#The Human Queens in their magic house: HOW HORRIBLE LOOK WHAT THE NIGHT COURT DID | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

houseofhurricane · 3 years

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ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (17/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: Bloom & Bone is back with a chapter in which many things happen... including, FINALLY, some Vassien moments. I hope you enjoy! You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️

When Elain takes them back to Prythian, they appear in the Spring Court, and Tamlin has to stop himself from gasping as he takes a deep breath. There is a rot at the center of Koschei’s world that permeates the very air.

Beside him, Lucien’s face reveals no expression.

“You’ll need to tell the High Lords that Beron is dead,” Lucien says, his voice far away. Tamlin feels his heart contract in his chest. He’s heard Lucien speak like this, when he smuggled his friend over the Spring Court border. After Beron killed Jessaminda.

“I would have left him to the monsters if the tethering spell hadn’t worked,” Elain says, reaching for him. He shrugs off her fingers.

“I wanted to kill him,” he says, burying his face in his hands. ”My own father, and I wanted to end his life.”

“He deserved it,” Tamlin says, his hand on Lucien’s shoulder, addressing him the way he would a soldier. He waits until the gold and russet eyes meet his own. “You did this world a favor, Lucien. He would have gladly destroyed us all for a bit more power. He would have killed everyone in that meeting.”

Lucien’s face is still and lost.

So Tamlin thinks of the things he needed to hear after the war with Hybern ended, when he was left all alone. The things that Lucien, who is the best of all of them, perhaps the only truly decent male in Prythian, deserves to hear.

“You will not feel as if you did the right thing now. Maybe you never will. Because there is some part of you that knows it is unnatural to kill. You will wonder if you are becoming a monster, doing what you’ve done. Perhaps feeling what you judge as too little regret. But this is the least monstrous part of you, Lucien Vanserra. You are a good and decent male. I have always known this to be true.”

Lucien’s shoulders heave, and he ducks his head to gasp and sigh into his hands. Tamlin squeezes his shoulder and does not look away.

When Lucien looks up at him, his eye is red and his cheek shines with tears. His golden eye whirls as if it is trying to take in a world it does not recognize.

“My brothers will be at each other’s throats. And my mother -- I am needed at the Autumn Court.”

A second later, he vanishes into nothing.

Before Tamlin can speak, Elain’s hand is on his arm.

“We need to go to the Summer Court,” she says, her voice infuriatingly calm. “Tarquin was about to offer you his army.”

The rage rises in him and for the first time in months, Tamlin cannot claw it back. The sight of Beron grabbing her, his knife against her neck, the monsters circling above, Elain in danger on every side, danger she created, all of these fears overcome him, transfigure into fury.

“You think we will not speak of what you just did?” The words are a roar in his throat, the syllables barely formed.

“You know that Beron would have ripped apart this world for just a little more power,” Elain says, trying to spit his own words back at him, but her voice trembles.

“You threw yourself into danger. You have no idea how powerful a High Lord is. Beron could have killed you with half a thought.” His voice is still rising, filling the hall like thunder.

“He had to deliver me alive to Koschei. He wasn’t going to kill me.” He can see the effort she is making, to keep her face calm, her voice level. He’s seen his courtiers wear this face, and that realization almost stops Tamlin in his tracks. But he cannot stop imagining her in Koschei’s grip, in Beron’s, Elain Archeron with her kind spirit and her wide lovely eyes and that golden power, great enough, he thinks, to create new worlds, but not the kind of magic that will defend her against a death-god.

“Koschei cannot have you under his power.”

“You cannot defeat Koschei either, High Lord.” Something has shuttered in her gaze, though her tone has not lost its courtly veneer. She crosses her arms over her chest, the gesture like the donning of armor. “You cannot lock me in some warded chamber and leave me to rot. You’re needed in the Summer Court, and I need to go to Feyre.”

The breath Tamlin takes is ragged and loud, and Elain’s eyes snag on his, tender for a second before they shutter once again.

“She and Rhysand went to defend the bone in case there was an attack on their court.”

“You can tell them at the meeting. They will return. A week ago, you barely trusted them. Or so you told me.”

“Rhysand just offered you an army.” He notes, in spite of himself, that she does not call him Rhys.

“An army I likely will not need.”

She scoffs at him, her eyes overbright. “You think Beron raised his sons to be any better than he is?”

“I will admit that I hoped Lucien would inherit the Autumn Court in the event of his father’s death. But even a war within their court will require troops.”

“And if the sons agree that an alliance with Koschei is worth the risks?”

“All the more reason to make sure that nobody can snatch you away.”

“I have been taken from this house and from the Summer Court at this meeting of the High Lords,” Elain says, lifting each finger with a frustrated little flick. “You act as if you can guarantee me safety, but that is a lie.”

“And you are waiting for me to give you a real excuse to run.” The rage rises in him again. He feels the claws at the backs of his hands, tearing through his skin. “What will you tell them at the Night Court? That the monster in the Spring Court was just as horrible as they’d expected?��

He stalks toward her, his eyes on hers. He wants to see the moment when her frustration turns to fear. Instead, she reaches out her hand, grabs his wrist.

“You’re going to want to calm yourself before the other High Lords see you,” she says, and then they are in the passageways.

“I am not your puppet,” he manages to say around the fangs in his mouth, the jaws of the beast.

“I have never wanted to rule,” she says, her fingers a brand at his wrist. “But I believed for too long that a man would save me. A good man, a powerful High Fae male. That all I needed to do was play the delicate damsel and I would have happiness and safety. I think my father died to give me that life. I hid in the garden for too long, Tamlin. I am not going to let Koschei force the crown on my head. And I will not let you lock me away, either. I will become a monster, and gladly, before either of those things happens to me.”

His pulse thrums against her grip.

“It is very easy to become a monster,” he says, and he bares his teeth at her.

The silence is laden as she considers him. She could leave him here, amidst the passageways, he thinks, no matter what she promised him. He would have to find another life entirely, if he could not find the door that leads to Prythian.

“Are you angry because you thought Beron could kill me, or because you thought I could kill him?”

Tamlin begins to feel what he felt in that other world, held by the High Lord who’d invaded his lands while he raced towards her, too far away to reach her, save her. And then his vision turns to the female before him, glittering in her golden gown, the light of her own power, amber and diamond and gold and pearls all fading in Elain’s own glow. Sometimes I think I can make whole worlds, she’d told him.

“I thought he would kill you,” he says. He’s answered a different question than the one she asked, and he sees that truth register on her features.

“Men like Beron always think that women like me are only useful as objects.”

He doesn’t correct the human wording. She’s saying something with those words which makes them a revelation, not a mistake.

He takes a breath.

“I am not an object either.”

She only looks at him, her brows furrowed.

“You have grown very used to commanding me,” he says, and when the anger fills him once again, edges his voice, it is a relief. It is better than seeing Beron holding Elain, intent on turning her into a corpse.

“You are too used to going unchallenged.”

“I have done everything you’ve asked of me and still you are waiting until the moment I give you an excuse to run.”

“After what happened to my sister--”

“How long will it take for me to prove to you that I will never treat a female that way again?”

“What if I tell you centuries?”

He takes a breath, forces himself to smirk at her, reminds himself that he is the High Lord of the Spring Court.

“Could you wait centuries, Elain?” She goes wide-eyed but does not speak, so Tamlin continues. “I have followed you into unknown worlds without question. You could leave me here and still I trust you and the power inside you, your command over yourself. I think you like having this power over me. But I am not yours to command, as if you were...”

There are three names he thinks of, all of them offensive and cruel in this moment: Amarantha, of course, but also Feyre, the false innocent she’d been when she’d returned to the Spring Court, driving it to ruin. And Tamlin thinks, without wanting to, of his own father, his vast cruelty like a trap always ready to clutch at anything that could hurt his youngest son.

“I am not whoever you think--” Elain starts to say, then stumbles forward, pressing her fingers into her forehead, her palms against her eyelids. Tamlin reaches for her, leaning her back against him so she can breathe easily. He holds her while her body tenses and shivers, when she groans and gasps over whatever she sees behind her eyelids.

Finally, she drops her hands and leans back against him, her head banging against his armor.

“Vassa and Eris,” she says, each word a gasp. “I saw them -- dead, and Koschei…”

“It was a vision,” he tells her, running his hands down her arms, hoping he’s right. “Do you think you can find them?”

“We need Lucien. And probably Rhys and Feyre, at least. With Eris missing and Beron dead, he could have run with Vassa. That amount of power would probably seem like enough to take on the world. We need to find them quickly and with all the strength we can muster.”

Tamlin realizes, in this moment, that he does not mind Elain telling him what to do. She’s right.

“Do you think you can make it to the Night Court?”

“Feyre will be there.”

“I’ll stay here and wait for you,” he says, shocked to realize that he means what he’s saying. Even if it means an eternity in these passageways.

Elain turns to face him, and for a moment something blazes in her expression, fierce and wanting, and she reaches out her hand, her thumb tracing the line of his cheek.

“I promise on my life that I’ll return,” she says, and then she disappears.

When Feyre and Rhys run to her, for a second Elain thinks they are attacking. It’s only when Feyre hugs her close that Elain lets out a breath.

“Beron is dead and I think that Vassa and Eris have escaped Koschei,” she says, as soon as Feyre has let go. “Did anyone come to steal the bone?”

“Everything is safe,” Rhys says, and she realizes he has not answered the question at the same time she sees the tiny drops of blood on the skin of his hands and face, which undoubtedly stain his black clothes as well. She wills her stomach to calm.

“Do you think you can winnow to Vassa and Eris if Lucien can track them?”

They stare at her and Elain realizes she’s torn through her story, barely caught her breath.

“I had a vision,” she says, “I saw Vassa and Eris dead, with Koschei looming over them, looking like he’d killed them. Eris was missing. You heard what Beron said at the meeting, who he’s in league with. If Beron sold him to Koschei and Eris is the High Lord of Autumn, with that power newly in him, he could believe that it’s enough to escape with Vassa.”

Feyre and Rhys exchange a look, and Elain feels her chances slipping away. Maybe she can find Lucien on her own, take them to Vassa afterwards, but against Koschei she can only disappear.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but if Eris is High Lord, isn’t it worth the trouble?” She does not mention Vassa, doesn’t want to hear her friend dismissed.

“How do you know that Beron is dead?” Feyre asks her, in a voice that is not sisterly but also not unkind.

“He grabbed me and I pulled him into another world. Lucien killed him. He’s figured out a tethering spell that will hold between worlds. That’s not important. But Beron is dead.”

“Where is his body?” Rhys asks.

“Eaten by monsters by now, I think.”

Rhys starts to respond, but Feyre nudges him with her shoulder.

“He tried to bring me to Koschei,” Elain says, crossing her arms. “I don’t care that he was a High Lord. I would have found a way to kill him if Lucien hadn’t.”

Rhys and Feyre exchange another look, but this time their incredulity is less intimidating.

“What is your plan?” Rhysand asks.

“We need to find them and keep Koschei from getting his hands on Eris and Vassa as quickly as possible. I don’t know if he’ll kill them or if he needs them for his own ends. Rhys, you can winnow us. Lucien should be able to help you track them and hone in on a location. And Feyre, your magic is a new thing entirely. Maybe you’ll distract Koschei. Or destroy him.”

At the light in her sister’s eyes, Elain is sure she’s said the right thing. She enjoys it for a second before she says, “Tamlin is waiting for us between worlds. He didn’t -- I mean, I didn’t, think you’d want to see him here.”

“You trust him?” her sister asks, and Elain wants to say we have no time for this conversation, but she cannot summon irritation in the face of the hurt and love in Feyre’s eyes.

