#acotar fanfic idea

[born-to-riot]

Idk if this counts as a Drabble but basically it starts as me theorizing an event in Prythian and then turns into ‘what if Azris’

WC: 3,325

(TW: A/B/O, loosely nsfw, talks of breeding, male omegas have cocklets and boypussies).

Okay but hear me out.

I want a Prythian mating run

Make it A/B/O (along with their regular magic powers) (however maybe there’s some traditional powder that participants are required to take so that it dampens their powers and awakens the alpha/beta/omega inside of them)

It’s primal, the lopers start first. Battling each other to find and make the best den and claim territory for them to bring their runner back to once they catch them.

After a while, they catch the scents of the runners filtering throughout the forest. That’s when the game truly begins.

the runners don’t make it easy (usually betas and omegas)

(What’s point of making it easy when you’re strong and want to make the alpha/beta prove they are worthy and can breed you full of strong pups)

(Any second gender is allowed to sign up in any position: runner or loper)

(For example, just last season the alpha prince of Adriata, Varian, shocked Prythian when rumors spread that he signed up to be a runner. The shock multiplied when it was rumored that he was caught by the scariest and tiniest alpha of Prythian, Amren of the Night Court. Legend has it the two came out four days after the mating run covered in blood and scratches but are now inseparable).

It’s all about scent.

Only unmated faes can participate. Think of the occasion like an annual festival to see if two halves of a whole can find one another.

Not every pair who comes together will be mates as an actual mating bond is rare to find (also sometimes the pairs aren’t even the most compatible scent-wise be it alpha athleticism, an omega caught in a trap, or just the luck of the catch) but usually by the time an loper catches an runner, both of their pheromones have their instincts roaring.

But if you are mates or just are the most compatible for one another… oh the mother will let you know. There will be some other force pushing the runner to go faster, there is something that pushes the loper to be more violent about ridding the runner’s trail of other lopers running after the same scent. The closer they get to one another the wetter the omegas cunt gets the heavier an alphas cock, even betas will adjust accordingly depending on whether they are a runner or a loper.

Azris below the cut

Now let’s say Eris enters the race this year as a runner. Years prior he’s been forced by his father to sign up as a loper despite the fact that he’s technecially an omega, which is fine (but dangerous- some fellow lopers would get distracted by his scent and try to go after him. While he always fought them off he can’t deny the inner thrill of the chase) and Some years he’s caught good scents and has even followed some of them, hunted them. Usually though, his interest would fade and he would just return to his den and hang out in his nest until the event was over.

Not this year, this year, instead of just going to the Autumn run, Eris heard a rumor that a certain Shadowsinger would finally be participating in an intercourt run. He hated himself for being weak to the temptation but ever since he felt the other’s scarred hands around his neck Eris’ inner omega can’t fight the fantasy of being knotted by the Illyrian.

Eris doesn’t tell his father that he’s signing up as a runner, of course. He just lets the man know that he is going to try his luck with a wider pool of runners to choose from- which Beron accepted.

There is a gathering before the run, this is where runners and lopers can mingle and familiarize each other with scents that intrigue them. Legend has it that it is at one of these minglings where Thesan and his lover first made contact. Eris goes to this meeting and tries to mingle. He talks to many handsome and beautiful lopers, but he doesn’t feel his cocklet twitch until he makes eye contact with Azriel, who is staring at him from across the room, over the head of the third archeron sister. Elain.

Shit. Eris can’t believe he let himself forget about the newest object of Azriel’s affections. He can’t believe he even allowed himself to hope for just a minute that the Shadowsinger might return his interest. He can’t believe he let himself think that he smelt the other’s cedar infused arousal back when he whispered in his ear at the High Lord’s meeting.

Eris quickly sidesteps so that he’s out of view of the Shadowsinger but he can’t rid himself of the memory of his hazel eyes. Maybe his father was right, he should never be a runner because omegas let their thoughts get clouded by their cunts.

Eris knows he should leave the gathering before Azriel could have the opportunity to spread the word to whatever other members of the Inner Circle that are present. But his inner omega is waging war against him. Give him your scent. We are the most worthy omega in here. Eris isn’t so sure if he agrees with that, but he’s come this far and defied his father by opening up the possibility for a son of Autumn to be caught and bred. He supposes it won’t hurt to give the alpha a reminder of the scent he should be hunting.

So Eris moves, head held high. He walks around the edges of the room, dodging wanting alphas who approach him. He stops once he’s two meters away from the present members of the Night Court Inner Circle, facing the back of Azriel’s wings that separate him from the two ladies in front of him—Mor and Elain. The two female fae are chatting with one another and Azriel is clearly focused on analyzing the room around him— at least Eris assumes so based on the slight movements of the black haired man’s head.

Shining gold twinkles at the corner of Eris’ eye and grabs his attention. He spies a tall spring court alpha adorned in gold jewelry. The male is not Tamlin but he sure is beautiful, Eris can’t help but think. He sees the golden male approaching his direction at the same time Eris recognizes a semi-familiar shadow flitting by him. He has an idea.

Eris waits as the golden alpha comes closer and closer and he makes note that the shadow that was passing by has stilled and attempted to blend in with the natural darkness of the wall nearest to him. Eris feels a smirk form on his face as he thinks about the fact that the Shadowsinger has no idea that Eris knows each and every time the male is watching him.

Finally, the golden alpha gets close enough and Eris purposefully angles himself so that the other will ‘accidentally’ knock into him. The plan goes accordingly and soon Eris is letting out a pointed gasp as the Spring Court Alpha catches him by the waist with an apology. Eris laughs then, purposefully emitting his toasted maple and almond scent as if he was truly embarrassed. Eris waves the golden alpha away, smiling as if he wasn’t disgusted by his musk of freshly cut grass, and calmly readjusts his blazer before walking towards the exit of the gathering. It’s not until after he takes two steps out of the door that he hears footsteps behind him and sees a shadow in front of him that mimics the lines of the familiar pair of wings that never seem to escape his mind.

“Why hello Azriel,” Eris says, pausing his movements, listening as the footsteps get louder as the Shadowsinger approaches him from behind. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think I should be saying that to you,” Eris can’t help but bite back a keen as he smells the other’s cedar aura. Azriel grabs him by the waist—his hand covering the exact same spot where the Spring Court alpha had held Eris earlier— and turns him around to face him. Eris is proud of himself for maintaining an unimpressed expression on his face as he feels his cunt clench around nothing.

Eris tries not to show how much Azriel affects him, he tries not to cry as the Shadowsinger releases him and puts his hands back in his pockets. He tries to convince himself that he isn’t desperate for this alpha to chase him tomorrow, to accept his challenge, to want him.

“Are you a runner or a loper?” Azriel asks, surprising Eris as the Autumn Court male was expecting some sort of snarky comment that is typical of a member of the Night Court when it comes to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eris smirks in a manner that he knows irritates the other, hoping for Azriel to let out more of his scent.

“I’ve heard you usually spend your mating run in Autumn as a loper… that you haven’t…” Azriel trails off, his scent growing stronger as he completes the sentence internally. Eris takes a step closer to Azriel.

“That I haven’t taken anyone back to my nest? That I haven’t been bred yet?” He asks, “What is it Azriel, what have you heard?”

What do you want, alpha? Eris shushes his inner omega.

“I’ve heard you’ve chased hundreds of runners but none of them have satisfied you enough to finish the chase.”

Eris spies Azriel gulp and his wings twitch as he says so.

“What you’ve heard is true,” Eris admits and shivers as he senses Azriel’s cedar musk grow stronger. He feels his own inner omega screaming inside of him, begging him to let out his own maple and almond in response. He feels heat pooling in his stomach and he knows he needs to exit this conversation soon before his inner omega takes over completely.

“Are you running?” Azriel asks, stepping even closer to Eris. Eris glares at him, hating that Azriel’s curiosity is feeding into his inner hope that the male might be interested in him.

“Maybe, not that it should matter to you with the remaining Archeron sister in the mix,” Eris crosses his arms over his chest.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I just want to know,” Azriel insists. Eris rolls his eyes. Liar.

“Okay Shadowsinger, whatever you say,” Eris nods at the other and starts to walk off towards his tent, trying not to get his hopes up.

“Eris, wait!” Azriel calls out to him, causing Eris to pause.

“Yes?” He asks, turning around to face the other who hasn’t moved from has spot.

“I…” Eris feels more heat pool into his core at the growl of frustration that Azriel lets out.

“I fucking hate you, but I need to know,” Azriel sounds a mix of conflicted and determined. That is more than what Eris was expecting so he’ll take a win where he can.

“The only thing I will tell you is…,” Eris starts as he approaches Azriel, figuring this is his best chance to let the other know his intentions. Almost as if the Shadowsinger is in a trance he takes a couple steps forward to meet Eris, bringing the two chest to chest. Eris is taller but Azriel is wider with muscles and his wings.

“Hmm” Azriel hums, prompting him. Eris watches as Azriel removes his hands from his pockets and starts to clench and unclench them.

Tell him, his inner omega encourages. Eris knows this is his only chance to get what he wants. If he were to get caught by another loper, not mate him, and his father finds out Eris knows he will never be allowed to participate in another mating run again unless it’s in Autumn and he is loping.

“I’m tired of being empty, Azriel. I want pups, I want a partner, I’m tired of pretending I’m not interested in you,” Eris ignores how Azriel widens his eyes in surprise and continues before he loses his courage, knowing he would be executed by his father if the man ever found out Eris was so weak to his instincts.

“I know what I smelled in that High Lord’s meeting, your hands were around my throat but your alpha was in your eyes and he was daring me not to disobey. I could smell that you wanted me and I can tell that every time you’ve looked at me since you’ve been thinking about it,” Eris sniffs as he feels a tear coming to his eyes, he knows his dream is impossible but he also owes himself one last chance to see it through.

“Remember my scent, Azriel,” Eris shakily reaches out for one of Azriel’s scared hands and takes it into his own, ignoring how his inner omega screams in delight at the contact. Azriel doesn’t resist as Eris brings the shadowsinger’s wrist up to his neck and rubs it against his scent gland before releasing it. He briefly eyes how Azriel’s wings seem to spread wider around the two of them, almost like he’s trying to block Eris from the sight of anyone who may walk by. Eris refuses to get his hopes up, even as he notes how carefully Azriel brings his now-scented hand back to his side.

“Do know, Azriel, if you decide to try and catch me, I won’t make it easy for you. If you successfully catch me, I’ll try to break loose and force you to catch me again. If you give me no other options but to submit to you, I will never let you go. I don’t give second chances, I can’t afford to,” Eris’ amber eyes stay locked on Azriel’s returning hazel gaze, “I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve and do not think I will wait for you if some other alpha proves to be stronger.”

Azriel alpha lets out a growl at that statement. Eris ignores the surprise that blinks into Azriel’s eyes at his own reaction and he takes a step back so he can communicate his thoughts clearly—he also begs his inner omega to shut the fuck up about how badly Azriel’s alpha clearly wants them, Eris knows that hope only leads to disappointment. However, Eris also knows that he can’t afford to have any regrets here, so he must finish his piece.

“Think about what you want, Azriel. Don’t let your guilt or loyalty influence your decision. I will say this only once: I refuse to be your back-up option, if you come after me, you better want me.”

With that Eris turns around before Azriel can say anything or shift his expression in response to Eris pouring out his soul for the other to see. He quickly walks away, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel boring into his back as he does so.

That night in his tent Eris weighs the merits of following through with running. The mating run is about lopers chasing the most compatible scent. It’s a bloody affair, lopers often fight each other if they sense another alpha on the path to their runner of desire and even once the loper catches a runner any respectful runner will fight back and make them work for it.

The pre gathering is often a time for lopers and runners to first get familiarized with some scents so they can maybe find one they want to chase the next morning. If he is being honest with himself, Eris is a little embarrassed at how much weakness he showed Azriel in admitting he wants the other to consider him. But Eris also is someone who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants and he knows that realistically this is his only chance. Also he knows that Azriel’s family has probably planted doubts in Azriel’s head so Eris needed to make sure the other saw him as a possible mate.

