#Clotho || Chapter 1

[forebodingprophet]

Moirai || Clotho C1P5

              As far as Anastasios was concerned, now was not the time to be welcoming guests and throwing parties.  He pulled the myriad of decorations off of his head, haphazardly tossing his circlet diadem into its box, dropping the earrings in the decorative box on his dresser, and beginning to tie his hair up for bed after taking off his bangles.  Just that morning, his grandfather had given him the word that no less than five of their family members living outside the house had vanished.  Some of them had been powerless individuals who’d sought freedom, but at least two of them had been information gatherers, individuals who voluntarily traveled from region to region gathering information for the house using their abilities.  That meant that whoever had done this had at least two Seers from House Ofthalmós in their possession.  Personally, he wanted to call everyone home, but he didn’t have the authority to make that decision.  Only his grandfather did, and the current patriarch deemed their ability to maintain an information network more important.  Anastasios had decided to draw up an alternative to present to his grandfather the next morning, but it was going to be hard to have that meeting with both Balia and Hikaze here to entertain.  There was just so much to do.  He really didn’t have time for this.  Not to mention, he’d have to hide all this from Balia.  No offense to her, but he didn’t need a ‘god’ taking on his family problems.  Especially when they didn’t know very much about what was going on.  She had her own country to care for.  He didn’t want to pull her into Ofhtalmós troubles.  Not to mention, once her and Celia got involved in a problem, they sometimes ended up taking things to extremes, at least as far as the humans involved were concerned.  He still remembered how much stress they’d caused Esaias when he’d been kidnapped by his own people.  He removed most of his robes, leaving just the embroidered golden halter top and black pants.  He’d just decided to skip the bath and head straight to bed when a knock came on his bedroom door.  Anastasios sighed, trudging over to open it.  He grimaced when he saw Hikaze accompanied by Théo.

              “Do you know what time it is?  Let me rest.  Arceus knows I’ve dealt with enough bullshit today,” Anastasios complained. Then he noticed Hikaze holding a pillow and a blanket.  “What, is there a problem with your room?”

              “Nah, man.  This is a perfect opportunity for a sleepover, right?”

              Anastasios looked over at Théo as if to say ‘Are you serious?  You brought him here for this?’

              “We’re in an enormous mansion where you get your own guest suite, and you want to share a room?” Anastasios asked, exasperated.

              “Come on,” Hikaze whined.  “You never let me do this before!  And now we’re the perfect age for it!”

              “Yeah!  There’s a reason for that, you moron!” Anastasios spat.  “Did you forget I can rummage through your whole history?” Hikaze went rigid.  Yeah, he forgot.  Anastasios sighed.  “Look, just go back to your room.  Guests are kept in their own wing for a reason: their own damn privacy.  Granted, it’s not exactly a perfect solution, but it works most of the time.”  Anastasios waited somewhat patiently while Hikaze mulled it over.  Granted, this might be the perfect opportunity to ensure that Hikaze wasn’t involved in whatever was going on with his missing family members, but, like Esaias, Anastasios felt pretty strongly about prying into the lives of those around him.  Hikaze took a deep breath and let it out.

              “I still want to do it.”

              Anastasios’ palm smacked into his face. This idiot.  Anastasios grumbled and scratched his head, pulling several strands of golden hair loose from its braid.

              “Fine, but I don’t want to hear any complaints about anything.  Got it?”  He regretted saying it as soon as Hikaze started grinning.  “Théo, I’ll lend him some of my pjs, so you don’t need to bring any. Go to bed.”

              “Yes, young master.”

              “And stop calling me that!”  But Théo had already ushered Hikaze inside and closed the door.  Anastasios seethed at his door for a moment before huffing and storming over to his dresser to take out two sets of pajamas, his braid falling forward over his shoulder. “Here.  Put on one of these.  Yes, the whole set.”  Hikaze took the clothes and stared at them dubiously.

              “Look, I don’t sleep with-”

              “I do not care,” Anastasios spat, flicking his braid back over his shoulder.  “You sleep in my bed, you wear pjs.”  Hikaze pouted but complied, starting to change into the new clothes while Anastasios reconciled with the fact that he was going to have an awkward night, disappearing into the connected bathroom to change.

              “Still as much of a prude as ever, huh?” Hikaze asked when Anastasios re-emerged from the bathroom, finishing the last button. Anastasios scowled.

              “I’d heard that Kazuya was quite shameless, but it appears audacity is all you’re made of,” he replied, sitting himself down on the bed.

              “Man, how long are you going to keep that up?” Hikaze sighed, sitting down on the opposite side.

              “No idea what you’re talking about.  Now behave.  It’s time for bed.”  Anastasios laid down, but Hikaze crawled across the queen-sized bed to address him directly.

              “You can’t go to bed yet, isn’t it a staple that we have to share scary or weird stories?” Hikaze asked.  Anastasios groaned and flopped back into his pillows.

              “You’re fucking obnoxious,” he sighed.  Hikaze grinned before flopping down on the other side of the bed.

              “You know you like it,” he bragged. Anastasios rolled his eyes.  This brat.

              “One story each, and then we need to sleep. You may still be riled up, but I’ve been working all day.  I’m tired.” Hikaze nodded his head back and forth. Clearly not his ideal, but he’d take the compromise… and made a quiet plan to try and stretch it as much as he could.

              Midnight rolled around, but Hikaze still didn’t let Anastasios go to bed.  And, to be honest, although he was exhausted, he’d kind of forgotten about it.

              “Hey, so where’s Celia?  I thought she would come barge in in at some point demanding to join us and be a complete brat?”

              Anastasios paused, not answering immediately.  It wasn’t like it was a secret, but it could definitely be dangerous to just go telling random people.  However, given how inconsistently it occurred, it may act as a good way to test Hikaze’s true nature.

              “Celia is out ‘feeding’,” Anastasios answered.

              “Huh?”  Hikaze scrunched up his face, clearly not understanding.

              “Simply feeding her sugar isn’t enough.  I’m not sure exactly why she was able to exist without feeding for so many years after Esaias found her, but her nature as a Darkrai compels her to feed on the suffering in nightmares.  So, tonight, because Lady Aria is here, she took the chance to go out to feed.”

              “I thought she’d stick around for the sleepover.”

              “If Lady Aria is here for multiple nights, she will.  Celia will likely remain in the house tomorrow night, and the night after that, and for however long our guests stay.  She tries not to go out often as it leaves us vulnerable.”

              “Uggghhh… I mean, I’m a little glad I get you to myself, but next time I sleep over, tell her that she has to join us,” Hikaze sighed, flopping his head on the pillow.

              “Not a chance,” Anastasios replied as he sat up, disgusted.  “Do you know how much of a pain she is?  She already invades my room for sleepovers at least twice a week.  I don’t need you encouraging her.”

              Hikaze ignored the rebuttal and waved him off with a yawn.  

              “You’ve had 14 years to play catchup with her.  I haven’t even had a day,” Hikaze replied, his voice slowly tapering off as he started falling asleep.

              “… If only a millennia could be summarized that quickly…”

              2 A.M. finally found both boys passed out in bed- Hikaze sprawled out at the foot of the bed, taking up a solid ¾ of it, and Anastasios modestly tucked in to his end.  Within an hour, however, Anastasios bolted up in bed, gripping his head and breathing heavily.  Both he and Esaias had Seen worse, but this was personal.  Anastasios looked over at Hikaze, and his skin nearly crawled off his body, forcing a shudder out of him.  Did he know?  It was possible that he didn’t, but Esaias was reluctant to let him acknowledge the alternative.  Anastasios eventually managed to calm down and let himself look back over at Hikaze sprawled out next to him in bed, covers tossed aside.  Normally, Anastasios would be dubious that a mere twelve-year-old could be involved in his family’s disappearances, but Hikaze was a reincarnator like himself.  Hikaze was capable, but the person he was before was not.  However, he knew full well, and had been warned, that Anastasios might root something like this out.  If he truly had been turned into such a cut-throat person, he would have backed out and not taken the risk…

              “What am I going to do with you?” Anastasios asked quietly.  “You’re more trouble than Esaias was.”  Not entirely true- Esaias had been a social and emotional mess that Kazuya had very reasonably dealt with using a strange form of common sense.  Kazuya had even gone along for the ride on some of Esaias’ more dangerous escapades (only occasionally causing more trouble than he was worth.)  Anastasios sighed.  Had this boy been anyone but Kazuya, he would have just let Celia eat him, but he couldn’t. One of the first things he’d done when Esaias’ memories began integrating with his was go looking for Kazuya only to spend nearly a whole day crying when he was forced to face the fact that he was dead (in Anastasios’ defense, he was six- not the height of emotional cohesion.) “Arceus, what am I supposed to do…” Anastasios flopped back down, making the bed bounce.  He would have worried about waking Hikaze, but he was busy giving new definition to the phrase ‘sawing logs’.  Anastasios resolved to see how this would pan out.  If Hikaze turned out to be a threat, Anastasios was sure that he could manage him.  He’d try to keep Celia close at hand in case things went south.  He tried to go back to sleep, but his mind was racing a mile a minute, making connections and planning contingencies.  Either way, Hikaze would be returning home the next day.  It’d be a good opportunity to test him.

[yazthebookish]

I avoid talking about the other ship specifically but I feel like letting my thoughts out on some arguments I see sometimes. Not that I have any interest in engaging in any discourse with the other side but it's my page so I can post whatever I feel like posting.

"Gwyn's purpose in the bonus chapter is to hint at her Lightsinger powers"

Okay, so you think one of the most important points about the bonus chapter is to prove Gwyn has luring powers so my question is what are the implications of that? Her drawing Azriel away from Elain? Azriel and Elain exposing her true powers in front of everyone to reveal she is the reason she's been keeping them apart? She is being manipulated by Merrill and Koschei? She has powers she's using unknowingly and can't control them so she'll need Az and Elain to help her?

You're setting up Gwyn to be prominent in an Azriel/Elain book because of her powers, so will they spend time dealing with other plotlines or mainly focus on Gwyn? Because that kind of thing definitely needs resolution since it directly impacts Nesta and the Valkyries dynamic.

So do Azriel and Elain's fantastic romance needs another female character to be used as a scapegoat to pin all their issues on her because the bonus chapter wasn't a good look on them? Or simply because his scene with Gwyn and with Clotho ended on a hopeful note than his scenes with Elain and Rhysand?

Gwyn is an irrelevant character and serves Nesta's story only.

But your argument is she has luring powers and is using them on Azriel, so will that go unaddressed? Then why would SJM throw hints about her powers if it won't mean anything?

Gwyn was used just as a marketing ploy in the bonus chapter.

She's considered a new character and no one knew she was in Azriel's bonus chapter and the bonus chapter was strictly advertised to be focused on Azriel, please be serious.

The bonus chapter is irrelevant.

The author confirmed she planted things in it specifically and in ACOSF in relation to Azriel so I would disagree. The great "forbidden romance" trope wouldn't exist without it and Azriel and Elain spoke to each other more in the bonus chapter than they ever did in the main book, I can pin-point the scene where they speak to each other only ONCE in a 800+ page book and it was about Nesta dancing with the Duke.

Gwyn has powers.

She's Fae of course she has powers but why is the immediate assumption that her powers are nefarious? She didn't harm any character and there was zero hints of her having any bad intentions towards anyone. She deals with survivor's guilt and her trauma, but she had many opportunities to let that evil secret side show but it never did. Why? Because she's obviously not set up to be an evil character or even one with questionable intentions. This is the same character who was ready to sacrifice herself to save her friends and stood by Nesta to face hateful males who wanted to k*ll them.

She's a Lightsinger.

Pretty easy to debunk because there is no correlation based on what we know and we never even see any Lightsingers. Even if she happens to be one, I believe it'll play out way differently than what some people try to push. And come on, Lightsinger and Shadowsinger? You think SJM wouldn't go for that dynamic? But for now I disagree with it since canon tells us they're monsters who k*ll for sport and Gwyn does none of that. Even if she had other different powers that are not wholly good, it's not a point of concern because many characters have questionable powers that did not erase the fact that they were good characters. It's like people never read fantasy books with characters who had dark powers but it didn't corrupt them, for some reason there's an insistence that Gwyn already caused harm despite the serious implications of having a character who is SA victim portrayed as someone luring other people against their will.

Azriel ended up at the library because Gwyn was singing during the service.

1. Clotho is seen at the service, so her being at her desk when Azriel shows up at the library is a good hint that the services didn't start yet.

2. For a singing power to work, the victim should be able to hear the singing and Azriel made no note of any singing at the library.

3. The image he sees of Gwyn's joy didn't pop up randomly, it was triggered by Clotho after she thanks him for the joy the gift will bring her and tells him that Gwyn deserves something as beautiful as this.

The shadows stay around him because they sense a threat but she's luring them.

How is she luring them when she's not even singing if it's been established that her singing has powers? Also, that statement contradicts what's in the text because the shadows were curious at start of the scene and by the end they were described to have calmed and were content to watch Gwyn. In ACOSF, they were seen dancing around Az when Gwyn addresses him.

Nesta reacted to Gwyn's singing the same way Azriel did.

Context matters and a lot of arguments that support this statement are always taken out of context. Nesta loves music so if she is going to admire Gwyn's beautiful voice, it'll be simply for that and nothing more.

There is no way to 100% pin point what caused Nesta to have visions of the Prison during the services but it doesn't only have to be Gwyn's singing but also the lyrics which were found under Level Seven and are written in an ancient language. When Nesta gets the vision she says she can visualize what the song spoke of, meaning the song itself could be talking about story of the Prison/Land of Dusk.

"But Azriel's shadows reacted to her singing"

— "How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

Silent music, not singing. Not song. Just like how Hunt mentioned hearing some beautiful music between his and Bryce's souls. Just like how Nesta and Cassian when they consummated their bond heard the music between their souls. Strong sign of Mateism friends.

"But Azriel still heard a beautiful singing, not just music."

— Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

Could she be singing? Maybe though unlikely since she returned to training to cut the ribbon right after he left. If she did, maybe the shadows like her voice? Maybe that's a sign they're fond of her? And if it's not maybe that's another sign that the singing they're hearing is the mating bond, which was once described as the Song of the Soul.

The Shadows having a reaction to singing isn't necessarily a bad sign, we saw them dance to Azriel's humming in HOFAS.

Gwyn returned to the library, her story is over.

I have to assume you haven't read ACOSF or skimmed it if that's the conclusion you came to, because there were clear signs that not only Gwyn but Emerie have ongoing journeys and they will leave where they are right now to see the world outside. Gwyn literally states at around the 70%-80% mark that she's sick of staying in the library for two years and wants to leave. She returned to the library because that's her current residence and where she works, it's not like she'll immediately move out right after facing the Blood Rite. This is one argument I can't take seriously because it clearly contradicts what canon points out and I think it's mostly out of convenience to invalidate any discussions about her healing journey and incomplete arc.

