#why do none of the Illyrians have last names?

[stargirlfeyre]

“Don’t get mad at us for Emerie not getting as much attention as Gwyn, get mad at Sjm for it because she’s the one who put more focus on Gwyn than Emerie”

Okay we can be mad at the both of you. Trust there is a lot to say about Sjm’s treatment of her poc characters and how Emerie being a woman of color who is also part of the Lgbtq + community is why she’s an afterthought for both this fandom and it’s author however that does not change that her self proclaimed fans do play a part in her erasure compared to her white counterparts.

I’m not going to deny that Sjm gave Gwyn more focus than Emerie because that literally proves our point. Though Emerie should be on equal standing as Gwyn, she is done a disservice by both “her” fandom and her author. I don’t know if Sarah fell into the “trio curse” when writing Acosf but each member of the Valkyries are not given the same level of importance even though they should be. Emerie should have as many important scenes with Nesta as Gwyn. Emerie should have paragraphs about her beauty the way Nesta or Gwyn do. Emerie should be given so much credit for how strong she’s had to be before she met the Valkyries and after. But for some reason she rarely is and it makes you wonder what is it about her that causes Sjm to do her such a disservice *cough cough*.

And onto the way her fandom treats her. You cannot deny that she is often pushed aside when it comes to the Valkyrie trio and trying to blame Sjm for all of it is crazy. Sarah isn’t the one forcing y’all to give an Illyrian plot that would fit Emerie to her white besties, Sarah isn’t the one forcing y’all to white wash her, Sarah isn’t the one forcing y’all to theorize that she’ll end up with a man simply because you don’t like the woman that she’s shown interest in, Sarah isn’t the one forcing y’all to treat Emerie as an after thought.

Compare how much Valkyrie fans talk about Nesta or Gwyn individually to how much they talk about Emerie individually…now I’m not going to sit here and tell you what to post on your account or that you have to like all the Valkyries equally but I’m also not going to sit here and let y’all play in people’s faces when they say “hmm it’s a little weird that the only woman of color in the group isn’t treated as important as her friends”.

You can sit here and call us “token fans” but all that does is tell everyone that you have no actual argument to justify the blatant Emerie erasure. If anything it’s us “token fans” that are actually concerned with how much she’s pushed aside when it should be you. But no you’re just too busy giving storylines that would fit her to the white women.

[jdeclerc]

meet my eye & vow to be true

pairing: cassian x reader

summary: what is sent through the bond is sacred, the most honest of all things - isn't it?

author's note: based on a request made by @horneybeach1, the first one i have ever received - i hope i did your request justice, and i apologize for the delay <3

warnings: brief description of injuries

word count: 2,789

As you pull your blade from the body in front of you, the nameless male falling to the ground, you see the end. The end of the carnage that has filled this camp for countless hours before the sun began its descent in the sky.

All that surrounds you now is the slow movements and utter quiet of the army that had defeated those laying at your feet. A combined Night and Autumn Court unit, formed for the destruction of one of the last of Hybern’s holdouts.

You instinctively begin searching for your family, scanning the area around you for some reassurance of their safety. You had seen Azriel and your mate hours before, both with their siphons ablaze, carving a path through your enemies.

In the time since, you had tugged at the bond, seeing to the safety of your mate. Cassian responded to each of your tugs with one of his own, conveying what you needed from him; he was safe and unharmed.

You had only caught glimpses of the other members of the Inner Circle and knew you would only settle once you had seen for yourself that they were safe.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that none of them remained close, you had ended up on the far edge of the battle, one of the last areas to cease fighting. It is your name that pulls you from your forming list of possible locations of your family.

“Lady Y/N, what a relief! When you didn’t show up at the healers’ tent everyone became worried. The High Lord sent us in search of you.” It is one of Cassian’s captains approaching you. Thalien, a loyal male you had known for centuries.

“The healers’ tent?” You give him a puzzled look. “Why would you expect me to be there?”

“The entire Inner Circle is gathered ‘round it, no one knows any exact details about what happened to him.”

“Thalien, out with it. Who is so injured that it has the entire leadership of our court concerned?” The worry and anger replacing your curiosity leaks into your response and has the captain stumbling over his words.

“It’s…I thought you would have known…The General M’Lady, he was injured during the battle. No one knows how long it was before he was found.”

“Anything else?” Your words are grated, anger moving solely to the forefront of your emotions.

“That is all I know, I swear it.”

Although you know the captain is not at fault, you can’t help the look of contempt you throw his way as you take off past him without another word.

----------

Nesta is the first you see as the healers’ tent comes into view. You can tell by the way she steps into your path and raises her hands that your emotions can be clearly read.

“Y/N…he needs calm. They’re doing everything they can for him. Wait out here with us, it’ll be better that way, I promise.”

“Nesta…please.” Your voice breaks as you say the words.

You can tell by the way she looks at you that she knows there is no stopping your entering of the tent. She exchanges glances with her sisters, Mor, and Amren, all remaining vigil with her outside of the tent. After a moment Nesta steps to the side, the two of you having always understood the stubbornness of the other.

You move past her and pass through the opening of the tent. As it closes behind you, your breath is stolen form you.

Cassian, the imposing force of a mate that he is, is laying unconscious on a table in the center of the tent. His wings having fallen slack on either side, resting on the dirt floor. Blood covers the floor surrounding the table and you trace it to a wound on his abdomen so massive it would have meant death for any one other than an Illyrian.

The upper half of his leathers has been removed. Madja and several other healers work in tandem in what could only be described as controlled chaos.

You feel a hand grip your elbow and you realize for the first time that Azriel and Rhysand stand inside the tent with you.

You meet both of their eyes and see your worry reflected back at you. Rhysand knows the question that lays in your eyes and moves to put his arm around your waist.

“He was found in the woods; it would appear he was going after a group of fae being held captive. From what we gathered the men holding them captive ambushed Cas…they’re weapons laced with faebane. We don’t know how long he had been out there before he was found.”

You gave him a silent nod, doing everything you could to keep your tears at bay.

“What of the captured fae?”

“Already on their way to Velaris, Eris has also offered them sanctuary should they choose it.”

Venom leaks into your voice with your next question.

“And the men?”

It is Azriel who answers as he comes to stand at your other side and brings his arm across your shoulders.

“They’re dead. Somehow Cas remained conscious long enough to tear them down, allowing the captured fae to escape.”

You expect no less from your mate. His heart had always been his greatest attribute, his role as protector outweighing all others he donned.

The three of you fall into a tense silence, clinging to each other as you watch the one male you never thought you would see fall fight for his life.

---------

You aren’t sure how much time passes before Madja steps back and approaches the three of you.

“He is a fighter; he is only still with us because he willed it.” She meets your eyes and ensures you hear her words. “Your General will rise and fight another day. Give him time, he will wake.”

You can’t help the tears that fall with your next words.

“There are no words of thanks I can give you Madja that would repay what you’ve done today.”

“Your thanks would be wasted on me, my dear. You lot are more important to me than you could ever know…no matter how neglectful you all are in following my advice.” She pins the three of you with a glare but can’t help the small smile that crosses her face.

You return her smile, knowing that she is a vital part of the foundation on which your family stands.

A moment of silence falls between the four of you before you find the courage to ask her your small hope, grasping Madja’s hands in your own as you voice it.

“Can we…can we bring him home? He’ll want to be at home when he wakes.”

Madja glances behind her at your mate and you can see her considering her answer before she voices it.

“For you, my dear Y/N, I will make it so. Give us time to prepare him.”

---------

Cassian can hear the questions Rhys is asking Madja about his recovery, can hear the shit Az is giving him about letting mere mortals get the best of him, but all he can focus on is his mate. His strong, fearsome, beautiful mate, standing at the edge of their bedroom like a stranger, as though she doesn’t belong right by his side.

He has been looking past his brothers and the healer since he awoke, hoping to catch your eye. Only when Madja ends her examination, and you offer to escort her out do you finally meet his gaze. What he sees in your eyes outweighs any physical pain he has ever experienced.

He watches the door as it closes behind you, feeling nothing as he reaches out to you through the bond.

“Cas, she’s –”

“Az, don’t. I’m the one that fucked up, she has every right to feel how she does.”

“And how exactly did you fuck up brother? By almost getting killed?”

“I lied…through the bond.”

Both males fell silent, waiting for Cassian to continue.

“We had been sending waves through the bond throughout the battle, making sure the other was safe. After…After what happened, happened, I may not have let her know the extent of my injuries.”

“You made her think everything was fine, didn’t you?” Cassian’s failure to respond was answer enough. “You absolute dickhead, how foolish can you be? I could kill you myself, I certainly wouldn’t blame Y/N if she did.”

Rhys let out a low whistle from where he stood, his eyebrows raising higher than Cassian has ever seen them do so before.

His expression hardened a moment later.

“Never have I seen Y/N so terrified Cassian. For three days she hasn’t left your side, no matter how often we begged her to eat, to sleep. You’re right, you fucked up. Fix this or injuries inflicted by mortals will be the least of your problems.” The room began to darken with each word spoken by the High Lord. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”

Cassian could do nothing but nod, words failing him.

The two males gave him a look of disdain and turn to leave.

“Will you two at least help me up so I can find her?”

---------

It doesn’t take long for Cassian to find you.

The library at the House of Wind had always been the place you found solace. You found peace within the stacks of books.

He comes upon you in the furthest corner of the library, returning a book and undoubtedly searching for a new one.

Cassian knows by the whitening of your knuckles around the book you are holding that you hear him approach.

“Y/N/N, I know –”

“Cassian, don’t.” The anger in your voice is anchored by the tears he sees in your eyes as you look up at him. “There is nothing you could say that would excuse what you did. So please, do us both a favour and go back to bed. Then maybe you’ll actually be okay the next time you tell me you are.”

“Let me explain.”

“Explain what? How you used what connects us at our cores to deceive me? Or how you almost died, alone, in the woods because of your refusal to tell me the truth?” Cassian can’t help but recoil at your words, knowing each one is truer than the last. “There is no explanation you could give that is good enough. No reassurance you could give me that what you did was right. Leave, now, for both our sakes.”

As you turn away from him, he can’t help but reach for you, letting out a cry of pain as he does, having overextended his injuries.

Your hands are at his sides in an instant, helping him remain stable.

“You damn fool. You’ve likely undone Madja’s work, and you’ve only just woken up.”

Cassian can’t help but hold his breath as you begin to undo the buttons of his shirt; the two of you having been in this exact position under very different circumstances.

You both grow quiet as your hands skirt across his abdomen, checking the state of his bandages, refusing to meet his eye the entire time.

You let out a disapproving noise, “You’ve split your stitches. Our bathroom…now.”

You put his arm across your shoulder as you lead him out of the library and up the stairs.

---------

Cassian settles on the bathroom vanity as you gather the first aid supplies you both decided long ago to keep close at hand.

You step between his legs as you bring a cloth to clean the blood from his wound. He can tell that even in your anger you are as gentle as you can be.

And it’s your quiet apologies as you fix the stitches he tore, that he realizes it’s not your anger he should concern himself with.

Cassian grabs your hands to halt your movements.

“Y/N, please. You can yell, scream, say whatever vulgar words I undoubtedly deserve, but please, my love, at least look at me.”

You don’t make any movement, Cassian takes your chin between his fingers and tilts your face upwards, so your eyes meet his. He finds no trace of anger, finds nothing but immense pain. His next words come out broken, barely above a whisper.

“Talk to me…please.”

Cassian watches as your eyes search his.

“I was so scared, I thought…I thought I’d lost you.” Your voice breaks and he can see you give yourself a moment before you continue. “The thought of losing you steals the breath form my lungs, turns my world black. You were okay, you told me you were okay, and then I see you on that table…”

You choke back a sob as Cassian’s hands come to settle on either side your neck, resting his forehead against yours.

“What do you feel Y/N?”

Your hands come to rest atop his.

“Your hands, the…the callouses from training.”

“Good, what do you smell?”

“You, my mate. The coolness of the winds coming off the Illyrian mountains, and the crackling embers of the fire inside the cabin.”

“And what do you feel?”

“Safety and love, my home.”

“I am here Y/N, I am real. I’m not going anywhere, not now and not any time soon if I have anything to do with it. I will fight the Mother, the Cauldron, anyone, or anything to stay by your side.” He pulls back enough to look directly into your eyes. “I will spend the rest of our days showing you how truly sorry I am. I swear to you, never gain will I use our bond to deceive you. Never.”

You both wince at the same time with the voicing of his vow. Cassian watches as the mark appears on his lower sternum, knowing the same is appearing on you.

“Cauldron boil me, that definitely could have waited until my other injuries healed.”

You both let out a small laugh at his words.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not angry, you have a lot of groveling ahead of you General.”

“Hmmm…trust me when I say I will be on my knees before you the first chance I get.”

Cassian leans forward and captures your lips with his, quickly deepening the kiss as he leans your head back.

You rest your hands on his thighs and press further into him. Cassian breaks the kiss with a hiss of pain.

You’re quick to check him over, worrying about causing him further pain. Cassian once again takes you hands in his and leans in to kiss you again, pulling away a few moments later.

“As much as I would enjoy continuing our current activity, I think Madja was right when she said I need rest. Lay with me?”

You look up at him though your lashes as you give him a nod. You keep a hand on his arm as he stands from the vanity, and you help him slowly make his way to your bed. Helping him settle against the headboard.

“You know, if I could, you would be on top of me, gripping the headboard…it’s oh so lonely here by myself.”

“You’ll just have to make it up to me some other time, now, won’t you?”

He makes sure the look he gives you shows that he means to live up to your challenge.

“Let me change and I’ll join you.”

He gives you a small smile as you enter your shared closet and can’t help but push love and adoration down the bond when you emerge in the red silk pajamas he had gifted you on your latest name day.

Cassian watches as you grab your book off your nightstand and settle into your side of the bed.

“Read to me?”

---------

It isn’t the first time Cassian has asked this of you, and you know it won’t be the last. He had said once that your voice brought him comfort like nothing else. The wonder in which you fell into books being his favourite.

You motion for him to rest his head in your lap. He moves as slowly as possible, wincing only once as he settles his wings on either side of you.

You brush your hand through your mate’s hair and stare down at him, giving him the most loving of smiles, him giving you one of his own in response.

You lean down, ghosting your lips across his forehead and begin reading, watching as he quickly falls into a much-needed sleep.

You realize, in that moment, that your anger has dissipated, knowing nothing is as valuable as moments such as these with your mate.

 The General needn’t know of this realization though.

For he is oh, so good at earning your forgiveness.

[tangerinecherrygal]

do we ever get an explanation for why none of the illyrians seem to have last names?

[itsthedoodle]

If I Could Hold You For A Minute

Summary:

The thread tying him to her went taut, then glowed. He felt his entire being shatter then reform, his heart beating to the sound of hers, his cells, his nerves, his entire DNA screaming her name, screaming that she was his, only his, his to love and cherish—

He felt the mating bond snap into place with a force that could have rattled the mountain, the stars.

Read on AO3

He stood on the small balcony overlooking the vast expanse of Prythian’s Middle. For fifty years, he had been trapped here. For fifty years he had played his part well, taking on every role he needed to keep his people, his family, and Velaris safe. Rhys took a deep, shuddering breath, quieting his mind for now. There’d be time to process the past five decades when he was home. 

Home. That was a thought he hadn’t let himself have in a very long time. He was looking forward to it, but his return to the Night Court meant he had to say one last goodbye, and the thought of it alone filled him with despair the likes he’d never felt before.

The first hours after Amarantha’s defeat had been chaotic. The Attor was missing, and Jurian’s eye and bone were gone, too. Everyone else had returned to their respective courts, everyone except for him, Feyre, and Tamlin. Rhys knew this wasn’t over, that this was the beginning of something more, something worse than the last fifty years. 

He looked down to see his hands shaking. He’d been shaking for hours now thanks to Feyre unwittingly blasting him with thoughts of Tamlin and everything he had done to her in the privacy of their own room. 

Rhys had thrown up the entire time. 

