#poly+sjmweek2025d6

[manicmanuscription]

A Few Beginnings

PolySJM Week: Day Six

Prompt: Courage

Pairings: Feysand / Reader (+ Lucien + Inner Circle at the end.)

Summary: Being mated to the High Lord and Lady is intimidating, you either have to let them go or take a leap of faith.

Word Count: 1285

Tags: self sabotaging-reader, anxiety, fluff, slight angst.

PolySJM Week 2025 Masterlist | Acotar Masterlist

The warm summer wind of Velaris brushed the hair away from my shaking form. 

I was terrified for how this day was going to go to say the least. I’d spent the last few weeks holed up in my apartment letting my anxious mind run every possible worst case scenario. I’d even thought about packing my bags and simply leaving the night court. 

Ophelia had yelled at me when I’d told her that.

It was just….scary.

The mating bond snapped between me and The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court a few weeks ago on a random wednesday. I was visiting my friend’s shop in The Rainbow and quite literally bumped into my High Lady. I’d apologized of course and the second those eyes met mine it was like the air itself seemed to change, the golden thread clicking into place so violently in my chest it knocked the breath out of me. My High Lord had appeared a few moments later and it had happened again. 

My friend had just kept talking to me as if my entire world hadn’t just shattered, just shifted so profoundly there would never be going back. 

Mates. I had mates. 

Plural. 

The rest of that day was a blur but they ended up courting me for a few weeks until…

I just got scared, so I pulled away. I ran. They weren’t just rulers of a whole country but one of the most powerful ones. They were kind, well-spoken, funny, and extremely gorgeous. The list goes on and on. 

I was just…me. 

They intimidated me, with their boldness, with their generosity. I shouldn’t be falling so fast and hard but I was. What was my place within their home? Their family? Hell even their Court? 

The intensity of my feelings scared me, they already had each other and if they one day woke up and realized it was a mistake to bring me into their relationship. Gods I would never survive it. 

They had given me the space I requested, occasional brushes against my mental shields just to check in or a bouquet sent to the house. They were already so close, they’d been together for years they even had a child together. They survived under the mountain together, a war, even death itself. 

How was I supposed to fit in that history? I refused to be an option, a game to somehow make them stronger not with something so cherished and rare.

I knew I was spinning out, my head my biggest enemy and Ophelia had sat with me for days while I got myself sorted. 

Until she got sick of my self sabotaging behaviors, stood up from my sofa and yelled at me for forty five minutes straight, stormed out to her apartment across the hall and came back five minutes later all riled up once again. 

“Why do you never let yourself have something good, this could be one of the best things to ever happen to you!”

“But-”

“Don’t interrupt me. You don’t know if you don’t try, I'm not in charge of you or your life but I just..stop letting your fears control you. You're too good for that.”

So now I am here, three and a half weeks later from my initial request for space. I’d sent them a letter asking to meet and their response was almost immediate. Their scent had faintly stuck to the page, making me lightheaded. The bond thrumming ever so softly. 

I’d gotten lost in my thoughts not even noticing I had reached the restaurant until the familiar cobblestone paved into dark bricks. Rita’s was closed and a few of the employee’s still setting up for the night of debauchery ahead of Velaris but she had left the door unlocked as a favor to Rhysand. I slipped inside the back entrance and headed to the main floor. 

I’d suggested Rita’s as neutral ground. Feyre had mentioned in passing that she’d grown to love this place and it was close enough to my sister’s house in case anything went wrong. 

And there they were, eyes shifting over the floor as if searching until they landed on me. Something akin to hope in their gazes and my heart started beating a hundred miles per minute. The bond absolutely glowing in my chest at being the center of their attention. 

Each step I took closer I repeated Ophelia’s words in my head like a mantra. 

You don’t know if you don’t try.

You don’t know if you don’t try. 

You don’t know if you don’t try. 

I smiled as I reached the table, pulling out a chair and getting myself sorted.You don’t know if you don’t try.  I don’t know how but I finally found the strength to look them in their eyes. Cauldron they were absolutely stunning. 

I can do this. I can try, I can allow myself to be safe, to be loved, to be open. 

“Hi.” I whispered. 

“Hello Darling.” Rhysand’s deep voice rolled over me, something primal awakening at the sound. Feyre’s voice was the opposite, high and alluring but still having the same effect, my heart skipping a beat. “You look lovely.” 

I took a deep breath letting all my anxiety bleed into the floor. I felt safe in their presence and that terrified me. Terrified it wouldn’t last or be ripped away from me like everything else. 

You don’t know if you don’t try. 

“Thank you,” I said with a blush, letting hope bloom in my chest, letting the bond pull me exactly where I’d always belonged, letting myself try. 

————————

Rhysand had barely shut the door behind him, not even had a chance to take his shoes off or kiss his son until the faces of his Inner Circle appeared in front of him. Gathering at the stairs like lost puppies. 

Feyre would have laughed if it weren’t such a serious situation. Her mind reeling from their conversion with you. She was still smiling even though they’d long left Rita’s, gods you were perfect. 

Her family wasn’t the type to mope, yet they all looked like they weren’t breathing. 

“How was it?” Nesta asked a bit harshly, her firm voice unwavering yet Feyre saw the slight tremble in her hands, Cassian placed a hand on her shoulder, unwillingly to look his High Lord and Lady in the eye as if whatever they had to say could somehow be avoided. 

“Excellent.” Feyre beamed sharing a knowing look with her mate, she knew he was feeling just as victorious as she was, when you first asked for space they’d all spiraled slightly. 

Her family seemed to take a collective intake of air. Their shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. 

“Can we meet her?” Azriel whispered, his shadows swirling around his shoulders ever so erratically. If Rhysand hadn’t known the male for a few hundred years he wouldn't be able to read his anxiety. 

“Soon.” The High Lord spoke and Lucien and Cassian protested. 

“It’s not everyday that your mated to nine people, we’re going slow.” Rhysand commanded, the order settling into the very stone of the house. 

“Especially since you idiots almost had her running the second you met her.” Amren snorted under breath and Mor giggled. 

Gods Rhysand prayed you wouldn’t run when you found out, he’d heard a stray thought or two from you and it nearly sent him winnowing to your apartment and taking you far far away, the mating bond screaming at him to do something. 

“Tell us how it went.” 

And they did, settling into one of the many living rooms with a few bottles of wine, the Inner Circle hanging off their every word. 

a/n: I was just going to do feysand x reader because who doesn't love feysand but imagining the entire IC being mated to one female and being awkwardly obsessed weirdos was tooooooo good thank you for reading ily

[potatoplace]

Secret Admirers

Poly+ SJM Week: Day 6 | @polysjmweek

Feysand x Reader

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist | Event Masterlist

Summary: Your first lead role in a play has finally arrived, and with it comes nightly presents from a pair of secret admirers. You're dying to know who it is, and you're not disappointed when you do.

