#ThE mOsT PoWeRfUl HiGh LoRd In PrYtHiAn HiStOrY

[high-speed-r]

I would like to remind all the Tamlin haters that if it weren’t for Tamlin, Rhysand would be dead.

DEAD DEAD DEAD!!

He could have just gone home immediately after the war and said “sucks to suck” but no, he gave the last kernel of life to Feyre and said “be happy”

And Rhysand repays him by constantly trespassing onto Spring Court land and tries to get Tamlin to kill himself

Who is the bigger male here?

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part One

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - none right now really, some angst, harmless flirting, tension, slight fluff, mention of wing loss

Hauntingly beautiful was one of the few ways to describe the High Lord Eris Vanserra.

There was a rake-ish look about him, like he belonged in one of Nesta's regency era romance novels that had her eyes widened and bottom lip caught between her teeth. It was rather infuriating.

Tension continued to linger, one of doubtful trust. Rhys wanted to trust Eris, he wanted to trust that the new High Lord of Autumn knew what he was doing, but something was stopping your brother from investing into the change fully and you weren't quite sure what.

Eris sat opposite you in the meeting chamber, eyes trailing down your figure approvingly, a crown of golden leaves dipping to his brow and accentuating those russet eyes that always sought to burn you with their intense glare. It had been strictly forbidden for you to leave Velaris on your own after what had happened to your elder sister at the hands of Tamlin, you understood it of course, Rhys wouldn't survive if he lost you too, his youngest sibling but by far the fiercest creature in all of Prythian's history.

War was scoured into your bones, hellfire raged in your soul, and you were very well known for your tactical prowess and outspoken nature, from your quick wit to your dry humour. Some said that you were the reason that Prythian still stood, you had worked very hard to undermine Amarantha right under her nose, feigning innocence and naivety that she drank from like a fountain of youth, you had been instrumental in the war against Hybern too, and Eris had watched in stoic awe as you wielded your sword like it was an extension of yourself, gracefully cutting down your victims and using your power to decimate hoards of males into ash.

Eris wouldn't admit it, certainly not in front of Rhysand and Cassian who made it his mission to keep Eris as far away from you as possible, but he thought that you were the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed. And as you sat before him, draped in a sheer black dress adorned with white crystals that allowed him to relish at the picture of your full breasts, it was taking him a lot of will power to not fling you on that table and take you right there and then, even if your brother was watching, he didn't care.

The meeting was simple, Rhys wanted to know how the politics between the courts were to improve with Eris now at the helm and steering the Autumn Court ship. Feyre sat to the left of your brother, dressed in her usual ethereal pale blue, another garment made by your mother, but less impressive than the items you owned. You sat to his right with Azriel to your side, Mor, Cassian and Nesta occupied the seats to Feyre's left in that order, and Lucien lingered somewhere between, still on the side of the Night Court, put just an arms length away from his brother.

Eris was stoic and cruel, power radiated from him, but you seemed the be the only one who saw what lingered beneath that façade. The occasional split second glance he would direct to Lucien when he thought no one was watching, one full of regret and sadness. It seemed that there were many more layers to Eris Vanserra than any of you realised.

"How do we know that you won't rule like your father did?" Rhys had craned forward in his seat, his jet black crown glistening in the darkening sunlight that poured down through the domed windows.

Eris' jaw ticked, a clearly sensitive subject for him, your chin dipped in examination and for a moment, he glanced to you, fire in his eyes that mirrored the very faint sphere of orange that curled around pupils, "Would I have bothered to overthrow him to only rule like him?" Eris replied with his own question and you felt Mor scoff from where you sat, your older cousin not enjoying the sentiment one bit.

"Who knows what you males strive for," Mor bit, more like growled, at him, you face remained distant and cold, you didn't remove your gaze from him, everyone knew that they couldn't hide from you, you were too observant.

Guilt had swirled in your gut at the sight of him, under examination by a group of people he longed to be somewhat friendly with, to work with to better the lives of his people, and Velaris was rich in knowledge and power, it was a court that you would want on your side if you walked a second in his shoes.

It wasn't often, if at all, that you would speak at meetings, it was an unspoken rule for you to be seen and not heard, your presence was powerful enough, and you did have the knack for making things worse with your jabbing words, "Raise your hand if your father is a piece of shit," the room fell silent, and Azriel had his head dipped low to conceal his smirk, his knee nudging yours gently in warning.

Slowly you raised your hand and looked to Rhys who rolled his eyes, but didn't raise his own, he didn't want to indulge you. In turn, Cassian raised his hand, Azriel lifted a finger as did Mor, Lucien's hand raised with his elbow still firmly plastered on the arm of his chair, and Eris didn't dare partake, but you all knew his answer already. Counting under your breath at the souls that had answered your call, you relaxed into your seat, "I don't know about you Rhys but I don't think you're anything like our dear old dad. Mor is nothing like hers, nor is Cassian or Azriel or Lucien. If we were all held accountable for the actions of our fathers then we surely would live in the most tyrannical world possible, no?"

Rhys raked down the iron clad walls of your mind and you gave him a pointed look, refusing him entry and smirking at the twitch that pulled at the corner of his lip, "There is no evidence that Eris will be like Beron, and refusing him alliance only makes such possibilities more likely," you picked at an invisible thread of your sheer black garment and feathered your fingers down the bargain tattoo that curled around your upper arm, one that matched the mark Azriel bore in the same place from a stupid bargain you had made what felt like eons ago.

"In simple terms, brother," you fluttered your eyelashes at him, ignoring his clear fury, "Get over yourself and give it a chance. Prythian can't be a land of harmony when males with big egos can't see the opportunity before them."

Feyre had confined herself to looking at the wall, shifting uncomfortably at the colliding forces of power between you and her mate. It was never something she had the courage to stand between, she'd perish if she even tried. Nesta was smirking at you, the only one who would hold Rhys accountable and live to see another day, relishing in the fury of the High Lord.

Another nudge prodded into your thigh and you snapped your gaze to Azriel, "Will you stop nudging me?" You swatted at his thigh, "This world has been through enough already, Amarantha, Hybern, Koschei... It's time that we made a world to be proud of and we can only do that if we work together."

"Who knew that the fawn had a voice?" Eris spoke and you sent him a satisfied grin, Rhys looked to the High Lord and snarled at the name he had dared to direct to you, but quickly composed himself with a warning glace to you that meant he would deal with you later.

Matching is tone, you teased, "Thank you. My campaign for High Lady is imminent," Cassian let out an audible low chuckle, his shoulders shaking next to Nesta who was doing her best to contain the amused smile that fought its way onto her lips.

Typical y/n.

Looking to Rhys, you smiled and waiting expectantly, he seethed out his answer, "Fine," he moved his attention to Eris who was still smirking at you, eyes blazing with curiosity, "We will work with you, Eris. Let's call this the start of a long lasting alliance between our courts," Rhys rose to his feet, "Please feel free to stay the evening and join us for dinner. I will have a room prepared for you."

An olive branch, one that made you avert your gaze to Eris to see him nod in shocked agreement.

Rhys lowered himself so that his head lingered by your ear, his fingers curled around the back of your chair, and he growled, "My office. Now."

A chill slithered down your spine and you smiled thinly at no one in particular before rising from your seat and following Rhys from the room. The pair of you didn't utter a single word as he led you through the halls of the House of Wind, walls that seemed to shrink away from your pulsating energies as he led you to his office and shut the door behind your entrance.

"What in the name of the Mother do you think you're doing?" Rhys seethed as he rounded your smaller figure, towering over you to the point that he shrouded you in the shadow of his figure and flexing wings.

With a raised brow, you spoke calmly, "I highly suggest you take a step back and stop trying to intimidate me," his gaze softened slightly and he obeyed you, stuttering back a couple of feet and tucking his wings out of sight.

"Eris is not someone that we should have an alliance with," he leaned against his desk and watched as you turned around, lifting the heavy glass lid to his whisky decanter and pouring two glasses of the amber liquid before extending one out to him which he took without question.

You waited until he had taken a sip before talking, "Regardless of what you think, you know I'm right," you took the seat opposite the desk and nestled into the deep brown cushions, leaving him standing before you, "Rhys, you wear a mask to the rest of the world, in everywhere other than Velaris. Cauldron, you even make us follow suit. Has it ever entered your limited mind that Eris may do the same, that he too is hiding behind the mask he has created for himself?"

Rhys frowned, "Did you just call me stupid?"

Scoffing, you sipped the amber liquid and enjoyed the delicious burn that sank down your throat, "All you're doing is proving my point."

Rhys threw his head back and inhaled deeply, clenching his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose, "You know that I love you," he lowered his gaze to wash over you, but you didn't falter, you had never faltered under Rhys' glare, you were perhaps the only one who wasn't impacted by it, "You have to understand that I will always do what is right to protect our home, to protect you."

"And you have to understand that I will always do what is right to better the continent, not just our people."

The relationship between you and Rhys was a complicated one. There was a lot of love and respect between you, but his fear of losing you often clouded his mind. His word was law, but your word was the final judgement. The reckoning. There was nothing even he could do to change that.

Many males had attempted to get close to you, but none were good enough to appease the expectations of the High Lord of the Night Court. It wasn't as if you cared. You required an equal, someone who wouldn't diminish your power, and males had the tendency to attempt to control you.

Rhys had even refused your hand to Helion, much to your disappointment, and before the acts that led to the demise of your sister, he had refused to extend a thought to Tamlin who had clearly been besotted with you. Thank the cauldron for that at least.

"You have a strong will, y/n," a backhanded compliment if you had ever heard one, you rose from your seat and placed your empty glass on the bare surface to his left, "It will get you in trouble."

"Good. I can't wait."

Leaving Rhys alone in his office had filled you with far too much smugness and serenity.

The golden tainted pink hue from the sunset poured through the large windows, trickling up the walls and coating your skin in its soft shimmer as you paced before them.

Black fabric chased after your steps from your dress sweeping in the breeze you had created in your movements, you could feel the comfort of your chambers, you could almost taste it as you rounded the corner and entered the room without a second thought.

The familiar skitter of cool kisses swirled around your ankles and you didn't need to look up to see who was splayed across your cream comforter, "I know what you're going to say," you disappeared behind the thin clouded dressing screen and peeled your dress from your body, rifling through the railing full of ornate pieces whilst Azriel examined your silhouette from his place on your bed.

"Then I don't need to tell you how stupid you are," you looked over your shoulder at his words, like he could see your expression which was one of confusion and annoyance, "I swear you get more defiant each day."

Peeking your head around the corner of the screen, displaying your face and shoulder to him, you spoke, "It's the only exciting thing I have to do around here."

Azriel quirked a brow to you, his shadows dancing around his shoulders at the sound of your voice, "That's not true," you scoffed at his words and disappeared back behind the screen, continuing on your quest to find a dress for dinner, "There are plenty of things to keep you entertained in Velaris."

"Azriel," you deadpanned, not stopping your movements in plucking dressed from the railing and holding them up to your body, "Rhys doesn't let me do anything other than train and sit and look pretty and intimidating. I'm Velaris' glorified trophy."

A particular garment caught your eye and you smirked, taking it from its hanger and pulling it up your form. It was a stunning piece, one you rarely wore. An ornate solid gold bodice of blooming roses and ivy that connected to a red wine skirt that possessed a high slit, cream lace poked from the highest point of the slit and kissed your thigh.

"That's not true. He let you fight against Hybern," Azriel told you pointedly, seemingly becoming lost for words when you stepped from the screen and soothed down the skirt of the dress before bending down to secure golden heeled sandals to your feet.

"I fought against Hybern because there was no choice to do anything but that," you hadn't spared the Shadowsinger a glance but smiled softly at the shadows that curled lovingly around your ankles, you held two sets of earrings up to your ears and tilted your head in the mirror, "I'm sure if there was an option to stay home then Rhys would have gladly assigned the position to me."