As Eris lays down to sleep that night, he imagines how tomorrow could go if Azriel decides to choose him. The lopers would get up earlier and paint themselves in their chosen ritualistic symbols from their courts and that represent themselves. The runners would all gather behind the lopers as they line up to race into the forest, ready to compete to find and make the best den before the runners begin. Maybe if Eris is lucky, Azriel will give him a sign that he’s made his decision, that he is going to be coming after him. If that’s the case then Eris knows he won’t be able to stop his cunt from releasing juices as he bathes himself in preparation during the dedicated time while the lopers are in the forest and building dens. Eris would wait with the other runners once he was done, strategizing and planning against possible traps and obstacles that will be in his way. He knows he has an advantage as the heir of Autumn, even if the special powder they take dampen his powers, he grew up jumping from tree to tree along with all his siblings. Eris knows his inner omega will be singing and he will happily take a backseat once it’s finally time to run. He trusts his omega to guide him where to go and he trust in his own strength to keep him safe.

Eris knows he smells good, maple and almonds make a lovely mix and he knows his inner omega won’t be able to stop radiating his scent like a beacon. Eris is only interested in one alpha, and the powder doesn’t affect his wings as they are additional limbs. So he knows if Azriel comes for him, he would come from above. Eris imagines hopping from tree to tree staying under the cover of leaves. He imagines being stuck at one point, up high, the next tree too far for him to make the leap and a crowd of drooling alphas waiting for him to fall. He imagines Azriel finally swooping in and growling at them all, taking care of them viscously. Eris knows his cunt would be dripping at the sight but he also knows that he couldn’t watch he’d have to keep moving.

Eris doesn’t know how Azriel would finally catch him but Eris knows that he’d fight with every fiber of his being, he’d want Azriel to prove that he wants him, that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to claim him, that he’s strong enough to father their pups. He knows that his cunt will be throbbing once he finally submits and he hopes Azriel will take a moment to taste him before he flies them to his den.

Eris imagines that Azriel would probably set up his den in a cave on a mountain, higher than other alphas, easy to defend and probably close to a water and food source. He imagines that Azriel would be thoughtful and supply the cave with nesting materials for Eris to use once he brings him there.

Eris doesn’t even want to imagine what comes next as he knows the idea of Azriel breeding him over and over and claiming him will give him too much hope.

Eris falls asleep, oblivious to the shadows that occupy his tent, their master not planning on letting his dream omega slip away from him when he finally has a chance to make him his.

____________

OKAY so I wasn’t planning to write all of this, it’s kind of just a story I want to happen but I am too lazy to fully write myself.

But any thoughts?

Also lopers don’t have to kill rival lopers but there’s nothing against it if they do… azriel most definitely will eliminate threats.

(Also this is just an idea, if someone were to write something like this I would spread my legs for them especially if they added smut and gore WOOT)

NVM IM GONNA WRITE IT MYSELF MUAHAHHAHAAHA

[viajandopelomar]

Hey, what if we used the reincarnation manhwa plot and had a Nesta fan reincarnate in her body, still human? Or it could be as a fairy, but I thought of human 🤔. As a fairy, she would have more difficulty "avenging" Nesta (we're talking about a fan's revenge for everything that was done by the IC to her favorite character, and she has access to Nesta's memories, and therefore, she will feel her fear, anguish, pressure when Cassian corners her, etc).

It's interesting because when I thought about it, I thought about putting points where she rethinks about people. Like, it was desperation that made Feyre agree with Rhsyand to take Nesta to the house, but why didn't Feyre deal with Nesta herself, but put someone else to do the job? Nesta would visit her before that solstices a few times a month, it was Feyre who pushed her away by putting the rent on her head. So, from the perspective of a fan who sees everything from the outside and knows that Feyre is also in a shitty relationship, what would it be like (but I personally believe that Feyre deserves the misery she finds herself in for the simple reason that she is a daemati and is not mind-controlled, she is only manipulated because she is stupid and I HATE characters who are deceived 🙄)? What if she entered Nesta's body as a human, how would she achieve stability and power to deal with the queens? She would have to deal with human/fae politics.

interesting, isn't it? Someone think about it and write 😉

🇧🇷 Ei, e se usássemos a trama de manhwa de reincarnações e fizéssemos uma fã de Nesta reencarnar no corpo dela, ainda humana? ou pode ser como fada, mas eu pensei em humana 🤔. como fada ela teria mais dificuldade pra "vingar" Nesta (estamos falando da vingança de uma fã sobre tudo que foi feito pelo IC a sua personagem favorita, e ela tem acesso as memórias de Nesta, e portanto, vai sentir o medo dela, a angústia, a pressão quando Cassian a encurrala, etc).

é interessante porque quando pensei nisso, pensei em colocar pontos onde ela repensasse sobre as pessoas. tipo, foi o desespero que fez Feyre concordar com Rhsyand em levar Nesta para a casa, mas porque Feyre não lidou com Nesta ela mesma, mas colocou outra pessoa pra fazer o serviço? Nesta ia visita-la antes daquele solstícios algumas vezes por mês, foi Feyre quem a afastou colocando o aluguel sobre sua cabeça. então, da perspectiva de uma fã que vê tudo por fora e sabe que Feyre também está em um relacionamento de merda, como seria (mas eu particularmente acredito que Feyre merece a miséria na qual se encontra pelo simples motivo que ela é uma daemati e não tem a mente controlada, ela só é manipulada porque é burra e eu DETESTO personagens que são enganados 🙄)? e se ela entrasse no corpo de Nesta como humana, como ela alcançaria estabilidade e poder para lidar com as rainhas? ela teria de lidar com as políticas humano/feéricas.

é algo interessante, não é? alguém pense a respeito e escreva 😉

[viktoriaashleyyx]

I think Tamlin, at the very least, needs a love interest who is a stark contrast to Feyre, hear me out:

ACOMAF Feyre (post fae) is a damsel who wants to be a badass. She's a baby in fae years and cannot control her powers.

Tamlin needs a badass that wants to be a damsel. Like yeah, I could protect myself, but why would I, you're here. Like she's way more powerful than even he is, but she just wants the soft life. She wants to feel protected.

Like this vibe ^

You were gonna save me? I can go back inside!

Like when he's not around she kills like 5 Naga that tried to interrupt her walk but when he is around she won't even lift a finger.

I think it would drive him insane.

I started a fic

[nova-stardragon]

I had a dream last night.

In this dream, I was stealing an evil man’s boat in order to escape him, since he was holding me hostage.

BUT WAIT

I’ve successfully escaped, but I’m not doing so well on my own. I don’t know how to sail a boat on the ocean.

But suddenly, I’m set upon by pirates. Steampunk pirates.

And Rhysand is their captain.

Also the evil man I was running away from became Tamlin.

My subconscious knows what it’s doing sometimes that was a good dream.

[surielstea]

I'm sorry but I just read Undercover Affection (which was ABSOLUTELY amazing) and the first thought on my mind at the end of it was "Rhys won't be getting his debrief anytime soon" lol

THIS GAVE ME SUCH A SILLY IDEAAA

Read this fic to understand what this little drabble about 💙💙

“They should be back by now.” Rhys’ voice broke the silence, a mixture of frustration and worry in his tone. It was late—far too late for him to still be awake, especially when his mate needed rest.

“Go to sleep, Rhys.” Feyre’s voice was muffled, her face pressed into the pillows, the weight of motherhood clearly pulling her under. “I’m sure they’re already back, just tired… they’ll debrief tomorrow.” She added, her words slurred by the drowsiness seeping into her body.

“No,” Rhys insisted, though his voice lacked the conviction he hoped for. “Azriel wouldn’t wait to debrief. Something’s not right.”

He shifted, sitting up in the dark, his eyes scanning the room restlessly. Feyre, her features softened by exhaustion, barely responded, but the tired sigh that escaped her lips spoke volumes.

“They’re likely sleeping, just like we should be.” She muttered, a hint of exasperation beneath her words. “We both need rest, Rhys.”

But Rhys was already slipping out of bed, unable to shake the feeling gnawing at him. He reached for her hand for a moment, brushing his thumb over her skin, and she sighed, the soft breath of a woman on the brink of sleep.

“Can you check on Nyx when you come back?” Feyre mumbled, her eyes barely open, already drifting. Her trust in him was a comforting balm, even in this restless state.

Rhys smiled softly, brushing a lock of her hair from her face, his gaze lingering on the serenity she carried even in sleep. “Of course, darling.” He whispered, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead before he winnowed away.

Outside, The Cabin was quiet, the wards preventing anyone from entering unnoticed. Rhys stood in the shadows, the familiar pulse of his power radiating as he reached for Azriel through their bond, his voice firm and commanding.

“You two alive in there?”

Azriel’s voice, strained and breathless, echoed in his mind. “Barely.”

The immediate concern that flared in Rhys’ chest made his heart thud painfully against his ribs. “Are you in danger?” he demanded, stepping toward the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

“If you come in here, it’ll be the last choice you ever make,” Azriel snapped, his warning sharp, tense.

Rhys froze, caught off guard. The sheer force of protectiveness in Azriel’s tone made something evidently clear, the primal aspect of the Frenzy twisting Az’s usually calm demeanor. It was rare for his friend to act this way, and Rhys knew that the mating bond made people act in ways they couldn’t always control.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “So, my plan worked?”

“Rhys. Out of my head, I don’t have room for you.” Azriel’s voice was tight, almost pained.

Rhys chuckled, a low sound of amusement and disbelief. He leaned against the doorframe, deciding to push his luck a little. “I’ll have the others cover your workload for the next week.”

Azriel gritted his teeth, irritation laced with exhaustion. “Make it two.”

Rhys didn’t answer at once, the amusement flickering in his eyes. He nodded to himself, already winnowing back toward home.

When he arrived, his eyes fell first on the soft glow coming from Nyx’s room. He moved quietly down the hallway, his footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floors. Peeking inside, he found his son nestled in the crib, his tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath, a serene smile stretching across Rhys’ face as he marveled at the small being who had changed their lives so completely.

With a final, affectionate glance, he closed the door softly, the faintest of smiles lingering on his lips.

Returning to his bedroom, he closed the door behind him with a soft click, the weight of the night settling into his bones. The room was dim, the only light coming from the gentle glow of the moon streaming through the curtains. Feyre stirred as he slipped back into bed, and her voice was barely a whisper as she reached for him.

“Are they sleeping?” Her voice, thick with exhaustion, was a balm to his fraying nerves.

Rhys brushed his lips over her brow, a warm kiss that spoke volumes of his love for her. “Far from it, darling,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with affection. He smiled softly, watching her face as she began to drift off.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, despite her exhaustion. “Plan worked then, hm?” she mumbled, the words slurring together as sleep took over.

Rhys nodded, though she was already slipping deeper into slumber before he could respond. The serene expression on her face mirrored their son’s, and for a moment, Rhys allowed himself to simply bask in the quiet.

He kissed her again, once, then twice, his love and gratitude for her reflected in each gentle touch. As the peaceful rhythm of her breathing lulled him into a sense of calm, Rhys finally let go of the tension that had been gnawing at him all night.

He pulled her closer, settling beside her, and in the quiet of the night, he finally let sleep claim him as well.

[daycourtofficial]

We’re Bumping Booties, Having Us a Ball

Summary: Nesta and Azriel are suspicious of you and Cassian spending so much time together.

It was unusual for Nesta to speak individually to Azriel. This might be the first time she’s ever sought him out to have a discussion, and frankly, it slightly terrified him.

She approached him, and after looking around for wandering ears, deeming it safe to speak, she asked “have you noticed something different between our mates?”

Azriel blinked. He had no idea what he expected Nesta to talk to him about, but it certainly wasn’t about you and Cassian.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“They’ve been spending a lot of time together lately,” she huffs, clearly annoyed he doesn’t see what she does.

“We all spend an absurd amount of time together, Nesta,” he replies.

She rolls her eyes, “why she wants to be with you is beyond me, you insufferable bat. Okay, fine, maybe I’m making it up. Next time we’re all together at Rita’s, just pay attention to them.”

