#I need them so I won’t be as rushed as I was in feyre week

[likecanyoujustnot]

Give me the rhysand week prompts 👹👹

[suuuupernovaaa]

Summary: Azriel thought his love was dead.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, torture, blood.

Alive, his shadows whisper to him. She’s alive.

His wings cannot carry him there fast enough. Snow and ice tear at his skin as he flies over Velaris, and sweeps in through Rhysand and Feyre’s front door.

His chest heaves with strangled breaths as he lands in the foyer. “Where is she?” he demands, rough and loud, even though he can’t see anyone. He hears them upstairs, rushing around and whispering.

“Your room, come,” Feyre says, appearing at the top of the stairs, her eyes frantic and her dress bloodied. He clears the large staircase in three bounds, and follows passes Feyre in the hall.

His feet come to a halt at the entrance to his room, and he takes in the sight of her lying on the bed. Two healers attend to her, one on each side.

Her hair, normally so gold it nearly glows, is matted and dark with dirt and blood. There are wounds everywhere, cuts and scrapes on her pale face, exposed neck and arms, and her dress, the same one she was wearing when she disappeared two weeks ago, is dirty and torn.

She’s missing fingernails, part of her right ear is cut clean off, and blood drips from her nose.

Her chest rises and falls - alive, but asleep. He falls to his knees at the end of the bed, and weeps.

—

As I drift slowly towards consciousness, I expect to wake up in the same place that I have been since I was taken. A dungeon, cold and wet, strapped to stone table that is soaked with my blood and the blood of the poor souls before me.

Soon after I wake, he’ll return, with knives and chains and instruments of torture, and he’ll remain until I drift off again.

As the light begins to fill my eyes, I brace myself for his footsteps.

But they don’t come.

Beneath me is not unyielding stone, but a soft bed. Gone is the scent of blood, and I hear no screams.

I smell home. I smell him.

My eyes open slowly, and I’m so tired I can barely do it, but I need to see if it’s true.

He whispers my name when my eyes finally open, and I slowly turn my head to see him there, sitting next to our bed.

For two weeks, I did not cry. I endured in silence, unwilling to give my captors the satisfaction, picturing the very golden eyes that stare into mine now when it got very hard to stay still.

One look at the devastation in my mate’s eyes is my undoing, and I let out a choked sob as the tears begin to flow.

He’s upon me then, pulling me gently into his arms, and I grip him as tightly as I can.

“You’re safe. You’re safe with me, with us now,” he whispers to me, and I feel his shadows enveloping us, as if to hide me from any further danger. Welcome back, they seem to whisper.

It takes a long time before I stop crying and take inventory of my injuries. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days.”

My body feels okay. Sore, very tired, but I don’t feel anything broken beyond repair. At least, physically.

I reach up to touch my right ear, missing its pointed tip. “Ouch,” I hiss as my fingers brush the bandage.

“I’m so sorry. I’m… so sorry,” Azriel says, and I shush him in an instant.

“Absolutely not. I’ll never blame you and I won’t be able to heal if you’re blaming yourself. Do you hear me?” I glare at him, and he glances over my body once, pain deep in his eyes. “Do you?”

He meets my eyes and nods. “Yes.”

“Good. Now please, help me stand up.”

He makes to protest, and I lift my hand.

“I was not allowed to walk or even stand the entire time. I’ll walk now. Just for a moment.”

He supports me then, a grim expression on his face as he helps me into a sitting position, then standing. It hurts, but also feels so good to use my muscles this way. I groan, leaning on Azriel’s strong form for support.

Through the bond, I can feel how scared and exhausted he is. I want to tell him to lay down, to rest, but I’ve known my mate long enough to know he won’t.

We emerge from his room out into the hall, and I gesture towards the library down the hall. It has a large balcony where I can breathe fresh air, and it’s a short walk.

My legs feel stronger with every step, and when the cool night air hits me, I take in a deep breath, savoring the freshness of it. I close my eyes and let my chest fill with it over and over.

“The air in the dungeon was so stale. It smelled rotten, of piss and death. If you’d let me, I’d sleep on this balcony tonight.” I look over at Azriel, whose face is hardened.

“You need to heal, in a soft bed,” he replies.

I smile. “I know. Maybe camping, when I feel better.”

He nods curtly, and I lean my head on his shoulder. I feel his guilt then, deep and painful, as his shadows creep out to wrap around me as if to offer support.

“You need to process your feelings, Azriel. Work through them and release them. You are not to blame for what happened to me, and I need your help to heal myself.”

He looks down at me, almost startled by my words, and a shadow crosses his expression once more.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he replies simply, his voice thick with emotion.

I reach up and cup his cheek, trying not to grimace at the missing fingernails on my hand. They’ll grow back.

“I was not ready to leave you. They could have broken me, if I hadn’t had you to return to. Thinking of being with you again is all that kept me going. Without even being there, you saved me.”

He closes his eyes and presses his cheek into my palm, and a single tear escapes and slides down his golden-brown cheek.

I press a soft kiss to his lips, and he sweeps me up into his arms bridal style, and carries me back to bed.

Tomorrow, I’ll greet everyone else. I’ll thank them for saving me. I’ll cry and hug my family.

Tonight, I’ll sleep safely in the arms of my mate, wrapped in warm shadows.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

The Pretty Woman AU no one asked for.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Prostitution, Older Man/Younger Woman

Chapters: 1, 3, 4 (WIP)

AO3 Link

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

Chapter Two

If I Had a Little Money

The morning brings with it confusion. 

It took Feyre a few moments to realize where she was when she woke up. She knew almost immediately that this wasn’t her bed. For starters, her bed wasn’t nearly so comfortable. So where…?

She saw white sheets. Pretty cream wallpaper. And a floor to ceiling window that showed off a dazzling city skyline. 

It all came rushing back then. 

She had…! And then she…! And he had…!

She felt dizzy. 

It almost didn’t feel real. Like the events of the night before had happened to someone else. 

To Vivian. 

Vivian had been confident. Vivian has been sexy. Vivian had been enthusiastically willing to jump into bed with a stranger and get paid for it. 

Feyre finally spied her purse, carefully laid out on the bedside table, and snatched it up to look inside. There, nestled safely where she’d stowed it the night before, was all the money she had earned. She counted it to be sure and, yep, all eight-thousand dollars was accounted for. She would be able to pay her landlord. Buy groceries. Maybe even have a nice buffer for when her sister inevitably didn’t show up to pay her half of the rent next month. 

She…she needed to go to the bank. She needed to get this deposited and safely out of her hands as quickly as possible. Knowing her luck, she would get mugged on her way home. No. Better to get it locked up in a vault somewhere. 

It didn’t take long for her to gather her meager belongings. Her purse. Her ratty converse. Her hoop earrings that she didn’t even remember taking off (had she taken them off? She must have…). And then tip toeing to the bedroom door looking for the exit. 

The man from the night before (Rhys, her brain reminded her helpfully) stood with his back to her, quietly speaking on the phone, as he leaned on the kitchen island. 

“No that won’t work. I have something I need to take care of first.”

Shit. 

How was she supposed to get out of here? Didn’t people usually just expect prostitutes to…walk out? She had the money. He’d gotten what he wanted…right? This transaction was over and now it was time for her to make like a banana and split. 

So then why did she feel so awkward about the idea of walking out without saying goodbye?

Clearly she wasn’t as cut out for this sex worker thing as she thought. 

Too late, Rhys had turned and noticed her. He smiled at her warmly, as if she were a beloved guest instead of his late-night booty call. 

Fuck. 

“Listen, I’ll check back with you soon,” he said quickly into his phone. “Just move the meeting up.” Then he ended the call and tossed the (very expensive looking) phone onto the counter while his eyes zeroed in on her. 

“Umm…hi.” Feyre wanted to smack herself. She sounded like an awkward teenager. 

You are an awkward teenager, a traitorous voice in her head replied. 

“Going so soon?” 

“Well…yeah…” she trailed off meaningfully. They were done…weren’t they? He had only paid for the night after all. And he couldn’t meaningfully argue it still was what with all the morning sunshine streaming in through the giant hotel windows. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” 

“I…umm…I mean, I should probably go to the bank…”

He stared at her then. In the morning light, she really could almost be convinced his eyes were purple…they were just so…blue. Like a night sky just after the last rays of sun had sunk beneath the horizon. 

“What if…what if I bought you out for the rest of the week?”

Feyre blinked. 

She opened her mouth. Then she closed it. Then she opened it again. This was the part where she told him ‘no thank you’ and got the fuck out of dodge. She had her money. Nearly ten grand of it. She wouldn’t have to worry about bills for at least a few months. 

And yet all she managed to get out was, “I think I need to sit down.”

She sat on the floor. 

Rhys suddenly looked a little panicked. 

“Are you feeling alright?! Do you need anything?!”

Strangely, this actually made her feel a little better. If he was being awkward about this too, then it actually put them on somewhat more equal footing. 

“I’m fine,” she began. “I just…why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me? Why an entire week? That’s…that’s a lot of money.”

Rhys shrugged. “I can afford it.” 

She thought of the eight-thousand dollars burning a hole in her purse. Yeah. She just bet he could. 

“But…you’re…you,” she argued, waving at his expensive suit and model-ready cheekbones like this explained everything. “You could have anyone. For free.”

He cocked his head at her curiously. Almost amused. 

“Could I have you for free?”

“Well…no,” Feyre admitted. What she didn’t tell him was that he probably could…if she wasn’t so fucking desperate and poor. 

He shrugged, as if he had expected that. “Then you can have the money and I can have your company. Besides,” he added with what could only be described as a sly smile. “I’m here on business for the week. You need money. I need someone pretty on my arm for all the work functions I’ll be forced to attend. Everyone wins.” 

“So you don’t just want me for…you know…” her cheeks darkened, much to her horror. This man’s hand had been inside of her and yet she couldn’t even say the word ‘sex’ to him out loud? God, what did he even see in her?

He grinned and crouched down to her level. “I wouldn’t say no…but I’ll leave that up to you. No, you just be your charming little self and you’ll more than earn your keep.” 

She didn’t know what to say to that. Her? Charming? Had he hit his head last night? 

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, she thought. 

“Okay.”

Rhys looked beyond thrilled by this answer, though she couldn’t imagine why. 

“Now,” he said genially, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Feyre tried not to shiver. “What do you say about us getting you some new clothes?”

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

There were things she needed to take care of first. 

Like calling into work. 

“Hey Gabe…” she began, already dreading this conversation. “A family emergency came up and I’m going to need to take the rest of the week off.”

She wasn’t about to tell him the truth, that she actually needed to spend the week at a millionaire’s beck and call to make ten times her monthly income. She was sure that wouldn’t have gone over well, so family emergency it was. 

“Fey, honey, really?” She frowned. She hated that nickname. “We’re slammed over here. We need you!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency. There’s nothing I can do,” Feyre said firmly. And then, because she was a pushover, “I’ll make up the hours next week.”

“But we need you now.”

“Well,” she said, frustrated, “I have an emergency now. You’re just going to have to deal.”

“I can’t believe you would do this to us,” Gabe scoffed, laying on the guilt trip. 

“I’ve never taken time off before,” she pointed out. And it was true. She hadn’t. Not once in the three years that she had worked for him. Not even when she’s gotten the plague and had run a fever so high her sisters had nearly sent her to the hospital. “And I’m not asking.” 

Her boss grumbled some more about ‘staffing shortages’ and ‘peak hours’ but she knew she had him. He may bitch and moan about how much she was ‘letting the team down’ but he wouldn’t dare fire her over this. She was too good of a worker to risk losing. 

Once she made her excuses and disconnected the call, she wandered back out into the living area to find Rhys lounging on one of the couches (the same one he’d fingered her on), typing away on his phone. She sat down next to him. 

“So…” she said. “I…still need to go to the bank. To deposit all this.” She gestured to her purse. 

“I’ll have someone drive you,” Rhys said, still typing something on his phone. “What bank do you use?” 

“Umm…Bank of America?” Feyre said automatically, taken aback by the question. 

“And your account and routing numbers?”

She stared. 

“…Why do you need those?” She asked suspiciously. 

“So I can wire you your money.” He said simply. 

“…Oh.” 

“How does twenty grand sound?”

Feyre nearly swallowed her tongue. 

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Later, after she got herself back under control, he gave her a card. 

A black card. 

Feyre may have been poor, but even she knew what a black AmEx card was. She held it gingerly, the way one would a live grenade. 

“Do I have a budget?” She had asked. 

Rhys had just laughed. 

So here she was an hour later, card in hand, standing outside a boutique she’d been ushered to by Rhys’s chauffeur and a personal shopper named Claire. 

“Is there any particular style we’re going for?” She had asked her in the car and Feyre had only been able to stare at her blankly. The only ‘style’ she had ever been known to exhibit was ‘cheap’ and ‘my father bought this for me in middle school and somehow I still fit into it’. Style was for people who had disposable income. And she was definitely not one of those people. 

Or, she thought dazedly, maybe she was now?

As they entered the boutique, Claire took charge like a general rallying her troops. Immediately, half a dozen impeccably dressed saleswomen appeared to do her bidding. One of them spied the black card in Feyre’s hand and the look in her eyes could only be described as predatory. 

Feyre gulped. 

The next several hours were a whirlwind of Feyre trying on a bevy of beautiful designer clothes (with price tags that gave her heart palpitations) while Claire barked orders to everyone who would listen. Occasionally Feyre found herself trying something on she thought looked perfectly fine only for the other woman to shake her head in frustration. 

“No, not that one. It’s too last season.” 

She had no idea what that even meant but at this point Feyre had grown rather scared of this woman so she had dutifully taken the outfit off in favor of the next. 

The only time she had found herself putting her foot down was when Claire had tried to veto a leather jacket she had liked. 

“No,” Feyre said quickly, clutching the jacket to her chest. “I’d like to keep this one.”

Claire just seemed confused. “It doesn’t really fit with the aesthetic we’re going for.” 

“That’s fine.”

Everything else that had been approved and then ferried off (to be packed up and sent to the hotel she later found out) had followed the pattern of being very…sophisticated. Gorgeous beaded ballgowns, crisp white blouses, cinched pencil skirts, red bottomed heels, all of it seemed tailored to an image of a woman Claire seemed to think Rhys needed at his side. And Feyre was fine with that. She certainly had no idea what kind of woman Rhys needed on his arm. 

But this jacket was also the first thing that seemed…her. The real her. And if she got anything out of this strange business arrangement she’d like it to be something that she could actually wear again after this was all over. 

Claire shrugged. 

“Alright.”

She directed someone to take the jacket so it could be added to the pile of approved clothes and then Feyre was back to being shoved into another extravagant dress. 

She sighed. 

Finally, when all was said and done, Feyre found herself to be the owner of a dozen new outfits, various accessories, far too many shoes, and all the while wondering how on earth she was expected to wear all of this in a single week. 

When the total was read out, she tried very hard not to have a heart attack then and there. Wincing, she handed over Rhys’s black card and watched the saleswoman swipe it with a bit too much relish. 

At least someone was enjoying themselves. 

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

Her last errand was the most important of all. 

“Here, Miss?” The chauffeur confirmed a little skeptically as he pulled up in front of her run down apartment complex. 

“Yep. This is it. I promise I’ll only be gone for a second.” Then she was climbing out of the car and sprinting into her apartment as quickly as possible. 

Thankfully, her landlord’s door was conveniently near the front exit. She banged on it a few times and was soon rewarded with a rumpled look middle aged man poking his head out. 

“Feyre,” he said her name the way one would to a misbehaving child. “You here with my money?”

“Actually,” she smiled, pulling out a stack of bills. “I am.”

[danikamariewrites]

I love your last Elain x Reader so much! Would you consider writing again for her? Maybe a bit of angst but with a happy ending?

Avoiding Me?

Elain x reader

A/n: thank you anon! I really like writing for Elain, it was nice to dive into her again

Warnings: none

Elain was starting to get nervous. You had seemed to be avoiding her for the past few days and it was starting to get to her. At first she thought you were busy but she knew you were never this busy. She has asked Feyre if she noticed anything different about your behavior and she said no. Elain didn’t totally believe her little sister though.

Today was Elain’s breaking point. She was usually patient when it came to people. She liked to act rationally and with a cool head. Rushing into a situation or jumping to conclusions never helped anyone. You were new territory though and she didn’t want to mess anything up with you, but she’s didn’t want to lose you either.

Knocking on Nesta’s door incessantly, Elain had decided to go to her older sister for relationship advice. This was probably a bad idea given how her and Cassian’s relationship started, but she knew Nesta would be honest. And that’s what she needed right now.

Nesta flung the door open trying not to give her little sister an annoyed look. “What’s wrong?” She says monotonously. Elain enters the room and begins pacing, not noticing Cassian half naked in her bed. “I need advice,” she gets out quickly. “Y/n has been avoiding me for days and our anniversary is tomorrow. She’s busy but she’s never been busy like this. Like she has no time for me. And she isn’t answering my notes. I don’t want to jump to conclusions so what do I do Nesta?” Elain’s practically shouting at her sister now.

Nesta juts put a hip, placing her hands on her hips. “You said your anniversary is tomorrow yes?” Elain nods. “Ok, so think about that for minute. And how Feyre won’t answer your questions. And is y/n good at keeping secrets? Or do you think she is truly hiding something from you?” Then it dawned on Elain.

~~

You cut the pink bow that was the finishing touch on Elain’s anniversary present. You were so excited for tomorrow! The two of you had been together for a year now and it was the best year of your life. Elain is the sweetest female and she deserves the world.

An urgent knock on your front door makes you jump a little. Opening it, your eyes land on a very frazzled Elain. “Elain? Is everything alright honey?” She stomps in past you, then turns on her heel causing her pale blue dress to flare out.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” She asks desperately. “Did I do something? Or is it something else?” Your heart began to race. You didn’t realize how fast the week flew by or how little communication you two had. “What? No, Elain I’m so sorry. I was busy and I didn’t want to spoil your gift.”

She let out a breath and her shoulders relaxed. “I hate to ask but I’d feel better if you proved it.” You didn’t mind. Anything to put your girlfriends mind at ease. You knew Grayson left her with some trust issues because of how fast he dumped her and you had nothing to hide.

You take her hand kissing her knuckles, leading her into the sitting room. Sitting on your coffee table was the wrapped gift and what looked like a flower bouquet. Dropping Elain’s hand you pad over to the table to pick up the bouquet. “I was going to come over this afternoon to give you this. It’s a pre-anniversary present.”

Handing her the bouquet, Elain’s eyes go wide. There were twenty packets of rare flower seeds. They must’ve been impossible to find, not to mention very expensive. “I had to ask Feyre and Rhys to go to the Continent to get them. But they’re all flowers you’ve talked about or marked in your book. Do you like it?”

Elain was speechless. How could she not like it? “I love it. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Not even Grayson did things like this for her in the months they were together. “I’m sorry I doubted you, y/n.” You pull Elain into a tight hug. “It’s ok honey. I understand, but know that I love you and I would never ever hurt you.” “I know.” She whispers.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

[bubybubsters]

Love of My Life part 3 (Azriel x reader)

a/n: Sorry for the big delay, I have no good excuse. Still winging it mostly, hope you enjoy, please don’t murder me.

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist

⚠️: angst, weapons, death, think that’s it

After you told your friends what happened, Nesta made some very rude remarks that brought a smile to your face and Mor winnowed away, likely to go punch Azriel. But your high lady helped the most, she knelt beside you and said, “I’m sorry y/n but I think Azriel was acting without thinking and didn’t mean to hurt you. Give him some time and he’ll be begging for forgiveness. Make him stew over it, spend the week out here, with us, try to enjoy the present instead of focusing on the past.” Feyre gave you a sad smile and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Mor returned with a bag of your favorite foods and you couldn’t help but notice that her knuckles were very red. You smiled at them, your friends, your family, and you decided yes, you could enjoy a week with them and forget about your troubles.

*****

Azriel's POV

Azriel sat in the chair in front of Rhys and for the billionth time that day he regretted his decisions from the previous night.

What had he done?! Kissing Elain then going and kissing y/n? Then saying those words?

his brothers voice pulled him from his thoughts and he tried to pay attention to his high lord. “I’m giving you the week off,” he raised a hand as Az opened his mouth to speak, “you need it, reflect on your decisions, choose which lady you want and hope they forgive you. Feyre says they’re taking a girls week off so y/n won’t be around but Elain is still here if you wish to talk with her. You fucked up Az, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make it right.”

Suddenly Cassian barged in and started yelling so fast at Azriel, neither him nor Rhys had any idea what Cass was saying.

But what Cassian was saying suddenly didn’t matter as all three illyrians suddenly felt a panicked tug on their mating bonds. Azriel stumbled as y/n’s side of the bond opened and panic, pain, and pure determination flooded his side of the bond.

Rhys grabbed both their hands and winnowed them to the spot Feyre had told him the girls were at. Azriel took in the scene and panic flooded his senses as he vaguely wondered what happened to the wards he knew Mor put up to keep them safe whenever they camped.

*****

Y/N's POV

As you girls hiked back to the camp after a tiring, long hike you talked about many things. Everything but the subject of males, you were really starting to feel better and couldn’t help but smile as Nesta demanded the two of you switch so you were last and she could talk to Gwyn.

Feyre glanced back from the front, a lovely smile on her face as she told Emerie about her time in the human world, but her smile fell and a panicked expression crossed her face as she looked at something behind you.