Azriel rose from the bed, moving behind you and resting his hands on your hips, his hazel eyes boring into your reflection, "He worries about losing you. He couldn't stop what happened to your mother and sister, I think he just wants to be able to stop anything from happening to you," Azriel smiled at you and your orange ringed violet eyes softened at him, "Wear the red ones, they match the skirt."

"Thanks, Az," he hummed in response and took a step back, the place where his hands once lay turning cold and begging for more, "Shall we go to dinner then? What an exciting evening we have ahead of us," Azriel chuckled and offered his arm to you which you gladly took, allowing him to pull you from the room.

There was an unspoken attachment between you and Azriel, like it could be something more if you were both willing to risk your already perfect relationship on the notion of it. You both knew that feelings lingered, but if Rhys ever found out it would surely cause a civil war within your family, and you'd hate to think where everyone would stand in that battle.

The dining room had been beautifully dressed, a black tablecloth and tall golden candles, gold plates and coated silverware, ornate but expensive goblets and an array of blood red and orange flowers, no doubt a nod from Feyre of respect toward Eris.

Azriel left you at your usual seat with a subtle squeeze of the hand before rounding the table and taking his spot opposite you, scuffing the chair against the stone and sitting in it as you did in yours. Family members trailed in one by one, Nesta took her seat beside you and Cassian sat to her left, Mor took the spot beside Azriel and Elain took the other, then Amren entered, then Rhys and Feyre, the former of which nestled into his spot at the head of the table.

Then Lucien and Eris entered, and the High Lord eyed the last two remaining spaces, the one at the head of the table opposite Rhys or the one next to you, and Eris strode beyond his brother to steal that option. He teetered at the edge of it and peered down on you questioningly, "May I?"

Feeling Rhys' eye on you that you didn't dare to acknowledge, you nodded gently, "Of course," he took your answer in the palm of his hand and used it to pull the chair out, his scent of mulled wine, candied orange and pine filling your lungs as he sat.

Eris was dressed well, a red waistcoat adorned with golden swirls, a cream shirt that was tucked into the waistband of his black pants, like he knew to match your own attire, something that not only you noticed.

Idly, decanters of wine floated about the space, pouring themselves into the empty goblets placed at every seat, and food began to appear, dish by dish, on the long table. Platters of roasted vegetables, silver dishes piled with meats, bowls of fresh salads, boats of sauces, and most importantly, towers of desserts that made your eyes glisten, wanting to skip the main course entirely and help yourself to a slice of cake.

Clearing his throat, Rhys raised his goblet, tearing you from your salivating thoughts, "A toast," he smiled thinly at Feyre whose gaze shifted to you and then to the male at your side, "To new alliances."

The room repeated the sentiment before digging in, doing their best to ignore the swirling tension caused by Eris choosing to spend the evening sat beside you. Though, that soon vanished when Cassian started telling his many tales of his escapades throughout the years with the intermittent corrections from Rhys and Azriel.

"I should thank you," a low voice spoke from your right and you craned your head toward Eris, his hypnotising russet orbs were fixated on you, dark and full of wonder as they raked over your face, "For what you said at the meeting. I hope you weren't scolded for helping my cause."

Eris' voice was low, only loud enough for you to hear and you alone, his eyes were soft and stare void of that stoic cold that usually possessed it. He looked like a completely different person, there was actually kindness bubbling within him, genuine sincerity in his words.

"Rhys can scold me all he wants, it'll never change anything," you replied in the same tone, the orange ring in your eyes burning like wildfire, "Anyhow, it's a cause worth supporting."

From the corner of your eye, you caught Lucien watching you with intrigue, his fingers encased with Elain's atop the table with a knowing glitter lingering in his expression, he grinned as his brother spoke and leaned toward Elain to whisper something beyond your realm of hearing, "I can't remember the last time I saw you before Hybern."

Smirking, you asked, "Have you been thinking about me, High Lord?"

"It's not hard to," he replied honestly, watching the faint blush creep up your cheeks, "When was the last time?"

Humming, you thought about it, it wasn't often you actually left the confinements of Velaris thanks to your brother's protective antics, your eyes glazed over slightly, "It was Under The Mountain, at the beginning, after she," you rolled you shoulders, coiling them in the memory of that night.

That's right, the last time he had seen you before the war had been the night after Amarantha had stripped your wings from your body, carving them off with her talons to punish Rhys' reluctance. It had taken everything within Eris to not set her alight on the spot, if he could have, after he had seen your shaking pale form wandering the halls like a ghost.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up."

"It's fine," you insisted, sighing deeply, "It's a fading memory now, I've adjusted well."

"I'm glad to hear it," the genuine tone to him was confusing, but you always knew there more to him than what met the eye, and part of you was proud to have been correct about it.

Eris had grown up listening to the stories about you and Rhys, two formidable winged warriors that exuded darkness and power, who held the capacity in their fingers to shatter kingdoms if they so wished it.

It didn't scare him. You had never scared him actually.

"Make the most of this alliance, Eris. It's very rare that I speak up on such matters," you told him, sipping from the wine in your cup and placing it back onto the tabletop under Rhys' watchful gaze.

There was an elegance about you, Eris noticed, the poised shoulders and perfectly slender pointed ears, the violet eyes with the speckles of Autumn orange, the grace laced in your words. It was a spectacular thing to witness up close.

"Then why did you?"

There was a moment of contemplation and you furrowed your brow in thought, "I can't sit by and be part of the reason why people suffer," very unlike Rhys, "Other than that," you trailed off, looking deep into his eyes like your violet pools were drowning in his soul, "I'm not quite sure."

Author's Note

Part one to the series I've been planning for awhile.

Prepare yourselves for a pining, needy slow burn with a hint of forbidden love x

[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.”

[nikethestatue]

The problem with Lucien, of course, is that he is unremarkable.

And I am not saying this as an anti. I am saying this from SJM's standpoint.

She likes hyperbolic partners for her FMCs. Rhys--the MOST POWERFUL high Lord in history. Cassian--the GREATEST General and Enalius reborn. Azriel--THE carrier of Truth Teller, a seven siphon Illyrian, THE Shadowsinger. Rowan--the GREATEST Fae warrior with magic old and vast, Dorian--THE possessor of immense reservoirs of natural magic, Lorcan--the GREATEST Demi Fae warrior. Hunt--THE Umbra Mortis, created specifically for Bryce...and so on.

Lucien is basic. At best, he is an heir to a Court of Prythian. He inherited his parents' powers. But there is nothing special beyond that. He is a typical High Fae, who can winnow short distances, and has some magical capabilities. He is not a skilled warrior. He might be a schmoozer, but we are yet to see any meaningful results that he delivered from his ambassadorial ventures.

I am sorry, but SJM is not giving the last available Archeron sister to Lucien. Nice guy, most of the time. Not remarkable enough to be married and mated to the Cauldron-Made Seer with untold powers.

Unless SJM does something spectacular with Lucien, and gives him a lot more zhoosh, he just ain't cutting it.

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (part ten)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: I really love this chapter. Let's see if you can find the reference I made in here. I honestly make so many references in the fics I write, but no one has noticed them.

Anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

The tension in the air could have been cut by a blunt knife.

The most powerful High Lord in the history of Prythian was staring down one of the most feared man in Prythian, the Spymaster of the Night Court.

They were nearly chest to chest, and Y/n feared that if someone didn't step in, this place would be bathed in blood. So she cleared her throat.

Azriel looked at her, brows furrowed.

"I– can we go back? Can you take me back?"

"Sure–" As he began to turn to her, the High Lord's hand shot out, clamping down on his shoulders. Azriel glared at the hand and then it's owner.

"Cassian can take her back. Or if its him you want to go with, please wait for sometime." Rhys glanced at her while saying the second part. "My office. Now." He threw at Azriel before stalking out of the room.

Everyone watched him go, a muscle feathering in Azriel's jaw as he turned to her. "Don't worry about me. I'll be there soon." With that, he turned and followed Rhys.

Y/n's stomach turned as she thought about what could happen to Azriel. The high lord was said to be ruthless and cunning, and even though he hadn't seemed like it when they first met, she didn't know if she could sit still until she was sure that her husband was safe. The urge to follow him and make sure he wouldn't be harmed was overpowering any sense she had, but before she could take a step, Cassian placed a hand on her shoulder.

He tilted his head towards the door, and she nodded. Glancing back one last time to where Azriel had disappeared, she followed Cassian outside.

She stayed quiet the whole time, muttering a thanks to Cassian when they landed before locking herself in her room.

She couldn't stop thinking about Azriel and what he'd done today. Allegedly done today.

She changed into her nightgown, climbing into bed hoping to sleep. Maybe then her mind would stop trying to find some meaning in his actions. Maybe then her heart would stop trying to make her feel things she didn't want to feel.

•○🌑○•

It had been almost more than an hour now, and Y/n couldn't sleep no matter what she did. With a huff of annoyance, she threw the covers aside and stood, stomping to the balcony and leaning against the railing. Her minds inability to just shut the hell up was frustrating.

As her mind drifted through the plethora of thoughts in her head again, she couldn't help but think back to where Azriel might be right now. Was he back yet? He would come to meet her if he was, right?

As soon as she had those thoughts, she heard the familiar scuff of boots coming near, and her chest started loosening. From the sound of it, the door opened and closed behind her, but she didn't turn. She couldn't, because she knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from throwing her arms around him and slapping him at the same time. She wondered which she would prefer.

She could feel him coming closer, and she gripped the railing tightly.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked quietly, having stopped a little distance away.

She shook her head. "Did you really do it?"

A pause. "Yes."

She nodded, not knowing what to say to that. He took that as a cue to step forward. She knew he did because one moment her back was cold, and the next, she could feel his body heat through the thin silk of her gown. Suddenly she felt extremely exposed, considering the thing she was wearing barely reached her knee, and it was only held up by thin strings.

She inwardly cursed Nesta for this. Y/n had never worn something like this, and when she and Nesta had started to become friends, Nesta was appaled when she realised Y/n did not sleep half naked.

"Do you have nothing to say to that?" Azriel asked, his body like a furnace behind her.

"What do you want me to say?"

"How– how do you feel about all of this?"

"I don't know..."

"Does it bother you?"

She shook her head. "No, it does not. But what about the women and children?"

"They were evacuated to safety. And your brother, he's here."

At that, she finally turned slightly to look at him. She hadn't even thought of her brother who lived in the camp. She didn't have to worry about Velda as she lived in a different camp.

Azriel towered over her, studying her.

"What?"

"He is living in an inn across the Sidra."

"Really?" When he nodded, relief spread through her. She mumbled a thank you before turning back to the view in front of her.

"Your....your father is alive."

She stiffened. "What?" She whispered.

"He burned in the fire, but I just felt like he didn't suffer enough for his crimes." He stated casually, as if he was telling her about the weather.

She blinked at the night sky before asking the same question again.

"I bought him here. He is where we keep all the prisoners and I... interrogate them. He is badly injured and won't be able to escape. I wanted to ask you before I did anything to him."

She knew exactly what he meant with that.

"What did you want to ask."

"You were the one who suffered from his ministrations. You deserve the right to punish him however you want. You can either let him live, give him a quick death or let me handle him."

"What would letting you handle him entail?"

"I'll go all Spymaster on him. I'll do all the things I do to the prisoners to get information out of them."

She nodded. Thinking for some time, she finally decided. "Then I'll let you handle him."

He was silent for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"I am."

His hands landed on either side of her on the railing as he leaned closer. "Thank you." Butterflies erupted in her stomach as he kissed her shoulder before straightening. "Come, you should sleep."

She turned to him, and ignoring her mind, she followed her heart's urge to wrap her arms around her husband. He froze for a moment before wrapping an arm around her shoulder and using the other to cradle the back of her head.

