#((she gets instantly knocked out and loses her powers))

[brodyfoxxsmassivetits]

POWER!!-......katya?

[yameoto]

knocked up omega cate whos so frustrated w you because you just woke up from a hangover and a night full of girls needing help with their heats, eager to tell you about her pregnancy, just to see you not take her seriously, thinking that she's pulling your leg. frustrated little thing tries hard to get your foggy brain to listen, growing more and more irritated by the second as you consistently dismiss her words as a joke and catching sight of the faint hickeys on your neck, and suddenly, she's whining and begging and— "please, listen to me!"

and oh the poor thing, you sit up blearily the moment she'd started to sniffle and you're pulling her into your lap and hugging her and finally, you're listening to her. she's having your pup and oh— next thing she knows, she's mewling for her neck to be marked, all glassy eyes and whimpers as you continued to rub against her ruined underwear, hands tugging at your hair to try and get you to mark her so desperately.

sobbing the moment you've slipped inside her, finally clenching over something with glittery tears streaming down her cheeks, tugging at your hair because goddamn, just mark her already! but you won't, and she doesn't understand why. you claim it's to get her prepared, and its all bullshit, she knows. she's more than prepared and she's not dumb. she doesn't understand why you just won't mark her. she's been a good girl, and for god's sake, she's carrying your pup! isn't that reason enough for her to be marked?

passes out the moment your teeth make contact with her skin, all limp limbs draped over your body, all too hypersensitive with the pregnancy and christ, a mark has never looked this good on anybody.

xoxo im giving you my liver yam. i keep coming back to your inbox.

the way this made me instantly wet. fuck. of course you don't take her seriously, at first. why would you? you've been the resident panty-dropper of the dorms since freshman year and not once have you even marked anyone. let alone gotten anyone pregnant. because obviously you're more trustworthy than all the shitty alpha men out there. your strength in powers is almost irrelevant compared to the self-control you have to not mark up or breed any of the omegas that knock on your dormroom door; rubbing their thighs together, whimpering and wet. cate hates thinking about them. has something in her stomach boiling and skin prickling, even before she bought the pregnancy test kit.

it doesn't help that cate comes in right after you've finished with another omega, passing them as they limp out of your dorms, blushing and sated. when she comes in, you look it, too. brain all fuzzy from the high you've just gotten—only just got your sweatpants pulled up when cate floats in. anxious, fiddling thing. fidgeting in the middle of your dorm room, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt, psyching herself up like she's been for the past four days before it just spills from her lips; "i'm pregnant. s'yours." rushing out so fast you almost miss it. holding her breath for your reply, head pounding. the words set you on fire, for a moment. line of electricity crackling through your ears and straight to your cock. then, clarity hits. "no, you're not." you snort, suppressing the flush of disappointment (and arousal) that unspools. this is silly. it's probably one of andre's dumbass dares or jordan's version of a joke.

and cate. oh, poor little cate, whose been losing sleep and gnawing at nails and readying for this all to blow up in her face; to drop out of school and become a single fucking mother; rendered utterly stunned in the face of your disbelief. she just stands there, silent, before her shock melts away to annoyance.

"i am!" she stamps her foot. looks a little like a toddler. you bore her with this utterly deadpan look like, c'mon now, that has equal parts disbelief and desperation welling up in her throat. her breathing's coming in fast, now. and she says it again, one more time—in a way that has your eyes sharpening and body sitting upright in bed. pulling her into your arms, and her brain almost turns to static right then and there. all alpha alpha strong alpha gonna take care of me gonna take care of our babies—

when you don't mark her as soon as her plea is murmured into your neck, she lets out the most plaintive whine you've ever heard. cate's heart thrumming fast as she nuzzles into your chest, trembling. is she such a bad omega? she doesn't understand why you don't want to mark her. it's in your biology. she's carrying your pup, for god's sake. it should be the one priority in your head to stake your claim. mark her up and show the world she's yours, forever. why aren't you? fuck. and maybe its irrational but it hurts. because at first you dismissed her claims like they were nothing and now, even as you believe her; run your fingers over her tummy so tenderly it makes her whimper—you're still not marking her. still not mating her. even when she sinks back onto your cock and your teeth are dragging along her neck you're still not biting, and it makes her want to burst into tears. why don't you want to? what about her is so deplorable you're fighting your deepest, most primal, innermost instincts? there's a burning in her cheeks and her chest and her thighs as she bucks herself on your lap, pounding slick cunt to your cock, like she could force you if she could wriggle you in deep enough, make you feel good enough. she could force you, but she wants you to want it. doesn't know what she'd do if you didn't. you're not seriously going to fuck around with the other girls in your dorms while she's pregnant with your pup, are you? the thought has her spiralling, breathing harsh and ragged as she slams so deep against your hips; her eyes rolling back, gasping, "please please please–" "i'll be so good—" "do anything–" and she's crying out and creaming all over your cock. wet, squelching sounds only getting louder. she refuses to pull off until you mark her, delirious and overstimulated and leaving a gooey white ring around your base. she's panting, mumbling, blinking back tears as she presses flush into you "god, i'll be good—be such a good mommy—please—" and that's when you can't take it anymore and your teeth latch down. such a good mommy, you echo, growling into her neck. the way she nods, fast and eager to please—whining happily as she fucks herself back on your cock. she will she will she will she will.

[misseviehyde]

BOTTLE IT

Mike loved his girlfriend Ashton so much, but she really did have a confidence problem. It was the sixth time she had tried to pass her driving test and failed.

"Oh dear," whimpered Ashton as she reversed over a bicycle and crushed it... the examiner shaking his head as he ticked fail yet again.

The stupid thing was, Ashton was a great driver. When relaxed she was brilliant... but as soon as she was put under any pressure her confidence crumbled and she bottled it.

Michael comforted Ashton as she cried on his shoulder. "I can't do anything right," she wept.

It wasn't just the driving test. Ashton was a real wallflower and would lose her nerve as soon as any pressure was applied. Michael wished he could find a way to boost her fragile confidence.

But how?

***

"Here, give your girlfriend this blonde hair dye and I promise her confidence will swell," smirked Michael's bitchy step-sister Gina. "Everyone knows blonde girls are more confident. Convince her to go blonde and I promise she'll never go back."

Michael didn't entirely trust his step-sister, but the bottle of confidence boosting blonde hair dye did seem like a thoughtful idea. Perhaps the psychological effect alone would make Ashton more bold and confident.

Michael knew that Ashton would be against using this dye, so he swapped it out for her usual hair colour and waited. He was sure she would forgive him once she saw the results.

***

Ashton hummed to herself as she lathered her hair with her usual dark brown hair dye and waited for it to take effect. It smelt and felt different this time, and as she rubbed it in she felt a strange erotic tingle throb through her body.

Ashton's eyes widened as she watched her hair sparkle and glow. A vivid blonde streak suddenly flashed through her hair, then another and another.

She moaned, her scalp tingling and throbbing deliciously as the dye was absorbed in. This was no ordinary dye, it was magical and she gasped as her hair lengthened and grew, turning blonder and silkier as it transformed.

Ashton groaned as her skin tanned and her flat boobed chest swelled and expanded. Her lips curled into a cruel bitchy smirk as her lashes lengthened and sharp pink nails shot from her fingers.

"Fuckkk yessssss," she hissed as a surge of power and confidence throbbed through her body. She laughed, tossing back her hair and giggling as her flabby body toned up. Stretching her toned body, Ashton grinned as she grew taller and more curvaceous. Her tits were now large and firm, her ass perfect. Her body posture changed to become confident and bossy.

"This is soooo much fucking better," she purred. "That fucking loser Ashton is dead... I am Ash now."

***

Ash grinned as she straddled her new boyfriends bike and looked over at the weeping loser on the road.

She'd kicked Michael over with with one of her booted heels, knocking him out of her way when the pathetic wimp had tried to stop her getting on the bike with Marlon.

"How many times do I have to tell you loser? I'm Marlon's girl now."

Ash's pussy was already wet and she could feel her superior new boyfriends big cock was rock hard through his jeans. He loved seeing his new woman crush losers.

Ash was so horny for her badboy lover. She wished she could fuck him right here and show the world what a stud he was. In fact she was tempted - it wasn't like she lacked the confidence anymore.

Since dying her hair Ash had quit her dead-end job and started working as a dancer in a bar. That was where she had met the biker gang and instantly been accepted as their newest recruit. She even had a tattoo on her lower back, the gangs emblem. She was a biker bitch for life now.

"Ashton, please. My step sister tricked me. That dye has turned you into an evil biker bitch. You have to listen."

Ignoring Michael, Ash kissed Marlon, her tongue in his mouth. Then spinning round she giggled as he groped her tits with one hand and used his other to grab the handle bars.

Ash had passed her driving test weeks ago, easily getting a perfect performance... especially when she sucked off the examiner. She loved driving, but her real passion was for motorbikes.

Ash couldn't wait to buy her own and join the gang for real, but for now she would ride with Marlon... in every sense.

Laughing wildly, she turned her eyes to the road as Marlon gunned the bike and they set off into the future. Her pathetic cuck of a boyfriend was left weeping, wishing his innocent and kind girlfriend would return.

But Ashton was dead. Ash had taken her place and this bad bitch was here to stay.

Blondes really do have more fun.

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Thirteen - Make it count

☆☆☆

When you next awoke, you felt well rested. Without Dream, you were certain you would have seen the Corianthian again. You were worried about what he wanted, and what he was capable of doing.

You rose from your bed and got changed into some comfortable clothes. As you opened your door to leave, Dream was standing there with his hand raised to knock. You both looked as startled as the other.

"How did you sleep?" He asked instantly, lowering his hand.

"Good. Thank you."

His lips break out into a small smile. "You're welcome. Always."

"I, uh, I was coming to see you."

"As was I coming to see you," he chuckles softly. The sound sends a tingle down your spine. He has a very pleasant chuckle.

"Well, I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

You sigh and try to find the words you want to use. Would he be upset with you? "Well, I was thinking, maybe, I could be used as bait for the Corianthian. See, it's this power he's after, and even though it's not your full power, he clearly thinks it's enough to use against you, and, well, if I go and pretend I'm on his side or whatever, we can lure him out and capture him."

Dream was taken back by your idea.

"No."

"What?"

"No. I cannot risk anything happening to you." He is absolute with his words. He won't risk losing you.

"You have to let me help."

"No. I was coming here and to tell you I'm going after him alone. You will be safe here. Should anything happen to me, I've taken precautions to keep you safe."

"I didn't ask you to do that." You frown at him.

"No. You didn't. I did it anyway."

You want to tell at him for being foolish, but you can't bring yourself to do it. He's trying to keep you safe.

"You need me," you say softly.

"I'll manage."

You hate that. You hate that he's going to out there without you. If you're there, he isn't at full strength. He can't possibly expect to do anything.

"Please," you beg.

"I can't let you."

There was something about the tone of his voice that hit you. He wasn't doing this to displease you. He was asking in his own way for you to stay safe.

"Okay..."

You back down. For now.

Dream hesitates to reach out and touch you. You can see his fingers twitch at his side. You do the only thing you can think to do and reach out, taking his hand. You bring it to your face and let him touch you softly.

Dream looks at you in awe. His thumb brushes along your cheek in a light touch. You feel warm.

"If I return, may we discuss our future?" He asks hopefully.

"When you return. Yes."

He smiles softly. Perhaps he can win you over after all. He caresses your cheek for a little while before dropping his hand. He looks at you, committing you to memory. He wants your face to be the only thing he thinks about.

He then leaves.

You watch him disappear down the hall and round the corner. You sigh softly. You then wait several minutes. Then you go. Down the hall, round the corner, and into the library.

Lucienne looks up when you enter and seems surprised to see you. She stands up and bows her head slightly. You feel strange being bowed to. You're not Dream. You're not a ruler.

"My lady."

You feel strange hearing that, too.

"Tell me how to get to where Dream has gone."

Lucienne hesitates. She swore to watch over you while he was gone. "I don't think that a good idea."

"Please."

The librarian can see the desperation in your eyes and hear the plead in your tone. You're worried about him. She's worried about him. If dealing with the Corianthian wasn't so dangerous, she would possibly find this endeavor almost romantic.

"There's a gateway you could use..."

"Show me."

Lucienne adjusts her glasses and then looks up at the bookshelf where Matthew is perched. He understands immediately and flies down to the table in front of you.

"Follow me." He caws.

You look at Lucienne. "Thank you."

"Stay safe," she replies.

You follow Matthew out the library and down a couple of halls. He brings you to a lone door in the middle of one hall, and you go inside. There's a tall mirror standing on its own in this room. Matthew lands on top of it.

"You can pass through here, but it's kind of a one-way thing. You'll need Dream in order to come back here," Matthew explains.

"Thank you, Matthew. I intend to return with him. He needs me."

Matthew caws. "Yeah, we know."

You chuckle softly and look at the mirror. It looks unsuspecting. Just a mirror. Your reflection looks quite ordinary, but when you reach out and touch the glass, your hand passes through. Your reflection begins to ripple. You walk slowly through the mirror.

☆☆☆

Dream walks with his hands in his coat pockets. His eyes are focused straight ahead. His mind is full of thoughts of you.

The Corianthian will not get away a third time. Dream will end this today, even if it destroys him.

He knew he needed to catch the Corianthian at some point, but him appearing in your dreams was the final straw. Dream can't let him roam any further.

He walks towar this destination. A hotel. Many mortals are gathering here. Dream looks around as he stands in the parking lot. Something felt very wrong about this place.

He enters the building.

In the trees opposite the hotel, Matthew lands on a branch and looks down, seeing Dream enter the building. Lucienne had asked him to come and keep an eye on things and to return to her if things turned sour. Matthew turns his head toward the entrance of the parking lot and waits for you to appear.

Dream walks through the lobby of the hotel and sees people queuing at the desk. He walks right past them. There's an outside area and then hall down to the left. It seems people need a pass to get down there.

He waits. Two people approach the table and sign in. Dream stands behind them a few steps, and as they turn to go down the hall, he simply slips past beside them. The man at the table is too occupied with other guests to notice him.

He walks down the long hall and passes several conference rooms. Each room is labelled differently. Dream comes to stand in the doorway of one. The people at the table have strange nicknames and they're saying strange things.

It clicks in his mind.

These people are some of the worst of the worst. These people kill others. The murdering. The slaughtering. The disgusting "art" they think they're providing.

The Corianthian was definitely here.

At the end of the hallway is a large assembly room. Much bigger than the others. A podium is set up at the front of the room, and many chairs have been set up to face it.

Voice and footsteps flood the hall outside the room, and Dream tucks himself up against the wall as people start to flood in. He watches as they walk past him, talking and laughing. Each of them finds a seat in this vast hall.

Dream watches from the back.

The first ten minutes of whatever this is just talking from the organisers of the event. Dream doesn't care for specifics. He knows who these people are, what they do, what they Dream about.

It's when they mention a special guest that Dream perks back up. From a side door enters the Corianthian, and Dream watches him closely. The Corianthian walks up on stage, shakes hands, and then takes the podium.

He talks about dreams. Their dreams. Their potential. It makes Morpheus sick to think about his gift being abused by one of his own creations. At least you're safe and away from here.

The Corianthian spots Dream lingering in the back and grins.

"Tell you what, all of you close your eyes. Think of what makes you happiest. Focus on that, and soon, you will find it feels so real."

Dream walks down the aisle of chairs and slowly joins the Corianthian up on the stage.

"It's not you I wanted," the Nightmare states.

"She's safe."

"Is she?" He chuckles. "You're here to stop me?"

"Yes."

There's something about the Corianthian's smile that doesn't feel right. Dream should know you're stubborn.

And just like that, Morpheus is afraid.

☆☆☆

You reach the hotel and look up at the tall building. This is where they are? It didn't matter, you supposed. You walk inside. The lobby seems really quiet apart from a few guests and the staff. You walk past the reception desk and wander further into the hotel, going down the hall at the end.

It was quiet. Well, almost. The room at the end seemed to have something going on. You could hear what sounded like a voice. Perhaps some kind of presentation.

You didn't know where else to look and decided to take a peek. You walk over to the door and push it open.

Inside is not what you were expecting, and there was no one insight. You swore you heard a voice earlier, but there was no one here.

This room appeared to be some kind of... basement, perhaps? A bare room with a table in the middle of it. The kind of table you might find in a hospital.

"Well, what do we have here?"

You turn and find yourself facing the Corianthian. Yet there was no sign of Dream. What was going on?

"I knew you would come. Especially if he came after me. You wouldn't let him come alone." He chuckles.

"You hoped this would happen..."

"That's right." He grins.

"Where are we?" You ask, looking around again. Now, there is someone else in the room. A person you don't recognise. She is standing over a body on the table. In her hand is a scalpel.

"Oh, we're in the Dreaming again. These people are dreaming. You're bringing them all here." He chuckles. "All their dreams cam come true."

"I don't understand..."

"You alone were not enough to bring them all here into one dream. I knew I'd need Dream. I knew he would protect you if I was a threat. Now, don't worry. You don't have anything to worry about. We're currently feeding from his power. Soon, you'll be the master of the dream realm."

"What...?"

"I'm using this place to feed his power into you. You can do as you please with the Dreaming once we're rid of him."

"No! Stop it!" You yell.

A couple more people have appeared in the room. They're also doing horrific things with bodies. You're afraid. He's using you to destroy Dream and make these people stronger in their dreams.

"Please stop!"

"No can do, sweetheart." He clicks his tongue casually.

You feel your heart sinking and your breathing becoming rapid. You need to stop him somehow. You need Dream.

You need him here.

"Don't listen to him."

You gasp and turn around quickly. Dream is standing in the doorway nearby, but he looks a little fuzzy. He's not here, but he's projecting an image of himself here. It's probably all he can manage right now.

"Dream?"

"Don't listen to him."

"What do I do?" You ask softly.

The Corianthian stands in front of you both. "Enough of that." Just like that, Dream fades from view. It takes everything in you not to call out for him, but it would be no use.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

☆☆☆

Dream watched the Corianthian enter the Dreaming where he knew you were. You must have followed him to the hote, and the Corianthian had known. He was using what little power you possessed to cypher his own power, weakening him.

You weren't even doing it on purpose. From the waking world, Morpheus could feel your heart breaking. He needed to get through to you. He focused and tried to project himself into the Dreaming.

"Don't listen to him."

He can almost see you. You look afraid. He wants to reach out to comfort you, but he can't. The Corianthian severs his connection to the Dreaming, and you're gone.

His scar begins to throb. Hus rubs it.

He has an idea.

☆☆☆

The Corianthian is manipulating the room around you. He's using your power. He's controlling it. No longer are you in that horrible little room with those horrible people, but now you're outside. The grass is green, and the trees are tall.

It's beautiful.

"This is Fiddler's Green. It's considered the most beautiful spot in all the Dreaming. We're going to draw all that power here." The Corianthian smiles. "Let me show you what we can do."

He takes your hand and waves it gently through the air. A woman appears in front of you. She looks around, confused, startled. She's tall, has dark hair, and is wearing comfortable clothes. She must have been at home.

"What is this? Who are you?" She asks.

"This is lady here is Lyta Hall." The Corianthian chuckles. "Her husband died some time ago. Why don't we bring him back?"

Another wave of your hand, and there's a man standing beside her. You're confused. What is this? What is this power he's using?

The man and woman look at each other.

"Hector?"

"Lyta..."

Lyta reaches out as if to check if he's real. Her palm makes contact with his cheek, and she begins to sob. They wrap their arms around each other and hold each other.

"Lyta's dream was to have a family." The Corianthian tells you. "So let's make that dream come true."

He waves your hands again, and Lyta puls away from Hector to look down. Suddenly, she has a baby bump. You yank your hand away from the Corianthian and put some distance between you both.

"Stop it! Stop all of it!"

Your scar starts to throb. You rub it gently. You're not sure if it's because of him or not that it's doing that. You take a few deep breaths.

"I've had enough. I don't want this. I don't want Dream's power. I just want him here. I want him here with me..." You speak softly. You miss him.

You close your eyes and think about him. Everything he's done for you so far. Everything he's been through. Sure, you didn't want this bond at first. Everything was too much for you to cope with, but now... now you wanted him. You wanted to see his face again. You wanted to hear his voice again.