Everyone glanced back. Everyone saw as a large, hideously colorful creature raised his paw and sliced your left shoulder, right by your heart. You gasped and fell into Nesta’s arms.

A spike of adrenaline rushed through you and you pulled out the dagger strapped to your thigh and stepped forward to engage the beast. You used the skills Rhys had taught you to create an impenetrable shield between you and your family. You looked up at the creature and your first thought was, at least the thing that kills me is as beautiful as me. The beast lunged and you parried, faking a swing then stabbing it in the side. It growled and you sent a bit of your power to distract it as you stabbed again and again. But you didn’t see the tail, it swept around and knocked you into your own barrier. You gasped opening the mating bond, sending panic, pain and your determination to keep your family safe. Feyre pounded on the barrier and you let it down, clutching your side where the beasts tail hit. Your friends swooped in, taking down two other beasts you hadn’t even noticed. Feyre came to your side, trying to heal you, she gave you her blood, but you knew it would work too slowly. She stepped back as Azriel came through, he tugged on the bond, lips moving but you heard none of it.

“I love you Azriel, I always have and always will. Even if you stop I never will. You’re mine and I am yours, I love you.”

Azriel picked you up and winnowed you to the house, but you knew it would be too late. You smiled at his tear streaked face as the darkness swooped in.

*****

Azriel

Azriel heard your words over and over again as Madja looked up at him and shook her head. No. This couldn’t be happening, just as he found his mate, she'd died.

Madja spoke, “im sorry but I can’t save her, there is a poison in her wounds that I have never seen before. I don’t know the way to fix it, and it’s already made its way to her heart.”

Azriel fell to his knees and let out a guttural scream as he pulled on that bond one last time. A soft, gentle pull came back and hope kindled, but the bond was gone. Y/n was gone. His mate was gone.

“I love you too.”

a/n: please don’t kill me. I have no regrets but comments are appreciated

TAGLIST

@glaciuswduo @alexboshallex @wannabewolf @moonfawnx

[theladyofbloodshed]

me to me: you will not get burn out from writing 100, 000 words in six weeks

Part One ¦ Part Two ¦ Part Three ¦ Part Four ¦ Part Five ¦ Part Six ¦ Part Seven ¦ Part Eight ¦ Part Nine ¦ Part Ten ¦ Part Eleven ¦ Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

In five hundred years, Cassian had never known his brother to be anything other than calculating and wise. Wise beyond his years, in fact. No decision was ever rushed. Until this one. Until they had scant time to scoop up two mortal females with their belongings then save Nesta before she became fodder for a pyre. Cassian had at least expected Rhys to have had a conversation with Nesta’s sisters about bringing them to Velaris.

Instead, him and Azriel stood at the end of the path on guard while Rhys received a verbal lashing from Nesta’s youngest sister on the door step. It appeared that all of the Archeron sisters liked to cause trouble. This one had also apparently stabbed Rhys in the hand. Then went for a second attempt. Azriel had laughed himself hoarse and declared that Rhys needed to start training again.

‘The villagers will come for you when they can’t find your sister.’

‘Then we won’t answer the door.’

Rhys was close to tearing his perfectly styled hair out from going in circles with the mortal. ‘And they will just go away then? Are you that foolish to believe that?’

‘Elain is engaged to a man from the village. We cannot run away to Prythian with faeries we don’t know.’

‘You know Cassian and we’ve met previously. Out of the three of us, Azriel is the most virtuous so you really have nothing to worry about. Many females would love the opportunity to gallivant to Prythian with us.’

Cassian’s skin was crawling. That fiery bond which connected him to Nesta the moment she’d offered him food was itching so close to her. He was desperate to find her. He had to keep tamping down on those instincts to leave the others and seek her out. It was too dangerous for them to be here again. Dangerous to linger so long. Especially when their general could not focus on anything but the curve of Nesta’s lips.

‘Stop saying females. We are women.’

Feyre was going toe to toe with Rhys, meeting him with every snap and snarl, not caring who he was. Cassian wasn’t even sure if she knew just who he really was.

‘Feyre, I am asking you, do you truly believe this Graysen won’t be part of the witch hunt that is after Nesta? Do you truly believe his father – with the largest manor in your village – won’t be leading the hunt?’

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, uncertainty settling in. Cassian had seen the manor the night he’d been shot. It was a fortress of stone and ash. Perfect for hurting the fae. He was a male with the most to lose from their perfect harvests coming to an end without Nesta's sacrifice.

‘Will your father come to your aid?’  

The uncertainty bloomed. Feyre shifted on her feet. ‘And if we wanted to return here?’

‘Then you have my word it will happen. You are not a prisoner. This is to save you.’ Before any of them could react, Rhys had slit open his palm so ruby red blood dribbled from it.

‘What the fuck is he doing?’ Azriel hissed.

‘On my blood, I vow that you will come to no harm, Feyre Archeron. You or your sisters.’

That seemed to be enough to convince her. The prick had never sworn a blood vow to them in five centuries.

‘I need five minutes to pack,’ she murmured as she slipped back through the front door.

Azriel whirled on his high lord. ‘What is wrong with you? A blood vow? To a mortal?’

 A guilty expression took over Rhys’ usual confident exterior. His brows tugged together. ‘I don’t know. I just had to do it. I can't explain it.’

The shadow singer pressed two fingers to his temples with a wearied sigh. ‘I have a high lord spilling his blood for a mortal girl and a general who is panting like a dog at the thought of seeing her sister. Why is Mor not here with me for support?’

‘She’s waiting in Velaris preparing their rooms so they feel more comfortable.’

‘I hope Nesta’s is soundproofed from whatever unspeakable acts those two are about to commit.’

There was a smell of smoke on the air. Cassian’s heart thumped harder with every passing minute. If they waited any longer then Nesta could be in serious danger.

When the two sisters emerged, the middle one was sobbing. She clutched at Feyre who pulled her further out of the doorway with a grunt. Only one bag was stuffed with clothes and whatever else they deigned worthy of bringing to Prythian. It had to be scary for them – and Cassian was trying his best not to rush them, but he had waited long enough for Nesta.

‘You can take the crying one,’ he murmured to Azriel then shoved him forwards a step.

The middle one did not want to go. She begged Feyre to see sense, vowed that her fiancée would never do such a thing. She’d even said a prayer when Azriel had stepped closer to her and extended an arm.

‘Very sorry,’ Cassian said, striding towards her, ‘We don’t have time for this.’

Roughly, he hauled Elain over his shoulder and started for the woods. He felt a hand smack his arm and the youngest was there stinging him over and over like a wasp.

‘Rhysand.’

Rhys sucked in a breath. ‘Sorry, Feyre.’ His magic enveloped her, wrapping around her thrashing ankles and wrists to bind them then Rhys had her in his arms.

Behind them, Azriel spluttered. ‘Are we seriously kidnapping mortals?’

‘You can carry the bag,’ Cassian grunted before breaking into flight.

***

‘Do not rush it, Lucien. Has a woman never told you that good things aren’t to be rushed? We must go slow and enjoy every moment.’

‘I’ve never had complaints,’ he replied, as he dipped another rag into the faerie wine that Nesta had stolen from the Spring Court.

‘No, I suppose your hand cannot speak back to you.’

Lucien laughed with a sardonic shake of the head. ‘When the general of the Night Court spikes your head outside the Hewn City, I will try to pay a visit to admire his work.’

‘Maybe he’ll chop off yours and spike it next to mine. Then we can talk for eternity.’

‘I’d rather a crow pecked my eyes out.’

Nesta wrinkled up her nose. ‘Don’t you mean eye?’

‘You are not a nice person,’ Lucien admonished as they finished setting up her ring of pyres.

‘I never claimed to be.’

The pyres were almost all connected by a ring of clothing that she had chopped into rags and soaked in alcohol. The circle was broken only to create a path to the cabin. Nesta had roped Lucien into helping her collect the rest of her kills from snares and the male had been kind enough to take down a deer for her with a cleverly timed arrow through its rib cage. Its head was mounted above her door and they’d feasted on the rich meat throughout the day as they worked. They spread its organs like a macabre pathway to her door.

Lucien had claimed to have bedded a witch and offered more advice to make her home convincing. He also claimed to have bedded a dryad, a water nymph, and even a norn. Nesta had asked him why he thought she’d be interested in his sexual exploits and he gave a dazzling smile instead of an answer. Thank goodness he’d not been the one to land on her roof or she would have beaten him with the broom until he died.

‘It’s a long way to the Hewn City from here. You might feel as if you’re suffocating. I don’t know if a mortal has ever winnowed that far. You might die.’

‘My death will be on your hands.’

‘I shall try not to weep, my lady.’

Nesta inspected her work as the final rays of sun bleached the sky to a bruised blue. ‘On the contrary, I’d prefer it if you did. Mourn me like a saint.’

They drank a cup of the faerie wine in a toast; Nesta tipped most of hers into the snow to Lucien’s horror because it tasted like anise and fire on her tongue. She’d coughed through her first mouthful.

‘Nesta Archeron – the exile.’

‘The witch of the wood,’ Lucien said, sinking the remainder of his cup.

With his keen hearing, Lucien could make out the sounds of at least twenty sets of boots trampling through the snow towards them. But Nesta didn’t make a move until she heard it herself. Sure enough, the men from her village were surrounding her cabin on all sides like wolves shepherding their pray. Their torches bled into the darkness, pinpointing their positions.

‘Are you ready, my lady?’

Nesta knelt in the snow, not caring that it soaked through her dress to her stockings and spread. Sparks burst from her striker then her kindling caught alight.

Lucien yanked her back as the pyre burst into flames though the ends of her hair were singed from the smell of it.

‘How strong is that alcohol?’

‘Strong,’ Lucien replied. ‘It’s from the Day Court. Thank them.’

The pyre burnt then the flames crawled to the rag that connected it to the next and the next until her cabin in the woods was ringed by massive fires that billowed smoke into the night.

‘An excellent use of the Spring Court hay, I must say.’

‘It looks beautiful, doesn’t it?’

The villagers were closing in around them, their cries and shouts of “witch” growing ever louder. They clamoured for her death. For one to steak her through the heart.

‘Can I add a touch?’ Lucien asked, nudging her with his elbow.

She had the sense he quite liked teasing mortals. He’d teased her enough that day – and she to him. Nesta nodded, ‘As long as it’s not murder.’

‘I’ll try to refrain.’

Lucien swept his hand through the air then ball of flame gathered itself in his palm. It burnt as red as blood. He tossed it at the roof then watched in appreciation as it burnt.

‘Green is more witch-like.’

Nesta heard his small, reluctant laugh but sure enough, the flames devouring the roof of her cabin turned a shade of emerald and the edges were tinged with black.

The scarred male extended his hand to her, ‘My lady?’

***

Most of the villagers were pissing their pants and running in the other direction when they got to the woods. If terror wasn’t squeezing every muscle of his body, Cassian might have laughed at whatever Nesta had done to them.

He hefted a crying Elain into Azriel’s arms like she was a sack of flour.

He bellowed Nesta’s name.

An arrow flew at them, narrowly skimming past his wing. His siphons flashed in answer, ready for a fight after weeks spent cooped up in Illyria.

‘Where is she?’

The cabin had been transformed into a nightmare. Rhys had told him as much, but it was different to see it for himself. There was blood smeared all over the walls outside, the roof was aflame, and they could barely see through all the smoke. His Nesta who had cried when he'd tried to get her to kill a rabbit had managed this.

With their eyesight, they had an advantage at least over the villagers who were stumbling blindly across the snow, covering their eyes with their cloaks to stop the smoke stinging them.

Again, Cassian called her name.

But something wasn’t right.

The bond between them was taut once more as though Nesta had gone far away. He’d know if she was hurt. He’d tear the world apart to find her.

‘Cass, we can’t keep these mortals here.’

Another arrow hit the tree beside Azriel.

‘They serve the witch!’

The mortals only saw three massive, winged fingers through the smoke, illuminated by the twisting ribbons of flame. They did not know they were fae.

‘She’s pretending she’s a witch,’ Cassian muttered under his breath. ‘Of course, she is.’

‘If she knows a way to Spring, she might have gone there,’ Azriel said. His own cobalt siphons were bright in the dark, anticipating a fight against these mortal men.

Cassian couldn’t deny that he wanted to hurt them. They had come for his mate. They’d have broken her before they killed her.

‘I’ll take them to Velaris. Then return here. Find Nesta. Az – don’t lose him.’

Elain still cried even as she was placed into Rhys’ arms, but Feyre at least had set her mouth into a thin line as she watched the remainder of her villagers ransack the cabin in search of Nesta.  

The situation wasn’t ideal. All Cassian could think of was that his mate might be running through these woods with fear in her heart, running from her death. His temper was on the edge. Azriel would be stuck to him, ensuring he didn’t go too far. But if he couldn’t find Nesta then there were no limits to what he wouldn’t do.

A wind whipped through the woods, clearing a sheet of smoke.

Two mortals guarding the front of the property whirled towards them, swords raised. The younger one stopped.

‘Elain?’

It made Elain stop crying. Her face fell into disbelief.

‘You would… You would harm my sister?’

‘Faeries,’ the other man bellowed, rousing the remaining mortals.

From the corner of his eye, Cassian saw Rhys disappear into nothing, taking the younger two Archerons with him.

‘Ready brother?’ Azriel asked, voice low and dangerous.

They would only do to the mortals what they sought to do to them. For every raise of the sword, the Illyrians met them with lethal accuracy. The ones that ran, could run. They’d let them go. Let them believe they served the witch who haunted these woods.

When it was done, when nine mortal men lay dead in the snow, they stopped.

Their blood was indistinguishable from the blood already spread by Nesta. Cassian knew in his heart that it was not hers. It could not be. He would know if any harm had come to her.

His instincts were pushing at the seams, determined to come out. If he let them, Cassian would slaughter that whole village, including the father who never fought for Nesta; the one who let her be exiled.

They flew low through the trees, hunting for a lone figure making her way to the Wall. Even with their vision, no tracks could be seen upon the fresh snow.

‘She’s not here.’

‘I fucking know that,’ Cassian snarled.

They landed back at the cabin then seconds later, Rhys winnowed in. ‘No sign of her?’

Azriel moved quickest, shoving Cassian back before he could get to Rhys. He couldn’t take these stupid questions. Every minute that they’d tarried had been a minute that they pushed Nesta closer to danger. He never should have agreed to finding her last. Never should have waited until darkness. They could have swept in, winnowed to the door and taken her. Taken her weeks ago rather than locking him up in Illyria.

Rhys sniffed the air. ‘That’s Helion’s wine.’

‘I don’t give a shit if the Mother herself made the wine.’

His violet eyes narrowed on roof. ‘It’s green. Fire isn't usually green.’

‘Azriel, protect your high lord because I’m about to knock his teeth out.’

Rhys held up a hand. ‘It’s burning by magic.’

‘Autumn? Not Eris, surely not.’

Azriel’s shadows darkened as they slithered across the ground like vipers. ‘You said she’s been going to Spring.’

‘Lucien Vanserra.’

‘If that little Vanserra whelp touches her, I will make him wish his father had killed him.’

@mis-lil-red

[obsessedwithallthingsbookrelated]

So I did something with the prompt of Nesta getting a job and apartment of her own in Velaris. As much as I love nessian, I just feel like Cassian needed to suffer just a teeny tiny bit

Part 1 (maybe)-

As usual, Mochas was packed out with its regulars. It was a small, modest cafe right in the centre of Velaris which meant it got plenty of trade, especially in the mornings when everyone was making their way to work.

Nestas shift had started earlier that morning and she wasn’t due to finish till late evening, but she didn’t mind. She had rent to pay and it felt good to be doing something and much to her own surprise she actually enjoyed it. She had been working here for about six months now, at first she had hated it with a passion, resentment had burned in her. For Velaris, the cafe, the girls, the customers. Her life.

But she would have hated being stuck in that house with him even more. On their orders.

So as soon as they were finished with their little ‘intervention’ she had demanded to speak to her sister alone and although it had shattered her pride and her cheeks burned with humiliation she had begged for another chance. She remembered the anger draining out of Feyre in that moment, her eyes had softened and she only said ‘I just want you to be happy Nesta. And safe.’

‘If you truly want me to be happy, you won’t make me live alone in that house with him. Please.’ Nesta said, voice hollow. She knew they could hear her, Rhys, Amren and him. The high lord had made it clear he wouldn’t be far from his mate. And she hoped this hurt him. He had just sat there as they tore into her, had actually dragged her here so that they could. What he’d just done had just shattered the last piece of her cold heart. The piece that beat for him.

She vowed to herself, there and then that she would beg her sister if she had to, would move to a better part of Velaris, never take another penny from them, get a job and become an active member of their society, DO whatever they wanted but she would never forgive him. Ever.

So she did. As soon as she left the townhouse she went straight to the city centre, had asked in multiple establishments if they were looking for a worker and eventually she came across a small cafe with a vacancy sign in the window.

She had started the next day. Worked for the next two weeks straight in order to save enough to put a deposit down on a small apartment a couple of streets over. It was tiny, the bedroom and kitchen practically in the same room, and a bathing room a quarter of the size of the one in her old apartment. It was embarrassingly small, but it was cheap and it was hers. She had stopped bedding males, not because it was what they wanted but because it was not what she wanted anymore. It was exhausting and it was hard to do without the constant haze of alcohol dulling her senses. It was her choice. Her first real choice.

In the beggining it was a struggle without the alcohol, she allowed herself two glasses of wine every night after work, then one and now one glass a week. It was slow progress, but to her it was progress.

The bad thoughts surrounding her anxiety and depression were still present, she would be a fool to think they would just disappear over night. But it helped to get out of the house, to have a place to go everyday. She had grown close to two of the females she worked with, Gwyn and Emerie. It had started when Emerie had spotted her reading a smutty novel on her tea break and things had just grown from there.

They had all bonded over the mutual love for their own space and books. And Nesta had started to look forward to seeing them.. most days. Some days were harder, were she was withdrawn and prefared to not engage as much in conversation. They never pushed her. Only smiled, said hello and got on with their work for the day.

Only two females were on shift today, Gwyn and Loren, so they had all been run off their feet during the morning rush. It had quieted a bit since. She felt him before she saw him. She always did.

He had come in everyday, since she started working here. Probably to supply his high lord and lady an update on the family leech. He ordered the same thing every time. Black coffee and a slice of banana pie. She never served or spoke to him, not once, no matter how many times she caught him staring at her with that strange look in his eyes. One would almost think it was longing. Or guilt.

He would stay for an hour, sipping his coffee and pretending not to look at her. He would always leave a massive tip. And then slowly he would get up, eyes sad, those huge wings dropping ever so slightly, and always with one more glance in her direction he would head for the door.

She refused to feel the guilt festering in her stomach, fought down the urge to go over and speak to him. She missed him, but he had brought this on himself. He had chosen them too many times.

So she took a deep breath and with a little but not quite there smile she went off with a cup of tea and a blueberry muffin to join her friend Gwyn on her break.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

              !!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

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Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well. 

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot. 

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title. 

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great. 

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court. 

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next. 

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know. 

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.  

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick. 

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it.  They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not. 

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment. 

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER? 

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better.  I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic. 

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

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

The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

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

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

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

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

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

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

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

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

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

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

[booksofkingdomsandcourts]

Nessian Week: AU Day

I work well with deadlines so even though this is just a run-of-the-mill Modern!AU, I thought I’d post this drabble that’s been knocking around in my head for a few weeks today! It has a little part two that I’m hoping to post later tonight :)

           Cassian could tell something was on Nesta’s mind all through dinner. He could tell as soon as he got home from work, really. It wasn’t about him, he didn’t think, since she’d kissed him welcome home and let him squeeze her ass. No, there was just…something. Something that made her eyes a little vacant and her words a little quiet. But during dinner she just let him talk about work, nodding and answering, and if there was one thing Cassian had learned about Nesta, it was to give her space. He would give it a little longer, and then he would ask.

           After dinner they watched an episode of the Netflix show they were working their way through and then got ready for bed. Even though it was only eight thirty, their rigid commitment to mornings at the gym meant they were always early to bed, early to rise.

           As they crawled under the covers, Cassian finally poked Nesta’s side and said, “Hey. Something you want to talk about?”

           He had long since learned that “what’s wrong” and “talk to me” didn’t work on Nesta. He had learned to just ask if she wanted to talk, and that sometimes, the answer was no. That was okay. He had also often assured her that one of the reasons he kept his chest so big was for ample cuddle room, if that was all she wanted instead.

           But tonight, Nesta sighed and looked at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts. Cassian propped himself up on one elbow, waiting.

           “I’ve been thinking about trying for law school again,” Nesta said at last.

           “Oh,” Cassian said, surprised but not unpleasantly so. When everything had gone to shit and their father had died, Nesta had withdrawn what Cassian was told was a very promising and competitive law school application. That had been over two years ago now, and Cassian had found himself wondering more than once if she missed no longer being on that path, or if it was something she had ever wanted for herself at all.

           “Yeah,” she agreed, then continued, “I just don’t think the sugar baby lifestyle suits me as well as it suits Feyre, you know?” Cassian laughed. “Seriously! She just lives in a big house and paints all day and is going to give Rhys as many babies as he wants, and I’m really happy for her.”

           “He really loves her,” Cassian said, feeling a need to defend his brother. It was maybe undeniable that Rhysand technically qualified as Feyre’s sugar daddy given their age gap, but the implication that he just wanted her for baby making, even though Cassian knew Nesta didn’t mean it like that, riled him just a little.

