#Nesta's twin

[iydiamartinx]

FLAMES OF STARLIGHT

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

Pairing: Poly!Azriel x OC x Lucien

Hey everyone! So I have this posted on A03 but I decided to begin posting here as well as a back and for anyone who would prefer to read it here instead.

❝ 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯. ❞ — 𝐫.𝐡. 𝐬𝐢𝐧

A DEEP BONE aching pain settled into Valda's body. She was used to pain; she'd dealt with it all her life. However, some days were worse than others, especially during the colder seasons.

The threadbare blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders did nothing to stop the chill from seeping into her bones. She could feel the aches slowly growing worse as she failed to warm up. Yet, she still kept the blanket tightly wrapped around her thin frame, taking the small bit of comfort it offered her.

The door to their run-down cottage was pulled open, and a gust of biting cold air rushed into their already chilly home as her youngest sister stepped in.

"Feyre!" Elain—the second youngest Archeron sister—gasped. She rushed to her feet when she saw what Feyre carried around her shoulders. "Where did you get that?"

Val's bone almost felt like glass as she stood up to gently tug Elain back from rushing at Feyre. Val could hear the hunger in her sister's tone, and even her own stomach clenched at the lack of food, but she ignored it.

"Where do you think?" Feyre questioned, her voice hoarse and tinged with annoyance, no doubt from the exertion of carrying the large beast all on her own.

Val made her way towards her youngest sister, and gently she eased the doe from Feyre's shoulders and onto her own instead. Val's jaw clenched as her body protested at the added weight, but she ignored it just like she always did.

"You should've woken me," Val quietly reprimanded. She didn't like Feyre going out into that treacherous forest alone.

"You're in pain," Feyre instead stated, her eyes already taking in the shakiness that Val tried to hide.

Val just gave her sister a reassuring smile, "I'm fine."

Feyre gave her eldest sister a look of disbelief, one that Val pretended not to notice as she instead walked into their small kitchen. Val placed the doe onto the rickety table, the wood creaking in protest just like her bones had when the carcass landed with a small dull thump.

Val would never admit to how bad the pain got. Years ago, before they fell into poverty, their father had hired the best doctors to find out what illness ailed her body, yet none managed to figure it out. In her youth, she would take tonics that managed to dull the deep pains, but now they were too poor to afford such a luxury, leaving her to be subjugated to the full extent of her illness. There was nothing she could do, so she found no reason to complain. The pain was a part of her, and she'd learned to live with it.

Feyre, on the other hand, had gotten adept at figuring out which days were hard on Val since her sister would refuse to ask for help. She took one look at Val and saw the trembles that ran through her body and the dark circles that told her that Val hadn't been able to sleep—most likely due to the pain. Today was a particularly bad day, and the weather certainly wasn't helping to make it any better. A pang went through Feyre's heart as she looked at her sister; she looked so frail, so fragile, so...breakable.

"Will it take you both long to clean it?" Elain questioned, looking between Val and Feyre.

Val refrained from sighing. She loved her sister, she really did, but sometimes Elain's ignorance and lack of willingness to help out grated on Val's nerve. Elain was too soft, too reliant, yet anytime Val tried to bring it up, it was Nesta —The final Archeron sister and her twin that would surge to Elain's defense.

Val and Nesta shared a complicated bond as twins. Val was the only one who could truly match Nesta, and as the eldest, Nesta usually, albeit reluctantly, conceded to Val's authority. However, when it came to Elain, Nesta became fiercely protective, refusing to acknowledge that their sister needed to harden herself to the cruel world they now lived in. Val sometimes believed that the reason was that Nesta still thought that they would one day regain their wealth. It was a fool's hope, but a hope nonetheless, and who was Val to take that away?

With Nesta favoring Elain, Val naturally gravitated towards Feyre. Even in her youth, Feyre had always been a wild child, and she had been too young when they had their fall into poverty to properly remember the luxuries they had. As such, this was the life Feyre most remembered, and she knew what needed to be done to survive.

Val didn't bother to answer Elain, but instead, she moved to grab her hunting knife, so she could begin skinning the deer.

"Feyre," Their father's deep voice rumbled from where he sat by the fire. "What luck you had today—in bringing us such a feast."

Val's hand tightened on the hilt of her knife. Even worse than Elain in idling around was their father. Val would never forgive him for letting Feyre go out into the woods alone, nor would she forgive him for just giving up. He spoke of trying to regain the wealth they once lost, yet he'd never once done anything to help bring a few extra coins to their table. Her anger towards their father burned hotter than even Nesta's, but like most things, she just managed to hide it better.

Feyre didn't bother to acknowledge their father's words as she moved to stand by where Val sat in front of the doe.

"We can eat half the meat this week," Feyre stated, glancing at Val, who nodded before continuing, "We can dry the other half."

"We can go to the market tomorrow to see how much we can get for the hides," Val added, earning a nod from Feyre. The others didn't bother to respond or even let on they heard what the two had said.

"I'd love a new cloak," Elain sighed wistfully. Right at the same time, Nesta stood up and announced, "I need a new pair of boots."

Val rolled her eyes, choosing to tune out the soon-to-be arguing pair. Instead, her attention shifted to the doe, yet before she could begin skinning it, Feyre's hand gently clasped around her shaking wrist.

"Go sit down," Feyre said gently, "I'll do it in a bit."

"Feyre—" Val tried to protest, but Feyre cut her off with a glare, making the older girl huff, "Sometimes I forget who's older with your mothering."

Feyre's lips managed to twitch, but she kept her resolve firm until Val finally conceded and handed her the knife before shuffling to the nearest chair.

The fact Val hadn't protested too heavily told Feyre just how much pain she refused to admit she was in. On a good day, Feyre wouldn't even have been able to hunt alone. Val would have been right by her side. In fact, it had been Val who had taught Feyre how to hunt in the first place.

While the others may not have realized how much Valda had sacrificed for them, Feyre did. No matter the pain she was in, Val always tried her best. The first time she had found out Feyre had wandered off to the woods alone, she had been livid. After that, she joined Feyre on nearly every hunt, despite the cold worsening the pain she felt.

It was Val who would give up her blanket when the nights were too cold to make sure that her sisters would be warm enough, and it was she who would eat the smallest of portions just so everyone else could eat more.

Feyre knew, which was why she insisted on skinning the deer despite her exhaustion. Valda suffered every day, yet she did everything she could to take care of Feyre and the rest of their sisters; and if Feyre could ease the strain on her sister for even the slightest moment, she would.

Val's eyes had slipped shut as she counted back in her head, trying to take her mind off the deep painful ache in her bones. Hearing the room go silent, Val opened her eyes just in time to see the disgusted look on her twin's face.

"You stink like a pig covered in its own filth," Nesta sneered, picking at Feyre's cloak, "Can't you at least try to pretend that you're not an ignorant peasant?"

"When you put food on this table, then you'll have the right to complain. Until then, leave Feyre alone, "Val's eyes met Nesta's challenge clear in her eyes. At that moment, Val looked anything but frail. Her back had straightened, her lip slightly curled as she glared at Nesta.

They weren't identical, yet both were devastatingly beautiful in their own right. Where Nesta looked most like their mother, Val was a mix of both parents. She was the only sister to share their father's dark brown hair but had their mother's piercing blue-grey eyes that she shared with both Nesta and Feyre.

Nesta returned the glare. The identical blue-grey, almost silver, eyes clashed in a battle of wills, but it was Nesta who broke first. Her jaw clenching and fists curling as she looked away. It was usually Val who won their arguments, and Feyre couldn't help but sometimes wonder if Nesta would secretly let her, not wanting to cause any more strain on their sister than she already felt.

"At least take off those disgusting clothes," Nesta huffed, but there was significantly less bite to her tone.

It was about as much Nesta would concede to defeat, but Val was satisfied. Her shoulders once again slumped as if it was an effort to keep them up.

"Can you make a pot of hot water and add wood to the fire?" Feyre questioned, looking at Nesta before frowning, as she noticed the woodpile—more specifically the lack thereof, "I thought you were going to chop wood today."

Nesta just picked at her long, neatly trimmed nails, "I hate chopping wood. I always get splinters." A frown tugged at her lips at the thought before she smoothed it over with a pout, "Besides, Feyre," Her tone was sickly sweet as if trying to butter her youngest sister up, "You're so much better at it! It takes you half the time it takes me. Your hands are suited for it, they're already so...rough."

"Please," Feyre bit out, trying to hide the pleading note that seeped into her tone, "Please get up at dawn to chop that wood." Feyre began unbuttoning her tunic, "Or we'll be eating a cold breakfast."

"I will do no such thing!"

Val sighed and nodded for Feyre to go. Elain tried to plead softly to Nesta, but she just hissed in return, leaving it up to Val, who was much less kind.

"You will, or you can go hungry tomorrow. Those are your options," There was no warmth in her tone, just cold hard steel letting Nesta know just how serious she was.

Val understood Nesta better than anyone, and she knew why she would do the things she would do. She wanted their father to step up, and Val did too, but Val wasn't about to let that become the reason she and Feyre ended up doing all the work.

Besides, Val had given up on their father long ago. She had given up when he had let them nearly starve to death, forcing Val to take desperate measures. She had given up when he allowed a child to go into those woods. Nesta could hope, but Val knew better.

Displeasure was written all over Nesta's face, but she didn't argue as she had done with Feyre. Nesta would do as she was told.

Thankfully, dinner went without another argument. Everyone was too focused on satiating their aching bellies. Val let out a small sigh as she felt the hunger recede.

She half-heartedly listened to Nesta complain about the villagers to Elain. It didn't even register what exactly Nesta was talking about until Feyre interrupted Nesta.

"Tomas Mandray?" Feyre questioned. "The woodcutter's second son?"

Nesta looked over, her eyes narrowing, "Yes."

Val sat up straighter, paying much more attention to the conversation. "What does he want?"

"He wants to marry her," Elain said dreamily.

Val stilled. Nesta cocked her head, noticing Val and Feyre's reactions. "Is there a problem?" She questioned, almost daringly.

Val snorted, dismissively waving a hand. "You can't chop wood for us, yet you want to marry a woodcutter's son?" Her words made it known just how foolish the idea was.

"You're not marrying him," Feyre added, backing up Val.

Nesta squared her shoulders, "I thought all you wanted was for us to get out of the house—to marry off me and Elain," Nesta's eyes darted to Feyre, and her lip curled, "So you could have one less mouth to feed and your darling Feyre, can finally have enough time to paint her glorious masterpieces."

Val's jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, yet it was Feyre who spoke. "Believe me," She started, "the day you want to marry someone worthy, I'll march up to his house and hand you over. But you're not going to marry Tomas."

Nesta's nostrils flared in anger, "There's nothing you can do. Clare Beddor told me this afternoon that Tomas is going to propose to me any day now. And then I'll never have to eat these scraps again." She smiled cruelly as she added, "At least I don't have to resort to rutting in the hay with Isaac Hale like an animal."

Their father let out an embarrassed cough. However, he said nothing against Nesta, but Val did.

"Nesta, that's enough," Val didn't raise her voice, but her words cracked over the sisters like a whip. It was hard and filled with warning. "Feyre's right. Tomas's family is barely better than ours."

Val remembered the hungry gleam in his eyes when he saw her and Feyre holding a line of rabbits. It was desperate, and she knew from experience that a desperate man did desperate things. Val had a white-knuckled grip on her knife, and she would have done what was needed if he had tried anything. From there on, she steered her and Feyre out of his way.

