#Tarquin fanfiction

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Tamtam and Sky (oc) meet with Tarquin. I am not completely happy with this one, but I have come to the realization that these will always be dialog heavy. My desire with this fic is to uplift the characters who were treated like shit by the narrative.

Also this post by @msbrownwithacrown is cannon to me and I reference it.

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet. No warnings apply, I just wanted to show Tarquin some kindness.

Ch1

Ch4 > Ch6

Chapter 5:

I portaled us to the entrance of the Summer court castle in Adriata. The delicious smell of the salty sea water filled my lungs as I glanced up at the magnificent architecture that stood before me.

“You know, we were invited into the meeting room, we could've just winnowed straight in there.” Tamlin said, offering me his elbow to guide me inside.

“I never portal inside someone's home, I find it grotesquely rude.” I placed my hand on his arm gently, still admiring the beauty around me.

“We are here for a meeting with Tarquin.” Tamlin informed the guards as they led us inside and through the beautifully decorated halls. I bowed my head in thanks to them as they left us at the door to the office and we took a breath together as we entered.

Tarquin was already sitting there at the head of the magnificent table. His immaculate white locs hung down to the middle of his chest and his bright blue eyes sparkled like the sun shining off the sea. Why is every male in Prythia so damn gorgeous? He was young, not counting Feyre, Tamlin had told me he was the newest high lord, only rising to his position a few years ago, but that did not take any merit away from the power he held. A leader with a kind heart will always be more powerful than their counterpart.

“Welcome to the Summer court,” Tarquin smiled as he extended his hand to shake Tamlins, “it's good to see you getting back on your feet.”

“Thank you, friend, what wonders a woman's love can do for a broken heart,” Tamlin gushed as he looked to me. “This is my mate and other half, Sky.”

“It is nice to meet you, sir. I have heard good things about you. The Summer court is lucky to have a heart like yours leading them.” I complimented him earnestly as I turned the chair sideways to sit down.

“It is nice to meet you, Sky, but you must forgive me if I am a bit wary. The last few times a face like yours entered my court, it was left worse for wear.” He added cautiously. “I have come to realize that I handed my trust out far too easily, and it ended horribly for my people. I have been working to learn caution.”

“I understand fully. Your duty is to your people, and unfortunately I was cursed with sharing the face of an arrogant ass,” I giggled at the last part, lightening the mood.

“I will try my best to remain impartial to that,” Tarquin smiled. I, honestly, couldn't blame him for not trusting me. In his short reign he's had to rebuild his city three times. He has seen war and had precious heirlooms stolen from him.

“I appreciate it, but I have no issue putting in the work necessary to earn your trust.” I offered. He seemed pleased with my response.

“We are working hard to rebuild our court and welcome our citizens back home. I understand that the actions I took and decisions I made harmed your lands as well, Spring and Summer were hurt by the hands of the toxic relationship I was a part of, and for that I extend my most sincere apologies.” Tamlin began, Tarquin listening intensively. “And even after all of it, you welcomed my people to your lands with open arms. I can only hold hope moving forward that I can model even the slightest inch of the compassion you have in you.” I had heard him rehearsing this speech every morning since Tarquin agreed to this meeting and Tamlin was doing a beautiful job. A man willing to humble himself and give a sincere apology is so attractive.

“Yes Tarquin, we need help, we cannot rebuild the entire court on our own. We need carpenters, and supplies. We plan to pay well for these services and Spring will be forever indebted to Summer but we did not come empty handed.” I started, Tarquins gaze shifted to me, pondering our words. I pulled out the parchment I had prepared in my bag. On it wrote:

Animus meus est.

Ancilia dimittam

“Do you have a daemati that serves your court?” I asked as Tarquin studied the words on the page.

“Yes, Vili.” He answered.

“Would you please call for him?”

Tarquin sent his guard to find Vili. He looked back at me confused. “Are you not a daemati?”

“I am,” I responded, “but I think it best to have a man you trust for this demonstration.” I continued, “you see, for years, Tarquin, I have hated being a daemati. I believe your mind should be your own, and if someone wishes to change how you think, they should have to show you, in their actions. My brother has been abusing his daemati powers to control the other High Lords for his entire reign. Tamlin shared his memories of the past few years with me and I saw through his eyes at the High lords meeting. Rhysand was controlling the words expressed by Tamlin and I suspect he was doing it to you and Kalias as well. Him and his ladies stole a priceless artifact from you and you resended the blood rubies just like that?” Tarquin was invested. I assume it was Vili who entered the room and stood next to Tarquin, head held high, he didn't trust me either, with good reason.

“On the paper I have given you is a spell, I spent many years studying in the libraries of Aretuza, and that spell has been tested and shown to render daemati powers utterly useless.” Daematis were supposed to be healers of the minds, something incredibly necessary in Prythia especially after Amaranthas cruelty, but that kind of power being genetic instead of earned is how people ended up being terrorized instead of helped. I have tried for years to rid myself of the curse I feel daemati to be.

“You can use it on me. Vili, I request that you monitor my mind as Tarquin performs the spell.” Tamlin offered.

“The first line is the spell that applies a metal shield, protecting and encompassing the entire mind. The second line drops it.” I explained.

Tarquin looked at me hesitantly, then spoke the words, directed to Tamlin. “It's gone, no wall, no entrance. I cannot see anything. He might as well not even be here.” Vili noted aloud.

“I feel fine, great even. Like my head is clear.” Tamlin announced.

Tarquin then uttered the second line. “I can see it again, his walls.” Vili exclaimed, shocked.

“Why give me this information, I have yet to agree to help you?” Tarquin looked at me.

“It's not a payment, Tarquin, it is a gift. If the only thing I gain out of you having this information is that the Summer court is slightly more protected from my brother's antics, it will be payment enough.” I assured. “I do not expect a reply today, please, consult with your advisors, make a decision that you are comfortable with. I understand that this is just a stepping stone towards a hopeful friendship.”

“You have made a compelling case for an alliance, Sky. I do not wish to hold your brother's actions against you.” Tarquin consoled.

“I appreciate that,” I smiled at him, and Tamlin squeezed my hand. “I would like to spend some time this afternoon at the wonderful shops you have in the town square, but, if you would prefer us to head straight home we will.”

“You are more than welcome to enjoy the city, as long as what ever you happen to leave with is acquired honestly.” Tarquin said with a knowing smile. “However, I must warn you that my people might not be the most accepting of you, they have suffered great losses.” He added softly. “All I am saying is, if you want a true Summer experience, you might want to utilize that shapeshifter you have next to you. Just for right now.”

“Oh, that is a good idea.” I pondered and turned to Tamlin, “help me blend in, just for today.”

He was hesitant at first, but with a gentle hand I felt his magic encompassing me. I looked into the large mirror on the wall. I was still myself, just less Rhysand-looking. My wings were gone, and my violet eyes turned to a soft light brown. Changed, just enough, as to not worry the people of Summer.

“Perfect, let's go shopping.” I smiled. We both bowed to Tarquin as a sign of respect and made our way to the pier.

♡♡♡♡♡

Tarquin had invited us to join him to dinner at one of the beach view restaurants on the pier. As the High Lord of Summer, him and his company naturally experienced certain perks amongst the restaurant owners.

We sat at a large table on the patio, and I was entranced by the view of the sea, the waves crashing into the shore and the various colors out where the sea met the sky. It was an effort to pay attention to the conversation taking place between the two High Lords.

“I'm glad you're enjoying the view, Sky. I can still sit and stare at it for hours myself.” Tarquin doing his best to include me, offering understanding at my fascination. “I was still young when my family and I were trapped under the mountain for all those years, as a child of Summer, being denied these sights was just one of the many tortures I endured.”

I offered him an understanding smile, and reached to squeeze his hand. Amarantha truly hurt so many of us. Tamlin had shared his memories of the few months he spent under the mountain, while I practiced the mental healing the daemati powers were supposed to be used for. Tarquin had lived that for 50 years. “To come out the other side, still holding softness and kindness in your heart, shows me just how powerful you truly are. There is so much strength in being gentle.”

“I can only imagine the experiences you've faced that have made you this wise.” Tarquin returned the smile, then turned to Tamlin, “You are a lucky man, Tamlin. I hope to have someone by my side someday that can match her beauty and grace, if the cauldron sees me fit.”

“My advice to you, don't wait on the mating bond. Tamlin and I fell in love a long time before it snapped. Put yourself out there, fall in love because you choose to, not because the cauldron thought you would make an interesting pair. Sure, you're gonna get your heart broken at times, love is messy and beautiful, painful and wonderful. That's what makes it worth it. A woman wants to know you've chosen her out of your own free will, not because some outside force tied you to her. She wants to feel loved because you want her to.”

Tarquin pondered my words for a moment. “To fall in love with the possibility it will fail is a scary thought.”

“Oh absolutely, but have the courage to do it anyway.”

The conversation ended as the waitresses brought out the feast Tarquin had ordered for us. Crawfish, shrimp, potatoes, corn, eggs, and crab legs boiled to perfection and seasoned perfectly and generously. I was happy enough that I didn't have to cook tonight, but this looked divine. I had always heard that Summer court had the best food. The rumors were true.

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic

[azrielsshadows42]

ACOTAR Fic Idea

So, I'm currently writing an Eris x oc fic called A Court of Scales and Fire. (If you're interested here's the link, pls ignore the description, it's shit, I suggest at least reading the prologue before deciding if it is or isn't for you) While writing I made moodboards for the first time in my life, and now I have a bunch of pin boards.

One of which is called 'Mythical creatures'. Pretty self-explanatory, but it has been rolling around in my head to write another story where the mc is from another world, like Amren is.

She somehow went through a portal thing and ended up on Prythian.

We've seen how Prythian has magical creatures like Pegasi and allegedly, once dragons, but what if we brought more Mythical creatures?

Like, mc's world is full of them, and that's the norm, but the portal that brought her here opens every few months or so in random places, and sometimes, the creatures from her world cross over into their's

She can't seem to use these portals to get back, for whatever reason they're only one way, but in her world, she took care of the animals and she's not about to stop now.

Things start to get crowded in her sanctuary but under the mountain just opened up.

Is this something you would read?

I am not going to start any other story until my Eris one is complete, my anxiety can't handle that.

But that gives this post time to be seen and if you have any comments about it, any ideas please, I am literally begging you, share them

This is purely just me spit balling. I don't even know who the mc is going to end up with. Who do you want her to end up with? Eris, Azriel, Tarquin, Helion, Lucien? Is there more than one character? Lmk, I'm serious, comment on the post, ask me anonymously, idc, just Let. Me. Know. PLEASE.

[kristeristerin]

There’s not enough Tarquin content here so I was wondering if I could send in Tarquin x reader to Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) by Taylor Swift as a prompt for the drabbles you’re planning on writing? Thanks!

AN: Thank you so much for the ask! Tarquin is a character that I may not have chosen to do on my own, but after writing him I feel like I need to explore more with him! I hope you feel like I did him justice!

As Always my asks are open for more Taylor Swift song and ACOTAR pairings! (I'll take other requests too of course!)

Song: Mary’s Song (Oh My My My)

Pairing: Reader X Tarquin

Content Warning: None

Words: 860

Your hands were shaking as you looked around the Summer Palace. This was your first time returning to Adriata in over 50 years and while coming back home should feel like a happy occurrence, you can’t help but worry about seeing him again. 

When you last saw Tarquin he’d just been the prince of Udrin, and the man you’d loved since you were children. Now though, you supposed, things would be different. While you could convince yourself that love would have been enough for the two of you when he was a prince, High Lords have a duty to uphold and marriage to a lesser fae was not part of that. 

Varian gave you a tight smile as he held out an arm to you, “He’s been asking for you. Are you ready?” 

“I’m not certain I’ll ever be ready to face him if I’m being honest,” you looked away from the Prince’s eyes as he led you through the palace hallways. Your eyebrows draw together when Varian turns not toward the High Lord’s study, but instead toward the doors leading to the back garden. 

“He’s out there waiting for you,” Varian drops your arm and gives you a gentle push toward the doors. 

When you step outside he’s facing away from you, instead choosing to look out at the ocean beyond the city. You are several feet away from him when you stop and drop into a low curtsy. “You wanted to see me, High Lord?” 

You hear him turn, but you don’t dare look up. 

“Y/N,” Tarquin laughs, “Surely you know we are far past these formalities. We’ve known each other since childhood after all.” 

You rise but still don’t look him in the eyes. “I’ve never known you as High Lord, though.” 

He steps forward and runs his hand through your hair, using it to gently raise your gaze to his, “I’d like you to.” He whispers before his lips brush yours in a gentle kiss. He steps away but grabs your hand before you can mourn the loss of his touch. “Come with me, I wish to show you something.” 

He led you further into the garden to the all too familiar tree. 

“Do you remember when we first met?” He asked as he pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around you. 

You laugh at the memory. “I wanted Cressida and Varian to like me so bad. I followed them out here to meet their cousin, and you hated me. I believe you even threatened to throw me into the ocean that day.” 

He looked away, biting his lip to contain his own laughter. “To be fair that wasn’t until after you had threatened to tell my mother that I wouldn’t be the Prince in your game of make-believe.” 

“Mmm, yes, and fitting punishment for my crime,” you pull away from his grip and approach the largest tree in the corner of the garden. You touch the small carving in the tree and turn to him. “Do you remember this?” you ask in a small voice. 

When he approaches you, Tarquin turns you toward the tree and wraps both of his arms around you. “Of course, I do,” his breath tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks. “This was the carving I made into the tree 9 years later when I finally agreed to be your prince. Nostrus was very cross with me for carving our initials into the tree.” 

Smiling at the memory you turn in his arms so you’re face to face. “I always hoped I’d be your princess.” You murmur looking at him through your lashes. 

Tarquin cupped your jaw and returned your smile, “Now I’m hoping you’ll agree to be the High Lord’s Lady. Perhaps not right away, but if you’ll let me court you again I know I can prove to you that we can have everything we once had, and so much more.” 

His smile falters as you begin to cry, “Have I said something wrong, my love?” 

“No,” you sniffle and then laugh at the horrid sound you made, “this is just unexpected. I thought you had asked me to join you here so you could tell me that we were through because a High Lord could never spend his life with a lesser fae.” 

“Y/N,” his voice cracked as he looked into your eyes, “There is nothing lesser about you. It’s the thought of you and the life that we could have together that got me through every day under that mountain. I’d be honored to be able to one day call you my wife, and our people would be better off with you at my side. Please, don’t think for a moment you're unworthy of anything, least of all me. I have loved you with all that I am since I was 18 years old, Y/N, and I will continue to do so for centuries more.” 

You lift a hand to his cheek and lean up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Tarquin, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.” 

[azrielslittleslut]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Each fic has its own list of warnings. All of them contain smut, and are 18+, so MDNI. Enjoy!

Edging/Overstimulation/Impact Play with Rhys Period Sex/Praise/Romantic Sex with Tarquin Creampie/Breeding/Rough Sex with Cassian Thigh Riding/Blow Job with Helion Fire Play/Sex Toys with Eris Thigh Fucking with Azriel

Short drabbles:

Lingerie with Rhys Caught Masturbating with Eris Somnophilia with Lucien Boot Worship with Azriel

[thestarlightexpress]

Kinktober Day 5 - Monsterfucking - Tarquin x Reader

TW: sexual themes including shapeshifting and beast forms

word count: 1.71k

A/N: my baby Tarquin doesn't get enough love but it's alright, i love him enough to make up for it

Kinktober Masterlist

NSFW under the cut

You woke up to the morning sun’s rays barely peeking over the shores of Adriata, the crisp white sheets of your bed caressing your pale legs. You threw an arm over your closed eyes, not ready to meet the day yet. A few hours ago, you had been so comfortable - curled into your mate’s side, the salty sea breeze lulling you to sleep. 

Your other hand flailed around the other side of the bed searching for your High Lord, only to find empty sheets. Your head shot up, seeing that he was nowhere to be found in your bedroom.

Softer light peaked through the door leading to your washroom before Tarquin peered around the doorjamb. He smiled and softly chuckled at his very sleepy mate before walking over towards you. You started to stretch across the bed, willing your body to start waking up. “Why are you up so early, my love? The sun isn’t even properly up yet,” you were quite confused by his behavior this morning, knowing he preferred to stay wrapped up in your embrace until you both woke up naturally. 

He gripped your calves and pulled you up to the edge of the bed. You sat up and nuzzled your head in his chest as you wrapped your arms around his middle. “You’re so warm, come back to bed.”

Tarquin pulled up your shirt - his shirt really - to sit around your waist as his hands rubbed up and down your back. “Not right now. I have a fun idea and it’s best to do it before the sun is fully up.”

Your head popped up and you quirked an eyebrow at him, “Now what is that supposed to mean?” 

Tarquin just gripped your arms and hoisted you up to stand. He tugged you close to him, resting a strong hand on your ass. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you all the details, silly. Now go get dressed.”

You sighed deeply and padded over to your closet. “Make sure it’s something that can get wet,” he added cheekily before swiftly spanking your ass. You looked back and shook your head admonishingly. While you did greatly appreciate having a mate who essentially treated you like a goddess, the sheer amount of mind-blowing sex could be exhausting. 

“On the topic of clothing, I sure hope you’re planning on wearing something besides that. I wouldn’t imagine the people would take too kindly to their High Lord strolling around in just your underwear, as attractive as it may be,” you sneered over your shoulder as you quickly stripped out of last night’s shirt and into a teal tunic and your favorite white and gold cotton shorts. 

Tarquin playfully winked at you before slipping on similarly colored items, always feeling the need to match with his High Lady. He turned around to grip your hand before winnowing you out to one of the gates on the side of the palace. He quickly led you down the steps with a sly smile on his face.

You started to giggle once he led you toward a small beach, hidden behind and out of view of the main city. “Well now I wonder what you could possibly have in store for us this fine morning, darling?”, you added sardonically. 

You both stepped onto the beach and found a nice outcropping to set your shoes on. Tarquin went to lead you into the water but found you sitting down in the sand, staring off at the shoreline. “Just a minute,” you murmured. The sight of the sun cresting over the waves, pushing the pink and lilac night sky away, left you breathless. Moments like these were some of the only times you could find true serenity. 

This moment of peace had been exactly what you had been looking for to start the day properly. Sensing that you were ready from the tranquility radiating down the bond, Tarquin offered his hand to you and pulled you up, embracing you in a tender kiss. “Ready, my love?”

You nodded and he led you into the soothing water, padding over to a concealed cove. You both dropped down into the cove, swimming down into the large grotto below. In the middle was a submerged sandbar, flanked by seaweed and coral.

Thank the Mother that your High Lord and Lady powers allowed you to breathe underwater, there’s no way you could properly have the time to appreciate it otherwise. While being muffled, you could thankfully still speak to each other while underwater. 

Tarquin sat you down on the edge of the sandbar and swam in place in front of you. “So what is this fun plan you have in mind?”, you tipped your head to the side and took him in. He was truly in his element in his waters. 

He softly grabbed your hands, “I’ve been messing around with transforming into my beast form - or my alter ego as you so lovingly call it - trying to only shift part of myself. Anyway, I think I finally figured it out.”