Casual readers don't even ship Azriel and Gwyn and have no knowledge about the bonus chapter

A lot of casual readers do in fact see a potential in Azriel and Gwyn as a romantic pairing because they have canon interactions in ACOSF. Plenty of readers shipped them even before they read the bonus chapter. Casual readers are dismissed when they address that and are claimed to be hardcore shippers that hate Elain when it's not the case since they just point out what they think is the obvious in the book to them. Every casual reader will have a different opinion but for some reason if theirs is not in favor of Elain and Azriel, they'll be dismissed so that says much.

Just a hot take that I wanted to put out there since I'll be avoiding fandom discourse moving on (unless I feel like it Lol).

[elrieldreamer]

And … she’s DONE!

Her thoughts on the Azriel BC (I had told her that it was controversial in the fandom, but not why. I hadn’t given her any other thoughts beforehand. She read it in the timeline with the canon text, so after chapter 58.):

1. She was so in love with Azriel’s thoughts about Elain. She was blushing and kept looking at me as she read and just … she was giddy, y’all. And when Elain said “put it on me” she mouthed the words and put her hand on her heart. 😂😍 It was adorable. She cried and got really upset when he had to walk away. Definitely heartbroken.

2. She’s a huge Rhys fan, so I knew the next part would be difficult for her. She got upset, but did say that Rhys had a lot of stress because of Feyre and Nyx. She thinks that Rhys will regret what he said to Azriel, but did reinforce that it was the right move politically. She was already crying for Elain, and then she was crying again for Azriel.

3. I have to say, I was an extremely proud mom when she got to the Gwyn portion. She IMMEDIATELY picked up on the fact that Azriel’s shadows were acting suspicious. She read through it twice and then with no encouragement at all she flat asked me if Gwyn could be a lightsinger. I asked her why she thought that, and she said, “Maybe it’s too easy, but she like, glows when she sings, right? And now the shadows seem to hear music in her breath. And Azriel was hearing music when he left? Yeah. I think she’s a lightsinger.” ☠️

4. She got really upset about Azriel regifting the necklace. She’s concerned that Elain might see Gwyn with the necklace and it will hurt her deeply. She did point out that Clotho seems suspicious in the scene, and is wondering if the priestesses are all part of some scheme. I did decide to ask her if she thought that Azriel was romantically interested in Gwyn, and she was adamant that it wouldn’t make sense for him to have that scene with Elain and then to immediately have some kind of moment with Gwyn. She also pointed out the portion where he says that he wouldn’t consider Gwyn a friend. She seemed confused that I asked.

5. At that point I asked her to read the BC again and pay attention to all of the specific language usage. After her second reread I was so proud because she looked up and flat asked if there are sirens in the library. She made the connection between the earplugs from Elain and The Odyssey (her school has them read it in 8th grade) and the description of Azriel showing up unexpectedly and then got really excited to continue to pick apart the BC. 😭🥹

I will update again after we have a more in depth discussion about the last 1/3 of ACOSF.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hot as Hades

Misc. Masterlist - Masterlist

Chapter 1

Words: 1939

Summary: the fate of yours and Hades' is bound but the Fates advise caution while Aphrodite is meddling in the Lord of the dead's affairs

Chapter 2 - Prophecy

Hades rushed down the steps, seething with anger towards Pain and Panic for neglecting to inform him of the Fates' arrival. The most important inhabitants of the underworld, aside from himself of course, were waiting for him and his good for nothing imps were too busy with hell knows what to even tell him. They had one task, just one damned task. Hades pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before swinging open the doors.

"Ladies. Hah. I am so sorry that I'm...", he began, attempting to apologise, but the Fates cut him off.

"Late", they finished in unison.

"We knew you would be", Lachesis chuckled.

"We know everything", Clotho proudly stated.

"Past."

"Present."

"And future", Atropos added, nudging Pain, "indoor plumbing. It's gonna be big."

"Right, anyway ladies, I was at this picnic kinda thing and I lost all track and wanted to ask abou-", Hades tried to explain, only to be interrupted once again by the Fates.

"We know!"

His hair momentarily flared up in a deep red before returning to its usual blue flames as he took a series of deep breaths, attempting to regain his composure. He knew that losing his temper in front of the Fates would be counterproductive, despite how frustrating they could be to deal with. However, Aphrodite's words continued to swirl in his mind, leaving him wondering if there was any truth behind her teasing remark.

"I KNOW, you know. Anyway, Aphrodite... Ms. Lovey Dovey, Ms. "Hey I always know when someone's in love", now she has told-"

"About the mortal being in love with you. WE KNOW!", the Fates interrupted him yet again.

Hades couldn't help but slam his hand against his face in exasperation, a painful reminder to himself to maintain his calm and charm.

"I KNOW YOU KNOW! I got it, I got the concept!", he clenched his teeth, forcefully contorting the twitching corners of his mouth into a distorted smile, "so let me just ask. Is Aphrodite telling the truth about that mortal? Will she love me back? What do you think?"

Clotho released a sorrowful sigh, parting her lips, but before any words could escape, Lachesis seized the edge of her robe and swiftly turned her around.

"We're not supposed to reveal the future!", she reminded her sister, fixing a stern gaze upon her, despite the absence of an eyeball.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hades that a disagreement was brewing between the Fates. He found himself in the perfect position to extract information from them, all it would take was a touch of his usual charm and he would attain his answers.

"Ladies ladies", his voice was smooth and alluring, "time out, please. Can I ask you a question by the way? Did you cut your hair or something? You look fabulous, like a fate worse than death."

His slender fingers gently touched a strain of her hair, which popped out and wound its way along his arm like a poisonous snake, ready to strike. Hades' expression briefly contorted into disgust before he regained his composure and tucked the hair back into its rightful place. Clotho couldn't contain her giggles, resembling an infatuated teenager, prompting Lachesis to nudge her in the side, causing their shared eye to pop out and roll towards Hades. He swiftly retrieved it, plucking a hair from it before gently taking hold of Lachesis' hand and placing the eyeball on her palm.

"Ladies, please", he purred with a seductive voice, "my fate is in your lovely hands."

Lachesis and Clotho looked at each other, sighs of awe leaving their lips.

"Alright", Atropos grumbled, taking hold of the eye and letting it hover among the other Fates before transforming it into a radiant dark blue sphere.

"In 18 nights precisely, the hearts will align ever so nicely. The time to act will be at hand, free your aching heart, bodies to bend."

"Mmm-hmm. Good, good", Hades chuckled, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he attempted to push sudden thoughts of your naked form out of his mind.

"The once lonely receives all and her heart be yours to call!"

His heart skipped a beat. After eons of torment from his lonely, aching heart, trapped in the desolation of the demanding underworld, he caught a glimpse of a flickering light—a small flame ignited by a glimmer of hope deep within him.

"But a word of caution to this tale", the Fates' tone darkened.

And there it was, the usual punch in the face, the cruel reality swirling around him, teasing him with the notion that all the beauty and happiness in the world was meant for every god except himself.

"Excuse me?", Hades spoke, his voice cracking with sorrow.

"Should Zeus deny, love will fail.", the Fates cackled before disappearing.

The Lord of the Underworld screamed, his furious roar echoing through the realms of darkness like a wave of scorching flames from the depths of hell, threatening to consume and obliterate everything in its path. His fists pounded against the table in the chamber before he hurled it against the wall, the stone shattering into countless fragments as the sound of his frantic breath filled the room, while Panic and Pain slipped away silently, hoping to avoid being maimed.

You finished work, helping your boss cleaning up before you headed home. Daily life had become more bearable since that night with Hades. With a joyful tune on your lips, you happily skipped through the streets towards your humble abode. As you collapsed onto your bed, a gentle sigh escaped your mouth, your mind filled with thoughts of when it would be fitting to reach out to the god once again. You yearned for his presence and the ache you felt in your belly while laughing at his silly puns.

"Thinking about the Lord of the Gloomy and Grumpy?", someone chuckled.

You jumped up from your bed and turned towards the voice, its origin being the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on.

"Are-are-are you?", you stammered as every muscle on your body tensed.

"Aphrodite, goddess of love and desperately needed in this household", she smiled warmly at you.

"Do you?", your hands waved around, unsure what or how to ask.

"Know about the blooming love between you and the Lord of the dead? Of course my dear and I dare say that I wasn't even involved in all this. He fell for you loooong ago on his own. Whoops!", the goddess threw her hands up and laughed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, "shouldn't have said that."

You blinked in disbelief at the goddess' statement. Could it be that Hades felt the same way? That you actually charmed a god? Capturing his immortal heart even before you met him? It felt surreal, your head was spinning at the speed of light, different thoughts pestering your mind while a thousand questions whirled around demanding answers and all while your heart seemed to beat so fast that it almost felt painful.

"Poor little mortal", with an air of amusement, she paced around you, her voice dripping with curiosity, "but I'm not surprised, Hades is one of kind, thankfully, I think everyone on Olympus would scream if there were more like him."

"What will happen now?", you hesitantly asked.

"You two are linked by fate, my sweet little mortal", the godess whispered in your ear, "but only the Fates can tell what fate was, will be or will become."

A surge of emotions swirled within you - excitement, anticipation and a tinge of fear. Your lips parted to pose more questions but Aphrodite had already vanished, leaving only a faint trace of her delicate fragrance behind. It felt as though you were running in circles, every new piece of information throwing you back to the exact same spot you had started from. Unable to find solace in this confusion, you resolved to seek answers from the only god you felt comfortable talking to, so, the next day after work, you made your way back to the shrine in the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Hades had been expecting your arrival, his piercing eyes watching you from the underworld. He paced around in the throne room, cursing at Aphrodite's involvement. The revelations from the Fates had deeply unsettled him, he now also had the goddess of love meddling in his affairs, as if his situation wouldn't have been bad enough. He didn't know of what exactly and how he had to convince his brother to prevent a tragedy from happening, but he was determined to find a solution in due course. He possessed a certain resourcefulness and would not allow his brother to ruin his life any further. But that would be for another day, one absurdity at the time. For now, he had to devise a plan to counter any inquiries about his...what did mortals call them again? Ah, yes, feelings. He intended to conceal his emotions for as long as possible.

As he frantically sought a solution, his train of thought was interrupted by the faint whispers of your prayer. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, and he materialised beside you.

"You heard that sound? It was the sound of your little prayer fluttering all the way down into my realm and babe, you wished for it and baboom, here I am", he exclaimed, a smug grin hiding his nervousness, wiggling his eyebrows.

"So", you mumbled, avoiding his gaze while nervously shuffling your feet on the ground, "Aphrodite..."

"Yeeeeah I know I know", Hades said, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted between you and the ground.

"Is it...?", the question lingered unspoken for a moment.

"True? I would guess so", he sighed.

"So what...uhm...now?"

"We dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we carry on, we go home happy. If you want to of course, unlike my dear brother, Mr. High and Mighty, I'd actually prefer if we were on the same page for those kinda things."

You chuckled at that, feeling your heart flutter at the prospect of a date with the Lord of the dead.

As you locked eyes with him, you noticed a flicker of vulnerability hidden behind his typically stoic expression - a mix of affection and apprehension. It occurred to you for the first time that even a god like Hades might be plagued by insecurities. After all, living under the weight of a notorious reputation for eternity, while the other gods lived their best life on Olympus, didn't leave much room for love. Perhaps he had even given up on it altogether, until you wiggled your way into his immortal existence. He grasped your hands, intertwining them and raising them towards his lips, where he planted a gentle kiss. The sensation elicited a soft sigh from you, his unnaturally warm lips against your skin sending a delightful, tingling feeling throughout your body. A blush crept up to your cheeks as your gaze remained fixated on his thumb, softly caressing your flesh.

"The full-time job my brother so charitably bestowed upon me is waiting. I'd really love to stay but I can't. I'll pick you up tomorrow night for a proper date. Be here at sunset."

With those words, he vanished, leaving behind a faint trace of smoke. A real date with a real god...tomorrow...you internally screamed of joy, trying to keep a stoic expression, just in case he'd be watching. You strolled back home, thoughts racing around what he could possibly come up with for tomorrow evening and what a mere mortal like you could wear to impress the Lord of the dead.

Chapter 3

[littlest-w01f]

Chapter One

Series Masterlist

CW: Angst

50 years, 50 long years... Well, 50 years, 3 months and 1 day if anyone was counting, which she was.

Every day was the same for the past years, Velaris was dark, the darkness didn't come from the night, but from sorrow. Everyone felt an absence of their beloved High Lord. They all mourned him, feeling the last of his power when they tried to leave Velaris and were met with a forcefield that had glamoured their city, making it invisible to Amarantha's magic, adding another layer of protection to the City of Starlight just like their previous High Lords had.

Rheana stood at the edge of Velaris like she had every day since her brother was taken from her, her wings out and stretched for flight. She waited for the feeling of her brother's magic to spike, but it never did. After her initial panic, she destroyed the shield he had created to alter it with just a simple thought, creating her own glamour to hide her city so their Inner Circle could go in and out as they pleased. She and her sister, Morrigan, had taken to rule over Night Court. Mor took over The Court of Nightmares, those few who were spared the so-called High Queen's wrath, Rheana was sure it was to just throw it in her father's face of how powerful she was now, nearly untouchable, while she ruled over Velaris and kept the Illyrians from revolting in the absence of a power keeping them in line.

When her mind started screaming at her, Rheana flew to Illyria, sometimes she would spar with any Illyrian male who thought he could best her or she would teach the girls who would watch her beat up a male larger than her, despite Devlon's wishes for the young females to stay in the house and help their mothers. She found peace in teaching the girls to fight, she saw something of herself in the hoard of teenage females that she taught. All of it was a good distraction for half the century that made her want to peel her skin off, the hollow of her heart had only increased as the days went by.

If physical aggression couldn't calm her mind, she would lock herself in the library of the House of Winds, greeting Clotho curtly and sitting on a soft couch, reading books till her eyes crossed and she couldn't see straight. She had managed to study everything in the giant library twice and talked to some of the priestesses who worked there. One of them had suggested she talk to the female who helped them with their trauma but she had denied it, thinking how could her trauma compare to any of theirs.

Her mind snapped back to her body when she felt a playful shove of Illyrian wings. "Hey Rhe, I got you some food."

She turned to meet Cassian's eyes, her eyes softened seeing her friend. "Cassian..." She shoved him back with her wings, a greeting of 'hello' that they had since they were children.

Cassian and Azriel, her oldest friends, were the only were who made sure she ate and was hydrated. Azriel himself threatened to shove some proper nutrition she needed down her throat if she wouldn't eat willingly. While Amren rolled her eyes at their motherhen antics, claiming Rheana wouldn't die of some unhealthy choices.

"Rhe, you there...?" Cassian waved his large hand in front of her face, making her snap out of another trance, she went in and out of the maze in her mind a lot after losing Rhysand.