Warnings: none!

Words: ~2.3k

Author's Note: I'm not the haaappiest with this one but it's okay, just happy to have gotten something out for tonight! I hope you guys like it!! 🫶 Read it on AO3!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍��🤍

Cheers erupted as you and your castmates took your bows, the curtains sliding shut and deadening some of the noise.

“Great show tonight, Y/N, you were stunning as always,” Arlena said, her hands clasping yours.

“Thank you, Lena, you were fantastic too,” you replied, pulling her in for a quick hug before beginning to head to the dressing rooms, arms locked together. You both gave high-fives to your other coworkers, sharing well wishes for the rest of the night.

After all, you would do it all again tomorrow night. And the night after that, and the night after that.

Because you had landed yourself a leading role in Velaris Playhouse’s latest production: Timeless, a play about two fated mates whose lives are brought together and torn apart over centuries, before finally ending up together for good.

The play would be running for four weeks, and possibly be granted an extension if attendance was high.

“For only our third show, I think you’re already acting like a professional,” Arlena teased as the two of you stopped in front of your dressing room - something you were still adjusting to, so used to the hustle and bustle of the main dressing rooms. She loosened the corset around your waist enough that you could the rest of it undone yourself, an action you were more than grateful for.

“Why thank you, I like to think that I practiced the tiniest bit. Now, I’ll meet you outside in about fifteen minutes? We can go out for drinks,” you suggested, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Drinks it is! I’ll see you in a few, Y/N,” Arlena said, already walking towards the main dressing room, a hand raised over her head to wave at you.

You shook your head and entered the room, shocked at the sight before you.

A beautiful bouquet of white lilies in a sparkling crystal vase, a note tucked into the blooms, as well as a black velvet box, a red ribbon tied into a delicate bow holding the box closed. You bit your lip as you approached, plucking the note from between the flowers and opening it.

Dearest Y/N,

We hope that this note finds you well, and you enjoy the flowers and pendant we chose for you. The beauty of the pendant reminded us of you, the way you so perfectly encapsulate Thalia’s love for Damien. You were the highlight of our night, and we hope to see you again.

- Your secret admirers

Heat rushed to your cheeks - secret admirers? As in more than one?

You weren’t sure if you could handle it, having two lov-

You shook your head, snapping yourself from your thoughts. Your attention turned from the note to the box, the perfect size and shape for a necklace, now that you thought of it.

Inside was a perfectly round moonstone, the setting made of silver and dangling from a delicate silver chain. The stone was smooth to the touch as your thumb ran across it, your eyes entranced by the way the color shifted slightly in the light.

The pendant quickly found its way around your neck, resting over the ballgown you’d worn for the final act-

Oh, shit, you thought, remembering your promise to meet Lena for drinks. A quick glance at the clock told you that you had five minutes remaining to get undressed and to the exit. You puffed out a breath, then set to work.

Four and a half minutes later you were rushing to the exit, vase in hand and the velvet box tucked into your jacket. The red ribbon had found its way into your hair somehow.

All you knew was that so far, you were enjoying having a secret admirer.

Arlena had commented on the flowers, asking who they were from, to which you could only blush, seeing as you didn’t know. You had quickly dropped it and the box off at your apartment before returning to the streets of Velaris, hunting for a nearby bar with your friend.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The crowd applauded, a few whistles and loud cheers rolling over you. A beaming smile covered your face as you bowed, hand in hand with your fellow castmates, repeating the action until the curtains shut.

You could hardly believe it still, that this was your job. You had made it!

Four nights into your first play run as a lead, and it still felt like a dream.

You and Arlena continued your new little tradition of celebrating with a drink after every show, with her undoing your dress a bit before leaving to her own dressing area.

And just like last night, there was a bouquet and another box waiting for you. This time, it seemed to be filled with chocolates, ones from your favorite chocolatier in Velaris. The flowers were pink roses that smelled so sweet you didn’t want to take your nose out of them, but you managed to as you read the note, the silver cursive standing out nicely on the midnight blue card.

Darling Y/N,

Watching you again tonight was like a dream, and hearing you cry, even knowing it was an act, hurt my heart. We hope that your heart is not too heavy after performing, but if it is, I prefer a few chocolates to cheer me up. We went to pick out flowers, and I’d thought red roses would be perfect. But after seeing the pink roses, they reminded me so much of the flush you have at the end of the night that I had to get them for you.

- Your secret admirers

Just reading the note had you feeling giddy, and you noticed that the handwriting on tonight’s note was slightly different. There really are two people that like me, you sighed to yourself as you took off your costume, carefully hanging it back up on its hanger before redressing in your street clothes, a simple cotton dress in a pretty navy color and a pair of comfortable flats, your feet needing a break after spending so many hours in uncomfortable heels.

You couldn’t unglue the smile from your face, even when Arlena teased you about having a crush on your admirers without even meeting them. You paid her no mind, smiling away as you ordered both of you a beer, having landed in Rita’s tonight.

Your heart held hopes of them coming to watch you for a third night in a row tomorrow night, Sunday. You needed to know if they were serious, and receiving anything from them tomorrow, even a simple note, would tell you all you needed to know.

Well… And whether or not the notes continued after your two day weekend, and the pair returned to see you on Wednesday night.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Your wishes came true, seeing as you walked into your dressing room and were greeted by a vibrant bouquet of moonflowers, moonlight dripping off of them and lighting the room around you. They were so beautiful that you could hardly believe they were yours now, planted in a silver coated clay pot. Another note was tucked inside, written in silver ink once more.

Lovely Y/N,

We thought a nice show of our affections would come with this plant, the delicate moonflower. They shine bright in the darkness, and some say that eating just one petal would point you to your true love. Though we believe that won’t be necessary for you, once you meet us formally. Do take care over your weekend, Y/N, and we look forward to seeing you again soon.

- Your secret admirers

Every night, you looked in the crowd before bowing to see if you could spot them, but you’d had no luck as of yet. The only sets of eyes that had been in the same spot each night had been the High Lord and Lady, and you highly doubted that they were the ones sending you gifts and love notes.

No, it had to be some couple that you couldn’t spot from your place on stage.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Four weeks. Four weeks of gifts and sweet notes, and you felt no closer to figuring out who your secret admirers are.

The only pair that you had consistently seen was your High Lord and Lady, and while you still considered it outside of the realm of possibility, you were confused as to who else it could be.

As far as you had noticed, most of the citizens of Velaris attended a show or two, maybe three if they were particularly entranced by the story and characters.