You wanted him.

A hand reaches out and places itself on your arm. You almost scream as you scurry away. You turn to find the Corianthian hadn't moved from his previous spot. No. You find yourself looking up into familiar blue eyes.

With shake breath, you lunge at Dream and wrap your arms around him. He lets you, wrapping his arms around you. However, he trains his eyes on the Corianthian, watching him carefully.

You cling to his coat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

Dream tilts his head down and brings lifts you lr face up with his hand gently. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

You look up at him. You're trying not to cry. His thumb brushes your chin gently as he looks at you. You're safe. You're here in his arms.

"This isn't over." The Corianthian says. Once again, he's holding a knife.

"It is." Dream states. He turns to Lyta and Hector, who are holding onto each other and watching everything with confusion and fear. Dream waves his hand in their direction. Hector fades into dust in Lyta's arms. "The dead belong with the dead.'

"You bastard..." Lyta glares at him, tears threatening to fall. Dream does not care. He waves his hand again and Lyta wakes up.

Now it's just the three of you.

"I need to undo him," Dream says. "But I'll need your help to do it."

You look up at him softly. There's only one thing you can think to do. You grab him by the coat and pull him down, kissing him suddenly.

Dream is startled by your actions, but does not attempt to push you away.

You pull away and look up at him.

"Make it count."

Dream realises what you've done. You've given him your portion of the power back through a kiss. He can feel it in his veins. He stares at you in awe.

He raises his gaze to the Corianthian and gestures for you to get behind him. However, you don't let go of his hand. You watch the two.

"You can't stop me this time." Dream tells him. He lifts his hand up toward the Nightmare.

The Corianthian seems emotional. "I am what you made me."

"I didn't make you for this."

"No?"

Dream doesn't respond. He focuses his power on undoing the Corianthian. He had thought the Corianthian had been made perfectly, but it seemed he was full of flaws. Dream would not make that mistake again.

You watch the Corianthian become nothing more than sand and a skull. Dream walks over to the sand pile and picks up the tiny skull, looking at it.

"Next time, I shall do better. I shall not make something so petty." He tucks the skull into his pocket and turns to you again. "Come here."

You look at him and walk over to him slowly. He does not falter his gaze from you. You come to a stop in front of him. Dream slowly reaches out and takes your hand. With a gentle tug he pulls you into his chest.

"You kissed me."

"I did..."

"Do it again."

You state at him in surprise. Was he serious? When you continue to just stare at him, he chuckles and makes the move himself. He brings his lips to yours and kisses you softly.

You feel like you're walking on air.

It's over relatively quickly, but he gently presses his forehead against yours and smiles.

"Let go home."

You smile. "Yeah."

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden - @thecraziestcrayon -

[pit-and-the-pen]

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 4

A/n: So I’m pivoting a little bit with this series. In the last chapter, I had reader with Rhys a lot and I’m fighting the urge to rewrite it, but from here on out it’s going to be a lot more of the inner circle stuff while Rhys and Feyre are doing their own thing. I didn’t like how much  I relied on the dialogue straight from the book for chapter 3 so hopefully this makes it a little better to write and more interesting to read! 

Strap in because a lot happens in this chapter. Also this is mostly unedited because my brain in soup at this point.

Warnings: Cannon level description of violence, blood, brief mention of trauma (Rhys and Readers history with Tamlin), suggestive thoughts/language (as always let me know if I missed anything)

WC:19k

Previous chapters: [prologue] [chapter 1][chapter 2][chapter 3]

NExt chapter [Here]

“I don’t get why I wasn’t invited.” Cassian whined, leaning back in the wide backed chair. I knocked his feet from their place on the coffee table and he stumbled as the legs of the chair touched the ground.

“Because last time you were there you fucked someone’s wife and destroyed their house in your attempt to get away.” 

“In my defense, she didn’t tell me she was married.” He grumbled out, crossing his arms like the petulant child he was. 

“Try telling that to her husband.” I continued to tease him. 

“I did.” 

“Children, children.” Mor chided Cassian and I. A bored wave of her hand causing Cassian to turn his attention to her instead. I smiled widely as the two of them started going back and forth. 

Eventually Rhys and Azriel came to collect Cassian. 

“Sorry, boys night.” My brother said, shooting me a wink when I tried to argue. “Don’t pout at me.”

“They’re just afraid they’d lose their ass if they let us play.” Mor returned, all of the males sputtering out a chorus of protests. 

True to their word, they didn’t let Mor or myself join them. Going as far as to lock the door to Rhys’ study. Their loud shouts could be heard from where Mor and I sat together down the hall. 

Mor was swiping the second layer of a silver and black sparkle nail polish on my hand. 

“Are you nervous about going to summer?” She asked casually. 

“Hardly.” Even I wasn’t convinced by my words. Mor raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me. “Fine. I’m just worried we won’t get the book. We’ve only tested this theory of Feyre’s powers once and that was Rhys’ magic.”

“You think the bond could let her sense it.” I nodded.

“It’s not impossible. Even if she hasn’t accepted it. She could be inherently drawn to things that have ties to him. I just have to hope my brother is right.” I stopped talking to start blowing my nails dry. Shaking them slightly while I did so. Mor turned to her own nails, brushing a blood red polish over them. 

The summer court was just as beautiful as I remember it. I was immediately greeted by the smell of sea salt, even the sunshine smelt different. The humidity in the air laced it with something I could not put my finger on but warmed every part of my body. My skin felt instantly sticky, suddenly very grateful for the flowing white halter dress I had picked for myself that morning. 

Even though it was early in the morning, the city below the palace was already teeming with life. Merchant carrying various baskets full of goods, ships sailing in and out of the docks. The rope bridges swayed slightly in the breeze as people flurried about. 

We had winnowed right in front of the palace. The purple and green sea glass doors opened at our arrival. It had been at least a century since the last time I visited this place, enough time that I was in awe of the scene in front of me. As much as I loved my home Velaris, there was something about the lightness of this palace that called to me. The full walls of sea glass and shells embedded into the floor, covered with some shiny surface that didn’t make it painful to walk on.Light chiffon fabric  in pastel purples, seafoam green, baby pinks, and, buttery yellows adorned the chairs and curtains. The sun that shone through the glass walls tinted with all the colors around us. I was still gawking when Tarquin approached us. The time since he came back had been kind to him. His dark skin more bronzed and his long white hair was  braided and adorned with various shells, he was heart stoppingly handsome.The power of a high lord circled him, but unlike Rhys, it carried a certain warmth to it. An aura of safety and security. I swore the water flowing from the fountains around us bubbled harder at his arrival. 

“Welcome. I see you like the changes I’ve made” He winked at me, eyes still flickering about. 

“I believe you’ve met before, although not since your…promotion.” Tarquin eyed Amren before he gave her a polite bow. Amren bit back a greeting that reminded me of what others saw us as. Cold and calculating. 

“And you two were never formally introduced under the mountain. Feyre, Tarquin.” Tarquin’s face set into a tight line as his eyes swept over the revealing dress Feyre was wearing. Even more see-through with the sunlight in the room. Rhys let out a lewd comment and Feyre returned her own before I  could even think to grimace. 

Another's presence in the room had me looking over Tarquins shoulder. I tried to keep my face even as I spotted Cresseida. The female and I had grown closer than anyone else in the court during my last visit. She shot me a wicked smile before Tarquin introduced her, a claiming hand resting on her shoulder. My eyebrow raised to her and she shrugged her shoulders. A promise of explaining later in her dark brown eyes. Varian was next to be introduced. As captain of Tarquins guard, I did not fault him for the way he sized all of us up, especially Amren. 

Our group followed Tarquin through the hallways of the palace. Rhys and the High Lord making polite small talk. Cressida and I walked in step together. 

The room Tarquin led us to was just as beautiful as the rest of the palace. High ceilings speckled with those same pastel colors, a wide open window showcasing the vibrant water of the sea, so rich in color it appeared almost teal. Feyre gravitated towards the window, like her feet were working on their own. The Summer High Lord approached her side and I tried to keep up with their hushed conversation. Rhys took a seat at the table in the middle of the room and motioned for me to do the same. Rolling my eyes as the others approached, I grabbed Cressida’s arm and led her to a set of couches a bit away from the others. “We’ll leave all the important talk to the high lords and generals.” I said, sinking into that vapid facade I carried when I wasn’t expected to be Rhys’ terrifying counterpart. He gave me a bored look of dismissal. 

“You must tell me everything.” I nearly squealed at Cressida, loud enough for the others to hear. 

“There isn’t much to tell, Tarquin is adjusting to being High Lord quite well. However, suddenly it was…He’s a good change from before.” So not interested in her advances then. Her eyes flickered over to the table where the rest sat. 

“Are you not in contact with Tamlin then, Feyre?” The question was laced with challenge and accusations. The idea that she was in not one but two high lords beds a grave insult. 

“My relationship with the High Lord of spring is none of your concern.” She bit back, the perfect edge of regal and warning in her voice. 

“Good, I’d hate to have to return you to your master.” Even from across the room I saw Amren go deathly still. I gave Cressida a small tap on her shoulder, a playful move that warned her to hold her tongue. She gave me a withering glare as Tarquin reprimanded her for her words. 

She turned back to me, mouth opening to continue our conversation as Rhys spoke. If I hear word that she or anyone else sends news of our being here to Tamlin, your lives will be forfeit. I heard the tone of promise. The air growing deathly still as his words registered to the High Lord.I took a deep sip of my wine as feyre whispered out something that had Tarquin laughing. The room seemed to take a collective sigh at the sound. Tarquin was a good change indeed. Cressida sank back into her chair as she looked me over. 

“You look well.” She said once the conversation in the room resumed. I nodded, setting down my glass on the table beside me.

“Fresh air will do that to a person.” My not so subtle reminder to her that she had not been under the mountain. She gave a small hum. “It seems the court has recovered nicely.”  

It was her turn to grow tense. “It was not without hard work, as I’m sure you can relate to. Having a sudden change in high lord and losing half our population has not made it easy to rebuild, but we’ve managed this far.” She sighed, looking at Tarquin who was now laughing with Rhys. “He has made things easier. Gave my brother and I much more control over the efforts than the previous High lord would have.” I took in her words, the tension in her shoulders and heard the tone of someone who had sacrificed a great deal for her court. Something I very much understood. I felt shame rise in my throat at my earlier comments. She might not have been under the mountain but she, and many others in Prythian, had suffered just as much because of it. I’d imagine it would be impossible to find someone who was not affected. 

“Enough about me though, tell me how’ve you been?” Her tone switched back to one of light gossip. I took a deep sip of my wine as I gave her a half-true recounting of the last few months. 

Cressida walked me back to my room, pointing out things around the palace while doing so. Explaining the bits of work that were still in planning. She gestured to my room and said her goodbyes, promising to find me at the party tonight. 

I let out a heavy sigh as the door closed behind me. I had forgotten how exhausting court politics was. How heavy the role Rhys and I played was. Instead of lingering on that, I quickly changed into my clothes for tonight. A flowy dress that mimicked the fashion of the court but with Night Court colors. Silvers and midnight blues, silver chains fastening the dress around my neck. I left the tiara I would pin in my hair on the edge of my bed as I walked out onto the balcony attached to my room. I stared out at the crashing waves, sitting in the sound that they brought with them. The tide was coming in stronger now that it was mid-afternoon. On the horizon I saw the colorful sails of merchant and travel ships bobbing on the water. I leaned against the railing, letting myself become almost hypnotized by the motion of the water around me. I don’t know how long I stayed staring out at the water but Rhys knocking at my door told me it had been at least a few hours. Rhys walked up to my side, leaning against the railing. 

“It's definitely a nice view.” He says, snapping me out of my trance. I only nod. 

“I wish we didn't have to do this.” 

“Which part?”

“I don’t know all of it. The sneaking and the games. I just wish it could change.” I said, voice barely above a whisper. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. 

“It will be. Once this war is over. That’s what we're fighting for.” He gave a little squeeze before I sighed heavily. 

“I hope that’s how the others see it.” He nodded and I pulled away from his side. Walking back into the room. I picked up my tiara and slid it into my hair. I adjusted my makeup in the mirror on the vanity.  Looking at Rhys I gave a dramatic twirl. 

“How do I look?” He rolled his eyes at the question.

“Every bit the Night Court princess. Now will you please hurry up, we’re already late enough.” I stuck my tongue out at him as we walked out of the room. 

The ship was beautiful. It could fit double the amount of Fae than it was currently holding. Feyre, Rhys and Amren stayed close together while I mingled amongst those who would actually talk to me. Cressida found me at some point in the night, pushing a glass of wine into my hand. I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between her and Mor. Making me wonder just what sat behind her own mask. We got along fine but years of not speaking had made our friendship dissolve. Rhys made his way over to Cressida and I, giving Feyre space to talk to Tarquin. He tried to play the aloof High Lord but I saw the way his eyes kept floating over to Feyre, the way his shoulders stiffened at every smile Tarquin gave her. Cressida must have sensed the tension too because she leaned across the table to reach for my brother's hand, purposefully leaning over to expose her cleavage to him. I tried not to roll my eyes at her attempt to get his attention. 

He gave her a sleepy smile and pointed to the seat next to him. She gave Feyre a lingering glance before she stood up and all but climbed into his lap. I didn’t hold back my eyeroll this time. She shot me a wide grin. “You don’t mind do you?” She asked in a coy voice. 

“By all means, don’t let me stop you. But you should be asking him.” She pouted at my brother who nodded his head, his hand drifting to the small of her back. I downed the rest of my wine before standing up to get more. I had no interest in seeing him lean down to whisper in his ear. I noticed Feyre spared a glance our way, quickly looking back to Tarquin when she spotted Cressida’s new seat. Before I knew it, Feyre was on her feet. Walking away to a less crowded spot on the ship, leaving a very confused looking Tarquin behind her. Taking the opportunity, I joined him at the table. 

“I hope I didn’t upset her.” He joked when I sat down beside him.

“She can be a little…touchy where my brother is concerned. Pay no mind.” I waved my hand to punctuate my words. Tarquin just took a deep sip of his wine. 

We made light conversation, asking each other about our courts and each only giving as much information as was polite. My eyes tracked Rhys movements as Cressida pulled him from his seat and across the deck of the ship. A deep laugh came from the High Lord’s chest. 

“You’re not interested then?” I pointed my hand at the retreating couple, still holding my wine glass,  Another laugh from Tarquin.

“Mother no, did no one tell you she’s my cousin.” 

“Oh…” He gave me a smirk. 

“And besides,  princess. I am still young and rebuilding my court. All of that,” he waved towards the direction Cressida had pulled my brother, “can wait until after. That doesn’t mean that anyone in my court isn’t free fuck whoever they decide.” I almost shot wine from my nose at how hard I laughed, choosing an inopportune time to take a deep sip from my cup. I sputtered out an  “I’m sorry.” between coughs. He handed me a handkerchief to wipe my mouth. “I truly wasn’t not expecting you to say that. Please don’t think I was laughing at you.” 

“Never.” His voice suddenly became more serious than before. 

“Now what about you? No one has caught your eye?”

“I dare you to try with a brother like mine.” It felt wrong to so crassly talk about Rhys. LIke he was the one stopping me from what I wanted. 

“But there’s someone?” He pried. I shook my head. 

“No one that would see me that way.” It wasn’t a lie by any means. He didn’t have to know exactly why. 

“Do they happen to be blind?” I raised an eyebrow in question. “That would be the only reason I think of for someone not seeing you that way.” I didn’t fake the blush that rose on my cheeks. 

“You flatter me. But no, just… I don’t know.” I said in a tone almost boarding on a whine. He laughed again, a sound I realized I liked. We sat and talked until the sun colored the water a deep purple. I looked out at the view, once again falling into a trance as I stared out at the waves. 

“Shall I walk you back to your room?” Tarquin asked, pulling my eyes back to him. I wanted to say no. But the role I played required I saw yes. So I nodded, letting him guide me by my hand back around the palace. I was nervous as we approached my door, not knowing fully what he expected out of me. Especially not knowing exactly where Cressida had pulled Rhys to. I felt panic starting to rise in my throat until he cleared his throat. 

We were outside my door and the panic I felt must have been written across my face. 

“Don’t look so disappointed. But I was not walking you back for that.” I felt my shoulders relax and a blush settle on the tips of my ears. 

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t be. I like my partners more than willing.Enthusiastic if you will.” I laughed, which made him laugh in return.

“Good night.” I whispered to him

“Good night.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before he turned and walked off down the hallway. 

I had nothing to do until Feyre went to look for the book. And I truly had no desire to sit and gossip with Cressida after the heated looks she had been giving my brother. So I simply stayed in my room, listening to the sounds of the ocean. I tried to think of how much the rest of my family would love it here. How much they had loved it here. I lightly chuckled to myself as I remember Cassian's face as Mor winnowed him out of the court last time we had visited. It took days of debate and many apologies before the previous High Lord rescinded the blood ruby he threatened to send after Cassian.  Mor looked absolutely gorgeous with some sun on her skin, although Azriel held onto it longer much to her chagrin. I curled my knees up to my chest at the thought of Azriel. It felt almost selfish for how little I had thought about him since I’d been here. Regardless of the fact that I had no reason to feel bad, a small twinge of shame pushed its way through me. A hand rising to the center of my chest to massage the discomfort away. 

Rhys didn't come to collect me until dinner. He was curt as he announced that the rest were waiting for me, not waiting for my reply before he was leaving the room again. I rushed after to catch up with him. Feyre must have done her job well if my brother was wound this tight. 

“Anything on your mind, brother?” I asked in a sweet voice, purposefully teasing him.

“Don’t you start with me too.” So Feyre must have already talked to him. Good. Maybe he’ll finally use this to tell the poor girl. “Stop trying to meddle.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I just want to get this damned book and go back home.”

“I’m sure that’s all there is to it, Rhys.” I patted him on the back and nearly started running down the hall, suddenly very hungry. 

The days passed by slowly. As Rhys’ advisor, I was now expected to attend the various meetings Rhys had with the summer courts own advisors. I wished we could have left Amren out of these meetings, but as his second, she attended every one of them. Her presence set the others on edge, making any and all discussions freeze at random moments because she so much as shifted her body weight. 

It wasn’t until dinner the night after that Feyre almost gave herself away. One too many questions asked about the little temple in the middle of the tide. Tarquin brushed off her questions with ease but I saw the way his eyes lingered on her longer than normal, like he was sizing her up for the first time. If I blinked I would have missed it, that slight fog in his eyes. A fog that only appeared for a moment before sea green eyes were revealed once again. I shot my eyes to Rhys who shook his head. Not him then. Meaning Feyre must have been able to do that. I was both very impressed and oh so horrified. 

“I can carry you both and then keep watch” Rhys layed out the plan. Amren looked over to me. 

“And her?”

“Someone has to keep the High Lord distracted.” I grinned at her

“What a hard job to do.” She bit back at me, baring her teeth at me. I fought back the urge to do the same. 

“It’s a necessary job. Unless you want to risk Tarquin sniffing us out.” She didn’t have a response for him. “Good. Do you think you can do it?” He turned to face me and I nodded. From there we planned the rest of the details. 

The day dragged by. Tarquin, by Feyre’s suggestion, had taken her to the mainland to show her the rest of the court. That left Amren, Rhys and myself free to make some final conversation with the court advisors. Simple things like trade and training of soldiers felt wrong to discuss with a greater war on the horizon, felt too mundane. 

Evening came around eventually. Tarquin all but deposited Feyre into Rhys’ outstretched arms. He gave her a salacious smile that I wasn’t sure was entirely fake. But gave the right impression of just exactly why I was so eager to leave the palace. 

Tarquin and I walked through the city where he took me to a small bistro. The staff all smiled at him as we approached the open air restaurant. It was quaint, reminding me of something you would find in Velaris. The casual exchange between the owner and Tarquin felt very familiar. I smiled at the couple as they personally sat Tarquin and I. The restaurant had no menu, instead the meal was based on whatever the ships brought in that day and the catch of the day seemed to be crab. They brought out steaming plates and I could only stare at it. 