Feyre nodded, "You'd just be another mouth to feed. If he doesn't know this, then his parents must."

"Besides, we can't afford a dowry," Val looked between Nesta and Elain pointedly, "For either of you."

"We're in love," Nesta stated, and Val snorted as she saw Elain nodding in agreement.

"What do you two know of love?" Val questioned harshly, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop them. Nesta and Elain both froze at that. Feyre's eyes flashed with pity. Val reeled back slightly, and she tightly swallowed as she realized she had lost her composure.

"Excuse me," She muttered before hastily making her way out of the kitchen.

In the privacy of the room, she shared with her sisters, her hand shakily reached out to grasp the chain that held a simple ring around her neck while the other came up to muffle her sob.

Everyone knew love was a sensitive subject for Val because she lost her own. They had the love people dreamed about. Everyone in the village looked at them in envy. When Val looked at him, she knew he was her soulmate, as mawkish as it sounded. Yet, life had eventually caught up to them, and he was cruelly ripped away from her. That had been five years ago, and thinking of him still hurt.

She heard the footsteps of her sisters approaching, and not wanting to deal with them at the moment, she turned away from the door, feigning that she had fallen asleep. A few seconds the door opened, and two pairs of footsteps quietly shuffled in. Nesta and Elain spoke in low murmurs for a few minutes before the sheets to their shared cot rustled, and they joined her.

Soon their breathing evened out, but Val remained wide awake. Eventually, Feyre also entered and slipped in beside Val on the unoccupied side. Feyre was fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, the exhaustion of the day catching up to her.

Val waited until she was sure everyone was sleeping before slipping away. Grabbing her cloak, she stepped outside and found a stray log to take a seat on.

The air was frigid, the cold already seeping into her aching bones, but she ignored it. Her eyes were locked onto what was above her. The stars glittered like millions of jewels in the night sky but even more beautiful than the stars around was the moon.

It shone brightly, casting a soft white glow that looked almost ethereal on everything around her. Someone once told her that when someone dies, they become a star in the night sky forever to watch over those they love. But Val preferred to believe that light from the moon was of the souls they lost, guiding the way for those they left behind.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, the ache in her heart was worse than any physical pain she could feel. Her hand came to quickly wipe the tear away as she heard gentle footsteps crunching through the snow.

Val glanced back to see a sleepy Feyre making her way over. "It's late."

Val shrugged, holding her cloak open so Feyre could join her, despite already having her own cloak bundled around her body. Val wrapped her arm around her sister and rested her head on Feyre's shoulder.

"Best time to see the stars," Val replied softly, knowing her sister's preference for them.

They sat there in silence for the longest time until finally, the cold became too much, and they were forced to go back inside. They made their way to their hut and quietly slipped back into their cot, where Nesta and Elain blissfully remained asleep. Feyre curled into Val, who wrapped her arms protectively around her, and that was how both girls fell asleep.

Next Chapter →

banner credits: saradika-graphics & reveriesources

[washmchineheart]

sjm not making lucien nesta’s love interest is purely skill issue. she doesn’t know them like I do.

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

cold takes: #1

cassian wanted nesta to be a feyre 2.0. no, i will not elaborate

[kataraavatara]

nesta only three years older than feyre…three kids in three years was kind of diabolical of papa archeron idk

[seleneprince]

When the Vanserra-Archeron twins find out that Nyx is courting their beloved friend, Zinnia (Tamlin's daughter), they're not amused at all. Specially Sylvie.

She doesn't care about her cousin, has a borderline hostile dynamic with him, but for the most part he's just "that guy from Night Court she happens to share blood with". Neth is on better terms with him and she doesn't mind spending time with him, but they're not close enough to see him as family. She considers him more a long-distance friend.

Meanwhile, they adore Zinnia. They grew up with her. She's their godfather's daughter, their beloved Uncle Tamlin. They spent their childhoods jumping from Spring to Autumn frecuently just to see each other. They love like her a sister. Their families are on the same circle. In their eyes, Zinnia has always been this sweet girl they must protect and who only deserves the best.

Which it's not Nyx Archeron. Or any other brute from the Night Court. They're sure of it.

It's not just them. Literally, no one in their circle approves of this possible union, except Elain (because she knows things). Both Eris and Nesta are amused by the whole mess but he doesn't think they fit together and she doesn't want her to be at the Night Court . Lucien doesn't like it at all and neither do his and Elain's kids. And let's not get started on poor Tamlin, having to see his exes' spawn court his precious daughter so insistently.

Back at the Night Court, it's more or less the same situation. Rhysand is the only person that openly supports his son on this and even gives him advice on how to woo the girl (which is awful advice because he only tells him to do the same things he did with feyre, ignoring that not everyone enjoys those as much as she did). Feyre doesn't understand why he's so enthusiastic about becoming family with Tamlin. The rest of the IC know where Rhysand is coming from and don't dare tell Feyre the truth...

[nesta-apologist]

Jude Duarte and Nesta Archeron could switch places and no one would know

[hrizantemy]

Stop guys I really want an older Archeron sister who sticks up for Nesta, who doesn’t let the IC lock her in the house and refuses it and instead takes her in herself, she doesn’t excuse Nesta’s wrongdoings but she doesn’t blame everything on her, she’s patient and works through it, bonus if they run away to the summer court and she ends up with Tarquin. Like y’all know they would be a power couple, new fanfiction idea, guys Nesta needs an older sibling who knows what she’s going through and they lean on each other. Y’all ain’t ready for this one.😭😭😭😭🙏

[endlessly-cursed]

Minor Victorian OCs: Nesta Madeleine Ymir

Nesta lived from 1880 and 1905, she was the twin sister to Melinöe, and was part of the Ymir family. She was a quiet, shy, sweet and a hopeless romantic who strived for more than the cabin.

At age 22, she escaped the cabin to look for something more. She met [TBD] Lionette and fell in love with him. They spent many months together, and Nesta fell pregnant with their child. Melinöe located her sister and brought her back per their mother's request and she gave birth to the child: a daughter, whom she whispered "My child. My love. Your name is Ephyra." before passing away due to childbed fever. Melinöe took the babygirl to Skalafell, leaving it to Unni Arcano's care.

Effy wouldn't know until later her Ymir blood, when the Gift claimed her.

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

Nesta Archeron (Harry Potter AU)- Chapter 31 (Re-grouping)

Summary: It’s now the last day of school and everyone is packed to go home. Well, almost everyone.

March 1, 2002

It was now the last day of school. That’s right. Hogwarts ends in March. Early March for that matter. All of the Hogwarts students were packing up to go home for the summer. Nesta was not looking forward to it but at least that meant no more school.

“I always thought Hogwarts's end-of-year exams were frightful, but I found them rather enjoyable,” Emerie said with a proud smile. Catrin rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself. I’d be lucky to live if my mother sees my grades,” she argued as Gwyn looked over to Nesta who hasn’t said a thing since lunch. “Hey Nes, you alright?”

“Huh, oh yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking that’s all.” Nesta replied as the four of them walked towards Eris’s hut again. That’s when Nesta decided to speak. “Hey guys, remember that night when Eris had that dragon egg?”

“Yeah?” They all replied eager to know why Nesta was bringing that up. “Well had it ever occurred to you exactly how he got that egg?”

“Nesta, he said he won it.”

“Yeah, but who carries a dragon egg in their pocket? Isn’t that a little weird?” Emerie thought about it. “Now that you mentioned it, it does seem a bit off.” The twins nodded in agreement.

Once the girls reached Eris’s hut, they didn’t hesitate to pester Eris for answers. “Eris, who gave you the dragon egg?”

“What did he look like?”

“Did he make a bargain with you or-”

“Woah woah woah, girls calm down,” Eris said taking a sip of his coffee. When he was done, he gulped and replied, “I’m not sure. I never saw his face. Never took the hood off either.” It was Gwyn who spoke this time. “Did he talk to you? Ask and questions?”

Eris paused before he could answer. “Well, he did ask about the creatures I take care of.” Catrin thought about the next question before asking. “Was he interested in any of the creatures that you told him about?”

“Only Fluffy. I told him the best way to tame a beast is to calm it. Fluffy always falls asleep whenever I play music.”

Catrin smirked as Nesta, and the girls gasped. Music! That’s the answer they’ve been looking for.

Eris froze. “I never should’ve said that.”

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

The girls raced back to the castle eager to tell Professor Kallias about the stone, but when they tried to get close, Viviane told them that Kallias was in London.

Sighing in defeat, the girls retreated from his office. “Well, that didn’t work,” Catrin said as Nesta spoke. “Look, guys, we already know that the hooded figure in the woods was Tamlin,” Emerie added. “And now that Kallias is gone-”

“Afternoon ladies.” The young students stopped short upon hearing Tamlin’s voice. Right behind them.

Tamlin folded his arms. “Now what would 4 first-year students be doing inside on a day like this?” he asked rather calmly. The girls were too stunned to speak. He chuckled. “Careful. People will think you’re...up to something.” Tamlin rolled the last part off the tongue as he walked away.

The girls relaxed. “Now what?” Gwyn asked. Nesta sighed. They didn’t have a choice. It’s now or never. “We’re going to the trapped door. Tonight.”

[the-new-ribbon]

I love how Nesta’s birthday is April 27th because that’s my birthday and Nesta Archeron is me and I’m Nesta Archeron.

[iydiamartinx]

FLAMES OF STARLIGHT

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼 | 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

Pairing: Poly!Azriel x OC x Lucien

I'm still learning Tumblr and I just found out scheduled posts are a thing! I think I'll schedule the chapters for Monday, Wednesday and Friday until everything is caught up to my A03 account? Unless y'all prefer Friday, Saturday and Sunday?

Also I noticed someone blogging who knew me from Wattpad! Hi! I'm glad you found me again! For my readers who remember me from Wattpad, the reason I disappeared was because they removed my account. I lost most of my stories, so for any of you that were a fan of my other works, only this and Morning After Dark. But I am working on slowly rewriting some of my old works.

 ❝ 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 

𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦. ❞

— 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐳

VAL STRODE DOWN the snow and dirt-trodden road with purpose. Despite her aching bones, she kept their pace to a brisk walk. Feyre easily kept in step beside her while Nesta and Elain trailed behind them, clicking their tongues in disgust as they sneered down at their now muddied shoes.

The silence that Val and Feyre walked in was comfortable compared to the complaining Nesta and Elain did behind them. The wolf's pelt was folded safely in the satchel Feyre carried. It was the only reason Nesta and Elain even bothered to tag along, hoping to persuade Feyre into giving them some money. They knew better than to ask Val. She wasn't one to indulge their needless urge for finery. But Feyre, as the youngest, was less steadfast than Val and, as such, sometimes felt the need to concede to their demands. 

Eventually, the grim stone houses of the village came into view. It was market day, and despite not even reaching the small town square yet, she could hear the voices of merchants, vendors, and shoppers. 

The scent of hot food invaded Val's nose, and she had to suppress her groan. Elain, however, had no qualms of letting out a hungered moan. Val's stomach clenched. She longed for a proper meal, but quickly she tamped down that desire. Desire could be a dangerous thing. 

Val turned around the corner only to suddenly halt. Nesta, from behind her, let out a slight noise as she placed a hand on Val's shoulder to steady herself from the sudden stop. Val paid her sister no mind, her eyes on the pale-robed young woman and the matching cluster behind her. 

