#THEY BOTH SUCK FOR FEYRE BUT RHYSAND SUCKS A WHOLE LOT MORE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladynestaarcheron · 3 years ago

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The Deal - Chapter One - Summer

ao3 - master post

as promised, chapter one today, even though the cost was my writing 6k words in an afternoon RIP me i thought this was going to be a lot shorter lol. enjoy!

---

When Nesta awakes, she knows she had a peaceful dream, she is in the House, and Cassian is by her side. She nearly smiles, more content than she's felt in living memory--when slowly, but not scarily, she remembers.

The scrying yesterday...it had left her mind bare and vulnerable and the Cauldron had taken advantage. She doesn't feel the pain now, but remembers that she felt it. Cassian, still asleep in the chair, had come in because of her screams. And...Rhysand?

Cassian rouses soon after, asks her how she's feeling. What is she supposed to say?

"Rhys is going to join us for breakfast," he tells her.

Nesta tries not to make a habit of swearing. But fuck.

He had, it must be said, comforted her last night. Left her in peace. Even though she was too tired to look, she knew the place was beautiful. She felt warm and safe and her pain had been entirely forgotten. Generous, she supposes. He had not needed to do that. But it's not as though they're friends now. Nesta knows what's coming. A lecture--at best. A reprimand for letting her magic run amok, for endangering Cassian and Azriel and maybe even the priestesses, for being so out of control she needed someone else, him, to come and pull her out of her own mind. It'll probably just be to scare her. They won't actually chuck her into the Prison. But that's where the threats will go, she's certain.

The peace of her dream fades completely by the time she trudges into the dining room. Cassian is there. And Rhys. They both stand when she enters.

"Good morning, Nesta," Rhys says. "How are you feeling?"

Nesta narrows her eyes. Cordial...even pleasant. "Fine."

"Glad to hear it." He smiles at her. Real, not mocking.

Nesta keeps her hands at her sides when she sits. Cassian chooses a spot next to her.

"Coffee or tea?"

"Nes is picky. I'll get it." Cassian flashes her a grin, which she doesn't return.

Buttering her up for something, that's clearly what this is about. But what?

Cassian and Rhys make idle conversation, accepting her short, one-word answers and not making a fuss over them. Cassian does nudge her until she's eaten to his satisfaction, though, but the smothering ends there. It's not how she'd like to spend her morning, but it's not too bad, until--

"Cass, could you give me a moment with Nesta?"

Cassian squeezes her thigh under the table and nods encouragingly at her. Her heart skips--for him or Rhys, she does not know.

---

Nesta's eyes are precisely the same shade as Feyre's, and yet always appear different. More gray. Lifeless, or afraid. Rhys has never seen her smile.

"I want to offer you something," he says.

Nesta's face tightens. "You want to offer me something?"

"Something I offer everyone. And I...had not thought to offer it to you. I apologize."

Nesta's brow quirks. He grimaces inwardly.

"I know that you've...experienced a lot of pain," he starts, in a careful voice. She freezes anyway. He continues, undeterred, "I can take the pain away. If you want."

Nesta's head tilts to the door, where Cassian is waiting outside. She shifts her gaze back to Rhys--not lifeless, not scared, but intelligent. "You can take it away?"

He nods slowly. "I can...make you forget."

It's something he offers them. All of them. All the females, when they come here. But he had never really considered Nesta a female who had come here, even though it was his idea to bring her. She was always something else entirely. His mistake. But he can right it now.

"You can make me forget?" she repeats, as she's been doing this whole morning. She frowns a little, different than her usual scowl, more curiosity than ire. Then she sucks in her lip, eyes widening. "Yes," she says. "Yes. All of it. Do it now."

"All right," he says, calm. Most females turn him down, too frightened, but Rhys doesn't judge either way. He isn't sure what he expected of Nesta, honestly. "It won't hurt. I just need you to lower your shields--"

"No," she says, standing. "I mean...all of it." Her eyes, the most beautiful eyes in the world, stripped of any joy, stare at him with such urgency. Her hands clasp themselves tightly in front of her lips--pleading. "All of it, Rhysand."

His lips tug down. "Yes, I can make you forget it all--"

"All of it," she insists again. "I mean everything."

Rhys nods. Sometimes, even for the females who want to have their memories erased, the idea of anyone seeing them is too painful to process and renders them inconsolable--but then he realizes what she means.

"Nesta," he says, slowly, carefully. "I don't think--"

"You don't understand," she says, hands slamming down on the table. "You--if you saw--look," she says, shields dropping entirely. "Look."

Rhys raises his head, and he does.

He braces himself for the pain he felt last night, but this is entirely different. It's so much worse.

Were he not already sitting down, Rhys thinks the wave of self-hatred that falls over him would knock him over.

It all hits him--over and over again, worse than last night. Some of it is there, yes, but clearer. The woman is her grandmother, beating her. The man is--ugh--Rhys physically recoils as he sees Nesta's fanciful ideas of love with this man, so young, so hopeful--and how he had ruined that, how he had stripped it away from along with her dress and her dignity--

And how all of it is tied to love. Such deep, unending love...for Feyre, for Elain. It's all intertwined, it can't be severed from her being.

He sees the rest, but he does not look. He knows enough.

"Nesta," he says, gently, pulling out of her head.

"You're not going to do it," she says, eyes lined with silver. "I don't believe you. You're actually not going to--then leave! Just leave!"

"Nesta, wait," he says, raising his hands. "I didn't say I'm not going to help you."

"But that's it, isn't it?"

"You don't want to lose yourself like this. You love your sisters too much. Trust me, it's worth it."

"You...why did you even offer?" she asks, voice shaking. "You weren't going to help me. And know I'm just...if I were anyone else, you would do it. It's only for Feyre that you don't."

Rhys hesitates. She's right. If it were anyone else, he would let her start her life afresh, quietly, peacefully. But she is Nesta Archeron, his mate's sister, and there's something to fight for here. "All right," he says. "I'll make you a deal."

"I don't want to hear it," Nesta says immediately, but Rhys pushes.

"Give me two months."

Nesta crosses her arms over her chest. Her eyes still shine with unshed tears. "For what?"

"To prove to you that you don't need to do this."

Nesta shakes her head vigorously. "I'm not living like this for another second--"

"One month."

"No--"

"Two weeks."

"Don't you understand what you're asking me? Don't you see how I live?"

"One week," Rhys says firmly. "One week. If at the end of the week, you still want this...I'll do it."

Nesta pauses. She wipes her eyes, then narrows them at him. "You'll do it all?"

"You have my word."

She sucks in her lip again. "What will you tell them?"

"Leave it to me," he says. "They won't have any say. I'll do it...if you give me this week."

Nesta stares at him, face once again devoid of emotion, as she considers without letting him in on her thoughts. But he knows what she'll say. That's why he started with two months, bargaining down.

"All right," she says, finally. "One week. I'll do it. And then...you have to wipe my memory clean."

"If you want," he adds.

"Yes."

The magic seals the bond between them; Rhys feels it make its mark upon his skin. He lifts his left palm: three stars, at differing heights, like the Night Court insignia. Nesta purses her lips, and Rhys stifles a grin. Hopefully she won't mind it so much by the time the week is over.

"The week starts now. Spend two days here," he tells her. "I'll come get you on Tuesday morning."

Nesta looks up from her palm. "And take me where?"

"Don't worry about that. See you in two days, Nesta."

He strolls out of the House, keeping himself leisurely while in Nesta's line of sight. Clapping his hand on Cassian's shoulder, he shows him his other palm.

Cassian swears. "What did you do?"

"I've got work," he says, ignoring him. "Stay here with Nesta. Don't leave her for two days. Don't irritate her too much."

"Oh, that's rich. She actually likes me, you know."

"I know," Rhys agrees. And without another word, he takes off into the morning.

---

The next two days pass without any word from Rhysand. Nesta doesn't see anyone else besides Cassian. They train together on the roof, but more of the stuff she enjoys than what he says is important. He's teasing, but doesn't rise to her testing bait. In on Rhys' plan, she supposes, though he doesn't mention it at all.

He spends the first night in her room, in the chair he had slept in the night before. They don't mention it; they both pretend it's normal. He asks her if she'll read him any smut. She chucks a mystery novel at him. They go to sleep.

The next day is much of the same. Not unpleasant, but not worth living life.

"You're going somewhere," Cassian says to her on the morning of the third day.

"How do you know?"

He points to the trunk packed at the foot of her bed in answer. "Shame you won't have any good-looking roommates coming along with you." He grins at her.

Nesta turns away from him, bending down to look at the trunk, to hide her face. He had stayed in the chair, ready to protect her from herself, but he had not joined her in her bed.

"Do you know where I'm going?" she asks, the contents of the trunk too diverse to pinpoint any one climate.

"No. I've been here with you. But you'll find out soon enough. I like the dress you're supposed to wear today, though," he says, pointing to wear it hangs on the wardrobe.

When Nesta is washed and changed into the lilac chiffon daygown, and breakfasts with Cassian in the dining room, Rhysand walks in.

"Ready to go?" he asks.

She glances at Cassian. "Yes."

With a wave of his hand, the trunk, brought in by Cassian, disappears. Rhysand waves them out onto the veranda. Nesta's stomach clenches--they'll have to fly. She had forgotten.

But neither of the males seem to notice anything amiss. Cassian bends down to kiss her cheek--in front of Rhysand--and says, "Bye, sweetheart," as though they are lovers, leaving for the day. There is the promise of seeing each other again that night, but Nesta knows...she will never see him again.

"Goodbye," she says, voice catching.

Again, neither of them seem to notice. Comfortably, Rhysand lifts her into his arms--she will never see the House again, she will never again take pleasure in its friendship, she will never see Gwyn again--and flies a few dozen feet in the air--

They winnow onto solid ground.

Foreign ground.

A small cavalry of dark-skinned Fae, darker than Cassian, dressed in bright colors and light fabric greet them.

Nesta vaguely recognizes one of them. Eyes like the sea and hair like its foam. A handsome forehead, with soft cheeks and a rigid jawline. Even if she did not recognize him, Nesta would know the power in the air immediately. One of the High Lords.

"High Lord, Lady Nesta," he says with a slight bow, "welcome to the Summer Court."

Rhysand returns a small one, so Nesta dips into a curtsy as he says, "Thank you for having us."

"Ottilie and Cordelia will take your things," the High Lord says, waving over two females to the trunks which have appeared behind them. "I trust you're ready to begin?"

Rhysand inclines his head and offers his arm to Nesta. She grimaces inwardly as she takes it.

"This way."

The group of faeries part for the three of them to pass through. Only when she walks by him does Nesta notice Varian--right. This is his home court. He's some sort of prince here.

Doesn't matter. He doesn't seem to be going where Tarquin--that's his name, she remembers--is taking them. As long as she won't have to remind him of any of the Night Court's pleasantries, she doesn't care. Although perhaps he'd need it more than anyone, being with Amren, Nesta thinks bitterly. One person she will not miss seeing again. In fact, the only thing that makes her queasy is the idea of Amren meeting the new Nesta and once again tricking her into believing they are friends.

"Welcome to Adriata, Lady Nesta," Tarquin says, turning around and holding out his arm in the direction of a large window. Nesta's eyes widen as she takes in the view.

It's leagues more beautiful than Velaris, that much is certain. A sparkling teal sea hugging a white-sand coastline, and brightly colored buildings only one or two stories high, not breaking the incredible skyline. There's a pier stretching out farther than Nesta would've thought possible, and a staircase cutting right into the water.

"Our Sea Steps," Tarquin says, following her line of sight. "May I escort you there?"

When Rhys doesn't answer, she realizes she's supposed to. "You may," she replies, too distracted to think about whether she should add please or thank you.

Tarquin and Rhysand are both polite the whole way down to the pier. Nesta finds she falls back into the role of a dignified lady easily--this is just like being shown someone's estate, just like a proper dinner. It's only the characters that don't fit, but if Rhysand can act, she can too. How this is supposed to make her change her mind...perhaps he's struck some sort of deal with Tarquin? She'll live here instead?

"Do you spend much time at the Night Court's beaches, Lady Nesta?" Tarquin asks her, when they reach the shore.

"I...haven't yet had the opportunity to go."

"Excellent," he says. "The first Prythian beach you see should be ours."

Rhysand laughs. "She's walked along the Sidra river plenty."

Nesta stops herself from flinching--she hates the thought of being watched.

People--children, she realizes, lots of children--run along the beach, playing games or exercising, but the dock they walk along is empty. Tarquin, again noticing her observations, says, "The Sea Steps are normally open to the public, but we had them closed for everyone but personnel today. For your pleasure."

"Personnel?"

"We have a facility down here."

The staircase at the docks looks like any other, except for the fact that it descends into the water. When Tarquin takes the first step, his feet under the sea, Nesta's throat tightens. The water--she can't--

But when his hand touches the waves, the sea breaks, forming a sort of hallway around the steps. Rhysand doesn't stop his stride, and Nesta keeps pace with them, as they follow Tarquin down.

She would have assumed it would be dark. It's not.

The sunlight shines through the walls and ceiling of the staircase, and when they reach the bottom, the floor opens up to...the ocean.

Tarquin turns to see her face. "Well?" he says, his polite pesona dropping into something a little more smug.

"It's," Nesta says, struggling to find the right words. "It's like...a reverse aquarium."

Tarquin laughs. "That's the idea."

The room is ridiculously large, and offsets a few corridors. The floor beneath Nesta's feet feels dry and stable, the air cool but not uncomfortably so. And all around her...

Fish. Eels. Creatures she's never even imagined. All swimming through the sea, gliding, like flying.

