#Daddy Helion to the rescue

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fourteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Secrets are revealed, relationships are tested, and the arrival of new guests at the River House make things all the more complicated. Oh and some canon typical violence.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

There was something cold and damp against your forehead, the bitter taste of medicine lingered on your tongue, dry and acrid, and a faint pulsing near the base of your skull.

“She’s waking up.” Gwyn’s voice came to your ears through fifteen feet of water. “You can hold her hand, if you’d like. She can handle it now.”

A hand slid into yours, palms calloused from hundreds of years spent swinging a sword. Warm and heavy. Golden light pricked behind your eyes like sunlight through thin curtains and you woke up to the sun smiling down on you, red-eyed and weary.  

“Helion?” His healing touch traveled over you, whisking away any remaining tenderness in your stomach. You whimpered when he wove his fingers through your hair, gently peeling apart any tangles. It felt nice to be touched by him. Safe.

“I’m here.” 

“It hurts,” you murmured, even though you couldn’t identify the pain very well. It seemed to exist both within you and outside of you, pressing down on your chest until even breathing felt unnatural. Everything just… hurt. Your head, your heart, your throat. Like you’d swallowed a mouthful of hot ash. “I’m so… I’m so tired.” 

Again Helion combed your hair back with his fingers and you felt the sore spot on the back of your head prickle when he touched it. The blood had been cleaned, the wound closed, but you could still feel it there like a stamp sinking into your skin. The same way you could feel the stretch of scar tissue over your stomach. A thick, pale line a few inches below your sternum.  

“You’re ok, my dear. Rest. I won’t let anything hurt you.” 

“Thanks Dad,” you whispered, but you were already slipping away. You wouldn’t remember what you called him when you woke up again. 

Helion gritted his teeth and brushed away the stray tears that dripped down your cheeks, then his own. 

“I won’t let anything hurt you,” he said to the empty air.

The next time you awoke was not so pleasant. There was no caressing hand down your face. No slow murmurs from your father. No warm light blinking in the darkness. 

There was the banging of doors. Cassian’s alarmed shouts mixing with Rhysand and Mor’s, and Feyre’s commands for Nyx to take Velaria upstairs and lock the door behind them.

“Don’t come down until I get you, ok sweetie?” The boy’s footsteps were light and quick up the stairs as he calmed a startled Velaria with gentle coos. 

“Gwyn?” You reached across the bed for the priestess’s hand. Her robes looked like they were glowing to your sleep-dazed eyes. 

Her teal eyes were hard. The grip on her knife tight. 

“Gwyn, what’s happening?”

“Shhhh. Go back to sleep.” 

Helion roared and the River House shook down to its foundations. The silky covers stuck to your weak arms, slippery and cool as you gripped Gwyn’s arm and forced yourself to stand. Your knees immediately buckled and Gwyn’s awaiting arms caught you in a sprawl of heavy limbs. 

The House trembled once more. The wooden banisters creaked. The faelights that sat on swooping, wrought iron curls blinked on and off, signaling the House’s alarm as the floor slipped and slid beneath your feet. Help me! The House seemed to shout. 

“Gwyn.” 

“Hold onto me.” 

You leaned heavily against the priestess’s side, her arm wrapped around your waist, and together you stumbled out the door and into the hallway. 

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the lamplight just as Cassian flew across the room, crashing into the fireplace mantle in a burst of color that had you turning pale. The glass figurines and picture frames cracked and shattered in a rain of glass. But Cass only grumbled, “This is what I get for helping,” before bouncing onto his feet and charging back into the foyer where Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor stood. Rhysand kept his arm out in front of the two sisters and grabbed Mor’s arm before she could step further. 

“Let them go.” Rhys said, his voice low and deadly. He knew something they didn’t. “Helion has a right to this.” 

“It wasn’t Azriel’s fault,” Mor seethed.

“Doesn’t matter. I’d do the same if anyone hurt Velaria.” 

“What the hell does that—” 

Helion slammed Azriel’s bloody and bruised body against the wall with a snarl. The shattered vases in the hallway and the blood dripping from Azriel's broken nose clear evidence that you'd stumbled upon this fight a few minutes late.

Helion held a fistful of black leather in one hand and a gleaming sword of pure light angled up just beneath Azriel’s sternum in the other. His skin burned so brightly even Azriel’s shadows had slunk away to seek shelter in the few remaining dark corners of the House.

“You bastard,” Helion spit out the words like venom. 

Azriel hung limp and exhausted, wings brushing against the floor. The bruises beneath his eyes and the cut of his cheeks spoke of days spent without sleep. Days spent prowling Velaris for Andrian. Days spent waiting outside your door for you to wake up. 

“You think I don’t see what game you’re playing? This pathetic pattern of yours?” Helion’s eyes flashed a dangerous yellow. 

“Helion!” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be. “Let him go!”

