#Nyx archeron x Tamlin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

surielstea · 18 days ago

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Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

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utterlyotterlyx · 8 months ago

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When I Met The Devil

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Part Two to When I Kissed The Teacher which you can read here.

Summary - Azriel adored everything about you, but there was still certain information that you were keeping from him. Azriel finds out exactly what you've been hiding thanks to a particularly unfortunate visit.

Warnings - mentions of sexual abuse and neglect, angst, mentions of trauma

It had been three months since Azriel had taken you on your first (of many) dates. Azriel had been so nervous, not sure where to take you that would be able to live up to your expectations, even Nyx had given him some ideas by babbling on about what made you smile in the classroom.

Apparently you loved nature, of course you did, you were from the Spring Court. So Azriel had packed up a picnic and taken you to a garden of wildflowers away from the city to watch the sunset and gaze at the stars. You had taken his breath away when you had opened the door to him, you had dressed in a loose fitting pale blue dress with white flowers embellished into the bodice, the sleeves hung off of your shoulders and your hair lay unbound down your back.

That day had been one of the best days of his life, he had gotten to know you beyond your profession and learnt so much about you, but the nagging feeling that you were omitting some truth tugged at him, but not enough for him to make a deal about it. Azriel had kissed you under the stars, he had run his fingers through your hair and kissed you so passionately that you swore the world had stopped moving just so it could watch you

Since then, you had been inseparable.

Azriel showed up at the school each day after that, sometimes in the morning at drop off or in the evening at pick up, sometimes both, and he always brought you flowers or chocolates or anything he could think of that would bring a smile to those lips. He would walk you home, but more often than not he would pull you inside the River House and force you to have dinner with them.

You never objected to his wishes, you enjoyed his hands on you far too much to say no.

Azriel was happy to take things slow with you, you were so gentle and pure, if you wanted to wait years to share a bed with him then he was okay with that. You were worth any wait.

One morning you had opened the door to the school, frowning slightly when you couldn't see Azriel or Feyre and Rhys with little Nyx waiting on the grass. They would have told you if Nyx wasn't well and needed to take the day off unless it was serious, but even then, Azriel still would have showed up on the grass with our without Nyx just to see you.

It plagued your mind all day, and you did your best to conceal your worry from the children and continue as normal, but when it came to home time and none of them were there, you knew something wasn't right.

You had locked the room up quickly and stopped by a healer to pick up some infant friendly tonics just in case Nyx needed anything, bundling the vials in your hands as you rushed down the winding streets of Velaris, allowing your feet to take you where you needed to go whilst your mind reeled with endless possibility.

Lifting the hem of your skirt as you ascended the steps of the River House, you completely missed the scent that haunted your nightmares, too frantic with worry to notice it curling around you like chains. Then you saw the back of his head, shoulder length blonde hair and broad shoulders, and then the scent hit you, one of Spring rain and lifeful earth, and you dropped the vials in your hands onto the floor, not even flinching when they broke and cut through your skin.

The thing in question turned his head to the side and sniffed, smirking with feral delight before he fully turned to you, and you saw nothing else but him and those eyes that had made you do things you didn't want to too many times, they were dark and honed in on their prey. His lips tilted upward and he rose to his feet, and you didn't hear anything anyone else was saying or commanding as he strode across the room and stopped right in front of you. You didn't dare look up, you couldn't, and then his fingers gripped your chin harshly and forced your gaze upward.

"I've been looking for you," the room held a collective breath, his shoes crunched down on the broken glass and the liquid parted under his weight.

You knew that they were all watching you, waiting for you to say something, you averted your gaze to Azriel who was on his feet, fists clenched and glowering at the male who dared to touch you, "Nyx didn't show up to school, I thought he was sick, I was bringing tonics."

Feyre rose to her feet beside Rhys, "It's okay, Y/N," her eyes were soft, she could feel your terror, they all could, and then it seemed like your secret and finally been released from the depths of your shame, "Let go of her, Tamlin."

Tamlin chuckled but didn't take his eyes off of you, he cocked his head to the side and breathed you in, "Don't tell me to take my hands off what is mine," his voice was dangerously low, possession had taken over every part of him and the wolf was coming out to play, "Isn't that right, fiancé?"

"I'm not your fiancé," tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes and Azriel saw how small Tamlin made you feel, your shoulders had curled inward, your entire body was preparing to protect itself against the male who held your head in his hands. You looked to Azriel then, "I ran. I couldn't do it," you blinked hard and your tears flowed down your cheeks.

"Just because you ran doesn't mean that the agreement is void, Flower," you cringed, you felt helpless in his grip, like all of the independence you had worked for was nothing but dust dancing in the breeze, "The Tithe has been particularly awful without you."

Azriel lost it then, he grabbed Tamlin by the shoulder and forced him round, the action making his hand jolt away from your face, and Azriel landed a sickening blow to the side of his face.

"This is not a battle you want to fight, Tamlin," Rhys stood beside Azriel who was panting with fury, he knew what the Tithe was, they all did, and the thought of Tamlin using your unwilling body as a vessel for his sickening ritual was enough to send Azriel into a blind rage.

Azriel bent down to Tamlin's level, noticing Feyre rush to your side as he did to comfort you, and growled, "Touch her again and it won't be a battle, Tamlin. It will be a war."

Tamlin had the gall to grin, "She's my fiancé, Shadowsinger. Not even you can get between that."

"No, but I can," Cassian grabbed Tamlin by the neck of his coat, hauling him to his feet in front of Rhys, "Y/N is a member of the Night Court, she is a cherished member of my family. She is not your mate, so you have no claim on her and you know it. Now, leave my city before I cut your head from your shoulders and leave Spring lordless."

Knowing he wouldn't win on Night Court soil, Tamlin scoffed and headed for the door, not before stopping at your side and letting his gaze roam your figure, "They can't watch you forever. I'll see you soon, Flower."

Then he left.

And you stood standing in Feyre's arms pale and frozen, looking at the broken glass on the floor and shaking your head, "I have to go," you announced, peeling yourself out of Feyre's embrace and feeling like a completely awful friend to her, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N.."

You couldn't stick around and listen to her call your name, you couldn't stay there and witness Azriel looking at you like a stranger. So you ran. You ran all the way home, you didn't stop for a single moment until you closed the door behind you and slid down the wood, bursting into chest wrecking sobs.

If anyone would know who you were, it would be Lucien Vanserra, he was Tamlin's friend after all.

The red haired male found himself dragged before the Inner Circle by Elain, a thing he detested, he had just returned from the human realm and wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up with his mate, sitting in front of them was something he wanted to be rid of and fast.

"What do you know about Y/N? She came from the Spring Court," Lucien's eyes widened in saddening alarm at Feyre's question, he looked about the room as if you'd pop out from a corner at any given second.

"She's here?" Feyre nodded, "How is she?"

The question took them by surprise, and confirmed what they already knew, that you certainly we no double agent, but they had to know your story, it was a matter of protecting you, "She could be better. Tamlin was here."

Lucien's eyes darkened into molten lava pools and his nostrils flared, "Did he see her?" the silence confirmed his own query and he looked deflated, his shoulder fell and sadness floated over his face, enough sadness that Elain had moved to his side and wrapped his hand in her own.

"We need to know everything," Rhys ordered, moving his gaze to Azriel who was itching to leave the house and go to you, but even he had to know what had happened.

The Autumn male sighed, feeling conflicted, not wanting to tell your story for you but knowing he had no choice, "Y/N belongs to a very powerful Spring Court family, her father wanted a direct line to Tamlin so offered up his eldest daughter, Y/N, for marriage. Her father was a prick, no doubt still is. He sold Y/N to Tamlin like she was worth nothing more than what she could breed. She tried so hard to put off marrying him, she wanted a long engagement so that she could get to know Tamlin but everyone knew she just wanted more time to find a way out. Then the Tithe came and even I couldn't stop him from taking her into that cave," Lucien looked to Feyre who knew Tamlin all too well to know that what he was saying was nothing but the truth.

"Each year after that first Tithe, he sought her out against her will, you could hear her crying bouncing off of the walls. I couldn't watch it anymore so I helped her escape, I gave her enough money to be able to travel the continent and never heard from her again. I just did all I could to throw him off, to keep him away from her. Y/N was the happiest person in Spring, everyone loved her so much, and Tamlin ruined her."

"Seems like a pattern," Feyre cleared her throat and settled into Rhys' warmth that had wrapped around her like a blanket. She felt horrible, she thought she had it bad, but at least Tamlin never took her against her will like he had done to you repeatedly.

"Feyre I don't want to compare, but you have to understand that what he did to you was not nearly as bad as what he did to her. He took her light away, he forced her into a darkness I've never seen before or seen since, the neglection was sickening, she would cry for days on end, she'd mourn the life she dreamed of. It was unbearable."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, "She made it here though, I knew she'd find where she belonged in the end."

"Why didn't she tell me? I would have understood."

Rhys shushed his mate, he knew how much Feyre loved you, they all did, "Sometimes you don't want to talk about what others made you do," his mind drifted and eyes glazed over as he remembered his own story for a moment, the painful memories tugging at his heartstrings.

Rhys knew how it felt to be used against your own will, he knew how it felt to lie there each night and feel like a worthless pawn in someone else's game. He knew how it felt to work yourself into exhaustion trying to forget the terrors others had willingly inflicted on you.

If anyone could truly understand you, then it would be him. And there was no way he was going to let you lock yourself away and perish with shame when you had a family and life awaiting you.

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thisblogisaboutabook · 8 months ago

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Bad Idea, Right? - Part 8

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

If things go according to plan, Eris and Y/N’s first official date could end in hot, steamy sex. Or, it could end in complete and utter chaos - because when do things ever go according to plan? Azriel almost has a good time, until he doesn’t. We also FINALLY meet Tamlin’s daughter.

Part 7 Part 7.5 Headcanon

Warnings: Alcohol, language, smutty content, assault with non-consensual kissing, breeding kink (kind of)

An evening breeze blew through Velaris sending a slight chill through the champagne golden silk dress I’d chosen for the evening. A caress of warmth rose up from the fingers I’d threaded through Eris’, heat continuing up my arm and throughout my body, counteracting the mild chill.

When he’d shown up to my door right on time, dressed in a deep forest green tailored suit with the top unbuttoned and a turtleneck that was - For one, so perfectly molded to his torso that I practically salivated as fantasies of licking his abs flashed through my mind. And two, conveniently matched my dress perfectly - I almost said “Fuck the date.” and jumped on him then and there.

He’d arrived carrying three things. A bouquet of hydrangeas for my mother, symbolizing gratitude for her grace with the current situation. Freesia bulbs for my little sister to add to her Sprite garden if she wished, a symbol of friendship. I realized the double meaning of it, to draw in sprites with wishes for friendship but also to symbolize their new budding friendship. My mother smiled softly as she realized it too.

For me, he’d brought a “Fire Poppy”, apparently native to his court. His hesitance to express the meaning of the flowers, told me enough. Fire. Passion. But the incredibly faint dust of pink on his freckled cheeks left me wondering if perhaps there was something more.

Father only appeared at the last moment to kiss my forehead and likely give a seething look toward Eris while doing so that warned, Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I won’t. Eris paid no mind.

And now here we were, walking through the streets of Velaris hand in hand. Eris’ focus remained intently upon me as I pointed out various shops that I would frequent. I pointed out one that I loved as a child and Azalea still adored. The window was decorated with paint splatters of primary colors that blended together into a rainbow mirroring the Sidra and inside floated hundreds of miniature fae lights imitating the skies of Night Court.

Eris paused as we stood before the shop. “Can we take a look inside?”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely perplexed by his interest in this shop of all the ones we’d wandered past.

“It’s a surprise.” He stated.

Because why would anything with Eris be anything but secretive?