"May the Immortal Light shine upon thee, sisters," She said. 

Both Elain and Nesta made a noise of displeasure, even Feyre shifted in discomfort, but Val remained silent. She didn't particularly care for the Children of the Blessed, but it didn't mean she liked them either. Their devotion to the fae unnerved her, and their persistence to convert was annoying, but otherwise, they were all harmless preachers. 

 "Have you a moment to spare so that you might hear the Word of the Blessed?" The young woman questioned. She held out her hands in welcome, the bracelet of silver bells on her wrist letting out a tinkling chime. 

"Not at the moment," Val replied neutrally. At the same moment, Nesta sneered with much more hostility, "No, we don't." 

Nesta nudged both Val and Elain to continue walking, and Feyre shifted to follow. 

The acolyte, however, stepped back into their path and a surge of annoyance went through Val at the woman's persistence. 

"It would take but a minute," She tried to persuade. 

"We really don't have the ti—" Val tried to say, but it was already too late. 

Nesta straightened up, glaring down at the acolyte. She cut Val off, "Go spew your fanatic nonsense to some ninny. You'll find no converts here," She snapped, making the woman shrink back. 

Yet, Nesta wasn't done as she pushed down the sleeve of her coat to reveal the iron bracelet she wore. The acolyte gasped in horror. 

Val glanced up to the dreary sky as if somehow she would find help among the grey clouds. All she wanted was a quick trip, in and out of the market, but it seemed even that was too much to ask for. 

"You see this?" Nesta hissed, taking a step forward, to which the woman matched by taking one back, "This is what you should be wearing. Not some silver bells to attract those faerie monsters."

"How dare you wear that vile affront to our immortal friends—" The acolyte started, but Nesta cut her off. 

"Go preach in another town," She spat. Val gently tugged Nesta slightly back, so she wasn't right in the poor woman's face.

"I suggest you find someone else because clearly, we are not interested," Val's tone was soft yet firm.

Just then, two women walked by, on the wealthier class by the looks of it, both shooting the group of acolytes a disgusted glance.

"Faerie-loving whore," One of them spat at the silent young woman.

The other, who looked even wealthier judging from the braided iron necklace she wore, curled her lip in disgust, "Don't you idiots understand what those monsters did to us for all those centuries? What they still do for sport when they can get away with it? You deserve the end you'll meet at faerie hands. Fools and whores, all of you." 

Val just sighed. Like her opinion about the children of the blessed, she remained indifferent about her thoughts of the Fae folk. She'd never met them, nor did she want to. However, if she did, she'd assume they were quite similar to humans. Some would be good, and some would be bad. After all, there had been some who had fought for the humans when the time came.

The young woman just took a breath, her face smoothening back out into a serene expression, "I lived in such ignorance, too, until I heard the Word of the Blessed. I grew up in a village so similar to this—so bleak and grim. But not one month ago, a friend of my cousin went to the border as our offering to Prythian—and she has not been sent back. Now she dwells in riches and comfort as a High Fae's bride, and so might you if you were to take a moment to—"

"She was likely eaten," Nesta, once again, cut off bluntly. 

Val found herself refraining from pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation—yet there was a small part of her that wanted to snort in amusement, but she buried that part of herself deep down. She just wanted to get the pelt to the marketplace and leave. 

Her sister added, "That's why she hasn't returned."

Val watched as the acolyte's face tightened. "Our benevolent masters would never harm us. Prythian is a land of peace and plenty. Should they bless you with their attention, you would be glad to live amongst them." 

Her eyes shifted around them to see that they were garnering a crowd. It seemed that she and Feyre had the same idea as Val looped her arm with Nesta's—ready to forcefully drag her off if needed—while Feyre stepped between them and the woman. 

"You're fighting an uphill battle," Feyre said. 

"A worthy cause." The girl beamed with conviction.

Val sighed, her words grim and tired as she replied, "No, it's not." With that, she gently tugged Nesta along, Feyre and Elain following with their own sighs of relief. 

Val could feel the acolytes' gaze burn into her back, but she refused to turn back. Nesta walked stiffly beside her, her arm still looped with Val's. Val gave Nesta's arm a subtle squeeze in comfort, and her twin glanced over at the gesture, but Val kept her eyes firmly ahead of her. Slowly Nesta relaxed, accepting her sister's comforting touch. 

Once at the square, Val removed her arm from Nesta's, and Feyre once again moved to Val's side. 

"We'll meet you here in an hour," Feyre said to the other two, and before they could say anything, she and Val slipped into the crowd. 

It took ten minutes for Val and Feyre to decide who they should approach. Their eyes scanned the different people that milled around until a large mountainous woman caught Val's eye. She sat on the ledge of the fountain, keeping to herself. It wasn't her size that attracted Val's attention but the numerous scars and weapons that littered her body. 

Feyre's eyes followed Val's gaze, and she slightly nodded in agreement. As the two of them approached, the woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she realized they were walking towards her wickedly sharp knife with appreciation before meeting the woman's dark eyes fearlessly. 

"I don't barter goods for my services," She said in a rough tone. A foreign accent coated her words, making her words sound even gruffer, "I only accept coin."

 "Then you'll be out of luck in this sort of place," Val responded cooly, her head tilting slightly as she continued her appraisal of the woman in front of her. 

The woman slightly straightened up, her eyes narrowing even further at Val. Like recognized like, and the mercenary had been around long enough to spot a predator, and despite Val's malnourished frame, the woman recognized Val for what she could be. "What is your business with me, girl?"

This time it was Feyre who spoke, "We have a wolf pelt, and a doe hide for sale. We thought you might be interested in purchasing them."

"You two steal them?"

"No." Feyre denied, her voice going hard at the question, "I hunted them myself. I swear it."

The mercenary's gaze shifted over to Feyre. "How." It wasn't a question but a demand. Val felt herself slightly bristle at the woman's tone, but she remained silent. 

Despite Feyre having just hunted, Val was itching for her own hunt. Unlike Feyre, who did it out of necessity, Val found it oddly calming. Val hated taking an innocent animal's life, and she found no joy in that part. What she liked was the freedom in the woods as she tracked her prey. Those few seconds of predatory focus as she drew her bow back, she loved it. It was freeing. 

It helped quiet the years of anger and pain that festered in her heart. The same anger she suppressed for the sake of her sisters because if she let it all go, she had no idea of the destruction she could cause.

Val continued her silence, letting Feyre tell the story of how she acquired the pelts. Val grew tense as she heard Feyre's suspicions of the wolf being a Fae, but she just clenched her jaw, making a note to talk to her sister about it later. 

The mercenary gestured towards the satchel, "Let me see," She ordered. Feyre pulled out the hides. "You weren't lying about the wolf's size," The mercenary murmured, running her hands over it as she studied it with a keen expert eye. "Doesn't seem like a faerie, though."

The mercenary looked back up, her eyes glancing between Feyre and Val, and for a brief second, they flicked to look at something over their shoulders before focusing back on Feyre. She named her price. 

Both Feyre and Val froze in shock. They hadn't expected that. The woman was overpaying by a lot. 

"Why?" Val questioned suspiciously. 

For a brief second, the mercenary's lips twitched at Val's brazenness before once again looking past them, "I'm assuming those two girls watching from across the square are your sisters," She said, "You all have that brassy hair—and that hungry look about you." 

Val knew she didn't share her sister's golden brown hair, but it didn't take a genius to see the resemblance she had with them.  

"We don't need your pity," Feyre glared. 

No, but we could use the money, Val thought, and the mercenary echoed her thoughts.

"No, but you need my money," She said, "and the other traders have been cheap all morning. Everyone's too distracted by those calf-eyed zealots bleating across the square." She jerked her chin towards the square, where the Children of the Blessed were still trying to recruit people to their cause in vain. This time the mercenary didn't bother hiding the small smile, "Up to you, girl."

Val was about to agree, but Feyre spoke first, "Why?" It wasn't laced with suspicion like when Val asked, just curiosity. 

She shrugged. "Someone once did the same for me and mine, at a time when we needed it most. Figure it's time to repay what's due."

Of course, Feyre, her darling sister who could be too kind and proud for her own good—despite what she might say—offered the mercenary some of their father's carvings in a way to make the payment fairer. 

However, the mercenary waved off the offer. "I travel light and have no need for them. These, however—" She patted the pelts in her hands, "—save me the trouble of killing them myself."

Val nodded, and Feyre copied her actions. The mercenary reached for the coin purse inside her heavy coat. Val didn't need to look inside to see that it was full of silver and even gold. 

It was a known fact that mercenaries were generally well-paid, and Val had thought about becoming one of them as the days grew harder on her family. It was better than some of the things she'd done to bring coin to the table, and she found the thought of becoming a mercenary frequented her brain more often as the years grew worse. 

The only thing that stopped her, however, was her sisters. She didn't think she could leave them for months at a time. The pain she'd find a way to push through, but the thought of leaving her sisters was a different kind of pain. Val needed them. They were all she had, and the thought of being alone...a hollow pit formed in her stomach, and she pushed the thought away before she could dwell on it. 

The mercenary handed Val the coins, who tucked them into her pocket. Val knew Elain and Nesta saw the transaction, but they wouldn't pester her as they would with Feyre, hence why she had taken the coins. 

"Thank you," Feyre said stiffly, while Val just nodded. 

The mercenary stroked the wolf pelt. "A word of advice, from one hunter to another."

Both Val and Feyre looked at her, raising an eyebrow. 

"Don't go far into the woods. I wouldn't even get close to where you were yesterday. A wolf this size would be the least of your problems. More and more, I've been hearing stories about those things slipping through the wall."

Feyre lightly shuddered, "Are they—are they going to attack?"

Plans were already forming in Val's mind if that were the case. She may not outright hate the fae, but she wasn't stupid. She knew the stories of the High Lords who had taken humans as slaves. Killed and tortured her kind as sport. It may have been centuries ago, but Val wouldn't risk the chance of that happening to her family if the fae ever decided to go back on the treaty.

The mercenary's face gave nothing away, "No one knows what the fae are planning. We don't know if the High Lords' leash on their beasts is slipping or if these are targeted attacks. I guarded for an old nobleman who claimed it had been getting worse these past fifty years. He got on a boat south two weeks ago and told me I should leave if I was smart. Before he sailed off, he admitted that he'd had word from one of his friends that in the dead of night, a pack of martax crossed the wall and tore half his village apart."

Fear filled Val, not for herself but for her sisters. Her instincts screamed at her to take them as far south as possible if that were the case. 

"Martax?" Feyre breathed, voice laced with the same fear rushing through Val's veins.

The mercenary's night-dark eyes flickered. "Body big as a bear's, head something like a lion's—and three rows of teeth sharper than a shark's. And mean—meaner than all three put together. They left the villagers in literal ribbons, the nobleman said." 

She continued, "So we don't know what all these attacks mean, other than more hires for me, and you keeping well away from the wall. Especially if the High Fae start turning up—or worse, one of the High Lords. They would make the martax seem like dogs."

Val's eyes drifted to the woman's scarred hands. "Have you ever faced another type of faerie?" She couldn't help but ask. 

Her eyes shuttered. "You don't want to know, girl—not unless you want to be hurling up your breakfast."

"Tell me," Val demanded, her voice hard. 