“It’s not a game,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. “It’s never been a game. Not with her.” “Don’t. Lie. To. Me,” Helion snarled. He pulled Azriel off the wall only to slam him back into it. Cracks splintered out like spiderwebs. Dust floated down and landed in Azriel’s hair like snow. “It wasn’t so long ago that you were convinced enough about a mating bond with Elain to invoke a fucking Blood Duel with Lucien Vanserra. Now you’re chasing after Y/n’s skirts like a dog? Looking at her with lovesick eyes as if being near you won’t bring anything but death on her head?” 

You went still.

He’d… he’d challenged Elain’s mate to a Blood Duel?

He’d believed they were mates?

All at once it made sense why Elain and Lucien had disappeared to the Mortal Lands, chased away by a violence that should have ended with either Lucien or Azriel ritualistically buried in the ground. Nothing but a pint of blood and a name to remember them by. All at once it made sense why it had been so long since their family had lived under one roof. 

Your words shriveled up in your throat and died there.

Azriel stiffened, eyes flashing dangerously. 

Helion clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You’re not the only one who hears whispers, Shadowsinger,” he hissed. “First it was Mor you pined after for five-hundred years, then Elain, then the priestess. One right after the other like a prize just out of reach.” 

Gwyn tensed beside you and your heart tightened in your chest like untempered glass ready to shatter. 

“Gwyn?” You whispered. 

You had no right to Azriel, no right to know about his past exploits with females, but still it felt like something you should have been told after long nights spent in the priestess’s presence. Months of living under their roof, eating their food, and falling in love without a whisper of warning. The things they must have whispered about when you weren’t in the room. 

Her silence was all you needed to hear. Greasy and rotten.

Azriel’s hands shook the more Helion spoke. 

“You like your females broken and vulnerable. You like it when they need you. When you get to swoop in feeling like some grand hero. So you felt you had the right to go after my daughter! And then you were too weak to protect her when the time came? You dared to lay a hand on her are you fucking kidding me?!”

The world froze at those two words. The Inner Circle was shocked into complete silence. 

You swayed dangerously as the floor tilted beneath your bare feet. 

Is that what they thought of you? Is that what Azriel thought of you? Broken. Weak. Pathetic. Someone who couldn’t handle their own. Someone who had needed saving. An easy target to charm and dazzle. A Librarian who’d been left alone for so long she’d throw herself at the first handsome male who smiled in her direction. 

Azriel stiffened. 

You were Helion’s daughter. And somehow that made everything worse, because Azriel knew how lonely you’d been as a child and how much losing your mother had nearly destroyed you. You’d shoved yourself into the Alcove where everything was familiar and safe, and all this time Helion had just stood by and done the bare minimum. 

Azriel had been holding back his rage — his pain — but he felt it erupt with new passion. Lingering jealousy, that acid that had been building up every time you mentioned Helion or touched the necklace he’d gifted you, added fuel to the fire. Shadows burst out from his hands and ate away at Helion’s magic like a plague.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel growled and spit blood onto the floor by Helion's feet, “You weren’t even here. She could have died on those streets.” His voice was hoarse and on the verge of breaking, “And you wouldn’t have been there.” 

And he might not have been there either. 

Rhys had held him back, refusing to let go even as Azriel had tried to crawl to you on broken bones. Even as Azriel had screamed for you. 

Helion's face twisted into something ugly and foreign to you, because deep down he knew the true reason he was so enraged at the Shadowsinger. It was like looking in a mirror. They’d failed you in similar ways. 

“Helion… Helion no!” But your father didn’t listen. 

His power shot out in a blaze of light and heat and slammed into Azriel’s chest. His shadows were barely able to soften the blast. Azriel saw you then, shock and horror seeping down the bond along with something that felt a lot like heartbreak. You watched wide-eyed and slack jawed as the wall bowed out and then snapped in two. Azriel was thrown onto the front lawn, a gaping tear left in the House like a knife wound. 

Helion stepped outside and stalked up to Azriel like a lion out for blood. There was murder and hatred in his eyes. 

Everyone was shouting again as he raised his sword. 

You felt a flare of something bright and hot in your chest, like a shot of whiskey or the first bleeding rise of the sun. You stood up on your own, eyes burning with a glassy, gold sheen that had Gwyn stepping away from you with a gasp. You were glowing, pure and clear and strong. 

You’d only felt like this twice before. First, when you’d grabbed hold of Henna and stopped hiding who you really were, and then once more at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf mere minutes before Azriel had turned the book to ash. Both moments where your power demanded to be felt. Moments when your emotions turned to magic. 

“Helion.” Your voice echoed throughout the room and into the wide open space beyond, eerie and calm. So loud. So quiet. Like an aching whisper in pitch black darkness. “Let. Him. Go.”

Helion blinked in surprise with his arms still raised over his head. Inch by inch that blade of bright light faded away with the dying light of a sunset. His eyes cooled and that magic rage left his body. He staggered away from where Azriel lay on the ground. 

Your hands were trembling, but you forced them to be calm as Azriel got back on his feet, hazel eyes boring into yours. He drank in the sight of you. Your wrapped forearm. The white bandages around your middle peering through your thin nightgown. Your clean hair. 