She thinks about Tamlin’s anger, about the pain in his eyes. How it would’ve been so easy to fall into her old habits, to apologize and leave him with a little smile that would kindle desire in his eyes. Instead she’d stood firm, and now he waits for her, entirely at her mercy. There are a thousand things they still need to discuss and argue over, but the truth is clear to her, swift and sure as instinct.

“I trust him,” Elain tells Feyre, and then, “and I understand if you don’t. But it’s Koschei and we need all the help we can quickly assemble.”

Elain can’t read her sister’s expression, doesn’t know if this answer is enough or caused pain or has perhaps further convinced the Night Court of her monstrousness. But Feyre reaches out her hand to wind around Elain’s shoulder, turns to Rhysand.

“Take us to Lucien,” she says, calm and sure, the voice that Elain would be glad to follow even into the bloodiest battle.

“He’s at the Autumn Court,” Elain supplies, and Rhysand draws them into the dark.

Lucien finds his brothers first, their raised voices drawing him to the room where Beron receives formal guests. His mind still stutters on the past tense.

“Our father is dead,” he says as he walks inside the room, cutting through Ealars’ growl and Fionn’s shouting.

“How do you know?” Caelan asks, his voice too calm. He is bracing himself to hear that Lucien is the new High Lord, readying himself to attach.

His brothers all know the truth of his parentage, and still they all eye him now, not knowing if the mantle of the next High Lord has landed on their half-brother through some mystery only the Cauldron could explain.

These stares make it clear to Lucien that the power has descended on Eris. Any one of his brothers would have claimed the High Lordship in a heartbeat if they’d had confirmation that it was theirs.

Before he speaks, Lucien readies himself to throw a shield, reveal the hidden dimensions of his magic. And then he says:

“I know that Beron is dead because I killed him myself.”

Ealars lunges for him, and Lucien throws a bolt of fiery lightning close enough to singe his tunic.

When he opens his mouth to speak, Lucien is met by a wall of fire.

Beron tortured and tormented them all, but the treatment warped something inside these three brothers, making them hard and cruel and instilling a deep longing for his approval, even his love. In spite of everything, Lucien is grateful to have escaped it. Can only hope that Eris, at his core, has done the same.

The air is an inferno around him. Sighing, Lucien winnows to his mother’s chambers.

The High Lady of Autumn, crowned by her gilded hair and swathed in deep green velvet, is seated in front of her mirror, holding her gold and topaz necklace aside as she dabs a perfumed salve onto her collarbone, which is purpled and swollen from shoulder to shoulder. She does not look up at the sound of Lucien’s footsteps.

“Who hurt you?” Lucien asks, the words rough in his mouth, the tenderness he feels almost unbearable.

“It’s not important,” she says, concealing the bruise with a twist of her wrist, allowing the necklace to fall into place. Once again, Lucien wishes that her mother had the talent for healing.

He takes a breath to brace himself.

“He’s dead, Mother.”

In the mirror, her eyes go wide and for an instant, there is such hope in them that Lucien feels his heart fracture. Then she schools her features into the appropriate distress, her mouth into the shape of a gasp.

“I didn’t want to kill him. He threatened my friends. All the other High Lords.” As he speaks, he clasps one hand around the other so he does not reach for her, does not put her in a position to betray her feelings, because in spite of everything he knows and all his years of schemes and observations, he’s not sure how she’ll react to the news that he killed Beron. “He would have destroyed this world for more power, Mother.”

He thinks of Tamlin’s hand on his shoulder, a brace.

His mother turns away from the mirror, her eyes lit with tears. She extends her arms.

“Come here,” she says, and he’s not sure if her tone is bland from shock or from years of practice in his father’s court. Even still, not knowing, he ducks his head and embraces her.

For a few seconds, she only holds him close to her, one hand coming to cradle his head the way she has done since he was an infant. He is surrounded by her fragrance of amber and cinnamon, and for the first time, he is not afraid that Beron will appear to tear him out of his mother’s embrace, or punish her for showing such affection. Beron, who was never his father.

Finally, his mother whispers, “Which one of you is High Lord?”

“I think it’s Eris,” Lucien tells her, trying to keep the disappointment out of his tone. His mother was the one who taught him how to scheme, after all, who taught him how to keep the tender parts of himself hidden. So of course she would never say thank you or I’m sorry or any of the other phrases he would most like to hear.

“Have you seen him?” she asks, her arms going stiff around him. She rises from her chair. “I’m worried that Beron--”

“I’ve seen everyone but Eris. They all knew that something had happened, but none of them have felt the power descend on them.”

“And you haven’t, either?”

He feels one side of his mouth rise, the mocking half-smile forming of its own accord.

“As much as I would love to rip this court from its foundations, Mother, you can trust that I would tell you if I were High Lord.”

She simultaneously rolls her eyes and reaches for him, squeezing his hand in both of hers.

“You should go to your father,” she says, her voice so low he has to stoop toward her to hear her clearly. “He will keep you safe.”

“You should go to him. Come with me.”

“It wouldn’t be safe for me,” she says, and Lucien wonders, seeing her too-bright eyes, if she really believes that, or if she’s just gotten used to using that reason for staying in the Autumn Court. Living under Beron’s rule. He’s wondered, sometimes, if the tenderness he feels to his mother was born out of desperation to have at least one loveable being in his life. If, under her sweetness, she isn’t just as calculating as the rest of the Autumn Court. But Lucien never allows himself to indulge these thoughts for very long.

“I’ll escort you,” he says, holding out a hand to winnow her, when the door bursts open, and Feyre and Elain Archeron dart into the room.

His mother’s eyes widen at the intrusion, her hands up to make a shield. At best, to his mother, it’s bad manners, the High Lady of the Night Court bursting into these inner chambers with her sister. At worst, it’s an invasion.

“Elain had a vision,” Feyre bursts out, before his mother can strike, while Elain gasps for breath beside her. “Koschei had Vassa and Eris, and we think they’re in danger. Rhys is across the building, trying to find you.”

“Apologies, Lady,” Elain offers, into the awkward silence, her breath still ragged as she drops into a curtsey, her heavy skirts shimmering around her. “Our mission is urgent and our time is short. We need Lucien to help us track them.”

At the mention of his name, the latest crisis breaks like a wave over Lucien.

“What happened in your vision, Elain?”

She bites her lips, her mouth a seam.

“What happened?” he asks again, taking a step toward her, not sure if he should be threatening or comforting. If Koschei manages to reclaim Eris, the future of the Autumn Court will be decades of war and bloodshed. If he manages to capture Vassa once again, if he harms her, Lucien is certain now that he will cleave the world in two.

“I had a vision of Koschei over Eris and Vassa’s dead bodies,” she says, the anguish in her voice so thick that he looks to her hands, to make sure she’s fully present in the room. “But even if we can prevent her death, we have to keep Vassa safe and out of his hands. Koschei wants to make her his queen. Give her control of this world.”

“You’ve been having visions again,” he says, surprised at the anger in his voice. He’s seen Elain every day for the past week, and she never thought to mention.

“I thought that it would hurt you more to hear the possibility. You’ve been doing everything you can, Lucien.” She rubs her knuckles at her eyes, her cosmetics smearing down her cheeks. “I will tell you everything when we have them both. As long as you can track them, we can find them.”

“I can’t winnow to Koschei,” he says, even as it occurs to him that Rhys is in the building, and why. If he uses the tethering spell, he can direct Rhys to the place where Eris’s magic has made itself known, stronger now with the High Lord’s mantle on his shoulders. Perhaps he can even detect Vassa, if his magic can be guided by his will. The two of them together a beacon, a tether. In moments, Vassa could be in his arms.

When he meets Elain’s eyes, he realizes that she’d already guessed at the way forward, believed he could do this, and his anger at her evaporates.

“Elain Archeron,” he says, just as Rhysand darts in the room, aiming a bow at the Lady of the Autumn Court, “I have no idea how anybody ever thought you were ornamental.”

She beams at him, says only, “I have to get Tamlin,” and disappears, the ripping sound of her passage between worlds so soft it could be the tearing of parchment.

“There’s no trace of her,” his mother says, turning from Lucien to Rhysand to Feyre with wide eyes.

“She has a particular gift,” Lucien tells her, not offering any more information on Elain’s powers, or the fact that she has, as promised, taken him to a dozen different worlds, though their visits have concentrated on Koschei’s original realm, quick trips which they spend scanning the sky for monsters and trying to learn everything they can about the workings of the death-lord’s magic.

He can tell from the twitching of their lips that Feyre and Rhys have other questions, but before they can ask, Elain reappears, holding Tamlin with one hand and reaching out with the other, as if she’s ready to ward off an attack. Though Lucien imagines that Rhysand is the greatest threat in the room, Elain’s eyes are on her sister, wide and pleading. And though Feyre does not smile, she also does not look away.

“Tether us, Lucien,” Elain says, and as soon as they are all bound, she pulls them away from the Autumn Court and into another world.

Tamlin tries not to fidget while Lucien, Rhysand, and Elain debate the last details of their mission, their voices echoing in the passageway between worlds. His part is simple: hold a shield against Koschei as long as he can. For once, he does not want to argue, and while he lets the killing calm descend on him, he follows the ebb and tide of their strategy as if it is a game among children.

Not wanting to be caught staring at the tiles at their feet or carvings on the doors that surround them, Tamlin looks instead at his companions, which is how he ends up meeting Feyre’s gaze. For a moment, his gut goes cold. And then he feels her in his mind, the dark warmth of her.

You will make sure my sister is unharmed, she says, the authority in that voice at odds with the soft little smile on her face.

Elain can take care of herself, he shoots back, and then, because it’s the truth, but I swear on my life that I will keep her from harm.

Around them, the strategy is decided with hesitant nods, but before they leave these passageways, before she leaves his mind, he tells Feyre, I am so sorry for all the harm I caused you.

Her blue-gray eyes go wide and she gives him the tiniest nod before she turns to Rhysand. His mind is empty of her presence.

There is no time for Tamlin to consider all the implications of what has just occurred, only the fact that he notices the absence of Feyre with no pain or guilt, the lightness in his body. He feels as if he could launch himself into the air from pure relief.

“So I will hold the shield, then?” he says to the group, returning himself to the moment.

“And transform into the beast if Koschei gets through,” Elain says, grave as a general despite her glimmering gown. He wishes she were wearing armor, that she was safe behind a thousand wards in some secret part of Prythian. But he knows that Elain would never agree to this, not when Vassa’s safety was on the line, when her abilities could help.

He reaches out and squeezes her fingers in his, hoping the gesture conveys what there is no time to say.

Lucien works his spell and they all gather around Elain. First there is a tear as they enter Prythian, and then darkness as Rhysand winnows them at Lucien’s direction.

They appear in a forest and at first Tamlin does not think they’re in the right world. The air is hot and the light is nearly red.

Then he realizes the trees around them are aflame.

“Do you see them?” Lucien mutters, barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

“Can you sense them?” Feyre asks, water blossoming between her hands, expanding until it is a bubble around them. “There has to be an end to this fire.”

“This is Eris’ magic. I can try and winnow us to its end,” Lucien says, and the world goes dark and roaring.

For a second, Tamlin glimpses an enormous lake, a mansion at its edge, sees Elain go pale and wide-eyed, whispers frantically to Lucien, and then they are in the darkness again, once again at the edge of the flames.

“Koschei spotted us,” Lucien mutters, and then, as if summoned by the words alone, the sorcerer is before them, grinning. Far from the lake where he should be bound.

“Thank you for--” he begins, but before he can start another one of his mocking speeches, before they’re transfixed and then caught, Tamlin slams his shield in place, forcing Koschei against the flames as Rhysand’s depthless night strengthens the blockade against the death-lord.

“I brought him,” Elain says, anguish in her voice, and despite the urgency of the moment, still Tamlin reaches for her, circles his wrist with his fingers, runs his thumb against the dip at the base of her palm.