The woman studied Val for a second before pulling back the sleeve of her heavy jacket to reveal her tanned, muscled forearm marred with gruesome, twisted scars. Val swallowed harshly but felt no disgust. Scars told stories, the stories of survivors. Anyone who survived had scars. Even Val had scars. She believed they were something to be proud of, no matter how horrible the story that came with it was because, at the end of it, they could say they survived.

"Didn't have the brute force or size of a martax," The mercenary said, "but its bite was full of poison. Two months—that's how long I was down; four months until I had the strength to walk again." She then pulled up the leg of her trousers. Black spidery veins contrasted against the tanned skin. It was almost mesmerizingly horrific to see. "Healer said there was nothing to be done for it—that I'm lucky to be walking with the poison still in my legs. Maybe it'll kill me one day. Maybe it'll cripple me. But at least I'll go knowing I killed it first."

Feyre placed a hand on Val's shoulder, her face unnaturally pale, "Thanks for the warnings," She said tightly.

The mercenary's attention flicked to something behind them, and a faint smile of amusement curled at her lips. "Good luck."

A second later, a slender hand clamped onto Val's forearm, pulling her and Feyre away. Neither of them had to look to know it was Nesta, no villager would dare touch them, especially with Val around, and Elain was too gentle and timid to even approach them while they were with that mountain of a woman. 

"They're dangerous," Nesta hissed, her fingers dug into Val's arms as she continued to pull tug her and Feyre from the mercenary. "Don't go near them again."

"Let me go," Val quietly demanded, not appreciating being manhandled. In an instant, Nesta let go. Val's eyes narrowed as she studied her twin and Elain's pale face, "Is there something I should know?"

"They're brutes and will take any copper they can get, even if it's by force," Nesta said, trying to wave it off. 

Val glanced back at the mercenary studying her new pelts, "She robbed you?" Val questioned, her voice dangerously quiet. 

"Not her," Elain murmured. "Some other one who passed through. We had only a few coins, and he got mad, but—"

"Why didn't you report him—or tell us?" Feyre questioned. 

"What could you have done?" Nesta sneered. "Challenged him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?"

"What about your Tomas Mandray?" Feyre challenged coolly. 

Nesta's eyes flashed, but a glance over Feyre's shoulder had her attitude taking a complete turn as her glare melted into a sickly sweet smile. "Your friend is waiting for you."

Val turned just in time to see Isaac tilting his head at Feyre. Val's jaw clenched. It wasn't that she didn't like Isaac, but Feyre deserved more than a quick rut in a barn. Feyre, out of all of them, deserved more and Val wished that one day her sister would experience love to its truest extent, but for now, if Isaac eased the loneliness Feyre felt, then Val wouldn't say a word. 

Sometimes, Val wished she could do the same thing. It wasn't that she had a shortage of admirers. She was quite aware of the beauty she and her sisters possessed, especially Elain—perhaps that was why Nesta was so protective over their younger sister. Yet, anytime the thought would come, the ring around her neck felt heavier and changed her mind. She wasn't ready. She didn't think she'd ever be ready. 

Nesta clicked her tongue, crossing her arms. "I do hope you two are taking precautions."

"It's a bit late to pretend to care," Feyre snapped back. 

Val placed a calming hand on Feyre's arm, drawing her youngest sister's attention towards her. "Go," Val said gently, nodding to where Isaac had disappeared. She couldn't help the slight, sly smirk that crawled onto her lips. She may not approve of the boy, but she remembered what it was like to be young. "Have some fun."

A slight blush dusted Feyre's cheeks, but the younger girl gave Val a grateful look before walking off. Val then turned towards her remaining sisters. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty-mark copper. Ignoring Elain's sharp inhale, she handed it over. 

"I'll meet you guys back at home," Val said, and without waiting for a response, she walked away. 

← Previous Chapter ✯ Next Chapter →

banner credits: saradika-graphics & reveriesources

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in a Bottle - Prologue

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Kinda Elain Bashing?, Low Self Esteem, Mention of Cauldron induced torture...

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

As far as cauldron-made went…Eira Archeron was pretty much useless. 

She had neither the power of Death nor of Divinity. 

She was neither the prettiest one, that title belonged to Elain…nor the smartest one, which was undoubtedly Nesta. Or the strongest one like Feyre…And if she had tried to hunt like Feyre, it would have been more likely that she would have accidentally killed herself instead of bringing home any meat. 

As a human, she had been limited to cooking and cleaning and laundry, all of it with limited supplies and even more limited experience. She had tried. It had never been enough. 

So maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her that her uselessness continued on even when she was no longer human.

So if she wasn’t beautiful or strong or smart…what was she then? 

The dumb one? 

When the cauldron had burned every bit of humanity out of her…when it had ripped away all her hopes and dreams…when it had been so angry with Nesta after whatever she had done to it that Eira was just…Eira was just an afterthought, something it could hurt in response to her sisters and then leave gasping on that stone floor feeling like she was dying…

She had done her best to accept her lack of humanity afterwards. Nesta had raged…Elain had said nothing, suffering silently in the bed…and Eira…Eira had tried. 

Tried to make it better…tried to make it easier for everybody around her. She had tried. 

She hadn’t wanted to put even more on Feyre’s shoulders, not with the threat of impending war…and so she had done her best to be supportive and make no trouble…be agreeable and quiet and be helpful…

But she couldn’t be helpful. 

She was nothing but a useless appendage. With no powers, no great destiny stretched in front of her…

Not even a limb. Not even a fucking pinky finger. 

More like a skin tag. 

Completely useless. If cut off, it wouldn’t even bother anybody. 

They had made that clear to her over time. 

They had made clear what they thought about her, again and again, and now…now she finally realised it. She was a slow learner…but by the gods, she did learn. 

It started…slow in a sense. Comments, made offhandedly, that probably weren’t meant that way anyway…sometimes said to her face…sometimes overheard. 

“Stop your screeching, girl, I am getting a headache.” Amren. After she had finally…after months felt like singing again as she fixed the hem on one of her sister’s dresses. She had stopped singing then.

Amren had never brought it up again. But then Amren had never been particularly nice to any of them.      

“Don’t come crying to me if she bites off your head. I warned you.” Rhysand had told her drily when she insisted on visiting Nesta at the House of Wind every week after all of that had gone down… 

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like make another ugly dress?” Seethingly said by Nesta…pitted against the one thing she liked to pretend she was good at…the one thing she could do and make money with…

It cut. Of course, it did. But it wasn’t even the worst thing thrown at her head by Nesta…so why was it the one thing that stayed in her mind? 

“We don’t need Eira. Quite frankly, it’s better if she doesn’t go. Elain is the prettier one, anyway.” Cassian…overheard by Eira before the rest of them had gone off to Hewn City. Eira left behind because…well the contrast of Elain badly dressed was enough, no need for Eira to…be what? A distraction?  

And it was true too. Elain was the prettier twin sister. 

Eira was just…common as muck as her mother had liked to remind her…Nesta was the smart one, the one who would marry a prince…Elain would marry for love and beauty…and Eira…well, she would make a good farmer’s wife as far as her mother was concerned.

Not pretty enough to garner a richer man’s attention…not smart enough to drag herself up the echelons of society on her own…To easily content as far as her mother was concerned. 

“As far as cauldron-made goes, she is pretty much useless.” Morrigan. Said in jest. Eira was quite sure of that…still, it had hurt. Because it was true. She was useless. 

No magic sparking at her fingertips…Using her magic was like pulling teeth…painful and a long process…And it never did what she wanted anyway. 

“Eira, find somewhere else to be. I really have more important things to do,” Feyre had said with a sigh…after she had brought her sister cookies and tea…after she had only tried to get Feyre to take a break from her work. 

Eira hadn’t tried that again either. 

And then the one that clinched it: 

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

Said by Elain…by her twin sister. She was frozen in place, staring at Elain wide-eyed as her sister sneered at her. 

 That was the last drop into an already overflowing bucket. 

Stress. Right? Just stress from wedding planning. Elain would have never said that usually. 

She wouldn’t have…

It was just…it was just stress…Just stress. 

Elain didn’t mean it like that. 

Right?

Elain flounced off…her wedding binder in tow…leaving Eira alone, sitting there, in the dining room, her chest aching. 

Eira was in a trance as she carefully put all the plates into one tidy stack…as she was thankful that it had just been her and Elain, every other person in their family busy with their mates or something else…Feyre and Rhysand gone with Baby Nyx for the evening…Nesta and Cassian off at the House of Wind…who knew what Mor and Amren were up to…

Or even Azriel. 

A sob threatened to take over, as she thought that name. 

She walked up the stairs…to her room…Her room. She locked the door with shaky hands. 

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

She collapsed on her bed, burying her face into her pillow and let the tears stream. 

Ridiculous puppy crush. 

All of that said because she had tried to talk to Elain about her choice of flowers for her wedding. Because lilies wouldn’t be in season when she married Lucien in Day Court in less than 2 months. 

And then Elain responded with that, because Eira clearly wanted to ruin her wedding with that factoid. 

“At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

The worst part of it was that it was the simple truth. 

Azriel was never going to pay her a second glance. 

He had always been more interested in Elain than Eira…he had on more than one occasion asked Eira questions about her twin sister…had made sure that Elain was comfortable and cared for…and Eira had sufficed as a source of information and nothing else. 

And after Elain and Lucien had become serious…well, Eira ceased to be interesting too. He hadn’t sought her out again. 

If she sat next to him at dinner, he was polite and quiet, bordering on silent. And then she tried to fill the silence and probably only annoyed him in the process. 

He didn’t want her. He never would. 

She starved down the sobs that wracked her body. 

It was probably high time that she accepted that, right?

High time to get over herself. 

High time that she reminded herself that…that she was never going to have him and that staring at him in ill-hidden affection only made everybody else make fun of her and probably made him deeply uncomfortable. 

So maybe it was better that she just…

At least he had never called her useless, she supposed. It could be worse…even when he never would want her. 

She felt the touch on her hand first…soft like velvet…like kitten fur…never warm, never cold. massive and somehow not… definitely not human. 

The shadows. His shadows. 

Sometimes they came to keep her company. At the start, she had thought that maybe he had sent them but nowadays she was quite sure that they had just liked her quiet singing while embroidery one afternoon. So quiet that nobody would hear.  It had taken her months to coax them out of their corners after that. They probably had just taken pity on her. 

Just like they did now. 

“Please don’t,” she choked out. She never wanted him to find out how she was feeling about him…never wanted to feel the pain of him outright turning her down. 

 And if his shadows came to check on her, they would report back in what they saw…and they didn’t need…didn’t need to worry about it. 

They never talked to her. Just sometimes they came and listened to her softly talk to them while she was sewing in the evening, about this and that...

It wasn’t right how she talked to you, the shadows whispered. 

They didn’t talk to her. Never. 

And now they did. 

Hell, even his shadows were feeling sorry for her, weren’t they? 

“Please don’t tell him,” she begged. 

He should know, they disagreed softly. Everybody should know. She should apologise to you. 

And what would that give her? Nothing. More embarrassment because everybody else got to hear all about her fledgling little feelings? Feelings she should bury deep and never examine again? 

“Please,” she begged again and the shadows seemingly surrendered, curling themselves up against her hands so that she could touch them. 

Don’t cry, they soothed her softly. Don’t give her that. 

Elain hadn’t said anything that was untrue. That was the worst part. It was true. And that hurt. 

Is there anything we could do? the shadows asked Eira softly. Anything at all to make this better? 