The smell of blood was but a distant nightmare, even if he swore he could still feel it on his ruined hands. Slippery and dark. 

You turned to leave.

“Y/n, wait!” Azriel shoved a stunned Helion out of his way, racing back into the House in a blur of darkness. “Y/n,” he begged and reached out his hand, “Please let me explain.” 

You froze. The weight of his hand wrapping around your wrist and the rough feel of his scars against your fluttering pulse pinned you to the floor. You felt uncentered — off kilter — and without meaning to, you were thrust into his mind. 

You felt the way he’d pined after Mor for centuries. Always close by. Waiting. Watching for the moment she might actually look at him and realize what he was willing to become for her. Someone to love and kiss and take to bed. Someone who’d never have cast her off into that wood. Someone who would do whatever she asked until she was smiling and whole again. 

You felt the way he looked at Gwyn, like she could be the answer to all his questions. Like she could be the one to hone all his sharp edges with her delicate smile and her creamy skin and dewdrop eyes. Because if she could love him, it might actually mean something. It would mean he was capable of fixing, not just destroying. 

You… you knew the ways he’d imagined Elain. Three sisters for three brothers. Mates. Fate. Love. How he’d imagined touching her. How he had touched her. The thrill of hiding away in dark corners and the soft skin of her fragile neck beneath his lips. The arch of her back. Wood grain beneath his fingers as he pressed her up against a wall and kissed her. How he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else ever again. 

You felt the acidic contents of your stomach surge and wrenched your hand out of his grasp. 

Azriel faltered, eyes wide and staring. Something inside of him fractured and broke. You hadn’t pulled away from him like that since Summer Solstice back when you were strangers and meant nothing to one another. But even then you hadn’t looked at him with this much feeling. This much betrayal. 

His arm was still outstretched and hanging in the empty air. 

Tears dotted your eyes, but you forbid them from falling. Not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

“I am not broken.” 

You went back to your room and slammed the door shut. 

“I thought he liked me,” you murmured pathetically, leaning against Helion’s side. He’d slid into your room quietly and approached you like a wounded animal ready to scatter. 

Your father hesitated, fingers caught in hair that reminded him so painfully of Leda — of your mother. Things had not ended well between them, but he could think of her with nothing less than fondness and gratitude. After all, Leda had given birth to you. Brilliant, wonderful, beautiful you. 

He listened to the House and the way it seemed to be holding its breath. The doors shut a little tighter. The curtains hugged the windows. And across the hall shadows lingered by the door of Azriel’s room, reaching out towards yours but never crossing the threshold. They were held back by their master’s tight leash. 

“I know this might come as a surprise after what I did, but I… He did like you. He does like you. They all do. How could they not?”

You shook your head slowly. “But not in the way I want him to. Not in the way I lo—” You shut your mouth and sighed bitterly. Your cheeks flushed with warmth and before you knew it you were crying again, leaking tears onto Helion’s bare shoulder and feeling wretched. 

Azriel curled in on himself, collapsed on the floor like a broken doll with knees pulled up to his chest as he ignored the pulling of his shadows. 

She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. They repeated over and over again, yanking on his leathers and strands of ebony black hair. Helion had left for one of the guest bedrooms upstairs after you cried yourself to sleep. Now was Azriel’s chance to beg for your forgiveness. To explain himself. To hope.

She needs you.

Azriel shrugged them off, scattering their disembodied voices with a wave of his gloved hand. He was back to wearing them. 

I am the last thing she needs.

“Lucien’s found one of Bethsevah’s descendants.” 

Gwyn stood by the doorway, pale skin and blue robes outlined by the mountain’s red walls. The priestess kept her hands behind her back, wringing them in a nervous twist of bitten fingernails, and waited for you to finally look up from your notes. 

You didn’t like spending time at the House. You hated the way everyone’s attention shifted to you whenever you entered a room; the look of tight, empathetic smiles and knowing glances filling their eyes. It wasn’t that they were trying to be unkind, but you knew they whispered about the power you’d displayed. About your status as Helion’s bastard daughter. About the absolute state that Azriel was in. 

This morning, when you’d left your room for Cagniv Library, Azriel had been waiting, filling his bedroom door frame with a hauntingly tortured look in his eyes. 

“Y/n, please—” 

You’d left without a second glance in his direction, footsteps hurried and head bowed down. His shadows had followed you to the front steps of the house, but no further and you couldn’t help but feel a weight in your chest thinking about how Azriel had looked. He’d started wearing the gloves again. 

Bethsevah’s name rang through the air like a jolt of electricity. After thousands of years, her name still held a strength that demanded to be felt. The book was gone. Whatever magic Azriel had been forced to perform had swept it away to the Continent, and Rhys and Feyre had been wracked with worry and preparations ever since. Favors called in. Threats made. Weapons forged. Bodies armed. At any point they might be called away to the Continent, or forced to reckon with a Death God at their door. 