Eris read my responding roll of the eyes for exactly what it was. “Surely you realize there is a difference between a surprise and a secret?”

I couldn’t help myself. “Many of your secrets have left me feeling quite surprised, Eris. Certainly you would realize that?”

He huffed a silent laugh leaving me on the street to go into the store. Set in my stubborn ways, I refused to let him win and stood outside waiting.

Eris was back by my side eight minutes later with a small canvas bag. I raised an eyebrow. “What’d you get?”

“Ah, if you wanted to know, you could have come in with me. Guess it’s my secret to keep.”

“Mother spare me. You are insufferable.” I muttered stepping ahead of him down the street. His long strides caught up with mine within a few steps.

He once again wound his fingers through mine. “You love it.”

And I hated that it was true.

“You’re not going to tell me what you got?”

“Just a gift for a friend.”

———————-

Eris had reserved a table at Sevenda’s where Sevenda herself eagerly greeted us. She ushered us to a private section of the restaurant, lit with candles and within earshot of a performing pianist. She’d kissed me on the cheek and given Eris a respectful bow of the head before bringing out a mouthwatering appetizer of some delectable cheese sauce she’d recently added to her menu.

The secluded setting of our table, incandescent glow flickering off the candles, and soft melody floating in from the piano, all flowed together into a very intimate setting. Strange that I had bared myself to this male so many times, and performed every sexual act imaginable with him, yet I’d never felt so exposed to him as I did in this very moment.

Eris checked his blazer, and gods… I only ever wanted to see him in fitted turtle necks or absolutely fucking nothing again. The male was delicious and his gaze…. He was greedily drinking me in as if he’d splay me out on the table itself and feast. There was no way he couldn’t smell the arousal pouring off of me. I sure as hell could smell his, and it was far more mouthwatering than any of the glorious spices wafting through the restaurant.

Before I could give in to my instincts, Eris’ low tone interrupted. “If you keep looking at me like that, Y/N, I’m not going to make it through this dinner.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

He audibly groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Just as our mutual eye fucking grew so intense that I genuinely wondered if Eris really was about take me then and there, our waiter approached with a bottle of the Inner Circle’s favorite wine. “Compliments of the High Lord.” Making eye contact with Eris, the male suddenly seemed to remember who he was in the presence of as he uncomfortably cleared his throat, “of the Night Court.”

Eris paid no mind and thanked the waiter. Surprise crossed the males face as Eris took the bottle from him and poured our glasses himself.

When the waiter took our orders and returned to the kitchen, Eris’ gaze returned to me. His eyes again roving over my body but lingering on my face. He smirked when he realized I was flushing under his intense eyes. “Are you nervous, little Shadowsinger?” He asked. His tone predatory.

I took the opportunity to send a shadow to caress the shell of his ear, effectively shutting him up.

“Now that we’re alone,” I ran my foot up the length of his leg, stopping the journey just short of where I so desperately wanted to feel him. “How long have you had an an apartment here and why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Ahh yes, excellent talk for a first date.” Eris mused, raising the wine glass to his plush lips and taking a long, slow sip before continuing. “Perhaps, I wanted a place to see you without you having to travel through multiple courts to find me.”

“Do you not wish for me to come to the Autumn Keep any longer?”

Eris’ change in tone took me by surprise as it became stern, the voice of a High Lord and not the bedroom voice of my lover. “Don’t you dare think that for a second. There’s nothing mo-“

He stopped himself mid-sentence shifting uncomfortably. “I enjoy your presence in my keep, in my bed, Y/N. But I also like to have the opportunity to visit you in your home court.”

My heartbeat quickened at the power flowing off of him, the desire in his amber eyes.

“So, Rhys was totally fine with you having a place here, just to hook up with his niece?”

“Diplomacy, darling. It is far easier to have a place here for times that negotiations and other meetings run over. It also benefits him to be able to have eyes on a fellow High Lord, no? It was not a difficult matter to convince him.

And I was going to tell you, you just happened to pick up the hobby of drunkenly wandering the streets before I had the opportunity.”

“I was fine.”

I was not fine. He knew it. I knew it. I was borderline feral that night.

“It wasn’t you I was concerned about. It was the poor citizens running the other way, screaming of a rabid, shadow-creature roaming Velaris in search of its next meal.”

I smiled. “For the second time this evening, Eris Vanserra, you are insufferable.”

“And again, little one, you love it.”

I rolled my eyes and took a swig of wine.

————————

Eris

She was fucking captivating. Eris drunk in every detail of Y/N like she was the wine flowing from her glass.

She had to know she looked like a goddess. Had he told her? She could read him like a well-adored book at this point. She read every look he gave her without him needing to speak a word. I want you. You’re perfect. I need you. You’re more perfect than I ever dared dream. I would kiss the earth you walked on if you only asked.

Shit, could she read that all on his face? Should he tell her how damned gorgeous she was or would she give him that all-too-enticing look of “Spare me the compliments, High Lord, you can strip and ravish me once we’re alone.”

And gods, he was going to. He had plans for his little Shadowsinger tonight, plans involving carefully undressing her and pressing kisses to her silken skin, replacing each bit of fabric slipping off of her body with a press of his lips. Instead of burning that lovely little number that was hugging her mouth-watering curves, he would proudly display it in the Autumn Court’s archives. He was a romantic, after all.

Of course, before putting it behind glass for safe keeping, he’d be binding those pretty little wrists behind her back with said dress. He was also a deviant.

As for his plans after that? They were far too filthy to fantasize about at the table.

“Your aroma is rather fragrant.” Her teasing voice broke him from his thoughts.

“And you’re rather intoxicating. We make quite the pair, love.”

And there it was - the little blush she always tried so hard to hide from him.

If just the term “love” brought that to her face, what lovely shades of pink would her cheeks light up with if he laid it all out right now? If he told her how she’d fucking ruined him for anyone else? That to taste her was to taste the nectar of the gods? That he was so hopelessly in love with her that there was no crawling out of this pit of desire, and he’d sooner drown in his need for her than ever swim up for air.

The urge to do just that frightened him. Why did he think this date was a good idea? As far as his self control went, it was a terrible idea. And as far as he cared at this point, it was the best idea. He was here, in front of her, and nothing else mattered.

————————————

Eris had always thought himself better than the primitive beasts fae turned into when it came to their mates. But he truly realized how wrong he was when after dinner, Y/N had requested to walk very slowly along the river until her stomach wasn’t, as she so elegantly stated it, “bursting at the seams.”

Given that after the wonderful meal they’d devoured, he too was struggling, he obliged her, draping his suit’s jacket as well as his arm over her shoulders. She pressed a hand to her very, very, slightly bloated abdomen, in an effort of easing the discomfort. Such a simple gesture that should have meant absolutely nothing but….

An inferno blazed within him at the thought of her glowing with a round belly, the mating bond’s most primal instinct roaring at him to winnow her away immediately and fill her so utterly full of him that there would be no questioning of whose she was. His.

He prayed to the mother or whomever would listen that the breeze would blow the sickeningly strong scent of his arousal far away.

————————

Y/N

The gallery was packed. Unsurprisingly, anyone and everyone wanted to come out to brush elbows with the Inner Circle and who could blame them? Unlike the other courts of Prythian, Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre actually interacted with their people. Well, the people of Velaris at least. Feyre was respected as High Lady but she was revered as an artist. Proceeds from her own work went directly back into the arts district.

“Beautiful.” Eris mused approaching a work of art toward the back wall but keeping his eyes on me. I sipped the champagne an attendant handed me upon arrival, needing it to get through the rest of this evening.

Especially needing it to get through the work of art he was approaching.

“This.” Eris motioned toward the piece, “is stunning.”

“It’s not for sale. Just a work from one of Feyre’s students.”

The art, featuring darkness floating upward from the bottom and a blaze falling from the top, intertwining with licks and whirls of flame and shadow in the middle.

“Cost is of no concern to me, little one. I need it.”

A sing-song voice came from behind us. “It’s magnificent isn’t it?” Feyre asked.

“What can I do to acquire such a fine piece of art?”

“You’ll have to ask the artist.” She nodded toward me.

“Aww, come on my lovely niece. Think of all the supplies it could fund.”

“You’re a busybody.”

She only gave an airy laugh before disconnecting the mental bond and returning to the attendees.

“Wouldn’t it look lovely displayed for all of my court to see?”

My gut lurched and I wasn’t sure if it was from imposter syndrome or excitement.

“Fine.” I’ll make a deal with you, Eris Vanserra. He raised an eyebrow. “This art is very personal to me. And despite the fact that it is hanging in the gallery, I want it to be for your eyes only. Do you agree to hang it in your chambers?”

Eris gave a faux pout. “And not show my lovely lady’s art for all the world to admire?”

My heart raced as I quipped too quickly, not allowing the time to change my mind. “Perhaps I only want to be yours to admire.”

Eris visibly gaped at the statement and my heart sank. Had I read all of his adoration wrong? Was I going to humiliate myself just as I had two years ago when he’d left me on the dance floor and I swore I’d never let him have that power over me again?

He swallowed a lump in his throat. His voice breaking slightly. “And your payment terms?”

“Oh you’ll be paying out the ass for it.”

He grinned. “As one does for the finest things in life. I’ll take it.”

A beat of silence.

“And I’ll take you too, if you’ll have me.”

And with that he leaned in to kiss me, soft and hard, fervently and slowly, wanting more yet only needing this.

A throat cleared behind us as father interrupted. He looked to me and to the art behind me.

“I never realized….” He spoke softly as he took in the work.

I flushed, the work now feeling far too intimate under his gaze.

My father turned to Eris. “You’re purchasing this?”

Eris nodded. “A worthy investment, yes?”

My father remained tense but something in his eyes softened. “A very worthy investment.”

Father leaned in to kiss my forehead. “Enjoy your night sweetheart.”

It was at that moment Adish appeared, his Day Court friends Hem and Apollo in tow along with Nyx and a female I’d never seen before. Nyx looked in my direction with a wink as he saw the piece Eris and I stood before, before heading with the group for glasses of champagne.

Eris spoke, “I’m going to speak with Feyre regarding reservation of the piece before anyone else tries to snag it out from under me.”

“It’s not for sale, Eris. Nobody else would be able to purchase it.”

He pressed his warm lips into mine. “I won’t risk a good thing.”

I blushed, dismissing him.

Nursing my champagne, I perused the various pieces decorating the gallery walls when a female voice came from behind me. “If you wanted your father’s attention, there are better ways than whoring yourself to Autumn Court trash.”

I turned around to see the female Nyx had entered with. Her dark hair and blue eyes fooling nobody. Clever little shapeshifter.

“And I didn’t realize your father was in the habit of allowing females to leave his manor.”

She grinned. “Oh come on, he locked her in ONE time...or at least that’s what he tells me. He really can be an overbearing asshole sometimes.”

I laughed. “I missed you so much, you bitch. Nyx needs to stop hoarding you.”

“Please” she scoffed. “I don’t need Tamlin and Rhys’ melodrama to complicate things.”

“Ha, I’m sure Nyx filled you in on all of the drama in my world recently.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yes, I’ve been living vicariously through your escapades.”

She leaned in to hug me. “So” I took in the brown hair she’d chosen for the evening. “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Mmm, as enticing as that would be. I prefer your blonde hair and green eyes. It does something for me.”

“It does something for Nyx too.”

I pretended to vomit before Nyx stepped in. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to spend time with my lady before she decides to leave with you instead and I get stuck with the fireling.”

“He’s quite fun, Nyx. I’m sure you’d enjoy the ride.”

Nyx choked on his drink and whisked Layla away with him, leaving me to take in the art in peace.

A few more minutes passed and my shadows grew restless as if contemplating the same thing as me: Eris should be back by now.

Feyre had returned to the gallery with no Eris in sight. I searched, passing Adish and Apollo, my parents and Azalea, Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, even Amren, but no Eris.