"Yeah, yeah..." She nodded, made her wings disappear and sat down next to him on the grass, taking the basket he'd gotten her. "I've just been thinking."

"The usual?" Cassian sitting next to her, wrapping a wing around her. She nodded back, chewing on some meat he'd brought her. The usual, Rhysand, the Illyrians, Rhysand's safety, the priestesses in the library, and Rhysand being dead.

"It's been 50 years... he's dead..." She swallowed hard, "Amarantha hasn't died, if she had he would've been here 3 months ago."

Cassian leaned into her as she forced food down her throat, he and Azriel had been the only ones who kept her from breaking down about her brother's life at any and each moment. "I'm sorry, something must have been going on-"

"I hate not knowing what's happening to my own brother!" She exclaimed and cut him off, Cassian let her get up and pace around. "We don't know nothing of what's happening Under the Mountain, what she has planned, who..." She inhaled deeply, her siphons glowing purple, "Who all she might have killed until it's always too late! There is word in the wind that my brother killed two dozen Winter Court children. He would never. Not children." Her voice broke slightly, not wanting to think of the fact that whatever was happening to him Under the Mountain might have... No, she would not think that.

Cassian stood up after her, stroking her back to calm her, "Rhysand must have thought of something, and besides, you would feel it." He pointed to her chest over her heart, "Right here... Even if you can't feel his magic, you would just know, if there was evil in your blood or if he was dead."

She knew what he meant, whatever was in their bloodline was a lot different than they had ever seen, it was a different type of fibre that connected their blood. Connected them on another lever. Powerful children of a powerful man. The only blood family either of them had left alive.

When he pressed his fingers over Rheana's heart again, she gasped, and she felt a sharp rush of power. It wasn't her power. It was his power. She looked up at her giant of a friend with a wide smile. Her violet eyes were suddenly full of life. Velaris also felt it, as little the power was, of its High Lord's return.

"Rheana... What's wrong?" Cassian asked before correcting, "What's so right?"

"He... He's." She gasped again. "We need to get to the House of Winds."

She flew before Cassian registered her words, her wings spread wide as she leaned forward to fly faster. She saw a pale figure standing in the House, she felt it in her, and her insides sang his name. Her brother. Her family.

Rhysand... Rhysand is safe... Rhysand is alive...

She stood next to him too fast, and the two eyes met, beings made from the same thread of fabric, they each took a step closer to each other, there were no words said, but everything that needed to be said was heard.

Both of them were glad that the other was there. Alive. Just an arm's reach from each other. Safe, safe, safe. The power in their blood sang.

He looked like a ghost, and she would have thought he was one, she had dreamt of this moment so long she wondered if this was just another dream. But he was not a ghost, not as a smile appeared on his lips, he took another step towards her, Mor appeared behind them a worried look on the female's face as he fell into Rheana's arms, and Rheana noticed the lack of muscles on him, noticed how pale he was.

"She's real, Rhea... My mate is real. She's my mate." Rhysand whispered before passing out in his sister's arms.

It was silent since Rhysand had returned, he had only said one sentence to Rheana before he passed out. She had decided against bringing their entire Inner Circle to see him at once, given that he hadn't woken up.

She had almost cried when she was able to lift him up like he weighed nothing, had she been able to lift him under any other circumstance, she would've teased the hell out of him. But there was nothing funny about how much weight Rhysand had lost in his captivity, nothing joyous about Rhysand being so thin that she could nearly see his bones in some places. It spooked Rheana that whatever went down Under the Mountain turned him into nothing more than a pale, thin, tired creature after fifty years of it. Her brother, the High Lord, was so weak it cracked her to pieces.

Rheana tucked her brother in his bed at the townhouse in the clothes he'd worn when he had winnowed back at the House of Winds, she set the messy hair that had now fallen over his face back, they had grown a lot since the last time she'd seen him, she despised the physical changes she saw, not liking that thought of equally scaring mental changes. She watched him, taking a seat next to his bed, he looked so tired and tensed in his state, and she kept her breathing quiet, feeling that he might be disturbed by any light movement.

The bargain tattoo on the right hand's pinky finger hummed against her skin, the word 'Alltaf' written in cursive, surrounded by swirls of starlight. An old fae language. She looked at his hand to see the matching tattoo in the same place but the word 'Aeternum'. Their oldest bargain. Her eyes followed his hand to the thinness of his arms. She'd only ever felt the way she did looking at him once, felt so melancholy, she couldn't help her mind wandering to escape from her body. To that one awful day. The awful memory.

Rheana was sitting moodily in the House of Winds, her father had put wards up in the house so that she couldn't leave the place even by the 10,000 stairs. Her father and brother had gone after the Spring Court royalty that had taken the lives of her sister and mother. Her mother and sister's final words were still ringing in her ear, their deaths should have been her revenge to take too, but Rhysand had not taken her side and watched as her father locked her in the house.

It had been a few days since that loss, she could feel the hollow darkness in her father's eyes that stayed long after he'd screamed so loud she wondered how it hadn't deafened her and her brother. The sound was so gut-wrenching their hearts broke the same every day just remembering it. When her father had scented the Spring royals in the air, he had vowed to kill them all. The loss of his mate was felt by everyone in the court. A male as powerful as her father, with the loss of his mate and a child, was just a chemical waiting to give off a deadly reaction.

After she was brought back home, Madja was instantly by her side, a new healer back then, she had helped bathe Rheana and put a tight bandage on her. As days passed, Madja tried every salve, but the giant gashes the High Lord of Spring had given her would only scar, never heal. Her scars of shame, she would call it while trying to look at the wounds in a mirror. Three large, perfectly symmetrical claw cuts on her back, half-healed forever.

She'd fought trying to join them in their murder spree but that had ended with her father locking her up. She waited for them, and as the minutes passed by she grew worried.

Had they been ambushed? She wondered. No... Her father was more powerful than the High Lord of Spring. She reminded herself

After half an hour of worrying, the shield her father had put up fell, which meant either that he wanted her to come to them or... she would not think of the other reason.

She felt Rhysand winnow in the House of Winds before he did, he carried a newfound power with him when he landed in front of her. She looked at him, seeing her brother covered in blood and guts of the Spring heirs. There he stood, not just her brother, but the High Lord of the Night Court. The two siblings wordlessly rushed to each other and melted in a tight hug, falling to the floor, Rheana not caring about how foul Rhysand smelled, or that her clothes were getting dirty as they both silently cried in each other's hold. Only knowing one thing, that the other was safe and they were to keep it that way.

"Wake up, brother." She whispered to a sleeping Rhysand, she had refused to finish eating the food that Cassian had brought back for her, she would only eat after her brother was up, and she would eat her meal without her brother, which was a week ago.

It had been a week since he had returned and he had not moved an inch, she could feel his heart beating low, there had been a cut on his chest that had bloodied his shirt making her rip it off and call Madja instantly, seeing the cuts and bruises, bile rising in her throat seeing some whip lashes, to be marked by some lashes, she couldn't fathom what he was hit with, or how frequently. Madja had put bandages on his cut, and a salve on the lashes, some of them in his skin while some were still fresh enough to look red. Everyone had come to visit him one by one after, while she had not moved much at all from her spot, she'd only done so to put another top on him and cover him with a blanket, so that he would not get cold. Or to cut his hair back to his usual hairstyle.

She also noticed a new inking at his hands, making her wonder who he had bargained with and what he had given away.

He thinned every day, he grew more pale than when he had arrived each day of that dreadful week and she feared her brother might not wake up. Her hunger didn't matter, she hadn't had a bite of food or a sip of water, and she'd starved for way longer than that anyway. Azriel had decided against being true to his words and let her be with her brother while he visited, not forcing her to neither eat nor drink.

"Please wake up, Rhysie... Please, I need you." She gripped his hands, a tear falling from her eyes. As she said those words, the tattoos on both their little fingers began to glow. Their bargain began to glow, as if energising at the contact and the words.

"I need my brother. I need him." She said more to their bargain now. It was as if the tattoo and their bargain itself gave Rhysand most of his colouring and muscles back. Gave him his health back.

His heart picked up a faster and steadier pace, and the High Lord of the Night Court woke up with a startled gasp.

{Taglist: @anuttellaa }

[elrielbaby]

What do you think of the Gwynriels being too confident in their ship? Are you sure Az has feelings for Gwyn and is always looking for her and stuff? And what are they matte?

I have tried, really really tried, to see where they’re coming from. I’ve re read the books multiple times to ensure I’m not missing any context, I’ve looked at it through every angle possible and I still cannot fathom why they are so confident.

I have a couple of theories as to why they’re so confident and I’m feeling a little spicy today, so I’ll share. I could go in to heavy detail, but I’ll try keep it brief anon.

1. They hate Elain and so are looking for any other option. Literally anyone. G*yn happens to be in the bonus chapter and so they go with that, without really thinking about it* (I will circle back to this).

2. They blindly follow the word of one or two people online.They don’t like Elain, or they love L*cien (and they totally miss all the clues that say L*cien doesn’t actually want Elain but that’s a whole other can of worms) and so they accept other people’s interpretations - which those people very intentionally present as fact, and use them as a jumping off point, so when they go back to the books they have that other persons narrative in their head that far better suits their ideals and so they’re looking, twisting, turning any and all of the narrative to fit that. They are gaslighting themselves, basically.

3. They don’t re read the books and they don’t open themselves up to any other possibility. I can say for myself that before I started posting online about elriel, I had heard about G*riel after reading the books and re read them to be sure. I’m nearly positive a lot of them don’t do that, and either never re read or re read as per the second point.

As to the second part of this question, I don’t believe he’s got feelings for G*yn, nor do I think he’s always looking for her - so, I’m very sure of that. If you meant Elain, it’s pretty obviously laid out in the text, without SJM having Azriel and Elain say ‘I’M IN LOVE WITH HIM/HER AND I DONT CARE WHO KNOWS IT’ - because how does that make any sense when they haven’t had their book? If they had, I’d be less sure of their endgame.

As for the last part, I’m going to assume you’re asking if I think either G*yn or Elain are mated to Azriel. I do not believe G*yn is Azriels mate. At all. There are a few signs that Az & Elain could be, but it truly doesn’t matter to me if they are or not. I think SJM has been metaphorically winking at us with some of the things she’s said about them but it could go a number of ways, in terms of wether they’re mates or not.

One things for certain though - they’re endgame ❤️

* to circle back to them not really thinking about it, as I didn’t want to bog down the main text with this, they don’t seem to consider a number of different things.

They don’t consider that it’s a limited bonus chapter that was only available for one specific book store. It is not available in the copies of ACOSF you can buy now, nor was it available in a huge number of copies you could buy at its initial release.

They don’t seem to consider that if you remove the bonus chapter, we still have four books that include build up for them. It literally makes no odds as to wether the bonus matters or not. For them though? Most of their argument relies on that bonus chapter.

They don’t seem to consider any other reason as to why G would be in that bonus chapter. None whatsoever. The Elain part was explicitly romantic and if you look at G’s part there is no romanticism in sight. The ‘spark’ happened after a conversation with Clotho, not even when G was present. Almost like G didn’t actually have anything to do with it at all. If you connect the dots to the main text, at least for my interpretation, you have Elain & Az, who very clearly have feelings for one another. You have G, who has a powerful affect on Nesta, and Clotho who also has, to a smaller extent, a powerful affect on Nesta.

And those are just the few things off the top of my head that I have the bandwidth to come up with right now. ❤️

[queenlachimolala]

Fate and Azriel's bonus chapter

Part 1: Chaos and Rebellion

Rereading made me realize that the recurrent theme of the chapter is FATE.

We have Azriel defying and playing with fate. He gave the necklace to Elain, who is mated to Lucien, and he almost kissed her, but Rhysand interrupted them.

Afterward, we have the shadowsinger questioning Elucien's mating bond and the Cauldron during his conversation with Rhys.

Part 2: Action and Magic

His shadows didn't alert him of Gwyn's presence. (We know how magic and mating bond work.) It's not a coincidence that Azriel met Gwyn after all this chaos, and she is the one who calmed him and his shadows.

When Azriel decided to return the necklace but something led him to the library.

I agree with the fact that this is a magical intervention. Unlike E/riels who think that it's Gwyn's lightsinger power, this magic is actually DIVINE.

The reasons ?

"At seven in the evening"

7 is an important number in Sjm books, but when you look at what numerology says about the number, it makes so much sense, too.

The other one ? Clotho

It's not a coincidence that she is in the chapter.

Azriel giving the necklace to Gwyn was a divine intervention.

It's FATE!

Sjm is giving us some hints for Gwynriel's mating bond.

And that's what you missed on Glee.

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (18/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~5k

Content warning for the aftermath of a massacre and preparation of bodies for burial in this chapter. Some dialogue is pulled directly from A Court of Mist and Fury, and the poem quoted in this chapter is Tithonus by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

On a lighter note, shout-out to @thesistersarcheron for beast Rhys tongue inspo and to @popjunkie42 for all her Feysand poetry thoughts <3

Read on AO3 or you can find the eighteenth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from | ch. 12 - no amount of freedom gets you clean | ch. 13 - stay stay stay | ch. 14 - call it what you want to | ch. 15 - even when you're sleeping, keep your eyes open | ch. 16 - you drew stars around my scars | ch. 17 - do you remember all the city lights on the water? | ch. 18 - and it smells like me

Rhys halted, taking in Mor's news. "Who," he said, and I hadn't known such utter rage could be conveyed in a single word.

I set the paintbrush down and stepped closer, feeling sick. If the priestesses were anything like the ones I'd come to know at the library…

At that thought, both our anger surged down the mating bond, and it felt as if my chest had been set ablaze. There had already been too much senseless violence Under the Mountain.

"We don't know," Mor said. "Azriel is investigating now."

Rhys began to pace. He'd hidden his wings to avoid them dragging on the floor when he'd sat with me, but shadows rolled off his shoulders as they appeared again, almost involuntarily.

But his voice was still soft as he said, "Does he have any initial theories?"

"You know Azriel—he won't say until he has enough information in hand to be sure. Cassian is pissed, though. He’s convinced it must be one of the rogue Illyrian war-bands, intent on winning new territory."

The rest of the Inner Circle must have heard this news first, then. I watched Rhys carefully for a reaction, unsure if that was how things were typically done. He didn't seem any more agitated than before, and I took that as a positive sign.

"I'm worried he may be correct."

"What are your orders?"

"For tonight, there's nothing to be done in Illyria that we aren't already doing. I'll discuss everything with Cassian in the morning. Mor, you and Amren will assist Azriel with whatever information-gathering he needs done. Be ready to field questions from other courts as news spreads. I'll inform Clotho myself and handle incoming correspondence."

Mor's eyes slid to me, and I nearly jumped—she'd been so focused on Rhys that I'd assumed she'd forgotten I was there. "Cesere is within the Night Court's borders. It falls to us to handle this alongside the priestesses," she said, obviously for my benefit.