A slight smile grazed your lips and you leaned back on your hands, “Well let’s see then, Mister High Lord.”

He rolled his eyes at your antics before the sea around him started shifting, bubbles and seafoam swirling around him. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as his legs started to shift into a large teal serpent’s tail, quite akin to his massive sea serpent beast form. The tail was covered in an ombre spread of azure scales that started to blend into the deep brown skin around his waist. 

Your eyes skimmed over his entire form. It was amazing to see how he could control the transformation enough to keep his torso and above in his normal fae form. You tamped down your amazement, not wanting to give too much away. “Quite impressive, I wonder what else you can do like that?”, you added a teasing wink at the end. 

Tarquin swam towards you and caged your chest under his as you leaned back. He started leaving open-mouthed kisses up your neck before whispering in your ear, “Any ideas, my love?”

You wrapped your arms around his waist before pulling back to face him. Feigning ignorance to your baser desires, “Nothing in particular,” you could tell that he easily saw through you.

Tarquin started to nibble at his favorite spot right under your ear. “Are you sure about that, sweetheart? Because I think I might know what you’re thinking - you want to know if I can fuck you like this, don’t you?”

The mere idea of that had your core sparking with arousal. You moaned in agreement, feeling him smirk against you. Tarquin picked you up and moved you further back onto the sandbar so you could lie down.

He quickly removed your tunic and shorts while continuing to leave love bites along your neck and shoulders. His hand drifted down to your core and two fingers slipped into your entrance and expertly stretched you open. Your hand rose up to card through his locks while the other blindly felt around for his member. 

In this new form, his cock was a bit longer and thicker. Most noticeably different, the tip narrowly tapered off quite differently than the rounded head you were used to. The texture was also different - now ribbed in a way that you could tell would feel amazing inside you. 

He groaned as you gripped his cock in your hand and slowly stroked it. You pleasured each other for a few minutes before you couldn’t take it anymore - you needed him inside you. You bit into his neck before whimpering from need, “Gods please fuck me, I need you.”

He grinned and you felt him twitch in your hand. Tarquin gripped your thighs and moved to spread your legs farther, “As my Lady wishes.”. The pointed tip of his cock inched forward to press against your entrance. The water along with your slick allowed him to easily slip deep into you with a single thrust. 

A tsunami-like wave of his power accompanied the thrust, his magic amplified in this form. You instinctually wrapped your legs around his waist. He started to buck into you, dragging the ribs of his cock against your sensitive folds with each stroke. “By the Gods - you feel fucking amazing, baby.” You were barely staving off your impending orgasm. It only took a few more strokes before you tightened around him and your legs shook. 

He kissed you and lightly chuckled in your mouth, “Fuck baby, you’re already cumming for me? We’ll have to do this much more often if you’re going to cum like that.” His hands squeezed up and down your legs, helping the strung muscles relax. 

Spurred on by the bliss of your orgasm, his thrusts gained speed as he thoroughly fucked you into the sand. “Fuck, your cunt is always so good for me - so tight, squeezing me just the right way.”

You blushed madly at the praise, “Feels good, baby? Keep fucking me just like that, harder!” You gripped his shoulders as his thrusts became chaotic and uneven.

He growled against your neck, the force of his thrusts making you see stars. “That’s it right there. I’m going to fill up that deliciously tight pussy with my cum until you’re so full that it leaks out of you.” 

His words were already making you fall over the edge again, “Yes baby, keep fucking me just like that. Please fill me up with your cum, I need it!” 

You reached up and pulled him down to you. His lips roughly brushed against yours and your tongue slipped into his mouth. You felt his roaring groan as he tumbled over the edge before filling you up with his cum. The narrow tip of his cock had his cum sit so deep inside of you, it was like nothing you’d ever felt.

Tarquin slowly pulled out of you before transforming back to his normal form. You softly panted against each other. “I do have to say, that surprise was worth getting up early for.” He nuzzled his nose into your neck as you cuddled in the sand for a time before resurfacing back up to the beach.

[velarisdusk]

Series Masterlist

summary: You're dating Cassian, the captain of the Velaris Vipers, a professional hockey team. Things start off simple enough; you go to their games, hang out at team events, and bring lunch to long practices. As you get closer to the team, you find yourself navigating playful flirtations and growing connections with other players, leading to unexpected and intense encounters.

author's note: Everything except 4, 6, and 7 can be read standalone and should still make sense. However, for the best reading experience, I recommend starting with ICJ and reading in order.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

1 Ice Cold Jealousy | Cassian x Reader

2 Thawing Boundaries | Azriel x Reader x Rhysand

3 Melted Resolve | Helion x Reader x Tarquin

4 Shattered | Velaris Vipers (except Cassian) x Reader

5 Burning Desire | Eris x Reader

6 Embers to Ice | Cassian x Reader

7 Veil of Frost | Cassian x Reader

[solbaby7]

Life of the Party

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: typical jealousy trope, sexual themes, minors DNI, swearing, probably typos, chill boyfriend/party animal girlfriend trope

summary: A spymaster who’s restraint wears thin when his mate is invited to a costume party

—

“Oh wow,” Mor breathes out when you walk in the sitting room; heels clicking against the glossy floors as you made a bee-line for the bar cart. “Azriel’s letting you go?”

“No, which is why I’m rushing.” Your hands shake around the decanter; not with any real fear but your heartbeat does quicken at the reminder of the little white lie you’d told instead of the truth because you knew how it sounded. You, going to a party that you were invited to outside of the Night Court. “Tarquin said he’d meet me at the border.”

“A personal escort from the host himself?” Mor doesn’t bother hiding the implication in her tone and she lets out a low laugh, Amren joining in with a chuckle of her own at the way your eyes roll.

The whiskey Rhysand splurged on was warm going down and after three consecutive shots, the nerves were steadily beginning to subside. “He’s my friend.”

“Did your friend also provide you with that little outfit?”

You glance down at yourself at Armen’s slow drawl, a ruby nail pointing at your frame.

Maybe it was a little much.

The obsidian color of the fighting leather like material fits like second skin on the parts of you that they do cover. There are no sleeves, the neckline fairly tame; a deterrent to offset how much leg was on display. The see through material of the skirt flows tauntingly with each step, the two deep slits on both sides so high your hipbones showed along with the leather straps that curled around your thighs, equipped with two jeweled daggers. Two large swords crossed at your back, the hilts wrapped in blue ribbon; a small reminder of the shadowsinger. It was sexy; meant to make you appear as some warrior goddess—Azriel would never let you step foot out of the house like this. “It was a gift.”

Mor lets out a low whistle, eyes still taking in the details; the gold chains that held together some flimsy underwear that hid your modesty when the breeze cut through too hard. “He’s going to fucking kill you.”

One more shot and you swear you see a shadow lurking about in the corner. Armen smirks at your jumpiness, tucking silky hair behind a pierced ear. “Better hurry along, sounds like he just got home.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat thumping quickly against your chest and you don’t care to let their laughter distract you when you dart from the room. You speed walk on the tips of your toes, trying to make as little noise as possible in the high heels as you prayed to the Mother above to just let you past the front door and then everything would be perfectly fine. Your hair tickles at your shoulders every time your head whips back to ensure you aren’t being followed and you finally feel the cool breeze of the night touch your skin when you bump into a large body.

The gasp that emits is comical, a little yelp, eyes wide and the relief doesn’t settle in even when you notice it’s just Cassian. “Whoa,” He mutters, bright eyes running across your frame and you pray that’s distraction enough for him to not question the way you slowly circle him, adjusting the position and finding a clear path the hell out of there the second he left. “Where are you going dressed like that?”

“Nowhere,” You breathe out, a shaky smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Have you seen Az?”

Cass smirks, taking this as you getting dressed like this for Azriel—some sexy little fantasy made reality and your shoulders immediately relax. “Went inside a couple minutes before I did. He’s probably looking for you.”

“Guess, I better hurry.” He nods, not bothering to hide the way his eyes eat at all the skin you have bared, the sultry curve of ass that peeks out the back of the skirt with each step and he barely notices you’ve gone the wrong way—leaving with a sheepish smile and a wave before you winnowed away.

It sets in when he steps inside the house, spotting Azriel turning the corner and he can’t help the words that form, even when Mor and Armen step out of the sitting room. “Az, you lucky bastard.”

The spymasters brows furrow in confusion, shadows slinking about; drifting beneath the cracks of room after room, reporting your absence back to their master. “What are you talking about?”

“That little outfit your girls got on—I’m surprised you’re even standing here right now.” Mor’s eyes widen, sharing a gaze with Armen and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Azriel’s shoulders subtly square out, spine straightening and the way golden irises darken has the otherworldly woman chuckling to herself. The pieces click without any further information and the scowl that forms on his face is positively hellish. “Did she go to that fucking party?”

Silence.

But it’s plenty answer enough.

Darkness clouds the rooms so thick it was nearly impossible to see even an inch before you and just like that it was gone and so was Azriel.

—

You let out a deep breath, nerves beginning to subside when you stand before Tarquin. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

His hand is warm when he guides your arm into his own, a large palm gentle rested over your own. “Got a bit delayed on the way over. Hope I didn’t miss anything too exciting.”

“No,” He murmurs, a smile growing in the corner of his mouth. “I believe the excitement just arrived.” Stark white hair contrasts against rich skin, Tarquin’s abdomen is exposed, the buttons of his shirt undone and left out of the waistband of his dress pants.

“Who exactly are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a High Lord, I’m not obligated to participate in such things.”

The cool breeze cuts through the thin material, all your exposed skin doing little to stave off the elements but the warmth radiating from the man beside you is enough to hold you over until you breach the main doors. Everyone was dressed in all types of extravagant outfits, some so revealing you wondered if it were a costume at all. “Glad to see that title hasn’t inflated your ego.”

“I’m sure it’ll be much more manageable after a drink or two.”

Two drinks quickly turned to five and then after a few more you’d shuck off to a corner to roll up the mirthroot Mor had generously slid your way a few weeks back. Golden light casts over the room in a sultry glow, music alluring and your hips are moving from side to side without being told. The smoke trickles from your mouth, smile growing as your worries began to fade. You could feel the eyes, the lusty gazes and Tarquin’s genuine joy from just watching.

You’re too caught up in the moment, mirthroot burning between two fingers when the shadowsinger arrives, his intent march abruptly stopped by the High Lord of the Summer Court. Cassian follows close by, Mor and Rhys a few paces behind and their steps abruptly halt when they see you. Perched up on a raised structure, your hips sway in sync with the music, hair flowing behind you and the blue ribbons attached to the swords flutter with each movement. “You,” Azriel all but hisses but Tarquin doesn’t so much as flinch. “—a terrible, horrible influence.”

“Relax," Tarquin drawls out, obviously somewhat affected by the few glasses of wine he'd indulged in. "-- look at her,” Az's hands clench in fists at his sides but the spymaster can’t help the way his eyes shift to you, to the costume and the color you donned; the smoke huffing from your nose like a dragon emerging from her cave for the night and Azriel forgets about what he was mad about in the first place. “She’s just having fun.”

More than having fun.

You were positively the life of the party, others beginning to gather around, watching the warrior of a woman dancing like no one else was there. Your head dips back and Azriel finds his eyes trained on the column of your neck, mouth closing as whatever response he’d originally intended to give the High Lord completely died on his tongue. Something in the way Tarquin remains trained on you has Azriel's shadows go on edge, sizing up the man baring so much skin; lean muscle on display and bright eyes are fixed on the way you move. "Watch this," He mutters, living vicariously through you and Azriel begins to question the true intentions behind the High Lords friendship with you. "It's her favorite part." Water begins to trickle down like fresh rain after weeks of sweltering heat and Azriel's heart actually swells when he hears the laugh you let out; hands raised above your hand to catch the cool drops.

It soaks through your clothes, the flimsy material of your skirt sticking to your thighs and Azriel is acutely aware of exactly how much skin you have on display and the plethora of males and females in the crowd beginning to recognize that same thing. Even Rhysand has a brow raised, head slowly tilting to the side when a particularly obscene about of ass flashes, gold chains holding underwear in place glistening under the flame light.

Azriel doesn't even need to trudge through the sea of sweaty bodies to get to you; eyes catching after turning to send a grateful smile to Tarquin and for a split second your whole body freezes. You recover quickly but you come down from the stand much quicker, body dripping and hair sticking to your neck. The closer you approach your mate, the more aware you become of the smell of the mirthroot stuck to your clothes, lacing your breath and Az doesn't seem swayed in the slightest by the sweet smile you offer him when you reach. "Nice party, right?"

Aureate irises drag down the length of your frame, catching on the parts of you made visible from the impromptu shower and Az can't help but be a little disappointed to see your makeup still in place. He'd always got a little frenzied when he saw you all messy; eyeshadow smeared and mascara dripping down your cheeks while he fucked off the sticky lipgloss that smelled like cherries. The evaluation pauses at the holsters wrapped around your thighs, jewels in shades of blue intricately welded together on the daggers peeking out the sodden skirt. "It would appear so," Shadows curl around your legs, avoiding the gift of a costume as if it were toxic waste. "I hope you enjoyed it because we are going home."

"But, I just got here."

"Yeah, Shadowsinger," Tarquin tacks on and Az's hand twitches to punch him; to wipe that smug grin off his face and to demand Rhys erase decades of memories the two of you had made before ever even meeting Azriel because no other male should be this comfortable with you. "She just got here and she hasn't even begun to make a dent in the bag of mirthroot Mor got her." The blonde in question huffs, eyes going a little wide but she doesn't seem too worried-- confident that whatever Az had planned for you was far worse than anything he could conjure up for her.

"Actually, he's right," You pull away from the High Lord with a warm smile, offering a hug and thanks for everything and Cassian hides the laugh that grows at the sight of Azriel's jaw clenched so tight; shadows just itching to slice off the hand that lingered a little too low in the dip of your back. "We should be getting home."

Az wastes no time tugging you to his side, nose grazing your temple when whispering in your ear. "When we get back take these clothes off but leave those on." Shadows twist at the fat of your thigh, around the holsters and the weapons they held. "Only those."

A smile grows, pupils blown and the way you glance up through thick lashes has his cock hardening in his pants. "Yes, sir."

[shadowdaddies]

Hello girly, there is so little fics about Tarquin, so can I please request a Tarquin x mate!reader. Where she is a quiet and kind female, it would be cool if she was a "lesser fae" (like she has a tail or horns). She loves him and doesnt really want a role in court, she just wants to be there for him. Maybe the high lords dont know much about her, and there is a High Lords meeting and she randomly appears (maybe pregnant) and just some fluff, and Mor, Feyra and Viv being happy because there is another female to be frainds with

ahh I love this, there's definitely not enough fics for Prythian's Most Eligible Bachelor™. Thank you for the request!

Less is More

Tarquin x Reader

warnings: this does get a little steamy at the end

Taking practiced, steady breaths, you forced your pounding heart to slow and plastered on a confident smirk as you took long strides through the open doors.

Your hand was slick with sweat against Tarquin’s, your mate giving a reassuring squeeze while he guided you to walk slightly in front of him. Were you a weaker faun, you would have been smothered by the table’s gazes burning into you, but you were not weaker. You were a “lesser faerie” - or so that was your title given from the old High Fae - but you were High Lady of the Summer Court, and remembering that put the strength in your spine you needed as you took your seat.

Tarquin took his place next to you, turquoise eyes swimming with pride as he drank in the attention from the room. He feigned nonchalance, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your hand atop his against the table. “Ah yes,” he laughed softly, raising your joined hands in display for the group of High Lords and Ladies. “Allow me to introduce my mate, the High Lady of the Summer Court.”

You smiled, unable to control the blush that bloomed upon your cheeks as Feyre gave you a polite smile and nod, Rhysand and Kallias both granting quiet congratulations. 

It was Viviane who smirked, reclining back in her seat as she loosed a dramatic sigh. As the second High Lady in Prythian’s history after Feyre along with what you’d heard of her, you liked the female already. “It’s nice to have another High Lady at the table. Perhaps soon enough, each court will recognize their females as equals.”

Her icy blue eyes sparkled with amusement at the sight of flames on Beron’s fingertips, the High Lord of Autumn’s focus having never moved from the horns on your head, perfectly framed by your royal crown.

Conversely, Tarquin’s own stare never faltered, watching Beron with a predator’s gaze. He knew better than to bait the other High Lords - Tarquin found it better to rule as himself, a kind yet firm leader - and you admired him impossibly more for it.

“Welcome, High Lady. Let us begin,” Helion purred, his smooth voice emanating a deep power that seemed to bring Beron out of whatever anger-filled haze he was lost in. Murky brown eyes whipped to Helion, who returned the acknowledgment with a slight arch of his brow.

“Beron, if there is something you wish to lead the meeting with, please do so,” Helion drawled, his demeanor remaining cool despite noticeable efforts not to look past Beron to where the Lady of Autumn was seated. You made a mental note to ask Tarquin about that later, focused on keeping your chin high for the moment.

Beron’s eyes flicked between you and Feyre - the lesser fae and former human at the table - but wisely he remained silent. “Continue, Helion,” Beron ground out, and you had to bite back your smile at Rhys and Feyre’s wicked grins, darkness recoiling from where it had been ready to strike.

You sat through the meeting, listening to male egos battle each other over petty squabbles, only interjecting as you and Tarquin found necessary. It was easy to find where you would fit in with this group. While it was clear Autumn would never accept you and Dawn was ambivalent, you felt a fast kinship towards Night and Winter - unsurprising, given those courts were who your wise mate was most drawn to.

As soon as the meeting ended, Beron quickly cleared, leaving the Lady of Autumn to scurry behind him. Your heart hurt for her, her eyes tired as her eldest son seemed to be the only person who paid her any mind. The other High Lords dispersed, only Night and Winter lingering behind with Tarquin and you. 

“Finally, that’s over!” the Night Court’s emissary, Morrigan, practically squealed as she maneuvered around the table to you, enveloping you in a warm hug. 

A surprised laugh escaped you at her kind and gentle touch, the dichotomous nature of the Night Court’s leaders jarring despite Tarquin’s advance notice.

“So, would you tell us the story of how you and Tarquin met?” Viviane pressed, her arm looping through yours as Feyre fell into step alongside the both of you. You were surprised at how easy it was to talk with them - both High Fae from such different backgrounds - but you felt beyond blessed by the Mother for not only allies, but new friends through your role.

The crescent moon was high in the sky, stars twinkling impossibly bright when you felt the heavy need for sleep weigh upon you. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes struggling to stay open until familiar hands draped a jacket over your shoulders, and you stirred to see Feyre, Morrigan, and Viviane all slowly rising. 

Bidding each of them a good night, you leaned into Tarquin’s warmth, savoring the calming scent of coconut and sea spray while he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair. He led your to the shared room in which you were staying, closing the door gently behind before peeling his jacket from your shoulders.

A whine escaped you at the sudden cold, and your mate chuckled, arms wrapping around you fully this time. Enveloped in his warmth, you settled against Tarquin’s chest and swayed to a silent melody, the rhythm of the ocean.

“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured against your neck. “You are always incredible, and yet you always blow me away with your grace and wisdom.” 

