#The Circle Reforged

[queer-book-character-tournament]

Character, book, and author names under the cut

Jude St Francis/Willem Ragnarsson- A Little Life by Hanya Yanigahara

Daja Kisubo/Rizuka "Rizu" fa Dalach- Will of the Empress by Tamora Pierce 

Mattinesh Jay/Luca Piere- Swordcrossed by Freya Marske

Carmen Farooq Lane/ Jordan Hennessy- The Dreamer Trilogy by Maggie Stiefvater

[quietflorilegium]

“Shared reading made for solid friendships.”

Tamora Pierce, "The Will of the Empress"

[checkoutmybookshelf]

The Circle is Reforged

Tamora Pierce's Circle Reforged books are an interesting case, because this is really where she started bouncing around in time in Emelan, and filling in some parts of story that were mentioned, suggested, or explicity referenced but not told. The books themselves were published well and truly out of chronological order, but having read them in publication order as they came out and then in chronological order on reread, I honestly don't think there's a "preferable" strategy. If you've read the Circle of Magic and Circle Opens quartets, you can explore the Circle Reforged in whatever order. However, I think I'm going to cover them in (more or less, no promises) publication order here. So let's talk The Will of the Empress.

*absolutely rampant, unapologietic spoilers for the Circle of Magic and Circle Opens quartets below the break*

This book explore the implications and consequences of Lady Sandreline being both Fa Toren in Emelan and Fa Landreg in Namorn. Our girl is practically royalty in two countries, but after she is orphaned in Hatar's smallpox epidemic, Duke Vedris in Emelan and Lord Ambros Fer Landreg in Namorn largely shield Sandry from her responsibilities as the primary landowner of the Landreg estates--which is entirely reasonable given that she is ten years old at the time.

When we get to the beginning of Will of the Empress, though, Sandry has been functionally running Emelan in the wake of Duke Vedris's heart attack and Ambros has been pointedly sending her account books for her Namornese estates. Sandry has been neglecting the hell out of those, and misses the fact that the Empress of Namorn has been financially squeezing Landreg to try to force Sandry back to Namorn.

Sandry has also been largely completed separated from Briar, Tris, and Daja for almost two full years by the opening of this book, since they went off to travel with their teachers and she stayed. She's had contact with Lark, but even that dropped significantly once Sandry moved into the Duke's Citadel.

Given all of that and two years of personal growth and change, when our four protagonists reunite in the house Daja buys for them, they collectively seize up in self-consciousness and shame and uncertainty. Plus seriously powerful ambient magic. Which literally everyone with eyes (except our protagonists) can see is a bad thing. So to kill two birds with one stone, Duke Vedris asks Briar, Tris, and Daja to go with Sandry to Namorn as basically bodyguards. The background hope is that the four of them get to know each other again and find their equilibrium.

With a lot of yelling and a distinct lack of talking, they set off to Namorn.

Which is when we really get off to the races, because the lack of talking means that Briar hasn't told the girls he's dealing with PTSD from the war in Gyongxe; Daja hasn't said she is dealing with abandoment issues, figuring out her own sexuality, and having helped kill a friend who had killed a lot of people by setting fires; Tris hasn't told anyone that she developed a skill that kills or drives mad 99.99% of all mages who try it and the whole Ghost-is-Jack-the-Ripper thing in Tharios; and Sandry...well, I love our girl, but she's dealing with a combination of inheritance and political machinations, her crippling terror of another family member dying on her watch, and the fact that she actively chose to rip three people to shreds to save Pasco's life. So everybody has big feelings and nobody is dealing with them or communicating effectively. Which, again, is a GREAT combination with the phenomenal cosmic powers.

This is a Sandry-centric book, but as we did with Sandry's Book, we also get a metric ton of the other three as well, because as they did in Sandry's Book, they're coming together as a unit. Trying very, very hard to prevent that are Berenene dor Ocmor, Empress of Namorn and her court mages, Ishabal Ladyhammer and Quenaill Sheildsman. They are trying to either recruit or get rid of four legendarily powerful mages. The recruiting goes...poorly. For a variety of reasons. The getting rid of goes WORSE.