"How can I help?" I said, fully expecting to be told to stay out of the way.

"The priestesses at the library will need assistance. Our kind bury our dead as swiftly as possible and keep watch until funeral rites are complete. It will mean something to have you there, Feyre, even if you're only comfortable sitting through the service as a representative of my Inner Circle," Rhys said.

There had been no similar sense of urgency among the mortals. When my mother died, there had been a wake, and for several days before her burial, our house had been full of friends and family paying their last respects. I wasn't surprised to hear things the fae did things differently.

For a moment, my mind flashed back to the sight of Tamlin carrying the bloodied corpse of a Summer Court faerie out of the manor. Tonight would be more of the same. And Rhys was giving me an out to avoid the grisly work if I couldn't stomach it.

I didn't hesitate. "I'll do whatever's necessary," I said. If the priestesses needed me to spend the night digging graves, I would.

With one last promise to keep Rhys informed, Mor winnowed away, and there was nothing left to do but head to the library. Before long, Rhys had left to make arrangements for increased security at the other temples, and I made my way down to the spare rooms near the dormitories to help in whatever way I could.

Merrill, a silver-haired scholar I'd once overheard terrorizing a research assistant, was organizing the efforts and barked out orders at me. I rolled up the sleeves of my tunic and got to work.

The carnage turned out to be exactly as horrific as we'd feared. And in Prythian, a land of immortals, there were no morgues or funeral homes. The gore, the obvious evidence of violence…for many of the priestesses, it brought back too many dark memories for them to even approach the bodies.

I choked back bile as I wiped tear tracks from cold cheeks and scrubbed dried blood from every body part imaginable. Gently, I slid soiled nightgowns and torn robes from stiff limbs and replaced them with shrouds. It was difficult, with the extent of some of the injuries, to create any sort of illusion of peaceful repose; whoever had done this hadn't made these deaths quick or painless.

As we worked, the sisters took turns singing prayers. I didn't recognize the language, but I sensed that it was ancient, the tune slow and mournful and in a key I'd never heard before. Down here, surrounded by the red rock of the mountain and no windows, the repetition was the only thing marking the passage of time.

Eventually, all the bodies were laid out in neat rows—too many rows, the scale of the devastation laid painfully bare. Each was clean and covered in a white linen shroud, ready for burial. For a moment, I just sat with the heavy awareness that each one of the bundles was a life—a world, really—that had been snuffed out. So much loss, just to loot a trove.

Rhys hadn't exaggerated when he'd said the fae moved quickly—as soon as the work was finished, I followed the rest of the priestesses towards the sanctuary for the service. I hadn't expected it to be so soon; one of the sisters caught my look of surprise and gently explained that according to faerie traditions, the soul was in a state of confusion between death and burial, and it was cruel to let it linger like that any longer than absolutely necessary.

The sanctuary was a massive cavern, full of dark wood pews surrounding a plain dais at the center. Though about half of the mourners finding their seats were priestesses, all in their identical pale blue robes, faeries from Velaris were there as well. The news had spread, then.

There were more prayers and singing in that strange, ancient language. No instruments, only voices that echoed in the cavern, beautiful yet melancholy. A candle was lit for each slain priestess as their names we read out one by one.

Unable to follow it, I stood and sat in time with everyone else and allowed my mind to wander. The bond had been quiet—presumably, Rhys was busy but otherwise fine—so I took in the assortment of faeries who'd come to pay their respects.

Perhaps it shouldn't have been such a surprise, but I recognized a few of them. Evelyn, the priestess who'd been teaching me to read, had nodded hello, and I spotted faeries I'd seen a few times in the library or out in the city. I doubted every single one of them knew any of the victims; this was just the community coming together.

That thought made Velaris feel a bit more like…home.

And though Rhys hadn't said it outright—and seemed so intent on not pressuring me that I doubted he ever would—I wondered if attending a vigil like this was something expected of the Lady of the Night Court. Since we'd decided to keep it a secret, we hadn't spoken about my title at all. Or any obligations that came with it. My lack of understanding of the situation when I accepted the bond didn't make me any less of a High Lord's mate, though.

My family's money had run out when I'd turned eleven—my sisters had been the ones raised to be ladies. They'd been the ones expected to someday be the wife of a rich, powerful man, to run households and host balls and busy themselves with charity work that made their husbands look good. I was just the hopeless, half-wild heathen.

Rhys loved me, had confidence in me like no one else, and I doubted I could ever be a failure in his eyes. That wasn't true for the rest of Prythian. I didn't take representing him lightly, especially not for something like this.

Before my thoughts could spiral any further, the funeral ended. The bodies had been winnowed to the graveyard, and there was nothing left to do. It was the middle of the night when I headed towards the townhouse.

I reached down the bond for Rhys as I walked, careful not to startle him. The thread between us went taut anyway, and I could sense that he was instantly on alert.

I didn't even give him a chance to ask if something was wrong I'm fine, home soon. Do you need anything else from me?

Go rest while you can. I've sent Azriel, Mor, and Amren to do the same.

But you aren't? I wouldn't let him talk around it.

I am High Lord, and some things can't be delegated.

For once, he didn't sound arrogant, just matter-of-fact. There was no point in attempting to mother-hen him out of finishing whatever he was obligated to complete tonight, so I didn't bother. I sent a pulse of affection down the bond, assuming that was the end of the conversation.

But he added, None of us liked the thought of you in the townhouse alone. Mor is there.

I was so unused to being looked after that I almost asked why anyone would be concerned. But Mor had mentioned them all being duty-bound and overprotective on my first day here, so perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise.

And at least it wasn't Amren babysitting me.

Something pleasantly warm crossed the bond, along with the strange sensation of a soft kiss pressed to the back of my mind. Then Rhys's shields went back up, and the rest of my walk home was uneventful.

Mor was in the living room when I arrived. At first, I'd thought she must have just been waiting to make sure I'd gotten home safely, but before she'd turned around at the sound of my footsteps, I'd noticed the empty wineglass and the way she'd absentmindedly pressed a hand to her lower abdomen. And then I understood—I wasn't the only one who was better off with company tonight.

I'd never asked about the scar I'd seen peeking out from the waistband of Mor's pants on days she wore something that bared her midriff. She would have covered it if she'd been ashamed, but…it seemed private. Some of the priestesses laid to rest that night had been ripped open in the same place, and I could guess what weighed on Mor.

But still, she brightened immediately at the sight of me, the light coming back into her red-rimmed eyes. I sank into the chair next to her.

"It was good to finally see you painting earlier," she said, voice warm.

I shrugged. "It was just a decoration, not something on canvas or paper. It doesn't really count." Flowers on a table were a start, but it wasn't quite the same as capturing an image that had plagued my mind or using paint to express a feeling that words couldn't.

She nudged me with an elbow. "It was also the happiest I've ever seen you. That counts for something too, you know."

For a while, Mor and I talked about nothing consequential. We both needed it. After everything we'd witnessed, it helped to pretend for a while that nothing was wrong. It made the violence feel more distant, enough that I was able to fall asleep when we both went upstairs, even without Rhys back.

My sleep was fitful, but each time I woke, a caress of talons against my mind—and once, loud purring and a wet scrape against my shields that would have made me think I was being groomed by a cat if it weren't for the forked tongue and rustle of feathers—relaxed me enough to drift off again.

It was nearly midmorning when I got out of bed, the latest I ever managed to sleep. I sensed that Rhys was nearby, and I followed the bond down to the kitchen, where I found him sitting at the table, head in his hands and wings drooping. He didn't look up at me.

"How bad is it?" I said, lingering in the doorway. It was late enough that he must have already spoken with Cassian.

He rubbed at his temples. "No definitive answers. I'd hoped there would be proof that this was nothing more than rogue war-bands that can be put down. Whoever it was knew what they were doing and covered their tracks. It could still very well just be Illyrians…or an act of war."

My blood ran cold. I knew it was foolish to think that killing Amarantha had ended the danger—she had been connected to Hybern, and Rhys and the rest of the Inner Circle had already discussed the possibility of opportunists taking advantage of a weakened Prythian after fifty years of Amarantha's rule. But something about Rhys putting it so plainly suddenly made it hard to breathe.

Before I could say anything, Rhys continued, "This needs to be dealt with swiftly, so I've moved up my visit to the Court of Nightmares. I'll go tonight, take tomorrow to plan. Cassian, Azriel, and I will hunt down the war-bands that are hiding out in the forests."

I knew Rhys—the security of the Night Court was at stake, so he'd find a way to push through it, even though I doubted he was ready to face the very court Amarantha had modeled hers after and his wings were still weakened. He'd tear open as many wounds as he needed to keep his people safe.

But perhaps…I could make sure he didn't have to.

I crossed the room, standing next to the chair and looping an arm around his shoulders to pull him close. He curled a wing around me and hid his face in my shoulder.

"If war comes, we'll face it. Together," I whispered against his hair as plans formed in my mind.

He said nothing, too overwhelmed to do anything but tug on the bond. I held him like that for a while, and with my shields firmly in place, I considered how exactly I'd lighten those burdens for him. Neither one of us was alone anymore.

"Have you slept at all?" I said eventually.

He sat back, tipping his head up to look at me. "No. It's—"

"Then go rest, Rhys."

"Is that an order?" Something sparked in his eyes, and I could have sworn amusement had crept into his voice.

"The point of this visit is to show your face in the Hewn City again. You need all the beauty sleep you can get."

His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close to it. My hand had been resting on his shoulder, and as he stood, I let it trail down his arm. He interlaced our fingers, and for a moment, just from the way his eyes went soft as he looked at me, I was sure he was about to ask me to come to bed with him, risk of slashing talons during a nightmare be damned.

I would have said yes. And even if he never asked, I still had half a mind to follow him upstairs anyway, just to give into the feral, protective instinct to keep watch while my mate slept.

But Rhys didn't ask. Instead he pressed a kiss to my knuckles and said, "Make sure you eat something."

I knew what that meant. "I love you, too."

He squeezed my hand once, then winnowed upstairs. For the next few hours, I could feel through the bond that he'd at least managed to catnap before he had to leave. I had things to do as well, but I wouldn't let Rhys sleep in an empty house, either. And I did need to eat. So I paced the townhouse restlessly with food in hand.

Then once Rhys left, my first order of business was making my way to the House of Wind.

I could have asked him to bring me there—and probably saved myself the trouble of climbing ten thousand steps again—but for now, I didn't want to tell him exactly why I wanted to go. As I climbed and climbed, I hoped my assumptions about who might be in the training ring were correct.

And they were. "Is everything alright, Feyre?" Azriel said, without turning from the target he was sinking a dagger into.

"I'm fine," I said, and at the very least it was true that I wasn't in danger. "I wanted to speak to you."

"Now?"

"Yes. While Rhys is busy." That finally got Azriel to drag his attention away from target practice. The way his gaze swept over me was an obvious assessment, as if he was cataloging all the information he found at the sight of me. I didn't mind. When Azriel didn't say anything, I added, "I think I should come with when you go to Illyria."

I'd half-expected him to immediately tell me no, that it was too dangerous. But Azriel tipped his head to the side and asked, "What makes you say that?"

I sat down at the edge of the ring, more grateful than ever that Rhys surrounded himself with the type of people who'd hear me out. Azriel sheathed the dagger and sat down beside me.

"I know I can't take on an Illyrian, and I'm not stupid enough to try," I said, choosing my words carefully, "but I'm concerned it will be difficult for him if we're separated again so soon after….everything. You and Cassian will need him to focus, and he can't afford to make a mistake and appear weak."

Azriel was silent again, clearly mulling it over, but I couldn't read much of a reaction from him beyond that. It was unsettling to consider much that impassive face could be hiding. If I didn't trust already him, I would have nervously blurted out all of my thoughts right then and there.

"It's an angle to consider. Is there…something you had in mind to do while you're there?"

It was a valid question, though I hadn't expected Azriel to ask how I intended to ensure I wasn't a deadweight so tactfully. And at least I had an answer prepared.

"Let me hunt so the three of you can focus on the task at hand instead of trying to feed yourselves or carry rations. You'll get done faster."

Azriel raised an eyebrow. I was ready to remind him that I was still a competent enough tracker to avoid anyone in the woods I might not want to run into. My muscles tensed almost involuntarily, my body preparing for a fight.

But instead he said, more gently than I'd ever heard him, "Tell me why you really want to go."

I stared out at the mountains in the distance and thought about what to say. Even though I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, it was still difficult to find the words. Azriel just waited, patient as ever.

"I need to be outside for a few days straight. After— After being stuck in that cell, I just want to be able to pick a direction and run, somewhere there's so much space that I'll tire myself out before I find a single building."

I almost told him that I didn't want to sit behind in Velaris and wait for Rhys to come back, but that seemed cruel, all things considered. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Az rub his thumb along the spot on his hand where the scarring was the most obvious.

"I know the feeling," he said quietly. I started to respond, but he added, "You can't scream in Velaris, at least not without scaring the neighbors. But if you ever need to…let it out, I'll show you the empty places in the Illyrian Steppes."

Azriel knew. Just like with Mor's scars, I'd never asked about his, but whatever had happened, he'd been confined in the dark once. I hadn't realized it—I'd come to him first because he'd supported me trapping the Suriel on my first day in the Night Court.

"Thank you."

"You haven't brought this up to your mate, have you?"

There was no accusation there. Azriel's voice was even, and I had the sense he was just…gathering more information.

"Not yet. I wanted to see what you and Cassian thought first."

A single nod. "Prudent."

"Do you think it's a good idea, then? For me to go?" I said, once the silence stretched on long enough that it was clear he wasn't going to elaborate.

"It's worth discussing. Even after the frenzy, mated males are…volatile."

Azriel shifted awkwardly, tucking his wings in tight. And I understood—I didn't particularly want to discuss the mating frenzy, either. Especially not with someone who was more or less family. But after the way Rhys had growled at Cassian over me, we were right to consider what those instincts might mean, whether being apart or potential danger in the woods was a bigger risk.

I thanked him again and got up to leave, but the sound of Azriel's voice, midnight-dark and more stern than I'd ever heard it, stopped me in my tracks. "Where do you think you're going?" I turned, and Azriel had already gotten up from where he was sitting and unsheathing another blade. "You climbed ten thousand steps to get up here, so make it worth your while and work on your knife skills."

Azriel had earned that reputation as a hard bastard. Even today, I wasn't going to get out of training.

And if war was coming, I'd need all the training I could get. I took the knife and got to work, if only for a short lesson.

When we finished, Azriel flew me to the townhouse, and Rhys wasn't back yet. That was fine—there was still more I needed to do. The chances of a nightmare were too high that he'd share a bed with me that night. But he needed sleep, and he'd said that I smelled like safety.