“I must admit, I’ve never tried crab before.” I picked up one of the legs in front of me, taking note of the hard shell. Tarquin smiled at me. 

“Apologies, I didn’t consider that.” He gestured for the piece I was holding and I handed it over to him. “You have to crack this open” A simple twist of his hands and the shell popped loudly. “And then you can pull out the meat.” Picking up a tiny fork, he pulled the entirety of the meat out in a clean piece. I gave him a small clap. He laughed and handed me another piece. 

“You try.” I earned my own clap from him as I copied his motions. It took me a few tries to scoop everything out but I got there in the end. 

“I’lll just have to practice more.” I winked at him and he gave me a soft smile. 

“If it gives you an excuse to come back here, be my guest.” I let the comment float between us. We ate until he had to wave off the shop owners. A small argument between the three of them as they tried to insist he didn’t need to pay. Tarquin dropped a bag of gold on the table when their backs were turned and all but pushed me out of the restaurant before they could notice. The action was so unlike any other high lord I had seen that I couldn’t help the giggle that left me. 

He had grabbed my hand in his sometime during our walk back through the city. Not paying attention to the way I led him to the stretch of beach on the other side of the palace, on the opposite side of where Feyre and Amren were currently trying to grab the book from. The only sound between us was the crashing waves. 

“Sunlight looks good on you.” Tarquin winked at me as we walked down the beach. Breaking the comfortable silence.  The red that tinted my cheeks had nothing to do with the fleeting sunlight. 

“I’m afraid I might become the same color of that crab if I stayed too long,” I joked back.

“You’d adjust… If you ever wanted to, that is.” His tone was light but I could sense the truth behind those words. 

“You’d do well to remember not to be fooled by a pretty face.” I returned with that same tone. He shook his head. 

“I was under the mountain too. Everyone heard the way you would stand up to her. The way you suffered so others wouldn’t.” His words startled me. I never acted that way to get attention. I told him as much. “And that’s why I know you’re more than a pretty face. You did all of it without thinking. Regardless of what you might show others, I know you and your brother are good people. The people that refuse to see that are fools” 

I didn’t respond. Unable to find the right words. I kept walking, slower than before. The sound of waves crashed over my ears. The white noise comforting. Tarquin was not a bad looking male by a long shot. Even under the mountain he was gorgeous. But even thinking of it, however fleetingly, felt wrong. Some deep part in my chest hurt as I thought of how easy it would be to fall in love with him. My hand drifted subconsciously to rub that sharp sting away. 

“You’re kind too. I see it in the way you interact with your people. Very few high lords care about lesser fae, let alone enough to remember their names.” It was his turn to blush, the skin on his cheeks darkening ever so slightly. 

“I want to be better than those before me. I see no reason to make my people suffer because they weren't lucky enough to be high born.”

“I wouldn’t call it lucky.” I muttered mostly to myself. 

“Neither would I. But to them, to the people that only get to watch…”

“It all does seem rather glamorous. Just another mask to put on.” I bit my tongue, cursing myself for saying too much. To my surprise, Tarquin only nodded along. 

“Better to let them think it’s all parties and banquets. It means we’re doing our jobs well enough.” Once again, silence blanketed itself over us. Both of us were aware that our conversation had drifted to something too real. As I looked out at the ocean and saw the tide starting to swell again, I felt disgust ebb through me. I hoped Feyre had made it out by now. That she had gotten the book. We would be leaving tomorrow regardless. Tarquin must have noticed the look on my face, the pensive far-off look. 

“Are you sad to be leaving?” Luckily he had misread my emotions. I nodded, not entirely lying to him.

“Your home is beautiful and it’s nice to be given a break from Hewn city. Sometimes when I wake it, it’s hard not to think I’m still…with her.” He grabbed my hand in his as I spoke. As I looked into his sea green eyes, I had never felt more disgusted with myself. He was kind and trusting and so naive. It felt too easy. Any other high lord, one that had been around longer, would have never let my brother or Feyre out of their sight. Pretty face or not. But the High Lord in front of me didn’t hold an ounce of suspicion for my court. Had told Feyre that much during their trip earlier in the week. It made my stomach twist. 

“She left our mark on all of us, it’s our job to make sure someone like her can never have that chance again.” My throat felt tight and I couldn't speak. He was a good male without a doubt. I only hoped he would forgive us for what we had to do, and would be willing to hear us out after all is said and done.  

AS if the mother herself sensed my words, an alarm rang from within the castle. Tarquin jumped, pulling his hand from mine as a  figure appeared next to us. I hoped the sigh of relief wasn’t too loud as I saw Rhys. It’s done. We need to go now. Tarquin’s head was whipping back and forth between his palace and my brother. I knew I would never be able to forget the look of pure disbelief in his eyes as the pieces clicked into place. 

“I’m so sorry.” I took a step towards him as Rhys wrapped an arm around my waist and the moonlit water of the summer court disappeared around me. 

My knees gave out as soon as I felt the ground return underneath me. Azriel was at my side instantly, hands quick to wipe the silent tears off of my face. I pushed myself away from him. So disgusted with myself I could hardly breathe. My brother paid no attention to me, instead turning his focus to Feyre. I let out a mix between a sob and a laugh as I saw her pull out the book. Azriel just pulled me back against his chest. And my treacherous body relaxed in his hold. That familiar smell of nighttime and pine and something so Azriel that I couldn’t help but calm down. I clung to him tighter as Feyre struggled to open the book. Scared that this had all been for nothing. Then the sick voice echoed through the room. A language I couldn’t quite make out but chilled me to my very core. Like the book had been made of nightmares themselves. Even Azriel tensed beside me, wings flaring before I felt them wrap around me. The voice burrowed into my brain sending a fresh wave of tears down my face. Then, just as sudden as it had started it stopped. Feyre held the now opened box in her lap, refusing to look into it. 

Amren finally looked and pulled away, swearing. She looked…scared. It was a look so out of place on her face that I almost couldn’t clock it. But as she looked back at the book I recognized the pure terror flickering behind those quick silver eyes and I wondered out loud what exactly we had gotten ourselves into. 

I didn’t stay to discuss the events at the summer court with the rest of my family. As it was, Azriel had to all but carry me to my room. Maybe I was being dramatic but the last few days mixed with that look from Tarquin had worn heavily on me. Waves of guilt kept roaring through me. Enough so that I simply let Azriel place me onto my bed, feeling too disgusted with myself to be in his presence any longer. He only pressed a light kiss to my forehead before he pulled the curtains shut and left my room. 

Azriel didn’t return until later the next day. When I finally was able to look him in the eyes I saw nothing but concern in those hazel eyes. Concern I didn’t deserve or want. 

“Talk to me.” He pleaded. I shook my head, a small sniffle the only sound I made. Willing the tears away. I didn’t even deserve to be crying for myself. He sighed heavily and pulled me into his lap. I was so upset that I didn’t even consider the intimate hold. I just curled up tighter into myself and let him rock me back and forth. 

“I’m a horrible person.” I sobbed into his chest, unable to hold back the tears. 

“Rhys told me everything. You’re not. They don’t know it yet but this could save us all.” I didn’t let his words comfort me. 

“He’s so kind. It sickens me to think that I might be the reason he stops being kind.” My voice broke. The admission was unbearable. 

“He’ll deal with it.” I sniffled one more time before I started to calm down. 

Tarquin did in fact deal with it. In the form of four blood red rubies delivered to Hewn City that morning. I swore when Rhys placed it on my bed. “Azriel’s already sweeping the border, so if you decided to have a melt down on me again, you’ll be waiting for a while for someone to comfort you.” Half a tease and half a plea for me to keep it together. I tossed the ruby to the floor, letting it roll under my bed. 

“You really know how to comfort a female, Rhys. It’s a miracle we aren’t having to peel Feyre off of you, truly.” I spit at him. 

“Be angry at me all you want, but get your shit together. You’ve, we’ve, done far worse things.”

“To people that deserved it.” I whispered back. And that was the root of it all. The way we had done unspeakable things to people in the past had never bothered me, because they would have done the same if they got the chance. But sweet, naive Tarquin…

“He’ll understand in time.” Was all he offered, and I saw red tinge the edge of my vision. 

“But at what cost? He’s a good ally to have if we come down to war and we very well might have pushed him into Hyberns hands.”

“If it takes a simple theft for him to go to Hybern then he was never truly an ally.” I wanted to slap the cock-sure look off of my brother's face. 

“Send in Azriel when he gets back.” Dismissal clear in my tone. Rhys looked at me, but I turned away from him. He said my name softly. 

“Get.Out.” I gritted out, picking up a pillow to throw at him but when I turned around he was already gone. 

Azriel did come to my room later in the day, but only long enough to bring me food and say goodbye. He was doing more patrols, checking  his network of spies for any word that Summer might be preparing to send soldiers to our doors. He left before I could say anything to him, only leaving a single shadow behind. It stayed near my bed until I ate the food Azriel had brought for me. Then, and only then, did the shadow retreat to the corner of my room, making me feel a little less alone as I drifted off to sleep. 

It took days for me to finally come out of my room. Nothing compared to the weeks of waiting for the queens to reply to our request. Rhys didn’t have to inform me I would not be coming to the meeting and I didn't have it in me to argue with his decision. He would keep an open line to me from the human lands and I would be able to add my two cents if it was needed. But after my reaction to Tarquin, wwe couldn’t risk another break down on my end. As much as everyone understood where I was coming from, they knew the role I played weighed heavily on me and if I was to attend the meeting I would need to play my part perfectly. A part I didn’t want to play at the moment. That would leave me with Amren, the ancient fae had not let the book out of her sight since it had been given to her. Rhys and I were the only others who had an inkling of how to translate the equally as ancient language, but it took me far more concentration than it took her. 

She didn’t seem to care because no sooner had my family left before she was hauling the book onto the table in my office. The map had been moved to a larger table so she sprawled out sheets of paper with random sentences scribbled onto them, like she was translating faster than she could write them down. I stared at the pages until my eyes began to blur over. Amren shot me a dirty look when I pushed away from the table rubbing my eyes. 

“Weak.” She muttered to herself and I didn’t dignify her taunt with a reply. I had nothing to prove to her, and she very well might be right. I didn’t have the same pull to war like she did, planning it was hard enough. Despite how naturally it came to me, I despised the scheming and backstabbing that usually accompanied it. I didn’t spare her a glance as I walked out of the room, leaving her to her own devices to try to make sense of the pages of the book. 

It was around dinner time when everyone appeared in the front room of the house. I could feel the tension radiating off of Rhys and I wondered why he hadn’t tried to contact me. Until I followed him into his office and he spun around, looking like he was ready to attack me. 

“They want proof that we’re not the court the rumors suggest. They want to see behind the mask.” He spit out, hands lacing into his hair looking like he might pull it from his roots. 

“What are you going to do?” I asked him softly. Taking very slow steps towards him. He growled before he pushed the contents of his desk to the ground. He stood, chest heaving rapidly as he just stared at the floor. 

“I’m going  to show it to them. For the first time since its creation, I’m going to show someone Velaris.” He sunk into his chair, like his legs would no longer support him. I sensed Cassian and Azriel behind me then. I shot them a look that told them to get out and they left as quickly as they had entered. I walked over to my brother and wrapped my arms around him. The sob he let out shook me to my very core and I could only hold him tighter. NO words of encouragement found their way from my throat. 

“I’m sorry for judging you so much over the last weeks.” He said once the sobs had stopped echoing around the room. 

“You were only trying to-”

“I was only being selfish. You made a hard choice and look at me the moment I’m presented with one.” 

“You’re allowed to feel things, Rhys.” A conversation we had had far too many times. He shook his head against my shoulder.

“Not if this is what it does to me. Not if it puts my family in danger.” He sounded so broken and exhausted. 

“You don’t have to do this alone.” My words only made him start sobbing again. And I just held him, not trusting myself to speak as he cried himself out. 

We didn’t speak of the events in his office, that singular moment of weakness from my brother and the others knew better than to ask. The withering glare I had shot Amren when she even attempted to pry served as warning to leave it be. They let it be as the focus quickly turned to the trip to Hewn city. The Veritas orb would be the only way the queens would ever truly believe us. 

So we all prepared. Dressing in finery like it was no different than our fighting leathers. Because in that wretched court they were synonymous. Lipstick akin to war paint and a lethal smile more than just an expression.

I dug in the back of my closet for the ballgowns I reserved only for these occasions. The one I chose for tonight was made of a fabric so black it looked purple. Cut outs at my waist and a neckline that nearly dipped to my navel. Twin slits up the legs that closed right under my hip bone. I left my hair down as I usually did, pinning it to one side of my head. Slipping in my crown I didn’t give myself another glance in the mirror. 

The dress left no room for weapons anywhere on my body but Azriel would be by my side as we searched for the orb. And hopefully he wouldn’t have to even think of using the polished blade that sat on his hip. 

Mor and I arrived first. Winnowing ahead of the others to announce our arrival. There weren't many preparations to be made, the court never one to stop partying. Only stopping enough to sleep or the occasional formal dinner. So Mor and I waited. And waited. Kier grew ever impatient at the lack of my brother's appearance. 

“He’s your high lord, he can come and go whenever he pleases.” My voice the perfect picture of an ice cold princess. Stuck up and full of mirth. He rolled his eyes at me.

“Yes of course, I just wish to go back to my own festivities instead of waiting for him to grace us with his presence.” 

“You will wait as long as he sees fit.” I bared my teeth at him and all he did was give me a wicked smile. I fought to keep my face even, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of riling me. 

Mor was shifting from foot to foot. Looking at her, you would think she was bored, but her tight grip on her arms was the only indication about how uncomfortable she was. Standing in the same room as her father. Neither of them so much as looked at the other. 

“Why don’t you go check on the others. Make sure they remembered we were coming.” I said to Mor, giving her an excuse to leave if only for a few minutes. She didn’t say anything, just gave me a tight nod in appreciation. When she arrived, her face was grim before that mask of indifference snapped back into place. I would have to ask her about it later. 

I almost sighed in relief when I saw my brother, Feyre in tow behind him, walk through the heavy obsidian doors. Kier had already gone back to the main room, my threatening promise of collecting him when my brother appeared. 

“Wait for the others.” Rhys said to me as he brushed by me, steps not faltering as he walked into the throne room. So I waited for Cassian and Azriel. They arrived a few minutes after Rhys had left the room. 

“What happened?” I hissed at them, seeing their glowing siphons. 

“Ambush. We’ll tell you more later.” Azriel said in a clipped voice, shadows whipping around his feet. Clearly agitated. I nodded. 

“You better.” I answered before we all fell into our positions. Azriel on my right and Cassian on my left, me a few paces in front of them. The three of us walked into the throne room. If it wasn’t already silent, the sheer presence of the three of us would have quieted it. As it was, eyes tracked our every move, people all but jumping out of the way of the three of us. Gone were the playful smiles and casual words. Here I was more than just darkness, if Rhys night incarnate and I was something different entirely. The absence of anything, a void. Everyone here had witnessed first hand my powers. The smoke that could incapacitate everyone standing before me, when I had my full powers. Then there was Azriel and Cassian, the wicked spymaster and the bloodthirsty general. 

A path was cleared for us up to the dias where Rhys was standing. Azriel and Cassian knelt at the foot of the marble steps. I joined my brother on the opposite side as Feyre. A feline smile gracing my features as I looked at the kneeling figures of the court. 

“How lovely of you to finally join us.” 

“Call it fashionably late.” Rhys chuckled darkly at my response. With that he walked over to his throne. Pulling Feyre onto his lap. I walked a few paces to stand beside him, my usual position as his sister. I was not expected to kneel for him, instead presenting a unified front. The terrifying high lord and his equally powerful sister. 

I tried to ignore the way Rhys ran his hands all over Feyre. She had already been warned of the role she would have to play while visiting this court. A role she accepted. I admired how bravely she was taking it all. He leaned in to whisper something I tried to tune out. The court is still kneeling, bodies shifting with the strain of the position. As if remembering that they were even there. “Go play.” Was the only acknowledgement he gave them. Dismissing them like they weren’t worth his time anymore. The music began after a few moments. People scramble to do something to distract themselves. 

I walked over to the two warriors as Rhys summoned Kier from his spot near the dias. I fought the urge to hiss at him as he walked by me. I let a small flicker of smoke leak from my hands instead, a threat. He snarled at me and I only let out a low laugh. 

Azriel was already waiting for me. Ready to surround us in darkness to retrieve the orb. We hung by the edge of the room for a little longer, slipping out seamlessly. 

I led the way down the twisting hallways to the vaults that lay hidden underneath Kier’s bedchambers. Azriel needed someone from our bloodline to get in that room, the wards being keyed to our family. We didn’t run into any guards on the way, the wards making it unnecessary.

We entered the cavernous room and began searching. Azriel sent his shadows off through the various tunnels to search ahead of us. We searched through room after room. Silently cursing my extended family for the sheer amount of things they held onto. Jewels and ancient tomes. Records of every dealing of the court of nightmares. I rolled my eyes at the absurd opulence of it all. Azriel’s shadows whipped back to him, wrapping around his shoulders. No doubt whispering of the orbs wearabouts. He grabbed my hand in his as the shadows slunk back to their previous location. The orb was sitting high on a shelf. Out or reach if it wasn’t for Azriel’s wings. He quickly scooped it up and placed it in a bag hidden underneath his leathers. 

We started the walk back to the throne room. The sound of footsteps alerting us of someone else's, several someones, presence. Without thinking, I pulled Azriel’s face close to mine. Bringing a hand up to his face. His hand went to wrap around my waist at the quick movement. 

“Play along.” I whispered to him. I gave a quiet sultry laugh and the footsteps stopped mere feet from us. I jumped back like they had surprised me. Peeling myself off of Azriel. I stepped away, forcing an embarrassed look onto my face. 

The two males only stared at Azriel and I. Taking note of the secluded spot, the space I had abruptly put between us. Predatory smiles graced their faces. 

“Don’t let us ruin your fun.” One said.

“Unless you would rather us join.” The other added. From the lilt of their voices, I could tell they were drunk. Too drunk to realize exactly who they were speaking to like that. I only made a disgusted sound, pulling Azriel behind me as the sound of their laughter echoed through the hallway behind us. 

Azriel and I blended seamlessly into the dancing crowd. The music was slightly more refined than earlier. He didn’t say anything to me as I pulled his hand into mine and put his other hand on my waist. He slowly let his shoulders relax, leaning into me and his footing became more sure. 

It didn’t take long for me to forget why we were doing this, that we had nearly been caught despite his shadows. As I danced with him, I forgot anything but us existed.

The music flowed through me making me feel light as he spun me around the dance floor. I didn’t care about the eyes tracking us across the room. I couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of his hands on my exposed waist. He whispered a joke at something his shadows must have picked up and I threw my head back with laughter. Truthfully I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this good. My mind fully focused on Azriel. 

I prayed to the mother he couldn’t feel the goosebumps that had risen along my skin against his touch. 

He dipped me low and I felt my breath stop. His face an inch from mine. It would be so easy to close that distance and feel his lips against mine. Every part of my brain was screaming at me to do it. His shadows raced around us like they could hear my thoughts. My traitorous body locked up when all I wanted to do was pull him to me. He took in the tension in my body and started to pull away. Panicking at the thought of losing his body heat against mine, I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him back down to me, right as he started to stand me up. I bit back a moan as I felt the plush of his lips collide with mine. 

It was clumsy and rushed but I sucked down breaths full of him, hand still locked on his neck. His hands tightened their hold against me and he groaned my name before he pushed me away. 

“I’m sorry. I…” all the joy had leached out of me as I took in his face. He looked disgusted and before I could say anything else he was weaving through the crowd, leaving me alone on the dance floor. 

My mind was reeling. Lips still tingling in the aftermath. I had dreamed of that kiss for centuries but never could have predicted his reaction. The tears were streaking down my face before I quickly wiped them away, pushing my way through moving bodies. I needed to get out of this room, get out of this stupid dress that had suddenly become too tight to breathe. 