“No,” she whispered, choking out the words, another sob. Not anymore. There was nothing anybody could do. 

It hurt. It hurt so badly.  Just like the cauldron had.  Then she had wished she would die. 

Now…now she wondered the same once again. Maybe then it would stop feeling like this. 

She cried her eyes out, as the tears kept pouring over her cheeks…as she sobbed until her throat was raw and everything hurt. And finally, she just laid there…the shadows still swirling worriedly around her prone form. 

“Don’t you need to work?” she asked the shadows listlessly, tears tracking over her cheeks. “Don’t you have something more important to do than to try and comfort me?” 

Maybe take care of him?

You are important, the shadows snapped. 

Eira could argue that point. She was useless. So what did it matter? It didn’t. 

She wiped away the tears, but new ones just came pouring over her face and she stopped trying, let them run down her face and wondered how long she could stay in her room and never come out again. 

Would you like something to eat? the shadows tried again. So sweet. Trying to give her something, anything to comfort her. 

“No, thank you,” she whispered. Alone the thought made her want to throw up. 

She didn’t want to eat. 

She didn’t want to get up and talk to anybody. She didn’t want to even look at another person anymore. 

She didn’t…

What would you like then? The shadows tried softly. Would you like to plot revenge? they suggested. 

It was so stupid that she choked out a laugh. 

“For what? Elain saying what everybody else is thinking?” Eira asked, her heart painfully restricting. 

Nobody here actually wanted her around. If she disappeared forever she would do them a favour. Him especially. 

Elain had only said what everybody else was thinking. 

All three of her sisters had found their mates, just not Eira. All three of her sisters had some kind of power…just not her. All three of them had found some kind of place for themselves…and then there was her, living with her youngest sister, half seamstress, half nanny for her child, an unwanted appendage that was taken care of out of some feeling of duty and no other reason.

Elain had just voiced what she was thinking. The truth. 

It had been the truth. Plain and simple. And Eira maybe didn’t like to hear it but it didn’t…it didn’t matter. 

It was the truth. 

Elain had two men willing to marry her and spend the rest of their lives with her…and nobody wanted to spend any time with Eira. A husband wasn’t even something that had ever seemed to be a possibility. 

Even if everybody else is thinking, that doesn’t make it right. The shadows disagreed quietly. Your sister said that to hurt you and not for any other reason. 

“She’s stressed out with wedding planning,” Eira whispered. 

It had just been that. Probably. Maybe. 

That doesn’t make it right, the shadows disagreed again, twirling tighter around her wrist. We could ruin her wedding. Lilies and all, they suggested brightly. 

She shook her head. No. Elain should have the wedding she dreamed of. Eira wasn’t going to ruin it for her. 

“Don’t do that,” she said weakly.

We could at least steal her wedding binder, they told her mulishly, and Eira wondered if they disagreed like that with Azriel too.

Azriel…

What did it say about her that she fell head over heels in love with the first man who treated her with polite indifference? That she was so desperate to be loved that that was all it took? 

Did it matter? 

No. 

Elaine was right. He would never spare her a second glance. He was just as unreachable as any other male.

Nothing was enticing about Eira.  Neither her body, nor her mind, nor her magical power. What could she possibly offerany male? 

All the nightmares she had on a near-daily basis? All the fear and anxiety that swirling around her gut every day? 

She could sew on any buttons he lost along the way, she supposed. That was something.

The knife that plunged into her womb and twisted, took her by surprise. 

It shouldn’t have.  

Of course. 6 months had passed once again. 

“Don’t tell him this either,” she begged in a whimper. This was too embarrassing. He didn’t need to know about her cycle. 

Nobody did. She was the most modest out of all her sisters. The one with the most human ideas of what was considered to be decent, left…the only one who…

The only one left with her maidenhead intact, because everybody else was mated or married or very much in love and it had never mattered in Prythian anyway. 

Just Eira was left. 

Without a mate. Without a husband. 

Without ever having even been kissed. Nearly 26 and that…hadn’t happened for her. 

It probably would never happen anyway. 

Why today of all days? 

Why did her cycle need to torture her today?  How did she deserve this? Why not in a week…Though at least now she had a reason not to leave her bed for a few days.  

She could just stay here. 

Mope in her own Misery and self-pity…wallow in the pain that she knew would come…

Of course, it would. She had always had a horrible time during her cycle even as a human…as a Fae, it had become her very own personal torture. 

Maybe a bath would make you feel better, the shadows suggested softly as she already curled herself together in pain. 

She needed to get up and sort herself out before it got even worse…made sure that she wouldn’t get blood all over the sheets, but she couldn’t…She didn’t want to. 

And a bath…A stab of pure fear.  

“It’s like the cauldron,” Eira whimpered. Just like the cauldron. 

She didn’t bathe…she used buckets of water…even years later…still standing water was not something she could stand. Not without being reminded of her humanity being ripped away and traded for whatever this existence was. 

What if we make sure that it isn’t? the shadows asked her softly. It will be nothing like the cauldron, we promise. 

A bath…a hot bath that would help against the soreness of her muscles…that would maybe ease the cramps…

It did sound nice. So nice. 

So Eira just weakly nodded. 

That seemed to be all the agreement the shadows needed as they whisked her to the bathing chamber, in the blink of an eye.

She watched as they flitted about the room, turning on the water, dotting candles around the room, making it brightly lit with faelight and candlelight both. 

Lots of foam and bubbles appeared in the bathtub as well as numerous concoctions being poured into the water. 

She slowly toed off her shoes and opened the laces of her dress. Eira hesitated and the shadows disappeared, letting her undress in privacy…letting her walk to the bathtub and test the temperature…stare at it for a moment. 

It couldn’t look less like the cauldron if it tried. 

She waited for a stab of fear but nothing came. 

So she slid into it, let the warm water envelope her, the perfect temperature… A few tendrils of shadows came to keep her company, touching her chin so that she tipped her head back and they started to wash her hair for her. 

Eira couldn’t even remember the last time anybody had done that for her. 

And they did that…without even asking…just…just for her. 

“Thank you,” Eira whispered, not daring to close her eyes, but staring at the ceiling. “Are you sure you don’t have anything more important to do?” she asked weakly. “Isn’t your master going to be angry at you?” She didn’t want them to get into any trouble, just because they…they were taking care of her. 

You don’t want Master to find out, so he won’t, they said easily. Would you like some pain potions? 

If they gave them to her, she wouldn’t need to walk downstairs and maybe face her sister or gods forbid, Rhysand…and ask them for Madja. 

Nobody would need to know. She could have her privacy and her dignity left intact. 

“Yes, please,“ she breathed in relief as the shadows poured something or other over her head. One shadow brought her a vial, wrapping around her wrist as she uncorked and downed it. 

A bitter taste but it left her blissedly numb and tired nearly immediately.

“What’s that?” She mumbled as they hushed her, massaging her head.

It tasted differently than whatever Madja usually gave her…telling her that pain and discomfort were normal and that her potions would ease it…It was like pouring a bucket of water over an inferno. 

While this…this was quenching everything. Leaving her numb. 

Just a rather strong pain potion, the shadows promised her. You’ll sleep for a bit…We’ll talk more then.

Sleep… Sleep sounded nice…

She didn’t even think about feeling self-conscious when they pulled her from the water, rinsed her off and wrapped her in warm, fluffy towels. 

They laid out her favourite nightgown so she only needed to pull it on and pull back the sheets of her bed so she could slide beneath it. 

Even a hot water bottle was waiting for her…

Everything so that she would be as comfortable as possible… everything for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears pricking in her eyes as she climbed between her blankets, the shadows fluffing her pillow and pulling the blankets as high as they went. 

It was weird…to have the shadows doting on her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Eira was too selfish to protest this bit of attention…the only positive attention she had in years. 

They promised not to tell, so she wouldn’t either. Not when this was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for her. 

She fell asleep between one breath and the next, safely and warmly ensconced in her bed. Deep dreamless sleep…When she woke, it must have been the middle of the night…and still, the shadows were there immediately. 

She whimpered at the cramps that were ransacking her body…and the growling of her stomach in hunger. 

She hated these cycles. Hated how weak they left her and how she wanted nothing more than to cease to exist. 

Are you hungry? You’ll need to eat before you can take another pain potion, the shadows told her worriedly. Not a lot, just a little bit, they promised. 

“I don’t want to go down into the kitchen,” she answered weakly, biting her lip. Not that she thought that she could safely traverse the staircase anyway. 

Eira just wanted to stay here…alone. Maybe with the shadows for company, as long as they wanted her…

We’ll get you something. What would you like? They assured her immediately. 

Everything in her body ached for something human, even when she knew that their food would taste like ash for her. She always wanted human things. The things she would never have again.  

“Maybe some soup?” Eira asked finally. “If that’s not too much trouble?” 

Of course not. 

They fluffed her pillows and helped her sit up…and then soup appeared…a bowl filled with clear broth with bits of vegetables and chunks of chicken and noodles…cooked to perfection…better than anything she could have ever produced and by the gods, she had tried…All of it, arranged on a tray, with two slices of perfect crusty bread and another pain potion. 

She took that first, and it made her pleasantly numb and tired…and so she weakly spooned as much soup as she could in her mouth afterwards… mopping up the last of her soup with the bread. 

She finished as much as she could before she was too tired and the shadows tucked her back into bed, curled up on her side…so they could fuss with her hair which was a mess as always. 

She felt like a child being fawned over and she couldn’t help but relax into it…let them do with her whatever they wished if they just kept being so…nice to her. 

Feeling better? they asked softly and she hummed. 

If you could be anything…do anything... what would it be? The shadows wondered quietly. The movements of them were lulling her to some space of safety and warmth and Eira considered the question. 

If she could have anything in the world…what would she want?

A heady question. 

“When I was…young,” she said softly… “I wanted a dashing knight to come rescue me, and whisk me away from that horrible cottage,” she said weakly. “That’s what I wanted since I was old enough to want anything.”

A stupid children’s dream. 

But sadly there were no knights in Prythian and even if there were any, they wouldn’t pick Eira. 

And now? The shadows pushed. 

“Somebody that loves me,”  she admitted quietly. “A husband…children.”

All of that…she wanted all of that. 

And she was never going to have it. 

We could find you a husband, the shadows finally said quietly. If that makes you happy…we could help you.

“Who could possibly want me?” Eira asked, her voice breaking. Who would want her? The answer was easy: Nobody. 

Only because Master is an idiot, doesn’t mean every male is, they told her tartly. 

She wanted to laugh but it ended in a sob. 

“He isn’t an idiot,” Eira disagreed. “He just knows that…I am not good enough for him.”

Not pretty enough, not smart enough…not enough period.

That’s ridiculous, the shadows hissed. 

It wasn’t. 

“He’s in love with my prettier twin sister,” Eira snapped. “I shouldn’t want him anyway. Why should I want to be his second or even third choice?  Maybe for once, I want to be somebody’s first choice! Maybe for once, I want to be treated like I matter! That my feelings matter…that I matter!” It burst out of her. The tears burned in her eyes at that admission. At…how unfair it was. 

What had she done to deserve this? What had she done? 

Eira immediately regretted that outburst though. “I am so sorry,” she blurted out.

They didn’t deserve to be pulled into her feeling unfairly treated. She should stop complaining. It wasn’t going to…

For what? the shadows snorted. You are absolutely right. You deserve to be somebody’s first choice. You deserve to be treated like you matter. 

She didn’t. 

