feel about becoming a grandfather so soon?”

He cocked his head at her. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant thought, to be honest - Lucien and Elain were a beautiful couple, and any babes they had would be just as wonderful. Plus, it would bring children into the palace. Children he could hold and coddle and play with, then foist back to their parents when they cried or started smelling.

Perhaps grandfatherhood was more up his alley.

He grinned up at his mate. “As long as you’ll still have me in your bed, I don’t care what you call me.”

“A grandfather,” she said mischievously. “Who I’d still like to fuck.”

“Then I’ll have to make sure to cancel meetings with Lucien more often, so he and Elain can make us grandparents,” he said mischievously, bringing a laughing Adeline even closer to him.

XXX

Lucien stood frozen outside Helion’s office, a horrified grimace on his face. He heard everything.

Ok, not the entire traumatic ordeal, but enough to know his mother and Helion still had a very active sex life, and were apparently counting the days for him and Elain to have children.

They wanted grandchildren that badly? Fine. Let them see how amusing it was when Lucien and Elain handed a screaming baby to them for a night off, or Lucien took a leave of absence from his Heir duties, piling even more work back on Helion’s plate. Good luck finding time to spend with his mother then.

Lucien turned and rushed down the hall. It seemed his schedule was suddenly booked full with Elain.

#sunandflameweek2023 #helion spellcleaver #lady of autumn #helion x lady of autumn #helion x loa #acotar #my fics #my fic #day court #autumn court #a court of thorns and roses #i spared everyone the horror of a poorly done moodboard to go along with this #because i couldnt find any good images for the life of me

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