Before I could rip it off in the middle of the throne room, Rhys caught my elbow and was pulling me down to a quiet hallway. I haven't even realized he had left his throne. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” I couldn’t answer with anything other than a sob. He took me into his arms and my skin crawled at the contact. I shrugged out of his hold and could only get out one word. “Mor.” I said her name like the lifeline it was. I saw the conflict in Rhys’ eyes. The need to make me feel better and not leave me alone. But as another sob passed my lips he was all but running away to grab the female I had requested. 

I was hiccuping between sobs by the time Mor arrived. Rhys nowhere in sight, probably returning back to that cruel High Lord facade. I don’t think I could have gotten the words out of what had happened if he was still standing beside me. I choked out the words to her. Recounting what happened and Azriel’s less than enthusiastic reaction. Mor was well aware of my feelings and her eyes shone with sympathy. She held me as I cried it out, tears soaking the fabric on her shoulder. Her hold on me helped to ground me and eventually my tears calmed. I gave her the tightest squeeze I could manage and she held me at arms length, examining my face. Her thumbs came up to wipe under my eyes, coming away with streaks of my makeup sticking to them. My own hands brushed along my face and a sigh of relief followed as I noticed my makeup hadn't smudged too much. No one would be able to know the mess a single kiss had just reduced me to. 

Taking Mors outstretched hand, she pulled me back into the main ballroom, music filling my ears again. The tempo had picked up more turning into something I might hear at Rita’s and definitely something you couldn’t waltz to. Couples had retreated to the sides as the dance floor became a breathing pulse instead of the graceful swell of movement it had been earlier. The pairs that had remained grinding against each other. Mor snagged two flukes of champagne as she pulled us deeper into the dance floor. I knocked mine back as quickly as I could and resolved to block out all the thoughts that were racing around in my head. So I danced with Mor until my brow was covered in sweat, my skin glistening at the rising temperature of the entire room. We ignored all the disgruntled looks aimed our way. Not caring if they heard our laughter for once. 

We both laughed as we found our way to the edge of the crowd again, grabbing more champagne. We both hung back catching our breath together and I let out a heavy sigh as I emptied the glass. I spotted the shadows from across the room and all but slammed the glass onto the table behind me. 

“I’m leaving.” Was all I said to Mor as I stalked away. She didn’t try to stop me, only grabbed my arm to winnow me back to Velaris. She didn’t linger. Returning just as swiftly as we had arrived. 

I just made it back to my room before the tears started anew. Ripping the pins out of my hair and peeling the beautiful dress off my shaking frame, I didn’t make it to my bed before I sunk down to my feet. Pulling my knees close to my chest I let the tears come. 

He was allowed to not return my feelings but in those moments on the dance floor that kiss had felt so real. The way I effortlessly fit against him or the laughter that flowed freely from me. It all felt so right and to see that look on his face. It broke some part of me I had been holding onto for so long now. That small dream that he could for some reason ever return my sentiments. That he would ever see me as anything as Rhys’ sister. 

I eventually was able to pull myself into bed and curl myself into a ball. Tears lulling me off to sleep. I must have dreamt that night because I swore I felt those familiar shadows glide over my skin but by the time I opened my eyes they were gone. 

I managed to pull myself out of bed the next morning. Pushing the stinging rejection to some deep part of me. There’s a war at our doorsteps and you’re crying over a kiss. I reminded myself to stop being so pathetic as I walked down the stairs to the kitchen. I was the last to arrive apparently. 

“You disappeared rather quickly last night.” Cassian said to me, tone teasing but laced with questions. 

“We got the orb, and I no longer wanted to be there.” I shrugged. Pointedly ignoring the gaze of the shadowslinger I could feel burning a hole in the side of my head. I didn’t talk to him all morning, suddenly finding someone calling my name when he tried to speak to me. It was childish, sure, but I didn’t have it in me to discuss it without breaking down in front of him. As it was, I could barely make eye contact with him. My lips tingled every time I look at him. A feeling that I imagine must be similar to being struck by lighting erupted over my skin. I couldn’t be in the same room as him. Lucky for me, Rhys had called me into his study to go over the events of last night. What that would mean for our upcoming trip to the queens.

I was so out of it that I didn’t even notice that Rhys had stopped talking. 

“What happened to you last night?” Rhys asked in a soft voice. I shook my head. If I started talking about it I wouldn’t be able to stop. Rhys would know everything.

“Weren’t you just the one telling me you don’t have to do this by yourself. Gods just let me help you.” 

“You can’t fix this, Rhys.”

“Why not?”

“Azriel kissed me.” He tensed at my rushed words. 

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was cold as death. I shook my head.

“Not the way you mean.” He tapped his hand impatiently against his desk, waiting for more of an explanation. So I sighed and told him everything. 

“How long have you been in love with him?” He asked when I finally finished my story. 

“I’m not-” His pointed stare made me wither. “Only a few years after you became high lord.” I admitted. He had the audacity to laugh. 

“Cassian and I called it.” I gaped at him.

“Not out loud or anything but we always assumed.” 

“That’s all you have to say about this?”

“You’re an adult. He’s an adult.” 

“So you have no idea why he reacted that way.” He looked sheepish at my question. Hands going to pick at an invisible piece of lint. “Rhysand.” He flinched as I said his full name. 

“No. I have no idea.” He threw his hands up in the air before he said “Have you tried, I don’t know, talking to him yourself?”

It was my turn to look sheepish. 

“That explains why you’ve been avoiding him all morning then.” A smile playing at the edge of his lips.

“And I’m sure you were whispering all about the mating bond in Feyre’s ear last night?” I returned. 

“Touche.” 

“Who would have guessed, the two scariest fae in all of Pyrthian and we run with our tails between our legs at the thought of a romantic relationship.” 

“Pathetic truly.”

“If only they could see us now.” I joked back. 

I felt better after my talk with Rhys, lighter even. It was nice to have him know even if it meant I would have to endure his teasing at times. Azriel said nothing about my change in mood as I finally acknowledged him, Rhys making a lewd gesture behind the spymaster. I fought to keep my laugh down. Azriel looked behind his shoulder to find a perfectly still Rhys, his head turned back to me and then to Rhys again, like he might catch him if he moved fast enough. 

“We should-” He started before I held up a hand.

“Not necessary. I got the message loud and clear.” He deflated ever so slightly at my words and didn’t say anything else. So I carried on about my day as usual, until it was time to get dressed for tonight.

The gown I wore tonight was vastly different from the one I wore to Hewn city. This was a silver, tiered dress. Ruffles formed to look like butterfly wings and encrusted with gems on the edges. The neckline was far more modest than my other dress, swooping gently right under my collar bone. I couldn’t help but twirl in the mirror. Giggling at the rainbows the clear gems threw across the ceiling. It truly was a gorgeous dress. One I had custom made from one of the shops in Velaris. 

I didn’t wait for any of the others to join me. I had gotten ready at the house of wind so I could join the festivities the moment I was ready. Too excited to waste one minute with Mor fussing about her hair. I stood on the balcony, eyes already searching for those little flickers of starlight. 

“You look beautiful.” A voice behind me said, making me jump. I haven't heard Azriel approaching behind me. He stood beside me by the railing, leaning on his elbows. It was peaceful, standing next to him with the wind brushing against my skin. The events from last night eddying out of my mind with him so close to me. 

“I missed this.” I nearly whispered to him. Looking out at the lights of the city I loved. Hearing the laughs and joyous shouts of everyone above us. It was all too much and not enough, the thought of it bringing happy tears to my eyes. Tears that I felt scared hands wipe away before I could. “I’m sorry. I just… I never thought I would see this again.” His eyes filled with a deep sadness. Before he could open his mouth to speak again, Mor called my name. Rushing over she put a glass of champagne in my hand, pulling me upstairs with the other. Azriel trailed behind us. 

I looked over my shoulder and gave him a soft smile that he returned. Cassian was waiting for all of us, talking to some pretty female that was batting her eyelashes at him. He didn’t give her a second glance when he spotted us approaching, the female calling his name as he retreated from her side. I could have laughed at the look she gave all of us but I didn’t have time to think about it as Cassian swept me into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Look at you all dolled up, princess.” Cassian said as he held me at arms length. 

“Couldn’t have you upstage me” I winked at him which only made him throw his head back with laughter. I joined in and felt a weight uncurl from my shoulders. 

“Come on.” Mor said as the music started to pick up. The telltale sign that the best part was just ahead. My eyes searched the crowd for my brother. I wanted to share this moment with him. I caught the outline of wings on the balcony above us. Tucked away enough that I really had to search for him. I saw the sparkle of Feyre’s dress and a warm smile plastered itself to my face. His arm was wrapped around her waist. I looked away, giving them their privacy. 

No sooner had I looked back to the sky did I see the faint trails of light beginning to fill it. First one, then a few more, then the sky was full of the brightly colored trails. Bits of stardust landed in the river below us, covering the surface with their glittering color. Mor grabbed my hand, pulling me into a uneleagant dance. Cassian and Azriel joined in a few moments later. The four of us not caring about the moves we made, simply soaking up each other's company. Azriel wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his side and I felt my heart skip a beat. Mind instantly going back to our dance at the court of nightmares. He shot me an almost apologetic smile that told me he was thinking the same thing. I shrugged at him. Nothing to apologize for. He kissed me and I kissed him back. Simple as that. It didn’t have to mean anything, nothing more than the heat of the moment decision. As much as it hadn’t been that for me, as much as it stung to know that’s all he saw it as.

 Shaking the thoughts away, I grabbed his arm and swayed gently to the beat. Cassian and Mor devolved into a dance that was more jumping than dancing. They wrapped their arms around each other howling with laughter. 

I felt the glittering substance hit my arm. Looking down to inspect it, I noticed Azriel’s wings sporting their own splatters. It took every ounce of brain power I possessed not to reach up and brush it off of those beautiful wings. Instead I dipped a finger through the dust on my arm and wiped a streak over Azriel’s cheek. He stared at me in disbelief before a booming laugh left him. The sound warmed my heart. He laughed like this so rarely, truly carefree. It seemed so natural to lean in and rest my head against his chest. His arms wrapped around me as we just stood in each other's embrace. I tilted my head up so  I could see his hazel eyes already looking down at me.

“Azriel I…”

He let me go when Mor cried out my name, cutting off my words.

“You’re not nearly drunk enough.” She said pulling my arm to the table holding the full glasses. I turned to look at Azriel but he seemed to have disappeared already. His shadow trailing across my shoulder being the only indicator he had even been there. 

Mor and I stayed on the rooftop until the sun started peaking over the horizon. Coloring the Sidra a beautiful pink and orange. Sighing heavily as the lingering effects of the alcohol had started to wear off finally, leaving nothing but exhaustion in their wake. Mor simply grabbed my arm and winnowed us back to the house. 

Cassian and Azriel were asleep on the couches. A bottle of whiskey sitting empty on the table between them. They wouldn’t wake up until later in the afternoon. I threw blankets over both of them and started heading to my own room. I didn’t stay up long enough to bathe nor did I peel myself out of my dress. Suddenly too exhausted to even keep my eyes open. 

I woke up sometime in the late afternoon. Rhys all but pulled me out of bed.

“We're leaving soon.” That woke me up. With a curse I stumbled over myself to get to the bathing room. I took a hasty bath, washing away the remaining stardust that was stuck to my skin. I braided my hair and dressed in my Illyrian leather. Daggers slid into their place on my thigh. I strapped my sword to my back and was down to meet the others in less than thirty minutes. Rhys gave me an approving nod. 

Going to Windhaven never got any easier. I had no love for my old home. It was only a blessing from the cauldron that I haven't been born with wings. The cruelty I faced growing up was enough. The shudder that racked through me had nothing to do with the cold. 

I ignored the sneers from passing by males. Azriel and Cassian tight by my side serving as a buffer for the nasty comments that were usually thrown my way. Feyre was silent beside me, taking in the sights around her. 

We walked until Lord Devlon walked in front of us. A brutish male that was one of the few people in this world I can say I truly hated. Mor snarled at the mention of the girls they were supposed to be training. 

“And why aren’t the males helping them with the chores?” I dared to ask him. He looked at me like I was no more than a speck of dirt on his leathers. 

Before Devlon could grace me with a response Rhys cut him off. The demanding voice of a high lord telling him to clear out our old house. The tone even Devlon couldn’t argue with. 

Rhys, Feyre and I stood in the clearing. Time and time again she reached her power out, getting stronger each time. I practiced along with her. She stood in awe of the mist that poured out of my hands, getting thicker each time until it hugged the ground like fog. 

“When did you meet Tamlin?” Feyre asked after a string of questions about Illyria. Rhys and I both stiffened. The mist instantly retreated back into my hands. 

“Show me something impressive and I’ll tell you.” She rolled her eyes but did it anyway. Holding out her hand she conjured a butterfly out of the water in the snow. It was very impressive. 

“I’ve known Tamlin since he was young. The more decent children of the high lords at the time. Definitely better than Berons bunch.” He almost shivered and I willed the earth to swallow me whole. “And significantly better than his brothers, who knew from the moment Tamlin was born he would be high lord. He was the lesser of the evils so I decided it would be better if we were friends… I don’t know why but I even taught him some illyrian techniques.” 

“Did anyone know?” He shook his head. I blanched at the thought of how angry our father would have been had he known about Rhys and Tamlin’s friendship. Rhys looked to me, knowing the next part of the story was mine to tell. I just nodded at him, giving him permission to say the words I couldn’t. 

“When my father got wind of our friendship… for lack of a better term. He decided it was time for the two courts to align themselves more. And that’s where this gets even more complicated.” He trailed off, once again looking at me. 

“Why?” Feyre pressed on and I wish she hadn’t , wish she would have let it go at that. 

“Because the only way to join the courts in any way my father deemed worthy was to marry them together. Literally.” Feyre’s eyes went wide and her gaze landed on me. I couldn’t meet her eyes. Shame rising up, tightening my throat. Rhys continued. 

“We all saw the power that Tamlin had, the power that marked him as the next High Lord of spring. And without any sisters for me to get paired off to, that left one option.” He shrugged over at me. 

“What happened? I mean, I’m assuming you never…never went through with it.” I took a deep breath, willing my voice to work. 

“I moved to the spring court, I tried to fight it but my father would absolutely not hear it. Every plea fell on deaf ears. So I went because I had to,” my hands were shaking as I pulled up the memories. “It wasn’t so bad. Tamlin was different back then, sweeter, less guarded. At least when he wasn’t around his father. We became friends over time. But the closer we grew, the more protective he got over me.” She nodded, understanding the feeling. “Eventually it became a little more. He fell faster than I did, I never really saw him as more than a close friend but we were supposed to be married so I played along. Wishing every day that I could return his sentiments. Calanmi came that next year and he sought me out.” She paled at my words, her hand rubbing absentmindedly at her neck. I quickly added. “It wasn’t horrific by any stretch of the imagination. If I had said no, regardless of the magic, he wouldn’t have done it. Would have stopped. But that was when everything shifted for him. I couldn’t go out to the gardens without having his sentinels on my tail. Was damn near confined to only the house. Lucien wasn’t around as much then, still fairly new to the court. And of course, his father was watching our every move. Gauging the relationship as it progressed. Watched as I withered away under Tamlin’s overbearing protection.” I couldn’t stop the words as they flowed out of my mouth. 

“I pushed back as much as I could. I was constantly sneaking out which only made him more overbearing. We fought more than we didn’t. Both of us said and did horrible things to each other. I knew I couldn’t live like that forever. Couldn’t continue to suffer just because my father had some grand plan.” I finally met Feyre’s eyes and I almost flinched at the understanding in them. Of course she would get it. Her own experience was not too different from mine. She nodded at me, a sign to keep going. 

“So I started planning how to get back home. I couldn’t just winnow away in the dead of night. I knew he would come looking for me. I knew he wouldn’t let me go that easily. I had to break whatever love he thought he held for me, I had to make him let me go willingly. It wasn’t peaceful by any means. I went too far one day in an argument and for the first time ever he lost control.” I pulled up the arm to my jacket, letting the glamor fall away on the three angry claw marks that I never let heal. A reminder of just how destructive both of our tempers had gotten. 

“Why do you seem so calm about this, why didn’t you let me know…I would have-” Her skin was rippling with darkness. Fire flickering from her palms. 

“Would have what, Feyre? You were willing to die for him. I couldn’t take that away from you. I wanted to believe he could change, that he would be better to you. But that is simply how he loves.” I took a steading breath. “I said we both did some terrible things to each other and I stand by that. He’s a villain in my story as much as I am in his.” 

“We simply didn’t want to think we were trying to turn you against him” Rhys echoed. 

Rhys reached for her as she was already walking towards him. My ears barely picked up the whispered words. 

“I want to paint you.”

“Nude would be best” I rolled my eyes as Rhys reached to winnow me with them. 

I was able to catch up with Mor and Cassian as they surveyed the newest girls in training. Most of them were too scared to even pick up a sword, their eyes not moving from worriedly staring at Cassian. Signing, I stepped up in front of him. 

“Magic or no magic?” He asked, raising a challenging eyebrow to me. 

“Magic.” That gave him full permission to use his siphons. That was one department where I needed the practice as much as he did. I tried to pull all my focus on that kernel inside me. The smoke curled out from me before it retreated the moment I moved towards Cassian.

“Try harder.” He growled at me. And I did. I’d been able to coat the ground in the black fog. Cassian stepping to avoid it, but it followed him like a serpent. Twisting and curling around him. It was easier this time. More like trying to pull it through murky water as opposed to a brick wall. Something had changed since this afternoon. It was easier to hold onto it, and didn't leave me as breathless as before. It took a few more tries but I was even able to move around, the fog still staying on the ground. When we were done, I noticed Mor was coaching three of the girls who had been brave enough to pick up swords. I smiled at Cassian as we both watched her. It wasn’t much but it was progress. Slow progress but a start. 

All of us sat around the fire that night. Gathering as close as we could, trying to gain any sort of warmth from it. Feyre looked like her hands might just fall off, not built for or used to the frigid temperatures the night brought with it. We sat absently chatting as we all ate. Mor was going to Hewn city in the morning and Azriel had already left to scout out the human lands. I wasn’t happy with the idea of him going alone but he waved off my concern, promising me he would be safe. Mor, true to her word, left before the sun had even risen the next morning. Grumbling my good bye to her through sleep filled eyes. 

Rhys had convinced me to train with him and Feyre again. Impressed by the progress both of us had made so far. Feyre and I traveled further back into the clearing, putting space between her and my brother. I didn’t ever ask him what exactly had happened during starfall but the tension between the two was palpable and I didn’t blame her for needing space. As much as I hated being away from Azriel, the distance was nice. I felt like I was suddenly unable to think clearly around the shadowslinger. Thoughts more often than not drifting towards the memory of his lips on mine, his hands around my waist. 

A voice I recognized called out Feyre’s name. And to my horror it was not my brother but Lucien standing in the middle of the clearing. 

I stood by, ready to use my powers at the first sign from Feyre. Lucien and the wraiths at his side had yet to notice me. 

I hung onto every word of their exchange. Someone tipped us off that you had been here. Rage boiled my blood. Devlon no doubt being that someone. I took a step forward as Feyre stepped back. 

“Tamlin hasn’t been himself. We’ll take you back-

“Touch her and I kill you.” There was no warmth in my voice for my old friend. Lucien spun around so he was facing me. Giving Feyre time to put space between the two of them. He stared at me, mouth gaping. Smoke was already swirling around my feet. It would take nothing for me to reach out and get Feyre out of here. But this was her battle to fight. I wouldn’t make that choice for her. I felt my self control start to slip as he opened his mouth again.

“Of course. What poison have you been spewing into her ears?” He spit at me. 

“Don’t make this about me.” I spit back so harsh, he flinched. A twig snapping had Lucien whipping back to face Feyre. 

“Let’s go home.” He said as he reached out a hand. I reached for my dagger, wondering if I would be fast enough to sever it from his body if he reached any closer for her. 

“That stopped being my home the moment you let him lock me away inside.” She spoke, quiet as death. He at least had the decency to look ashamed. 

“He made a mistake. He’s sorry, we’re both sorry.” I couldn’t help the scoff that left my mouth. He only ripped his gaze on her away for a second. 