Nesta approaches one of the walls, letting go of Rhysand's arm. She lifts her palm to it, but doesn't touch. It feels cool.

"It's water," Tarquin says. "You can stick your hand in."

Gingerly, Nesta presses in a finger. It goes through, easily--it's water. The walls are water. The walls are the sea.

Nesta raises her eyes. A school of fish--gracious, but she doesn't know any of their names! Not beyond the generic--fish, eels, jellyfish...crab and coral and a dolphin! Nesta's never seen a dolphin before!

"Bottlenose, Lady," a faerie says to her, appearing out of nowhere. As Nesta looks to see him, she realizes she's wrong--there are plenty of other faeries, all dressed in teal--the personnel--milling about. She only had not noticed, entirely taken by the sight.

"The dolphin," the faerie adds. "They're not unique to the faerie world. You get them in mortal seas, too."

Nesta turns back to the sea-wall. "And this?" she says, pointing to a bright orange fish.

"Those are faerie, Lady. We call them Orange Biters."

"Biters?"

Wordlessly, the faerie reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, dried anchovy. He reaches his hand into the water, tossing the anchovy in the direction of the fish--which opens its jaws wide, revealing a set of terrifying fangs, and chomps down on it.

"They don't bother with the shore," the faerie assures her. "It's perfectly safe to swim there."

"Oh," Nesta says. Not as though she was worried about that, as there's no chance of her swimming anytime soon, but...it's incredible; she can't think of what to say.

"Shall we begin the tour, Lady Nesta?" Tarquin asks her.

She looks to Rhysand, who, again, is waiting for her answer. "Yes, please."

Tarquin leads them into different pathways through the sea, introducing her to the faeries working there and letting them explain what they specialize in, what they're doing. Some of them are monitoring breeding patterns, some tracking coral growth, but most are simply watching the fish, noting everything they do.

"Does it ever get tedious?" Nesta asks a female.

"Never," she says, raising her arms. "Could you ever get tired of this view?"

Nesta supposes not. But the tour ends, and Tarquin leads them back up the stairs and onto land.

"Did you enjoy the Sea Steps?"

"It was the most incredible thing I have ever seen," Nesta answers honestly.

Tarquin grins broadly at her. "You're more than welcome back, any time you'd like."

Before Nesta can thank him, Rhysand says, "Perhaps you might allow her to bring Cassian next time." To Nesta he says, "Tarquin's predecessor had banned Cassian from ever entering the city."

"Rightfully so, I believe," Tarquin says lightly. "Would you not agree, Lady Nesta, that someone who destroys a building loses privileges to reenter the city limits?"

"But he'd like the Sea Stairs too, don't you think, Nesta?"

Nesta shoots Rhysand a look. "I'm sure anyone would."

"Maybe you could make him fight a shark for it," Rhys suggests.

Tarquin laughs. "That would be something. Do you agree, Lady Nesta?"

"I suppose so," she says after a beat. It is only after she says it does the vision hit her: Cassian, wings flung out behind him the water, fighting a shark in front of the Summer Court to win the chance to return to this city. Her lips quirk upwards of their own accord.

---

Lunch is an affair as well. Tarquin shows them to a seaside restaurant, cleared of its patrons. The chef comes out and bows to them, low, thanking her for honoring them with her first meal in the Summer Court.

She had forgotten what it was like to be treated this way. The High Lady's sister. Here with Rhysand, it seems impossible to deny her place in the Night Court. But she goes along with it anyway, thanking them for having her, eating the meal they serve and sending her compliments to the kitchen.

Afterwards, they walk along the streets for an hour or two. It isn't a parade, but Night Court flags have been hung up, and people at booths call out their cheery hellos and ask if Lady Nesta would like to try their seasalt scrub, if the High Lord would like a pearl set to bring home to the High Lady.

"See anything you like?" Rhys says to her.

"It's all lovely," she replies, diplomatic.

"Oh, come on," he says, nudging her, and she clamps down on her jaw to keep it from dropping. "Anything for yourself? Gwyn, or Emerie?"

Her heart pangs at that. Gwyn and Emerie.

"Are these all ocean pearls?" she asks a faerie at a jewelry booth. "Anything from a river?"

With a flourish, the faerie shows her a tray of river pearls, strung in various fashions. Running her fingers over the gems, she selects a teal-stone string, the same color as Gwyn's eyes.

"For you, Lady Nesta?"

"For a friend," she says, voice turning hollow.

The faerie beams at her, wrapping it up in pretty paper. "Your friend will love it very much, Lady."

"Thank you," she says, as Rhysand pays.

They walk a little further, Nesta mostly ignoring the salespeople except to offer slight nods of acknowledgement, until she finds a spice spread. She picks out the most fragrant, and every kind of seasalt they have, into a small chest. For Emerie.

She wouldn't want to spend her last week out of the House, with Rhsyand of all people, but perhaps it's for the best. Even thinking about her friends is painful enough. They don't know who she is, what she has done. If they had...it would only be a matter of time before they left her, rejecting her, like everyone else has done. If Elain, sweet, heartfelt, patient Elain could not love her enough; if strong, resilient, defiant Feyre gave up on her...only Rhysand stands at her side, and not for love. At least, not love for her.

He'll be proven wrong, she knows. Her sisters won't even lose her. They'll remake her however they want, in whatever image they please. Maybe it'll even be one Cassian will favor.

The streets quiet somewhat, in the afternoon, and Tarquin tells them his people take naps around this hour every day. The heat, he explains, can be taxing. So he shows they back to the palace, tells them to rest or wander as they like, and would they please join him from a celebratory dinner at seven.

Celebrating what, Nesta isn't sure, but Rhysand accepts, and then she does too.

"Our rooms connect," he tells her when they get there. "I'll be in there if you need me."

"What..." would I need you for, she wants to say, but instead switches to, "should I do?"

He shrugs. "Wander, like Tarquin said. Or nap. Whatever you'd prefer."

He leaves her at her door, pushing into his. Nesta rolls her eyes to no one and enters her room.

Her trunk sits at the foot of the bed. The patterns are all complimentary of the sea, and the scent of it floats in through the open window with a warm breeze.

The heat is taxing. Nesta slips out of her daygown and into a robe, lying down on the silken sheets. What will she feel like, she wonders. When she is made anew. Will she wonder about who she was? Will they tell her? No, they won't; what would they say? They will make something up. Feyre will tell her she's their emissary, happy to serve. Elain will tell her they meet for breakfast every day. Perhaps they won't ever mention being human, and Nesta will never wonder about what she has lost.

Surely, she'll accept it. She'll be as easy as they all want. She has to be. Because Nesta doesn't know what she'll do if...when even after the pain is wiped away, when none of her remains, if she is the same. If it is not the hurt that makes her so, it is simply who she is.

It is perhaps her biggest fear, albeit a new one, and not easy to fall asleep to, but she does, and awakes sometime later to windchimes and a knock on her door.

"Lady Nesta? May I come in?"

"Uh, yes," Nesta says, bringing a hand to her forehead. "Enter."

The door opens slightly. One of the females from earlier. Ottilie. "May I help you prepare for this evening?"

"Yes," Nesta says dimly, massaging her temples, too distracted by her headache to realize what she's agreed to. She's become very used to not having any staff around at the House, and yet, still not having to do much of the work herself, beyond what she pleases. She likes it, never having liked being fussed over. Staff have always been frightened of her, anyway, even when she was human.

But Ottilie doesn't seem to show any fear. "Headache, Lady Nesta? From the heat?"

"I think so."

"This will help," she says, bringing out a small blue pill from her pocket and pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher by her bed. Nesta takes it, and Ottilie says, "But it's best to remember to drink when you visit us, Lady Nesta."

"Thanks," Nesta says, swallowing. "Tonight is..."

"Dinner, lady. And dancing. And a performance."

Dinner and dancing. She can do that. It's all she used to do, actually. Elain had it enjoyed it more, obviously, but...Nesta knows how to play the part. She isn't sure why Rhysand thinks this will show her life is worth living with all her pain, but...just a few more days. She can do this.

Ottilie is pleasant, chatting as she lays out Nesta's dress from her wardrobe and steaming it straight. She doesn't mind Nesta's short answers and keeps most of the conversation going herself, but not annoyingly so. She talks of the history of the Summer Court, explaining about the type of performance they'll see tonight. Vaguely interesting, but nothing too mind-occupying.

Nesta hates the feel of others touching her hair, and Ottilie doesn't protest when Nesta takes the brush to do it herself. She styles a coronet with a bit more twists and braids than usual, in honor of the celebration tonight, and picks out pins studded with sparkling blue stones, matching her dress.

Nesta doesn't know if the House packed for her or if Rhysand did, but the dress is magnificent. Modest in the way no one else in Prythian seems to care about--except maybe the priestesses--covering her breasts, back, and arms, like it should. But the fabric switches sheer from her elbows to her wrist, and there are matching panels from her waist to the ground, her legs cleverly hidden with a deep turquoise slip. It gives the illusion that she's showing more skin than she is, Nesta thinks as she eyes herself in the mirror, which she decides is all right. As long as she's not actually bare...that's fine.

Rhysand is waiting for her right outside her door when Ottilie opens it and lets her step out.

"You look lovely," he says, and grins when she only narrows her eyes at him in response. Nonetheless, she takes his arm and lets him lead her to a large courtyard overlooking the water.

The sun sets later in Summer, and even though it's seven, twilight has only just begun to touch the sky, and they catch the last of the sun's rays as it dips below the sea. With it, faelights flicker on, leaving the evening nearly as bright as the day. A glance upwards tells her what everyone has told her about the Night Court is true: the stars shine brighter there than anywhere else.

"Good evening," Tarquin says, too loud to be addressing just them. Indeed, the courtyard silences, all the Fae splendor-dressed Fae turning to face him. "And welcome to our honored guests, the High Lord of Night...and his sister, Lady Nesta, Kingslayer."

Nesta starts--at being referred to as Rhysand's sister and Kingslayer both. The crowd does not care, smattering an applause.

"Let the night begin," Tarquin continues, raising a glance.

The faeries cheer in answer, raising glasses of their own.

Tarquin approaches, a waiter trailing him. "Something to drink?" he offers them.

Nesta flushes.

But Rhysand only says, "Thank you. Nesta?"

She looks at him, trying to decipher if this is some sort of test. But he doesn't appear to be hiding anything, only casually asking her as polite society demands he does. So she takes it, gingerly, carefully.

What would Elain say? Feyre? Cassian?

But they aren't here right now. She can do what she likes.

"To a lovely night," Tarquin says, holding out his glass.

"Indeed," Rhysand coos, and Nesta stifles an eye roll as she clinks her goblet to theirs.

With the very first sip, Nesta knows. She isn't going to get drunk tonight. It hadn't been that that she'd craved, ever, it was only the dulling of pain. But being so far away from everything that has caused her hurt is good enough for tonight. The Summer Court is its own distraction from her own head. Plus, she'd always hated feeling out of control of herself. That was part of why she'd drunk. Her punishment for being...herself.

But it's not like Nesta's a masochist. Only realistic. So there's no reason for any of that tonight. She can just enjoy this sweet, sparkling wine, and manage with everyone's company.

She supposes with its fishing industry, it's only natural for so much of the food to be seabased, but she finds she tires of it quickly. The table Tarquin shows them is laden with tiny portions of other things, too, though, enough for a bite of each, then staff whisk the empty plates away and serve something else. Most of the conversation revolves around the food, with Tarquin explaining what each dish is, and Nesta commenting on what she likes about, or else making something up if she doesn't. After about an hour of this, a hush falls over the courtyard as the faelights dim.

"The main entertainment," Tarquin says, gesturing towards the water. Nesta's eyes follow his hands, and she waits, unsure of what she's supposed to be seeing. A performance, Ottilie had said.

It is entirely silent but for the waves when the violin starts. First one, then another, and few more join. For a wild moment, Nesta thinks they might be coming from the water--but no, they are merely on the other side of the courtyard. The violins all strike the same chord and then fall quiet together, for a moment, two, and then--

Something rises from the sea, sparkling too bright to properly make out at first. Nesta soon deciphers what the shape is: two faeries raising a third, each of them clutching a leg. But how are the lower two standing straight up in the water? Is there a hidden platform, like the Sea Stairs?

The top faerie flips backwards into the water, the violins starting up again with the splash. The two lower faeries rise, higher than the top one had--each of them held up by two faeries as well. They flip backwards into the water, their sparkling uniforms glinting like diamonds in the starlight, and the pattern repeats, larger and more fanciful, until a wild applause and a change in the music signifies the start of a new act.

The music is more exciting, Nesta wants to watch the performers. But she can't draw her eyes away from the water as the water-acrobats, flipping in and out of the sea, move in some way akin to play staging. There's a war, that much is certain, by the way the faeries launch themselves at each other. Wild, brutal, and unfathomably beautiful. There's a break in it, as two entwine together, and the music turns sad, slow, and Nesta thinks the war is over, lost, before one the faeries launches themselves at someone sneaking up on them from behind, knocking them both into the water. Then it is over. A final act of flips again, and Nesta is first on her feet to clap when they finish, standing on--aha--a raised podium to take their bows.

"We're supposed to follow that?" Nesta asks Tarquin.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he says pleasantly. "I'm sure you can keep up. May I?" He holds his hand out to her.

Nesta hasn't been asked to dance in...she can't even remember.

"You may," she says, not looking at Rhysand to check if she can.

The violinists play, and other couples join them. Rhysand is dancing with some female who greeted them this morning. One of Tarquin's cousins, she supposes.

"Any shows like that in the Night Court?" Tarquin asks her.