Part of the recruiting scheme for Sandry specifically includes a himbo husband that Berenene can boss around to her heart's content. The approved suitors are Jakuben fer Pennun, who had himbo down pat, and Finlach fer Hurich, who was less himbo and more goldigging asshole with an influential uncle. Finlach ends up leaping SO FAR over the line that Berenene has to slap him down so hard that his entire life is ruined.

Then we come to Pershan fer frickin' Roth. Even if you take the Namornese tradition of kidnapping brides into account, Shan takes the whole thing to another level because his ass makes Sandry feel SAFE and WANTED and VALUED AS A PERSON before turning around and kidnapping her in a trap tailor-made for subduing even a very powerful stitch witch. Literally this man is the worst and he deserved so much worse than he got.

Overall, this book is about reconnection and remembering that some bonds are deeper than two-year world tours. It's also about seeing your siblings as their whole selves and accepting them, warts and all, because they are the people you love and who love you back. This is one of my favorite Circle Universe books, and I think it is objectively the best Sandry book and the best "all four of us are here" book in the Circle universe.

This book also objectively heavier than the Circle of Magic and Circle Opens quartets. It's still technically YA, but it's the 16-19 end of YA more than the 13-15 end, given that it deals with not only PTSD and trauma, but also sexual assault and kidnapping, so take care if you aren't in a headspace for those topics. The book will still be there, and taking care of yourself in your book choices comes first, always.

[f4nta5y-f4n]

Holy heck- thank you so much I really appreciate it, definitely saving this for later omg Ty Ty Ty :D

(I didn't know how to tag this but you did it for me lmao-)

Anyone have any movie/game/book/series recommendations for old timey fantasy sorta stuff? Like lord of the rings or Skyrim? If you have any please let me know I'm like desperate

[idreamtiflew]

My Midjourney creations of the four ambient mage siblings from Emelan. I know AI Art is controversial... but it's so fun to mess around on Midjourney, and I would never monetize these...

[was70th]

annie and the people she slowly begins reconnecting with in the years after the war…. when the games are no longer looming and they don’t solely associate her with the thing that broke her.

[shimmywhenyoucantbounce]

you probably thought today was a normal Monday. Noooope, strong as fuck stone mage again, sorry

[obae-me]

The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

[batboysanonymous]

Bird in a Cage (Pt. II)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel had spent a lifetime mastering control, but when he sees the fragile ruin of his mate—the love he was forced to leave behind—shattered by grief and betrayal, his restraint splinters, and vengeance ignites in his veins.

Pt. 1: Bird in a Cage

Azriel had spent years perfecting the art of control.

He had endured pain, had survived wounds both seen and unseen, had been broken and reforged in a way that left no room for weakness.

But as he pulled back—just enough to look at her, to really look at her—he felt something inside him snap.

She was fragile.

Too fragile.

His mate, his fierce, brilliant, impossible mate, who had always burned with a quiet, unwavering strength, was—

Gods.

Her skin was too pale, stretched too thin over the delicate lines of her face. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, her lips cracked, her cheekbones sharper than he remembered. She felt smaller in his arms, like she had withered away into something barely holding itself together.

Azriel’s stomach dropped.

His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

Because this—this wasn’t just exhaustion.

This was starvation.

This was grief.

And not just grief.

Grief that had consumed her.

His blood turned molten.

He had known it would be bad. Had known that his death—his supposed death—would hurt her, would break her in ways he could never forgive himself for.

But this—

This was unforgivable.

His hands trembled as he brushed a knuckle over the ridge of her cheekbone, as if afraid she might disappear if he wasn’t gentle enough. She leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut, and the way she sank into him, the way her body melted against his as though she didn’t have the strength to hold herself up—

Azriel saw red.

His shadows curled viciously around him, coiling tighter and tighter, feeding off the fury threatening to detonate inside him.

Because there was only one reason she had gotten this bad.

Only one reason she had been left to wither away into nothing.

Rhysand.

His brother.

