#Prythian's Fantasia

[vulpes-fennec]

Prythian's Fantasia 🎪 (Ch. 3)

Summary: It’s 1889. Desperate to save her ailing mother’s life, Feyre strikes a bargain with ringmaster-witch doctor Amarantha. As the Archeron sisters join Prythian’s Fantasia and head for the World’s Fair in Paris, they begin to realize the circus’s magic runs far deeper than its enchanting nightly performances.

Previously: The Archeron sisters had a magical experience at Prythian's Fantasia. Will Feyre be able to bargain with Amarantha to save her mother's life? WARNINGS: References to past SA in Gwyn's POV

Read: Masterlist | AO3

Tuesday, March 12th, 1889

***Nesta***

Nesta was scritch-scratching her way through the pile of correspondence in the parlor when the front door snicked shut. Blazing irritation ruined Nesta’s train of thought. Where the hell was her damn sister going? 

Sure enough, Feyre’s cloaked form had just turned the corner down the street. Nesta ground her teeth, frustration fueling her quick steps into a light jog. She’d turned a blind eye to Feyre’s excursions long enough. As the eldest child, it was her responsibility to keep her sisters out of trouble. But Nesta hated running. Especially in such a layered skirt and dainty little shoes. 

“You, there. I’ll pay you five shillings if you follow that girl in the black dress down the street.” Nesta announced to a boy who happened to be driving an empty wagon past her. He could not be any older than fourteen, based on his short stature and pimple-covered face. But he nodded, even cowing slightly as Nesta hopped into the grimy wagon. “Be discreet. If she catches us, you’ll only get two.” 

The janky wagon rumbled and squelched over cobblestone and mud. The boy maintained a careful distance as they moved past soot-darkened gray buildings, ramshackle apartments, squalid beggars, and over the Thames River. They followed Feyre for a good half hour before she disappeared into thin air. 

“Where did she go?” The boy stopped, his confusion mirroring Nesta’s. Nesta, who had been keeping a close eye on Feyre the entire time, was at a loss for words. Feyre’s honey-brown hair was easy to spot, even amongst the throng of Londoners. She was even wearing a knitted cream shawl that made her stand out in the gray. But they had traveled far enough that Nesta was certain where Feyre was headed. 

The Prythian’s Fantasia tent rose tall and proud about a half mile away. The lines and colors were sharper in daylight, but the structure still evoked memories of that magical night. Nesta had not been able to stop thinking about how circus dancers pranced and spun across the ring, seductively contorting their bodies mid-air with silken ribbons. She would make the rest of the way by foot; Nesta plunked down the five shillings into the wagon before hopping out.

The circus gate was shut and the grounds were silent, which had Nesta wondering for a moment if she had guessed incorrectly. It seemed dead as a graveyard. But there it was…that faint jingle of music. Lilting notes and clear tones sweetened the air, beckoning her in. Nesta walked along the massive perimeter, following the music. She eventually reached the performers’ camp just behind the main circus. 

Sure enough, her sister was idling at the camp’s edge, wringing her hands and pacing anxiously as if she was working up the nerve to enter. A gold-painted sign propped next to the small entrance read: Prospective performers, seek Amarantha. 

“Feyre,” Nesta called out firmly. 

Feyre jumped, her blue-gray eyes widening in surprise. “Nesta!” Her expression pinched with sudden nervousness. “What are you doing here? Have you been following me?” 

“I should ask the same thing about yourself. Not thinking of running away to the circus, are you?” Nesta replied dryly. 

“I’m not running away…I simply must speak with the ringmaster.” Nesta groaned in frustration when Feyre strode away. Whatever business Feyre had with Amarantha, Nesta was not going to wait around for her sister to come back out. 

During the day, the circus performers were unrecognizable in regular garb, with women in plain linen dresses and men in standard brown pants and shirts. Nesta clearly stuck out, with her pale blue dress and embroidered silk slippers. Even Feyre looked more proper than usual, with her freshly cleaned lilac dress and carefully braided hair. 

Colored caravans were interspersed between medium-sized tents and practice rings. The performers barely paid Nesta and Feyre any attention as they navigated down the crunchy dry grass and towards the large plum tent with the words “ringmaster’s office” scripted on a hanging placard.

A tall, muscular man stood under the tent’s awning, and Nesta gawked at him openly. He was not like the sniveling, pale, weak-boned aristocrats of London society. Nor was he like one of those bumbling country boys who were all brawn but no brain. His golden eyes were like a hawk’s: sharp, intelligent, and…beautiful. Was he a circus performer, or personal protection? Nesta could not recall having seen him in the show, for she would certainly remember a man like him. 

“What’s your business here?” he asked with a half grin, in a deep voice that sounded like a song. Nesta clenched her jaw, trying to keep herself from getting carried away.

“We request an audience with Amarantha,” Feyre responded. The man’s crossed arms stretched and creased his gray shirt along defined muscles. Nesta’s eyes were fixated on the triangle of ruddy brown skin, like that of sailors who spent their days out in the open seas, peeking through the unbuttoned top of his shirt.

“What is the nature of your audience?” 

“I seek her aid for our ailing mother.” Nesta blinked in surprise. Running to a circus ringmaster for healing? Feyre must have lost her mind. 

The man’s hazel eyes snapped towards Nesta’s face, picking her steely facade apart and assessing every hidden, dark thought. She could have sworn his pupils widened with subtle desire. His chiseled face was rugged, as if a sculptor had failed to smooth down a marble statue before presenting their work to an art exhibit. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” His attitude had changed, and it stung, for some reason. 

“I don’t see why not?” Nesta blurted out. “You are not the ringmaster.” The man scoffed at her now, his lip twitching in condescension. 

“What you seek would not benefit you in the slightest.” Normally, Nesta would have wholeheartedly used the barring of entry as an excuse to drag Feyre away. But his self-righteous and dismissive attitude riled her. 

“Cassian,” a strong, female voice called from the interior of the tent. “Do we have guests outside? Do let them in.”  

So that was his name. Cassian. 

“Seems you do not have the final word around here.” Nesta allowed her lips to twitch in a simpering smirk as she walked past Cassian, who had gone rigid with fury, most likely. She could not banish the memory of his intense hazel eyes, which were surely pinned on her back like a target as she slipped into the ringmaster’s tent.  

***Feyre***

It was surprisingly dim inside the tent, and the air clung to Feyre’s cheeks like a damp fog. Ringmaster Amarantha sat in a large velvet chair, reading a book and sipping from a goblet of wine. She’d exchanged her bodice and breeches for a deep purple gown that made her alabaster skin appear bloodless.  

“Good afternoon,” Amarantha purred with a saccharine smile. “What brings such lovely ladies to my domain today?” It seemed the ringmaster’s charisma was not limited to the stage. Feyre took a step forward, dipping her head in a slight bow. 

“Good afternoon, ringmaster. I heard you possess…magic. And I’ve come to humbly request your assistance. My mother has been gravely ill for months.” The Archeron family’s fate hung upon Amarantha’s answer.

“My assistance does not come without a price. Tell me, dear, what is your name?” Amarantha tossed her thick, crimson hair behind a shoulder. 

“Feyre Archeron.” Confidence—keeping her voice steady—was crucial.

“And yours?” Amarantha’s dark gaze swiveled to Nesta, who did not balk at the sheer weight of the ringmaster’s stare. 

“Nesta. Nesta Archeron,” she replied. “I’m Feyre’s older sister.” Amarantha hummed in approval. She closed her eyes, tapping her fingers together in contemplation. 

“Feyre Archeron, I do not desire money or riches as a form of payment. I will provide a healing potion for your mother, as long as you agree to half a year of service with my circus: Prythian’s Fantasia.” 

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. But Nesta pinched Feyre’s arm hard before she could speak. 

“Please excuse us for a moment,” Nesta said roughly. Amarantha waved her hand flippantly, returning to her book. Nesta dragged Feyre to the side. “Have you lost your mind, Feyre?” she hissed lowly. “Join a circus? For some crackpot potion, when Mother is already on her way out this world?” 

Feyre’s blue eyes flashed angrily. 

“I need to try, Nesta,” she argued back. “I know that you are not fond of Mother. But imagine what Father will endure if she dies. And think about Elain! You may not want to get married, but are you willing to be her chaperone next year? Be my chaperone for another season?” 

“The ringmaster didn’t even inquire about Mother’s condition. How would her ‘potion’ be any useful cure?” Nesta asked, a little more loudly. 

“Magic,” Amarantha called out lazily. “Six months of service seems sufficient in exchange for a potion that acts as a general restorative for any ailment, don’t you think?”

“Magic does not exist. Healing potions do not exist,” Nesta rationalized. “You’re being foolish, Feyre. Save yourself from the embarrassment.”

“Magic does exist. I know it,” Feyre shot back, her voice a harsh whisper. She turned back to Amarantha. “My mother’s condition is too dire to wait six months. What if she passes before my term of service is completed?” 