"Have you never been?" she asks, because she doesn't know the answer.

"I have not. You might remind your sister she should invite me. The least she could do, after she so rudely ruined her welcome here by robbing my family."

Nesta raises her eyebrows, but Tarquin doesn't smile. "Are you here as an emissary, too, Lady Nesta?"

"No." Oh, that's right. Feyre had had that stupid title once.

"Well, that's what Rhys told me she was. But she was just here to steal for him."

"Why did you invite him back?"

"He made amends when he saved my people," Tarquin admits, grudgingly. "And I wanted to meet you."

They pause their conversation as they spin: she twirls out, in, out, then he pulls her back.

"Why did you agree to come?" he asks. "I hear you are not so interested in policy."

Nesta shudders slightly. He hears from spies, he means. For she is the High Lady's sister, so all the other Courts have spies watching her. "Is this policy making?"

"No," he says. "This is pleasure."

"Then I suppose you could say that's what I'm here for."

He grins at her. A real smile, not the polite, detached ones of today. "Any specific kind you are looking for, Lady Nesta?"

Is he...flirting?

"No," she says. "Just learning what other Courts have to offer."

"Well, I'm flattered you chose to start with ours."

Is that it, then? Is Rhysand taking her around the other Courts? He has four days left, but five other Courts...Spring, she supposes, will not be on their itinerary.

"You dance very well," he says.

"Thank you. You make a fair partner."

He laughs. "Fair?"

"Fair's better than most."

He laughs again. "Did you have lessons?"

"I did, actually...ballet. For years." But it's been quite a while since Nesta's thought of that, hasn't it?

"Then perhaps you could be one of the Night Court's performers."

Nesta huffs. "I don't think I could be one of the Night Court's anything."

"Good," Tarquin says. "You're wasted at night. You're too beautiful to be kept in the dark."

Definitely flirting.

"Tell me of mortal dances. Are they anything like ours?"

Nesta looks over at the crowd, the violinists, the sea beyond. "On paper," she says, "but this is...well, I have never seen a show like yours before, as I said."

"Well, you won't find that anywhere else. But the same, otherwise? Food, dancing, music?"

"The same," she confirms.

"Hm. I suppose we might be having this very evening anywhere, then."

"I suppose we might," she says.

"But I'll always remain partial to my own Court."

"I can certainly understand that," Nesta answers honestly.

He likes her answer. He asks her more about the mortal world, gentle things that don't trigger painful memories. She talks without saying much, and he finds ways to compliment her genuinely anyway. She had watched Elain had conversations like this once. It had looked nice. It is.

Rhysand cuts in, after a while. For propriety's sake, presumably, as he doesn't say much beyond asking her if she's enjoying the evening.

"Tarquin wants to dance with you again," he says when their number is up.

"So do I," she replies, somewhat surprised at herself, and he hands her to him with an incline of his head.

This time, she asks him things. If he can swim as well as those performers. He laughs. "Not as well as they, no. But perhaps stronger than most."

"And what of the fish?" she asks. "Do you know about the fish as well as the personnel at the Sea Stairs do?"

"Not as well as they do, either. I...I'm the youngest High Lord--well, after your sister. I'm just past eighty years old."

"Oh, young," Nesta says, and they both laugh, surprising herself again. "I only mean that's about as old as human beings get."

"I know," he says. "But young for us, at any rate." Us. "So there's much I haven't yet...I was far down the line for this throne, you know."

"Oh?" Nesta asks. She knows it doesn't pass how she'd expect, from High Lord to eldest, that power has something to do with it, but she isn't quite sure of it all.

"My uncle was High Lord. He...and most all our family, all his children...slaughtered. By Amarantha."

"Oh," Nesta says, faltering. "I-I'm sorry--"

"We're all so grateful to you and your sisters," he says, unperturbed, "for ending her reign, for ending Hybern." He grins, shifting the mood back. "Even if she did rob my coffers."

"What did she take?" Nesta says.

"A book."

Oh. That book.

Doesn't make any sense to Nesta. This High Lord seems...well, regardless of how he seems, he fought alongside them in the war. He has a personal grudge against Hybern. Surely he would've wanted to aid them...but Nesta doesn't ever claim to understand how the Night Court operates.

"Would you like to see some of our collection?" he asks her. "If you promise not to steal." His tone is light, but Nesta knows he is serious.

"I won't," she assures him. She could tell him she has little use for anything, doesn't own anything herself and doesn't particularly care too. But she doesn't, content with the night as it is, and lets him lead her back inside, to a quiet area of his castle.

Two guards stand in front of a massive door, but they only bow when they see them approach and move out of the way. Tarquin opens it with a wave of his hand, his magic shifting something in the air.

"Oh," Nesta breathes when she steps in. She can't help it. Once a merchant's daughter, always a merchant's daughter.

Any number of jewels, tiaras, goblets...Tarquin's family is a wealthy one indeed. She supposes they all are, all the High Lord's families.

"It's too much," he says. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I..."

"I'm in the business of selling, now actually," Tarquin continues. "I never thought I'd be High Lord, but now that I am...well, it's not as though I don't have ambitions. I want to do right by my people."

"That's admirable," Nesta says distractedly, bending down to try and guess if a chest of fat rubies is real.

"I abhor the differences our society places on High Fae and lesser faeries. We're all faeries...do you agree with me?"

"I do indeed," Nesta says, but she doesn't agree the way he assumes. Nesta's never given much thought to the status levels of different types of Fae in Prythian. Her base instinct is to view them all as monsters anyway. But, realizing it's true, she says, "I don't like very many High Fae anyway. The only ones I do like are part-nymph and Illyrian."

He laughs. "I suppose you don't consider yourself High Fae."

"No, I don't," she says. "I'm not."

"You're not," he agrees. Then he says, a bit awkwardly, "And I suppose the Illyrian you're fond of...Cassian?"

"Oh, no," she says, not thinking. "I was speaking of my friend Emerie."

He perks up at this. "Oh."

"She's the one I bought the spices for."

"Oh! Well...you're very welcome to bring her along on your next visit."

"Thank you," she says politely.

"And...your friend, the nymph...I suppose the river pearls are for her?"

"Yes."

"Well, it seems as though you don't have anything to remember my Court for yourself, then." He sounds as though he's teasing her.

"I have the memories," Nesta says, remaining polite, even though soon she won't.

"Well, then, please," he says, waving a hand. "Choose a momento."

Nesta laughs, unable to stop herself, but he doesn't. "I insist."

"I--no. That's very generous, but--"

"No, please. What kind of host would I be if I didn't give you something to remember your trip by?"

"This is very kind of you, but--"

"Please, Nesta," he says, dropping the made-up title. "If not a gift for tonight, consider it incentive to come back."

She blushes, flustered. He's...it's wrong, isn't it? He's a good man--male. It's wrong of her to deceive him like this. She's obviously not...he thought he was talking to one female, but he's not, he's talking to someone entirely different.

"Very well," he says. "I shall have to choose for you."

He turns, ignoring her protestations, and reaches his hand high up, calling a wooden box to his hands. "Good thing, too," he says, "because you never would have found this on your own. And it suits you perfectly."

Nesta is about to argue again, but then he opens the box.

A fine-gold chain links together dozens of tiny blue stones. At first Nesta thinks the chain wraps around twice, like a long necklace, but then she realizes one is a necklace, and the other is a matching circlet, for her head.

"You didn't wear any jewelry today or tonight," he says. "But this is delicate enough that it should suit you nicely. And the color brings out your eyes, I think. Do you like it?"

"I...do," she says, hands itching to touch it. Merchant's daughter, whether she likes it or not.

"Then please accept," he says, holding out the box to her.

Nesta looks up at him, studying him carefully. "Feyre didn't have to steal from you," she says. "You would have given her anything."

Tarquin meets her gaze, not backing down as most males tend to. "No, I wouldn't have."

---

Nesta walks towards Rhys with a slight smile on her face, faint blush in her cheeks. Her hands are holding a small box.

"Did you have a nice time?" he asks her.

Her smile fades. She looks at him, frowning slightly. "I'm a person. Of course I had a nice time. But life isn't vacation, Rhysand. I still go to bed at the end of every day. I'm still alone with my thoughts, in my head...you know what that's like." Her voice turns accusatory.

"I know," he says evenly. "But you did have a nice time, otherwise?"

"I already said so," she says, impatient.

"Good," he says, turning to his door. "Get some sleep. We leave for Winter tomorrow."

---

She had half-hoped that she would be wrong, that the pleasure of the day would bleed into her dreams, that she'd be spared the horrors of herself for the night.

But she isn't.

#nesta archeron #nesta x rhys brotp #is that a tag? it is now #acosf au #thank you all for your kind words yesterday hope you enjoyed this!#hope i didn't come off too grumpy lol i am still a bit sick but feeling better #anyway enjoyyyyy #next chapter next week i guess?#hopefully #i literally just finished this now it's entirely unedited lol

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nestable · 4 years ago

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Rhysand can hate nesta as much as he wants and try to persuade feyre to feel the same, but the bottom line is that feyre is desperate for nestas approval/love and will never be truly happy unless she gets it. No matter how much coddling, love or support the IC and rhys give her, feyre will never truly feel loved unless she feels the same from her oldest sister which is why she constantly tries to include her in her things and interact with her even though she gets the cold shoulder. Which is kinda sad. And I think rhysand hates that. That theres a person alive who's opinion matters to her somewhat more than rhysands and that he cant control her even though he tries, even though he believes shes lowly and he's superior to her in general and in feyres eyes.

I think rhysand is used to having family that worships the ground he walks on and treats him like a paragon regardless of how villainous he is and now hes married into this family with this sister that will never like him and he doesnt know how to handle that. Hes used to just getting rid of people who dont agree with him but knows good and well if he applies the same with nesta, he'd most likely lose his mate and his bestie, and that's why hes tolerating her. He can say any mean thing he wants about nesta but that doesnt diminish the power she has in his life because theres no way he doesnt know that his best friend is hopelessly in love with her regardless of her flaws and her sister is desperate to have a space no matter how small in her life, because even if she may have been an occasional negative to feyres childhood, she's still her sister and looks up to her regardless. And I'm gonna go on a guess and say that she idolizes nesta. The language she uses to describe her and her behaviour throughout is never outright rude, even if nesta is, but theres a lot of admiration and rhysand cant ever deny that. Then theres cassian who's feelings for nesta have turned the whole dynamic of the IC on its head to the point where they know things can get violent if they push him to far on the nesta issue. Even her name has power. When someone just mentions her, the room gets tense and I dont necessarily believe that's solely because of her coping mechanisms, but because they know that they have no choice but respect nesta as a constant in their life whether they like it or not, and accept the fact that she wont ever change to fit into their group but they will have to change to fit her because they way theyve been operating all this time isnt gonna work anymore.

I dont think nesta will change in acosf per se, I just think that she'll make peace with who she is and accept herself wholeheartedly which she has never done and that will lead the rest to do the same. The synopsis states that clearly. She wont have to change for them, just gain acceptance and for me that means the IC and rhys realizing that hating her and putting her down is detrimental to everyone because I doubt that cassian has been truly happy since the war and the same goes for feyre, and that's all because of nesta. It sucks that her acceptance is tied to these two and maybe elain, but that is the reality. If they want their friendship to stick, they have no choice but to change their attitude towards nesta because nestas been through far too much to assimilate into their dynamic. And cassian and feyre both know this, and the rest knows this. She holds way to much power over them and that will never go away, it's only gonna grow. The IC will never be whole and happy unless nesta is whole and happy and that's the truth.

I'm excited to see this dynamic in acosf and how sjm executes it.

#acosf #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #inner circle

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rhysismydaddy · 5 years ago

Note

Can u do Nessian: “i bet my friends twenty bucks that i could get ur number if u give it to me ill split it with u”

Cassian Azara sat at the bar, watched the love of his life shoot down yet another potential date for the evening, and sighed like a little bitch, hoping no one heard how pathetic he was.

Unfortunately, his best friend heard the sound and started laughing. “Just go talk to her.”

“Rhys,” he said, trying to make him understand yet again. “I’ve watched her reject twelve guys tonight. That’s enough for a full game of basketball, bro.”

“So you’re just going to sit here and stare at her like a stalker, then?”

He shrugged, not even insulted considering it was true. “That’s the plan.”

Rhysand sighed, sipping his beer in fake defeat. “You’re probably right, anyway. She’d reject your ugly ass.”

Azriel, the third in their little trio, sighed and took the shot of vodka in front of him. Considering he was the quiet, calm one of the bunch, he was probably beyond fed up with their bullshit.

“You know what, you talk a lot of shit for someone who just got dumped,” Cass pointed out, rubbing his nose in it just a little bit more.

“Feyre didn’t dump me.” Rhysand smiled a coy smile. “She’s just taking a few days to realize how much she misses me.”

Cassian snorted, eyes going back to the woman at the other end of the bar, who looked so damn beautiful it should be illegal.

Her dark blue shirt complimented her skin tone and sandy blonde hair, both stark against the bright blue of her eyes.

“This is just sad. How about this; I’ll give you thirty bucks if you go get her number.”

Azriel took another shot.

Cassian considered the proposal.

“Fifty.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “So scared of rejection?”

Not usually, but this woman was in a class of her own. Cassian just shrugged.

“Fine. Fifty bucks if you get her number.”

He grinned, and turned to walk over with renewed confidence when Azriel murmured, “A hundred if you kiss her.”

Both Rhys and Cassian looked at him in shock.

“What?” he asked, sounding cold and amused as usual. “You get boring when you don’t have some chick bossing you around all the time.”

I hang out with such assholes.