“All this time and you can’t come up with better excuses, Lucien?” I goaded him, “Will he change? Will he be better if she just gives him time?” I felt the fog thin out by my feet. I didn’t pay it any mind. 

I lunged forward the same time Lucien did. A shout leaving my mouth. But his hands found nothing. Feyre was now standing behind him with Rhys at her side. I didn’t let myself relax. 

“Didn’t your mother tell you what the word no means?” Lucien did nothing by spit at my brother's feet. But it was that one word from his mouth.Whoring prick. That had me lunging for him. A firm arm across my chest from Rhys was the only thing holding me back. 

“You made your point Feyre-now come home.” He reached his hand out again but feyre only stepped back. 

“You gave up on me.” The way she spoke those words hit me like a punch in the gut. Lucien’s eyes flickered over to me. No doubt remembering me saying similar things. I was suddenly very far away until I saw those beautiful IIlryian wings peek over her shoulder. Lucien to his credit did not fall as he stumbled back. 

“What did they do to you?” Horror laced his words. Good. 

“Tell Tamlin I won’t be coming back. That if he sends anyone for me, I’ll show him exactly what we do to those who wander into our court.” I felt no sympathy at the hurt that washed over Lucien's face. 

“You’re dead. You and everyone in your court.” He was gone before I had the chance to lunge at him. 

“Scheming prick. Stupid, overconfident bastard.” I kept shouting, kicking the snow around me. I had half a mind to go track him down at the spring court and finish the job I should have done a long time ago. It wasn’t truly Lucien I was mad at, no he was simply the messenger. Once again trying to clean up Tamlins messes. It was either that or have no court to call home. Anger flared through me at the thought. How Tamlin took advantage of Lucien’s situation and turned him into nothing more than a mindless crony. I didn’t pay attention to the words Rhys and Feyre spoke around me. Didn’t even notice Cassian flying in beside me until he gave my arm a small shake. I ripped it out of his hold without even thinking, letting loose a snarl. He spoke my name, reminding me of where exactly I was.

“You’re all safe. Come back with me.” He said, moving closer to me again. I felt the tears already sliding down my face as he scooped me into his arms. 

I hardly moved for the rest of the night. The shivers that ran through me had nothing to do with the cold. Azriel was still hunting for lingering signs of Lucien or the spring court so that left Cassian to deal with me. Something he was not known to be the best at, despite his best efforts. 

I sat with him until Mor came to collect us both, whatever business she had in Hewn city officially ended. 

She sat with me all night. Both of us curled up against each other as we slept. 

Rhys and Feyre were supposed to be back later in the day so we all waited around for them. Hour after hour past and not a word from them. Azriel had left once again when we told him as much. He returned an hour later. 

“Nothing?” I asked him. He slammed his sword down on the table. 

“Not a damn thing.” He huffed, storming to one of the rooms in the back of the house. 

It was almost nightfall and I had been pacing back and forth across the living room of the small house when I heard a noise from outside. All of us were on our feet, rushing outside before we could think better of it. 

The sigh of relief that left me quickly turned into a gasp as I saw Rhys fall to his knees. Cassian and Azriel were on their side of him instantly. Feyre was still standing, in perfect shape actually. Good enough that she was able to march right past me and into the house. The two Illyrian warriors all but dragged Rhys into the house before leaving to go collect Majda. Feyre or Mor were nowhere to be seen.

Rhys’ eyes opened slightly and he only called out Feyre’s name. I shushed him, dabbing a wet washcloth over his head, he was burning hot. Majda came and confirmed what I already knew. Poison. Faebane. 

“He’s healing so he’ll need to just sleep it off,” she rose from beside his bed. “His mate's blood very well might have saved his life. He’ll recover in a day or two.” Her words caught me off guard. His mate. If Feyre knew her blood could heal him…Shit. Casssian and Azriel must have made the connection at the same time I did because when we heard Mor enter the house again, we all ran to find her in the living room. 

We pulled out a bottle of good wine as she confirmed what we had already thought. Feyre knew, no she doesn’t seem happy. No I won’t tell you idiots where she is. Of course, we could find her on our own if need be but it was the idea behind it. Mor only shared the more intimate details with me. Shooing the males out of the room. “Go take care of Rhys if you care that much. He’ll tell you himself.” They both stomped off in a way that reminded me of toddlers, walking into Rhys room. Mor rushed the words out. Feyre was fine overall, just pissed at him at all of us for keeping something this big a secret. I didn’t blame her one bit but it still stung a little that she was mad at all of us. Did she know how much we had been begging Rhys to tell her? 

Rhys woke up in the middle of the next day. He winced as I slammed the door

“How did she find out?” 

“Hello to you too. No, how nice to see you Rhysand, I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“How did she find out?” I asked again. He sat up a little more, wincing slightly

“She trapped the Suriel.” I balked at him. “It seems it’s not the first time she's done it either.” 

Feyre had trapped the Suriel… that could mean. I didn’t want to get my hopes up but I was already on my feet. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Stay out of it, Rhys.” I closed the door a little softer. It took me practically getting on my knees, begging, to convince Mor to take me to the house she tucked Feyre away in. She only agreed when I promised I wouldn’t mention my brother. She needed to bring Feyre more food anyways.

I stood outside the door, feeling very stupid as I held a basket full of food for her.“If you’re asking me to forgive him, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Feyre had only opened the door an inch

“I need you to tell me how to catch the Suriel.” She opened the door wider

“Why do you want to know?” She motioned me into the house and I looked around wildly. The smell of fresh paint lingered in the air and covered her skin. 

“I have something I need to ask. Please. I know you don’t owe me anything, especially right now. But please.” 

I stood in the middle of a clearing, new cloak in hand. My hands had frozen on the walk over but I had to talk to the Suriel. I knew it was around here, if it had talked to Feyre only the night before. The snare I made was sloppy at best. But I prayed to the mother it would work. 

The scream that echoed through the clearing had me running towards the sound, crossing my fingers. 

It had indeed worked. The Suriel had my velvet cloak in its hands.It thrashed violently as I approached, suddenly;y going still as it sensed my presence. 

“ Let me down before I gut you.” 

“I have a question first.” Hollow eyes looked at me, pinning me in place. 

“You seek answers about your curse?” 

“How do I get rid of it?” 

“You already know how. The very thing that the wicked queen knew you would never do.”

“Stop the games. Tell me.” I was shouting, hands shaking. 

“Forgiveness. Forgive the one you hate the most.”

I flinched like the Suriel had burned me. The words swam around my head. I vaguely realized I was shaking my head. 

“That can’t be it.” I pleaded. 

“I am many things, but a liar is not one of them.” I felt the angry tears starting to trail down my face. “Now let me go. I only have so much patience for meddling fae today.” I pulled out one of my jeweled daggers, slicing the rope that held the Suriel’s ankle. As the figure retreated, I sank down to my knees. Forgive the one you hate the most. 

It was a rare occurance to be summoned to her private chambers. Attors on either side of me, ready to strike at the first sign of push back. They unceremoniously threw me into the center of the room, pushing me to my knees in front of the red headed female. 

“Leave us.” She said in a voice that turned my stomach. I dared to raise my eyes off the ground. Rhys was perched in a soft looking chaise, he didn’t hold my eyes for long. The Attors shuffled out of the room but I knew they lingered in the hallway. 

“I hear you’ve been causing trouble again, princess.” It was all I could do not to flinch at the way she said that name. The name my family had called me for centuries. A defiled, twisted rendition of the sign of my family's love. “Well, I have a surprise for you.” Her voice dripped with a wicked delight. From somewhere in the room a noise drew my attention. I completely froze as I saw Tamlin being led out in chains. Even Rhys momentarily broke his mask to glare at him. Amarantha smiled at me as she walked over to him. She squeezed his cheeks in an overly familiar way. “Doesn’t he look good like this?” She laughs at my lack of response, pushing him away from her. He didn’t try to hide his stumble. “No groveling at his feet then? No apologies for the mess you got him into?” 

“That’s no-” An invisible hand around my throat cut off the words. Rhys’ eyes flickered to mine, an apology lingering in his violet stare. 

“Did I say you could speak?” She released her magic and I nearly fell to the ground, sucking in painful gulps of air. She stalked towards me, stopping inches from me. Her hand went out to cup under my chin, forcing me to look her in the eye. “Maybe if you hadn't broken his heart, he would have accepted my offer the first time.” I bared my teeth at her and she gave a sharp cold laugh. 

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Are you sure there’s no kind words for our little High Lord over here?”  I just held her gaze. Not wavering as I saw the fury in my lack of response, my lack of fighting. “Pity. Where’s that sharp tongue of yours now?” She pushed me, I landed on my back. I didn’t even cry out, too familiar with this treatment from her. 

“You’ve made your point.” Rhys said in a bored voice from his seated position. She only gave him a low growl. 

“You’re no fun.” She cooed at Rhys. The same voice you would use on a babe. Despite my best efforts, trails of black smoke so thick it looked like ink left my fingers. Another invisible force collided with my body and my power retreated back to me, my chest feeling like someone had poured ice water into my veins. Before I could even attempt to try again, she lifted me onto my feet by my hair. “As much as I’d love to see you try, I’m bored with you already.” She yanked my head back before releasing her hold on me. “Tamlin, any words of goodbye?” Forest green eyes met mine. After all that I endured in this hell, I had never felt as small as I did now. That simple glare, so full of hatred, reducing me to that same afraid girl I had once been. Tamlin didn’t speak. Neither did I. 

“Shame. You’ll wish you would have said something soon enough.” I didn’t have time to think over her words as the cold hands of the Attor wrapped around my arm, hauling me back to my room. Didn’t make the connection between that slam in my chest with the trickle of power that I was left with. 

It was right there. Amarantha was never one to just give you information. Just like that riddle that had saved us all. Everything had been a game to her, why would this have been any different? But there had to be another way. Thinking back to my encounter with Lucien recently, there was no way in hell I was forgiving any of them any time soon. I would talk to Helion. Go by myself if need be. Because it was going to be a cold day in Hel before I ever forgive Tamlin. 

I called out for Rhys. For anyone to come and get me. It was at least a day's journey on foot back to the boundary line outside of Windhaven. I sat by and no one came after me. I reached deep within myself and imagined the space I wanted to go to. I didn’t even make it half way before I popped back into the cold clearing, panting. I tried again and it was like I was reaching through brick again. My powers boarded up behind walls I could not break through. I kicked at the snow, cursing. I tried one last time, crying out when nothing happened. So I began to walk back, hoping when I got close enough Rhys would hear me screaming for him in my head. It wasn’t Rhys that came to get me. Instead, Mor appeared beside me. 

“Where have you been?” She said when she spied me, half frozen from the wind. 

“Later.” Was all I could get out, I was bone tired. 

“You all really need to get your shit together.” She grumbled under her breath as she winnowed us back to the house. Don’t I know it.

Rhys had gone to apologize to Feyre, and had not been back since. We could only hope that meant all was well, or that she had at least hid the body herself. 

Rhys and Feyre returned the next day. They didn’t even attempt to hide the smell of the bond, and as happy as I was for my brother I gave him a wide berth. Cassian on the other hand only saw the tension in Rhys shoulders, the way his eyes were drifting between Feyre and every other movement around him. 

“Anytime you want a real ride, Feyre, let me know.” As if his words weren’t enough, the wink he sent Feyre had Rhys lunging for him. I had to quickly side step out of the way to avoid being hit by flailing wings. Ushering Feyre into the house I muttered loud enough for her to hear, “Big Illyrian babies.” 

They fought for an hour and despite being covered in blood, Feyre sent Rhys a look that the rest of us could not run away from fast enough. Mor winnowed the two of us to the house of wind. Azriel was already there, wings tucked in tight as he looked out the large window overlooking Velaris. I snuck up behind him, a rare achievement to make the spymaster jump when I placed a hand on his shoulder. The others slowly trickled into the room as we all waited for Feyre and Rhys to join us. 

The sun was just starting to touch the water when we heard them enter. One by one we stood in front of Feyre before giving a low bow, hands on our hearts in an ancient gesture of respect. One she had more than earned. I couldn’t help but smile at my brother's joy, it radiated off of him in waves so strong I swore I could reach out and grab them. The joy of finally having Feyre by his side. Rhys’ eyes followed my hand as I rubbed a small circle into my chest, separate from the sign we had given Feyre. The tension eased slightly.  Rhys quickly looked away before I could ask him why he was staring so intently on me. 

The human world was just as I remembered it. Despite seeing it less than a month ago, I still gawked as we approached Feyre’s family home. I knew she never lived in this particular estate but the idea that Tamlin made this possible for them thawed my heart just a fraction. Forgive the one you hate the most. I haven't gotten the chance to talk to my brother, or anyone, about what Suriel had told me. Everyone too caught up in Rhys and the Queens we were sitting in front of. 

I sat in stunned silence at the vipers in crowns in front of us. The queens I had met before would laugh if they heard these were their predecessors. 

Mor opened the box in front of her and I had to sit on my hands to stop the urge to knock it out of her hands and destroy the orb. Azriel’s hand on my shoulder did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside of me. We all took a collective breath as the bright lights of Velaris filled the orb.

“This is Velaris,” My brother started and I felt his heart shatter in front of me. “For five thousand years, we have kept it a secret from outsiders. This is what I have fought so hard to protect. The cruelty you believe I possess to protect this city, my people. Dreamers and creators and good people with families. People that have never known strife or violence. All of what I have gone through over the centuries was to protect them.” I couldn’t stop the sniffle that left me and I desperately tried to blink back the tears rimming in my eyes. 

“We will..consider this information.” Mor snarled beside me. I felt like the eldest queen had punched me in the stomach. I went to stand but Nesta beat me to it. 

“Give.Them.The.Book” I didn’t discount the single tear streaking down her own face. 

“No.” A word so final I couldn’t breathe. 

“We appreciate the gesture of your trust.” But I could not look away from the way Cassian stood next to Nesta. The calm he emitted from standing so close to her. When I looked back the queens were gone. 

I looked to my brother, head reeling at the events that had just happened. We fulfilled our end of the bargain. Screaming, manipulative-

In Rhys’ hand sat a box, a box not unlike the one Feyre had struggled to open when we returned from the summer court. A surprised noise left my mouth and Azriel tightened his hand on my shoulder, rubbing small comforting circles. 

Nesta and Elain chose to stay in the mortal lands. The sisters are staying in their family home. The last thing I heard before we left was Nesta whispering to Feyre. That’s why you painted stars on your drawer. 

There was no celebration when we arrived back in Velaris. No sense of triumph as we handed the book to Amren. We had gotten what we needed but at what cost. To Rhys, to my family, it had cost everything. All that he suffered during the war, from my father, from the Illyrian soldiers that looked down on him so much. All that he suffered under the mountain, from Amarantha, all the horrible things we had done together. All of it was sacrificed to the wicked queens who still did not know we possessed the book. Queens who would gladly sit back and watch Prythian and their world be destroyed. 

Rhys and Mor went to the Court of Nightmares the next morning, to return what we had stolen before Kier noticed. Azriel and Cassian pulled me into my study to go over the map, planning for the inevitable war. We added more pins to the maps, adjusting the Illryians to their new location scattered across the mountain ranges. Added the black pins for the warriors we prayed Kier would grant us. I don’t know how long we stayed in that room, Cassian and Azriel periodically doing a lap of the house and its perimeter to watch for anyone who would want to hurt Feyre. Overgrown guard dogs. But I found that even I was keeping a more watchful ear out for any sign of trouble, a light cover of fog I kept over my hands like gloves, ready to attack at a moment's notice. 

The next day, Azriel pulled me from the map to accompany him on patrol. Leaving Cassian the great pleasure of entertaining Feyre until Rhys’ return later today. The city held an eerie silence today despite the citizens going about their usual routines. It wasn’t much later than that thought crossed my mind that I felt the ground beneath my feet quake. My head whipped to Azriel who had gone as still as a statue, his shadows scattering out from him searching for the source of the sound. 

“Azriel?” I questioned, looking around the area for any threat. And then I followed his eye line. Eyes turned to the once clear midafternoon sky, now tinged in clouds of darkness. They were moving far too fast to be only storm clouds. 

“Get Amren and Cassian, now” I choked out. Azriel’s arms were around me instantly, taking off into the sky. Feyre and Cassian had gone to the amphitheater on the other side of the city, hopefully they weren’t far from there. A red light filled the sky, a homing beacon to where we would find Cassian. Quake after quake filled the ground as those creatures tore through the shield around the city. They reverberated through the air, Azriel only held onto me tighter.  

Cassian was shooting through the sky and I felt the ground beneath my feet. Azriel stayed long enough to hear me cry out to him, “Be safe.” He was gone. And I was running towards the direction I had seen Cassian fly in from. Screaming filled the air and I reached for the sword on my back, daggers left forgotten on my hip. I gave tentative push of my power and could have cried in relief at the cloud that pushed out from me, however thin it was. I pulled my earlier thought from my mind, the twinge of something I felt as I had looked at Feyre’s home in the human lands, the physical proof of Tamlin taking care of them, I focused all my spare energy onto that single kindness and I watched the fog grow thicker, curling around me in a way that was so familiar.

 I clutched at that feeling as I heard the screams around me grow louder. I could not run fast enough to stop the swarm of Attor like creatures that flooded the streets. I thought of Elain’s sweet face and Nestas beautiful dresses and willed my power to wrap around the creatures in front of me. If they could see me, they didn’t let it show. The only sign I had that my power had worked against them was the choked screams they let out. My sword tinged with their blood as I ran it clean through them. I pulled that black smoke into me, panting as I forced my legs to run ever faster. Reaching out for something deeper, I visualized the next swarm of them I could see and I felt the familiar pressure as I appeared in the middle of them. Shooting my power out with a force I didn’t recognize, I made quick work of them. They didn’t even get the chance to scream this time. I couldn’t focus on the blood that now stained my blade and face. Could only think of the distance between me and the bright pops of red and blue in the sky, the water I could hear roaring just ahead of me. If I had looked up I would have seen the pack of water wolves Feyre was using to chase them from the city streets and back into the air. 

The tremble that took my feet out from under me was one that did not scare me. Rhys had arrived and his rage took out half of their forces. His power filled the air with a metallic scent and I did my best not to think about what the dusting of red was as it covered my skin. A second roar, far stronger than the first one spurred me on. I did not fear the darkness that slipped over my eyes, those stars and nothing short of pure night. When I could finally make out shapes again, I saw the outline of wings, not those gnarled and bony wings of the creatures attacking us, but Illyiran wings, claws fully extended. I didn’t think as I barreled towards the shape. Didn’t think as I launched myself into Azriel’s chest. His arms came to wrap around my waist, pulling me so tight to him I struggled to breath but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I gulped down whatever breath I could, filling my lungs with the scent of him. Heart hammering in time with his own wild heartbeat. The screaming had stopped, leaving only a horrifying silence in their wake. I did not let go of Azriel as he winnowed us back to the townhouse. 

All of us were sitting in the living room of the house in various states of disarray. Mor’s hair was caked with dirt and flecks of blood, her eyes starting to flutter shut. Feyre was curled up next to her also looking like she was ready to fall asleep any moment. 

I could see the gears in Cassian's head spinning. The general already thinking about what this means for the greater battles ahead. Obviously, the queens had sold us out to Hybern. Our home had been used as a bargaining chip and it had bit us in the ass. 

My eyes flickered over to Rhys and I could tell his thoughts were in a similar spot. It wasn’t your fault. I said into his head. He flinched, a disgusted look replacing the grief for a brief second. I told them where the city was, I gave them the information freely and for the first time in centuries an outsider knows about the city and then we get attacked. How is that not my fault sister? It was my turn to flinch. With Rhys in his current mood, there was no point in trying to argue back. So I finally closed my eyes and tuned out the conversation between Cassian and Rhys. I didn’t have the energy to talk about Hybern right now. The throbbing headache behind my temples let me know just how much magic I had used today and let me know how much I needed to start hunting for ways to break this curse.

At some point Azriel had stretched out next to me on the couch, my back to his side. Half asleep, I turned to face him and just grabbed his arm. Curling around him as best as I could in our current position. Someone in the room chuckled as I settled down once again. I don’t know how much time passed as they all just sat and talked. I drifted in and out of sleep but couldn’t piece anything coherent together. At some point I felt Cassian standing over me. 