Amarantha’s mouth curled in a wry grin. “You do drive a hard bargain, my dear. I will award you the potion after two months of service, but you must finish the six months with me before you are free to leave.”  

“This is a traveling circus, is it not? Where do you plan to go?” Feyre asked. 

“We will be making a touring loop around England before heading to Paris in May for the World’s Fair,” Amarantha responded. “Our stops will be in the main cities of Bristol, Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, Sheffield, Cambridge, and Southend-on-Sea.”

Feyre chewed her lip. Her answer was still ‘yes’ but would two months be soon enough? 

“One month of service,” Nesta declared suddenly. Feyre stared at her older sister in confusion. “I will take part in the bargain, as long as you give us the ‘potion’ after one month of service.” 

Amarantha’s dark eyes gleamed with feral delight. “Very well, then. Come closer, ladies. All I need is a few droplets of your blood.” 

“For what?” Nesta blanched.

“The potion, of course.” Nesta and Feyre stepped closer to Amarantha, who produced a sharp needle. Amarantha grasped Feyre’s hand, her slender fingers icy cold and unusually strong. 

“A bargain: one healing potion, to be given after a month of work, in exchange for six months of Feyre Archeron’s work in Prythian’s Fantasia,” Amarantha intoned. 

Feyre watched with fascination as crimson welled from her index finger and dripped into a small glass vial. A prickling sensation raced from her fingertip to her elbow. Amarantha did the same for Nesta, handing them both linen bandages once she was done. The ringmaster pocketed the glass vial and smiled demurely at them.

“Thank you, ladies. Prythian’s Fantasia departs for Bristol on Friday morning. I shall see both of you here no later than eleven o’clock.”

“What will our roles be?” Feyre blurted out. Amarantha assessed them critically. 

“Feyre, our magician is in need of an assistant, especially for the World’s Fair. You shall work closely with him on his acts. Nesta, I see you have a dancer’s grace. You shall participate in our aerial silks act.” 

“Thank you.” Feyre smiled, feeling incandescent. Everything was lining into place: she would save her mother, go on an adventure, and become closer with the handsome magician. The magician! Perhaps by working with him, she could also find answers about her magic. 

She was so caught up in her joy that she barely noticed a glowering Cassian as they exited Amarantha’s tent. She was going to join the circus! Feyre’s finger throbbed with residual pain, proof that this was truly happening. “You didn’t have to strike a bargain with Amarantha,” she pointed out. “So why did you?” 

Nesta seemed lost in a similar wishful daze. “It’s a ticket to Manchester. The beating heart of the suffragist movement. I also couldn’t let you do such a foolish thing alone.” She gave Feyre a dubious glance.

Feyre froze. “Oh, damn us,” she gasped, glancing at Nesta with wide eyes. “What are we going to say to Elain?” 

***Gwyn***

Tears rolled down Gwyneth Berdara’s cheeks at the memory of her twin sister Catrin’s joyful face and pealing laugh. How many more times could she draw upon her recollections before they faded away? Catrin’s silver wedding ring hung on a chain around Gwyn’s neck, was the only physical part of her sister she had left—and served as a reminder of all that was lost. 

Her heart hurt, but at least she wasn’t in physical pain anymore. Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed, pushing away the memories of the cursed brothel. The rank smells, the raucous laughter of drunkards. The clinking of coins before they began. The leering men who did not bother with “making love” to women. 

From what Catrin told her, intercourse was supposed to be a blissful and exciting experience. But Gwyn only knew pain. Pain from the bruises, the pulling of her coppery-brown hair, the chafing of skin between her legs. 

There was also a specific memory of warm, wet blood and the sounds of screams in the dark. And a fast-cooling body. 

Gwyn wiped her teary face and allowed herself one last sniffle before getting up from her cot. At least the bruises on her arms and waist had faded after a week with Prythian’s Fantasia. She’d sought the help of Thesan, the circus physician, who gave her contraceptive tonics without any judgment.

The caravan she shared with Emerie, Nuala, and Cerridwen was packed to the brim. Small windows ventilated the space, a small copper tub was shoved in the corner, and clothes and books were strewn across all available surfaces.

Gwyn was on kitchen duty today. The center of the camp served as the main area for meals and congregating, with food prepared in the open air. Tarquin and Daphne Vanserra were already there, baking bread in the clay oven and handling the wheels of cheese. 

“The vegetables are already washed,” Tarquin said, pointing to the crates of leafy greens, carrots, and potatoes. Tarquin cut a striking figure, with his turquoise eyes and long white hair contrasting with his dark brown skin. She’d only known him for a week, but his gentle smiles and thoughtful nature had put Gwyn at ease with her new surroundings. 

Gwyn picked up a sharp knife and began dicing the vegetables, placing the smaller pieces into large wooden bowls for stew. She was so engrossed with her cutting that when a man silently stepped up next to her, Gwyn jumped with fright. But it was only the dagger-thrower, here to assist with meal preparation. 

He was the same height as her, with a slightly muscled build. Inky black hair curled around the nape of his neck and fell in front of his angular hazel eyes, which softened slightly at her reaction.

“Apologies,” he muttered, his voice low. 

“It’s alright,” Gwyn responded quickly. “My name is Gwyn. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She smiled broadly at him.

“You’ve been crying, haven’t you?” Gwyn stiffened, her smile slipping away. 

“Azriel, don’t you know it’s rude to say such things to a lady?” Daphne tutted at the dagger-thrower. 

“Apologies,” Azriel said again. He picked up a knife and began expertly fileting the skin and bone off a slab of meat. Gwyn stared: pale scars streaked across his olive-toned hands. They moved with deadly precision. Smears of blood had begun to coat the tips of his fingers…Azriel met her gaze with a sharp look that had Gwyn glancing away with embarrassment. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Gwyn replied. “I joined the circus right when it arrived in London.” 

“Why?” His words were short, and to the point. 

Catrin’s lifeless face, with sunken-in cheeks and chapped lips flashed before her. That horrible smell…those awful hands grabbing her, hurting her…Gwyn shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I needed to make some money. When did you join the circus?” Azriel’s brows lifted slightly at her returning question. 

“Almost five years,” he replied. The dagger-thrower did not offer any more words of conversation after that. Daphne and Tarquin chatted in the background, but between Azriel and Gwyn, there was only silence. Gwyn’s eyes began watering again when she started on the onions. Before she could reach for a second onion, Azriel wordlessly took the whole crate away. 

“Thank you. I suppose I’ve cried enough for today,” Gwyn murmured. She snuck a glance at the dagger-thrower, and was disappointed to see his face stone-cold at her attempt to jest.

✨

Tags: @velidewrites @reverie-tales @highladysith @shadowsxgwynriel @foxwithagoldeye @sunshinebingo @jealousveronya @corcracrow @fieldofdaisiies @the-lonelybarricade

[viajandopelomar]

Inconsistencies of ACOTAR ✨✨

scroll to read the post in Portuguese 🇧🇷

Why are there so many merchants with so many expensive products in a village that is apparently so poor, with so many people in situations similar to Archeron? It doesn't make sense that they would actually earn anything selling to them, because poor humans in isolated villages like this usually make their own clothes and so on. At least, that's what's common in fantasy. At least, the little we have of human territory makes us think that this is no different in ACOTAR. It's even stranger that when the market happens once a week, the merchants with expensive products are always there. Like, it's an isolated village. It has to be isolated, otherwise why didn't Feyre find work somewhere else, with something really exhausting?

We have Isaac Hale being introduced as a skinny boy in winter and even his hair has thinned, and look, he is the only son of the richest farmer in the village. Meanwhile, we saw two wives of other farmers being described as beautiful and plump. If they are described like that, it is strange that Isaac, heir to the richest, has become skinny. It is also strange that in a VILLAGE there are so many farmers. Does every village have that many farmers? If so, most of the human lands south of Prythian belong to the farmers. But they still live in villages so I suppose they are not that rich 🫠. Only compared to the other villagers, I suppose.

And the whole Archeron poverty thing gets even funnier when you read it and remember that his money lasted a year in that cabin. Like, why not invest that??? But magically after Tamlin showed up with the chests of gold the old man became the best investor in those lands again. It almost seems like he was always a terrible businessman and only got rich because Tamlin enchanted the gold 🤡

🇧🇷Incongruências de acotar ✨✨

Por que há tantos comerciantes com tantos produtos caros numa aldeia que aparentemente é tão pobre, com tantas pessoas em situações similares aos Archeron? Não faz sentido que eles realmente ganhem algo vendendo para eles, porque humanos pobres em aldeias isoladas assim normalmente fazem suas próprias roupas e etc. Ao menos, é o comum em fantasias. Ao menos, o pouco que temos do território humano nos faz pensar que isso não é diferente em ACOTAR. É ainda mais estranho que quando o mercado ocorre uma vez por semana, os comerciantes com produtos caros sempre estão lá. Tipo, é uma vila isolada. Tem que ser isolada, caso contrário porque Feyre não encontrou trabalho em outro lugar, com algo mesmo exaustivo?