Logically, he knew he should let her sleep, let her recover from the hellish three months she had just survived. But he couldn’t stay another minute here, each passing second adding to his anxiety. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like the walls were closing in around him, like he would never get out, like he would never—

He reached deep inside him, gently tugging at the thread at his middle, not wanting to alarm her, and waited, taking deep breaths as he counted to ten. 

I’m going home, he kept repeating like a prayer, a mantra to help him keep his sanity for a few more minutes, to keep him from breaking down completely. 

At the sound of approaching steps he put his unaffected mask back on. Turning around, he came face to face with the sight of Feyre hissing at the brightness, a hand shielding her eyes. 

That drew a chuckle out of him. She sounded like an angry cat. “I forgot that it’s been a while for you.” 

Feyre silently took in the view, observing the snow capped mountains first, then the foot of the mountain, barren and brown and lifeless. She looked… tired. Spent. Empty. He didn’t understand how Tamlin hadn’t whisked her back to the Spring Court. Feyre didn’t belong here, and after what she’d had to do, what she needed was to be as far away from this place as possible. 

She was looking at him, taking in his wings. Through the gates of her mind, blown wide open as they were, he knew she was taking note of his hands and feet, expecting talons and finding none. 

“What do you want?” she said, and he suspected she hadn’t meant to say it as softly as she had. Flashes of him fighting Amarantha and trying to save her crossed her mind. 

I’d fight everyone to keep you safe, he thought. He kept hearing the cracking sound her neck had made as Amarantha had snapped it, and tried his best not to let his mind linger. He’d known then, what she was, who she was to him. He’d seen and felt it all. The enormity of the situation was one he would analyze in the privacy of his own room. 

“Just to say good-bye. Before your beloved whisks you away forever.”

She wiggled her fingers in front of him. “Not forever,” she said, her voice frostier than the Illyrian camps. “Don’t you get a week every month?”

He forced a smile, gently rustling his wings. “How could I forget?”

She stared at him, analyzed him, then asked “Why?” 

Rhys shrugged. “Because when legends get written, I didn’t want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn’t do anything useful. Because,” he said, looking at her beautiful eyes, “I didn’t want you to fight alone. Or die alone.”

A memory flashed, a memory of a faerie bleeding in the foyer. “Thank you.” was all she said.

He grinned at her. “I doubt you’ll be saying that when I take you to the Night Court.” 

She didn’t say anything, opting to turn away from him and take in the view again. Her face remained impassive, empty. Void of any of the emotions she always wore on display. “Are you going to fly home?” she asked. 

Rhys shook his head, laughing softly. How he wished he could fly home. “Unfortunately it would take longer than I can afford.” he said. “Another day, I’ll taste the skies again.”

She glanced at him, at the wings he kept tightly tucked into his body. “You never told me that you loved the wings—or the flying.”

He shrugged. “Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me. I tell very few of the wings. Or the flying.”

He let the silence settle between them, and then curiosity took over. “How does it feel to be a High Fae?” 

She looked out toward the mountains again. “I’m an immortal—who has been mortal. This body…” she looked down at her hands, and he felt the wave of self-loathing and disgust so strongly that it rattled him to his core. He wanted to touch her, hug her, tell her that he understood, he knew what it was to feel both of those things, that it wasn’t her fault, that there hadn’t been another way. She’d been thrust into a situation worse than any of her darkest nightmares, and she’d come out of it alive. 

But at what cost?

“This body is different,” she continued “but this, this is still human.” She said, hand on her chest. “Maybe it always will be. But it would have been easier to live with it…” she swallowed, trying to compose herself. “Easier to live with what I did if my heart had changed, too. Maybe I wouldn’t care so much; maybe I could convince myself their deaths weren’t in vain. Maybe immortality will take that away. I can’t tell whether I want it to.”

He looked at her for a long while, at the girl with the human heart, the pointed ears, the elongated limbs, the ethereal beauty that had been there before and had been amplified so much it took his breath away. He wished he could hold her, if only for a minute, tell her he was sorry for everything she had gone through these past several months. He had tried to keep her alive, but the ordeal had taken a toll on her soul. 

“Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.”

She thought about it for a bit, looked like she wanted to say more, but thought against it and simply nodded. 

Time to go. “Well, good-bye for now.” he said, rolling his neck, already feeling the beginnings of a tension headache. He bowed at his waist, and began to winnow, when he felt it. 

The thread tying him to her went taut, then glowed. He felt his entire being shatter then reform, his heart beating to the sound of hers, his cells, his nerves, his entire DNA screaming her name, screaming that she was his, only his, his to love and cherish—

He felt the mating bond snap into place with a force that could have rattled the mountain, the stars. Felt the force of it sucker punch him so hard he stumbled, stopped breathing altogether. He knew then, he knew he had to get out of here, winnow away, go home, put space between them before he did something stupid. 

He took a step back, his limbs protesting, wanting to stay put, wanting to stay with her, be next to her, his hands a second away from pulling her to him, wrapping her in an embrace, protecting her from everything she had endured. 

She looked at him in confusion and he wanted to laugh, scream, and cry at the same time. 

“What is—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish that sentence as he winnowed away, reappearing in front of the town house. He numbly grabbed the handle and lowered it, opening the door and stepping inside his home for the first time in fifty years. Mor was immediately there, pulling him in an embrace, sobbing as he shook from shock and a million other feelings he was not in the right state of mind to address. 

“Rhys?” Mor asked him cautiously. 

“She’s my mate.” he said, the dam breaking, tears streaking down his face. “She’s my mate, she’s my mate, she’s my mate, and she’s not mine.”

[rosanna-writer]

The Dust of the Stars in Her Eyes (2/7)

Summary: Feyre Archeron didn't want a prince, just a night off and a dress. But when the mating bond snaps for Rhysand at the ball where his father is pressuring him to choose a wife, he'll do anything to keep Feyre close—even convince her to fake an engagement to him. Warnings: None Pairing: Feysand Chapter Word Count: ~2.7k

A Rhys POV chapter for Day Two of @officialfeysandweek2023! Chapter One: The Prince is Giving a Ball | Chapter Two: I Have Found Her

You can find it below the cut or here on AO3.

This was the worst Starfall of Rhysand's life. In the past few weeks, his father had doubled down on his insistence that Rhys make himself useful by finding a wife ("These things take time, Rhysand. Be responsible for once and get started before you're a High Lord with a succession crisis."), and as usual, his mother had doubled down on her insistence that her mate was being far too harsh ("Don't rush him. It's not a decision to be taken lightly, and it's not as if you're dropping dead any time soon."). Rhys had spent most of the last week in the library just to get away from it.

But even his mother hadn't gotten the High Lord of the Night Court to budge on this particular issue. This year's Starfall party was a last resort—invitations had gone to every family with the smallest shred of political significance and marriageable daughters. Rhys was to choose one for a bride tonight, or his father would choose for him.

And so Rhysand had found himself pretending to look interested as various Night Court females threw themselves at him. Though if he was being honest, they did that anyway, which was only to be expected when you were a young, handsome High Lord's heir. There had never been a shortage of females warming his bed, but none Rhys would ever ask to be anything more. If he married, his wife would be the future Lady of Night, a position that was fraught at the best of times. There was no shortage of would-be assassins and kidnappers with vendettas against the Night Court, who would happily use its Lady to settle scores or force the hand of its High Lord.

Rhysand had seen the strain it had put his mother under. The thought of asking anyone else to endure it made him feel faintly sick.

The spirits' annual migration was about to begin, the perfect excuse to end yet another tiresome conversation. As Rhys stepped closer to the open balcony where the view was best, he caught his sister's eye. Rhiannon didn't even try to look sympathetic, just snickered into her wine glass.

At least someone was having fun.

But the first streak of silver across the sky wasn't one of the spirits—it was an Illyrian. An Illyrian female. As she came into view, Rhys realized she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The faelights made her dress glitter in a way that brought out the gray-blue of her eyes, and sharp talons gleamed at the top of each wing.

Wings that she had flown here with.

She seemed unsure of herself as she landed, tucking her wings in tight, and as she turned her head to look around, he noticed pointed ears. One Illyrian parent, one High Fae parent, just like him, then. Perhaps that explained why her wings weren't clipped.

"Who is she?" Rhys said to his sister, who'd come to stand next to him at some point. He'd been so distracted by the female alighting on the balcony that he didn't notice when.

"I don't know," Rhiannon murmured back, "but if you're going to find out, pick your jaw up off the floor first."

For once, Rhys didn't have a retort. The crowd had cheered at the sight of the first stars crossing the sky, but he hardly noticed. He felt pulled to this female, as if by a string tied to his ribs. He'd never been so desperate just to know someone's name. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way towards her.

She was telling someone to get their hands off her, and Rhys tried not to think about why it bothered him so much that anyone would touch her against her will. Perhaps it was just particularly aggravating to think someone would have the poor manners to do that at his party, to think they could get away with that sort of behavior in the House of Wind.

Or maybe there was some other reason he didn't want anyone else touching her.

"There you are," Rhys said, slipping a casual arm around her shoulders. "I've been looking for you."

It wasn't quite true, but signaling to the faeries who were bothering her that she'd caught the prince's interest would keep them from touching her again. Rhys steered her towards the dance floor.

"If you wanted to dance with me, the polite thing to do would be to ask," she said, shooting him a glare. "Should I take this to mean that as the High Lord's son, you think you're above manners?"

So she'd figured out exactly who he was and still hadn't thanked him. Rhys's smile widened. "I'm not owed a dance from you, but I'd consider it an honor," he said.

She was still looking at him warily, and for some reason, just the thought of her rejecting him made Rhys's stomach churn. But she said, "Then I'll try not to step on your toes."

Rhys hoped he didn't look too obviously relieved as she let him lead her to the dance floor. She was the first female he'd shown any real interest in all night, which meant they were being watched closely.

Which was unfortunate, because she proved to be a barely competent dancer at best. Rhys didn't quite understand it—her family had to have some claim to nobility if she were here at all, and even the lowest rungs of the upper crust taught their daughters better than this. Stepping on his toes shouldn't have been this much of a real concern.

"What's your name?" he said, lifting an arm to lead her through a turn. Her wing came dangerously close to brushing against him as she moved; formal dances like this hadn't been created with Illyrian wings in mind. His own were hidden tonight, mostly to avoid accidentally knocking them into another partygoer in the crowded ballroom.

"Feyre Archeron."

The name sounded like pieces falling into place, even though he'd never heard it before. Rhys resisted the urge to parrot it back, just to have it on his lips.

As she completed the turn, obviously trying very hard not to look down at her feet, Rhys splayed his free hand on her lower back. It was so, so tempting to use it to pull her flush against him, but they had an audience. And he certainly didn't want to scare her off.

"Rhysand, but please call me Rhys."

"Is it strange to introduce yourself at a party where most of the attendees are here because they want something from you?"

Rhys faltered, and years of practice were the only reason he didn't miss a step in the dance. Everyone else here was a courtier who stuck to the polite fiction that they'd just come to enjoy Starfall, not improve their social standing. Feyre was an outsider in more ways than one.

"And are you one of them, the attendees who want something from me?"

A part of Rhys hoped the answer was yes, but instead Feyre just laughed. And Cauldron, did Rhys want to hear her do it again. He was so taken aback by the beauty of it that he almost didn't catch what she said next.

"Absolutely not," she said, smiling as if he'd made a joke. "My stepsisters are the ones who came here hoping to leave with your ring on their finger. I'm just here for a night off away from my bitch of a stepmother."

It might have been a relief to hear she didn't want him, but that was the moment the string pulling him to her snapped into place.

Mate.

The one woman who hadn't come here intent on marrying him was his mate.

The surprise sent Rhys stumbling right into her. Feyre caught him before he knocked her over, bracing a hand against his chest. It felt like her palm burned through the layers of his jacket, and the whiff he caught of her scent drove all rational thoughts out of his mind.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

The urge to touch her, to claim her was strong, especially with so many people staring at them in fascination. So was the drive to mist anyone who'd upset her, and if Rhys had known who Feyre's stepmother was, that woman would be nothing more than blood rain.

But Feyre had already made it clear she didn't want him, and Rhys wouldn't repeat his father's mistakes. He forced himself to take her hand again, continue dancing, and school his expression back into something normal.

"My apologies," he said smoothly. Or at least, as smoothly as he could manage.

Feyre was still looking at him as if he'd grown a second head, but if Rhys wasn't mistaken, there was a flash of reluctance as she lifted her hand from his chest. But perhaps that might have just been wishful thinking.

"Are you alright?" Feyre said.

"Fine, thank you."

She definitely didn't believe him, but keeping time to the music seemed to take up too much of her concentration for her to dance while also pushing for a real answer. As they went quiet, Rhys tried to formulate a plan.

He couldn't let his father choose a bride for him tonight—the thought of marrying someone else when he knew he had a mate was too painful to dwell on. But he wouldn't be a brute and strong-arm her into accepting the mating bond, not when she'd said that she wasn't here for a husband.

He'd have to convince her by the end of the night. The only question was how.

But it was so damned difficult to think when she kept brushing close to him, her lilac-and-pear scent making him lose every last train of thought, and the dress made her glitter like a star every time she moved. Maybe he could have come up with something if she'd looked slightly less perfect.

Information. He needed information. "What's made you so eager to get away from your stepmother?" he said.

"My parents are dead," Feyre said, so matter-of-fact that he guessed they'd passed a long while ago. "There's nowhere else to go but Illyria, and I'll endure almost anything if it means avoiding wing-clipping."

"I understand that," Rhys said softly. A sense of sadness tempered the instinct to find that stepmother and kill her. One of Feyre's hands rested in his, and he squeezed it.

Feyre forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure you know how it is. Illyrians might be uncivilized, but we're certainly useful."

Rhys did know. He'd heard it countless times, even from his own father. "Your stepmother is High Fae, then? And your father was Illyrian?"

"Is this a dance or an interview?" Feyre said, raising her brows as she passed by him in another turn. Rhys caught amusement in her eyes, but also that lingering sense of wariness. He'd have to tread more carefully.

"Just making conversation," he lied. The wheels were already turning in his head.

"But yes, my father married two High Fae females in a row, two of his very many unwise decisions."

Rhys changed the subject after that, hoping not to look too obviously like he was trying to learn every single thing about her. Every new scrap of information just convinced him further that she was perfect—a huntress, a survivor with a seemingly unending well of determination and a sensible head on her shoulders. And she was smiling and laughing and if he wasn't mistaken, there was a glimmer of lust in her gaze when she glanced at him and thought he wasn't looking.

Which would all be well and good if there were a way to marry her without bringing her into the dangerous den of vipers that was Night Court politics.

The dance ended all too soon, and Rhys tried to ignore the way it hurt to watch Feyre pull away and lose herself in the crowd. He headed straight for the table laden with food and drink. His cousin Mor was already there, pouring a glass of wine.

Before she had a chance to ask the questions he knew were inevitable, Rhys whispered, "She's my mate."

Mor pressed the glass into his hand. Rhys downed it.

"What are you going to do about it?" Mor said, and it was a relief to hear her skip the congratulations on finding his mate and focus on the dilemma at hand. Rhys didn't know what he'd do without her.

Before he could answer, Rhiannon's talons scraped against his mental shields. Because of course she had questions. He was fortunate his brothers weren't here tonight to pounce on him, too. Rhys ran a hand through his hair and sighed. His eyes didn't leave Feyre.

He opened a crack in his shields to let Rhiannon listen in as he quietly told Mor everything. When he was done, Mor nearly spit out her mouthful of wine, and his sister's laughter echoed through his mind.

It was the last thing he wanted to hear when he didn't have a better plan. But Mor gave him a gentle shove towards the dance floor with a whispered encouragement to "go get her," and his sister grinned over her dance partner's shoulder as Rhys passed by her on his way to Feyre.

Thank the Cauldron, Feyre was standing at the edge of the crowd and not dancing in someone else's arms. If that had been the case, Rhys wasn't sure he would have had the willpower not to rip her dance partner to shreds.