“You are saving your friend,” he says, low so only she can hear it. “Go find Vassa.”

He hears her footsteps behind him, following Lucien into the trees, and it occurs to Tamlin that if Koschei breaks the shield and kills him, it will be all right. He will die saving his mate, helping her save her friend. He thinks Elain has always seen the possibility of a better world, a more beautiful one, and maybe now he is giving that world to her.

At that thought, he delves deep into his power and lets it move through him, green and golden, a thousand thunderstorms and a million leaves unfurling. The power of something new and dangerous, all possibility.

There is a sigh like rain and Feyre’s shield of water moves around them, another barrier against Koschei and Eris’ fire.

“How long do you think we can hold out against him?” Rhys asks, and Tamlin isn’t sure whether his drawl is a good or bad sign. He himself cannot feel even a flicker of Koschei’s power beyond their shield. But this does not comfort him.

“Koschei chooses his attacks precisely,” Tamlin says, and he is thinking of Elain, what will happen to her if Koschei breaks through. “He will wait until he thinks we’re flagging.”

“They’ve found Eris and Vassa,” Feyre says. Her voice is a little dazed. “But Elain’s mind is flickering. As if she has disappeared.”

As if she is trying to go to another world, but cannot.

I was the conduit, Melis had said. Elain was the key.

The knowledge washes over him in a wave of words that blare in his mind, echoing and damning. Koschei had chosen his retaliation with care. The death-lord had anticipated the possibility of a rescue mission, knew he could be outnumbered, overpowered. So he turned the rescued themselves into weapons.

He is just about to roar out his realization, insist that they go to Elain, who’s stuck in this world or worse, when everything goes black and roaring around him.

When Elain sees Vassa, she runs toward her, hands extended. Her friend does not look behind her, only sprints through the trees, trailing Eris, but despite the danger and desperation, Elain grins as she runs. Her friend is here. In the space of a few hurried steps, her friend will be safe.

She does not think about the clutch of Koschei’s magic, the way it clung to her when they winnowed from the lake. Tamlin’s magic had blasted her free. All she needs is a few more moments to put the plan in place. She’s seen what Tamlin’s magic can do to the monsters of Koschei’s world. With Rhys and Feyre, he’ll be all right, so long as she focuses on the plan, takes the necessary steps to save Vassa.

Rhys and Lucien had finally agreed to let her pull Vassa into the passageway between worlds, into a world at peace, and then back to Prythian. It was likelier that they’d lose Koschei this way. At a minimum it would be harder for him to guess each point on their journey. She has tried not to think of the marketplace she visited with Tamlin, the taste of those pastries and the sound of his breathing in the room at the inn, or how it would be to experience that world with Vassa. She does not want to give Koschei the opportunity to see the destination in her mind, this place where they’ll be safe.

She can hear Lucien behind her, the way he says Vassa’s name with such hope and desperation, and speeds her pace, willing herself to close the gap.

Then Vassa is only a few steps ahead of her, and Elain is close enough to call her name.

The Queen of Scythia stops and turns, and Vassa’s blue eyes are bright as sapphires. Behind her, the sound of Eris’ steps goes silent.

“He said nobody would come for me,” she says, looking first at Elain and then over her shoulder, at Lucien. Her voice is small and hesitant and lonely, the voice of a lost child, and hearing it makes something crack in Elain’s chest.

“I spent every minute trying to rescue you,” Lucien says, closing the gap between them, taking her hand gently in his. “I am sorry that it took us this long.”

There is something wrong, Elain thinks, with the tears on Vassa’s face. They do not look quite joyful. It is an expression she’d seen on the faces of women in ballrooms when a man they did not love made a proposal: a pain held back as much as their strength would allow.

Before she can say anything, Eris strides toward them.

“No pretty declaration for me, brother?” he drawls.

Power rises from him like heat from a forge, great waves of magic that clearly mark his presence.

As much as she would like to explain everything to Vassa, ask Eris a hundred questions, Eris’ power alone makes them easy targets for Koschei.

“We need to get them out of here,” she says to Lucien. He does not look away from Vassa, but he nods.

“Where are you taking us?” Eris asks, finally in arm’s reach, close enough for Elain to pull him into another world. She will hold them and Lucien will use the tether and in seconds they will all be safe.

“It’s safer if you don’t know,” Elain says, all confidence.

Except that when she touches Vassa, the queen begins to scream. And though Eris is silent, the set of his jaw betrays the fact that he’s in pain that can hardly be borne.

“Are you sure this will work?” she asks Lucien, but he nods, completes the tether, and so Elain reaches out with her power and concentrates on the passageway, the place between worlds.

The trees around them do not become the carved doors.

Vassa’s screams grow louder.

Behind them, there’s the sound of fire in the trees.

Elain tries again. She thinks about the marketplace, the pastry and all the spices she cannot name, the sound of the lilting unknown language, the desert sand sticking to her skin.

They do not move from this world.

She tries again, frantic now, trying to calm her mind, drown out Vassa’s screams, tries not to think about the fact that they sound so similar to the way she sounded when Koschei held her, took her captive once again. She will save her friend. She will keep the Autumn Court from falling into civil war. She will take them out of this world. She will take them into a world at peace. And Vassa will stop screaming, and maybe there will be time for pastries before they return to Prythian, to the rest of their long and boring and pleasant lives.

There is a voice in her mind.

We’re coming, Feyre says, and Elain cannot make herself understand what it means, that her sister is abandoning the shield against Koschei. She cannot believe that they will not succeed. She had always imagined that, with all she’s learned, she would be able to save Vassa.

But Vassa’s screams have turned into thick sobs, and the human queen pulls against Elain’s grip, away from Lucien’s arm. As if she cannot bear their touch.

Something is badly wrong.

There’s the sound of roaring and Rhys, Feyre, and Tamlin appear in the clearing.

“Take them out of here,” Lucien says, handing Vassa and Eris to Rhys. Their faces visibly relax, and then Rhys reaches for the rest of them, and they disappear into the darkness.

Since Vassa started running into the trees, the world around her has been a dreamlike blur of pain and fear and fury. Her feet began to hurt so quickly, her lungs burning with exertion and ashes, and Vassa knows, even as she follows behind Eris, that she is going to die today.

This thought should make her fall to the ground, wailing. But Vassa was born to rule over Scythia, and the mere thought that she will not have a chance to return to the people she loves absolutely infuriates her, fills her lungs with a rage so potent that it seems to give her wings.

It’s the thought that she will die without seeing Lucien that makes Vassa want to crumple to her knees, and so she forces him out of her mind, trains her eyes on his brother and her mind on fury.

Eventually, Eris runs out of fire, but he barely slows his pace. He does not speak to her, and Vassa wonders if he’s regretting bringing her along.

It’s at this point that the harness of Koschei’s spell begins to pull at her shoulders.

“He knows we’ve run,” Vassa calls out, her hands scrabbling to the places where the spell pulls, even though she knows it isn’t any use.

“He knew from the moment we started running,” Eris says, reaching out his arm and hauling her forward, his strength incredible. She always forgets what faeries are capable of, always assumes she’s just as strong as they are. “You need to stop talking.”

They run in silence for a time that feels long but is probably too short. Eventually even Eris’ strength gives way, his hand falling out of her grip. Her lungs crumple like paper inside her, her feet and shoulders screaming with the effort required to keep running.

There are footsteps behind them. Vassa tries to surge forward.

Then she hears the voices calling her name.

She knows those voices.

Lucien.

Elain.

But Eris keeps running, and doesn’t Koschei have the power to read minds? She does not want to turn around, to look, but her body is tired and rage has turned into a dangerous hope.

Vassa stops her feet. She turns around.

In the clearing behind her is Lucien, golden as a perfect sunset, his face radiant when he sees her.

I never stopped trying to rescue you, he tells her. The words engrave themselves on her mind.

And then he touches her, and the world erupts into flame, burning Vassa’s skin, her throat, scalding her from inside. Still she can feel the pressure of those long fingers on her wrist, the way you hold a person you cannot bear to lose. Exactly the way she will hold him when the fire passes.

So Vassa does not cry out, tries to hold onto her smile, the joy of her rescue, until Elain places her hands on Vassa, and the pain becomes unbearable, worse than any of Koschei’s torment. She feels like she is being split into pieces, and yet Elain’s eyes are so gentle, so concerned, and Vassa reminds herself that in spite of her glittering raiment, this is the girl who spent her days in the gardens of the Spring Court so that no flower would suffer the injustice of an insufficient bloom. She reminds herself that Elain would never harm her. That Lucien would never let her experience pain unless it was absolutely necessary.

Vassa can stop herself from running from them, but she cannot stop her throat from screaming, not when the pain escalates in jagged throbs that split her body like parchment torn roughly from its bindings. On her shoulders, around her heart, Koschei’s spell cleaves her like a sword, bone and sinew coming undone.

She does not know how much longer she can bear this pain.

But then there are other hands on her, a High Fae lord who smells of jasmine but whose name Vassa can no longer summon, and as the world goes black, all Vassa can think is that wherever she is going, at least the pain itself has been scared away.

When she arrives in the Spring Court, she hears the urgent whispers, the politicking and strategizing, but Vassa only looks at the marble under her feet, smells the fragrance on the air. Elain used to talk about the way that a gardener must consider the scent of the garden, in order to give visitors the most pleasant experience. She thinks that if these are her last moments, before Koschei captures her, or she has to run for her life, or that tormenting pain returns, at least there was a moment of beauty. This cool, smooth marble whose texture is so evident even in the dim candlelight, the scent of a garden at night, the flowers distilled by dew.

Lucien steps away from the group. His fingertips are on her shoulder, his arm across her back. Each touch is at once a band of fire and intoxicating, so that Vassa can hardly help herself from pressing her body against his, letting the fire consume her utterly.

Instead she follows where he leads her, up the stairs from the great hall, through the hallways, into the room she occupied when she resided at the Spring Court. She does not move from the circle of his arm, not even when tears fall down her cheeks from the onslaught of pain. Instead, she fits her fingers around the doorknob and lets him lead her inside.

The bed where they slept together is neatly made again, and if Vassa breathes deeply she can almost convince herself that she can detect his scent, the sandalwood and lemon and his sunwarmed skin. In this room, the only ghosts are pleasant ones, all those stolen nighttime hours together.

Lucien leads her slowly to the bed, pulls back the quilts. She falls onto the mattress, her body overwhelmed by its softness and the relief of his no longer touching her.

He dips down as if to kiss her and Vassa braces herself even as she angles her chin towards him to give him better access to her lips.

“It hurts you when we touch, doesn’t it?” His murmur is softer than a whisper.

“Not just you,” Vassa says, unable to say a simple yes. She wishes badly that she had enough strength in her to lie. “When Elain touched me, I felt as if I were being pulled to pieces.”

“I wish you would have told me,” he says, and she thinks that all her life, whether it is hours or decades that remain to her, she will never forget the fact that in this moment he did not blame her, did not complain about her silence, that he even made his eyes gentle so that Vassa would remember that she was finally safe. “I think that Koschei made changes to your binding spell. But I’ve learned about his magic. I swear to you that you will not have to live with this pain.”

Her shoulders ache, but Vassa lifts herself from the bed anyway. She cannot bear Lucien looming over her prone form, as if she is already a corpse.

“I believe you,” she says, and reaches her hand toward him. “Now please kiss me, before we have to speak of all the things that are wrong with this world and--”

His lips on hers, soft and full, her fingers tangling in the length of his hair, make Vassa forget about the pain that rumbles through her. All she can think is finally and Lucien and home.

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sparklingichigo · 3 years

Text

Drama Intensifies

Part 9

Okay, back to Solomon and Ichigo. So far so good nothing is happening between them just sleeping soundly until the bolster falls. Oh wow, Solomon and Michael did jinx this. But before that let's get back to where they got back.