Temos Isaac Hale sendo apresentado como um rapaz magricela em épocas de inverno e até o cabelo dele ficou ralo, e olhe, ele é o único filho do fazendeiro mais rico da aldeia. Enquanto isso, vimos duas esposas de outros fazendeiros seren descritas como bonitas e gorduchas. Se elas são descritas assim é estranho que Isaac, herdeiro do mais rico, tenha ficado magricela. Também é estranho que numa ALDEIA tenha tantos fazendeiros. Toda aldeia tem tantos fazendeiros assim? Se for assim a maioria das terras humanas ao sul de Prythian são dos fazendeiros. Mas eles ainda moram em aldeias então suponho que não sejam tão ricos assim 🫠. Apenas se comparados aos outros aldeões, suponho.

E toda a coisa da pobreza dos Archeron fica ainda mais engraçada quando você lê e lembra que o dinheiro dele durou um ano naquela cabana. Tipo, por que não investir isso??? Mas magicamente depois que Tamlin apareceu com os baús de ouro o velho voltou a ser o melhor investidor daquelas terras. Parece até que ele sempre foi um péssimo comerciante e só conseguiu riqueza porque Tamlin enfeitiçou o ouro 🤡.

[the-lonelybarricade]

LB my dear dear! I have devoured all yours and MB's ao3 works till date ❤️🤌 and I am feeling pathetically ravenous for more 🫠. Although my question is- since I have seen people asking you for suggestions as to which blog and which writer to look to for more feysand/elucien content I would like to request the same only and only if you are comfortable and have the time for this pressing request. And thank you even if you couldn't for some reason im only scared since you are busy and wouldnt want to burden you with such an exigent task. . I'm sorry to bother you That would be it 🥺 👉👈

You want blog suggestions for Elucien/Feysand authors? And you think you're bothering me??? Anon, this happens to be my exact area of exertise and there is nothing love more than hyping up my friends!

To kick us off my lovely friend @velidewrites is an extraordinarily talented writer and artist, and also just an all-around ray of sunshine whose blog I cannot recommend enough.

There's also @writtenonreceipts who's every work is literal potery. Pick any of her stroies and you will come undone.

@belabellissima has a beautiful Feysand/Elucien series called the State of Grace and is also one of my favorite people 🥺💝

@azrielshadowssing also regularly feeds us with delciioiusly sinful Feysand and Elucien stories 🥰 hehehe definitely read the tags though!

Among a host of other incredible fics, @damedechance has an onlyfans series that will make you feral - Playgirl (Elucien) and darling.exe (Feysand) 👀👀 Come back to me once you finish losing your mind

@xtaketwox and @itsthedoodle come as Feysand/Elucien pair hehe. @xtaketwox has treated us to lots of goodies, but I wanted to highlight her modern soulmate AU which has a dedicated work for Feysand, Elucien, and Nessian! @itsthedoodle has written so many beautiful feysand oneshots and is the sweetest, most unhinged person you'll ever have the pleasure of knowing.

@asnowfern is so talented and writes for a lot of different pairings, including Feysand and Elucien! Right now she's working on a stunning Feysand AU inspired by a chinese legend called Till Forever Falls Apart

if you're a fan of next-gen, @areyoudreaminof has lots of adorable fics and headcanons centering around Elucien and Feysand as parents!

@witch-and-her-witcher again writes for many couples, including Feysand and Elucien! She recently wrote a Feysand and Nyx oneshot, The Little Tiger, that completely fractured my heart and put it back together.

@thegloweringcastle is another extremely talented writer who has a wealth of feysand and elucien fics! One I really love is the The Law of the Land which is a Feysand western AU with background Elucien 🤠

@darling-archeron has been in this fandom since 2016 and in that time has blessed us with so much wonderful Feysand and Elucien content!! (One day you really need to sit us all down and tell us the fandom lore we all missed out on from the acomaf/acowar releases 👀)

@iambutmortal has a lot of delicious Feysand and Elucien stories! For Elucienweek last year she wrote a really addicting story called The Honeymooners

@labellefleur-sauvage has written so many incredible Elucien fics! As well as a very delicious monster!Feyre fic called Meet Me In the Woods hehehe 👀

@foundress0fnothing always blows me away with her writing. For Elucienweek last year she wrote an Elucien sex cult fic titled Both Forever and Rather Die that lives in my head rent free.

@howlingcaptaincommando is working on a really amazing pirate AU, Never Shall I Die, centering around Elucien, Nessian, and Feysand!

@vulpes-fennec has so many lovely stories, including her Prythian Fantasia WIP which centers on the Archeron sisters and their mates 😍

@popjunkie42 has yet to dip her toes into writing Elucien but maybe one day we can convince her 👀👀 That said she has so many amazing Feysand works such as Hate Me Instead and her current WIP Blossoming In Winter.

Likewise my dearest friend @wilde-knight has only written Elucien and Nessian, but I can't recommend her works and blog enough!! She's working on an amazing Princess Bride AU called Burnished Gold

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship is a die-hard Feysand, Elucien, Gwynriel, and Nessian! Currently they're working on a Feysand fic Five Minutes to Midnight which also features background Elucien!

@octobers-veryown creates so many wonderful moodboards for variuos ships and characters! I cannot recommend following them enough💕

And finally @rosanna-writer, @reverie-tales, @thesistersarcheron, and @starfall-spirit are my multishipping queens 🥰 On their blogs you'll find wonderful content for Feysand, Elriel, Elucien, and other ships as well!

[acourtofkindness]

December 10th | @vulpes-fennec

Prythians Fantasia (Elucien, Feysand, Nessian,...)

This is an ACOTAR circus AU and what I can say…it is basically perfection. Not only are scenery and world building incredible, but also the description of the characters and the whole storyline. It is definitely worth reading, but one warning…you won't be able to stop after starting it, so prepare to save some time for it. 

Meddle About (Elucien)

It is definitely one of the sexiest and most amazing stories about Elucien that I have ever read. This story is incredible and perfect, basically just like all the pieces of work from this author - you all have no idea how hard it was to only pick two.

[elucienweekofficial]

Elucien Fanfic Crossword Answer Key- Fantasy AU

How did you do? It's our hope through this week of puzzles that folks are able to find an existing fanfiction that speaks to them! Consider these a small masterlist filled with recommendations from the community itself. Below you'll find every fanfiction recommended attached to the author who created it, added in the order they were submitted! Fics were also categorized to their best of our ability. Check them out below!

A Blaze In The Dark by @the-lonelybarricade

On the eve of her wedding, knowing nothing about her husband besides his apparent disinterest in his soon-to-be wife, Elain uses a spell to meet her true love in her dreams.

All Of The Girls You've Loved Before by @separatist-apologist

I want to teach you how forever feels

OR:

That time Elain was a witch and Lucien was condemned to hunt her down

I Am Not A Woman, I'm A God by @separatist-apologist

Elain Archeron only wants revenge on the man who jilted her and turned her village against her. On the Autumn Equinox, she decides to summon a demon and have her vengeance before leaving that village-and the life she'd once hoped for- behind. What comes for Elain is no demon. An ancient God of Chaos rises, binding her life to his. And when he speaks, he makes the most terrifying claim she's ever heard.

He says she's his wife.

Burnished Gold by @wilde-knight

Should I call you that, then?” She quirked her head. His noble brows curved in confusion.  “Err–call me what?” he replied, still trying to find his way over the path of their stumbling first encounter. “Well, farmboy, of course,” she replied with the sly hint of a smile he’d treasure until his dying day. “As you wish,” was his only reply.

---

An Elucien Fairy tale inspired by A Princess Bride

Pride and Prythian by MANGo

Regency Era Elucien Inspired By Bridgerton

After bumping into a beautiful woman at the seasons first ball, Lucien Vanserra has spent every day since trying to track this mystery woman down. All the while his best friend is making calls on the Archeron house, attempting to woo the youngest daughter - and all is recorded in the daily editions of Lady Whistledown

A Tale of Nymphs by @missarcheron

Elain is a nymph of spring, spreading beauty and happiness wherever she goes. Lucien is the Lord of Death, whose realm is, well- dying. When he meets Elain, he knows he will need her to save his court- and perhaps for some other things as well…

Prythian's Fantasia by @vulpes-fennec

It’s 1889. Desperate to save her ailing mother’s life, Feyre strikes a bargain with ringmaster-witch doctor Amarantha. As the Archeron sisters join Prythian’s Fantasia and head for the World’s Fair in Paris, they begin to realize the circus’s magic runs far deeper than its enchanting nightly performances.

Golden by @separatist-apologist

I once believed love would burning red. But it's golden.

To save his people, Lucien Vanserra will marry his most hated enemy.