Had he left? Did I scare him away?

No, his response was sincere. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t, right?

I walked down a quiet hallway, stepping away from the crowd. “Eris?” I whispered into the quiet of the hall.

Two shadows returned with no information but another returned frantic. “Bad.” “Go.”

I hurried in the direction my shadows shot out, winding further and further down the hall.

My heart stopped. In front of me was the radiant, gorgeous Hemera, pressed up against my man. Lips crashing into his.

“Bad.” My shadow repeated. Whirling to show me something.

Eris saw me and his eyes blew wide, shaking his head.

Hemera turned, wicked grin contorting her gorgeous features into something cruel.

“Sorry, hon. He’s just so needy and so pretty. Can you blame me?”

Did this bitch really think I’d simper and turn away? Oh no. My shadows continued their whispers.

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

“Blade.”

“Bad.”

A sliver of silver caught the dim lights shining down upon them, a blade held to Eris’ neck.

Eris stared at me wide eyed as my shadows erupted into a frenzy around me in effort to distract the Day Court female.

She jolted and her blade knicked his neck and I felt a sudden spike of fear in my gut but the fear, it didn’t come from me. It was coming from…. Eris.

Holy shit.

Willing all of my power to the surface, my tone turned cold, dangerous. “I suggest you step away from my mate.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court. Eris fucking Vanserra. My mate.

I gave a tug in return to his emotions. A gentle reminder that I had this under control and he instantly tugged back.

He knew. Holy shit, he had known.

I could be angry later, now I needed to save his ass.

A commotion came from behind me. Adish and Apollo rushing in. “What the-“ Adish started. “Sorry, friend.” Apollo spoke before the fucker cast a sedation spell on him.

Apollo towered over me. “You weren’t supposed to find them. For what it’s worth, you would have been a great friend.”

He moved, but I moved faster. Sending a blast of power knocking the male on his ass. My shadows binding him.

“You talk too much.” I spat.

Turning back to Hem and Eris she held him in front of her. “Don’t make me kill him.” She spoke. Now using him as a shield. With his front exposed, I could see the shackles around his wrists. “This could go much more easily if you let me leave here with him. Why do you want a cheating male? You deserve better than that.”

I needed time to assess. My shadows busy with Apollo. Fuck. This was bad.

I laughed. “I hardly call you forcing yourself upon him ‘cheating’, in fact most would call that ‘assault’. And I have no patience for those who force themselves upon others.”

Just then a flurry of shadows shot into the room, ripping Hem’s wrist and dagger from Eris’ throat. My father winnowed into the room. No, this wasn’t my father. This was the feared Shadowsinger, the infamous Spymaster of the Night Court. His tone promised death as he commanded Hem to step away from Eris. She fought his demand, shaking with fear as she remained in place. “Please, you don’t understand. My father is wrongfully imprisoned in HIS court.”

“And this is how you feel it best to approach?” Father stepped closer, a thick, violent air emanating from him. “I will ask you one final time to step away from the High Lord.”

Hemera knew she was no match as she dropped the knife stepping back away from Eris.

Eris ran to me, in an attempt to shield me from any fallout but there was no more danger as father’s shadows apprehended the female.

Rhys and Feyre raced into the room, Nesta and Cassian on their tail.

Rhys whispered to Feyre. “Let Elain know it’s handled.”

Feyre’s gaze went distant as she communicated to my mother.

Rhys commanded Apollo to remove the sedation spell from Adish as Cassian jerked the apprehended male off the ground.

Nesta’s eyes flared with silver as she stared down Hemera before apprehending her as well. My mother and sister rushed in as we followed Rhys down to the gallery basement toward an empty office where the two would be held until Helion arrived. Since they were denizens of his court, it was only right to determine the next steps with him.

As the group strode toward the office, Azalea began tugging at my sleeve. “Sissy.”

“Not now, Azzie.”

She gasped, her little legs trying to keep up. “Sissy, please.”

“Just a minute, Azzie”

I felt guilty for ignoring her but my mind was coming out of the adrenaline state it had been in and my heart racing with rage and shock as I processed the revelation that Eris was my mate. That he knew and didn’t tell me.

Ironic considering that I always found Aunt Feyre and Aunt Nesta to be overly dramatic for their reactions to finding out about their own mates.

They were good, loving males who had enough money to live in lavish comfort for all of their days, and were highly regarded among the people of Velaris. How terrible.

Yet here I was. Fuming. Humiliated. That this male, a gorgeous High Lord and a damn good one at that, with a far softer heart than he’d ever let the world see, courted me because I was his mate.

I thought he wanted me for me.

“Sissy-“ Azalea drew me from my thoughts once again. “What?” I finally asked, raising my voice. But it was too late as the door to the empty office was opened, only to unveil a half naked Nyx, trousers unlaced, his body pinning a no longer shifted Layla with the bottom of her dress hiked up, and breasts fully exposed.

Nyx gaped. Eyes wide and frantic. I sent my shadows out to shield them, my father’s following suit, my hand instantly covering Azalea’s eyes.

Layla only pulled her dress up over her tits as she let out a laugh. “Whoops, we thought this room was unused.”

“I tried to tell you.” Azalea’s little voice whispered.

Darkness erupted through the room as Rhys clenched his fists. “What the fuck?” He growled out to Nyx.

My father only grinned, not caring who saw the smug satisfaction on his face. Fully conveying the look of that’s how it feels, you pompous asshole. Get it now? How’s it feel to be humiliated in front of an audience by the unconventional partner your child has chosen to fuck.

Feyre only covered her mouth, stifling a giggle at the situation. Nesta and mother quietly giggling with her.

I used the distraction to remove the enchanted shackles that were still stifling Eris’ power and apparently his ability to speak.

Fury blazed within me, my restraint failing as I spat out my next words much louder than intended.

“How long, Eris?”

Guilt flooded his features, his head hanging low.

“How. Long? How long have you known that I’m your mate?”

My father choked. The shit-eating grin instantly fading from his face, jaw and fists clenching.

A pitiful sound escaped Eris. “Since the first night… in the alley.”

“Wow.” was all I could manage as the walls began closing in around me.

I stepped away but Eris grabbed my wrist. “Please, Y/N. Just hear me out.” his broken voice pleaded. I couldn’t think. I needed space. Needed to breathe.

“Mom.” I looked to my mother. “Can we go home?”

She gave an empathetic look to Eris. “Come on, Azalea.” She reached out a hand. “Sissy needs us.”

Azalea looked to Eris, letting out a “hmph” as she scrunched her nose and crossed her arms. “That was bad.” She scolded, little wings ruffling with each word.

His face crumpled further as his little friend glared at him with disdain, words failing as she stuck her tongue out and winnowed away with mother.

“I love you.” was the last thing I heard as I spirited away.

———————————————-

A/N: I have had so much fun writing this series! Part 9 will be the final chapter but I may eventually give our main character a name and add a few spin off chapters as well. If that would be of interested to you, let me know!

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Eris list: @angiedsv

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unforgivenyunjin · 3 months ago

Text

“What is the difference between Feyre having Tamlin’s kids and Feyre having Rhysand’s kids”

Choice.

She chose to have Rhysand’s son while she felt pressured to have Tamlin’s. She chose to show off her pregnancy with Nyx while she felt that she had to in the Spring Court.

A major theme in Feylins relationship in Acomaf is pressure and the role Feyre feels she needs to fulfill. If you pay attention to what she actually says you would see that she doesn’t say she never wants these things with Tamlin. It’s the right now that she’s insecure about. She doesn’t want kids right now, she doesn’t want equal power as him right now. She was in a critical mental state, having panic attacks every single night, and didn’t really have a support system. But even then she was being rushed into things she was not ready for. She was both being controlled and being pressured to make decisions she was not yet ready to make.

Thats why there is a major difference is her choosing to have Rhysand’s kids when she said she didn’t want to be a breed mare for Tamlin or choosing to show off her pregnancy when she said she didn’t want to be paraded around with Tamlin. Everything Feyre has done with Rhys when it comes to the progress of their relationship has been on her own terms. She chose when to have a child, she chose when to come into her power as High Lady, and she chose when it was time to announce her child to the world. These weren’t things pushed onto her after she’d just been tortured for 3 months and going through arguably the lowest point in her life. Think of something you enjoy doing and then think about how you would feel about that thing if you were pressured to do it or pressured to be the absolute best at it. Eventually your feelings towards that thing are going to change because it’s no longer just something you enjoy, but something that is being weighed down by the expectations of other people. It’s the same thing with Feyre and having kids.

#feyre archeron #Tamlin #feylin #fandom discussion #Feysand #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #pro rhysand #Nyx archeron #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #pro feyre

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Word count: 3500+

Warnings: babies and pregnancy

Part XXX

Tamlin was sitting on sofa enjoying beautiful sunny day from private balcony of his bedchamber. Well, your bedchamber. Since the day he married you, he felt nothing but endless happiness and joy. To him everyday was like a dream. His home used to be a cold, dangerous, unwelcoming place where his own family ignored him or threatened him. With you it changed into something he never experienced, something he never dared to even dream about. Every room and hall that held bad memories turned into his favourite place full of warm rays of sun as soon as you walked through. He couldn't believe his luck, spending every minute of every day praying and thanking to the Mother for giving him such a gift.

With one leg up on the sofa, back leaning against the armrest, he held a stack of documents in one hand, the other one rested on your waist. You were settled between his legs, back leaning against his broad chest.

You were reading a book that you found in library some time ago. It was one of his mother's favourite ones, just some romance, but you couldn't put it down. Tamlin liked to watch you while you were reading, waiting for the moment you got so engrossed in the story that you stopped paying attention to your surrounding. He loved to see how your expression changed based on what you read, showing all kinds of emotions. If he didn't have so many responsibilities, he would just sit and watch you for hours without getting bored.

Since he returned to his duties, he was very busy, sometimes even leaving estate for several days to take care of issues on borders or distant corners of the Spring Court. This Court was completely ruined and it was pretty hard to restore it back to its original state. No need to say that Tamlin decided to take advantage of this opportunity and change things he didn't like. Because not all of the traditions and rules that previous High Lords established, were good. On top of that whole Prythian was slowly changing thanks to all new young High Lords with dreams or rather visions of better future. Tamlin wanted the same for his Court. And he did really good job so far.

Villages, cities and roads between them were repaired and rebuilt, new rules gave hope to all, whether poor or rich, for better tomorrow. Hearing about all the changes, not only original inhabitants of this beautiful country had came back, a lot of new Faes decided to move in here, too.

So as could be seen, High Lord of Spring had his hands full. However, whenever he could, he spent as much time as possible with you, even when he was working. Just like now. Your presence made him feel better whenever he felt down and you did your best to support him and help him with his duties.

Tamlin put down documents he was holding, on the table that he moved closer to the sofa for this purpose and took another one. He quickly skimmed it with his eyes.

"Little rose, your brother wants to see you. He's coming today's afternoon," he informed you.

"Really?" You put your book down, looking up at him with smile. You hadn't heard from Rhys much since the wedding. You were so worried. Lately he started to at least write you more often, but his letters were hectic and none of them explained what's going on. Tamlin seemed to know something though. When you were trying to get it out of him, he just declared that he promised to not speak about it. So you could only wait for your brother to tell you the reason.

Tamlin gently kissed your forehead, nuzzling to your hair and rubbed your belly. "He wants you to officially meet someone," he breathed out and handed you the letter to read.

"Do you know who could it be?"

"I have a certain idea, but I might be wrong," he laughed. His other arm wrapped around you, tugging you closer, so he could reach your lips.

You moaned to his mouth, turning over to him. Your hand slipped down to his crotch and to the bulge you felt there.

Pulling away he sighed. "I still have a few documents that I have to go through. Tonight," he promised and pecked your cheek.

"I already can't wait," you muttered, resting your head in the crook of his neck so you could drown yourself in his rich scent.