He pressed another lingering kiss to your shoulder, working his way up to hover near your ear. Teeth tugged lightly on the skin of your earlobe, your mind growing dizzy with the sensations when he whispered, “I am so thankful, and honored, to have you as my mate and High Lady.”

Feeling the weight of the crown against your horns, you couldn’t help but tease him. “Horns and all?” but Tarquin’s eyes grew darker, turquoise eyes like a brewing sea storm. 

He pulled your head to his toned chest, tongue flicking out against one of those sensitive horns. You mewled at the motion, the scent of the room changing with the fervor of arousal growing. 

“Especially these,” he breathed, hoisting your legs around his hips before turning to toss you onto the mattress. You bounced against the silken sheets with a giggle, watching your mate lift his shirt over his head while his gaze raked unabashedly over every inch of your figure. 

“Every part of you is perfect,” Tarquin whispered, white hair aglow in the light from the window, eyes shining with mischief as his body slid sinfully against your own. 

“I love you,” you whispered, legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He once again kissed his way down your body, this time peeling away the fabric of your dress as he did so. Your consciousness drifted away at his touch, carnal feeling and deep emotion invading your senses while the only thought you could manage was that “forever is not long enough with this male.”

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

ACOTAR Dads & Uncles

Here are some head canons about our favorite ACOTAR males and how they handle little ones, whether that be their own children, or the children of those they know.

Included are Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Eris, Lucien, Tamlin & Tarquin.

Rhysand

Everyone knows that Rhysand is the ultimate protector of his family, but fatherhood took that instinct and turned it up to an eleven

The day Nyx came into the world, Rhys became a male on a mission.

The house was a maze of enchanted barriers and warding spells. Feyre thought he was going overboard when he covered every sharp edge in thick padding and rearranged all the furniture to create wide, baby-safe paths.

When he started eyeing Cassian and Azriel's wings with a calculating look, mumbling about how "a bit of padding couldn't hurt--just on the tips," Feyre had to draw a hard line.

Anyone who stepped foot near Nyx's nursery was met with Rhys's outstretched hand and a pointed look toward the nearest washbasin.

He's wait until he heard the water run twice before letting them get close. Rhys didn't care if it was Amren or his own mother reincarnated--no one got a pass.

He would hovers nearby, just out of sight, listening for every coo, every tiny sound his son made.

When Nyx got his first sniffle, Rhys had been inconsolable, pacing back and forth with Nyx bundled in his arms.

"I should have been more careful!" He would murmur.

Feyre had to wrap both of them in her arms and assure him that babes catch colds. It's natural.

He only half believed her, but when Nyx finally felt better, he promised himself it wouldn't happen again.

The first time Nyx fell and scraped his knee while crawling, Rhys was at his side, his power flaring in the room as if there had been a coordinated attack.

He picked up Nyx and cradled him, brushing his fingers through his soft hair, whispering soothing words as his own eyes grew wet.

Feyre had told him it was just a scratch, hiding her smile behind her hand as she watched her mate try and fail to keep from crying harder than the babe.

"But it's his first scratch," he had insisted.

Oh the bragging.

Even before Nyx could babble, Rhysand was already speaking of his son like he was a prodigy.

At meetings of the High Lords, it was an unspoken rule that the first thirty minutes of each meeting would be dedicated to hearing all about Nyx's latest accomplishments.

Rhys would lean back in his chair, a proud smile on his face, recounting every new expression and sound his son had made.

If he could, he would even bring Nyx along - wrapped tightly against his chest - he would stride into the meeting, practically glowing.

"It's never to early to learn diplomacy," he would joke. It was particularly hard to take him seriously in meetings where they were discussing battle strategies when Rhys spent most of the time staring down at Nyx or Nyx screeched over someone else.

Around others, Rhysand remained the poised, elegant High Lord of the Night Court. But alone with his son, he became an entirely different male.

His voice rises to a singsong, soft and silly, wiggling his fingers, making the most ridiculous faces and blowing raspberries onto any exposed skin.

"Who's the best little High Lord-in-training?" he relentlessly coos.

Cassian

The first time Cassian holds Nyx, he's terrified.

He cradles the newborn like he's handling glass, his massive hands trembling slightly as he looks to Rhys and Feyre for reassurance.

"Am I doing this right? Is he breathing okay?" he asks in a panic.

Feyre would gently guide his arms until Nyx was nestled comfortably.

Cassian's relief to not have to hold the baby anymore was almost laughable -but there is so much awe in his eyes as he looks down at the tiny bundle, it almost breaks your heart.

It's a side of him that no one has seen before.

For weeks, he's too afraid to hold Nyx for more than a few minutes at a time.

After a while, however, he finds his confidence, and it becomes his personal mission to never hold a baby "appropriately" again.

He'll tuck Nyx under one arm like a football and stride around, much to Rhys's horror. Or, once Nyx gets older, he'll balance him on a broad shoulder, walking in circles around the House of Wind while Nyx squeals in delight.

"What? He likes it!" Cassian protests when Nesta scolds him.

When he finally has his own baby, he doubles down on the unorthodox holding techniques. He becomes known for carrying his own daughter (once she's old enough) upside down.

He also prefers to carry his baby in his shirt, with their small face peaking out over the collar.

Cassian's biggest goal, whether with Nyx or his own children, is to be the funniest fae in their life.

He makes the most ridiculous faces, sticking out his tongue, crossing his eyes, and puffing out his cheeks until babes are shrieking with laughter.

He invents silly games like "flying lessons" where he gently swoops them around the room, or folding his wings in tightly and trying to get little ones to get him to open them.

Whenever he's babysitting Nyx, he's caught by Feyre or Rhys mid-performance, singing made-up songs that sound more like battle chants about changing diapers or finding lost pacifiers.

Both Nyx and Cassian's own babies quickly discover that he's basically a living furnace, and it doesn't take long for them to decide that he is the perfect nap spot.

He'll settle onto the couch or stretch out in front of the hearth, babe sprawled on his chest, their tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

He'll stay like that for hours, a hand resting on their back, refusing to move when his legs cramp.

"It's fine," he'll say, whispering. "I'm not going anywhere."

He loves feeling the gentle rise and fall of their breathing, knowing they feel completely safe.

Cassian has always been fiercely protective, but that instinct only intensifies when he becomes an uncle and later a father.

With Nyx, he’s constantly standing guard, even if it’s just while the little one naps in the living room.

He has a sixth sense for when Nyx is about to cry, swooping in with a toy or a funny face before the tears can start.

When it comes to his own child, he takes things even further. He insists on accompanying them to their first healer’s visit, his arms crossed and wings flaring if the healer so much as makes his baby frown.

“They need to know I’m watching,” he’d mutter to Nesta, who rolls her eyes but secretly finds his intensity endearing.

Cassian might be a tough Illyrian warrior, but he has a major weakness: baby laughter.

The sound of it turns him into a mushy mess, and he will do absolutely anything to hear it.

With Nyx, he’s constantly inventing new ways to coax out those precious giggles, like flapping his wings dramatically or pretending to trip over his own feet in front of the baby.

When he becomes a dad, he finds that he loves making his own child laugh even more.

He’ll crawl around the floor pretending to be a “wild Illyrian beast,” growling playfully as he lets his little one “capture” him.

The louder the laughter, the prouder he feels.

Nesta often finds them in fits of laughter together, Cassian’s face covered in spit-up or drool, but he doesn’t care at all.

He’s always trying to teach the babies to say “Uncle Cass” or “Dad” before anyone else’s name—much to Rhys’s and Nesta’s annoyance.

He’ll hold up their little hands, moving them like they’re giving a fist bump, saying, “Come on, let’s show ‘em who’s coolest!”

He even tries to teach Nyx and his child how to “fly” by holding them in the air, whispering to them about the skies above the Illyrian mountains.

He’s always caught whispering promises into their ears, like, “One day, I’ll teach you to fly for real, little one.”

Azriel

From the moment Nyx is born, Azriel quietly takes on the role as the protector.

While everyone else fusses over the babe, he's lurking nearby.

At first, he's hesitant to hold Nyx, afraid that his scarred hands and shadowy presence might be too much for the delicate skin of the newborn.

Feyre places the baby in his arms one quiet night when it's just the three of them, and Azriel freezes.

Nyx is tiny and warm against his chest, and for a moment Azriel stops breathing.

Nyx looks up at him with sleepy, curious eyes, and Azriel's heart softens in a way he never thought possible.

Azriel is the go-to for sleep regression given his own insomnia.

When Nyx wakes up in the middle of the night, it's often Azreil who slips into the nursery, lifting the babe into his arms, rocking him gently and whispering stories in his low, soothing voice.

He tells Nyx tales of faraway lands, hidden valleys, and ancient heroes and his shadows dance across the walls, forming little figures to keep the babe entertained until he goes back to sleep.

When he has his own baby, Azriel falls into the same habit - found sitting by the window, his baby cradled in his arms, gazing out at the night sky as he murmurs about constellations

He likes to think that these quiet nights are their little secret, just him, his baby, and the night.

When Azriel has a babe of his own, he spends hours perfecting new shadow creatures -- tiny wyverns that curl up and "breathe" little plumes of darkness, or shadowy butterflies that flutter around the crib.

Despite his skill with shadows and natural gentleness, Azriel is surprisingly awkward when it comes to certain aspects of fatherhood.

The first time he tries to change a diaper, he stares at it like a puzzle.

He follows Nesta or Feyre's instructions entirely, determined to get it right, but his hands are so careful, so precise, that he's barely halfway done before the babe wriggles out of the diaper.

When he finally manages it, he sighs and smiles down at the babe, "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

As the kids get older, Uncle Azriel takes on the role as the patient teacher.

He takes Nyx and his own children for gentle "flying lessons" which come with a lot less frustration than when Cassian teaches them or guides their small hands to throw punches.

He's incredibly careful, making sure lessons are safe, but also fun, and he can't help the quiet joy he feels when they take to the air for the first time or a little hop when they throw a surprisingly strong punch.

When it comes to bedtime, Azriel is always the one the kids beg for stories from.

His own little ones love curling up in his lap while tells them stories of enchanted forests, magical creatures, and hidden lakes.

They fall asleep him his arms, heads resting on his chest, while Azriel continues on until he's sure they're asleep.

He's the kind of father who watches from the sidelines, keeping a silent eye on their little one for their first steps.

He knows to never tell them to "be careful" to not teach them to fear the world.

He lets them explore and take risks, but the second they fall too hard, he's there, gathering them up into his arms with a quiet, "You're alright, little shadow."

The first time his little one gets a scrap, Azriel's heart nearly stops.

He carefully tends to their bloody knee, his hands steady but face drawn with worry, murmuring reassurances of their bravery.

He carries them home in his arms, wings wrapped protectively around them, as if he could shield them from every dangers in the world.

One of his favorite tricks to get Nyx to laugh is when he touches his nose, Azriel gasps and whispers dramatically, "How did you know my secret weakness?"

Eris

Eris never thought he would be the fatherly type, and when his child is born, he finds himself overwhelmed by a swirl of unfamiliar emotions.

He initially is distance, convinced he's too hardened and sharp-edged for such a delicate little being.

He holds his newborn like they're made of porcelain.

But the moment those tiny fingers curl around his thumb, everything shifts.

He would do anything - burn anything - to keep them safe.

Eris is meticulous when it comes to the comfort of his children.

Their nursery is decorated as perfectly as he can make it, particularly about the soft autumn-hued fabrics draping the crib.

He's the type to pace the halls of the Autumn Manor with the babe bundled in his arms, using his powers of fire to keep them just warm enough, adjusting the temperature until it's perfect.

When he lays them down to sleep, he'll smooth the blankets over them with a gentleness that surprises even him, his precise hands lingering a moment longer to make sure they're truly safe.

Despite his cold demeanor, Eris quickly finds a soft spot for holding his child close.

He's surprisingly good at soothing their cries, rocking back and forth into the early hours of the morning.

He paces pack and and forth in his study, the babe nestled against his chest, his steps slow and even as he murmurs about the ancient trees of the Autumn court.

His child's small breaths against his collarbone are a comfort he never knew he needed, a reminder that not everything in his world has to have a sharp edge.

As his child grows, Eris takes on the role of storyteller, sharing tales of the Autumn Court and its beauty.

He doesn't sugarcoat dangers, but he talks about the world in a way that makes his children's eyes widen with awe rather than fear.

He paints a picture of a world where fire and foliage blend into one, where foxes dart through shadows and ancient magic hums beneath the forest floor.

Eris is determined to pass on a sense of elegance and poise to his child, even if they're only a toddle.

He dresses them in miniature versions of his own tailored coats, rich in autumnal reds and oranges, and delights in showing them off when they toddle through the manor.

He's patient as they stumble through their first steps, guiding tiny hands with pride he doesn't bother to hide.

He teaches them to bow with a flourish that makes him laugh, even if they're far too small to get it right.

"Style is everything, little fox," he'll say with a smile while ruffling their wild hair.

He invents little games, like hide-and-seek among towering stages of books in his study, letting out exaggerated gasps when the "find" him behind a chair.

Sometimes he pretends to be a fox himself, crawling on all fours and playfully nipping at them.

If anyone else saw him like this, he'd immediately retreat into his usual cool demeanor, but with his children's laughter ringing through the halls, he finds himself not caring as much as he used to.

Eris isn't one to gush, but he shows his love through quiet gestures.

He leaves small, enchanted trinkets for his child to find - a tiny firefly made out of flame that hovers around their crib, or a leaf that glows like embers when they touch it.

He'll tuck a blanket tighter around them when they fall asleep in his arms, pressing a barely-there kiss to their forehead before slipping out.

He keeps a close eye on them whenever they play in the gardens, his gaze flicking to them every few minutes, ready to step in if needed.

He doesn't hover - he's far too subtle for that - but his presence is always there.

When courtiers dare make snide remarks about how he has softened as a father or suggest he's too indulgent with his child, he simply smiles, the fire in his eyes saying more than any words could.

"My child will never know the fear that I did," he says quietly to those who push too far.

He would burn entire forests to the ground if it meant keeping his family safe.

Though he never says it, Eris worries constantly about his child's future in the Autumn Court.

He fears one day that they'll see the shadows lurking behind the grandeur, the same shadows that shaped him.

He does everything he can to show them the beauty of the world first.

He takes them on long walks through the autumn woods, carrying them on his shoulders as he points out ancient trees and hidden streams.

He talks of a future where they might one day rule with kindness instead of fear, but it's a dream he keeps close to his chest, only revealing it in those quiet moments when they're alone under the red and gold canopy of leaves.

At the end of each day, Eris is always there to tuck his little ones into bed, not matter how many duties have filled his hours.

He lingers by their bedside, brushing stray hair from their face as he watches their breathing slow.

He’ll conjure a tiny firefly of light that hovers above their bed, casting a gentle glow, and he’ll murmur a quiet blessing in the old language, the words carrying warmth and protection.

He stays until their little fist unclenches from the fabric of his sleeve, and only then does he slip away, leaving the door open just a crack so he can hear their breaths through the night.

Lucien

Lucien never thought he’d be a father, but the day he holds his child for the first time, he feels something crack open inside him—a space he didn’t realize had been waiting to be filled.

His voice is soft, almost reverent, as he gazes down at the tiny bundle cradled in his arms, a rare hint of vulnerability in his usually confident eyes. “Hey, little one,” he murmurs, and his heart lurches when a tiny hand curls around his finger.

He doesn’t let go for a long time, marveling at how something so small could completely change his world.

Lucien’s favorite way to bond with his child is to take them out into the woods, cradling them close as he wanders through the sun-dappled forest paths.

He points out every little detail, from the way the leaves shift in the breeze to the shape of animal tracks on the ground.

As they get older, he’ll carry them on his shoulders, letting them tug at his long hair as he shows them secret clearings and hidden streams.

He tells them stories about the creatures that live in the woods—both real and mythical—and he likes to believe that with every step, he’s helping them fall in love with the natural world as much as he has.

Lucien has a way with babies that surprises even him.

It starts with his own child, whom he manages to soothe almost effortlessly.

When they cry, he instinctively picks them up, rocking them back and forth while humming old tunes from the Autumn Court that he learned from watching Eris with his own children.

Soon enough, the Inner Circle and his own brother starts jokingly calling him the “baby whisperer,” since he always manages to settle down even the fussiest little ones.

Despite his easygoing nature, Lucien’s protectiveness over his child runs deep.

He’s always hyper-aware of their surroundings, scanning the forest or the streets of the Day Court for anything that might pose a threat.

When they scrape their knee while playing, he’s instantly at their side, murmuring, “You’re as tough as they come, just like your mama and dad.”

Lucien is determined to raise his child to be kind and empathetic, so he leads by example. He teaches them how to care for the smallest creatures they find on their woodland adventures, like a baby bird that’s fallen from its nest or a fox cub separated from its den.

He’ll kneel down beside his child, showing them how to gently guide the animal back to safety. “We take care of the world, and it takes care of us,” he says softly, a lesson he wishes he’d learned sooner in his own life.

Lucien isn’t afraid to be openly affectionate with his child.

He’s always scooping them up into bear hugs, pressing kisses to the top of their head, and ruffling their hair.

He’ll carry them on his back and run through the woods, pretending they’re riding on a wild beast, much to their squealing delight.

When they start to get sleepy, he’ll tuck them into his side, wrapping them in his cloak as they sit together by a campfire, watching the stars flicker through the treetops.

Despite his easygoing demeanor, Lucien sometimes struggles with doubts about whether he’s a good father.

He worries that his own fractured past might somehow cast a shadow over his child’s future.

On sleepless nights, he’ll stand by their crib, watching them breathe and wondering if he’s doing enough to keep them safe from the dangers of the world. “I promise, I’ll give you a better life than I had,” he’ll whisper, smoothing a curl of hair away from their forehead.

When his child wakes up and smiles at him with unfiltered joy, he feels a flicker of reassurance—like maybe, just maybe, he’s doing something right.

Lucien wants his child to see the world as a place of endless wonder.

He’ll sit them down beside him as he watches the sunrise over the mountains of the Day Court, holding them close as the first rays of gold light wash over them.

He’ll point out the way the shadows shift as the sun climbs higher, whispering, “Look, the world’s waking up.”

When his child starts to understand, they’ll reach up to touch his scarred face, tracing the path of light across his eye, and Lucien feels a warmth in his chest that nothing else can match.

Above all, Lucien’s loyalty to his child is unbreakable.

He’s determined that they’ll never feel unwanted or unprotected the way he once did.

He tells them every day, “You’ll always have a place with me, no matter what,” his voice steady with the weight of that promise.

Even when they throw their worst tantrums or make a mess of his papers, he simply ruffles their hair and grins, saying, “You’ve got a spirit like wildfire. And that’s something worth protecting.”

Tamlin

Tamlin is terrified when his child is born.

For all the power he possesses as High Lord, holding something so small and fragile makes his hands shake.

Despite his awkwardness, he’s committed to learning, determined not to let his uncertainty stand in the way of being a good father.

He spends hours reading through ancient scrolls and asking the court’s healers for advice, anything that might help him understand how to care for a newborn.

He practices cradling them gently, murmuring words of comfort even when his voice comes out unsure. It’s a clumsy start, but his heart is in it, and the first time his child smiles at him, something in him starts to melt.