The High Lord who had looked him in the eye before he left, who had promised to protect her, to take care of her while Azriel was forced to stay away.

Rhysand, who had let her suffer.

Who had watched her break.

A growl rumbled in Azriel’s chest. His wings flared slightly, his fingers tightening at her waist.

Y/N blinked up at him, confusion flickering in her exhausted eyes.

“Az?” she murmured.

His breath came sharp and shallow. He forced himself to breathe, forced himself to temper the rage clawing its way up his throat.

Not here.

Not now.

Not when she was in his arms, when she was alive and breathing and still shaking like she didn’t fully believe he was real.

But he would deal with Rhys.

Soon.

And it would not be pleasant.

Not when his mate—the love of his gods-damned life—had been left to waste away.

Azriel exhaled shakily, forcing the tension from his muscles, his focus shifting entirely back to her.

“We need to get you inside,” he said softly, his voice still laced with an edge of barely-restrained fury.

She frowned slightly, blinking as if only now realizing that she was trembling in his arms.

Azriel didn’t wait for her to argue.

With ease, he scooped her up, her body feather-light in his arms, and cradled her against his chest.

Her fingers curled weakly into the front of his leathers, and that was nearly his undoing.

Because she shouldn’t be this frail.

Shouldn’t feel like she might break apart at the slightest touch.

Shouldn’t have suffered like this.

His wings snapped open, and he took off, his jaw tight, his mind already sharpening with deadly precision.

Rhysand would answer for this.

And nothing would stop him.

───────────────────────────────

Azriel had never been one for dramatics.

His anger was a quiet, simmering thing—a blade honed so sharp it barely needed to be wielded. He did not shout, did not let rage dictate his actions.

But as he stormed into the River House, shadows lashing violently at the air around him, his rage was unstoppable.

Cassian barely had time to react before Azriel’s voice cut through the space like a blade.

“Rhysand!”

A crash echoed from the study—like a glass shattering against the floor. A second later, Rhys appeared, his face darkening as he took in the sight before him.

Azriel, rigid with fury.

Y/N, barely standing behind him, her body still too thin, her skin still too pale.

Cassian had gone deathly still beside them, his hazel eyes narrowing in realization as they darted between them all.

Rhys’s lips parted, but Azriel was already moving.

His shadows snapped out like a whip, slamming the doors shut behind them, sealing the room in silence.

“What did you do to her?” Azriel’s voice was lethal, quiet, but the weight of it filled the entire room.

Rhys inhaled sharply, his violet eyes flicking to Y/N, something unreadable flickering across his face.

“I did what I had to—”

Azriel lunged.

Cassian was barely fast enough to step between them, shoving a hand against Azriel’s chest to stop him from tackling Rhys to the ground.

But the shadowsinger didn’t need to touch him to make his fury known.

“You let her suffer.” Azriel’s voice was a deadly whisper. “You let her believe I was dead.”

Rhys’s jaw clenched. “I had to.”

“Had to?” Azriel snarled. “She was starving herself. She was withering away and you let her think—” He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands shaking with the effort to keep himself from lunging again. “You swore to protect her, Rhys. You promised me.”

“I know,” Rhys said, his voice suddenly raw. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to see her like that?” His throat bobbed, guilt carving deep lines into his face. “But there was no other way.”

“No other—” Azriel exhaled sharply, stepping back, his hands shaking with restraint. “Tell me why. Now.”

Rhys hesitated.

Cassian shifted beside them, tension rolling off him in waves.

“You owe him that much, Rhys,” Cassian muttered, arms crossed. “You owe her that much.”

Rhys closed his eyes briefly, before opening them. When he spoke, his voice was low, but certain.

“If Y/N had known you were alive, she would have found you,” he said. “She would have come after you no matter the risk.”

Azriel stiffened.

“The mission was too dangerous, Az,” Rhys continued. “If she had followed you, it would have compromised everything. I needed her to believe you were dead. I needed her to stay safe.”

Silence.

The words settled over them like a storm cloud.

Y/N was shaking.

Not from anger.

Not even from grief.

From betrayal.