           “I know,” Nesta said, unfazed. “I said I was happy for her. I just don’t know that that’s for me, you know? I want to do something. I want to have a career and something that I am outside of just us.” If Cassian was not used to Nesta’s bluntness, he might have been offended. But she turned to look at him with her crystal-blue eyes unusually wide and vulnerable, and he knew this was really something that had been weighing on her for a while.

           “Okay, hell yeah,” Cassian said. “My Nesta, girlbossing it up. I’m all for it, whatever you want to do. Law school, business mogul, dean—you’ll kick ass no matter what.”

           Nesta rolled her eyes, but Cassian could see her cheeks had turned slightly pink. “Don’t ever call me girlboss again.”

           “No promises.”

           Nesta rolled her eyes again, and Cassian grinned wider. For a moment, Nesta picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, and then she said, “Or if none of them work out, I guess I could lean into the sugar baby lifestyle and start an OnlyFans.”

           Cassian suppressed a groan, imagining Nesta’s OnlyFans. The amount of money he would have paid for that if she wasn’t his…. “And I’d be your top supporter,” he promised.

           She gave him an exasperated look. “Anything I’d post on OnlyFans you get for free.”

           “But I’m going to support your endeavors, no matter what they are,” Cassian said. “You could try a new career every year for the rest of our lives and I’d be right there by your side. You’ll be the best at whatever you do, baby, you and I both know that.”

           “That’s actually a good point,” she said, pointing at him. “If I get in you’re not allowed to pay my tuition. And neither is Rhysand.”

           “What?” Cassian exclaimed. “Of course I am!”

           “You are not,” Nesta said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “This is my career, my path. I’ll get myself through and pay off the loans on my own.”

           It was a shame there was no talking Nesta into taking charity. If she had decided it would wound her pride to have Cassian pay her tuition, there would be no changing her mind. But he understood—if she wanted this to be something that was hers, it didn’t make sense to have him tied to it so intrinsically. He could accept that. Sort of.

           “Fine,” he said. “But I’m still paying rent and buying groceries and bringing you really big, sugary coffees when you have a hard day of studying. No argument.”

           That earned him another eye roll, but this time with a small smile. “Fine.” She scooted closer so she could snuggle against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close.

           Something in him relaxed just having her so close, but there was still tension in her arms, in her fingers on his back, so he just stroked her hair and waited. Finally, she whispered, “Did you mean it?”

           “About the sugary coffees? Of course. I know we try to eat right, but—”

           “No,” Nesta interrupted. “About…every year, for the rest of our lives. You being by my side.” She tightened her arms and fingers like she was clinging to him.

           For the first time tonight, Cassian was totally taken aback. That was what had thrown her? Wasn’t it obvious? Wasn’t it…what she wanted? “Yeah,” he said, ignoring a cold wash of fear in his stomach. “You don’t think I’m going anywhere, do you? Like I could ever even look at another woman now that I’ve loved you? This is it for me, Ness. Honestly you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

           He half expected her to shoot back about stalking or restraining orders or the like, but instead she squeezed him so tight even he almost had the wind knocked out of him. She moved her face from his chest to bury it against his neck, and though he didn’t feel the wet heat of tears, her ragged breaths sounded like she was trying not to cry. “Nesta,” he whispered softly. “Don’t tell me you want a career because you think I might leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

           “I don’t just want it because of that,” she managed, voice choked. “But you can’t know. You can’t know you won’t get sick of me.”

           “How could I possibly get sick of you? You have ruined me for all other women, Ness, I mean that. And I don’t just mean about sex, though the sex I have with you is absolutely the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, no contest.” She let out a choked laugh against his chest. He could feel her tears now. “I am genuinely excited to see you chase your dreams, Nesta. I’m excited to bring you sugary coffees, and take you out for nice dinners after your big exams, and watch you kick the ass of every other attorney who is unfortunate enough to go up against you. You’re my everything. I don’t want you to spend any more time doubting that.”

           “I know,” Nesta whispered. “I know. You’re my everything too. I’ve never cared about anything as much as I care about you. That’s what’s so scary.”

           Cassian had known almost from the moment he met her that she was the woman he was going to marry. In his mind, however, it was such an inevitability that he hadn’t felt the need to rush. He thought of them as the type to just be together until one day they’d look at each other and say “hey, we should probably get married, huh?” But sometimes he forgot that there was a lot of insecurity under Nesta’s kickass physique and haughty stares. Maybe she needed that promise set in stone (a very expensive, very shiny stone) more than he had realized. He didn’t think she was hounding for a rock, but if she was worried that his lack of commitment was because he was leaving himself a doorway out, he needed to show her that she couldn’t be more wrong.

           As she rolled onto her back and invited him to have some of that life-changing sex, he thought to himself that maybe it was time he went and got a ring.

@nessianweek

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fifteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: NSFW!!😈😈 please disregard colorado window tinting laws for this chapter

***

Cassian has yet to regret getting Nesta that personalized record, despite the fact that she plays it everyday on repeat with a near obsession. Is this what true love is? Letting your girlfriend blast the same songs through your home again and again, and never tiring of it? Never tiring of her?

He doesn’t get to ponder on it, because while Nesta spends the week lazing pantsless around the house (“I’m getting ready for the party,” she states while he rubs her feet. “Spiritually and all that.”), Cassian has to figure out how to turn the cabin into an inviting space for forty wealthy guests.

All of Nesta’s shit gets shoved in the back of his bedroom closet. Personal items and framed pictures of the two of them are swiped off any surfaces. Lights go up around the house. Catering is secured.

By the time it’s all finished, the cabin has been stripped of all warmth and familiarity and turned into something chic and upscale, suitable for a small gala. Nesta stares around at the space when it’s done, her face revealing nothing.

Cassian points to the small sitting area on the second floor, directly above the open living room, that leads outside to the wraparound balcony. “We’ll be able to see fireworks from there,” he says. He turns to see Nesta’s face is still carefully blank, the way it is when she’s thinking too many things at once. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks. “It’s not too late to cancel the whole thing.”

She looks at him in horror. “It most certainly is. The party’s tomorrow.”

“Still not too late.” Cassian might not have that much power in the overall Night Court hierarchy, but for Nesta he could figure it out.

She smiles wanly but shakes her head. “We’re doing this, and we’re not letting it go to hell like last time.”

***

Nesta knows her sisters are aware that she’s on the guest list for the party (though she can’t imagine what Cassian’s explanation for that one was), but she still stiffens when she enters the cabin through the open door. Her eyes fall on various men and women that she’s never seen in her life, all glammed up and dripping self-importance, until recognizing Feyre and her boyfriend laughing with an older couple in a corner. The only thing that brings Nesta a little peace is that the snide woman, Amren, isn’t here tonight, having chosen to spend New Year’s with her boyfriend in California instead.

Nesta eases up when nobody takes notice of her, though a few nearby guests throw appreciative glances in her direction. She looks like a disco ball in her sequined wrap dress, and a freezing one at that. She shuts the door behind her, sealing the winter air out, but quickly pulls her hand away from the knob. It feels like the door isn’t hers to touch. She realizes that even though the cabin is her home, no one here except Cassian knows that.

Speaking of Cassian, she needs to find him. Nesta is not such an advanced creature that she knows how to survive in a room full of strangers on her own, and she no longer cares if anyone finds her clinging to Cassian weird.

She makes it three feet before she’s accosted by Morrigan, carrying her usual champagne glass like it’s an extension of her.

“Nesta!” she exclaims, loud and bright as ever. She smiles broadly, with too many teeth. “You’re here.”

Nesta blinks in response. She doesn’t understand how Morrigan benefits from this exaggerated excitement. Is it supposed to be insulting or polite?

“By the way,” Morrigan adds when Nesta doesn’t reply, “what exactly are you doing here?”

A heavy arm slides around Nesta’s shoulders, pulling her close. “I invited her,” says Cassian with a smile. “Because she’s my friend, and this place is practically hers.”

“Oh, I think that’s an exaggeration,” Nesta says sharply, trying to step away from Cassian.

He holds her closer. “No it’s not. We were roomies for over two months, remember?”

Morrigan winces, looking between the two of them. “Right,” she says slowly. “I keep forgetting that. Cassian is like this with everybody,” she says apologetically to Nesta. “Don’t take him too seriously.”

Nesta nods solemnly, wanting this conversation to be over. “I won’t.”

Her exit is made clear when the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” she says quickly, escaping from under Cassian’s arm.

Hurrying to the door, she swings it open.

Eris Vanserra stands looking irritated on the other side. He freezes when he sees Nesta, and then his face lifts into a smug grin. “Oh, this is too good.”

“So Cassian Madani was your sugar daddy all along?” Eris asks her later.

“Say sugar daddy one more time. I dare you.” Nesta stands near the stairs with her arms crossed, trying to pretend she isn’t associated with Eris. Which is more than a bit difficult when he keeps badgering her with questions, and Cassian is giving the two of them odd looks from across the room.

“I mean, what are the odds?” he laughs.

“My sister is dating his CEO brother.”

Eris throws her a look of surprise, but Nesta says, “How do you even know him?”

Eris sticks an hors d'oeuvre from a nearby platter in his mouth. “He manages security and logistics at every event Night Court is involved in. Can be a real pain in the ass to work with when I’m trying to get shit done for my dad’s company.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she retorts.

They’re interrupted by Feyre and Rhys appearing before them, Feyre with her hostess smile and Rhysand with an inquisitive look on his face. Nesta can’t tell which one of them is more attached to the hip of the other.

“Eris,” Rhysand greets smoothly.

“I see you’re already acquainted with my sister,” Feyre says. Her tone is tense, either because she’s still pissed at Nesta or—even worse—she feels protective of her.

“We’re classmates,” Nesta says tightly. “Does it matter?”

Feyre tries not to look hurt. “No—I just didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Ladies,” a new voice says warningly. Cassian’s left whatever droll conversation he was stuck in and made his way over to them.

“Is the entire party congregating here?” Eris looks around himself.

“No, we are not,” Cassian says, all his usual friendliness gone around Eris. “I just came to ask Feyre to talk to the representatives from Spellbreaker before they pull all their money out of our latest operation.”

Feyre’s eyes go wide and her tattooed hand goes to her chest. “That’s not really my job—”

“Oh, come on, darling.” Rhysand slides a hand around her waist. “I’ll go with you; the art of negotiating is easier than it looks.”

Nesta nearly pukes in her mouth, but she maintains a careful blank face until Feyre and Rhysand are successfully out of sight. Cassian turns to Eris with a stony look. “You’re still here?”

Nesta sighs internally; this man has never hidden his feelings in his life.

Eris shares an amused glance with Nesta as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Is there anywhere else I should be right now?” he replies.

“Maybe in hell.”

Nesta claps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and fakes a smile at Eris. “Tell your brother hi for me,” she says while pulling Cassian away. “I miss talking to a sensible redhead.”

“That’s because you have awful taste,” Eris calls after her. Nesta drags Cassian deep into the hallway, where no one lingers.

She releases him without flourish. “Are you doing okay? Because it seems like you’re having a harder time with this than I am.”

“I’m fine,” Cassian defends. “I was just hit with a terrible memory back there.”

“Like what?”

“That you’re friends with Eris.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. Friends is a very liberal term, but she won’t correct Cassian while he’s acting like this. “Thank you for helping with Feyre and Mor,” she says instead. “I didn’t need it, but I still appreciate it.” It’s a hard thing to admit, but she wants him to hear it.

“I was just trying to get you alone,” he says, leaning against the bathroom door. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all night.”

Nesta looks him up and down, from his white dress shirt and tied back hair to his uncharacteristically polished shoes. “For what?” she says warily. “If this is about a sex thing, don’t bother. There’s nowhere in this house for us to go without raising suspicion.”

Cassian pushes off the door with a dark look. “I wasn’t going to suggest staying in the house.” He holds a bronzed hand out toward her. “Wanna get out of here?”

***

Cassian doesn’t remember how he ever managed to fit all six-four of himself into the cramped backseat of his truck when he was fucking girls in college, but for Nesta he figures it out somehow.

Her pretty little dress is shoved down to her midriff, baring her arms and flushed breasts, and her skirt is bunched up high enough that Cassian can watch as he moves his fingers inside her. The glow of lights from the cabin lands on her perfect face as she throws her head back in pleasure, and he can only watch her in awe.

He laughs lowly when she whimpers and eases a third finger into her wet heat, in no rush to return to the party anytime soon. Let them all wonder where he and Nesta wandered off to.

But Nesta has far less patience than him; she pulls him in for a frenzied kiss and uses the distraction to slide her hand into his boxer briefs, palming his cock. He groans into her mouth as she pulls out the length of him from his unzipped pants, and it’s at that very moment that two voices interrupt their panting.

“Thanks,” a muffled female voice says from outside the truck. Cassian looks up through the dark tinted windows to find—Jesus Christ—Mor accepting a cigarette from Rhys. The two of them stand some feet away from the truck, unaware that anyone is occupying it.

“Some way to end the year,” Rhys is saying, watching the clear night sky. Nesta’s gone completely still beneath Cassian, not needing to get up and look to know who stands in the driveway. “Would have been even better without Nesta terrorizing Feyre at every turn.”

Sickness turns Cassian’s stomach at hearing such ugly words about Nesta come from his brother, but that sickness is quickly replaced by rage as Mor huffs a laugh. “She’s not that bad,” Mor says, taking a pull from her cigarette. “Though I could do without the attitude at every damn gathering.”

Rhys clicks his tongue. “She’s always been like that, even when the sisters were kids. It kills Feyre.”

Cassian glances down at Nesta, terrified of what he’s going to find on her face. But Nesta doesn’t look hurt or enraged like he expects. Instead, she’s listening closely with her brows furrowed, studiously intrigued.

Noticing Cassian’s attention on her, she meets his eyes and her breath hitches. A blush takes over her cheeks, and she clenches involuntarily around the fingers still deep inside her. Cassian realizes that his fury is written all over his face. And she likes it.

His anger at his friends flickers—or rather, transforms. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of Nesta. He sits up a bit straighter and kneels properly on the backseat, earning a curious look from her. Hunching so his head doesn’t hit the truck ceiling, he wraps his hands around her thighs and maneuvers her legs up, up until they’re hooked over his shoulders. She nearly chokes at the new position.

He adjusts them so his cock is pressed right up against her sex, and looks out the window again, where Rhys and Mor are still talking. It’s all idle gossip, he knows, but... “What do you think, baby?” He slides his length over her slick folds. “Should I go out there and defend your honor?”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta gasps, shaking her head.

“And it’s like when she’s not quiet as a brick, she’s being rude,” Mor rants outside, flicking her cigarette. “I know Cass is friendly with everybody, but I have no idea what he was thinking inviting her here.”

“Oh, she’s not so quiet when I have my head between her legs,” Cassian murmurs at Mor. He glances down at Nesta with a knowing smirk. “She’s not so rude when I give her the right incentive, either.” He pats her bottom lip with his thumb, the bright red lipstick smearing. “Isn’t that right, Nes?”

“Bastard.” Nesta squirms, trying to line up her entrance with the head of Cassian’s cock. She’s not even listening to the conversation outside anymore.

“I think he likes her,” Rhys says, his breath clouding in the freezing night air. If only he knew. “We don’t always use reason when it comes to people we like.”

“Maybe,” Mor ponders. “But I can’t imagine it going anywhere. They’re too different.”

“I disagree,” Cassian mutters. He finally gives in to Nesta’s efforts and pushes inside her, sliding to the hilt in one thrust. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her moan.

“There are plenty of things we have in common, don’t you think, Nesta?” He sets a steady rhythm with his hips, pumping in and out of her. “Like how well we fit together.” Her head bumps the car door with every thrust.

“You—you’re gonna rock the truck,” Nesta tries to whisper. Cassian hides his smile in the crook of her knee at the rare use of informal contraction. She’s adorable.

“We wouldn’t want that to happen,” he teases, leaning forward to take a pert nipple into his mouth. A whimper slips past her lips; she’s nearly bent in half beneath him. With this new, deeper angle, Cassian moves slow enough that Nesta feels every solid inch of him.

His loose hair falls around his face as he drops his head to the center of Nesta’s chest. It takes every bit of restraint he knows not to suckle at the space between her breasts, not to leave reddened marks there that everyone will be able to see when they go back inside. But damn if this position isn’t driving him crazy.

Mor, Rhys, everything beyond the haven of the truck falls away. He doesn’t know if anybody is still outside, or if people have noticed his and Nesta’s absence from the party. He doesn’t care, not as he swears and thrusts particularly deep into her tight warmth.

Even her hand can’t contain the sound she makes at that.

Cassian moves one of his own hands to the crown of Nesta’s head, creating a barrier between her and the car door. With his other arm, he locks her thighs into place against his chest, and begins slamming relentlessly into her.

“CassianCassianCassian—”

He silences her with a searing kiss, and flicks her clit with a calloused thumb. Nesta scrabbles at his arms, at the seat upholstery, as her orgasm crashes into her. Her walls milk his cock almost painfully, and with a few more thrusts he’s coming, too.

As he rides out his climax, he intertwines their fingers together and presses them to the freezing window. Outside, there is no one to see the handprint they leave on the fogged up glass.

***

Nesta needs a moment to catch her breath while Cassian zips himself up. Leaning against the hard truck door, she achingly fits one arm back into the sleeve of her dress, then the other. “I think I have a bruise from where that seatbelt buckle stabbed me in the ribs,” she mutters.

“Where?” Cassian looks her over, but she waves him away and reaches over to dig in the back pocket of the driver’s seat, finding a packet of makeup wipes she left there some weeks ago. She plucks out a wipe for herself and tosses the rest of the packet at Cassian’s chest, which is covered in her lipstick marks.

He accepts the wipes with a “thanks” and begins rubbing at his reddened mouth and neck. Nesta watches him instead of wiping at her own lipstick, taking in whatever the light of the moon highlights: his unbuttoned shirt, his loose hair that fell forward into her face while they fucked, his skin peppered with her marks.

He notices her stare. “What?” he says, smiling.

“Have you ever done that before?” She nods outside to where Mor and Rhys were standing ten minutes ago. It wasn’t exhibitionism since nobody had seen them, but it still felt... dirty.

Cassian snorts, starting to button up his shirt. “I’ve done far worse.” He meets her eyes. ���I don’t think I’ve ever gotten off to the sound of other people shit-talking my girl, though, so that’s new.”

Nesta blushes, and pretends to look around for her shoes to hide the reaction. She’s always known her bedroom experience was pathetically limited, but she’s just now starting to realize how much of that was Tomas’s fault. Not only was he boring when it came to sex, but he left her too hurt and untrusting to try anything with other men until Cassian came along.

Cassian nudges Nesta’s knee, and she finds him already holding her heels. Instead of letting her take them, he takes her feet and starts putting them on for her. “Clean yourself up,” he directs as he buckles a silver strap into place. “It’s almost an hour to midnight.”

Right. Cassian tosses her her panties, and she uses them to clean up the mess between her thighs before discarding them on the floor. “Don’t—” he tries to protest, but sighs and gives up. “You’re filthy.”

“You love it.” She picks up her forgotten makeup wipe to scrub at her smeared makeup. “Do I look okay?” She turns her face to him after a moment so he can check.

“You missed a spot.” He takes the wipe and rubs at her chin. “There,” he says softly, gazing more intimately at her than usual. “Beautiful.”

She most certainly doesn’t look beautiful right now, with the mess that’s been made of her face and hair. But he seems to believe it all the same.

I love you. The thought comes to her suddenly, unexpectedly.

“What?” Shock turns Cassian’s face.

Nesta blinks, realizing the words weren’t only in her head. “What?”

“You said—”

“I said ‘Let’s get out of here’,” she says quickly, swinging her legs down from the seat and reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go!”

She shoves out of the truck without waiting for Cassian and foots it for the cabin, breathing harshly like she just fell from a great height.

***

Nesta goes straight to the master bedroom to redo her makeup and pick up a new pair of underwear. She knows it’s cowardly to leave Cassian downstairs, stuck chatting with wealthy donors and unable to follow her, but she won’t let him confront her about the confession that spilled back in the truck. Not yet.

When she finally finds the courage to stick her head out of the room, she nearly jumps at the sight of Azriel leaning against the hallway wall.

“What are you doing in my brother’s room?” he says, as if he was waiting for her to come out.

The best lies are half-truths. “Avoiding people,” she answers vaguely, exiting the room fully and shutting the door behind her. She clears her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Snooping.” He pushes off the wall and slides his hands into his pockets. “It’s interesting; I don’t think I’ve seen you all night, and now I find you in Cassian’s bedroom of all places.”

What is this, an interrogation? “I’m good at blending in,” Nesta says. “Few people ever notice me.”

“And I’m good at observing,” Azriel retorts, dark amusement gleaming in his gaze. “Where did you run off to earlier?”

Nesta looks him up and down, too bored to bother answering him. “I’m going to go now.” She shoves past his shoulder and walks away, leaving him too stunned to follow.

She comes across Elain near the top of the stairs.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise. Her brown eyes flicker past Nesta’s shoulder, to where Azriel still lurks in the hallway. She looks back to Nesta. “I wasn’t sure if you actually came tonight. I haven’t seen you at all.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around.” Nesta waves a dismissive hand. It’s like Christmas Eve never happened between them. That’s the wonderful and terrible thing about sisters, Nesta supposes: there are no apologies, only moving on and moving past.