“Come on let’s get you to bed.” His voice held more humor than I would expect from him after today. My eyes didn’t even open before I said. 

“Move me from here and you will lose that hand.” I snuggled closer into Azriel to prove my point. The male by my side laughed a stiff laugh but wrapped his arm around me tighter. I was too tired to care about the content purr that left my chest at the motion. Too tired to care that he scooped me up in his arms and carried me all the way to my room. And definitely too tired to hear the three words he whispered to me as he closed my door.

Taglist: @nickishadow139 @tothestarsandwhateverend @quinzzelx @durgenyx @i-am-infinite @mariahoedt @acourtofbatboydreams @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nocasdatsgay

[rei-ismyname]

Uncanny X-Men #6 From The Ashes

We're starting to see Raid on Graymalkin come together with each team having a member in custody, but first we get to know these kids a little better. Spoilers, naturally.

Yeah they're a mystery to us too.

Calico/Becca has been in pretty serious denial about being a mutant and is easily the least worldly of the four. Context clues told us she grew up wealthy, sheltered, and that her mother did a number on her. It's good to make that explicit but I think something is lost by doing it in third person flashback. This is information she doesn't know and considering what happens next it'd be more effective to have her tell her own story. The flashbacks feel jarring to me too, knocking me out of the present. Her having Ember kick Logan was pretty funny though.

And she's cured! 🙄

Calico has a breakthrough after a minute talking to Gambit, completely accepting her mutanthood. I think this would be the place to hear her speak - just a little back and forth instead of Gambit getting through instantly. She basically drops out of the story at this point, repeating that she's a mutant to anyone who'll listen. Yeah, she's been going on about goblins and her mother the entire time, and she was clearly in denial, but the sudden acceptance feels unearned.

We're not done with Harvey X, it seems. He's died at least once on page and said his powers would move on when he did. Does that mean he's not dead or was he just wrong? The thing with fakeouts is that the more you do it the less readers trust what you tell them. Logan brings up the old guy whose death bed he visited in issue #1 and shares the story behind the Tequila. He asks them to drink it with him and Rogue realises he's heartbroken. This feels unearned too, frankly. We'd never seen this army buddy before and while it's sad, there's so much trauma in all these people's very recent history. Krakoa, The School, Chuck, a genocidal war, Beast, hundreds of thousands of slaughtered mutants. The narrative doesn't really need new trauma when so much is already set up.

It sucks to lose an old friend, but the reader doesn't know the guy at all so it comes out of nowhere. A lot of page space was dedicated to the Sarah Gaunt/Chuck relationship and both aren't present in the story right now. Imagine if that space was spent on, say, Sarah/Logan instead. Very little needs to be changed and being blinded/nearly killed by his now monstrous ex would be a payoff that was setup.

I have complex PTSD myself and I would love to see it handled well in this book, but it's off to a weird start that centres Rogue more than Logan. He's in the middle of sharing his trauma and reaching out when she does this. It's really fucking odd, and I have an uncomfortable feeling it's not meant to be. I'll reserve judgement and see how this plays out.

Is the spit take because of what she said or because she's acting strange? You all have PTSD

Uhhm, what? Is this meant to be Harvey X's influence on Rogue? Her narration seems to suggest that, though she's still using her accent. I don't know, but it feels off. It's great to see the letters PTSD in an X-Men comic, because no shit Logan has PTSD. However, once you pathologise it instead of just referring to trauma, you need to pay that off. I'll believe that when I see it. Also, she just cut him off and told him. Logan says she's not qualified to diagnose that and he's right.

The kids are off to school! I think this is an interesting way to keep the education element of X-Men books separate from the mutant part, and naturally the kids run into bullies straight away. We're shown the other kids listening to Jitter though her confidence is attacked by jerks making fun of her stutter. Ransom has her back but Deathdream is really committed to the bit. This scene shows us what class dynamics are at play too. Showing and not telling might seem like faint praise, but I appreciate it when it's done elegantly. It's something this title has struggled with and I'm happy to see Simone lifting her game with the kids. That said, the bullies are extremely generic. Total cutouts that could be from 1950 or 2024. That's probably intentional but high school drama is a trope that's been beaten to death. If you're going to do it you want to do it well.

More bullying happens and Deathdream seems to take Ransom's words to heart, scaring the bullies with Eldritch horrors. Deathdream really doesn't seem bothered he's about to catch hands, but Ransom rolls his sleeves up and lays them out. I think the Olympics business was overegging the pudding, we can tell from his stance and form that he's trained in boxing. Or maybe this could have come up when they fought the X-Men. Everyone would notice an Olympics hopeful boxer. It could have been in Rogue's narration and wouldn't need to be vocalised as the skill is being used. Chekhov's Skill - it's narratively satisfying.

Unfortunately, while this is going down five heavily armoured dudes corner Calico and tase TF out of her. They call it in to Graymalkin and the Raid is set up. I wonder how they got into the school or knew they were here at all. Cerebro explains the latter. Why are they so obsessed with these kids anyway? Dr Ellis was concerned for their lives 2 issues ago and now she's encouraging brutality. Whatever, big ding for the Uncanny team's record of caring for children.

Kurt and Jubilee head to the store to do shopping and Kurt BAMFs away to save a little girl from being hit by a bus. For once he gets some gratitude, though while he's doing this Jubes is being cornered by Siryn, Blob and maybe Wild Child in full Hound mode. She gets snatched up too and Kurt returns to blood and mess everywhere. He calls Rogue and she tells him to get back quickly. The ending leads straight into 2 issues of Raid on Graymalkin (with 2 over in X-Men) and both teams have their motivation. I'm not looking forward to the contrived conflict but maybe we'll get some answers. We saw Siryn and Blob being tortured in earlier issues, but I'm surprised they're here unsupervised. Perhaps those collars are responsible.

Pound for pound I'd say this is the best issue of Uncanny yet. It had some super odd moments but most of them were relics of the first arc. I do wish we got more time to know all the characters, especially the Outliers, before moving into a mini crossover but this is what we have. Still skippable but seems to be getting better. I'm interested to see how the PTSD thing plays out though my expectations are low. I know that sounds quite negative for what was an improvement, but the first arc left a bad taste in my mouth and trust is earned. Also there's NINE main characters which is really not especially sustainable in a book like this. There's just not enough space, and you end up in situations like heading into an event without a solid grasp of where most of the cast is at.

Don't stand behind a horse, Logan. Lucky you have a healing factor.

[animebw]

So! In order to keep myself from losing my goddamn mind in the aftermath of that G-Witch episode (how are we supposed to wait two weeks for the next episode I swear to fuck), I want to take a second and focus on something this show has done exceptionally well, but that I haven’t really seen talked about at all. Namely, the fact that Suletta is one of the best examples of an overpowered protagonist I’ve ever seen.

And yes, she is canonically overpowered. As long as she has Aerial by her side, she can curb-stomp pretty much every opponent without breaking a sweat. Time and again, she goes up against impossible odds and wipes the floor with them The best duelist at school? Chump. Facing multiple opponents alone and outnumbered? Child’s play. And honestly, I was starting to get annoyed by it around the end of the first season. How are we supposed to believe Suletta’s ever going to be in danger if she’s so ludicrously stronger than everyone else?

And then The Slap happened, and everything turns upside-down.

See, what makes season 1′s cliffhanger ending so goddamn powerful isn’t just the sight of our cheerful bumbling protagonist liquifying a living person into red paste in front of her horrified fiance. It’s not just the realization of how deep Prospera’s manipulation has twisted Suletta’s sense of identity. No, the real secret behind The Slap’s brilliance is that it retroactively makes every single moment of Overpowered Suletta fucking terrifying. Suddenly, we realize that her overwhelming strength in battle is a direct result of Prospera’s influence, raising her to be the perfect pawn in her little scheme. The reason she’s able to knock the socks off every single opponent she faces isn’t just Latent Protag Syndrome; it’s because her mother crafted her into a relentless warrior with the strength to destroy any obstacle in the path to her revenge. Suletta’s strength in battle isn’t just overwhelming; it’s dangerous, to herself and everyone around her. And the second she has to unleash that strength in a situation more serious than a no-casualties school sporting match, it becomes instantly, horrifyingly clear that she is in no way ready to grapple with the great responsibility that comes with such great power.

In other words, what first seemed like just a case of another anime protagonist winning every fight because reasons turns on its head and makes that overpowered nature a source of fear, both for the audience and for Miorine. So instead of ending up a boring tension-killer where we’re never afraid for Suletta’s safety, the fact that she’s capable of such force becomes the most critical source of tension and conflict driving her and Miorine’s story in the second season. Suletta being so overpowered is an explicit character flaw, at least as long as Prospera’s claws are in her. Because just because she can punch away any physical threat in her path doesn’t mean she’s not vulnerable in countless other areas. She may be the strongest in a fight, but she has nowhere near the strength of character to deal with the political schemes and emotional burdens that come about as a result of that strength. All that skill on the battlefield doesn’t mean shit when you can’t see how that skill is being manipulated for dark ends, or causing you to take on stress and trauma you have no healthy way of coping with. Suletta can smash her way to victory in any fight, and yet she’s the most vulnerable, least protected person in the entire cast, in no small part thanks to the forces that made her so strong in the first place.

There’s a reason characters like Saitama from One Punch Man and Mob from Mob Psycho 100 are so beloved, despite being so overpowered. ONE knows that in order to make an overpowered character interesting, you need to give them struggles beyond the scope of their powers to fix. Saitama can punch a mountain in half, but he can’t punch his way out of existential ennui; that’s just as much of a struggle for him as any normal person. Mob’s psychic powers can’t solve his emotional turmoil or provide him the perfect path toward maturity; he has to figure that out himself. They are overwhelmingly strong in fights, but the primary conflict of their stories has very little to do with those fights and everything to do with their growth as people. They’re stories about how even being the strongest person alive doesn’t protect you from the challenges of life that everyone on this planet faces, and their journeys to self-actualization are enormously compelling as a result. No one remembers the overpowered exploits of Isekai Harem Protagonist du jour; everyone remembers watching Saitama and Mob slowly find their way forward in life, one simple step at a time.

Suletta, in my eyes, is very much in the same vein. Like Saitama and Mob and all the best overpowered protagonists, her writing understands that being incredibly skilled in one area doesn’t mean you can’t be challenged in others- and in Mob’s case especially, how that incredible skill can actually be the biggest obstacle for the challenge you actually need to overcome. Suletta’s skill in battle is made compelling by her lack of that same skill in other areas, and the ultimate conflict of Gundam Witch is a conflict she cannot punch her way out of. If she’s going to survive this chaos and live happily every after with Miorine, she will need to struggle to overcome her years of conditioning and emotional uncertainty. She will need to struggle just as Mob struggled, just as Saitama struggled, not just to learn the skills she hasn’t developed yet, but to push back against the influence that resulted in her being so freakishly strong in the first place. Suletta is an overpowered protagonist who’s overpowered nature is, itself, the greatest challenge she will have to overcome in order to truly save herself and the people she loves. And I think that’s really damn neat.

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked Pt8

This one is a little shorter, sorry! I just didn't want to lose the momentum, I'll try and make the next post longer!

Beeping. What was that incessant beeping? Her eyes opened slowly, only to take in the sight of machines all around her. Oh. That wasn’t good, was it? She looked around a little more, trying to get her bearings. She hadn’t seen this room before, but she could tell that it was still in the mansion. Slowly, the memory of what she had done began to come back to her and her heartrate nearly doubled. The monitor that had been slowly beeping matched the sharp increase. There was a small commotion outside her line of sight, then Hank McCoy came into the room; he wasn’t running but it was an urgency to his movements that she had never really seen before. He paused when he saw that she was awake, “What seems to be the matter, Little One?” He made his way from the floor to the ceiling, where he gracefully maneuvered to hang upside down in front of her heart monitor, “Other than a rapid heart rate, your blood oxygen levels and other vital signs appear to be within normal range.” He flipped down to the floor and began to check her over. She shook her head, eyes widening as one of her hands flew to her mouth, covering it. Hank proved that, not only was he intelligent, he was also insightful, “Ah, yes. You used your Siren Song. It has been a few days since the attack, but other than you and Gambit, no one belonging to the Institute was seriously injured. You took a nasty tumble when you and Gambit were attacked, you will probably be disoriented for a while due to the blow you took to the head. But thankfully, the worst of your problems was merely exhaustion due to the sudden, and frankly overwhelmingly powerful, use of your Siren’s Song.” Her heart rate nearly tripled at the mention of her secondary mutation, making Hank give her a reassuring smile. As reassuring as a mouth full of fangs could be, at any rate, “No one from the Institute, with the exception of Gambit, was close enough to hear the call of the Siren over the battle raging.”

She shot up in the bed, nearly yanking the IV in her hand out with the sudden motion, only for Hank to place a large paw on her delicate shoulder, “Gambit is unharmed. In fact, he should be coming in soon to check on you, if the last two days is any indication of a pattern forming. He has been quite worried about you.” Here, Hank winked at her as if sharing a secret with her. Did everyone know about her crush on the smooth-talking Cajun? She shook her head, only to immediately bring a hand to her temple in pain. Hank gave her a sympathetic look, “You are lucky that your shoulder took the worst of the impact, had your head taken any more blunt force trauma you would more than likely have a concussion. As it is, you will still have quite a bit of disorientation and probably some migraines for the next few days. You’re through the worst of it, however. It’s all up hill from here, Little One.” He told her with another smile. Just then, there was a knock, “Come in, Gambit.”

“An’ ‘ow’d ya know it was Gambit, Mon Ami?” He poked his head around the doorway, a cautious look on his face. That caution instantly morphed into a bright smile when he took in the sight of her sitting up in bed, “Dere’s da La Belle au bois dormant! Good ta see dem pretty eyes, Chère.” Hank shook his head with a smile.

 “I will go inform the rest of the Team that you are awake. You have had quite a few people inquiring about your well-being.” And with that, he left, Gambit politely moving out of Hank’s way to let him leave the room. Once they were alone, Gambit’s smile dropped and he walked over to the side of the bed, where a chair was sitting. She hadn’t noticed it before Gamit grabbed it to sit in it, “Ya ‘ad Gambit worried, Chère. Got ya inside fast, fastest Gambit ever moved, but you was out like a light. Den you wouldn’ wake up.” She bit her lip, the worry and concern flowing off of Remy was so powerful she could nearly see it, “’Ank said you was ‘hausted. Ova’use of ya pow’rs. Wolvie never tol’ us ya ‘ad two pow’rs, Belle.” He paused for a moment and watched her, there was no judgment coming from him. No disgust or anger, no fear, “Ne’er seen not’in like it. You tol’ ‘em to drop dere gun, and ‘e looked like a man’quin on strings. Damn impressive, Belle.” She shook her head. But Gambit reached out and gently took her hands in his.

“Petite, ya single hand’ly saved e’rey’un. Wadn’t Wolvie, wadn’t Scottie, Stormy, or any ‘o da otha’ X-Men. Def’nitely wadn’t ol’ Gambit savin’ da day. Was you.” She winced, looking around for her phone or something to communicate with, “Jus’ you an’ Gambit ‘ere, Petite. A’int gotta hide yer voice no more. ‘Least no’ from Remy. ‘E was dere, Petite. ‘E ‘eard ya voice, Wolvie and ‘Ank called it yer Song. Dey tol’ Remy ‘e shoulda dun ‘xactly what d’oes soldier did, followed ya e’ry word to da ‘T’. But ‘e didn’. Ya mebbe a Siren, but ya Song don’ work on dis ol’ noggin’, Chère. When it jus Remy? Ya safe. Ya can use dat pretty voice a yers. A’int gotta be ‘fraid wit Remy.” The monitor went crazy as his words seemed to echo in her mind. He was still here; he was here and talking to her. Her Siren Song hadn’t affected him. She didn’t know what to make of any of this. No one had even been immune to her Song before. At least, not anyone in possession of fully functional hearing. And yet Remy hadn’t followed her orders.

Remy shook his head and kicked off his boots before he carefully climbed into the bed and cradled her to his chest, “Shh, shh, s’okay Chère, s’okay. Les no’ put ye’self inta ‘notha panic attack, yeah? Scared Remy half ta death out dere. ‘Mon, now, talk ta Remy. Le’ it out.” He pressed the words into the crown of her head. His emotions were making everything simultaneously better and worse. They were soothing: care, affection, understanding, relief, happiness, protectiveness. Not a single negative emotion was directed to her, and it was throwing her off. Because her own self-directed negativity was directly juxtaposed to his lighter emotions, causing something almost like whiplash.

How could she be sure her voice wouldn’t affect him? Had it been a fluke? Had his head injury affected his hearing enough to block her song? Or maybe the injury had rattled his brain enough that it prevented her Song from creating the necessary illusions to make him listen to it in the first place? There were too many possibilities, too many ways this could go wrong if she spoke. Despite all the what ifs, however, the desire to actually talk to Remy, to not have to rely on a phone or a notebook, was tempting. She bit her lip and pressed her forehead into his chest, hiding from him; too bad she couldn’t hide from her own thoughts in the same way. There was a moment of silence, then Remy pressed a kiss to her head, “Remy won’ push ya, Chère. Remy jus’ wan’ ya ‘appy. If no’ talkin keeps ya ‘appy, Remy fine wit dat. But Remy don’t t’ink ya ‘appy li’dis. ‘E seen ya. Seen ya watchin’ otha’s talkin’ ‘bout dere day. Seen da way ya stare at ‘em like a starvin’ man stares at a feast. Bu’ ya tell Remy ‘e wrong, and ‘e’ll leave it ‘lone.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” She whispered. But even at a whisper, her voice undulated with the sound of a dozen or more voices all at once. She went still, scared to look up and see the blank face of Gambit fallen victim to her Song. Gambit’s arms tightened around her.

“Dere’s dat pretty voice. Ya no’ hurtin this Brigan’. Now tell Remy wha’ both’rin’ ya, Belle.” She pulled back to look at him, eyes wide. He was still in full control of himself. He hadn’t been affected by her voice. He was still him. How? He smiled in the face of her disbelief. Understanding, he just felt so understanding. Why was he so understanding? She bit her lip and just let his emotions flow over her, soothing her bruised soul.

“I made him turn on his friends. I basically told him to kill all his friends and himself. And this ain’t even the first time…. What kinda monster-“ She bit her lip, but it was a little too late to stop the thought from escaping her. She curled up as best she could in his hold, shame roaring through her. Gambit rubbed her back, letting out a soft hum, some little tune only he seemed to know.

“Ya no monster, Petite. Ya fight tooth ‘n nail ta no’ hurt folks. Fo’ som’un raised by da Wolverine, ya the gent’list lil t’ing Remy know. So ya made ‘em fight each otha. Dey woulda killed all ‘o us wit’out remorse. Ya saved ev’ryone ‘o us ‘ere. By yaself. Dats impressive, Petite. Real impressive. 'Ank said ya been holdin’ da song in fo’ so long it built up ova time. Dats why it was so strong; add ta dat ya panic attack and dats what caused ya to pass out. Well, all’o dat and yer near concussion. We wasn’ spectin’ ya to wake up fer a few more days, honestly.” Remy gave her a smile, tucking some hair out of her face. The air tasted of vanilla, apples and cinnamon, Remy smelled like peppery-spice, leather, citrus. The combined scents and tastes were swirling around her, the comfort it all brought her was immeasurable.

“Never want to hurt folks. I-I know they would have hurt us, but I don’t….” She bit her lip again, only for Remy to shake his head. He used his thump to pull her lip from between her teeth, something he seemed to do often with her.

“Mon amour, ya gotta look at it diff’ren’ly. Ya didn’ take lives. Ya saved ‘em. Ya gotta t’ink ‘bout all da people ya saved. Ya ca’int let da bad ov’r shadow da good. An’ ya did damn good. No trainin’, y’a’int used dat power in years ‘cordin’ ta Wolvie, and da first time ya did, ya saved ev’ry mutant in da school. Dats a lot of people, Petite. Cel’brate da win. Don’ ignore da bad t’ings, but don’ let’em kill ya light, either.”