I was used to hiding my scent, not spreading it. With the glamour on me, I wasn't even sure my idea would work, but it seemed worth a try, even if it did make me feel faintly ridiculous.

I dug my clothes out of the laundry and tucked them in the corners of Rhys's room. When I'd hunted, I'd kept a specific set of clothes for the woods and washed them as infrequently as possible, minimizing the scent of laundry soap. If it worked in the forest…maybe it might work here.

Then I hesitated, just for a moment, to touch the bed. Before, I'd only ever ventured into his bedroom when Rhys had a nightmare, and I couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was somehow a violation, ridiculous as that was when there was an unbreakable thread connecting our souls and my bite marks made him preen.

I pushed those thoughts aside and crawled under the covers. Trying my best to be thorough, I rolled around and rubbed my hair against both sides of the pillow. I repeated the process under both the sheet and the duvet for good measure, then made the bed and spent some time on top of it.

I hoped it was enough. I doubted we'd take a sleeping draught tonight; being difficult to rouse if there was another emergency was too much of a risk.

By the time I finished, it was getting late, and I wasn't sure now was the time for Rhys to come home and find me waiting in his bed, even if it was…tempting. I filed that thought away for another time.

I was still restless—too long without anything to do, and I found myself thinking of the slain priestesses again, the sight of mutilated bodies flashing across my mind again. In search of another distraction, I wandered back to the living room and looked at the bookshelves lining the walls. I'd never paid much attention to them before. But apparently Rhys considered them mine too, and perhaps there was something worth copying for handwriting practice.

I pulled the book with the most cracks in the spine off the shelf, idly wondering if it was his favorite. I'd ask, but…misplaced shame still made it difficult to talk about reading. Still curious, I flipped it open to a random page and struggled through what appeared to be poetry.

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,

The vapours weep their burthen to the ground…

I scowled and put the book back. Years of hunting had been more than enough decaying woods for a lifetime, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what a burthen was.

I tried another book and found more poetry—Cauldron, how much of it did Rhys read? But the words were shorter, which I felt better about, so I found a pen and paper and brought the book to the roof with me. The full moon and the light of the stars and Velaris were enough to read by.

I didn't pay much attention to what the poem was about, just focused on copying the letters as neatly as possible. Something about the work and sitting under the stars was strangely meditative.

But I didn't relax completely until I heard a soft rustle of wings and turned to see Rhys landing a few feet away. Something inside me settled. Perhaps some of my restlessness had just been the mating bond railing at him being away, even for only a few hours.

Rhys nearly always looked elegant, but for the Hewn City, there wasn't a single speck of color on him. There was no sheen to the fine black fabric of his suit, no embroidery like he often favored, just cloth so dark it seemed to gobble the light, buttoned up to hide his tattoos. The night itself clung to him more tightly than usual.

His grip on his power was still a bit looser than usual, and though it was faint, I felt familiar darkness reaching for me.

I watched his feet touch the ground, the movement far more graceful than the last time I'd seen it. For a moment, I just savored it—the wingspan, the promise of death in just the way he carried himself, my blood singing in answer to the darkness rippling from him.

I almost didn't notice the ebony crown. He'd never worn one in front of me before.

"Is there magic keeping that on your head," I said, "or did you have to learn to fly without it falling off?"

He snorted. "Hello, Feyre."

A flick of his wrist as he sank into the chair next to mine, and the crown disappeared and the top button of his jacket loosened itself. His gaze landed on the open book and notepad in my lap. Before he could ask about it, I said, "How did it go?"

"I didn't have to make an example of anyone, so as well as could reasonably be expected," he said, rolling his shoulders with a pinched expression on his face.

No violence, then. It felt like the first respite in a while.

We sat on the roof and talked for a while about nothing in particular, a silent understanding passing between us that we both didn't want to feel enclosed or alone. I summoned up the courage to ask about the books downstairs; my visible relief at the lack of dirty limericks Tamlin favored made Rhys snicker and tell me the awful verses were still a mercy compared to fiddle music.

Until he'd spat those last two words like a curse, I hadn't realized I'd put enough distance between myself and the Spring Court to joke about it. Despite everything that had happened in the last day, I felt��lighter.

Exhaustion still settled over both of us as we'd talked, and in just the set of his shoulders and wings, I could see the way being underground had taken something out of him. It was an early night.

As I slid into bed, I was tired enough that I'd nearly forgotten what I'd done in Rhys's room earlier. But his voice floated into my mind, as if a night-kissed wind carried it through the crack in my shields I'd left for him.

Feyre darling…

"Yes?" I said aloud. He'd hear it from across the hall.

Do I want to know what you were doing that involved rolling around in my sheets and leaving your socks for me to find?

My cheeks heated, and even though couldn't see it, I rolled over and hid my face in the pillow anyway. "Tonight might be another bad night. I thought my scent might help. Because I can't…"

For the length of a heartbeat, the bond lit up with gratitude. Then there was a dip in the bed next to me, and Rhys's arms were banding around my chest and pulling me to him. He'd winnowed right to me.

"You are impossible to stay away from when you're being brilliant," he murmured against my hair.

I nearly asked him to stay. But I knew it was hard enough for him to let me in enough to see the aftermath of a nightmare, and that was when there was no risk to me. He didn't say it, but…I suspected he was only holding me until I fell asleep.

I twisted in his arms so we were face-to-face, then kissed him gently. "It won't always be like this. The bad nights will be behind us eventually."

He sighed and let his head tip forward until our foreheads were touching. I closed my eyes and let my breathing slow, warm and comfortable. We stayed like that for a long time, until he finally winnowed back to his room.

I scooted over to the warm spot he'd left, already aching for him. It would still be a while before my thoughts stopped racing enough for me to finally drift off, but Rhys didn't need to know that. I'd pretend anything at all to give him peace of mind.

Sleep finally claimed me as his side of the bed went cold again.

[separatist-apologist]

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara wants nothing more than to return home and exact revenge on the courtiers who hurt her and killed her sister. Exiled to a distant temple, Gwyn finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious stranger offering to escort her home on orders from her eldest brother and king of the realm.

Unraveling the secrets of the strange soldier will prove more deadly than Gwyn could ever have imagined, setting into motion events that began nearly five hundred years before.

Happy @gwynrielweeksofficial!

TW for mentions of past sexual assault

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1

Gwyn found herself seated before Merrill while Clotho stood just behind. It was another gloomy day, threatening rain which made the study seem darker by comparison. Merrill had books stacked so high they created walls within the four walls of her office and everything was claustrophobic. Gwyn knew she wasn’t supposed to fidget—both princesses and priestesses were expected to have a perfectly rigid spine. 

Merrill was dragging this meeting out, watching Gwyn with that haughty suspicion she was all too familiar with. Eris could have picked her for a wife, Gwyn thought privately. They shared so much in common already. Gwyn could only imagine who he’d selected, certain it was some nightmare from the south looking to enhance her fathers power while tormenting the court.

Gwyn was going to beg her brother to let her take up residence at the sea palace. She’d put on her bravest, sunniest face, dance and smile and laugh, and then at the end of the festivities, swear she barely thought of Catrin at all and could she please spend a few months looking at the sea?

Maybe he’d be too busy trying to put babies in his new wife to care what she did. Gwyn very much doubted her other brothers had strong opinions on where she was or what she did. But she’d make sure they saw her, too. Smiling–happy. Alive, which was more than Catrin could say. 

It wouldn’t matter if either of those things were lies. 

As if they could tell the difference.

“Gwyneth,” Merril began, eyes focused wholly on Gwyn. The priestess was a beautiful woman—young, too, for someone so revered. It annoyed Gwyn that Merrill referred to her as Gwyneth—even Eris didn’t bother. Neither had their father, who had always called her princess in that mocking, sneering way of his. 

Gwyn could have demanded Merrill address her properly. Could have made the priestess bow so low her nose scraped the stone floor beneath them. It was tempting and yet wrong all at the same time. Gwyn settled for fidgeting, holding Merrill’s gaze and daring her to say something about it. 

“Your brother has released you from your service here,” Merrill continued, eyes narrowing. “You will leave with the knight tomorrow. We’ve packed you a few provisions but I wanted to discuss the books in your bedroom.”

Gwyn forced herself to maintain eye contact. “What books?”

Clotho offered up a wordless sigh, her fingers slowly moving through the air. Gwyn had never dared to ask what had happened to Clotho or why she didn’t speak. If it was natural or self-imposed, Gwyn couldn’t say. She wouldn’t have cared had it not been for those fingers of hers. They’d been purposefully broken by someone and it didn’t look as if they’d ever properly healed.

Merrill drummed her own fingers against the desk, clearly annoyed and unable to do much but wait.

Don’t leave as angry as you came in, Gwyn. 

“Who says I’m angry?” Gwyn replied, adopting her sweetest voice. Clotho leveled a stare, not needing a word to call Gwyn a liar. 

“Bring the books back before you go,” Merrill added snappishly. “They are not for you or the palace.”

“Everything in Ellesmere belongs to the king,” Gwyn replied, though this wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. She knew she’d bring them back and Merrill must have, too, because she reclined back in her chair, a queen holding court before her subjects. Gwyn bristled but rose to her feet and inclined her head, making a mockery of the whole thing.

At least she could have the last word. 

There was no chance Merrill didn’t write Eris ahead of time and give him her perspective of Gwyn’s time at the temple. Eris would be so irritated with her. What, she wondered, would his knight tell her brother, too? If she was difficult and unladylike, would that be held against her? If she had a nightmare, if she couldn’t keep a smile plastered to her face? 

Gwyn made her way out to the vegetable garden, ignoring several hens pecking at the soil so she could plop onto a wooden bench. Only there, beneath that moody, gray sky, did she dare vocalize some of her frustration with a long, quiet scream. 

No one ever came out here. It was reasonable to assume she was alone. But there he was, appearing seemingly out of the mist with a cocked head and curious eyes. “Heard the good news, did you?”

Gwyn toward the heavens. What have I done to displease you? “I still have a day before I’m remanded into your company,” she replied, unable to even pretend she was excited. 

The soldier—Azriel—sat beside her, though he kept a respectable distance between them. “You’re the only person willing to speak to me.”

“The priestesses aren’t keen on men,” Gwyn replied, glancing over at him. He was too beautiful to be trustworthy, besides. It set her on edge, too—made her nervous though she was a princess and he was practically no one at all. Why should he make her nervous? He was injured if his limp was any indication and the cut across his throat was stark in comparison to the golden brown of skin. Gwyn would have bet his ribs were all taped up still and if she needed to, she could just outrun him. 

Though he’d given her no reason to distrust him, Gwyn felt she had to be careful. 

“I’ve noticed,” he replied, settling back to look up at the sky. “Your head priestess has refused my offers to sleep outside.”

“I don’t think that would help,” Gwyn admitted, a new thought coming to her. “Will it be just you and me on the road?”

He cut a glance in her direction. “Yes.”

Two options presented themselves, each offering a different, potent form of anxiety. Gwyn could refuse to spend another minute in this man's presence and stay at the convent, no longer her brother's ward but as an actual priestess. She’d have to give up the title that had protected her and the station she’d always intended to fall back on. There would be no Sea Palace, no visiting Catrin’s grave, no more of her brothers or the life she’d once known.

And she’d likely lose her position in the library. That seemed the most offensive to Gwyn.

But if she went with him, she risked violence. He was a stranger with a pretty face and Gwyn didn’t trust men. Even low born men felt they were owed something from women. Alone, on the road…who could stop him if he decided to take more than she was offering? 

He didn’t seem interested in her internal warring, or at the very least, didn’t recognize what was happening. Having delivered the news, Azriel rose to his feet and began making his way further from the temple, unleashed and allowed. He didn’t look back, nor did he return to her long after the fog had consumed him. 

What would Catrin do, she wondered? 

Catrin would go home. She’d get out of this nightmare even if she had to claw her way out, and if Azriel was the only way to do it, Catrin was grit her teeth and figure it out. Gwyn could still boss him around, she reasoned. Could force him to stay on main roads, to rent rooms in taverns, to travel only during daylight. Gwyn had never quite managed the haughty, imperious nature of her siblings but perhaps she could try. 

Maybe she could channel a little of Eris’s attitude just this once if it meant freedom. 

At least, that’s what Gwyn told herself. Still, she barely slept that night, tossing and turning as she played out a million terrible scenarios and how she might react. Eris wouldn’t send someone cruel, would he? 

No, not intentionally—but Eris also wouldn’t concern himself with whether Gwyn felt safe so much as he would concern himself with who could get her home the quickest. Clearly it was this man who, despite provoking the ire of some unknown assailant, had all but crawled to the temple and was apparently ready to go a mere day later. 

Gwyn doubted Eris paid enough for that kind of loyalty. And still she packed up her things with a faint buzzing of excitement. She was leaving. Gods, but Gwyn would never have to see this place again, this prison dressed up as a religious institution. And the gods willing, she’d be home in a matter of days without any intention or returning.

Surely Eris could hand over the estate by the sea and allow her to have her own household. Gwyn would have to work on appearing chasetend, of course—like she’d learned some grand lesson and was now ready to be a member of their household. 

It was the happiest she’d been since Catrin died. The entire mood of the temple was upbeat, something that barely wounded her. They were all excited to see her go, forgetting that once she was no longer there, they’d have to pick a new target for their ire. Absently, Gwyn wondered which of them it would be. Who would become the new scapegoat for everyone's dissatisfaction? Would they realize the problem had never been with her?

Doubtful. 

The only person Gwyn felt compelled to truly say goodbye to was Clotho. She didn’t hate Clotho so much as she hated that Clotho upheld the rules her brother had obviously set in place. Standing before her in the library, a bag slung over her shoulder, Gwyn heard herself saying, “I’m sorry I was so difficult.” Clotho’s fingers were quick with a response. You were never difficult, Gwyneth. I hope you find healing, wherever you go.

Gwyn choked down the urge to cry, nodding her head and keeping her face impassive. “I appreciate that.”

There was nothing else. Azriel was waiting outside by the barn with leads to two horses looped around a gloved hand. Merril led Gwyn out, snapping out her displeasure over Azriel’s presence and how Gwyn had made a mess of her routine, her research—everything. It was only when they were nearly to the courtyard that Merril offered Gwyn any kindness at all.

“For you,” she said, pulling a small, pale blue box from beneath her cloak. “Don’t let him know you have it.” Gwyn looked up at the woman who could have been her mentor with surprise. There, nestled among soft velvet, lay a silver hilted dagger that curved in a wickedly lethal point. A flash of recognition passed between the two of them, gone so fast Gwyn blinked and nearly missed it. But there it was—two souls who, on some level, knew what kind of danger might be waiting for Gwyn.

And despite Merril’s dislike of her, she was seemingly unwilling to let Gwyn risk it all again without some kind of aid. Gwyn took it, unsure where she could even hide it and decided on her bag for the moment until she found something better. It would slice right through her pockets which, while an amusing image, was not the kind of stealth she was aiming for. 