The Spring Court has always been a place of wild, vibrant beauty, and Tamlin takes pride in sharing that with his child.

From the earliest days, he takes them out into the gardens, wrapped snugly in soft blankets.

He shows them the blossoming flowers, the streams that weave through the estate, and the animals that roam the grounds.

As they grow, he lets them toddle through the grass, pointing out each new bloom and teaching them the names of plants, a quiet pride in his voice as he shares the secrets of his lands.

He shows them how to gently touch the petals of a daisy or listen to the hum of bees gathering nectar.

“This is our home,” he whispers, as they look up at him with wide eyes. “And I’ll make sure it’s beautiful for you.”

Tamlin’s protectiveness over his child is fierce and unyielding.

He knows all too well the dangers that lurk beyond the borders of the Spring Court, and he’s determined that those threats will never touch his child.

He layers their nursery with enchantments and wards, barriers that would keep out even the most persistent of threats.

But it’s not just about magic; Tamlin is always nearby, watching over them with his keen senses, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.

When they fall and scrape their knee for the first time, his heart stops, and he rushes to their side, his expression a mix of relief and worry.

“You’re safe,” he murmurs, over and over again, pressing a kiss to their forehead as if trying to convince himself as much as them.

Tamlin has spent so long shrouded in sadness and anger that he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to laugh.

His child’s joy is infectious, and soon, he finds himself letting his guard down around them in ways he never imagined he could.

He chases them through the garden, letting them clamber onto his back as he pretends to be a wild beast, growling playfully.

Their laughter is a balm to his soul, and he treasures these moments more than he ever thought he would.

The first time he hears them call him “Papa,” he feels a lump in his throat and has to look away to hide the tears that well up in his eyes.

Tamlin has always had a love for music, though it’s a passion that’s grown quiet over the years. But when it comes to bedtime, he finds himself singing again, his deep voice carrying old Spring Court lullabies that his mother once sang to him.

He’ll sit by the window, his child tucked against his chest, singing softly as he watches the moon rise over the forest. The songs are gentle, filled with the magic of the earth and the stories of ancient creatures.

His child’s eyelids grow heavy, lulled by the warmth of his voice, and Tamlin feels a sense of peace settle over him that he hasn’t known in years.

Tamlin’s connection to nature becomes a way to bond with his child.

He teaches them to respect the animals of the Spring Court, showing them how to feed the deer that wander through the gardens or gently pet the soft fur of a fox cub.

He’ll hold their tiny hand as they release a butterfly back into the air, watching with a proud smile as their face lights up with wonder.

He wants his child to understand that their home is more than just a court��it’s a living, breathing place, one that needs to be cherished.

Tamlin carries a lot of guilt from his past, and becoming a father only makes those feelings more complicated.

He’s haunted by the mistakes he’s made, the lives lost under his leadership, and he worries that he’s not good enough for his child.

He often stands by their crib late at night, watching them sleep, his mind swirling with doubts. “You deserve better than me,” he whispers into the darkness, his voice barely a breath.

But when his child wakes and reaches out for him, clutching his finger with a sleepy smile, Tamlin feels a flicker of hope, as if maybe he still has a chance to make things right.

Tamlin isn’t always great with words, but he shows his love through small, thoughtful acts.

He’ll carve little wooden animals and leave them by his child’s bedside, each one carefully shaped to resemble the creatures of the Spring Court.

He’ll braid flowers into their hair or weave a crown of ivy for them to wear during their adventures through the garden.

On warm afternoons, he’ll take them down to the riverbank, showing them how to skip stones across the water, even if their tiny hands only manage to make a few splashes.

Slowly, as the years go by, Tamlin finds that his child’s presence has brought a bit of warmth back into his life.

He begins to smile more often, his laughter echoing through the halls of his estate. He finds himself hopeful for the first time in a long time, dreaming of a future where his child can grow up in a world free of war and bitterness.

He plants new flowers around the estate, hoping that one day his child will run through the fields of wildflowers with a carefree spirit.

Above all, Tamlin’s love for his child is like the Spring Court itself—wild, fierce, and enduring.

He would go to any length to protect them, standing between them and any danger that might come their way.

As much as he’s determined to keep them safe, he’s also learning to let them grow, to let them explore the world at their own pace, even if it means letting them wander a bit further into the woods each day.

He’s far from perfect, but he’s willing to try, and for his child, he’ll keep trying for as long as it takes. Because to Tamlin, his child represents a new beginning, a second chance to build a life worth living—not just for himself, but for the one he loves most.

Tarquin

When Tarquin first holds his newborn child, his heart swells with a joy that he didn’t know he could feel so deeply. He cradles them in his arms, looking down at their tiny face, and he can’t help but smile, a soft, awed expression taking over his usually calm demeanor.

He strokes a finger along their cheek, marveling at how small they are, and whispers, “You’re the most precious treasure the sea has ever given me.”

It becomes a sort of ritual for him, holding them close each night before bed, breathing in the sweet scent of their hair as if to remind himself that this isn’t just a dream.

Tarquin’s child is never far from the water, just like their father.

From the moment they’re old enough to toddle, he takes them down to the beaches of the Summer Court, their small hand held securely in his as they dip their toes into the warm, gentle waves.

He shows them how to find seashells along the shore, turning over rocks to reveal the tiny crabs and starfish hiding beneath.

As they grow older, he’ll teach them to swim in the clear blue waters, catching them in his arms whenever they dive in with a laugh that echoes across the beach.

The sea becomes their shared sanctuary, a place where they can be free and unburdened, where the worries of the court fade away with the tide.

Tarquin uses his magic to bring a bit of ocean wonder into his child’s life. He’ll create miniature whirlpools in their bath, making little water creatures dance in the currents, or conjure glowing fish to swim through the air at bedtime, casting soft blue light across the walls.

Sometimes, he’ll use his powers to shape the water into a gentle wave that rocks them to sleep, the motion like the gentle swaying of a ship.

Tarquin is fiercely protective of his child, but he has a calm, steady way of showing it. He makes sure the waters around their home are free of any danger, setting wards beneath the waves to keep away the creatures that lurk in the deep.

He also wants his child to understand that the sea, like life, is both beautiful and wild. He teaches them how to respect the ocean’s power, how to listen to the rhythm of the tides and understand the signs of a coming storm. “The sea can be our friend,” he tells them as they walk along the beach at sunset, “but only if we respect it.”

Bedtime is always a special time in Tarquin’s household, filled with stories of the ocean’s mysteries.

He’ll sit with his child on his lap, wrapped in a blanket, and tell them tales of underwater kingdoms, mythical sea creatures, and the great ships that have sailed through Summer Court waters over the centuries.

He paints pictures with his words of merfolk who sing to the moon, of hidden caves filled with pearls, and of daring adventures across the waves. His child listens with wide eyes, always begging for “just one more story,” and Tarquin is happy to oblige, his voice carrying the cadence of the waves as he speaks.

Tarquin is determined that his child will understand the importance of kindness and generosity, just as he strives to embody those qualities as High Lord.

He teaches his children to not view other children as lesser just because of their status. In fact, he encourages servants of the palace to bring their children to play with his own.

He’ll hold his child’s hand as they distribute baskets of fresh fruit to the workers in the fishing villages, explaining, “A good ruler is one who understands the citizen's needs.” He wants his child to see the beauty in giving back, and to grow up knowing that the strength of their court lies in the bonds between its citizens.

One of Tarquin’s favorite ways to unwind with his child is to dance with them under the stars, where the sea breeze whispers through the trees and the moonlight glistens on the waves. He’ll lift them in his arms and sway gently to the sound of the ocean, their laughter mixing with the soft rush of the surf.

As they grow older, he teaches them the traditional dances of the Summer Court, their small feet stepping clumsily alongside his at first, but growing more graceful with each passing season. “You’re a natural,” he’ll tell them with a proud smile, twirling them around until they both collapse onto the warm sand, breathless with laughter.

He brings them to the coral reefs where rainbow fish dart through the crystal-clear water, holding them up so they can look through the enchanted glass of the Summer Court’s underwater grottos.

He teaches them how to sail, guiding their hands on the ropes and showing them how to read the direction of the wind. When they stand on the deck of a ship together, feeling the wind in their hair and the salt on their lips, Tarquin can’t help but feel a surge of pride at the way his child’s face lights up with joy.

He makes a point of telling them every day how much he loves them, whether it’s during a quiet moment on the beach or when he’s tucking them into bed.

He believes in the power of words, and he wants them to know without a doubt that they are cherished. “You are my greatest treasure,” he tells them with a smile, ruffling their hair as they look up at him with adoring eyes.

And when they fall asleep in his arms, a sense of contentment settles over him like the gentle lull of the tide, reminding him that despite all the duties of being a High Lord, being a father is the role that brings him the greatest joy.

[mcuamerica]

Summer Nights | Tarquin x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're the reason Tarquin fights so hard for lesser faeries. Requested by anon here.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: heavy acotar spoilers, alludes to sex, semi-violent mentions (nothing super specific), bit of sexism, talk of lesser faeries, (lmk if I forgot anything), loosely proofread

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

It wasn't easy waiting for him to come back. It never was. Whenever his cousin called for him to go to Adriata, you were always nervous for his return. Always nervous he would never come back.

"I'll be back in the morning. Don't wait up."

He said it almost every time he left. But those were the exact words he uttered when he left to go to the party hosted by Amarantha. And then, the news came. The High Lord, Nostrus, and all his court that attended the party were stuck Under the Mountain, under Amarantha's command.

In years, you were much older than Tarquin. But in actuality you were just as old as he was when you lost him. You met him when you were 40, but truly 20 in the way your kind of lesser faerie aged. While High Fae aged normally until reaching 18-20, your kind took double the time. However, he was just about 24 when you met him. Meaning you only had 6 years with him until you lost him for 50.

You were immediately enamored by the dark skinned, light haired male. His eyes a bright blue that reminded you of the sea. He was beautiful and took your breath away whenever you laid eyes on him.

At first, he was the prince of your city and you were simply a loyal servant. Lesser faeries rarely had any standing in court, but Tarquin started recruiting a few more of your kind once he met you. Your main task was helping organize the libraries in the manor. One day, he needed a very specific book, which the librarian directed towards you.

He was immediately struck when he saw you, your bright eyes, your silver hair. Clearly, you were of the Summer Court, but not High Fae, as your ears were rounded. "My lord." You said, bowing.

He waved his hand, simply telling you to call him Tarquin. Then, he requested the book he needed. You went deep into the library with him, seemingly losing track of time as you wandered the steps down to the lower levels. You spoke of all things, and he asked you all kinds of questions. Ranging from your work at the library to your heritage and your family.

"Your mother was High Fae from Spring and your father a water wraith?" He asked while you searched the stacks for the books he requested.

You nodded. "Yes, but my mother's High Fae heritage was weak and has never helped me with anything. My father's, however.. I have the ability to control water very well. Like any full water wraith." You said, smiling a bit as you found the book.

"Hmm.. I think that's a testament to how strong you are, not your heritage." He said, taking the book from your hands.

You smiled to yourself as he skimmed the book. "This is perfect." He said. "Now, tell me about your water powers.."

It only continued from there, the frequent visit to the library. The talks while you dug up some obscure book. The way they became harder and harder to find, one day having to go to a completely different library to find it. All while Tarquin escorted you.

You learned much about the prince/general while you walked throughout the libraries. It wasn't a one-sided conversation. And you quickly began to fall for him. And he for you.

It wasn't long until he was taking you on walks in the summer breeze, by the river that flowed through the city. He would show you around to different libraries and book shops. One day, just about a year after your first date, he took you to a beautiful lake. It was tucked away in one of the forests surrounding his manor, with such blue and clear water you could see the bottom of it.

After swimming and making love all day, you settled on his chest as he traced circles along your back. You hummed in happiness, looking up at him. The longer you looked at him, the harder it was to imagine your life with him like this. At least, your life with him in public.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I..." You trailed, thinking of your words carefully. "We can never truly be together." You said, frowning slightly.

He perched his weight onto his forearm, enough to lean over you and move your hair from your face. "I'd say what we just did to be as close together as any two individuals can get." He said.

A small smile tugged on your lips but you shook you head. "I mean.. publicly. I will never be your princess of this city. I can never be a part of your court. Not as a High Fae could be." You said.

Tarquin stroked your cheek with his thumb. "And why not?" He asked.

You narrowed your eyes. "You know why, Quin," using his nickname was like second-nature to you at this point. "Because I'm a lesser faerie-"

"We are both just faeries, (Y/N)," He said, kissing your forehead. "But you are right. At the moment, you cannot be in my court. But one day, when I know it will be safe for you, I will make you my wife." He said. "And until then, I've come up with a plan." He said.

He told you of it for the next hour. And you talked it through. When you could see him, when he would visit. How long you'd have to be apart. You didn't like the idea of leaving him, but it was the best way of staying safe and away from any enemies he might have. With you being a lesser faerie, it was harder for you to defend yourself from threats. Even with the wards Tarquin put up. Still, he was young and inexperienced and didn't want to take any chances.

So, you went to a small fishing village on the Summer Court border, just on the sea. It was closer to Adriata than your home city, but you were glad to finally be by the sea.

Tarquin would visit you each week, as often as he could. However, his visits grew more and more infrequent when Amarantha started taking hold of the courts. And he muttered those words that played over and over on your head when he left for that party. That party that separated you for 50 years.

But you had hope he would return to you. It faltered only for a moment when you heard that Nostrus was killed because of a rebellion. But your partner and lover was named High Lord, and granted every power with it. Even if it was stunted because of Amarantha’s hold on magic.

You made sure the fishing village thrived during the years of Amarantha. Using the knowledge you gained from books and Tarquin’s own training, you helped build a small group of warriors to defend it in case any of Amarantha’s sentries wandered too far towards the village. And with help from a few Day Court faeries that resided in summer, you set up wards to notify you if anyone entered your territory without permission.

You and a few trusted messengers that would go to Adriata for information, but sometimes they didn’t come back. And those were always hard days to talk to their families.

It was one of your trusted messenger that came to you 50 years after Tarquin left to deliver the news of Amarantha’s death. Still worried it could be a trap, you didn’t have the Day villagers lift the wards. Instead, you ad your guards go to the border.

After half a day, one came racing back to the office you had in the village. “The High Lord is here, my lady.” He said, panting.

You stood up, raising your eyebrows. “Tarquin?” You asked. He nodded and you motioned for him to go, smoothing down the summer dress you had on before you took off after him. You got to the border and faltered your steps, catching Tarquin talking to one of the sentries.

“Quin?” You breathed out, chest heaving. He turned towards you, eyes wide as he heard your voice for the first time in so many years.

“(Y/N),” he said, as if the breath was taken from him. You both ran towards each other and you launched into his arms, a bright laugh filling the air. Tears streamed down your face as you held him close, legs wrapped around his waist as you kept close. In that moment, you felt the bond snap between you two. You pulled back and looked into his eyes. You knew it snapped for him. As his bright smile met yours, you leaned down and kissed him deeply. As if everything that was unsaid between you two throughout the 50 years apart was said in one kiss.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered, tears escaping your eyes. Tarquin set you down on the grass, cupping your cheeks.

“Me too.” He whispered. “I’ve thought of you every single day since I’ve left. And I love you so much.” He said, kissing you again as his own tears streamed down his face.

“Can I offer you something to eat?” You asked, searching his eyes.

A breath of relief came from his lips as he nodded. “Of course, my love.” He said and kissed you again.

It didn’t take long for you to get the hang of being Lady of Summer. You would go from city to city, helping Tarquin with establishing relationships. From being the main leader of your village, you knew how to settle disputes and help with city planning. What you didn’t know, however, was how to interact with the established court.

Many High Fae didn’t agree that a lesser faerie should be Lady of Summer, even if Tarquin put in new laws to make all faeries treated the same. Sometimes, when you were alone with court members, they would say as much to your face. When you brought it up to Tarquin, well,.. those court members didn’t have their positions for much longer. He even issued a Court decree saying all faeries, High Fae or not, had a place in his court. As members of his court.

It was that decree you thought the High Lord of night was coming to talk about when he and the female that saved you all from Amarantha stole the Book of Breathings. You’d never seem Tarquin so enraged before. Or disappointed. He truly thought Rhysand was going to be a High Lord to help him through the Court politics. You tried talking him down, tried convincing him not to send the blood rubies. But he was upset that they didn’t trust him enough to tell him.

Then you had to remind him that there were many things he didn’t disclose to them either. He still sent the rubies.

It was a last ditch effort to go to Varian when Adriata was being attacked, asking him to write the Amren to ask for help. Tarquin was furious when he found out you asked, but ultimately grateful since without the Night Court… Adriata would have fallen.

That’s how you ended up here, at the meeting of the High Lords. After some pleasant greetings from the other High Lords and Ladies, you sat next to Tarquin. Waiting for the Nigh Court and their entourage to arrive.

Tarquin was skeptical of coming, worried it would put you in danger. But you were the Lady of Summer, and if you didn’t show up it would be a bad look. Unless you were pregnant, which you most certainly were not. Especially during a time like this.

You set next to him, keeping your composure as each member of the Night Court walked in, led by their High Lord and High Lady. And you kept quiet until Rhysand asked for support in defeating Hybern.

“Despite my mate’s and Varian’s unsanctioned warning…” Tarquin shot you and Varian a look, which you simply nudged your knee with his. “You were the only ones who came to help. Why?” He asked.

Rhysand’s voice was gruff as he said, “Isn’t that what friends do?” He asked.

You gave a small smile, sure not to show too much emotion, as Tarquin rescinded the blood rubies.

Tarquin and you watched as the rest of the meeting erupted into chaos, Tarquin holding onto your hand so tightly as Azriel pounced on Eris that you thought it would fall off.

“Wives were invited as a courtesy, not consultants. That’s two that spoke out of then. And one from a lesser-“ Beron started once Kallias’s wife chimed in.

“You keep speaking, Beron, and you might find yourself without a tongue.” Tarquin said.

“You watch your tongue, boy. She might be your mate, but that doesn’t discount the fact that she isn’t one of us.” He spat. Tarquin moved to stand up and you could feel the rising anger down the bond. You grabbed his arm, squeezing it gently.

“And yet here she is, sitting amongst us as she should be.” Feyre said. “I was, after all, a human once. And you deemed me worthy enough, or at least pitied me, to give me some of your life force.” She said. “And here I am.”

You continued to watch as the High Lords, and High Lady, talked. And watched as Feyre used only power you’d seen from the day court to practically drown Beron.

You watched Viviane stand and then Cressida, declaring that they would fight for her. You stood up next, giving her a small smirk. “I will fight with you as well.” You said, turning your head to Tarquin. With Cressida beside you standing already, he rose, taking your hand in his. “We will fight with you.” He declared. “Once our armies are recovered, of course.” You added, a small smile tugging on your lips.

You mastered the Court dealings after that. And got to talking with Viviane about how she ran her village during the 50 years just as you had. She was much more successful than you.

And then you had the conversation with Tarquin that had been brewing in your head since the meeting. Since Rhys declared his love for Feyre and why he made her High Lady.

You were lying in bed with him, tracing circles around his chest. “Quin…” you whispered, looking up at him. “I want to ask you something. And I understand if you say no.” You whispered.