And so he did. He noticed you and Cassian conspiring over something, he just wasn’t sure what. You didn’t spend the whole time with Cassian, just whenever Azriel went to get you more drinks, you’d immediately start speaking to Cass and your conversation would conveniently end when Azriel returned.

He didn’t think anything nefarious was going on. You two had been mates for ages, before Cassian ever even met Nesta. You and Cassian had a friendship best described as siblings - honestly seeing his brother love you so much warmed his heart.

So he wasn’t worried you were doing anything scandalous with Cassian, but he knew when you were conspiring, and oh were you conspiring.

The next time Azriel gets up for drinks, he stops by Nesta and tells her, “they’re up to something. Let’s find out what.”

-

It didn’t take long for them to catch a hint that you and Cassian had plans. Two nights later, Cassian told Nesta that he had to drop his leathers off to get patched, and you told Azriel you were going to a cobbler to have your shoes fixed.

Nesta and Azriel met in the hallway after their respective mates had left. “She told me she had a cobbler to visit - at 9 PM.” Azriel knew you were much better at crafting lies than that - he likes to think you have a hard time lying to him. And you do.

“He muttered something about getting his leathers repatched.” Nesta scowled.

Azriel just stared at her, honestly shocked at this mission they’re embarking on.

A few minutes of silence pass. Nesta feels compelled to break it, unsure of what they’re waiting for, before a few shadows come back and dance slowly around Azriel’s ears.

“They’re on the roof.”

-

“Okay, put your hand here. Do it like this. No, you have to put your hips into it. OW! That was my foot!”

Azriel and Nesta crept up to the door to the rooftop - a flat area designed to entertain guests and occasionally watch Starfall. Hardly anyone used the rooftop during the year, especially not during the winter when it’s freezing up there.

Nesta and Azriel can hear you way before they see the two of you, sharing a quizical look when they hear you muttering explitives about your foot.

“Can you see anything?” Nesta whispers.

“No, we can peak around the corner though,” Azriel replies, starting to crouch to peer around the corner.

He and Nesta peer around the corner at the same time, the sight being even more surprising than if their mates were cheating on them.

“Are they..?” Nesta asks.

“Dancing.” Azriel says.

“She’s dancing, he’s doing… something. But it’s not dancing.”

They continue to watch the two of you for a while, amazed at your patience with teaching Cassian how to dance. You’re being exceptionally kind and patient with him, taking time to help him practice, despite the pleas from your toes to have him stop.

“She’s teaching him to dance, he’s never been good at formal dancing,” Azriel whispers to Nesta, an idea of why you’d be doing this forming in his mind.

“Cassian wants to know how to dance?” Nesta asks, confusion evident across her face. Azriel turns to look at her, amusement across his face, “Why do you think he’d want to learn to dance when he’s never been interested in doing more than dancing at Rita’s before?”

Realization dawns across her face, “he wants to dance with me.” She says quietly. She continues to stare at her mate, in awe of how incredibly sweet this gesture is, and a little upset that he went to you to teach him how to dance instead of her.

“Okay, I’m calling it. I’ve spun you around enough tonight. I want to go to bed.”

Cassian’s voice breaks Nesta train of thought. She grabs Azriel’s arm, almost making him fall over with how hard she’s trying to get them to move. “We need to go - he’d be devastated if we ruined his surprise.”

Nesta and Azriel hurry down the stairs, back down to the hallway where they met each other thirty minutes earlier.

“So, Nesta,” Azriel says, very amused at his brother’s surprise, “how do you feel about their little secret?”

Nesta sighs and says quietly, “that I have an incredibly thoughtful mate and I almost ruined his surprise due to some jealousy.”

“Good,” Azriel replies, “and that I have an incredibly kind mate who loves the two of you greatly.”

Azriel left Nesta to consider that, and when you returned to your shared room smelling briefly of Cassian, he chuckled to himself and offered to rub your feet while you two take a bath.

Azriel waits until Starfall, when Cassian takes Nesta on the dance floor for a while, looking pretty decent, to tell you, “hmm, someone looks like he’s finally figured out how to dance.”

Your eyes snap to his face, “He must have had a wonderful teacher.” Azriel’s mischievous smile tells you that he knows just who Cassian’s teacher was.

“I wonder if his teacher’s available to show me some moves,” he says, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer.

“I heard she’s booked for months. She’s very hard to get in to see,” you reply, placing your hand on his jaw.

“You think she’d make a special exception for me?” He says, giving you an incredibly pitiful look.

“I think I can get her to pencil you in,” you reply, grabbing his face and kissing him.

[spiritedstars]

Spirit Meets the Bones XXXIX

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: physical abuse/triggering language. Author’s Note:  In case you missed it, I commissioned an art of Iris here! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!!!

thank you @riorsonxaden for always being my cheerleader <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @gwynberdara / @positivewitch / @animezinglife / @zenkindoflove / @rosewood-cafe / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @readthelastpaage / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @saint-stella / @carolynmezzosoprano / @rainbowsnowflake / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @lalaluch / @moonfawnx

Find it all here.

Iris’s knees buckled beneath her the moment her feet touched the ground; Lucien’s grip on her arm was the only reason she hadn’t fallen face first. 

She sank to her knees, Lucien with her. He was speaking but his voice sounded like a faint murmur over the buzzing in her brain as she tried to focus on breathing. Pain laced every inch of her body, her hands shaking, and it felt like her head was going to explode. 

Chaos reigned in the infirmary. The sound of rushed footsteps, grunts of pain, and commands rang through the room, but all Iris heard was Eris’s cry as he ran toward his father. 

His blood duel declaration. 

She was going to vomit. 

“Princess!” Nevien’s voice rang through and Iris’s head turned to find the Head Healer running towards her. “Oh gods, your injuries. What is going on?”

But Iris couldn’t answer, her breaths were coming in shorter, and she knew panic had set it. “Bowl.” was the only word she could manage. 

“Bowl?” Lucien repeated but Nevien’s eyes widened and she waved her hand for a bowl to zip across the room, quickly placing it in front of Iris just in time for her to lean over and empty her stomach. 

The lashings. The beatings. The pain. All the anxiety that had followed caught up to her at that exact moment and her shoulders shook as she heaved once more.

This was it. Eris was finally fighting his father. He was either going to kill the High Lord or be killed. If he was lucky.

Iris emptied her stomach again.

“She’s running on fumes,” she heard Lucien explaining quickly. “She’s taken lashes and a beating and though it’s been healed somewhat, she’s lost some blood. Eris challenged the High Lord to a blood duel which has resulted in the mayhem that’s taken over the Forest House.”

Nevien gasped as Iris forced herself to take slow breaths, Lucien’s hand steady on her back as she gingerly sat up.

“He finally did it.” the Head Healer whispered. 

“You knew?” Iris rasped and Neiven quickly handed her a glass of water. 

“Of course. It’s about damn time,” she said and then scanned Iris quickly, running a hand over her. “We need to patch you up now. You’ll have to rest for a while but if we make quick work of it, the marks shouldn’t have time to scar.” 

“There’s no time to rest.” Iris grunted as she shakily tried to stand, Lucien reaching out to help her up. “We need to get back to Eris.” 

“You need to stay away from there. Eris specifically wanted you out. You’ll only be an easy target if you go back.” Lucien said gently and Iris’s eyes narrowed.

“My husband and mate just declared a blood duel against his father. I may not be a warrior but I will not stand by and wait to see what happens. I want to be there and I need everyone to stop telling me to leave him.” 

“Iris –”

“Lucien.” she started and swallowed hard, gritting her teeth at the pain as she straightened away from him, one hand holding onto the healing table to her side, fighting the shaking in her legs. “I will not cower and I will not hide. He will win and I intend to be there when he does.” 

“I understand,” he started and Iris bristled at the placating tone. “I do, but he wanted you away from the fight because he knows how bad it could get. You need to stay here.”

“Like hell, I will.” she snarled and Lucien’s nostril flared.

“Iris. You need –”

“What I need is to know what is happening to my husband!” Iris trembled. “I can’t stay here and wonder when I could help.”

“You’ll help by staying away – which is what he asked of you.”

“Lucien.” Iris snapped, her entire body shaking. She needed him to understand, she needed him to get it. “I can feel every single thing he’s feeling right now. I can sense him and his hurt and rage. You can try to lock me in here. You can try to tie me down but I will get back to him. No matter who is in my way.”

Lucien’s mouth tightened into a thin line as they watched each other. She would be with Eris and her family, come hell or high waters. Whatever will happen, she will be there with him for it. 

It took Lucien a moment to speak, his words gentle, “It may not end well.”

“So be it but nothing will stop me from getting back to him.” Iris snapped, the words harsher than she intended. She took a breath, steadying herself as she forced her trembling legs to stand on their own. “I left him once already this night and all it did was escalate things. If I stay behind and something happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll stand back—I won’t get in his way—but I have to be there.”

Iris’s gaze darted between Neiven’s worried expression and Lucien’s calculating one. She knew Eris would be distracted if he saw her again. She knew he didn’t want to worry about her. But gods damn it, Iris couldn’t let him be alone. He was her mate. And she wanted to fight for him as hard as he was fighting for everyone.

She held up a hand as Lucien opened his mouth. “I am not foolish. I won’t jeopardize anything. I will ensure I can stand on my own two feet before leaving this room. I will be careful.”

A breath of silence passed, and then Lucien sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re all so stubborn,” he mumbled. 

Iris gave him a rueful smile but before she could say more, a voice rang out, “Iris!”

She turned sharply at the call of her name, Lucien stepping closer, but it was only Theo limping his way over with Cosette on his tail. Iris let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re both alright.” she breathed. “Lord Marcus?”

“He’s resting over there,” Theo answered, nodding to his left with a grimace. “I’m glad you made it here. I’m sorry you –”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” she said shakily then looked at Lucien, gesturing to both of them. “Theo and Cosette. Finn and Emil.”

Lucien lifted a brow, his hand shooting out to balance Iris when she swayed slightly and stared at his brother’s paramours curiously. “So they really have hearts, I see.”

“They buried them very deep,” she said with a tired chuckle and allowed herself to lean back against the table again, glancing at Nevien. “I’d like a tonic to settle my stomach, please. I need to clean these wounds and heal my back as quickly as you are able to. I know we don’t recommend elixirs for a boost but this is a moment where I need it.”

Nevien’s brows furrowed. “Respectfully princess, you and I both know rushing is not the way. I do not recommend you go anywhere.” the Head Healer said firmly. “If I heal it quickly it’ll likely scar. You may experience residual pain if you don’t allow yourself to rest properly.”

“Let it scar. I am no better than my husband.” Iris replied, stubbornly. “Whatever energy you can give me, I’ll take it. I can rest when this is over.”

Nevien’s mouth went into a thin line but before she could object again, Lucien spoke, “Have you seen my mother or Emil?”

 “And Oren?” Iris asked quickly. 

“Yes.” Nevien answered. “Oren was dropped off not too long ago and Emil and Lady Enya only briefly let me see them before leaving. We’ve been swamped ever since.”  

Iris shared a glance with Lucien. The two had to be on their way to the throne room. 

“In that case, we need to move quick –” Lucien started as Iris shifted to Nevien when a sudden burst of movement came from the far side of the infirmary. 

The door swung open violently, and a young healer’s apprentice stumbled in, panting, eyes wide with fear.

“The blood duel!” she gasped. “Prince Finn and Izak declared it against the High Lord as well. It’s madness!”

Iris felt her stomach drop and she turned to Lucien, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. “We have to go,” she said, turning to the Head Healer. “Nevien, please –”

Without a word, Nevien gathered her supplies. Her hands moved swiftly, gathering the herbs and tonics she needed as a small vial was placed into Iris’s hand. “This will settle your stomach,” she said and her tone sharpened as she continued, “I will do as you asked of me, on the condition that you allow yourself a moment of rest. It will be strong magic you’re taking all at once and I don’t like what it may do. You need to be careful.”

Iris gulped down the bitter liquid, feeling it cool her burning throat. She took a breath then another, feeling herself about to heave before the unease slowly subsided and Iris let out a breath of relief. She wiped her mouth, still shaking slightly but with every breath, she felt more and more at ease, more stable. 