But your Lord and Lady? They had been at every single showing, sitting in the box that was reserved for them, their stunning eyes watching the moves of you and your castmates like hawks.

You’d thought maybe they had a vested interest in the play running smoothly each night, but as time wore on, you noticed that their eyes were tracking you.

It could all be in your head, but you had a suspicion that you were on to something with your theory, even if you didn’t find it all too believable.

As the curtains drew closed on your final night, you welt a wave of sadness wash over you.

Gone were the daily rehearsals and sitting to have your makeup done, doing quick changes behind the stage for the next scene. Gone were your celebratory drinks with Arlena.

Gone were your near-nightly love notes, the thoughtful gifts that they presented to you without ever having shown their faces.

“Hey, everyone’s heading over to Rita’s for a little after party, do you wanna go?” Lena asked you, an arm slung around your back.

You sighed. “Maybe, I’m not sure yet…”

“Oh, you mean you’re not sure if your secret admirers have asked you out yet?” Lena chuckled. “How about you meet us there if they haven’t, yeah? Then you’ll still have something to look forward to.” She waited for you to nod in agreement before patting you on the back. “Alright, dear, I’ll save you a seat, but I hope you get to see who’s been driving you crazy all these weeks!”

You smiled at her, grateful to have made such a good friend. “Thank you, Lena, I might see you there. Don’t drink too much!” you called after her as she walked towards the dressing rooms.

The theater was mostly empty now, the curtains opened back up again to let more of the faelights brighten the stage for the crew. You sighed as you stared at the set pieces, already missing being on stage.

Perhaps the playhouse owner will extend the show by two weeks, you thought, but you were unsure.

And then something caught your eye, in one of the upper boxes.

The High Lord and Lady, peeking down at you.

You narrowed your eyes in their direction, watching as their heads disappeared from view.

Weird.

You carefully lowered yourself from the stage, determined to find out if they truly were your secret admirers, and it wasn’t all in your head. Courage had filled you, knowing that this could be the last time for you to discover the truth.

Your feet ached in your heels as you climbed the stairs to the second level, peeking through curtains to see if you’d found the right box.

And when you did, you were surprised to see your High Lord and Lady, waiting with a bouquet of rose lilies and a tiny velvet box, this time in a midnight blue.

“So - I guess the two of you are my secret admirers?” you asked boldly, glad when you were met with breathless laughter, matching smiles on their faces.

“Yes, darling, we are,” Rhys said, approaching you slowly and pressing the bouquet into your hands. “I’m a bit surprised, actually, that you came to find us.”

Feyre chuckled. “What Rhys means is that we were… waiting to come find you…”

“Waiting,” Rhys scoffed lightly. “You were too nervous to go down the-”

“So were you!” Feyre interrupted, and you giggled at their antics, causing them to turn their eyes to you.

“Good thing I was brave enough to come up here, then, or I may never have known,” you teased them, taking a few steps closer, your eyes landing on the box in Feyre’s hands.

“That’s very true, Y/N. Though I’m sure that eventually we would have worked up the courage,” Rhys said softly, taking your free hand and pressing a kiss to it.

Feyre pressed a careful kiss to your cheeks, her soft lips leaving a wake of pink on your skin. “We brought you these as well,” Feyre said, opening the small box, revealing a pair of moonstone earrings, a perfect match to the necklace that they had given you a month ago.

“They’re gorgeous,” you said, reaching out to touch them lightly.

“Yes, but you are far more beautiful,” Rhys murmured, holding the box for Feyre as she took out one earring, replacing the one currently hanging from your right ear with the moonstone, the brush of her fingers lighting up your skin. She repeated the action on the other side, her hands lingering over the skin of your neck before pulling away.

“They look much prettier, now that you’re wearing them,” Feyre said sweetly. “So… Would you like to join us for dinner, Y/N?”

A bright grin spread across your lips at the question. “I would love to, I’ll just need to change first!” you said, already spinning around to leave the box, stopped by a gentle hand on your wrist as your form parted the curtains.

“We’ll meet you at the front doors, darling,” Rhys said before flashing you a dazzling smile, his eyes sparkling with stars.

“Try not to take too long?” Feyre said with a slight pout before grinning at you.

“I’ll be fast,” you promised, Rhys’s gentle grip on your wrist releasing to let you go backstage, a massive smile on your face, your heart fluttering the whole time.

Finally, you had names and faces to put to the pretty words written to you, and knew who had picked out such lovely, perfect gifts.

All it took was a tiny dash of courage.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars

[whisperingmidnights]

Applewood Embers and Honeyed Jasmine 1/2

Summary: Lucien is tired of Elain and Azriel being unhappy and not speaking when, to him, the solution is so easy. After another awkward family dinner, he takes matters into his own hands. Part 1 of 2. The first prequel to 'Tea for Early Birds'.

Pairing: Lucien/Azriel, Lucien/Elain, eventual Lucien/Elain/Azriel

Warnings for a little darkened hallway touching and some very light violence.

Written for @polysjmweek Day 6: Courage

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

     If it weren’t for Nesta asking, Azriel would have skipped family dinner again. He hasn’t attended one all year, not since Solstice. If he had it his way, he’d continue to avoid them altogether for the rest of his life, because then he wouldn’t have to see it. See them, see her. But Nesta had asked him to come. Nesta needed a friend tonight. And Nesta so rarely asks him for anything, of course he had to give her this.

     He had to.

     Even if looking at the end of the table, to her sister and her mate, was a torture he’s not sure he’d inflict on his worst enemy. Even if sitting at a table of happy, deeply in love couples while he’s still so achingly alone is enough to make him want to break something. Someone. Nesta asked, so he came. Feyre put his nephew in his arms, so he held him. Rhys asked light, casual questions, so he answered. Cassian made his usual, terrible jokes and he pretended to be the slightest bit amused by at least two of them.

     And all night, Lucien Vanserra stared at him. Not in a way that made him want to draw his dagger – though he’d considered doing that anyway, just to see what the Autumn male would do. No, he’d observed him, like a beast in a cage. Like a bug trapped in a glass. And Azriel hated it, even if he couldn’t quite hate Lucien for doing it. He deserved to be monitored, after all, didn’t he? Rhys seemed to think so.

     So, he slipped out before the nightcaps, the sound of his boots on the damp street as familiar as a lullaby. He’s always leaving. Never coming home. Not really. It’s fine most of the time, when he isn’t subjected to playing happy family with Rhys and Cassian, but tonight…tonight he feels raw. Untethered.

     And there’s some bold bastard following him.