Cassian kept that to himself and just nodded, making his way towards his future wife. The knowledge his friends were watching, as well as being a cocky bastard, made him smile as he approached her.

His confidence, as well as any sort of pickup line, flew out of his head as soon as her eyes met his.

Shit, what was it about this woman? He’d met--and done a lot more with--a ton of beautiful women.

But somehow, her crystal clear blue gaze seemed to paralyze him while also make his heart start thumping like crazy. Just one look, and she’d practically shot him down already.

“Hi,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to her and channeling his usual, non-pussy self.

“So, you finally decided to come over.” she observed, voice like honey instantly warming his entire body. “Or are you just planning on staring from a closer vantage point?”

Damn if he didn’t like a sarcastic woman.

“Well, I’ve been staring at you, but I figured I’d give you the chance to return the favor.”

A bit of humor graced her features, but she replied smoothly, “I’m good, thanks.”

Fuck.

He’d lasted twenty seconds.

New strategy.

“In all honesty, my friends were giving me a hard time for being such a little bitch and not coming to talk to you,” he confided, leaning in and smiling. “They told me they’d cough up fifty bucks if I got your number.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“And I’ll give you have of it.”

She shook her head, but a smile was on those full lips he couldn’t keep his eyes off. “Men are so ridiculous.”

“I blame beautiful, scary women.”

She smiled for real this time, and he couldn’t think of a single other time he’d been this effected by a woman. If he’d thought she’d been beautiful with a scowl on her face, it was nothing compared to that smile.

“Fine. Give me a napkin.”

Holy hell, that worked?

Cassian slid over a napkin, flipping Rhys and Azriel off behind his back as she wrote her number down in neat, concise penmanship. ��You know, you should probably write your name down, too.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Makes the story more believable, of course.”

“Mmhm, of course.” She rolled her eyes, but wrote Nesta.

“Nesta, huh? Pretty name for a pretty lady. I’m Cassian.” He extended a hand, and she shook it firmly.

“Well, Cassian, this was fun. Tell your friends to pay up.”

He gave her a dramatic, sloppy frown, not wanting their interaction to be over so soon. “But I haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

Nesta sighed, making his lips pull up a little. “What’s the best part?”

“They said they’ll give me fifty more if I kiss you.” He couldn’t hardly breathe as she took in that information. Her head tilted to the side, and she looked him up and down in a smooth, calculated way that made him want to run for the hills.

“Fifty bucks for a kiss? Feels like prostitution to me.”

A laugh escaped him at that. But in the back of his mind, he noticed she hadn’t told him to fuck off. Progress.

He edged a little closer, smiling down at her. “What if I give you the whole hundred?”

“You’re really desperate for a kiss,” she said, but she’d tilted her head back to hold his gaze, lips parted softly.

You have no idea.

Cassian smiled, reaching down to pull her stool closer. “Do we have a deal, Nesta?”

He was either bat-shit crazy, or there was a little flare in her eyes as he brought his face within an inch of hers. Nesta looked over his face, and something about it made him feel like he was completely naked. She bit her lip as she studied him, and his concentration narrowed to that spot.

Then she shocked the hell out of him, murmuring, “Deal.”

A smile forced its way onto his face, and he mentally thanked Azriel for being bored tonight and pushing him to do this.

Bringing one hand around her waist, the other supporting the back of her head, Cassian dipped her backwards off the stool, smiling at the look of shock on her perfect face.

Then he kissed her.

And after the initial surprise faded, she kissed him back.

Her arms wound around his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscles, and her lips were soft against his, her body perfect in his hands. He knew it was probably all a game, but it was still the best kiss he’d ever had.

Nesta’s lips opened, and he didn’t hesitate before before sweeping his tongue into her mouth. She moaned softly, and he took the kiss deeper, unable to help it.

When it was beyond clear everyone in the bar was staring at them, he pulled her back up and released her mouth.

They stared at each other, both panting.

He started to release her, but her hands found their way into his hair, keeping him where he was. “I don’t think your friends were watching.”

“I don’t think they were,” he agreed, leaning in to kiss her again. This time she took more control, sucking on his bottom lip in a way that made him shiver.

Cassian gently bit her bottom lip, then ran his tongue over it, and she made a soft sound that he knew would be replaying in his head for the rest of the night.

Before he could act on the now-overwhelming urge to throw her up on the counter and kiss her where he really wanted to, he pulled back, cupping her face.

Her hair was ruffled, lips swollen and pink, and there was electricity in her eyes as they met his. “You look thoroughly kissed, Nesta.”

“I don’t know about thoroughly, but I was definitely kissed.” She was breathing heavy, leaning on him, and her arms were still around his shoulders, so he considered it a big fat win.

“I’ll go get your money, then,” he said, making absolutely no move to leave.

“Well.” She ran a hand through her hair. “You could always just use it to take me on a real date.”

Cassian smiled, pressing another kiss to her cheek and not believing his luck. “Let’s go then.”

______________________________________________________________

Thank you for the ask!!

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emdythewriter · 6 years ago

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Scars of our lives | chapter one (acotar)

A/N: I feel like I’ve been posting a lot of new fics lately and you guys are probably getting annoyed and just want me to update new chapters of the ones already posted (which will happen) but I wrote this in one sitting and am super proud of it and couldn’t want to share so here you go!

Summary: all three Archeron sisters are now business owners, which brings about some new faces. Every thing starts out perfect but life likes to throw a curve ball or two. Things are about to get a little complicated but whose to say the sisters have never dealt with complicated before, after all it only helps to find who you truly are, scars and all.

“Shit,” Feyre cursed as she tripped over an unpacked box, almost breaking the bottle of liquor in her hands. She was a few days away from the grand opening of her bar, Stars Eternal and nothing could go wrong.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked from where she was unpacking boxes of glasses. Both Nesta and Elain had come to help her out on their days off, and Feyre was eternally grateful. Both of her sisters had their own businesses to run and most of their time was devoted to maintaining the success they had found. Nesta owned a bookstore a few doors down and on the other side of the road. It was the first Archeron business to open and soon another Evening With Words location would appear on the other side of town.

Elain had a bakery directly across from the bookstore called Floral Desserts. The theme of the bakery was that everything was decorated with flowers and her sister had found beautiful and creative ways to make that work. Due to the uniqueness of her craft the business was increasingly popular over the summer during the wedding season, which they were in the midst of currently.

“I’m fine just missed the box at my feet,” Feyre answered her sister. With that she went back to unloading to copious amounts of beer, liquor, and wine she had ordered to supply her bar. Nesta carried thrings to the back storage room as Feyre filled up the shelves and storage cabinets behind the bar.

Everything was coming together and there was a buzz in the air as she anticipated the opening in a few short days. For years she had dreamed of having her own place, of having some accomplishment to call her own, and here it was. Feyre couldn’t help but smile for the millionth time that day at the joy of finally doing something she wanted. After the years of helping her father pay the bills, barely passing high school with the right grades. After being forced into going to college for two years, then dropping out and being considered a disappointment. She felt happy, truly happy. It was a wondrous feeling.

“You smile anymore and you’ll be stuck like that,” Nesta said as she came out of the back storage. She had a broom and dustpan in one hand and was rolling a garbage can in the other.

“As opposed to a permanent frown like yours?” Feyre teased with a satisfied smirk on her face. Her oldest sister had always been especially hard on her. She would get on her for staying up all night and falling asleep in class, though it was because she was too busy keeping their family under a roof during the day. Nesta didn’t talk to her for months after she left college, saying that she was tarnishing their mother’s memory. Eventually they found common ground after their experiences with their exes came to light.

“You aren’t starting a fight are you?” Elain asked coming over to join her sisters. She dumped an arm full of tape from opening boxes into the waiting trashcan before looking between her younger and older sister. As the middle child she was the barrier between the two hot headed women. Though she wasn’t always happy being the voice of reason it was worth it in the end to keep her family together. Even more so now that their father had passed away a few short months ago.

“Don’t worry Lainey we’re just teasing,” Feyre said as she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders, hugging her close. All three of them turned to take in the space, from the long bar at the center of the floor, to the booths placed along the walls of the building, and the wide open dance floor all around them. It was a quirky layout but it was everything Feyre had ever imagined.

“I hope you're not regretting this decision because I don’t think there’s any going back now,” Nesta said as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite the tough love in her words Feyre could sense that her sister was proud of her. Knowing it and feeling it are two different things and Feyre smiled again as she felt it.

“Nope,” Feyre said as she released her sister and turned to grab her stuff behind the bar. “In fact I think it’s time to get some food and celebrate.”

“Anyone else in the mood for chinese?” Elain asked as the three Archeron sisters walked out of the bar. Feyre turned to lock it up as her sisters discussed food options.

“I think that sounds perfect,” she said grabbing both her sister’s hands and heading down the street to order chinese at their favorite restaurant. The whole way Feyre found herself unable to stop smiling.

___

“Come on Cassian we’re getting impatient!”

“We? I think it’s just you Rhysand!” It was true Azriel was perfectly content waiting another hour for their brother, but Rhys wanted to get out of this apartment. He wanted to go out and get a little drunk and maybe find a girl to take home later. None of that was going to happen though if Cassian didn’t hurry up and get his ass out of his room.

“How long does it take to pick out a shirt that will end up ruined anyways?” Rhys called back. His brother had a habit of being a messy drunk, meaning the alcohol ended up all over him but somehow he still managed a hangover the next morning.

“Who says I’m looking for a shirt!” Cassian called back. This time both Rhys and Azriel rolled their eyes at their brother. For some unknown reason Cassian had always decided to act like a girl before going out, meaning he took a whole century to get his hair right before getting dressed in five minutes.

“Just put it in a bun if you don’t know what to do. That’s what you do most days anyways,” Azriel pointed out as he typed on his phone. For the past few days Rhys had noticed he was doing that more often, getting sucked in by his phone.

“When we get there I’m ripping that phone out of your hands, skin and all,” Rhys said to his brother just before they finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Both of their heads turned as Cassian entered the living room they had been waiting in for the last half hour. He had on an old pair of ripped jeans he always but on after a day at the office. His shirt was gray with a list of characters from The Office listed. The outfit was completed with a pair of boots he wore everywhere and would to his job if he didn’t work at a corporate office. Cassian had chosen to keep his hair down, the dark waves falling to his shoulders, and a grin plastered on his face.

“You ever going to tell us who the girl is?” he asked Azriel with a teasing smirk.

“Yeah,” his brother answered standing up and smoothing out his black shirt. “The day you stop taking as long as my sister to get dressed.” Azriel sent the same teasing smirk back to Cassian but his was more so done in satisfaction.

“I hate you,” Cassian said as he glared at the back of his brother’s head.

“No you don’t,” Az responded as he led the trio out of the apartment and onto the busy streets of Velaris. The city was always crowded and bustling with people but the night life changed the tone. Now instead of hustling and stressed pedestrians trying to get from one place to the other, it was happy and joyful. These were the people that lived and breathed the city of starlight, the people Rhys had grown up loving all his life.

Being the son of the former mayor was not easy, most of the time Rhys hated it in fact. Then he started going to charity events with his mother, helping people and he saw why his father remained in office for so long. Despite not being the best father he was an amazing mayor to the citizens of his city. Most people expected Rhys to take up the mantle after his father passed, but he went the route his mother had led him on. He started his non-profit charity where he made millions every year for five different programs and issues he was passionate about. Rhys lived off the money in his trust fund thanks to the long legacy of his family and remained CEO of hotel business that was passed down by his father’s family. These days however, his sister, Kingsley, ran the business while Rhys assisted when she asked for it.

Cassian actually worked for the business, overseeing the construction of new locations around the world. In a few weeks he would be travelling to Scotland to begin work on their first bed & breakfast which seemed like a popular trend in Europe. Azriel on the other hand was Rhys’s right hand man at the non-profit while also working out of the family owned garage he was raised in.

“What is this place called again?” Azriel asked as they round the corner of their street. Earlier that week Rhys had heard from an employee about a new bar opening up tonight. It was already getting a lot of buzz and had only just opened an hour ago.

“Stars Eternal,” Rhys said having remembered the name because of its uniqueness.

“Whoever the owner is must really like Velaris,” Cassian commented as they followed Az. Rhys chuckled at the comment having thought the same thing the first time he heard the name.

“That only makes it better,” Rhys told his brother. A couple more blocks and the trio were met with a line of people waiting to get into the bar. He took in the sight, a flashing violet sign with the name, a neon sign reading “it’s 5 o’clock somewhere”, and bright red double doors held open by two bodyguards checking IDs. The color didn’t match the black painted brick building, either of the neon signs, or what Rhys could see of the inside. Yet it matched it perfectly.

“Think we’ll be getting in tonight?” Azriel asked as he took in the line of people that kept growing.

“Of course we are,” Rhys said as he laid an arm over each of his brother’s shoulders. “You’re with me.” That being said he dragged the two up to the entrance, a resting satisfied smirk on his lips.

___

Nesta was in a corner booth with Elain as they watched their younger sister work. Feyre was flawless in her movements, as if she hadn’t just opened the bar not even two hours ago. She felt a mix of emotions as she watched, the first being proud. She knew Feyre had wanted something to call her own all her life and now she had it. Despite that overwhelming feeling Nesta also felt worried. She didn’t want her sister’s dream to crash and burn though based on the crowd it seems like that wouldn’t be happening for a while. That worry led to fear of what Feyre would do if her business failed. She would always have a place with Elain and herself if need be, but her younger sister had never spoke of a back up plan to this bar.