“Well, you look like you’re doing good.” Elain seems distracted. “I wish we could talk more, but I don’t have time for a fight tonight.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Azriel says, who’s snuck up behind Nesta. “If it’s me you’re worried about, I was just about to leave.” He’s addressing Elain, but won’t quite look her in the eyes. He turns to Nesta instead. “Happy New Year.” And then he’s gone down the stairs.

Elain stands there looking torn, wondering if she should go after him or not, but then Nesta says, “Why do you assume I would start a fight?”

“I—”

“Because if I remember correctly, our last fight was started by you.” She crosses her arms.

Elain sighs. “I just said I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m asking a question in response to a comment you made unprovoked.” When Nesta is calm, she can talk circles around Elain all night.

Elain throws her hands up. “It was just a stupid comment! I said it because we argue all the time. I can’t remember the last time we talked without arguing.”

“September twenty-eighth,” Nesta snaps.

Elain’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You got the loan for your flower shop approved and you called me to celebrate. I was happy for you.”

Elain shakes her head, but Nesta can’t read what she’s feeling. “You remember the most inconsequential things.”

It doesn’t sound like an insult, so Nesta shrugs. “Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” She turns to go on her way. Of course, Elain doesn’t stop her. She’s never been one to get in the last word.

***

It’s ten minutes to midnight and Cassian still hasn’t been able to get a hold of Nesta since she ran from the truck. He doesn’t know why she’s running from such a simple truth, but he doesn’t plan on giving her much more time to hide. He has so much he needs to say to her—

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he’s about to slip away upstairs to find Nesta. Cassian turns to find Rhysand there, wearing the serious face he only uses for work-related business. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Cassian is not in the mood. He already had to repress the urge to find Mor and Rhys and tear into them when he returned to the party, and now he’s not sure if he can manage a conversation with his brother without snapping. Without spilling everything he’s worked so hard to hide.

“Not now,” Cassian says, trying to act chill. “It’s almost midnight and I’m trying to catch the...” He trails off as his eyes catch on Nesta, who’s appeared at the second floor sitting area with Eris.

“...fireworks,” he finishes. He turns to Rhys. “Let’s go upstairs to watch.” Half the guests, including the rest of his friends, are probably already outside for the countdown.

He keeps his eyes on Nesta as he climbs the stairs. Watching as she takes notice of him and quickly turns away, smiling at Eris instead. She lets the dickhead place his hand on her back to guide her out to the balcony.

Rage and disbelief take Cassian by the throat. Hiding in another man’s arms to avoid him? Coward fucking move, Archeron.

She steps outside with Eris, and before Cassian can follow he’s stopped once again by Rhys grabbing his arm. “Cass, will you slow down and listen to me for a minute?”

“What is it?” he snaps impatiently. They’re stopped at the top of the stairs, and other guests flow past them as they head for the balcony doors.

Rhys inhales, getting visibly irritated. He says, “I got a call from one of our overseas partners the other day—”

“Rhys!” Feyre calls from the balcony doors, waving her arms at him. “Get your ass over here, it’s almost midnight!”

Rhys turns to his girlfriend, his face lightening. “Be right there, darling.” He gives Cassian a sharp look. “We’ll finish this later.”

Cassian only nods and whirls on his heel, nearly shoving people out of his way to get outside. To get to Nesta.

Up on the wraparound balcony and down below on the frosty ground, guests are lined up with their partners, wrapped up in coats and eagerly awaiting midnight. He barely feels the cold, but he knows Nesta must. He should have grabbed a coat for her.

“Thirty seconds to midnight!” someone announces, answered by loud cheers.

Spotting shining red hair, Cassian grabs Eris by the suit jacket and whirls him around. “Where’s Nesta?” he demands over the loud chatter.

Eris makes a face like he’s been manhandled by a filthy dog. “Clearly not with me,” he retorts, shoving Cassian’s hand off him. “She got all pissy and went that way.” He gestures at a faraway section of balcony where most of the guests are crowding, hoping for an optimal view of the fireworks.

“TEN!” Someone starts the countdown. Others quickly catch on.

“NINE!” Cassian heads in the direction Eris pointed, searching through the sea of glitter and gold for a glimpse of Nesta.

“EIGHT!” He hears his friends calling after him distantly, asking where he’s going.

“SEVEN!” He catches sight of Nesta.

“SIX!” He doesn’t know what he’s thinking as he navigates through the crowd, reaching for her. But he knows she’s shining brighter than the moon right now. He knows he’s been fooling himself since the moment she stepped into his cabin this past September.

“FIVE!”

He closes in on her, her back turned to him.

“FOUR!”

Let’s not go out of our way to hide this anymore, they agreed after Christmas Eve. Let’s just be ourselves around our friends and family, and they’ll find out when they find out.

“THREE!”

In Cassian’s defense, he’s simply being himself in this moment.

“TWO!”

He takes Nesta by the elbow and spins her around. She meets his eyes in surprise. “Cassian. I was looking for you—”

“ONE!”

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her.

***

a/n: punk 57 was a shit book but i gotta give it credit for the truck scene

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein

[emilia3546]

Shadowsinger Part 3 - Gwynriel

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

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Part 1

Part 2

*****

The library didn't feel safe anymore. From the people who had hurt her, yes, but not from whatever it was that had attacked her last night. Gwyn closed the book she had been reading, placing it back on the pile to return and glanced at the candle beside her, it had almost burned down, she had maybe half an hour before sunset, and she didn't want to be here then. She made her way up to the library's entrance, waiting just inside, still scared to step properly outside on her own, especially when people were milling around the streets, males she didn't know. She would wait here.

She was only waiting a few moments before wingbeats sounded and Azriel landed on the street outside, and pushed the door open,

"Are you sure you want to come?"

"Yes. I," she paused, glancing back for a moment, "I don't feel safe here. I do with you." He nodded, glancing back outside, but Gwyn caught a glimpse of his smile, the tears in his eyes, but when he turned back to her, all sign of them was gone. He offered her his hand,

"I'll have to carry you," he started, and paused, seemingly lost for words,

"I trust you." Gwyn took his hand and stepped outside, immediately backing into him, the solid mass of him behind her reassuring her, she smiled as he curved a wing around her almost instinctively, making to draw it back when he realized, "No. Leave it." He let it curl back around her, and she pressed into his side, she could do this, she could walk through a crowded street, she wasn't alone anymore, she could do it.

Azriel squeezed her shoulder gently, and dropped his hand to her side, cautious of spooking her, but she grabbed his hand, holding on as he started, surprise glimmering in his eyes,

"You're not going to scare me off, Az." She followed his gaze to where their hands joined, the sadness, almost horror in his gaze, "We all have scars, Az. Yours are no more shameful than mine." she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, and he smiled, really smiled, and squeezed her hand gently, leading her into the street. They stayed near the edge, with Azriel closest to the people walking up and down the street, and gradually Gwyn's fear faded, not disappeared, but faded, she was alright, and she could look after herself now. As her fear faded, she began to take in the beauty of Velaris, the shopfronts, the restaurants, the way the Sidra shined in the moonlight as they walked next to it, taking a short walk as she had asked before flying up to the House of Wind.

As beautiful as the city was, it was nothing compared to the night sky, nothing compared to the full moon shining bright over the city, the wind rushing over her face with each of Azriel's wingbeats. Gwyn had been grinning the moment he had lifted her into his arms to take off, and now she let out a whoop of joy, earning a chuckle from Azriel,

"What?" She asked,

"Nothing, it's just, your joy is infectious." He laughed again, flipping onto his back so that she could see the stars better, and she gasped as a shooting star crossed the sky, sending a trail of light through the inky black. When Azriel turned back to fly normally, he flapped harder for a moment, and Gwyn threw her arms round his neck, clinging on at the sudden rush of speed, but let out another whoop of joy as he sped up,

"I see why you love flying so much," she mused, "It's freedom."

"It is. And more than that," he sighed, as if deciding whether to continue, "I don't know what anyone told you about my mother."

"Just that she and your father weren't married."

"Married? No, not to each other, anyway. My father was married to another female, I was the product of an affair, a reminder of it. He-" he broke off, glancing around, and Gwyn squeezed his shoulder, resting her head against his chest, she would be there if he wanted to talk, whenever he wanted to talk. "I spent the first eleven years of my life in a cell underground, not able to fly or see my mother more than once a week. That's why I love flying, it's a reminder that no matter what, no matter how bad something is, it can get better."

"Az,"

"You don't have to say anything, I know it's a lot."

"Az. Thank you for trusting me." She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her as they hovered over Velaris, "You can't chase me off. We all have a past, you know mine," his eyes darkened at that, rage rippling off him,

"They didn't suffer enough," he murmured,

"They can't hurt me, just like you family can't hurt you now," she ran a finger over the back of his hand, over the scarred ridges, "I'm guessing they did this?" a nod of assent was all she needed, "So own it. You survived, and became Spymaster of the Night Court. I'd say you outshone all of them easily, even from the shadows." The tears that had formed earlier now threatened to fall,

"No one has ever said that."

"Perhaps you never wanted to hear it. You deserve happiness, Az." He sighed, contemplating her words,

"You don't know what I've done,"

"You are not a bad person. I don't care what you've done. It's what's in your heart that matters, and you are a good person. You are the person I feel safe with, not Cassian, not Rhysand and Feyre. You." She glanced around one last time before Azriel dove for the balcony. Gwyn squeezed Azriel's hand once more before stepping out of his arms, but something made her stop, made her turn back, there was something in his face, understanding, pain, perhaps, that mirrored hers, enough that she stepped back towards him and wrapped her arms around him before slipping away into the House before he could return the hug.

*****

I trust you, she had said, I feel safe with you, but why? She couldn't possibly understand what he had had to do for his job, could she? Perhaps she could, she of all people knew the worst their kind had to offer, and had survived. His blood was still roaring at the closeness she had offered him, proof of how her trust had grown over the last several months, of her willingness to keep living despite the past. She was right, his scars, physical and mental were not something to be ashamed of, she wasn't ashamed of hers, if she could accept the past, so could he.

He glanced towards her room when he reached his door, impulse making him knock to check that she was okay. Her voice was shaking when she called for him to come in, and the room was filled with candles,

"It's dark," she whispered, "It feels like it's chasing me again,"

"Do you want me to stay?" She  chewed her lip for a moment, considering his offer, and sank onto the bed,

"Everything I said just now, and I'm scared of the dark for something that happened once, and that can't happen here," she met his gaze, and laughed, "I'm such an idiot."

"You're allowed to be afraid of things, Gwyn, it happened yesterday, I'd be surprised if you simply brushed it off, but if it helps, my shadows found it again, and it was just the darkness at the heart of the library, I don't know why it went after you yesterday though."

"Well, thank you for finding it, I was worried it was some other dark magic."

"Nothing malicious, I think it was more curious than aggressive, it didn't seem to fear me, more to recognize me, to know who, and what, I was, so it wasn't interested." She nodded, and smiled,

"So it won't come back?"

"Honestly, I don't know, probably not, but it's possible." She drew her knees up, "But not here, it can't get up here, and nothing will hurt you while I'm here. Anything you can't handle yourself, I will deal with." She smiled and nodded, her breathing evening out as she settled down to sleep, mumbling a quick 'goodnight' when Azriel slipped out to go back to his own room.

With Gwyn safe, he could finally get started on some of his leftover paperwork from that afternoon that he'd never got round to. He leaned a pillow up against the headboard of his bed, trying to ignore his shadows dancing around at her presence.

"Go to her if you're that exited, but for the gods sakes, don't wake her, or scare her," he muttered, and stifled a chuckle as they all skittered off, immediately slipping under the door to keep an eye on Gwyn. His shadows were still with her when he finally blew out the candle to get some sleep of his own.

*****

Gwyn jolted awake. She was in the House of Wind, and safe. She glanced around the room, and something moved, for a moment she contemplated lunging for the dagger on the dressing table beside her bed, but recognized one of Azriel's shadows,

"Are you hiding from me?" She chuckled, "Come here," the shadow, and others around her drifted towards her, she knew that she ought to be afraid, but she was just intrigued, even in the months she had known him, she hadn't had a chance to get this close to Azriel's shadows, "Did Az send you to look after me?" She muttered, not expecting any response, but a shadow twined around her hand, the sensation tickling, and she laughed, but clapped a hand over her mouth to avoid waking Azriel in the next room. She giggled again when another shadow twirled through her hair, exploring, before settling beside her. One of them drifted towards an old dust-covered piano in the corner of her room, and came back, before drifting towards it again. "You want me to sing?" All the shadows froze, and drifted to the piano as one. "I can't. I'll wake Azriel, in the morning I'll sing for you." They almost seemed disappointed as they drifted back towards her, but suddenly rushed for her, surrounding her in a safe cocoon of darkness.

There was a muffled bang from down the corridor, and Gwyn did grab the dagger on her dresser then, silently crossing the floor to hide behind the door, the shadows concealing her, protecting her. The sound didn't come again for almost an hour, but she needed to know what it was, so that she could sleep properly. If only she had a proper sword, but she didn't even know where to get one from. She sighed in resignation, and pushed the door open a crack, checking down the corridor to either side, she couldn't see anything but,

"Go check it's safe," she whispered, and the shadows disappeared off, returning swiftly and swirling around her feet, it was safe. She silently crossed the corridor, and pushed Azriel's door open, "Az?" He opened his eyes immediately, and sat up,

"Gwyn? Are you okay?"

"Fine. I just heard a noise, like a person, and I don't have a sword, or I wouldn't have woken you." His eyes flicked between her, and the shadows still swirling around her,

"You spoke to them?"

"Yes. Is that not normal?"

"No." he mused, "It isn't, I've never met anyone else who can communicate with them. I'll check for anyone in the House. Wait here, I'll only be a minute."

"No. I didn't wake you so you could protect me like some pathetic maiden. I only woke you because I don't know where to get a sword from, other than that, I'm fine."

"Shall we both go, then?" She nodded, and her eyes widened in surprise as he pulled open the wardrobe, and handed her a sword, "Always have weapons accessible."

"Noted." She muttered, and poked her head of the door, "Is it still clear?" The shadows swirled again, and Azriel froze behind her,

"How do you do that? Speak to them."

"I just speak, they understand, I think."

"They do. It's just, they've never deigned to speak to anyone else before. They like you." She smiled, and caught a glimpse of a similar smile across his face, "C'mon, it's probably Cassian getting back, but we'd better check."

She dropped into her familiar stance, with Azriel at her side, sweeping through every room and corridor silently and efficiently before reaching the dining room, where a note was left on the table. Azriel got there first, and laughed at the note,

"It was Mor, she came to steal some more wine."

"Of course, she did." Gwyn chuckled, and laughed properly seeing Azriel roll his eyes, the light of dawn shining through the windows, "Well, since we're already awake, do you want a hand setting up for training?" He smiled and nodded, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than was perhaps necessary, but he did turn away to head up to the training ring. He'd hardly spoken to her since he'd woken up, granted he'd been suddenly woken, but perhaps he was annoyed with her, he'd only come to check that she was alright briefly last night, perhaps he hadn't wanted her advice with anything, perhaps he regretted telling her everything last night. She had overstepped, grossly overstepped, and now she might have ruined the first meaningful relationship she'd had with a male since the attack at the temple. She sighed and followed him, at least she could just pretend it had never happened, maybe then things would get back to normal.

*****

It was inescapable. Even her scent following up the stairs was driving him half-mad, it was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed not to just blurt out his feelings, or even just kiss her. He couldn't risk scaring her, not after everything, not when she was finally starting to be comfortable in public. Sure, she'd bee around people before, and his blood still boiled at the thought of her in the Blood Rite, but that hadn't been by choice. She had made huge steps recently, and he would not be the reason that she got scared again. If she actually wanted him she would tell him, perhaps the hug had just been an impulse, nothing more.

Still, he couldn't help snatching glances at her while she helped him set up the new obstacle course for training that morning. She moved so much more confidently, each action was thought through, measured, deliberate. She moved like a warrior, a Valkyrie, like she was finally comfortable in her abilities, like she knew that she could protect herself now. He tried not to remember holding her in his arms last night, what he had told her, and what she had said. She was a stronger person than he was, she always had been, even before he had gotten to Sangravah, she had protected the younglings, had made a terrible decision, but she had saved so many young lives. She had saved lives, and he couldn't help remembering the lives he had taken with each glimpse of his hands, the invisible blood that marred them. No matter what she said, he had done unspeakable things, even in the name of a greater cause, he was still a murderer. Gwyn had told him that being Spymaster was a great achievement, and it was, but she couldn't understand what else that job entailed, could she?

She was shining in the early sunlight, glowing in her newfound confidence and happiness, and he was still shrouded in shadows, even as she glanced in his direction, smiling broadly at him, he couldn't help but mirror the smile, and his shadows leapt for joy at her smile. He kept one eye on her while the other females trained, waiting for the moment that she would call him over for 'help', he'd figured out from day one that she didn't need help, she was just trying to get more comfortable having a male near her, touching her, someone she at least trusted, if nothing more. But she didn't even speak to him the whole session, and he found himself staring at her turned back as she shot arrow after arrow into the target, not perfect, but her groupings were improving, her form was better, and her technique was load better than the last time he'd seen her shoot. She was a natural, at all aspects of fighting, even the silent movement he had adopted this morning when they had checked the House for intruders, he hadn't taught her that, and Cassian certainly hadn't.

Azriel was still watching as Emerie dragged Gwyn away from the archery range to spar, several other females stopped to watch, and he didn't reprimand them, no, it would be good for them to watch these two spar. He leaned against the weapons rack next to him, actually concentrating now. Both females had picked up the skills well, but Gwyn best of all, she kept light on her feet as she circled with Emerie, darting forward, and feinting left, but striking right, leaving Emerie reeling backwards to escape the blow, and retaliate, but Gwyn was already gone. They circled again, and Gwyn narrowed her eyes, waiting for Emerie to stumble, or lose her balance. The moment her friend stepped on an uneven stone, she struck, tackling her to the ground with perfect form, and pinning her still. She grinned, and whooped with delight at winning, immediately helping her friend up, and showing her what she had done to best her, she could be a wonderful assistant with training once she had honed her skills a bit more.

Azriel was still watching when Gwyn waved goodbye to return to the library for the day, he wasn't sure if she would sleep there tonight or not. A rush of wings caught his attention, and he rolled his eyes at the overwhelming scent rushing into the ring,

"Back are we, brother?"

"Everything alright?" Cassian asked, setting Nesta down, an arm still around her shoulders, his grin fading at Azriel's obvious distraction, even if he couldn't see what was distracting him,

"Just tired, I'm fine. How was the honeymoon?" Nesta grinned,

"I don't think you want to know."

"You're right. I don't. I'm glad you had fun at least." Cassian snorted in laughter, and pressed a kiss to Nesta's temple,

"You could say that," They were so in love it was ridiculous, Azriel had always thought it was impossible, that mates didn't really exist, that it was just the world playing tricks on him. But then Rhys had met Feyre, and Cassian had met Nesta. He had assumed that he should be feeling that same devotion to Elain, and he had tried to force it, thinking that perhaps it took time in some cases. But that love, that devotion wasn't there. She was beautiful, and kind, but she wasn't the person who he could love with his whole heart, who he wanted to fight for a future with, because it wasn't right, he didn't feel any of that for her. Maybe he was broken, maybe he couldn't ever feel love like his brothers did, but then there was Gwyn, if he didn't know better he might think that she was worth fighting for. But he knew better, he had never deserved a mate anyway.

"Have you two eaten this morning?" He forced out, forced himself to engage in conversation, reminded himself that he genuinely liked these people, both of them, that talking to them wasn't a chore. Cassian had been his brother for five centuries, and Nesta was now his sister, he supposed, so why was his whole body screaming at him to follow Gwyn, to talk to her, to find out what was wrong, what he had done wrong to push her away enough that she didn't talk to him. Gradually, he managed to drive Gwyn from his mind, sitting at the table with Nesta and Cassian, he was happy for them, he really was, the way Nesta was talking about the lakeside mountain cabin Cassian had taken her to, the way Cassian was smiling at her the whole time, the way his his love for her shone in his eyes, made Azriel's own heart soften. It was about time Cassian had found someone, and for Nesta, they had found each other, found their mate, their mirror.

"Az?" He blinked, realizing that Cassian had asked him a question,

"What?"

"Cauldron, Az, you are tired. I asked how training was going?" Azriel mumbled something noncommittal, but sighed at Cassian's genuine worry,

"Fine, Emerie needs a brace for her wings to shoot, she can't reach full draw at the moment, she's seeing Madja later, I think Gwyn will probably go with her, and Nes, I suppose, now you're here."

"They're learning to shoot?" Nesta asked, shock crossing her face, and Azriel nodded in confirmation, "With war-bows?"

"No, thirty pounds, we'll build up the draw weights."

"I was going to say." She chuckled, "I could hardly draw Feyre's hunting bow when she taught me," Cassian squeezed her shoulders tighter, "I'd like to learn to shoot properly."

"I thought you could shoot, didn't you do it in the Blood Rite?" Right, Azriel remembered her mentioning that,

"Adrenaline, I couldn't even draw that bow afterwards, let alone hit anything with it, I know the basics though."