     His hand twitches for that ancient blade at his side as he rounds the corner, into the entertainment district, but he doesn’t need it. Not really. His fist is itching to connect with something. He ducks into a nearby alley and whirls, seizing the male behind him by his jacket, slamming him back against the damp, stone wall. Mismatched eyes bore into his, russet and gold, and he snarls in Lucien’s face as the young lord merely brushes off the front of his dark blue jacket, unbothered by the display. Like every other wealthy bastard he’s ever faced down in court matters. Azriel’s face heats, his blood beginning to boil.

     “Why the fuck are you following me, Vanserra?” He wields the male’s surname like a needle, driving it beneath his skin for a reaction. The bland look he receives in return is unsatisfying.

     “Yes, yes, we all know you’re Rhysand’s prized fighting dog. Will you please put me down? I think there’s slime in my hair.”

     “Bothered by a little slime? What a delicate flower. Answer the question.”

     “It’s fine in nature, but I don’t prefer it from dingy alleyways. Mother knows the source of it.” Lucien wrinkles his nose in disgust, sighing when Azriel doesn’t balk. “Fine. Fine. I wished to speak with you.”

     “You had all night to speak with me.”

     “Yes, well, I didn’t think you’d prefer to have this conversation in front of Elain’s sisters or your…brothers.” The word drops from his tongue distastefully, some resentment simmering beneath it. Azriel tilts his head, hazel eyes narrowing as he draws his wings around him, shielding them from view. The last thing he needs is word of a brawl, exaggerated or otherwise, getting back to Rhysand. Not when they haven’t truly spoken in months.

     “What do you mean?”

     “I know what you did, Shadowsinger.”

     Azriel laughs, a cold, hard thing, shaking his head at the male. “Narrow it down, Vanserra. I’ve done a great many things.”

     “Last Solstice, with Elain. I know what you did.” His russet eye blazes as he stares, unblinking, up at Azriel. Watching him again. The Illyrian wants to shake him for it until his teeth rattle, but he’s looking for a reaction. He won’t give him one. “Rather, what you didn’t do.”

     “Nothing happened.” He says mildly, his nose twitching as he remembers the argument he’d had with Rhys over that near-kiss. How he’d hated him for interfering, for stealing the one bit of joy Azriel had managed to glean in the midst of all the endless fucking misery and war and death. Elain had been one good thing in his life, the first good thing in a long while. Nothing had happened and he lived with that every day, he watched her follow the tug of that mating bond straight into this male’s arms, and he’d hated Rhys for it.

     Just not enough to do anything about it.

     Because, truly, he’d cared for her more. Still, to this day, the seeds of light she’d planted in his heart after all of these years are fighting to blossom anyway. 

     So, he’d turned all of that loathing inwards, just as he’d always done.

     “Yes, yes, I know. That’s what we need to discuss.”

     “You’re following me because we need to discuss last Solstice, where nothing happened. Tell me something. Do you enjoy wasting your time, Vanserra? Because I don’t enjoy wasting mine-”

     Lucien huffs, wriggling in his hold. “You’re awfully fucking dense, you know? I’d expect more from a spymaster. Put me down, you glorified gargoyle-”

     “Gargoyle?” Azriel hisses, narrowing his eyes. He’d laugh if the other male weren’t so fucking annoying. “What are you, a child? That’s the best insult you could come up with?”

     That’s when Lucien’s forehead crashes into his. Azriel’s head snaps back, his vision flashing white for a moment as his grip momentarily loosens on the other male’s jacket. It’s all Lucien needs to get free, forcing him back with surprising force. He shouldn’t be surprised, he’s seen Lucien in battle. Illyrians tend to train for brute strength, while Autumn forces pride themselves on quick, sharp movements, sneaky as the foxes they share their forests with. He begins to shift into a fighting stance when Lucien holds up his palms in surrender.

     “No, I imagine there are a great many things I could call you instead,” Lucien says mildly, straightening his jacket as he finds his footing. “Now then, shall we find a tavern? There must be something drinkable nearby, and I could use a whiskey. I didn’t follow you out here to tussle.”

     “You won’t find anything as fine as what’s in Rhysand’s cabinet,” Azriel grumbles, rubbing lightly at the growing lump on his forehead. The siphon resting against the center of his chest is warm, and he doesn’t have to look down to know it’s blazing with power he will not tap. Not for this. He’d deserved that blow, and he’d likely weather a few more as penance before he’ll utilize his own fists. When he does, he wants that to be all him.

     “If I wanted to drink with Rhysand, I would have. I’ll take scuffling with you in a seedy alley over enduring one more of Cassian’s clever quips for the night, if you don’t mind.”

     “They are terrible,” he agrees begrudgingly, pulling his wings tight against his back.

     “Nesta should have married my brother when she had the opportunity.”

     “Careful.” Azriel warns, his lip twitching in the echo of a snarl. “She’s his mate-”

     “Yes, and I’m certain Eris wouldn’t have minded coming to some arrangement. He knows an advantage when he sees one.”

     “I don’t want to discuss whatever arrangements your brother makes for his private life.” He does make sure to file that knowledge away for later, though. It’s not a secret Eris is an opportunistic bastard. The idea that he might be fine sharing his potential wife with another male, though? That’s something interesting.

     “Neither do I. Not when I have my own to make.”

     “What?” Azriel asks lowly, watching the youngest Vanserra brother shift uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the alley. He might be an adept fighter, but he has too many personal tells – at least, in unguarded moments. Perhaps he’s different in a courtly setting, when he’s sweet talking some lord or another.

     “A drink, Shadowsinger. Now. Before you lose your temper and I grow too tired of constantly repeating myself.”

     “Down the street to the right. You go first.”

     “But I don’t know where I’m going,” Lucien mutters.

     “I don’t care, you’re not going to be following me again. Go.”

     “Don’t trust me at your back?”

     “No.” Not when he apparently wants to discuss his mate and all the nothing that had happened between them in the winter. But, apparently, the other male trusts him, since he turns his back on him so easily. He shouldn’t. It would be too easy to dig Truth-Teller between his ribs now and be done with the mess. Easier, but…but then he thinks of Elain, and his stomach turns. She’s been through enough, hasn’t she? And, truly, her mate is too pretty to actually want dead – not that he’d ever tell another living soul such information. He’s envious of the auburn-haired prick, but not fucking blind.

     Lucien steps out into the street first, into the glow of the golden light pouring from nearby doors and windows. He moves like a flame, blazing through the night, and Azriel is a shade following in his wake. The Greasy Pig sits on the corner, its dark double doors opened wide for patrons to spill in and out of as they choose. It’s never Azriel’s first choice, but Rita’s is out of the question – too loud, full of prying eyes to report back to Mor or Rhys or, gods forbid, Amren. He doesn’t need her poking around his business, of all fucking fae.