But to love her? Well, that's another thing entirely

This Fire Won't Burn Me by @separatist-apologist

Princess Elain Archeron wants nothing more than to be reunited with her missing youngest sister and to see her father finally emerge from the fog of grief he's been living under since her mother died. When her step mother arranges for her older sister to fetch her youngest to celebrate Elain's impending engagement to a neighboring prince, it seems like she'll get her wish. That is, until her father's fearsome huntsman steps in and wrecks it all. Now she's on the run, hiding in the forest to keep herself- and her heart- intact.

In her quest to understand why someone would want her heart carved from her chest, Elain will have to reconcile what it means to truly be the fairest of them all

Your Heart, Beating Through Stone by @ofduskanddreams

An upstanding young woman from a disgraced family, Elain Archeron takes a position as a governess to avoid an unwelcome arranged marriage. She didn't know what to expect when she arrived at the Forest House but finds herself enchanted by her pupil Charlotte Vanserra, the only child of the Duke Eris Vanserra and his late wife, and her grandmother Serafina, the Dowager Duchess. Just as Elain begins to feel like she has a place in the world, everything changes.

Every summer, Lord Lucien Vanserra and his brothers return to their childhood home for holiday. You would not believe his surprise when he arrived early and found Elain Archeron, the girl he'd loved for half of his life, sitting in his chair at the breakfast table. When Lucien finally works up the nerve to speak to the woman again, a dangerous situation arises that may bind the two in ways neither of them anticipated.

They Are The Hunters, We Are The Foxes by @the-lonelybarricade

Nesta had been very firm in her instruction not to stray from the path. The path was safe—sprinkled with iron dust every morning by the mercenaries who protected their villages. But Elain had spied the blackberries, plump and ripe for the taking, if only because no sensible human would have dared. Ordinarily, Elain wouldn’t have. Too terrified of the fae and what she heard they did to young, pretty human girls like herself. But today, Elain was to be married. Even facing the woods was less daunting than that. - Elucien Little Red Riding Hood AU

Ex Luna Scientia by @kingofsummer93

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Flicker in the Night by @ablogofsapphicpanic

Elain is sure that Graysen is the man she's going to spend the rest of her life with. He's everything she could have hoped, and has been caring and kind to her in a time when her family is looked down upon after her younger sister, Feyre, disappeared over the Wall separating them from the land beyond it three years ago. But when reveals that he intends to marry someone else for the dowry she can offer, she desperately claims she will retrieve a star that they saw fall on the other side of the Wall and use that for her dowry. He accepts, but she only has a week to retrieve it. But how hard can it be to get a rock? Instead of a rock or a gem, though, she finds a man. But she refuses to let that get in the way of true love. The only problem is transporting a mouthy, uncooperative star all the way across Prythian and back over the Wall in time to meet Graysen and gain his hand, and all of the roadblocks that come with that.

never shall we die by @howlingcaptaincommando

One sunlit morning, the Archeron sisters are kidnapped from their ship by the Pirate Lord Rhysand, his spymaster, and his warlord — why, and what he wants from them, they don’t know. But they are soon to find out.

Twist of Fate by @damedechance

After an ill-fated night that alters Elain Archeron's friendship with Lucien Vanserra, Prince of Autumn, forever, Elain struggles to regain any semblance of civility with her childhood friend and crush.

You Are Not The Kind Of Boy (Who Should Be Marrying The Wrong Girl) by @c-e-d-dreamer

With her season and herself ruined thanks to her older sister's lover, Elain Archeron decides she's finally going to take what she wants.

ivy game by @thelovelymadone

Beron wants Lucien back in his court and intends to reinstate him in Autumn, willing or not. The Night Court tells Elain to accept the bond or face the consequences by the end of the day. Lucien is told by the Night Court that Elain intends to break the bond so the war between Autumn and Night Court is prevented. What is fact? In a lavender field, a few bargains are made. What comes before a storm? Calm.

[starfall-spirit]

IT'S MY BIRTHDAY

If you want to give me a gift you can come to my ask box and tell me you have visited any or all of the wonderful stories I am posting below and just tell me all the reasons the authors are amazing bc I guarantee I'll agree with you.

Feysand

As the River Flows and/or A Court of Faded Dreams by @the-lonelybarricade

Sunshine and Promises (You get some Helion too) and by @shallyne

A Memory Undone and/or The Things We Cannot Say Series (Mute!Feyre) by @writtenonreceipts

To Steal a Bride of Spring by @ultadverb

Of the Archer and the Dark by @thesistersarcheron

I Was Enchanted to Meet You and/or Is There a Word for a Bad Miracle by @separatist-apologist

Catch Me Flying, Love by @reverie-tales

Five Minutes to Midnight by @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship

Blood Moon and Starlight Fangs by @edgyellie

Elucien

Sunshine and Reunions (Sunshine and Promises AU) by @shallyne

Seven Tears for the Sea by @ultadverb

Call it What You Want to by @separatist-apologist

(Also it’s Elucien Week so check that stuff out. We have some very talented participants this year!)

Elriel

Glitch by @thesistersarcheron

Over the Edge by @shallyne

Morlain

Embers by @ultadverb

Feymor

You're so Gorgeous by @separatist-apologist

Multiship

Sea Monsters Series by @separatist-apologist

Prythian's Fantasia by @vulpes-fennec

You and I Are Going to Change the World by @velidewrites

Pretty Please (I Need Your Hands on Me) by @headcanonheadcase (Also known as the threesome I didn't know I needed until she dropped a chapter in ubc)

[fieldofdaisiies]

two month story wrap up and shout-out, canon + x-Reader stories

I haven't read many stories in the past months, but I managed to catch up with some. so here we go, a little shout out to amazing creators and my absolute favourite stories I have read lately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Asking Prize - by @the-lonelybarricade (Azris)

Elucien Drabble - by @asnowfern

The Writings on the Wall - by @asnowfern (Nessian)

Effervescence - by @asnowfern (Elucien)

Prythian’s Fantasia - by @vulpes-fennec (Acotar AU)

Throne Room Shenanigans - by @vulpes-fennec (Jassa)

Until Your Last Breath - by @moonlightazriel (Azriel x Reader)

Run Away - by @moonlightazriel (Eris x Reader)

Leave Before You Love Me - by @velidewrites (Elucien)

I Was Never There - by @velidewrites (Bone Carver)

Sleep - by @velidewrites (Elucien)

One Hundred - by @velidewrites (Elucien)

Where Have the Bubbles Gone - by @kingofsummer93 (Elucien)

Into the Water - by @kingofsummer93 (Elucien)

Ex Luna Scientia - by @kingofsummer93 (Elucien)

All of the Girls You Loved Before - by @separatist-apologist (Elucien)

What a Time to Be Alive - by @separatist-apologist (Elucien)

New Beginnings (-part 4) - by @cosmic-whispers (Azriel x Reader)

On My Mind in My Heart - by @darling-archeron (Elucien)

The Sins that Blind Us - by @honeybeefae (Eris x Reader)

You’d Marry Me If I Asked, Right? -by @isterofimias (Nessian)

On the Line - by @moodymelanist (Nessian)

All You Knead Is Love - by @moodymelanist (Nessian)

The Hit - by @headcanonheadcase (Nessian)

Helion x LoA Drabble - by @ofduskanddreams

Game Night - by @areyoudreaminof (Elucien/Band of Exiles; sorry, I knew I forgot sth.)

the ACOTAR writing circle organised by @azrielshadowssing

and lastly an absolutely fantastic painting of Elucien - by @krem-does-stuff

[areyoudreaminof]

It’s @vulpes-fennec birthday today! Not only is she awesome and hilarious, she’s also an amazing writer! Check out her Ao3 here! Especially Prythian’s Fantasia, one of my personal favorites.

Happy Birthday Viffy! ❤️

[asnowfern]

Ahhh thank you @areyoudreaminof @fieldofdaisiies I am so touched you guys thought of me💕💕💕

There are so many amazing, talented writers already mentioned but I am going to add on (and maybe some repeats🙈) my personal favourite fics too!

Everything @separatist-apologist writes is gold but Throw Me To The Flames will always have a special place in my heart as being the fic that made me an Elucien

Can't forget the amazing A Court of Faded Dreams series by @the-lonelybarricade but I also really love her latest Elucien week fic: A Blaze in the Dark

Prythian's Fantasia by @vulpes-fennec which has amazing world building and captures different voices so well

As the World Falls Down by @thesistersarcheron has me salivating at the beautiful writing

Velaris U series, especially the latest Elucien fic The Shot by @headcanonheadcase

Amazing Feysand, queen of softness by @reverie-tales and her latest Beautiful Darling Boy

@c-e-d-dreamer is also Nessian writer royalty but the one I always find myself rereading is I Will Love You Without A Single String Attached

Begged and Borrowed Time and Promise @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk who have me falling in love with Nessian again and again

Embers and Light by @duskandstarlight has probably forever changed me too

Cursed, Hexed, Bonded by @thelovelymadone has such amazing world building and fantastic writer's voice

I Was Never There by @velidewrites who is so incredibly talented but has probably forever changed my views on the Bone Carver

Fox and Fawn by @daevastanner which is such delightful Elucien-ness

Sympathy for the Devil by Saphie3243 (I'm not sure if she's on Tumblr?)