"Well, now's a good time, a few of the others are starting, you can join them tomorrow morning, that is, if you can cope with leaving that prick for more than a minute," he ducked the cup Nesta chucked at him,

"I'm not as pathetic as you males," she crooned, "I can stand to be away from him, it's Cass who's the baby here." Azriel took that as his cue to leave, draining his cup of tea, and throwing a knowing glance at Cassian,

"Have a nice ride," he whispered to his brother as he left the room, causing Cassian to choke on his own tea, but Azriel was gone before he could respond, diving off the balcony to retreat to the relative safety of the River House, it was eleven in the morning, surely Rhys and Feyre would be being sensible? He was wrong. Only the townhouse was safe it seemed, and Mor must have come to the same conclusion, given that she was sitting in the living room, drinking what could not possibly be water, an grinning almost evilly at him as he entered the room,

"Lovebirds smoked you out as well?" He grunted, and she patted the couch next to her, "You look like you need a drink."

"You could say that." Azriel didn't return to the House until well after lunch, praying to all the gods that Nesta and Cassian would behave. He glared at the horrible stack of paperwork on his desk, and groaned, sitting down to tackle it all, making up for all the time he had lost daydreaming recently. Soon, the familiar rhythms of work filled his mind, leaving no space for thoughts of Gwyn, or anything else.

[ladynestaarcheron]

Fears All the Way Down - Chapter Two

ao3 - masterpost

here's chapter two! i had fun writing it, hope y'all enjoy!

---

Nesta might not enjoy it, but she knows how to give credit where credit is due, and there's no denying it: her sisters and their friends have thought this plan out thoroughly.

After they've calmed down enough, her sisters move on promptly to the next phase. Elain is off with those shadow wraiths of hers to pack up Nesta's meager belongings and Feyre is explaining to her what the upcoming week will look like.

"The important thing to remember whenever you feel overwhelmed is that the worst is already behind you and you've made it this far and you can continue on," Feyre says, clearly reciting something from memory. "And that we're always going to be there to help you."

She moves on to explain the detoxification process they're going to put her through. She dresses up the words in a healer's jargon and tries her best to be sensitive, but Nesta doesn't like to lie to herself and understands the crux of it: she's fucked up her body too much and can't even be trusted to just stop drinking so she has to be weaned off while under a few sets of eyes.

"So, who's going to be in the House with me?" Nesta asks when she's done.

"We know you don't need a keeper," Feyre says carefully. "If you'd prefer to be alone, you can be. We'll visit you every day, if you'd like. And the library's healer will be checking up on you, of course, as I said. But...do you need anyone in the House? Do you want anyone with you?"

"No," Nesta says, not entirely believing they're going to leave her to her own devices.

Feyre shrugs. "Then take the week to acclimate. We'll come by only as often as you want."

"Who's we?"

"Me and Elain," Feyre says firmly.

Perhaps there had been an argument about that. To her surprise, Nesta feels her throat burn at the thought of her sister standing up for her. No, she does not want any of the others coming to see her like this...she never wants to see them at all, actually.

"The staff has all been cleared out, too," Feyre continues. "The magic of the House should be enough...but of course, if anything's missing--anything at all. Just say so. Shops can't deliver up, but we'll bring anything you need the next day."

Nesta only nods.

"Well...we'll go up now, then, if that's all right with you. We'll have your things delivered later today. Elain will visit as soon as she can."

Elain does not want to visit, Nesta realizes. Not while Nesta's sick and seizing over the next few days.

"She doesn't have to come," Nesta says. "Neither do you," she adds.

"We'll...see how you feel."

Cassian and Rhysand are waiting for them in the dining room. She's not sure whom she wants to see less.

But Cassian's good enough that he isn't looking to humiliate her further and her sister's got her husband on a tight enough leash that mercifully, neither of them says anything. Feyre gives her an encouraging smile as she gently pushes her closer to Cassian and holds onto her shoulder.

The winnowing is instant, too quick to process, especially considering what comes after.

The drop is terrifying, even though it's only for a fraction of a second. Just as Nesta clenches her jaw to stop her instinctual scream, Cassian grabs her in his arms and holds her tightly against himself. The descent slows, and there's an undeniable calming effect of being pressed into something--someone--so warm and strong, but the fear doesn't leave her until she is out of the open air and standing with solid ground beneath her feet.

"All right," Feyre says, slipping out of Rhysand's embrace with approximately none of the urgency with which Nesta ripped herself away from Cassian. "Let me help you get settled."

What on earth that could possibly mean Nesta does not know, as she doesn't carry anything with her and it's not yet eleven in the morning. But it's becoming clear to her that there's another reason for Feyre's shifty eyes.

"Is the same room all right, then?" Feyre asks as they reach it. Two floors below the entrance, once with a door connecting her to Elain, but that's sealed off now. The only difference, as far as she can tell.

"It's fine," she says, peering out the window. She could not help but be taken by the view the first time she had stayed here, and now was no different. The sprawling city in the valley of these red mountains, the Sidra snaking through it, and the glittering sea beyond. It's beautiful. Nesta likes beautiful things.

"You didn't get to decorate it much last time, but if there's anything you'd like..." Feyre trails off.

Nesta doesn't answer. She doesn't feel like pretending to care about decor to help her stall.

Feyre understands, sighing and fiddling with her fingers. "All right, there's some more I have to tell you."

"Go on," Nesta says, not turning from the window.

"Well," she says. "As you know...your apartment...the whole building--subdivision, really--it's...it's..."

"Old," Nesta supplies. Which is not the word her sister was thinking of, she knows.

"Yes, old. Well. The council has decided that they want to...fix it up, so...they're...rebuilding it."

Nesta blinks. "Rebuilding it?"

"Yes."

"It's already built."

"Well. They're..."

"You're tearing it down," Nesta says flatly.

"No!" Feyre says, and Nesta can see her eyes widen in the faint reflection. "I mean...yes, it's being torn down, but they're building it right back up! And much nicer! Hot water and...it'll be right there waiting for you when you...we're keeping it for you. For if you want to stay there again. But you know..." Feyre allows herself a bit of hope in her voice. "You might not want to. Maybe you'd like a different house...if you want..."

What exactly the problem is with her staying in a newly refurbished apartment, Nesta doesn't know. But no matter. It's not as though she's attached to the old one, and if they're going to pay for her to stay there when she's done with this little experiment...fine. Hot water on demand would be nice, at any rate.

"All right," Nesta says.

Feyre waits a beat before saying, "There's more."

Nesta turns to face her.

Swallowing, Feyre says, "Now, I meant what I said about you not needing to be kept."

Here it is, then.

"But there are...two issues with that. Well...maybe three."

She crosses her arms. This should be good.

"Well, as I explained, the first week or so is going to be difficult. And since you don't want to stay in the library and the healer can't always be here and you might...need someone..."

"You're going to be staying the week?" Nesta says sharply, face heating. That--that's too much. She can't take that. The whole week--so Feyre will be able to hear her retching all night long--some of it won't even be because of the alcohol; Nesta often finds herself rushing to the toilet, she hasn't been able to keep a full meal down in over a year.

"No," Feyre says, red as she imagines she is now. "I'll visit if you want. But...no. I thought...no."

Good. That's--good.

"But you do need...someone...for the first week. To make sure...to call the healer, really, if something happens in the middle of the night. And..." Feyre pauses to take a deep breath. "You remember Briallyn." She's blunt, and doesn't phrase it like a question, so Nesta's too surprised to flinch. "Well," she says, taking her widened eyes as a yes, "she's...she remembers you. And she's..."

"She wants to kill me," Nesta says flatly.

"Yes," Feyre responds. "But you don't need to be scared. We're not going to let her get to you."

"You're still not telling me everything."

"No," Feyre says, sighing. "I'm sorry. It's...not easy for me to say. I'm easing into it. All right. She's...we have reason to believe she's formed an alliance within the Night Court."

At this Nesta blinks. "What, you mean..."

"Not any of us," Feyre says, startled. "Of course not! Of course--don't think that!"

She only gives a small shrug. The idea of Morrigan hating her enough to work with that wretched crone is not entirely unbelievable to her, but she doesn't say so to her sister. She can try to try, at least, with what all the pair of them are doing.

The left side of Nesta's lips tugs upwards slightly. Not even a half-smile, just a tic, but Nesta's actually pleased with herself. Not insulting her sister's friend aloud directly to spare Feyre's feelings isn't much, but for her, when she hasn't cared about anyone's feelings in so long...

Feyre isn't privy to all that has gone on in Nesta's mind and she is still trepidative. She takes another deep breath--always with the dramatics, this one, isn't she?--and says, "We have reason to believe Briallyn has formed an alliance with some rebel groups within Illyria. We think she's promised them a path to independence if they get you to her."

Whatever Nesta was expecting, it wasn't this. The Illyrians...she knows, of course, that they don't like her, don't trust her. But Rhysand--Cassian and Azriel--doesn't that mean anything?

"I didn't know they want independence," Nesta says, when she realizes Feyre is peering at her intently, expectantly.

"They want to be allowed to mutilate their females and take revenge on each other as they please," Feyre says. "They can't do that while we're in charge."

"I thought they...liked serving in the Night Court's army." Her cheeks flush the slightest bit--perhaps it's naïve, but leading the Illyrians for this court is the pride of Cassian's life. She had assumed they were the same way. That they didn't like answering to someone born at his low station, sure, but she hadn't known they resented being here.

"It's not everyone," she says. "There were some who sided with Amarantha, some who...listen, you don't need to worry about it. All you need to focus on is yourself right now."

"And," Nesta presses.

Feyre takes yet another deep breath. "Cassian's going to be staying here for a few days. Just a few days!" she hurries. "Just until you're through the worst of it! And just make sure the House is secure while you are here by yourself."

"Why couldn't the House be checked--"

"We didn't want to alert anyone of your presence," she explains. "It's a pretty fantastical theory, that Illyrians are colluding with citizens from Velaris to overthrow Rhys and me, but...stranger things have happened. And since Hybern managed to find you here before..."

She can appreciate that, at least.

"Just a few days."

"A week at most."

"You keep changing the rules."

Feyre raises her arms. "I know. But that's the last of it, I swear."

Nesta's expression does not falter. "I don't appreciate being manipulated."

"I'm not manipulating! I just...didn't want to overwhelm you all at once. I'm...easing you into things."

Nesta considers this for a beat. "Stop doing it right now."

"I will," she says immediately.

At this, Nesta softens, though perhaps imperceptibly.

"All right," Feyre says after Nesta does not bite back. "I'll...leave you to get settled. The healer's left you some tonics there--" she punctuates her words with an arm extended towards the table by Nesta's bedside--"for you to take before bed...and you know where the dining room is...I promise Cassian will stay out of your way. He just might check up on you before you go to sleep, and..."

"Lift me up out of my own sick in the middle of the night?"

Feyre flinches. "Help you. Just until the healer can come up."

Nesta turns back to the window. "So I suppose I'll see you in a week, then?"

"As soon as you'd like."

There's that. That's...something.

"Your things will be delivered tomorrow. If you need anything--"

"You said."

"I know." Feyre wrings her hands, her ring and bracelets clinking softly together. "And...while you're here...Rhys and the others won't just drop by unannounced. We won't--well--if a few weeks--I mean--"

"I've got it," she says.

"Right. Well. Good."

What to say to her sister? They've hardly ever embraced. The time they had started to grow closer is long gone now, both those bodies ashes of the past.

"I just want to say," Feyre starts softly, "that...I'm really proud of you for doing this. I know...trust that I know it isn't easy. But I promise you it will be worthwhile. You'll see."

By the time Nesta summons the nerve to turn around and ask about those innocents, how she had gotten through it, her sister is already gone.

Because Nesta had explored the House when she had been brought here by Rhysand so long ago, she does not feel the need to do so now. She knows where the library is, knows where her room and the dining room are, and those are all she intends to frequent.

She spends the rest of the morning in the library, but she is too restless to keep her focus on a book. After finding herself staring blankly at a wall for the fifth time, eyes refusing to fixate on the words in her lap, she shuts the book and tightly and places it on a table. She doesn't know what she expected. It's been months since she's managed to read. No romance novels for her. No romance, either--not that that had ever happened. But once, she would have thought that the amount of sex she's been having would be linked to...something.

Her life has become an endless stream of not this, not now. Anything to get her out of her own head. Bitter alcohol--the kind she actually likes, gin or white wine, never seems to wipe her mind clean--and sex with strangers. And it works perfectly, because those things befit a lady of her station. That's how the loveless, useless, dregs of society spend their days: drinking, fucking, gambling away someone else's money--

"Nothing to read?"

Nesta startles.

"Sorry," Cassian says, walking up to her and sitting in the big armchair opposite. "Thought you heard me."

It takes her a moment to find her voice. "Did I give any indication of the sort?"

He grins. "Just assumed you were ignoring me."

Would that I could, she thinks darkly. But who could ignore him? Too big, too loud, too...just too much. Too much person for one body.

"Been a while," he says casually.

She doesn't answer, reaching through the drink-stained memories to find the last time she had seen him, besides this morning. Must've been...summer solstice. They had barely spoken, like all their other interactions since the war. She can count them on one hand.

And she does. Far more frequently then she admits to herself.

"Just thought you'd like to know I've finished securing the House."

Nesta nods once, absently. Perhaps this was a mistake. After all, they had thought the House was secure last time, hadn't they? What if they're attacked again? These priestesses...because of her. If they know that Briallyn is going to try and snatch her, that she's formed an alliance with Illyrians who can fly into the veranda, is this really worth the risk?

"Don't," Cassian says, voice low. She tenses as he leans closer to her. "You have a right to be here as much as any of them. Maybe you should have been here all along."

She catches the guilt in his tone, in his eyes, and blinks. That's...not what she had been expecting. And not what she's prepared to deal with.

She stands. "I was informed that you'd stay out of my way."

Just like that, any tenderness snaps out of his posture. He's standing before her, too, wings slightly flared.

"Do forgive me, Lady Nesta," he says with a mocking bow. "I'll let you get back to your riveting activity of staring at the wall in a room by yourself."

She has to say something before he leaves; can't let him end this with her on the losing hand. But she's quick on her feet, even if she never knows where she stands with him.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your perching on the window opposite," she answers, voice icy. A blind shot in the dark, as she hadn't heard him at all. But it appears as though it lands, as his eyes grow even darker and he reins in a snarl as he stalks out.

Nesta loosens a breath as he leaves.

Riling up Nesta like that is never smart, but it's particularly stupid today. Not the least of which being Feyre had specifically ordered him not to.

Cassian tries to force himself to focus on the knives he's throwing, but he's too worked up to even admire the shiny new blades Rhys had purchased especially for this new training center on the top of the House.

"So you have a place to blow off steam," he had explained to him. Away from Feyre, of course, who no longer tolerated any implication that spending time with Nesta could be...difficult.

"It's only a week," he had said. He trains every day, but the refurbished personal arena is unnecessary for that, considering he's supposed to be keeping the House secure for the duration of his stay.

Rhys had only shrugged casually. Cassian knew what he had thought. That it might be more. That he would want to stay...that she would want him to stay.

He catches his and Feyre's snagging glances and innocent suggestions, but he dutifully ignores them each time. Nothing he feels on the subject matters, after all, because Nesta doesn't want anything to do with him.

He knows he shouldn't have approached her. Especially not considering he's supposed to make sure she eats something for dinner and she's not going to want to talk to him twice in a day.

But he just--he can't stay away. Not when she's so close and so...lost. Alone. Sitting in the library, unable to disappear into one of those romances she likes so much--unable to enjoy herself! It's too much to ask of him. To just watch her like that and not say anything. Just go about his day, ignoring the fact that...she needs him.

He does his best to ignore the sneering voice in his mind as the thought crosses his mind. She does need him. Or, rather, she needs someone and he can be that person. He can be exactly what she needs.

If she'd just let him.

And he had intended to be kind and patient. He had started that way, hadn't he? Trying to soothe her obvious fears and insecurities.

She hadn't wanted that. He should have known she didn't want that. Of course it's too much for her, too smothering, so she had shut him out. He knows that. He knows why she does that. But...it still hurt. Every time she rejects him, it hurts.

Not about you, he reminds himself. Feyre hadn't said the words outright, but she had made herself clear. Not that Cassian would ever...he wants the best for her, too. Of course he does. He's not going to do anything to jeopardize her recovery.

Starting right now.

It should be easy, he tells himself. He's gone months without seeing her in the past. Not to mention more than five hundred years before she was born. He can do this. Just...she's in the library and she's safe and she'll eat lunch if she wants to and if not, fine. She doesn't have to. She's been getting so little food these days they don't want to throw her back into it, anyway. Soup at dinner will be enough.

But feeling her presence...knowing she's there, a few storeys below him...in the state she's in, no less....

He manages. What other choice does he have? So he fills his time on the top of the House, doing rounds every so often--not looking in the windows of the House trying to find her--until dinner time, where he paces the dining room like an idiot.

Until she comes in.

She hasn't changed clothes since earlier, and she looks, if possible, worse. Logically he knows that she can't have lost weight since this morning, and the less alcohol in her system must be better, but...her cheeks are definitely hollower. Eyes more sickly. Brilliant, daring, cunning, beautiful gray eyes...lifeless.

Don't screw this up, he tells himself sternly. She needs to eat dinner tonight because she needs to take a tonic along with it. If he upsets her, she won't eat.

But he can't--he can't play this game like she can. Not when she's this far gone. So he says something. Doesn't know what, just knows he has to fill the silence.

"Do you like soup?"

Wonderful. Perhaps the stupidest thing he could ask her.

She ignores him as she sits at the head of the table, making his blood boil. Would she just look at him?

But his anger melts as he watches her gear up to eat. All the strength she has left focused on forcing her arm to extend, her fingers clutching her spoon so tightly her knuckles are a white that scares him. She swallows tightly before she puts the spoon in her mouth, that elegant neck of hers tensing and her delicate, too-protruding collarbone rising with it.

She steels herself one final time as she moves the spoon into her mouth and winces as it goes down.

"Not particularly," she says softly.

It takes him a few moments to realize she's answered him.

He clears his throat. "Well--we could get you something else?" Surely none of the food the House has put out for him will settle right with her, but...toast, maybe? Even if it doesn't have the nutrients she so desperately needs...perhaps she'll take a vegetable spread. Or blended fruit.

"It's no matter."

You matter. The words are right on his tongue, and he has to shove a forkful of steak into his mouth to keep him from letting them out. That might be too much for her. He can't scare her off again.

"Strong flavors...don't sit well with me." She stifles a flinch as she takes another spoonful and downs half a glass of ice water.

That's something, at least. Rehydrating herself properly is important.

"We can dilute it." She'd have to have more of it, of course, but perhaps it'd be worth it.

"It's no matter," she says again.

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, and he's certainly not going to let it continue. But...fine. Let her have this soup tonight. But he'll find something she likes to eat and can stomach soon enough.

They are silent for another few minutes. Cassian pretends not to stare at her and she pretends not to notice. He's well into his second helping before she gets close to finishing her bowl.

"Here," he says, when she only has a few spoonfuls left, and hands her the vial the healer had given him.

"What is this?"

He hesitates. "Mock liquor." To mimic the effects of alcohol without actually putting any in her system. To let her sleep easier.

"Oh. Feyre said. She left some for me next to my bed."

"No, that's an anti-toxin." To push her body in the right direction of purging itself without hurting too much. Lowers the risk of seizing.

"Oh."

He wants to punch himself at the blank look on her face. She has to go through this because they let it get this far. He let it get this far.

But at the very least, she is not going through it alone. Not if it kills him.

Nesta swallows the mock liquor quickly and then finishes off her second glass of water. Picking up her napkin and neatly setting it aside, she rises, and says, "I'm going to bed."

"Good night," he says, though they both know she won't have one and he'll be seeing her in a few hours.

How miserable it is to watch her leave. She's going to have a painful night, and she's probably also scared about Briallyn or the Illyrians attacking her, and she feels alone. He just knows she feels alone.

She's sick and it's his fault. He'd promised her and he'd failed her.

But no more. He's making it up to her. He'll do what he can tonight and this week and for all the rest of it...he's going to keep her safe. Going to weed out every single rebel if he has to go door to door in every camp in Illyria. Nesta has faced her last external battle. He's going to make sure of that.

When she opens the door to her bedroom, there are flames flickering in the fireplace. Flickering, burning...crackling, snapping.

She's not sure how long she stands there at the threshold, before she finds her voice, broken and small, and says, "Could you turn that off, please?"

She doesn't know who she's talking to, how the magic of the House works, but something must be listening, because it dies down. Nesta crosses the room to the windows and cracks one open, enough to stick her head out and breathe in the cold air, ridding the scent of death from her nostrils. She stays there until she's shivering.

"Don't light fires again," she says, voice not as weak as before. "Please," she tacks on.

Nesta's never put so much thought into preparing for bed before, but she knows she has to think about it tonight. The tonics and withdrawal will work hand in hand to make sure she'll wake up ill or seizing or any number of miserable things, and then Cassian will rush in and stay with her until some healer she doesn't know does. She can't decide which is worse.

That's not true. Cassian is worse.

So she picks out a more modest nightgown than she normally would. It's autumn, anyway, and with no extra warmth from a fire, and so high up...not so bad. She might've preferred a pant set, but she's certainly not going to wear those tonight. The shin-length dress and heavy socks will have to do.

Now there is the matter of her hair. Once, she had worn it loose or sometimes braided to sleep, but since Hybern's soldiers had ripped her out of her home by her unbound locks...no. She wears it up.

But they'll know. They'll know she put her hair up to go to bed, and they'll wonder why. And she can't stomach them wondering why.