"Dance with me again?" he said, holding a hand out to her. Feyre just gave him another wary, assessing look, as if his request were a trap. "Please?" he added. The words came out a touch too desperate, and if Rhys had room in his head for anything but Feyre, he would have been embarrassed.

"I'd love to," she said. And it was definitely wishful thinking, but Rhys thought she sounded like she meant it.

She took his outstretched hand, and her skin against his made the bond flare to life in his chest. He nearly stumbled into her a second time. As the music started again, she rested a hand on his upper arm, and Rhys had to hold back an audible gasp.

But there was a plan to execute. He dropped his voice low, leaning his head towards hers, and said, "I have a proposal for you." Feyre started to say something, but he cut her off and added, "No, not that sort of proposal. Don't give me that look."

"Then what?"

"The inheritance laws in Illyria are changing," he said. In truth, Rhys was the one changing them, a project he'd embarked on after his father, uninterested in Illyrian affairs if there was no war raging, had delegated most of his authority in the region to Rhys. He'd called it "practice"—so typical for High Fae to write off Illyria as an acceptable training ground for a High Lord's heir, not a place that deserved an experienced ruler. "When that's final, you'll be entitled to a portion of your father's estate and funds to make up for the delay. Back pay, if you will."

Feyre narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't see where you're going with this."

"You'll want to get away from your stepmother until then, won't you? And you're well aware of the pressure I'm under to find a wife. Agree to marry me, stay at the House of Wind instead of returning to your stepmother, and then we'll break the engagement once you have access to the money you're owed. We both stand to benefit."

It wasn't enough, but it was the best he could do for Feyre. He'd never be able to have her the way he wanted, but at least he could be sure she had the freedom to live life on her own terms, away from her stepmother. It would have to be enough.

His heart hammered in his chest as she considered it, her attention obviously split between thinking the plan over and remembering the steps to the dance. Rhys prayed to the Mother that she'd agree.

"It could work," she said slowly.

"There's no reason it wouldn't."

Feyre spotted something over his shoulder and stiffened. A jolt of panic crossed the bond—she'd caught sight of someone she knew in the crowd, perhaps her stepmother. Rhys tried to follow her gaze to finally lay eyes on the woman who'd made it to the top of his hit list that night, but the sound of Feyre's voice dragged his attention back to her.

"I'll do it. We have a deal."

[shyvioletcat]

➼ we have never gotten along, but i’d rather bicker with you than be on this boring date right now

➼ i’m at a bar when i see someone making you uncomfortable so i swoop in as your partner…only to find out that the person you’re with is your actual partner and they broke up with you because they thought you were cheating–my bad?

➼ a friend asked me what i thought my life would look like in ten years and i realized that i pictured me and you, holding hands, with kids

➼ i keep drawing you in my sketchbook because i’ve always found you to be beautiful and i’m longing to tell you how i feel, but one day you find it and you have questions

➼ when a great one night stand turns into an awkward meeting with my new boss the following day

For Rowaelin or Feysand... dealers choice?

This was actually a super hard choice. I had a lot of ideas... I may come back to that sketching for Feysand later... I ALMOST picked that family one for Rowaelin too haha.

~~~~~

Rowan watched the bubbles rise in his beer, one after the other. He had agreed to come to the bar to watch the soccer game with his mates but when the game got washed out due to the intense lightning storm he had got bored. The conversation had turned to relationships, and in his current single state he was a little bit bitter about their happiness and potential prospects. He had none, he was busy with work and that didn’t give him much time to look for a girlfriend. Fenrys had downloaded a dating app onto his phone but Rowan had been too proud to open it despite the notification bubble in the corner. Even if he was a bit rusty, he didn’t need the internet to help him find a date, he had enough skill to do it himself.

Maybe.

With a sigh he looked around the bar for his own potential prospect. Rowan had done a near full circle when his eyes landed on Fenrys and his wide grin.

“So that app--”

Rowan didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before he was up and moving. He was halfway to the bar when he realised he had a full glass at his table. Maybe he could order some fries to soak up the booze while they waited for the soccer match to start up again. That was his plan as he made his way to the bar, but then he heard an incredulous, “Excuse me!” and that had him stopping in his tracks.

Turning, Rowan saw a stunning woman seated in a booth, her peculiarly turquoise coloured eyes glaring at a man seated across from her. The man reached out and the woman recoiled but he seemed insistent. Rowan had seen enough. He changed direction heading for the booth, sliding in next to the woman and casually putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late, babe,” Rowan pressed a kiss to her hair then he addressed the brown-haired man. “I’m Rowan.”

“Aelin,” the man almost sneered. “Who is this?”

Rowan filed that little bit of information away for later.

“This is not what it looks like, Chaol,” the woman -- Aelin-- said stiltedly.

“I knew it,” Chaol said, shaking his head. “I knew you were cheating on me.”

“I--what? You thought I was cheating on you?” Aelin asked.

“I’m out of here,” the man was angry now, throwing down a few bills down on the table from his pocket. “We’re done, this is me officially breaking up with you. Have a nice night.”

The woman watched her… well Rowan wasn’t exactly sure. It seemed like that man may have been her boyfriend, and he may have read the whole situation wrong. He had assumed from the situation that man had been making unwanted advances but from the look of things he may have just interrupted a lovers tiff. When the other man was out the door Aelin pushed away from Rowan, his arm falling off her shoulder.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded.

“Uh…” Rowan rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought he was making you uncomfortable so I thought I would step in and help.” She glared at him. “So, um--my bad?”

“Is your name even Rowan?” Aelin asked him.

“It is.”

She was thoughtful for a few moments, lips pursing while she considered gods knew what. She could be thinking about taking a swing at him and it looked like it would hurt. “Well, Rowan. Seeming as you ruined my date night with my prick of an ex-boyfriend, why don’t you buy me some dinner?”

Aelin smiled at him now, relaxed and looking him over with an appreciative perusal. Rowan smiled right back, maybe he didn’t need a dating app to get a date--maybe he just needed his own stupidity.

“It would be my pleasure.”

~~~~~

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[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 1: Voices

Read at AO3.

Gwyn's afternoon couldn't get any worse.

First of all, the morning's training had been horrendous.

Three weeks after the Blood Rite, Cassian and Azriel had thought it was time to start practicing again, since according to them, they had made a lot of mistakes that could very well have cost them their lives.

She was still alive, just like Nesta and Emerie, so at least one thing they had done well, survive.

After 3 weeks of not doing any sports, it was noticeable when you came back with all the energy, especially on a day where the sun was literally burning.

She noticed as she did push-ups that morning how her arms were trembling dangerously, the sweat running down the curve of her breasts, soaking the shirt she had worn.

Gwyn had promised herself that she would go out into the outside world.

That year she had made a lot of progress, she supposed she should be ready to enter society again, but no.

After the events in the Blood Rite, what she wanted was to lock herself in the darkest corner of the library, with a good book, and stay there to live.

Obviously, she couldn't do that. But she would have liked it.

With all the sore muscles, having failed almost all the obstacles the two Illyrians put them, showing a regrettable endurance in each and every one of the exercises, she had to go down to the library to have a pleasant chat with Merrill, who did not understand why her performance hadn't been 100% in recent weeks.

"I don't know, Merrill. Maybe because they pulled me out of bed against my will, left me in the middle of a forest full of Illyrians, while I had to fight to stay safe, as well as having to kill people? Maybe because I had never left the library after Sangravah, and I suddenly found myself in the same situation? " She reasoned, trying to control her pulse, having remembered the events in the Blood Rite.

She detested Merrill.

More than anyone else, she hated her. She often thought that life would be so much easier if people like Merrill just didn't exist.

After leaving her a ton of work to do, the female disappeared, leaving Gwyn with about seven books resting in her arms, already numb from the morning exercises.

She ran to the nearest table, relieved when she put the books down, with a thud.

She rubbed her dazed hands, wincing at the pile of books that awaited her to spend hours and hours together.

She had to research one of Merrill's new obsessions, the ancient and forgotten Prythian gods.

"I didn't even know they existed", she opined, opening a random book to a random page, flipping through the contents.

She got dizzy from so much information she did not understand, closing the pages with force, grabbing a cart that was nearby, leaving the volumes in it and going to her room, to calmly read those pages and pages of useless information, and then do a chapter-by-chapter summary for Merrill.

"Great, it's a good way to spend your free time if you love reading junk." She groaned as she carefully lowered the cart down the stairs.

"It is not junk. It is information that may be useful at some point", answered her subconscious.

At least she thought it was her subconscious.

She didn't remember when she had started to hear that voice, just one day it had appeared, and now it was considered the voice of reason.

Everything that voice said, it was true.

"I know, but I don't know how knowing which are the main and forgotten gods of Prythian is going to solve my problems." She attacked, greeting one priestess that came close to her, passing by her side.

The voice fell silent, apparently it had nothing more to add.

At least Gwyn could answer the voice in her mind. It would have been a strange thing to see a person argue with herself.

Upon reaching the room, which was a simple square with a bed, a wooden desk with a wooden chair that had more splinters than wood itself, and a modest closet, also made of wood.

Yeah, in summer the termites would destroy all the furniture if she wasn't careful.

Closing the door with the latch, one of the little luxuries she had on it, she put the books down with a thump, brushing her hands on the skirts of the gown, which was already heavily encrusted with dust.

She thought of taking off that long dress, which after so many washes the initial blue had ended up in an almost invisible gray, but she did not feel like going to the common baths of the priestesses, because every time she went there, they peppered her with questions about the Blood Rite.

And the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it.

So she collapsed on the bed, pulling back the covers and hugging the pillow with one arm, as she got into a fetal position.

"You have to go out, you can't hide in the bedroom all afternoon." It protested, to which she responded very kindly with a growl as she turned, trying to make it understand that she was going to do whatever she wanted.

"Alright then. If you get caught between the sheets and can't get out, don't come running to ask me for help." it threatened.

Gwyn didn't know how she was going to ask for help to a voice. It was disembodied, how the hell was she going to beg for help if she didn't even know what that murmur was?

She rolled over on the bed, rubbing her eyes and exhaling, disappointed.

She hated not being able to get out of that damn room.

She hated her insecurity and her irrational fear.

"It is not irrational, Gwyn." It assured her.

"Leave me alone." She begged, getting it to shut up.

She lay on her stomach, breathing deeply.

She looked at the time on the only clock in the room, located above the closet.

19.36.

It appears that she had a lot of time to do absolutely nothing.

Maybe she was going to pick up a book that Nesta and Emerie were reading.

Honestly, she was dying to sink her teeth into one that had caught her attention. According to her description, a maiden sent by the gods fell in love with her bodyguard...

Determined, she bolted upright, unlocking the latch, happily heading for the book.

There would be time to examine the books Merrill had passed her.

Anyway, she had a lot of time, reading something that interested her was not going to do anything bad to everyone.

With a broad grin, she made it to the fiction book section. She opened one of the books, tucking her nose between the pages, an exhale escaping from her lips when she smelled the wonderful book scent.

Her gaze sparking, she searched for the novel she was looking for.

"Didn't you forget something?" It asked.

She stopped short in the middle of the shelves, alarming a passing priestess.

Bowing her head in apology, she went back to searching, her eyes narrowing as she searched the thousands of spins with her eyes, finding none that bore the name of the book she was looking for.

"I don't have any errands to deliver to Merrill." She snapped, frowning when she finally found it.

It was at the top of the shelf.

She made a long face, standing on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far as she could as she stuck her tongue out, focused.

"I don't mean Merrill, Gwyneth."

"Mysterious voice, what are you talking about?" The priestess demanded in a tired voice. She did not arrive. Why did they make the shelves so high? It was not possible that someone could reach them.

Although, don't get it wrong, Gwyn adored the voice. It was equal to the voice that we all have within us guiding us.

The problem was that the voice that she had was a little… annoying.

She looked at the shelves next to the floor, no books in sight.

Maybe if she got on them…?

She put one foot on it, skipping little hops as she judged whether the bookcase was going to fall or not.

Realizing that it was unlikely, she lifted her other foot, raising her heels as much as she could while she stretched out her arm, feeling her muscles go numb.

A little more ... just a little more ...

"You remember that your friend Nesta has a mate, right? And that you promised them that you would go to her ceremony?" As soon as she finished the sentence, Gwyn stopped.

Shit.

Seriously, had she forgotten that?

"There is still time… There are five days until the ceremony." The voice tried to calm her down, but nothing was going to do it now.

She jumped down from the shelf, as she began to walk from one place to another, in circles.

She had to go.

She couldn't do that to Nesta.

"I don't even have a dress. What am I going to wear?" Alarmed, she slightly stretched the strands of her coppery hair, thinking of a way to solve all the problems that had suddenly befallen her.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

The female began to hyperventilate, forgetting the book that she had held less than 3 centimeters from her hands.

That was far more important.

"I can't tell Nesta that I forgot about her mating ceremony. I can't do that to her." Gwyn protested, running her hands over her face, rubbing her temples angrily, forcing herself to search for solutions and solutions and solutions.

But neither of them was going to work.

She had to get out of there, no priestess was going to leave her a suitable dress for the mating ceremony.

But she couldn't go alone. She did not dare to go down to the city alone.

Emerie couldn't help her. It had started the illyrian high-selling season and the illyrian needed the money. She only went to training, then she quickly returned to her store, not staying a minute longer than necessary.

Cassian and Nesta were completely out of the question.

Azriel...

"Ask him." The voice advised.

She needed to name that voice. She could not continue calling it "the voice", that was beginning to be uncomfortable.

"Maybe he can help you get the dress." It continued.

Would it be male or female? Or rather, what the hell was it?

"Are you listening to me?"

She definitely had no idea what it was.

"What are you?" Gwyn questioned, curious as she left the fiction section behind, walking aimlessly through the library.

She loved to wander aimlessly through the thousands of bookshelves, silent priestesses, the whisper of books her only company.

Besides that voice, of course.

"Have you heard anything I've said to you in the last two minutes?" Her voice roared.

"I've heard nonsense, so no, I haven't heard anything." She claimed. "But anyway, you haven't answered my question. What are you?"

"I am everything and I am nothing at the same time."

Now was it was being funny with her?

She rolled her eyes, annoyed "That is not an answer."

"It's an answer if you know how to interpret it." It answered.

She rolled her eyes again.

"Well, at least tell me what I can call you, it's uncomfortable to think of you as 'The voice'" She asked.

The voice fell silent, which she thought meant the end of the conversation.

She decided to head over to her room, assuming she should start Merrill's work, until 'the Voice' answered her.

"Elián"

Gwyn stood in the middle of the bedroom hall

"That is your name?"  She asked.

"My real name would burn your lips if you were able to pronounce it" It replied. "But yes, Elián is my name, and I am 'him', I have noticed how you struggled because you did not know if I was a man or a woman. The definition of gender is much more complicated than that, but it will be enough".

"G-Good." She answered.

Elián was quiet at last, leaving her with her own thoughts, as she opened the door, her own scent of jasmine feeling welcoming.

And the proposal he had made, although obviously she had ignored it, she was not wrong to consider.

Perhaps the Shadowsinger would help her out, aiding her finding a decent dress for her.

She closed the crank behind her, sitting on the small bed, wondering if it would be smart to ask him, risking him saying no, or not asking him and risking not having a dress for the ceremony.

Sighing, she figured she should go to the bathrooms to get the sensation of dust - and the dust itself - off her body, so she grabbed change clothes and headed there, deciding at that moment that tomorrow she would ask the Spymaster if he could accompany her to buy a dress.

Inside her, she could feel Elián nodding his head, giving his approval.

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[separatist-apologist]

Hi, it’s me, riling up anon (I really should get a tumblr account to ease my introductions and so we can become besties). Obviously, LOVE part 4! Part 5 ideas- Lucien repays the favor (obvs). He wakes up wondering how he is going to get Elain alone in the house when a gift falls into his lap - a rogue Illyrian war band is attempting to gain new territory. Exit the IC, enter elucien smut in the garden.