Ichigo: Oh boi that's a ride!

Solomon: Yeah!

Barbatos: I'm glad you two return safely^^ Did you get any help?

Ichigo: Well grandpa did say he'll come here to search for me since he can read the future and everything.... so yea...

Barbatos: There are two possibilites. Him appearing in time or appearing too late. Let's all hope he appears in time.

Suddenly all three of them see a suspicious figure behind them. There's also the holy sword coming from the sky. Both Solomon and Ichigo are shocked by this until they see Michael coming into the halls of the castle.

Ichigo: Michael?!

Michael: Hello to you too, Ichigo.

Barbatos: It's very nice to meet you again, Michael. What brings you to the castle?

Michael: I've seen something really horrifying from the dark realm. It seems to be the person I just stabbed was a decoy. They're disguising as Reika in order to kill you two.

Solomon: Kill us? Why would they kill us?

Michael: I've been informed by the grim reaper himself that she has this desire to kill Ichigo but turns out the shadow king wants you dead as well, Solomon. Based on what I heard, they seem to be trying to get rid of you, Solomon, and Haruka since all three of you are the keys to their loss.

Ichigo: I see...

Solomon: Then what do you suggest we do?

Michael: Stay in Celestial Realm. Until everything is cleared or at least until Simeon and Haruka return.

Solomon: Didn't I get banned for 3 months?

Michael: And it's already four months, Solomon.

Solomon: oh...

Barbatos: I also saw the future and the reality in which you stayed in devildom will cause your death so I suggest you go to the celestial realm with Michael. I let the house of lamentation know that you two are gone and they must not tell a soul.

The two nod and off they go to the celestial realm. Now here they are sharing a room and bed that night. Unconsciously dropping the bolster and end up cuddling together.

Solomon: [blinks awake] o-o

Ichigo: [sleeping soundly]

Solomon: [chuckles slightly] I never notice you actually look adorable asleep like this. It's nice to finally see you looking peaceful like this [fix her bangs that's falling to her face]

Solomon suddenly feels his heart beating quite fast due to such a view. Sure he's not loyal in the first place but he's in an open relationship with Asmo so he's sure Asmo would let him court Ichigo but will Beel let him? Just as he's thinking he hears Ichigo muttering some words of magic in her sleep.

Ichigo: O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes! (Dragon summoning magic)

Solomon: Heh, as if the dragon will appear. Now I know why Beel likes you a lot, Ichigo [pats her]. Never thought I of all being would fall for your charms. Oh well, sweet dreams^^

The next morning, Ichigo feels something wet is hitting her and when she did wake up, she finds Solomon drenched in holy water and there's Luke and Michael praying for him.

Ichigo: What's happening....?

Luke: He tried to touch you this morning!

Ichigo: Ew! WTF!!

Solomon: No I didn't!

Michael: Lying to an angel, how bold of you [shows footage he gets from Solomon's memory of him trying to kiss Ichigo at 3 am]

Ichigo: Damn, Solomon! I get it you're horny but don't use me like that!

Ichigo: [accidentally gets shot and feels burning in her skin] Ouch-

Luke: ...

Michael: Luke! She has demon blood! Spraying her with holy water would just kill her!

Luke: ;-; aaa I'm sorry! I don't mean to! I meant to shot it at Solomon's wandering hands!

Michael: [sigh] I guess you'll be sleeping on Luke's room for the next night.

Luke: [nods] It'll be safer with me! Not with this suspicious human! >:(

Solomon: Hey! [offended noises]

Ichigo: Stay away from me you perverted sorcerer! [moves away and goes behind the angels]

Yes, Solomon, she's a loyal person. She prefers Beel anyway, so no. Please don't court her. Anyways back to Haruka's world, here she is eating breakfast with her family and Simeon.

King: Hmm...Cyrstalia, I think we should find you a partner soon. I'm getting old and not anyone can inherit the throne. Perhaps a prince or someone from a noble family.

Haruka: [laughs nervously] I'm not interested in dating anyone though... I can rule the kingdom on my own and even if I want to marry someone must this person be from a noble family?

King: Of course! You're a royal, aren't you?

Queen: My dear, stop that! She can choose who she loves to be with her. Besides she's the one ruling the kingdom not the other way around!

Queen: Crystalia, my dear, just find someone that you truly love, okay? I don't want you to suffer and be with someone that you don't love.

Haruka: Of course, mother.

Well I know what you're thinking. Simeon is her boyfriend why doesn't he have a say in this? I mean they're royals and her father is really protective so exposing your identity would be really dangerous.

King: Hmm, how about Cloud? You used to be close to him, aren't you?

Haruka: I don't feel any romantic feelings for him though... besides, I already have one person in mind.

King: Really? Is he around?

Haruka: I'll tell you when I'm ready, father...

King: Alright.

Now back to these two, this chaotic duo. The two of them end up eating breakfast with Michael and Luke in such an awkward situation. Ichigo ends up sitting beside Luke out of awkwardness and that means Solomon needs to sit beside Michael. Poor guy....

Solomon, internally: Okay that night was a mistake. A horrible one plus I ain't dying because of the twins and Asmo coming after me that's just insane.

Just as he mentioned twins, he heard the door knock and speak of the devil, it's Beel!

Solomon: Beel?!

Michael: ?? Beelzebub, what brings you here?

Beel: Oh well... Angel Uriel gave me access and Barbatos told me that she's-

Before he can even finish his words, Ichigo went straight in and hugs the heck out of him.

Beel: It's nice to see you too, Sugar^^

Ichigo: Honeybear!! ;-; I miss you a lot!

Beel: As I was saying, Barbatos told me that she's here so I came along...

Solomon: .... that'd just expose her locations-

Beel: Ah, don't worry^^ Barbatos just tell them that I'm somewhere in the human world for a mission. They also told me that Reika is coming to kill you guys...

Solomon: One of the reasons why we're here.

Michael: Correct, Celestial Realm can only be accessed with demons if he has an invitation considering Uriel gave you one that means you can stay for a while. Either than that, you'll be considered an intruder and be thrown back to Devildom, or probably Hell who knows, it depends on Angel Rhamiel since he's the one in charge of that. But do come in Beel, we have plenty of food for you^^

Beel: What a coincidence! I'm actually a little hungry! Come on, sugar^^

Ichigo: Eum, okay!

The breakfast proceeds with Beel this time sitting beside Ichigo and Luke moving so Beel and Ichigo can sit next to each other. Their lovey-dovey-ness makes Solomon more guilty because he technically almost ruined such a beautiful and healthy relationship.

Michael: Feeling guilty now, I see...

Solomon: What...?

Beel: Oh? Did he do something?

Michael: It's nothing^^ It'd be such a disgrace if I expose him in front of a guest. Anyways, have you heard the news about Shadow King trying to take over all 3 realms?

Beel: I did, Levi is preparing the navies from the ocean to help us. It might turn into a big tsunami and all. I'll be also helping since I have lots of underlings and all. Well all seven of us do have each of our underlings for this since we're technically the 7 lords of hell.

Michael: True, I suppose they're against the union of all 3 realms considering they're attacking Celestial realm as well.

Beel: Shadow King has always been enemies with Diavolo so no wonder he's gonna destroy his plan.

And so, Michael and Beel end up discussing what they'll do as Luke, Solomon, and Ichigo just eat confusedly because it's army stuff they have no idea off. Okay, maybe Solomon understands what's going on but he's a human so the angel and demon system is a bit confusing for him.

Beel: Speaking of which, is there a room I can sleep in?

Michael: Hmm perhaps Ichigo's room and I'll move Solomon to Luke's room?

Luke: Why can't she just sleep in my room?

Beel and Solomon: No!

Ichigo: ....??

Michael: [sigh] Perhaps that's a good idea. Ichigo, you'll be moving to Luke's room.

Ichigo: That's great! Right, Luke?

Luke: Yeah! Sucks to be you two! [laughs]

That was it, Ichigo ends up in Luke's room which is also Simeon's room so she's technically using Simeon's bed or vice versa while Beel ends up in Solomon's room. But we'll return to that soon, for now, let them rest peacefully^^

#obey me fanfiction #roleplaybased #mymc #obey me solomon #obey me beelzebub #obey me luke #hahaeveryoneisasimpforichigo

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musicallibrarian93 · 4 years

Text

Summer Daisies (An Elain x Tarquin fanfic)

Chapter 1 | Word Count: 4301 | Rating: M

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978781/chapters/73803669

Elain revelled in the early morning sunlight. The light of day making its ascent as she sat on her balcony overlooking the lavish gardens of the River house. She had a book in hand and drank deeply from her tea. Summer solstice was one of her favourite days of the year. She looked back on the past 10 years and smiled at the memories of how her and her family had often celebrated on the longest day of the year.

This year Tarquin had invited them to Adriata to celebrate with them and Elain was beyond excited. She’d visited the Summer court only a few times, but it always fascinated her. The way the sea was so bright, and the salty air calmed her. She also wasn’t complaining about how beautiful Summer’s males were.

She’d decided to reject the bond between her and Lucien just over five years ago, and he’d taken it surprisingly well. Nothing had happened to cause the rift; After the war Elain had just wanted to be independent, to see what life she could make not tied to a male but the bond had still laid between them and it was easy enough to ignore it, especially as Lucien spent more time away, but that time spent where they had been mates but not mated was horrible because other males looked at her like she was taken, not that she’d set her sights on anyone in particular, but Elain didn’t like being seen as someone’s property. She was better than that. After rejecting the bond though, something still didn’t feel right, and Elain had needed more time to find her feet again.

However, something had shifted in the past few months. She was stronger and more confident than ever, joining the Valkyries for training and studying in the library when she wasn’t tending the gardens, but she looked at her sisters and her best friend Azriel who had people they were sharing their lives with, and Elain wasn’t ashamed to say she wanted to know what that was like too. Her sisters and Azriel had been fortunate to be mated to people who they loved with every ounce of their being. She knew that even without the mating bond they would have all chosen their mates. And that’s what Elain wanted, to choose. So, Elain rose from her chair, stepped into her bedroom and got ready to embrace all the world had to offer.

——

Nesta walked into Elain’s room as if she owned the place, with a multitude of dresses in hand. “I think I have a few really good choices here.” She said as a way of greeting,

“Let me see!” Elain squealed helping her carry the heavy fabrics. They were truly gorgeous. She could see Pastels and florals and lace; she did love this. Especially sharing it with her sister.

“Okay, so I have my eye on the Green one or the Royal blue one, but I don’t think you’ll mind if I claim either of those.”

“Certainly not,” Elain said as she stroked over a light pink gown that was now draped over her bed, “You’re right Nesta, these are gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” She said back, “But I’d hurry up and lay claim to one before Feyre comes.”

Elain glanced at all the gowns on display. She knows she shouldn’t have left it till the last moment but that was all part of the excitement. Somewhere along the way it had become a tradition for the girls to get ready together for events and Elain was so thankful that they had grown close enough to do that. “I’m going to go with this one.” Elain said, choosing a gorgeous Silky pale teal dress that had white flowers embroidered at the bottom of the skirt. When she turned it around, she saw it appeared backless with those same white flowers attached to a mesh that’d make it look as if they were stuck to her skin. This was the dress. “Good Choice.” Nesta remarked.

“I hope you two haven’t taken the good ones,” Feyre said in greeting, “I finally got the Children dressed so now Rhys just has to make sure they don’t spill anything on themselves.”

“Is Lyla excited?” Elain asked smiling at the memory of her niece showing off the dress they had bought for the occasion,

“So excited. It’s her first proper ball.” Feyre said, “She kept asking if she was going to dance with a prince tonight.”