There's a silk hair tie in the boudoir. Let Cassian think, at least, that there's some vain reason for tying her hair in a bun for bed. Let him not bring it up in mocking, or to her sisters. Let the healer be too professional to say anything.

She hates this. She's already subject to more scrutiny than she'd ever, ever wanted. As Feyre's sister, as a freak of nature. And now it'll be even worse.

What have they told people, she wonders, as she swallows the tonic Feyre's left for her (mostly tasteless, if a bit bitter). That she's been sent to the seaside for her health? That she's doing something for the Night Court in some other land? Or worst of all, the truth?

She wishes, not for the first time, that she could just get a grip on herself. Just get over everything as swiftly as Elain has, or even made her own happiness like Feyre. Goodness knows she was never really going to have it there, below the Wall. She was never made for that. And now she's been Made, and no one knows what for.

The thoughts are too miserable to wallow in for long, and luckily, she doesn't have to. One of the tonics sends her to a deep, claiming sleep, soon after climbing into bed.

Or so she thinks, until a few hours later, when she is up and sweating and gasping and doesn't even make it all the way to the bathroom before collapsing on the floor, and a bucket appears in front of her, and all the soup and tea and water from yesterday is being violently, violently, violently, squeezed out of her. Like it's someone else's doing, like she can't even control her own body.

She doesn't hear Cassian come in, just feels him lift her slightly.

"It's all right," he says, calm. He doesn't whisper, which feels almost obscene in the darkness. "You're all right. The healer's on her way, Nesta."

She doesn't answer. She wants to disappear. He's stroking her back...can he feel how thin she is? Of course he can. But can he feel how weak, how pathetic? She's not stopped shaking. She tries to tense to stop it, can he tell?

But then she throws herself forward as she's sick all over again, and it's not even worth it, she just wants to be left alone to die in peace, nothing is worth this, nothing, nothing, nothing.

"Stay with me," he says, one hand on her waist and another rubbing along the length of her arm. "Here she is, Nesta."

"Good night, Lady Nesta," says a soft, female voice. "My name is Daphne. I'm the healer for all the girls at the library. I'm a priestess, too."

She's one of the girls then, she means. Or she was. What had it been to send her to this place? Had she been a healer before?

But again, Nesta says nothing.

"I'm just going to do some quick checking," Daphne says, in her soft voice. "Just to make sure you're all right." She settles her fingertips on different points on Nesta's body, almost too fast to register with all her shaking. Temples, pulse points, abdomen. "All right," she says. "How do you feel?"

After a few seconds, it becomes clear Nesta has to answer. "Fine," she manages, voice barely a rasp.

"Brave girl," Daphne coos, not unkindly. Nesta wants to die all over again. "Do you feel very cold?"

Nesta thinks for a moment, trying to reach out to her whole body. It's an effort not to curl up into a dark spot in her mind and just let it all happen.

"Not very," she says. A little cool, maybe.

"Do you feel very hot?"

"No."

"Good," she says. "It looks as though you're reacting very well to the tonic. I think the symptoms we're seeing now will be the ones we see over the next few days."

Which is a polite way of saying that Nesta's going to keep vomiting and sweating and shaking, but at least it won't be any worse.

"Drink this. It'll help you settle to sleep again."

"Do you think she'll wake up again?" Cassian asks, his arms still around her.

"No, I think she'll sleep till morning. The tonics are good like that. Help to regulate the system and reactions. Do you need help with anything else, Lady Nesta?"

"I can help her," Cassian says, when it becomes clear she isn't going to reply.

"Just make sure she drinks another glass of water before falling asleep."

"I will. Good night. Thank you."

"Of course, General. Good night."

Cassian sits there, stroking her back, for another few minutes, before she summons the strength to shift slightly out of his hold. He doesn't hesitate, moving seamlessly to help her stand. He walks her to the bathroom so she can wash her mouth.

"You have to drink this," he says, handing her a glass of water.

"I know."

He opens his mouth again, but she cuts him off.

"I don't want to hear it."

She can hear his frown in his voice. "You don't know what I was going to say."

Raising her eyes, she catches his gaze in the mirror. "You want to assure me that I'm not pathetic."

He blinks. "I wasn't going to...do you want me to do that?"

Nesta sets down her toothbrush. "I just said I didn't." She can feel the tonic already starting to work as her head clears. She experimentally eases her weight off the counter. Yes, she can stand on her own now. She takes the glass from him and starts to drink slowly.

"I wasn't aware that I needed to assure you of that. Is...do you think that?"

She only sips her water.

His eyes widen. "Do you think I think that?"

Nesta says to no one, "Could I have more water, please?"

Cassian's eyebrows quirk slightly as he watches the House's magic respond, but then he says, taking her chin, "Nesta. Look at me."

Well, when he's given her no choice.

"I have never in my life thought you were pathetic."

How, she wonders as they stand there like that. How could he possibly be telling the truth? For he is strong and sturdy and commanding and she had to hang onto the bathroom counter for support as she washed the sick out of her mouth after beginning a withdrawal process from alcohol.

And yet, somehow, she knows he isn't lying.

"You can get back to bed yourself, then," he says, dropping his hand. "You know where I am if you need me. Good night."

He doesn't wait for her to reply, just turns and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

His warmth lingers in the room far after he's gone, as does his touch on her face. She loses count of how many times she traces over it before she falls asleep again.

[nestasgalpal]

Consequences

Fixing ACOSF Part 3

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Nesta tells Feyre what the baby’ll do to her when she gives birth and regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.  This chapter is a long one and it’s all about being sisters.They would die and kill for each other, we know that, that was never doubted, but where is the scene where they talk like real sisters? Here.

Tagging:  @gwynriel @rhaenystargaryn @clolikescloquetas @amelievrstr  @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector @lordlorcan @esrahiba @queenestarcheron @ko0mbayamylord  @jemstan300 @nessiantrashh​ @mothergwyn @poisonus-bloom @loveadora @frosted-crackers  @mireillemystique @pataytayo @968sunflower968 @caram267

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!!

The next part will be Cassian’s pov from this chapter, which was in the book. I’ve said this already, but my intention is that you can simply pick this rewrite and exchange it with the one in the book and still have all the events before and after match, so I think rewriting his pov is necessary for consistency. That’s also why Nesta is still feeling lost by the end of this: that’s how she felt until they went to the lake.

Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. “This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you …” She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, “You stay here.”

Nesta let out a low laugh. “You are her High Lady. You don’t need to cater to her. Not when she now has less power than any of you.”

Feyre’s eyes blazed. “Amren is my friend, and has been a member of this court for centuries. I offer her respect.”

“Is it respect that she offers you?” Nesta spat. “Is it respect that your mate offers you?”

Feyre went still.

Amren warned, “Don’t you say one more fucking word , Nesta Archeron.”

Feyre asked, “What do you mean?”

And Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected High Lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?”

Amren barked, “Shut your mouth!”

But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, “What do you mean?”

“The wings,” Nesta seethed. “The boy’s Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labor, and it will kill you both.”

Silence rippled through the room, the world.

Feyre breathed, “Madja just said the labor would be risky. But the Bone Carver … The son he showed me didn’t have wings.” Her voice broke. “Did he only show me what I wanted to see?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta said. “But I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you of the truth.” She turned to Amren. “Did you all vote on that, too? Did you talk about her, judge her, and deem her unworthy of the truth? What was your vote, Amren? To let Feyre die in ignorance? Or maybe he simply gave the order and you all obeyed your High Lord’s command, dismissing the new High Lady” Before Amren could reply, Nesta turned back to her sister. “Didn’t you question why your precious, perfect Rhysand has been a moody bastard for weeks? Because he knows you will die. He knows, and yet he still didn’t tell you.”

Feyre began shaking. “If I die …” Her gaze drifted to one of her tattooed arms. She lifted her head, eyes bright with tears as she asked Amren, “You … all of you knew this?”

Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta’s direction, but said, “We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.”

“Rhys knew?” Tears spilled down Feyre’s cheeks, smearing the paint splattered there. “About the threat to our lives?” She peered down at herself, at the tattooed hand cradling her abdomen.

And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her. It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s paint-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She … Oh, gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. “Don’t talk to my sister like that” Feyre snarled, the sorrow so obvious in her voice that the only thing Nesta could do was turn on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Nesta run down to the street, but she didn’t even know where to go. Feyre’s steps resonated behind her. Nesta could hear her voice calling her, too, but she muted the sound in her head.

She wanted to disappear, to stop existing, that’s what she wanted to do.

Then she heard the pair of wings in the air, aiming towards her in such speed that frightened her a little. Cassian was above her, barely five feet from where she was, but Feyre gripped her arm before he could land, and they vanished.

Nesta had never been to Feyre’s studio, but recognized the space immediatly. She had never been invited, and she had never wanted to go. Nesta didn’t like being in places where she wasn’t welcomed. There were chairs and half painted canvases forming a circle around the center of the room, so Nesta deduced her sister had been in the middle of a class. There was a couch against the back wall, and that’s where Feyre collapsed and started crying her heart out. Nesta aimed for the floor, not daring to sit in the beautiful piece of furniture.

Nesta didn’t ask why she had brought them there, why she had run after her, reaching for her arm before Cassian could.

Feyre didn’t explain either

Her head rested in her sister’s lap, and she joined her in her crying. Feyre’s was loud, unhinged, while Nesta’s was silent. What had she done? How had she allowed herself to go so far?

Nesta wanted to speak, to tell Feyre that she was sorry, but no apology could make up for the words that had already been said. No apology would prevent her from dying when the time came.

Nesta’s heart shattered. Listening to her sister was too much. She had endured her own weeping, the tears that had adorned her cheeks so many nights until she fell asleep, but to hear Feyre… to know she was the one responsible… Nesta hated herself.

For how long they were like that, she didn’t know. At some point, they both run out of tears, their hands together, their fingers interlaced. Nesta caressed Feyre’s palm until her sobbing was completely gone, pressing soft kisses to the inked back of her hand. She couldn’t recall a time when they had ever been like this, this calm, this close to one another. Alone and without fighting.

It was Feyre the who broke the silence.

“I can’t believe he hid something like this from me,” she muttered, her voice so weak Nesta almost couldn’t understand what she was saying.

She raised her head from her sister’s lap to meet her gaze. Her own eyes stared back, mirroring her pain. “I’m sorry”

“For what?” Feyre’s question was not innocent. She was mad at her too.

Nesta didn’t care for Rhysand and his wrath in that moment. She only cared about her sister and the damage she had done to her. She wanted Feyre to know how much she regretted it, bout still didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words. “For telling you.”

“I forgive you” Feyre tried to smile, but her mouth only twitched, a sobbing coming out again. “I’m glad you told me. I needed to know.”

“You shouldn’t. I certainly won’t forgive myself” She was desperate to tint her words with the mess of feelings tangling in her heart, but she didn’t know how. She hadn’t really done this before. She had regretted things, but she had never asked for forgiveness. Not once.

She was glad Feyre was the first one.

“I still forgive you” Her sister’s words were kind. Too kind. It was Nesta’s turn to become a crying mess, tears running down her face again. Feyre rose from the couch, not letting their hands part, holding tight to her sister. She found a place to sit next to Nesta, and hugged her.

“Then I’m sorry for everything else” Nesta murmured.

“It’s okay. I forgive you for that too”

“He will never forgive me”

Feyre took Nesta’s face between her tattooed hands. Her grip was firm, but her body was still trembling. Nesta didn’t want to look at her, but she did it anyway. There was no more hiding “You don’t need his forgiveness. This is not a punishment, Nesta.” Her voice broke, but they both waited for her to find her words back. There was no rush, only understanding “This was not a punishment. I wanted to help you, I really did, but I didn’t know how.”

Nesta shifted, changing her posture to face Feyre better. She still hadn’t let her face go. “I thought you wanted revenge.”

“I never meant to hurt you… to lock you up and take away your choices”. Nesta recognized the words she had once said to Morrigan; the only time she had verbalized to anyone how her sister's actions felt. The blond one had talked to Feyre about their encounter, apparently. Nesta pushed the inked hands that framed her face away and took Feyre’s body in her arms abruptly. She didn’t resist, only moved her arms to go around Nesta’s waist “I only wanted my sister back” she whined.

She understood. Nesta understood. She wanted her family back, too. But a war had happened, and she still doubted she would ever be adjusted enough to be herself again. She didn’t say it, but she knew, somehow, that Feyre understood that too.

Like war drums, the sound of two pairs of wings coming closer made both of them shift in each other’s arms. Through the walls of the studio, only her fae senses made it possible for her to hear the sound they made. Her arms remained wrapping Feyre’s body, her sister still like a statue.

Rhysand and Cassian.

They landed outside, their presences obvious to both sisters.

“I know it will take time for them to listen to me as they listen to him, but I also know they are trying. They are my friends, Nesta, don’t be mad at them” Feyre moved, loosening her grip on Nesta, so she did the same to leave her more space. Feyre rose to her feet. “They’ve been together for over 500 years.” She reached her hand and Nesta took it, getting up as well. The sisters faced each other “What I need, Nesta, if for you and Elain to be there for me too when I can’t resort to them. I know I’ve claimed them as my family… they are my family now, but so are you. I need you. I need my older sister” Feyre’s eyes were glassy, but her gaze burned with fire. Determination.

Nesta forced herself to hold her stare. She wished she could be there. She wanted to, but she didn’t have the strength. She was too lost.

“I will never fit in that perfect family you seek. Doesn’t matter how bad you want it, Feyre, it just can’t be. I’ll never be one of you.”

“You could...”

“But I don’t think I want to” Feyre didn’t say a word, she just listened to her “I don’t know if they can be a family for me”. Nesta wished she could, but it wasn’t just on her end. They didn’t want her either. Morrigan would have sent her to the Mortal Lands. They would get rid of her, if it wasn’t for Feyre shielding her.

You are a waste of life, Amren had told her once.

Nesta was not doing all of this on purpose. She wanted to have her life back more than anyone, but she didn’t know the way. “You can’t control people’s lives, Feyre. Even if you are doing it from a place of love. I wish I could tell you that there is a way, that I’m going to be there for you, but I don’t know if I can promise you that.”

Feyre finally sat back on the couch. She was pregnant, she must be exhausted. Her blue-ish eyes were caught up on the window, the view of the Sidra. Nesta didn’t sit by her side.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when we were younger. If I could go back now, I know what I would change. But I don’t know how to change the past, and I don’t know how to fix the future.”

Nesta didn’t know what else to say. She was sorry. Feyre was sorry too. Yet all their problems remained. Nesta wanted to die, to stop existing, and Feyre wanted her happy and by her side. She knew Feyre would give in, she would always give in if Nesta just asked her to, but she didn’t even know what to ask for. There was no solution for her, no future.

Nesta didn’t have tears left to fill her eyes. She didn’t know how to fix herself, her terrible impulse to hurt others, her high walls. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to find out anymore.

When she stayed close to the people she loved, they were hurt. But when she put distance between them, they still suffered.

She was the problem.

“I will live. And so will my baby. And so will you” Feyre’s words were the sentence of a High Lady, they were not up for discussion. Her sister had grown too much and too fast. She was far from perfect, but she was giving her all to become the ruler her Court needed. One day, she would be. “Run away, take your time if that’s what you need. Come to my house, we’ll kick Rhysand to a guest room so you can sleep in my bed when you have a nightmare. I don’t care. I won’t give up on you.”

It didn’t matter, Nesta had given up on herself.

“You don’t have to fit in the Inner Circle, you know?” She added, her eyes still fixed on the river beyond the glass windows. “You don’t have to be part of the Court. You can just be my sister. You can come see your nephew when he is born, help me teach him how to read, dance…” Not even Nesta’s inner demons could stop the smile that formed on her lips at the image her sister described. She would like to have a nephew.

Feyre saw her face, the trembling lips, swollen, the smile in them. She was smiling too, thought it was a sad grin.

“I haven’t forgotten what you said to me when I came back from Tamlin’s state. Any of it.” Nesta hadn’t forgotten either, the memory of herself encouraging her little sister to go back to the Wall to save her beloved. She had been a fool. That was just another point in the large list of times when she had failed her “You wanted to leave father’s state to him and Elain, and you wanted to see the world. Not what I expected, from someone who had spent her entire life revolving around marriage as the basis for a future.”

Nesta shifted on her feet, eager to understand what her sister’s point was.

“You don’t need to be a lady or a queen without a throne of anything at all. Just take your time, find out who you want to be when every possibility is within your reach. We’ll be waiting for you, whenever you are ready to come back. You’ll always fit in my family, Nesta. And it would be an honor for me to fit in yours.”

There was a knock on the door. An impatient hand moving on the wood to drive their attention.

The door didn’t open for them.

They had been waiting out there for a while, and without seeing him, Nesta could tell Cassian was nervous like a caged animal. Rhysand hadn’t moved, he remained perfectly still, waiting for his mate to go meet him whenever she wanted to.

“I asked Cassian to come” She didn’t mention her husband, why he was there “I’ll take us to the river house if you want to be there from now on. He can take you to the House of Wind, too, if that’s where you want to go.” Nesta dipped into the slightest nod, ready to go out and find Cassian mad at her, but still willing to take her back to her room and wait until he made sure she was okay. She wanted to be alone, but she liked how being alone together felt. Just as her sister, Cassian couldn’t let go of her. She hated it, and she had a feeling that he hated it too. He was out there, with Rhysand… “But there is a third option…”

Nesta waited for her sister to go on. Where else could she go? There wasn’t a place for her. There had never been.

“It was actually Cassian’s idea. He thought you might use a little time outside. You can go together to the Illyrian-”

“I’m not going back to that village” Nesta was not going to the camps. Not all of this again…

Nesta started building up her walls again. Feyre kept her cool. The crying mess she had been a while ago, completely gone, a confident woman replacing her; a High Lady in the making. “I was gonna say Illyrian Mountains. As in actual mountains. You’ll go hiking, I don’t know what he has planned exactly. To talk to him, if you want to.”

Nesta relaxed her back, but kept her posture straight.

“I could give that a try.” she answered. If there was an option where she went out of Velaris, she was taking it.

A smile threatened to form in Feyre’s lips, but she retained it, knowing that Nesta wouldn’t like the expression of victory on her face. Nesta had already seen the corner of her lips move, but pretended she hadn’t. Feyre had a lot to learn about keeping a blank face. She hoped one day she would be in conditions to teach her.

“Your mate is outside” Nesta said, her tone casual, her words heavy like stone.

“He is” Nesta could read her sister like an open book. She was eager to see him again, scared, angry.

She gave her little sister’s hand a tug. “Let’s go see what he has to say.”

Nesta couldn’t yet find a way to help herself, but she was going to face Rhysand, his anger, and she was going to come out on top. She was going to do it for herself, but also for Feyre, who needed her biggest sister having her back.

[likeiwishiknew]

Azriel x Gwyn - Small Fires

Read on AO3

They had agreed to meet at Rhys and Feyre’s house by the river. 

It was easier to have Lucien meet them there than to have him winnow part way to the House of Wind.

Azriel would admit he was in no rush to see the firey male. However, this wasn’t about what he wanted. But rather what Gwyn needed. 

He’d truthfully never seen her angry before. Frustrated, stubborn, fierce, he’d seen that. Her anger at Devlon’s inaction, on the other hand, had been another story entirely. At first, Azriel had thought he'd imagined it. The shimmer to her skin, the spark just under the surface. Until he’d felt the heat rolling off of her and caught sight of fire flaring to life in her hands. Only then had he been certain it wasn’t his imagination.

He knew in that instant that he had needed to get her the hell out of that camp. The Illyrians had hardly been welcoming, but they’d be even less so if they further learned Gwyn's origins. They'd already considered her an outsider. The last thing anyone needed was for the Illyrians to deem her a threat.

Azriel did not fear them, not in the slightest. But he also wasn’t stuck living among them. Emerie was. And if Gwyn had done this for anyone it was Emerie. To see all her efforts de-railed by the blood that ran through her veins, something she had no say in, he refused to let that happen.

When they’d arrived at the house Lucien had been standing silently / sitting silently observing Elain with a thoughtful look on his face. 

Elain appeared to be ignoring him as usual, though, as always, she did not send him away. She never did. Azriel had never noted so before, but now it was plain to see. Although an undercurrent of unease sat between them, neither of them ever fled the other’s presence.

Strangely enough, neither the realization did not bother him.

Instead, it was the fact that as soon Gwyn stepped into the room Lucien’s head turned her direction. The other male’s awareness of Gwyn, that bothered him. 

What’s more, as soon as Lucien’s eyes landed on her he smiled. 

Lucien stood up from where he sat and approached them. Elain did not move from her seat, but Azriel did not miss the brief flicker of her eyes toward Lucien’s back as he moved away from her.

Gwyn stepped forward to meet the male halfway.

She smiled at him fondly, earnestly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And Azriel found himself disliking the other male more than ever.

- - - 

Gwyn was surprised when Azriel had been the one to suggest bringing Lucien to meet her. She had a distinct impression that the two did not get along and that the feeling was entirely mutual. Which was a shame, because she quite liked both their company.

“Is everything alright Little Red?” Lucien asked as soon as he was close, “Rhysand was rather vague in his request that I come and see you.” 

“I’m okay,” she assured him, “But there is something I think you should see.” 

Lucien’s face grew concerned but he remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate. Rather than say anything, Gwyn decided it best to try and show him. 

Exhaling, she focused on her hands, tried to summon the flames and ignite her palms as she had in Devlon’s presence. 

But nothing happened.