Bracing herself against the table, Iris quickly slid her arms out of her dress and held it against her chest, exposing the injuries on her back. She had made herself go numb, forgetting about the searing pain of it all until this moment where a sting accompanied every movement. She glanced behind her to find Lucien and Theo turned away and Nevien preparing herself. 

“Let me fight with you,” Theo said. “I want to help.”

“You most certainly will not!” Nevien said. “You want to help, you can stay and help me.”

Iris shot him a remorseful look but agreed with the Head Healer; he was barely standing as is. “You and Cosette will be safer and more helpful here. Please.” she said then glanced around the room and swallowed hard, adding, “Could someone please bring me something more comfortable to wear? I – I can’t stay in this dress.” Cosette gave her a quick nod and moved to do as she requested, a look of understanding in her eyes.

Her beautiful custom-made gown was ruined. The dress Eris had so thoughtfully made for her. For her first ball with her husband. In tatters. 

Another reason to get back down there. Maybe she could find her father and repay him for ruining it. 

“Are you ready?” the Head Healer asked gently and Iris glanced back to give her a nod. “This is going to hurt.” 

“I’m sure I’ve already dealt with worse,” she muttered, bracing herself as Nevien only gave her a look of warning before bringing her hands near Iris’s back and began tending to her wounds quickly. Her hands glowed faintly as she worked over Iris’s torn skin, and Iris let out a small hiss as the Head Healer’s magic touched her wounds. A gasp quickly followed as the pain seemed to hit her all at once and Iris let out a cry. 

“Nevien –” Iris groaned.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Nevien said as her hands continued. “I know this is painful but please bear it. It’s the only way I can heal you as quickly as you’d like.” 

And so Iris gritted her teeth, her grip tightening on the table's edge as she tried not to make a noise. Eris had certainly dealt with worse. Iris could handle this. She could. She would. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could be helpful.

But as Nevien’s magic touched a particularly raw spot – one the whip had hit repeatedly, Iris felt her vision blur.

Healing magic should always soothe, like a cool balm—a touch of relief and a breath of fresh air. But when rushed, when it was healing a deep wound, it seared like hot iron on the skin—violent. It burned in a way it shouldn’t, but Iris refused to make a sound. 

Compared to the inferno of the battle below, compared to the agony Eris had endured, she would not let this hold her back.

“Almost –” the Head Healer said. “I’m almost through.” 

Before Iris could reply, her eyelids fluttered and the world began to go dark for a second time that night. She slumped against the table but Iris’s grip tightened. She would not faint. 

“Lucien.” she gritted out. “Go. I will f-follow.”

“Iris –”

“Nevien, a moment.” Iris requested tightly and the Head Healer paused. She took several breaths, blinking rapidly as the string of Nevien’s magic ran through her wounds before she took the chance to glance over her shoulder to find Lucien’s tense expression. “I will finish this and bring any willing healers with me to help those I can. I’ll stay out of the way.” She repeated, then swallowed and slowly straightened, careful of her dress. “This has to end tonight and he needs his brothers. Help how you can. Go.”

Lucien watched her in silence for a moment but Iris saw the understanding in his gaze. A flare of warmth from her husband’s brother who was now her brother — her family in all the ways it mattered.

Lucien finally nodded. “Be careful,” he said. “Dress in a way that won’t make you an easy find.”

“I will.” 

But her brother-in-law gave her a pointed look, holding a finger up. “Out of the way. Careful.” 

Iris nodded, watching him leave, her heart already in her throat before glancing back at Nevien and nodding. She braced herself against the table once more and took a deep, uncomfortable breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

—

Eris blinked, the sound of chaos around him muffled by the pounding of his own heart. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog, but the blood trickling from his temple only made his vision blur more. His left leg trembled beneath him, threatening to give out at any second. His right hand felt numb, as if the bone had been ground into dust.

But he didn’t let himself collapse. He couldn’t.

Because despite the fighting taking place and despite the hits his father had taken, Eris still felt Beron’s towering form looming over him, intent on wiping him out. All his childhood horrors and nightmares, still standing before him. 

Eris had fought in wars and by far, this fight with his father was deadlier than all of them combined.

And Beron may not be what he once was—the invincible father whose fist had crushed everything in his path—but even with his chest heaving, his ragged breaths, the High Lord of the Autumn Court radiated dangerous power.

The ballroom around them no longer glittered – it had started to crumble and now smelled of smoke, blood, and searing, wild magic. His firehounds were still circling, their snarls echoing off the walls as they attacked those around them– but with most of Eris’s strength spent, the hounds were growing sluggish, their forms flickering in and out of existence.

Finn and Izak moved in and out of his periphery, fighting off his father’s soldiers while trying to land hits on the High Lord and Eris could sense their struggle. They were barely hanging on better than him. 

All their planning, all their years of waiting, it was coming down to this. As each moment passed, their father’s magic and sword lashed out at his sons, and Eris felt their desperation as intensely as his own.

And still, they fought as Eris circled his father, forcing the High Lord’s attention back on his eldest son.

The High Lord followed his movement, spitting blood at his feet, his blade held tightly. “Still don’t want to give up, boy? You’re barely standing.” he spat, his voice thick with venom, his lips curled in a nasty sneer. 

Eris felt his pulse thudding in his ears, but his gaze never wavered from his father. “You say that but ever since Finn’s blade sank into your gut, you’ve struggled to focus, Father.” Eris taunted, the corner of his mouth lifting. “A little knife play never hurt anyone but evidently, you seem too soft for it.” 

His eyes flicked to the wound at Beron’s side—where Finn’s blade had landed earlier—but the High Lord still held his ground. Even with Lucien’s earlier stab, blood still seeping from both wounds, from the corner of Beron’s mouth, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He was still dangerous. Still deadly.

And Beron’s expression darkened at Eris's words. 

“Soft, you say?” The High Lord said threateningly.

Eris’s mouth curled into his signature smirk, fighting the tremors in his body as he replied, “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant to say, weak.” 

A heartbeat of silence.

And without warning, the High Lord lunged.

Eris barely had time to react. The muscles in his legs screamed as he shifted to the side, his blade coming up just in time to catch Beron’s attack but the force of the blades clashing vibrated through his body, his arm threatening to buckle under the pressure. He staggered back, the ground beneath his feet unstable as he twisted, trying to regain his balance. His fingers were going numb, magic fraying at the edges as it blocked his father’s attacks. 

But Beron didn’t stop. The High Lord grinned and Eris snarled viciously as Beron’s blade sliced the air again, this time aiming for Eris’s throat.

Eris didn’t flinch. He wouldn’t flinch.

He swept his blade up, blocking the blow, and Eris let his magic flare through him. Every inch of him was ablaze, roaring as he poured his fire into his blade and twisted it towards his father again.

Beron’s blade met his to block the hit but Eris used the momentum to send out his magic again, even as the effort of it was starting to hurt, even as it sent a ripple of pain through his battered body. He gasped, his vision dimming for a moment, but he forced it away, pushing through the agony.

He couldn’t stop. Not now, as magic and steel clashed together.

“We’ll see how weak I’ll be when I drag your wife back here to watch me beat you to a pulp and then rip your head off.” Beron snarled, stepping closer, his words a guttural growl, and Eris’s vision went red. “How enticing her screams will be.”

Eris’s lip curled, breathing hard, each inhale a battle in itself. But he didn’t care. As long as this fucker stood here, nothing else mattered. Nothing else mattered when Beron could still walk away and touch the people he loved most. “Your talk is cheap, Father. Just like your last moments will be.” 

His words were barely out when Beron surged forward again, so fast but this time, Eris was ready. He was ready to return the blow as the High Lord’s blade drove toward his chest, but—

His smokehounds.

A howl erupted from the shadows, a deep, terrifying sound that cut through the madness — like a crack of thunder in the charged atmosphere and Eris knew he had cultivated their reputation well when the scent of fear intensified across the room. 

His beloved hounds had come for him.

They surged forward, swarming Beron’s legs like a pack of ravenous wolves. Their claws scraped against the once gleaming floors now marred with bodies and blood, a warning to their movements as they attacked, nothing more than a blur of shadow and snarls.

Beron roared in fury and then to Eris’s delight, pain, slashing at the black shapes with his blade. But they were relentless, swarming around him, biting at his hands, his legs, trying for his throat. 

Eris had trained them well – knowing that his father would lash out with his magic and his hounds would know when and how to dodge. 

He didn’t hesitate to lunge forward, wildfire in his eyes as his magic surged through him again —

But Beron’s magic flared and with a snarl, he spat, “Wrong move.” 

Eris’s magic met his father’s but a pained whine distracted him. He blinked as his magic strained to fight against his father’s and found that Beron had Lyra by her collar. 

His heart stuttered. Not Lyra.

“I can’t believe you’re hesitating for a creature as worthless as a dog.” Beron snapped, his grip tightening on the hound’s throat and Eris watched as his pet struggled, kicking her legs and trying to bite his father. 

“You’ve never known love a moment in your life.” Eris snarled. “How would you understand what it means to care about anyone?”

The High Lord gave a nasty laugh, his magic holding the other hounds at a distance as they snarled and attempted to break through the barrier he had up. “You’d lose to me over your pet? You’d let yourself get killed over an animal?”

“I won’t be losing to you.” Eris snarled and moved closer, watching his father’s grip on Lyra’s throat. “Stop using a shield and fight me.”

“Oh, I will kill you.” Beron promised with nothing but violence in his eyes. “I will kill you slowly. Painfully. I will make you pay for every moment you have embarrassed me and –”

A surge of heat tore between them, forcing them both to back away as his mother’s voice called out, “You won’t touch another hair on my son’s head.” 

Eris watched as his father halted, his expression morphing into disbelief then fury. They both turned to find his mother, as radiant as a bright sunset, with flames encompassing every inch of her body. 

She was glowing, heat emitting from her body and Eris couldn’t remember a time when her magic had flared this strongly. Pride spread through his chest and as Emil took a step forward to stand beside their mother, Eris felt the shift in the room instantly. 

Finn and Izak had come to stand a few feet beside him. They surrounded his father. 

“You.” the High Lord snarled and threw Lyra to the side as he turned to his wife, ignoring the snarl of his head hound who moved immediately to stand guard in front of Eris. Beron ignored his sons, his eyes only for the wife who hated him, who had barely tolerated him.

The wife who had patiently waited for this moment.

Who had suffered for her freedom. 

“Me.” she spat and it was the harshest his mother had ever sounded. 

Eris watched as his father’s grip tightened on his blade, his chest heaving with nothing but hate in his expression. 

“And here I thought, I finally got rid of you.” Beron hissed.

“I let you snuff me out long enough.” Lady Enya seethed, straightening. “And if you think I will let you hurt my sons any further, you are gravely mistaken.”

For a moment, Beron let it be silent as his gaze flickered from his wife to each of his sons, seemingly realizing that they were all in agreement. 

The High Lord’s jaw clenched and he slowly rolled his shoulders back, his eyes back on his wife. “And what exactly are you planning to do about it, Enya?”

Lady Enya unsheathed a blade, and without taking her eyes off the male she hated most, she ran a hand down the length of it, her fire coating the blade. Enya sliced her palm, gripping the blade until the scent of fresh blood filled the air. The tension in the room tightened as she raised the blade in front of her and slashed the air twice, two lines of fire appearing in the air before her.

“Something I should’ve been brave enough to do long ago,” she said. “To give you a small taste of your own medicine.”  

And Eris finally allowed himself a wild grin as Emil followed his mother’s movements and magic crackled in the hall, shaking the walls as the sanctity of the blood duel sharpened. 

Never in the history of the Autumn Court had a blood duel been enacted by five people at once. Never, had the hatred of one person inspired such a response, and as he and each of his brothers raised their blades, his mother took a step forward, her magic a beacon, their north star, guiding them to the finish line. 

“I see.” Beron only said, eyeing each of them, and Eris saw the small crack in his expression. The tightening of his jaw, the slight frown as he watched his family circle him. Eris could almost – almost, feel sorry for him had all of this not been his own choice. 