“Well, I don’t hold a chance of catching a male’s eye if Lyla is there.” Elain laughed,

“She’s Six.” Feyre said,

“And already planning on seducing Princes at a ball,” Elain smiled once more, “Maybe she’s more like her Auntie Nesta than we thought.” Nesta just smiled broadly at that, proud that little Lyla was a little ball of energy, insistent on wreaking havoc and having fun.

“Just wait till you have children, Nes.” Feyre said, “I’m desperate to see what kind of trouble a little Cassian could stir.”

“Perhaps it might not be too long- “

“Nesta are you Pregnant?!” Elain basically screamed,

“No, Gods, No,” She got out quickly, “But we’ve been talking about it, having children.”

“That’s wonderful.” Feyre said hugging her sister,

“Thank you. On our last trip oversees we realised how lovely it might be for a child to travel and grow up seeing the world.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Elain said cupping her cheeks, a tear threatening to spill,

“Don’t get too excited just yet, it might be another few decades before it happens.”

“Do you guys ever think about what it would be like if we were still human,” Elain said, “How it’d be utterly unrealistic to wait decades to have children.”

“I mean Rhys and I hardly waited, but I do think about it.”

“I would not have married someone nearly as handsome.” Nesta said,

“I’d have married a horrible man and become a trophy.” Elain gagged at that thought,

“I’d have probably died a Spinster.” Feyre said,

“Come on, you had men fawning over you.” Nesta said,

“I’d hardly call Isaac Hale a man.” Feyre said causing Elain to giggle,

“Regardless, I’m grateful for this life.” Elain said,

“Me too.” Nesta and Feyre said as one,

“Did I walk in on a mushy moment?” Gwyn asked peering round the door,

“Gwyn! Come in I have the perfect dress for you.” Nesta said,

“Good, I’ve been struggling to find something.”

“I’m positive this will have Az on his knees.” Nesta said with a grin. The rest of the girls laughed in response.

It was going to be a good day. Elain could feel it in her bones.

——

The first thing that caught Elain’s eye was the Chandelier. It sparkled beneath the sun that was filtering through a skylight. The entire ball room was stunning, dressed in beautiful yellows, whites and teal. She had chosen the perfect dress. She loved how daisy garlands were strung from the ceilings and how the ballroom had an entire side that opened onto the gardens beyond the palace.

The second thing that caught her eye was The High Lord of Summer, donned in white with Golden cuffs that matched the Gold that lined his eyes, strolling towards them. He was gorgeous.

Of course, she’d met him before. The last they had talked properly was at the sporting events that had occurred a few years ago. Every decade there were inter-court Sunball games. These hadn’t been held for the best part of a Century with Amarantha’s reign and then the war with Hybern and then everything that went down with the mortal queens, but they’d held the first one in the summer two years ago. Elain hadn’t known much about sports, she knew people would compete in the mortal realms in different events, but she’d never deigned to care, but when she’d heard a rather enthusiastic Tarquin cheering his team on in one of the early matches, Elain had asked him to explain the game to her. The games had become much more interesting after that and she’d find any excuse to be near him during matches, even when they played against the Night Court.

Nothing had come of it though, she hadn’t wanted anything to come from it at the time, but now seeing him, calm, ethereal and downright stunning. Elain was re-evaluating why she hadn’t seen him that way before.

“Welcome,” Tarquin said in that deep voice of his sending goosebumps up Elain’s arm. It was boiling hot here, she shouldn’t be shivering, “It’s lovely to see you again.” He said clasping Rhys forearm, then giving Feyre a big hug and finally bumping a fist with Nyx. They had become incredibly close; Mostly down to the fact that Nyx had summer court powers. It had always been a thought, one no doubt all the High Lord’s had pondered, what powers would Feyre’s children possess; If she had the power of Seven High Lords would that pass down to her children or would they all receive something different. Nyx was already showing signs of immense power, but Summer’s called to him the most. Tarquin had lovingly offered to train with him and give him a safe environment to explore and master that magic.

“Excuse me, are you a prince?” We all looked down to see Lyla tugging on the High Lords robes. Feyre quickly pulled her away,

“No sweetie, Tarquin is like Mummy and daddy.” Mor explained to her,

“You’re a High Lord?” She asked in that adorable voice,

“I am,” He answered crouching down, “I believe you are Lyla.”

“Daddy says I’m a princess.” She said with a proud smile,

“Well, I believe a princess should get to show off that pretty dress.” He stood and took the little girl’s hand and led them into the gardens where the festivities were in full bloom.

Elain was blushing now and did not hide it when Tarquin glanced back at her. He was so good with her niece and nephew she could’ve swooned right there but instead she moved to Morrigan who was holding her wife’s hand. She almost didn’t want interrupt Emerie and her but Mor had already caught that Elain wanted to ask something. “Tell me about Tarquin.” Elain said,

“He’s Kind, Gorgeous, great with Children, supports those born into low-ranking families. But I think you already know all of that.” Mor said with a wink,

“But he’s never been married, no mate?” Elain asked,

“There are rumours his mate rejected him while he was still young, but he’s never confirmed that. I imagine like most he’s had lovers but none serious enough for us outside the palace to know of. He is young, soon to be a century, but I imagine his life has been so chaotic he might not have thought of romance.”

“He was not expecting to be High Lord, was he?”

Mor’s voice dropped so a soft whisper, “No, his cousin was killed by Amarantha. He’d tried to escape Under the Mountain and was caught; Rhys lied about his accomplices in order to save Tarquin’s life who had also tried to get him out.”

“He’s doing a great job considering everything he’s been through.”

“Maybe you should tell him that.” Mor said with that smirk, Emerie nodding along

“I think Lyla has already claimed him.” The three laughed in tandem, looking at the little girl holding onto his hand.

“Maybe you could ask him to dance.” Mor said suggestively,

“Maybe I will.”

——

Elain felt like her feet might fall off. She’d been dancing for hours not just with her brother in-laws but with Azriel and her nephew too. It had been so wonderful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced this much and felt so free. She suspected the wine probably had something to do with her giddiness, Cresseida had told her it had been made by the very grapes that grew in the courtyard. Elain had tried many different wines while being Fae, but this was the most delicious.

She was just happy. She was living, truly living. The stolen glances towards the High Lord also made her feel more alive than ever before. He was wrapped in his Host duties but each look or smile he shot her way had her heart beating fast. It was a good job he’d invited them to stay for a few days or she might have been sad they had not gotten the chance to speak.

It was now early evening, and the sun was beginning to fade. The longest day of the year was coming to an end. She saw Feyre on the other side of the ball room and made her way towards her,

“Have you seen, Lyla?” Feyre asked, “She keeps running off, but we need to put her to bed.”

“I think she’s enjoyed it today.” Elain said, scanning the room and the gardens beyond,

“She basically ate the entire banquet table.” Feyre said with a laugh,

“Oh,” Elain said pointing outside, “I see her. She’s… with Tarquin.”

“Thank the mother,” Feyre said, letting out a sigh of relief, “I’ll get her.”

“No, let me.” Elain said,

She took a deep breath and walked towards the High Lord. It might have been the wine or the self-confidence she’d built over the past years, but she held her head high and didn’t shy away when he looked at her and smiled once more,

“Elain,” he said by greeting,

“Tarquin,” she smiled back, then turned to her niece, “Lyla, I believe your parents are looking for you.”

“They are, but I’m not tired yet, and I want to dance.” The little girl said, trying not to yawn,

“I know, Sweetie, but…” she couldn’t think of the right words to say as Tarquin had come to stand so close to her,

“But” he continued for her, “I promised your Auntie Elain a dance before the party was over.”

“Okay.” The girl said,

“You’re here for a few more days, I promise to take you around the City and to dance with you before you go home.” He said with such a loving smile, and then looked to Elain as if the offer applied to her too.

“Okay,” Lyla said again, “Goodnight Mr High Lord, Goodnight Auntie El.” Elain picked up the little girl and gave her a big kiss before sending her to where her mother stood waiting. Tarquin stood beside her and watched as Lyla left the ballroom.

“She loves you.” Elain just said to him,

“She’s a very sweet little girl and her brother too.” The pair looked over at Nyx who was standing with Cassian, looking like they were up to no good. Elain let out a small giggle. “Have you enjoyed the day?”

“I have. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Well, you certainly fit in.” Did he just call her beautiful? “So, May I have this dance?” She just glanced at him, and the beautiful blue of his eyes were as beautiful as the ocean beyond them. It was what made her say,

“Of course,” he took her hand, “I might only be able to stay standing for one more song though.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” he said leading her to the bustling dance floor, “You give me a dance and I’ll show you my favourite view in this palace.”

“Deal.” She said, damn those eyes that looked at her like she was the only one he could see.

When they joined the dance floor the music changed from the upbeat tune to a beautiful lilting melody. It wasn’t like other balls she had been to. There were not set dances one had to learn, everyone moved freely on the dance floor, with a partner or solo. She glanced around to see other couples holding onto each other swaying along with the music. Tarquin spun her so she faced him and bowed to her before taking her in his arms. She beamed at that bow, he’d done it purely out of politeness than what was expected, and she knew she had shocked him just as much when she slid her arms around his neck.

Her fingers were brushing against the hair at the back of his head, she marvelled at the beauty of his face. This close up she saw just how smooth his skin was, she wanted to run her fingers over his cheek, in his hair, maybe even further down that glorious set of abdominals that were proudly displayed. His skin had been lightly powdered with some kind of gold dust that had become alive under the light from the Chandelier. He was the most beautiful male she’d met. She already found herself dreading the dance coming to an end.

A small gasp escaped her lips as his broad hands found her waist. The thin Silk fabric she had donned was not thick enough to stop the heat of his hands seeping through. And for a while, the pair just swayed, not quite meeting the others eye. Elain couldn’t speak for the High Lord, but she feared that if she looked into those eyes much more, she wouldn’t be able to stop the urge to kiss him.

“Would you tell me what you’re thinking?” Tarquin whispered into her ear,

“I’m thinking,” she started, “That this is one the most stunning parties I have been to. That daisies are my favourite flowers and I’ve never seen so many.”

“Why Daisies?”

“They grow anywhere and everywhere.” She answered, “When we were children, Nesta and I would sit in the garden and make daisy chains, or I would while she would read. I got told off by a nanny once for making one and placing it on Feyre’s baby head.” Tarquin chuckled in response.

“If that’s the most mischief you got up to as a child, I’m afraid you’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Well what kind of mischief did young Tarquin get up to?” She asked, “Or have you always been calm and Kind?”

“I’m flattered you think that” he smiled. That gorgeous smile. “The Captain of the guard had a son my age and we’d get up to all kinds of mischief. My favourite one was when we created a slip and slide in the palace corridors.”

“That does sound mighty fun.” She laughed

“It was until we broke a few fish tanks and there were all manner of creatures sliding along the corridor with us.”

“Oh no!” Elain gasped,

“Yes, we were not easily forgiven for that particular stunt.”

“And now? Do you find you have much time to get up to these antics now you’re High Lord?” before he could answer the song came to a finish. Perhaps she’d overstepped, she had no right to ask of his personal life, but all her worries were stilled as he said,

“I believe I promised you the best view from the castle.” Elain only nodded and took the High Lord’s hand before Winnowing her away.

——

“Wow.” It was the only word she was capable of saying.

“I told you,” he said. It was stunning, the sun was setting, and they had the perfect view watching it make its descent. But not only that she could feel, in her bones, the vastness of that ocean that laid below them. She could see the city of Adriata where other solstice festivities were gathering. Looked out on the ocean to see a multitude of boats also celebrating. The curve of the small beach and the caves and cliffs that stood high above the waters made Elain realise how Feyre felt the urge to paint. To capture such a beautiful moment would have been impossible though.