You smiled. "Will we tell them?" you asked after a while.

Tamlin frowned. "I'm not sure. I think that we should wait a bit longer," he said uncertainly. "Until it's safe."

You pursed your lips.

"But if you want," he added quickly. "Maybe we could wait to see who they'll bring with them and then decide."

"That sounds great," you smiled, satisfied. Your husband was a decisive male as you recently found out, even harsh in some ways, and he definitely knew how to get his way. A soldier indeed. But when it came to you, he had a soft spot for you and never tried to push you into something you didn't like or want, and rather let you make your own choices.

The morning passed quickly and just as was stated in his letter, Rhysand came on time. And he wasn't alone. Feyre was standing right beside him with a small bundle in her arms. The bundle moved and small voice echoed through the hall. You gaped at them in awe. Tamlin watched you with interest with a hardly there smile.

Rhys proudly grinned seeing your expression. He took the bundle from Feyre and together they stepped closer. "Y/N, Tamlin, I'd love to introduce you Nyx, our son."

A small fist flew out of the blanket and little baby made a satisfied sound. Apparently he didn't like to be swaddled much.

"Hello," you cooed at him offering him a finger. He immediately grabbed on it and giggled. It was a lovely baby with tuft of dark fine hair and tan skin of his father, and bright blue eyes inherited from his mum.

"So this is what you were hiding," you said softly holding Nyx's hand and gently rubbing his soft skin with thumb.

"Well," Rhys suddenly got serious. "It was quite a complicated situation." The blanket disappeared and you spotted a small pair of black wings on Nyx's back.

You gasped. It was well known that it was impossible for females who didn't have at least pinch of Illyrian blood, to give birth to baby with such wings. There weren't many cases of Illyrian male choosing female outside of the camps, but when it happened and female got pregnant, it usually ended with her and baby's death.

Your eyes shot up to Feyre, looking at her carefully. She was little bit pale and tired, but otherwise she seemed to be fine.

"How..?" You couldn't finish your sentence.

"Well, it wasn't exactly easy," Feyre smiled sadly and waved her hand. "It's quite a long story, maybe we should rather skip that. It's nothing interesting, really."

"And bloody one. You almost died," Rhys grunted. Now you understood why he looked so bad when you saw him the last time. He was desperately looking for a way to save his mate and unborn child. Even if he asked you, you couldn't help them, but he could at least confide with his worries.

"But thanks to Nesta, it didn't happen," Feyre gave him a look. "She came just in time and used whatever powers she snatched from Cauldron to safe me and Nyx."

Your shoulders slumped and you turned to your brother. "So that was what worried you? Can you imagine how much worried I have been, knowing that there is something going on and you don't want to tell me about it? If I knew we could tried to help you looking for a solution together."

"I told Tamlin and asked him for help. I didn't want you to be involved in this. I didn't want to stain your happiness. After everything that happened to you, you deserve it more than anything."

"Do you think I could be happy if someone from my family died without me even knowing there was something going on?" You hissed.

Angry, you turned to your husband to confirm that he really knew about this.

Tamlin next to you cleared his throat, obviously feeling uncomfortable. "It's true. He told me the day we informed him about our engagement. I tried to help and transform the wings before the birth but it didn't work."

Feyre's brows knitted together. Apparently she didn't know that he visited Velaris and tried to save her. Neither did you.

You narrowed eyes on him. You clearly remembered when he told you that he knew what was going on in Night Court, but that he promised not to tell you. You really shouldn't be angry with him but only with your brother because it was his doing, but still you were a bit angry.

Feyre noticed the change of mood and came with different topic.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry I missed your wedding. I've heard it was beautiful and I'd love to learn more details later if you don't mind. I hope the two of you are truly happy."

"Yes, we are very happy," Tamlin was faster and answered in a reserved voice, pulling you closer to his side. He was trying to be polite and smiled at her, but you felt tips of his claws looming under his skin.

It was the first time he paid her any attention. Since they came, Tamlin didn't as much as looked in her direction. It must have been hard for him to meet her in person again after everything that happened between them. Feyre also seemed to have problems to look directly at him.

She stepped a bit forward and cleared her throat.

"It's okay if you say no, Tamlin, but could we have a word? It will be quick, I promise," Feyre bit on her bottom lip.

He didn't need to ask for permission, yet he did it anyway. Tamlin looked down at you and fingers of his hand on your hip clenched into your loose dress. You squeezed his hand, nodding. He leaned in and kissed you before he left with Feyre. Whatever it was, you hoped they could solve it and find it in them to at least forgive each other. You liked your brother and Feyre, and you'd really like for both of your families to meet up from time to time and enjoy those moments together. You watched them until they turned around the corner and then turned to your brother and small Nyx who seemed to feel so comfortable in arms of his father that he fell asleep.

"You really could have said something," you said in small voice trying not to wake up the baby, watching his lovely face.

"I'm sorry. I- I just.. I was so scared," He admitted, watching his son with love. "I couldn't even imagine loosing them, living without them. I felt that when I tell you, it'd be definite, ultimate, that there would be no hope left."

You huffed. "Why even bother to imagine such things. You wouldn't have to live without them. You would die together with them," you sighed heavily, tears stinging your eyes. The realisation of how close you were to loosing your brother suddenly hit you.

"You remember," he snorted.

"Of course, I do. You gamble with your own life. I understand why you two did what you did, but still. Imagine she would have really died with you following after her soon. What would happen with Night Court?"

At that moment, Tamlin and Feyre came back, saving Rhysand from answering. You breathed a sigh of relief when they seemed to feel somehow more comfortable in each others presence. You were sure Tamlin would tell you what they talked about later. He stepped to you, kissed you with a soft smile and his hand once again found its place on your hip.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing interesting, really. Just some siblings nonsense."

"I see. It seems someone was so bored that he fell asleep," he nodded to little baby, now sleeping in Feyre's arms.

You chuckled. "Do you want to tell them?"

"And you?" He asked carefully, already knowing your response in advance.

You nodded and Tamlin sighed.

"Tell us what?" Rhysand asked, always the curious one.

Tamlin just waved his hand and your scent filled the room.

"You are.." Rhys gasped, utter shock on his face.

"Pregnant?" Feyre finished for him with big smile. If she didn't hold Nyx, she would run to you and squeeze you in tight hug. "Congratulations! How far are you?"

"Well, baby is due in two months or so," you announced, smoothing your dress so they could see the rather small bump you had. Tamlin's other hand immediately lifted to your belly in a protective way. You both were worried at first, expecting that in this stage of pregnancy you would be already so big that it would be impossible to hide it. However healer assured you everything was okay and explained you that the baby was just in a very good position.

Your brother's face changed from pale to red.

"Two..? What?! So soon? Why you haven't said anything? That's your doing," Rhys spew words.

Feyre put her hand on his chest. "It's wonderful news," she told him in calm but a bit scary way. "You should be happy you'll be uncle and congratulate them, honey."

Rhys took a deep breath, thinking it over. Then he stepped closer to you and Tamlin growled. "It's my sister. I won't hurt her," he declared with narrowed eyes.

Tamlin seemingly still didn't like the idea of any male in your proximity, but he released you. Rhysand stepped even closer and carefully watching your husband, he slowly pulled you into a hug.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, for my previous reaction," he whispered to you softly. "I'm just.. surprised. I didn't expect my baby sister to grow up so soon, but I'm really happy for you and hope that everything will go smoothly. I can't wait to meet my little niece or nephew."

"Thank you," you whispered back, feeling easier, now, when even he knew about it.

Two months later

Tamlin ran across the gardens and up the stairs taking three at a time, swearing under his breath. He knew that he shouldn't have left. Nothing would happen if he postponed the visit of the farthest point of borders where they had some minor problem with supplies. He felt it coming, but you convinced him that it would be fine and you wouldn't give birth any time soon. Not even half a day had passed since he bid you farewell and you were fine back then, full of energy. The Mother had to hate him for some reason now.

As soon as he got the message, he ran all the way back. It was a big day and he didn't want to miss it by any chance. He knew that giving birth wasn't an easy task and he wanted to be there for you no matter what.

Heaving heavily and all sweaty he finally abruptly stopped before the double doors of your bedchamber. Something was amiss. He hadn't noticed it before as he hurried through halls, but the whole manor was quiet, too quiet. There should have been some kind of commotion, maids running around, screams or a baby cry. With a bad feeling and shaky hands he pushed the doors open wide. Small healer who took care of you during the whole pregnancy, emerged out as if she was waiting behind the doors for him, startling him and closed the doors behind her.

"Milord," old fae bowed. "You are late."

He swallowed hard around the lump that rose in his throat, his heart painfully squeezed and sank down. "Late? What do you mean by that?" His voice was hoarse, thick with panic. "Where is my wife? How is she? And what about the baby?"

The healer raised her hands as if trying to calm a startled animal. "Everything is okay, Milord. Milady and the baby are both healthy and fine. They are resting now."

Tamlin breathed a sigh of relief, running hand through his hair. It took him a moment to calm down his rapid heartbeat. He was in acute need of something to lean against or at least a gulp of strong alcohol. He had never felt so relieved in his entire life.

"Let me congratulate you to a healthy baby girl, Milord," healer smiled.

"A baby girl? I have a daughter?" Tamlin's eyes filled with tears of joy. His knees buckled and he almost fell down. He had to lean against the doorframe, taking another moment to process the information. "Can I see them?"

"Of course, Milord," healer bowed again, holding the doors open for him.

Nervously he stepped in and the healer closed the doors behind him. It was so quiet inside. On shaky legs he crossed the sitting room and stopped in the alcove leading to the bedroom. The door was wide open.

You were in bed, back rested against pillows. You looked so tired, but it wasn't what stopped him. It was a sight of you holding the little baby, your finger gently caressing chubby pink cheek. You were smiling down so softly at your daughter that his breath caught in his throat and Tamlin fell to his knees, momentarily overwhelmed by the emotions. His girls. The perfect picture of you two had engraved deep into his heart. Maybe some day he could ask Feyre to paint it for him. He already knew where he would hung it: to his office so he could have you two in sight even when he had to spend some time separated from you.

That's when Tamlin felt it.

All this time he was waiting, certain that you were the one, but it never happened, not until this very moment. It didn't snap for him when he proposed and you said yes nor when he saw you in that beautiful wedding dress walking toward him, not even when you spent your very first night together. It didn't really matter whether you were his mate or not, he was already so happy with you. You already were his soulmate whether the Mother blessed you two or not.

However, all it needed, was just to see you with your baby girl in arms. The bond had finally snapped for him and his stone heart came to life, moving. For the very first time in his long life he felt his heart beating, really beating, not only its echo. It was quite painful at first and he clenched the shirt on his chest in the shock, but with every beat it slowly got better and pain soon disappeared.

"I knew it," he sobbed, tears rolling down his cheeks. "You are mine. Mine."

Finally, you noticed him and looked up. You were surprised to see him on his knees, but you smiled nonetheless. "I've always been yours. Just as you are mine."

Tamlin crawled to the bed, impatient to see his daughter. His fingers trembled as he reached out, gently squeezing her tiny hand in his.

"I'm so sorry I missed it. I wanted to be here with you." He couldn't stop the tears. The little baby in your arms whom he loved so dearly even before he laid his eye at her, immediately won his heart anew. There was no way he wouldn't love her. She was perfect, a small version of you except of the hair as he could assume by few hairs that he saw.

"You are here now," you snuggled to his side. "Would you like to hold her?"

Little girl frowned as she left her mothers arms and shifted in discomfort. Tamlin expected her to start crying, but she only looked up at him with bright green eyes, yawned and again fell asleep.

Tamlin smiled as he brought her closer to his face. She smelled like you and the baby soap he had prepared for her. Small hand came to his cheek, tiny fingers trying to find something to grip on. He offered her his finger and she immediately grabbed it. Her pinky lips curled into a smile.