"Thank you. You didn't need to do this." She mumbled against his chest.

"I absolutely did." She pulled back from him. He smiled and kissed her forehead before tugging her back into the room.

As she lay down and he arranged the covers around her, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Azriel? Your father and brothers lived in the camp too. What happened to them?"

He gave her a smile, and honestly she should have been scared of it. But she wasn't, and that scared her more than anything else did.

"They're dead."

"Did you see them?"

"Yes. And it gave me immense satisfaction."

"Wish I could have witnessed it."

He blinked at her, a slow smile spreading on his face. He pushed her hair back from her face as he straightened. "Hmm. Next time I do something like this, I'll make sure to take you with me."

She grinned, just a little bit, shaking her head. He stared at her for a few moments before nodding his head and turning away. "Good night."

She didn't want him to go. Atleast, not yet.

She had only a moment to make her choice, and she did.

Her heart danced with joy while her mind screamed at her that this was a bad idea.

"Azriel." She burst out before she lost her nerve.

He paused, turning back slightly. "Yes?"

"Can you– can you stay?"

He stared at her. "What? You– you want me to stay?"

Instantly, a blush was climbing up her neck. What if he didn't want to stay? She kicked herself mentally. "Only if you wish to–"

"I do." His eyes shone. "Um– do you want me to sleep on the ground? I have no problem with it."

She shook her head. "Stay next to me. Please."

The room was dark, the only light provided by the moonlight filtering in from the doors of the balcony. She almost couldn't see the flush on his neck and face as he rounded the bed, where a few clothes had appeared. He took them and walked into the bathing chamber to change.

When he walked back out he was dressed in loose pants and shirt. He slowly climbed into the bed. He was as stiff as a plank with tension as he lay as far as he could from her.

She smiled and turned on her back. "You can relax you know. You'll never get any sleep if you're that tensed up."

He sighed. "I know."

She bit her lip. "I don't bite...much."

His head whipped to her. And honestly, she agreed. She wasn't bold in any way. She didn't even know where that came from.

"Tell me about something interesting."

"Velaris was built by Rhys's father." He supplied.

"Really? Wasn't he..."

"Cruel? A monster? That he was. But he did build and protect Velaris. The only good thing he did, honestly."

"What was he like?"

Azriel began telling her about the previous High Lord of Night Court, and she listened, her attention rapt. As moments passed, his voice filling the room, he relaxed gradually. He also told her about Cassian's past and his mother.

When he was done, they stayed silent. She processed all the information that had just been dumped on her. She shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

"Would you accept an olive branch?" She nodded and he pulled her closer. Now she was as stiff as a board.

"Relax. I don't bite...much." He murmured against her hair.

She sat up abruptly. "Was that a joke Spymaster?"

He grinned, pulling her back to his chest. "Maybe." After a pause, he went on. "Sleep. I won't try anything. No funny business unless you ask for it."

"Shame." She mumbled under her breath.

"Did you say something Y/n?"

Of course the bastard heard her. "No."

"I feel like Nesta is a really bad influence on you."

"Shut up." She shoved his chest lightly. He just kissed her head and wished her a good night.

As she drifted off, she felt safer than she had felt in her whole existence. She knew he would protect her always, no matter what.

And maybe that should have scared her, but it just made her feel warm and happy, making something in her chest sing.

•○🌑○•

Part 11

Taglist: @bubybubsters @maxxieluvs @bubbbllee @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @waytoomanyteenagefeels @tell-me-a-poem @the-lake-is-calling @spaxxxi @japanese-wonderland-blog @valeridarkness @moonlwghts @deadratio @esposadomd @harrystylesfan2686 @missusbarnes-rogers @whatthefuckshappeningrn @hyacinthoideshispanica @historygeekqueen @lizziesfirstwife @nastynesta @aroseinvelaris @nightless @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kodokunarisu-blog @selillusion @eos-princess @moonfawnx @a-court-of-milkandhoney @emilyo-218 @wannabewolf @ailyr92 @chronically-online-cheese @myheartfollower @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @marina468 @menaosama @starryhiraeth @hereticdance @mali22 @valencia-rou @azrielsstarlight @marvelouslovely-barnes @luvmoo @starlight-hope @a-frog-with-a-laptop @fall-myriad @alt-ghost @elleofdragons @ruleroftides @5moremin @stargirl1714 @bunnymallowo @ivy-34 @aria-chikage

[merwgue]

Rhysand is often portrayed as this perfect, morally grey ruler, but when you take a closer look at his actions, it's obvious how messed up he really is. Let’s break down the so-called “benevolent” High Lord of the Night Court.

1. The Hewn City – The King of Torture? Rhysand's treatment of the people in Hewn City is straight-up barbaric. The way he holds power over them isn’t out of necessity or to “protect” them from worse rulers—it’s control through fear and violence. He tortures them, plays with their lives, and enjoys maintaining his iron grip on them. It's almost like he uses them as his personal stress toys. Is that really the hallmark of a just ruler? Sure, Hewn City isn’t full of saints, but for Rhys to stand on his high horse and act like he's saving everyone while still torturing his subjects? Hypocrisy at its finest.

2. Rhysand and Feyre – Let’s Talk About Consent Let’s not forget that he literally assaulted Feyre Under the Mountain. I don’t care how anyone tries to frame it as him “saving her” from Amarantha—there’s no excuse for the way he took away her agency. Rhys manipulated her, forced her into wearing those skimpy outfits, and paraded her around for his entertainment. All while pretending it was for the greater good. It's pretty damn disgusting how that gets brushed under the rug like it was some noble sacrifice when in reality, he robbed Feyre of her choices.

3. Planning to Execute Nesta – The Line Between Justice and Control Rhysand and his inner circle legit planned to execute Nesta, all because she didn’t fall in line. Nesta had her faults—hell, a lot of them—but threatening her life because she didn't act the way Rhys wanted? That's not justice; that's manipulation and control at its core. He wasn't trying to protect anyone. He was pissed that he couldn't control her, that she wasn't another cog in his perfect little machine of Night Court harmony.

4. Tamlin – Kicking a Man While He’s Down Say what you will about Tamlin, but there’s no denying that Rhysand completely overstepped every boundary when it came to him. The Night Court loves to preach about freedom, but Rhys had no problem strutting into Tamlin’s land, throwing it in his face, and making an already broken man feel like utter shit. There’s a difference between defending your own and downright antagonizing someone who’s in the depths of depression. At one point, he basically told Tamlin to end his own life. What kind of "savior" talks like that to someone who's clearly struggling? It's downright cruel.

5. The Night Court – A Dictatorship Wrapped in Pretty Words Rhysand's Night Court is sold to everyone as this place of freedom, where people can be who they truly are—but at what cost? If you cross Rhys or don’t fall in line with his vision, you either face his wrath, his torture, or his manipulation. He's not running a court; he's running a dictatorship where everything is fine as long as it aligns with his master plan. The fact that he keeps calling himself the “most powerful High Lord in history” just feeds into that massive god complex he has. The ego on this guy is unbelievable.

6. Double Standards – The Morality of Convenience Rhys preaches about freedom and respect, but he only seems to extend that to people he deems worthy. If you’re in his circle or someone he cares about, great—you get all the privileges. If not? Well, tough luck. He’ll trample over your land, threaten your life, or torture you into submission. The cherry on top? Everyone around him acts like he’s the greatest thing to happen to Prythian, and the fandom just eats it up.

So, yeah. Rhysand is fucked up. He’s not just morally grey—he’s power-hungry, manipulative, and borderline sadistic. His version of “ruling” the Night Court is as hypocritical as it gets. Benevolent High Lord? More like the king of self-righteous cruelty.

7. Locking Up Nesta – Rhysand’s Tamlin Moment Remember how everyone vilified Tamlin for locking Feyre up “for her own safety”? Sure, it was messed up, but the narrative painted him as this controlling, possessive villain because of it. Now, fast forward to Rhysand, who literally does the same thing to Nesta. She’s spiraling, yes, but instead of finding her real help or giving her space to heal, he decides to trap her in the House of Wind like a damn prisoner. He takes away her freedom, isolates her from the outside world, and forces her into a situation she clearly doesn’t want. How is that any different from what Tamlin did?

But here’s the kicker: Rhysand gets praised for it. Why? Because he’s Rhysand, the supposed hero, and everything he does is always “for the greater good,” right? It’s utter bullshit. He used the same controlling tactics on Nesta that Tamlin used on Feyre, but the fandom acts like he was being this saintly, tough-love older brother. What he did was textbook manipulation, stripping away Nesta’s autonomy because she didn’t fit into his perfect vision of what recovery should look like.

8. Forcing Recovery on Nesta – Ignoring Trauma Let’s not sugarcoat this: Rhysand locked up a woman who was using drinking as a coping mechanism and basically said, “Tough luck, you’re staying here until you fix yourself.” That's not helping; that’s punishing someone for their trauma. Nesta was in pain, lashing out and struggling to deal with what happened to her. Did she need help? Absolutely. But instead of offering her real emotional support, Rhys just forced her into a recovery program that suited his standards and timeline, not hers.

What makes this even worse is that Nesta was self-harming through drinking, and instead of addressing the root cause of her pain, Rhysand and his inner circle chose to control her like she was a problem that needed to be fixed, not a person who needed to be understood. There’s nothing noble about that.

9. Rhysand’s Hypocrisy – Tamlin vs. Himself This is where Rhysand’s hypocrisy really shines. He condemned Tamlin for being controlling, and Feyre (rightfully) left that toxic environment. But Rhys turns around and does the same thing to Nesta, and instead of being held accountable for it, he gets celebrated for “taking action.” How does that even make sense? It's such a double standard that it's almost laughable. Tamlin’s actions were wrong, but Rhysand’s were just as bad, if not worse, because he knew better. He knew what it felt like to be controlled, yet he did it anyway.

10. Stop Giving Rhys a Pass People need to stop giving Rhysand a pass for his behavior. He gets away with literal torture, manipulation, locking people up, and trampling over others' boundaries because he’s good at hiding it behind the facade of “protecting his court.” He’s not the hero people make him out to be. He’s just as flawed and fucked up as the people he claims to be better than.

At the end of the day, locking someone up—whether it’s Feyre in the Spring Court or Nesta in the House of Wind—is a violation of their autonomy. Rhysand isn't some hero swooping in to save the day. He's a controlling ruler who just happens to be good at spinning the narrative in his favor.

[bookbitchx]

The doomed pregnancy plot.

Everyone keeping Feyre clueless is a whole other rant, so I'm putting it aside for now, along with the shitty timing.

So, other than that.

Why didn't other healers take a look at Feyre, and why was Madja's assessment considered final?

It can be argued that Madja is the best in the NC since Rhysand trusts her so fine, scratch the healers, even if one of them placed Cassian's guts back in, good as new.

Why wasn't Thesan, the High Lord of healing, consulted or even asked to assist during the birth, healing her through it?

I'm not including Tamlin, the literal High Lord of shape-shifting, in that for obvious reasons. God forbid Rhysand lowers himself to consult him, even with his mate's life on the line.

After the secret was let out, why didn't they try shifting her? She's 100% dying in childbirth. She's 100% dying in a C-section (I'm not even touching that), but there's a small chance of something happening in case she shifts... you see where I'm going with this.

How I see it is that they're willing to risk Feyre, not even risk, because it's confirmed she's going to die but not willing to risk the baby and giving her a chance at survival.

Zero talk about abortion. It's not that it wasn't on the table. It wasn't even in Prythian.

I get that Fae babies are precious and rare, although that gets harder to believe (yes, I'm side eyeing LoA), but it also makes me think SJM is pro life.

Why didn't they seek out other methods? Why didn't Rhysand try to barter with the Couldron, the Mother, before it got to that point?

Yes, I hate that Nesta had to do it to 'redeem' herself.