“Thank you,” Gwyn murmured but Merril had already turned, her job clearly done. That was all Gwyn was ever going to get and so, with a breath to keep herself from hurtling a bunch of unfair, hurtful accusations at the retreating priestesses back, Gwyn turned for the world outside.

It was another moody, miserable day made moodier still by Azriel’s flat expression. Gone were his casual, comfortable clothes, replaced by thick, black armored leather that looked frankly uncomfortable. Two lethal blades were curved behind his shoulders and a dagger was strapped to his thigh.

Where was his red cape, she wondered? That was the mark of all of Eris’s men, the red cape with the golden clasp marking the sunlight insignia of their family. Gwyn marched up to him intending to demand to know but Azriel cut her off. “No one can know we’re traveling, princess.”

Ass.

“Why not?” she demanded, yanking the reins of the one of the midnight black horses from his hands. Azriel let her, his eyes hot against her back. 

“There is one of me and one of you,” was his level, near cold response. “I’d rather not find out what the King will do if I let his sister die on the road.”

“I doubt he’d care at all,” Gwyn said without thinking, the words slipping bitterly from her lips. Azriel glanced up at her, seated now in the well-oiled saddle, a question lingering in his gaze.

Wisely, he kept it to himself and instead swung a powerful leg over his own horse, the movement effortlessly graceful and strangely fluid. Hardly a common soldier, then, though not an elite warrior, either. He was something else, something she didn’t have any knowledge of.

That was likely for the best, all things considered.

“We’ll travel until nightfall,” Azriel began, digging his heels into the flank of his beast. Her own followed of its own accord, as though it had been given some silent command. Gwyn knew how to ride a horse—had been taught as a girl, like all good royals. She didn’t need his help.

“I won’t be sleeping outside,” Gwyn told him in the snottiest voice she could manage. Eris would be proud—she sounded just like him.

“I’m well aware,” Azriel replied without humor. “You’ll be locked in a tavern room. And before you get any ideas, princess, I will be just outside.”

“What ideas—”

“I’m told you run away. Often,” he added, those hazel eyes focused straight ahead. 

Eris was such a cheat. Of course he’d warn this man, likely with veiled threats of what would happen if Gwyn slipped his grasp. The thought of trying occurred to her, though something in the set of his shoulders told her it was better not to try his patience. Clotho had never truly been angry with Gwyn. Impatient, frustrated, even irritated, yes. But truly angry? Never.

She had the feeling this man might raise his voice. Might yell. And he’d learn, if he did, that all her talk was merely bravado and beneath she crumpled easily. There was no Catrin to create a wall, to shield Gwyn from the tempers of the world while Gwyn sniffed, eyes welling with tears.

Even as a grown woman, anger so often provoked the sobbing reaction. 

“Well. I’m trying to leave this place, not return to it,” Gwyn told him, some of that haughtiness gone. She had a good plan, one that seemed achievable and promised relief. Get home. Fake enough contrition that Eris stopped thinking about her, which was almost the same as his concern. And then, once he was in a good mood—perhaps the night before his wedding, when he was likely to be a little drunk and too focused on himself to think of his wayward siblings—ask for the Seaside Palace. Maybe, she reasoned, she could ask to just go for a while and acclimate herself back into royal life.

And once she was gone and no longer causing mischief, Eris would let her stay if only to have one less person to worry about. 

“You want to return to the palace?” Azriel inquired, as though this was difficult to believe.

Gwyn twisted in her saddle, looking over her shoulder at the temple atop the hill, fading quickly in the creeping fog, its spindled fingers forever reaching for the sky without ever quite reaching. How was anyone supposed to feel human in a place dedicated to the gods? 

“It’s my home,” she said softly, turning her eyes toward the paved road ahead, curving over lush, green hills that promised freedom. In truth, the palace had long stopped being her home and yet that was where Catrin’s ghost still lived, where half of Gwyn’s heart was buried. Perhaps she could fill the aching yawn stretching in her chest, could finally have some closure.

It was tempting, right then, to ask Azriel about court life. Some sick urge wanted to know who still lingered in those ornate marble halls. She never wanted to hear the names spoken and yet thought of them so often, wondering how their lives had gone, that Gwyn was constantly at war with herself. There was no outcome that would bring her peace because no matter what happened to them, Catrin was still dead and Gwyn was still alone.

Though, she supposed being allowed to kill them would be a close second. 

Azriel asked her no more questions, settling into a comfortable pace. On occasion he stopped to let the horses graze and rest, but for the most part they rode in silence. It left Gwyn with too much time to think, and thinking very quickly turned to ruminating. She knew she couldn’t change the past and yet…if only she’d told Eris sooner. If only she’d kept what happened to herself. Catrin might still be alive and Gwyn wouldn’t feel so angry and hollow. 

They’d been more than just sisters. Gwyn and Catrin had shared a womb, a body, a soul. Tilting her face skyward, Gwyn would have given anything to tell Catrin how sorry she was. And when a cool breeze fluttered against her overheated cheeks, Gwyn thought it was Catrin’s hand reassuring her everything was alright.

She tried to find contentment with that. 

Azriel had promised her a room, and he managed to deliver. After what felt like miles of nothing, a dilapidated village appeared just as the sun began to dip, casting even weaker light over the gloomy world. Gwyn pulled her cloak a little tighter against her shoulders as they made their way through high, iron gates covered in curling ivy. The homes were made of stone and wood, the windows chipped and covered with boards to keep out the rainy chill.

It unnerved Gwyn how no one moved around. It wasn’t that late and yet had there not been flickering candle light behind some of the filth covered glass, she would have thought the entire village was inhabited by ghosts. The tavern Azriel promised had a rotted wooden sign banging about in the wind, unreadable from the elements.

Someone came out to meet them, taking the reins from Azriel wordlessly in exchange for a couple coins pressed into a weathered palm. Gwyn said nothing, keeping her hood over her head to obscure the auburn hair that would mark her as a Vanserra. Hers was darker than her brothers—more cinnamon and gold than true coppery red—and still something about it made people pause. 

Azriel nodded for her to go inside, pulling the handle to a swinging door so she could duck beneath his arm.

“Say nothing,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. For once, Gwyn was inclined to do as she was told. Keeping herself close, Gwyn followed him over creaking wood boards toward a chipped and warped desk where an exhausted looking matron stood, her eyes fixed on the pair of them. 

She’d been told not to speak, and so she didn’t. While Azriel asked for one room, his voice low and intimate, Gwyn took the opportunity to survey their lodgings for the evening. The tavern was just that—a tavern first, room for rent second. Exhausted bodies were hunched over tarnished cups and worn bowls of food, steam curling around wan faces. Gwyn was tempted and nervous all at once.

It was a room filled with unfamiliar people, the majority of which were men. Azriel spared her the agonizing, gloved fingers reaching for her elbow to tug her in the opposite direction toward narrow, spiraling stairs.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered.

Behind them, the door opened and two men stepped into the room. Like Gwyn, their faces were obscured by rather fine looking cloaks and yet she knew without seeing them at all that they didn’t belong. Azriel’s eyes slid over their frames without recognition, turning back to her as the two large, powerfully built men made their way toward the tavern.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he replied, level as always. “In your room.”

“Fine,” she hissed, though relief pierced her irritation. “I want a lot of it.”

He only shrugged, as though it didn’t bother him one way or the other. How much gold had Eris given him, she wondered? Enough to keep her fed, which was a relief. Food was a good substitute for feeling at time, and Gwyn was tired of how raw she felt. She’d eat, she’d bathe, and she’d go to bed.

After all. She was one day closer to home.

[elrielffs]

The thing about the bonus chapter is it is in the middle of A Court of Silver Flames.

Azriel didn't even really specifically want to give the necklace to Gwyn, Clotho SUGGESTED it to him but...

We never see Gwyn with the necklace. Never hinted or mentioned.

We don't even know if she has the necklace.

We never see any romantically charged scenes with Gywn and Azriel after the bonus.

Sure, they get more comfortable around each as people do but it's still not romantic.

If the bonus chapter is oh so important in proving Gwynriel, how come nothing comes from it in the rest of ACOSF?

Honestly, the bonus chapter was just that. A bonus. I don't think it was important as people make it out to be.

It was a confirmation of all the Elriel build up and what most people suspected, that they want each other but it wasn't needed. I enjoyed it, but I did not need it because I already knew.

The inclusion of Gwyn I get can be confusing but considering that nothing changes after--no necklace, no romantically charged tension, I don't even know if Azriel even considers them full fledged friends at the end of ACOSF, I firmly believe it was to hint as Gwyn's power.

"If this bonus chapter isn't important then what about Ruhn and Lidia getting married?!?1? Is that not important!??!"

Not really no. They are together. Their romance has been told. We did not need to see them get married to prove anything about their love--again it is a BONUS. We didn't even see Feyre/Rhysand get married/mating ceremony and it changes nothing about their relationship.

[fateinthestars]

Hi (^.^)

I was wondering if you could write a Fae King! Tauxolouve x Reader arranged marriage AU story?

Where the Reader goes to lives with him in his tower over the mountain in the middle of a deadly forest.

She hates the idea of marrying him and is kinda scared of him. And Tauxolouve maintains his distance because he doesn't want to scare her. She is taken care of by the servants, given every luxury. But she is lonely and scared.

Please write a slow burn romance.

But if you don't want to write this. Please this request. No pressure 🙂

Thanks 💕

IT'S HERE! IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!

I'm sorry this took a long time, but this request clearly sparked something, and hopefully you'll all enjoy this massive fanfic. It's got to be one of the largest things I've ever written at 55,364 words long in total.

So not to overwhelm everyone, I'll be releasing this particular one chapter by chapter (there's six in total), but everything is finished and ready to publish. 😊 (ETA 3rd November: All of this fic is now up for everyone to read and hopefully enjoy)

OVERALL TITLE: Will Fairy Magic Thrive or Turn to Dust?

CHAPTER TITLE: Chapter One: The Arrangement

FANDOM: Star-Crossed Myth

RATING: T

PAIRING: Fae King!Tauxolouve/Fairy!Reader (Plus past Huedhaut/Clotho)

CHARACTERS: The Fae King (Tauxolouve), Reader, Huedhaut, Zyglavis, Ichthys, Karno, Scorpio, Partheno, Leon, Dui, Aigonorus, Krioff, Teorus, The Dark King

WORD COUNT (THIS CHAPTER): 11,159

WORD COUNT (OVERALL): 55,364

GENRE: Alternate Universe, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Illness, Injury Recovery, Arranged Marriage

WARNINGS: Major Character Death (but just referenced stuff from before the fic starts)

OVERALL SUMMARY: You were just a normal fairy from a small hamlet, but on the evening of your twenty-first birthday everything was about to change: Unbeknownst to you, your family had arranged for you to be the current Fae King's Fiancée.

Whisked away to a tower over the mountains and through a dangerous forest, can you come to terms with your destiny of being King Tauxolouve's Fae Queen? Is there some way you can find happiness from this arrangement you never even wanted? And did he even want it to work himself?

CHAPTER SUMMARY: After finding out that you have been promised as The Fae King's Wife, you are taken to his tower. You start to get to know all of the staff.

A/N: Well this is something very different from me, but hopefully everyone will enjoy. Whilst this is alternate universe, all the Zodiac Gods are present here - just you have Tauxolouve as the Fae King and the other eleven as his servants, all with very specific roles within his household which hopefully make sense. I really hope I've managed to keep everyone in character. Oh, and whilst this is alternate universe, certain things have been extrapolated from information within the canon, so beware at least implied spoilers for certain routes (Especially Tauxolouve's and Huedhaut's), though some things are completely different as you will soon discover. Not beta read, any mistakes are my own.

[forebodingprophet]

Moirai || Clotho C1P4

               “What on Earth happened to you?”  Anastasios flinched as his mother ran over and started running her hands over him.  “Are you okay?  Did someone attack you?”  To be fair, he should have expected this.  He was covered in dirt, scrapes, and bruises, which was entirely unlike him, so of course she’d worry.  “Ohhh, I told father not to send you by yourself.  Even if you have the Lady with you, it’s still too dangerous.”

               “Arceus, mother, I’m fine,” Anastasios insisted, trying to peel her hands off his face.  “This is just…”  How did one explain a few friendly scuffles with your best friend from your past life?  “One of the kids in town really wanted to play, and things went a bit overboard, that’s all.”  His mother frowned and looked him all over again, trying to See a lie, but not getting any.  That was part of the problem in this house: lying was damn near impossible in this house.  But that hadn’t been a lie.  Tussling with Hikaze was very much like playing.  None of it was actually serious, and neither of them generally intended any real harm to the other aside from some bruises.  Still, even though there were no lies to be Seen, it didn’t look like his mother believed him.  The woman heaved a sigh before finally letting him go.  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to approve of how much work your grandfather gives you.  It’s all just so dangerous.”

               “It’s fine, mama,” Anastasios replied softly.  “I want the work.  It’ll help me be a good patriarch.”

               “You shouldn’t have to be the patriarch just because the Lady favors you,” his mother grumbled, wrapping her arms around her son.  “You can do whatever you want.  You don’t have to do such a thankless job…”

               “I’ll be fine, mama,” Anastasios said with an uncomfortable titter.  “I want to be patriarch.  No one’s forcing me.  But I do have to report to pappous.”

               “Just rest a bit.  At least take a bath.  You don’t want your pappous to see you like this do you?  He’ll ask even more questions than I did.”

               Anastasios gave a series of soft laughs.  “This is true.”  If his grandfather saw him like this, he’d think Anastasios got hurt because of his request which was completely not the case.  “Tell pappous I’ll be there to see him in an hour with my report.  And take this.”  Anastasios brought out the Pokeball, placing it in his mother’s hands.

               “Stasi, παιδί μου, what happened?”  For him to use one of the family’s coveted Pokeballs must have meant that something truly serious had gone on.

               “It’d take too long to explain, and I still don’t really understand everything that happened.  You, me, pappous, and pateras should all talk about it later,” Anastasios replied.  “Regardless of what it is though, it doesn’t look good.”

               “Is Calypso okay?”

               Anastasios shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I couldn’t find him.  We’ll talk when I’m cleaned up, okay?” 

“Fine, but you better make sure to tell us everything.”

“I will,” Anastasios replied.  There was a lot to explain, including Hikaze.  He let his mother give him a soft kiss on the cheek before sending him off.