[all-together-now]

Who wins in a fistfight, Honey or Shadow?

No gadgets, no fancy shoes, no powers, just speed, agility, and straight hands.

From his side of the arena, Shadow stood stoically, eyeing his opponent. Honey leaned casually backwards smirking rather casually.

"Alright everyone, you know the rules!" Amy said in the middle of them, "I want a good, clean fight between the both of you! First one to get pinned to the floor loses!"

Amy ran out of the arena and joined the rest of her friends and girlfriends as Honey and Shadow walked closer to each other. They both raised their fists and got into their fighting stances.

"Ready?" Amy called, "Three, two, one..."

Shadow scowled as Honey just grinned.

"FIGHT!!"

Honey dashed straight towards Shadow, as fast as the hedgehog usually was with his shoes. He was caught off guard momentarily, but rushed ahead too. As they met in the middle, both swung their fists forwards. Their hands collided, and with a mighty BOOM wind was blown everywhere. Everyone sitting in the stands was blown back as Shadow and Honey's hair fluttered in the breeze.

"Oh, this is gonna be good," Honey smirked.

Shadow huffed, and swung his other hand upwards towards Honey. She blocked it effortlessly and swiftly followed with a swing Shadow was too slow to block. He stumbled backwards, but was attentive almost instantly. Honey raced up to him and swung, but he blocked it and her consecutive swing. He grabbed her arm and swung her over his shoulder, but before she hit the ground she used Shadow's momentum against him and clobbered him onto the ground.

He grunted, but was on his feet again before Honey could pin him. Honey moved backwards a little, baying just outside of Shadow's reach like a predator hiding in the grass. Her and Shadow walked in a semicircle, keeping that distance between each other, before Honey pounced at him. She swung, but he blocked. She was already behind him before he could retaliate, though. She swung again, and Shadow blocked it again. He tried to run after her and keep up, but without his shoes he wasn't nearly as fast.

Honey once again used his speed against him, quickly feigning an attack to his side before zipping up in front of him and pounding him in the chest. With the wind knocked out of him, Shadow skidded on the arena's floor before coming to a stop. He struggled to get up before Honey put a foot on his chest. She looked down on him smugly, with her hand resting on the knee holding him down.

"Our winner is Honey!!!" Amy cheered.

The crowd went wild as Honey lifted her foot off Shadow and she offered a hand to him. He accepted it, and she pulled him up.

"Good work," Shadow congratulated, "You put up a very impressive fight."

"So did you," Honey replied, "Especially given how much you were holding back."

She sheepishly rubbed the back of her head, "Knowing what you can do normally...I wouldn't stand a chance."

Shadow chuckled, "Well...you are still very skilled one your own. You should be proud of what you can do with your strength."

Honey just smiled, and held her arms out in front of Shadow. The hedgehog smirked, and quickly accepted it.

[pinkslashersimp]

Hey! I wonder this so long since I’ve been reading all of your masterlist, what NBC Hannibal would do his s/o is someone as intelligent and manipulative as he is—or someone like Amy Dunne from Gone Girl? She’d draw lines in house, deliberately plays reversed psychology to him but loves all the toxic attention she get, wants Hannibal to see her as his equal and even would offer her own contributions for his killings. Would they be power couple or he wouldn’t like that idea because he’d lose the control over her? I’d like to see his reactions so much please let this happen 🤝

╰┈➤ Synopsis: Hannibal obsesses over someone who may be ⠀⠀⠀ just as clever as he. What will he do when she manages to ⠀⠀⠀ escape his grasp and reverse the power dynamic?

⠀⠀⠀✎ Notes: Hi anon!! Sorry this has taken so long, idk if you will ⠀⠀⠀ have seen but on my other posts I have let everyone know ⠀⠀⠀ I’ve just finished college. At the time of these reqs being ⠀⠀⠀ sent I was sitting my exams and completing assignments, ⠀⠀⠀ so I appreciate your patience very very much ~( ˘▾˘~) sorry ⠀⠀⠀ the ending seems a little rushed i was trying to fit ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ everything in T-T

TWS: Yandere tendencies, unhealthy relationship, kidnapping, one mention of SH, and implied murder and cannibalism.

Honestly one of the things that first attracted Hannibal to you when he first met you was your charm and intelligence.

He revelled in the sly look in your eyes, your calm demeanour, how calculated you seemed. He knew instantly he had some attraction to you.

As mentioned in my other Hannibal posts, I don’t believe Hannibal would kidnap his s/o straight away. I believe he would absolutely try to court them first and have them come to him willingly and blindly. This, however, is not going to work on you.

You can see through Hannibal’s dinner invitations, through his flirtatious comments, you knew deep down something was very off about Hannibal, something dark and cunning lingered deep within him, and you did not intend to be dragged deep down into that abyss.

You did, however, absolutely love the attention he gave you. How his eyes would darken slightly when you politely rejected his invitations to his home, yet brushed against his arm afterwards. You loved how his lips would tense slightly whenever you would flirt back, yet make yourself seem so unobtainable.

You absolutely fucking adored the power you had over him, you knew deep down in that dark corner of his mind he was begging to have you.

You felt empowered doing this. That was until one night, when loading up your car after work, a gloved hand clamped down on your mouth and a strong arm locked itself around your neck, suffocating you into unconsciousness.

When you awoke you found yourself in Hannibal’s home, laid down on his sofa. A glass of water and some painkillers on the table beside you, and behind them, stood Hannibal. Watching over you.

And thus began the games.

You did not attempt to escape for two months, you had to concoct a master plan, something so insanely intelligent it would leave Hannibal desperate for you back and immensely angry over your disappearance.

All whilst planning this escape, Hannibal was growing paranoid. He could tell by your sly eyes, your silence, that you were scheming something.

Eventually, you gained his trust. And he left you home alone.

Bad mistake.

In his absence, you managed to disable the cameras in his home without alerting him, you drew with chalk on the floor, strange symbols, knocked over chairs as if you’d been in a fight, and cut your arm to leave blood down the stairs and to the back door, which you’d lockpicked and left wide open.

You left out the front door, locking it behind yourself. You’d left the house in such a state it seemed as if you’d been taken by someone very, very bad.

You didn’t take Hannibal’s car or a taxi, you knew both were too risky, and so you walked to a far away drug store, buying supplies to fix your arm and some snacks. From there you hopped on a bus and enjoyed your freedom elsewhere. Completely in bliss from your master escape and how you’d managed to fool Hannibal.

Hannibal, however, was feeling a mixture of emotions. Rage, fear, and sickness. He took a look around the house and at first, believed someone had taken you.

But no, no you were too shrewd and strong to be taken by a stranger. You must have done this yourself.

Hannibal wastes no time tracking you, he follows a few trails of blood outside his house and gets the general idea of your direction, he then heads to the drugstore and is able to get information from the cashier.

It takes him a few hours but he finds you, and he is not happy.

Despite being caught, you do not feel fear, you feel excitement. The anger in his eyes, the fear he could’ve lost you, that darkness he pushed deep down slowly rising out of him, you’d got him in your hands completely.

You were dragged back home, he was not gentle with you. And when the doors were locked he pushed you against the staircase, gripping your throat and jawline with his large hand.

“What game do you think you are playing?” he hisses, the repressed darkness finally spilling out of him.

You smirk and stare into his shady eyes, leaning your head upwards so your lips are near his.

“Only the one you started.”

Dinner that evening was tense, with you staring down at Hannibal from the other end of the table innocently, drawing upon your fork as you push the meat into your mouth. Hannibal smirks at you as you eat only for you to smirk back.

“You think I don’t know?” You bluntly ask him. He frowns a little, “I would’ve killed them for you.”

[hanakou-often]

12. Swap au?

AU where Kou becomes the seventh mystery and Amane becomes his assistant (In retrospect his assistant probably should’ve been Mitsuba but I was on a Hanakou ROLL)!! I enjoy this concept a lot but I'll admit its not the most thought out idea so don't expect much lmao

Kou is now Number 7 of the roof top: Nariko-San! Hanako said not many people know how to summon him but I think it’s pretty lame excuse? I mean if getting a wish granted was as easy as knocking on a bathroom door I feel like way more people would do it yk!! The more powerful the apparition, the harder it should be to summon. So to up the ante, Nariko’s rumor is ‘if you go out on the roof top on a rainy day and lean over the railing while chanting ‘Nariko-San, Nariko-San, save me' She just might make your wish come true' and of course the "price to pay" here is the risk of losing your life yk

Amane is crazy enough to be the first to summon him. His wish is something along the lines of him wanting to ‘live among the stars' or something equally as emo and blah blah when he finally summons him, Nariko appears in a streak of lightning and instantly pulls Amane back in. Amane expected a more grim figure with a matching God-like disposition but Nariko shows immediate concern, dispelling any previous expectations.

I'm not exactly sure how or why but eventually instead of a mermaid scale Amane swallows a bird feather? He turns into an owl and Nariko has to fight off a harpy, stating those are "angels" who use avian creatures as their 'eyes'. When the harpy is finally gone, Nariko eats the other feather and makes Amane promise not to randomly fly off and leave (because people care about him yadda yadda). Now anytime Amane gets flustered/agitated or sneezes, he turns into his owl form.

Teru is Nariko’s Tsukasa so to speak. His personality is sort similar mother Gothel from Tangled where he's more emotionally manipulative than violent/extreme like Tsukasa. Anyways Tiara grows up without her siblings. One of the only things I’ve written for this AU is Nariko grappling with that guilt so stay tuned for that <3

I’ll be so honest I was only here to max out on the shipping potential so I didn’t think about other characters' roles though too much lol. I've been aching to write the beginnings of this au so I can cash in on the weird Teru and Nariko dynamic later but as you can tell my ideas are a little scatterbrained with some bits of info missing here and there.

[tornrose24]

Last part of my TGAMM Aladdin ideas. Now I can finally conclude this. Like last time, the previous part can be found here.

Part 4

-Back in the kingdom, night has fallen and things aren’t so great. Jinx has imprisoned a lot of people–including the royal family–and already made a few changes to the scenery.

–Meanwhile, Scratch is still in utter despair over the loss of Molly. There was a time where he would have been glad to be rid of her, but now he just wants her alive and back with him. He didn’t realize it until it was too late, but he was happy being with her and her friends and family. He was happy that she didn’t want to instantly make any wishes and actually spent time with him, even if she did drive him crazy a few times. He would have even gotten over his fears and accepted her offer to wish for his freedom–he could even accept the short lifespan of a mortal over his current life–but he lost his chance and is now bound to this awful woman until she makes her last wish, which is starting to either look unlikely or impossible.

-It’s around this time that Molly and Libby manage to return and sneak back into the palace.

–Jinx decides she’s done having a bit of fun and demands for Scratch to bring the original ruler back to life. Scratch flat-out tells her that he cannot do that as one of the three rules that he is bound to.

-At this point Molly manages to sneak into the throne room. Jinx decides that she will do the resurrection herself… but first she wants to torture the royal family for a bit and brings them in.

–Ollie is able to spot Molly and while he’s happy to see her again, realizes what she is after. He decides to use Jinx’s ego and obsession against her by asking why she’d even want to bring back the original ruler and if he was really as great as she says. Jinx buys into it.

-Molly comes upon Scratch who is overwhelmed with relief and joy to see her alive and this time HE’S the one who does the hugging first. They only get a few seconds to reunite before she can continue to go after the lamp that is conveniently abandoned on the throne.

–Unfortunately, despite Ollie’s best efforts, Jinx is able to spot Molly just before the girl can grab the lamp and knocks him away before stopping her.

–Everyone tries to get the lamp–Ollie, Libby, Molly–but they all get stopped somehow. (And likely have to deal with something pun related courtesy of Jinx).

-Then Jinx turns herself into some kind of monstrous creature that goes after Molly. By this point Scratch finally can’t stand by and tries to help the girl, but cannot use his powers against the one he is in servitude to.

-Despite her efforts, Molly isn’t any match for Jinx who begins to slowly crush her as well as Scratch. And of course Jinx is enjoying the hell out of this moment.

–Realizing he is going to lose her for good, Scratch finally confesses to Molly that he should have taken up her offer if he knew this would happen. He would have been happy living a mortal life of freedom with her in it than a life of eternal servitude without her.

-While Molly is touched by Scratch’s confession, this also gives her an idea… so she taunts Jinx and says that Scratch is actually more powerful than her. If he was forced to give her power, he could also take it away.

–Scratch is confused and terrified by what is going on until he realizes where Molly is going with this.

–Jinx takes the bait as she feels like she could have more power than before. She demands Scratch to turn her into the most powerful being imaginable as her third wish. Scratch–gleeful to pull the ‘jerkass genie’ card once again–screws Jinx over by turning her into a genie.

–While Jinx has a brief power trip in her new form, the two friends smugly remind her what being a genie means by revealing her own lamp…. Which she is sent into as she screams and curses them out.

–Scratch gets the honor of banishing Jinx’s lamp to elsewhere. When asked if he’s absolutely sure no one will find it, he just brushes it off. “The odds of her coming back is like planning a third part of a story, only to be shot down by higher powers,” is his weird reasoning.

–Scratch allows Ollie to wish to change all of the changes and damage Jinx is caused and things go back to normal.

-Molly happily reunites with Libby as well as Ollie. She apologizes to Ollie for all that happened and that she truly wanted to tell him the truth–she was scared the first time, but then she meant to do it the second time. The boy understands though he is worried as to how his parents will react.

-Not wanting Molly to get in any more trouble, Scratch offers to fix things for her. He can make everyone forget that she tricked them, or even send her and her family away. However…. Molly now knows that Scratch truly wants to be free… she knows what her final wish will be.

–And so, to Scratch’s surprise, Molly wishes for his freedom. “I���m keeping my word Scratch… you’re free!”

–And… well… this happens.

-But for those who can’t see the scene/drawings for any reason, Molly’s wish not only frees Scratch, but turns him into a mortal human man. He is freed from his prison, free to do or go wherever as he wishes, and is free to be around Molly and anyone else of his own choosing. While he is stunned at what has happened to him as well as Molly actually giving up a wish for his sake, he is overwhelmed with happiness and the two embrace.

–Ollie decides to come clean to his parents. Fortunately for him, Reuben and Esther have learned from the recent experiences and not only decide to drop the marriage thing, but will not imprison Molly. They admit that perhaps it would do some good to keep Molly around since she did bring some badly needed aid to the kingdom when it needed help the most. They will see how her and her family could be of more service to the kingdom in the future, so Ollie promises that he will stay in touch with Molly.

–With the carpet still in her possession, Libby offers it to Scratch, as she and Molly are aware that he probably doesn’t want to stick around for too long.

–Scratch considers it…. However he’d rather stay with Molly just for a bit longer until he can figure out what he wants to do with his new life and freedom. (He will use that carpet to see the world eventually, and that scene would go down just like in the original animated movie.... just not yet.)

–And so Molly takes Scratch back to her home. As for what happens beyond that? Well, perhaps that’s up to you to decide.

(Side note: I don't have anything for the sequel films or animated series. I didn't think that far ahead and I don't think I could come up with a whole lot).

[toointojoelmiller]

look for the light: a last of us fic

ch 1 (prologue)

BTHB prompt inspired - "electrical outage" - Jackson loses power, Joel can't find Ellie, and panic ensues (for @bearrycool). This is a prologue - plot action starts next chapter. cross posted to ao3 here ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4

---- T.

While they were showing Joel and Ellie around Jackson for the first time that past winter, Tommy had joked to Maria that it was like Ellie was Joel’s shadow. He felt a bit guilty about it, seeing her all those months later when they showed up at the gates again. The headstrong kid who seemed quick to get her claws out wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She been raw around the edges and clearly didn't trust easily back then, but she returned as a different and darker sort of wary, drifting behind Joel like a ghost.

Joel had insisted that Ellie get looked over at the clinic, and she insisted just as firmly that he do the same. Tommy found himself tagging along, and he stared at Ellie on and off as they waited, taking in the worried crease in her forehead that seemed like a permanent part of her expression, and the way her eyes flitted from Joel to the ground and not much in between. She was distant, as if she was separated from the world, watching and listening from behind a pane of glass. Just an echo of the girl he remembered.

Tommy left them to settle in for a day, and then another. By the next morning he told himself that there was no point in delaying the inevitable, so he bit the bullet and invited them over to meet the baby. Joel had looked shell shocked for a few seconds, but he’d agreed.

When the knock at the door came, right on time, Tommy found only Joel waiting on the other side - no scrawny teenager tucked into his side.

“I can’t stay long. Ellie, uh - she’s real tired,” he’s said at once, scratching the back of his neck like he would when he got fidgety. “Sleepin’ a lot. She didn’t feel up to comin’ but I can bring her by another time - uh, if she wants to, I mean.”

“Yeah, alright,” Tommy said, trying to keep his voice sounding light. It was weird to hear his brother talking so much, but when Ellie was the topic of conversation Joel seemed to have a lot to say. He still didn’t really know what to make of this Joel - so different from the man Tommy had known in Boston who would have to turn around and walk away if he was caught off guard seeing a child.

It was Joel’s first time inside of their house, and as Tommy started to show him around he felt a dumb little surge of pride at how Joel was nodding approvingly, taking in the cozy home that Maria and him had worked hard at building. The nodding stopped and the good feeling evaporated when Joel's eyes locked onto the chalkboard memorial above the fireplace, the blood running out of his face, his small smile sliding away instantly.

For a moment they stayed frozen. Tommy was at a loss for words, watching the light from the candles flickering in Joel’s increasingly wet eyes. When his tears spilled over, Joel excused himself to the bathroom and locked the door.

The years after Sarah died had made Tommy an expert in the ways that grief can unravel and collapse time. As Joel’s sobs sank down on him, burrowing into Tommy’s skin, he felt for a few moments like it was twenty years ago all over again – no, twenty one now, somehow. Watching Sarah die was the worst pain Tommy had ever felt, and he knew that he couldn't begin to imagine how much worse it had been - still was - for Joel. But that was different now - Maria was upstairs with the baby, so he could imagine it, and just the thought of what happened to Joel’s baby girl happening to his made him stomach clench, flooding him with the urge to run upstairs, get her in his arms and never let go. 

He put his head in his hands and silently berated himself for not putting the memorial away like he’d wondered briefly if he ought to. It had seemed wrong somehow, and a brief chat with Maria had confirmed the feeling – it would be a disservice to the two pure and forever gone souls that they had agreed together to keep alive every day, even if it could only be in memory. But now, listening to Joel’s muffled crying from behind the closed door – it sounded like he was covering his face with something, and the damp and crumpled hand towel Tommy found on the floor later that night seemed to confirm it – leaving it out for Joel to be confronted with seemed downright cruel.

The stairs creaked as Maria slowly walked halfway down them, the baby asleep in her arms. She shot Tommy a curious and concerned look and tilted her head in the direction of the bathroom door. "Let’s try another night.” she suggested, frowning.

Tommy nodded, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah. This was too fast – shoulda known better. I’ll take him back to his place.”

It had been a while, but Tommy knew how things would play out from here. He wondered how long Joel would shut down for this time. It was a comfort that it would happen somewhere safe, for once – but newly concerning to think of Joel losing himself in a bottle and falling into bed for days on end, now that he had a kid living with him.

Maria gave him a sympathetic smile as she turned to walk back upstairs, but the bathroom door opened at the same time, and Joel came out, red eyed and breathing deeply. Tommy stood quickly, expecting Joel to head straight for the door, but he didn’t. His eyes found Maria on the stairs instead, and he nodded at her before looking at the little bundle in her arms. Tommy felt a flutter of worry in the back of his throat.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said to Joel, and then glanced to Maria, silently urging her to go back upstairs. “We can do this some o-”

Joel’s voice wasn’t gruff like Tommy expected it to be as he interrupted him. “Tommy… they’re not this small for very long,” he said quietly. “Like to meet her now, if that’s alright."

The words dried up in Tommy’s throat. Steady as ever, Maria walked down the rest of the wooden stairs to join them. “This is Charlie,” she said with a small nod and a pointed smile directed at Tommy that was more of a warning than anything else. The message was clear – keep your brother in check.