Finally, after all of that, while Feyre is dying, Rhysand's power rallies itself to destroy everything around them and the 'world' because there's no life without Feyre in it.

So, you're telling me 'the most powerful High Lord in history' can destroy the world but not save his mate?

[azrielbrainrot]

Lunch

Pairing: Feyre x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Face Sitting

Description: Your High Lady keeps you busy during lunch break.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, face sitting, some dirty talk

Word Count: ~1,3k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: Feyre and Rhys have an open relationship in this story, there's no cheating here. Hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

“Don't tell me you're feeling shy now?”

You wouldn't say you were shy, not at all, but the way your High Lady lay naked on the bed, fair skin contrasting with the dark sheets and silky hair spread over her head like a halo, a confident smirk on her face as she watched you, was certainly leaving you at a loss for words.

It's hard to even remember how you ended up in this situation. One moment you were helping the High Lord and Lady with some files as you usually did and the next the mated pair seemed to be locked into a mental conversation, eyes focused on each other for a long moment.

As soon as you were about to excuse yourself from the room, feeling the tension rising in the air, Rhysand does it himself, leaving Feyre with a kiss on the crown of her head and wishing for her to have a good time as he walks to the door, murmuring about how he should go and find his spymaster too.

You were so confused with the whole situation that you barely noticed Feyre standing up and walking around the desk, sitting against the dark wood right in front of you. Swallowing, you lean back to be able to meet her eyes, mouth growing dry at the hunger you find in them. She wastes no time in making her wishes known, telling you how hard she finds it to focus on her work with you around, offering to help you both relax as she reaches for your hand, twirling one of your rings around your finger.

The next moments were foggy in your mind, memories of kissing her against the desk, hands stripping each other's clothes and trying to memorize the feeling of each other's skins overshadowing each other.

You had been scared of what Rhysand would think if he caught you like this, the thought of what the most powerful High Lord in Prythian history would do if he saw you kissing his mate sending a shiver down your spine. Feyre was quick to assure you he knew what you two were doing and that he had given you his blessing before he left.

It seems the High Lord and Lady weren't completely exclusive, opening up exceptions when they met someone they wanted to fuck, either by themselves or together. The confidence that spread over your body as you realized the High Lady was actually interested in you sent you into a frenzy, pulling her lips back on yours, hands caressing her breasts over her clothes, and traveling lower.

You would be lying if you said you had never thought about Feyre in this light. She was unbelievably beautiful for one, and she treated you very kindly and attentively, always smiling up at you even when she and her mate were so busy they wouldn't leave the office all day. Of course the fact that she was happily mated meant you never in your wildest dreams thought you would actually get to taste or touch her like this.

It's only when she winnows you both to a guest room and helps you strip yourself and her out of the rest of the clothes getting in the way, laying back and asking you to sit on her face so she could taste you like she had imagined doing so many times, that you pause in your tracks, the reality of the situation falling over you.

Like you said, you weren't shy, but this development was something you couldn't have foreseen. You couldn't believe this was real life, that you had gotten so lucky. The High Lady chuckles enamoredly, and it's only then you get reminded that she could read your mind and hear every little thought.

“We don't have much time until we have to start preparing for our meeting,” she says, eyes tracking down your body appreciatively once again, “I don't want to rush you but I really would love to taste you right now.”

Nodding at her, your body finally starts moving, getting up on the bed and straddling her hips, soft hands falling on your waist as you both moan at the sight of each other. Gods, you wished you had more time to kiss her entire body and watch her fall apart on your fingers.

“Next time,” the High Lady promises, tightening her hold on your hips, encouraging you to keep moving until you were hovering over her mouth.

You only hesitate again for a second, looking down at her as she studies your cunt so up close, her hot breath hitting your soaked flesh, before leaning down, letting her mouth meet your cunt as she licks a broad stripe up your folds, needy moans escaping you as she groans at the taste and grabs your hips again so she could reach you better.

The High Lady starts eating you like she was starved, licking and sucking your cunt like it was her favorite meal, letting you know that she had meant every word she said earlier. You didn't know what to do with yourself, hands falling over your own chest when you can't find anything to hold onto, eyes falling shut as pleasure overwhelms you.

Relax. You let out a whine as you hear her speak directly into your mind, it wasn't the first time she had, after working this long for both her and her mate you were more than accustomed to them talking to you like this, but in this moment it felt so intimate you think you could cum from it alone.

“I don't want to hurt you,” you whimper back.

That was an order. You do as she tells you this time, letting your weight fall over her as her hands grab onto your hips. Good Girl. Feyre completely drowns her face in your cunt, groaning in approval at your taste and the delicious noises escaping your lips.

As much as you would like to drag out this moment, your high was building unbelievably fast, and she wasn't giving you even a chance to breathe properly as her tongue explored every inch of you, sucking, biting and kissing until you were trembling against her.

Your hips start grinding down onto her face, hands falling to grab onto her hair, tangling in the soft locks as you encourage her to keep going, pleas escape your mouth the closer you get. An orgasm washes over you abruptly, body falling forward, catching yourself on your hands as you keep grinding down into her face and she holds you in place, cleaning every drop and keeping you shaking on top of her through your orgasm, only letting go when your mewls get louder and your hips start trying to move away from the oversensitivity.

As soon as she releases you, your body falls on the bed next to hers, eyes closing shut, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath and come back down to earth. You only open your eyes again when you feel her straddling you, hands falling over her thighs instantly. Feyre smiles down at you before kissing you again, letting you taste yourself in her mouth and your hands wander all over her body.

Your mouth starts trailing open mouthed kisses down her body, only stopping when you reach one of her nipples and suck it into your mouth, almost purring at the moan of your name she lets out. Positioning your thigh between her legs, you guide her hips over it, letting her ride your thigh and spread her wetness all over your skin. You needed to feel her cum against you as well. It was only fair you returned the favor and took care of your High Lady after all.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

When the Lightsinger Calls (I Hear a Symphony)

An Azriel Drabble

Azriel daydreams of his mate -Inspired by ‘I Hear a Symphony’ by Cody Fry

I used to hear a simple song.

The warm winds of summer blew through the Illyrian mountains as Azriel sat sprawled on a thick branch fifty feet in the air, one leather covered leg dangling as the other stretched across the branch, his back resting against the trunk of an old Oak tree.

Cassian had been butting heads with Devlon for hours. Same shit, different day as they heatedly negotiated new terms for the training of Illyrian females. Devlon, of course, remained as stubborn as an ass. Even after decades of his bullshit, it never failed to chafe Azriel’s nerves that they were under the regime of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history yet had to make nice with stuck-in-their-ways pricks like him. Today in particular had left Azriel feeling less than giving.

Cassian booted Azriel out of negotiations in record time, which admittedly, was likely for the best. Azriel’s dominant stance, deadly gaze, and violent whirling shadows were not best suited for these futile attempts of “sweet talking” Devlon out of his deeply rooted misogyny. If Azriel had his way Truth Teller would do all the talking, but diplomacy unfortunately took precedence.

He may have put up more of a fight when storming out of the Camp Lord’s office had Cassian’s weapon of choice today not had a unique way of toeing that line between diplomacy and force in a way that even Truth Teller could not. No blood spillage necessary, though, Azriel thought with a smirk, the weapon could do just that as well.

The warmth of the suns rays shining through the rustling leaves and the scratch of bark lightly grazing the sensitive membranes of his wings - hitting those spots he could never quite reach - had Azriel drifting off into a light dream state.

As he began to doze, shadows hummed around him, the whistling breeze mixing in with their whirring as they sensed for any incoming threats.

Blending in with their simple song, the creek nearby babbled with the sounds of trickling water, crickets chirped beneath rocks below.

His thoughts became more vivid as his conscience drifted deeper into sleep.

His jaw ticked, wings jerking slightly as he dreamed glimpses of deep red coating his marred skin from the countless souls he’d drawn blood from, lifeless bodies scattered across bloody battlefields, dark cells, the bright flare of roaring fire scalding a child’s hands, his shadows melody becoming broken as they attempted to soothe their master.

The melody became lighter as the flame in his dreams became flashes of light, blurred glimpses of a lovely face appearing in and out of his dreams. A soft laugh intertwined itself with his shadows, the solemn hymn becoming lighter, with vibrant bursts of energy leaving his heart fluttering. More images of the ethereal face flickered through his mind, soft blush dusted cheeks, a radiant white smile, supple fingers tracing the muscles of his chest, plush lips on bare skin, all appearing to the beat of the rising staccato. His lips quirked upward in his sleep as his guard dropped lower and lower and the melody continued growing louder, building into the crescendo of the loveliest symphony he’d heard yet, even in Prythian’s most renowned concert halls.

The music filled Azriel’s entire being, leaving him light as shadow, his flaws forging themselves from ugly into something beautiful, something worthy, as the melody carried his soul toward the light.

Just as his body began to slump out of the tree a sing-song voice brighter than day awoke him. “Careful, Shadowsinger. One might think you’re sleeping on the job.”

He looked down to his beautiful mate, the face his dream had called him to. “My little Lightsinger, did you give Devlon hell?”

She beamed. “Worked a little on him. The girls get seven more hours per week and Cass or I can do spot checks whenever we please. I’ll push for more when we meet again in a few months.”

“That’s my girl.” His eyes shone with the pride filling his chest as he launched out of the tree and swept her off her feet.

“Let’s go home.” She whispered, pressing a kiss to his nose. Azriel only blushed and did just as his lady said, the two falling into companionable silence as her light and his shadow mingled in harmony the entire flight back to Velaris.

And now I hear a symphony.

———————————————-

[silverflameataraxia]

You gotta love how Rhysand - the most powerful High Lord in Prythian history - can barely contain Nesta's power while she's sleeping. He uses his inherent dominant voice and she just ignores him and continues dreaming.

And then there's this gem:

Rhysand's violet-blue eyes guttered into pure darkness at the challenge in Nesta's expression, her stance. A predator recognizing a worthy opponent - and unsheathing its talons. His hands curled at his sides, as if invisible claws were forming.

The most powerful High Lord in Prythian history - the one who is so powerful that the other High Lord's are no match for him - has finally met a worthy opponent, and her name is Nesta Archeron. Lady Death. Queen of Queens. Witch of Oorid. Pillager of Death. Intergalactic Savior.

[high-speed-r]

Early on into my time on the ACOTAR fandom, I called Rhysand “Rhys” like everyone else in his group does. But recently I’ve started calling him by his full name since, as he once said, his prisoners and enemies call him Rhysand

And you can bet your ass that he is certainly my enemy

[tsunami-of-tears]

But Daddy I Love Her

Mor x Vanserra!Reader (sapphic)

A/N: IMO this is some of my best writing yet. Thank you to the anon who requested some angst with Mor. I’ve been wanting to write some more sapphic stuff, so this was fun 💕  Also thank you to @daycourtofficial for being my sounding board ✨ As you can tell I didn’t go with either title option we discussed 😘

Wordcount: 4.4K

Warnings: Female Reader; Angst; Beron being Beron; Controlling father dynamic; visit to the Court of Nightmares; coming out; canon homophobia + patriarchal bullsh!t.

Reader

Your father was a complex character, to say the least. 

He was every bit the callous ruler that he portrayed to the world, but inside his blackened, hateful heart there was a soft spot. You. His only daughter.

While your brothers were pitted against each other and forced to fight for his approval, you couldn’t do much wrong. 

He was protective of you to a fault. So much so, that you were never allowed to court anyone. No one was good enough for his precious pup. Not that you were very interested in males anyway, having grown up with a litter of brothers. You found males irritating at the best of times, and utterly repulsive at the worst. 

You were closest to Beron’s eldest and youngest sons – Eris and Lucien. They were very protective of you too, but in more of an annoying way. They always had your best interests at heart. 