Maybe focus was not enough. 

Gwyn thought about what she’d been feeling when the incident had happened. Her anger, her frustration, her desperation to not feel helpless. She attempted to recapture those feelings as she tried harder to call upon the fire. 

Gwyn glanced down at her hands as she began to feel the tiniest kiss of heat. 

No flames lit, but her skin had begun to glow a faint orange and she could sense the heat further building beneath her skin. Thus, she doubled down on the negative feelings she’d felt back at the camp and soon enough the tiniest flames flickered to life at her fingertips.

Looking up, she saw those very flames reflected in Lucien’s eyes. A slight smirk graced his lips. 

“I suppose you truly do have fire in your blood, Little One.” 

She could tell from his smile that he was remembering their previous conversation, and so Gwyn found herself smiling back. Far easier than they’d come, the flames faded. But she could still feel the warmth sitting just under her skin. 

Lucien must’ve sensed it as well because he reached for her, but before he grasped her wrist he looked to her for permission. She gave him a single nod. And so, Lucien took her wrist in one hand and ran a finger along her veins. Likely getting a feel for her power. 

“You’ll need training, to control it properly,” he commented. 

She nodded again. 

She’d had the same thought. Fire was a beautiful but equally destructive element. Gwyn knew well enough that she could not afford to lose control of it. 

Like any skill, she would need to work on it, hone it. That was surely why Azriel had asked for Lucien to be brought to her in the first place, and she was grateful he’d had the foresight to know that she’d want to learn. 

They were the same in that regard, she and Azriel. Both of them were always eager to learn, to acquire more knowledge. 

She’d learned that back when they’d first grown close. It was one of the reasons Gwyn had known she could trust him. 

Those willing to learn, who sought knowledge, were rarely if ever, bad people. 

Gwyn would certainly have her work cut out for her though, with all the revelations this week. 

She had hoped to learn more about her heritage and wound up discovering new abilities she knew next to nothing about. At least, they were new to her.

But the sooner she could get some grasp on them the better. 

Lucien’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Come stay with me, I will train you.”

- - - 

Lucien wanted to take her away. That was the last thing he caught of their conversation. 

His shadows cried out their objection, to which Azriel agreed. He all but glowered at the male standing not so far from him. Not that Lucien noticed or even cared.

Before he could speak up in objection, Nesta beat him to it. 

“Not a chance on hell, Vanserra,” the eldest Archeron sister spat, probably with more venom than was necessary.

He could always count on Nesta to speak her mind. Though at times it was to her detriment. 

“Nesta,” Gwyn chastised, looking back over her shoulder at her friend, “Should it not be my choice?”

From the shock, upon Nesta’s face, it was clear the female had not been anticipating her friend’s response. Azriel had certainly not. 

“You wish to leave the Night Court?” Nesta asked, her surprise evident in her voice. 

“I did not say that, but I should like to have the chance to think about it,” Gwyn replied, turning back Lucien who'd kept his eyes focused on her the entire time.

“May I?” she asked the male.

Lucien nodded, “Of course.” 

No one else in the room spoke up in favor or against the idea. 

Elain was silent but her hand stilled on her flower arrangement she'd been working on the moment Lucien had made the suggestion. Nesta was clearly not excited about the prospect. Feyre, of course, eyed her sister worriedly, no doubt fearing Nesta would say something damaging she couldn’t take back. And naturally, his two brother’s moods were reflective of their mates. Cassian ready to step in should he need to, and Rhysand no doubt communicating silently with Feyre through their bond. 

While Gwyn didn’t see Lucien as anything other than potential family, Azriel wasn’t so sure about the other male. Gwyn may very well belong to the Autumn Court, but that did not necessarily mean they were actually related. 

And while Lucien might be mated to Elain, perhaps the other male might finally be considering abandoning the effort. It had been years now, and not all males were as foolish as himself. Content to wait around years in the hopes that something might change. It was quite possible, Lucien might entertain the idea of walking away.

Hearing Gwyn’s words to Nesta, that she would consider going off with Lucien to stay with his band of misfits left Azriel feeling cold. As though, if she went, Azriel would again find himself losing to the Autumn Prince. But as soon as he had the thought, he chased it away. Gwyn was not some prize to be won or lost. He knew that. 

It took a moment, but Lucien finally seemed to read the tension in the room. 

“If the idea of leaving makes you uneasy I have no issue with coming here to see you,” he offered, then, seeming to give it some further thought, looked to Feyre and Rhys, “Assuming I’m welcome move about the Night Court freely?”

Rhys appeared to consider this, whereas Feyre answered almost immediately. 

“Of course you can,” his High Lady spoke with a smile. 

Once upon a time, Lucien had been her first and only friend in the realm of Fae. Though Feyre never admitted it, he knew the rift in their relationship saddened her. Rhys knew it too. But there was nothing that could be done to fix it. Too much had happened, too much time had passed. One day they might find their way back to each other, but it would be no easy task. 

Personally, he did much like the idea of seeing more of the Autumn Princeling. But if it was for Gwyn’s sake he’d learn to deal with it. 

It was far better than the alternative. 

- - - 

Sometime after dinner, as talk again returned to a discussion over Gywn’s situation, along with that of the remaining mortal queens, Elain had managed to wander off. 

As Gwyn was busy speaking with Nesta and Lucien, Azriel took it upon himself to check on the middle Archeron sister. 

Unsurprisingly, he found her in the garden with her rose bush. The gloves Lucien had gifted her all those years protecting her delicate hands. She’d never thanked the other male for the gift, but Azriel had noted countless times how often she’d used them. 

“How are you feeling about Lucien being here more often?” he asked. 

She said nothing at first, only halting briefly in her pruning. 

“He won’t exactly be here, will he?” Elain responded. Her tone sounding odd. 

No, he supposed she was right. He wouldn’t be visiting the river house, but rather the House of Wind. But who was to say, given free reign, that he would not try and come to see his mate. Then again, as much as he disliked Lucien, the male was never one to appear uninvited. 

“Have you ever thought about how much easier things might have been if you and I were mates?” she questioned softly. 

Azriel blinked once, surprised by the turn-in conversation. But he knew the answer well enough. 

He had.

But the cauldron had not seen it fit to bless him with a mate. 

However, he had once coveted the beauty before him. Their attraction mutual, as far as he could tell. 

“Yes,” he found himself admitting, “I have.”

- - - 

Gwyn wound up in the small library of Rhysand and Feyre’s home. Though to call it small might’ve been a bit of an insult. It simply wasn’t as large as the once housed in the House of Wind. But it was nice, tidy, private. And she needed that bit of privacy right about now.

Gwyn dropped into one of the chairs by the window. 

Azriel had wanted Elain for a mate. 

The very idea broke her heart. A new crack forming among the many scars that already ran across it. 

A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye, but she wiped it away almost as quickly as it came. Which was just as well, because not a moment later she heard a knock. 

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Lucien standing in the doorway. Normally, she’d have no issue detecting him. But clearly, her heightened emotions had her distracted. 

It took a mere second for him to take in her face. His mood immediately shifted as he approached her. His long strides closing the distance between them with ease. Lucien sat down in the seat opposite her and placed a gentle hand on her knee. 

“Little One, what’s wrong?” he voiced, concerned. 

Gwyn pressed her lips together, inhaling deeply she forced herself to push the feelings down and keep the tears at bay. 

“I’m an idiot,” she confessed. 

Lucien straightened at that, “What?”

Her foolishness did not require explaining. It was Elain. It’d always been her. The necklace, everything...

Why had she done this to herself? Why had she gone and allowed her hopes to flourish again?

Gwyn shook her head, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

From the look on his face, Lucien obviously did not want to let it go at that. But he conceded to her all the same. 

“Alright,” he let out reluctantly. 

The male stared at her with thoughtful eyes. 

“My offer to take you away from this place still stands,” Lucien spoke softly, as though fearing someone might hear, “Clearly, something here has upset you. I will take you away from it, should you wish.” 

She appreciated his willingness to help her by any means. In truth, Gwyn hardly knew anything about Lucien. Only second-hand stories she’d heard from Nesta and the others. But she found something about him inherently trustworthy. Her gut insisted that he would not hurt her, and she was inclined to believe it. 

She’d been honest when she’d said she would consider his offer. The idea of leaving the comfort and security of the library, the Night Court, left her feeling a tad apprehensive. But in recent months Gwyn had started to learn to push past that feeling.

Lucien’s idea made sense from a practical standpoint. It would get her out of her comfort zone, and she’d have a teacher readily available. She knew she’d be safe. After all, if Emerie could manage to live among men she loathed. Gwyn could certainly learn to live with Lucien. 

Yet despite knowing that, she still felt uneasy. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready to leave,” she admitted. 

She’d miss everyone, Nesta, Cassian, her fellow priestess’...Azriel. 

Lucien said nothing in response, only sat there quietly, ready to listen. 

“I know it sounds silly. It’s not as though I’m leaving to never return again. It’s just, the idea of being away...it feels strange. For years now, this place, this court has been my life. My home.” 

But then Gwyn was struck with the realization that she hadn’t this way when she’d wound up staying at the Illyrian camp. She hadn’t felt as though she’d left home at all. 

Because Azriel been there with her. 

Her throat ached at the thought. 

He wanted someone else. Had always wanted someone else, despite the fact that the female already had a mate. A mate who happened to be sitting right in front of Gwyn now. She wondered if Lucien knew. Though she supposed, he had to.

He might not have been as old as three males of the Inner Circle, but he’d certainly been around long enough to learn how to read other’s intentions. 

And yet he did nothing. He did not pressure Elain, nor did he seem to hold any resentment toward her for entertaining the company of another male. He also never returned her coldness toward him. Lucien was only ever the patient mate, waiting on the sidelines for the female the Cauldron destined for him to make her decision. 

Gwyn wondered how long he’d be willing to wait. 

She found herself almost envious of the other female. She wondered what that must be like, to be wanted, to be adored. Until she remembered something her mother had always said. That envy was one of the worst sins. It could twist even the purest hearts into wicked things.

She refused to go down that path.

Gwyn had plenty in her life to be thankful for. She would not ask nor demand more. 

She was content. Gwyn had friends who were like family. A possible family that she might one day reunite with. Every day she grew stronger and more skilled in combat, more capable of fighting for herself and those she loved should war descend upon them. 

If she could gain mastery over her fire, she would prove stronger still.

“A home will always be a home, if it is where you are meant to be you’ll always find a way back,” Lucien said, his voice close to a whisper. 

She stared up at him, to find him watching her. 

“I will never force you to do anything you do not want to or are not comfortable with. I only want you to understand that you will always have options and that in your life the only one with the right decide what you do is yourself.” 

The way he spoke, she could tell his words were as much a reminder for him as they were for her. 

“I know first-hand what it feels like to believe you have no other choice. It leads one to make mistakes one can never take back.” 

Gwyn eyed him with concern, “Have you done something you regret Lucien?” 

His eyes saddened, “Far too many things.” 

She wanted to reach out to him, hug him, and tell him that she believed in his goodness. That his mistakes alone surely did not define him. But Gwyn wasn’t sure that was what he wanted, and so she held back. 

Lucien rubbed her head and gave her a small, almost bittersweet, smile as he rose from his seat. 

"Let me know what you decide, Little Red,” he said briefly before departing without another word. 

With him gone, she was once again left alone in the library with her thoughts. And what a great many she had. 

- - - 

They’d returned to the House of Wind rather late that night, after having had dinner at the river house. 

Cassian and Nesta had gone off together almost immediately upon their return. In the months since their mating, their hunger for each other had yet to subside. Though, if they were anything like Rhys and Feyre, it was likely it never would. 

He was happy for his brothers, even if it left him feeling a bit green with envy at every reminder. 

Gwyn had not said much to him on the way back. But he’d overheard her telling Nesta that she intended to work out in the training ring despite the late hour. Something about needing that time to think. 

And so, after he’d gotten his own affairs in order, Azriel headed up to the ring to find her. 

As he neared Azriel could sense his shadows begin to dance. They moved as though in time with a song he himself could not quite hear. 

Reaching the archway, he caught sight of Gwyn. Her movements were rhythmic and fluid, the sword she was wielding a perfect extension of her arm. 

She must’ve sensed him because she stopped what she was doing and turned his way. 

Their eyes met, but her expression did not change. It remained perfectly neutral. A practiced look that he all too easily recognized, because it was one he enacted almost every day of his life. The sight of it on her face fed his growing concern.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked. 

It took her a moment, but she nodded, “I have a lot to think about.” 

In that regard, he agreed with her. The last few days had no doubt proven life-changing for her. She’d awoken abilities she’d never even known she had. But something in her tone, in her voice, in her steady effort to keep her neutral expression in place gave her away to him. 

“You’re honestly considering leaving with him.” 

Neither of them needed to clarify who it was Azriel spoke of. They both knew. 

Yet for some reason, Gwyn appeared surprised at his directness. Her beautiful eyes widening a fraction in response. But she did not speak up in denial. They stared at each other a moment longer before she managed an answer.

“Perhaps,” she admitted. 

Azriel found himself stepping into the ring, closing the distance between them. 

“Why?” he found his voice rising, “Lucien has already offered to teach you here.”

And he’d come to terms with that, but the idea of Gwyn leaving? He had not prepared himself for that. 

She inhaled, before answering, “I know.”

Then why were they having this discussion?

“But it might do me some good to see what lies beyond the borders of the Night Court.” 

Azriel did not want to trap her here. He would never dream of it. He had always been supportive of her broadening her horizons, seeing the world. She deserved a chance to learn, to live. 

Yet something had him fearing her leaving in this current state. As though, if she left now she might not come back. He could not explain why he thought this, but he felt the certainty of it in his very bones. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave,” he attempted to say, only to realize that wasn’t what they'd agreed on.

“When did I say that?” she naturally responded. 

He corrected his wording, “You said you wouldn’t run from me.”

- - - 

His words struck her, leaving her unsure as to what to say. 

She wasn’t running from him. Was she? 

“I’m not running from you, Azriel,” Gwyn found herself insisting, “This isn’t about you. It’s about me, how I feel.”

She wasn’t lying about that, not exactly. Gwyn had tried to put her growing feelings for Azriel aside to protect their friendship, but the more time they spent together the harder that was proving to be. 

Gwyn had believed she’d been successful right up until their time in the Illyrian camp. When she’d come face to face with the prospect of Azriel with another. The sight had left her with an ache in her chest, and though he’d run after her to assure her there was nothing going on between him and the female it did not mean that he wouldn’t have a relationship with someone else in the future. 

That someone might be Elain or it might not. All that mattered was she could not behave the way she had at camp. Little by little she had to learn to let these feelings go. Because locking them away clearly wasn’t working. 

Distance might help save what was between them. 

“You’re lying,” Azriel insisted, “I’m not sure why but there’s something you aren’t being honest about. I can feel it.”

His observation left her feeling angry. 

“Stop that,” she shouted, “Stop trying to see into my head, my heart. You have no right.”

For the briefest of moments, Gwyn found herself blaming him for her inability to let go. He was the one sending her mixed signals, acting as though he might want something more with her only to turn around and admit to wanting another female as his mate.

Her feelings were to mostly blame, but he was not faultless. How could she let him go when he seemed to not want her to? 

“Gwyn,” he said almost pleadingly. 

But she could not do this. Not now when her emotions were running high, clouding her judgment. 

“I need to go. Try to get some rest. I’m sure I have a lot to catch up on with Merrill in the morning.”

His face shuttered.

“I see.”

He said nothing else.

And so she moved past him, leaving him standing there in the ring alone. 

- - - 

It had been days and still nothing. 

After her discussion with Lucien in the library, Rhysand had found her there. 

When she’d started to apologize for wandering off, he’d brushed it off and reassured her he did not mind her presence in the library. 

Instead, he’d asked her a favor. The High Lord had explained to her his suspicions about the book she and Azriel had encountered in the library. Both he and his second in command, Amren, believe that the book was related to one of two things. True witches or the true immortals. Both of which would prove dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. 

When she’d questioned the High Lord about owning the book he admitted that he’d never come across such a thing, had not even known it existed amongst the vast collection of books he’d inherited. 

Rhysand had tasked her with finding the book, by any means necessary. Gwyn had been trying for the last week or so and still she had nothing to show for it. She’d tried asking the House. She’d checked the library archives for any mention of such an ancient tome, and she’d all but searched every single shelf on the floor she and Azriel had been on when it appeared. 

Wherever the book was, she felt rather certain it was content to remain hidden there. 

The hours she’d spent had not been a complete waste though. It gave her a distraction. 

Busy as she was, she almost forgot about the argument she’d had with Azriel. If it could be called an argument. 

But he needed to understand that if she chose to leave it would be because it was what was best for her, not because she was running away from anything. She knew better than anyone that there were two things in life you could never outrun, the past and your own feelings. 

So for now, she would remain in the Night Court. Not for Azriel, but for herself. Because she felt there was something she was meant to do here, and she had a strong inclination it had something to do with the book she'd been tasked with finding.

And she would find it, one way or another.

- - - 

He sat with Nesta and Elain in the living room of Rhys and Feyre’s home. 

Elain held Nyx within her arms, the little rascal giggling wildly as she played peekaboo with him. 

Azriel himself wasn’t particularly familiar with the game, but both Nesta and Feyre had assured him and the others that it was a common practice in the mortal realm. Along with pretending to steal a child’s nose, which, personally, made no sense to him. 

Then again, many mortal traditions did not. 

Cassian was speaking with Rhys and Feyre. Nesta had intended to join them, but Azriel had asked to speak to her first. It was something that had seemed to surprise all of them. 

In fact, Cassian had made some joke about it. Not that he’d paid much attention to it. 

No, he’d kept quiet until he and Nesta were alone. Well, aside from Elain and Nyx. 

The four of them sat under the warm afternoon sun in the garden that Elain tended to.

“Gwyn wouldn’t be avoiding you over nothing,” Nesta remarked. 

He knew that of course. But days had passed since he’d last seen her and he was no closer to figuring out what it was that had caused the sudden shift in her attitude toward him. She still hadn’t chosen to take Lucien up on his offer to spirit her away from the Night Court. 

According to Nesta, the other male had agreed to come once a week to meet with Gwyn. And so he was due for a visit soon. Azriel needed to fix the rift between him and Gwyn before then.

“Do you think she could’ve overheard our conversation in the garden that day?” Elain spoke up, as she lifted Nyx off the ground to spin him around. 

Nesta eyed Azriel, “What conversation?”

He gave it some thought and realized Elain might be right. 

Usually, his shadows alerted him when anyone approached, but that often wasn’t true when it came to Gwyn. And the timeline made perfect sense. They’d been fine when they’d left the Illyrian camp and when they’d first arrived at the river house. It hadn’t been until after dinner when they were getting ready to return to the House of Wind that Azriel had noted the strangeness in her mood.  

If that was the case he could easily understand how his words might’ve been misconstrued. 

Azriel had admitted to once wishing that Elain was his mate. It stood to reason Gwyn might think he still felt that way.  

But, if so, why hadn’t she said anything to him about it? 

He considered this a mere second before the answer grew obvious. 

What reason had he given her too?

Closing his eyes, Azriel took a deep breath.

He knew now what he needed to do. 

~ ~ ~

Notes: Sorry this one is coming to you a little late. I’ve been a bit of a mini rut this week between writing this fanfic and working on my own original story. I also haven’t been reading much these past few weeks, my free mostly spent watching baking shows, so I’ve been a bit short on inspiration. And I do not like putting anything out that I do not enjoy reading myself. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy the end product of my toil. 

As always, any feedback is appreciated =) 

~ ~ ~

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[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 6

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Six: Moonlight Meetings

The contracts were beginning to make sense. Turns out, there weren’t nearly as many for Elain to sort through as she first expected. It seemed that the Band of Exiles had had a pretty stagnant first year whilst staying in the mortal lands, with their biggest success lying in the Declaration of Peace Between Fae and Mortal Realms achieved on the anniversary of the Hybern War.

Elain had gone through each contract and made a note of it in her own diary: the contract between the Spring Court and the human lands to organise trade routes in the future, the agreement of a ceasefire on trespassing fae in favour of imprisonment, etc. There had even been copies of contracts between other humans that had most likely occurred at these weekly meetings: such as the Nolan’s agreeing to 100 shipments of Ashwood Weaponry per month to the Darlingtons, and the reinforcement of internal borders.

Elain had sat with Nuala and a few pots of tea in the library, and by the time she stretched her legs to take a turn around the room, the sun was plummeting towards the horizon. She liked it. She liked the feeling of her hand aching from her meticulous note-taking, she liked that the pages of her new notebook (a gift from Rhysand) had slowly began to fill up, she liked that she now had detailed questions to ask Jurian, Vassa and maybe even Lucien.

If anything, she liked that tonight she would sleep, her eyes tired from reading by the candlelight and her brain fizzing with the numbers of stock, armies and debt.

The library was at the back of the house, with delicate yet large glass windows that looked out onto the Manor’s Garden. So far, Elain had avoided the grounds, mostly because one look of the greenery told her that there was nothing for her to do. Whoever tended to these gardens had a similar mind to hers, it was wild and restless. A garden belonging to a true cottage, her father would say.

“Lord Lucien is home,” Nuala’s velvet voice swam into the air as she spoke without looking up from her book. The shadow wraith’s always had been Elain’s closest friends, and she liked the side she got to see of them, the one she was sure no other had yet had the privilege.