You’d helped in your own way by digging through your notes on mating bonds and the manuscript that was becoming more useful each day. 

Thanatos and the Bone Carver, one and the same, and mated to Bethsevah Mordeigh. Magic that wasn’t the same, but perfectly complementary. Magic that worked as a lock and a key. 

You were made to ruin me.

Your initial theory, the one you’d shared with Azriel in that cramped apartment at the Alcove, had turned out to be true. Bethsevah, and Bethsevah alone as Thanatos’s mate, had possessed the ability to split him from his power and lock him away, and because his magic was cut from the same kind as his siblings, Beth had been able to do the same with Stryga and Koschei. Her blood, her genetic connection to that magic, would be the only thing capable of releasing the power in the lake. 

All magic could trace itself back to a biological underpinning. 

You were made to ruin me.

The memory was burned behind your sleepless eyes and haunted your dreams, but sometimes when you stopped concentrating so hard on the harsh angles that made up the Bone Carver’s face, you caught him transforming. Black eyes turned to brandy. His reed thin body filled out and grew strong. Wings sprouted from his back. His pale skin turned tan and scarred.

You were made to ruin me, Y/n. Azriel would say, and you’d pretend that the look of utter love and adoration in his eyes was real. 

“When will they be arriving?” 

Gwyn sighed in relief. You’d been so quiet the last few days. “Tomorrow.” 

Mor bit her cherry red lips, glancing at Rhys and Feyre with worry in her eyes as they all stood in a row ready to greet their guests. Rhys was schooling his features into one of careful neutrality, but Mor had known him for centuries. She’d seen him through his awkward teenage years when his skin wasn’t so perfect and his body grew like a weed in Spring. Back when his temper wasn’t so honed and his ego undeserved. She knew when he was agitated. The squaring of his shoulders. The set of his eyes. The faintest twitch of his left ear. 

What a fucking mess this all was. If he thought about it too hard it gave him a raging headache. 

Azriel and Y/n were mates, although Y/n didn’t know and no one knew how to tell her, especially after Azriel had stabbed her through the chest under Andrian’s influence. Helion had nearly killed Az. Azriel had nearly killed Lucien. And if anyone ever told Lucien about Y/n being his half-sister, he was sure Lucien would try and kill Azriel too… again. And— oh FUCK. Helion didn’t know Lucien was his son. Y/n didn’t Lucien was her half-brother. Fuck fuck FUCK. Cauldron boil me.

Rhysand rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. 

Azriel stood motionless, nothing but the minor sway of his wings and the masked look of anguish in his eyes to hint that he was still reeling from that day in the market square. He couldn’t stop glancing over at where you stood between Mor and Cassian, every inch of your skin covered and a forcefully blank look on your face.

Truth Teller was no longer strapped to his thigh. His shadows had returned, but with hesitance, and Rhys couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Azriel eat something. Every family meal that you didn’t attend, Azriel would just stare at your empty seat and flinch at the sound of knives dragging through meat.

Feyre winced at the onslaught of Rhysand’s thoughts. Do we even want to attempt to fix any of that right now?

Feyre darling, where would we even begin?

At least Helion’s moved to the House of Wind. Feyre offered it as a small consolation. Took me a while to convince him of that.

Rhys gritted his teeth. And he will stay on that fucking mountain.

Lucien had gone his entire life not knowing about Helion precisely because when he stood next to his brothers he blended in. There was just enough similarity there in the silhouette of their faces and their overwhelmingly bright red hair, that no one had ever batted an eye at the seventh son of Autumn. But put Lucien and Helion side by side and a keen eye would make out the same strong slope of their noses, the same dimples on their cheeks when they smiled, and the way their brow bones hung over deep set eyes.

You possessed such an eye — an eye for details and specifics. So when Lucien Vanserra walked through the front doors with the setting sun splashing his frame with fire and light, Elain glowing and beautiful beside him, you knew immediately who he was. 

Fuuuuccccckkkkkk. Cassian groaned. Nesta, she knows. 

Stop it. There’s no way she figured it out that quickly. Nesta said. Then she actually looked at you. Your mouth was open in a round “o” and your face had gone pale. Oh for fuck’s sake. Really?

Your gaze was locked on Lucien as he walked up to Rhysand and shook his hand. 

“Lucien, welcome back to the Night Court. It’s been too long.” 

His golden eye whirred, moving up and down the line and lingering first on Azriel. His full lips flattened, freckled nose twitching with thinly veiled distaste. “Not long enough.” But his many years spent as emissary wiped the emotion from his face quickly and he moved on, greeting everyone with a detached kindness. 

“Luc.” The High Lady grinned, finally tugging a genuine smile from Lucien Vanserra’s lips. 

“Hey Feyre.” 

She wrapped him in her arms, closing her eyes and giving him a hearty squeeze. 

“It’s good to see you again.” 

“You too.” 

There was a somber familiarity there, and you got the sense that Feyre was the only one Lucien truly felt connected to. Whatever history he had with the other members of the Inner Circle was tolerable at best.