You were never allowed out of the Forest House unsupervised. Adventuring with your brothers was the only time you got let off your leash. You could run with the hounds, fish in the stream with Lucien or just simply be – relaxing under a tree, reading aloud to Eris. 

You often dreamed of a world where you were free. Free from your father’s strict rule. Free to do as you please. Free to be whoever you wanted to be. 

But alas, this was not a world for the dreamers. 

————

The conflict with Hybern was drawing nearer and your father was summoned to attend a meeting with the six other High Lords of Prythian. 

Your entire family was to attend, to showcase the strength of Beron’s brood.

You enter the meeting room together, sticking close to Eris and trying to seem confident, bored even. You keep your head held high, ignoring your brothers’ sneers beside you. 

“Enough” Eris murmurs, calling all three brothers in line. 

You take in the grand room around you, and the wealth of power convened within. 

You recognise most faces from Under the Mountain but some were new to you, their allegiance given away by the shades of midnight blue and black that they wore - the Night Court. The Court that your father despises the most. The Court you were raised to hate.

The High Lord, Rhysand, sat with a casual grace, his great taloned wings stretched out behind him. Beside him was his High Lady, Feyre - the saviour of Prythian - in a glittering dress that looked like it was made of pure starlight.

They were a beautiful couple, and you wonder how evil the male could truly be if he proclaimed his wife as his equal, something that had never been done in all of Prythian’s history. 

The rulers of the Night Court meet your curious gaze; for a second there is understanding on their faces and you have to remind yourself not to smile. 

You break their stare and your eyes flit over two more winged males and a female who shared the same golden hair and blue-grey eyes as Feyre before they settled on a blonde female. 

To describe her as breathtaking would be an understatement. 

She needed no introduction. Not with the rage upon her face as she watched your family, the pure venom in her eyes.

The Morrigan.

You’d never met the female your eldest brother was formerly betrothed to, and he never spoke about her. 

Morrigan’s fury wanes as she looks at you. For a moment you can see behind the mask she was wearing. You can feel the pain underneath, you can see the love for her family and her Court. Only for a moment before she built that wall back up again, sealing herself within. 

You knew her anger towards your family was justified and you couldn’t help but empathise with that. Like so many women, your mother included, she’d been dealt a losing hand.

You successfully kept your eyes off Morrigan for the remainder of the meeting, remembering the role you had to play – the shy, pretty pawn of the Autumn Court. 

If you failed at this game, the results would be devastating.

————

After the meeting ended so terribly, you were hiding out in Eris’s quarters, avoiding the path of Beron’s temper. The pair of you were curled up in front of the crackling fire with Clove, your favourite hound, asleep in your lap. 

Eris has been quiet since returning from the Dawn Court. His mind was surely racing after the encounter with her. 

You turn towards your brother slowly, breaking the silence, “You never mentioned how beautiful she is. You never speak about her at all.”

Eris knew exactly who you meant. “What’s there to say?” He shrugs, “She’s free from the burden of being with me in this festering court.”

“You think so low of yourself, Eris. Someone will be very fortunate to have you doting on them one day.” 

Eris wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head affectionately. “Until then it’s just you and me, bright spark.”

You smile at his nickname for you, one he gave you when you were just a faeling. “Don’t forget Clove!” You exclaim, ruffling the hound’s coat.

————

In the months following the final battle against Hybern, Eris spent a lot of time in the Night Court, working to secure a strong alliance for Autumn. 

Eris was about to head off again, to a ball at the infamous Court of Nightmares. 

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Morrigan. 

You needed to see her again, but she’d never step foot in Autumn. 

You’d have to go to her. 

By the grace of the Cauldron, Beron said yes to you attending the ball with Eris. You were both so stunned by his answer, that you were lost for words. Before dismissing you both, your father had one order for Eris: Do not let her out of your sight.

And so you found yourself in the Night Court, deep inside the Court of Nightmares.

You did your best to bite down on your anxiety as you walked up the dimly lit hallway leading to the ballroom. The intricate carvings of beasts on the walls only add to your feeling of unease. 

You breeze through the large doors, arm-in-arm with your brother. The two of you are the epitome of Autumn. 

Eris wears a suit in a deep burgundy colour, much like the spiced wine you drink to warm your belly on a crisp evening. Your gown of burnt orange swishes around you as you walk, the sequins catching in the faelights, twinkling like the embers of a dwindling fire. 

All eyes turn to you as you walk down the aisle, but you don’t notice them. 

All you see is her, and that golden thread connecting your souls, sealing your fate.

Oh no.

Oh no no no. 

Panic floods your veins as you realise who you’re walking towards. 

Your mate. 

Your brother’s ex-fiancé. Your father’s enemy.

Not her, it can’t be her.

Not here, with so many people watching. 

Your feet slow to a stop halfway to the dais and you turn to Eris. Concern flickers on his face - he can sense something is wrong, he has no idea just how bad it is.

You drop his arm, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’, before disappearing into the air. 

You don’t know where you’re headed or what you will do next. All you know is you need to leave. Now. And get someone safe. 

The thought, somewhere safe, echoes through your mind as you appear in a clearing atop a mountain. 

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, making the sky glow a brilliant shade of orange. The air is cold against your skin, and you rub your hands on your biceps in an attempt to regain some warmth. In moments like these, you are thankful for the fire within your veins. 

You look around, attempting to glean your location. You spot a cabin on the other side of the clearing. As you turn towards it, the front door swings open. An invitation. 

You approach the open door and wonder if there’s a spell on the cabin, tricking you into a false sense of safety to lure you inside to your death. 

You glance around, the only movement you spy is the rustling of leaves in the wind. 

You peek inside and see the small dwelling is well-maintained, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone home. It looks comfortable and homey, with whimsical paintings of vines and flowers framing the door.

Whatever is inside that cabin can’t be worse than the wrath you surely face back in Autumn, so you step over the threshold. 

————

Rhysand

Rhys watches intently as his guests from Autumn walk towards the dais. 

Eris is his usual cocky self, strutting beside his sister. Every bit the High Lord’s heir. Y/N looks like a living fire, glowing as she walks beside her brother. Despite being siblings, there were clear differences between the two fae. Unlike Eris, who Rhys found to be insufferable at times, Y/N had a kind warmth to her. A sweetness that somehow hadn’t been soured by her father over the years. 

She was like the flames that dance in a hearth. The kind of fire used to warm a home or cook a comforting meal that chases away the cold and loneliness. 

Of course, those flames could still burn you if you got too close. 

Y/N stops in the middle of the room. Her eyes not moving from Rhys’s cousin, stood beside his throne. 

‘Something is wrong,’ Feyre says into his mind. 

Rhys quickly throws a glamour over his guests, shielding them and his Inner Circle from the rest of his court. 

Rhys glances at Mor, whose eyes are glued to the flame incarnate before her. 

The expression on Y/N’s face is pure terror as she disappears into a cloud of smoke. 

Eris grabs at the wisps of darkness but it’s too late. Y/N is gone. His eyes are filled with panic as he turns back to Rhys. 

“You Vanserras love to put on a show.” Rhys drawls. “How did she get out past the wards?”

Eris rakes his fingers through his hair, tousling the slicked strands. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know she could winnow.”

Rhys clicks his tongue, “It seems the little fox was hiding some tricks.”

Eris looks Rhys in the eye. “We need to find her,” He says. 

Rhys raises a brow at the Autumn heir. “We?” 

“Beron will kill us all if she’s gone missing. His only order was not to let her out of my sight.” Eris shakes his head in shock.

‘Azriel, go. See if your shadows can find her.’ Rhys orders his spymaster mind-to-mind before the male vanishes into the shadows.

“If she’s still in this court, we’ll find her,” Rhys says calmly, expertly masking his concern that the Jewel of Autumn vanished while in his court. “Let’s go, we can continue this little chat somewhere without an audience.” He rises to his feet, dropping the shield and addressing his court. “I’m afraid I have to leave you to play amongst yourselves. Keir, don’t make too much trouble while I’m gone.” 

Rhys strides out of the ballroom with Feyre by his side. Eris follows behind closely with Cassian and Mor on his tail. 

————

Once out of view, Rhys takes Eris’s hand and winnows him to the Moonstone Palace on top of the mountain. Rhys heads straight to one of the living rooms, opting for somewhere more comfortable to continue the conversation. He silently requests Nuala bring up a tea service as he sits comfortably in one of the plush armchairs. 

Eris slumps down in the chair opposite Rhys, rubbing his temples. His complexion has paled to a colour much like the white stone walls of the palace. Eris’s usual swagger and charm disappeared with his sister. 

“I shouldn’t have agreed to bring her,” Eris sighs, hands ruffling his red hair.

“I’m surprised Beron let her out of the palace,” Rhys admits. As much as he detests the male, he can’t help but feel sorry for him. 

“No one is more surprised than me,” Eris says. “She was the one who asked to come. When Y/N really wants something, not even my father can say no.” Eris smiles softly, as if picturing his sister’s compelling arguments.  

Rhys nods in thanks to Nuala as she sets down a tea service. He starts pouring a cup for Eris as he turns towards him. “What happened then?” Rhys asks. “Y/N looked as if she’d seen a ghost.”

“The bond snapped,” a female voice says from the doorway. 

Both Rhys and Eris’s eyes snap to Mor as she strides across the room and sits across from them on the sofa. 

“What bond? And who with?” Cassian asks from behind her. 

“With me,” Mor says quietly.

Rhys can’t keep the shock from his face. “But you’re…” He trails off, gesturing at Mor’s figure. 

Mor just sighs, “Cousin, I’ve always known that I preferred the company of females. That’s why he, you know.” She risks a glance at Eris who is meticulously masking his real feelings as he sips on his tea.

“Cauldron, I didn’t think I was that bad,” Cassian jokes.  

Mor rolls her eyes and nods her head towards Eris. “He knew. That’s why he didn’t touch me.  That day on the autumn border, Eris gave me my freedom. I let you believe him to be horrible because I wasn’t ready to embrace that part of myself, truthfully I’m still not.” Feyre places her hand on Mor’s arm as she makes her admission. 

“We’d never judge you for that, Mor,” Rhys says sincerely. 

“It’s been instilled in me since I was a faeling, the fear is not something one forgets easily,” Mor shrugs.  

“When did it snap for you?” Eris asks, his face still void of emotion. 

“At the High Lord’s meeting,” Mor responds. “That’s the only reason I came today, hoping to see her again. I know Beron would never let her be with me, but I still had some shred of hope. Clearly, he’s poisoned her view of me…” 

“He hasn’t,” Eris interrupts. “You’re not a frequent topic of conversation, and Y/N never asked about you until after that meeting. She never said, but I suspect it’s why she wanted to come today. In some ways, she’s lucky that she’s been so sheltered. She’s still kind. She saw how all of you acted that day, she saw through the masks. My father’s only weakness is her. Beron is completely blind where Y/N is involved. He will start a war if we don’t find her.” 

“We’ll find her,” Rhys says. “Do you have any idea where she would go?”

Eris rubs his chin as he contemplates. “She doesn't ever go anywhere unsupervised. She loves being in the forest, but there’s no way she could transport herself that far.” 

“I’ve got Azriel searching,” Rhys says. “There’s not much more you can do right now. You can stay here, I’ll show you to your suite.” 

Eris nods, “Thank you, but if you think I will sleep while my baby sister is missing, you are sorely mistaken.” 

Rhys smirks back at the male. “Oh I know, but this way you can sulk in private.”

————

Eris

Eris is pacing in his room when there’s a soft knock on the door. He exhales before opening the door to the blonde female in the hall. Eris folds his arms across his chest and inclines his head, inviting her inside. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell them the truth,” Mor says. “I’ve been lying to myself for so long, I’d convinced myself that part of me didn’t exist.”

“There’s always got to be a villain, I understand why you did it. But thank you for apologising.”

“This bond... It is not going to go well with your father.”