First of all, I would love to be besties.

Second of all, no rest for the wicked am I right? Like yesterday this is NSFW, 18+, practically unedited and obviously guarantees a part 6. It's also the longest part I've written so far. PART 5!

Elain woke with some regrets. The throb between her legs was at an all-time high and with so many people around, there was little she could do but put on a breezy, cotton gown, her wide-brimmed sun hat, and vanish into the garden where at least no one would be able to smell what was going on with her. Elain kept her thighs pressed together, hoping some of the friction would help alleviate the burn.

It didn’t, and by the time the sun was high in the sky, Elain was weeding with a grim brutality. Had Lucien left? She wanted to tug on the bond and see where he was but she didn’t want to bring him anywhere near her. Her control was too tenuous as it was. She might jump him in front of her sisters and then what? How would she possibly explain what was going on between them? She barely knew herself. None of it was ladylike…and perhaps some small part of her liked having something that was just for her. No one could offer an opinion or butt in if they didn’t know.

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice wafted from the garden wall. A moment later her youngest sister appeared in her Illyrian leathers. Elain stood, dusting off her dirty hands. “Hey…it’s nothing to worry about and not a big deal, but there was a disturbance with the Illyrian’s. One of the chiefs slaughtered a village and is attempting to take more territory. Rhys and I are going up to handle it, and I know Cassian and Nesta plan to join with the Valkyries….you’ll be alone in the house.”

Elain shrugged. “That’s fine,” she agreed, wiping sweat with the back of her arm.

Feyre bit her bottom lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Mostly alone…”

Elain narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

Lucien will be in the house too…not all day! But…for a while. He’s working on a treaty for Rhys and should stay in the study. He’ll leave you alone but…just in case you wanted to go out…”

Right. Elain offered Feyre a tight smile, her heart pounding in her chest. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Feyre’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “If we can’t make it back tonight I’ll send word.”

“Be safe.”

Feyre vanished, leaving Elain alone in the garden. She stood there, wondering if she ought to find him in the study and demand…demand what, exactly? It wasn’t like she was well-practiced. As she stood there, contemplating how to get what she wanted without having to just blurt it out, a hand brushed the hair from the back of her neck. Warm breath tickled her skin and when Elain spun, already aware of who was just behind her, Lucien caught her easily. He was smiling, his one russet eye dark and hungry as he gazed down at her.

“I’ve promised your sister not to bother you unless you ask,” he told her, his deep voice a shade darker than it typically was. “May I bother you, Lady Elain?”

“That depends,” she replied primly, unable to take her eyes off his lips. “On what kind of bothering you plan to do.”

A grin began to stretch across Lucien’s face, giving him a near feral appearance. “I owe you for last night.”

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. “Of course you don’t.” Lucien’s body was pressed against her own as he reached for her face, tilting it towards him. “Wrong, Elain. Tell me…can I bother you?”

“Bother me how?” She whispered, the words nearly sticking to the back of her throat.

“With my mouth, ideally,” he murmured, ghosting his lips across her own. “But I’m happy with just my hands.”

“Why not both?” She asked without thinking. She felt him smile against her skin.

“I like the way you think,” he practically purred before kissing her gently, out in the open where anyone could see. There was nothing to hide them; the garden wall would hardly come up to his hip were he standing right beside it, and though there were some lovely trees scattered about, none were broad enough to obscure what was happening between them.

Elain felt a thrill run up her spine at the thought of being so open with him. It was her that deepened the kiss, running her tongue along his lips until he opened for her. She surged upwards on her tiptoes, arms wrapped around his neck so she could revel in the way he tasted. No one had the right to smell half as good as Lucien did, like crisp Autumn air and sun washed apples, but for however good he smelled, he tasted ten times better.

She was half-drunk on the moment, lost in the feel of his hands running the length of her spine. It was so sweet, so unhurried that some small part of her wanted to revel in it. Lucien, though, had decidedly different ideas regarding what he hoped to do. Some of the sweetness shattered when his hand cupped her breast through the thin, white material of her dress while his other began rouching up the fabric.

She broke the kiss with a gasp. “Out here?” She asked. He chuckled, teasing her nipple almost absently as he gazed down at her.

“You have somewhere better in mind?”

She opened her mouth to protest, to say yes, very much so, but the look on his face stopped her. She glanced at the soft grass just beneath her feet and, before she could talk herself out of it, promptly sat down at his feet. Lucien stared for a moment and then laughed as if she’d told him the most hilarious joke, his tanned face reddening as he attempted to keep himself together.

“What?” She demanded as he dropped to one knee, and then the other until he was kneeling before her.

“You’re funny,” was all he said in response. No one thought she was funny…and never had. She wasn’t sure what to do with that information, so she tucked it away for later. “I never meant for you to sit in the grass, though.”

She frowned. “Oh?”

He was chuckling again as he hefted her into his lap. “I ama gentleman, you know.”

“Where should I sit, then?” She asked, genuinely curious. His lips curled upwards as he lowered himself to the ground and gestured at his face. Heat rose through her body and she balked, one hand pressed against her mouth.

“You’re obscene,” she accused, completely unaware people did such things. Lucien waited a beat and then, with strong, sure hands, merely dragged her across his chest until he had her placed exactly where he wanted.

“Tell me to stop,” he replied, his face half hidden beneath her dress, his breath hot against the fabric of her underwear. Oh, Gods,she thought, her embarrassment shifting towards anticipation. She swallowed hard and draped her gown over his face entirely, not that it was keep anyone from instantly recognizing what was going on between them.

“Off,” his muffled voice ordered, his finger hooking in the fabric of her underwear. It was awkward, shimmying them off while he attempted to keep her exactly as she was, but Elain managed it. Still nervous, she shoved them into the pocket of his pants, just in case anyone came by. They were still clothed…perhaps she’d lie and say she was injured and he was patching her up.

She gasped when she felt his fingers spread her open. Lucien hissed softly. “Pretty,” he murmured, she suspected more to himself than for her though the praise settled hot in her belly.

“What are you—”

He licked right up the center of her cunt and Elain nearly flew off his face. He brought one hand from beneath her skirt to hold her in place, dragging her even closer. Was he breathing, she wondered wildly, suddenly desperate for him to continue?

He licked a slow circle and Elain whined, grinding her hips against his face without thinking. Lucien groaned beneath her, the guttural sound spearing pleasure through her but.

“Am I frustrating you?” His muffled voice asked, his lips speaking practically into her cunt.

“Yes,” she gritted out, wishing he’d shut up.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, withdrawing his mouth completely.

Elain screamed softly, shoving him back into her wet folds. She heard him groan again and she wondered which he liked; the assertiveness or being that close to her body. He gave her what she was asking for, licking up the center of her, letting his tongue work over her clit in the same circular motion as before, faster, then slower, while she canted against him, urging him on.

Heat mingled with pleasure, building up, up, up and when she thought she might fall over the edge, Lucien’s tongue vanished from her clit and dipped into her entrance to fuck her with his mouth instead.

“Lucien please—” She begged. She was close, so mind-shatteringly close it had stolen her ability to think of anything else but his soft, wet mouth rubbing against her, the sweet friction almost unbearable in its pleasure.

He dragged his tongue back to his clit, his pace quickening as one finger slid into her body. Elain was lost to the sensation, unable to do anything but grind against him. Darkness crept into the edge her vision as the heat in her gut threatened to take her completely.

“Please, don’t stop, Lucien—” Her legs clamped around his head, his cunt pulsating on his finger as she screamed his name to the sky. Lucien rode her through it before sliding her down his chest just enough to sit up and kiss her roughly. His mouth tasted like her and she thought she ought to have found it disturbing or disgusting but she found the taste of her mingled in his mouth erotic.

“Lucien?!” A distant voice called. Feyre, she realized. Lucien groaned.

“We’ll continue this later,” he promised, quickly righting himself. She looked away from the bulge in his pants, still panting on the ground. Lucien vanished a moment later and she realized when she’d finally managed to climb back to her shaking legs that he’d taken her underwear with him.

[emikadreams]

You are dead to me

A/N: Um.. yah so this is a fic where Feyre confronts Nesta, I really needed Feyre to confront her properly so this is self indulgent in a way and I will not be writing a part 2 for the anniversary fic cuz I lost all motivation for that 💕😅

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Feyre was seething in fury.

She had half a mind to mist Nesta and knock her off her high horse. 

She wanted to rip her sister’s throat out for having the audacity to accuse Rhys of not caring enough for Feyre before doing the unthinkable and throwing Tamlin’s name in his face.

“Darling, you know that’s not true so let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Rhys replied cautiously with his hands raised in surrender, his eyes softening. She couldn’t believe that he was the calm one in this scenario, if the roles were reserved-if Nesta had uttered some bullshit about Feyre Rhys would forget negotiation altogether, retorting to action before consulting her.

Feyre scoffed, “I don’t care! She had the gall to accuse you about-” her voice wavered in pain, thinking of how it must’ve affected Rhys before continuing, I’m not going to let her think she is untouchable-even if Cassian is going to hate me for it I’m going to end her ridiculous notion of superiority.” Her hands curled in a desire to punch her sister. Feyre was done- absolutely done with defending someone who deserved none of her mercy. 

Rhys swallowed- probably worried. Feyre smirked with barely contained anger.

He should be. 

                                                          ~

“Nesta Archeron.” 

Feyre stormed into the house of wind, the floor shaking with her rage. Cassian breezed into the room with a concerned look, “Feyre- what happened?” He started to walk towards her but she stopped him with a look, “Are you Nesta Archeron?” she asked, her voice dripping with venom. Cassian had the decency to not ask why she had stormed into the room, “No- but I would like to know why you’re asking for her.”

 He looked at her with worry but his body settled into a defensive stance before walking towards her, Feyre’s hand twitched and she bit out,

 “I really don’t need to explain myself to you Cassian, I want to speak to my sister,” his eyebrow raised knowing that the reason was clearly not friendly but she ploughed on, undeterred, “ I’m going to see her whether you like it or not.” She moved to sidestep him saying, “move,” but he blocked her, “Feyre, you look really angry-” she cut him off, “ I said move Cassian.” 

He crossed his arms across his chest, unrelenting.

Feyre slapped him faster than the general to register, using his momentary surprise she kicked him in the groin and gracefully walked away as he doubled over in pain.Feyre looked back at him and said, her voice softer, “ I’m sorry but I really need to see her.”

 Cassian nodded, his eyes closed in pain he said weakly, “I’ll get you for that.” Feyre smirked, a bit of the anger leaving her, “I look forward to it general.” with one last look over her shoulder she walked to the library, knowing exactly where her sorry excuse for a sister will be holed up.

                                                               ~

On seeing her sister look completely unworried in the library, all the anger that was leeched out of Feyre came back in startling force, she straightened her spine and drew herself up to her full height, she stood in front of her older sister and cleared her throat.

Nesta looked up, blinking in surprise and smiled making Feyre see red. 

Nesta was going to die tonight 

Nesta continued, ignoring her sister’s tense stance, “ Feyre, I was coming to see you actually-” she cut her off, her voice dangerously low, “How could you Nesta! How dare you,” Feyre snarled, baring her teeth. 

Nesta looked confused and stood, her book forgotten, “I- what?” she stammered, Feyre laughed darkly, “Of course you wouldn’t know. How could I forget you are the very definition of a hypocrite.” 

Nesta straightened and retorted calmly, “ You talked to Rhysand.”

 Feyre looked at her as if she was a mere inconvenience, “Of course I did, did you think this would get past me?” She held her sister’s glare, “Well, I’m not going to apologise, I meant every word.” Feyre didn’t miss a beat, “You think I came here to ask for an apology, you may not have any dignity left but then again, I’m not you.” 

Nesta’s jaw dropped, but Feyre was far from finished, “I actually thought that you had changed, but there’s no ripping away the deep-rooted poison in you is there?” Nest tried to cut her off but she ignored her, “ I tried confronting you the civil way, but that didn’t work, I left you alone thinking you needed space but then you threw that in my face and I thought- I genuinely thought,” Feyre laughed in disbelief, “ that after saving not only my life-but also Rhys’s and Nyx’s that you had changed but I was wrong again.” 

Nesta shook her head, her eyes flashing with her power, “Feyre what are you saying I love-” She lifted a hand cutting her off, “ You will let me finish, I don’t care about whatever half-assed apology you have planned, “ she looked at her sister, and saw fear reflecting in Nesta’s eyes, only then did she realise that her grip on her powers had lessened. 

Fire was now licking at her fingers and darkness swirled around them but Feyre didn’t care, let her sister realise that she was a wolf who can tear her apart with half a thought.

“You have done nothing for me, you refused to help when we were stuck in that godforsaken cottage and instead opted to leech off of me till I was taken by Tamlin, need I remind you that he looked at you.” she pointed a finger at Nesta accusingly. “ You could’ve gone instead of me but of course, that would deter your plans of being the Queen of a no man’s land right?” 

Nesta only stared at her with her face impassive but she could see the shame in Nesta’s eyes, “ You did help me, yes, only to further the insecurity that you planted in me and when I was killed and drowning in despair I had no one but Rhys.” Feyre’s heart squeezed in pain at the thought of her mate, her breathing became shallow yet she continued,“ He was the only one there for me when I was wasting away, he saved me.” 

Tears were now flowing freely down her cheek but Feyre refused to wipe them away, “He is not perfect, he has made many mistakes, believe me, I know and I haven’t forgotten or forgiven them but I would not be here without him.” her gaze softened briefly as she said, “ You have gone through hell Nesta I know that,” 

Nesta straightened and bit out, “You have no clue what I have gone through while you were busy galavanting with high lords.” Feyre knew this was coming so she drew in a breath before saying, “ Fine. If that’s what you think, be it, but can you disagree with the fact that you weren’t there to help me when I was in a hell hole.” 

Nesta looked down at her feet, feyre smirked, satisfied, “ Of course you can’t and you what I don’t even blame you! When you were suffocating from the pressure of life, I reached out but you refused.” 

Feyre barked a laugh, “ Me being me, I respected your wishes out of love but you  crossed the line when you opted to drink and fuck your life away. So look at where we are now, a year after I forcefully sent you to the Illyrian mountains,” Feyre gestured to Nesta and she looked up with tears in her eyes, Feyre’s anger took a back row on seeing them but she needed to get things off her chest,

 “ You can hold your own in a fight, can use powers and even made friends with people that you call your sisters, remember when you had scoffed at me for saying I forgot you and Elain when I said that I made a different family, one that treated me with  love and respect that my own flesh and blood refused to give me.” 

Nesta opened her mouth to speak but closed it instantly,

 “ Then to add fuel to fire, you insulted the very man who helped me become myself, do you know what he said when he let it slip what you said, “It doesn’t matter darling, I’m sure she didn’t mean it” 

Nesta looked surprised and ashamed, “ Exactly. So all I have to say now is, Fuck you. Don’t you dare disrespect Rhys or my family ever again because if you do Nesta, I will show you exactly how I treat my abusers, because that’s what you are, my abuser.” 

Feyre was exhausted but she spat the words in Nesta’s face knowing that it would hurt and turned on her heel and all but ran to the door but not before hearing Nesta’s whispered words, “I’m sorry Feyre. I truly am.”

Feyre’s tears returned, her knees buckled from the weight of what she had said but she responded softly, twisting the knife deeper into her sister’s heart, 

“Too little too late Nesta” 

 she walked out as sobs racked her body and slammed into a chest, she looked up to find Rhys gazing into her eyes with concern and pride, he gave her a sad smile and she broke down. His arms encircled her stroking her hair, soon  she was in their room, the high lord held her while she wept with pain, hatred and regret.