     He follows Lucien into the seedy tavern, stepping around puddles of vomit and barmaids selling more than cheap ale. They find themselves shuffled towards the back in a dimly lit corner, at a table with rickety, low-backed chairs. The wood nymph who comes by, long, reedy vines swaying behind her, drops two tankards of ale on the table without asking them what they want and wanders away towards a long table of trolls playing cards. Lucien wrinkles his nose, holding up the wooden tankard to sniff, and still takes a sip of the swill anyway.

     He’s going to regret that one. Azriel doesn’t touch his, leaning forward on his arms to watch the Night Court emissary try not to retch as he pushes his tankard away.

     “Oh, that’s vile.”

     “Not my first choice.”

     “I should hope you have marginally finer tastes than that.”

     “Marginally,” he agrees with a sharp nod. “What do you want, Lucien?”

     “Getting right to the point, aren’t you?” Lucien nods, wiping his palms on his trousers. “I thought you might. Never one for small talk, you strong, silent types.”

     Azriel snorts, shrugging as he eyes the patrons around them. No one’s paying them any attention. His swarming shadows darken their corner a little further regardless, swallowing up the light for him without being asked. Clever little creatures. One darts beneath his palm, curling up there. Waiting. For what, he’s not sure. “You’re the one following me into dark alleys.”

     “Well, I was going to say something, but you walk too damned fast. Were you so eager to get out of there?”

     “Gods, yes.”

     “I think there was a time when I would have been, too. But it doesn’t have to be like that, Azriel.”

     Is this his game, then? “Did Rhys send you, is that it?”

     “What?” The wild-eyed, incredulous look Lucien gives him is almost insulting. Azriel scoffs, shaking his head.

     “Come play happy families, it can be like old times. We can pretend nothing ever happened now that it’s apparently all out in the open-”

     “What are you babbling about?” The smell of smoke tickles his nose, but he’s far too irritated to pay attention.

     “Solstice. You said you wanted to talk about it. Let me guess, he told you everything after you and Elain completed the bond-”

     “Ah, no, not quite. Though I’m intrigued to find out how he factors into this mess.” The fire burning in that russet eye banks a little, but Azriel still smells smoke. He glances down at Lucien’s hands in time to see the glow beneath his skin flicker out, but the table is beyond help. Scorch marks in the shape of fists mar the top of the table, and he sweeps away the little bit of ash with the back of his hand like it’s nothing. The air is rich with the scent of applewood, and Azriel tries not to think about the way he likes it. “You give away much when you’re angry, Spymaster.”

     “So do you, Emissary.” Azriel settles back in his chair, glancing around again. “Why did that bother you?”

     “Anything that affects my mate bothers me. I also didn’t love the implication that I’d run Rhysand’s familial errands for him because we’re loosely related now. I’m not in the habit of doing Rhysand favors – not if I don’t have to. It certainly doesn’t sound like I owe him one.”

     “What do you mean?” Azriel could argue Lucien would owe Rhys a huge favor, having interrupted his mate with another male. He won’t, but he could. His wings tighten against the back of the chair, brushing uncomfortably against the rough wood.

     “I mean, I have Elain’s version of your interaction last Solstice. I won’t tell you all she admitted to me in confidence, but I’m not blind or stupid, unfortunately. I watched the two of you together plenty. You cared for each other and I want to know what changed for you in what sounds like a matter of minutes.”

     “Why didn’t you ask her what changed for her?”

     “I have nothing to ask her. I have plenty to ask you and, since you almost kissed my mate while I was upstairs at the time preparing for bed, I feel like you owe me at least that.”

     “For an almost kiss? You must think highly of my kisses.”

     “Other people certainly seem to.” Lucien’s red hair slides over his shoulder as he leans in, peppered with braids held together by little golden cuffs. They’re beautiful, shining even in the wake of his shadows, much like the gold eye that sweeps over him. Assessing. He wishes he knew exactly what it does, what the other male sees with it. Too much, most likely. “Tell me anyway.”

     He could lie, like he did with Elain that night. Lie and say he changed his mind, it was a mistake, that he didn’t want her once he had the opportunity to have her. All the things that might diminish the feelings he harbored so deep in his heart, the light could not touch it. He could lie, but Lucien is looking at him and seeing too much, and Azriel is so, so tired of lurking in the shadows. Maybe, just this once, he can stand to be seen.

     “Nothing.”

     “Nothing.” Lucien repeats, blinking back at him. “So, what did you say to her?”

     Azriel shifts, trying to tuck his wings more tightly against him. The thin, folded membrane presses uncomfortably against his chair as he laces his fingers on the table. His eyes drift over the hideous, mottled scarring, the skin stretched too tightly over his bones. His fingers twitch, a symptom of the nerve damage he doesn’t talk about, doesn’t focus on until his hands are nearly useless. He’ll need to rub a bit of salve on them tonight, in case he needs them tomorrow. He’s supposed to be taking a break. Fucking hell.

     “I said it was a mistake.”

     “Mother above, why? If nothing changed for you, why did you say it?”

     “Why does it matter now? Your mating ceremony was last month. Was that not enough?”

     “Not when it’s a wound she still carries. Not when she still misses her friend, her- her…whatever you were.”

     “She misses me?” he asks, his brows drawing together as he stares at the male across the table. Lucien looks at him like he might, in fact, be the stupidest fae he’s ever had the misfortune of dealing with, and he figures he’s probably earned that. But… “Why would she tell you that?”

     “We agreed to open, honest communication. She was giving me that – not that I owe you an explanation, Shadowsinger.” Lucien tilts his tankard once more, like he’s almost considering drinking it. Almost. His top lip curls and he sets it down again. “So, what’s the truth?”

     “The truth?”

     “Don’t play coy. Yes, the truth. What were your intentions with her that night?”

     “Nothing honorable,” he admits, “but only as far as she’d want to take it. If all she had wanted was a kiss, it would have stopped there-”

     “We both know it wouldn’t have stopped there.” No, it wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have wanted to, and he doesn’t think she would have wanted it to either. “I’d ask where that leaves us, but first I want to know where Rhysand came into play.”

     “Isn’t it obvious? He found us and called me into his office. He defended your honor-”

     “Funny, I don’t remember asking him to.”

     “-as a mated male and ordered me away from her. He’s my High Lord. I didn’t have a choice.”

     “Oh, you did, but it’s a shit position he put you in. It’s one thing for you to go against your brother, sure, but him pulling rank on you over that was bullshit.”

     “Yes, well, it was on your behalf.”

     “What goes on in my bond and my bed is my business, not his. And we’ll be keeping it that way unless they want these family dinners to get a lot more awkward.” Lucien muses, glancing down at his own hands. “If you could do it differently, would you?”