He hummed, looking down at you from his gaze at the ceiling. “Just ask, my love. I’ll give you the world if you ask.” He said.

A small giggle fell from your lips before you shifted so you could properly look at him. “I know I’m not High Fae… and that doesn’t matter… but… Could I be High Lady?” You asked.

Tarquin’s smile faltered and your heart almost stopped. You shouldn’t have thought of it. Your shouldn’t have asked such a stupid-

“It’s not stupid.” He said, sitting up. “I was going to surprise you tomorrow morning.”

“Surprise me?” You asked.

Tarquin nodded, smiling as he cupped your cheeks. “I was going to ask you to be inaugurated as my High Lady at the Summer Solstice. Once this is all over.” He said, pushing your hair from your face.

You smiled and leaned up, kissing him softly. “I love you.” You whispered. “And of course, I will be your High Lady.” You said happily.

“I told you, I’ll declare you as my wife for the whole continent to hear.” He said, kissing you again. “And now, I will declare you High Lady of Summer.” He said happily.

“As long as it’s with you, I will be happy.” You whispered.

“It will always be with me. You will always have me.” He said, finally planting a searing kiss to your lips as he moved on top of you. “Shall I show you how you will always have me?” He asked.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please, Quin.” You whispered.

“Hmm… your wish is my command, my High Lady.” He said with a wink, delving into kissing your neck.

With another giggle, you interlaced your fingers with his hair. Finally, you were happy with him. With Tarquin. With your mate.

A/N: Ugh this was so cute to write. Hope you enjoyed!!!

p.s. I got a request for an Eris one-shot and I’m so obsessed I might just have to write it before I get to my next one tomorrow….

Main Masterlist

[dee-writes-angst]

THE SUMMER COURT (Chapter Three)

FEATURING Lucien Vanserra x Reader

SUMMARY Tarquin's court is beautiful, so dazzling it takes your breath away. If only that were the only thing...

CONTENT WARNINGS slight angst, besties, Tarquin being the cutie little flirt that he is, reader and Lucien get a lot closer, elain being a lost soul, reader hating Elain just slightly

AUTHORS NOTE this was a long time in the making and I'm still not sure if it's my favorite, but I couldn't deny you any longer. Hope you enjoy!! <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

The warmth of the Summer Court embraced you the moment you stepped off the carriage, the breeze carrying with it the scent of saltwater and sun-drenched fruit. Everything here felt alive—vibrant. The contrast to the crisp, golden hues of Autumn was immediate and intoxicating. Lush greens and deep blues stretched out before you, as if the land itself had been painted by the sea and sky.

You barely had time to take in the view when a melodic voice interrupted your thoughts.

“I see the Summer Court has blessed us with a rare visitor.”

The voice, rich and warm like the afternoon sun, drew your attention to the tall, silver-haired High Lord approaching you with a charming smile. Tarquin’s presence was magnetic, his bright eyes shimmering like the clear waters that surrounded his court. He stopped in front of you, his gaze lingering with unmistakable interest.

“And who might this radiant visitor be?” Tarquin asked, his voice low, the question almost teasing as his gaze flicked briefly to Lucien before returning to you.

“High Lord Tarquin,” Lucien greeted tightly from your side, his tone clipped but polite. His hand was tense at his side, fingers flexing as if he was fighting the urge to do something—anything. The rigid set of his shoulders and the way his jaw tightened with each word Tarquin spoke didn’t go unnoticed.

“Lucien Vanserra,” Tarquin replied smoothly, nodding in acknowledgement but his attention quickly returning to you. “But I was speaking to the beautiful lady by your side.” His smile widened, and the playful glint in his eyes suggested he was well aware of the tension his words were causing.

“I—” you began, unsure how to respond to the High Lord’s flirtatious greeting.

“Ah,” he said before you could finish, taking your hand gently and pressing his lips to the back of it. “I apologize for being forward, but I believe that if I had met someone so lovely before now, I would surely remember it.” He let go of your hand but not before his thumb brushed your knuckles lightly, lingering in a way that sent a flutter of warmth up your spine.

Lucien shifted beside you, clearing his throat. “We’re here on business,” he said, his voice a touch firmer now, as if trying to pull the conversation back on track.

“Of course, of course.” Tarquin finally relented, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Business. Well then, allow me to introduce you to someone who will ensure your stay in the Summer Court is nothing less than perfect.”

He turned to gesture at a woman who had been waiting nearby, her expression composed and welcoming. She was tall, with sun-kissed skin and long, dark hair that gleamed under the warm sunlight. Her deep blue gown fluttered slightly in the breeze, and her soft eyes held a kindness that immediately put you at ease.

“This is Anna,” Tarquin introduced with a sweeping motion. “She’ll be your guide for the next two weeks while you stay here. Anna knows every hidden cove and secret passage in this court. If there’s something to discover, she’s the one to show you.”

Anna stepped forward, smiling warmly as she inclined her head slightly in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” she said, her voice as smooth and calm as the tides that lapped the shores nearby. “I’ll do my best to ensure your time in the Summer Court is both enjoyable and productive.”

“Thank you,” you replied, offering a smile in return, though you couldn’t help but notice the tension that still radiated off Lucien. His gaze flicked between Tarquin and Anna, but he gave a brief nod in her direction.

“Anna will take excellent care of you,” Tarquin continued, but the mischievous gleam hadn’t left his eyes. “And if you find the time to explore more… personal delights, don’t hesitate to call on me.” His voice dropped an octave on the last few words, clearly directed at you.

Before Lucien could respond, Anna took a step forward, cutting off any further tension. “I’ll show you to your rooms, and then we can discuss the itinerary for your stay,” she said with an inviting smile, steering the conversation away from Tarquin’s teasing.

With that, you, Lucien, and Anna began your walk toward the stunning architecture of the Summer Court’s palace, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. As you walked, you could feel Lucien’s eyes burning holes in the side of your head, though he remained silent, his thoughts likely as turbulent as the waters surrounding this sun-soaked kingdom.

As you walked through the lush gardens of the Summer Court, the vibrant surroundings should have been enough to distract you—the heady perfume of flowers in full bloom, the salt-kissed breeze from the sea, the soft calls of exotic birds perched in tall, swaying trees. Marble pathways lined with seashells and opalescent stones shimmered beneath your feet, catching the sun like the Summer Court itself had been woven out of light. The palace in the distance, with its towering spires and cascading fountains, was a breathtaking display of wealth and power—each column and arch sculpted with the sea in mind, the architecture almost appearing to ripple like water.

But your mind wasn’t fully present, not really. As beautiful as the Summer Court was, the events of the previous night in Spring still gnawed at you, replaying over and over in your head like a haunting melody. The argument between Lucien and Tamlin echoed in your thoughts, their voices sharp and bitter, cutting through the beauty around you.

“...can’t keep doing this, Tamlin. You need to let go—holding onto this anger, this guilt, it’s tearing you apart.”

Lucien’s words had been so full of frustration, his voice tight with emotion. You hadn’t meant to overhear, hadn’t meant to be drawn into their private battle, but something about it had pulled you closer, kept you there, listening.

Elain.

Lucien had never mentioned her to you before. Not once during your travels to the Spring Court. Not during any of the tense silences that had grown between you whenever the conversation drifted toward his past. But that night, it was all laid bare—an open wound that had yet to heal, a name that seemed to cut deeper than any blade.

Her name had been like a slap to the face, a reminder of the bond that tethered Lucien to a woman who wasn’t here—who didn’t want him. The weight of it had settled into your chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe. You’d felt his tension, the way Tamlin’s cruel words had hurt him, and in that moment, something within you had shifted. The dynamic between the two men had been painful to witness—Tamlin’s bitterness, Lucien’s tightly controlled anger, and beneath it all, a deep well of sorrow that neither seemed willing to acknowledge.

“...she’ll never love you, Lucien. Not like that.”

Those words had hit you harder than they should have. You weren’t sure why. Perhaps because you could feel Lucien’s heart breaking, piece by piece, as if Tamlin’s cruelty had shattered something fragile inside him. Or perhaps because you saw yourself in that moment, in the idea of wanting something—someone—so desperately, but knowing that it could never be.

As you followed Anna and Lucien, the opulent surroundings of the Summer Court seemed to blur at the edges, dulled by the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind. The palace’s towering columns and turquoise mosaics became a backdrop, muted by the emotions that clawed at you, refusing to let go.

The hallway leading to your rooms opened up into a massive courtyard, where crystalline fountains bubbled merrily, water dancing in the air before splashing back into the pools. Marble statues adorned the space, each one delicately crafted, depicting Summer’s High Lords and Ladies of the past, their faces serene and noble. But even here, in the midst of such grandeur, your thoughts drifted back to that tense exchange, to the coldness in Lucien’s voice as he left Tamlin behind.

“I’m done here, Tamlin.”

Lucien’s voice had been so quiet, so full of finality, that it had chilled you to the bone. You had been ready to retreat back to your room then, unwilling to intrude any further, but the weight of what you’d heard had followed you like a shadow.

Anna’s voice broke you from your thoughts, her tone pleasant as she led you up the wide stone steps to the palace entrance, her voice a welcome distraction from the storm that had been brewing in your mind.

“The palace is one of the jewels of the Summer Court,” she explained, waving a hand at the grand structure ahead. Sunlight streamed through the coral-like latticework, casting shimmering patterns along the smooth, polished floors. The doors were crafted from pale wood, inlaid with pearls and mother-of-pearl, and as they opened, the cool, inviting air of the palace swept over you.

Inside, the walls seemed to glow, adorned with intricate murals of ocean scenes—mermaids, sea creatures, ships on glittering waves—all masterfully painted in hues of blue and silver. Each room you passed was a display of the Summer Court’s wealth: delicate chandeliers that resembled drops of seawater, curtains of sheer fabric that fluttered like waves in the breeze, and expansive windows that opened to breathtaking views of the sparkling sea.

Yet despite the elegance and grandeur, a knot remained tight in your chest.

Lucien had been quiet since you’d left the Spring Court—more so than usual. Even now, walking beside you in the Summer Court’s warm embrace, he was distant, his brow furrowed, his steps measured. You knew he was thinking of her—Elain. Perhaps he’d been thinking of her for a long time, ever since your journey began. Maybe that’s why he had taken up this emissary role. Maybe his heart had never been here, with you, in these courts. Maybe it had always belonged somewhere else, with someone else.

The thought stung, though you tried to push it aside, focusing instead on the breathtaking beauty of the palace. It wasn’t like you had any claim to Lucien’s heart. He had always been an enigma to you—charming and polite, yet guarded. He wore his smiles like armor, his laughter like a mask. You had seen glimpses of the man behind the facade, yes, but only glimpses. And now, knowing what you did about Elain, you wondered if you’d ever truly know him.

“This is your wing,” Anna announced as she led you through another archway, her voice still warm, though she seemed to sense the heavy atmosphere between you and Lucien. “Your rooms overlook the sea, and there’s a private terrace where you can enjoy the sunrise. I’ll let you get settled, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

You nodded, offering her a polite smile as she left, but your thoughts were already slipping back to Lucien, to the weight of what you had overheard. You paused before entering your room, glancing at him, hoping to find some clue in his expression, some hint of the emotions he was holding so tightly.

But his face was as unreadable as ever.

“Are you alright?” you finally asked, your voice soft, hesitant.

Lucien glanced at you, his golden eye glinting in the soft light. He looked tired—more tired than you’d ever seen him. “I’m fine,” he replied, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him.

You wanted to press, to ask about Elain, about the argument, about what it meant for him, for you, for this journey. But the words caught in your throat. Perhaps now wasn’t the time. Perhaps you weren’t ready to hear the truth.

With a quiet nod, you both turned to your respective rooms, though the distance between you felt greater than ever.

That evening, as the sun dipped low over the Summer Court, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet, you found yourself alone in your room, the soft lapping of waves from the nearby sea a distant but constant lullaby. The earlier events of the day still weighed on your mind—Lucien’s quiet brooding, the beauty of the Summer Court, the conversation with Anna—but for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to simply breathe. The room, bathed in the soft light of sunset, was peaceful. The sea breeze stirred the gauzy curtains around the large windows, carrying with it the scent of salt and warmth, a promise of more to come.

A knock at the door pulled you from your reverie.

"Come in," you called, expecting Anna or perhaps even Lucien. But when the door opened, it was Tarquin, the High Lord of Summer himself, who stepped inside, his smile as radiant as the sun that reflected off the sea outside.

"Good evening," he greeted, his voice a low purr, smooth and inviting. His gaze flickered around your room before settling on you with a twinkle of mischief. “I hope you’re settling in well. Thought I’d stop by and make sure our guest of honor was being treated properly.”

You couldn't help but smile at his charm. "Everything is perfect. Your court is beautiful, I can see why so many speak of it so highly."

Tarquin leaned casually against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m glad to hear it, but I imagine you’re used to beautiful places by now, being an emissary. Autumn is quite… striking in its own way, wouldn’t you say?”

You shrugged, still not entirely accustomed to your new title. “I suppose so. But honestly, I haven’t seen nearly as much of the world as I’d like.”

His brows lifted in surprise. “Really? I would’ve thought someone like you—someone with the fire I saw in your eyes when we first met—would have traveled to every corner of Prythian by now.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, though there was a hint of sadness to it. “That’s the dream, at least. It’s why I accepted this position in the first place. The High Lady of Autumn… she helped me achieve it, even if I wasn’t so sure at first.”

Tarquin’s curiosity piqued as he moved further into the room, taking a seat on the edge of a nearby chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “How so?”

You glanced toward the window, your gaze lost in the deepening hues of the sunset for a moment as you collected your thoughts. “I met her before I even knew who she was. At her coronation, of all places. We started talking, and I told her about my dream—how I wanted to see the courts, to experience everything Prythian has to offer. I thought she was just being polite at the time, listening to some stranger ramble on about an impossible dream.” You chuckled softly at the memory. “But then she offered me the position, said it was the perfect way for me to travel and see the world.”

Tarquin smiled, his eyes softening as he watched you. “Sounds like she saw something in you. Something worth nurturing.”

You shook your head slightly, still a bit overwhelmed by the memory of how quickly your life had changed. “Maybe. It all happened so fast, I wasn’t sure if I should accept it. I’ve always wanted to do this on my own, and part of me felt like taking the offer would mean I didn’t earn it, that it was handed to me.”

Tarquin leaned forward, his gaze steady, thoughtful. “You earned it. And besides, even if it was handed to you, what matters is what you do with it. You’ve already made the decision to be here, to be part of this journey. That’s no small thing.”

His words made you feel lighter, more at ease with your decision. You smiled, meeting his gaze. “You’re right. It’s just… a lot to take in.”

“I can imagine,” Tarquin said, standing from the chair and moving toward the window where the breeze ruffled his silver hair. “But from what I’ve seen of you so far, you’ll do just fine. If anyone can handle the adventure of traveling the courts, it’s you.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing. “You barely know me, Tarquin.”

His eyes sparkled as he turned to face you, leaning casually against the windowsill. “I’ve got a good eye for people. Comes with the job, I suppose. And I know someone with a true hunger for life when I see them.”

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest, not from his flattery, but from the genuine ease he exuded. Tarquin, unlike so many other High Lords, didn’t carry the weight of his power like a burden. Instead, he wore it like a second skin, comfortable and light. His charm wasn’t a weapon but a gift, and you found yourself appreciating his company more than you had expected.

The two of you continued to talk well into the evening, the conversation flowing as naturally as the waves outside. Tarquin regaled you with tales of the Summer Court—its festivals, its politics, its people—and you found yourself laughing more than you had in days. He had a way of making everything feel light, fun, as if the weight of your responsibilities could be cast aside, even if only for a moment.

At one point, he suggested a game of sorts, challenging you to guess which famous Summer Court landmarks you could see from your window, and before long, you were both leaning out the window, pointing out various spots, sharing stories and laughter that echoed into the night.

For the first time since you’d left Autumn, you felt a spark of excitement—not just for what lay ahead, but for the now. For this moment, in this beautiful place, with someone who made you feel truly seen. And as Tarquin smiled at you, his eyes twinkling with warmth and amusement, you found yourself thinking that perhaps this journey might turn out even better than you’d hoped.

The next morning, you walked into the bright, sunlit dining hall of the Summer Court palace, the smell of freshly baked bread and sea salt filling the air. The grand windows overlooked the sparkling turquoise waters of the sea, and for a brief moment, the sight alone lifted your spirits. You spotted Tarquin immediately, already seated at a long, marble table adorned with an impressive spread of tropical fruits, pastries, and delicacies that made your stomach rumble. He grinned broadly when he saw you, waving you over with the casual ease of someone who had known you for years.

"Good morning!" Tarquin greeted, his voice warm and inviting, like the sun itself. "I trust you slept well?"

You smiled, sliding into the seat across from him. "Surprisingly well. Your court really knows how to spoil a guest."

"Only the best for the emissary of the Autumn Court," he winked, offering you a plate of pastries. “I was going to have them bring in some special Summer Court wine, but I figured you’d need your strength after yesterday.”

You laughed, easily falling into the light banter that had started between you the night before. "Very considerate of you. Though I have a feeling you were just looking out for yourself. You wouldn't want me beating you in any of your landmark guessing games."

Tarquin’s laugh was light and contagious, filling the room with warmth as he leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I like a little competition."

Just then, the mood in the room shifted as Lucien entered, his steps clipped, his face set in a grim scowl. The stark contrast between his mood and the easy camaraderie you’d shared with Tarquin hit you instantly. Lucien looked like he’d barely slept, his usual sharp amber gaze clouded with something darker. His jaw was tight, and you could practically feel the stormy tension radiating off him.

“Morning,” Lucien muttered stiffly, barely glancing at either of you as he took his seat next to you, his movements sharp and deliberate. He grabbed a slice of bread, ripping it with more force than necessary.

Tarquin, ever the observant High Lord, raised an amused brow as he took in Lucien’s clear irritation. His lips curved into a subtle smirk, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he spoke. "You're in quite the mood this morning, Lucien. Didn’t sleep well?"

Lucien grunted in response, avoiding eye contact. His focus remained fixed on his plate, but the way he clenched his fork told you all you needed to know about his mood.

You exchanged a glance with Tarquin, trying to suppress your amusement at Lucien’s clear discomfort. Tarquin, however, seemed more than happy to prod.

“I suppose it’s none of my business,” Tarquin began, the tone of his voice too innocent to be genuine. “But it’s curious, really. You’re normally so composed, Lucien. I wonder what your mate would think of this mood of yours?”

The moment the word ‘mate’ left Tarquin’s mouth, you noticed how Lucien’s grip tightened around his fork, his knuckles white. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he kept his gaze locked on his food. The silence that followed was thick, charged, and suddenly your amusement faded, replaced by a sinking feeling in your chest.

Tarquin’s comment echoed in your mind—mate. Lucien’s mate, Elain, the woman you’d overheard him and Tamlin arguing about back in Spring. A woman who, by all accounts, didn’t want him. You’d heard the pain in Lucien’s voice that night, felt the raw hurt in his silence after Tamlin’s cruel words. And now, sitting here beside him, with Tarquin’s teasing and Lucien’s simmering tension, you couldn’t help but be reminded that whatever had been building between you and Lucien—even if it was just a shared sense of companionship—was nothing compared to the bond he shared with another.