Eris nods, agreeing with her. “We’ll deal with that later. When I’m High Lord, you’ll be welcome in Autumn again, if you ever wish to return.”

“Will you have me over for tea?” Mor scoffs. “I don’t know how this will work with Y/N or if she even wants it. But I’d like to try if she does.” 

Eris straightens defensively. “I’ll support whatever will make her happy,” He says. 

The pair stand in silence for a few moments before Eris smiles sadly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known,” He laughs. “When she was a child, she never wanted me to play as a prince, we both were princesses… As she grew, she never took much interest in courting anyone. If Beron had forbade me or my brothers there would’ve been a riot on his hands. But Y/N was never phased by it. Truthfully, I think she was relieved.” 

Mor returns his smile. “I’m glad she has you. We’ll find her, don’t worry too much.” 

————

Reader

In the cabin, you stare at the eyes on the wall. You would know them anywhere. 

You knew your mate had been here, maybe it was even her cabin. Deep down, your heart knew you’d be safe here. 

You feel so tired, right to your core. You didn’t know you could winnow, your leash had been so tight you never even tried. Mother knows how far you just travelled. 

A steaming cup of tea appears in your hands, the scent of cinnamon and chamomile reminding you of home. Somehow, the cabin knew what would calm you down.

You pull a blanket around your shoulders and sit on the lounge, worn with decades of use, admiring the colourful paintings adorning the walls and every surface. You can tell this place is well-loved, and many happy moments have been spent here. 

Exhaustion nags at you and you fight your drooping lids until you can’t any longer. You slip into the darkness of sleep, wrapped in the blanket, with your mate watching over you. 

————

You’re woken by a cool sensation on your ankle. You look down and see a wisp of shadows wreathing around. It circles a few times before disappearing into the air. 

It’s early in the morning, the first light creeping over the mountains outside. You’re still wearing your ball gown, the fabric creased from your slumber. 

Your head spins as you remember the events of the night before. 

‘How long have I been sleeping? Oh gods, Eris must be going out of his mind…’

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. 

You stand slowly, stretching your stiff limbs and go to answer it – for a moment you forget it’s not your house.

One of Rhys’s winged friends stands on the porch. “Y/N, are you okay?” He looks you up and down, taking in your dishevelled hair and wrinkled dress. “You’re not injured? And how did you get inside?”

“I’m okay, I guess. The door opened for me. It felt safe.” 

The male nods, “Eris is worried about you, I’ve just let Rhys know I found you and you’re unharmed.”

“Thank you,” You say. 

“Mor wants to speak to you, is that okay?”

You nod in answer, “Yeah, we probably need to have a chat.”

“She’ll be here soon, can I get you anything?” He offers.

You shake your head, pulling the blanket further around you. 

“Okay, stay inside, she’ll be here soon.” 

————

Eris

Keeping to his word, Eris didn’t sleep at all. He was watching the sunrise breaking over the mountains when he heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” Eris calls out. 

Rhys enters the room. “Azriel found her, she’s safe, Mor has gone to bring her back.” 

Every cell Eris was tensing is released at Rhys’s words. He tries to roll his shoulders but they are stiff after a tense night.  

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Eris asks. “She ran because of the mating bond.”

“Mor wanted to speak to her privately. They are the only ones who understand.”

Eris nods, feeling relieved that his sister has been found. He’ll be able to rest once he lays eyes on her again. “Thank you, for helping,” He says. 

Rhys waves a hand dismissively. “It does work in my favour to return her safely,” Rhys drawls. “But I would do it anyway.” He turns to leave, “You should eat something, it’s been a long night and we have much to discuss now.”

————

Reader

You do your best to freshen up while you wait. You smooth out your hair and change into some fresh clothes summoned by the cabin – a soft v-neck camisole, cropped at the navel and flowing harem pants, more skin than you’ve ever shown outside your bathing room. The matching set is a brilliant shade of forest green that perfectly complements your hair. 

A knock sounds on the door, announcing your mate's arrival. 

“Hello Morrigan,” you say stiffly, unsure where to look or where to put your hands. You settle with holding them clasped at your front to stop their trembling.

“Just Mor if you like, can we talk?” 

You nod and sit across from each other, the air hangs heavily around you.

Mor sighs, breaking the tense silence. “I guess it snapped for you?”

You nod, the words not making it past your lips. 

“This is a cruel twist of fate,” She laughs darkly, leaning forward on her knees.

“Do you not want it?” You ask, trying to hide the hurt in your voice.

“No,” Mor answers quickly. “That’s not what I meant. With my history and our fathers, I don’t see how it could work.”

Why beat around the bush, you suppose? “What happened, with my brother?”

Mor looks at you curiously. “He never told you?”

You shake your head. 

“We were amicable, not quite friends, never lovers. I confided in him about my preference for–” She waves at you. “Female companionship… and that I didn’t want to be someone’s wife. Of course, my father had other plans. I ruined them by… sullying myself, and my father dumped me on the border of your court. I’ll spare you the grizzly details right now, but your brother gave me my freedom. I wasn’t ready to tell people the truth, so I let my friends believe Eris to be a monster. In truth, I was the monster all along.”

You allow her candid words to wash over you. What your brother had done, allowing himself to be the villain when nothing was further from the truth.

You stand, moving to sit closer to Mor.

“I never believed the things Beron said about you,” You admit, looking into Mor’s warm brown eyes. Eyes that are full of hope. 

“I know that I’m sheltered, but I see the way he treats people. Even my brothers, Lucien especially. I do love him as a father, but as a person… he is awful. I long for the day when Eris takes over Autumn, and I can finally be free. Until then, I will dream of a better world.”

A tear falls from the corner of Mor’s eye and you rest a hand on her knee. 

You steady your breathing before continuing, “I’ve never had much interest in males and never allowed myself to consider alternatives. I’d like to try this, if you want to. I know courting in secret will be difficult, but I’m willing to give it a go. I’m ready to start building the world I’ve been dreaming of.”

Tears stream down Mor’s face and she pulls you into a hug. You savour the moment and for the first time, you allow yourself to hope. 

————

“ERIS!” You call out, running towards your brother and jumping into his arms. 

He catches you easily, wrapping his arms around you. “I was so worried, bright spark,” He says softly into your hair. 

“I know. I’m sorry to do that to you. I panicked. I didn’t even mean to winnow, it just happened.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. But maybe don’t show that trick to anyone else,” Eris puts you down and stands back, taking in your appearance. “It seems this court suits you, Y/N,” He smiles. “Come now,” he extends his arm for you to take, “We’ve got business to discuss with Rhysand. We need to figure out something official so that Father will let you return here with me.” He winks as he walks you to meet with the High Lord.  

————

You’re convinced your brother is a genius. 

He told your father that you and the High Lady got on well and that your presence allowed him and Rhys to get on with business while the females ‘talk about fashion and whatever else they like to discuss.’ 

You had batted your lashes at your father, insisting that the High Lady needed some help with fae etiquette and that she was seeking your help on how to be a proper lady. 

Beron scoffed at the thought of the ‘wild human harlot’ ever being considered a lady, but he couldn’t say no to your wide-doe eyes. Especially not when Eris mentioned that the friendship could give Autumn more sway in political discussions. 

Eris winnowed you both to Rhysand’s Moonstone Palace for your regular ‘meeting’, where Rhys, Feyre and Mor were waiting for you. 

Mor looks ethereal under the starry night sky. Her hair flows like liquid gold in soft waves down her back. Her dress is a deep wine red, paying homage to your home court and hugs her curves perfectly. Your eyes linger on her figure for a few moments before moving back to her face. 

Thank you, Mother.

Rhys steps forward. “Welcome back, we won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares this time,” He explains. “We thought it was time to show you our true home.” 

Feyre smiles warmly, her eyes twinkle with anticipation. 

Rhys takes Eris’s hand and Mor takes yours, winnowing you into the sky above a sparkling city. 

Wind rushes around you as you free-fall. The stone floor of the balcony getting closer and closer until it hits your feet. You steady yourself, feeling grateful for your fae reflexes. 

Still holding Mor’s hand, she leads you to the balcony's edge. You look out at the city sprawling below you, alive and bustling. The humming sound of life below is like music in your ears.

Mor smiles widely at you. “Welcome to Velaris,” she says. “The Court of Dreams.”

[acourtofthought]

Tamlin was the first one to try to stop the King of Hybern during the cauldron scene. Does that undermine what Lucien did?  Lucien thought Elain was in danger in the Night Court but he told Tamlin to “get her back” instead of trying to save Elain himself. Yet Sarah notes that this behavior is that of “a mate already going wild to defend what was his.” Lucien only left the Spring Court when Feyre was already leaving and he had to leave anyways for his safety. Does that undermine his actions? Mor was the first to offer to go search for Vassa. Does that undermine what Lucien did? Unlike Cassian, Azriel didn’t offer to go after the Valkyries at all when they were taken to the blood rite, even though this happens after the bonus chapter. He only said that they needed to get Eris. Does this mean he doesn't care?

No because Tamlin's actions were focused on the king while Lucien's were focused on Elain.

Even as recent as SF we know Tamlin is in love with Feyre therefore it's logical to assume that anything he does is about her. Protecting her, helping her, etc. Tamlin trying to stop the King doesn't have anything to do with Elain specifically so much as Tamlin trying to stop the Kings madness overall because this wasn't what he agreed to (something verified when he says "this is not part of our deal"). A deal which was made in order to break Feyre's bargain with Rhys and get her back.

But Lucien? He tried to step towards Elain before she was put in. Someone he broke free of the kings shackles for, someone who was then revealed as his mate. Lucien paid no attention to Nesta as she was put into the Cauldron, he was more interested in picking up Elain and holding her in his arms so she didn't have more of the Cauldron dumped onto her.

How can anything Lucien did for Elain be undermined when he had never even met her? They were complete strangers yet his instinct wasn't to stop the King but go to her.

This is Rhys after his bond snapped, after suspecting he had a bond with Feyre for months:

No, I don't think Lucien's actions, the "get her back" moment, means his bond with Elain should undermined. He was completely blindsided by the snapping of his bond. If Rhys nearly stole Feyre away but only managed to avoid it by winnowing then I think Lucien being out of his head and having no idea what he was doing or saying can be forgiven. How often do we see Lucien panting and snarling? He's usually quite controlled so it's clear he was a bit out of his mind. Also.... how exactly would Lucien be able to get her back from a High Lord in that moment? "Lucien should have gotten her back himself!". Except Rhys sent Mor in to Spring to retrieve Feyre, right? He didn't even go get his own mate so it's not really as simple as everyone claims.

No, Lucien leaving with Feyre after Spring's downfall doesn't undermine his own actions because Lucien wanted to get Elain back long before that:

End of ACOMAF:

Start of ACOWAR:

People need to remember Lucien is not yet a HL and definitely did not have the power to go against the most powerful HL of Prythian history at the beginning of ACOWAR.

Lucien isn't stupid. Getting himself killed trying to get Elain isn't going to help Elain therefore it was necessary for him to form a plan, not just storm the gates. He knew Feyre was playing him but he knew he had to play the game.

However he was ready to get Elain long before the Spring Court fell, it was just Feyre was finally done playing the game at that point which meant he could then demand his answers.

If another male had been the first to suggest going after Vassa than it might undermine Lucien's actions a bit more but girl power is a theme in Sarah's novels, just as much as the romance. However we also need to remember Lucien is not an Inner Circle member. He doesn't get to order the IC around and tell them how they should be operating, what soldiers they should be sending out, that he should be the one to handle the information accordingly. He rightly gave them time to work through the information as it was presented to the NC since he was only a guest, then spoke up. But either way, he was the only male who fought for her vision.

He was also clearly stunned by everything that had just been revealed:

What happens to Elain also affects Lucien and I think people forget that. Just like her depression caused him actual devestation. I think people need to give the guy a few moments to process the information since she's literally the other half of his soul, whether they accept the bond or not.