"She's perfect," Tamlin breathed out, unable to take his eyes off of her. "Thank you for this gift, my love. Thanks to you I'm the happiest male that ever walked this world. I love you so much."

He leaned in, giving all his gratitude into a kiss and sending a wave of love down the bond. You wrapped your arms around his neck, surge of need to be close to him overcoming you. However, the small bundle of joy between your bodies, didn't like it a bit. The both of you laughed out and snuggling together watched your little miracle.

That night Tamlin slept a deep peaceful sleep, holding both his beloved girls on his chest close to his beating heart.

Note: This was the last part (until I learn to write some good smut👀)of for now the longest story I've ever written. It was a long journey, but I had a lot of fun and learnt a ton of new things. Thanks to this story I also met a lot of new people here who are very kind and I'm very grateful for that. I'd like to thank all of you who stuck with me until the end. Hopefully you enjoyed it. This story wouldn't be what it is without you, your comments and questions, and your support. Thank you so much😘💕

And I very hope to meet you again in a new Eris' series🤞🥹🤞

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@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning @little-nightowl

#tamlin acotar #tamlin #tamlin x reader #tamlin fanfiction #pro tamlin #rhysand acotar #feyre archeron #feysand #nyx #nyx acotar #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #dad tamlin #tamlin girls dad

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witchofhimring · 2 months ago

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Family tensions (short fic)

Pairings: Tamlin x Reader, Feyre x Rhysand, Nyx x OC (Tamlin and Readers daughter)

Synopsis: Your daughter Tamar is mated to Rhysandss son Nyx.

Warnings: family tensions

Despite your insistent that this was in fact not the end of the word Tamlin still insisted this was the worst thing to happen. 'Have those Illyrian rats not taken enough from me!' Following your husband up the flight of stairs, you attempted to convince him that Tamar might just love Nyx. Of course you did not fully blame him. Given his past with the Night Court and its ruling lord and lady one could understand. You were torn between wanting to protect your husband and look out for Tamara. 'Perhaps we should talk to Tamar first?' Tamlin turned around. 'That is exactly what I intend to do!'

Unfortunately, the pair of you had horrible timing. Because when the door to Tamara's room was opened it was not just your daughter there, but Nyx.

Tamlin looked ready to pass out. There his daughter and Nyx were, Tamara on his lap reading a book. The moment they realized who had walked in both jumped up. 'What is this!?' Behind Tamlin came you. 'Hello Nyx.' You said politely. Oh dear. Nyx's blue eyes went back and forth between Tamara and Tamlin.

'Father, this is Nyx.' Tamara, looking unrepentant, stared defiantly at her father. It occurred to you that Tamara did not know the whole story between your families. Perhaps you should have been more forthcoming. 'Tamara dear, could we talk about this in private?' You gave Nyx a tremulous smile. 'Yes. Boy, leave.' Nyx ignored your husband. Placing himself protectively before Tamara, Nyx drew himself to his full height. 'Tamlin calm down. Nyx could you go to your parents and speak to them about this?' It was best to deal with this diplomatically. Tamlin was mostly calm these days. Years had passed since you last saw him so angry.

'Nyx. You go and I will deal with my father.' Tamara placed a hand on Nyx's shoulder. 'Are you sure.' Nyx seemed unwilling to go. 'I will be fine. You being here will make things harder. Go back to your parents.' Reluctantly Nyx left, only when he was sure Tamara was safe. Against your will, you liked him for that.

'You were where!?' His father was leaning forward on the armchair of the throne. Nyx stood before his parents in the throne room. Empty except for them three of them, Nyx was wondering just how well this would go. His father had no love for the Lord of the Spring Court. To heard that his son was courting that lords daughter might just send him.

'Is that where you have been.' His mother sat on the throne. Rhysand looked towards his wife. 'You knew?' 'No my love. I had no idea where Nyx was. But our son is nearly grown now. Should he not be allowed to chose who he loves?' Feyre, although not having ever fully forgiven Tamlin, was of a mixed mind. She did not know his eldest child well. But the few times they met Tamara had been polite. And if this had been going on for years then perhaps this was not a hasty decision. Rhysand had no such debates. In this mind this was terrible. Under no circumstances was he to be in laws with Tamlin of all people.

'I do love her father.' Rhysand raised an eyebrow. 'And what if this is a plot?' Both Feyre and Nyx looked shocked. 'Father-you can not mean-) Nyx spluttered. 'Tamara is true to me. And Lord Tamlin was nearly red with rage and-'Rhysand raised a hand. 'I'm sorry, he was what?' 'Furious. I doubt Lord Tamlin will agreed to this marriage.' Suddenly Rhysand smiled, eyes lighting up. Suddenly this marriage seemed like a terrific idea. 'Furious was he.' Rhysand was starting to think this marriage was not such a bad idea.

The idea that Tamlin might be furious over this possible marriage made the idea of uniting their families seemed a splendid idea. Rhysand nearly giggled himself sick with delight. Feyre told him he best behave. Especially since a month later they were invited to the Spring Court. Tamlin did not greet them. Feyre had never met Lady Y/n, but she had been polite, although warry. Feyre could understand why. If it had been the other way around she might be hesitant. Yet Y/n was polite and soon they were in the tea room. Feyre could not believe how different this place looked. Everything was so tidy and had a homely feel to it. Cakes and eat were placed on marble tea tables. Conversation was slightly stilted, Y/n seemed careful of every word she said. And that was when Tamlin entered. Feyre's hands clenched with anxiety. While Y/n was courteous Tamlin might not show the same restraint. Taking a seat, Tamlin kissed his wife on the cheek.

It was mostly Feyre and yourself talking. Despite your apprehensions she seemed nice enough. On the other side sat Tamlin and Rhysand sitting in stony silence. Tamlin seemed to be looking anywhere else but Rhysand, and Rhysand's mouth was placed in a frown. While the mothers seemed quite happy to chatter amongst themselves, the fathers looked like to smack each other. You prayed this would go well.

that was when Nyx and Tamara entered.

Notes: I plan to make more fics for this concept. This is kind of shorter than I would have liked but oh well. As I wrote this on a whim future fics might be slightly different. Hope you liked it! 💕

#acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar #tamlin #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #feyre archeron #feyre #feyre acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhysand x feyre #nyx archeron #nyx acotar #oc daughter

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ennawrite · 7 months ago

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i love having a bad memory cause i’m rereading my fic just to make sure things flow correctly and I’m just like wow…I kinda ate this shit up 😭

⭐️for those interested, you can read the fic here ⭐️

(it’s a Nyx x Tamlin’s daughter story, with themes of disrupt in the NC. I plan on exploring it more in future chapters)

#acotar #acotar fanfic #pro nesta archeron #pro emerie acotar #pro valkyries #anti rhysand #anti amren #inner circle critical #nyx x tamlin’s daughter #nyx archeron fic #acotar next gen #acotar fic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic

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seleneprince · 4 months ago

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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...

#the twins proceed to send threatening letters to nyx to intimidate him into staying away from zinnia #tamlin is very tempted to raise wards all around the house to prevent the brat from coming #zinnia just follows her dad's example with rhysand and ignores the boy most of the time #lucien asks her if she sees herself having the inner circle as her in-laws for eternity #sylvie acts like zinnia's bodyguard when nyx is around and glares at him when he tries to get closer #neth distracts one of them when the other approaches and drags them away before they notice #“omg cousin there you are! we have so much to talk about let's go :D” cue to her physically dragging him away from the girls #tamlin and lucien both tell nyx what they think honestly and without filters #they make sure he knows they don't approve #eris and nesta are in it for the drama mostly and watch everything burn from afar #sylvie vanserra archeron #gwyneth “neth” vanserra archeron #zinnia #tamlin's daughter #pro tamlin #nyx archeron #eris vanserra #nesta archeron #neris #eris x nesta #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien #elain x lucien #rhysand #feyre archeron

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achaotichuman · 7 months ago

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Nyx sighed as he rested his cheek in his palm and watched at the first rays of sun hit the tip top of the roofs spread out over the view before him. Winding around the river Sidra. Sometimes Nyx wished he could look out over rolling hills, and greenery. Or just anything but buildings on top of buildings. -Chapter 1: A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning

Nyx Archeron

Heir of Night

Son of a Witch

#a witch a warrior and a reckoning #nyx archeron #acotar fanfiction #acotar next gen #nyxlin #nyx x tamlin #acotar #acotar headcanons #acotar au

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chairofchaos · 2 months ago

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Hello yes, I’ve read the Nyxlin Wine Cellar fic repeatedly and I adore every detail of it! I’m diving in to read your other work, but a friend sent that as a rec and it was wonderful! I hope you play with them again some time!

Hi! Oh my goodness. I found this in my drafts bc I must have started working on responding a LONG time ago (like early-mid August??) and forgotten????

You are too kind. (Also, who recommended it to you? I need to send them flowers!)

I fully plan on coming back to Nyxlin. I'm about to take a hiatus, but I'll be back, and Nyxlin is definitely on the list for some more fics.

I'm so sorry it took me this long to get back to you, but I will try to get a drabble or two done for you before I head out, how's that? (Any requests? Genuinely- if you want something specific please feel free to let me know! I have a ton of fun with stuff like that and I have no impulse control so you're more likely to get it the second it is done hahhaa)

#thank you SO much!!#<3 <3 <3 #chaotic asks #nyxlin #nyx archeron x tamlin #tamlin x nyx #tamlin x nyx archeron

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surielstea · 9 months ago

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What if

During a night on Calanmai: Tamlin got a female pregnant without knowing it? Tamlins daughter then grows up only to find herself falling for the Heir to the Night court, Nyx.

Tamlin’s daughter!Reader x Nyx (secret/forbidden romance | fluff | angst)

I’ve been thinking about a Tamlin’s daughter x Nyx for so long! I’ve already written a few excerpts for a oneshot and I’m obsessed but I don’t know if you guys would be interested?? Let me know in the comments if you are and I’ll publish it! 💙💙

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thisblogisaboutabook · 7 months ago

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Bad Idea Right? - Part 9

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

What are friends for if not for meddling? A certain daughter of spring and her heir apparent lover scheme to bring a stubborn Shadowsinger and her Autumn High Lord mate back together.

A/n: remember when I said this would be the final part? I was wrong. Sorry! Don’t hate me. There will be at least one more chapter and an epilogue.

Part 8 Series Masterlist Part 10

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos, alcohol

In hindsight, perhaps I was a bit dramatic. But in my defense, what the fuck??

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is my mate?

And he’s known since the moment he met me?

I am a fool, truly. There’s no other explanation. Perhaps I may not be as perceptive as my father or nosey little sister but I’m pretty damned adept in reading a room.

Yet I’d been fucking my mate for two years with zero clue. No wonder my damned shadows enjoy playing with him so much. But to be fair, who wouldn’t? I mean look at him. The muscles, graceful stature, those auburn locks of hair, that arrogant smirk that I want nothing more than to kiss right off his stupid, gorgeous face.

And in the face of the truth, I fled. Like a coward.

“Sissy?” Azalea’s concerned voice interrupts my spiral of self-loathing.

Her little hand squeezes mine. “Ice cream makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

“That sounds wonderful, Azzie.”

With that, my mother gave a soft smile and strode to the kitchen to retrieve my favorite strawberry flavor from the ice box.

I looked down to my sister to find her brows drawn together and lips pursed, wings sagging just a bit. “What’s going on, Azalea?”

“I told Eris that what he did was bad but sissy, I don’t think he’s bad. But you were so sad.”

Oh.

“Oh Azalea, I’m sorry. I appreciate you and your loyalty. I’m lucky to have such a kind little sister and you know what? I bet Eris would prefer for you to stick up for me instead of ignoring my feelings. Because you’re right, he is not bad. He’s not a bad male at all.”