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[yapperlesbian]

a fix-it fic/drabble (???? i might write more if people want it and post it to ao3) for acosf because i got through 7 chapters and gave up. it was that bad. i worked really hard on this so feedback is very much appreciated <3

Exiles of Light and Flame

Nesta was being sent to the human lands as punishment by her sister and her mate. No, she was being banished. Banished to a place where she was feared and forced into isolation. Her sister hadn’t even bothered to drop her off herself, she’d had Morrigan do it. The blonde hadn’t made the trip pleasant, to say the least. She knew that Lucien and his human friends had taken up residence in the area, she just didn’t expect it to be so far of a walk. Nesta rubbed her hands together to keep the biting wind at bay. Perhaps she should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

“Nesta.” Lucien greeted her with a guarded nod, stepping aside to allow her in. He didn’t ask why she was there or how she got there. He simply led her to the sitting room where Jurian and Vassa were sitting on an atrocious pink couch. The couch was gaudy and loud and unlike anything Feyre would’ve chosen to decorate with. Her lips upturned in a small smirk at the thought. Maybe a banishment to the mortal lands wouldn’t be the torture she’d first imagined.

“That’s an ugly couch. I like it.” It was the first thing she said. Blunt and rude, something her sisters found disgraceful. Jurian barked a laugh at her comment, obviously not taking it to heart. She tilted her head to the side in calculation, gauging their reactions to her presence.

“Nesta Archeron. No longer welcome among the Night Court, I presume.” Jurian was more perceptive than he let on. Nesta wondered if spending all that time on Amarantha’s finger had taught him how to find hidden emotions and intentions.

She’d heard Feyre speak of the three of them before, disdain evident in her tone. Lucien and his new human friends called themselves the Band of Exiles. It was a better name than Court of Dreamers but Nesta knew better than to voice that opinion to her sister and her temperamental mate. Sometimes she forgot that her sister had once been human. That she had once been human. That life seemed so far away now, not that it was only two years prior.

“Do I get a room?” Nesta had decided she’d stay awhile, if they’d have her. Though she was fairly certain none of them actually owned the home they were residing in. Jurian and Vassa exchanged a look, with each other and then Lucien. Lucien who had only said one word to her, her name.

“I’ll show you to it.” He finally breathed, his auburn hair resembling living flame beneath the faelight. He wasn’t what she expected, what she remembered. His steps weren’t deep and commanding like the Illyrian males of her sister’s new family, instead they were quiet and calculated. She followed him silently, unbothered to find conversation to fill the silence.

Nesta nodded a thanks as she entered her new room, shutting the door and catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She ran a finger through her long hair, it surprisingly still holding a semblance of shine despite her horrid eating habits. It was the High Fae genes she now had that kept it so. Her pointed ears came into view, a stark contrast to the ears she had grown up with. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to them, to her new body. Nothing felt like it was her own anymore, especially not the power she’d stolen and kept buried deep inside. She needed a change, something to take control of.

~

It was Jurian who found her digging around in the kitchen searching for scissors, arriving just in time to see her hold them up triumphantly. He chuckled at the sight, his eyebrows raised in question.

“I’m cutting my hair.” Nesta explained, not that she owed him an explanation. She didn’t owe explanations to anyone. Her sister and her husband didn’t agree with that sentiment. Hence, her banishment. “Well, I was going to ask Vassa to do it. I saw that she cut hers.”

“I cut her hair.” Jurian corrected, holding his hand out for the scissors. Nesta clutched them closer, unsure at the prospect of the former general cutting her hair. “Her Majesty would hack your hair, you think she’s ever lifted a pair of scissors herself? There’s no one to cut hair for you on the battlefield, you learn to do it yourself.”

Nesta nodded, handing over the scissors and plopping herself into one of the dining chairs. When Jurian asked how short, she pointed to halfway up her neck. She wasn’t expecting how much lighter she felt the more he snipped away. It was like she had been tied to a weight upon the ground and she was finally freeing herself.

Elain would have fainted at the sight of most of her hair upon the floor. What Cassian would think of it briefly drifted across her mind before she shut it down. He had agreed to send her here, to uproot her small sense of normalcy and send her away. She wouldn’t forgive that. She couldn’t forgive that.

~

If Lucien was surprised at her dramatic hair change, he didn’t show it at breakfast. She was surprised at the comradarie he shared with Jurian, treating the human as an equal. She still remembered how her sister and her court had looked down upon her when she was human, how they still did. How they reviled her with fear and distaste. An embarrassment to our reputation, Feyre had said. As though the Night Court wasn’t already hated long before her.

“Your eggs are getting cold.” Lucien reminded her with a surprisingly warm tone, taking her out of her thoughts once again. Jurian had since left the room, something she hadn’t even noticed. She pushed around her eggs and took a small bite.

“Thank you, for breakfast and for letting me stay here.” She forced a small smile, taking another bite of the eggs before pushing the plate away. Lucien didn’t comment on her barely touched plate, he simply took it and added to the pile of dishes he was washing.

“It’s no problem, wouldn’t want you out on the streets.” Lucien shrugged as he washed the dishes, looking up to meet her eyes. The scar across his metal eye was striking in a surprisingly handsome way. It was only then that she’d noticed he had tied back half of his hair. It wasn’t a bad look on him, he almost looked relaxed. “There’s a library in the house, second door on the left from the foyer.”

The red-headed male remembered how she had spent most of her time within the House of Wind. She was so sure no one was paying any attention to her there. Although his reasons for remembering could have to do with the fact that she was often with Elain then. She nodded and headed towards the library, it was empty when she stepped inside but magically warmed like the rest of the house.

Nesta ran a finger along the spines of the books, feeling which books were more worn than others. Whoever had previously owned the home had an extensive collection. It had been a while since she had read anything, too busy trying to bury her thoughts beneath alcohol. She picked a random one with a worn spine, her dress falling over her feet as she curled up in one of the chairs.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but soon she noticed the laughter coming from the living room. Vassa must have returned for the evening. A glance outside confirmed it, catching the end of the sunset. It was her plan to avoid her new housemates and retreat to her room but then there was a knock at the door.

Somehow the knock sounded and felt so familiar, but it couldn’t be. She hated herself a little for hoping that maybe it was the person she thought it was. That he’d come to save her. That he had defied his High Lord and decided she was worth it, even after how she’d treated him since the war.

Lucien got to the door before she could make herself move, opening it to find a broad shouldered Illyrian male. Nesta peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of him. When Lucien stepped aside, she saw what he was holding and the hope in her heart shattered. Cassian was here, but he wasn’t here for her. He was here to bring the last of her things and to be rid of her. Nesta didn’t need to listen to any explanations or ramblings, she didn’t have it in her. So, instead she turned her back on Cassian and walked away.

[bloodycassian]

heavy is the head - Cassian x reader-  reader has to deal with Night court forces in a battle with Spring. Part two likely.

"Look who's come to plead for help." Cassian drawled, looking you up and down. Rhys gave him a sharp look that he shrugged off. You held back your fighting words and approached with false confidence.

"And look at the male who lost a fight to a giant fish." You retorted, giving him the same judgmental look.

"The levithan-" He began, and you swore you saw the Shadowmaster roll his eyes.

"Enough. We have matters to discuss." Rhys silenced him before he could continue. You gave him a sweet smile and turned to the high lord. 

You noted how the shadowmaster smiled. His dark hair glinting in the pale light of the meadow. They all looked alike, the dark hair that reflected the moonlight like a river. The dark wings that blended into the night far too easily. The sight of them made you shiver.

You began before one of them could bring up anything else. There was no other reason for you to call the meeting, it was pain. You were desperate. And if Rhys was so adamant about keeping all of Prythian safe, he would listen. "Spring court presents more of a problem than we thought. Tamlin's son is preparing to invade." You reported, extending your palm for them to see the evidence you'd brought. 

A fragment of an arrowhead tipped in faebane. You kept it wrapped in a leather cloth for a reason. "Where is he getting these?" Azriel asked, his shadows running over your palm and the arrow there. The tinginging feeling they left behind made you sick to your stomach. “That’s out of my pay grade, shadowmaster.” You said with a bitter smile.

 “You’re the next heir to the throne.” Cassian laughed despite himself. He wasn’t a fan of Summer Court after the blood rubies sent to them by the previous ruler. They had recalled them, but the message still stung.

“I am the throne. My father’s time is coming quickly.” You said with a clipped tone, not sparing them any room for further questions before continuing. "Summer court cant risk any more ships to the southern border. We are losing more and more soldiers daily just to hold the line." 

"Perhaps you could train better-" Cassian was full of fight tonight it seemed. And you were willing to oblige, you bared your teeth at him and cut off those words before you could 

"Perhaps you could allow us some help. We are allies if I recall correctly?” You tapped a finger to your chin, earning an eyeroll from the two generals. Rhys just leveled you a cool glare.

"Reluctantly." He admitted, then looked to the sky. "Cassian..." He called. You felt there was some other conversation continuing in their heads based off Cas’ reaction. It was predictable, him acting like such a child. But it still hurt, nonetheless.

"Rhys- No..." He whined, his wings flaring out a bit. You watched the sharp tips of them as they so expertly avoided catching his hair or head. You wondered what it was like having such an advantage. You wondered what all Illyrians thought of the wings, if all of them loved them or if they had mixed opinions. 

You knew a few Peregryns from Dawn court that resented being born with wings because it meant they had to serve in the army. Some even ‘went missing’ to other courts to avoid being enlisted. You wished you had that option at all. But Tarquin would likely send the entire army after you if you had done so. Being his only child meant good training, as well as being very well known throughout Prythian. Just like Kova.  

"We can discuss this later.” Rhys said with a sharp tone. Cassian’s look of betrayal made you wonder what the actual conversation would be about. “Now I need you to pledge forces to our Summer ally. We can't risk Kova moving north." 

Cassian was silent for a long moment. Contemplating. He knew he couldn’t tell Rhys no. Especially in front of a different Court member. But his battle instincts told him hell no. Do not give forces over to someone who dosen’t even know how to handle them. "Cassian." Azriel said softly, his shadows circling his brothers. 

He compromised. "Two legions. I will lead them tomorrow." 

You hated the reluctance in his voice. "Two legions are a sacrifice. You don't know the terror that child brings-"

"Two legions or nothing. Your choice." Cassian said firmly.

"Cass-" Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. "We will consider more options. For now, we will give you what we can spare in weapons as well as the legions." He held a hand up to Azriel when he made to argue. 

"Thank you, your highness." You gave a half assed bow, and he was gone before you rose. You smiled to yourself at the faint echo of a growl in the meadow. 

+

You donned your most threatening armor and set out to greet the Illyrians. The far hills of Summer court were donned with swaying brown beach grass that hissed in the wind. The ocean spray shimmered above the dark ranks of warriors. The sun did not glint off their armor like it did on yours. 

Cassian's look of distaste said all you needed to see to understand that the Illyrians were not ones for following orders. "One hundred Illyrians. All with weapons that they will take care of." He gave a sidelong glance to the males to his left. They tensed, but did not scare from their general. Whatever they had done must not have been too awful if they were still standing.

Azriel squinted against the Summer sunlight. His shadows seemed more highlighted than ever against the beating sun. "Welcome... I will guide us the rest of the way to the camp." You said, loud enough that the entire crowd could hear you. 

You marched forward, and none followed. 

A male spat on the ground where you had been standing. His wings were gray and tattered, face a strange pale color that didn't match the rest of the Illyrians. A man who had seen too many days for what Illyrians were used to. 

"We dont take orders from a Summer court-" Cassian did not let the male continue. He took the crossbow from his hands, and gave the soldiers around him a nod. They parted around the male. His face went white as a sheet. Cassian's frustration turned his expression into that of a wild wolf. He knew that there would be some to stand against him in helping.

"ninety nine soldiers, I must have miscounted." Cassian announced, and waved the forces forward to follow. You smiled to yourself, and led them through the tall pine and larch trees that made up the forest border with Spring. 

Cassian carried the crossbow the entire journey from the hills to the camp. Summer soldiers did not hide the way they stared at the winged males. Some even moved their setups to be further away. You didn't blame them, but embarrassment ran through you at the message it sent. 

"Half of you will flank Tamli- Kova’s…” You corrected yourself and spat the name. Cassian wondered what kind of hatred lie there. There was obviously something beyond just enemy courts. “-forces from the shoreline. The other half will follow the second front into the border.” You ran a finger across the map. Cassian was thoroughly impressed with your planning. He noted the details of which fronts were where and what diversions were being made by specific groups. 

“Az will lead the flank. I’ll take the front.” He spoke with the confidence of a male who had never lost a battle. He knew Tamlin’s upfront ways on top of it all. He would have trained his son to do the same. 

“Dismissed.” Cassian announced, and the Illyrians went straight to the long dinner table. Az followed, giving his brother a long look before departing. Cassian knew that look. The one that said ‘watch your back. I’m not watching it for you.’ After centuries of giving each other that look, it was enough to rattle him. What exactly had he been doing to warrant that from his brother? He stared at the map on the table. 

He felt your presence before he heard you. Like a snake creeping around, waiting to strike. “This is a good plan.” He approved, then stole a glance to see your reaction. 

“I would hope so. It’s our last push to keep them out of Summer territory.” You collected your pawns from the table and tried not to look at him. He watched you move with fluid grace that was common in Fae.. but you were different somehow. Like you moved with extra care. It made him uncomfortable. Why did it bother him so much? He tried to shake himself from the stupor he felt around you.

He took crossed his arms over his chest, feeling his wings flare at the frustration he was “If you had boats to help that would ensure you winning this.” 

“You mean us winning this?” He bit his tongue. He didn’t like the idea of allying with someone with a reputation like yours. It was dangerous even getting this close. As if you could read his thoughts, you rolled your eyes. “Like I said, we can’t risk any more.”

“But you can risk my people?” The words stung with accusation. With a underlying tone of shame and history there. He tried not to think of himself as fully Illyrian after what they’d done to his mother. But he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the brutality of the culture. It made him what he was. It forced him to survive instead of dying in those camps alone, freezing to death.

You were silent at the simmering question. He smiled bitterly. “You can say what you want but I brought them here. Now you need to make sure your side keeps them alive.” He didn’t look back when he left you standing there in front of your battle map.

“Heavy is the head...” You thought.

[sjmsstuff]

Light and Dark

Chapter 2

A/N: hey gang, it’s chapter 2! This is not really canon compliant but if you squint real hard it is. I wrote this at 2 am and edited it during French class so I have no idea what state it’s in, please enjoy x

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Warnings: Swearing (duh, it’s me), minorly nsfw but like not really, references to sexual and child abuse (not so much this chapter but probably later)

The silence pressed in the second she disappeared.

He was such an idiot.

She had been wearing his necklace though. Cauldron, how could he even call it his necklace, she didn’t know it was from him. Azriel wasn’t even entirely sure why he had given it to her but seeing it in his pile of solstice presents… that led to thoughts of Elain and after the fiasco at solstice he’d tried his best to forget about her.

Too often however, his mind meandered back to thoughts of her face, her mouth. Usually those thoughts came barging into his head late at night, when company fell asleep and his shadows disapated. Recently however those thoughts had changed.

Since solstice that mousy brown hair had taken on hues of red. Turquoise eyes closed in the throes of pleasure and a slimmer body writhed beneath him.

He was so unbelievably fucked. Or maybe the issue was that he wasn’t getting fucked.

He should Rhys’s advice and find company at a pleasure house. He must really hate himself, to lust firstly after Mor, who had shown no interest in him in 200 years. Then Elain, who was mated, and now Gwyneth, with her history she probably wouldn’t want a male to look at her for too long.

Which made him some massive creep to think of her like that. Azriel really did try not to. But when she appeared unannounced, like last night, he couldn’t help but think…

No, he wouldn’t go down that road. Not until he was fully sure she wanted it.

Azriel had beeen so surprised when a shadow curled around his ear in the stormy night and whispered of a nymph girl climbing the stairs. He was out of his seat and down the steps faster than he could consider any potential consequences.

And there she had been, standing in the hallway, looking like she might want to turn right around and march back down, but a shadow flicked against his ear, singing softly and he spoke her name.

He wanted to reach out to her, his shadows took that as a cue and tried to reach out themselves before he pulled them back. Something about her was affecting them, drawing them in. Or maybe she was affecting him like that.

That was a dangerous thought.