Once again, people forget a mated male struggles to react rationally.

In SF, Az was not a mated male. Even if he has a bond with Gwyn he's got no clue, just like Rowan didn't seem affected by Aelin's multiple near death experiences at first. Because of this Az was able to logic that entering the Rite meant her death. I don't think Az would have cared about his own safety but when the laws clearly state she would die too, that it would guarantee her death and he at this point in time was level headed enough to remember that in the way a newly mated male could not, I think it makes sense why he wasn't overcome by emotion to the point it would risk her life.

But Az showing zero concern for Elain when Elain was put into the Cauldron? Az being second to Cassian in offering Elain a dagger? Az not believing in Elain's ability to handle the Trove? Az not feeling Elain's vision was worth pursuing? Az putting Elain's life at risk for both Feyre and Briar simply because he wanted to be the hero who could do it all? Az avoiding Elain at her lowest and only looking into her riddles after Feyre asked it of him? Az looking at Mor with lust while Elain sat in the room with them? Az never giving her credit for her bravery during the war? These things do undermine the supposed feelings he has for her.

[cressidagrey]

AO3 Masterlist

All of these link to my AO3, mostly because that's my personal favorite site to read fan fiction on, and it's much easier to make multiple stories into a series!

Unless otherwise noted, all my series/stories are ongoing, which means…if you have a prompt for any of them, shoot them my way. 

The Court of Gold and Shadows*

you'll be made of ashes too

Elain Archeron makes the most beautiful bride.

Azriel copes.

for the first time, what's past is past

Of all the ways, Azriel expected to meet his mate, this wasn't it. 

something good and right and real

Azriel had spent centuries believing that he of all people didn't deserve a mate. And if anything, the last three years had just galvinised that particular belief. And then he meets her.

The first time Oriana met Azriel, she thought that he reminded her of a skittish cat. Shy and a little bit broken. Good for him that she absolutely excelled in fixing the things around her.

Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours

5 Times Cassian thought that Azriel had feelings for somebody and then the 1 time he finally met the girl his brother was in love with. 

I breathe flames each time I talk

The story of how Oriana Fireborn Belmont, Third Daughter of the First Daughter, met her mate's family.

Also the story of how Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court finally recognises that by the cauldron, there is no fury like that of a female scorned.

Meanwhile, Azriel would just like everybody to get along.

The Unexpected Series*

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

What if… Azriel actually takes Rhys at his word? And does exactly what his High Lord ordered? With unexpected consequences.

Unafraid

Azriel does exactly what his High Lord ordered him to do. (Well, kinda.)

Unprecedented

This is Azriel finding out about said unexpected consequences

Unknowing

This is the Inner Circle finding out about said consequences. Azriel is very good at keeping secrets

Indelible*

Indelible Scars

Azriel knew pain. So did Galena.

Also known as: Azriel’s mate is a healer and the first time they meet, he nearly dies on her.

Glorious Sunrise

So what happens after the mating bond snaps?

Well-meaning interfering family members, deep conversations and nights spent brooding on the roof like some kind of gargoyle…this one has it all.

(The Smutty Sequel y’all asked for ;) )

A Pocketful of Stars*

New Pursuits

The shadows decide that Azriel needs a hobby.

5 times when said hobby-related shenanigans didn’t end so well…and the one time where it may end up better than Azriel could ever have imagined.

Welcome to the World 

The quickest turnaround time between finding your mate and having a kid anybody in the history of Prythian has ever managed

The Starlight Princess*

The Starlight Princess

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

The Prophecy

Lightning in a Bottle

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

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

Looked to the Sky

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Recipe for Love

Peach Cobbler

Azriel finds a bakery and creates his very own reward system.

Honey Cakes

The Beehive Bakery is out of Peach Cobbler. This leads Azriel to make some very impulsive decisions. 

Don't wait for the Sky to Clear

The Fourth Archeron sister makes herself a life in the Dawn Court.

dust of your highest hopes

Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, goes the idiom.

When Solana hears an admission from the High Lord of Day, she’s ill-prepared for it. She doesn’t believe in fairytales any longer, but maybe there was a happily ever after for Solana and Helion somewhere

The Ties that Bind

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

The Witching Hour

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Bound by Blood

Azriel's witch has some very smutty plans for Samhain.

Tear the World Apart

Eris’ mate decides to get rid of her father-in-law. Also known as: If Eris Vanserra married a very bloodthirsty Margaery Tyrell.

Brighten Up the Sky

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense.

Stars all aligned

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

It's a Love Story

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

(Super pretty dividers thanks to @tsunami-of-tears !)

[nightcourtreader]

💞 Like calls to like💞

“Like call to like” is a quote that SJM has stated numerous times in the acotar series. This quote also goes for her mates. SJM is known to want her mates equal. She’s not known to do an opposites attract mating bond.

From what I gathered from the text with feysand, Nessian, gwynriel, and elucien; each couple has many similarities between them.

Based on what I gathered, which is canon evidence throughout the series, we can see that Azriel and Gwyn have enough connections and similarities that make them equals. And since we know elucien is already mated, we can see why they are deemed equals.

✨Feysand✨

• They are one of the most, if not just the most, powerful fae in Prythian. (Rhys is the most powerful high lord in Prythian history & Feyre has all 7 high lords powers.)

•Feyre’s birthday is on the longest night of the year (winter solstice) and Rhysand is high lord of the night court.

•Both of them rule the night court with the “high title”. (Feyre is the first leading lady of a court to have a title that is equal to an high lord.)

•Both are compassionate when it comes to their family. They really love their families.

•Both are morally gray characters. Feyre has a mean streak so does Rhys. Rhys is more advertised to be morally gray but I just think Feyre is too.

•Both felt/feel like they are monsters at some point.

•Both are cunning.

•Both have calculated minds.

•Both will become monsters to defend their love ones.

•Both felt like they weren’t worthy of good things at some point.

•Don’t like to share the burden of their troubles.

•Both sacrificial fools.

•They both are trained warriors and fighters.

🗡Nesta & Cassian🗡

•Cassian is the general/commander of the Illyrian’s and we get foreshadowing that Nesta would be the general/commander of the valkyries.

•They both are trained warriors/fighters.

•Both thought less of themselves. (Cassian often called himself just a bastard born nobody and Nesta thought she wasn’t shit and a waste of space.)

•They both thought they didn’t deserve one another.

•They both thought they didn’t fit each other’s standards.

•Both have calculated minds.

•Both have minds that can calculate a battlefield. (We know this due to Cassian being a general/commander but we see that Nesta used a ballroom as her battlefield to spite a girl who was mean to Elain.)

•Both have a connection with death. Cassian walks alongside death because he’s a warrior. Nesta has death magic and is called lady death.

•They both have a connection to dancing and music. (Nesta dances and loves music. Cassian has so much skill and precision in battling that is was like a dance. And for him, battle is a symphony. He has a death dance. (Page 509, ACOWAR)

•Training helps both of them clear their heads.

•They rather put themselves in danger than their families.

•Both have insecurities and doubt themselves.

•At one point both of them were filled with self loathing.

•They both have the power and abilities to be courtiers.

•Both hate the spring pollen.

•Both have allergies.

•Both were poor and starving when they were younger & growing up.

•Nesta has the title lady death, and Cassian has the title lord of blooshed which can also mean death.

⚔️Gwyn & Azriel⚔️

Both of them believe that they are too impure/dirty/scarred.

I think Gwyn sees herself as impure because she thinks she doesn’t deserves to wear her priestess stone, which ties into the guilt of her sister.

Azriel always thinks negative thoughts of his scarred hands and with his bonus chapter we see he kind of thinks his job in Hewn City taints him.

They both believe they don’t deserve the people in their life and good things.

“He might have defied and proved those illyrian pricks wrong at every turn, but it won’t matter if Rhys makes him Prince of Velaris, he’ll see himself as a bastard born nobody, and not good enough for anyone.” (pg 511, ACOMAF)

Once again, we see that Gwyn feels that she doesn’t even deserve to wear her invoking stone because she failed her sister and she blames herself, to the point she couldn’t see Catrin’s grave.

They both have the Illyrian title, Carynthian, for conquering the blood rite. (Even though Gwyn decided she rather have the valkyrie title).

Both are trained warriors/fighters.

They both can sing.

Gwyn was the one who gave the readers something new and personal about Azriel.

They both are very competitive.

“Roslin, Ananke, and Deirdre were close on their heels, propelling Gwyn to push her group harder. She wanted to be the first. Wanted Nesta and Emerie and her to be the ones who wiped the smirks from Azriel’s and Cassian’s faces. Especially Azriel’s. (pg 624, ACOSF)

“Who ever lands the next blow wins.” “That’s ridiculous,” Az panted back. “We go until one of us eats dirt.” Az had a viscous competitive streak. It wasn’t boastful and arrogant like Cassian, or possessive and terrifying like Amren’s. No, it was quiet, cruel and utterly lethal. (Pg 254, ACOSF)

When it comes to challenges/tasks, they both have to do it/finish it and if they don’t they get frustrated and see their selves as failures and push hard to finish whatever it is.

“Tell me you found their secret to cutting the ribbon.” “You and that ribbon.” Nesta muttered, shutting the tome. Of all of them, Gwyn had become the most relentless about succeeding. (Pg 519, ACOSF)

Assess—and brood, it seemed, since Azriel had barely managed a polite hello to me before launching into squatting with Rhysand, his face grim and tight. They’d been at it now for an a hour straight, their slender blades like flashes of quicksilver as they moved around and around. I wondered if it was as much for practices as it was for Rhys to help his spymaster work off his frustration. (Page 293, ACOMAF) We see that Azriel couldn’t get his spies into the mortal queens court and was frustrated about it. Plus he wasn’t happy when hybern attacked summer and he didn’t know about it.

They both are very stubborn.

“The argument with Rhys this morning had been swift and brutal: Azriel insisted he could fly—fight with the legions, as they planned. Rhys refused. Cassian refused. Azriel threatened to slip into shadow and fight anyway. Rhys merely said that if he so much as tried, he’d chain Azriel to a tree (Pg 610, ACOWAR)

I’m going in,” Azriel said. “No” rhys snapped. But Azriel was spreading his wings, the sunlight so stark on the new, slashing scars down the membrane. “chain me to a tree Rhys,” Azriel said softly. “Go ahead.” He began checking the buckled on his weapons. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.” (ACOWAR, page 6??)

“No.” “I can use the bottleneck of the path right there,” Nesta plowed ahead, pointing to the space beyond the archway, “to keep them off long enough for you two to reach the top. Or dawn to come. Whichever happens first." Gwyn bared her teeth. “I refuse to leave you here." Emerie's pained face told Nesta enough: she understood. Saw the logic. Nesta said to Gwyn, “It is the only way." Gwyn screamed, “IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!* And then she was sobbing. “I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.” “You need to go, Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. “Now." “No," Gwyn wept. “No, I won't. I'll face it with you." (Page 704, ACOSF)

Would do anything for their friends/family, including literally fighting to their death and sacrifice themselves to save the ones they love.

We see this with Gwyn not wanting to leave Nesta be herself to go against the Illyrian’s during the blood rite. That Gwyn would rather die than leave Nesta on her own. (Pg 704, ACOSF)

“I wondered if the shadowsinger was usually the first to throw himself into danger.” (pg 180, ACOMAF)

•Passionate about the ones and really love the people that they consider family.

•Gives their family a helping hand when it comes to physical and emotional factors and barriers. Azriel wanted to help Feyre learn to fly because he knows the emotional and physical barriers in learning how to fly late. We see that Gwyn helps Nesta with breathing techniques to calm her mind.