Azriel turned, just enough to see the devastation in her expression.

Her breathing was shallow, her lips parted like she couldn’t quite comprehend what she had just heard.

“So you let me break?” she whispered.

Rhys flinched.

“I—”

“You let me suffer?” Her voice trembled. “Let me believe I had nothing left?”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

“I wouldn’t have followed him,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I wouldn’t have jeopardized the mission.” Her eyes burned. “But you didn’t trust me enough to let me make that choice, did you?”

Rhys’s throat bobbed.

“I couldn’t risk it,” he admitted, voice low. “I—I know you, Y/N. And I know that if there had been even the slightest chance that you could save him, you would have done it, no matter the cost.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Rhys looked wrecked.

But Azriel didn’t care.

Not when his mate had suffered like this.

“I trusted you,” Azriel said, his voice quiet but lethal. “And you took everything from her.”

“I was trying to protect her,” Rhys rasped.

Azriel shook his head.

“No,” he said. “You were protecting your mission. Not her.”

Rhys opened his mouth, but before he could say another word, Y/N stepped past Azriel.

She didn’t look at Rhys.

Didn’t say a word.

She just walked away.

And when the door shut softly behind her, the silence that followed was deafening.

Azriel’s voice was a whisper of fury.

“Stay away from her.”

And then he was gone, following after his mate, leaving Rhys standing in the ruins of his choices.

───────────────────────────────

The cabin was quiet.

Not the suffocating, heavy silence of grief, but the kind that settled softly, like fresh snowfall. A reprieve from the chaos, from the pain. A space untouched by anything but the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth, the distant rustling of trees outside.

Y/N sat curled on the worn leather couch, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She wasn’t sure how long they had been here—days, maybe. Azriel had brought her to this quiet refuge in the mountains, away from Velaris, away from everything.

When they had first arrived, she had barely spoken.

Too tired to fight, too exhausted to keep her walls up.

And Azriel… Azriel had only been patient. He hadn’t pushed. Hadn’t asked anything of her.

He had just been there.

Across the room, he was stirring a pot of soup over the small stove, his movements slow and deliberate. His body was still healing, the fresh wounds from his mission a reminder of how close he had come to never returning. The bruises along his jaw had darkened, his normally sharp features drawn tight with exhaustion.

But he was alive.

And so was she.

She exhaled softly, watching the way his shadows curled around his shoulders, brushing against his skin like they were checking on him. She wondered how long he had gone without rest, how long he had spent knowing she was in pain but unable to reach her.

She had spent weeks drowning in grief.

He had spent weeks enduring hell, knowing she was suffering, unable to do anything.

They had both been destroyed in different ways.

Now, they would have to rebuild. Together.

Azriel turned, catching her gaze. His expression softened as he wiped his hands on a cloth, moving toward her.

“Try to eat something,” he murmured, kneeling in front of her. He held out a bowl of steaming soup, the scent rich and warm. “Just a little.”

She hesitated, but the concern in his gaze, the gentle way he was looking at her, made her lift the spoon to her lips.

The first taste was like warmth spreading through her, a stark contrast to the numbness that had clung to her for so long.

Something in Azriel’s shoulders eased when she took another bite.

“Good,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

She studied him as she ate—really studied him. The way his hands trembled slightly when he exhaled. The way his hazel eyes, darkened with exhaustion, never left her.

She set the bowl down on the low table beside her before reaching out, fingers grazing the scarred skin of his hands.

His breath hitched.

“Az,” she whispered.

His eyes flickered to hers, wary. As if he thought she might pull away.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she took his hands in hers, running her fingers gently over the callouses, the scars, the hands that had held her, fought for her, killed for her.

“I’m here,” she murmured. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Azriel let out a shuddering breath, his eyes closing briefly.

“I thought I lost you,” he admitted, voice raw. “I thought—” His throat bobbed. “I felt what you were going through, and I couldn’t—”

His voice broke.

Something in her broke with it.

She shifted, moving until she was sitting on the floor with him, her hands cradling his face.

“I’m here,” she whispered again. “We both are.”