You finally caught his eye — the one strange face he’d never seen before. He easily towered above you, built with Helion’s strong legs and resplendent in a deep green riding cloak and cream-colored trousers that accentuated the tinge of color in his skin and his mismatched eyes. 

He tipped his head to the side, his long braid falling over his shoulder, and smiled softly. “You must be the Librarian that got roped into all of this madness.” Yes. Because that’s all you were to him — some unnamed female from the Day Court. An unfortunate victim of circumstance. “Y/n Halwynn.” 

You blinked, surprised to hear him speak your name so casually when you were reeling over the fact that standing in front of you was another one of Helion’s children. Another bastard that perhaps should never have been. Your half-brother.

“The one and the same.” 

Lucien evaluated the shrewd set of your eyes and the fit of your clothes over straightened shoulders and found that, at first glance, he quite liked you. You were of the bookish variety — that much was evident in the small novels dragging down your pockets and the smudged inkstains on your fingertips — but you held yourself in front of him well. You looked kind, if not skittish. 

“Lucien Vanserra.” He held out his hand and you regarded it with hesitance before accepting it. 

“I know the name.”

“It is a rather infamous last name.” 

“Bit of an infamous first name too.” 

Lucien smiled a little wider. Yes. He quite liked you. 

Elain hugged her sisters in turn, breathing in their familiar scent and gripping them tightly. Her time in the Human Lands had served her well. Gone were the days of frail bones and heavy eyes always looking out sunny windows. Her skin was flush with color, her hands strong and calloused, and her knees pleasantly bruised after months spent laboring in the fields outside Vassa and Jurian’s manor. She smelled like soil and flowers. She was as lovely as everyone had always described her. The second Archeron sister who’d been born with an unnatural beauty even before turning fae. 

Your eyes dropped to the floor so you wouldn’t have to see what Azriel did when she greeted him. But it didn’t matter. They avoided one another carefully, and Azriel kept looking at you, begging you to lift up your eyes so he could offer you a smile. 

A word. 

A glance. 

Anything.

Bethsevah’s descendant appeared next, willful and stunning in her own way as she waited by the door. Her frizzy grey hair was held away from her face with a strap of leather, stormcloud eyes staring out unflinchingly from a time-worn face. Everything about her was grey from her hair to her clothes and the iron jewelry that hung from her neck and wrists. Cassian sometimes forgot how humans wore their age so openly, and how this woman in particular seemed to brandish it like a weapon. 

“Ione Morgana.” Her voice was deep and hardy. Her eyes narrowed at everyone now that the familiar introductions had finished. “That’s my name and it’s the name my family has carried as long as we can remember. Although the redhead seems to believe otherwise. I am old, as you creatures can very well see, and I am tired. My parents are long gone. My sons dead. My sisters dead too. Now,” she banged her walking stick on the ground, although she hadn’t used it when walking up the steps, “Which one of you will see me to my room?” Her words came out more as a command than a question. 

Rhys tipped his head to the side, his surprise evident on his face. “You’re a very bold woman. Do you not comprehend who you’re standing in front of? My wife in particular?” 

“Boldness comes with age.” She stuck her nose in the air like a wolf sniffing for a bunny, “Something you’d do well to learn.” 

An amused smile grew on Rhysand’s face. “I’m over five hundred years old.” 

“You certainly don’t act like it, standing all crooked like a tryhard.” 

Cassian coughed into his fist and Mor snickered. 

“I could kill you.” 

Rhys!

Relax, my love, I’m just curious how she will react. 

The woman — Ione — hardly reacted at all. In fact, she almost smiled. “Time can kill me. Sickness can kill me. At this point a stiff wind could knock me down and break my back. You’re not special.” She whacked her walking stick again, harder this time. “Now. My room?”

Nesta raised and then dipped her head in silent acknowledgement and together they disappeared into the east wing of the house looking like two grey chess pieces moving over the tiles. 

“Wonderful isn’t she?” Elain commented with a fond look in her eyes. She was Ione’s favorite by far.

Jurian came in last, sweat beading his brow as he dragged a huge steel cage up the steps, and Lucien and Elain’s faces turned solemn. Vassa flitted inside her prison — a cage within a cage so that she couldn’t snap at Jurian’s hands when he got too close. His eyes were bloodshot, knuckles bruised and bloody. 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You’d imagined the firebird as something majestic. You’d imagined feathers dipped from the richest dyes trailing light from their ends like red, green, and blue sparklers. Instead, her eyes were the only vibrant feature about her, and they were sharp from hunger. 

“What’s happened to her?” Cassian breathed. When he stepped forward, Vassa lunged from her perch, screeching when she clashed with the steel grate. Her claws tore at the metal but never broke through the magic Lucien had placed there. 

Jurian whispered words of comfort and love through the metal, and in time, Vassa seemed to settle. 