The weight of that reality settled over you like a stone.

Lucien didn’t respond to Tarquin’s comment, but the damage was done. The mood at the table shifted, the air suddenly heavy with things unsaid. Tarquin glanced at you with a raised brow, clearly amused by the change, but you found your appetite fading. The easy conversation, the laughter—all of it felt distant now, replaced by a reminder that Lucien, no matter how drawn you might feel to him, wasn’t someone you could afford to get close to.

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes as you picked at your plate. Tarquin, ever the master of social dynamics, seemed to sense the shift in your mood and moved the conversation onto lighter topics, though his gaze lingered on Lucien’s tight-lipped silence with a knowing glint. Still, you couldn’t shake the lingering weight of that one word.

Mate.

By the time breakfast was finished, the easy camaraderie from the night before had evaporated, leaving you with the uneasy reminder of boundaries you hadn’t realized you’d already begun to cross. And as you left the dining hall, Lucien walking in tense, brooding silence beside you, you couldn’t help but wonder if Tarquin’s remark had been more than just a tease—if it had been a warning. A reminder of what you couldn’t have.

The awkward silence between the two of you stretched on too long-- so long, in fact, that you were trying desperately to clear your dry throat. You wanted to ease the tension between the two of you, but at times like this, it felt nearly impossible. Nevertheless, you could no longer stand it. “Lucien,” you started softly, your voice hesitant but warm, “want to take a walk with me along the beach? It’s too beautiful of a morning to waste inside.”

Lucien’s amber eyes flicked to yours, his surprise evident for a moment before his face softened, the tension in his brow easing slightly. He nodded once, wordlessly accepting your invitation. Together, you strolled down the shoreline, the breeze tugging at your clothes, the sea whispering in the background.

The soft sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air as you walked along the edge of the Summer Court’s shimmering beach. The sand beneath your feet was warm, the golden grains shifting with every step. It was a breathtaking morning, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting the sea in hues of pink and gold. You glanced to your side where Lucien walked, his shoulders still tense from breakfast, his expression distant. The breeze ruffled his auburn hair, strands catching the sunlight like fire.

For a while, neither of you spoke, the sound of the ocean filling the silence. You could feel the weight of something unspoken lingering between you two—the ghosts of breakfast and what you’d overheard in the Spring Court lurking in the back of your mind.

Finally, you gathered the courage to break the silence. “Lucien… about what Tarquin said this morning.” You hesitated, searching for the right words, watching the way his shoulders tensed again at the mention of the High Lord. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything uncomfortable, but I overheard you and Tamlin arguing the other night, and I heard her name—Elain.”

At the mention of his mate’s name, Lucien’s face tightened, his steps slowing. He turned to look at you, his gaze guarded, as if unsure of how much to reveal. The air between you grew heavier with each passing second, but there was something in his eyes that told you he was considering it, weighing whether to let you in.

“She’s my mate,” Lucien finally said, his voice quiet, the words heavy with emotion. “But she… she doesn’t feel the bond. At least, not the way I do.”

You swallowed, the ache in his voice twisting something inside you. You’d known there was pain there—had felt it even before hearing his argument with Tamlin—but hearing him admit it so plainly sent a pang of sympathy through you.

Lucien sighed, his gaze drifting out to the sea. “I thought I would be enough. That if I gave her time, if I was patient, maybe… maybe she would come to care for me. But it hasn’t happened. Every time I see her, I can feel the distance, the wall she’s built between us. And I don’t blame her. The bond was forced on her. She didn’t ask for this, and she certainly didn’t ask for me.”

There was a vulnerability in his words, a rawness you hadn’t seen before. It was as if he’d dropped the mask he so often wore, the sly fox that hid his true feelings finally stepping aside. You could see the depth of his hurt, the way it weighed on him, the way it made him question his worth. And in that moment, something shifted between the two of you.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must be,” you said softly, your heart aching for him. “But, Lucien, from what I’ve seen, you care for her deeply. You’ve given her space, and that… that says more about you than anything. You’re not trying to force her to love you. You’re just giving her time to figure out her own feelings.”

He turned to you then, his amber gaze locking onto yours, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “It doesn’t feel like enough,” he admitted, his voice low. “It feels like I’m just… waiting. And I don’t know how much longer I can do it.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but you hesitated. Instead, you chose your words carefully. “Sometimes the hardest thing to do is wait for someone else to figure things out. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of love, Lucien. You deserve someone who sees you, who loves you for who you are—not because of a bond, but because they choose you.”

His gaze softened, and for the first time since you’d met him, Lucien looked at you with something more than polite interest. There was a connection in that moment, an understanding that passed between you two, and it left you feeling both closer to him and more vulnerable than ever.

And that’s when you felt it. A dangerous tug deep inside you, a fluttering in your chest that you hadn’t expected. You realized then, with a suddenness that knocked the air from your lungs, that you were falling for him.

It was terrifying.

Lucien, with his broken heart and his unwavering loyalty to someone else, wasn’t yours to fall for. You were the emissary of the Autumn Court, traveling with him out of duty, not personal desire. He had a mate—someone he was bound to, even if she didn’t return his feelings. And yet, here you were, standing on the shores of the Summer Court, your heart betraying you as it fluttered in your chest.

You swallowed hard, turning your gaze out to the ocean to hide the emotions you knew were creeping onto your face. This was dangerous. Falling for Lucien would only lead to heartbreak. You couldn’t afford to get caught up in whatever this was—whatever this connection between you two might be.

Lucien exhaled deeply beside you, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more thoughtful. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I guess… I guess I just needed someone to listen. So, thank you.”

You smiled softly, though your heart was still racing. “I’m glad you felt like you could talk to me. And I’ll always be here to listen, Lucien.”

He smiled back at you, a small, grateful smile, and for a moment, everything felt lighter. But as you both turned back toward the palace, the weight of what you’d just realized settled heavily on your shoulders.

You had begun to fall for Lucien Vanserra. And you had no idea what to do about it.

As the sun dipped lower into the horizon, casting the last golden rays over the ocean, you and Lucien made your way back toward the Summer Court palace in silence. The soft sound of waves accompanied your footsteps, and though neither of you spoke, the weight of everything that had passed between you hung heavily in the air.

Lucien walked beside you, his presence warm and solid, yet there was a vulnerability in him now that you hadn’t seen before. His walls had come down, if only for a brief moment, and it made you ache for him—for all the pain he’d been carrying alone. You kept stealing glances at him, at the way his jaw was set, at the tension in his posture, and at the flicker of sadness that seemed to follow him even now.

When you finally reached your door, you turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. Lucien hesitated for a moment, his amber gaze lingering on you before he offered a soft, almost weary smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

"Thank you for the walk," he said quietly, his voice dipping low, soft, like he was afraid to disturb the fragile moment between you.

You smiled back, though it felt bittersweet. “Of course, Lucien. Anytime.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, his mouth parting slightly, but then he closed it again, shaking his head. “I should let you get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

You nodded, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. But you didn’t want to push him. Lucien had already opened up to you more than you’d ever expected. “Goodnight, Lucien.”

He stepped closer, and your breath hitched as he gently took your hand, bowing slightly as he brought it to his lips. His touch was warm, sending a soft current through your skin as his lips brushed lightly against the back of your hand. When he looked up at you, there was something in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat—something tender, unspoken.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. And then, with one last glance, he turned and walked down the corridor, his figure soon disappearing into the soft shadows of the palace halls.

You stood there for a long moment, your heart racing, watching him until he was out of sight. Then, with a heavy sigh, you pushed open the door to your room and stepped inside.

As you leaned against the door, closing it softly behind you, the ache in your chest deepened. You sank onto the edge of your bed, your hands resting in your lap as you stared blankly at the walls, trying to steady your swirling thoughts.

Lucien Vanserra.

It was foolish, you told yourself. Dangerous, even. He wasn’t yours to fall for. He had a mate—someone the universe had chosen for him, someone who, despite it all, still held a piece of his heart.

Elain.

You couldn’t stop the bitterness that crept in at the thought of her. Elain, the one who was supposed to be everything to him, the one he longed for, even though she didn’t seem to want him in return. How could she overlook someone like Lucien? How could she not see what you were starting to see—the depth of his loyalty, his strength, his kindness hidden beneath the sharp edges?

A flicker of anger ignited in your chest. It wasn’t fair. Not to Lucien, not to you. Elain had been given a gift—a bond with someone like Lucien—and yet she kept him at arm’s length, leaving him to suffer alone. And here you were, falling for him, feeling more for him in these few short days than Elain had shown in all this time.

You hated her for it—for the way she could cast him aside, for the way she made him feel unwanted, unloved. You hated the way she made him question himself, made him feel like he wasn’t enough when he was more than enough.

But that hate didn’t change the reality of the situation. Elain was still his mate, and no matter how much you felt for him, no matter how much you wanted to take away his pain, that bond remained. You would always be the outsider, the one who wasn’t supposed to fall for him, the one who could never have him.

With a heavy sigh, you pulled back the covers of the bed and slipped beneath them, the ache in your chest growing stronger. As you closed your eyes, exhaustion creeping over you, the weight of everything—of Lucien, of Elain, of this impossible situation—pressed down on you.

But even as sleep pulled you under, one thought remained, clear and undeniable.

You were falling for Lucien. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The next morning greeted you with the warmth of the Summer Court’s sun spilling into your room, the golden light seeping through the sheer curtains and kissing your skin like a gentle promise. You stretched beneath the soft linens, your heart lighter than it had been in days. After a night filled with restless dreams of Lucien’s smile, of the look in his eyes when he spoke of Elain, the ache in your chest hadn’t completely vanished—but the anticipation bubbling within you for the day ahead managed to soothe it, even if only for a little while.

You dressed quickly, excitement rushing through your veins as the thought of exploring this beautiful court—the court you’d dreamed of seeing—propelled you forward. The day was waiting for you, filled with possibilities you had never dared to hope for. After a quick breakfast, you met Lucien and Anna in the palace’s grand courtyard, the bright morning sun casting long shadows over the cobblestone paths lined with lush greenery and delicate blossoms that seemed to sway in time with the breeze.

Lucien was already waiting for you, leaning casually against a marble pillar, his auburn hair catching the light like copper set aflame. His amber eyes softened as they landed on you, a faint, teasing smile tugging at his lips as you approached.

"Ready for today?" he asked, his voice a low hum, the warmth of it sending a flutter through your chest.

You nodded, heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite place, your gaze briefly flicking to Anna, who stood beside Lucien with a radiant smile. Her easygoing demeanor mirrored the court itself—bright, open, welcoming. “More than ready,” you said, trying to focus on the excitement bubbling within you rather than the way Lucien’s presence seemed to settle something deep inside you.

"Then let’s get started," Anna chimed in, gesturing toward the path leading from the palace into the heart of the city. Her sun-kissed skin glowed beneath the morning light, and her laughter was contagious as she led the way, her enthusiasm making it impossible not to feel excited for what was to come.

The moment you stepped beyond the gates of the palace, you were struck by the sheer beauty of the Summer Court. The streets were alive with color and movement—white-washed buildings lined the cobblestone paths, their blue-tiled roofs glistening in the sunlight. Bright awnings shaded the numerous market stalls that spilled out into the streets, the vibrant fabrics rippling in the breeze, each one more vibrant than the last. The air was filled with the scent of saltwater and citrus, mingling with the sweet aroma of tropical flowers that grew in wild abundance along the pathways.

Merchants called out from their stalls, their voices cheerful and melodic as they displayed wares you could only have dreamed of—delicate glasswork in brilliant hues, fabrics so fine they seemed to shimmer in the light, jewelry that sparkled like stars. Everywhere you looked, there was life—children darted between the crowds, their laughter rising like music over the hum of conversation. You felt a pang of wonder deep within you, as though you had stepped into a world spun from pure magic.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you whispered, your gaze sweeping over the bustling streets, the gleaming rooftops, the sprawling ocean that sparkled just beyond the edge of the town. The water was a deep, endless blue, stretching out toward the horizon, the sunlight glinting off its surface like scattered diamonds.

Lucien chuckled softly beside you, his voice warm and amused. “The Summer Court does have a way of making the impossible feel possible.”

You glanced up at him, catching the way his eyes seemed to glow in the sunlight, softer now than they had been before. There was something different about him today—less guarded, more at ease. The tension that had been gnawing at him for days seemed to have eased, if only slightly.

“Thank you for this,” you said quietly, sincerity in your voice. “I’ve wanted to see the Summer Court for as long as I can remember.”

His amber gaze held yours for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I think… I needed this too.”

A flush of warmth spread through you at his words, but before you could respond, Anna appeared beside you, her arms full of bright, exotic fruits she had just bartered for at one of the stalls.

“Try this!” she urged, handing you a piece of fruit the color of a setting sun, its skin smooth and cool beneath your fingers. “You can’t leave the Summer Court without tasting this—it’s one of our best-kept secrets.”

You took a cautious bite, your eyes widening as the sweet, tangy flavor burst across your tongue. It was like nothing you had ever tasted before—bright and fresh, as if it had captured the very essence of the Summer Court itself. Anna grinned at your expression, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re right,” you laughed, wiping juice from your chin, “I can’t leave without eating more of these.”

Lucien’s low chuckle joined yours, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest. The three of you continued on, visiting more shops, more stalls, more hidden corners of the Summer Court that Anna eagerly shared with you. Everywhere you went, there was something new to marvel at—beautiful seashell jewelry, hand-carved figurines, dazzling glass orbs that captured the light in such a way that they seemed to hold miniature suns within them.

With each passing hour, you found yourself growing more and more comfortable in Lucien’s presence. What had once been a tense, delicate connection between you now began to deepen into something more solid, more real. You shared quiet moments between the bustling excitement—stolen glances, soft words, laughter that bubbled up from within you as easily as the sunlight fell across your skin.

At one point, as the three of you stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean, Lucien leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You look happy today,” he said softly, his gaze sweeping over your face. “It suits you.”

The words sent a jolt of warmth through you, and for a brief, dangerous moment, you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If he wasn’t bound to someone else. If you didn’t feel that constant ache in your chest whenever you thought of her.

But the moment passed as quickly as it had come, and you forced yourself to focus on the beauty of the day, on the warmth of the sun and the laughter that filled the air. You weren’t ready to let go of this—this feeling of closeness, of connection, even if it was temporary.

By the time the sun began to set, casting the sky in shades of pink and gold, you found yourself standing with Lucien and Anna at the edge of a lookout point, the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before you, sparkling like liquid gold beneath the fading light. The three of you stood in comfortable silence, the beauty of the moment washing over you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt at peace.

But even as the joy of the day lingered in your heart, you couldn’t shake the growing realization that you were falling for Lucien. Hard. And that was a dangerous thing.

Because no matter how close you grew, no matter how much you cared for him, he would never be yours.

TAGLIATELLE

@littlest-w01f @rcarbo1 @mirandasidefics @thelov3lybookworm @lilah-asteria @megscabinetofcurios @thecraziestcrayon

[viktoriaashleyyx]

The High Lord and the Selkie

"Lord long have I loved you, as a selkie on the foam, I would gladly go and wed thee and be lady of your home, but to stay on land past midnight, it would surely be my death."

Tarquin Bonus chapter, can stand alone. Influenced heavily by The Maiden and the Selkie by Heather Dale.

I've been in my Tarquin feels recently, he needs some love. Bonus chapter for A Court Reborn. Also this is Pro Tamlin, he doesn't have a large part, but does show up towards the end.

Word Count: 3085

Tarquin art // Ocean Art // Selkie Art

One cool Summer morning, before the Sun rose fully to heat the land, Tarquin sat out on the private fishing pier at the edge of his estate, pants rolled up to his knees, legs dangling above the clean Sea water. This was his favorite place, he would come here every chance he could get to just sit and watch the Sea. More than half of his life was spent trapped under the mountain, facing disgusting cruelties daily, never able to feel the Sun on his skin, he would not take the sight of the waves rolling in and the smells of the salty air for granted.

As a small child, his mother would take him to this very spot and teach him how to swim. He would run full speed into the water forcing his mother to dive in after him. His heart ached, now all he had left of her were his memories. Her sweet smile, the way her voice always softened when speaking to him, how he never had any doubt that she would protect him, and she did. Until her dying breath. Until Amarantha waved that ugly wrist of hers and stole her from him. Such a small gesture, movement, and his entire world was ripped out from under him.

No. He had to stop himself. The dark thoughts of those days always found a way to creep back in. “Remember your mother as she lived, don't let Amarantha continue to steal your light.” he would tell himself in times like this. He wanted nothing more than to forget that horrid witch.

He continued watching the waves crash into the pier, it was high tide so every now and then the Sea water would splash and kiss his feet gently. He liked to believe that was his mother, reaching out to him to remind him that she will always be with him. As the sun rose above the horizon, the sky was painted in the most beautiful shades of oranges and yellows. Sometimes, he felt like the sea was staring back at him. He felt a strong pull towards the sea, he considered it a side effect of his High Lord powers.

Just below the surface of the water, a selkie watched him longingly. Her seal eyes allowed her to see through the waves, and for months now she would leave the safety of her underwater town and travel close to the surface, just to get a glimpse of the most beautiful male she had ever seen.

Her name was Maive and she was the daughter of a decently well off Seal Lord. Well, would be well off if she wasn’t one of eight girls. She was the fourth born, middle child that no one paid too much attention to. She had grown to cherish the freedom that came with it. She could shed her seal coat and join her friends at parties in Adriata without anyone noticing she was gone. But, if she ever allowed herself to think too hard about it, she would long for someone who would care. Someone to notice when she's had a rough day, or even remember that her favorite color was teal, not pink.

She watched the male intensely, hoping that one day he would shed his clothes and jump in the water, or that she would be able to muster the courage to crawl on land and say something to him, anything. His white loc’d hair hung down to his mid chest and contrasted his dark brown skin beautifully. She dreamed of his gorgeous face, his light blue eyes, wide nose and could only imagine what a smile would look like on those lovely full lips. It was obvious he was a “High Fae” as they called themselves, and she was a “lesser fae.” Lesser. That’s what his people thought of her. Lesser. Even if she ever did get a chance to hear his voice, he would never think of her as more than just a subject. That's what her sisters told her. That's why we stay in the ocean and rarely go ashore.

She had heard different sentiments though. When the Red haired witch's curse was broken, a new High Lord of Summer returned, one who dreamed of bridging the divide between High and Lesser fae. The rumors were spotty and she picked up what she could during her trips, but she was barely 70 years of age, most of her friends didn’t like discussing politics. She had heard enough to scrounge up a little bit of childish hope. Even if that's all it ever became, she would allow herself this fantasy, happiness was happiness, even if it was fleeting.

Maive felt a twinge of sadness as Tarquin rose to leave. She knew he wouldn’t stay out here all day, and she cursed herself for, once again, not having the gall to speak to him. She knew her Fae form was beautiful to the people of Adriata. Her seal coat looked more or less like her sisters, black beady eyes that helped her see through the waves, soft gray skin and a cute belly that kept her warm in the ocean depths. But when she shed her coat and joined her friends on shore, the hair on her head was long, to the backs of her knees, a pale greenish color, her skin a darker shade of green with near black freckles lining her cheeks and nose. She doubted it was enough to win the heart of a High Fae male.