Hover Corte by @areyoudreaminof who nails BOE dynamics so well

Plant a Jasmine in the Night by @kingofsummer93 which is such delicious steamy Elucien (of course Ex Luna Scientia for every Marauders-era x ACOTAR fans!

The Highland Fox and The English Rose by @labellefleur-sauvage which features delicious Scottish Lucien

Like falling stars, we are destined to burn @ofduskanddreams that popped my omega-verse cherry

I am no god, only wormwood by @damedechance is so beautifully written

Ultima Ex Nobis by @fieldofdaisiies is so creative and original

A Court of Scars and Shadows by @beaumaismortel which was honestly entrancing and I love so much too

Five Minutes to Midnight by @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship which is an honestly amazing acomaf rewrite

I definitely have missed people and so many wonderful fics but these are definitely life-changing for me💕

On to shameless self promo, I am particularly proud of these fics so do give them a read if you're interested!

Sunshine in Autumn, an Elucien time travel fic

Effervescence, an Elucien night circus AU setting fic

The Writing's on the Wall, a wuxia, Legend of White Snake-inspired Nessian fic

Eye for an Eye, an alternative acosf ending Nessian fic

I also want to collect titles to give a shout out on bookstagram since I often get asked about fanfic recommendations.

So don't be shy and let us know 🥰 These are the most popular ships but if you also have fics for different characters that's fine too!

[skylartt]

"El pueblo que sabía que había un precio, un precio que valía la pena pagar, por ese sueño. Los guerreros que habían nacido bastardos, los mestizos ilyrios, el monstruo atrapado en un cuerpo hermoso, el soñador nacido en una corte de pesadillas… Y la cazadora con alma de artista."

Libro: Una corte de niebla y furia.

Autora: Sara J. Maas

[vulpes-fennec]

Prythian's Fantasia 🎪 (Ch. 4)

Summary: It’s 1889. Desperate to save her ailing mother’s life, Feyre strikes a bargain with ringmaster-witch doctor Amarantha. As the Archeron sisters join Prythian’s Fantasia and head for the World’s Fair in Paris, they begin to realize the circus’s magic runs far deeper than its enchanting nightly performances.

Previously: Feyre and Nesta have bargained with Amarantha! What's Elain going to do?!?

Read: Masterlist | AO3

Thursday, March 14th, 1889

***Elain***

Feyre and Nesta didn’t stop giving her furtive looks until they sat her down for a serious conversation over yesterday’s afternoon tea. And now Elain knew why. 

“Nesta and I will be joining Prythian’s Fantasia for the next half year,” Feyre had announced, stirring cream and sugar into her tea as if it were any other day. “We made a deal with the ringmaster: Amarantha will cure Mother in exchange for our service.”

“How?” Elain had sputtered. Nothing—nothing—had helped Isabella Archeron’s illness, which seemed to worsen with spite.

Nesta’s heavy sigh preceded Feyre’s answer: “Magic.”  

Elain could believe magic existed. Her gift of reading the future was part of the occult, was it not? But the idea of a magical circus…well, stunning performances did not equate to proof of magic. 

“You do not seem surprised,” Feyre observed. 

Elain shrugged. “I am skeptical…but I am more concerned with where is Prythian’s Fantasia going.”  

“The circus will tour England…then head to Paris for the Exposition Universelle,” Nesta replied, switching into French for the last bit of the sentence. “Feyre will be the magician’s assistant, and I will be participating in the aerial silks performance.”

“What about Mother?” Elain asked. “What about the upcoming season? We ordered all our gowns already. And when Father gets back…none of us will be home…”

“That is why we need you to stay and care for the household…ensure Mother is taking her tonics and manage our correspondence from the other families,” Nesta responded swiftly. Her sister’s gaze dropped down guiltily. 

“You will be gone…for months?” Elain’s voice was barely above a whisper, her initial excitement quickly dashed. “And you did not care to include me in this arrangement?” 

Feyre was the more apologetic sister. “We will be sure to write, Elain. And Amarantha will give us the curative after a month, which means Mother will be back to health in no time at all.”

“I do not wish for you to write,” Elain had said stiffly. She had spent the afternoon baking scones and preparing the little sandwiches, but now the food was less than palatable. “I wish to join you both.” 

“Traveling is far too dangerous,” Nesta said. “Do you think we are going on holiday? Feyre and I will be working. We do not want you to go hungry, or sleep in the cold and damp. Staying here is easier, Elain. And safer.” 

“But I want to go to Paris!” Elain had cried, feeling like a petulant child. 

“Nesta is right,” Feyre had added. “The journey ahead is uncertain…and what talents could you possibly bring to Prythian’s Fantasia? Gardening and baking are not useful in a traveling circus.” 

Elain had glanced at her sisters, shocked that both were in agreement for once. “When do you depart?” she had asked, feeling discombobulated.

“Tomorrow morning,” Nesta had said with finality, clearly assuming Elain was agreeable with their plan of action. 

But Elain was livid, and far from agreeable when it came to this issue. How could her sisters leave her behind? Feyre knew damn well Elain wanted to travel to Continental Europe her entire life. And how could Nesta, of all women, assume Elain needed protection from the big scary world? Of course they would expect her to stay home, for she was the Archeron sister that was most well-adjusted to London society. Of course it was alright for radical Nesta and bold Feyre to gallivant England unchaperoned, but the thought of soft and sweet Elain doing so would draw gasps of horror! 

Elain called an early night, unable to bear watching Nesta and Feyre pack when it should have been her in their positions. Guilt gnawed at her: it would be their last night together for a while, yet Elain could not bring herself to spend a minute longer with them. Not that it would make much of a difference, for the Archeron sisters had never been particularly close.. 

But it simply wasn’t fair! 

Whatever happened to taking charge of her own destiny? The fact that she had a premonition about a mysterious man in Paris seemed a good sign to leap out of her comfort zone. Elain did not want to shoulder the burden of excusing her sisters’ prolonged absence to her mother. And telling Isabella Archeron her two daughters had left high society for a traveling circus would be a death wish. 

Which was how Elain found herself hastily packing after Feyre and Nesta bid her a stiff goodbye in the morning. Dresses, shoes, cosmetics, hats, and gloves were haphazardly stuffed into massive carpet bags. Elain bundled out the door, paying the family carriage driver a generous sum for his discretion. 

The big top had been taken down, but the circus performers were still packing up their camp. Feyre and Nesta had to be in there somewhere. Elain’s palms dampened gloves in a mixture of anxiety and thrill—no longer would she sit back and wait for life to happen!  

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” Elain’s voice was shrill as she ran towards the camp as fast as her daintily slippered feet could carry her. The large cases she lugged in both hands made her gait even more awkward.

In her haste, Elain did not notice how wet and muddy the grass was. Her ankle slipped; she went down with a screech. Cases went flying, her hat turned askew, and her gloved hands sank several inches into smelly gunk. It seemed like the whole camp had come to a stand-still as everybody watched Elain struggle to stand. 

“Elain? Elain!” Feyre cried as she rushed over, picking up the muddy cases for her sister. “What are you doing here?” 

Elain stood, red-cheeked with embarrassment. Her creamy pink dress was sodden and now stank of filth, her cheeks were splattered with mud. But at the sound of Feyre’s voice, she straightened and indignantly replied, “I don’t want to be left behind.” 

“Elain, you must return home,” Nesta ordered, striding over to them quickly. “This is foolishness.”

“What is going on here?” Amarantha’s voice sharply rang out over the crowd of people. “My goodness, who is this pathetic creature?” The ringmaster assessed Elain’s now-filthy form with obvious distaste. 

“I’m sorry, Amarantha,” Feyre apologized quickly. “This is my sister, Elain.”

“She will be leaving now,” Nesta added meaningfully, grabbing the last clean patch of fabric on Elain’s elbow and tugging on it. Elain disentangled herself subtly, but Amarantha noticed it. 

“Leaving?” Amarantha arched an eyebrow. “Why, it looks like she was planning on joining us.” 

“Yes!” Elain cried breathily. “I wish to be with my sisters.” She ignored Nesta’s glare. The crowd of circus performers had grown larger, though, and Elain shrank slightly under their bold stares. This was not the first impression she wanted to make.

It could not be any more obvious that Amarantha was judging Elain’s clumsy feet, her gloved hands, the timid roundness of her shoulders. Elain held her breath, fearful of being turned away. 

“I know just the role for you. You will be our fortune-teller. We lost our last one thanks to…an unfortunate accident.” 

“I am afraid I do not have any experience in the occult,” Elain blurted out defensively, so taken aback by the accuracy of Amarantha’s assignment. It was partially true, though. Experiencing sporadic visions was one thing; being skilled at “parlor tricks” or channeling specific readings was another. Still, Elain mentally kicked herself for spurning the offer. 