“It started last week,” Lucien said through clenched teeth, “The day Koschei got his hands on the book, Vassa started going mad. She can’t sleep, not in her human form or as a firebird, and she keeps… hungering for something she can’t name. The day we found Ione, she…” 

“She tried to kill me.” Jurian raised his hands and slid his sleeves down. Claw marks, barely healed, ran jagged down his arms. “Let’s not mince words, Lucien.” He grimaced. “Koschei’s trying to call her back to the lake, but she’s fighting it with everything she has.” He looked back at Vassa, eyes dull and tired. She screeched once again and feathers fell from her body before curling up into blackened husks on the floor. You could just make out the sections of skin where she’d ripped out her own feathers, raw and dotted pink with blood. “I suggest you give us a room far away from everyone else.” 

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Author's Note:

^^ Me writing this chapter because Helion finally beat the shit out of Azriel and revealed all the tea about his past relationships with Mor, Elain, and Gwyn and because I got to bring Lucien to the Night Court. And soon! We'll get to see how Lucien reacts when he learns that Y/n is his sister!!!!!!!

[kopfkino-o]

Pro Vassien Super Post

One of my favorite potential ships within the ACOTAR world is Vassa x Lucien. The bird of fire and the lord of flame. The cursed queen and the spell cleaver. Soo I decided to put together some thoughts based on what we've read in the text so far! It’s a little unorganized, so bare with me.

This is obviously a pro-vassien post, so if that's not your cup of tea then this might not be for you! And as always, these are just my own opinions and interpretations.

Ready? Let's go!

The Cursed Queen and the Spell Cleaver’s Son

In ACOWAR, we are introduced to Queen Vassa, the human queen who has been cursed by the sorcerer Koschei.

“But yes—queen by night, firebird by day.” He [Lucien] blew out a breath. “Nasty curse.” — ACOWAR

In this same book, we also learn that Lucien is in fact the son of daddy Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, and the Spell Cleaver. Famed for his ability to “cleave” or break magical wards, spells, and enchantments. A gift we saw Helion use first hand when he broke the spelled chains of Elain following her rescue from the Hybern camp.

And, interesting enough, a gift we might have seen Lucien himself unknowingly utilize in ACOMAF when at Hybern.

“There was a flare of light, and a scrape, then Lucien was stalking towards Elain, freed of his restraints.” - ACOMAF

Interesting that we met a cursed queen in the same book we also learn Lucien is the son of the Spell-Cleaver. And what’s even more interesting, is it seems SJM retconned some details in how Vassa was found.

In ACOWAR, Lucien tells it was Papa Archeron who found Vassa, and that he joined up with them after she was freed. However, in ACOSF we are told Lucien was, in fact, there and played an active part in finding Vassa. Here’s what the books say:

“Lucien.” I breathed. “Who?” Drakon’s brows narrow. “Oh, the male with the eye. No. He met up with them later on—told them where to go.” - ACOWAR

“He [Koschei] is still at the lake,” Lucien said carefully. Lucien had been there, Cassian recalled. Had gone with Nesta’s father to the lake where Vassa was held captive.” - ACOSF

Interesting, right? Why retcon this little detail? To me, it it seems like SJM wanted to give Lucien the knowledge of where Koschei’s lake is because, as we know, it’s only a matter of time before Vassa is called back. And is it not interesting that Lucien, the Spell Cleaver’s son, is one of the only characters who knows where his lake is? If not the only one. Seems like future set up to me.

Because, it makes sense, wouldn’t it that Lucien would be the one to return to Koschei’s lake to break Vassa’s spell and set her free. He, after all, might be the only one with magic capable of such a feat.

The Lord of Fire and the Bird of Flame

One thing that I think is very telling, especially in regards to Lucien and Vassa, is the way Feyre (our queen, our mother, our primary POV character, and arguably the “main character” of the series) observes these two. There’s a few instances I’d like to highlight. Starting with the infamous:

“A lord of a fire and a bird of flame. I wondered if they’d found each other yet.” — Feyre herself, ACOWAR

Here we see Feyre assign them what reads a hell of a lot like a couple name. She’s grouping them together and calling attention to them being a pair. And they do fit pretty well together, no? A son of autumn [see: fire] and day [see: spell-cleaving] and a bird of flame. The fox and firebird. The emissary, son and friend of many courts, and the human queen.

This isn’t the only instance Feyre calls attention to these two in the story. One of the most interesting instances for me is her observation of Lucien and Vassa on Solstice.

Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened [to Vassa]." - ACOWAR

Why was this surprising to Feyre? Perhaps because she’s seeing her friend back to his usual, carefree, easy going self while in the presence of Vassa? Regardless of what this scene means, I think it’s telling that it was Feyre, the story’s primary POV, who noticed this interaction and commented on it within her internal monologue. It’s almost as if SJM—through Feyre’s eyes—is leading the readers to pick up on… something.

The Sly Fox and the Fierce, Untamed Queen

It's time to talk about Jesminda. The woman Lucien loved. The woman he thought might be his mate. And the woman he lost.