“Oh…good,” Elain said non-committedly, forcing her eyes back to her notes which she’d already preened to perfection. Sighing, Elain looked over her and Nuala’s make-shift joint desk, and without thinking, she reached for a local map.

It was strange, to look over a map of lands which felt both so familiar and so foreign. With her finger, Elain could trace the path from her first childhood home, the Manor down by the lake, up and up to their runt of a cottage so close to the border, and then a little east to their other home. Elain’s hand recoiled from the paper. That home was cursed. That was the home from which she had been stolen from.

“Do you miss it, being human?” Nuala asked. Elain peered at her. She’d always found the term ‘lesser fae’ to be entirely unbefitting. Nuala was perhaps the most gorgeous person she’d ever seen; her skin was a deep grey and her hair a shifting black in which shadows seemed to fall in whisps as it moved. Her eyes were uncannily wide, and her irises were of purest black and filled her entire lids.

“I don’t think so,” Elain answered softly, her finger running back to that first home. The home in which her parents were alive and well. “But I avoided coming here for a long while because of that reason.”

“You wanted to go back?” Elain nodded, a small shift of her head.

“Becoming fae didn’t make sense to me for a long time. I didn’t understand how to be fae, despite the body. When I looked around all I could see were my sister’s, who fit in so well at the Night Court and I just…didn’t.” Elain looked at her friend. “I feel terrible about it. About how I tried to come back to Graysen. It was the first time in my life I’d made a stand and it was for something so, hollow.”

“You’re not a terrible person for feeling as though you don’t belong, and wishing that you did.” Nuala tilted her head, her pin straight hair falling with a trained precision across her bare shoulder.

“No, but I feel terrible because…I still feel that way, to some extent.” Elain sighed, tucking up her legs on the chair and leaning her head back.

“I got into a fight with Jurian today – I slapped him -” Elain peeked a look at Nuala and was pleased to see her mouth slightly ajar and her eyes bright with amusement. “I know. But what he said was true, and I can’t stop thinking about it. He saw me during the war and saw how I was so desperate to be human again, and he thinks I’m here for that reason-” Nuala opened her mouth to protest, “I know, it’s stupid, but…what if I am here for that reason, and I just don’t realise it yet? Because Nuala, if I am, I can’t – I can’t forgive myself for that, I can’t do that to-”

Elain cut herself off by biting her tongue. She’d only spent a day and a night in Lockhart Manor, but Elain was sure she could feel the bond. Often she didn’t, then every couple of months, something would happen, she would feel some emotion that wasn’t hers or have dreams of places she’d never been to, and she’d just know that it was him. But being here, actually being around him, she felt herself turning towards him the way flowers turn to the sun.

“I don’t think it’s strange, if you feel you do not belong in the Night Court, to want to belong somewhere else,” Nuala spoke carefully, slowly, as though every word carried weight, “But just because you feel you do not belong in the Night Court, does not mean your only other option is the human lands.”

“What? I might belong somewhere else in Prythian?” Nuala stretched and leaned back in her own chair.

“Prythian is a large place, and you have an eternity ahead of you. You do not need to rush in finding somewhere you can settle, travel around for a bit, see the world. There is not the same pressure for you to be a wife as you had when you were human, maybe you could try just being Elain for a while?” Nuala yawned after she spoke, a sign that she was well and truly relaxed. Elain just hummed, her mind whirring as she looked back at the map, her finger drifting back to that last home, the one she had been ripped from.

Just then Elain noticed how the sun and well and truly dipped behind the horizon, casting the world in shadow. The night sky looked unbearably dull compared to the thriving chaos of the Night Court’s evenings, but there was something familiar in the mundanity, something that allowed Elain to be the magical thing in the world, not the other way around.

“Vassa and Jurian are preparing to leave,” Nuala said without opening her eyes.

“Ugh, teach me your ways.” Elain joked, and a sly smile pulled at the shadow wraith’s lips.

“No, because then you won’t need me, and I won’t get to come with you to see the world.” Elain paused, and looked at her friend.

“You’d come with me?” It was now Nuala’s turn to peer at her.

“Of course, don’t tell the High Lord but, since being Under the Mountain, I’ve rather missed the world, and I’d very much like to see it.”

“I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like,” Elain shivered. She’d never bene able to truly comprehend what had occurred in those 50 years. The idea of her friend being subject to such atrocities for a time longer than she had been alive, it was unfathomable.

“I remember your mate being there,” Nuala said, tentatively. Every muscle in Elain’s body went rigid. She’d assumed, somewhere along the line, that Lucien must’ve been there with Tamlin when they’d been taken, but Feyre had never confirmed, she’d been surprisingly elusive of the specifics of what had occurred. She couldn’t think about it. Because the instant she considered the torture Lucien must’ve faced, she began to feel herself lose control.

“Speaking of your mate,” Nuala murmured, and Elain didn’t miss the slightly pleased look in her friend’s eye at having gotten a reaction out of her.

Just then a knock came from the door casing Elain to turn in her chair sharply, by the time she turned back, Nuala had already disappeared into the shadows.

“No, but thanks for the offer,” Lucien ground out through his teeth. Waiting on the cartographer had taken all day and it turns out the maps he wanted hadn’t even been done correctly. It had been so much of a waste, that some part of Lucien was grateful he’d managed to send Elain home, he didn’t want her thinking that the extent of his life consisted of pathetically waiting on map-makers who can’t even make the right, damned map.

“No, but thanks for the offer,” Lucien ground out through his teeth. Waiting on the cartographer had taken all day and it turns out the maps he wanted hadn’t even been done correctly. It had been so much of a waste, that some part of Lucien was grateful he’d managed to send Elain home, he didn’t want her thinking that the extent of his life consisted of pathetically waiting on map-makers who can’t even make the right, damned map.

“No, but thanks for the offer,” Lucien ground out through his teeth. Waiting on the cartographer had taken all day and it turns out the maps he wanted hadn’t even been done correctly. It had been so much of a waste, that some part of Lucien was grateful he’d managed to send Elain home, he didn’t want her thinking that the extent of his life consisted of pathetically waiting on map-makers who can’t even make the right, damned map.

“Oh come on Luci, it’ll be fun,” Vassa goaded, looking a bit more like herself than she’d been the past few days. Her hair was iridescent, and her gown was of deepest emerald, with golden gemstones that matched the simple, modest tiara upon her head. Lucien snorted.

“Oh yeah…fun. Well you can have fun for me, but I’m not going.”

“You might as well go for the free whiskey. That’s the only reason I’m interested.” Jurian grinned, throwing a far too casual arm over the queen’s shoulders, who huffed a laugh and shook him off.

“No touching Jurian. This dress is worth more than your head.”

“Ooh – not sure about that love.” Jurian grinned back, and Lucien observed the way the two mental mortals bounced off each other.

“Ugh, I don’t know who I feel worse for, you or the Nolan’s.”

“Oh it’s not just the Nolan’s going,” Jurian grinned, “I have it on good authority that Delilah will be there too.”

“Oh, Delilah,” Vassa hummed, twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes.

“Shut up the both of you,” Lucien rolled his eyes.

“Well if it doesn’t work out with the mate, just know you have a small army of humans who wouldn’t mind a piece of you,” Jurian chortled.

“Men and women,” Vassa smiled at Jurian, “I heard that Lord Smith wouldn’t mind warming himself by the fireling.”

“Yeah, yeah, I trust you got her home safe then,” Lucien pointed at Jurian, hoping his easy smile covered the anxiety that had been growing over the day as he became convinced that something terrible had happened to Elain now that she’d been removed from sight.

“Oh, the Archeron is home safe alright,” Jurian said in a tone Lucien couldn’t quite read.

“Good…well then, you two bests be off,” Lucien turned back to the house. “Don’t stay out too late kids.”

“Alright dad,” Vassa scoffed.

“Oh and Luci,” Jurian was halfway down the garden path, “Don’t make us regret leaving you home alone with your mate!” He winked at him that time and then he and Vassa were two colourful blurs in the summer evening, their laughter making music with the chirping of cicadas.

Something cold ran the length of Lucien’s spine. He would be home, alone, with Elain, for an entire night.

Fuck.

***

“Come in?”

Elain already knew it was Lucien before his head of fiery hair, now unbound, peered at her from around the door.

“Good evening, Lady, um…may I come in?”

Elain looked at him over the papers she’d randomly grabbed and was now pretending to read. Nuala certainly could have given her a little more warning.

Lucien looked so shy, half standing behind the door, and Elain found all her anger at him having sent her home evaporating. He was just as confused as she was about this whole bond thing, it was something they’d have to figure out together.

Elain gave a small nod and Lucien seemed to let loose a long breath before he walked into the room, turning around to shut the door and then turning to face her. Lucien glowed in daylight, out there in the woods it looked at though the sun were always reaching for him, as though it, like so many others, adored him. But there was something so alluring about Lucien by candlelight. The shadows and the orange light that moved over him, he seemed darker somehow, more dangerous. More intoxicating.

Lucien cleared his throat, standing with his hands held behind his back, and Elain adverted her eyes.

“I’ve come to apologise, Lady.”

“Apologise?” Elain repeated numbly. She hadn’t been expecting this, to her knowledge, men didn’t apologise.

“For how I spoke to you, earlier today…” Lucien seemed to shift slightly, “It was entirely unreasonably for me to send you home when you wished the know the way. I got spooked with the trap and, and-”

“It’s fine. Thank you,” Elain smiled at him, setting the papers down and leaning forward in her chair. Lucien looked bemused.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I, uh…it’s not your fault I got upset, not really. I’m just quite on edge recently,” Elain began to fiddle with the threads of her dress.

“Is something wrong?” Pure concern laced Lucien’s voice as he strode a little further into the room.

“No, just…I think it’s just being around you…” Elain trailed off and Lucien’s eyes widened. Never before had she brought up the mating bond. Not with him.

“Oh, yes, it’s...uh, quite annoying isn’t it.” He grinned easily, and Elain felt something inside her relax.

“Not annoying just…things get to me easier.”

“Yes,” Lucien nodded, “When we’re close to each other the mating bond will be more…demanding. You’ll probably be more aware of it, as I am.”

“You…you feel like this, all the time?” Elain blinked at him, and Lucien shifted awkwardly, he did not want her to pity him.

“You get used to it after a while,” He grinned at her again. Elain quickly became lost in thought and Lucien could practically see her mind working, her eyes becoming distant. He took this moment to look her over, just checking for injuries, of course.

She’d changed her dress; the other one no doubt having being stained with grass and mud. It was a pale yellow, one that he found suited her hair greatly. Layers of skirts and a corset bodice, and with her hair pinned up and away from her face she looked every bit of the goddess he thought her of being.

It was then that his eye caught on the dainty necklace around her throat, a single pearl hanging at its end and…

Mother, that was a low neckline.

A low neckline for Elain of course. But still. The dress allowed him to see the beginning curve of her breasts where that single pearl lay, nestled-

Lucien snapped his eyes away and dug his hands into his pockets, digging his nails into his thighs.

He was sure that by now, Elain could read scents, and he really, really, didn’t want to make this more awkward than it was. Mother, he’d just been talking about how he’d become accustomed to controlling himself. But perhaps the beast within hadn’t been tamed, maybe it was just resting.

As though they’d been called by his arousal, the base mate desires sang through his blood. Touch, smell, taste…The last one was strangely powerful today, but maybe it was because the more time he became familiar with her scent, the more he could imagine what she tasted of. Sweet but in the way fruits are sweet, like his own personal nectar-

“Are you alright?” Elain’s soft voice sung into the air and Lucien realised that he was digging so hard into his thigh that tears had sprung up into his eyes.

“Yes, sorry,” He sniffed before huffing a laugh, “I’m just tired is all.”

“Of…” Elain prompted softly, and for a moment their eyes met and something enigmatic passed between them. “I um,” Elain sprang from her chair and began to gesture, unable to meet his eye. “I was about to go to the kitchen and steal a pot of tea and sit if the garden if you wished to, if you wished to-”

“Yes,” Lucien blinked, and Elain nodded furiously before meeting his eye and giving him a shy smile.

“Lead the way,” Elain said softly, and Lucien felt his heart skip a beat, and from the way Elain’s smile grew, he knew she’d heard it too.

***

Since it was well into the night, Elain and Lucien had to make the tea themselves, Lucien trying not to puff his chest too much when Elain gasped at how he heated the kettle with his fingers.

“It’s about as useful as it gets I’m afraid,” he grinned at her as steam started to pour from the spout.

“Well, being a seer seems far more pointless.” God she looked good in the moonlight.

“I wouldn’t say that…” It seemed that that part of Lucien would always protest at Elain being insulted, even if it were her dishing out the affront. “You knew to find Vassa, your visions before the war were invaluable, we most likely would’ve lost without them.”

Elain poured the tea, her brows furrowed in thought. If they were truly mated, if the union had been accepted, Lucien realised that this was a moment where he’d be able to reach for that bond and feel what she was feeling. He could understand, in a millisecond, what was going on behind those honeyed eyes.

Elain moved to the kitchen’s backdoor, which looked out onto the path leading down to the road which led to town, arching through the gardens. To his surprise she settled in the doorway, tucking her skirts so that they spilled out onto the gravel path.

“What is it?” Lucien prodded, as he settled down next to her, making sure that he was leaning against the left doorframe and that no part of his body was touching hers.

“Compared to the likes of Feyre and Nesta,” Elain began in a dreamy voice, “My powers are pointless; you can’t deny it.”

Lucien didn’t know what to say to that. It was all kinds of wrong. As he thought about how to exactly tell Elain she was quite insane for thinking such a way, he looked out on the moonlit gardens. The sky here was duller than the Night Court, but there was something peaceful in these lands, something innocent. A warm breeze caressed his face, and just as he was about to speak, Elain beat him to it.

“I should’ve been there, tonight, Feyre and Nesta would’ve gone.” Lucien’s hand paused as it carried his tea to his lips. Fury jolted through him.

“I don’t know about that,” Lucien proceeded in sipping his tea, trying to cool the flames within.

“If Feyre could handle seeing Tamlin, then I could’ve handled tonight,” Elain said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Lucien considered what she had said, trying to slow his heartbeat as he thought, especially now that he knew she could hear it.

“Are you so desperate to be like your sisters?” Elain cocked her head at the garden.

“Of course…they’re brave and I…I don’t know, how could I not?” Elain appeared as genuinely confused, and something inside Lucien’s chest ached.

“No offence,” he flashed her an easy grin, one that seemed to tell her that everything was going to be okay, “But I don’t think the world would recover from having another Feyre…and especially not another Nesta.”

“You know what I mean…” Elain huffed, bumping into his shoulder slightly as she flashed him a shy smile, one that made him feel like glowing. “They would’ve gone tonight. They would’ve marched into that manor and sat down in the Nolan’s chair and if Gray so much as looked at them wrong they would’ve burned the house to ashes.”

Lucien ignored Elain’s nickname for her ex-fiancé, and took a moment to cool the raging part of him that sought to seek out the boy and erase him from history. Elain was poking fun at her ex-lover, she was wrinkling her nose and shaking her head, it was obvious she wanted nothing to do with him. And yet that nickname stood like an island in the stormy ocean, a reminder that at that moment, some unevolved, bastard, human fae-hunter had a firmer place in her heart than he.

“What the hell is the Nolan’s chair?” Lucien asked after a moment, batting the vitriol from his mind.

“Oh,” Elain’s eyes lit up, “It’s some stupid, big Ashwood throne which they have in this weird trophy room, apparently it’s been passed down through generations of fae-hunters. I couldn’t touch it of course because I hadn’t been initiated into the family and that would be sacrilegious or something.” Lucien tipped his head back and huffed a laugh, and Elain felt something inside her sing to answer. She’d noticed Lucien’s beauty more this past day, but that moment right there, had been the loveliest he’d ever been. His eyes shut, his grin wide. He seemed happy. It was beautiful.

“Oh Gods, let me guess, they have it behind some sort of curtain and they do a grand reveal whenever guests come for tea?” Elain blinked at him with those brown saucers.

“Have you visited?!” Both of them titled back and let out genuine laughs, no one to interrupt them but a warm breeze making the plants rustle.

“You know, it’s funny,” Elain sighed, curling her arms around her knees and looking out on the moon-lit shrubbery, “When you stop loving someone, it’s almost like you see them for the first time.” Lucien shifted awkwardly, trying to ease the itching across his skin. He’d never talked so much about the boy before, and it was making his powers sing.

“And what do you see now?”

“I…I can’t say a bad word against him. I don’t know why. I think even if he were standing in front of me right now I would just politely ask him to leave.”

“I think that says more about your character than his.” How could the Cauldron have thought him worthy of this female? In the face of her abuser, she chose pacifism.

“It’s strange because now I guess I see him how everyone else has always seen him. But when I was human…” Elain’s speech faltered and she flashed her eyes to him, “I’m sorry you probably don’t want to hear about this.” Lucien took a deep breath before setting his cup down.

“Elain I…I want to be your friend, and I want to know everything about you. If that includes your weasel of an ex, so be it.”

“Be nice,” Elain half-told him off with a laugh as she reached out and shoved his shoulder. Lucien saw stars.

“When you were human…” Lucien found his voice after a second, and prompted Elain along. She curled her arm back around her knees and her eyes drifted off to some far off place.

“I…I just wanted to be loved, so badly. I wanted a fairy-tale romance and, I don’t know, someone who would want me, you know that kind of romance you only read about in novels where the guy walks into a room and only sees her.” Elain huffed a laugh and Lucien bit his tongue. “I just assumed that it would never happen, not with us falling into poverty, but then, we weren’t in poverty anymore, and Nesta and I were back looking for husbands. Graysen isn’t…special…I know. But I never wanted special, and for a girl who had grown up believing she’d have nothing, what he gave me seemed like the whole world. Things like sneaking out to meet him without a chaperone, or, or, sneaking away from family dinner’s to hide in the gardens. It…it felt like falling in love…”

“When you having nothing,” Lucien began tentatively, “And someone shows you an inch of kindness…well, that becomes invaluable.” Elain hummed softly in agreement.

“I didn’t want much – I’ve never wanted much - but that’s because it always seemed greedy. I just wanted my own garden, and then Graysen promised me 12 acres of land, and he did seem to care for me. Well…at one point he seemed to care.” Elain shivered, and that age-old anger flashed in his eye. He didn’t know what Graysen had said to Elain when she’d come to the Noland Manor during the war, but by the way the entire Inner Circle seemed one bad day away from cleaving the boy’s balls from his body, he got the idea.

“Now that I can see him clearly, and I can see all the terrible things he did and said, to me and…and about me���” Elain turned to look at Lucien and found him already looking at her, his expression soft, but something made of steel in his eyes, “It’s easy to not love someone when you don’t like them, but I am afraid.”

“Of…” Lucien said gently, his voice as soft as the wind in the leaves.

“How can I…” she was looking at him directly now, “How can I do it again,” she whispered in a voice that reminded him of a petal. “I was so blinded by love; how can I trust myself? You know, sometimes it feels like I’ve felt enough heartbreak to fill several lifetimes.”

Lucien surprised himself by huffing a soft laugh.

“I know how you feel. But that’s the thing about being immortal. They say time heals all wounds, and it does. But most of us, and I suppose particularly humans, don’t get the chance to wait out our pain. But being fae, well, you’re convinced you’ll never get over it until one day you wake up and, you just are.”

Elain had never heard him speak for so long before, and she realised she could’ve sat here and listened to him talk all night. There was an aged wisdom behind his words, like a promise that everything was going to be alright. A small silence settled on the two as they both looked up at the moon, glowing like an eye of the Mother, winking with contentment.

“Graysen is a bastard isn’t he.” Lucien laughed, loud and brashly, and even though it was nearly midnight, Elain was sure he’d momentarily lit up the world.

“No comment,” Lucien held his palms up to face her to show his pacifism.

“Oh come on, you must not like him if you’re sitting here with me rather out there at the Nolan’s sipping, oh, coffee liquors.” Lucien wrinkled his nose.

“Gods, they sound awful.”

“Oh. They are,” Elain moaned with a smile. Then she peered at him again, “You’ve really never been.” Lucien shifted slightly, sitting a little straighter.

“Yes I, uh, I hope that wasn’t an intrusion or-”

“No, no!” Elain rushed, before sighing heavily as she bit her lip in thought. Lucien’s eyes, one metal one fae, roved over her. Oh how he wished to know her thoughts.

Then, Elain was reaching out for him, putting her small hand on his shoulder and looking up at him with those dark, sultry eyes.

“Thank you…for having my back,” she practically whispered. But Lucien wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her given that his entire focus had been zeroed onto that single palm pressed against his shoulder, how he could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin linen of his shirt.

“I…no problem, Lady…It’s no problem at all.” Elain smiled at him softly, but her hand stayed where it was.

Lucien wondered if she felt it too. The electricity that was flowing through his blood. The bond that seemed to glow from between his ribs, buzzing with contentment at their contact. He wondered if she felt the squeeze in her chest – the possibility that this wasn’t just a bond at all.

Suddenly, voices from the hall erupted into life. Brash singing, and a cackling laugh that startled Elain enough for her hand to lift from his shoulder, before she slowly pulled it back in her lap. Lucien was dangerously close to running into the hall and carrying both his friends back out into the garden and dumping them in the flower beds.

He’d had two stolen moments with Elain today, and the secret seemed to lie in their solidarity from the rest of the world. Sighing Lucien leaned back on his hands.

“It seems that Jurian and Vassa have made it home.”

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