She didn’t know how long she had stood there. Just that she thought she could breathe in that sea air forever. She’d barely realised they stood on a balcony that she had no doubt were attached to the High Lord’s personal chamber. She’d almost forgot who she stood with. She looked back at him who was just watching her with unwavering attention. “To answer your question,” he said stepping beside her to lean against the railing, “Being High Lord has kept me busy and I haven’t yet found that work, life balance that comes so naturally to the others.” He confessed,

“I think you’re doing a remarkable job.” She said glancing down at his people who were joyously celebrating,

“Thank you,” he said so sincerely she thought her heart might break, “I do wish I had the time to do what I liked.”

“What’s occupying so much of your time?” She asked,

“Already trying to get Court secrets from me?” he said with an eyebrow raised, she knew he was joking but still -

“Not secrets, per se. Just if you wanted to share the burden, even just by talking, I’d be more than happy to shoulder it.” She’d never meant anything more in her life. She wanted to be there for him, to care for him. Shit, she was in deep already.

Elain looked up at him through those long lashes and he turned to her. She tried to figure out what lay in his eyes, if it was sadness or gratitude. The next thing she knew she was reaching up to his cheek, finally feeling that smoothness beneath her fingertips and brushing away a tear that had fallen from his eye. “My apologies,” he said with a small cough, “I wanted to show you this place because it’s special to me but here I am blubbering away.”

“Never apologise for that, Tarquin. You deserve the happiness of the world. It’s okay to dream.”

“And what do you dream of?”

“For a long time, I thought happiness could only lay in what I could do for others. I believe it will always be my calling to serve and help but I didn’t know who I was. So now I dream that I will never lose sense who I am, and that I’ll be able to help others on their journeys. I know it isn’t much.” She said,

“Elain, I wish I had your sense. It takes a lot to admit you need to find yourself and to do the things you love.”

“And what is it that you love?”

“I love being High Lord, truthfully. I dream of making big changes in my lifetime. I just sometimes wish it didn’t feel so lonely.” He looked into her eyes with that piercing gaze and Elain’s knees could have buckled, but she held strong. Her hands found their way to his face one more, and she didn’t know what had possessed her as she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Everything had gone so quiet; she swore she could hear the stars twinkling.

She pulled back slightly, the weight of what she had just done not quite crashing into her. She was about the open her mouth the apologise but she couldn’t as Tarquin took her in his arms and kissed her. Deeply and Soundly.

She tried to track his movements. She felt his hands around her waist like how they’d been when they’d danced. But they were trailing over her back now, over the embroidered flowers that were trailing along the back of her dress. She’d never been kissed like this before. Like they’d just wanted to devour her, and she did not mind it one bit.

Tarquin let out a small moan into her mouth when Elain had begun threading her fingers through his hair, pulling gently. She wanted that sound again, wanted to elicit every possible noise he could make. So, she did not complain as he’d walked her to the wall and pressed her against it. They were still outside, the sea air still making everything that much more intoxicating. All thoughts left her as he slid his thigh between her legs. She’d been with a Fae male once and it was good but this, this was something else. Another small moan escaped his throat when Elain began to rub that bundle of nerves along his thigh.

It was too much, but she needed more. She broke the kiss and looked at him, his breathing utterly ragged as he looked upon her face. They did not part, she thought that they might not be able to not with so much between them now. “Elain,” he said his voice a little more than a rasp, “I do not know what the future holds but I know you’re the most beautiful female I’ve laid my eyes on. And if I have misread anything please stop me before I completley ruin this.”

“Shh,” Elain said, before holding his face in her hands again and kissed him again. Not as intensely this time but it still felt otherworldly, “I think,” she said onto his lips, “That you are the most gorgeous male I’ve ever met.”

At that he picked her up and carried her through the balcony doors to the adjoining suite. She was right. His personal chambers. “Is this okay?” he asked as he walked towards his bed. It had been okay for a very long time. He could have taken her on that balcony for the entire city to see. To hear. She nodded and said, “Won’t you miss the ball?”

“I have everything I want right here.” He said before dipping his head to kiss her once more. He lowered her to the bed, and she found herself surrounded by gorgeously plush cushions and then the very welcome weight of Tarquin above her. “Tell me to stop.” He said gently,

“Please don’t stop.” she smiled with equal gentleness. And nothing. Nothing in the world could have prepared Elain, as the High Lord of the Summer Court began to make love to her.

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fanficwritingcentral · 2 years

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A chance meeting

(^ link to ao3)

(this is my only Harry Potter story, not sure if I'll continue it but I do have some ideas about it but it's just about if one of the Fae found Harry after he was left on the doorstep)

It was a cold and brisk Autumn night, with a clear sky that sparkled with stars and a ghostly wanning moon. A perfect Halloween night. While most enjoined the night for what it was, there were others who celebrated it for something more, an end to a horrible war. A Dark Lord was finally vanquished, they were finally free from the terror and horror he brought, and it was all thanks to a little family.

However, this little family was not celebrating, for there cannot always be victory without tragedy. The young father sacrificed himself so his wife and son could get away and the young mother sacrificed herself so her son may live. And live he did, the poor little boy who lived. This is where we now find ourselves, with this poor little boy left alone on the doorstep to his aunt's, with now only a blanket and a letter to his name and a basic ward to keep him in that spot. You'd think he'd have a bit more protection honestly, and yet, there was not. You'd think with all the wonders known to these magical people they'd be more aware, yet still their arrogance blinds them in believing themselves to be most superior. Perhaps, if they'd given more thought to how they left the poor boy, then things may not have turned out as they did.

Daphne, as she liked to be called, walked down the dark street with a skip in her step. She'd heard of Voldermort's fall and just couldn't contain herself. Her Court rejoiced and threw a party that would go on for days or years, who knows really, for time was so fickle to them. They don't always take notice of human or magical human events, but one such as this could not be ignored. The Dark Lord's regin of terror was felt all over with many magical beings seeking refuge within the Courts. But now it's over and they're finally free.

Though Daphne does love a party, she just couldn't stay, her legs ached to run on Earthen land and her lungs begged to breathe in Earthen air. So she left and found herself appearing in Privet Drive of Little Whinning. She laughed and twirled as she walked, she couldn't believe it, they were all finally free.

However, she heard an odd sound that made her stop. It was odd as it shouldn't be real, it was much too clear. Afterall what child would be whimpering at this time of night, heard with a clarity that could only mean they were outside? Completely puzzled, she went to investigate because surely, it couldn't be, this kind of thing hasn't happened in an age. With the developments of Earth, changeling occurrences had been stopped, it was much too dangerous now to try and swap a child sleeping in a room close to their parents. Yet what could be the reason for a babe to be whimpering outside in the cold night?

She followed the noise and found herself in front of house number four and found the souce on the house's doorstep. It was a child.

Daphne frowned, "What in the queen's name?"

She walked up to the whimpering child and crouched down to look. All she could see of them in the dim light from the streetlamps was a little scrunched up face peeking out from a bundled blanket with a few strands of dark hair covering their forehead. Though regrettably, the hair could most definitely not cover up the vicious cut that was reminiscent of a lightning bolt. She reached out to trace the cut on their forehead.

"Poor baby." She whispered.

Though, as she traced the cut, she felt an odd fizzy spark coming from the child and quickly pulled her hand away. "A magical child?" She said and looked down to see if there was anything else with the child other than the blanket, something that might explain all this, and her eyes landed on a letter.

Daphne sat down, picked up the letter and read the addressed name ~ Petunia Dursley ~, yet when she read the name she felt no connection, no hold. 'Must not be magical then' she thought and opened the letter. The letter detailed the fall of Voldemort, and the actions this Petunia's sister made that lead to it and the identity of this child and what he now represents.

She looked down at the boy she now knew to be considered responsible for Voldermort’s downfall, "Harry James Potter" she said and felt a trail of connection start to form and then extinguish before it could even gain a hold.

"What? Harry James Potter" she tried again and felt the exact same thing happen. This shouldn't be happening, she thought and looked down at Harry with furrowed brows he's mine, I found him abandoned, why can't I claim him? he's magical, it should work, unless- oh Daphne gasped, her eyes bright with a realisation "A child of prophecy," she whispered "of course I can't claim you, destiny already owns you."

She sat down now, thoughts racing, trying to think of what to do, she couldn't take him with her now that she knew magic was involved. The faint ward she now recognised surrounding him would certainly hinder her attempt to fairy Harry away.

Daphne wasn't going to give up however, this, she knew, was going to be the most fun she's had in years. Something that may even rival the time she got drunk with Helga and created a room that existed outside of this dimension, in that school Helga was making with her three friends. She never did get to see the full result of the room though, not after what she did to Godric that made him banish her from the school forevermore, an overreaction in her opinion. She tapped her fingers on the ground, thinking. All of a sudden she stopped, and a bright smile appeared on her face, she knew exactly what she was going to do.

The next morning, Mrs. Dursley went out to get the milk bottles, however, nothing would have prepared her for what she also found on her doorstep. The scream she let out as she saw what she would soon find out is in fact her infant nephew sleeping on her doorstep would be remembered for quite a few years. It was lucky, though, that Mrs. Dursley was distracted enough by the baby and the letter laid on top of him that she didn't notice the information she's gathered on the people living in her street change. Of course, she knew that the couple living in house number 10 have a mischievous child named Daphne. She's sat through enough luncheons with the mother to hear stories of that perfect and spirited child, one who likes to grin as if she's in on a big secret that no one else knows. A daughter that’s been known to have never told a lie and, oddly, absolutely refuses to be thanked for any reason.

#harry potter #harry james potter #fae #fairy #fanfiction

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dungeoneering102 · 7 years

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D&D Quest Idea: Nightmare Before Christmas

One of my followers, @chiefswampballs, wanted to find out if there’s a way to run an adventure themed around Nightmare Before Christmas, an animated film by Tim Burton. So I decided to look into it. First: let’s look at the interesting elements of Nightmare Before Christmas.

Interesting Elements

The movie is filled with very cool elements that make the audience excited to watch the movie. To have a game with a similar setting would require one to use these or similar elements, to generate the same feeling. Here are what elements I found that make NBC interesting:

Monster Design. Every monster is very unique and fun to look at.

Settings. NBC hints at multiple worlds, each based on a separate celebration. This very hint gets people’s imaginations going. What does the Easter land look like? Is there a St. Patrick’s land where everyone is drunk? A land dedicated to July 4th? Oktoberfest? Chinese New Year? So many possible setting to explore.

The Music. One thing anyone remembers from this movie are the songs and the tunes. They are just so damn catchy.

The Charming Characters. Jack and Sally are all very fun characters. We root for them all the way through. Even Oogie Boogie, the film’s antagonist, is very fun to watch and listen to.

Some Pitfalls:

When running games BASED on other stories a DM can often fall into pitfalls, namely the non PC Protagonist pitfall. This is when the PCs end up being observers to the main characters of the source material, who are the real heroes of the story. With NBC, a DM might want to show off how great of a character Jack is, but end up having Jack do all the cool stuff (defeating Oogie Boogie, for example) and leave the PCs just wondering around observing. Avoid this mistake. Do not prioritize the NPCs over the PCs. Keep as much of the cool stuff for the PCs as possible.

Game Idea: The Skeleton Who Stole Christmas

Background:

The Party starts in a town of your choice. Simple, medieval town. It’s wintertime and it is the day before Wintercrest. Now I am using Wintercrest as a stand in for Christmas (since my D&D world doesn’t have a Christ). You can have your own name for it. Whatever it is, it has to have these traits:

It is a holiday set during winter.

People get each other gifts during this Holiday.

Santa Claus (or some kind of stand-in for him) travels door to door delivering presents to the Children (ages 16 and below) on the night of this celebration.

The rest of the details you can work out. Now your Party is staying in this town that is celebration their version of Christmas, and they get to witness the preparations for the Christmas Eve. Let your Party participate as well, if they want. Come up with some games (more on that later). Whatever it is, set up the celebration that will happen the next day. Here is where it gets good.