Maybe you should go shopping, the shadows suggested with a sigh. The suggestion was so sudden that she stared at the tendril of shadow still wrapped around her wrist. 

“Why?” she asked with a sigh. 

The Morrigan does that if she feels bad. The shadows told her earnestly. Then she buys shoes and feels better. 

Ah. 

She highly doubted that shoes were going to solve any of her problems. A pretty pair of shoes wasn’t going to make anybody fall in love with her. Or want her. 

“What am I supposed to buy?” She asked quietly. “Just shoes?”

Stuff. The shadows answered easily. Whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy, they assured her. All your sisters have more stuff than you. You make them dresses and other things. But you never make yourself anything, the shadows said quietly. Nobody would say anything if you wanted things that are yours. 

Right. She had never bothered with that. Not after she had lost all her things together with her humanity…there had been some piles of necessities sent to them by Rhysand…and that had been that. 

She had never bothered to get more than that. She still wore those dresses of the very first weeks… and while she had made dresses for all three of her sisters…as human out of necessity, as Fae out of habit…she hadn’t made herself any in years.

Not since becoming Fae. Her new body felt…she hadn’t wanted to look at her new body for long enough to figure out how something should fit onto it. How it had changed….

These godforsaken ears were enough. 

Buy things for yourself. Like a new dress! Or earrings! Diamonds! The shadows suggested. Whatever you find pretty. 

“My ears aren’t pierced,” she said quietly, a yawn taking over her face. 

That brought them up short.

Master bought you pearl earrings, the shadows said suddenly, sounding perplexed. 

He had. Beautiful. Impersonal. Unwearable for her…a far cry from all the little trinkets he had given to Elain…

Still, for months she had stared at them and found them oh so beautiful…safely kept in their box in her drawer at her vanity table. 

Maybe that alone should have told her everything she needed to know about the state of Azriel’s affection for her. 

Namely it was non-existent when the spymaster of the night court didn’t even bother to check if she even wore earrings. 

And the earrings…well…they were only…one thing. Her room at the River Estate that she had been supposed to furnish to her liking…that was another. 

In the end, it had consisted out of her getting a set of the same bedroom furniture as every other guest room and her walls were painted cream like in every other room Feyre hadn’t gotten to yet. It was still as impersonal as it had been when she had moved in. 

She knew that Elain had stuff to litter her bookcases with…gifts from Azriel or Feyre or Lucien, her mate…even Eira had gifted her sister things. 

But all Eira had…were the dresses she had on commission laid out on her desk. Which she would need to return to the shop where she worked as a seamstress at soon enough once she was finished with her alteration on them…and well, that was it. 

No books, because her reading was absolutely atrocious…no little trinkets from any of her sisters…no paintings or art or anything really. 

Just…her sewing and embroidery supplies and that was that…and even these weren’t…held in one of these pretty little wooden sewing boxes on legs that would keep them tidily kept away…

Do you need money? The shadows asked her seriously. 

“What?” Eira asked weakly.

She made some money with her job. Not a lot…but some. All of it carefully stashed away to buy birthday or solstice gifts from…or little trinkets she saw in a shop and thought one of her sisters would like…that Nyx would like. 

Do you need money? They repeated patiently. To buy stuff? For yourself? 

“No, I have money. And I don’t want to owe anybody anything,” she answered quietly, her eyes slowly closing.

 She didn’t want to end like Nesta… were in the end, her habits were used to bludgeon her with…she didn’t…

You wouldn’t. The shadows assured her. We have our own line of credit. 

What? 

“How does that work? Do you have your own bank account?” she asked curiously, and she could nearly feel their amusement. 

We like playing the lottery. Everything we win, we put into Master’s Bank Account, they explained to her earnestly. He never uses it anyway. We could just put our winnings in yours instead. Master wouldn’t care.

It was so ridiculous that she couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Really?” she still asked weakly. 

Really! they assured her seriously. Enough for you to have a shopping spree! We like shiny things, they told her, making her laugh. Master never buys any. We’ll pick up some mail-order catalogues for you and then you can spend tomorrow ordering some things. Maybe some curtains to spruce things up a little. It’s awfully empty in here. 

Still, she couldn’t help but ask. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Nobody should be treated like you are, they told her fiercely. Nobody should feel like they have no place anywhere.

[seleneprince]

Neris' daughters are named Sylvie and Gwyneth (yes, like Gwyn, one of Nesta's best friends), and they look like the perfect mix between their parents.

Sylvie is the firstborn, arriving four minutes earlier than her twin, something she playfully reminds her of quite often. She has bicolor hair, which its red from roots to the middle and gradually turns golden-brown towards the tips, and her mother's grey eyes. It's long enough to reach her waist, so she usually holds it out of the way with elegant braids or other hairstyles Nesta taught her. She has her mother's temper and her father's silver tongue. She loves animals, specially dogs because she's grown up with her Eris' hounds, and learning all she can about battle strategy. She's a great fighter, particularly talented with knives, and at fourteen she's known in court for defeating everyone that challenges her (and scarring people permanently for wronging her or her family). As Eris' heir, she's expected to command Autumn's tropes one day, so she has to train and study a lot. She's more than willing to kill for her loved ones. She can summon fire and her flames are reddish-orange. A daddy's girl through and through.

Gwyneth (called Neth or Nethie for short), has the same hair design but reversed. Instead, hers it's golden-brown from the roots and turns red to the tips, which she usually keeps shoulder-lenght, and Eris' amber eyes. She's shorter than her twin and looks like a sweeter, meek version of her (people foolishy understimate her for this and forget who raised her). She's more a diplomatic than a fighter, although she's trained in combat too just in case. She got her father's smooth, courtier personality, but in everything else she takes after her mother. She loves music, books and dance. She grew up watching her parents have duets whenever they pleased and she was enamoured by such art. She practices with them both, but its Nesta who teaches her the most. She's meant to become her twin's right hand in the future, so she's interested in politics and even becomes an ambassador for Autumn. Her weapon of choice are her words, but mind you, she can also burn you with her silver flames if you push her enough. She's a completely mommy's girl instead and, as a child, she was glued to Nesta's hips.

Both sisters are fiery in their own way, deadly protective of her loved ones and forces to be reckoned with. They're nicknamed "Autumn's Flames" because that's how strong their presence is. Sylvie is a warrior and a full-on strategist, while Neth is a diplomat and values discretion over open battles. They make the other courts shake in their boots, specially Night.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Seven

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

Warnings: Violence, suggestive content

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Two months. Two. Fucking. Months. Cassian shook his head, almost impressed.

Quite literally two fucking months. 

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. He half-coughed, half-laughed up the wine he’d been drinking. Nesta thumped his back, a mischievous smirk plastered on her normally severe face. 

Rhysand had finally gotten word that you and Azriel would be arriving… well, anytime now. Everyone had piled onto the House of Wind’s roof to await your return, the taste of new gossip already in the air. 

Nesta lounged in Cassian’s lap, searching the horizon line for the tell-tale flicker of Azriel’s wings. Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor were too busy placing bets on which of the males — if any — would come out of the fight unscathed to stare at the sky. 

“Fifty on Azriel.” Emerie said without hesitation.

There was a clatter of coins. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about Helion. The paternal protectiveness might make him especially vicious.” Gwyn reasoned. 

“Brotherly protectiveness may prove just as strong. If not stronger.” Was Mor’s opinion. “Lucien and Helion both won against Azriel last time.” 

“Az wasn’t trying then.” Emerie argued back. “Sad male that he was.”

The father-son pair tried not to let their egos grow or be injured by the conversation happening so close by. Instead, they engrossed themselves in their third chess game of the morning. It was becoming rather tedious by now. Being the early risers — and overprotective males — that they were, they’d been waiting for hours in the training ring for the first sign of your return. 

Alas, nothing so far.

A spread of breakfast plates cluttered the table they played on, silverware stacked neatly on porcelain plates. Save for the knives. Those were kept in close reach.

Rhysand tried to join in on the game, but the two males refused him time and time again. They knew better than to play with a daemati. 

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred. “Won’t you indulge me?” 

She smirked, but slid into her chair beside Nesta and Cassian, and across from her mate. She folded her finger neatly beneath her chin, her wall of adamant strong and impenetrable. 

Rhys was about to make his first move — pawn to E4 — when a twinkle in Feyre’s eye told him they had visitors. 

Cassian stood up straighter, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whooped.

A full house. You remarked as the House of Wind came into view above the city. Its red stone spires crawled into the sky. Reaching like outstretched fingertips.

The wind sang in your ears, ruffling your hair as you clung to Azriel. 

Lucky us. You teased.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched at the flash of red hair and crown of black locs waiting on the roof. 

Helion and Lucien rose slowly, twin smirks gracing their lips as they started unclasping necklaces and tying back their hair. 

Is it too late to go back to the Cottage? Azriel growled, dropping to his feet on the House of Wind’s roof.

I’m afraid so. We’ve committed. 

You slowly untangled yourself from Azriel’s hold and planted both feet on solid ground. He caught your arm before you could stray too far, tugging you back to his side and wrapping a wing around your shoulders. 

“You’re baaaaaack!” Cassian sang, throwing his arm out in a gesture of welcome. “Gods have we missed you both. You especially, Y/n. You look lovely. The mating bond suits you.” 

He winked seductively, blowing a kiss in your direction. 

Azriel figured Cassian could do without his remaining arm. 

“I hope Azriel sufficed for your first time.” Rhysand chimed in. His voice was liquid velvet. By now, Azriel had gone stone still — a dangerous look for the Shadowsinger. “But if you’re ever interested in sampling better fares, Cassian and I—” 

Helion slammed into Azriel’s side before he could reach Rhysand, wrapping his powerful arms around Azriel’s middle and throwing him across the room where Lucien waited with fist pulled back. 

Remember what we talked about. 

Azriel was slippery and cool as he wove in and out between Helion and Lucien’s bodies. He threw out a collection of strikes that had blood splattering on the ground.

Nothing permanent. He growled.

Thank you. 

“Did you see that?” Rhysand looked aghast as he settled deep into his seat. “He was going to hit me!” He flipped his cane end over end. 

“He has no honor, brother.” Cassian agreed. But both had to admit, there was some satisfaction in getting to watch the fight instead of participating in it. 

You slunk around the edges of the training ring, trying to avoid getting too close to the tumble of bodies that were being thrown around like rag dolls. 

It would seem there was someone else trying to escape notice.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here, High Lord?” 

Eris Vanserra leaned against a stone pillar, foot propped up against the wall as he swirled a glass of wine between bejeweled fingers. Aside from the gold glittering on his knuckles and along his ears, he was dressed like a commoner. His brown riding boots were well-worn with love and his shirt was left open at the top to reveal scarred and freckled skin. He chuckled when Lucien slammed his fist into the side of Azriel’s face with a growl that rattled the columns.

“None of that High Lord business.” He said, swatting the air like the very term offended him. “Call me Eris.” He smiled sideways at you, never taking his full attention off the fight. “Lucien asked me to come as backup, and I would never pass up the opportunity to help my brother,” he glanced down at you and cocked his head to the side, “And my sister.” 

“Is that what we are now? Siblings?”

He shrugged. “We always did want a girl in the family.” 

You were about to ask who Eris meant by “we” when there came a loud bang. 

Azriel held the shattered legs of a chair and Lucien kneeled on the ground, spitting splinters from his mouth. 