     “If there was a way to change the way I handled speaking to Elain that night, I would. I regret the space it put between us.” Something he never thought he’d admit out loud – certainly not to her mate, of all people. But yes, he would. He would do it all differently if he could. He’d kiss her anyway, kiss her like the world was burning down around them, then do it again. And again. And again. Azriel clears his throat, looking away from Lucien, only to find his warm, callused fingers grabbing his chin, drawing his gaze back.

     “Be honest with me,” the other male says, with a gentle authority that feels too much like the pull of a High Lord’s command for Azriel’s liking. “Do you care for her?”

     “Yes.”

     “Do you want her?”

     “Lucien-”

     “Do you?”

     “I-” He can’t say it. He shouldn’t say it. He wants to say it. “Yes.” He breathes, and that ever-present ache in his chest lets up, for just a moment. Honesty that will cost him too much, but probably not everything. Cassian wouldn’t leave him over it. Rhysand’s disappointment he could weather for the next several centuries if the fallout was too great.

     “Say it again.”

     “Yes.”

     “Do you care if I’m part of it?”

     “What?” The question hits him like a stone. “What…what do you mean?”

     “You want her. I want her to have what she wants and, deep down, she still wants you. But I want to make sure she’s cared for. So, if I let you have this, if I deliver you to her to beg on your knees for forgiveness…do you care if I stay?”

     “Are you toying with me, Vanserra?”

     The hand on his chin gives a sharp squeeze as Lucien narrows his eyes. “Stop calling me that, you're just doing it to annoy me. You're a hard male, Azriel, and a vicious, intelligent fighter. It’s a shame you're not very brave.”

     Azriel's hand snaps up, closing around Lucien's wrist so fast, the other male doesn't have time to look surprised. “Are you calling me a coward?”

     “I'm telling you to fucking admit what you want instead of letting someone else get in your way. I've heard rumors, Shadowsinger, and none are more damning than the ones that say you only want what you can't have.”

     “Maybe they're true,” he spits, rising from his seat, shaking off the hand that holds him. A few coins jingle as he tosses them onto the bar, enough marks to pay for whatever the fuck they were served and maybe the cheap table, too. “We're done here.”

     His heart stutters as he walks away, but he keeps his head low as he makes for the rear exit. Shadows swirl around his wrists, cool and soothing, pulling at his arms like they're trying to slow his stride in the darkened hall. Interfering little nightmares. Nightmare, monster, isn't that what people call him?

     They're right, they're right. And maybe that's all he's meant to be, maybe-

     He's not paying attention. Too fucking caught up in his own head, he doesn't notice Lucien behind him until it's his back against the wall, his wings grinding into the crumbling plaster. The sharp scent of frustration taints his applewood scent, and his body is too warm against Azriel's, heated by all that Autumn fire blazing in his veins. Strong arms cage him in, but he's not truly trapped. Not if he doesn't want to be.

     “Don't walk away from me,” Lucien murmurs, his russet eye blazing in the dark. “You might find I like the hunt.”

     “I'm not your quarry.” Azriel snaps.

     “You have been all night, haven't you?”

     “You mean you didn't follow me just to call me a coward?” To tell him all the ways he'd been measured and found lacking. Fuck, he needs to get out of here. He tries to gather his shadows to him, to disappear in them, but they won't come.

     “No, I came to invite you to my bed, with my mate, if you'd stop with the self-flagellation long enough for me to speak.” Lucien let out a long stream of air through his nose, his head leaning closer until they're almost – almost – skin to skin. “I admit I've been curious, after my conversation with Elain, about what you might be up for. And I did say I've heard rumors.”

     “And I did say they're probably all true,” Azriel says hoarsely, leaning his head back against the wall. Lucien is barely shorter than him, but it's just enough to look down at him through his long, dark lashes. “But I'm tired of being used as someone else's pawn, Lucien. Someone else's plaything.”

     “That's not my intention, Azriel. I came because Elain has feelings for you that are still very real and prominent for her, and it's clear to me you care for her, too. The way you actively avoid one another is grating. I'm tired of watching her pine and suffer in silence when I can do something about it. I want her to be happy and, if she wants you and you're willing, I want her to have you.”

     “And what do you want, Lucien?”

     “To not be an afterthought.” An ache like guilt throbs in his ribs, and Azriel closes his eyes against it. How many times had he felt like that? In the years Elain spent piecing herself back together, in the time they'd spent learning each other…how long had Lucien felt like that? And how many times had Azriel felt like that himself? Perhaps they're more alike than he realized. “Azriel?”

     “Yes?”

     “I can't read minds. I need to know what you're thinking.” The words are a breath against his skin.

     “You're not an afterthought. And you're not anyone's second choice.”

     “Neither are you.” His voice is so damn earnest, a plea for him to open his eyes that Azriel grants. The intensity in Lucien's eyes is breathtaking. He's never been on the receiving end of an Autumn male's desire, and he's also heard rumors. It seems like they might be true. “Not to her. And not to me. You don't have to come home with me tonight, not if you don't want to, but we need to talk-”

     “I do.” The air around them is heavy, both of their scents tinged with the edge of desire. “I will and I do. I owe Elain an apology, at least, and you…you…well, fuck, Lucien, I'm not blind. If you're offering…”

     “I am doing so much more than offering.” Lucien's head tilts, angled like he might kiss him, their noses close enough to brush. Azriel's breath catches in his throat, and he stares and stares at the other male, waiting for him to move. Why doesn't he fucking move? Is this…is this a joke? He doesn't look like he's joking- “Mother above, Azriel, don't you ever just take what you want? Or are you waiting for someone to give you permission?”

     The Illyrian surges forward with a growl, grabbing Lucien's hips as he pulls his body flush against his. It's nothing like kissing a female, soft and warm and pliant. Lucien is all sharp angles, broad and firm and demanding. It feels like war. Like ruin. Like this is a battle of wills, more than anything, as Lucien's hands tangle in his hair.

     But then he softens, his grip on Azriel tightens, and he can smell something like longing in his applewood scent. A soft, seeking tongue replaces harp teeth, and he recognizes this. It's something like need. And Azriel is familiar with the flavor of desire. This is a dance his body knows. Finally, something safe.

     After dancing on the edge of a knife all night, there's sweet relief in Lucien's arms. He shouldn't want it, but he does. And, if he'll let him have Elain – if she still wants him at all, Mother knows he doesn't fucking deserve her. But if she still wants him, he might just give them whatever they want from him. Whatever they need. He's so tired of this search for meaning, for something deeper, for someone who might just want him for him.

     And if even an echo of that is what they're offering…

     He'll give them anything.

     Lucien pulls back first, gasping for air. His cheeks are ruddy and there's a brightness in his eyes, like a glimpse of the sun. And something in Azriel's heart breaks open, a seed Elain planted all those months ago, blooming in spite of him. “Cauldron, that was…well, at least one rumor was true.”