She had stood silent, lithe frame backlit by the torches behind her and said,

“Would you like some company?”

Her voice was a melody. His shadows purred in answer.

The worlds axis must have shifted, he could probably look outside to find the stormy sky had turned as blue as her eyes he was taking too long to answer and she was looking at him oddly, perhaps noting the shadows flying around his shoulders.

They were so excitable in her presence, he couldn’t control them and that was extremely concerning. Az doesn’t like what he can’t control.

All worry was chased from his mind as he climbed the stairs and another topic was thrust into his brain.

Gwyn from the back was almost as glorious as she was from the front.

Gods what he wouldn’t do to grip those hips and grind that perfect little ass on his-

No.

He stopped himself, looking away before his control could be tested further. She said it herself, she was here for conversation and Mother damn him he would talk to her casually.

Gwyn was not going to be a repeat of Mor or Elain. He was not going to lust after another female that wanted nothing to do with him, and pine away until his demise.

Gwyn was going to mean more than that. He would keep her at arms length, so that he may keep her as a friend.

And he was making a fool of himself. She asked his favourite colour and the only colour left in the world was that of her eyes.

And he laughed, for the first time in weeks, stress melting from his weary bones after just minutes with this fabulous creature.

And he told her things he had never told anyone, that was dangerous.

He was a spymaster, mother damn him. A spymaster wasn’t much good if he told a female all his secrets after a few pretty smiles.

But gods, her smiles were pretty. He wondered how pretty her mouth would-

No. None of that.

He needed her out of here so he could collect pieces of his sanity before he spilled any other important secrets.

As she walked back towards the library however, he almost called her back. An unruly shadow seemed to take that as an opportunity to reach for her, but Az whipped it back.

Dangerous indeed.

And yet, that night he slept without dreams. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. Well truthfully, he could, it was a time when his hands were unscarred.

Cassian was back the next morning. Ever his cheerful self since the mating ceremony almost a month ago. He had been unbearable for a week afterwards. Azriel had had to vacate the house of wind and call a halt to lessons as Cass had almost taken his head off and Nesta had growled at Emerie the first time she tried to enter the house.

Not to mention the scents and sounds emanating from different rooms. Azriel was happy for his brother, truly. Even if it did make him green with envy and blue with melancholy.

The following week, the happy couple were back training but Cass was so distracted Az managed to beat him into the dirt on no less than three occasions. Azriel waited another week before moving back into the House, still half considering Rhys’s offer to fumegate it.

He had kept occupied by tracking Koschei, or rather attempting to track him. The King had proven hard to pin down, a source of growing frustration to Azriel. He despised having to bring bad news to his High Lord, and now that Rhys had Nyx to worry about he hated it even more.

But Rhys maintained that they had faced threats before and triumphed but the failure still weighed heavy on Az that morning in the training ring.

He tried his hardest not to look at Gwyn. He couldn’t help it sometimes, her hair caught the light when she twirled under Emerie’s punch.

It looked like a flame come to life in the early morning sunlight and he challenged any living male not to loose breath.

It was with a warriors assessment that he allowed his gaze to rove over her slight body. He was admiring her form and positioning, definitely not imagining her in different positions. That would be both unsavoury and unprofessional. Which is why he hated himself for doing it.

Gwyn hardly noticed him, barely glancing in his direction and he had the strangest urge to pick a fight with Cassian in attempt to garner her attention.

That wasn’t good.

The warrior in question was flirting with his mate while she squatted, arching her back in a way that was unnecessary and counterproductive but Cassian didn’t call her up on it, he seemed too busy enjoying the show. Nesta however corrected herself and continued on while his lovesick brother pretended he hadn’t been leering at his mate.

Gwyn too had spotted the encounter laughed, a tinkling sound that lightened something dark in Azriels chest. She looked around to see if anyone else had caught what she had, and that’s when it happened. Her eyes met his and the world shifted again. He couldn’t help the smile that blossomed in the wake off her own. One thought consumed him as he turned back to his own priestesses and guided them through the next set. He was so unbelievably fucked.

Tagging: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @princessofmerchants @princessofmerchants-reads @azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @lovelywordsandwine @thron3ofbooks @velaaaris @illyrian-valkyrie

Chapter 3

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list for my writing or this fic x

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Here we are folks. The chapter y’all have been waiting for. I’m hoping it reaches your expectations because I was dying to write it.

Huge shoutout for the gc — specially @thewayshedreamed for her mind blowing theory, although I tried to make it less angst lol — for all their hype and ideais for this chapter 💜

In which she makes a friend, Part Eleven

Cassian woke up late. He was sure of that because of two factors:

One, the birds were chirping louder than when he usually woke up, the sun high in the sky given the sunlight entering the bedroom through the curtains.

And two, Nesta was fast asleep in his arms, her vanilla and lavender scent all around him.

He took his time watching her, as he did not know when he would have another opportunity.

Nesta looked younger like that, her face relaxed for once, mouth partially open as she slowly breathed. Their legs were intertwined, his free arm somehow having ended up in her hair, holding her close, as if during the night he had gotten afraid she would disappear.

Cassian had nightmares of that. Of waking up and finding her gone, snatched out of her bed once again in the middle of the night by his enemies and killed. He would wake up panting and reaching for a dagger he kept in his bedside table, his blood roaring at him to kill whoever had touched her, to find and protect Nesta.

It usually ended up with him pacing in front of her room for a few minutes, her steady heart beat easing his worries after a while. He would then return to his room and go over some reports from Rhysand and Azriel or look over some camp matters until the sun was rising.

Last night had to be the best night of sleep Cassian had had in the last two years. Maybe in all five hundred years of his life.

He signed, willing his thoughts to not go down that path. To not wonder too deeply about the reason why Nesta Archeron affected him like she did, since the first time he saw her at her father’s house when she was still human.

Willed them to not think how she seemed to fit so perfectly against his body, as if they had been made for each other.

To stop thinking how her bare skin would feel against his, her soft lips kissing his own.

To stop thinking of her running her hands over his body, pulling his hair.

The sounds she would make when he kissed her, properly this time, without death hovering above them.

If she was a screamer or a beggar or a talker and how it did not matter anyway because he would make sure to pleasure her until she was screaming his name, until she was begging him for more, until she was saying how good he felt and how none of those other males back in Velaris had given her a speck of what he was giving her.

How he would take care of her afterwards, how he would kiss her lazily and sweetly, and how he would not let her go for a long long time, satisfied to just stay holding her.

“That is nothing but a distant and impossible dream” he murmured, daring to gently run his fingers in her silky hair “I have to be grateful for what I have and do not desire for more.”

Cassian felt Nesta stirring in his arms, mentally cursing himself for waking her.

“Javy ju” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep, slowly blinking at him.

“Javy ju, anahí” he answered a little breathless, being hit straight in his stomach by the fact that she had remembered the Illyrian greeting.

Nesta was about to say something when Cassian felt her whole body froze, blue eyes widening as she looked at how close they were.

And that is when he felt it. His morning wood.

Cauldron that was embarrassing. If Nesta did not think lowly of him before — he knew all those times she had called him a pervert or a bastard had been nothing but empty words —  now she surely did.

He quickly withdrew his wings, Nesta squinting at him momentarily due to the sudden brightness.

But before Cassian could get up and put more distance between themselves, hoping to save some face, Nesta placed a hand firmly on his shoulder, keeping him still.

And she smirked.

“Wound a bit tight these days? she said, throwing his words from yesterday back at him.

“You can not blame my body for reacting at you” he tried to sound as if he was teasing her,  but his words came out softer and truer than he would like “Have you looked at yourself?”

“You mean my too thin and bony body?” she snorted, dismissing his words “You must be really desperate.”

If Nesta had said that to him months ago, he would have been inclined to agree with her statement —  not that that would have stopped him from thinking her beautiful. His feelings towards the strong minded female were not purely physical attraction. It went beyond that.

“You can not be blind to not see how your body has changed since you started training and eating more regularly” he said “I still wish you would eat more, but you can not deny that you have gained muscles and some weight back”

“Are you calling me fat?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Cassian laughed at that. Nesta had a sense of humour that sometimes reminded him of Azriel.

“You fill your leathers much more now” he answered, the hand in her hair sliding along her arms “You have gained muscles here”

His hand travelled down her front slowly, making sure to avoid her breasts, although all he wanted was to finally know how they would feel beneath his touch.

“And here” he gently squeezed her waist.

“Cassian…”

“And here too” he added, fingers dancing along her leg where her nightgown had exposed some skin.

Nesta took a sharp intake of breath, her pupils dilatating

He was walking on thin ice, he knew that. His words at Nesta were nothing but desire and longing veiled by teasing he knew Nesta believed in.

Cassian had no one but himself to blame for that.

“So I am desirable because of my body?” her voice had a bitter tone, and Cassian quickly corrected her.

“You are desirable because of this, ” he touched her temple, moving then to lay his hand over her heart “and this”

“Lying will not get you anywhere bat” she turned her face and made to get up.

“I’m beyond lies right now, Nesta” he said, pulling her flush against him, gently grabbing her chin and tilting her face up.

Her gray-blue eyes seemed incredibly bright, looking straight at Cassian, as if she could see his very soul.

He did not hide from it. He met her stare head on, not daring even to blink.

“Why do you run from me?” his voice so low it was almost a whisper “Why do you hide yourself?”

“Why do you run from me?” and her voice carried so much hurt, so much feeling and rawness that Cassian knew she had let one of her iron walls fall “Why did you drop my hand that time? Why look for me only when I’m alone?”

Her words pierced his heart. He had not know. Had not known how much she was hurting, what she may have thought his actions appeared to be.

“Why do you bother so much when not even my own family cares for me?” she snapped, and for a split second Cassian thought Nesta was going to cry.

“Your sisters love you, Nesta” he said softly.

“I believe you made it abundantly clear last solstice I was unlovable”

“Your sisters love you. I can’t for the life of me understand why, but they do.”

He flinched, cursing himself for his past actions.

“I have never regretted something as much as the moment those words left my mouth. I was rude and insensible,” he brushed her cheek with his thumb tentatively “ and none of those things I said were true. I hope someday you will forgive me.”

“I said some rude things to you too,” she whispered “Would you be able to forgive me?”

“I never took them to heart” Cassian gave her a watery smile “I knew it was a way for you to push me away and that you did not mean them sweetheart”

A lonely silent tear fell from Nesta. Cassian gathered her closer, and she buried her face in his neck.

“Hush now xe nhia. Aan arevanque”

They stayed like that, with Cassian running his hands through her hair and talking with her in Illyrian. She hadn't cried more than that single tear, but she trembled slightly sometimes.

“Nes...I have been meaning to tell you something”

“What is it?” she asked, looking up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“You don’t have to answer me or say anything at all, I just—”

“Cassian, out with it” she said, anxiousness lacing her every word.

“Since I met you I—”

But whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the sound of dishes falling and a curse coming from the kitchen.

“Kaelin,” Nesta said sighing “I better go see what he is doing when he should have been resting”

Cassian agreed with her, and a part of him was glad they had been interrupted. He still had much to make up to Nesta, his feelings would have to wait a little longer.

“What were you going to tell me?” 

“It was nothing” he gave her a reassuring smile “Go see Kaelin. I can tell you another time”

Nesta hesitated, but his kind eyes were enough to make her trust his words.

“Thank you” and with a quick kiss on his cheek she was gone.

Cassian was so stunned he had to pinch himself to make sure he had not fallen asleep again, staying in bed for a few minutes more until he could put himself together.

~•~

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the room, neither Cassian or Kaelin talking.

Nesta had left after breakfast, saying Esmée had lifted her resting order to help the healer collect a rare flower that only blossomed every sixty years.

After reassuring her that he knew which medicine to give Kaelin in case the kid felt pain and that he would make sure he rested, Nesta left them promising to return as soon as possible.

Kaelin was a bit awkward around Cassian at first, probably embarrassed about crying in front of him. It bothered the General to the point that he lent his copy of ‘King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table’ to the young illyrian.

“This book is very precious to me,” he had told Kaelin “as it was the first I managed to finish once I learnt how to read”

Kaelin had taken the old book with the utmost care, and Cassian almost laughed when he saw how slowly the boy was turning the pages, almost afraid of damaging it. And with his attention fully on the book, Cassian could work on Kaelin’s solstice present without fearing it would be seen.

Because Cassian was working on expanding the old storage room near the birch.

He was designing a room for Kaelin to sleep. If the kid was to live with him and Nesta definitely — or at least as long as he wanted to —  Cassian could not let him keep on sleeping on the sofa.

He had been working in secret to refashion the space. Had worked until dawn on it two nights ago when he had rescued Kaelin from the bullies. Maybe two weeks more only and it would be ready on time for the Winter Solstice.

Thinking about the birch made Cassian realise how sore he was, both from the training, working on the bedroom and the time spent hunched over the piece of paper drawing the room. A trip to the birch would help relax, which gave him an idea.

“Hey kid,” he called, catching Kaelin’s attention “I don’t know if Nesta told you, but we have a birch here. How about we go? It would help relax you”

It was a tradition for male Illyrians to go birching — be it with family or friends —  as a form of bonding.

And Cassian did want to get closer to Kaelin. He saw a lot of himself in the orphaned kid.

The young one, however, did not seem to find the ideia appealing at all.

“I— it would be an honour sir, I mean, Cassian, but I—” Kaelin blushed deeply while trying to politely refuse Cassian’s invitation, stammering and tripping over his words.

“You know what? Why don’t I go first and you get there after I’m done?” Cassian shrugged, seeing Kaelin sigh in relief.

It was a step too far it seemed. Maybe Kaelin was uncomfortable because they were not closer — although the objective was for them to get closer — maybe he is shy or maybe embarrassed because he is not as muscled as the other boys his age. Cauldron knew how much extra practice Cassian himself had done when he was younger, wanting to get as strong and muscled as Enalius, their warrior god.

He would have to work a little harder if he wanted to make Kaelin feel as comfortable with him as he was with Nesta. They were both males, so it should be easier for them to bond despite meeting the kid after Nesta.

“You can bond in other ways” he muttered to himself as he got dressed in his room, drying his hair.

It was then that he realised he had forgotten to leave Kaelin a second towel, in case his got too damp because of the heat in the birch.

Grabbing a towel he goes to the birch and opens it.

“Kaelin, I forgot to give—”  he stops himself when he sees that Kaelin is naked, head thrown back against the wall, completely relaxed for once.

Yet all that easiness goes away once he hears Cassian’s voice.

“I’m sorry. Here’s your towel” stammering, he quickly leaves the white towel on the bench and closes the door, internally beating himself for forgetting to knock.

Kaelin had wanted to go alone and Cassian invaded the kid’s personal space and now he would hate him and—

Cassian stops in front of his room, thoughts finally catching up with his brain.

He remembers the ugly bruises along Kaelin’s ribs, their purple and green colour already fading to yellow and has to reboot his memory for a second.

He’s almost sure he saw boobs.

But boys don’t have boobs. He knows that.

And he could not possibly be confused because of the heat or the smoke inside the birch—

But he recalls how Nesta is so protective of Kaelin. How she almost seemed afraid for him to meet Azriel, how Kaelin had cried and said nobody could know he had activated his killing powers because they’d look too much into him.

And suddenly it clicked.

Kaelin was a girl.

~•~

Cassian was very close to having a mental breakdown.

Kaelin was a girl. A girl. As in boobs, periods and weird hormones.

And he had seen him — her, naked.

Cauldron, he was knee deep in shit.

After walking in on Kaelin, Cassian had been unable to leave his room. He was sure she would want some time alone to process what had happened and that he now knew her secret.

Because Kaelin was a girl.

“Gods, where is Nesta when I need her?” he grumbled, running his hands on his hair.

Nesta knew it all along and was helping Kaelin hide it. It was a noble thing to do, but also so reckless. If the wrong person discovered it they could be killed. He would not put it past the Illyrians to do that.

He had to talk with Kaelin. He had left her alone for long enough. If he did not talk with her now he would have to wait for when Nesta arrived, and that was a talk Kaelin did not have to be present.