♥♥♥♥♥

A few days later, Maive had snuck off to visit her friend, Marielle, and plan their outfits for the upcoming ball at the Summer castle. High Lord Tarquin had sent out flyers inviting everyone in Adriata to the large party he was throwing at his seaside estate. A celebration for winning the war, and the breaking of the curse. The repairs in the city were finally coming to completion. Maive’s knowledge of Prythian current events was lacking considering she would die if she even tried to stay on land past midnight.

“We have to find the perfect dresses,” Marielle gushed excitedly to Maive, “this party will be High Fae and Lesser Fae, do you understand how big this is? We’ve never been welcome at the castle! Maybe this new High Lord is true to his word.” Marielle was a urisk and always kept Maive informed of everything happening on land. “Your mystery man could be there” She teased with a knowing smile.

“Will you stop it!” Maive giggled, “I’m already nervous enough as it is!” Marielle would tease Maive for her crushes and Maive would tease Marielle for her lack of crushes. Marielle, while she loved the parties and dancing, she had never shown much interest in romance for herself. She was content and happy, living in her little apartment in the city square, all her own. She could do as she pleased, stay up as late as she wanted, and invite over whoever she wanted. She had a healthy amount of platonic friends and that filled her heart.

♥♥♥♥♥

The day of the ball, the girls along with a few more friends, gathered back at Marielles apartment to get ready. Her house was the closest, so it required the least amount of walking to the castle. Maive had picked out a shimmery blue gown that made her dark green skin glow. It had skinny straps and a flowing neckline, just enough to showcase her favorite part of her body, her shoulders and neck, and flared out into a mermaid cut at the knees. Marielle curled her hair and added bright green shimmery eyeshadow to Maive’s eyelids. She felt like royalty.

As the girls entered the castle, excited and giggly, it took mere seconds for Maive to spot him. It's like she was pulled towards him. The entire world stopped and she froze as his eyes shifted towards, and caught on her. He was the High Lord Tarquin.

As Tarquin was entertaining the courtiers and citizens in the ballroom, his attention was abruptly pulled toward the door and whatever he was saying left his mind completely. He saw a beautiful young fae, with dark emerald skin and a cute round face. Her big black eyes shimmered in the lights of the ballroom. “Excuse me,” he said, barely looking back to the people he was just speaking to. He was in a trance, he had to talk to her.

Maive shifted her eyes to Marielle, the anticipation looked like fear at first thought, she expected she would have a bit more time, as the nerves grew she reached out for Marielles hand. “Do you see him?” Marielle knew what was going on, she had assumed Maive would be overwhelmed and chose to stay near. “Him? That's Tarquin.” Marielle exclaimed in an excited whisper, noticing Tarquin making his way toward her she added, “no backing out now, just be yourself, I will be close by. You got this.”

“Excuse me, Lady, may I have this dance?” Tarquin tried to hide his shaking, he felt just as nervous as Maive did. All she could manage was a nod as she carefully took his hand. A lump in her throat, led her to believe her voice would crack if she tried to speak. Their eyes had not left each other. She allowed him to lead her to the middle of the ballroom. All eyes fell to them, but neither noticed. As they began to dance, their nerves melted away.

Maive had never learned how to ballroom dance, but following Tarquins lead was easy. It came naturally to her. Chrisseada saw what was happening and took over Tarquins entertaining duties. Her cousin deserved this, and it made her heart happy seeing him happy.

As the music slowed, Tarquin pulled Maive into his chest, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. She smiled and rested her head on his chest.

They danced through the night, neither wanting to let go of the other, even for a moment. Until, that is, Marielle cut in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but it is 11:30,” Marielle whispered to Maive, “you need to be heading out now if you are to make it to the sea in time.”

For the first time in her life, Maive resented her binds to the ocean. She looked at Tarquin with sadness in those big dark eyes, “I’m sorry, I have to go.” The words were hard to speak, but she trusted Marielle was looking out for her. Letting go of his hand was harder.

Tarquin pulled her in close, one last time and whispered in her ear “Do you trust me?” She shook her head ‘yes’ and he winnowed them to the shoreline.

Her head spun as she took in her surroundings and noted the feel of the sand seeping into her sandals. Tarquins arms felt like home to her, not her city underwater. She wanted nothing more than to stay. “I am sorry, I just needed a few more minutes with you.” His voice was like a beautiful melody in her ear, now that she could hear it clearly. “What is your name?” He needed to hear her voice again, too.

“Maive,” she whispered, looking up at him, trying to process the absolute perfection of this evening, not wanting it to end, ever.

“Maive,” He repeated, she had never loved her name more than hearing it on his lips. It dripped graciously from them like honey. He leaned in to kiss her, and her heart began to beat faster, until she had a thought that cut it off before it even happened.

“My coat!!” She cried. You would think she knew to keep better track of it, given it is her life on the line, but she can’t help being aloof at times. She began searching for it frantically, she usually left it under the pier by Marielles apartment, but Tarquin hadn’t winnowed them to the same spot she entered from. Tarquin understood and immediately began helping her look for it.

“Is this what you are looking for?” Tarquin asked innocently, holding up the soft, but heavy, gray coat.

“Put that down. You don’t know what this would mean.” Maive reluctantly cried. For another Fae to return her seal coat to her, they would be wed. It couldn’t happen this way. She wanted him to choose her, not be bound to her by tradition.

He listened and set it on the ground, and took a few steps back. She ran to slip it on, halfway, and Tarquin led her into the water.

Tarquin held her close to his chest, forehead pressed to hers as the moon rose directly above them. “I will find a way. I promise,” he breathed as a tear escaped, running down her cheek. She kissed him deeply, there were no fireworks, no butterflies, she felt safe, calm. It was better than she had ever fantasized.

“Goodbye, Tarquin,” she gave him a soft smile as she dipped under the waves and returned to her seal family.

♥♥♥♥♥

Tarquin had called to meet with the three people whom he trusted and would know the best. He winnowed to the front door of the Spring Court manor just as Sky had done a month prior upon their first meeting. The trellises scaled the building and were covered in red roses, Spring was healing. That sentiment made him happy. During the reign of Amarantha, Tamlin had taken Summer court citizens in, even celebrated the Solstice to provide them some form of comfort in the times Tarquin was trapped under the mountain. Tarquin always believed that Tamlin had a good heart under all of that stone.

“I have a meeting with the High Lord, Tamlin” Tarquin held his head high and spoke confidently, as Crisseada commanded him to. The guards led him through the halls of the manor and he noted how much repair has been done in such a short time. It was only a few months ago that Tarquin had seen the Manor in complete ruin following Hyberns attack. At the time he hadn’t fully understood why Tamlin chose to side with Hybern, but when Tarquin saw him show up to the battlefield, hand around Barons throat to turn the tide, and ultimately win the war for Prythia, he knew Tamlin was smarter than he was given credit for.

He entered the large meeting room with a circular table in the middle. Tamlin, Sky and Lucien were already there waiting on him. Sky gave him a big smile and a tight hug. “Welcome to Spring, High Lord Tarquin,”

Tamlin and Lucien shook his hand and Tarquin was nervous as he sat down. “You seem to be more.. cheerful than the last time we saw you, Tarquin, what’s going on?” Tamlin asked lightly, noticing Tarquins nerves.

Tarquin wasn’t sure how to begin. He suspected Maive to be his mate, but a High Lord mated to a – he stopped himself even in his thoughts, we won't use those terms anymore. She is a Selkie, nothing about her is Lesser. “I have a bit of a predicament, and I thought who better to ask than the three of you. With Skys otherworldly wisdom, Lucien’s knowledge of Prythia due to being a well traveled emissary, and Tamlins.. Shapeshifting, I was hoping the four of us could come up with a way for me… to wed my mate.” The last few words came out cautiously.

Sky gasped and smiled wide, “What is her name? Where did yall meet?? What's keeping you apart?” Her excitement steadily decreased.

“Her name is Maive and she is a Selkie.” Tarquin announced proudly. All three of them immediately understood the predicament, but Lucien flinched. Memories of Jesminda, of when he tried to wed a lower class fae, flooded in. Tarquin wasn't much older than Lucien was when he lost Jesminda. He reassured himself that Tarquins situation is different, for starters, Tarquin doesn’t have Baron breathing down his neck.

“I have never heard of a selkie remaining on land and living to dawning, have you, Sky?” Lucien thought aloud.

“Never,” Sky responded and Tarquin shrank in disappointment. “We could ask Helion? I’m sure there is something in his lib–”

“No.” Lucien snapped, but softened quickly. “If word gets out, the older High Lords will seek to kill her. They do not like those they view as lesser than them marrying into power.”

“I would never let anything happen to her.” Tarquin assumed Lucien was insinuating he was too weak to protect his own people. To protect her. He still held shame for allowing the Night Court to steal from him.

“You might not have the chance, if we erupt into civil war.” Lucien warned. Two completely different wounds clashing. Neither meant harm or disrespect.

“What if you resided in the sea? Instead of her leaving her home behind, you join her?” Tamlin diverted the subject back to the reason for the meeting, noticing the tension. Tamlin knew both Tarquin and Lucien's reasons, but that can be clarified at a different time.

“My powers revolve more around bringing the sea to land, I cannot breathe underwater if that's what you are asking. My beast form can. But I need rage to shift into beast form and when I am around her, all I feel is calm. I have tried all I can think of.” Tarquin clarified.

“What if you could shift without the rage?” Tarquin was confused at Tamlins question, he just told him he couldn’t. Tamlin stretched out his hand to Tarquin and in it, a kernel of his power. Lucien, Sky and Tarquins eyes all widened in shock. “When we revived Feyre, she was able to retain a small amount of each of our powers, who is to say you wouldn't? I’ve done this twice before, I doubt you would need to be dead to accept it. And you are far more deserving than the last prick I gave one to.” Tarquin accepted the kernel and took it in his hand. “You, hopefully, will be able to at least shift yourself some gills. I can help teach you, and I’m sure Sky and Lucien will continue searching for a way for her to stay on land.”

“Are you sure?” Tarquin whispered. Was it really that easy? Just one small kindness from the neighboring High Lord to ease the biggest burden plaguing Tarquin these days. Tarquin pressed the kernel into his chest.

Tag list for main fic: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria @littlefantasylover @julesvanslutta

@theegemini92 also expressed interest ❤️

[azrielsshadows42]

I am considering participating in kinktober this year, and for a few of the prompts I'm using I can imagine writing with Tarquin, but I know that he isn't a very popular character for fanfics

Please reblog for a wider audience

[stormhearty]

Pairings: Former Rhysand x Reader, Feysand, Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Triggers: mentions of depression, relapse, attempts at suicide

Summary: It has been two decades since you left Night Court, leaving the life you had always known. It had been five years since you were in Dawn Court, slowly healing with the help of its High Lord. Now, you had resided in Summer Court, Tarquin by your side through your healing process. But when a mating bond snaps between the two of you when your health turns for the worse, how would you process something that you never thought would happen in your immortal life? And when you decide to confront your former family, would you forgive them for their past discretions? The story of the aftermath of your broken heart of glass.

Note: From this request! Thank you so much for wanting a second part to “Breaking Like Glass”!! I love that everyone enjoyed that fic’s immense angst, so I will gladly give you guys the fluff, romance, and healing the reader needs. And I do hope this isn’t cheesy. I struggled a bit on writing this, whether to debate to make it angsty, but I feel like, it has enough of the balance. Please do enjoy!

Breaking Like Glass | Masterlist

“You know, my stardust, you don't have to do this… We can have our mating ceremony with our family. We don't have to invite Night Court…”

You let out a thoughtful hum as you lounged in one of the lounging chairs in Tarquin’s office, book in hand. You placed a finger on your page before looking over your shoulder at the High Lord of Summer, who looked at you with concern etched on his beautiful features.

After centuries of being with Rhysand, you had always thought that you would be content in not finding your mate. You had thought, and wished, that you would have eternity with the High Lord of Night Court. However, with the fiasco two decades ago, all you wanted to do was heal — fix your broken heart and mind from your torture from Under the Mountain, to fix your broken soul from being ripped apart by your family. You did not want to fall in love — you didn’t want to give your taped-up heart to someone and be worried about having it torn apart again.

You had safe-guarded your heart behind high, metal walls with a fog of darkness to protect it — to protect you from breaking all over again, and losing yourself once more.

But what you had never dreamed of was a mating bond to snap.

And you never thought it would be with another High Lord.

The very moment you had stepped into Summer soil, Tarquin had been nothing but kind and gentle, helping you through your decade of healing. He allowed you to take your time — he allowed you to wallow, he allowed you to be silent, he allowed you to grieve, something that you never were able to do while you were in Valeris. He allowed you to cry in anguish, he allowed you to cry in pain — he allowed the forty-nine years of suffering to seep out of your aching body. And he was silently there, beside you, watching over you… to ensure you were safe and well cared for while you did.

And that was all you could have wished for while you were healing. You didn’t need words, you didn’t need condolences… Tarquin allowed you to heal in the way that your heart and mind needed.

All the while Tarquin healed your broken soul that came upon the betrayal from Night Court, you would be sent back to Dawn Court to mend your mind and body from the tortures of the Attor. The two High Lords worked in tandem with one another… all for you. Both Tarquin and Thesan realized your worth, both realized your importance and believed it was worth their power and time to heal you.

It had been five years since you came from Dawn Court when the mating bond snapped between you and Tarquin.

It was when your nightmares had resurrected themselves from the grave, haunting you thoroughly to the point you had relapsed back from your progress.

You had screamed and clawed against everything that had neared you, your eyes frantic at the absolute fear and dread of returning to that moment in your life — the pain of the Attor and betrayal of your husband, that still lurked in the darkness of your fear. You had hurt yourself, multiple times during that relapse — skin broken with knives, daggers, broken glass — anything that your hands got to… hoping for the pain to seep out of your skin.

But Tarquin was there through all of that — grabbing and hiding everything that you could try to hurt yourself with. He fought tooth and nail to get to you, whispering sweet nothings — that you were worth it, you were worth the pain and anguish, that you were worth everything. And that you would get through the pain — and that he’d be right beside you through it.

You couldn’t feel it, the glow of the mating bond between the two of you — for you were too shrouded in your fear to notice.

All the while, Tarquin felt every emotion you had felt — the despair, the anguish, the pain that wracked your body. He fought back all the tears as he held you against him, pouring as much care and love through the newly found bond.

The relapse had taken an immense hit on your health — you were sick for weeks on end, going in and out of consciousness barely able to make out who had been taking care of you.

When you had been well enough, you had learned that Tarquin, himself, had been the one to care for you during your illness. And you, though you shouldn’t have been, was surprised at that fact. The High Lord of Summer Court took time away from his busy schedule to tend to you. He had owed you nothing… and yet he had taken time to care for you.

“Why did you do that…?” you had asked, storming into his office, pausing mid-step when you had seen Thesan and the Captain in the room. It seemed that you had interrupted an important meeting between the two High Lords — possibly about your condition.

Tarquin looked at you for a moment, a gentle sigh escaping his lips as he looked at Thesan and gave him an apologetic nod of his head. Thesan glanced between the two of you before standing up from his seat on the plush couch and heading your way. The High Lord of Dawn smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss onto the crown of your head, “Hello, my child… be nice to him…”

The request was confusing to you as you allowed the High Lord and Captain to step out of the room, the click of the door resonating behind you — leaving you and Tarquin alone in that grand room. The atmosphere grew awkward and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip, you glanced everywhere besides the High Lord, and you heard him let out a chuckle.

You frowned, glaring at him slightly before watching him stand up and walk towards you, reaching out a hand for you to hold, “We have much to talk about, (Y/N)…” he murmured.

You stared at his hand, sighing softly before reaching over to place you had on top of his. His had always radiated warmth that you seemed to want to grasp onto often — it was warm and inviting, much like the summer sun he had ruled over. You followed him further into his office, walking past his desk and onto the large balcony overviewing his Court. There was a large settee that Tarquin led you to, sitting you down before he sat next to you, leaving a gap between both of you.

“Now… What was it you were saying, (Y/N)? About why I did that?” he questioned, turquoise hues staring at the massive land of his Court, allowing the summer breeze to greet the two of you.

Relaxing against the settee, you remained quiet for a few moments, eyes fluttering close at the breeze that tickled your skin. When you opened your eyes once more and turned your attention to the High Lord, you were slightly startled when you noticed he was staring at you — something in his eyes sparkling that you were unsure of… or slightly denied.

“…Why did you take care of me when I was ill?” you asked him, not bothering to beat around the bush, “You didn’t owe me anything, this… arrangement between us is only until I get better and can move on from my nightmares—”

“When did I say that this… arrangement is only until you get better?” he interrupted you with a raised brow, “I did not say anything like that. I am allowing you to stay until you want to leave… I’m giving you the choice to stay and to heal the way you need, unlike your time in Night Court. And, I took care of you because I wanted to, (Y/N). I couldn’t let you hurt yourself like you did, to be so haunted by your nightmares every waking second… I couldn’t let you suffer the way Rhysand let you for all those months…”

You flinched at the name of your former husband. It still ached — no matter how long it had been, it still ached hearing his name. Usually, Tarquin and Thesan avoided saying his name around you, both afraid of a possible relapse. You let out a shaky breath, as your eyes stared at something beyond him, a distant stare — feeling yourself move out of your body, a sensation that had started to become normal for you ever since you were in Dawn Court.

Feeling Tarquin’s warmth again, you blinked twice before focusing on him again a small smile tugged on your lips, and shook your head, “…I’m fine…” you whispered, head tilting down to look at your intertwined hands. You took deep breaths, something that Thesan had taught you after your moments of distance.

Tug, tug… you felt something in your chest. Your head tilted in confusion until you felt it again — tug, tug… You lifted your head and looked at the High Lord once more. You saw a twinkle in those turquoise hues, a hopeful look hidden within those depths.

“…What…” you muttered in disbelief, and you felt another tug in your chest.

“You felt it, did you not, (Y/N)?” Tarquin questioned, leaning forward slightly, warm hands gently gripping yours — as if preventing you from running away.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head, too scared for any words to escape you.

How could a mating bond happen? After everything that happened to you, your mind and body were broken, being held together by pieces of tape held together by Tarquin and Thesan — you could barely hold yourself together. Your healing process for the past fifteen years was slow, and there were many times when you believed you would never be okay again. How can someone like you be mated to another High Lord? How can someone as broken as you be another leader of a Court?

Thoughts of insecurities passed through your mind, unknowingly sending them down the newly formed bond. You were startled out of your thought by Tarquin’s hand gently caressing your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“You do not have to accept the mating bond, as of yet, (Y/N)… I will wait, you can heal. Just know that I accept you, even if you are broken and torn. You still have years of healing to do, but I will be by your side — always.”

Tears ran down your cheeks as he shifted closer, pressing his hands on your cheeks to wipe them away. All you can do is nod. Allowing the love and warmth of the bond to slowly heal you.