“Your dishonor is coming to an end,” Eris said and Beron’s eyes flickered to his eldest. “Any last words, father?”

The High Lord glanced at his family once more, standing around him, each of them a wall of flame, swords brandished. They were battered and bruised but they were united against him. 

He, the odd male out. He, however the outcome, would lose everything tonight. 

“I say, give me your all,” Beron said as he straightened, meeting each of their gazes. “Because if I remain alive, none of you will survive what is left of me.” 

There was a beat of silence, and Eris allowed himself one moment to mourn what was to come. Tightening his grip on his sword, he said, “So be it.” 

And together, the brothers and their north star moved as one. 

~

Iris carefully crept back towards the ballroom. A few healers had braved the journey down and together, they had scattered to help those injured in their way. Despite the slight sting she felt from her injuries, Iris directed as quickly and as efficiently as she could. Nevien had patched her up well but gods, did it sting; the bruising on her face was still tender. The lashings on her back had barely healed.

As the healers worked, Iris gestured to them that she would continue down the hall, knowing that whoever could, would follow her and help those in need. 

And there were so many who needed help. The casualties in this fight were more than expected.

Her heart hammered in her chest with each step closer, eyeing the different people the healers were already assisting and as she reached the door to the ballroom, she paused, almost terrified to walk in.

Iris could still hear the fighting. The clashing of the swords. The roars of battle. 

And amidst all the chaos, she hadn’t seen her father and that worried her more than anything. Where had that piece of shit gone? 

Carefully, she looked into the ballroom and sucked in a breath. 

It was in ruins. 

Her eyes found her love and she felt her heart leap into her throat at the sight. 

There were so many cuts on him. So much blood. 

Iris felt her chest tighten and made herself take a breath, then another, not taking her eyes off them. She couldn’t even if she wanted to.

Eris was fighting but he wasn’t fighting alone; fire and magic swept between the Vanserra brothers and their mother; even the smokehounds fought, their growls and howls mixing with the chaos. They were all aimed at the High Lord but Beron hadn’t held on to being High Lord for this long to go down so easily. He was a beast and this type of beast could not be tamed. 

Forcing herself to swallow hard, her gaze flickered around the room to assess what else was going on and she zeroed in on that fucken flogged pole, anger and a lick of fear crept through her other emotions and she glanced away, looking for Lucien. Where had he gone? He was meant to help, wasn’t he? Where –

A hand touched her shoulder and Iris whirled, fists raised but –

“It’s only me,” Lucien said with a small smile. “I’ve been shutting down the other fights and staying out of the way until the right moment.” He held up a knife. “I believe this is yours.”

Iris blinked at him in surprise, her hand reaching out to slowly close around the handle of her dagger. “You work so quickly,” she said. “You should visit more often.”

Lucien snorted, his eyes back on the fights in front of him. “If they gut him and we’re done with all this, Elain and I will demand a suite of our own.” 

Iris managed a small, tight smile. “If they finish this today, you and Elain can have whatever you want.” 

A grunt drew both of their attention back to the fight and Iris recoiled slightly when she saw Izak sink to his knees. Beron’s magic had reached out, driving his sword not once but twice into his son’s side and Lucien swore. 

“I’m –”

“Go.” Iris urged him and watched in horror as Lucien rushed forward and pulled Izak out of the way of another attack.

Iris fought her instincts. She could help heal him. She could heal him and he’d still be able to fight – another breath shuddered out of her when Beron’s magic wrapped around Finn’s throat and then threw him across the room with all his might. The sound of his body crashing into the dias echoed through the room and Iris felt ready to vomit. 

But the High Lord continued, his magic attacking as quickly as his sword did, fighting the remaining three. Lucien had reached Izak, pushing him away and shielding them both with fire to fend off another attack. 

Lucien met her eye and nodded to Izak who was trying to use his sword to stand and Iris hesitated no longer. She made to rush forward, tightening her grip on her dagger and –

“I don’t think so.” 

An iron grip latched onto her arm and she was forced away from the scene, and slammed into the wall behind her with a groan. And gods fucken damn it, did it make her healing wounds flare.

Of course. Of course, her fucken father found her.

“I’m not letting you get in the way and play your little tricks to fix them. They will go down as the High Lord intended.” Aron hissed and as Iris glared at him, she was at least satisfied to see how badly hurt he was. 

But then she blinked and looked at him again. He was truly in bad shape. Disheveled, peppered with bruises, and breathing heavily. 

Gods, she hated him. He was no family of hers and yet stood in the way of her helping the chosen family she now had. She would allow it no more.

“Father.” she said in an even tone and he sneered at her as she slowly stood, a hand still gripping her dagger, the other balancing her against the wall. 

“Don’t you try anything –”

“You know this is a losing fight.” Iris breathed. “None of them will stop while he’s still standing.” 

Aron growled, grabbing her by the front of her dress. “You’re like a parasite I can’t get rid of. I thought the lashings would’ve taken you out and yet somehow you wormed your way down here.” he snarled and Iris glared at him.

“Takes a parasite to know one, father.” she sneered and tried to pull out of his grip. “I can’t wait until that piece of shit is taken down so you’ll go down with him and I’ll finally be rid of you.”

“Oh, is that what you think? You think I’ll allow him to lose when I stand to gain so much?” he said. “I will kill them all myself if I have to. Stay — out — of — the — way.” 

Aron shoved her back hard and Iris slammed shoulder-first into the wall and fought back a hiss as her father turned from her. 

She made a split-second decision as she watched him scan the room. 

In the next breath, Iris had buried her blade in the back of his left leg. Her father let out a gasp of pain and whirled at her in shock as she pulled it out quickly. 

But Iris didn’t hesitate, she buried it again in his right thigh and twisted. Her father howled as he let out a roar of pain and stumbled, sinking to his knees before her and Iris felt her whole body in overdrive as she yanked the blade out again and then sank it into the right side of his clavicle, digging it into his flesh as he yelped.

She had finally done what she’d been dying to do for years.

“I guess you’re right. I will stay out of their way.” she breathed and Iris yanked his head back, her grip tight on the hilt of her dagger. “I will focus on helping you get out of their way instead.”

“You fucken bitch.” he hissed but Iris could tell every other beating, every other injury he had already sustained today had caught up to him. Above all else, the shock of her doing this had incapacitated him.

Iris snorted and pulled him in closer, her foot coming down hard on his hand creeping up to grab her. “You say the nicest things to me.” 

But hatred met hatred as father and daughter looked at each other, and Iris thought of everything she’d ever wanted to tell him, every feeling of rage and helplessness he had made her feel. All of the pain, humiliation, all of the hate he had let fester in her heart. “For all of my life, you went out of your way to make me feel small and insignificant for no other reason than your own insecurities and stupidity.” she snarled. “You spent all these years trying to break me down, living at your mercy, and thought that selling me off to Eris would be the thing that I never came back from, and yet, here I am. Standing over you. Overpowering you while you bleed here, now at my mercy.” 

Her grip tightened on him as he watched her and her foot dug harder into his hand as he fought back a groan. “I owe you my gratitude for one thing and one thing only.” She pulled her dagger from his chest with a wet sound and a broken gasp slipped from her father’s mouth. Iris sank to meet her father at his eye level and let a small smile bloom on her face. “You thought Eris would carry on your legacy of beating me down but instead, you gave me the greatest gift I could ever hope for. A friend. A partner. You gave me my mate and for that, I can finally find something to thank you for.”

“Your what —” 

Her expression hardened and again, with zero hesitation, her dagger pierced his stomach and she buried it as deeply as it would go putting all her repressed hate in the blow and holding.   

Her father's expression shuddered as he blinked at her in an almost comical look of disbelief and as Iris stared at him, she tried to find some feeling of remorse – any feeling of regret. Instead, as if her hand had a mind of its own, she found herself twisting the knife deeper into his wound. 

“You deserve this and more. You deserve every awful thing coming your way and I will see to it that your death is slow. Painful. I will see to it that you wish for death every day and death will evade you as you suffer.” she whispered to him. “You have haunted me in every moment of my life but no more. Today is the day you and the piece of shit you follow will cease to hold any ground.”

Iris yanked her dagger out with relish and with all the strength she had left, slammed the hilt into the side of his head. And it was as if she was watching it in slow motion as the male that had ruined so many moments of her life, finally fell back with a thud.

She watched his bleeding body slumped on the floor and Iris found herself breathing heavily, her hands starting to shake. 

Oh gods.

She’d stabbed her father. Multiple times. 

Something she’d only dreamed about doing.

Except now she’d actually done it. She’d actually stabbed her father. 

Iris glanced down at her hands now coated with her father’s blood and wondered when the healer in her would forgive her for hurting instead of helping.

Her eyes found his slumped figure again, barely breathing. If she didn’t heal him, he would probably die soon. Her dagger had been tipped in faebane…his own healing magic wouldn’t kick in.

If there was one male that never deserved help, it was her fucken father but still…she wondered if –

“Remind me to never get on your bad side, damn.” 

She startled at the wheezed voice close to her and her dagger clattered to the ground. Iris found herself staring at a very, very hurt Izak.

And suddenly, Iris remembered where she was and what was happening. 

“Izak, oh gods.” she rushed over but he pointed to her dagger.

“Never be unarmed,” he said tightly, one hand attempting to stop the bleeding in his side, the other clenching his sword. 

She grabbed her dagger and then slid over to him as quickly as possible, her hands assessing immediately. Her magic was more spent than she would’ve liked but Iris gave it her all, focusing on where he was losing blood. “Are you feeling lightheaded?”

“This is just a scratch, sister. I’ve had much worse.” Izak grunted and pushed Iris’s head down as he slashed his sword into an enemy aiming for her. “Having a healer in the family is going to be great.” 

“I can tell this is going to be lovely for my blood pressure.” she muttered, fighting back a smile as Izak wheezed out a chuckle. 

But her eyes returned to where her father lay, bleeding out from her multiple wounds. 

She was a healer. Someone who soothed and yet…

“Oy.” 

Iris’s attention went back to Izak as he slowly sat up and she pulled her hands away, feeling him more steady. “I did as best as I could. Your own magic should’ve kicked in.”

“Thank you,” he said, then touched her hand as he stood. “Don’t feel any guilt. He was a part of this and had it coming and I can tell you, if my brother wasn’t already obsessed with you, he would’ve proposed on the spot just for that.” 

The corner of her mouth lifted and she stood quickly with him. “You’re right. I just –”

“Not to interrupt but it would be nice if you could check on Finn and have a heart-to-heart at a later time when we all aren’t susceptible to death at any moment?” Lucien’s voice called and it was the strain in his tone that had Izak saluting Iris and turning on the spot, rushing back into the fray. 

Iris passed Lucien who still fought any of the High Lord’s loyalists trying to assist Beron in his blood duel and she had to dodge multiple attempts coming at her as she rushed to Finn.

She found her brother-in-law struggling to stand, a horrible cut that ran across his face, beneath his left eye to the end of his right jaw. “Don’t move.” she commanded immediately but Finn only glanced at her, balancing himself on his swords. 

“Not a choice,” he mumbled and Iris gently pushed him back down so he could sit and ran her hands across the tender bruises on his neck and side of his head. 

“You have some bad bruises and I’m worried about a concussion,” Iris explained. “Hold on, please.” She ran her hands as quickly as she could and grimaced when she reached the cut on his face. “I don’t have the ointment with me that’ll help this not scar but if you don’t wait too long, it’ll –”

“I don’t give a fuck about scars. Theo will think it’s hot. Is he –”

“He’s safe, in the infirmary. He’ll be fine.” 

“Gods –”

“Focus on you, please,” she said firmly and when color had returned to his face, she nodded. “I did the best I could, you have to be careful.” 

Finn stood and shook his head. “Too late for that. Need to kill my father.” 

“What about the faebane, Finn? Why hasn’t it worked on him?”