     “I did say they were,” Azriel whispers, looking at Lucien's lips, wet from their kiss. He wants to taste him again, fuck, he needs to be touched. It's been so long, and he needs…he needs.

     “All of them?” Lucien's eyes dart to the front of his trousers and he smirks, tilting his head in invitation.

     “Why don't you find out?” Honestly, he's not even sure what he could be wondering about. Size, most likely, but he won't rule out the possibility that people talk about the piercings or technique. He's fucked enough people in this city, anything is possible.

     “Really?” Lucien's hand trails hesitantly along the front of his tunic, slowly drifting towards the ties on his breeches. For all of his talk, he seems nervous about crossing this line. Azriel calls his bluff, tugging the laces free himself. Then those warm, blunt fingertips dip beneath his waistband, stroking the sensitive flesh beneath his navel as they slide further down. He's stirring already, well on his way to half-hard before he's even been touched – embarrassing – but Lucien's eyes widen a little as his thumb brushes against the silver ring piercing the tip of his cock. “They weren't lying about the piercings.”

     “No,” Azriel whispers, hips bucking as Lucien gives him an experimental squeeze. Gods, yes, this is what he needs. “H-Harder, Lucien, you can-”

     “Not yet,” he says gently, giving him one long, lazy stroke before he pulls his hand away. “We have a lady to see. She'll be waiting for us, and I'm sure she's felt everything.”

     “Everything?” He asks dumbly, and Lucien nods, kissing him again.

     “Mating bonds are handy things, but I promised I wouldn't let you get away from me. I take my vows seriously. You'll need to speak with her before you come to bed with me.”

      “I'll beg her to forgive me.” Azriel whispers, resting his forehead against Lucien's. “On my knees, if she'll let me.”

     “I don't know if she'll need that, but I'd like to see it all the same. The idea of you on your knees right now certainly is appealing.”

     He doesn't give Azriel time to respond. If he did, he might have promised to suck his cock until he begged for release. Instead, Lucien winnows them out of that dark, dirty hallway, into an apartment he's never seen. It's clean and airy, filled with books and maps and greenery. Through a large, round window, he can see the Sidra and the shops lining the river beyond, the night sky a symphony in the background. And there, on a plush bench before the window, is Elain.

     She glances up from the book she definitely hadn't been reading. The room is filled with the smell of her, honeyed jasmine and wanting so thick it hangs in the air like smoke. His shadows stretch across the room, searching curiously before they bleed into the night. Granting him privacy. Elain looks behind him, to her mate, but Azriel can't look back and see. Not yet.

     “Azriel?” she whispers, turning to green him. Her chiffon nightgown, tied with a pink ribbon at the collar, is made of so many layers it only gives him only an idea of the plush, warm body sheltered beneath. A body he's never stopped dreaming of, a female he's never stopping wanting.

     True to his word, he stops before the bench at her feet. And hits his knees. Ruined hands braced on his thighs, in penance- no, in prayer, he begins to apologize. Her brown eyes shine as she listens, and she looks at him like it is everything.

[nocasdatsgay]

Catch Me When I Fall: Spring Time Affairs

Pairing: Tamlin/Lucien/Elain/Flora | Rating: T | Word Count: 1786

Master List | Read on AO3

Content Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, caretaking

Summary: After an attack, Lucien is under a magical sleep to heal. Elain if forced to leave his side after two days and Tamlin steps in to take care of her.

A/N: I cried the whole time I wrote this. Day 6: Courage of @polysjmweek

Tagging: @hieragalbatorixdottir @thisblogisaboutabook @daycourtofficial @secret-third-thing @pit-and-the-pen @ninthcircleofprythian @ysmtttty

Tamliin looked up from his book when there was a knock at the door. It was opened and Elain stood there, her gaze on the floor as she leaned against the door frame. 

“Hello Elain,” he said softly.

“Can I join you?” She still didn’t look him in the eyes. 

“Of course.”

He sat his book down and watched her sigh and slowly walk in. She looked worse than when he’d last seen her. Dark circles under her eyes, hair loose from its braid and messy. He vanished the thought of how much it reminded him of Feyre from before. She gravitated towards him and he knew what she wanted. He turned on the settee and she wordlessly sat on his lap. Her usually nice Jasmine scent was soured. 

“Flora told me to go lay down but I can’t sleep,” she said softly, laying her head against his chest. 

He immediately undid the tie in her hair and pulled the rest of the braid loose so he could stroke his fingers through it. 

“Do you want me to lay down with you?” He asked softly. 

“I want Lucien to wake up,” her voice cracked. 

His heart panged with an ache. “I do too.” 

He’d never forgive himself for sending Lucien to check the disturbance at the north village. Tamlin thought it a simple issue but it was an ambush by one of Lucien’s own brothers. Tamlin knew the male was in his court, and had been for decades since Eris banished him. Tamlin gave him grace as long as he didn’t cause trouble. He wasn’t even living in that village. But now it was too late. Lucien was healing slowly, put under a magical sleep by the healer almost two days ago. He would wake up when he was healed. Tamlin prayed to the Mother he would wake up any time now. 

“Is Flora in the infirmary?” Elain nodded, not lifting her head. Tamlin thought for a moment. “I’m going to draw you a bath and send for some food. Then you can lay down.”

“Tam,” Elain lifted her head finally. Wetness had gathered on her cheeks from crying. 

“You know your mate will murder me if he finds out you haven’t been taken care of.” He tried to smile but he knew it fell short. 

“Can you hold me for a moment?” Her big doe eyes pleaded with him to agree. 

He sighed. “Yes. I can do that.”

He shifted back and grabbed her thighs to pull her more into his lap. She laid her head back down against his chest and he resumed stroking her hair. He let his thoughts wander, his mind not having stopped since Lucien’s attack. He wrote Eris asking what to do with the male in his dungeons. His response was to wait until Lucien woke- if he woke. That would be the deciding factor on if this brother would live or not. 

Tamlin didn’t know how much time passed; Elain’s breathing evened out and her scent calmed. He knew she fell asleep and would not move. Thankfully his wife came in when his leg started to buzz like a bee from how he was sitting. She too looked worse for wear, her blond hair piled on her head haphazardly. He gave her a questioning look and she shook her head. Lucien was still under. 

As she approached, Tamlin put a finger to his mouth and then pointed down at Elain. Flora stopped and nodded. She mouthed something and pointed to her mouth. Did she eat? Tamlin shook his head and cut his eyes to the door on the right- their bedroom. 

She tilted her head and mouthed ‘do you need help?’ She pointed to Elain. 

Tamlin whispered “the door”.