Azriel’s hands came up to frame her face in return, his touch feather-light, as if he was afraid she might disappear.

For a long moment, they just breathed together.

His forehead dropped to hers, and when she exhaled, he was already there, catching the pieces of her, holding them together with his own.

They had been broken.

But they would heal.

Together.

───────────────────────────────

A few more days passed before Y/N could even think about returning to Velaris.

She had been terrified of it—terrified of the memories, of the house that still smelled like grief. But Azriel had been patient. He never rushed her. Never forced her to speak of what came next.

But she knew it was time.

They winnowed back to the townhouse at dusk. Feyre was the first to meet them, worry and guilt warring in her eyes. Cassian appeared a moment later, relief etched across his face.

And then there was Rhys.

He stood at the edge of the room, waiting. Not stepping forward. Not speaking.

Y/N inhaled slowly.

Her brother.

The one who had let her suffer, let her believe her mate was dead.

Azriel stiffened beside her, as if readying himself for another fight.

But Y/N only took a slow step forward, watching as Rhysand’s shoulders locked, as he prepared himself for whatever she was going to say.

“You lied to me,” she said quietly.

Rhys flinched.

“I did.” His voice was hoarse. “And I will never forgive myself for it.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

“You let me break,” she whispered. “You let me believe I would never see him again.”

Rhys swallowed, something shining in his violet eyes. “I thought I was protecting you.”

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling at her sides. “It wasn’t your choice to make.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. “I know.”

Something in her chest squeezed.

He looked exhausted. More than that, he looked remorseful.

And despite all the pain, despite all the anger—she still loved him.

Azriel remained tense beside her, shadows curling at his fingers. But he didn’t stop her as she stepped closer to Rhysand, as she stared up at the male who had been more than a brother, more than a High Lord—he had been family.

“You hurt me,” she said softly. “But I can’t lose you, too.”

Rhys let out a sharp breath, his hands trembling at his sides. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“I don’t want that.” She exhaled. “I just want my brother back.”

His throat bobbed. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

She hesitated. Then, carefully, she reached out.

Rhys pulled her into his arms without hesitation, wrapping her in a tight, desperate embrace. She felt his breathing stutter against her, felt the regret that radiated from him like a storm.

It didn’t erase the pain.

Didn’t erase what had been lost.

But maybe… maybe it was enough.

Azriel stayed close, a silent protector at her back. And when she finally stepped away from Rhys, she turned to her mate, to the male who had survived, who had fought his way back to her.

Her fingers found his, their bond humming.

Whole. Unbroken.

And as she looked around at the people she loved—her mate, her family—she knew one thing for certain.

They had been shattered.

But together, they would heal.

Taglist: onebadassunicorn, k-godling, masbt1218, suggesteddoubletake, vanserrasimp, meritxellao, tele86, chaoticpizzalawyerbiscuit, romantasyreader28, annablack, woodland-mist, starlightandsouls, @kathren1sky_blog, @willowpains, masbt1218, @antonia002, bookishcait, fuckingsimp4azriel, @fanficscuziranout, buttermilktea11, @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch

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[quietflorilegium]

“[Daja] felt as if she had aged a hundred years. Suddenly all of the elegance around her looked like a mask for some cruel beast. She had to eye every man who passed her, asking herself if he had ever kidnapped a woman—or if he would, given the chance. Were all men like this? No, she told herself firmly. Never Briar. Or Frostpine. Or Tris’s teacher Niko, or our sometimes teacher Crane, or Duke Vedris, or Dedicate Gorse, the temple cook. She doubted Ambros or Zhegorz would consider it, either. No, Daja, don’t be a fool. You know plenty of men who would never even think of pulling such a vile trick.”

Tamora Pierce, “The Will of the Empress”

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Rosethorn, Briar, and Evvy Desperately Need Hugs

So the Circle Reforged books in general tend to be heavier than the Circle of Magic and Circle Opens books, and of those two series, Briar-focused books tend to be heavier than the others. That pattern sticks with Battle Magic, but oh my goodness I love this book with my whole freakin' chest. So let's dispense with the preamble and talk Battle Magic.