“Gone. Smashed in the fight.” Finn said, panting slightly as he stood and straightened himself. “He knew exactly where –”

“I still have one!” Iris exclaimed and her hand flew to the pocket in her dress to pull out the small vial; she had been stunned to find it still intact when she had changed from her ruined gown to the healer's gown now. “Take it. Use it.” 

Finn’s battered face lit up. “I could kiss you right now but then Eris would kill me.” he said and a breathless chuckle slipped out before she could stop it as Finn took it. “A fucken miracle, you are.” 

“Be careful!” she called out and Iris watched as he rushed back into the field and stepped back, her eyes finding her husband again. He was a blur of flame, fighting hard and she watched, color leaching from her face as he tried to get the High Lord while trying to protect his mother. 

He had just maneuvered his blade, slicing at his father’s shoulder, when his body stiffened and Iris held her breath as his head snapped to her.

The mating bond had been thumping at the back of Eris’s mind since she had left his side earlier, screaming at him to check on his mate. To protect and take care of. Eris had fought against it, going as far as shielding his mind to focus on the one thing that mattered now – taking down his father. 

Flame and steel clashed again and again but in all of his miserable existence, no other fight had ever been as necessary – as significant to their lives as this one was.

But Iris.

He didn’t understand why she was back in the room. 

Emil shot him a look as Eris felt himself stumble back a step, his eyes locked on her face. 

Why the fuck was she back here? Hadn’t Lucien got her out? If his father knew she was here he would —

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when his father’s magic blarred into him, slamming him across the room. 

Eris blinked, spots coloring his vision, and wheezed, spitting blood as he slowly, shakily tried to stand. His stupid distraction had cost him and if Eris wanted his father to stay the fuck away from his wife then he had better get up and kill him. 

He felt arms wrap around him and it was hands he knew too well – hands he craved. 

“Get up – get up.” she begged and Eris hated the shaking in her voice even as her lovely scent enveloped him.

“Why are you –” 

“Finn has the last vial of faebane. I gave it to him to get to you.” she quickly said, her hands moving, healing any wounds she found and Eris wanted to kneel over at how she was here and still taking care of him. “Use it and end this, Eris. Finish it.” 

The High Lord let out a deep roar and the ground shook as every inch of him was aflame. They both glanced back as the Beron’s fire spread out around them and the impact of it sent Izak, Finn, and Emil back, leaving Lady Enya standing alone in front of him. 

“Mother.” Eris breathed and for a moment, he felt like the little boy who had been helpless to stop his father’s abuse. Like he was about to watch her abuse begin all over again. 

But no – there would be no more of that. His breaths started to come faster, and it was as though his mate’s presence had been an elixir, reviving his soul. He would end this. He would make this world a safer place for his mother. For his mate. For himself. 

Glancing back at his wife once, he allowed himself this one look, and then no distractions. He would focus on the only person he needed to. Because the sooner this was over, the sooner they would all be free.

He caressed her face once as Iris nodded at him, her expression as determined as his own and Eris turned back toward the fight with renewed vigor. 

His magic flared up and he felt that familiar wildfire spread across his skin. 

The air grew thick with the intensity of the battle as Eris’s magic twisted around him. Iris felt it like a wave of heat, her chest tightening as she watched him, a walking inferno as he put himself in front of his mother and ran in to meet the wrath of his father hit for hit. Her heart pounded as her eyes followed Eris and she staggered back, sinking to the ground to the right of the dias as the High Lord and his eldest moved against each other. As each of the brothers staggered up, bleeding – broken, and still reaching for the High Lord. As Lucien moved across the hall, a blur of steel, soldiers falling as he passed them. 

But Eris’s wildfire had gripped his father and she could sense how untamed it had become, the chaotic surge of his power echoed through her chest. She knew it could be felt all across the room as smoke blinded them. 

“Get out of my way.” Beron snarled and watched Iris sucked in a breath when Beron’s fire flashed, spreading out of him, sending his sons flying again as he charged at Lady Enya. The Lady of Autumn was still aflame and though she was breathing hard, Iris saw her determined expression as she met her husband’s magic with her own.

“You think you can beat me? You think you and your sons will get the better of me?” he sneered, his magic throwing Eris back again, focusing solely on his wife. “Don’t forget what my fire can do, Enya. Don’t forget how much I can make it hurt and by the gods will I make it hurt when this is over.” 

“Go fuck yourself, you bastard.” Enya snarled back. “You’re done. You’re finished and you’ll be forgotten. You’ll go back to being nothing — like the cockroach you were before I married you.” Beron’s eyes flashed and the flare of his magic sent a wave of heat across the room as Enya took a step towards him. “And even if by some mistake you were remembered, they’ll only curse your name and spit on your memory,” she added and spat at his feet. “Exactly as you deserve.”

“You good for nothing bitch.” Beron growled and lept at his wife but his mother roared as she managed to fend off his attack, sending a wave of her magic into his chest, using all the force she had, exactly as Eris had taught her. 

And the world seemed to still for a moment as they all watched the High Lord stagger back, a look of surprise on his face. 

That step was all Eris needed and with wildfire in his eyes and pouring out of every inch of him, he lifted his sword and finally, finally, had an opening to bury his blade into his father’s back. 

A shudder rocked through the room and a deafening silence momentarily surrounded them. The High Lord stood, breathing hard, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he shifted his head to meet his son’s gaze. 

“It’s taken five of you and that bastard to get to me and look at you all, scattered worthlessly and bleeding.” Beron breathed, even as his legs shifted shakily. “You think this is enough to stop me?” 

Eris only leaned in with a burning hatred in his eyes. “Of course not, High Lord,” he sneered. “I know a wild beast when I see one.” Without breaking his father’s gaze, he held out a hand, calling to his brother. “Finn.” 

The sound of the vial Finn threw filled the air and Eris caught it with a look of triumph as the High Lord narrowed his eyes, coughing up blood.  

“Have a little taste, father. I have been saving this for you.” 

Satisfaction flooded his veins, as his brothers and mother surrounded him, blades high, magic wild, and Eris released his still-buried blade, yanked his father’s head back, and forcibly poured the faebane into the High Lord’s mouth. 

[huntquinlan]

Catching her fiancé cheating, being abducted by aliens, and then stranded on a sub-zero ice planet full of aliens about as technologically advanced as cavemen had to be some kind of record for the worst week ever, right?

—

When Elain Archeron wakes up on an alien planet the last thing she expects is to end up with strange new powers and a parasite intent on pairing her off with a man who has yet to express any interest in her. While her sisters have found joy and connection with their resonance mates, Elain’s own match has been less successful so far. But more pressing is the issue of her now burgeoning clairvoyance. Elain is desperate for answers and she may just find them in the most unexpected of places.

❅ ❆ ❅

Surprise, @climbthemountain2020! When I found out you loved IPB as much as I did I couldn’t resist working on a naughty gift for you. But then that naughty gift turned into an entire AU that needed some build-up to get to, and so Northern Attitude was born.

Read on AO3

(Fic written as part of the @acotargiftexchange)

[ghostedgrim]

So there are like hundreds of interpretations of merfolk. My interpretation is the Monarch Beta. Mostly because they tie in beauty and danger.

So it is a subspecies of mermaid that are known for being rare and elusive. I like to imagine they'd live around an isolated and extremely deeps coves, making their homes in underwater cliffs. The Beta Monarch can live to be thousands of years old, and can grow to be 20ft long (human upper body takes up 2ft-3ft obvious smaller if baby).

Monarch comes from their sheer size, regal look, and the fact that they prey on smaller species of merfolk. (Don't worry they enjoy clams, fish and other stuff). Beta comes from the appearance of their tails. The average tail of an adult ranges from 16-20ft, most have vibrant iridescent colors and their tails are somewhat covered with many long and wide (3-5ft) whispy fins, (like a beta fish and all their dramatic fins).

Culture wise, very territorial, and they love collecting trinkets (like crows) and braid said trinkets into their hair, or into handmade sachels or articles of clothing worn around the waist and arms. They tend to be curious, mostly while young. When pregnant (lasts about 9 months) the female will build a nest and during the last 4 months she will not leave the nest, or her home cave, until after birth. During that time, the mate is constantly hunting to bring food and nest materials to their mate. Because of this, most Beta Monarchs interested in a female will present shiny and pretty trinkets as a form of courting to show how well they are at hunting and scavenging.

Powers: The Monarch Beta can change their gender and sex at any time, however the ability is kinda like a muscle so unless they're genderfluid, the ability will slowly weaken and fade the longer they stay as their chosen gender. Some can also turn into human.

I also kinda find the idea of their human or fey lover struggling to carry them. Like the mermaid is in their arms bridle style, or over their shoulders and the tail is like wrapped around the lovers waist and neck, with the tailfin still dragging on the floor and the poor lover struggling to ensure they don't step on the fins.

[gwandas]

it’s going to be pretty funny when fanon elain and canon elain end up being nothing alike. I don’t think any of us are ready for the consequences of an entire fandom spending 3 years living inside fanfiction having to deal with SJM’s reality

[viajandopelomar]

suddenly Nesta and Cresseida 😊 perfect

[cassiefromhell]

Bats and Fire: The Very Beginnings

What if we took y/n (who is, in this fic, a monster researcher/hunter) being mated to a couple acotar men... then made it all the acotar men (batboys, eris, lucien)....

So this was a silly joke. Then I wrote it. Then I realized that this could be multiple parts... so welcome to:

Bats and Fire

01 - The Very Beginnings

(this is such proof that i will write anything and i'm 6x more likely to write it if its MESSY and CHAOTIC)

Warnings: none

WC: 2k

Finding out you’re mated to all the ACOTAR men would be a doozy.

At first it’s Rhys, when you make eye contact with him while on a business visit in Velaris…

“I know,” you laugh, gently nudging your friend’s shoulder. “Boo hoo, you don’t like the Night Court. But it’s beautiful. We’ve been in worse places on business.”

“That’s tru— oh my cauldron, look who it is!” She points to the back of a man walking with a tall blonde woman, and you can immediately sense the power radiating off of him. He must be who you’re looking for: the High Lord of Night.

“Yes!” you grin, tightening your grip on the jar in your hands — which holds a very menacing pixie that has been stealing magic from residents of Prythian all over. The High Lord of Autumn had commissioned its capture, and you had tracked it back to night, and well… here you were.

“Lord Rhysand!” you call out, gracefully sliding your way through the crowd. “Lord Rhysand, I must speak with you!”

Someone bumps into you, and you stumble, crashing straight into the High Lord’s chest. 

“You bellowed?”

“Yes, yes— sorry, my Lord. But you see, this pixie—”

But then you look up, meeting his stunning violet-blue gaze.

You drop your jar, and it shatters on the cobblestone ground, the pixie exploding out of the rubble, trying to make a break for it. The creature is immediately surrounded by darkness, unable to make its grand escape.

“You’re…” you whisper, covering your mouth with a hand. 

“…My mate.”

Cassian and Azriel came shortly after. You and Rhys got close quickly, so why wouldn’t you be introduced to his friends?

“Darling?” Rhysand says, glancing around the room, his eyes finally landing on you. “Oh, good— you’re all ready. Remember that it’s cold, so wear plenty of layers—”

You blink up at him, gesturing to the not one, not two, not three, but four layers he’s made you put on. “Rhys. I’m going to be very warm. I’ve been to the Illyrian mountains on hunting trips before and I can confirm that this is too much.”

“It’s gotten colder in recent years.”

“Sure.”

Rhys grins, kisses the side of your head, and takes your hand. “Ready? We won’t be there for two long, I just want to do a little surveillance with the camps and introduce you to my brothers while we’re there.”

With a quick nod, you’re  enveloped by darkness and wind. And then it all fades, and chill air bites at your cheeks and nose.

Rhysand holds you close to his side as you trudge through the snow. You wrap your coats tighter around yourself, leaning into his warmth.

And then you feel it.

You freeze.

An electric connection stuns you, seeming to form at your heart and spread through your chest. 

And then another.

You reluctantly look over your shoulder, cursing when you see them. Two tall Illyrian males, staring at you. They definitely know. And you have the gut feeling that these two males are the Cassian and Azriel that Rhys told you about.

“Ah, look, there they are,” Rhys grins, waving towards the two males, who have both started in your direction.