“You’re doing your brotherly duty wonderfully.” Your words were drier than a desert. 

Helion came to Lucien’s aide and used those powerful legs of his to drop kick Azriel in the chest and crack a rib… or two. 

“I’m also here for the entertainment.” Eris winked. 

When he turned back to the fight, Azriel was already staring at him, and he was livid. 

“Ahhhh, that’s my cue.” He tousled your hair, earning a roar from Azriel as Lucien and Helion latched onto his arms and held the Shadowsinger back. “We’ll talk again later.” 

He sauntered over to the trio, reared back his fist, and punched Azriel in the stomach. 

Nesta waved you over from her spot at the table with Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, and Feyre. It was a safe enough distance away from the brawl, even if the glasses shook every time a body hit the floor. 

“Leave the males to their fighting and eat. You must be starved.” Nesta slid over a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in a healthy amount of butter. 

You hated that Nesta was right. The frenzy had left you with little patience for eating most days. You descended upon the food. 

Gwyn was still watching the males. There was a strange fascination in her eyes as Helion spit out a mouthful of blood and Azriel punched Eris in the teeth. “I wonder how many wars could have been prevented if the males simply gathered in a room with their right hands and a ruler.” 

Emerie snorted. “I reckon at least ten.” 

Gwyn shook her head. “So.” She turned her attention to you and leaned in close. “How was it?” She did not speak the words quietly.

You blushed through a mouthful of eggs. “It was… very nice.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Nesta shook her head so many times that flyaway strands of blonde hair escaped her coronet. “How was it?”

Cassian moved in close, resting his head on Nesta’s shoulder. “We want details.” 

“Oh, stay out of this, Cass.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed huffed when Feyre enclosed the females in a wall of silent air. He settled for laying his head against Nesta’s back, feeling the vibrations of her body as she spoke.  

“We do want details. Spare us nothing.” 

The females hovered, breaths held in their chests for every salacious detail you were certain to tell. Their excitement made them forgetful of one very important fact — you had always been, and likely always would be, very private.

You looked at Feyre and swallowed. “We um… We broke the windows at the Cottage and need them replaced.” 

The females blinked. 

“Which ones?” Feyre asked, arching a dark brow. 

Azriel smiled at you from across the training ring, a trickle of blood spilling out from the corner of his lips as he wrestled Eris to the ground with his legs locked around the redhead’s neck. 

“All of them.” 

It was near noon when the fighting started, and the males still hadn’t ceased though the sun had set hours ago.

You walked onto the roof smothered in one of Azriel’s sweaters to escape the air’s chilly bite. This high up the mountains, the wind always whisked away heat like the sea to sand. 

Scraps of fabric littered the ground. Bloodstains lay sprinkled across stone floors like salt. It was all to be expected after a mating frenzy, and it did not surprise you that Azriel had kept up with your father and brothers for so long, but, enough was enough. You wanted your mate back.

“Ahem,” You coughed loudly. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered to you before you even opened your mouth. He had felt your presence before you’d even walked up the stairs and stepped onto the training mats. 

My love. He sighed.

Eris got the last swing in, but he missed the Shadowsinger by a half-margin. Poor Lucien, who’d been holding back Azriel’s arm, got a fistful of gold rings instead.

Lucien’s head snapped back. “What the fuck, Eris?!” He stood grasping at his nose. Blood spilled out from between his fingers. 

Eris winced. “Sorry, little brother.” 

You made another little noise and the males shoved each other away, bodies sweaty and bloodstained. Eris’s shirt was ripped to shreds, barely hanging onto his narrow shoulders as he wiped the blood from his lips and grinned like a fox. Helion was missing a nose ring and the top tip of his ear. A bruise sprouted along Lucien’s cheeks courtesy of his brother. 

But Azriel? The only evidence he carried of the fight was the thin line of dried blood between his lips. It was not unpleasant to look upon.

Less than ten seconds ago they’d been at each other's throats with tooth and nail. But as males were ought to do, once the fight was over they were quick to grumble half-hearted compliments and began picking jewelry and abandoned blades off the floor.

Azriel tipped his head towards you in the smallest of bows. When you held out your hand for him, he didn’t even bother walking to close the distance between you two. He winnowed directly to your side.

About time you finished. I’m ready for bed and I’d like to have my mate beside me.

I like it when you call me that. I like it when you call me yours.

You smiled softly at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of smiling at his hazel eyes. 

You looked to the rest of your family. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t pretend to worry about us, dear Y/n.” Eris snorted. The smirk on his face was a friendly one, highlighting his handsome, but impish, features as he gathered his cloak from the corner of the room. He swung it around his shoulders, magically repairing his clothes with a flutter of red velvet. “We’re fine. And I would never pass up an opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the Shadowsinger.” He winked at Azriel, who only scowled in return. 

That scowl turned into a barred teeth snarl when Eris brushed past you both.

His warm, amber eyes betrayed what you already knew from that brief moment of contact before he went off to his room — he hadn’t been lying when he said they always wanted a girl in the family. 

“Goodnight, sister.” Lucien said, kissing your forehead. It took everything in Azriel not to pummel Lucien once more. Your brother’s eyes flickered up to the Shadowsinger. “And congratulations on your mating bond. Truly.” 

You mouthed the words, Thank you, before accepting a final goodnight embrace from your father. 

“It’s good to have you back.” He smoothed back your hair. Then Helion clicked his tongue and thumped Azriel on the shoulder. “Greedy little Shadowsinger. Keeping my daughter away for two months.” He shook his head in mock disappointment.

The pair soon disappeared down the hallway leaving you and Azriel to linger in the night’s silence alone.

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitched — the only sign he was in any pain when you gently brushed against his ribs. 

You smirked. It would seem that your family members had done a number on the Shadowsinger. He’d just been hiding it beneath layers of leather and male pride. What a shame that the females’ bets had been for nothing.

My Y/n, whose side are you on? He asked as you began unbuckling the gauntlets on his arms. Piece by piece, leather armor fell to the ground as steam curled up into the air. It never failed to amaze you how large Illyrian tubs were—and how long they took to fill. 

I’m on both your sides.

That is a very noncommittal answer. 

It’s a very judicious answer. 

Azriel smiled, cheeks brushing against yours as he kissed the curve of your ear. I do agree you are anything if not sensible. 

Azriel hummed in satisfaction as the last of his Illyrian leathers dropped to the floor. You knelt beside the tub, pouring in a concoction of oils as Azriel stretched out his wings. It was easy to admire the curve of his neck and the muscles of his back as his wings flexed open and close. 

When he was deep beneath the waters, eucalyptus and lavender opening up his lungs, he asked you to clean his wings. It was heaven whenever you touched them. Your soft fingertips seemed to hold all the power in the world — the power to light his blood aflame like whiskey or to soothe him like a sleep draught. Tonight your touch was peaceful as he wrapped his mind around the bond and felt your souls melt and mix like gold. 

This is to be our lives now. Azriel reminded himself once again. 

You buried yourself beneath the covers and made a little noise of contentment that never failed to make his chest grow warm. 

It is. You agreed. Would you like me to remind you? 

It was a pattern of words you’d grown used to while at the Cottage. Azriel would marvel at the mating bond—the peace that came with it—and you would take to carefully kissing the expanse of his chest, his neck, his collarbones, until there wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been painted by your gentle lips. 

You began that ritual now, winding your way up his chest and ending at his eyelids. Black eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you finished performing the magic that was your love and devotion. 

I love you, Azriel. You reminded him. You would remind him of that truth every day of your lives. 

I love you too, Y/n. I adore you. 

You settled into his side and Azriel draped a wing around your shoulders in a move that was as natural as breathing now. Heads bowed together, shadows curled close by, and scarred hands met scarred skin as he traced the curve of your spine.

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird. 

Together. 

As they were always meant to be.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

This is the last chapter before the epilogue y'all. I don't think I can say anything right now because it feels weird to be saying goodbye to this story so... I guess I'll save my thoughts and emotions for another time...

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 1

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

A/N: Hi, I am so excited to share this first part with you! I wanted to point out that I am following major plot points in the books, however, this is in the Reader's perspective so some of the interactions may not line up with the text exactly but the major plot points will be there.

Content warnings: Nightmares, Grief, mentions of death, mentions of trauma,

Summary: Y/N accompanies her twin sister to the Nigh Court after Rhysand crashed Feyre's wedding. Where the reader finds herself lost in the memories of under the mountain and finds herself in the company of a Hazel eyed stranger

Word Count: 3.1k

tags: @hellodarling1357

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

“Hello, Feyre, Darling.”

My head whipped toward the end of the aisle; the High Lord of the Night Court was flicking an invisible piece of lint from his dark lined suit. My gaze moved to my sister who before his arrival, had looked like she was ready to bolt from Tamlin. Lucien’s casually stepped closer Feyre as the Violet Eyes meet my own, “Y/N.” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown, “You look healthy.”

I straightened my posture and tried to hold the arrogant air that would make Nesta proud, “Rhysand,” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown I responded, trying to move toward my sister, a firm hand keeps me in place causing me to still completely.

Tamlin’s voice roared in my ear, “What the fuck do you want, Rhysand?” The High Lord of the Spring gripped my arm too tightly and I clenched my jaw to prevent a wince.

Rhysand did not miss the little action and tucks his hand in his pockets, “I am here to collect Feyre and Y/N. Unless Feyre Darling wants to go back on her end on the bargain.

I grimace as the memory of Feyre making that bargain:

I couldn’t keep my body from trembling, I knew I had a fever and Feyre was trying to bring my temperature down by putting a soaked piece of her shirt and pressing it on her forehead. Amarantha had split up the challenges between the two of us.  Taking the first challenge, The Middengard Wyrm was more challenging than I had originally anticipated. When we were living in the human lands, I would occasionally go out hunting with her and she would teach me a few things and those skills came in handy when going up against the Wyrm and was able to slay the beast.

  It wasn’t until we were back in our cell that I was aware that I had the gaping wound. It only took a few days for the infection to seep into the wound and my fever spiking.  “You must hang on just a little bit, Lucien will come and help. You just have to hold it out for a little bit longer.”

Steps could be heard down the hall from our cell and the grating of our cell door creaked open and Rhysand stepped in. Feyre covered me with her small frame, “What do you want?”

The Violet eyed male simply ignored her question and made is way to my side. I was to weak to cower away his presence alone was intimidating. He reached out his hand about to touch my wound when it was whacked away by Feyre, “Do not touch her,” she said through gritted teeth. The High Lord gave my twin a playful smirk in response.

A groan of pain escaped my lips as a violent tremor tore through my body both Rhysand and Feyre gazes meet mine, “I’m only here to help.” Rhysand says.

“We don’t need your help.” Feyre spat, tucking me closer to my chest always the protector.

Rhysand’s face began to blur in and out of focus but in a brief moment of clarity I saw his face hold a cool indifference as he met my stare. “Would your sister agree with you, Feyre?” In a fever haze it sounded as though he said her name like a prayer. “She will die if you don’t act quickly. Make a bargain with me and she will be safe.”

Feyre took her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes met mine, I gave her what I hoped was a smile but was probably more of a grimace as a coughing fit erupted from chest. Feyre’s grip on me tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Rhysand, “We were told not to make bargains with fae.”

I closed my eyes listening to his voice, “And yet you still made one with Amarantha. If it wasn’t clear she’s dying.”

Feyre shook her head, “Lucien will be here, and he can help us, I trust Tamlin.”