It was a little past the time for lunch, so he had the perfect excuse to knock in Nesta’s bedroom and ask Kaelin to come out.

Except when he did that nobody answered.

Kaelin was not there.

“Fucking hell, not again” Cassian swore, quickly going out and getting airborne.

Kaelin was still hurt so she would not be able to fly. He had a chance to catch up with her given that she was walking.

And to his luck he found her not far from his cabin.

But she was not alone.

“Are you sure you are a boy? Look how skinny you are”

“I am a late bloomer” she answered an older Illryan, making him and the other one beside him laugh.

“Late bloomer? That is girl talk, ain’t I right Bjerke?” 

“Take off your shirt, boy. Show us those muscles” the male, Bjerke, said.

“Thank you, but no. I have to go” Kaelin tried to go past them, but was held back by Bjerke.

“Here Falk, hold this thing while I help our friend”

As Cassian got closer, he realised Kaelin was holding his book, which was teared from her grasp by Bjerke, who started trying to undress her.

Blood roaring in his ears, Cassian dropped in front of them, his siphons flashing.

“Let. Go. Of. Him” he gritted out, and the males froze.

In front of them stood the General Commander of the Illyrian armies.

The Lord of Bloodshed.

And he was not happy.

“We were just talking to him” Falk said, his voice hinting at his fear.

“He said no” Cassian growled, seeing Kaelin’s clothes messed up.

All Cassian could see was Kaelin's scared face and remember when Nesta had hinted about being attacked when she was human.

He still wanted to know who that piece of shit was.

Would take his sweet time making him suffer for what he did.

“I think it’s best that you go” he snapped, and Bjerke let go of Kaelin, taking a step back “If I hear you were bothering someone else again — be it male or female — you will want to have never been born. Are we understood?”

Both males assured Cassian it would not happen again, and were airborne within minutes.

Kaelin straightened her clothes, grabbing the fallen book and dusting off its cover.

She still refused to look at Cassian.

“What am I going to do with you kid?” he sighed “Nesta will kill me once she discovers I let you out of my sight.”

That caught the young girl’s attention. She finally glanced his way, searching Cassian’s face for something, anything that would give away that he was angry with her or that he was going to expose her secret to someone.

She found nothing.

“I… I am sorry I lost lunch” she mumbled.

“Good thing I have not eaten yet” giving her a reassuring smile, he ruffled her short hair “Let’s go home and eat before Nesta arrives and kill us both.”

“Yeah. Let’s go home” Kaelin answered, and it seemed a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @valkyriewarriors @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae @thalia-2-rose @nestaarcher0n @rowaelinismyotp @julemmaes @dontgetsalmonella @alinaleksanders @lysandra-tiara9 @inardour @hikari274 @fatimafares123 @angelina-figjam

[shyvioletcat]

Yeah... I'm the worst...

*Redid the tags, got told some weren’t working. Sorry*

~ Masterlist ~

~~~~~

There was an ugly silence in the room, no one quite knowing how to break it. A small sob had Rowan looking back at Lyria, her hand cradling her stomach. The gesture caused a pain so sharp in Rowan’s chest that he choked on it because of the lies that rested beneath her hand. He had no real sense of reality as he stood there looking between his wife and the man she had been unfaithful to him with. His brain was still processing what he had overheard.

“You never gave me a chance.”

“Have you told him that the baby may not even be his?”

Rowan’s knees went weak and he thought he may start vomiting. This was a joke. Some sick cruel joke his friends had decided to play on him, Aelin always liked to pull a good prank. But the longer he looked at Lyria and from the look on her face the way she was trembling… this was no joke.

“Rowan. We–”

“No,” Rowan said, not bothering to look at the other man in the room. “This is not coming from you.”

Rowan’s brain was finally catching up with him and he had so many questions. The first and foremost was how exactly Sam rutting Cortland got to be standing in his kitchen as a possible father of the baby his wife was carrying.

“I want you to leave,” Rowan said to Sam. “I’m leaving this room and I want you gone.”

He didn’t bother to address Lyria as he left the kitchen and started down the hallway. She had two options here, she could come and find once showing her guest out or she could leave. Rowan hoped that for the sake of his sanity she chose the former. A dilemma struck Rowan as he stood in the hallway, only overhearing hushed sounds of conversation through his home. Where was he going to go? He didn’t want to have this conversation in the bedroom, it felt too intimate as the ravine between him and Lyria was gaping wider by the second. He wasn’t going to go back out to any of the rooms beyond the hallway and risk running into Sam again. That really only left him one option.

Rowan turned the door handle of the baby’s room and stepped inside.

The walls were painted a soft yellow, bits and pieces of baby paraphernalia were stacked in piles around the room that they hadn’t got around to sorting through. Seems they had a few more things they needed to sort through.

The fact that Sam was possibly the father of the baby had him reeling. Aelin and Sam had been broken up for a while now. Rowan had liked the guy, but he could tell that the two of them weren't meant to be. Sam and him were close to friends by the time the relationship fell apart, not enough that once Aelin had let him go Rowan had kept in contact. There's was a lot of missing information between then and now. Gods, had Aelin known and not told him? Is that why she had been getting progressively more distant over these past months?

Rowan waited, the feeling of wanting to empty the contents of his stomach returning in full force. His ears were straining for any indication that Lyria was still house. The front door closed and then he heard soft footsteps. She went to the bedroom first, saying his name softly–her voice wavering. She obviously didn’t find him there so she finally came to him. The door squeaked as she pushed it open and Rowan made a mental note to fix that before the baby came, he didn’t want them waking up because of the noise. That thought had him closing his eyes and leaning on the box that held the pieces of the cot, not even knowing where his future was heading.

Lyria was silent, waiting for Rowan to say something. So he did.

“Why?” he asked simply.

“I don’t know,” Lyria said quietly.

“Yes you do,” Rowan said coldly. “Stop trying to spare my feelings. Just tell me.”

Lyria walked over to the rocking chair in the corner, the only real piece of furniture in the room and eased herself down. At any other time Rowan would be over there, helping and hovering. But right now he was rooted to the spot.

“It was just after we had that big fight, the one about my car,” Lyria explained. That had been well over a year ago, this wasn’t the cause of the current problem. “I went out and I randomly ran into Sam. We got talking, he’d just had that messy breakup with Aelin so we were commiserating together. We exchanged numbers.”

“And then what? Swapping numbers doesn’t get you pregnant,” Rowan said as he finally turned around.

He saw Lyria in the chair, head tipped back as tears ran down her cheeks. “It was another fight, over something stupid I can’t remember now, and I told Sam and we went out and we got drunk. We’d been texting for a while, we had become friends and talking almost every day. Then suddenly that line blurred and we were more than that and that night he asked me to come back to his place, you’d headed out of town so I said yes. We had sex back at his place, and it was the worst mistake of my life.”

Rowan remembered that, he had the same blip in his memory over what exactly the fight was over, but he remembered leaving town overnight for work. He had tried to call Lyria so many times but eventually giving her the space he interpreted her silence to be asking for. And the truth of it was worse than he could have ever imagined.

“He loves you,” Rowan said, even though they broke his own heart.

“Yes.” Lyria’s reply came out with a sob.

“And do you love him?” At this point Rowan felt as though he was digging his own grave, each question and answer taking him deeper.

Another sob tore from Lyria and Rowan’s heart betrayed him, forgetting about his own pain and anger. All he wanted to do was hold his wife, kiss her and dry her tears, tell her none of it mattered. But still, he held back. He wanted to hear the answer first.

“No,” Lyria said but it lacked conviction. “I don’t know. But I know that I love you more.”

“That’s no consolation prize there, Ria,” Rowan said bitterly.

Lyria didn’t say anything, she just continued to cry and now was rubbing her stomach. Rowan had done that countless times, he had felt that baby move, talked to them, assured them that no matter what as their father he would always be there. But now…

That final question loomed in front of him, ready to drag him over the precipice of no return. Despite it all, Rowan couldn’t explain how the smile appeared on his face as he readied to say the words that could potentially haunt him for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t ask directly, he couldn't. Instead he’d delay the swing of the axe.

“Do you know?” He was a coward for delaying. “Do you know who the father is?”

Lyria nodded tears cascading over her cheeks, he watched them fall one after the other as she nodded, and he could tell her lies had reached their end. Hoping, more than believing that she was resolute in giving him an answer.

Rowan’s voice was so hollow he barely recognised it in his own ears as he said, “Tell me.”

~~~~~

There was a sturdy knock at the door and Aelin pushed Fleetfoot off her lap as she went to answer it. The food had arrived much quicker than she thought, she was always far too impatient to watch the actual delivery process on her phone. She tended to just get angry at the route her driver made or yelled when the wait time would randomly fluctuate. So instead she would place her order and just wait for the text. Aelin smiled at the prospect at take-out arriving, though on her way she realised that she hadn’t actually received the text indicating it was in fact here. Shrugging to herself as she swung the door open, assuming that the delivery guy had just forgotten. However, that smile fell when she saw who stood in her doorway.