The Party wakes up early morning to the sound of countless screaming children. Their toys are horrific items, small monsters, little quasits, body parts, whatever have you. And there is the hook:

Santa brought demonic gifts to the children. Travel to Santa’s home and make him pay for this mischief.

Now the town Mayor or local King puts up a job posting saying something like

Any brave warrior willing to travel to the frozen wastes of North Pole and punish the mischievous spirit that betrayed our trust on this, most Holy of nights, will be rewarded 20,000 gp. Seek Archmage Duvalt in the court of his majesty.

Keep in mind, all the names, the reward, everything can be tailored to fit your style. Since the Party already has some reputation from being adventurers (start them at level 4-5), the townsfolk quickly go to them asking for them to take up the job. Through peer pressure, the Party agrees to take up the job. Now here’s how the plot will vaguely go:

Party goes to King, accepting the job.

King’s archmage plane shifts them to the Christmas Land.

The Party travels through a sad and gloomy Christmas town, full of unhappy elves, only to come up to Santa’s workshop, and discover that Santa has been kidnapped.

Throw in some clues for the Party here. After investigating the clues the Party figures out that someone from Halloween land was here.

Party goes to Halloween land to find its King, Jack the Skeleton.

Party has to fight through a dungeon of monsters and beasts to get to Jack.

Once they get there they see King Jack, his queen Sally, and his advisor, Oogie Boogie.

Party demands for Santa to be freed, but Jack, thinking they’re just there to ruin his fun has none of it.

Fight with Jack commences. Some 4-5 rounds in, Jack gets stabbed in the back by Oogie Boogie.

Boogie reveals that this was a plan he hatched, tricking jack to give the wrong kind of presents, to get the humans to dethrone Jack so he can get the throne of Halloween Land.

Boogie Man then offers monetary reward to the Party if they finish off Jack and give him the throne.

The Party then decides who to side with, fights the appropriate character. Whoever wins, they agree to hand over Santa, who returns to his home.

If Party sides with Jack, Santa blesses them for their kindness and gives them gifts (magic items). Otherwise, he gets upset with them and leaves them gift-less.

QUESTIONS

What if the Players Don’t Accept the Job?

If you’re not sure weather your PCs will accept the job or not, here are some options:

Tell them, before the game, to accept the job when its given. Most of your players (unless they’re horrible people), will go with it.

Just narrate the intro. Don’t give them the choice of declining. Players like this less, but it speeds up the process.

Have the local king/lord/mayor hear that there’s a band of adventurers in town, and physically come down offering the job. If your Party did something shady in the past, the king can blackmail them with that. Or he can be super nice, and double the reward money.

What Clues should I leave the Party?

When the Party is investigating Christmas Land, only to discover that Santa is missing, they need to find some clues as to where he was taken. These ought to be Halloween decorations. Stuff like: a broken pumpkin, torn paper bat, torn scary mask, a box of candy, whatever.

I also suggest you MAKE these clues (since they’re just decoration you can find anywhere) and give it to your Party. This will make it easier for them to figure out whats going on.

Be sure to have the archmage that teleported them explain that there are other realms, each dedicated to a Holiday. If you don’t explain this, they might not understand what the Halloween trinkets mean. By telling them this, they understand that there is a Halloween land somewhere. If they still don’t understand, have them return to the Archmage and show him the clues. He will then figure out who the culprit is, and send them on their merry way.

Setting

Christmas Land

This place only needs a single town. Have some generic locations for the Party to explore and interact with, such as:

Temple/shrine dedicated to the goddess of winter.

A general goods store

A magical item store

A toys store

Some kind of playground

Be sure to populate this place with elves. It’s up to you if you wanna throw in any elf, or high elves only. I recommend NOT putting drow (dark elves) into this land, and you’ll see why in a bit (even though toys made by the drow would be very fun to see). Make sure the elves are sad and unhappy. Not too gloom and doom, but really bummed and worried. If you want, you can have your Party try to cheer them up, and if they succeed to make the elves hopeful, the elves will gift them equipment to save Santa with

In the end of the town is a mansion. Its empty, ransacked, and that’s where Santa lived. Make it a puzzle for the Party to get into the house. Have some weird locked door. This increases the build up to the reveal.

Halloween Land. Halloween Land consists of two parts: a town and a dungeon.

The town is the same as before, except this time it’s all horror themed. All the items sold are horrific or in some way creepy. For a list of interesting, horror themed trinkets, look into Curse of Strahd, Find the “Gothic Trinkets” table and use that to generate creepy items. There is some information that the Party ought to learn in the town. Namely the Party should learn that...

The town is ruled by Skeleton Jack, King of Halloween, his queen Sally, and his advisor, Oogie Boogie.

King Jack has announced an upcoming “makeover” of the town, to a more “cheery” theme. The residents don’t really like this idea however.

The dungeon is Jack the Skeleton’s castle. It’s filled with ghosts, ghouls, and monsters that have been ordered by Boogie Man to hunt down all intruders. The good news is, since they’re all dead they don’t really die. The Party won’t have to feel bad about “killing” them in the end, when it’s revealed that the Party was being manipulated by Oogie Boogie.

Of course, the final stage of the Dungeon should be the boss fight with Jack/Oogie Boogie.

Final Thoughts

Feel free to modify the info I provide here as you wish. Remember that you can change the names of key characters, so as to not make the source material quite so obvious (call him the Pumpkin King instead of Jack the Skeleton). But here is my take on the whole Nightmare Before Christmas in D&D. I hope you enjoyed the read.

If you guys liked or disliked this post, please be sure to send me your thoughts. I’d love to hear them. Tell me, is there any way you’d change this? What holiday themed D&D games would you run?

The Unfair DM

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moonaft · 6 years

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Ashes of Honor - Reread

Rosemary and Rue

A Local Habitation

An Artificial Night

Late Eclipses

One Salt Sea

Aka “Let’s get the foreshadowing ball rolling”

As usual, spoilers up to The Brightest Fell and August 2018 for the Patreon stories. No spoilers for Night and Silence, because my copy from the library is still not in.

We start with Toby tracking down goblin fruit dealers and proceed right into her getting shot multiple times. Good thing she has an accelerated healing factor now - that probably would have killed her in Rosemary and Rue, even if the bullets weren’t iron.

I am surprised that not one alchemist has developed a cure or semi-cure for goblin fruit, aside from Toby’s blood candies. Maybe Arden can get Walther on that in the future.

Hello Officer Thornton, your life is about to get very interesting in a very bad way.

So Tybalt had to go get Toby because May was in a staring contest with Etienne the entire time? Could he have not been left alone in the house? Or maybe May wanted Tybalt to get Toby because she ships them.

I don’t think Tybalt knows about Quentin’s parents, his comments notwithstanding.

Toby, you didn’t make him an accessory to a jailbreak, he did that all on his own. Although it did encourage his parents to have you as his knight, no doubt.

Props to Bridget and Chelsea for keeping Chelsea’s fae nature under wraps for years.

Why is literally no one able to hold a straight conversation in this universe? So many problems could have been avoided if people just talked to each other.

Do changelings who have two changeling/pureblood parents have to take the Choice? I guess not, since Stacy’s kids always knew about Faerie.

Gillian is older than Chelsea, that has to be screwy for Toby.

Etienne has cedar and limes - it must have twisted enough to be sycamore for Chelsea. If she had been raised with Etienne, would it have just been cedar?

I wonder if dawn hits Toby harder than other fae. Why would you stay in the mortal world for years if you stop breathing every morning?

Again, what was Sylvester doing when he was a hero? It’s not like he was off killing Firstborn.

So the Firstborn working together can create worlds. Are there not enough Firstborn left anymore? Or can they not create homelands out of the Summerlands?

Oh, this is the book when we learn the Luidaeg’s apartment is actually spotless. I’d forgotten when exactly that was.

Oooo - if Amandine had to close the holes August’s changeling Tuatha created, she was extremely close to bringing her home. And we never found out the boy’s name either.

OK, the timeline doesn’t make sense. The Luidaeg didn’t know where August ended up, or she would have told Simon when he came begging for her help. So she didn’t know that August found the changeling in Blind Michael’s land and went to Annwn, even though August came for the candle just before the changeling starting tearing holes in reality. Maybe no one noticed that August was gone yet? What’s a couple weeks for a pureblood?

OK, TBF says the Luidaeg knew that August went for the changeling, but she couldn’t have known where in Faerie or the mortal world she went.

That poor kid. He died as a result of all that, whether from the fae or from the teleporting, and August was left stranded in Annwn.

“Aunt Titania” - I really want to know what the Three + all the Firstborn were like thousands of years ago. It couldn’t have just been Eira and the Luidaeg going at it.

The “Heart of Faerie” - that hasn’t come up again. Yet.

So the Tuatha had two Firstborn - Amorica and Elton. Here’s the main question I keep coming back to - who helped father/mother the descendant races?

There is nothing to suggest that the Firstborn reproduce asexually or by themselves. The Luidaeg more-or-less confirmed in TBF that August would have been part Daoine Sidhe - part of Titania’s line - if Amandine and August herself hadn’t pulled that part from her blood. So it’s not like being a child of a Firstborn automatically makes you a pureblood of that race. So August is - as far as blood is concerned - not actually of Simon’s line because they don’t share a bloodline. Apparently that doesn’t affect genetics or magic since she still has his magic scent and the Torquill coloring.

But Amadine is only Firstborn who can shift the blood without a hope chest. What about everyone else?

Blind Michael and Acacia had several children - Luna and Ceres being Blodynbryd - as well as the Dryads. Apparently Blodynbryd are technically a type of Dryad. The kids must have chosen Acacia who is Titania’s daughter. But what if some of the kids had chosen Michael, who is Maeve’s? Could you have members of the same descendant race who are either Maeve’s or Titania’s?

And what of Oberon’s lines? Did he choose Amorica and Elton, or did they choose him over their mother? Was their mother someone completely different, like Amandine’s mother or the Merrow Firstborn’s sire?

If the Three created Faerie, then they predate those lands. Who were they before they were fae? What about these other fae-like beings? Who are they? Where did they go?

How did the Luidaeg give birth to the Roane and Eira to the Daoine Sidhe? How many children did everyone have? Theoritically, we could trace Daoine Sidhe like racing horse lines. Are Sylvester and Aethlin’s parents siblings? Cousins? Who knows!

I would love to see Bridget smack one of the asshole fae with the cast iron pan. Maybe in the finale?

I love that Quentin loves Great Big Sea. I wonder if he likes Stan Rogers too? Could the “song about boats” be The Mary Ellen Carter?

Oh God, Tybalt. The series could have ended right there, at Toby and Quentin’s death via vehicle collision.

The Court of Cats really has no luck. Poor Raj.

Don’t worry Quentin, you’ll get your not-boyfriend back. I definitely shipped them before I read Full of Briers.

Sylvester seems at least competent at illusions, even if he’s got nothing on Simon’s blood magic.

“A man and his boat” sounds more like Man With Blue Dolphin. Or Old Polina? A Boat Like Gideon Brown?

Hi Li Qin! This is the first indication that you actually exist.

So she doesn’t get a title by virtue of marrying January? That would explain why Amandine isn’t actually a Countess.

Li Qin: Abusing fae hospitality for fun and profit.

Stop cradle robbing, Treasa.

Technically, Toby is the daughter of a noble. Does she get to inherit Simon’s status eventually?

Toby, why are you not the least bit curious about who Riordan is talking to about you?

I appreciate Riordan’s ability to set traps for everyone. She really came off the winner in this book, even if it did strand her in Annwn.

I need to reread Patrick’s side stories - I think Riordan’s coat of arms changed in the last 100 years.

It is so useful to have allies that can bend space and time.