*Content Warning: This book focuses on war and soldiers, and there is also torture depicted, so take care of you first, and if this is not something that you can/want to engage with, we will see you another day for another topic with zero judgement.*

*Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for the Circle of Magic and Circle Opens quartets*

We know Briar, Rosethorn, and Evvy really well at this point, but the amazing thing about this book is that those relationship dynamics and character needs and wants are challenged in a way that we really have not seen up to this point. There has been combat in other books, and there has been danger, but there is a difference between a pirate raid or a plague or a forest fire or even a murderous Takameri and an empire going to war to conquer another country that happens to house the first Living Circle Temple and there is a sense that the empire would destroy it.

For Rosethorn, there is a massive conflict between duty and desire. Rosethorn just wants to go home, she misses Lark, she misses her girls, and she wants nothing more than to keep her boy and Evvy safe and away from the horrors of war. But her duty is to warn the First Temple, and then Dokyi leverages her duties as a Dedicate to send her off on a mission that has a FANTASTIC chance of more or less eating Rosethorn alive.

We get more time in Rosethorn's head in this than any other book, and it is honestly a fascinating new perspective on my favorite Winding Circle dedicate. Seeing her experience of her body after dying in Briar's Book and being at altitudes and in situations where it is just physically harder for her to exist and still be absolutely ROSETHORN about it. I would never describe Dedicate Rosethorn as having a soft, squishy center, but I'll be damned if compassion isn't woven into every spike and sharp edge the woman has.

I also appreciate Rosethorn's bi representation in the form of her relationship with Parahan. I also appreciate the little bit of perspective we get from Briar about the nature of Rosethorn and Lark's relationship, the fact that it works for them, and that it's not any of Briar's business. That was very deftly handled and very well done.

Now for Briar, the main conflict in this book is him being pulled three ways: His protective streaks for Rosethorn and Evvy and his desire to get involved and be a war mage for the Living Circle to defend the temple and the people the temple protects as well as for Gyongxe. Briar is not new to combat, from his earliest days in a Hajran gang to the pirate raids on Winding Circle and the gang war in Street Magic. What's different is that Briar is considered an adult by every society involved in the Circle Universe, and he is learning that being an adult means balancing oft-contradictory impulses. He cannot shield Rosethorn from thin air, from her duties as a Living Circle dedicate, or from the fact that she can be equally as effective a war mage as she is a green mage. He also cannot protect Evvy from the Empire, as much as he might want to.

This is a rough space to truly learn what it is to be an adult in, and holy cow we see the toll it takes on Briar. It's a really interesting contrast from the gang warfare in his past, and where Tris, Sandry, and Daja were his peers and sisters, Briar's relationships with Rosethorn and Evvy are different and put significantly different pressures on him in this environment. One particularly poignant moment is when he notices that Evvy--who has been using communal baths her entire life--is suddenly absolutely terrified and vulnerable in them because Jia Jui tortured her. That moment really hammered home for Briar that there are consequences for people even if he is pulling unequivocal heroics out of his back pocket every five minutes. Rosethorn knew this going in; Briar needed it driven home.

Another really interesting facet of this book for both Briar and Rosethorn was the fact that a war is a marathon, not a sprint, and where both mages have been able to divide their attention between combat and healing magics, that is not the case in this situation. The consequences of choosing to be either a war mage or a healer mage on any given day make that a complex choice, but it's one that has to be made.

Now, where Rosethorn and Briar are grown-ass adults making adult choices in a terrifying and deeply unfair situation, Evumeimei Dingzai is a literal child and student who ends up being yanked around by circumstance. Tamora Pierce does not shy away from highlighting that in these situations, the people who are often most vulnerable and who have the least agency are the kids, and they--as Evvy does--end up in some truly hideous situations. Evvy survives and heals, but it isn't fast, and it isn't complete at the end of this book, and that I think is critical. One does not just "get over" living through a war in a week. And it's not only the soldiers and people who are actively fighting that live with those consequences.