According to Lucien, Jesminda was:

"Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him." - ACOWAR

I think this passage is incredibly important when we look at the dynamic between Vassien and E/lucien. We see, through Lucien's own POV, that it was pretty important to him that Jesminda saw him for who we was. Chose him because of who we was. Loved him and accepted him without question. As compared to Lucien's mate, I do think this is an interesting comparison. Especially when Lucien himself thinks...

"Elain had been … thrown at him." - ACOWAR

Now this isn't a post about Elain and Lucien, so I won't go into it, but I do feel it was important to highlight the differences between the way Lucien views Elain and the way he viewed his relationship with Jesminda. I also think the aspect of choice is something very, very important. Both in Elain and Lucien's respective, and shared, journeys, but this is something I'll touch on in a later post.

But what does this have to do with Vassa? Let's consider what we know about the mortal queen and her personality.

"Only a few years older than me, but... young-feeling. Coltish. Fierce and untamed, despite her curse." - Feyre upon meeting Vassa, ACOWAR

And:

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” - ACOFAS (? - I don't have my book on me, so this might be taken from the wrong book)

I think when we look at the way Vassa and Jesminda are described we can see there are several similarities between these two females. Jesminda was wild and free, filled with mischief. Vassa is fierce and untamed with a foul mouth and fouler temper. To me, these two women seem like they're the same "type" and based on the way we see Lucien reacting to Vassa... I suspect our fox boy might have a thing for fiery, foul-mouthed, fierce ladies.

Lucien, the Blushing Acolyte

So this section is a bit... untamed. But I wanted to consolidate all of the little moments I've picked up on... something existing between Vassa and Lucien.

“He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.” - ACOFAS

Indeed, Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. I supposed that if she only had until dawn before turning back into that firebird, she wanted to make every minute count. Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened. - ACOWAR

“The human queens are still out there,” I said. Maybe I’d hunt them down. “Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. - ACOWAR

Both Jurian and Lucien stared at her [Vassa], the former’s face utterly unreadable, and the latter’s pained. - ACOSF

So... what does this all mean? Obviously its up for interpretation, but to me, these scenes show me a few things:

1) Lucien is comfortable around Vassa. So much so that he willingly lives with her and Jurian in the mortal lands away from his mate. That he's found friendship and acceptance with her, as well as Jurian, in their Band of Exiles.

Sidebar: I find it VERY strange that Lucien is able to live this way, especially when we know that mates are driven to always be around one another and pained to be a part. Yet... Lucien seems just fine living far, far away from Elain and Velaris.

2) His curse pains her. Ironic that the spell-cleavers son is pained over the curse the mortal queen is suffering? Sounds more like foreshadowing to me.

3) There’s something there. Could it be friendship? Sure. But... when considering the "type" Lucien seems to have, the way he seems lighter, more himself, feels to me like clever foreshadowing.

4) The obvious, stark contrast of Lucien's character when he is around Elain and when he is around Vassa. Around the former, he seems pained, uncomfortable, dejected, down on himself, lacking that usual snarky humor we know and love him for. Around Vassa? He appears at ease, shoulders loose and laughing easily, a spark back in his russet eye.

My (Maybe Not So) Unhinged Wish

So… what do I make of all this? Well, I think we will be seeing an epic love story play out between Lucien and Vassa. One where they choose one another. One where Lucien, who used to hold a prejudice against humans, falls for a human queen. A story where Lucien discovers his parentage to free the woman he loves.

And, my hope, is that by coming together Lucien and Vassa will be able to bridge the gap between humans and the Fae.

Queen Vassa and King Lucien Vanserra anyone?

[bookofmirth]

Some people in the shipwar really need to chill and stop thinking that everything in the books has some holy meaning behind it. I mean.. people made awesome theories about what could've been in the box that Cassian threw away, yet it turned out to be some tiny book. We all thought Nesta will master her cool af powers, yet the only goddamm thing we know about is that it's "death". Sjm didn't even mention the fact that Nesta went to the forest to find Feyre in acotar. My god- Sjm fricking changed some things that happened in acowar. I always have to laugh when people say "Sarah is the queen of forshadowing!" because no? She isn't. Her villains are obvious, the endgame ships are also kind of obvious if you look at the language that Sarah uses for literally all her couples. The magic system is sh*t, there are plotholes, most things in the previous books get ignored and the upcoming books could also just be full of sex scenes like Acosf.