And we have a new Firstborn: Arawn of the White Stag. Sounds Welsh. Possibly the Firstborn of the Tylwyth Teg?

Hi Raj!

Don’t worry Toby, Quentin will get to see Annwn soon enough.

We know nothing about Shade, do we? And what do you mean, Kings and Queens don’t live together? Tybalt and Colleen did back in London. Everything you know about the Court of Cats is wrong, Toby.

Poor Anne. Poor Tybalt, his lovers always die.

You’re blaming your unborn daughter for the death of your wife, Tybalt? Low blow.

Can human mothers carry a litter of Cait Sidhe to term? I assume Cait Sidhe as cats can birth a litter but what if they shapeshifted back to human? Do the babies also shift?

Hi Chelsea!

Raj, you are a horrible assassin. But hey, Toby gets another ally to help search for Chelsea. And this time he’s not trapped in a deeper realm.

Quentin continues to be a good squire.

Whoops, wrong target, May.

How do skinshifters who aren’t Selkies manage? Does each Raven-person get their own cloak of feathers?

Poor Jazz, this isn’t the last time she’ll be attacked by strange men in her own house.

Not like May could pass for Quentin’s mother either, Toby. Though it’s not like Officer Thornton knows what May looks like.

And more of Tybalt’s past!

Yes Toby, I’m actually sure the High King and Queen are proud their son is a cat burglar. It’s a good skill to have.

Why didn’t Riordan kill Toby when she had the chance? It’s not like Toby’s useful to her.

And Toby scents August, who must have used one of Chelsea’s portals to escape back to the mortal world.

Can Tuatha seriously not teleport if they can’t see where they’re going? It seems mighty inconvenient.

Have Tybalt and Etienne ever worked together in such proximity? I don’t think so.

Hi Officer Thornton. Hi Samson. You are still somewhat less of an asshole than Dugan but not by much.

How exactly can Riordan use a blood charm to grant Samson access to the Shadow Roads?

Oh God, I think Toby’s acting like Simon. Beaming and walking in circles around Riordan. This is almost like how he got Dianda and Patrick together.

Quentin, you really need to learn combat magic.

Chelsea’s teleportation magic is apparently enough to get Samson into the Shadow Roads.

“and there’s nothing I can do to make her less stupid” Oh Jin.

Toby’s near-death count this book is three, I think.

Hi Sylvester!

HI Bridget! You get the best of both worlds. Toby, Quentin nearly did the same for Katie, you don’t need to act so surprised. I guess it’s one of those things people don’t talk about.

Did Samson actually die in Annwn or is he just stranded there? He was still breathing after Etienne hit him with iron.

Happy ending, minus all the disembowelment and dying.

Next up: Chimes at Midnight. Is that the one with Arden? I don’t remember the false Queen in The Winter Long but I can’t remember if we meet Arden before or after that.

#october daye

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amethystfaery-blog1 · 6 years

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Faery Witchcraft

Hello lovelies,

There are many kinds of witches out there. Witchcraft is such a flexible and personal form of faith and expression that there are so many sub groups and types of witches out there that I thought it would be fun and informative to actually look a little more in-depth in to the different kinds of witch craft out there but also supply some places and books that you could look at to learn more yourself if you are interested..

So the first one i am going to talk about is fey witchcraft. Its the one I have had the most interaction with so it seemed like a good place to start. Fairies were my first foray into magic as a child. First though I am going to talk a bit about fairies because when I was young fairies were always pretty and lovely with glittery wings and little tiaras, they were there to help and might be a little mischievous but in the ends meant no real harm.

Holy Summerlands is that a load of bullshit.

I read a series called the Merry Gentry by Laurell K Hamilton and it was full of all kinds of different fey. Then me being me, I was curious if any of it was based on history or myth and to my delight it was based on old legends. I began delving into the myths of the sidhe and brownies and red caps, it was quite interesting and the legends and stories held all sorts of mischievous and really quite horrible things the fey were said to do to humans. What was worse were the things humans did to those they thought were fairies like throw babies they believed to be changelings (children swapped with fairy babies) into the fire. Ireland, England and Scotland seemed to have the longest and deepest history of fairies if you are interested in learning more. There are some beautiful and scary legends of all sorts of fey. Like the red caps who wore caps that dripped blood, the sidhe who would steal away people and return them years later, only for them to die because they ate faery food. Brownies were spirits who would look after a house or a family, some were good and some were bad but the only way to get them to leave was by gifting them with something could be clothes, food or items. The high courts of fey called Sidhe were capable of great beauty and nightmares. People used to blame wild faery hunts on people becoming mad.

So to the point of the post. Witches who identify as Faery witch or practice a fey kind of witchcraft or incorporate fey into their magic essentially use fairies the way many will use gods or goddesses or spirits or elements. When one needs help or guidance they may call on a specific kind of fairy to help them. Fairies are also said to be big helpers in leaving signs and symbols but also can cause chaos and upset if they are angered. Fairies are quite powerful and easily offended, hence why many books will tell you to leave offerings a lot to keep the fey from playing pranks or causing chaos in your home.

Fairies are very much tied to the earth and like animals they do not behave like humans. They will do as they please and only help if they want, no matter how many times you ask or plead. Fey magic is a very wild magic and users need to have a heavy does of caution and respect when dealing with the fey. That is not to say it is only bad or good, but just as you would be careful around an animal because you don’t know how they will react to what you do, you need to be careful around them. I know I am writing alot about caution but fey magic can be a wonderful thing to incorporate into your craft or even be the kind of witchcraft you throw yourself into fully if it speaks to you. Welcoming fey into your life and home can be an amazing experience. They used to say that those who were artists and creative or a little mad (ie saw the world different) were touched or blessed by the fey. Talking to the fey and opening your energy to them can bring in a kind of madness and wildness that can be wonderful and eye opening as long as you don’t take then for granted because once they’re pissed, you can be in trouble. They are not human and see the world so differently than what we see it as, which is wonderful and can cause us to challenge how we view things but as I said, it means they may not react the way humans would if you do something. Promises mean everything to the fey, if you make a promise to them keep it but it goes both ways if they make a promise to you then you can be guaranteed that they will deliver. Keeping ones word was a way to show honour amongst the fey and there are many legends that show breaking a vow or lying was a quick way to either end up dead or hurt or tricked. Also make sure each promise or deal is spelled out specifically, they are notorious for keeping their word but will sometimes keep it in a way you don’t expect. For example, if they promise to make a dream come true and have not specified what dream it could be any, from being naked in front of everyone to having more money than you could dream (of course witchcraft doesn’t normally work in the way anyway, just handing you what you want but it’s an example).

On to a lighter note, I never used to see the fey as a child outside of my dreams and mind but I would build houses and places for them to hide and rest amongst the fallen frangipani flowers, leaves and gum nuts. I would dig holes in tree stumps and make little shelters out of sticks and leaves. I used to do it because I believed I was helping them even though I didn’t see them when I was outside. Just because you don’t see doesn’t mean you don’t believe. I never quite saw things the way other saw things. I lived half in a dream world and was always classified a little different from the others around me. Not that that is a bad thing, I just see now that I may have been a bit touched by the fey which is actually kind of cool now that I think of it and I value the fact I can believe in things even when others kind of think I am woo woo.

So if you are interested in looking more into this kind magic I am providing a list of books to start looking into. Keep in mind that fey magic is essentially witchcraft except as I said previously you are looking to the fey for help or guidance rather than to any god or goddess. The fey are extremely nature based so nature based practices and holidays from things like wicca and other pagan practices can go hand in hand with fey. The key in my opinion in building your fey magic is to research. Look into the myths, legends and books that contain fey. The Merry Gentry series caused me to start my own research into the fey, it got me writing questions, looking up names and places mentioned in the books and that is how I started learning about the fairies I had believed in as a child in a much more real light.

So to start you on your way are a list of books both fiction and non, poems, tarot cards and bits and bobs that can get you started.

Books to look into:

Shadow and Light Oracle deck By Lucy Cavendish and Jasmine Beckett Griffith One of my first oracle decks that truly caught. I think it also thoroughly captures the light, dark and shadows aspects of the fey. But it also shows how just because soemthing is light does not mean it is good, nor because something is dark does not mean it is bad. You will be quite surprised by the cards meanings, they won’t be what you expect them to be.

Grimm’s Tales By the Grimm’s Brothers and Fairy tales by Hans Christian Anderson Read closely to the way the fairies and witches are portrayed here, you will be surprised by how many were not actually bad or evil but were generally wronged or keeping promises. An example is the witch in Rapunzel, she made a promise with the man that he could have as much green as long as he promised his first born. He agreed to the deal, he did not have to but he did and when the witch came to collect she was merely receiving her part of the deal. In Sleeping Beauty the fairy that cursed the princess was not a mean fairy but merely one that had been forgotten even when the other fairies had been invited, then was dis-respected by the king and queen. She was hurt and lashed out.

Goblin Market Goblins are classified fey. I read this poem in high school and it shows the darker side of the fey. The part that would lure and “play” with humans for their own amusement.

Midsummer Nights Dream By William Shakespeare It’s a classic, just try it.

Faery Magic by Lucy Cavendish and Selene Connelly This is probably the most instructional and well written book on actual fey witchcraft I have ever read (yes I am a huge Lucy Cavendish fan). Not only does it cover different types or fey, but also how to communicate and inject them into your craft. If you are looking for something more information on how to for faery witchcraft I definitely recommend this book over all others.

An Encyclopedia of Faeries, Hobgoblins, Brownies, Bogies and other supernatural creatures By Katharine Briggs. So I actually got this book as a Christmas gift from my dad as a fluke. He asked what I wanted and I wrote this book down as I knew it was impossible to find and shock and surprise it turned up. It’s amazing. It is written by a woman who got her PhD in this stuff and is full of all the different legends, myths and fey, it should be a go to for anyone who is interested in fey magic.

Merry Gentry By Laurel K Hamilton This was the series that got me back into faeries because the fey in here are not the pretty, glittery, helping and gentle kind of fairies little kids grow up with. These fey have watched history go by, shaped it, been worshipped as gods, been stripped of their powers and are pretty much dying as a race until this Princess starts to wake things up. Laurel K Hamilton did her research for this series to which I found out after looking at the bibliography at the back and then looking up some of the names in the series. She makes it her own but uses legends and myths to make it more real I guess would be the word. It’s set in the modern day and it’s a world where the fey have been apart of life the whole time.

Fair Folk By Marvin Kaye This is a collection of stories where people have encounters with the fey. I like these collections because they show the more unpredictable side to the fey. For example the first books is about a girl who is forced to do things for a fairy but ends up not being the one he wants, he wants her beautiful yet mean step sister. Another is a bout a man who has Brownie move in, which he is happy about until he realises she is using his credit card to fix up his apartment and buy food and she has expensive tastes. The stories are pretty good, I re-read them all the time.

Yes I realise a lot of these books are fiction but the point is to start you thinking. The Merry Gentry series are the only reason why I am into all kinds of fey as an adult, the Fair Folk and Goblin markets showed me darker and more unpredictable sides of the fey, but it was my own research that shaped the way I talk to the fey today. There is also the fact that there are few (in my opinion) decent books on actual faery witchcraft, hence why I only offered one. But that being said using faeries in your craft is something easily applied to as long as you research the type of fey. You would not ask a Red Cap for house help but you may ask a Brownie. Or you would not ask a Kelpie to help you how to swim but maybe a mermaid or one of the Tuatha De Daanan would be able to. And if you have no idea what any of those things are google it.

My last piece of advice is to go find a toadstool ring or a mushroom ring and stand in it. Listen carefully, listen with an open mind and see if you can here them.

Love to hear what you all think of all this and from any Fey Witches out there.

Talk to you all later,

#faery witch #witch #witchcraft #love #wiccan

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