This books is heartbreakingly even-handed about highlighting that nobody escapes a war truly unscathed. Walking through it with three of my favorite Circle Universe characters was heavy, but so worth it.

[bokettochild]

thoughts on Fable LU

I know most creators in the LU circle like to make Fable be a nice, gentle person in contrast to Legend- the sweet to his sour if you will, but you know what?

I want Fable to be the most ice queen level sort of screwed up that, when the chain find out Legend has a sister, they THINK she's the sweet one- only to meet her and realize that Legend is the nice one in the family.

I want a Fable that lost her mom and dad because Ganon's servants were hunting her family down for ages, killing off every Hylian Knight as they sought out the hero, hoping to eliminate him before Ganon emerged. I want a Fable that knows her father was betrayed by his best friend and cast into the dark world. I want a Fable that's watched the king make dubious decisions for years and has come to accept them as normalcy. I want a Fable who doesn't hesitate to kill for the good of her kingdom. I want a Fable that's well aware of how dark the world is and grew up with that knowledge.

I want a Fable who has watched her brother tear himself apart for the world they protect, who's seen him go from innocent child to grief-ridden young man; full of guilt and still desperately wanting to save everyone. A princess who contrasts her hero, but not in a way that makes him look cruel, but highlights the humanity of the saltiest hero.

A princess who is cold to outsiders, in contrast to how Legend befriends other kingdoms with ease. A princess who will kill, where her hero shows mercy. A princess who makes the tough decisions, because she won't force others to do so for her. A princess who is dangerous and cold, someone who makes even the heroes doubt which side she stands on.

I want a Princess Fable Hyrule who has set her sights on being strong- not because she wants to be 'great' or because she wants power, or even to go down in history. Not even for Hyrule. (She never got to see Hyrule or know it's people, it makes no sense that she'd love them with anything like someone who actually knows anything about them personally, not like her brother). No, she wants to be powerful for one reason: so her brother can stop forcing himself to be strong.

She called this little boy to help her and watched him make his first kill and sent him on a mission that slowly tore him apart and reforged him into a hero. Like her predecessor, she blames herself for stealing his childhood, except Legend is her brother, and she has no way to give back what he lost. So, instead, she tries to create a place where he no longer has to remain what he became, and maybe can go back to being what he was before; carefree, content, and happy. (He won't, but she wants him to have that option anyway).

She's a wildfire to the court, to her enemies she's a storm, but she's a warm, gentle thing with her baby brother.

She's the scary Zelda to me. I think all of them should be affected by their worlds and experiences, but I feel like she, of all of the princesses, has the best potential to be hardened. After all, she's been through most of the same hell as Legend, only unable to change it. She's been powerless long enough, I want her to be just a bit power hungry in the wake of it.

I want Fable to be scary!

[nosferatini]

Reversed Veil of Worlds - A Little History

Featuring art by @daneecastle and Kinty!

Here it is! Chapter 2 of the fancanon compliant Reversed Veil of Worlds fanfic, detailing how @daneecastle’s Aziraphale comes to be known as the red eyed Rouge..

Danee, thank you for putting up with my slowness! 🖤

👁️ Read Chapter 2!

🎧 Listen to Chapter 2!

Or

👁️ Read from the Beginning

🎧 Listen from the Beginning

Chapter Summary

Aziraphale and Muriel travel the Infernal Circles to find Adrammelech, the demonic blacksmith who can reforge Aziraphale’s ring and flaming sword to something more befitting his new role as a slayer of demons and angels alike. Only, Aziraphale finds himself struggling to control his temper…

TW: Brief mentions of suicide and blood... Also cats 🐈‍⬛ 

Huge thanks to the incredible @paperclipninja for the gorgeous intro music!! 🖤

Enormous thanks to my lovely betas, @wingsofopal , @dbacklot99 , and @ladybracknellssherry who held my hand through completion of this chapter. 🖤

You can read Danee’s Reversed Veil of Worlds comic from the beginning right here!

Please support @daneecastle on her Patreon!

Thanks @goodomensafterdark for the wonderful community that allowed this collaboration to happen!