“Well? Simply make things up,” the ringmaster waved her hand condescendingly. “As long as the circus visitors are satisfied, you will be of use to me. And do tidy yourself up before we board the train.” Amarantha flashed Elain a gleaming white smile that possessed no warmth before she turned away.

Nesta sighed and motioned for Elain to follow her through the camp. Elain kept her head down, careful not to embarrass herself again. There was a feeling of unease writhing in the pit of her stomach like a black worm. It was distinct from nerves or embarrassment…the sensation was akin to a warning bell.  

Elain considered herself an open-minded, friendly lady, who didn’t have qualms with many people. But there was something peculiar about the way Amarantha assessed her, and she didn’t like it. No, Elain did not like it at all.

“We were lucky enough to have our own caravan,” Feyre said, interrupting Elain’s musings. “Come, let us put your cases inside.”

The caravan was painted in a rich green with ornate gold detailing. Glass windows and beautiful lanterns hanging by the door, as well as the fold-down wooden steps of polished dark wood, elevated the caravan’s standing beyond a covered wagon on wheels.

“It’s so small,” Elain commented doubtfully. 

“It’s much bigger inside, you will see.” The door swung on well-oiled hinges, revealing an unusually spacious setting. The first thing Elain saw was a copper tub—for bathing—positioned opposite a wooden table complete with green-cushioned wooden chairs. 

“At least we can stand upright here! Look, we have a bathtub,” Feyre explained excitedly. “Towels and soaps included. We can heat the water on the stove.” A small iron stove was situated in the caravan’s corner, its black slender chimney extending up and out of the wooden roof. 

It was beginning to dawn on Elain that, while the caravan was better than sleeping on the cold, hard ground, nothing would compare to the comforts of home. Since the maids always drew up warm baths upon request, tending a flame and heating up water bucket by bucket would be a harsh wake-up call to reality. Elain wasn’t even sure she could strike a match.  

An elegant wardrobe stood next to the tub, facing an upholstered sofa with plush velvet pillows. Thick curtains kept the sleeping area separate: the back end of the caravan was taken up by a large bunk bed. 

“I took the top bed already,” Feyre said, pointing to the top bunk where a circular window offered views to the outside world. “And Nesta took the bottom one. But there’s a separate bed on the side for you.” 

She had never been confined in such close proximity to her sisters. Elain’s bed was built into the caravan, with extra storage underneath. Across from her bed sat a small counter with a marble wash basin, and an ornate mirror hanging on the wall. Her cruddy face reflected back at her, pale and disheveled. Her first adventure started off on the wrong foot, but she made it, didn’t she? 

“It’s quite nice,” Elain finally said quietly. “Home sweet home for the next few months.” 

Saturday, March 16th, 1889

***Gwyn***

Birds of a feather flock together. Any stranger would have taken one look at Daphne’s auburn and Gwyn’s coppery-brown hair, their pale skin and willowy statures, and assumed them to be relatives. Gwyn had learned several key facts about the fire performer over the last few days. One: Daphne’s son, Lucien was 26. Just two years younger than Gwyn. Two: she hailed from Ireland, somehow surviving famine and political turmoil. Three: she was married to Beron Vanserra, the sour-faced, Spanish escape artist. Based on Gwyn’s limited observations of the two, Beron was hardly deserving of Daphne’s warmth and goodness. In fact, Daphne seemed to shrink back within herself whenever she was in her husband’s proximity.

Prythian’s Fantasia, Gwyn also learned, was transported from town to town via the great English railway system. Tents were taken down and bundled neatly, caravans were rolled onto flatcars and strapped down, and the performers bundled into carriages.

When they boarded the train to Bristol two days ago, Gwyn could have sworn some odd emotion passed between Daphne and an older man. The man was around Daphne’s age, with earthy brown skin and hazel eyes like that of a wise owl. Gwyn had seen him several times, for his muscled thighs and foreign features were unmistakable around the camp.

“Who is that gentleman?” Gwyn had whispered to Daphne as they sat down in the carriage. “The tall, dark one who just passed us by?” 

“Ah…that is Helion,” the lady murmured, looking down demurely. “He assists with the lights during the performance.” From the way Daphne’s fair cheeks mellowed out with color, Gwyn presumed there was more to the story than Daphne would divulge. But she didn’t want to pry when Daphne had just warmed up to her.

Tomorrow would be their first show in Bristol, and Gwyn was currently assisting the circus hands in setting up the music hall. An open-air tent of forest-green fabric had just been pitched. Signage was carefully hung. Polished boards were neatly aligned to form a sizable dance floor. The stage would be elevated by pushing together massive crates, artfully concealed by luxurious curtains and decor. 

Amarantha had taken Gwyn into Prythian’s Fantasia to fulfill a singer position in the music hall, but Gwyn had been stationed at the ticket booth for the last few nights with no indication of reassignment. Gwyn was itching to move on from the rote task of checking tickets. She wanted to sing!

Everyone listened whenever Gwyn began singing. Her mother had always spoken of merrow or morgen heritage from their Irish and Welsh ancestors, something Gwyn had always dismissed. Sirens were pure myth; and Gwyn had never seen the ocean, nor felt any draw towards the vast seas. But even she could not deny that her voice was unusually rich and magnetic. Catrin incessantly encouraged Gwyn to audition for London’s high-end music halls, but Gwyn much preferred to offer her talents free of charge at the local church choir. 

Sweat beaded Gwyn’s brow as she pushed against the massive crate. The church would never accept her now, after all she had done—been forced to do—at the brothel…and Catrin. Catrin would never get to hear her perform at a music hall ever again, not even this one—

Gwyn’s foot slipped in the mud. A pair of scarred hands positioned themselves next to her, assisting with the crate. 

“Careful.” Azriel’s voice was flat, but his hazel eyes were wary. “Severe flooding occurred in Bristol this week.” The corded muscles in his forearms flexed as he easily pushed the crate into the proper position. 

“Thank you,” Gwyn replied, wiping her brow. “Are you looking forward to the performance tonight?”

“I am always prepared.” Not exactly answering her question. But from the daggers that were sheathed along his belt, Gwyn had no doubt that Azriel practiced everywhere he went. 

“What are you doing here?” Tamlin, one of the circus musicians, rounded the corner with a hammer in his hand. His emerald gaze was fixed on Azriel, and Gwyn could have sworn Tamlin’s imaginary hackles were raised like a cornered dog. 

“Someone could not be bothered to quit their hammering to lend her a hand, so of course I had to assist,” Azriel replied shortly, his eyes narrowing with mirrored distaste. His scarred hands hung loosely at his side, within close reach of his daggers. 

There must be some history between Tamlin and Azriel, Gwyn decided, for Tamlin had been nothing but cordial towards her, Daphne, and Tarquin. First Daphne and Helion, now Tamlin and Azriel. Prythian’s Fantasia, it seemed, held an unusual amount of secrets under its glossy tents and sparkling performances. 

“Tamlin.” A clear, powerful voice rang out as the magician strode into the music hall with feline grace. Tamlin’s expression soured even further. “You have a new performer assignment for the music hall.”

“You do not give me orders, Rhysand,” Tamlin snarled as Rhysand smacked a thick stack of papers against his chest.

Rhysand smirked, his inky black hair the polar opposite to Tamlin’s golden blonde. “They’re Amarantha’s orders, not mine. I do feel sorry for you, Gwyneth, that your new colleague is acting like an uncouth beast.” 

“Me?” Gwyn squeaked. It was the first time the magician had interacted with her, and she was surprised that he knew her name. His handsome face was even a bit unnerving to look at, for it was cold as the morning frost. 

Rhysand’s violet eyes flicked towards her, faint amusement shimmering. He produced another stack of papers out of thin air and offered them to Gwyn with a courteous bow. “Amarantha has reassigned you to the music hall, as promised. Do inform me if Tamlin gives you any trouble.” 

“I would rather be a beast than a bootlicking turncoat,” Tamlin threw back coldly at Rhysand’s retreating back. Bootlicking turncoat? What happened between Tamlin and Rhysand? Gwyn was vaguely aware of Tamlin saying something about practice times, before realizing Azriel had disappeared as well. 

***Feyre***

The magician’s tent was far too easy to spot amongst the multitude of colored tents in the circus camp: it was midnight black. It was the key to getting her questions about her shadow capabilities answered. Of finally meeting someone who was like her. Years of wishes on evening stars culminating in this very moment. 

“Be still, o beating heart,” Feyre whispered to herself as she approached. To her surprise, the top of the magician’s tent was left open, bathing the space in sunlight. And there he was, leaning casually against a tent pole and fiddling with his top hat. The magician looked up slowly when she stepped across the threshold, like a cat waking up from a luxurious nap. 

He was still dressed in black, albeit in a more simple pair of pants and neatly creased shirt. Onyx black hair carefully combed and styled across his forehead, and his tan brown face close-shaven. The magician clearly maintained an impeccable appearance even while off-stage.