“Then why are you so sad?” question shone in her eyes as she waited for a response.

“I’m upset because I believed that he liked me for me - but now that I know he knew I was his mate from the moment we met, it makes me feel like he only likes me because of a bond that neither of us have control over.”

The winged little girl pondered before replying, “He can still love you for who you are even with a bond. I didn’t have control over being your sister, but I like you a lot. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my sister.”

Her words stopped me in my tracks. Since when was my little sister so wise beyond her years? Yet still - it stings. It stings for there to have been so many secrets and perhaps he had good reason to hide it. Hell, maybe he didn’t even want me beyond the most base level of a mating bond. The sex was incredible. Yet, he was the one who took me on a date tonight. Still came around despite my father’s ominous presence. An ugly voice inside of me whispered that it was all to gain a political foothold, yet the more rational side of me could feel that it wasn’t truth.

A bang on the door interrupted my thoughts.

Azzie’s wings rustle, little legs bounding across the room in search of the unexpected intrusion, her hazel eyes peering out the foyer window. My heart fluttered briefly - could it be him? What would I say?

The racing sensation in my chest faltered as my shadows briefed me of the visitor’s identity.

“Azzie, can you go ask mom to scoop an extra bowl of ice cream?”

She didn’t miss a beat as her little feet took off into the kitchen where she animatedly informed our mother of the visitor at our doorstep.

Another knock and a shout of “Open up the door, bitch! I know you’re in there.” had me letting out a flustered breath and scurrying to allow the nuisance entry into my home, greeting her with “How do you even know where I live?”

“Well,” Layla let out an exasperated sigh, taking a step into the fae-light illuminated foyer. “For one, it’s nice to see you again too. Second, Daemati boyfriend, remember?” Pointing a finger to her head with an incredulous expression, she continued. “Third, you didn’t see me fleeing when my tits were out in front of your entire family. THANKS for that.”

Shame flooded my features but she cut off any attempt at an apology for leaving her in the uncomfortable predicament with Nyx. “Eh, I like to think of myself as a bit of an exhibitionist. I just never imagined my first foray into such endeavors would involve the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. ANYWAY-“ the blonde gave me a pointed look, summoning two bottles of wine from a pocket realm. “I brought vino for our troubles.”

Twenty minutes later and we’d all soothed our wounds with ice cream and Azalea peppering Layla with questions about anything and everything she could think of.

I could have fallen through the floor when she gleefully informed Layla that she did indeed try to stop us before barging in upon her and Nyx’s more private affairs. Layla only laughed and flashed me a vulgar gesture when Azalea wasn’t looking.

Azalea eventually dozed off somewhere between Layla and I’s second and third bottle of wine when she jumped up with a shriek. “Oh my gods! What’s the name of that bar you lot love so much? Rose’s?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Rita’s?”

“Yes! That’s the one. Let’s go! Girls night out.”

“Layla, why don’t we go somewhere the Inner Circle doesn’t frequent? Somewhere a bit more youthful?”

With a dismissive wave she shush’d me. “No way. Let’s be tourists. Wouldn’t anyone visiting want to go to THE spot that the Court’s upper echelon frequent? Let’s go dazzle the citizens of Velaris with our sexy moves. I’ll let you grind against me if you’re good.”

I laughed at my friend’s peculiar method of cheering me up but honestly, a night out to let loose before facing the rocky road ahead sounded like just what I needed.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

———

Rita’s was more packed than usual as an attendant led Layla and I back to the Inner Circle’s standard table, we snaked through the crowded floor, brushing shoulders with the ocasional dancing patron when I overheard a voice muttering about the “sexy High Lord” she’d bumped into at the bar.

I reached to grab Layla’s attention but it was too late as I looked up to find her cozied up to Nyx with my uncles, my father, and my- “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Looking past my friend with her shit-eating grin, I see the gorgeous face of my mate.

————————

Eris

He stood dejected in the basement of the gallery, trying to process what had just gone down.

Never did he imagine this was how the night would turn out. Under normal circumstances, he would be traveling back to his court to look into the father of the Day Court female who’d tried holding him hostage but Helion would look further into it and send word. He was not in a place to fairly handle such a situation given that the thought of them laying a hand on his mate made him burn with rage.

So he stood there, taking steadying breaths about to leave when a low whistle rang out behind him and a large hand clapped his back. “Ouch. Not the ideal way to reveal a mating bond.”

Eris scoffed, readying an unbecoming retort when Cassian continued, “Been there. It’s not easy but you two will work it out. Beer helps. Care to grab a drink at Rita’s while Nyx and Rhys work their shit out? Probably not the best for you and Azriel to be alone together at the moment anyway.”

To his credit- Azriel only let out a semi-annoyed huff and rolled his eyes.

What the fuck was this evening becoming? Mating bond unveiled and now getting drinks with a male who had every right to loathe him.

But Eris didn’t have it in him to deny the offer. So with that, he found himself at Rita’s with the Night Court general.

“I’m just saying that these Archerons, they’re lovely and great but… they’re headstrong.” He put two palms up in the air. “Now before you jump to conclusions, it’s not a BAD thing. The gods know Nesta has handed my ass to me when I’ve needed it many times over the years but sometimes…. Sometimes you’ve just got to give them time to come around.”

Eris could have reminded Cassian that most females would need time to come around to such a reveal but… the male was making an effort and Eris had nobody else to talk to about such a situation.

He supposed he could have tracked down Lucien but the matter felt a bit too sensitive to address at the moment given the rejected bond between he and Elain and the very obvious fact that Eris’ mate was the result of that rejected bond.

“Hey- I’m here making an effort. At least try to appear like you’re not tuning me out.” Cassian waved a hand before him.

“Apologies.” Eris smirked, refusing to let the male see him too down and out. “Just processing everything.”

“Well, finish the rest of this beer and we can order some of that autumnal shit you all prefer in your court for the next round. Unless you’re too prissy and have some fancy shit you High Lord’s prefer.”

Eris recognized the bait for what it was, given that he knew Cassian would be the first to indulge in Rhysand’s top shelf liquors.

Eris lifted the foaming mug to his mouth and downed the entire beer before placing it back down on the counter. “Another Illyrian draft is just fine.”

The large male beside him let out a hum that almost seemed like approval. “Maybe you’re not such a cunt after all, High Lord.”

“Yeah, well keep that between us.”

Cassian held up two fingers as the bar keep gave him a nod and Cassian pointed to a table in the corner.

No sooner than they’d seated themselves did Rhysand and Nyx enter the establishment, a hesitant Azriel behind them.

“Sorry.” Cassian shrugged. “Rhys sent word a couple minutes ago. Figured we could all use a round after this evening.”

Rhys looking a bit disheveled in comparison to that usual air of arrogance he exuded, giving a cocky grin as eyes within the establishment fell upon him. His son on the other hand still appeared a bit out of sorts given the inconvenient revelation of he and the daughter of Spring to his entire family.

The Shadowsinger only gave a curt nod in greeting, expression remaining stony.

Through a boisterous laugh the general teased, “Welcome to the shit show.”

The tension at the table was palpable, Azriel glaring daggers through Eris, Nyx very clearly communicating mind to mind with someone, Rhys slowly losing his resolve in maintaining his collected facade. Cassian, ever the instigator, broke the silence. “So, mates, huh?”

Azriel’s cold gaze averted from the Autumn High Lord to the General, promising violence. “Hey-“ Cassian raised his palms again. “It’s not so bad. She could have been mated to Tamlin.”

Had it not been for the mating bond chafing his ass, Eris could have laughed but he only bristled at the thought of his mate with any other male.

“Ouch!” Cassian yelped as the violet-eyed High Lord kicked him under the table.

“Oh come on! None of us handled our mating bonds perfectly, and I know damn well that any of you would be enjoying this mess if roles were reversed. You’re just pissy, I remember very clearly the shit you gave me when this fucker,”pointing a calloused finger to Eris with a cheeky grin, “proposed to Nesta!”

Eris really wanted to fall through the floor at this point. “But she was my mate, and look at us now? Remember those days at the dining table, Az?”

Shadows whirled violently around the Spymaster. “You’re not obligated to speak every little thought that pops into your mind.”

Though it was clear the Shadowsinger was deathly serious, Cassian only waived him off and Nyx burst out laughing, egging his Uncle on.

“Mating bonds aren’t everything.” Azriel growled out, “You’re not entitled to her. She’s her own person and can choose what her heart wants.”

Eris raised an eyebrow at the implication. He was well aware that he played the bastard role well but he would never-

“Are you implying, Shadowsinger, that I would not let your precious daughter choose? And believe me, I’m well aware of the atrocities and the merits that can come from a rejected mating bind. I remember the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon my brother when his own bond was rejected, the uncontrollable waves of grief that still sometimes roll through him.” Azriel sat, stone faced at the reminder that his wife was not his mate. Eris didn’t give him time to react, continuing.

“But I’m also well aware that if not for that pain and that rejected bond, I would be without my beloved nephew, or my curious new friend who thinks of even the smallest of denizens of your court matter - who treats me like I’m just a person and not the arrogant prick the rest of the world views me as.”

Eris placed a broad palm to his own chest, clutching as if in physical pain as the next words left his lips. “And do you not think, Shadowsinger, that I don’t recognize the fucking treasure that came from that rejected bond? The irony that my brother’s rejected bond resulted in the greatest gift of my life? And while I’d love to covet that treasure, care for her, let her shine for all of those to see - to know that she’s mine - it’s not my choice. It’s hers. If she wants to shine with someone else? Gods, it will hurt like hel, but I’ll remember her with nothing but love in my heart. She wants to stay on her own, making her own way in the world? I’ll stand back and cheer for her. I think you’re well aware that NOBODY chooses for your daughter but her.”

Azriel remained stone faced, a hand resting to the handle of the foaming mug of mead before him. Cassian let out a huff. Nyx smirked and Rhysand only looked at Eris with something that almost appeared to be respect.

Azriel finally shook his head, raising the mug in Eris’ direction. “Then that’s all I can ask for.”

All eyes at the table darted to him in shock. The famed, merciless spymaster standing down.

Eris only lifted his own mug in return and that was that.

The next hour went by as smoothly as possible, the table ordering several rounds of drinks. Eris nearly pissed himself when the shock of a caress against his mental shields caught his attention, Nyxs’ amused voice only stating, “You can thank me later.”

Eris’ brows drew together, puzzled by what on earth he’d have to thank the heir for, as a blonde female fell into the seat beside the male. A familiar scent wafting into his nostrils.

His mate.

Gods, she looked fucking fantastic and Eris knew right away he’d have to glamour the involuntary scent of arousal wafting from him at the sight of her ethereal face, those fucking hips that he wanted to hug as tightly as that little dress did - his inhibited state not helping the situation whatsoever. She only glared at him, as she stood beside the table, sweet voice dripping with irritation,

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. Gods, she was trying to kill him. Her arms pushing up her immaculate breasts. Was he salivating? This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare if her father caught wind of just how the sight of her was affecting him.

But most of all, he only felt love and adoration as he stared at the prickly female glaring daggers through him. Truth-Teller would certainly feel less violent against his skin than the sharp gaze piercing into his heart.

“I didn’t know, I swear.” Eris pleaded.

“Right. I’m leaving.” She huffed.

“Oh no you fucking don’t” the blonde female interjected. “You’re not just going to ice him out. It’ll hurt you worse than any words ever could. You two need to TALK.”

Nyx looked to the female with pride.

“I’m not finished with YOU.” Y/N hissed with rage to her friend.

“Oh I have no doubt.” The female - Layla - fired back. “But first you’re going to work things out with your mate.”

With an irritated look to her friend, she grabbed Eris by the wrist with a reluctant “Come on, we’re LEAVING.”