It had been another five years since then. A little over two decades after you left Night Court to accept the bond. For five years, Tarquin had courted you, cared for you… loved you the way you needed. He did not force anything onto you and allowed you to fall in love with him in such a natural way that it felt second nature to you.

“…(Y/N)…” your mate called out to you, snapping out of your trance.

You blinked and refocused on the present, eyes focusing on Tarquin who had moved from his spot at his desk to you, hands rubbing your shoulders. Tilting your head back, you gave him a smile, reaching up with your free hand to reach up to run your fingers against his cheek as he looked down at you.

“No… I would like to invite them. I think… I need closure from my time there. And…” there was hesitance in your voice at the next words, “I do miss them. I lived with them for centuries, and all of a sudden I cut them off my life for a good reason… there are times when I missed them.”

Tarquin hummed understandingly as he squeezed your shoulders, “Understandable. We will invite them… But I worry—-”

“—- I won’t relapse. I promise…” you moved from your lounging position to sitting up, shifting so you were on your knees, at eye level with him. You felt him wrap his arm around your waist so you were steady as your hands placed themselves on his biceps, playing around with the fabric of his outfit, “I’m better — well, as best I can be — but I know you’ll be there… I will be fine.”

There was reluctance in his features, those turquoise hues trying to find any lie in your words before he gave you a nod.

“I concede…” he murmured and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the hesitancy in his words. Pressing a gentle kiss on the High Lord’s cheek, murmuring a thank you before moving back to your position on the lounge chair, picking up your book once more.

You looked back up to just miss the shake of his head, before he wrapped a hand around your neck, tilting your head up so he could lean down to press a kiss on your lips, “After our mating ceremony, I wish for you to initiate our kisses, my stardust…”

Feeling the warmth of your cheeks you stared up at him, “If that is the wish of my High Lord, then it shall happen…”

He let out a low chuckle before pressing another kiss on your lips, your book forgotten on your lap.

The ceremony venue was extravagant, to say the least — Tarquin, as well as Thesan from what you had gathered, pulled all the stops. The throne room of Summer Court was flourishing with flowers and the summer sun radiating down through all the large windows.

You were a nervous mess sitting in your room. It was still several hours before the ceremony, that you weren’t too nervous for; it was the fact that you were going to meet your old family once more.

The Captain of Dawn, your dear friend, had informed you that the Inner Circle just arrived at the outskirts of Summer Court. And that set off your nerves completely.

You had requested, when you had sent the letter to Night Court, to meet with them before your ceremony — to officially close the wounds between all of you.

And so when a knock startled you out of your worries, you turned around in your chair from your vanity where you were getting ready. Watching those doors open to reveal your old family.

There stood Rhysand, in his Night Court attire along with Feyre, who was at his side. There was a pang in your chest, the pain of their betrayal somehow festering its way back into your heart. But it was slowly soothed out by the warmth of the mating bond that Tarquin seemed to have sent your way. The doors closed behind the Inner Circle, and you noticed the Captain of Dawn stationed at the door.

Thesan’s lover is quite a busybody isn’t he…? You had sent down the bond to your mate. And all you felt was Tarquin’s chuckle as you focused back on the now.

You slowly stood up, a small smile on your features before you watched from the corner of your eye Mor heading to a sprint and giving you the biggest hug.

“… I’m so sorry, (Y/N)…” she apologized, the words repeating on her lips as she squeezed you, burying her head into your neck.

Tears pricked the edge of your eyes as your arms wrapped around her and you buried your head to the crook of her neck, letting the blond curls tickle your face.

“… Mor…” you whined her name.

A sob wracked through the blonde’s body, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That you’re better…” she whispered before pulling back and staring at you, “I’m glad you found your mate. I’m glad that he’s making you happy — that you deserve happiness — after all the shit you went through and everything we had put you under…”

You smiled at her as you felt her cup your cheeks, nodding your head, “… — Thank you, Mor. I’m glad to see you again, truly. I missed you so much…”

A smile tugged on Mor’s features, “We will see each other more… if you let us.”

You nodded your head as she stepped away, allowing the rest of the Inner Court to greet you — hugging you and whispering their utmost apologies and congratulations.

Cassian had lifted you into his arms, something he used to do often when you were his Lady still, giving you a spin, “You will always be my Lady, (Y/N)…” he whispered into your ears, pressing a kiss against your cheek before literally handing you off to Azriel.

A giggle escaped your lips as you hugged the Spymaster as he pressed a kiss on your opposite cheek, “We will forever live with the regret of losing you…” Azriel hummed out, “We had and always will love you… But I wish for nothing but happiness for you…”

Your heart flourished at the words of your former family — the words that you had wished to hear two decades ago — slowly piecing your heart and soul back together. You had known, while you were healing, that they had always cared for you and that never meant to put so much pressure on you, unknowing of your nightmares and struggles after being Under the Mountain.

When you were settled back onto your feet, you turned to face Rhysand. The tension between the two of you was still high and you fought back all the urge to just run away from this confrontation between the two of you. You gave him a small smile before focusing your attention on Feyre who stepped up, reaching out to hold your hands.

“I am truly sorry…” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours.

You understood why Rhysand fell in love with Feyre. You had heard of the great deeds she had done for Night Court, for Prythian… she was something you could never have been next to Rhysand. The true High Lady of Night Court.

And somehow, you were okay with it.

Shaking your head, you looked at the High Lady, “…You were just following the feeling of the mating bond. Like I said that night, I cannot fault you for choosing your mate. I cannot fault you for following the tug… I — I would like to extend my congratulations —-”

Feyre shook her head, brows knitting at your words, “Do not, please. I will not accept that not when I have unknowingly broken you along with the rest of your family. ”

You looked at her, nodding your head as you felt her step back and the familiar scent and presence of your former husband taking her place. You lifted your eyes to look into violet ones — ones that sparkled with regret, ones that you were in love with for so long.

Even if it was two decades that passed, you felt like you were still in sync with him, knowing what he wanted. Turning onto your heels, you made your way to one of the furthest balconies, Rhysand following your steps. The large window doors closed behind you, leaving both of you in a pocket of privacy away from prying ears. You could see, from the corner of your eye, the Captain making his way closer to the doors and all you could do was hold a hand up — signaling that you were fine and safe.

Turning back around, you focused on Rhysand who’s eyes were solely on you. Stepping past him, you made your way to the railing, pressing your hands on the warm marble, as you basked in the summer sun.

“(Y/N)…” Rhysand whispered one that was so quiet that the wind barely was able to carry it to your sensitive ears.

“I… I cannot forgive you, Rhysand…” you declared, eyes still closed as you let the warmth of your new home wash over you, to comfort you as you confront your past, “I cannot and do not fault you for choosing her. I can see why you had fallen for her — she’s beautiful, both inside and out. But I cannot forgive you for it. You had broken me so much, that there were many times during my healing that I wondered why I wasn’t enough for you to choose me. Wondering what I have done to make you choose someone else other than your wife who stood next to you for centuries.”

You could hear the shaky breath that Rhysand exhaled as you felt him stand next to you on the balcony.

You couldn’t look at him, every fiber in your body shaking to break again if you looked at him. You needed to be strong — for yourself and for the people around you who worried immensely for your health.

“I know… I know you would never forgive me, (Y/N). I have accepted that truth… I just wish things ended differently, you know? I wanted to let you know, that there was not a moment in our centuries together as husband and wife that I wished you were my mate… that there was not a moment that I did not love you…”

A broken laugh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes and looked up at him once more, seeing those unshed tears in violet hues.

“… And there was not a time where I wished you were my mate… But it seems that Mother had a different path for both of us. One that led us away from each other.”

You reached up, with shaky hands, and attempted to touch him; however, your body paused, and with furrowed brows, you dropped your hand back onto your side. You could see Rhysand’s body slouched slightly as if missing your touch. A forced smile tugged onto your lips as you stepped back, creating a significant distance between the two of you, “… I hope you enjoy the ceremony, Rhysand…”

He knew when he was dismissed and he smiled at you before stepping out of the balcony. You watched with longing and pain as he and the Inner Court stepped out of your room.

“… Probably it wasn’t such a good idea to have the two of you alone together…” The Captain commented, stepping onto the balcony, worry in his tone.

“I’m fine… just give me a moment…” you whispered, pressing a hand against your chest, to calm down your heart. You slouched against the railing for a few minutes, feeling the bond in your chest to help your racing heart.

“…Do you need me—-”

“No… I don’t need Tarquin or Thesan right now. They’re in their own state of panic already…”

The Captain let out a chuckle, “That is true… They have set their mind to ensure that this ceremony would be perfect…”

After calming your heart, you straightened up and gave the Captain a light smirk, “…Busybodies the lot of them…” You stepped back into your room, allowing yourself to fix yourself up before the ceremony, the Captain following your trail.

You stood on the dias of the throne room, Tarquin by your side as the priestess started the ceremony. Your gown was a lovely mixture of blue, much like the oceans that crashed below the castle. The priestess’ words had gone deaf in your ears as all you could do was stare up at the High Lord of Summer, love and affection in your features as well as through the bond.

When the priestess had asked for the two of you to exchange vows, Tarquin looked at you with the same look as you did to him, a soft smile on his features.

“Never in my life, I would have thought to find my mate. I had thought that I would rule my Court without a High Lady by my side. But that fateful day I had whisked you away from Thesan and Dawn Court, all I had wished was for you to be mine.

“My stardust…” the nickname always made your heart skip in your chest, “I had fallen in love with you… despite your broken soul and heart. I was honored that you had trusted me enough to help mend your soul from the nightmares that haunted you, and that still haunt you till this day. But I couldn’t let you know of my affections, not when you had set yourself into healing. So I waited, waited for years and when that mating bond snapped, I knew I couldn’t hold out for much longer. I needed you in my arms, I needed to have your eyes set on me — rather than looking into your past. And when you had your relapse… I had to let you know. I had to let you know that you have someone, your mate, to be with you every step of your healing process.”

You felt tears trickle down your cheeks as Tarquin wiped them away, “You deserve this bond after everything that you have been through… the Mother has gifted you this bond. And I am honored to be at the end of that string.”

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn’t even find the words for your own vows. All you could mutter to him as he pressed his forehead against yours, “Thank you… I love you, I thank you, and I am also honored and blessed by the Cauldron to have you as my mate. Thank you for mending my heart. I am glad to give it to you, and not worry about it breaking…”

You watched through a tearful gaze, Tarquin giving you a radiant smile before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips, “And I would never break it… not your heart that is precious like gemstones…”

You laughed as applause reached your ears, leaning up once more to kiss your mate.

Your heart was safe — mended together once more — and you knew it would never break again.

Tagging list: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @abysshaven @prythianpages @leahoneil @rachelnicolee

[azrielslittleslut]

Tarquin x Fem!Reader

Period Sex/Praise/Romantic Sex

Warnings: smut, p in v, mention of blood, period sex, NSFW, praise

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: this is my humble petition for more Tarquin fics.

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

The Summer Court was truly beautiful, with its sandy beaches and endless blue water. You longed to be out there amongst the sea of people, wading through the warmth of the ocean. You wanted to feel the sea spray on your face and the feeling of the sand between your toes. You wanted to feel the sun, warming your skin and body in only the way the sun here could.

Instead, you were curled up on the bed in the fetal position, your hands clutching your stomach as wave after wave of sharp pain shot through your abdomen.

You had been having your bi-annual cycles for centuries now, but they never got easier. You had tried everything- teas, herbs, magical medicines- but nothing had ever worked, other than being knocked unconscious by one of the healers. The best way to deal with them, you had learned, was to just lie in bed and try not to die as your cycle ran its course.

You were so distracted by the pain that you barely heard the door to your bedroom open, followed by the calming scent of a sea breeze mixed with jasmine. "My love?" Tarquin asked, his voice soft. "How are you feeling?"

You groaned in response, the pain too great for you to form words. Why did being a female have to hurt so much?

Tarquin gently sat down on the bed, careful not to move you around too much. His handsome face was twisted in concern as he looked down at you, his turquoise eyes full of anxiety. "Is there anything I can do?" He placed a warm hand on your lower belly as he spoke, his touch a comfort.

You mastered yourself enough to say, "I think it would hurt less if you were to take a dagger and shove it through my uterus. Perhaps you could try that?" Your voice was hoarse as you spoke, thanks to hours spent groaning in pain. "Just put me out of misery, Quinny."

Despite the gravity of your words, Tarquin smiled at the sound of your nickname for him. The two of you have been lovers for years now, but that name always eased something in his chest. "I would never do that, sweetheart. I'm sorry you're in so much pain." He paused for a moment. "I was talking to a healer earlier, about how bad you're cycles are."

You looked up at him with blurry vision. He was wearing his crown, you realized, the sapphire and white gold looking like waves on top of his white hair. "What did they say?" you asked, though you assumed they had not told him anything you didn't already know.

"They gave me a way to help you... if you are willing, of course." There was something darker in his voice, almost like nervousness. But that would be insane- Tarquin was never nervous around you.

You sighed, rolling over onto your side to face him fully. "I've tried everything. Nothing has worked for centuries, so I don't think anything they would suggest would help." You grabbed the hand that was still on your stomach, your fingers lacing with his. "Thank you for trying though, love. That means the world to me."

Tarquin shook his head, and you swore you could see his dark skin blush. "No," he murmured, leaning down so his face was mere inches from yours. His bright eyes had darkened to the color of the deep sea, a color you only saw when he was writhing in pleasure. "Have you ever tried... having sex?"

For a few moments, you could only blink as you processed his words. Did he really want you when you were... like this? Did he not find you disgusting?

Tarquin must have sensed where your thoughts had gone because he leaned forward and placed a palm on your cheek. "You are beautiful in every way, my darling. You are perfect, and I would never find anything about you disgusting." He paused for a moment, his expression softening. "Forgive me for saying anything. I only want to make you feel better. I hate seeing you in pain."

Your eyes filled with tears at the tenderness of his words. You had thought about making love with him during your cycle before. Especially since you seemed to be more sensitive and needy during it, but you had never dared to bring it up to him. But now...

"Tarquin," you whispered, moving your body up to reach for him. "I need you. Please." The pain you felt in your belly was nothing compared to your growing desire, and all you wanted was him.

Tarquin chuckled softly as he moved over you, pressing you down onto the bed. "There's no need to beg, love. I will make you feel so very good." He began to kiss down your neck, moving his hands down to the hem of your nightdress.

As he began to raise it up, you froze, suddenly aware of what he would see when it was removed. "Quinny," you breathed. "Maybe we should do this in the bath? I don't want it to be messy."

His brows furrowed for a moment as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. You gasped as you felt a warm fabric appear under your body, the softness of it against your thighs. You glanced down and smiled to yourself as you saw a towel beneath you.

"Always one step ahead, are you?" you asked with a giggle, reaching up to pull him back down to you.

Tarquin's lips were warm and soft against yours as he kissed you gently. "I'm nothing if not prepared."

The kisses deepened, and soon the room was filled with the sound of your soft moans. He kissed down your neck, leaving love bites and hickeys along your sensitive flesh. You were so caught up in his lips on you that you didn't flinch when he raised your nightgown, exposing you to the air.

"Lift for me," he whispered against your skin. You obeyed him, staying silent as he gently removed the clothing from your body. Your nipples hardened from the chill in the air, but Tarquin wasted no time in putting his mouth on them.

He expertly licked and flicked your nipples, switching back and forth between your breasts, giving them equal amounts of attention. "Feels so good," you moaned as you threw your head back against the pillows.

Tarquin hummed as he deftly started undoing the ties that held his tunic together. You bit your lip as the beautiful skin of his chest was revealed, filled with muscles and scars. You roamed your hands over his body, digging your nails into his skin, not caring if you left marks.

He paused as he looked down to your pussy, and you felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. "So beautiful," he murmured, his eyes full of love. "Every part of you is beautiful."

"Thank you," you said quietly. He always had a way of making you feel so loved and seen, no matter the circumstance. You were overwhelmed with so much love and adoration for this male, and you thanked all the gods for him.

Tarquin pulled back just enough to remove his pants, his eyes on your face. "Do you want me to touch you?"

You thought for a moment. He normally took his time teasing you and drawing out your pleasure, but that was not what you wanted now. "No," you responded finally. "I just want your cock inside of me."

He smiled as he freed his hard length from his trousers, and you licked your lips as his thigh muscles flexed as he removed the rest of his pants. "I love it when you tell me what you want. So bold for me."

You welcomed him in your arms as he once again hovered over you, his face inches from yours. Slowly, he pushed in, and you gasped as your walls stretched to accommodate him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he began to slowly thrust into you.

"You feel so good, my love," he moaned into your neck. "You were made for me."

Your back arched as he rolled his hips, hitting that deep spot inside of you that had your vision go white. You were normally sensitive, but this felt way better than usual. You had always heard that females were more sensitive during their cycles, but you had never thought it to be true.

Damn were you wrong.

Every thrust of his hips had loud moans escaping your lips. "Yes, yes, yes," you moaned as he kissed you and ran his hands lovingly along your body. He worshipped you with his cock, his body, with every part of him.

"Can you come for me, baby?" Tarquin asked, his hips pounding into you harder. He reached down and started to gently rub your clit with his thumb, but it was enough to send you over the edge.

A ragged gasp escaped your lips as you came, your eyes rolling back into your head. "Tarq-" you tried to say his name, but your body was overtaken with wave after wave of pleasure.

Tarquin smiled as he kissed you, swallowing your moans. "That's my good girl," he praised, his voice low. After a few more powerful thrusts, he came and you sighed as you felt his warmth fill you.

For a few moments, the two of you just stared at each other with lazy smiles on your face, basking in the afterglow of your joining. It was always like this with him, always full of tenderness and care.

He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, breathing in his scent. "I feel better," you admitted. It was true- the near mind-bending pain from earlier had subsided to a dull ache. Why hadn't the healers suggested this centuries ago? "Thank you, Quinny."

Tarquin chuckled as he pulled out of you, settling himself on his knees. He looked down, and you followed his gaze to the ruined towel on the bed.

You winced. He had helped you clean up during your cycles before, but it was always slightly embarrassing. You fought the urge to look at his softening cock, knowing it would be covered in blood. "I feel gross now."

In a swift movement, Tarquin hauled you up in his arms, and you distantly heard the sound of the bath water running. "Let's get you cleaned up, hmm?" he said cheerfully, his face full of warmth.

You smiled as you leaned your head against his chest. "Always so good to me," you murmured. "Do you think you would be up for round two in the bath? There won't be a mess-."

You even weren't able to finish your sentence before Tarquin sprinted to the bathroom.

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[thefatesofspring]

My face after stumbling across a fanfic where the Ao3 author decided to have ACTIVE PLANTATIONS & PLANTATION WORKERS…in The Spring Court…under Tamlin’s rule…oh & the kicker?…Tamlin is mated to a black man/male…who is the black man/male he’s mated to in the fic you ask?…TARQUIN!!!!…high lord motherfucking Tarquin…two characters who’s morals & ideologies go against the very notion of allowing the continuation of slavery & you write a short story fanfic that includes plantations & plantation workers?!!

Y’all im so mad! I don’t ever judge people’s fanfics but this one to me was just insane, especially because it’s a Nesta based fanfic & so it just felt sprung out of nowhere