Elain whimpered. He froze and waited but she didn’t wake. Flora moved slowly without a sound to the bedroom door. He heard the click of the knob and watched her ease it open. Tamlin moved and Elain whined in his arms as he stood up with her, scooping her legs under one arm and carrying her to the bedroom. Flora pulled back the duvet as he carried her in. 

“No,” Elain clung to Tamlin’s shirt, burying her face on his chest when he leaned and let her feet touch the sheets. 

“I’m just putting you down for a moment, love. I’m not leaving you.” She whined again but let him go. He eased her down onto the bed. 

“I’ll have the cooks prepare something to be heated when she wakes,” Flora whispered. 

“Thank you, love,” Tamlin leaned in and kissed her gently. “Get a pair of clothes from their chambers. I’ll make sure she bathes later.” 

He got into bed and dragging up the covers over them. He drifted in his own mind while he laid beside Elain, holding her close. He fell into a half sleep at some point. He started when she moved, inhaling sharply and yawning. It was late into the night, judging by the darkness of the room.

“Where,” Elain sat up, her movements clumsy and panicked. “Lucien- oh gods.”

“Elain,” Tamlin moved to gently grab her by the arms. She looked at him with wild eyes in the dark.  “Elain, it’s alright. It’s me. Lucien is okay. He’s still healing.” 

She sobbed, falling back against him. He shuffled to sit up more, wrapping his arms around her. 

“I was so scared to fall asleep,” she whispered. “That I might see.” 

“Did you?” He tried to not let his tone show his worry. 

“No.” She sniffled. “I- no.”

He held for a moment until she calmed. 

“I can start a bath for you,” he kissed her forehead.  

He guided her to the bathing chambers and started the bath, adding in what he hoped was Elain’s favorite oils. Tamlin was never good at remembering things like that. Flora teased him all the time for it. Elain came in from the toilet still in her dress with her hair pinned back up. She must have seen he was about to excuse himself, to let her be alone. Her feet padded gently against the tile floor and she grabbed his hand. She looked up at him with her soft brown eyes, pleading. 

“Stay.” 

He nodded. He undressed her, helping her out the dress she wore when this whole thing began. He didn’t notice until then that she hadn’t changed. She sighed when she sat in the warm water and beckoned him to join her. Tamlin hesitated but relenanted. 

“I’ll do it.” He gently took the soap and cloth from her. 

He washed her first while she relaxed back against him. When he went to undo her hair, she pulled back. 

“My lady, you’ll feel better if you let me wash your hair,” he chuckled. 

“I know but- he, it’ll take forever to dry.” 

Realization hit Tamlin that Lucien was drying Elain’s hair for her with his magic. 

“I can dry your hair for you.” He said softly. 

She did relax more when he wet and gently massaged her scalp. He let her rinse it on her own while he washed himself quickly. Tamlin left the bath first, getting a towel and quickly drying himself off. He wrapped it around his waist and grabbed two more from the shelf before walking back to the tub. He helped Elain up, she crossed her arms immediately around her chest. He wrapped up her hair first. 

“You said you’d dry my hair,” she pouted. 

“I will once you’re out of the water,” he smiled. 

He helped her out onto the rug. She stood still while he knelt, (tightening his own wrap), to dry her legs and work his way up. He wrapped the towel around her chest when he was done. 

“Do you wish to dress? Or shall I do your hair now?”  

She didn’t think, just whispered, “now is fine.”

He turned her gently. Releasing the towel let her hair fall around her shoulders. She shivered a little. He went to the sink and grabbed his wide toothed comb. 

“Come and sit,” he motioned her over to a stool Flora used by the mirror. 

Elain padded over silently. She sat looking away from the mirror. His heart squeezed a little. He knew what that felt like too intimately. He took his time combing out her curls, gently teasing out the little tangles from washing. When the comb ran through with no resistance, he pulled his magic to start drying it. He was halfway through when he noticed the shake in her shoulders. 

“Elain, should I stop?” he whispered and put the comb down. 

“No,” he could hear the tears in her voice. “I’m sorry.” 

He came around to see her wiping at her face with the edge of the towel. He knelt down in front of her, and took one hand in his own and his other cradled her cheek. 

“Can you tell me?”

She sniffled. “I just. I thought- if he doesn’t wake up. He’ll never dry my hair for me again.” More tears ran down and onto his hand. 

Tamlin sighed, worry set in his brow. “I’ll finish your hair. You’ll feel better once you're dressed and have eaten something.” 

He wiped her tears away and got up to finish drying her hair. He took his time braiding it, ensuring every so often she was okay. Getting dressed was another somber affair. He helped her into the dress Flora left them, her scent still smelling like a wilted plant. Tamlin dressed himself quickly while she sat on the bed. Her gaze was off, staring at nothing. 

“Lainy,” She looked up blinking at him. “We will get through this.” 

“Promise?” Her slow tears falling again. 

“I absolutely promise.”

He held out his hand. She waited and took it after a moment. He led her slowly out the bedroom and to the door. He would do his best to get her to eat. The hall was empty as they walked, the moon shining through the windows. They didn’t make it far. Heavy footsteps behind them echoed down. Tamlin turned to see Flora running towards them. 

“He’s awake,” she yelled. 

Elain nearly fell to her knees, sobbing. Tamlin caught her as Flora approached. There were tears of her own in her eyes when she reached them. 

“Really?” Elain clung to Tamlin to help her stay steady.

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling Elain to her. 

“Can I see him?”

Flora cradled her face gently and kissed her softly. “That’s why I ran. Come, he wants to see you.”

Tamlin continued to hold her steady as they walked to the infirmary, His own relief light in his chest knowing that his friend, his love, was okay. 

[polysjmweek]

Day 6 Masterlist: Courage

Fanfic

"Applewood Embers and Honeyed Jasmine" by @whisperingmidnights (Lucien X Elain X Azriel)

"The Courage to Stay" by @sonics-atelier (Tamlin X Lucien X Andras)

"Catch Me When I Fall: Spring Time Affairs" by @nocasdatsgay (OC [Flora] X Tamlin X Elain X Lucien

"Secret Admirers" by @potatoplace (Reader X Feyre X Rhysand)

"A Few Beginnings" by @manicmanuscription (Reader X Feysand X Inner Circle X Lucien)

"Leap Of Faith" by @slytherin-pen (Reader X Hunt X Bryce)

"Locked Away" by @danikamariewrites (Reader X Rowan X Lorcan X Fenrys X Gavriel)

"Can we kiss and make up?" by @daycourtofficial (Reader X Nesta X Azriel)

"you're the venom, i'm the serpent" masterlist by @throneofsapphics (Reader X Rowan X Aelin)

If your creation is missing or you see an issue with the masterlist, please reach out to the blog so we can rectify it!