“Stop thinking so much you’ll make those frowns more permanent,” Elain said breaking Nesta out of her trance. She looked over to her younger sister who had her own expression of worry on her face. She knew Elain and Feyre both believed she thought too much, but Nesta couldn’t help how her brain was wired.

“I’ll always worry about both of you,” Nesta said looking at her sister, straight into those brown eyes. “That’s my job,” she turned back to watch Feyre, who was currently mixing a drink and talking to a customer.

“She won’t fail you know,” Elain said knowing that was exactly what was on her sister’s mind. “She’s an Archeron and not likely to give up even when she hits a roadblock.” Nesta knew that was true, hell she had hit her own bumps in the road and overcame them.

“Doesn’t make me worry less,” Nesta said. She stood up to go to the bathroom before Elain could see another word, which she knew she would based on how her lips started to part. She sighed as she watched Nesta go, wishing there was something or someone in Nesta’s life that would break down the walls her sisters never could.

She was heading for the back exit when someone bumped into her, someone with a fresh drink based off the sticky liquid that was flowing down her shirt. Nesta gasped at the contact while the other person swore under their breath.

“Shit I’m sorry,” a deep voice said before setting the rest of his drink on a nearby table. Her blouse would be stained if she didn’t get home soon to clean it. Feyre had warned her against wearing it but Nesta had wanted to prove nothing would happen to it. She should’ve listened to her sister.

“It’s fine,” she said stopping the man from reaching out with paper towels she hadn’t even seen him get. Looking up she met a pair of hazel eyes belonging to a tan and fit man. His hair was down to his shoulder in black waves, that looked blue when the light hit him right. His shirt had a cast of characters she didn’t recognize listed and his jeans were adorned with holes, the hem tucked into an old and worn pair of boots.

“I really am sorry. Someone knocked my shoulder and I lost my balance,” he said for all the world sounding like he had just run over her cat.

“Seriously it’s fine I might be able to get the stain out,” Nesta explained as she took the paper towels from his still outstretched hands. Those hands were big she noticed as they rested against his sides, so large they would swallow her frail ones. She had a feeling they were covered in calluses, he looked like a man that wouldn’t mind living off the land. If a zombie apocalypse ever came she would want to be at this stranger’s side.

“I’m Cassian,” he introduced after a beat or two of silence. He stuck out a large hand again for her to shake, and just as Nesta had suspected it swallowed her own.

“Nesta,” She didn’t know why she was still standing her talking to him. It was something she never did, talk to strangers. She hated repeating introductions, it was something Elain enjoyed though Nesta never puzzled out why. Despite her distaste for new people she felt a pull to him, and a weight in her shoes keeping her in front of him, and some unknown confidence forcing her to keep a conversation.

“Well Nesta sorry about the spill,” he gestured to the front of her blouse. “I can let you borrow my jacket if you plan on staying longer.” Nesta wasn’t planning on staying longer, in fact she was about to leave before his drink found her skin.

“That would be great. I’d hate to run out on my sister during her grand opening.” She was rambling, Nesta never rambled. Something had possessed her, a demon who found pleasure in making her talk to Cassian. The same Cassian that was now taking the leather jacket off his back and resting it on her shoulders. She slipped her arms into the sleeves being overcome by warmth and a woodsy outdoor scent that matched this man perfectly.

“Your sister is the owner?” He asked sounding surprised. Nesta hoped it wasn’t at the fact a woman was operating this bar, it would ruin him completely and she didn’t want that.

“That’s surprising?” Nesta asked giving him a look that said he better be honest with her or he might lose a body part.

“I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be related to the bartender,” Cassian said pointing over his shoulder in the direction of where Feyre was standing. She looked over her shoulder and found her sister chatting the ear off of the same customer Nesta had seen her talking to before she left Elain alone.

“Most people don’t until they see our eyes,” she answered, thinking of how the blue-grey coloring was her last connection to both her mother and little sister.

“Can’t really tell with the lack of lighting,” Cassian answered waving his hand up at the ceiling where there was a limited number in lights.

“It is a bar, what else would you expect?” Nesta found herself teasing him, another thing she rarely did even with her sisters. Cassian chuckled, and it was a deep sound she never thought she could want to hear again.

“Very true,” he smiled at her and Nesta smiled back.

“I should go before my shirt is permanently stuck to my body.”

“Yeah you probably are getting uncomfortable.”

“I do have beer all over my chest and it’s not for pleasure.” Nesta didn’t know why she made the comment but it was too late to take it back now. Cassian’s eyes lit up with mischief though she doubted he would make a move unless he knew she truly wanted that.

“You’re into that kind of stuff?” he sounded intrigued by the idea rather than appalled. Nesta’s nippled hardened within her bra, the place between her legs tingling.

“You’ll never know,” she shrugged with a teasing smile. Nesta wanted him to know. She wanted to drag Cassian out of this bar and to her apartment where he could lick the beer off her body, and then other things too.

“Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to say that to a guy?” he teased back and she actually laughed, laughed. She hadn’t done that freely in she didn’t even know how long anymore.

“Who said I didn’t like playing hard to get too.” she was on a roll but it was time to wind it all down and go home so she could strip out of her clothes herself. Though Nesta had a feeling she would imagine her hands as his when she did so. “I’m going to say goodbye to my sisters and then head out.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Cassian offered. He wasn’t ready to leave her side almost as much as Nesta wasn’t ready to leave his. She should say no but she knew that wasn’t on the menu for the night.

“Wait here I shouldn’t be long.” He nodded and she headed to the booth where she had left Elain. She was talking to some guy with long red hair, smiling happily. Nesta had never seen the guy before and was immediately put on edge as she approached the duo.

“Nesta, you’re back!” Elain said as she smiled up at her older sister. “Where’d you get the jacket?” she frowned as she noticed the new piece of clothing Nesta had acquired.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugged the question off and her sister seemed to accept it by the way her shoulders dropped. “I just had a drink spilled on me but it’s no big deal. Anyway I’m headed home so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Elain nodded. “Good night Nesta,” she added as her sister began to turn away. Nesta looked back to return the sentiment but Elain had already turned back to the man next to her. She could only hope the night continued to go well for her.

“Feyre!” Nesta shouted to the new bartender pulling her away from the man she had been talking to most of the night. Nesta looked at him as his gaze turned to her. His eyes were violet, almost matching the color of the building’s sign. His hair had a blur or purple tint to it, but was pure darkness besides that. His skin was the same tone as Cassian’s, maybe slightly lighter but Nesta couldn’t tell in the dark.

“What’s up,” her sister said as she came to the side of the bar Nesta stood at. She was washing a glass with a wet rag. She watched Feyre for a moment before shaking her head and meeting the eyes that matched her own.

“I’m heading out,” she said pointing to the back door where she noticed Cassian stood by still waiting for her. “The hulking body over there spilled his drink on me and now wants to walk me home as an apology.” For some reason Nesta felt more comfortable sharing this with Feyre rather than Elain, maybe because she knew her youngest sister was more experienced with men than the other.

“That also where you got the jacket?” Feyre asked looking from Cassian to her sister with a smirk on her face. She wiggled her eyebrows at Nesta as she set the glass back on a shelf at her feet.

“Yes,” Nesta didn’t see the point in hiding that fact after she had shared everything else with her sister. Feyre smiled brighter, a smile Nesta had never seen directed at her, especially coming from her youngest sister.

“Well good for you sis.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” the male towards the end of the bar chuckled drawing both the Archeron’s attention to him.

“Might want to tell my brother that,” he pointed to Cassian. “I think I can see his boner from here.” He took a sip of his drink with a smile that was really more of a suggestive smirk.

“He’s your brother?” Nesta asked incredulously. “You look nothing alike.”

“Not by blood,” the new stranger explained. “We grew up together along with another one of my friends who seems to have disappeared on me again.” The man turned on his stool looking around the bar, or what he could see of it at least. “Anyone seen a dashing fellow with his face glued to his phone?”

“‘Dashing fellow’?” Feyre questioned using air quotation marks as she said the phrase.

“I’ve been watching a lot of period dramas in my spare time,” he sighed as he turned back to the bar, taking another drink.

“Try reading them when you’re done,” Nesta told him.

“I’ll get a personal list from you.”

“Nesta,” she told him without a second thought. He gave her a quizzical look in response not yet understanding her meaning. “If I’m going to be giving you book recommendations in the future you should know my name.”

“In that case I’m Rhysand, Rhys for short.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake. She noticed his hand didn’t swallow hers as much as Cassian’s had and she kind of hated that it didn’t.

“I should get going,” Nesta said as she pulled her hand back. “The beer is really starting to stick and I’m beyond uncomfortable,” both Feyre and Rhys laughed at that. “Nice to meet you Rhys. Good night Feyre.”

“Try not to wake up your neighbors!” Feyre called out as she walked away. Without turning back Nesta flipped her sister off causing an uproar of laughter from both Feyre and Rhys. she shook her head as she headed for the back door where Cassian waited.

“Ready?” Cassian asked holding an arm out for her. She took and they began their journey without another word.

“I met your brother,” Nesta said as their feet met the sidewalk and the door to the bar closed behind them. “Rhys.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” she laughed at the joke smiling at him.

“Can I tell you something?” Nesta asked as her laughter died down.

“Sure.”

“I’m not usually comfortable with strangers,” she began. “Yet for some reason with you I am. It’s like I met you before.”

“You could have,” Cassian shrugged after a moment. “In another life that is.”

“You believe in that?”

“You don’t?”

“I suppose you might have a point.” Nesta smiled up at him and Cassian smiled down at her. The smiles didn’t disappear the whole way to here apartment, nor when they said good night and he headed home alone. They didn’t fade as both of them wrapped up in their beds and fell into a peaceful slumber.

(Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

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rwolf19 · 6 years ago

Text

Garden Pt. 3 — An Elucien Fic

Length: 3911

Rating: M, SFW(ish)

First | Previous | The Pull (Nessian) | Aflame

A/N: Hullo, I’m back. I have this nasty habit of sitting on finished fics until I forget about them. My bad! But also, FUCK TUMBLR IT��S NOT LIKE I’M TRYING TO POST ON MOBILE AND GOT FUCKED IN THE ASS INSTEAD STUPID ASS FUCKING APP DESIGNED TO MURDER ITS USERS FOR THE SAKE OF MONEY I’M GOING TO AO3 and I’M NOT COMING BACK I’M rWolfWrites fuck this shiiiittt it wasn’t going to be an April’s Fool shit but damn does this fucking nonsense PISS ME OFFFFFFFFFF I COPY AND PASTE THE WHOLE ASS THING AND IT TELLS ME IM OVER PARAGRAPH LIMIT WITH LITERALLY LIKE FIVE LEFT GO SUCK A DICK TUMBLR I’M FUCKING TAKING MY FICS AND LEAVING JESUS FUCKING CHRIST IT’S NOT PORN YOU PRUDISH FUCKS YALLST WANT JUST THE BEGINNING JUST THE END OR SOME FUCKING NONSENSE EVERY OTHER GODDAMN PARAGRAPH FUCK IM GOING TO WRITE SOME AFLAME AU WHILE IM MAD JESUS Fuck

WHY IS THERE SO MUCH DEAD SPACE JUSR LET ME POST LIKE THREE PARAGRAPHS OF THE FUCKING NONSENSE JESUS H CHRIST EAT A DICK TUMBLR

Elain liked the Day Court. She liked the way Lucien’s russet eye gleamed as his tinker-friend explained things. She liked the marble and the air and the sky. More than the Night Court, it was peaceful. Not in the same way, though. The Day Court was bustling and bursting with energy. There was always someone to help, always something to do.

And the City of the Sun—gods, she loved Solas. It was bright and full of hard-working people who yet stopped to enjoy the feel of the sun on skin or scale or carapace. Everyone wore more or less the same thing; everyone had passionate conversations of whatever fancy had recently taken their interest; everyone tried everything and spoke only of the good. Little complaining was heard because they had all been subject to terrible hardship.

“Elain, I do believe you are single-handedly going to change how people view the Night Court,” Helion said over dinner. She and Lucien always dined together, but Helion showed up only when he wanted to. They’d been given a suite of rooms with a dining and sitting area between their bedrooms. They shared a bathroom as well, though Elain was used to that. “Anyone I talk to can only say that you brighten the day.”

Elain blushed, “The people here are very welcoming. I’ve never met so many who are so purposefully happy.”

Lucien grunted in agreement and pushed his food around his plate. Helion sat at the head of the small table, and Lucien was across from Elain. She stretched out her foot carefully and nudged him. His eyes raised to hers for a moment before returning to his half-finished plate.