It was Rowan.

~~~~~

Yeah, I'm definitely the worst. This one seems short but I promise the next one will make up for it. 

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[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 22 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*

Masterlist with all previous chapters

TW: Mentions of past SA

*****

Gwyn smiled softly at the female who showed her around, both dropping their gazes when a group of males turned the corner, and Gwyn fought the urge to squirm under their prolonged gaze,

"You alright?" Shit, she must have noticed,

"Yes. Fine, I just wish they wouldn't stare too long,"

"Take it as a compliment, it's the only way to really ignore them,"

"Oh, it's not that," it totally was that, but she wasn't going to admit it, that would open other conversations that she didn't want to have, maybe with Nesta and Emerie, maybe with Azriel, but not someone she just met, "It's my husband," she lied. "He doesn't like when other males look to long, I'd hate someone to get hurt."

"Oh. Fair enough." She fell into silence, a hint of sadness crossing her features for a moment, but she hid it away too quickly for Gwyn to figure her out, shaking her head and smiling again quickly, "Since you're not a seamstress, we'll get you to help with collecting laundry for now, Cauldron knows there's a lot now," Gwyn chuckled despite herself,

"That's the thing with armies isn't it, they do make a mess,"

"They do, especially these young boys, they have no idea that their shit gets tidied up by someone, not just magic," Gwyn chuckled again, but she didn't miss the flash of fear, undisguisable this time, "Please don't repeat that."

"Never," Gwyn promised, "You can speak freely around me,"

"No." The other female whispered, "I can't. Even if you don't tell my brother, someone else might hear, the walls are thin here, but thank you." She offered Gwyn a smile before slipping away, and Gwyn made to call after her, but had no idea what to say, she didn't even know her name. Perhaps she was used to people not bothering to learn it. Gwyn made a silent promise to herself to learn every female's name here before they left. She sighed, finding her way down the corridor, and knocked on the first door, hoping that the room's occupant would be gone, and she could just grab the laundry and run,

"Hello," the door swung open, and Gwyn stepped back, "To what do I owe the pleasure," the male ran his gaze up and down Gwyn's body, then tugged her chin up, holding on when she tried to pull away, "Don't be rude," he chastised, and Gwyn trembled, her fear not completely an act, "Come to keep me warm, huh?" she'd never be able to go for her dagger quickly enough if he decided to try anything. She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes, she could still take him down, all she needed to do was break his hold, she could easily manage that, a quick punch to his elbow joint, then she'd duck under his arm, throw a punch to the nose, a knee to the groin, she'd be gone before he knew what had happened. With a plan in her head she squashed down that fear, she wasn't helpless anymore, Azriel would have never let her do this, never brought her if he didn't think she could throw down with every male here and win. And she could win, she didn't need her dagger, she just needed to be quicker than him. She swallowed when the male tugged her face from side to side,

"Let go, please," she said, wriggling, but he only tightened his hold, ignoring her request, and ran his gaze along her body again, the entitlement in that gaze making her see red, but she held her tongue, she had to try and get out of this without drawing attention first, if that failed, then she'd break his balls.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing here?"

"My husband sent me to help the others with laundry, sir," she muttered, hating every word, but placed enough emphasis on her husband that the male let go,

"Why are the good ones always married?" He muttered angrily, "Go on then," she slipped past him, half-surprised that he'd let her go, although it was probably more for his own skin than hers, after all, if he'd tried anything more, Azriel would be forced to demand a duel. Not that she worried for Azriel, none of the males here would last a minute, but it would draw attention, attention they did not need. She subtly glanced around the room, nothing of note, she wouldn't bother searching here.

She nodded to the male as she slipped back out past him, her heart still hammering against her chest. She only relaxed once she heard the door close, the male's gaze no longer boring into the back of her head, and knocked on the next one, finding it empty, but with a pile of laundry to be collected, and nothing helpful upon a quick sweep of the room. The next few rooms were similarly useless, a few having occupants, one female, left there by her father, who didn't trust her not to 'do something dumb', in other words, run off. She seemed so bored and lonely that Gwyn did wait with her for a few minutes, offering much need conversation, her name was Laylah, she was from Ironcrest, and she was twenty, unmarried, and hated being here. Gwyn offered her own, fake, name, and explained what she was doing, suggesting that she ask her father if she could help, saying that she might well be able to simply help with clothing repair. Laylah grinned at that and agreed, waving as Gwyn left. The next two rooms each had a single male occupant, one simply waved her in, paying her no attention, the other stared a bit, but left her alone, it seemed the fake wedding band was doing it's job, mostly.

The final door on that corridor did not lead to a bedchamber, nor was there any laundry to collect, but it was interesting, an office of some sort. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her, with the bag of laundry leaning against it, there was an open window, if it came to it, she could jump out and be hidden beneath the ledge before anyone could see her. This didn't seem too important, but Gwyn rifled through the drawers, ignoring most things, but a letter caught her eye, one between the late Queen Briallyn, and someone who seemed to be a general. The letter was encoded somehow, and Gwyn didn't know enough to be able to decipher it, she glanced around the room, finding a blank piece of paper, and copied down the letter, rolling up the copy and slipping it into the bodice of her gown before setting everything back to rights, there was no trace she'd been in there when she left.

The corridor was, thankfully, empty when Gwyn re-emerged, quickly running back to deposit the laundry and continue collecting the rest of it. Most rooms she visited that day were just as useless as the first few, but there were some that she mentally marked to come back to, either when they were empty, or she had more time, or fewer eyes on her. She lost track of the time, running to get back to their room before that evening's training finished, she was expected to be there waiting, and if she wasn't there, someone would guess something was up.

The hallways were empty as she flew along them, slowing to a brisk walk when she heard voices at the end of their corridor,

"She not there?" Shit. Azriel would have to berate her now, in front of those others, whether they were the same as before or not, she'd hoped not to force him to do that,

"Amirah! where have you been?" Gwyn almost flinched at the accusatory tone, it's not real. It's not real.

"I-"

"You know what, I don't care," she leapt forwards, towards making Azriel's comforting hand on her lower back look like a shove, but relaxed, it wasn't a big deal then, "Get in there," she ran inside, hiding in the corner until the voice faded and Azriel shut the door, "You okay? Something happen?"

"Not really, just an idiot, I lost track of time, I should have gotten back earlier, I hate to put you in a difficult position."

"Nah, you didn't, you just solidified their belief in us, letting me 'scare' you inside,"

"Like you could scare me," she scoffed, "You're a soppy baby at heart, Shadowsinger,"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm the one who does the protecting around here." Azriel laughed again,

"Whatever would I do without my beautiful little Valkyrie?"

"Die, probably," Gwyn muttered, wrinkling her nose up when Azriel leaned down to kiss her cheek, "Oi, go away, I'm trying to concentrate,"

"So, I'm distracting?"

"I think you know the answer to that," she rolled her eyes, "Listen now, I found something," all jokes died at those words,

"Show me,"

"A letter, from Briallyn to a general, I think. It's in code, I don't know how to decrypt it, I'm hoping you will."

"Let me see," Azriel leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips as he studied the letter, "It's an old code, one I haven't seen in a while, I don't remember it all, but, hang on a minute, you got a pencil?" Gwyn silently handed one over, rather inappropriately smiling at the way his hair fell over his forehead when he leaned forwards to note down the encryption he remembered. "Are you staring at me, Gwyn?"

"What can I say, you're quite useful as my eye candy," he snorted in disbelief, but silently shook his head,

"You're a menace, Berdara,"

"You can thank Nesta for that," she grinned, standing to cross the room, leaning over him, an elbow resting on his shoulder as he noted down the last few words he'd been able to decipher.

"Not groundbreaking, I'm afraid, but we do know that they're planning something. She mentioned a winged army, the Illyrians I think, so whatever the big plan is, it's been in the works a while,"

"Mhhhm, here, does that name ring any bells?"

"Don't think so, why?"

"I met a female with that name today, maybe it means nothing, but, any ideas about the words around it?" Azriel frowned back at the letter,

"Something about her father, what did you find out about her?"

"She's from Ironcrest, unmarried, lives alone with her father, who doesn't really trust her, she's restless, wants to explore the world, it seemed like her father's looking for ways to tie her down. She's still unclipped, thank the Cauldron, but she wanted to escape a bit I think, does it say anything about her role, or just that she exists?"

"Hang on," he started writing out what seemed to be a sort of dodgy alphabet, cross referencing to the letter, "You got your notes on the queens?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's married?"

"None, one is widowed, with a son."

"They want to marry Laylah to that boy."

"But she's immortal!"

"I don't think they care. She's the Camp Lord's daughter," she hadn't mentioned that earlier, "The male's a monster, he'll see this as a way to build an alliance,"

"By selling his daughter into marriage with a human, whose people hate all fae?"

"Yes. She's not a person in his eyes, just something he can use to improve his standing, to bring him closer to ruling all of Illyria, not just Ironcrest, he's never kept his ambitions secret,"

"Why am I only just hearing about this now?"

"Because I didn't think it was relevant, I hadn't even considered that it might be a part of his motivations for leaving, but if we're right," he trailed off, "Shit." he finished, "If we're right, we'll have to take her with us when we leave, can you get close to her again? Subtly try and see if she's loyal to the Night Court or not?"

"Yeah, that should be fine, but what if I can't get to her?"

"Just try, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She sighed and stepped back when Azriel pushed his chair out, tugging her into his lap. She sighed again and looped her arms around his neck, leaning into him as she closed her eyes. "You said there was an idiot earlier?"

"He, um, it doesn't matter,"

"Yes, it does," Azriel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his thumb stroking up and down her ribcage, "It's clearly upset you, whatever it is, talk to me, please,"

"The great Spymaster begging, not something I expected," she laughed,

"Stop deflecting, if you don't want to talk, that's fine, but I'm worried about you, okay? You're alone out there, and someone upset you, I'd like to help if I can,"

"Az, really, it's okay, it was just one of the males making a few comments, and he just made me uncomfortable,"

"Just some comments?"

"And, um, he grabbed my face," she quieted when he stilled, going dangerously quiet, "He let go, Az,"

"Before or after you mentioned your 'husband'?" Oh shit, she couldn't lie, he'd know, and she didn't want him to think she didn't trust him, she did, but she didn't want him upset, she didn't want him to do something stupid,

"After," she whispered, turning in his lap to cup his face at the shuddering breath he drew in, "It's okay, he didn't hurt me, and he let me go, I'm fine, it's not worth it,"

"He scared you." Not a question, but Gwyn answered anyway,

"Yes." She looked away, afraid to see the disappointment that she couldn't defend herself against one male,

"Who was it?" Gwyn shook her head, "Who, Gwyn?" He softened his voice, but the threat was no less clear,

"I'm not telling you, you'll kill him, and draw attention, and bust our cover,"

"I don't care,"

"You don't care? I care, we're here for a reason, are you hearing yourself right now?" She demanded, glaring at him, but relented slightly at the fear in his eyes beneath the layers of anger, he was worried about her, and that was allowed, but she couldn't let him jeopardize their mission for her.

*****

Gwyn was right, he wasn't thinking straight, but all he wanted was to find that male, whoever he was, and tear him apart with his bare hands. This male who'd thought to put his hands on the female he loved, the female who'd time and again proven that she was the strongest person he knew. He would kill everyone in this damn palace if he had to, but he had to know who it was, at least so that he could makes sure that the male didn't walk off any future battlefield. She was still staring at him, and he sighed, drawing in a few deep breaths, her calmness helping to ground him as she rubbed her thumbs across his cheekbone,

"I know," she muttered, "I know, I wanted to break his balls, but we can't, once we have what we need, once we're leaving, then you can kill him." There was no hesitation in her eyes, she wanted the male dealt with, and she wouldn't begrudge him this, but she put their mission first, like he should. Still, the idea of letting someone who had hurt her just wander around was too much, he should put the mission first, but for some reason he couldn't.

She's worried you think less of her for not punching him in the gut, she did want to though.

Of course, she did, it's Gwyn.

She thinks you'll be disappointed.

"Gwyn?" Azriel slowly turned her face back towards him, "Are you really okay?"

"Yes. Why do you keep asking?"

"I'm waiting for an answer I believe."

"Well, I'm fine,"

"I'm not buying it, Gwyn, please, let me help,"

"I'm fine, I'm not hurt, I played the 'husband' card and he let me go, it rattled me, and he scared me, and I couldn't even deal with one male, and that's pathetic, but I'm fine. I'm fine surrounded by these types of males, I can defend myself, apparently, but today I failed, but not every female here can, and I have you to shout for, to threaten with, what if they don't? What if their husbands, fathers, brothers don't care? What if they are those males? I couldn't deal with one, and I'm supposed to be able to, and what if I panic when it really matters, what if something happens again at some point and I just panic?" She was shaking as she spoke, unable to stop the words, and Azriel just held her, brushing the tears away, letting her speak, "I'm supposed to be good at this, I can defend myself, but I got scared, and for a few seconds I lost it, I only made a plan once it was too late if he'd tried anything, he could have done anything before I'd sorted my mind out to stop him." She sucked in an unsteady breath, then another, and another, shallower, faster.

"Breathe in," Azriel ordered, "No, in," she released the breath, "Gwyn. Breathe in." She did as he said, panic flooding her gaze as she clung to him, "Now hold it," she was still sobbing quietly, but she did hold the breath, "Now breathe out." She did and immediately sucked in a shallow breath, "I want you to hold when you breathe out as well, love," She nodded, struggling to draw in another deep breath, but held Azriel's gaze, "I've got you," she breathed in, and held it, "I love you," she breathed out, and held it, "You're safe," in again, "You're here with me," out and hold, "You are the bravest," she drew in another breath, more controlled this time, "The strongest female I've ever met."

She released the breath, finally able to breathe without holding in between breaths, "I am always, always in awe of you, Gwyn, you astound me every day. Today, you found your head, you didn't let your fear win, you escaped the situation." She nodded, and buried her face in his neck, still managing those deep breaths, murmuring something to herself, but when she quieted, Azriel continued, "Every day that you don't let the fear win in a victory, each time you win out over that fear is another 'fuck you' to the ones who hurt you, each time you choose to be happy over being afraid is another day that I am in awe of you," his own tears were falling now, "Please, Gwyn, never think less of yourself for your fear, it is only with that fear that you can be brave, there is no courage without fear, and you prove every day, that I have no idea, none, what true courage is. You have that true courage, and it's part of why I fell for you, and no-one can take it from you, no-one, so promise me one thing, never forget that, never forget that your courage cannot be broken, not by anyone, and certainly not by your fear. Can you promise me that, never forget?" Gwyn sniffed, and snuggled into him again, but nodded, sending another tears slipping down Azriel's own face,

"I promise."

[nestasgalpal]

Dad’s birthday

Nessian month - Prompt: what did I do to deserve you?

Domestic Fluff  ||  Words: 1,667  ||  A03 link 

Tagging: it’s not the full life of Nessian kids, but it’s what I’ve got so far!! @imsointobooks @irenethaleia @bookstantrash @saltydreamcollector @azrielsgirl @gwynrielsupremacist @arinbelle @silvernesta @dustjacketmusings @vanserrasvalkyrie​ @darkshadowqueensrule​

Cassian was still asleep, but they should hurry up anyway.

Nesta hated waking up early, yet she had gotten out of bed, rushed to the kids’ rooms and made sure they were all prepared to finish up every detail for Cassian’s good-morning surprise before he woke up. And Cassian loved waking up early.

“Bregan, please, make sure your sister doesn’t fall.”

Nesta didn’t look up from the cake or the chocolate ganache she was spilling over it, but through the corner of her eye she could tell her oldest son was falling asleep once again in the opposite side of the kitchen island. Nesta marked with a pinch of pride how gracefully Bregan was keeping his equilibrium on the stool while one of his hands prevented his sister from falling down.

The baby, in the other hand, was playfully shaking a stuffed animal, perfectly awake. Olympia swayed mimicking its movement, clapping her hands off-rhythm.

“Are you sure you don’t need help with that, mom?” Bregan’s eyes were only half open. Just like Nesta, he hated being awakened so early in the morning. He and his brother had spent the day before hiking with Cassian to bring their father to the point of exhaustion and buy themselves some more time today to bake the birthday cake.

Of course, the hours walking through valleys had had their toll on them as well. Her sons weren’t trained soldiers, but barely teenagers, and the promise of unlimited chocolate today was probably the only thing that made them get out of bed so early.

Nesta considered waiting until she was done with the cake to wake them up, but she needed help watching the girls while she cooked. Also, she knew Bregan good enough to anticipate he would need time to wake. They were the same in that sense.

“Yes honey, just watch Oly for me while I finish this.” They had to whisper so Cassian didn’t hear the three of them in the kitchen from their bedroom on the floor above.

Bregan’s hair was a mess of dark brown strands. Nesta frowned. He was 16 now, he should know to brush his hair or at least be a little more tidy for his father’s birthday. It didn’t matter that all of them were wearing their pajamas... on the contrary, it made the appearance of their hair all more crucial.

Stretching over the cake in dangerous balance, she tried to make it better with her hand.

“Mom!” He complained. His sleepy voice made a rooster, to which Olympia answered with a laugh. That sound was music to Nesta’s ears, and it inevitably made her go soft. Maybe Bregan’s hair was okay, and not everything had to be oh so perfect.

The babe was entertained enough to not fall back asleep. She was probably the only one in the house who could say that.

Taking her out of her cradle had been so hard. Olympia’s big hazel eyes looked back at her not understanding why her mom was making her get up so early in the morning, the sky was still pitch black. She was 4 now, so Nesta wouldn’t blame her if she burst into tears because of her tiredness. Or the cold, since they were in the middle of the winter in their small house in the Illyrian Mountains.

But her children were tough.

Nesta didn’t know what she had done to deserve such blessing, but just like Bregan when he was her age, the babe hardly ever cried. A miracle, considering how loud the other two were at that age.

Loud steps approaching halted her movements. After making sure who the two sets of feet belonged to, she resumed her last task with the spatula.

“No!” Nicolas stopped Ashra’s mouth from crashing against the bottom layer of the cake when it was barely five inches away from it. She was the perfect height for her mouth to reach just above the kitchen island, and at the same time small enough to fit under Nesta’s arms and not be seen.

Luckily, Nicolas had better reflexes than his mother did, or Cassian’s cake would be crumbling down on her blondish short hair.

Ashra only laughed and flapped her wings to force her older brother to free her from his grip. Nicholas did, growling softly when she stepped on his feet as part of her landing and run away to hide under Nesta’s skirts. Nicolas kissed his mom’s cheek and went for a stool by his brother’s side.”Mornin’ mom. How long until it’s ready?”

“Can I have some cake?” Ashra interrupted, showing her mom a broad white smile that promised trouble.

“Once dad has blown the candles and opened his presents,” she answered with patience.

Ashra wasn’t like her siblings, she had the Archeron dark blonde hair and Nesta’s blue eyes. Unfortunately for Nesta, the only child who resembled her at all had inherited her father’s tendency for chaos and didn’t care as much for ladylike interests as she did for shiny daggers and colourful siphons. She also had Cassian’s beautiful smile to brighten up her mother’s morning. And his mother’s name.

“Can I have the first slice, then?”

Nesta squat down and kissed Ashra’s forehead, stroking her unbound hair -just as tangled as Bregan’s.

“You must ask dad for that” Nesta answered, knowing Cassian would gladly give his daughter the entire cake if she simply smiled at him. She would as well, hadn’t she woken up so early to bake it. “Nico, do you have the presents with you?”

The 15 year old boy nodded. His face on his hand, elbow on the counter holding the weight of his head. The hiking sure did wear them down. Knowing this, the boys had finished their hand-made present to Cassian weeks in advance without Nesta having to tell them, eager to contribute to the birthday surprise.

That had given Nesta time with the girls to prepare everything else and explain to Ashra what exactly they were going to do.

“Can I carry the boxes?” She was asking now.

“Some of them are heavy, Ash” Bregan got up from his stool and took the cake from Nesta’s hands when she finished garnishing it, winking at her. He was perfectly awake all of a sudden and a cocky grin adorned his face, “I got this!” He went for the stairs before she had time to respond.

Usually, Nesta wouldn’t trust him with a chocolate cake, but Olympia was still sitting on the kitchen island with the stuffed animal between her hands, looking at her mom, curious eyes inspecting her surroundings and not quite getting it. Her black hair was perfectly braided. Once again, she was the only one who could say so. Nesta hadn’t had time even for her own head of hair, which had been simply brushed.

Nesta lifted Oly and made her way to the staircase passing her eldest son. “Nico, give Ash one of the packages, please.”

He rolled his eyes, but did. The blond girl run to her mom and took her hand to climb up the stairs, the box in her other side. Whilst Bregan grew more and more extroverted and adventurous as time went by, Nicolas’ new-found teenage personality consisted on pretending he was already an adult that couldn’t be bothered with childish whims. It would be a lot more believable if it also translated to the mischief he, Bregan and their friends in Illyria frequently found themselves into. That trouble-making gene run through all her kids’ veins, no matter how quiet or loud they were.

With black hair and hazel eyes, he was the one who resembled Cassian the most. Although the gesture he made when he was exasperated and rolled his eyes was purely Nesta's.

She turned to face the boys when the five of them got to the door of their bedroom and urged them to be quiet. Ashra gave little jumps of excitement, the old wooden floors crackling under her light weight. She was the one to knock on the door and open it before she could hear any answer coming from Cassian inside.

As Ashra opened the door, Nesta could tell Bregan was trying his best not to be seen dipping one finger on the ganache.

Truth was, none of the kids did what they were told as the three of them launched themselves over the sleeping figure of their father in bed.

“Bregan, the cake!” she screamed in a whisper. The oldest Archeron kid had the decency to stop his running and placing it without any care over the bedside table.

“Happy birthday, dad!” The three of them screamed.

“Happy birthday” Olympia murmured slightly behind. The poor thing could barely keep her eyelids open. She made her way to the side of the bed, placing Oly by her side.

Cassian lazily maneuvered to catch Ashra before her knee landed on his sternum, her flight needing lots of practice. His wings were spread, stopping him from noticing Nico launching himself over both of them in bed and joining the hug, quickly followed by Bregan.

Nesta couldn’t stop the broad smile that filled her face as her entire family sited up in bed, the five people she loved the most in the world showing affection to one another so freely.

A strong tattooed arm found its way to her and pulled, so Nesta’s own body was against her mate’s chest. Cassian wrapped her in his arms, kissing her deeply. “Happy birthday” she whispered, their lips stil touching.

“Good morning” he answered, pressing his forehead to hers.  “Come here, monkey” Cassian took his youngest daughter from her mother’s arms with one hand, not letting Nesta go.

Feeling the warmth of his body against hers on that cold morning, the chocolate cake forgotten by everyone except hungry Ashra, Nesta heard Cassian reading her thoughts aloud “What did I do to deserve you?”, and knew she had gotten from life more than she could have ever dreamed of.