“You must be my new assistant, Feyre Archeron.” Feyre’s breath hitched at the smooth purr of voice, shaping the syllables of her name as if he was savoring sweet wine. “I was wondering when you would show up.” 

“And you are…?”

“Rhysand,” the magician replied matter-of-factly, as if he was mildly offended she didn’t already know his name. He prowled towards her, mouth curving with an almost intimate smile. “But you may call me Rhys.”

“You are from Wales?” Feyre tracked his movements carefully, unsure of how to act around her new mentor. 

“My father is from Scotland, actually.” Rhys halted in front of her, close enough to border on impropriety. Dear lord—his deep blue eyes were hypnotizing. Already she was mentally tabulating the color combinations she could use to recreate the color of his eyes, for they were an unusual shade of violet. Like the color of amethyst gemstone mixed with sunset’s indigo. 

“I see.” Feyre doubted the validity of that statement, for Rhys’s brown nose and aquiline nose implied otherwise. 

“I heard you arrived here with not one, but two sisters. What is a darling like you doing in a circus like this?” Men who called ladies “darling” on the street were exactly the types of men Feyre rolled her eyes at. So why did she shiver with delight when Rhys said it? 

“My mother is very ill,” Feyre explained, tilting her chin up to maintain eye contact. “I sought Amarantha for help.” And you are the first person I’ve met who possesses the same gifts, she added silently.

Rhys’s brow creased slightly, and his sensual gaze chilled. “So you made a bargain with Amarantha.” Displeasure was laced in his tone. 

“Only six months of service for a healing potion. But since my mother’s condition is dire, Amarantha will give me the potion after a month,” Feyre explained, unsure of why he was frowning. 

“There is no such thing as only six months,” Rhys muttered, more to himself than her. While he appeared lost in thought, Feyre took the liberty of studying Rhys with an artist’s gaze, parsing every plane of his face, the details of his relaxed body. Surely a handsome man like him was married, right? It would be criminal—and alarming—if he wasn’t. 

The edges of Feyre’s attention span suddenly thinned and wavered, as if her thoughts were being scrambled up. Raw power thrummed in the air, thick enough to taste. Rhys tilted his head, darkness quickly evaporating into satisfaction. 

“What do you know about magic?” A double-edged question: was he inquiring about her skills with magic tricks, or was he somehow referring to the strange shadow capabilities she possessed? 

“Little enough for me to seek the master himself,” Feyre responded gamely. 

His beautiful mouth smirked as he closed the distance between them. Feyre leaned in, presuming he was about to kiss her…but Rhys’s hand brushed a lock of golden-brown hair behind her ear, producing a small silver chain with a delicate silver cross instead. 

“How did you do that?” Feyre blinked in crest-fallen confusion. 

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” Rhys offered her a sly smile. “Allow me.” 

Feyre could only nod slightly, heart hammering in her chest as Rhys positioned himself behind her. She pressed her lips together tightly when his hands brushed the nape of her neck, lest she let out an inappropriate moan. How could such a simple touch bring forth such pleasurable sensations that traveled right down to her very toes? 

His fingers delicately scraped her skin again, as he slipped the silver cross under her collar and out of sight. The gesture was chaste, yet the sensation of intimacy hung heavy in the air. “I advise you to keep that cross on at all times…for your own good.”

“...What?” Feyre needed to remember to breathe. 

“It’s protection,” he replied simply. “Identification.”

“I am not keen on wearing something around my neck like a dog,” Feyre objected, feeling even more confused.  

“Then consider a gift from your mentor.” Rhys stepped back in front of her, putting a regretful amount of distance between them once more. 

“Mentor, are you? If I am to be your assistant, I think I should be privy to at least some of your secrets.” She smiled back teasingly, fingering the delicate chain. Violet eyes regarded her with molten intensity. Feyre smiled even wider. Good…it seemed Rhys was just as taken with her. It would be such a shame if he found her uninteresting. 

“If you wish to know some of my secrets, then let us begin your training.” 

✨

Tags: @velidewrites @reverie-tales @highladysith @shadowsxgwynriel @foxwithagoldeye @sunshinebingo @jealousveronya @corcracrow @fieldofdaisiies @the-lonelybarricade

Author's Note:

I hope you enjoyed this update! Maybe it took you 5 minutes to read it, but it took me several hours to write it. Would you rather read a paragraph of words an AI strung together over a fanfic with fun headcanons and character analysis, or published writing?

I hope your answer is no, and I hope you will show the same respect to artists by NOT supporting or reposting AI art, especially on TikTok. Artists spend YEARS honing their craft, so propping up AI art is the equivalent of supporting plagiarism. I'm tired of seeing people defending their use of AI images over genuine art in their fan edits because AI "look perfect". ACOTAR fandom, please do better.

[readingrabbit]

Progresso de leitura (A Corte de Espinhos e Rosas - Sarah J Maas)

Página atual: 300

Nem sei como falar desse livro.

Ao mesmo tempo que explora um mundo de fantasia interessante, consegue ser incrivelmente mal feito.

O livro conta da Feyre, filha de um ex-rico que perdeu tudo, que mata um feérico - um ser mágico que não foi inventado pro livro!! - e é levada para morar em Prythian devido ao Tratado entre humanos e feéricos. Até aí beleza. Depois disso acompanhamos Feyre vivendo da casa de Tamlin, que descobrimos ser um Grão-Feérico (como se fosse um rei da província onde ela está), onde ela é incrivelmente lelê das ideias.

O maior problema desse livro deve ser o quão repentino são as coisas. Por exemplo, como a Feyre passa a confiar no Lucien a ponto de arriscar sua vida indo atrás de um feérico perigoso só para procurar respostas que ela ignora depois que começa a se envolver com o Tamlin. E mais pra frente, como suas irmãs com ela depois que ela volta de Prythian.

Diversos comportamentos dela são super compreensíveis: a falta da família, a insegurança em um lugar totalmente perigoso pra ela... Mas o jeito que ela reage a isso e como ela esquece tudo isso depois desvaloriza demais tudo o que acontece.

Nem vou entrar aqui no red flag que me dá diversas vezes envolta da relação dela como Tamlin. No fim das contas o cara está realmente querendo proteger ela, mas... Fica de olho, amiga.

No geral, eu vou ser muito ingrata se dizer que não estou gostando. A leitura está sendo bem chata em alguns momentos, mas o mundo é muito interessante e, se fosse bem construído e escrito com um pouco mais de firmeza nos personagens, eu teria amado.

Minhas partes preferidas até agora são do romance entre ela e o Tamlin, além, claro, da exploração de Prythian, que é uma terra totalmente mágica. Talvez se essa magia fosse melhor retratada e te abraçasse - meio parecido com o que eu sinto lendo Harry Potter - seria um ótimo universo fantástico.

E olha... desculpe amiga que me recomendou ler os próximos, mas acho que não vai rolar, um tá bom!

[literaturaliteralmente]

📝Resenha de Névoa e Fúria📚 por @therealsjmaas Um livro que vai de 10 a 100 no quesito "retratação psicológica" que vai te deixar desnorteado tentando entender "o que rolou aqui". Vamos lá, por etapas. Sarah escreve muito, a mente dessa mulher é infinita de criatividade, cada plot que te deixa louca. Mas! Esse livro ao contrário do que ouvi e li por ai não se resume ao capítulo 55. 658 páginas riquíssimas de detalhes e surpresas. O hot meus caros, como boa leitora de ROMANCES DE ÉPOCA que sou não me surpreendeu. Achei básico. Contudo, considerando o público alvo, adolescente é compreensível. Esta é a segunda obra da saga de ACOTAR, chamada por ACOMAF em que vemos a história de Feyre ser continuada por caminhos imprevisíveis em Prythian, ela peça chave na guerra contra Hybern. Vamos a Feyre... ela me irritou algumas vez, me surpreendeu em outras, mas essa coisa de não vermos seu máximo no poder está me inquietando. Ela sempre está a mercê de alguma coisa. Quero ver ela controlando, comando essa poder todo. Enfim, não me decepcionei. E vocês já leram? _ #acotar #acomaf #sarahjmaas #feyre #rhysand #booksgram #booktok #tbr #leitura #literatura #fantasia https://www.instagram.com/p/CagY4W6sWXt/?utm_medium=tumblr

[literalandia]

☕ [RESENHA] (#01) CORTE DE ESPINHOS E ROSAS, ACOTAR, DE SARAH J. MAAS

Título: Corte de Espinhos e Rosas Autora: Sarah J. Maas Série: Corte de Espinhos e Rosas (#01) Editora: Galera Record Gênero: Fantasia  Páginas: 434 Avaliação: ★★★★★ Compre: Amazon | Submarino | Americanas Adicione na Estante: Skoob | Goodreads Resenhado Por: Yasmin Mendonca

☕ SINOPSE: Ela roubou uma vida. Agora deve pagar com o coração. “Corte de Espinhos e Rosas” é o primeiro volume da série best-seller, da mesma autora da saga “Trono de Vidro”. Num mundo dividido uma muralha mágica separa duas espécies. De um lado, os feéricos vivem dentro de suas fronteiras cheias de beleza e mistério; do outro, os humanos possuem apenas medo, desconfiança e dificuldades.