“Come now, Elain, don’t sell yourself short,” Helion smiled broadly. “Tell me, can you see yourself staying here?” Lucien’s head snapped up with a snarl. “Don’t.” “Lucien.” Helion only laughed and threw a grape into his mouth. He leaned back in his chair. “There was no reason for Rhysand to send both of you here unless he wants to incorporate something of his here or something of mine in the Night Court. I’m simply wondering-“ “I asked to come,” Elain said softly, her eyes never leaving Lucien. He continued to glare at the High Lord. She wanted to come to get away from Nesta. Because despite how many times Nesta had apologized, despite Feyre’s healing, Elain could not forget the moment that her sister went crazy and slammed her head into the mantle of the fireplace in Feyre’s townhouse. She couldn’t walk through the room without smelling her own blood, without seeing Lucien pleading for her to stay awake. And the roof, the roof where her garden was, it had become the place where Cassian had snapped Lucien’s leg. Elain left because her sister’s mating was negatively effecting her own. Elain left because she thought she might be more daring away from her sisters. She’d built this grand fantasy in her head around going to the Day Court and using the opportunity to be with Lucien—in every sense of the word. But Lucien, it seemed, did not want to touch her here, where he said the walls watched. He did no more than kiss her cheek before retiring to his own room every night. “Did you miss me that much?” Lucien bared his teeth in a low growl. Helion smirked, “Your mate doesn’t seem to like me.” “You’ve never given me much reason to,” Lucien answered sharply. “Lucien,” Elain warned again, softer. “Never? I hardly know you, Lucien, yet I’ve given you the best guest suite-“ “My mother has spent most my life being beaten behind closed doors,” Lucien said lowly. Helion’s smile evaporated. “I know it is punishment for something you were party to.” “Lucien-“ “You know he does it because she loved you. You know, and you’ve known from the start. And still, you do nothing. You had just gotten peace from the first War, then you were under Amarantha’s thumb. She tortured my mother, not because of me, not because of my father, but because it was the only way she knew how to hurt you, you personally, for your part in the War,” Lucien spat. Helion’s lip curled into a sneer. His eyes glowed faintly. “And my mother wasn’t worth your time or resources. She doesn’t deserve anything more than the hell she’s lived for centuries-“ “Enough,” Helion stood. Elain tried not to squeak in fright. Lucien rose just as quickly, jabbing his finger at Helion. “And you have the nerve to sit there and flirt with my mate as though anyone could want to stay with you after how you treated my mother!” “Lucien!” Elain gasped. Helion’s nostrils flared, “Been sitting on that for a while?” “Two-hundred years.” They glared at each other for a long time. Elain could not help but notice how similar their profiles were. The tone of their skin was near the same as well, though Lucien was much fairer. Even the way they were built- ‘You can’t catch me!’ A small child races away from her, hair brassy, feet tiny and pattering. She chases the child through the palace, weaving through marble pillars. She gains on the child enough to brush the soft white chiton the child wears. The child screams, running for the familiar forms of her mate and another. “Grandfather, help me!” “Elain, you shouldn’t have to run,” says Helion, lifting the child into his arms. “The little one might get upset.” Her mate kisses her lightly, touching her stomach with the other hand. “As much as I hate it when he’s right, Elain . . .” “Elain!” Lucien’s eyes were wide, very close to her. She was not sitting. She was on her back. On the floor. He was gripping her face. Relief flooded his face as she took a deep breath. He kissed her cheek and her forehead and cradled her closer. “You scared me.” “Both of us,” said Helion. He was several feet away, his hands clasped in front of him. “I don’t like to think what your sisters would do if you were hurt here.” “Shut up,” Lucien snapped. He stroked Elain’s hair gently. Elain tried to sit up, and he supported her cautiously. “Are you all right?” “I- I saw-“ “Later,” Lucien murmured, kissing her cheek again. He pressed his nose down into her neck and breathed deeply. “Would you mind leaving us alone for a little bit?” Elain asked lightly. Helion smiled and inclined his head. He left without another word. Elain pulled away from Lucien, “That was very rude.” Lucien laughed lowly. Elain twisted to see his face just as his laughter became truly hysterical. There was so much pain in his russet eye. Elain shifted so she was sitting beside him and let him rest his head on her shoulder. He laughed for a while long, then began to weep. Elain held him. —:—:—:— Lucien had planned none of it. Still, Helion did not defend his mother. There had been no regret on Helion’s face. Lucien hated Helion as much as he loved his lady mother. Watching him attempt to charm Elain was infuriating on a deeply primal level. Trying to trick her into using her gifts was despicable, as far as Lucien was concerned. Can you See yourself staying here? Lucien had never wanted to hit a male more. At least Helion hadn’t flirted with him. That would’ve unbearable on an entirely different level. The breakdown was the result of two hundred years of practicing the perfect Fuck You speech being wasted. He hadn’t said half of what he meant to. And Elain should never have had to witness that outpouring of bitter anger. Helion had been avoiding Lucien alone since they arrived, and his frustration had boiled over. “Stop,” Elain said. She’d dragged him off to a garden in the middle of Solas. The moon hung low on the horizon, and she was shivering behind him. She wove magical flowers into his hair as she carefully braided it. He could tell they were glowing. Her fingers were quick and gentle, and he tried to focus on that instead of their miserable dinner. “Stop what?” He feigned ignorance. “Stop agonizing about what happened.” “What happened when?” “Lucien.” “I’ve already completely forgotten,” he said dramatically, “You’ll have to explain.” “Lucien,” she tugged on his hair sharply. It surprised him enough to earn her a groan. She gave up chastising him to finish his braid. He could practically feel the heat of her blush. She tapped his shoulder and he passed her the leather band for it. “Stop smirking.” “I’m not,” he lied lowly. “I can hear it in your voice,” Elain complained. “I’m sat on a blanket at night with my beautiful mate in an enchanted garden and she’s embarrassed because I made a sex noise,” Lucien carefully pulled his braided hair over his shoulder. Sure enough, several of the flowers Elain had braided in were glowing silver. “What could I possibly have to smirk about?” “Lucien,” Elain grumbled. She maneuvered around to sit next to him, shivering in her chiton. The style of the Day Court suited her. He pulled her closer to him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and heating the space above the blanket. She sighed softly and nuzzled closer still. “Elain,” Lucien hummed, kissing her hair. “You’ve said my name an awful lot tonight.” “Lucien,” she said again, turning her head toward his. She kissed his jaw lightly. Blood roared through him. “Lucien.” She kissed his cheek. His arm slid from her shoulder to her waist. “Lucien.” She kissed his lips. He tugged her into his lap carefully. She hummed against him and rested her hands on his chest. He cupped her face with a hand. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth. He groaned and bit her. Elain gasped, pulling away. Lucien cursed and held up a tongue of flame so he could see. “Did I hurt you?” “I- you-“ Elain’s pink face deepened her eyes. The soft brown was nearly entirely enveloped by her pupils. “You’ve never done that before.” The rasp in her voice sent blood racing faster. Lucien touched her lip gently. He hadn’t broken the skin. And judging by her voice, he hadn’t scared her. “Do you want me to do it again?” Lucien asked. Elain watched him for a moment before nodding. Her arousal was intoxicating. He smiled and she kissed him, hungrily, waiting. An idea sparked in his mind that perhaps his mate liked things the same way he did. The next time he bit her, it was on her neck, and he pulled her hair at the same time. She cried out so loudly that he had to cover her mouth with his hand. Her face turned red as he kissed her cheeks and her nose, trying not to laugh. “Maybe we should go somewhere else, Lucien,” she said when he removed his hand. Lucien just chuckled and kissed her again. “Is this why you wanted to be a mountain range apart from Nesta?” Lucien asked. Elain pouted and clambered off him. “I’m teasing, Elain. It’s good. It’s great.” “Oh,” Elain said lightly. She settled beside him again. She picked at the threads of the blanket. “I haven’t ever . . .” “Been pleasured before?” Lucien teased. Elain’s cheek went bright, and she nodded, biting her lip. Lucien tidied her hair carefully and kissed the tip of her ear. “We’ll find someplace where you can be as loud as you want. My ego really needs it.” She pinched his side. He caught her hand and interlaced their fingers. “Somewhere Nesta won’t bother us-“ “Or Feyre,” Elain blew a tuft of hair out of her face. Lucien lifted an eyebrow. “She always says things and I . . .” “I‘ll tell her to close her fat mouth,” Lucien said. Elain gasped as he knew she would, and he smiled and kissed her lightly. “Would you rather I tell her to use it for something else?” “Lucien!” Elain pinched him with her other hand. Lucien laughed. “You’re just as bad!” “Oh?” Lucien lowered his voice and leaned into her ear. “And what should I use my mouth for?” “You are absolutely incorrigible,” Elain whispered. Lucien noted the flash of her teeth before she ducked her head. “You like it,” Lucien said bravely. Elain lifted her head, carefully not smiling. Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you?” “With these things, I’m only stumbling around in the dark,” Elain said softly. “And you’re . . . Something to follow.” “You’ve scandalized me before,” Lucien reminded her. “I didn’t think that possible,” Elain hummed. “You told me once that you bathed naked.” “Everyone does that!” “Yes,” Lucien chuckled. “But most people don’t plant the image of themselves wet and naked and-“ “Well, I was trying to seduce you,” Elain pouted. “It didn’t even work.” “You don’t need to seduce me, Elain,” Lucien breathed, kissing her. “I’m all yours.” —:—:—:— “No. . . . Elain isn’t awake yet, this can wait. . . . We are Night Courtiers, remember.” Elain lifted her head from the pillows enough to see that Lucien was no longer beside her. He had kissed her and held her through the night. She’d fallen asleep in the garden and half-woke in her bed. She knew she’d pleaded with him to stay, to touch her. He promised to stay, but he would only touch her when she was fully awake. Elain fell asleep before she could argue the point. There were voices from the next room over. Elain found her dressing gown and padded out, wrapping her arms around herself against the morning chill. The bedroom door had been left cracked open, and she pushed through it carefully. Lucien was talking with Helion. His hair was braided from the night before, though the flowers were gone. His arms were crossed over his chest. He looked none too pleased. She went over and rested her chin on his shoulder, kissing just below his ear. “Good morning, Lady Elain.” She smiled for Helion and breathed in her mate’s scent. “I came to apologize for dinner last night. Are you feeling better?” “You came to apologize but you haven’t,” Elain sighed. Lucien relaxed as she wrapped her arms around his middle. “It’s cold here.” The room instantly warmed. Elain smiled and closed her eyes. “Come back to bed.” “Just a minute, Elain,” Lucien touched her hands. His voice hardened. “Your apology means little to me.” “I cannot simply walk into Autumn,” said Helion. “Come now,” Lucien said. “With what happened between Rhysand and Tamlin-“ “Beron is not Tamlin. Your mother did not want to leave her children, Lucien, because she loves you. I would have happily taken you in, but Beron would have seen it as a threat-“ “Eris is going to take Beron’s head off by the end of the year,” Elain yawned. She slumped further into Lucien. “You’re so warm.” “Pretend you didn’t hear that,” Lucien said hastily. “We’ll join you for lunch, but as you can tell my mate is . . .” “Trying to get you back into bed,” Elain murmured. “You promised.” Lucien cleared his throat. “Enjoy your morning in,” Helion said slyly. His footsteps receded and a door opened and shut. Elain supposed he had gone. “Did you really See that?” Lucien whispered. “Months ago,” Elain nodded into his shoulder. “It shifts, but something happened a few weeks ago that made it solid.” Her visions were that way sometimes. The closer they got to coming true, the more real they seemed. Other times they were just shifting images in a fog, thoughts or words or people she couldn’t recognize. It got muddled often. Then, in all the confusion, there would be a bolt of clarity, something that would without doubt come to pass. Like that little Illyrian nephew of hers, or the child with the brassy hair. Those were certainties, even if they slid along time injudiciously. “Do you really want me to take you to bed?” Lucien murmured after a time. Elain wondered how long they had been standing there, both lost in thought. Something told her it had been long enough for Lucien to pack away what she’d said into different versions for the members of the Inner Circle. Something for Azriel, who wanted Eris dead; something for Cassian, who knew the opportunity presented to them; the truth for her sister and brother-by-law. Elain opened her eyes. Lucien was doing his best to look at her without turning and disturbing her. Elain raised a hand and gripped his hair. “Lucien.” “Yes, Elain?” “I’m all yours.” The first time was sweet and gentle. Lucien coaxed her to climax twice before carefully pushing inside her, rocking into her and kissing her and touching her. She did not bleed, nor did it hurt. It surprised her. When she whispered her fears to Lucien, he kissed her cheeks and told her those were the concerns of women fucked by human men who were inexperienced idiots or plain cruel. The next time he asked her to turn onto her stomach. He kissed her shoulder and pushed into her from behind. Then he went faster, he pulled her hair, he slammed against her. Elain liked that just as much. Lucien was panting and grinning wickedly by the time they were both spent. “I want to make you breakfast,” Elain hummed, drawing circles on his bare chest with her fingers. He stiffened, and she looked up to hold his gaze. Feyre had mentioned what food meant between mates. She kissed Lucien’s shoulder as he opened his mouth, “I know what it means, yes.” “Elain,” Lucien touched her chin, lifting her head to kiss her. “Are you sure?” “Why shouldn’t I be?” Elain murmured. “I’m the one who can See. I know.” “You know what?” Lucien breathed. “I know that our own children are fairer than our nephews,” Elain kissed him before her words could register. “I know that you never stray from me. I know that you teach me what love means, and that I never grow tired of your touch.” “Hang- Hang on,” Lucien frowned. “Our-“ “I know,” Elain said simply. He kissed her again, rolled over top of her carefully. Elain smiled against him. He leaned his forehead against hers and let his hand drift over her. “And what I don’t know, you’ll teach me.” “Damn right,” Lucien growled. —:—:—:— Rhys and Azriel looked less pleased than usual when Elain and Lucien emerged from Helion’s palace. The High Lord of Day was standing beside them with his arms crossed. Lucien nearly cursed aloud, but Elain was laughing and holding his arm and pulling him along before he could dwell on the older Faes’ expressions. She released him and greeted both Rhysand and Azriel with a kiss on the cheek. She bowed slightly to Helion and reached back for Lucien. He took her hand and she hummed slightly. “You look well,” Azriel said quietly. Rhys’s nose twitched. “Thank you,” Elain answered brightly. Lucien knew that she was perfectly aware of the tension in the air, and chose to ignore it. She looked back at him and smiled. He couldn’t help but return it. She glowed for her happiness. Lucien stepped closer and kissed her forehead. “Go home with Az,” he murmured. “I’m about to be chewed out.” “It’s probably best I talk Nesta down when she smells you on me,” Elain whispered. She kissed him before he could smile. Rhys cleared his throat. Elain stepped back and addressed him. “My sister was right about you.” She took Azriel’s arm and the Shadowsinger took her away before Rhys’s jaw could drop. Lucien laughed. She was so very excellent at keeping the last word. He blamed her Seer abilities. “Before either of you start,” Lucien held up a hand. “I don’t care.” “You’ll care when I send you to the Illyrian Camps without Cassian,” Rhys growled. Lucien spread his hands, “I was raised by Beron. You’re lucky I can claim what little manners I have.” “Lucien,” Rhysand snarled. Helion’s mouth tightened. Lucien met his gaze and felt fire spring to life in his blood. Helion’s brow dropped. Lucien felt his power searching, tried to fend it off with some of his own. Something happened that had never happened to Lucien before. Instead of fending off Helion’s attack, Lucien’s power intwined with the High Lord’s. Surprised flickered in both males’ eyes and they hauled back their power at the same time. Lucien’s heart pounded loud enough for them to hear it on the continent. His muscles tensed as he clenched his jaw. Helion kept his face carefully neutral. “Let’s go,” Lucien said, moving closer to Rhysand. “We’re not done-“ “Let him be a petulant child,” Helion waved a hand and stalked inside. “It’s not my problem.” Lucien heard the doubt. Rhysand glared at him for a moment before gripping his shoulder and winnowing them home. They landed on the roof where Cassian had broken Lucien’s leg. Lucien fell into one of the iron wrought chairs, holding his head in his hands. Rhysand started to head inside. “Is that why you sent me?” Rhysand was not fool enough to fein innocence. “Partially.” Lucien cursed violently. “Will you ever stop meddling in everyone else’s lives?” “That’s not-“ “I guess you wouldn’t,” Lucien looked over his shoulder. “Too much fun to watch everyone fall apart and have them owe you for piecing them back together.” Rhysand’s jaw ticked. Lucien raised his eyebrows. Cassian thundered up the stairs and burst onto the roof. “You’re back.” “You’re standing again,” Lucien said tersely. Cassian looked between him and his High Lord. Lucien raised his eyebrows. “Where is Elain?” “Asking where you are.” “I asked where she is, not what she’s doing,” Lucien snapped. “Oh-kay, the trip to Day did not go well I see,” Cassian held up his hands. “I’ll go find-“ “You filthy-“ Cassian caught his mate as she flew out of the house, her claws reaching for Lucien. He could’ve sworn he felt them rake down his face. Nesta hissed and thrashed like a wild beast. “Nesta!” Feyre shouted from down the steps. “Never a dull moment,” Rhysand quipped, heading inside. Lucien followed carefully, wary of the way Nesta had stilled against Cassian. He held her hands against her chest. She hissed again as he passed. Lucien stuck out his tongue. He wasn’t sure why. Not to antagonize her, surely, but to prove he would not take her abuse lying down. He could’ve mentioned the way Elain moaned for him, the way she begged for him. He could’ve said nothing. The half-rude, half-childish gesture was a sort of middle ground. He took the stairs faster than Rhysand, who paused to greet his own mate. “He’s more scared of your sister than of me.” “Only one of you stole from the Cauldron,” Lucien called over his shoulder. A bit of Feyre’s ice nipped at his fingers. He banished it with matching flames. To her, and Rhysand, he rudely gestured. Elain was at the bottom of the stairs, her hands on her hips, pouting. He stopped one step from the floor, blinking innocently at her, tucking his hands behind his back. She looked up at him through her lashes. He dropped that last step and kissed her. One day, she would be his High Lady. The look in her eyes confirmed it. “It gets better,” she promised, touching his cheek. “What does?” “Everything.”