Anastasios hissed as he cleaned his cuts and scrapes.  He had more than he’d expected, but he should have known that’d happen, rolling around on the cobblestone street with Hikaze like that.  It took him nearly half an hour to get clean (his hair needed some attention too- he’d be damned if he had to use scissors for any of this) and he spent another twenty minutes applying ointment and bandages to anything truly egregious.  Most of the bruises were easily concealed by his clothes, but his chin, elbows, and knees made him look like he’d fallen out of a tree.  Explaining this to his father and grandfather without revealing that he was, in fact, Esaias’ reincarnation was going to be a pain.  Anastasios arrived in the patriarch’s office almost exactly on the hour he’d promised, his hair still damp and hanging limply around his neck and shoulders.  His parents and grandfather had already gathered in the office- normally parents weren’t allowed in on these meetings, even if they were the patriarch’s children, but this was part of an agreement his mother had made them all sign when the current patriarch, Anastasios’ grandfather, had started wanting to take Anastasios along for work when he turned 8.  It had been decided as soon as he was born that he’d be raised as the next patriarch, something Anastasios had never once voiced even a single complaint about, but his mother had never been a fan of the idea, especially with the number of unsettling prophecies the family had been churning out over the last several decades.  Anastasios took a seat in the only unoccupied chair, laying the lengths of his hair over the back to help it finish drying.

“What happened to you?  You look like you got in a fight with a Fighting-type and lost,” his father pointed out.

“I was… messing around with one of the kids in town.  He looks worse than I do.  Don’t worry about it,” Anastasios explained.  His father was not a Seer of the house, he had married in, but his grandfather and mother would definitely See any lies he slipped in.  His father looked to them for guidance, but both of them just shook their heads.

“He’s not lying,” his grandfather confirmed. 

“Look, I’m a teenager, not an idiot.  Most people give up on lying early in this house.”

“You never even bothered trying,” his grandfather laughed.  Anastasios cringed and looked away.  That was because he already knew there was no point from an early age.

“Can we just get on with the report?  What I have’ll heal.  It’s not a big deal,” Anastasios said, trying to change the topic.

“Sure, what’d you find?”  His grandfather obviously knew he was trying to change to topic, but it was true that this subject was what they’d all gathered for.

Anastasios took a deep breath and began explaining.  How no one had seen Calypso in days; how no one seemed to even care, how Anastasios had scoured the apartment, but it had been completely wiped clean of Ultrareality imprinting; and how something had been completely invisible to him and carried a Pokémon inside.  One of the adults occasionally opened their mouths, as if to interject, but Anastasios would hold up a hand.  Generally, this was not how one treated their parents, including Anastasios, but he sat here right now as the patriarch’s proxy, not their offspring.

“Mamá, that Pokéball I gave you earlier has what came out.  The object itself shattered into dust, at least as best as I could tell.  I’ve never seen a Pokémon like it, even in our library.”  His mother turned the ball in her hands.  “Don’t let it out.  It’s incredibly hostile.  It attacked as soon as it was loose.  It’ll need containment and sedatives before any of the house’s Pokémon can help us interrogate it because we’re not getting anything else from Calypso’s place.”

“Are you sure?  I can send someone who’s Class 10, or-”  Anastasios held up a hand and cut his grandfather off.

“It wouldn’t do much good now.  I know I’m only Class 6, so there’s probably some stuff I may not have been able to See, but I went back in for one more check afterwards.  Ran my hands over every damn surface I could reach looking for more invisible shit, but I didn’t find anything.”  He could see his mother glaring at him over his choice of language and knew she would have something to say later, but he would try to disappear before that talk could happen.  Thankfully he had one more topic to distract them all with.  “And even if you sent someone, that Pokémon tore half the flat to pieces.  Whatever I missed may now be in complete ruins.  This is too worrying to have just happened once, and there’s no guarantee that triggering the trap I did won’t prompt an enemy to come out and set a new one when they realize that the trap they set didn’t work.  Everyone we have outside the house needs to check in immediately.  Make them check in daily if they have to.  I know they won’t like it, but one of us is missing.”  Anastasios squeezed his hands together as Esaias’ memories overwhelmed him.  All that pain and fear he’d encountered when dealing with this sort of thing flooded straight into Anastasios.

The patriarch sighed.  “I’ll put out a call for check-ins, but I’ll give them all three days.  Anyone who doesn’t get back in that time should be considered missing.”

Anastasios nodded.  “Once we have that list, give it to me.  I’ll continue going around to do wellness checks myself.”

“Absolutely not!” his mother snapped.  “You’ve already been attacked once!  Just look at yourself!”

“Mamá!  I told you, this is just from playing!” he replied. 

“But you never even played with the other kids in the house!” his mother retorted.  “I can See that you’re not lying, but Arceus so help me, you saying you got that beaten up just playing is hard to believe!”  Anastasios made a sound in the back of his throat and stiltedly averted his gaze.  It wasn’t like he’d never been a big bundle of kid energy, but he’d always been far too mature for his age, so things like playing pretend and getting into fights with the other children had never been something he partook in.  The moment he reconnected with Hikaze though, it was like a switch flipped, and he just couldn’t help himself.  Taunting Hikaze just came so naturally to him that he definitely outed his reincarnated status to the other boy more than he would like.  The feeling of an object pushing his feet apart returned his attention to the ground only to be faced with a smarmy-looking Celia.

“Urk…”  The other three members of the family present immediately showed varying levels of reverence, but Anastasios just tried to nudge her back into his shadow with his foot.  “Be quiet, you.”  Celia ignored him and pulled herself out of his shadow before plopping herself down shamelessly in Anastasios�� lap, giving him just enough room to barely peer over her head.  “I’m not a chair,” he hissed.

“Might as well be.”  He had half a mind to just shove her off, but the scolding he’d get from his family would not be worth it, so he begrudgingly put up with it.

“Lady Celia, did you also wish to weigh in?” the patriarch asked.

“I have nothing more to add to this particular issue that Anastasios has not already conveyed to you,” Celia replied.  “Although it was quite amusing to listen to him have to interact with something the same way I do.”  Anastasios scoffed but didn’t say any more about it.  “But I will say, life is about to get far more interesting.  The one who made our cute little Stasi like this is a young boy named ‘Hikaze’.  When we went into town, we were met with Kazuya Minegishi’s reincarnation.  Kazuya was Esaias’ best friend.  He, like my Stasi, still retains his past life’s memories, although he’s far less stubborn about it.”  As if she could feel Anastasios scowling behind her, she followed that up with “Don’t worry, you’re still far more adorable.”

“I never asked to be anything like that,” Anastasios replied with disgust. 

“So this boy beat you up?” his mother asked.  While Esaias’ name was well-known in the house, Kazuya’s was only known to those who made a hobby of studying the house’s history.  His name was brought up in their compulsory education, but after 1,000 years, little more was spoken about aside from the fact that he and Esaias had been close, and Celia hadn’t felt the need to encourage these lessons to be any more elaborate.

“If anything, I’m the one who beat him up,” Anastasios spat.  “He looks ten times worse than I do.”

“Indeed, the one starting most of these fights was actually our cute and well-behaved Stasi,” Celia teased, completely ignoring the retaliatory tug on her cheeks that she got in return.  Well, Anastasios was well-known for having a barbed tongue and not pulling his verbal punches.  It wasn’t like it never happened that he angered someone to the point of physical retaliation, but against another child?  And that he let himself get dragged into the actual fighting instead of just laying them out?  Unheard of.  “Alhough shood probapree add,” Celia began, Anastasios’ continuing assault on her face affecting her speech, “hat Hikaze was huh one who foun da hing wih da Pohemon in it.”  Anastasios finally released her face to let her actually speak, but the important part was already out.  Celia rubbed at her cheeks, which were now violently red.  “Geez, what are you going to do if my cute little cheeks come off?”

“Think about that before you start your taunting next time,” Anastasios retorted.  Celia scoffed and rolled her eyes, but continued on.

“Apparently, that Pokemon came in some strange kind of orb.  I was only able to handle it briefly before Stasi so rudely took it back, but, aside from how bumpy it was, it felt like a perfect orb.  Even more so than that Pokeball in your hand.”  The Pokeballs of house Ofthalmós were crafted from apricots by members of the house who couldn’t technically be called artisans (there wasn’t enough demand for them to warrant having that much practice), which meant that they often had minor defects.  Anastasios usually kept two or three on hand just in case one or more turned out defective.

“So this boy was able to see something that you weren’t, Stasi?” his grandfather asked.

“Yeah.  If I had to guess, it was hidden from the Ofthalmós Sight specifically.  The illusion that Pokemon made was elaborate enough to even warp Ultrareality, but it only had enough power to hide it from an Ofthalmós, not a normal person.  Hikaze shouldn’t have any special abilities.”

“Aside from his ability to get you to act like the child you are,” Celia teased.

“Shut it, you,” Anastasios spat.

“Anastasios, you shouldn’t talk to Lady Celia that way,” his father corrected.

“Oh, if you think that’s the worst of his impudence, maybe I should tell them how you carry me around like a bag of-”  Anastasios hand quickly covered her mouth, but that pretty much all but sealed his fate.  He was undoubtedly going to spend the rest of the afternoon getting lectured on ‘showing the family god the proper respect’ for the rest of the afternoon.

  Hikaze, on the other hand, made no effort to get home quickly, only going home juuuust in time for dinner to avoid being scolded for his state of dress.  He confidently returned home with Itsu in tow  covered in dirt, sweat, and blood and took his place at the table right as his parents, aunt, and uncle were dishing up.

“And where have you been, young man?” his aunt scolded.

“Oh, y’know, out and about,” Hikaze replied cheekily as he reached with a dusty hand towards one of the dishes on the table.  It fell short, however, when his mother unceremoniously yoinked the dish out of his reach with a firm glare.

“Arceus, Hikaze, at least wash your hands first.”

“Oh come on, my hands are plenty clean,” Hikaze said, knowingly lying through his teeth.  Both were caked with dust and dirt from rolling around in the street with Anastasios earlier.

“Wash,” his mother said sternly, pointing to the kitchen sink.  Hikaze chuckled but complied, confident that he’d successfully avoided being scolded about just how messy he’d gotten.  Once his hands were clean (a visible mark running around his wrists where you could see that he’d stopped washing), Hikaze trotted back over to the table and plopped himself down, taking everything in sight onto his plate while the adults all rolled their eyes.  The boy ate like a Swallot.

“Oh, so I heard one of the Ofthalmós came to town today,” Hikaze’s aunt said, starting the nightly dinner gossip. That made Hikaze pause, a spoonful of food half-shoveled in his mouth.

“Right, did you happen to see them?” his mother asked.  Hikaze took the spoon out of his mouth and started chewing slowly, his eyes following the conversation as it moved back and forth between his mom and his aunt while the men ate silently.

“No,” his aunt replied, sighing in disappointment.  “But everyone I spoke to acted like it was such a treat.  They must really be as beautiful as they say.”

“Are they famous or something?” Hikaze asked through a mouthful of food.  Until now, had it not been for Kazuya’s memories, he wouldn’t have even known that family even existed.  This was the first he’d heard the name since reincarnating.

               “Something to that effect,” his mother replied, although the tone in her voice made it sound to Hikaze like that wasn’t actually the case.  “They’re a powerful family that live nearby, and everyone in the house is said to be both beautiful and smart.  It’s also said their family god is quite powerful, so you should always treat them well,” his mother explained.

               Hikaze scoffed.  “Just imagining her as a god of any kind is ridiculous.”  His chuckling stopped, however, when a sudden silence overtook the table.  The sound of utensils against plates stopped.  Not even a chew or a gulp could be heard.  Hikaze started up at the rest of his family and had to suppress a shudder at their stares.

               “Did you meet their family god?  It’s said that she rarely ventures out.  What was she like?” his uncle asked.  Something about the question felt… off.  He’d expected to get yelled at for treating a ‘god’ that way, but instead, his usually quiet uncle seemed unusually intrigued.

               “Uhhh yeah,” Hikaze replied.  “That girl with the white hair, right?”  He was inwardly grateful for all the experience his past life afforded him.  A subtle alarm was going off in the back of his head warning him not to tell them that he knew Celia personally, and he could only attribute that to Kazuya.

               “Yes,” his mother replied.  “It’s said she has pure white hair and brilliant blue eyes.  Some stories say she has pure white skin while others say it’s the color of ash.”  Well, the truth was that both were the case, but Hikaze wasn’t about to admit that.  “What was she doing out?  Does she actually leave the mansion often?”  Celia’s words from earlier in the day echoed in his head: there were people out to enslave the Ofthalmos.  He didn’t want to believe that his family was part of that kind of group, but Hikaze got the distinct sense that he should share as little about what happened that day as possible.

               “She accompanied a member of the house into town for sweets,” Hikaze replied.  Immediately, he knew that was a bad lie.  If his parents asked around, they would definitely find out that Anastasios had been searching for someone, not running an errand.  “Umm… I guess one of them really likes to bake, so they were bringing some sweets to one of the relatives living here.  The family god was rolling around demanding that she get some too.”  He doubted Celia ever bothered to tone down her selfish behavior, even in public… at least he hoped that would be the case.

               “Well, knowing someone from House Ofthalmos can open a lot of doors,” his mother said, reaching over the table to stroke his muddy hair (and then covertly brushing her hand off on her skirt.)  “Make sure to get along with them whenever you see them.”

               Hikaze ran to his room and shut the door tight behind him as soon as dinner was over, his heart hammering a mile a minute.  It all felt so surreal.  Itsu reached up and tugged at Hikaze’s shorts in concern.  Hikaze quietly patted the little flame soldier’s head, carefully avoiding the fire. 

               “Sorry, just a bit freaked out,” Hikaze replied, walking over and plopping down on his bed.  “That was fucking weird.”  Itsu climbed onto the bed and laid down next to him, taking the exact same position and giving a squeak of affirmation.  Should he tell Anastasios?  But he didn’t have any proof that his parents were actually dangerous.  And what if Anastasios started avoiding him because of his parents.  Arceus, just the thought had Hikaze biting his lower lip.  He’d always envied the connection Kazuya and Esaias had, and he wanted that.  How could fate put it in front of him just to rip it away again?  “Yeah, there’s no way I can tell him about this…”

[nikethestatue]

Still disagreeing with your necklace theory. Let's say he got it outside of Velaris, that would then mean someone knew he was coming for it and sold him a made object. There's too many moving parts in that theory for it to work out. Even if he got it in Velaris, all these same things still apply. It doesn't work. I'm not saying it won't become important, but it's not important when he buys it.

1) how did the seller know he was coming

2) why would a seller know who he is giving it too

3) how would Clotho know its importance and keep it?

4) where would the seller get it

5) why would they want to give it to Azriel or make sure he got it, or got it to Elain.

It makes no sense in that aspect. This is where I have issues with people's theories on this necklace. This theory has just as much canon context clues as Gwynriel being the next couple. Azriel buys a necklace. He can't stomach having it/returning it. He gives it away. Maybe it will become something, maybe not. But there is nothing to suggest it is a made item.

No, I don’t think that Azriel bought a Made necklace or Made it himself.

I think Elain Made the necklace. She imbued it with her emotions—and I think she felt a Lot.