“Às estrelas que ouvem e aos sonhos que são atendidos. ”

Em “Corte de Espinhos e Rosas” conhecemos Feyre, uma jovem que após a morte da mãe começa a passar dificuldades financeiras junto de suas duas irmãs e seu pai. Após ficarem sem nenhum tostão e diante da promessa que fez à mãe em seu leito de morte, ela se vê na responsabilidade de cuidar da família e para conseguir alimento começa a caçar nas florestas ao redor de seu vilarejo. 

Feyre cresceu ouvindo histórias sobre criaturas feéricas que habitam do outro lado da muralha em meio a floresta, e que humanos deviam sempre estar em alerta e manter distância do local. Mas seu destino muda quando ela atravessa a muralha e consequentemente mata um lobo feérico, e para pagar o preço de sua crueldade é forçada a ir para terras mágicas feéricas.

Ao outro lado da muralha, nas terras desconhecidas, divididas por cortes e tratados milenares, Feyre conhece o encantador, mágico e misterioso Grão- Senhor chamado Tamlin, um feérico metamórfico com quem desenvolve uma amizade que logo se transforma em uma paixão ardente, fazendo-a questionar suas escolhas, decisões e levando-a a encarar obstáculos jamais enfrentados. 

Será que Feyre é forte o suficiente para provar todo o seu amor a Tamlin e salvar o povo feérico das maldições sob as terras de Prythian? 

❝Eu sabia...eu sabia que seguia um caminho que provavelmente terminaria com meu coração mortal despedaçado, mesmo assim, não pude evitar.❞

“Corte de Espinhos e Rosas” é um livro envolvente, com escrita fluída, personagens bem marcantes onde todos os acontecimentos têm um motivo, e desfechos interligados. Contém também mapa ilustrado para visualizarmos melhor onde se localiza cada espaço geográfico de maneira simples e satisfatória. A autora deixa aquele leve mistério durante a leitura sem nos fazer perder o interesse, fazendo nossa imaginação se soltar, deixando nos apaixonarmos cada vez mais por cada personagem ou talvez odiá-los de início. 

Sarah J. Maas nos mostra o lado humano, com emoções fortes, descreve Feyre de forma determinada: uma simples jovem que amadurece de forma rápida e obrigatória devido aos problemas e dramas familiares vividos. Mas também mostra seu lado frágil e com incertezas, mas acima de tudo, uma verdadeira guerreira, disposta a encarar todas as dificuldades da vida, com uma percepção deslumbrante. E com um dom extraordinário, a paixão pela pintura, cores e texturas. 

Percebemos que com o desenrolar da leitura, Feyre consegue se adaptar ao mundo mágico, conquistando valiosas amizades e fortalecendo seu laço com o Grão-Senhor Tamlin, ganhando sua confiança, descobrindo novas aventuras e aproveitando cada minuto no palácio da Corte Primaveril. Diante disso notamos que Tamlin começa a se entregar ao romance e aos encantos de Feyre, permitindo abrir seu coração de uma maneira jamais vista antes. 

Será possível uma besta se apaixonar por uma humana? 

❝Agradeça por seu coração humano, Feyre. Tenha piedade daqueles que não sentem nada.❞

Tamlin irá vivenciar a luta mais dolorosa de sua vida enquanto é obrigado a assistir Feyre provando todo seu amor e lealdade por ele. 

❝Amo você — sussurrou ele, e beijou minha testa. — Com espinhos e tudo.❞

Conheça mais a autora de “Corte de Espinhos e Rosas”: Sarah J Maas é uma escritora americana que conseguiu o best-seller do The New York Times e USA today com seu livro de estréia “Trono de Vidro” e logo em seguida com a trilogia de “Corte de Espinhos e Rosas”, se tornando um fenômeno mundial, alcançando e ganhando espaço nos corações de leitores não apenas do gênero fantasia. Lembrando que ACOTAR (abreviação para “A Court of Thorns and Roses”) é uma recontagem livre do clássico “A Bela e a Fera”.

[jatracei]

Resenha #352: Corte de Asas e Ruína

por Juliana Arruda

SINOPSE:

O terceiro volume da série best-seller Corte de Espinhos e Rosas, da mesma autora da saga Trono de Vidro em “Corte de Asas e Ruína" a guerra se aproxima, um conflito que promete devastar Prythian. Em meio à Corte Primaveril, num perigoso jogo de intrigas e mentiras, a Grã-Senhora da Corte Noturna esconde seu laço de parceria e sua verdadeira lealdade. Tamlin está fazendo acordos com o invasor, Jurian recuperou suas forças e as rainhas humanas prometem se alinhar aos desejos de Hybern em troca de imortalidade. Enquanto isso Feyre e seus amigos precisam aprender em quais Grãos-Senhores confiar, e procurar aliados nos mais improváveis lugares. Porém, a Quebradora da Maldição ainda tem uma ou duas cartas na manga antes que sua ilha queime.

RESENHA:

Esta história literalmente abrange ação e guerra.

"Sabíamos - todos nós sabíamos. Sabíamos que não sairíamos com vida daquele campo de batalha."

Bem, todo mundo sabe que no final do livro dois se encerra com Feyre se infiltrando na Corte Primaveril, né? Tamlin acha que ela estava enfeitiçada por Rhysand, agora que ela está “livre”, pode voltar finalmente pra “casa” e em “segurança”.

O caso é que Feyre agora é Grã-Senhora da Corte Noturna e está ali como espiã. Ela precisa saber o que o embuste do Tamlin está tramando com Hybern e, ao mesmo tempo, precisa se vingar do Grão-Senhor da Corte Primaveril, que expôs as irmãs Archeron ao perigo do Caldeirão (que, aliás, permanece em atividade).

O que aconteceu às irmãs da Feyre, ela nunca ia perdoar.

E coitada da Ianthe e do Tamlin, viu (SÓ QUE NÃO!!!).

Em meio aos conflitos que Feyre começa a lançar dentro da Corte Primaveril, existe uma Guerra prestes a eclodir contra o Rei Hybern em Prythian. O livro Corte de Asas e Ruínas traz muita ação, batalhas e também muitas mortes. Personagens secundários ganham destaque (principalmente Nestha e Elain).

"Se Elaine era uma flor naquele acampamento de guerra, então Nestha… ela era uma espada recém-forjada, esperando para tirar sangue."

Personagens que são apenas mencionados nos livros anteriores finalmente dão as caras... E que reunião entre os Grãos-Senhores foi aquela? Eu fico eufórica só de imaginar! No livro dois eu amava o Cassian (ainda amo, claro), mas o Azriel me conquistou tanto, tanto, tanto nesse livro! <3

Surpresas acontecem durante a história, algumas são bem positivas com direitos a vários e vários surtos; e outras bem negativas, com muito chorôrô (muito mesmo). Existiram alguns acontecimentos no final que não me agradaram porque pra mim não fez muito sentido... É como se em todos os livros os personagens se comportassem de tal forma e, quando chegam ao final, são totalmente diferentes... Ainda assim, o livro não deixa de ser muito bom (3x).

Apesar de ter toda essa adrenalina correndo nas veias enquanto lemos, também sentimos muito amorzinho com o nosso shipp favorito: Feysand!

"E se eu não tivesse conhecido minha parceira… Eu teria esperado quinhentos anos mais por você. Mil anos. E, se esse foi todo o tempo que nós foi permitido… a espera valeu a pena."

Eu juro que tento não surtar em fofurice com esses dois, mas é impossível! Vale a pena cada página lida e o tempo usado para ler!

"A grande alegria e honra de minha vida foi conhecê-los… E sou grata, mais do que posso expressar, por ter recebido esse tempo com vocês."

Compre na Amazon:

LINKS RELACIONADOS:

Resenha – Corte de Espinhos e Rosas 

Resenha – Corte de Névoa e Fúria 

5 motivos para não odiar a Nestha Archeron 

5 motivos para amar e odiar a Morrigan

Dica: Dois livros favoritos de fantasia que você não pode deixar de ler 

Como anda a sua meta de leitura?

5 quotes que eu amo em ACOMAF

[vulpes-fennec]

Brb screaming!?! Thank you so much for the moodboard 🥹 I am blown away by everybody’s love for the fic so far 🥰

(Also this moodboard series is very exciting and I’m looking forward to getting new fic recs from this ☺️)

Favourite Fics || A Court of Thorns and Roses

🎪 PRYTHIAN'S FANTASIA 🎪 by @vulpes-fennec

A magical night awaits you at the greatest show this side of Earth… (Prythian’s Fantasia, Chapter I)

You can read Prythian’s Fantasia here!