#elucien fic #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar fanfiction #elucien #post-acowar

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bookofmirth · 7 years ago

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1/3 - So with the Rhys /Tam weirdness that was in ACOFAS, it really makes me think there is something else here. Do we know how Tamtam knew where Rhys' mum and sister were? (maybe I need to re-read the first three books to get this more firmly in my head, anyway i’ll continue.) Tamlin seems to have this whole history that has only been open when other people tell his story. He tells us very little and all his emotions are boxed up. Part of his problem.

2/3 My gut (no proof) tells me that there was some relationship between Rhysand’s sister and Tamlin. That Tamlins Dad found out and was disgusted by the union. So yes he wanted revenge on the night court, but what better way to punish his son also. Then the night court retaliated, and Tamtam and Rhysand got their powers and went “oh shit” and ran like hell. But Rhysand was supposedly close to his mum and sister so maybe he knew Tamlin was close with them and that there was a link.

3/3 This is all speculation of course, no evidence, my gut just tells me there is so much more to their story. It will always be something that is shared with us down the line because both men suck at being up front. Sorry but they do. “Communicate” is my chat at times. Rhysand isn’t just mad for feyre but for his family. Tamlin has reason to be mad too. Both men/males whatever infuriate me sometimes. I just feel like there is so much more to their relationship than they are telling us.

hope that incoherent ramble made a little sense… :D

I just reread the books, but I don’t remember how Tam knew where they were. I agree that his emotions are boxed up, save for the negative ones - he shows us anger, frustration, an intense need to be in control. The only way we’ve seen him express any happiness is around Feyre, and that’s done… I wonder if he either doesn’t experience any positive emotions atm, or he hides them because he thinks they are unbecoming a High Lord. Like the way he continued with the tithe, just because it was tradition. He’s not really thinking about what he wants to do, but how they have been done in the past. Maybe that’s the source of his internal conflict?

I feel like there has been a fic about Tamlin and Rhys’s sister? I’m not the best at reading it, so maybe someone else knows. They certainly have a history that is making it difficult for them to deal with the present, though. Maybe it’s not the first time a woman has come between them - it would certainly make the whole Feyre thing that much more of a slap. I agree that Tamlin will continue to come up in the series and so maybe we will find out, because there’s no way sjm is leaving his character in that state. There are a lot of parallels between Tamlin and Nesta right now, and we know Nesta’s issues have to be resolved… So Rhys needs to deal with his past with Tamlin, basically.

I hope my response made sense, I just woke up! :)

#acofas spoilers #acofas #tamlin #rhysand #the renee tag #ask

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ilyiad · 7 years ago

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can you rant about acotar too? i like the second book, but everyone is sk straight and white

honestly there is so much not included here i hate about these books but:

excessive use of ellipses and em-dashes aside, it still fucking sucks. it’s one of the straightest things i have ever read and it’s not even well written lmao making mor a wlw was an obvious last-minute addition to the series - which i could forgive bc, yknow, learning from the past and improving is always a wonderful thing - except her whole “i’m not out to protect azriel’s feelings” spiel was...how do i say this......dumb as Fuck

wait no there was another bit of crap representation! remember helion, our resident threesome-obsessed bisexual? no that wasnt a joke the only thing i remember about him was that he kept trying to get people to sleep with him

it was.......a good effort at not being a homophobe. just not a successful one! keep trying sarah you’ll get there i believe in you

WHERE ARE THE NON WHITE PEOPLE

this is !!! i shit you not !!!! a fucking fairy universe !!!!! why are they all white cishets !!!!!!!! white cishets are bland as fuck !!!!!!!!!!! make it stop !!!!!!!!!!!!

so many opportunities and the fairies are still sexist dickbags. despite the human realm being treated as Backwards, the fairies are really no better...not only that, their society + magical system is fucking inherently sexist. why are there no high ladies? why can’t the title just pass to the most powerful regardless of gender? Who Knows

oooooh boy the fucking mate system. the fucking mate system. wow. i actually don’t know what to say. how fucking dumb is the fucking dumb-ass mate system? the answer is extremely fucking dumb!!!! it’s just an excuse for the dudes to be possessive assholes!!!!!!! what the fuck!!!!!!

also way to go having your poc-coded illyrians - who were, for the record, real people - be savage & backwards & in need of being Civilised. sound familiar? lmfao it’s both blatantly racist and just plain stupid to include it

i dont mean to nitpick (that’s a lie i absolutely do) but what the shit fucking hell kinda name is feyre archeron. when i found out it was pronounced fey-ruh i had a minor heart attack in the worst way possible. calling your protagonist Fairy Archer is the kinda laughably stupid thing id expect from my twelve-year-old self writing her first fanfic not from a published author u could at least PRETEND ur making an effort

whilst we’re on the subject of names her names have absolutely no consistency. tam lin is an existing character, is her tamlin meant to reflect that? isn’t this supposed to be a beauty and the beast retelling? how come lucien has a last name but no one else does? what’s going on?

whilst we’re on the subject of consistency....oh boy there isn’t any

none. no consistency. not a drop of it.

the magic system makes absolutely no sense. the whole idea of the courts is stupid. how come tamlin/his court is powerful enough to freeze the place in spring whilst Most Super Amazing Badass Powerful High Lord Rhysand’s court just has....prettier stars than everyone else or smth???? we may never know

oh also??? what do the fairies worship????? they go on about a Cauldron for ages (also they keep saying “cauldron boil me” which is absolutely fucking hilarious but i digress) and then in the second(?) book they start going on about the Mother and then some kinda Goddess completely out of the blue (well, because maas decided she wanted even more sexism and introduced the Slutty Bitchy High Priestess system) and yet they curse like we do in the real world as well as taking the name of the mother/cauldron/whatever by constantly talking about hell. this could work if it was handled by someone competent but their magic/religious system hasn’t had a whisper of any concept of hell and so it just sounds awkward and stupid

SWEET HOLY MOTHER OF GOD THE WRITING IS PISS-POOR THOUGH. they swear a lot but not in a normal way, just in a “can you tell this series is Edgy and Young Adult tm yet” because, sorry not sorry, i can’t believe they’re all-powerful 500-year-old magical beings when they curse like 12-year-olds do when they’re out of sight of their parents feeling really cool about it

tamlin’s characterisation is incredibly inconsistent and it’s so clearly because maas suddenly decided she wanted rhysand to be the love interest instead so she made him do a full 180 instead of having their relationship progress in a way that was, like...believable

feyre’s sisters??? are literally Evil Stepsister clones and i know they get redemption arcs later on but they can literally suck my dick they’re fucking useless materialistic assholes and feyre kinda flips between caring about them and thinking they need to fuck off. personally i think every single character in this godforsaken series needs to fuck off but im kind of biased

honestly it felt like maas was tryna take a page from the success of the hunger games and go for the ‘archer sister providing for her family bc her single parent is fucking useless and the siblings also can’t help’ but it felt like...how do i say this.....a Cheap Shitty & Poorly Executed Rip Off

speaking of rip offs the amount of lines that are paraphrased from harry potter & other series’ ??? “light can be found in even the darkest of hells” how unsubtle can you GET jesus

#anti acotar #the I Hate White Authors saga continues #anonymous #answered

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theladyofdeath · 5 years ago

Text

Rags & Riches {18}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: Two more chapters. I’ll post 19 tomorrow night, giving everyone a chance to catch up!

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

The battle had gone on for over a week.

They spent their day fighting, taking little breaks, the troops taking the field in intervals, only stopping to sleep or refuel.

Cassian and Rhysand were sitting on the edge of the camp, utterly exhausted, gunshots ringing in the distance. They each had a bowl of porridge, but neither of them took a bite.

“How much longer do you think it will last?” Rhysand asked, quietly.

“It will be over soon,” Cassian replied, “hopefully.”

Rhysand nodded.

They still had the upperhand, the battle was in their favor, but Hybern was not surrendering. It could not go on for much longer. It couldn’t.

“I got a letter from Feyre this morning,” Rhysand said. “Didn’t have time to tell you before we went out.”

“Yeah?” Cassian asked.

“Yeah,” Rhysand whispered. “She lost the baby.”

Cassian moved for the first time in twenty minutes, looking over at his friend. Rhysand’s eyes were hollow, the blood and grime covering the paleness of his skin.

“Fuck,” Cassian breathed, “I’m sorry, Rhys.”

Rhysand nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I hate...that I’m not there, you know? She has to go through it alone. You should have read the letter...she was apologizing. To me. Like it was her fault.” Rhysand’s eyes lined with tears, he cleared his throat. “I have to get home, to tell her that I love her, and that it is in no way her fault. She thinks it’s her fault. It’s not her fault.”

Cassian sat quietly, watching, and let Rhysand sort out his thoughts.

“I have to make it home, Cass,” Rhysand said, his voice shaking. “I have to make it back to her.”

But he was so tired.

So fucking tired.

“You will,” Cassian promised. “We both will.”

The bell rang, their time for resting had ended.

They set down their bowls, which had just as much in them as they did when they began.

“Stay together,” Rhysand said, as he strapped on his helmet and picked up his gun.