Tommy held his breath as he waited for Joel’s reaction. He was baffled when a grin showed up on Joel’s face - speechless as Joel asked to hold her, and settled down on the couch with Charlie cradled in his arms. Dumbstruck when Joel glanced towards the chalkboard and said, with a slight tremble in his voice, “Had Sarah on my mind a lot today. Was just a little caught off guard, seein’ her name written out like that is all.” His eyes – soft and sincere and full of gratitude - moved to Tommy, who was feeling as though he had fallen into another dimension. “S’good of y’all – doin' that.”

He looked back at Charlie, leaning his head in closer. “She’s a Miller, yeah? Charlie Miller?”

Tommy cleared his throat, his voice sounding thick with emotion as he nodded and said, “Yeah. Charlotte Miller. Charlie for short.” He swallowed, knowing exactly what Joel was going to say next.

“Does she have a middle name?”

He tried to answer - opened his mouth, took a breath, but the words wouldn’t leave his throat. He looked towards Maria, who somehow always knew what he was thinking and stepped in for him.

“She does,” Maria said in as gentle of a voice as he’d ever heard her direct to Joel. “We thought Charlotte Sarah sounded nice.”

Joel looked at Tommy, grief and sorrow and love flashing across his face, and he bowed his head as he cried again. Tears dripped down onto the soft blanket swaddled around Charlie. Tommy couldn’t help but cry a bit too, wiping his hands across his face and taking deep breaths to try to hold himself together.

“Your daddy was the best Uncle, right from day one.” Joel murmured as he sniffed, looking down at Charlie and leaning his head in closer as he spoke to her softly. “Hell of a lot for me to live up to.”

Joel had manners, so he asked about the birth, and how Maria was feeling, but it seemed like he was half listening, lost here and there as he looked down at the baby girl he was holding. He touched her little dark tufts of hair, held and commented on her tiny fingers when she wiggled an arm free from the swaddle and her hand came poking out from the blanket. When she started to fuss, he automatically cradled her head and shifted her in his arms so she was tucked upright against his chest, smoothing his hand up and down her little back and swaying softly from side to side as he cooed to her - all of the motions and instincts clearly still alive, bubbling to the surface from wherever they were buried. There was still sadness in his eyes, and a heaviness in the air, but it was obvious that Joel had been changed, too, by whatever had happened on the road. A part of him that had been dead for decades was back to life.

He was true to his word and didn’t stay long, keeping one eye on the clock and leaving at what was clearly a pre-determined time. When he left, he was in a hurry - rushing to get back to Ellie, as if half an hour of separation was unbearable.

Tommy laid awake in bed for a long time that night, unable to stop thinking about the sight of Joel with Charlie in his arms. The way he’d been tracing her nose and the soft skin of her face with his fingers. Hearing him say Sarah’s name out loud for the first time in god knows how long.

Jackson felt like holy ground. Charlie was a miracle, and a safe place for her to grow was, too. This was a third - the pieces of his forever broken big brother were somehow glued back together after all these years.

He’d tried to ask shortly after they arrived, and again a few days later, but Joel dismissed Tommy’s questions about what the hell had happened to the two of them after they left for Colorado with a short and firm, “Not now.” As time passed it became clear that ‘not now’ was probably going to mean ‘not ever’.

Even on a night that they wound up piss drunk together on Joel’s porch after the girls were all asleep, Tommy couldn’t get anything out of him beyond a darkly muttered, “She went through hell because of me, and it ain’t my place to tell you about it.” It was a fair point, and really wasn’t his place to pry, so Tommy stopped asking. ‘Winter’ and ‘Colorado’ and ‘Fireflies’ were off limits words when Ellie was around. The few times he slipped up, Joel sure let him know about it.

Maria had originally been of the mindset that it would be best for Ellie and Joel to jump in with both feet, meaning Ellie going to school like all the other kids, and getting a work detail sorted out for Joel as soon as they could. It only took one look at Ellie for her to change her mind - her sallow looking skin and the dark circles under her eyes, how painfully skinny she was - not to mention the unnerving way she would space out sometimes, staring at nothing as Joel rubbed her shoulder and spoke quietly to her until she came out of it. Maria spoke with the council, and her go to words when she talked to Tommy about Ellie changed from 'healthy routine' and 'socialization' to 'coping' and 'stabilizing' and 'easing in slowly'.

Apart from Joel leaving the house briefly on that night he met and held Charlie, he and Ellie were hermits for a while as they first settled in. Tommy dropped off meals for them, and as he’d chat briefly with Joel in the entryway of the house - filling him in on how Charlie was doing and how they were all sleeping, usually - he’d sometimes catch a glimpse of Ellie on the living room couch, tiny under a pile of blankets with the glow from the TV lighting up her pale face, and what looked like every movie, book, and board game in Jackson piled around her. Often there was a pretty over the top assortment of food around her - dinner piled high on one plate on the coffee table, looking untouched, and massive helping of apple crisp on another - a glass of water and a glass of milk both set out where she could reach them easily. It made his heart ache, reminding him of the way Joel always went a little crazy when Sarah would be sick on the living room couch – popsicles weren’t enough, they had be her favourite flavour (the fact that red was Tommy's favourite flavour first did not spare him from Joel's wrath when only red and blue were left in the box), and Tommy would be sent on a daily Blockbuster trip so she would always had something new to watch.

Joel must have been doing the right thing, because the time spent hibernating and spoiling her seemed to do the trick. They showed up in the dining hall together for dinner one day, Ellie still quiet and nervous and close to Joel’s side but no longer looking like she might just disappear. Once daily appearances in town slowly turned into more regular outings, and pieces of the Ellie Tommy remembered from before finally started to peek through the fog.

Over a breakfast of bacon and eggs one day, Tommy bit back a grin as he watched Ellie surreptitiously loosen the top of a squeeze bottle filled with ketchup before passing it to Joel. When it splattered all over his shirt and pants, she laughed so hard she was wheezing. Joel rolled his eyes, grumbling at her and trying to shoot her what was meant to be a withering look, but he couldn’t hide his smirk. He wiped a glob of ketchup off of his shirt with his hand and flung it at Ellie’s face, getting rewarded with a screech that woke Charlie up and earned both of them glares from Maria.

It went both ways, how they healed one another. How each needed the other to breathe. Tommy found himself hoping every night that they would never lose each other, certain that neither could survive it - a miracle, and a sword hanging overhead. 

read next chapter here

cross posted to ao3 here

[jumpywhumpywriter]

The Monster in the Black Room part 10

Warnings: emaciated hero, brutal torture

She didn't get to finish as Supervillain suddenly wound back and punched her hard in the face, and darkness instantly rushed in and stole her consciousness.

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

Present time...

"So you've been trapped here ever since? As my father's executioner?" Villain breathed, shocked.

Hero nodded gravely. "There's a power dampener that affects me from a distance in this place and is turned on at all times -- the only time it's switched off is when Supervillain sends fresh victims to me to destroy. He lets me have my powers back for that dirty task, just for a little while."

Villain didn't know what to say to that. What to think of what Hero had told him.

"You're telling the truth?" He whispered.

Hero shrugged. "I have no reason to be untruthful. I'm rotting away in the basement of a sadistic supervillain -- I've got nothing, absolutely nothing left to lose. Why lie, when I'm going to die down here anyway? It's not a secret I'll take to the grave -- though I'm not proud of what happened.”

Villain bit his lip, mulling over everything she'd told him and letting it sink in. Then Hero hoarsely cleared her throat.

"You should leave," she rasped. "The guards will be coming to feed me soon. They always show up around this time."

Villain nodded, getting to his shaky feet. "T-Thanks, for answering my questions," he said, voice catching.

"I should be the one thanking you," Hero wheezed in answer. "You showed me the first bit of kindness I've received since my capture. It was... nice, even temporary as it is. Thank you for the palatable food. And... for the conversation. It's been awhile since I've had someone to talk to."

Villain gave a stiff nod, and left the Black Room, letting out a sigh of relief when he was safely back in the familiar territory of Supervillain's lair.

He had a lot to think about.

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

He didn’t sleep well, and the next day was exhausting. But after lunchtime he headed off to the Black Room again to speak with Hero after digesting the information she’d given him previously. He had more questions now.

But… Villain opened the Black Room’s door to howling screams of agony that almost made him trip and fall with how hard he jumped.

But -- Hero. Something terrible was happening!

He rushed down the stairs, shocked by the raw intensity of pain in Hero's voice as she cried out.

He'd never heard her scream before. And he really wished he hadn't.

It was a raw, broken sound that came out of her as Villain stumbled quickly down the stairs to figure out what was going on.

But -- someone else was already here. He could see a lit lantern on the floor as he neared the bottom of the stairs.

"DON'T COME DOWN HERE!" Hero suddenly shrieked, and Villain immediately froze, heart hammering painfully against his ribs with panic and adrenaline, fluttering like a trapped bird. The urgency in her tone was desperate, pleading.

"Who--?" A gruff voice snarled, and the lantern Villain spotted on the concrete floor fell on its side as someone he couldn't see spun around to face him, knocking it over with their foot.

The light from the lantern wasn't enough to light up their whole figure, only part of their legs and their sleek black shoes – which were spattered with flecks of blood.

"Supervillain, I already told you I don't know anything! I can't give you what you want!" Hero's raspy voice wailed again. "Please! Please believe me!”

Villain's heart stopped.

He was bolting back up the stairs before his brain even caught up, terrified.

Nonono it couldn't be his dad down there, it couldn't be, couldn't be right--

Panicked thoughts filled his head as he streaked down the halls and didn't stop until he'd charged into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

He was breathing hard, chest heaving with tight, scared breaths. He couldn't get Hero's awful screams out of his head. What was Supervillain doing to her?

He felt like such a coward for running away – he should have stayed and helped, should have done something to intervene!

But Hero had warned him -- she'd wanted him to run, and he had. It wasn't his fault, right???

It did absolutely nothing to ease the crushing guilt that gripped him. He'd just left her there to be tortured. A living person.

And Supervillain – his father, for goodness sake – had been the one inflicting the pain?

Hero couldn't fight back. She didn't even classify as a prisoner, Villain thought. Because her sole purpose here was to suffer, or to kill, the only two things in life she'd ever know in this place. In his father's lair.

This was the purest definition of taking it way too far, even for a supervillain. Villain had thought there was some kind of base code among criminals, some lines no one would cross, even though they were evil at heart.

But Supervillain had just shown he had no qualms about walking across every single one of them to get what he wanted.

But what did he want, anyway? What information was he trying to get from Hero?

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @written-in-the-stars135 @neverthelass

@starz8nk @writing-with-olive

[mylordshesacactus]

I adore bragging about my players’ cool moments but, hey, I’m playing the game too, and I gotta give my girl Arlette Starstrike her moment here.

The party has been holding the city. They’re doing well, handily defeating enemies I anticipated being much greater threats; it’s immediately clear why the five of them, alone, are being considered a swing division in their own right by the decimated city guard. When the walls are breached and the party arrives at the gap, they manage to hold it for a while.

But then, the fae commander enters the battlefield.

She’s a pale woman in dark armor, wearing a deeply hooded cloak of such dark green it’s nearly black. The silver greatsword in her hands is brutal in its elegance. She is not hurrying; but her slow, inexorable approach belies the unnatural speed at which she can move, blurring like a heat mirage when she dodges, whipping that vicious greatsword through the air like a reed whip.

She carries a torch of emerald flame. From much, much farther away than she should be able to manage--shortbow range, nearly--she whips it over her head like a javelin into the breach.

The explosion on impact is devastating. Andromeda, their paladin, is thrown sharply into a stone wall, cracks her head against the rubble, and drops. Every other member of the party that was within range is knocked prone by an explosion of magical fire, struggling charred and bleeding to their feet. And then the small army, safe now inside the range of the city’s very, very few trebuchets, rushes in. 

Two massive animated hangman’s trees--hulking oaks, perpetually regenerating themselves with the power of the earth, dripping with black nooses and rusted chains--charge forward to flank their commander, and she walks calmly up to the nearest defender and starts methodically cutting them all to pieces.

Slowly but surely, the party starts to lose.

She fights dirty, using Command words to pull ranged fighters and casters in close before unleashing powerful AoE effects that desiccate the earth, drying out the grass, leeching moisture from the soil, cracking the party’s lips and skin with the heat of a desert sun in summer--here, in late autumn, in the middle of the fantasy space Alps.

She’s smiling. She’s enjoying this.

I think almost every member of the party goes down in this fight at least once--including both paladins (Olassa, taken to her knees by the desiccation spell; Andromeda, struggling back to consciousness to heal herself as best she can and then charge bravely back into the fray because she’s their heaviest hitter and she’s desperately needed)....the only healers the party has access to. 

Audie, a bookish librarian wizard, once again shows her deranged levels of courage by rushing deeper into melee range and sacrifices one of the party’s precious healing potions to get Olassa back to consciousness; but this is no longer a game of healing back to fighting status. The party is tapped. They’re trading hitpoints in the single digits, trying to keep everyone conscious--and it’s a battle they’re losing.

The fae commander steps calmly up until she’s standing over the faintly stirring Olassa. She runs two fingers down the flat of her blade, emerald runes flaring in their wake. The party knows this spell. She’s used it before, against Farrah. There is a non-zero chance that a single blow with this spell active will be enough to kill Olassa instantly--and if it doesn’t, the smile on the commander’s face says she fully intends to finish her off on the backhand.

As she raises the blade, the emerald runes flare amethyst and explode, shattering like dropped glass; the blow goes wild and misses as the commander is knocked away, more by surprise than force, by the snarling werewolf suddenly crouched over the fallen Olassa.

Arlette Starstrike, level five sorcerer, facing a woman armed with a silver greatsword--burning her only level 4 slot on a single desperate Counterspell.

[ansbobcar]

EP 14. Can't it just be a fight?

WORD COUNT. 1214

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

Why did they fight?

It was simple really.

The baseless whispers about the Blood Cane’s strength got on his nerves. “Don’t you think he’s weaker than her?” They uttered with each comparison they do as he looked over their paperwork before attending another meeting. Snickers popped open in the halls, “But Ms. Ontarin’s got more experience doesn’t she?”

Blood and Sand don’t mix well. Neither does a beloved and a despised person. It was bound to happen at some point. Typically, they held a duel between two Divine Visionaries in order to instil pride and courage amongst the staff at the Bureau yearly. So practically, just a year ago, he walked up to the blonde who had worn in a long skirt that day and uttered:

“My employees seem to think you can beat me but we’ve never fought before. I’d like to see if their words hold merit.”

He was practically burning his gaze into her line of sight and everyone in the area saw the interaction. She accepted without any more reluctance.

You’d be surprised at how fast word spread through the buildings about their duel to the point that Ryoh Grantz, the strongest of the Divine Visionaries acted as referee. Standing in the plain field courtyard barely a 10 minute walk from the building, the two stood metres away from each other.

“What’s the worst you’d want to happen to you?” she asked him. 

“Preferably not death,” he replied, his hand holding onto his wand.

“What a vague answer.”

The rules were simple: first person to get knocked out, get out of the line, or surrender loses. Physical violence is banned since this was to evaluate who was the better magic user. That’s how these duels worked. And nobody had managed to champion over the Light Cane yet.

“3… 2… 1… Start!”

Immediately, sand bound her feet down while she attempted to freeze him in place by reducing his blood circulation. But they both broke out of each other’s grasps, with a kick of body fortification as they closed the distance between them. But they can’t beat the crap out of each other you know? So what’s the point of doing it?

Well for Rinka it’s obvious, the whole crowd thought. Get close and bind him with blood but that needed her to be an arm’s length away from him. Of course, he wouldn’t allow such a thing as he continuously morphed the sand beneath their feat whilst he sent more projectiles towards her. The Desert Cane does as much as possible to screw over her line of sight but she’s quick on her feet. Quicker than he expected.

Closer than expected too, as he threw a stream of sand towards her eyes, which then mixed in with her own blood and splattered onto the ground. “You’re going to have to try harder than that,” she told him, warmth coiled around his neck only to be destroyed by mere sand particles. In it’s wake, he travelled further from her grasp.

It was the thrill that probably got to his head but he was slowly struggling to breathe. Taking more frequent and sometimes deeper breathes with each spell he chanted, parrying her attempts to lessen the gap between them.

“You slowed down his circulation from earlier? Is that why you kept trying to get closer instead of just offing him?”

“He just didn’t want to be dead, so I stayed true to his words.”

Since they had similar styles of application, it became an endurance test. What she received was akin to mere papercuts after all.

Without hesitation, she punctured his spectacles. His thick, highly powered spectacles. His biggest weakness not only as an opponent but as a person living day to day. He was partially blind in one eye, she hawked instinctively.

“Okay,” he breathed in sharply; “That does it.”

Instantly, he raised her onto a platform metres above and readied multiple projectiles towards her without another word. Who the hell destroyed someone’s glasses over something like this? But what he didn’t expect was her stubbornness as she dove down, eyes glued towards him. For the spectators, the way a maniacal grin etched itself as she readied her counter put them on edge. That wasn’t the Rinka Ontarin they knew.

Orter’s vision lost it’s depth and focus more frequently as the crisp tear of fabric was heard and his cheek, grazed with the sickly needle. Whilst the onlookers gasped at the sight, he clutched onto his shirt. The overbearing heaviness that heaved from his ribcage became more unbearable than he’d expected. ‘Quite sly…’

“Let’s just end this,” he gritted, summoning a tsunami worth of sand to haul towards her direction in hopes of getting her out of bounds. Her blood supply is limited, there’s no way she could afford to lose more blood than she already had.

“Didn’t Ryoh say you two took it too far?” Sophina recounted their battered appearance as Ryoh cast a light shield around the boundaries and themselves. With Rinka’s dark shirt dyed with a rustic hue, and Orter collapsed unconscious before controlling the last wave.

There was no reason for it to be like that. The bloody woman also tore her skirt! With holes that showed fingers worth of equally bleeding skin. “It was the best outcome I could’ve wanted, honestly,” she replied, her hands lifted at different heights. “The lack of a winner would mean that he’d be viewed more seriously,” levelling them next to each other, “and the comparisons made between us would stop. And they did. I can’t have someone who took over be in my shadow.”

"You went that far to make the atmosphere more bearable?” Her fuschia-coloured eyes narrowed. “I can't tell if your dedication is amazing or if your crush on him was too intense or if you guys are just plain stupid."

With a sigh as she leaned back, she took out some mini pretzels from the cabinets with her wand. “Either way, I thought he hated you?”

“You did?” She arched her brow at the hopeless reader. “He did?”

“Wasn’t it obvious enough?” She shook her head. “You really are lovestruck. What the hell is your type even if you’ve rejected every other guy out there?”

“Not as complicated as yours that’s for sureaCHK--”

_ _ _

“You want to go watch Easton’s Divine Visionary Candidate Exam?”

He didn’t bring that up in their recent meeting, confused by the sudden proposition. “Why?”

“He’s qualified to compete.” Right, she remembered. Orter had a younger brother who was practically estranged from him. They’d met for some tea about 2 months ago while he was taking an internship.

She didn’t take him to be that interested in his own family. No, it was probably that girl’s meddling that made him more conscious of it. “Putting effort to reconnect?” Curious to his thought process. He hummed. Matte gold eyes awaited for her answer with his lips drawn thin.

‘Was he… sulking?’

“Just answer the question.”

“There shouldn’t be any issues since you were planning to stay here right?” Awkwardly executing her question with some gestures. He hummed again. “Just make sure to tell Kaldo that you’re replacing me, okay?”

“Can’t I just follow along?”

“No.”

‘Now he’s actually sulking.’

_ _ _ _ _

Y'all are getting some wirth content next chapter! He's prolly OOC as hell!!!!

In another universe I would probably ship myself with Sophina Biblia lol. I do think she has ridiculous tastes. I'm reminded of those 2 j-dramas I watched and never 100% finished (Mr. Bride and Encyclopedia of Hopeless Love).

I wanted to write Pacific Rim flirting fight but it didn't 100% work out that way. But I guarantee that if it incorporated physical hits and moves, Orter would have a better advantage and be more likely to win.

Short edit like 2 weeks before it's published: I forgot that Orter doesn't refer to Wirth by name.