Azriel tucked in his wings, his beauty features uncharacteristically soft. Contemplative. “I’ll teach you.” “Are you certain?” I asked. The unreadable mask sloped back over Azriel’s face. “Rhys and cass were taught how to fly so young that they barely remember it.” But Azriel, locked in his hateful fathers dungeons like some criminal until he was eleven, denied the ability to fly, flight, to do anything bud illyrian instincts screamed at him to do. (Page 187, ACOWAR)

During ACOSF, (pages 409-411), Gwyn helped Nesta feel settled into her own skin for the first time in her life with mind stilling techniques that Gwyn help teach her.

Az & Gwyn both have similar quotes and sayings to their selfs to help them get through things.

“You are immortal,” he said quietly. “You are very hard to break”. A pause. “That’s what I told myself.” (Pg 305, ACOWAR).

Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” … “nothing can break me.” (621, ACOSF)

TRIGGER WARNING. They both were abused, whether emotionally or physically by the hands of men.

Azriel was physically trapped by his father in a cell and his hands were burned by fire by his brothers. He was only allowed to see his mother a hour out a of week.

Gwyn is trapped by the fear of living in the outside world due to the physical abuse she received by men in Sangravah, seeing her sister brutally murdered in front of her, and maybe due to the events of the Blood Rite.

They both have some interest in their worlds, the universe and have a connection to the overlapping worlds.

Gwyn worked with Merrill, who wrote about overlapping worlds and Gwyn is a researcher who helped Merrill with it.

Both are aware of the trove, which the harp is connected to other worlds.

Azriel is the one to find Bryce and his knife is the counterpart to her sword.

“In its center, a massive, working model of their world, the stars and planets around it. Az, of course had been fascinated. Rhys had built the model himself centuries ago. It could not only track the sun, but also tell time, and it somehow allowed Rhys to ponder the existence of life behind their own world.” (Page 37, ACOSF)

Both of them blame themselves and feel guilty over things they cannot control, nor was their fault.

Gwyn feels guilty and blames herself for Catrin’s death. She thinks she failed her.

Azriel feels guilty on the fact that he didnt save Mor before she was violated, he didn’t help Cassian before he was gutted in the second war, that he didn’t find out beforehand that Hybern was going to attack the summer court, etc.

Hybern had made their grand move at last. And we had not anticipated it. I knew Azriel would take the blame upon himself. One look at the shadowsinger as he prowled though the front door of the town house minute later, Cassian on his heels, told me that he already did. (Page 347, ACOWAR)

Both gather information.

Azriel is the spymaster who gathers intel for the Night Court. (I also think that Azriel also research things due to him being the spymaster as well. So assuming Azriel goes to the library for work is not so far fetched.)

Gwyn is a researcher who helps gathers information for Merrill. Plus she lives in a library period.

Their occupations puts pressure on them, causing them to hold themselves to high standards because they don’t like to fail.

She told me little of the specifics—even less about how the frustration of not being able to get his spies or himself into those courts took a toll on him. The standards to which he held himself, she confided in me, bordered on sadistic. (Page 376, ACOMAF)

Gwyn went on, “These females took me in. Gave me shelter and healing and family.” Again, her large eyes darkened. I cannot stand to fail them in anything. Especially someone as demanding as Merrill. Even when it might seem trivial.” (Page 148, ACOSF)

*They both have connections to the color blue.

They both have blue stones. Gwyn has a blue invoking stone and Azriel has a blue siphon.

When making the friendship bracelets one of Gwyn’s color was blue.

Gwyn’s priestess robes are blue.

Gwyn has blue teal eyes.

*They both have trouble sleeping.

“Bad dreams,” Nesta said. Gwyn asked, on Nesta’s other side, “do you have them often?” “Yes.” “Me too,” Gwyn said quietly. “Some nights, I need a sleeping potion from our healer to knock me out.” Gwyn said playing with her hair, “I dream of my past too.” (Page 329, ACOSF)

“Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep. I wish I could, he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days. Too many razor sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling across his bones. So he slept only when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours.”(Azriel’s bonus chapter.)

They both are described as beautiful.

Gwyn nimbly rolled to her feet, grinning so broadly that Nesta was momentarily taken aback by it. The priestess has been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor. (Pg 317, ACOSF)

“But the second male, the more classically beautiful” (pg 158, ACOMAF)

Azriel was nothing short of beautiful. Even with those scarred hands and the shadows that flowed from him like smoke, she’d always found him to be the prettiest of the three males who called themselves brothers. (Page 100, ACOSF)

I think that Gwyn has the potential to also be a spy. She’s already physically trained. She’s able to help research for any future missions. In ACOSF, I don’t think there’s a coincidence for SJM to go into great detail on how Gwyn led the beast to the camp by spying on the beast for 2 days and learning their habits during the blood rite and have Azriel explain 6 pages later how spying is all about waiting for the right moment and Gwyn just so happen to have and say “timing that was just good luck.”

“I kept to the trees the first two nights, watching the beasts, and I spotted that horrible male and his companions this morning. Saw they’d found my nightgown and displayed it, and I knew they were hunting for you. I thought I’d take them out before they could find you.” “You lead the beast right to them.” “I learned where the beasts sleep during the day,” Gwyn said. “and that they get very angry when awoken.” she pointed to the cuts on her face, her hands. “I barely out ran that one as I led it toward the camp. My timing was just good luck, though.” (Pg 682, ACOSF)

“Azriel sharpen truth teller. the Black Blade absorbed the dim sunlight trickling through the forest canopy above. “it seems you’ve forgotten how much of spying is waiting for the right moment. people don’t engage in their evil deeds when it’s convenient to you. Cassian rolled his eyes. “I stopped spying because it bored me to death. I don’t know how you put up with this all the time.” “It suits me.” (page 688, ACOSF)

🌻Lucien & Elain🌻

They both can “see”. Elain is a seer & Lucien has a special eye that can see through glamours and spells.

Both are associated with nature, Elain is seen/associated with flowers (usually a rose) & Lucien is seen to be sunlight due to the fact Lucien name literally means “light” & his biological dad is the high lord of the Day court (we all know majority of flowers need sunlight to grow).

Both of their names mean light! Lucien’s name means light and Elain names means sun ray/sun light/ shining light.

They are both associated with animals. Elain is associated with a fawn and Lucien is associated with being a fox.

In the series we really didn’t see the both of them really speak up or defend themselves, and let people treat them any type of way, until ACOSF we see changes in that. Elain stepped up and wanted to be apart of helping with the dread trove.

They are both very underestimated by others in the series. Although Feyre & Rhys discussed how they know that Lucien has much more to offer. Amren & Rhys know that Elain has much to offer because Amren said that Elain is fully capable of defending herself against the dread trove and in the bonus chapter rhys mentioned that Elain has much more to give.

They both don’t like to be around cruelty. (we see that Lucien threw up seeing a fae have his wings cut off and looking pale when seeing a spiked head in the fountain in ACOTAR and we know Elain does not like the brutality of Hewn City & pales at the sight of a blade.)

They both are social butterfly’s. Lucien is known to know how to talk to people and he’s known to make many friends across different courts. Lucien also knows enough about the autumn court citizens to recognize who is apart of the court and who isn’t. Once Feyre’s family got their money and status back, Elain was very social with a group of girls and greeted everyone at the ball they threw in Feyre’s honor in ACOTAR. Nesta said that Elain used to love balls and parties.

They both dress good no matter what happens. Feyre pointed out in ACOTAR that even in poverty Elain still looked lovely and Cassian pointed out no matter how many jobs Lucien had, he still dresses good in ACOSF.

Both of them had their previous love interest “ripped” away from them. Graysen was no longer Elain’s after she turned fae because one, she was fae and two, became Lucien’s mate. Elain had no way of stopping herself from becoming fae. Lucien saw his girlfriend be executed in front of him and he had no way to get to her or stop it due to his family.

Don’t fit into their family’s courts. Lucien doesn’t fit into the Autumn Court. Elain is said to not fit in the Night Court by Cassian when they all visited Hewn City.

[danikamariewrites]

𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Prologue

A/n: welcome to my first series! I’m so happy to be putting this out and I’m excited to hear your thoughts. Please feel free to comment or ask questions :)

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death, reader being trapped in a tower, deceptive Beron

At thirteen years old you were still showing no sign of powers. Your father had always told you tales of the fire that runs through your veins. What your birthright is as the last living heir to the Autumn Court.

He had always seemed so happy to have you as his child. So proud.

Though the expectations he set terrified you, you were happy you have Beron as a father. When your father visits your tower he always asks what you’re learning this week or if you found any new hobbies to enjoy. There wasn’t much to do in your tower but study and draw. In your free time art had become your passion. So much so that your father and tutor, Lady Briar, couldn’t ignore your talent.

Everytime your father visits you ask him to tell you a story. Finally, after a decade of begging him for the tale of your family, Beron gave in. Your mother and two older brothers had loved you very much, he would tell you.

“When you were just a babe,” he would start the same way every time, “Relations between us and the Night Court were unstable. Their High Lord was hell bent on dominating Prythian.” This tale would always scare you. Make you afraid of what you would have to face once you took the throne of the Autumn Court. You’d be alone as High Lady. You didn’t like to think about being without your father.

During their legendary battle your mother and brothers had perished at the hands of the vile High Lord of Night. It was so awful and graphic your father never let you read any of the history books about it.

After he would tell the story he would leave. Giving you no other information about your family. Only left with your imagination to draw up what they looked like.

By twenty-two your powers had come, but you didn’t dare speak of what they were. You didn’t have the bright flames he’d hoped for from you. Father had told you of the blue flame that came once in a generation. An Autumn High Lord hadn’t produced a child who could wield such power in centuries.

On your own you have discovered your daemati powers. You knew about them from the history books Lady Briar had given you about the High Lords of Prythian.

Every time father talked about powers your gut twisted. Your heart rate spiked. And your palms would sweat. Father mistook it for excitement about learning how to control the fire that was your birthright.

On the day before your fiftieth birthday your father came into your room. He was frantic and disheveled. Telling you he loved you, cherished you even. He told you that you are the most important person in the world to him. That the day you were born he was blessed by the Mother herself to have you in his arms

The next day he didn't visit. Nor the day after that. Then a week had gone by and nothing. No one had come to your tower.

He never missed your birthday.

Calming your mind and body you sit criss cross on your bed. Slowing your breathing you cast your mind out to the main house, far from your lonesome tower.

There was chaos and quiet. Advisors scrambling but no solid answers. But not a soul is worried about you.

A knock at your door brought you back to your body. Unlocking the door with your mind you quickly stand, smoothing out the skirts of your dark autumn red gown. Lady Briar enters, looking as solemn and stern as ever. You give her a deep curtsy. “Lady Briar,” you greet. Looking up you see her expression changed to one of slight sorrow. “Princess,” she starts. “Your father, he…he has been taken with the other High Lords. That is all we know for now, your grace.” Without another word Lady Briar turned and left.

For weeks you paced your room, going about your usual routine. Reading. Painting. Sleeping. Repeat. You were going stir crazy. You were also desperate for answers as to who dared keep your father captive.

Something wasn’t right. You could feel it in your gut that there was more to what happened.

If no one would tell you then it was time to hunt for answers on your own. Which means going somewhere you’ve never gone before.

You have to leave the comfort of the tower. Well, it’s never been comfortable. As the years droned on you’ve felt more cramped and isolated than anything.

You had no supervision. No one to tell you no. Lady Briar certainly isn’t an authority figure to you anyways.

It took days of projecting your mind into the house, watching to learn the guards patterns. Where you would need to hide yourself and whose mind you would need to hold on to.

Throwing your cloak on, taking a deep breath you make your way down the spiral stairs of the tower. There were less than you thought there would be.

Letting loose another breath, resting your hand on the door that separates you from the real world, you square your shoulders and push.

Taking in the night sky from below was so different than your window. It seemed wider. Endless. Feeling the soft ground under your boots made you want to run and jump through the Forest House grounds.

Perhaps another night.