Eris threw a grateful look to Nyx and Layla, standing with no resistance to the grasp his mate had on his wrist. Azriel grunted and began to stand, but Rhys threw an arm out, keeping him seated. And to Eris’ surprise, the Shadowsinger remained.

Cool air and the aroma of spices from the surrounding establishments greeted the pair, an otherwise perfect evening to drape his arm over her shoulder and whisper sweet nothings into her pointed ear as they passed the shops, but she only tapped her foot with impatience. “Well?? Winnow me to your apartment and let’s get this over with.”

Eris stepped forward, caressing her wrist in a lovers grasp, sensuous smirk forming on his lips. Fire in his blood or no, chill bumps rose up her olive skin, nipples pebbling beneath her dress.

“As you wish.” And winnowed her straight to the foot of his bed. He’d let her lead from there but if there was one thing he knew about his mate, she firmly believed all was fair in fucking and fighting. It was all in her hands how the night would go.

————————————————

A/n: Thank you everyone for your patience with this chapter! Life has been hectic (seasonal illnesses, end of the fiscal quarter, traveling sports, mental health struggles, etc) and my brain was just not cooperating with this chapter. After writing a few one shots I was able to get back into the proper headspace but found I was still struggling to transfer this chapter from my brain into print. I eventually realized I wasn’t ready for the story to end quite yet so with that being said this is NOT the final chapter. I hope you all don’t hate me for saying it was before changing my mind but it’s important to give the story the satisfying ending that it deserves. 🥰

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria

Eris general: @angiedsv

Series tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams @yourmumsdumptruck @nebarious @glitterypirateduck @mybestfriendmademe @acourtof-wingspan @paleidiot @anae-naea-zacheria @fandomarchiveilyd @bloodicka @12358

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unforgivenyunjin · 3 months ago

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These people cry so much about Feysand’s age difference just to go on and try to ship a baby straight out of the womb with a 500 year old man. I guess age gaps are only fine when one of the parties is an infant.

Just a bunch of jokes😭.

#feyre archeron #rhysand #pro feyre #pro rhysand #feysand #pro feysand #feyre x rhysand #nyx archeron #anti tamlin #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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hieragalbatorixdottir · 7 months ago

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I NEED TAMLIN X NYX FF, FOR REASONS.

(And I need suggestions, not likes, pleaseeeee)

#tamnyx #nyxlin #acotar #nyx archeron #tamlin #Tamlin x nyx

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legendl0re · 2 months ago

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A Court of Peace and Ire: Chapter 6: The Burden of the Truth

Summary:

Feyre and Rhys have it out over him and Tamlin's battle in the previous chapter, and Nesta receives correspondence from an ally that doesn't seem keen to be swept away just yet.

Notes:

I didn't forget about you all. Slowly but surely, we'll get to the end of this fic!

As the shadows of her winnowing peeled back, Feyre paused at the sight at Rhys’ desk. The High Lord was seated in his chair, wincing as Mor pressed a soaked cotton to the gash above his brow. Instinct had her expect Madja to be the one doing the tending, but she had been scarcely spotted about, and of course, Mor would have instantly wanted to pry about why Rhys returned looking as brutalized as he was.

“Thank you for taking a look at him, Mor. I appreciate it.” The blonde hummed in acknowledgement, her eyes latched onto her cousin’s bruised face.

“Don’t you worry. I’ve already sent for Az and Cassian. They’re at Windhaven so it may take them a bit to get here.” Feyre blinked, adjusting her hold on Nyx.

“For what?”

“For our response? What else? Look at Rhys!” Feyre turned to face her mate, but he held up a hand in defense of himself.

“I told her it was my fault, but she won’t listen.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is! This has gone on far enough. Rhys has been trying to send sentries to guard that border for months, and the longer Spring is as open as it is-” Mor’s words halted as Feyre placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping Nyx balanced in the crook of her arm.

“Mor. I love you, you’re my best friend, but that is a terrible idea.” Mor’s mouth hung open in shock at her words. “Rhys, started this, and I already spoke with Tamlin. There won’t be any retaliation, on either of our parts.” Her eyes whipped to Rhys for a moment, before turning back to Mor’s. “But I need to speak to my mate alone. Please.”

Mor strained with hesitation, but Feyre knew exactly how to ensure their privacy. “I would actually appreciate it if you put this little troublemaker to bed. He’s been missing his auntie, hasn’t he?” Nyx—as if in on the caper—reached out to her and cooed loudly, blinding any of Mor’s worries with sheer lovability. “Please make sure the wards are still up in his room. Don’t need another surprise trip.”

“Fine.” Mor drawled, scooping the Night Court heir in her arms before following Feyre to the door. “You were alone with that animal?” She asked, Feyre knowing she meant Tamlin.

“Yes. It’s…complicated. But I’m fine.” Feyre leaned in and kissed Mor on the cheek. “Just trust me. When Az and Cass get here, please tell them to just sit tight. Our next move shouldn’t just be blind rage.” The implication of their even being a next move had Mor nodding, returning Feyre’s peck on the opposite cheek.

“As you wish, my lady.” She replied, before vanishing past the threshold down the hall. Closing the double doors, Feyre took a deep breath, then slowly faced her mate. Wordlessly, she stalked over until she was directly across from him, chest tight in frustration at either his foolishness, his arrogance, or both.

“What is the matter with you?” She finally let herself say, throat bobbing as she thought about the horrid risk Rhys’ actions had carried.

“Feyre…” He started, but she strode forward and pounded both hands on the desk.

“You told me you were going to try and negotiate! To make sure he wasn’t going to do anything reckless! Is this what you’ve been doing every time you go!?” Feyre’s eyes were ablaze, feeling talons rippling under skin as she watched Rhys scramble to explain, to somehow justify this idiocy. Just like he had always done.

“No, Feyre! I just-”

“Just what!?”

“He had our son, Feyre!” Rhys shouted, shooting to a stand with the remnants of his power pulsing out, black mist weakly sputtering from his sleeves. “He had our boy in that death trap of a manor! Who knows what he could have done to him!”

“He fed him, Rhys. Fed him and sent back to us unharmed.” Rhys turned away from her, as if he couldn’t stomach the logic and reason she threw at him. “Are you kidding me? This is how you repay him for that?” Rhys laughed, an empty, deathly sound as he raked a hand over his face.

“Trust me, I have a lot more to repay him for.” The High Lord of the Night Court turned, violet-blue eyes narrowed and practically slitted. “Are you seriously defending Tamlin? Of all people? After everything he said about you? Everything he did to you?” Feyre was mid-stride before he could even finish his sentence.

“And what if he killed you, Rhys!” She hollered, a tear springing from her eye at the thought of the domino effect. First Rhys, then her, leaving Nyx an orphan and cursed with the power of a high lord at the age of a toddler. “What if he fucking killed you?! Then I’d be dead as well, and Nyx would be left all alone! Did you not think about that?”

For once, Rhysand had no justification, no excuse or reason to fall back on, and it itched at him like a rash. Everything he did was calculated, every indulgence in darkness having some lighter, purer reason at its core. But not this. This was pure anger, a raw hatred that had been gnawing at him ever since the High Lords gave him back his life.

Hell, it was probably brewing even before that.

“If I knew you were going to be so callous without lives, I never would have formed this bargain.” Rhys flinched, as if struck by a blow, and for once, he felt a bit of venom sting his lips, faster than he could hope to stop it.

“If I recall, it was your idea.” Feyre met his gaze, their eyes clashing like swords. They had never fought like this, not even with Nesta’s intervention, and Rhys knew that was because he could always make Feyre see his side, understand his reasoning for his rash, often harsh judgments.

But once again, there was no justifying this, no painting it in a good light.

Rhys was effectively caught kicking a man while he was down, risking the life of his mate and what little stability his court had left in the process.

And the worst part was, he himself didn’t even know why he did it. Why he, who had everything he could have ever wanted, still couldn’t let it go.

Feyre pinched her brow, drawing her claws back and letting Rhys’ words slide off her. He wasn’t wrong. She had made the decision out of love and fear, out of never wanting to feel those seconds of sheer dread again—when Rhys lay dead in her arms, giving his life for an ungrateful, cruel world and leaving her utterly alone in the world.

She wondered if that utter desperation was what Tamlin felt when she died, when he was cradling her and begging everyone to repay her for her efforts.

“He apologized, Rhys.” She muttered, thoughts stuck on the High Lord of Spring, and the ever-growing crucible of mixed feelings she had towards him. “For everything.”

“Oh well that makes it alright then, doesn't it?” Rhys threw back, throwing oil on Feyre’s fire.

“Rhys. We owe him.”

“I don’t owe that bastard anything!” Rhys wheeled on her, shadows pooling around him like a deathly cloak. It actually forced her to step back, the sudden burst of rage. “He took my family, he took you, he let that bitch priestess take your sisters’ humanity! All I owe him is a talon through the eye.”

Feyre swallowed, taking in the shuddering coldness of her mate. She had never seen Rhys like this, so unhinged and wrathful.

So…like Tamlin. A part of her regretted sending Mor away, even if she knew deep in her heart that Rhys would never hurt her.

And even if he did, she had her own power to draw on, power she had been training for months at this point.

She reined her thoughts back in, refusing to even hypothetically think that her mate would ever fight her. But she still had a point to get across, and all the darkness Rhysand could pour out from under his coat wouldn’t deter her.

“He had no idea what she was going to do, Rhys. I’m the one who told her about my sisters, not him. It was the Attor who told Hybern where they could be found.” Feyre’s calmness seemed to rattled the lord more, but she kept on. “And honestly, since when have you cared about my sisters’ ‘lost humanity?’ Last I checked it was nothing but a benefit to us, especially where Nesta, the Trove, and my pregnancy are concerned.”

“I apologized for that!” Rhys shouted, Feyre remaining stoic in his arguing.

“You didn’t, actually.” She stated, pure and simple. The words struck deep, Rhys’ mouth hanging open as his thoughts on them caused the darkness to thin out. “You told me it was because you didn’t want me to worry, wanted my pregnancy to go smoothly, didn’t want me to think about the death bargain and what it might mean for us.” She held up her hand. “All of which I understand. Truly I do. But you never apologized, Rhys.”

The High Lord deflated, turning and rising his arm against a bookshelf, pressing his brow against it as the stress weighed him down.

“We promised we would face everything together, right? That you wouldn’t keep secrets from me?” Feyre took a step closer, hand itching to brush against her husband’s back in comfort. This wasn’t about who was right or wrong, but understanding. “You, not talking to me? Keeping secrets from me? Holding all of this and breaking down in silence? This is exactly how it was with him.”

“I’m not him.” He practically hissed, turning only for Feyre to catch the sides of his face in her hands.

“And I’m not saying that to hurt you, Rhys. But I need you to understand. I left Tamlin because I didn’t want to be kept in the dark anymore, but now it feels like that’s all you’ve been doing, You and everyone else, who are supposed to serve me as High Lady, but more importantly, who are supposed to be my friends.” Rhys’ closed his eyes, as if shutting them would make the guilt churning in him go away. “If Nesta didn’t tell me, would I have ever found out? Even if she still saved me?” The High Lord didn’t answer, unsure himself as to what he would have done.

“I was following Madja’s instruction, I just…I wanted to protect you. You’ve suffered enough. You didn’t need that.” Feyre bought his face up, forcing his eyes to meet hers. She loved this male, but she was done with his excuses, his reasonings for the actions he took.

“It’s my body, Rhys. It’s my life. I decide what I do with it.” Her thumb cooled as she wiped away a tear forming at her mate’s eye. “I’m here for you, but you have to let me in. You have to trust me.” She kissed his cheek, hand tumbling through the dark waves of his hair. “Do you trust me?”

“With everything.” He replied, breath shuddering before he kissed her on the lips. “I trust you.” She felt his hands press against her sides, tell-tale signs of the stirring hunger within him, but she clamped her hands on his wrists to keep him grounded.