When he gave her the necklace it was just a necklace, though obviously he put some thought into getting it. But once she received it and spent a night with it, it became Made. Basically like nesta—she activated the Trove objects and she Made her own weapons.

To me, the necklace is too central to the bonus. I can’t shake off the feeling. Maybe I’m wrong—totally possible. But if the necklace wasn’t important why was so much time spent in it and it was the catalyst for the entire chapter.

Again, it might not matter at all. But I feel like it does.

[merymoonbeam]

Acosf Chapter 52 - Lightsinger Theory

In this post I’m gonna connect the wording of chapter 52 to Azriel’s bonus chapter and connection of sirens to chapter 52

Before we start the post these are the posts I will connect to as we go...

Lightsinger part1 , part2 by @silverlinedeyes

Glowed quietly

Cauldron’s song and Gwyn’s singing

1.

Chapter 52 Acosf

A bell rang seven times somewhere nearby, echoing through the stones, through Nesta’s feet. Each peal was a summons, a call to focus. Everyone rose at the seventh peal. Nesta gazed at the sea of pale robes and blue stones as the entire room seemed to suck in a breath.

Azriel's Bonus Chapter

Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening.

In Acosf chapter 52 there is a bell that rings seven times and from Gwyn we know that they hold services at dawn and dusk.

Gwyn huffed a soft laugh. “In part. We honor the Mother, and the Cauldron, and the Forces That Be. We have a service at dawn and at dusk, and on every holy day.”

so it is interesting that when they held the service Nesta heard a bell ring seven times and Azriel arrived at the library when clocked chimed seven in the evening.

2.

Chapter 52 Acosf

Not from any instruments, but from all around. As if they were one voice, the priestesses began to sing, a wave of sparkling sound. Nesta could only gape at the lovely melody, the voices from the front of the cavern leading it, lifting higher than the others. Gwyn sang, chin high, a faint glow seeming to radiate from her.

Azriel's Bonus Chapter

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to  the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.  But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

In this part what took me back because as you can see...the same words are used? when you look at the context it feels different but when it comes to how the Azriel's bonus chapter was build upon silent music and singing and all...this gave me a pause. I wonder if there is more to it.

3.

Azriel's bonus chapter

He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to  the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.

Chapter 52 acosf

She’d never heard such music. Like a spell, a dream given form. The entire room sang, each voice resonating through the stone

as you can see Nesta says that music is like a "spell, a dream given form" like how Azriel could picture Gwyn's eyes lighting up.

Gwyn’s voice rose again, holding such a high note it was like a ray of pure light, piercing and summoning. Two other voices rolled in to join, pulsing around that repeated high note, the harp still strumming, voices whispering and flowing, lulling Nesta down, down, down into a pure, ancient place where no outside world existed, no time, nothing but the music in her bones, the stones at her feet, her side, overhead. The music took form behind Nesta’s eyes as the priestesses sang lyrics in languages so old, no one voiced them anymore. She saw what the song spoke of: mossy earth and golden sun, clear rivers and the deep shadows of an ancient forest.

Again in here the music "took form behind Nesta's eyes" and she "saw what the song spoke of" like Azriel picturing Gwyn's eyes.

Another thing is that those orange highlighted parts.

Summoning literally means "call an image to mind" as @silverlinedeyes pointed in her lightsinger part one post I'd linked above and it is exactly what Azriel saw in his bonus chapter.

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

and I made a post about how glowing "quietly" feels odd and added the link above as well.

Lulling is similar to settle as you can see in the screenshot.

and in Azriel's chapter we literally have that.

Gwyn smiled broadly. "Thank you." Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch. 

I made a post about how this settling could be connected to another "settling" scene with Nesta but it is not in chapter 52 so I'm not including that in this post.

4.

Chapter 52 Acosf

This one was a lilting chant, the words tumbling over each other like water dancing down a mountainside, and Nesta’s foot tapped on the ground in time to the beat. Nesta could have sworn that beneath the hem of Gwyn’s robe, the priestess’s foot was doing the same. The words and the countermelodies danced around and around, until the walls hummed with the music, until the stone seemed to be singing it back.

Azriel's bonus chapter

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

both scene have gwyn in it...both scene have singing in it...both scene have "could have sworn"...both scene has singing back to it. It is a bit weird?

Now onto the siren connection.

we will go part by part in here as well.

1.

While I was looking up sirens etymology parts stood out to me.

The etymology of the name is contested. Robert S. P. Beekes has suggested a Pre-Greek origin.[4] Others connect the name to σειρά (seirá, "rope, cord") and εἴρω (eírō, "to tie, join, fasten"), resulting in the meaning "binder, entangler",[5][better source needed] i.e. one who binds or entangles through magic song. This could be connected to the famous scene of Odysseus being bound to the mast of his ship, in order to resist their song.

and in Chapter 52 of Acosf we have this

It was like a braid, the song—a plait of seven voices, weaving in and out, individual strands that together formed a pattern. Halfway through it, a drum appeared in the hand of the singer on the far left. A harp began strumming in the hands of one on the far right. A lute sounded from the center. She’d never heard such music. Like a spell, a dream given form. The entire room sang, each voice resonating through the stone.

sirens are described as "binder, entangler" and the music in acosf described as individual strands that together formed a pattern. and sirens bind or entagnle through magic song and Nesta explains the music as "like a spell, dream given form"

2.

Another thing is that Sirens are described as birds.

The sirens of Greek mythology first appeared in Homer's Odyssey, where Homer did not provide any physical descriptions, and their visual appearance was left to the readers' imagination. It was Apollonius of Rhodes in Argonautica (3rd century BC) who described the sirens in writing as part woman and part bird By the 7th century BC, sirens were regularly depicted in art as human-headed birds.

and in Chapter 52 Gwyn's voice is described as a bird.

Gwyn’s voice soared like a bird through the cavern as she started the third song with a solo, and Nesta closed her eyes, leaning into the music, shutting out one sense in order to luxuriate in the sound of her friend. Something beckoned in Gwyn’s song, in a way the others’ hadn’t. Like Gwyn was calling only to her, her voice full of sunshine and joy and unshakable determination. Nesta had never heard a voice like Gwyn’s—by turns trained and wild, as if there was so much sound fighting to break free of Gwyn that she couldn’t quite contain it all. As if the sound needed to be loose in the world.

and the orange part is interesting because Nesta singles out Gwyn's voice from others. As if her singing is different then other. I touched upon this in my Cauldron's song and Gwyn's singing post. In that post Cauldron's luring song parallels to Gwyn's singing as described in that scene.

As you can see Nesta describes Gwyn's beckoning song as "in a way others' hadn't" and "like Gwyn was calling only to her" and with Cauldron's luring it presented itself as Graysen to Elain...beckoned her and told her he'd come for her.

Also beckoning is literally means "lure,charm, entice.."

3.

Lasty we have this about sirens

The early Christian euhemerist interpretation of mythologized human beings received a long-lasting boost from the Etymologiae by Isidore of Seville (c. 560–636): They [the Greeks] imagine that "there were three sirens, part virgins, part birds," with wings and claws. "One of them sang, another played the flute, the third the lyre. They drew sailors, decoyed by song, to shipwreck. According to the truth, however, they were prostitutes who led travelers down to poverty and were said to impose shipwreck on them." They had wings and claws because Love flies and wounds. They are said to have stayed in the waves because a wave created Venus.

one sang...one played the flute...the third the lyre

we are gonna look at the paragraph before the bird connection also I'm adding that paragraph as well.

They finished, and started another song—led into it by a rolling drumbeat, then a single voice. Then the harp joined, a second voice with it. Then the lute, along with a third. The three sang around and into each other, another braid of voices and melodies. They reached the second verse, and the other four joined in, the room with them. Gwyn’s voice soared like a bird through the cavern as she started the third song with a solo, and Nesta closed her eyes, leaning into the music, shutting out one sense in order to luxuriate in the sound of her friend. Something beckoned in Gwyn’s song, in a way the others’ hadn’t. Like Gwyn was calling only to her, her voice full of sunshine and joy and unshakable determination. Nesta had never heard a voice like Gwyn’s—by turns trained and wild, as if there was so much sound fighting to break free of Gwyn that she couldn’t quite contain it all. As if the sound needed to be loose in the world.

a single voice...harp joined...then the lute...

like the three sirens I added above.

one sang...one played the flute...the third the lyre

And again the music is describe as a "braid" like the first point how the sirens were described as ""binder, entangler", and they bind or entangle through magic song. and right after it Gwyn's voice describes as a bird which is what sirens are described as.

so that's about it.

Special thanks to @offtorivendell . Thanks for always listening my rambling thoughts about these theories and helping me.

[fancy-rock-dove]

Chapter Head Art for Maybe Sprout Wings (Full set)

I have had just, So Much Fun working on these. This story really is built on such a great concept, and with such fantastic worldbuilding, and with action so thoroughly in tune with its themes that it really does reward digging into. @moorishflower's writing kills me in the best of ways (and in the sleep deprivation kind of ways but I have no regrets), and designing them was a great time. And on top of that, everyone here has been just, so lovely, so I'm very excited to post the full set of chapter head illustrations!

Stylistic consistency continues to elude me, but hopefully these look like a matched enough set regardless. Cursive titles are the chapter titles, block print is my own title for the illustration. Just for fun, and in tribute to the (probably truly unhinged) amount of time I spent thinking about Symbolism while making these, I'm including one selected Fun Fact relevant to my thoughts on some part of each of these at the bottom of this post in case that interests anyone!

Ch 1: Baobabs are some of the oldest living flowering plants on the planet and can live up to two millennia. I have a lot of feelings about the sheer volume of life these trees can contain (both spatially and in time) and what that means for how we look at them.

Ch 2: If Abel were looking to avoid anachronism, he could still absolutely have left out books that were machine-printed with moveable type, but they'd probably have to have been in Chinese or Korean, from somewhere that had already widely adopted the technology by the 14th century.

Ch 3: Homer's works contain what is believed to be the first written mention of apples in Ancient Greece. Its writing is about as many centuries removed from the events of the Odyssey as the events of this chapter are from the first recorded mention of apples in England.

Ch 4: An ink quill is definitely more aesthetic, but graphite had actually been discovered in England and pencils invented in the decades prior to Shakespeare's first writings. It's entirely possible he could've been jotting down quick notes with a pencil like any stagehand today.

Ch 5: Though Corinthian style architecture is named for the Greek city of Corinth, with which it's associated, its inventor Callimachus is actually thought to be Athenian. The spiny, curling acanthus leaves used in its motifs are generally associated with long life, immortality, and rebirth. Go figure.

Ch 6: Symbolically, clovers are a sign that others are thinking of you. They're associated with good fortune, and apparently also male energy, and seen as a sign of protection. Excellent Fiddler's Green groundcover here.

Ch 7: Three-masted, fully-rigged ships became common in Europe by the 16th or 17th centuries during the Age of Sail because the extra space for sails became more necessary with the increase in open-ocean voyages. Making them the go-to type of vessel for both trade and exploration.

Ch 8: The simple but effective design of drop spindles is largely unchanged from their first documented use in the first century CE. there's evidence of their use for spinning (making a single, stronger thread from many disparate fibers) dating back at least to the advent of agriculture, some 10,000 years ago. Definitely what I picture Clotho using.

Ch 9: The fractal, branching structures of roots, lightning, and Lichtenberg figures are all self-similar: you can get much closer and they'll still appear very similar or identical to the way they were at a distance.

Ch 10: The throne room scenes of Sandman were shot in Guildford Cathedral. The Dreaming's Castle was intentionally designed to be a mashup of a whole ton of architectural styles, but the facade and throne room definitely feel gothic or neo-gothic. It's been a classic for centuries and the gothic-style window is definitely the kind I picture Hob's room having, at least on days the castle's feeling a bit fancy.

Ch 11: The item at the front left there is a weaving shuttle. According to Artemidorus, while dreaming of most kinds of looms indicates that you should expect rest, dreaming of a warp-weighted loom -- the kind which was common in bronze-age Greece and enables multiple people to work together on the weaving -- indicates an upcoming journey.

Ch 12: I feel like I've already talked about the symbolism of this one elsewhere, so for this one, instead of a fact, a comment (that I found fun): The binding circle in this only shows up in areas covered by the puddle of the Dreaming Sea, the means by which the nature of the "gilded ring" was elucidated. :)

Ch 13: Greek ships often had eyes on their bow, which among other things, was intended to imbue them with some will and ability to avoid obstacles. The Argo famously had eyes and also some innate awareness/intelligence, and could actually speak to the crew.

Ch 14: While Calliope, muse of epic poetry and eloquence (and the one invoked at the beginning of the Odyssey) is associated with a book, scroll, or tablet, Erato, muse of romantic poetry and love stories, is depicted in crowns of rose and myrtle. My title for this one was very nearly just (Invocation pt. ii). Also, I have a headcanon that Dream has only seen very bad performances of the Odysseyif ( he's seen any at all) since antiquity. Any show that literally begins by calling his ex is something he's not gonna stay for unless he's really sure she won't actually show up.

Whew! thanks to anyone who actually read to the end of my rambling here! Clearly this whole story has been really, really fun to just turn over in my mind. Cool stuff just keeps falling out of it! Since I would literally be two photos under Tumblr's limit on this post otherwise, how about a couple bonus alternate versions at the end here? Because why not?? I added some red accents to a couple of these for fun, and though it doesn't fit the for the chapter headings, I do think it looks cool!

[falsemneme]

'What choice do I have?' Nesta asked. If it was between her and Elain, there was no choice at all. She would always go first if it meant keeping Elain from harm. Even if she'd just hurt her sister more than she could stomach. 'You do have a choice,' Rhys said firmly. 'You will always have a choice here.'

ACOSF, Ch. 21

'As of this meeting,' Feyre clarified, 'you're moving to the House of Wind. [...] Rhys and I have decided that each morning, you will train with Cassian in Windhaven, in the Illyrian Mountains. After lunch, for the rest of the afternoon, you will be assigned work in the library beneath the House of Wind.' 'I'm not moving to the House of Wind,' Nesta said. 'And I'm not training at that miserable village. Certainly not with him.' [...] 'It's not up for negotiation,' Amren said. 'You're going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian's lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library. [...] You will respect her, and the other priestesses in the library, [...] and you will never give them a moment's trouble. Any free time is yours to spend as you wish. In the House.'

ACOSF, Ch. 2

Honestly? I am only 32% of the way into this story and this is... sad as hell. It's sad to read a story about a woman being continuously stripped of choices and treated like an imminent danger to those around her. (Cassian worries—jokingly?—in Chapter 1 that she'll reduce the new palace to rubble. She doesn't.) It feels like the IC are living in a totally different reality where they believe themselves the victims of her malice and anger and threatened by her power. When the reality as SJM writes it is that they are the ones with all the power and she is a woman without any resources or connections outside of her ties to a ruling family who despise her while paying lip service to how much they're stripping her autonomy out of love for her. Gross.