This is your moment: fight, flight, or freeze? Your heart pounds in your chest—they’re getting closer—and the crowd is so thick with people…

As a monster researcher and hunter, you’ve never fled once in your life.

…But now is a fantastic time to start.

“Restroom,” you blurt, and then sprint from Rhys’s side, burying yourself in the crowd of taller Fae and wings and fur coats.

You weave between the people, attempting to mask your scent, and then burst into a small corner shop. A bakery, filled with the smells of bread and pastries. Perfect to cover your trail.

You walk up to the counter, fishing out a few coppers. “Do you have anything particularly smelly?”

The baker raises a brow, his wings shifting behind him as he gives you a once-over dripping with judgment. “Excuse me?”

“Love?”

You curse under your breath at the sound of Rhys’s voice. And then you slowly turn around, finding your mate… and your other two mates.

So you face your fate.

The Illyrians were easy to love. You got to know them in a matter of weeks, but you had other jobs to attend to, and was soon in the Autumn Court, where you had to finally turn in that damned pixie to High Lord Eris…

Are you sure you feel safe there? Azriel asks down the bond. One of us can come and accompany you.

Yes, you confirm. All is well. I’m just turning in this little beast. I’ll be back before sundown.

He sent you a wave of love, paired with a sarcastic you have fun with that.

So here you are, climbing a ladder to get to the top level of the Autumn palace. It’s built like a treehouse, with ladders separating the levels unless you’re nobility or a special guest, in which case you get to use the fancy-dancy wooden staircases in the center. 

But being a monster specialist is pretty damn far from nobility. So you get the ladders route.

You decide that you hate this place.

Hoisting yourself up onto the final platform, where the throne room is, you climb to your feet. 

A guard gives you a dirty look, holding out a spear to stop you in your path. “Female. State your name and business.”

You say your name, and hold up the jar containing a very angry pixie. “The High Lord commissioned this pixie’s capture. Now, if you’ll let me go, this Tinkerbelle is very eager to find an escape route.”

“You didn’t give advance warning of your visit.”

“I sent word a month ago,” you snarl, baring your teeth.

His spear strikes you quicker than your Fae reflexes can react. It collides with your cheek, sending you stumbling back, blood rushing down your jaw.

“What in Prythian are you doing, Magus?” an unfamiliar male voice enters the encounter, and you immediately see boots approaching.

“She was trying to force her way in—”

“Liar,” you hiss. You wipe away the blood and face the guard once more, free hand tightening on the pixie jar. “I have proper certification, if you would just let me—”

“She’s aggressive, your majesty.”

Your majesty?

You look up at the male who had approached. You’re met with a golden-skinned male, with a  scar through one eye and a whirring, mechanical eyeball. When he too looks at you, you feel the slightest… ittiest bittiest… tug.

Shit.

His jaw drops, long ginger hair falling over his shoulder. “You’re…”

The doors to the throne room swing open, revealing a male that looks like your newfound fourth mate. But he’s wearing a crown, so he must be the High Lord that you came for.

And when his stunning copper eyes turn to you, it happens.

For the fifth time.

“Nope,” you say, throwing the jar in High Lord Eris’s direction. “Nope. Not again. Not doing this.”

With that, you turn on your heel, starting back towards the ladder.

“Wait,” the first male jumps in front of you, eyes glimmering. “You’re… you’re my mate.”

“What do you mean?” Eris jumps in, stepping into view and rapidly approaching. “She’s my mate.”

“See, so there’s this phenomenon,” you start, gritting your teeth. “I already have three mates. I don’t feel the need for another two. The Mother is cruel and she thinks that building me a harem is great entertainment. But you two are officially out. Capishe?”

The two males looked at eachother, and then back to you—

But you were gone.

We have an issue, you stated down the bond to your Illyrian mates.

You knew that blocking out two mates would not work. And it didn’t. They sent you flowers and gifts, and... oh, the gifts... such expensive and exquisite things... for weeks, until you caved… and called a meeting for all of your mates.

You sit in silence at The House of Wind’s dining table, monitoring the males’ expressions. They're all glaring at each other. The Mother definitely could have given you a less… volatile… group.

“Okay,” you start, scratching the back of your neck. “So… I think this is it.”

“I’d like to put it on the record that you said you were sure we were all last time,” Cassian grits out, wings rigid at his back. 

“This is different. Now, we need to go over rules, boundaries… anything that comes to mind?”

“Separated court times,” Lucien starts, seeming rather open to the situation. “Eris and I manage the Autumn Court, and these three are always in Night, so it makes sense to do a week-on, week-off schedule.”

“Her work requires her to travel,” Azriel joins in, twirling Truth-Teller in his hand. “You couldn’t expect her to just stay in your court for a week at a time.”

“Of course he didn’t mean that,” Eris snarls, ear twitching. “He meant during her off time.”

“I could—” you try to join in, but it doesn’t really work out for you.

“I plan on making her my High Lady, which she has already agreed to,” Rhysand growls. “So she’ll be spending a lot of time in the Night Court.”

Cassian nods, joining in. “And we don’t want her to give up her passions. Which seems to be what you want. So she’ll be either at the Night Court or traveling. You two can… visit… her.”

“I really wouldn’t mind—”

“And what if I want her to be my High Lady?” Eris stands, lips pulling back as he faces Rhys. “Perhaps she’d prefer to reside in a more respectable court than Night.”

That prompts both Azriel and Cassian to stand, growling and wings flaring. “You’re a piece of scum and she does not deserve to be tied to the likes of you,” Azriel responds, bitterness and anger dripping in his tone.

“Have you lost all your dignity?” Lucien shoots to his feet too, and Rhys follows suit.

They start yelling. And arguing. And every time you try to cut in, they ignore you.

So you conjure up something that should get their attention.

“Contraceptive brews!” you shout, throwing your arms in the air.

Sure enough, the males go silent, turning to look at you.

“Sit down.”

And they all do.

Like puppies taking a command.

“Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel and I have all agreed that the males take the contraceptive brews. I have a rigorous travel schedule that often includes random overnights in the woods or mountains while hunting or researching, so I don’t always have access to them,” you explain, gesturing to the Illyrians.

Eris raises a brow. “Wouldn’t it make sense for you to just carry it with you rather than all five of us taking—”

“Drink the brew or you don’t get it,” Cassian growls, making a lewd gesture.

“New rule. No more fighting. It’s overwhelming and stupid.” you announce, taking the ribbon out of your hair and putting it in the middle of the table. “This is the Talking Ribbon. When you want to talk, you must have the ribbon. Else you shut the fuck up.”

“That is your—”

“Rhys. Talking Ribbon.”

Rhys obediently takes the ribbon, then tries speaking again. “This is your favorite ribbon. I wouldn’t risk this being used… it could get torn.”

Lucien takes the ribbon gingerly, and then faces you. “Then we will not tear the ribbon. Right, everyone?”

The males all nod.

You sigh, and then gesture around the group. “My time will be spent as I please. Now, I think I’ve been here for as long as I need to, so you five can work out the details on your own.” You stand, and walk away from the table.

“Love,” Rhys calls after you. “Love, I think that maybe we would benefit from your presence—”

“I can’t always be your mediator. I have a Wyrm to hunt. Good night.”

And you leave the males to grumble amongst each other.

If you'd like to be tagged for future 'bats and fire' chaos, comment and I'll add you to the taglist!

Read 02 HERE

[lunaatthezoo]

Girlies I have been waking up at 5-5:30 AM every morning with prose flying into my head. Woke up today with my concept for my next fic as I'm almost done writing my current (I think, idk, I keep adding chapters).

I'm going to write imaginations of missing Elriel scenes pre-"This Was A Mistake" ™️ with dual POVs.

I've always wondered things like...did Azriel and Elain dance at the Court of Nightmares ball?

Did Azriel ever go up to the House of Wind to check on the sisters after they were Made, before Feyre returned?

Did Elain ever have any telling visions of Azriel?

What if Elain touched herself while bathing, dreaming about the Shadowsinger?

What if they went on a walk along the Sidra one night when neither could sleep and ended up holding hands? HUH, WHAT THEN?

We're about to find out, my loves.

It's about to get HELLA angsty and pining.

(and also I'm eventually going to write some Band of Exiles throuple smut because I need it)

[the-sky-is-heavy-so-i-write]

Spring Court Magic Ideas

Authors Note- this is the first part of some more in depth thoughts regarding the ACOTAR universe as a whole. if you use or borrow my ideas please tag me i'd love to see it. Word count- 694

Magic types

The most common type of magic is the ability to make plants grow at an increased rate. It is the basest form of their magic, even if it’s just a little bit. Since everyone has this ability the whole of the court can cut plant growth time down by a wide margin. The weakest users of this magic skill can grow a plant that takes 6 months in about 4 months if they stay consistent.

Manipulation of the earth is the second most common type of magic use. It is self-explanatory they can move and bend the dirt and rock underneath them at their will. This allows them to flatten the land to be use for farming or in other cases they can create high walls out of earth to make barriers between towns or enemies. People of the autumn court also have this ability although it is less common there. 

Creation of plants is a semi-common magic type although it’s not as easy as many assume. While the creation of a plant out of thin air is possible for those who have a truly staggering amount of magic, knowledge, and will power, many with this ability are simply summoning the plants from the ground. It’s like they are calling to the plants to appear in the ground rather than them appearing in thin air. Creation of a plant from nothing is very will based. It takes an immense amount of will power as well as magical ability and knowledge of the plant you are trying to create to do it effectively. A very small amount of people who have this magic type can summon extinct plants, most of the people who want to summon extinct plants have to do a shit ton of research about that plant and its effects and uses to make sure it is correct. many are functionally unable to do it.

Shapeshifting is an ability that only the High lord and people in relation can do. By shapeshifting I mean total shapeshifting of the self and others into anything (plants, animals, objects, etc.) This ability is touched on briefly in the books, but I don’t think people think about the ramifications of this enough. Someone with this ability and strong enough mind protections can effectively copy someone and go anywhere they are allowed.

Magical Ramifications

Unfortunately, since the spring courts magic is mostly growth based it takes a toll on fertility. Many citizens of the spring court who are actively trying for children will cut down the amount of magic they use in their day to day lives. Taking into consideration how difficult it is for the fae to have children and the effects of their magic on their own bodies’ fertility, it leads me to conclusion that the spring court has the smallest population of natural born citizens. The spring court also has the largest population of immigrants living within their borders. Most of these people came to the spring court during Amarantha's reign.

Whole new species of plants have been created by people trying to summon certain plants. They would study the structures and properties of the plants they were trying to summon and fuck up one thing and create a new genome of that plant. For good or bad people have turned harmless plants into deadly poisons and deadly poisons into sweet delicacies. Since the genomes were created on accident replication of them is almost impossible. Though if you can cultivate seeds from these plants before you use them you can try to plant and grow them if they turn out particularly useful. Planting these new genomes can be difficult though because that one slight change to the DNA could cause them to need to be planted in an entirely different environment that the original plant was. 

Manipulation of the earth can cause a higher rock content to be present in the soil making growth of plants difficult in those areas. This is only really the case when manipulating earth to be higher. 

[crazy-ache]

Chapter 9 Update

Summary: One moment. All it takes is one singular moment to change the trajectory of fate. Following the events of Hybern, everything changes when Lucien instinctively grabs his mate—Elain Archeron—and brings her back to the Spring Court with Feyre and Tamlin. 

In the midst of war and ruin, Elain and Lucien will have to face the bond that connects them together if they hope to survive the unintended consequences. To do so, they’ll have to prevail through games of deceit, powerful forces of magic, and deadly enemies. And hope their hearts survive the journey. 

A retelling of A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR) and a Canon Divergent AU. 

Notes: Chapter 9 Update - Water. Weekly updates begin now!!

Start on AO3 | Read Chapter 9

"I wanted to know…how do you feel about a little exploring?” Elain felt the corners of her lips tick upward. “You mean explore…Velaris?”