Making theories about Illyria, or Koschei, or the troves, or the other courts etc. Is alright because these plots are the most talked about or they’re at least said to be threats. But come on... y'all really think Sarah would remember or give a sh*t what color Elain wore in acomaf? That she thought of Gwynriel when choosing the colors for Gwyn's frienship bracelet? fricking "bread and roses"?!?

thinking that Elain will be the high lady of the dusk court or has something to do with it is so absurd because when reading Acosf I did not find anything that connects Elain to that plot. Elain and the dusk court weren't even mentioned in the same sentence. Being an archeron doesn't mean she gets to be everything or do everything- especially when making Elain a high lady could overpower Feyre and Sarah wouldn't allow that. The only characters that have a connection to that plot are Nesta, Bryce, Danika, Sophie (there might be more but I'm only sure about those 4). I was so surprised when some people yelled about how Elain will rule a court that doesn't exist. Remember when some people thought that Elain will be the one to find the last trove? Yeah, thanks to hosab it's pretty clear that the last trove is tattooed on Bryce's back. Sarah didn't make Nesta a high lady or at least a queen, she rather took away most of her powers- you really think she will make Elain so powerful? (It's not just the dusk court but Elain as the high lady of spring or day is too much as well)

The only sjm series that was well planned (to me) was the Throne of glass series.

omg SERIOUSLY

This isn't new to the ship war, @aelin-godkiller and I have been lamenting the way the fandom makes mountains out of molehills for a long, long time.

But it's seriously not that deep, Sarah is not a genius, she does shit on a whim because she feels like it, she does put hints to things on occasion but that's so normal? That's something you could find in literally every book. If chapter 30 isn't connected to chapter 1 in some way, then you got yourself a big ol' mess so YEAH there are connections???

She literally said in one of the events last summer that the Valkyries' bracelet colors were just a vibe, that it's just what she felt like went with each of them. It had nothing to do with ships asdljaljdad Kinda like how Elain wearing cobalt means literally nothing since Feyre and Helion also wear cobalt at some point. Guess that means Az/Helion endgame!

Her villains are obvious, the endgame ships are also kind of obvious if you look at the language that Sarah uses for literally all her couples. The magic system is sh*t, there are plotholes, most things in the previous books get ignored and the upcoming books could also just be full of sex scenes like Acosf.

THIS ^^^^^ She retconned Lucien's whole ass race and daddy in acowar, and then Ruhn's eye color in hosab, so please. Many people think she made Mor queer after the fact. I think there was an inconsistency with Gwyn getting rescued, like with Mor being there or something. Also something to do with Lucien and Papa Archeron going to get Vassa was changed? She changes stuff all the time and to me, the only thing that remains consistent is the characters' personalities.

Look, I'm here personally because I got emotionally invested in the characters and now I can't find my way out. I'm like a goddamn Sim who built a house without doors and is wandering around shrugging at regular intervals.

Sarah writes whatever she feels like in the moment and people blowing random shit out of proportion is... well, honestly it's amusing, a lot of the time. But she is not the author I would count on to follow through on whatever word people closed their eyes and pointed to at random and decided was meaningful.

[yazthebookish]

yaz, about your last theorie

(and I’m asking because I know some potatoes are going to be bickering about it 😂 and no I’m not one of those in fact I loathe them 😂)

If Azriel is supposed to be linked to the 4th trove “wht not” e*riel since supposedly Elain has connection with Vassa (and so Koschei??)

Hello anon,

So you're asking if someone asked me "why not Elriel" in regards to the Illyria/Ramiel plot?

Simply because 4th trove/ramiel&illyria/autumn court/spring court/vassa&koschei/final war cannot happen in one book. Also, The grand conclusion of the series must end with an Archeron sister. Sarah confirmed each book focuses on a romantic couple, I have the clip on my page somewhere, there is no multipov. Taking this into consideration, you have to look at the couple that will contribute the most to the plot.

For me, Azriel's book will lead up to Elain's book. Elain has no connection to Illyria meanwhile it's more significant to The Valkyries and Cassian and this is why they'll be involved. Sarah said Nesta is still going to play a big role in the future books and she's the one in control of the Trove.

I know someone will say but a Lucien/Vassa book can deal with Koschei and the Queens. Vassa isn't developed enough to be MC. Vassa has no connection to the Fae Courts (being human) which 4 of them are connected to Lucien and he will have to deal with them especially with the Spring and Autumn Court not to mention the Daddy Helion secret. Vassa is a cursed human queen who needs to be rescued from Koschei, she requests that from Feyre by the end of ACOWAR. Elain is the one with the Koschei, Firebird and Swans visions so she will likely deal with that than the Fourth Trove. I think her book will be the one that is a reminiscent of the Six Swans merged the the Firebird fairytale. Sarah keeps drawing connections between Elain and the Spring Court. There are so many important plotlines that are connected to both Lucien and Elain far more than Elain and Azriel.

I know some of them keep dismissing Illyria as a possible future plot simply because they know Elain has no connection to it even if ACOSF keeps hinting at it.

That doesn't mean Elain couldn't possibly use all fourtrove items because she is made just like Nesta. I don't think she'll be the one to find the fourth trove.

The fourth trove is engulfed in shadows and you have a Shadowsinger for that, Nesta can scry for the trove and use it, and Gwyn does research on the trove and likely find knowledge that will help them.

So yeah that's what I think. While I could be wrong about what could go down in Elain's book but again Sarah said it's obvious who the next book by the end of the book and I summarized the ending so it does make sense for the next book to be in Illyria after everything that went down in ACOSF and Illyria being mentioned quite frequently.

I hope my answer was good enough Anon 😊