“Then please, tell me—and I’m asking this honestly. No anger. Why did you do it? What was genuinely going on in your head?”

“You’re really not going to let this go.” He said, almost affectionately. When Feyre Archeron had a mark, she refused to let it be until it was snared and in her gasp. It was one of the things he loved about her the most, the relentlessness, the refusal to give up in the face of adversity.

She shook her head, and Rhys softly wrenched his hands from her hips, despite how much he wanted to love her, to caress her and let pleasure blind them both to the ever mounting problems surrounding them.

It was a trick he learned during his years Under the Mountain, using pleasure and sex to disarm, to weave past suspicion and let any lingering quandaries die out in a cascade of moaning. So much easier than facing the truth, the horridness of everything.

“I hate him, Feyre.” It admittedly felt strange vocalizing it for the first time, but he kept going. “I hate him. So. Much.” His teeth grit so tight Feyre feared they might shatter. She had hated Tamlin once too, but not like this. This was deep, piercing into the soul, so all-encompassing and unable to be escaped, that she wondered if it actually was hate.

Rhys often wondered as well.

“Why?” She asked, softly brushing one of the dark strands out of his face.

“Because my life has always revolved around him.” The dam within him broke to pieces, the words coming out faster than he could form them, all the thoughts that he let twist and storm in his mind. “He let my family be slaughtered. I was enslaved to Amarantha, who wanted him. He tried to take my mate away from me, to have Hybern break our bond. And…” He paused, taking a deep breath as he readied himself for the core of the agony. “He bought me back. He is the reason why we even have a son, why you’re not alone here, mateless.” Rhys puts his head in his hands. “No matter what I do, I can’t ever escape him. I suffered for so long because of him, and now I owe him everything.

Rhys’ eyes were clenched tight, but that did nothing to keep the tears from rolling down. “I wish I never met him, wish I never offered to train him and…be a friend. Not if this was what was going to happen. Not if I was going to feel this.”

Feyre pulled Rhys into a tight embrace, and it broke the male down entirely. “It’s okay, Rhys.” She cooed, shushing him quietly as she rubbed her hand across his back. Slowly, she rocked him back and forth, even as she felt the strain of her own sorrow in her throat.

“I’m sorry, Feyre. I’m so sorry. For all of it.” He repeated it over and over, words muffled as he spoke and cried into her shoulder. “For the Mountain, for lying to you, for making you do all of those things.” For practically feeding her to the Weaver, for having her dance like a whore in the Hewn City, for giving his life for Prythian and leaving her here alone. He had done so much, bent and wrung her out for her power and her love, and he still had the audacity to call himself her mate.

He was disgusting, hateful, out only to make Tamlin suffer Under the Mountain only to realize the object of his abuse was his very mate; the one the Cauldron and Mother deigned his utter equal, his partner in life and in death.

Rhys trembled. He would never admit it to her, but in truth, he gave his life that day in Hybern to repair the cauldron, not just to spare Feyre the burden, but because maybe it would have been atonement for everything he had done, for the people he had failed. Not just her, but Mor with Eris, his brothers for the years he let himself be lost to Amarantha, the people of Velaris, the Illyrians and the Court of Nightmares, who broke their women everyday at his allowance.

His incompetence.

Perhaps it was out of selfishness as well, to be relieved of all the wrongness, the corruption he had allowed to build in his own Court. But that would have all fallen to Feyre as well, burdened with horrors that he had allowed to fester under his watch, that he had been too fearful of further violence to attempt to change.

Then Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, had to steal that last bit of redemption away from him, and had to give that last stupid kernel.

Maybe that was his own bit of redemption, to give Rhys back his life when he couldn’t do the same for his family. To ensure that he could have a family of his own.

“You told me you two were friends once, right?” Feyre said, feeling Rhys relax ever so slightly in her arms.

“Once…” He whispered. Feyre pulled away to face him, a small smile on her face despite the shimmer in her eyes.

“I bet he remembers that too, otherwise, he wouldn’t have done what he did with Nyx.”

“I guarantee he did it for you more than he did it for me.” Rhys scoffed, smirking at the irony of how Feyre Archeron of all people, was trying to help him see the better side of Tamlin.

“I’m not so sure.” She replied, the High Lord of the Night Court drawing back to the fight, to the words Tamlin managed to screech out while Rhys had his hand around his throat.

‘I wish I could hate you.’

Rhys sighed, feeling more of his inner demons crawling out from under the weight of everything. He had to trust his mate, had to steel himself against his own fears and not rip himself apart.

“I’m lost here, Feyre.” He admitted, finally facing that cold, encroaching madness that had sat with him from the second he had been resurrected. “Since the cauldron, I feel like everything is slipping away. My power? My mind? Sometimes I feel like it's gone entirely, like I can’t reach it like I used to. I don’t…” He hesitated, his throat rough as he struggled with the words. “I think I lost something when I died, and…I don’t know if I can protect you and Nyx without it?”

Rhys expected Feyre to grimace, or narrow her eyes in confusion, just one of the many anxieties he felt whenever he thought about bringing her concerns to him. He was a centuries old powerful high fey, the master of his own court. How could he be uncertain? How could he have any doubts with how long he had lived?

But she just smiled, as if she knew exactly what to say and do to bring him peace.

“You’re going through the same thing I did, Rhys. I died as well, remember? I understand that feeling of change, that…difference from who you were versus who you are now. But you helped me survive it, and I’ll do the same for you.” She brought him close, resting her chin on his head and brushing her fingers across his back and neck. “We’ll get through this, darling. Just be honest with me, lean on me if you need to. That’s what I’m here for.”

Rhys unleashed a breath that he felt he had been holding for years, fully loosened and armed with just that much more peace, knowing that his mate had him. No matter the issue. No matter the problem.

Feyre would be there.

“I love you so much. You have no idea.”

“I thought just like this once, that Tamlin would be this never ending scourge, this terrible memory I’d have to carry forever, live in fear of forever. But after Hybern, after everything he did to fight for Prythian, I realized that he was just as broken from Under the Mountain as we were. The difference is that I had you, Cass, Mor, and everyone else to bring me out of it. He had no one, except Lucien, and one person can’t bear that burden alone, especially with a High Lord.” Rhys chuckled as she ruffled his hair. “But also, having Nyx showed me that we have so much life left to live. So many things to experience. It showed me that Tamlin is just a footnote in our lives, just as I hope that one day, we’ll be one in his.”

Rhys heaved a sigh, then nodded as she kept on. “We have to let him find his way. No more visits. No more prodding and poking. Just…let him figure it out. If someone like Beron or Koschei or somebody else tries to take his territory, then we’ll get involved. But for now? Let’s just focus on us. On fixing everything here.” Rhys caught her hand with his own, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckle.

“As you wish, Feyre darling.” Satisfied with the day’s progress, Feyre observed the cut on his brow.

“Go get some rest, please. We’ll deal with the rest of this in the morning. Right now I have to help Mor bring Cass and Azriel to heel.” Rhys nodded, turning to make his way toward their bedroom. After such a battle, both with Tamlin, his mate, and himself, he was exhausted and more than ready for sleep to take him. They kept their fingers locked together for as long as they could, before distance forced them to part, and Feyre turned the corner towards the hall.

She nearly slammed into Nesta as she rounded about the same way, the two sisters pausing awkwardly as they both heard Rhys close the door behind him.

“I heard you were back.” Nesta stated, her voice stilted. “That you went to see Tamlin.” Feyre simply nodded, a soft smile on her face. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” She answered, arms crossed as she thought of the encounter. “It was…strangely refreshing, if I’m being honest. He’s…really out of it, but we had a good conversation. I think.”

“Good.” Nesta fidgeted with her fingers. “Any idea what this means for you, and the Night Court?” Feyre had an answer, but a deep yawn snatched it away.

“That’ll be tomorrow’s worry. I’m exhausted. I’m going to tell Azriel and Cass to dunk their heads in ice water to cool off, then I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough fighting for one day.” Nesta nodded, then stepped back to let her sister pass by.

Her hands lay hidden behind her back, clenching a small letter that had appeared in her room bearing the gilded sigil of the Autumn Court.

She didn’t know why she had trekked all the way up here to tell Feyre of its arrival, only realizing how foolish it was when her sister materialized past the doorway. They would tell her to burn it, or demand that she give it to Cassian or Rhys. Eris couldn’t be trusted after all, the Court still leary of him despite the collective power of the Trove sitting in their vaults.

She entered the door at her side, closing and locking it before she tore the note open, and found a black page of vellum with an embossed leaf at its corner.

“What is this?” She muttered to herself, feeling foolish for thinking—hoping—that it would be something interesting.

Then ink began to manifest on the page, with no visible pen behind it. Almost as if Eris could feel the page resting in her hands.

I hope this finds you well, Lady Death. I hoped to see if you had made it out of Spring with your neck intact, brave soul that you are. I’m sure the battle was worth the bards’ time to put it to the page.

To put things simply, I wish to continue our correspondence, but I’m sure both of us are getting sick of Cassian’s presence, as well as the constant allergies and the beast’s encroachment in Spring. This felt more simple. Elegant even.

Nesta couldn't help but scoff, now recognizing that the embossing probably held a charm in it, to allow her to see the words he wrote.

I understand that your mating bond is properly ordained, and that things are different now. No more dancing and flirting and playful threats. If you truly wish me to leave you be, burn this letter. I’ll know it’s gone on my end, and that any hope of securing your affections shall crumple and dance in the wind, right along the shriveled leaves of my Court’s namesake.

I certainly hope you make the right decision. I worked hard to develop my skill at prose.

Nesta shook her head, lips slightly curled at the proclamations across the page in her hands. She did consider letting the remnants of her silver flames send the paper ablaze, but this felt fun. Playful even. She believed that she didn’t consider Eris in a serious manner anymore, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t still talk with him, now free from the prying eyes of both Night and Spring.

Perhaps he would let his guard down, share some true secrets, and she realized that this was an excellent opportunity to get the information that she actually wanted. Something that until now, she would have only gotten by coming up with an excuse to go to the Spring Court, to wrench it from Tamlin’s own tongue.

She picked up a nearby quill, dipped it in ink, and began to write back just as the words vanished to a blank page.

You are incorrigible, and my battle was quite legendary indeed. Insults so sharp they cut great gashes across the neck of the Beast of Spring. Nesta smirked, then kept on. I don’t need bards to write my tales for me. She waited, watching the words she wrote vanish, before more appeared right below.

Perhaps I finally have competition in regards to my skill with a pen, Lady Archeron

Nesta smiled, but her lips quickly pursed as she remembered the goal she had in mind.

Things are different with the bond. It’s true. But if you truly meant everything you said in the Spring Court, about how much you respect me, then there are some things I want to know. Things the Night Court won’t tell me. A pause, then came Eris’ reply.

So you wish me to elucidate you?

I want to know everything about what happened between Tamlin and my sister, about whatever happened with this Under the Mountain. I wasn’t here for everything before Hybern, I know nothing about what Feyre had actually done, and nobody will go into it here. She paused, then kept on. I’m sure of only having half the story, and I hope that you do respect me enough to give me the curiosity of telling the truth.

There was a long pause between writings, as if Eris were wondering what to say to her demands, to her claims. Perhaps he was weighing the value of this secret correspondence as well, or maybe he just enjoyed making her wait.

Eventually, it came.

Eris Vanserra is many things, my dear. A liar is not one of them. Allow me to illuminate you to the truth of everything. Brew some tea and find a quiet, private place. This is going to take a while, and my hand is bound to get tired.

#pro tamlin #tamlin acotar #tamlin #rhysand critical #rhysand redemption arc #feyre x rhysand #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acopai #a court of peace and ire #tamlin healing arc #night court critical #feyre critical #nyx archeron

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