Rhysand sighed and I opened my eyes, my lids feeling heavy, and I used most of my energy to keep them on the former High Lord. “Lucien could get here tomorrow, or five days from now,

I gripped my sister’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze, “Feyre,” My voice cracked my throat and my mouth extremely dry from dehydration. “I trust him.” My gaze met Rhysand’s and I could have sworn there was a flicker of stars in his gaze I reached out my hand to him, he quirked his brow, but my hand met with Calloused ones. “I trust you,” A fit of coughing took over and there was a brief squeeze of my hand from his almost comforting.

 “What do you want?” Panic laced Feyre’s voice as my eyes began to flutter shut, loosening my grip on the High Lord’s hand. Rhy’s grips may have tightened but my mind was in a haze.

“I heal her, and you come and spend two weeks in the Night Court with me.”

“No,” Feyre said her voice strained. “I won’t do it.”

My eyes creak open slightly, as the feeling of soothing circles are brushed against my wrist. “Well, that’s a shame,” Rhysand released the grip on my wrist and rose.

Feyre shrieked and amplified my already pulsing headache. “No wait!” Feyre’s eyes meet my gaze tears are brimming, “Five days. I will give you five days, but my sister has to be with me.”

Rhysand scoffs, “Bargaining?” There was a pause, “10 days.”

Feyre countered, “one week.”

Rhysand hummed for a moment, “One week it is. You have a bargain.”

There was a flash and I slipped unconscious.

I met the stare of the High Lord of the Night Court, and he looked as though he was recalling that memory as well. As Tamlin snarled, “You cannot take them,” His grip on me tightening to the point of eliciting a small whimper that caused Lucien’s head whipping over to mine. A scolding look to his friend caused Tamlin to release me as I moved swiftly to my sister as I lace my fingers with hers.

“You want to wage a war on interfering with a bargain that Feyre willingly agreed to than by all means Tamlin be my guest.” He approached my twin and I and held out both of his hands with the palm. “Ladies, if you don’t mind.”

Feyre looked at me, fear extended to her features I gave her hand a comforting squeeze and a nod of my head that seemed to put her at ease. She reached out her free hand and I followed suit. Rhysand grips our hands and before Tamlin can make a beeline toward us, we were consumed by darkness and landed on a balcony and Rhysand ushered us inside to a large dining room area with dark red and black décor.

I looked back at the balcony ignoring Feyre’s bantering with the High Lord. Where we were, was on the side of the mountain and the scenery was breathtaking, the sun glinting off the snow on the mountain. The sun is beginning to set in the sky turning to hues of pink and purples painting the sky. I wish Feyre would take in the scene in the hopes that she would find inspiration to paint again.

Rhysand yelp of pain pulled me from the beautiful seen to see that he was rubbing the back of his head. Feyre has her second slipper in her hand, “Don’t you-“Rhysand growled as she threw the second slipper at him and the High Lord catches the slipper and smirks.

Feyre just scoffs, “Just take us to our room.” Tapping her now foot impatiently the way she crossed her arms I could have almost mistaken her for our eldest sister.

Rhysand’s lips formed a tight line. Crossing his arms in answer to hers, and I had to cough to cover up my laugh. The High Lord’s eyes twinkled with amusement and in a blink, it was back to normal, and he was scowling at my sister. “Follow me.”

Rhysand walked away not waiting to see if we were following him, I began to follow him and a small hand gripped mine. I paused and looked at Feyre her eyes were sunken, and her face had thinned since we came out of Under the Mountain, “I don’t like this.” Feyre whispered, “When we get home, I’m going to see if Tamlin can break the bargain.

I gave her a comforting squeeze giving her a warm smile fighting the disgust at her calling the Spring Court home. “Keep an open mind, Fey.” You paused, “He did save my life,” I looped my arm into hers, “Come on.” I dragged my sister into the hall and rushed to catch up to the High Lord who was leaning against a set of double doors.

“I figured the two of you would want to share a room.” Rhysand smiled and pushed off the door, “Does that work for you?”

I was shocked as I thought back to when we were taken to the manor in the spring court.

Feyre and I had our hands intertwined, the only thing preventing them from shaking, as we followed the High Lord of the Spring court through his manor. Tamlin, as we found out his name, was on our journey to the fae lands. The blonde fae male paused at one of the doors and opened them, “This is where room for either of you. Which one is up to you, of course.”

Feyre and I exchanged a look of pure panic, Feyre was the one to speak first, “Can’t we stay in the same room?”

Tamlin bristled, “You have spent the last few years in a room sharing a bed with your two other sisters and you still want to share a room?”

I glowered, “Well maybe, we’re in a strange place, with strangers and strange creatures, and maybe we seek comfort in each other’s company.”

Tamlin returned my glare and through gritted teeth, “You have two separate rooms, use them or don’t, I don’t care.” Tamlin walked past the two of us purposely bumping into my shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Feel free to join.”

“Prick.” You muttered. As you and Feyre walked into one of the bedrooms.

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, bringing you back to the hall, Rhysand’s brows furrowed in what looked like concern. “Are you alright?”

I nod and give a smile, “I’m fine, are you okay with us staying together? I know that our ‘arrangement’ is different back in Spring.”

“You can call it home,” Feyre straightened, as if she realized who was standing and listening, “I’m fine with sharing a room.” She once again gripped my hand and dragged me to the room and slammed the door, not even muttering a goodnight to our host.

“My home is the cottage in the human lands, Feyre, considering,” I tuck my hair to reveal my round ear, “By their standards, I shouldn’t be here.  The only reason I’m here and tolerated is because of you.” Feyre flinched at the confession. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, I don’t want to fight. You asked me to stay with you and I will, but please let me adjust at my own pace.”

Feyre nodded and, in a flash, she grabbed you and embraced you in a hug, “I love you, Y/N,” you wrap her arms around your sister and squeeze. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course,” you pull away and flick her nose, “Alright let’s get you out of this hideous dress.” She laughed and nodded. As if on que the doors of the wardrobe opened and there were two-night outfits. One was in a beautiful violet that looked too small for me and one in a ruby red.  “Well, that’s convenient.” I mutter as I pull out the red shirt and pants, running the cool silk through my fingers. “I have to say,” Feyre blue eyes, met mine, “The Night Court has style.”

We changed into night outfits, and I grumbled over my exposed mid-drift and how they accentuated my curves but overall, they were comfortable. I took a glance at Feyre and my heart ached. I could see her ribs protruding, I knew she was having a hard time, but every time I would ask her about it, she would brush off my concern, tell me that others had it worse under the mountain. Tamlin could barely look at me most of the time, so I was never able to bring it up to her betrothed.  Lucien made himself scarce ever since Ianthe came to stay on the property, so no one was there to help me help her. Feyre smiled at me, “Shall we get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

I nodded and we crawled into bed and cuddled close together and fell asleep.

Tears were falling down my cheeks as I watched Amarantha raise my sister’s body off the ground and throw her down like a rag doll. I was ready to run up to her, but Lucien pinned me to his chest concealing me from Amarantha’s sight. Feyre’s mouth moved and the rage on the red haired fae’s flared in her eyes. Amarantha smirked, “Well you figured it out, but you failed to be specific of when I free you.” Rhysand lunged at Amarantha and with a flick of a wrist he was flung against the wall.

Crack

The tether to my other half had snapped, and Lucien gripped me tighter as I screamed, my sobs uncontrollable. Lucien was whispering in my ear, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying, past my screams. I didn’t even notice how he stilled as the power shifted, and Tamlin unleashing his full power on Amarantha. “Feyre,” you whimpered as Lucien returns to consoling you as Amarantha was torn to shreds. Lucien let me go as I crawled to my sister; her limp body unresponsive. “Feyre, wake up, please wake up.” I sobbed leaning over body sobbing into her should, “Come back to me. Please I can’t do this without you.”

I jolted awake from the nightmare of a memory that plagued me every night these past three months. Sweat coated hair clung to my forehead as I turned to find my sister sleeping peacefully beside me her now pointed ears, proof that she was alive. It should have been me. I thought to myself. I shook the thought, knowing I had to be brave for her. Knowing she needed me to be strong enough to help her through this. I silently slid off the bed and snuck out of the room, knowing full well I would not be able to fall back asleep I figured I would explore our home for the next week.

My feet pad across the carpet and wander through the hall, as far as décor goes the halls are bare. Though the walls are dark the fae lights create a comforting ambiance. A door creaks open that catches my gaze, and I press myself against the wall hoping the shadows conceal me though no one ever came out. Deeming it safe to peel myself from the wall I walked toward the open door and my eyes widened. I stepped into the room and was mesmerized by the books lining the walls and the fireplace sending warmth down my spine. A window showcased the night sky, the room was breathtaking, and I began tracing the tomes with my fingers.

Nesta and Elain sometimes would pull me aside and teach me how to read when we had spare time. Though I could never read books at the same rate they do. Some words were still hard, and my understanding of the words sometimes went amiss so by the time we lost our fortune I had given up on it entirely.  Though I always loved the idea of reading to get lost in a story and transported to far off places.

“Someone having a hard time sleeping?” The deep voice that could cause anyone’s toes to curl, caused me to jump and I spun to find the source of that voice. My eyes met Hazel ones and I came face to face with the most beautiful male I had ever encountered.

The male was tall my head barely met his chest, dark raven hair the same as Rhysand’s fell to his shoulders his face was one blessed by ancient gods his chiseled jaw line and sultry lips. He wore red jewels on his chest and atop his hands and I gaped as I noticed his wings were tucked tight to his body as he leaned against the door frame. His face showed concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He spoke again. “Are you Feyre?”

I shook my head words lost on me, I shook my head and continued, “Afraid not, though I am her sister.” I picked up the book that was in my hands and put it back on the shelf, “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t sleep and the door kind of opened on its own I was curious.”

The male raised his hand, “Rhys wants you both to feel comfortable while you’re here. You are more than welcome to be here.” He walks in deeper and faux whispers, “I technically shouldn’t be talking to you right now?”

You take a tentative step closer to him and faux whisper back “How come?”

He gives a wolfish grin, “He doesn’t want us to scare you away.”

I quirk a brow at him, since he made his presence known I’ve only felt this overwhelming comfort. “Are you someone I should be scared of?” I asked.

His hazel eyes glance at my night ware and it’s then that I notice that the color matches his rubies, interesting. His eyes linger on my exposed stomach that I wrap an arm around feigning a chill. His eyes meet mine noticing the shift and gives me a full smile showing his teeth, “Here? No. On the battlefield? Absolutely.”

I laugh, a sound I haven’t heard out of my mouth in a while. “I don’t think I’ll be on the battlefield anytime soon, so I’ll have to take your word for it.” You noticed how eyes are bright, “Well, it’s late and I don’t want to deter you from whatever it was you were doing.” I walk around him as he straightened, “It was nice meeting you.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked right as I reached the door. He turned to face me.

I shrug, “What keeps anyone from sleeping? Nightmares.” I give him a small nod, “Goodnight…”

“Cassian, my name is Cassian.”

“I’m Y/N. Sweet Dreams, Cassian.”

I leave and I could have sworn before I did, I heard a soft, “Sweet Dreams, Princess.” Before bolting back to my room to my twin.

Chapter 2

[etchedjade]

The Twin Flames - Nesta Archeron and Eris Vanserra

I finished it! This is for all the people that loved my lighting sketch, I hope you all enjoy!