“Yeah,” Cassian said, doing the same, rising to his aching feet. “Stay together.”

~~~~~

It had been two days since Azriel arrived at the port. He went past Illyria, knowing Elain was still with her sisters. Word of the war got to him often, news was always spreading like wildfire. The latest battle was continuous with no sign of stopping.

Azriel had constant anxiety, never knowing where Rhysand and Cassian were, never knowing how they were.

But his heart eased, slightly, once he arrived in the drive of the Archeron Manor. He had only been gone a few months, but he was not the same man he had been under Isaac Archeron’s employment.

Although he knew one thing did not change - he loved Elain Archeron.

She was standing on the steps, along with her sisters, waiting for him. The moment she saw the carriage coming close, a huge smile spread across her face. She threw one hand in the air and waved, the other one cradling the little bump beneath her dress.

Azriel laughed, breathily. She was so beautiful, so radiant. He had been without her for too long.

The carriage stopped and the cab door opened.

Azriel hauled himself out with a grunt. He knew he was not in his best shape, covered in bruises and scars and stitches, his arm still in a sling.

Elain’s eyes widened at the sight of him, and he knew she was thinking the same thing, but it did not stop her from hurrying to his side.

“Don’t run,” Azriel laughed. “The baby.”

She threw her arms around him, careful not to hit his arm. Azriel tried not to cringe as her body pressed up against the wound at his side.

“I missed you,” she cried into his chest. Azriel pressed his mouth to her forehead, and when she leaned back, brown eyes shining, her lips. His fingers, shaking from the anticipation of this moment, pushed the stray locks of hair from her face.

“I missed you, too,” Azriel promised. “More than you know.”

“You look like shit,” Feyre announced.

But when Azriel looked up at her, she was grinning.

Nesta stood beside her and nodded her head in respect.

“Have you heard anything lately?” Azriel asked. “From Rhys and Cass.”

Feyre and Nesta both nodded.

“The day before last,” Feyre said, Nesta keeping quiet. “They are both well, but the battle had just begun when they wrote. I hear it is still going on.”

Nesta tensed, and Azriel nodded.

“But, the good news is that you are home,” Feyre said, gently. “Come in. Sit. Rest.”

Azriel nodded, grateful, and trailed up the steps and into the manor, where he was greeted by Alis.

“Lovely to have you home, my dear,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” Azriel began, looking to Elain. “It is good to be back.”

Even as he said it, that guilt for leaving his brothers on the continent ate at him.

“I set out some tea and biscuits in the sitting room,” Alis continued, before hurrying away.

The four of them sat in the sitting room and enjoyed their afternoon tea while making small talk. Azriel did not know what anyone was saying, though, because all he could do was look at Elain.

“Will you tell us of how you got injured?”

Elain flinched, but Azriel looked at Nesta. Where her eyes were usually cold, they were filled with curiosity and pain. She had to be thinking of Cassian, had to be wondering. He knew what it was like over there, but he realized that loving someone who was shipped off to war was not any easier.

Azriel cleared his throat. “I - yes, if you wish to hear. The short story is...well, there was an explosion. I was not caught in the middle of it, thankfully, but it left me, well…” he gestured to his current state, before huffing a laugh. Elain’s hand tightened in his. “My side was...hurt, badly. I was unconscious. My helmet had fallen off when I flew through the air….” he looked at Elain, who looked as if she was trying not to cry, and failing. “I do not remember too much after that, for a while. I remember hearing gunshots, and Cassian screaming at me not to die. I found out later that Cassian had dressed my wound the best he could with his shirt while we were on the battlefield, then he carried me out, Rhysand guarding us the whole way back, until we had reached the safety zone. Then they both hauled me to the nurses, where they stitched me up. They said I had lost a lot of blood and if Cassian and Rhys had not acted so quickly, I would have died. They were both there, when I woke up, standing over me.”

Azriel looked away from Elain, back to Nesta. The eldest Archeron daughter sat tall, her back straight, her chin lifted high. She did not move. If it were not for the tear rolling steadily down her cheek, Azriel would have thought she looked like a porcelain statue.

“We are grateful that you are alright,” Feyre said, voice quiet. “Grateful that you are home.”

Azriel smiled, but said no more, because Isaac Archeron cleared his throat from the threshold.

Four sets of eyes jerked his way, but no one moved, no one had spoken.

Elain’s fingers dug into Azriel’s hand.

As Isaac approached, Azriel stood.

“Last week I was told of your…” Isaac began, his words dropping off. He looked tired, uncertain. He did not look at any of his daughters. “Take care of my daughter. Please.”

Azriel nodded, unsure of what to say, unsure of what had gone on within their family in his absence. “I will protect her with my life, and love her unconditionally.”

Isaac nodded, looking Azriel up and down. “I heard what happened to you. You have served your country well.”

“Thank you, sir,” Azriel said, chin raised.

“I hear you are to be a father.”

Azriel looked back at Elain, with her hands protectively atop her abdomen.

“I am,” Azriel assured him.

Isaac nodded, jaw locked. “I do hope you two will visit. With my grandchild.”

Elain sucked in her breath, as she rose to her feet.

“Do you mean it?” she asked.

Isaac did not look at Elain, but his eyes clouded over with guilt. “I should not have said what I did the other night. I will admit that, no, this was not the life that I saw fit for you. But, after your mother passed...” his breath hitched, his eyebrows furrowed. “Well, after she died, it was up to me alone to provide the best lives for you. I took that role on without considering your wishes, or your happiness. Elain, you are happy.” Isaac looked into the eyes identical to his own. “If you are happy, and this is what you wish to have, then...well, I suppose I shall have to warm up to the idea of it.”

Elain threw her arms around her father’s neck and sobbed. “There is simply too much happening for my pregnancy hormones to handle!”

Feyre laughed from where she sat next to Nesta.

“Although, I assume there will be a wedding, yes?” Isaac asked, shooting daggers at Azriel.

Azriel cleared his throat, suddenly more uncomfortable then he had been before. “Yes, of course.”

“Well, when that time comes, I hope you have it here,” Isaac said, eyes softening. “Among family.”

Elain laughed, and kissed her father’s cheek before turning around to the father of her child. She laid her palm against his cheek. “You need rest, I need a bubble bath.”

Azriel smiled as he nodded. “Very well.”

The two excused themselves, leaving the other three in a long, tense silence.

~~~~~

Nesta stared at the floor once Azriel and Elain made their departure. Azriel moved slowly, as if every movement caused him unbearable pain. She could not imagine living through an explosion to tell the tale. Although, she was certain Azriel was not the only one, but also certain that many did not live to tell the tale, either.

Just as she thought Isaac was about to leave, too, he turned to Nesta and Feyre, sitting on the couch.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he whispered, to Feyre. “I should have comforted you, asked how you were fairing. Emotional connection is not a strong suit of mine.”

Thanks for passing that along, by the way, Nesta thought.

“It is alright,” Feyre said, words clipped. “Nesta and Elain were there for me. So.”

Isaac nodded. “I know. I am grateful for that.”

Nesta cleared her throat. “Well, if we are done here-”

“I cannot say that I approve of your choices of….” Isaac trailed off, looking at Nesta. “Men. But, you are still my heir. You will always be my heir.”

Nesta gave him a curt nod.

When it was clear she was not going to say anything, Isaac bowed his head. “I love you both.” With that, he was gone.

Feyre turned to Nesta. “Are you alright?”

Nesta nodded. She was alright. Her father’s words did not mean much to her. In the back of her mind, all she could think about was Azriel’s story. I remember hearing gunshots, and Cassian screaming at me not to die.

“This battle has lasted longer than the others,” Nesta said.

Feyre slumped against the couch cushions. “Yes, it has. But, they are saying if we come out on top, the war will be over. They will come home.”

Nesta’s heart ached, her mind was a mess of emotion and she loathed it. In his last letter, he had told her he loved her, had told her he could not wait to come home, to ride Marigold together, to sleep in one another’s arms. He had told her that he loved Wordsworth, and read his work every day. You are the love of my life, Nesta. If I can never say another word to you, know that you are the love of my life. I promise to come back to you. I promise, okay?

His words had haunted her as she sat there, listening to Azriel speak.

“They better come home, soon,” Nesta said. “I need to tell Cassian that I love him.”

Feyre’s eyes softened, and laid her head against Nesta’s shoulder. “He knows, Nesta. I promise you. He knows.”

~~~~~

Azriel was lying in Elain’s bed while she took her bath.

“Are you still awake?” she called from the washroom.

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Yes, but hardly.”

His socks and boots had been removed, as had his shirt. His trousers hung loosely around his hips, one knee drawn up as he rested among the pillows.

He could hear Elain getting out of the water. “How much pain are you in?”

Azriel’s brow rose. “A fair amount.”

She came around the corner, wrapped in a towel. “Is there anything I can do? To lessen the pain?”

Azriel’s eyes followed her as she approached him, grazing her body. “We could think of something, I’m sure.” He pulled at the hem of her towel.

Elain’s cheeks reddened as she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “You are in no condition to do any such thing.”

“You would be surprised at what I am capable of after being away from you for months,” he laughed, sleepily.

She shook her head. “You should keep perfectly still. Rest.”

Azriel sighed. “But I promise, El, I can-”

Elain dropped her towel, forcing Azriel to forget every word he was going to say. She climbed over to him atop the blankets, and straddled his waist.

Azriel’s hand, the one that was not in the sling, reached to her abdomen, brushing over the small bump that had formed.

“There’s a baby in there,” he whispered, eyes bright.

Elain smiled. “Yes. Our baby.”

“Hmmm,” Azriel grinned, then whispered. “I cannot wait to meet you, little one.”

Elain picked up Azriel’s hand from her stomach and pressed his palm to her lips.

“I know you said I was in no condition to fuck, but you are truly not helping the situation, whatsoever,” Azriel mumbled.

Elain laughed, softly, guiding his hand to her breast. They had become significantly larger, Azriel thought, than they had been when he left. He brushed his thumb over her nipple, leaving her to take in a deep, steady breath.

“You should keep perfectly still,” Elain repeated, undoing the buttons of his trousers and tugging them down, until they were discarded onto the floor. “Rest.”

Azriel watched her every move, amused, enticed.

Elain leaned down to kiss him, softly on the mouth, then down his neck, to his shoulder, just below his collarbone, and down his chest. He closed his eyes as she kissed around the stitching that had been holding his side together.

Her fingers brushed down his abdomen with a teasing gentleness, then she stroked him, softly.

His eyes remained shut as her tongue slid up the length of his cock.

He groaned, having thought of this moment every day, every night, for the past two months. She took him wholly into her mouth, Azriel only opening his eyes to watch her wet, brown-haired head bobbing up and down.

Azriel muttered a curse as his head fell back down against the pillow. His free hand reached to the back of her head, fingers wrapping into her hair. He whispered her name, moaning softly. When he started to move his hips, her hands pressed down on him. “Perfectly still.”

She climbed up his body, one hand pressed against his chest, the other guiding his cock to her opening. Elain pushed him into her, her back arching, head falling back.

In Hybern, Azriel imagined being intimate with Elain more times than he could count. He would lie awake at night, remembering what it was like to explore her body. None of the times he imagined it, though, compared to the real thing.

Azriel sunk into the bed as she moved her hips, thriving on the soft noises coming from her lips.

He found himself in awe, hoping that he would never have to leave her side again.

~~~~~

Nightfall was approaching quickly.

Cassian could feel every muscle in his body straining to keep up with his surroundings. At least he had Rhysand, the two of them fought alongside one another as if they were one.

He could feel the end drawing near, he knew it. He saw much more of his men than Hybern’s, not that Hybern’s men were backing down.

“They are trying to finish off as much of us as they can before nightfall!” Rhysand called.

Cassian nodded, looking around.

It was the same thing, constantly on repeat.

Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire.

He prayed it was the last night, hoped they would not have to wake at dawn and start again.

He was ready to go home.

He was ready to fulfill his promise to Nesta.

They heard an explosion in the distance. “Fuck!” Rhysand yelled, above the chaos of guns going off and men screaming in agony.

Cassian looked around, scanning the men surrounding him. His men, mostly, those who were not came and fell fairly quickly.

Another explosion sounded. Cassian ducked away, as did the men around him, although it was across the battlefield.

This is how it would end, then. Hybern would surrender, but they would kill as many of them as possible before they did so.

Another explosion.

The ground beneath Cassian’s feet shook.

“Rhysand!” Cassian called, just as men began to run back toward the valley, toward camp. “Rhys!”

He looked around, frantically.

He couldn’t spot him, anywhere. Not through the chaos of retreat, there were too many men running around him.

Cassian joined the movement, eyes still wandering. “Rhysand!”

Nothing.

Cassian’s heart began pounding.

Another explosion sounded, this one so close Cassian could feel the impact rack through his body.

“Fuck,” he cried, looking around, moving with the crowd of soldiers. “Rhysand!”

Stay together. Stay together. Stay together.

Their mantra echoed through his mind.

“Cassian!”

Cassian swung himself around and caught Rhysand’s eyes, wide and full of terror as he, too, was pushed back by his own soldiers.

Cassian started to push his way toward his friend, but another soldier grabbed Cassian by his jacket. “The fuck are you doing? Back to camp! Hybern’s men are gone, but they will blow up every inch of this land trying to kill us all before nightfall! We won, now haul ass!”

Cassian jerked out of the soldier’s arms, still trying to dodge around everyone else, covered in dirt and blood. He did not pass one man that was not exhausted, was not ready for it all to be over, was not covered in filth.

They had won.

He had to make sure he and Rhysand made it back to camp, then they could go home.

He could keep his promise.

He would keep his promise.

Stay together. Stay together. Stay together.

“Rhysand!”

“Cassian!”

Cassian looked around, chest heaving.

Stay together. Stay together.

Rhysand was behind him, just as another explosion sent men and dirt flying nearby. Rhysand ducked, as did the men around him, arms over their heads, protecting themselves from the debris.

Stay together.

It was chaos.

Too many men, too close together, not enough room.

No direction, none but fall back.

Men were tripping over bodies, pushing one another out of the way, trying to drag their fellow man back.

Fall back.

Cassian’s world was moving in slow motion.

Rhysand was running. He saw Cassian. He was moving. Cassian was moving.

Fall back.

He had made Nesta a promise.

Cassian held Rhysand’s gaze, hazel and violet eyes meeting in silent conversation.

Stay together.

Another explosion sounded.

The world went dark.

~~~~~

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#acptar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #nessian #feysand #elriel #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #period au

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