Tag List: @zenkindoflove, @bonecarversbestie, @little-fierling, @teddyhoneybear, @the-darkestminds, @yaralulu, @ataraxiasflame, @slipmerfoot, @areyoudreaminof, @comeonladiesitstime2yearn, @goghwilde, @positivelyruined, @sad-scarred-sassy, @works-of-heart, @sonics-atelier, @mr-agent-mulder, @shadowqueenjude, @christeareads, @emmers-bens123

[spiritedstars]

Spirit Meets the Bones - II

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

biggest shoutout to @abruisedmuse ♥️ without you, I don't know how I'd finish this fic. ily!

Tagging: @sabrinaacarpenters | @vanserrass | @climb-the-mountian | @positivewitch | @ladyelain | @helion-ism |@readthelastpaage | @sarions | @spinachtz |@elizab3th-grace | @ladystarrynight | @zenkindoflove | @animezinglife | @eastofatlanta | @carolynmezzosoprano | @daily-dose-of-sass | @highlady-fireheart | @carnythian | @thedarkinmansfield | @krem-does-stuff |@that-golden-lyre | @lovedbyth3sun | @moonfawnx | @runningwiththeoceans | @sweet-but-stormy | @illyrianshadowhunter | @this-is-rochelle | @comingupbexx | @foxybananaaaz | @weesablackbeak | @thewilderheart | @rityrooroo | @electromagnetic-waves | @secret-third-thing | @feysandfeels | @mali22 | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22 | @maidr-00 | @the-midnightwriter | @moobell55 | @alohaangels | @readychilledwine | | @ladywhilemia | @easchies | @goldenmagnolias | @princessofmerchants | @clockwork-ashes | @bibliophiliaxvignette

Find it all here.

Iris slammed the door shut behind her, her trembling legs barely keeping her upright.

She was now shackled to that male. Tied to him forever. 

“I would never harm you.”  

But she knew about his mother. Everyone heard the whispers of what their High Lord put her through. His favorite son couldn’t be too far off.

“This wasn’t how anything was supposed to go.” she whispered, covering her eyes in frustration. She had been so close. So close to escaping to her mother’s home in the Day Court. Her father never dared venture there since her mother’s death. She would’ve been safe. 

But no. It was like her wretched father had sensed it, sensed something in her change, and needed to act fast.

A whole month. He had sold her off a month before. No wonder his leash had gotten tighter. His fist harder.

How stupid was she to think she’d ever had a chance to run away from him?

And now, Iris was stuck here. Until she either died trying to kill Eris or he killed her. This wedding that was no wedding. This marriage that would likely result in a nightmare. The husband that held no love for her or she for him. Nothing was the way it should’ve been and Iris sank to the ground, her white gown pooling around her as she finally broke down in quiet sobs. 

He had said he wouldn’t touch her. But for how long? How many times could she threaten him with a stabbing before he called her bluff? 

Iris gave herself a few moments — a few moments to shatter before she had to step back into her reality. She had been patient for so long, hoping for some kind of miracle, for an out from her father. This wasn’t what she had expected. 

Sniffling, Iris finally wiped at her eyes a few moments later and forced herself to stand. Tears wouldn’t help. She would not let him win. 

Glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror, Iris wrinkled her nose and then let out a breath. 

“It’s fine.” she whispered and wiped at her eyes again. “It’ll be fine.”

But it took Iris a few agonizing moments of trying to unbutton and remove her dress to realize it wouldn’t be fine. There were just so many damn ties, making her frown. Nothing about this union was her choice, including the dress she was wearing; her father had simply had it delivered without saying a word. Sighing deeply, Iris moved on to the pins in her hair instead, digging out as many as she could until she couldn’t reach the ones in the back and let out a growl of frustration.

She would need her stupid husband’s help and that idea had her imagining death. 

Iris looked at herself in the mirror again and huffed a piece of hair out of her face, briefly thinking about just ripping the dress off and leaving her hair as is. Who cares if she looked like she’d been attacked by a Suriel? She could just sleep like this. 

Maybe if she looked like a wild animal he really wouldn’t touch her.

Iris looked at herself in the mirror again and grimaced. She was a mess with red, slightly puffed eyes and disheveled hair... but more importantly, she was exhausted. The sooner she could get out of this, the sooner she could attempt to sleep.

Sighing in defeat, Iris slowly unlocked the bathroom door and opened it, already glaring in Eris’s general direction. 

He had almost kissed her. And she had almost let him. They had barely spent time together and she couldn’t even hold up against an attractive male, never mind if he was a piece of shit. 

Color bloomed on her cheeks thinking about how close he had stood, towering over her. She shouldn’t have allowed it...but again...how long would he allow her to refuse him?

Iris quietly stepped back into the room and froze at the sight of him. He had removed the jacket and dress shirt, standing in front of their shared closet, shirtless. Her eyes zeroed in on his back and she blinked at the number of scars found there.

Eris slowly turned at the sound of her return and quirked a brow, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. 

“Change your mind about the touching? If you want me to ravish you, I’ll need a minute to find the perfect silk sleeping bottoms to seduce you with.”

Iris’s expression flattened. “Go die.”

“Gladly.” 

And he turned back to his closet.

Iris clenched her fists and glared at his back. And to think, she had been seconds away from being sympathetic. Her fingers flexed and she envisioned grabbing the dagger still rooted in the table and cornering him against the closet, putting it to his throat. She could easily picture it and would get a thrill out of cornering the pretty little son of the stupid High Lord. She refused to feel sympathy for him.

But he was her stupid husband. And she did need help with her dress. And her hair. And she needed something to sleep in. Which would all require her to walk up to him.

Closing her eyes, and taking a deep quiet breath, Iris braced herself. 

“I need help with my dress.” she mumbled. 

She watched Eris pause and her whole body heated in embarrassment. She felt his flicker of amusement before he turned again and smirked at her.

“Come again, wife?”

“I said, husband,” she began through clenched teeth. “I need help with my dress.”

“And the hair, I’m assuming?” he added drily, scanning her from head to toe. “Did you fight with someone in there?”

She glared at him. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Eris chuckled then held up a finger. “I will. On one condition.”

The nerve.

“And before you throw the dagger you stole at me, it’s a reasonable condition,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“And what is this condition?”

Eris paused again and their gazes locked on one another. A curious feeling blossomed in her chest at the look and before Iris could let her mind wonder if the look meant more, she gestured with her hand for him to continue.

“You and I don’t know each other,” Eris began and moved a step towards her, holding out his hands. “I was given no chance to speak with you before the wedding and you didn’t even know until last week.”

Iris pursed her lips, crossing her arms. “And?”

“And, there is no out for either one of us now.” he continued and gestured between them. “We are stuck with each other unless we want to take the very romantic route of mutual suicide, which I am not interested in. Are you looking forward to death?”

Iris rolled her eyes. “It depends on how much more talking you plan to do,” she replied and he chuckled, giving her a look that suggested he would plan to do nonstop talking just for that comment and Iris scowled. “Your point?” 

Eris shrugged as casually as possible. “A question for a question. To get to know each other.“ he proposed and Iris blinked. “The pleasant conversation we had prior to you hiding in the bathroom inspired me for such a solution.”

Iris glanced at him warily. “Must’ve been exhausting for you to think so hard with such a little brain,” she mumbled and Eris’s eyes lit up. 

“That tongue of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble with me.”

“If it bothers you so much, rip it out then.” she challenged, the smirk on his face igniting a furious rage in her and doubled when he only chuckled.

“Oh wife,” he only said and gave her a rather suggestive look. “We both know how much of a waste that would be. I’m sure it’ll come in handy for me eventually.”

Iris glared at him, the color deepening on her cheeks and her loathing for him grew by the second. “If you don’t stop talking to me in that tone, that dagger isn’t too far out of reach and will find its way into your throat faster than you could stop it.”

“Big words, little gazelle,” he said with a smile. “But your threats don’t bother me so use your big brain and think for a moment about what I’m saying.”

She bristled at the dismissal of her words and only crossed her arms, glaring at him in silence. She wasn’t going to dignify him with an answer and Eris scoffed at her body language.

“The point of my condition here, wife, is that I had no say in this marriage and clearly, neither did you,” he said and waved a hand. “I’d rather we attempted some civility than resort to murder.”

Iris rolled her eyes with a scoff. “You really expect me to believe that you, Eris Vanserra,” she began and he scowled. “The high lord’s firstborn, didn’t have a say in who you married? I thought you had a list to choose from.” 

Eris shot her a withering look, his body tense. “You overestimate how much my father values me and my opinion,” he replied quietly then took a step back and turned away from her again, closing the closet door. “I was ordered to get married, not asked.” 

Iris blinked and the annoyance towards him dimmed slightly at the way his expression had shifted, at the look he shot her. 

“Why attempt civility?” she asked. “Why not just make me?”

Eris sucked his teeth and scoffed, turning back to her again. “Are you determined to make me the villain in your story? Have I shown you any ill will at all?”

“How do I know it’s not all an act? To catch me off guard? This is only our first night together.” she said and if Iris had blinked, she would’ve missed the anger that he schooled off his face.

He shook his head, turning away from her again and Iris kept her eyes on his stance, tense once more, his fists clenched at his side. “If I wanted to be the villain...do you think you’d still be standing in that dress and not sobbing on the floor by now?” he said quietly and Iris froze. “If I wanted to be the villain, wife...you would be tied to that bed with my hands all over you. You would’ve already been covered in fresh bruises. I would’ve already been buried deep inside you and whatever shot you thought at a happy life with me would’ve already been long gone.”

He turned his head to the side and met her gaze over his shoulder. “It would take me very little time to make you miserable.”

Iris backed a step, trying to muster disgust in her paled expression. “And yet?”

“And yet…” Eris said then took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, running a hand down his face. “The person you are expecting is my father. And I am not my father. Nor do I ever want to be.”

“Aren’t you daddy’s favorite boy?” she sneered shakily. “Why wouldn’t you want to be like him?”

“Because my father has chosen violence in every instance of his life. I do not wish to continue his legacy of living that way.” Eris said sharply and Iris’s brows furrowed at the tone.

“Even if it gets you what you want?” she asked quietly. 

When he turned to look at her fully again, Iris stood with narrowed eyes, her heart treacherously beating quickly at the violence found in his words. Words he knew would hit home, for as much violence she threatened him with, he would always be a warrior who was stronger than she was. He had fought in wars. He had seen battles she hadn’t even dreamed of. 

Iris hadn’t underestimated how easily he could overpower her and yet…what was throwing her off was that so far, he was choosing not to.  

Eris slowly walked up to her again and when he paused in front of her, Iris met his heated gaze full-on. 

“Every moment outside of this room, I have had to fight and claw my way through this court. I do not want my bedroom and this relationship, however, it came to be, to be another battlefield,” he said quietly. “Nevertheless...should you insist on making me the demon in your fairytale, know that I have been fighting demons worse than you for years. I will break you and feel no remorse.”

“Is that a threat?” she growled and the corner of his mouth went up.

“Oh, my little gazelle,” he said sweetly. “It is a promise. One I do not wish to keep. So please don’t make me.”

Iris hesitated, scanning his face for any signs of treachery, any sign of menace, but he was too good at hiding his thoughts. 

“I could kill you if I wanted to,” she said softly. “At any moment. At any time.”

“I have no doubt you’d put up a good fight.” he agreed, in that same soft tone. “But in the end, I would win and it would not end well for either of us, I think.”

They stood in pregnant silence, one opponent seizing up the other. 

“What are you going to do to me, Eris?” she asked quietly and Eris tilted his head.

“Nothing that you wouldn’t want me to do,” he replied, his hands clasped behind his back as she assessed him.

His signature stance, it seemed.

Iris eyed him quietly, her eyes taking the time to shamelessly gaze at the sharp panels of his toned body and slowly moved up to his face, the ever-present smirk causing her cheeks to flush when his brows quirked. Her husband had a handsome face, indeed. A handsome face that tragically needed to be smacked. 

“Like what you see?” he teased and she scowled. “It’s yours for the taking, wife. Just say the word.”

“Please die.” was her only response and he chuckled.

“Only if we die together,” he said sweetly.

“We’ve been married for barely a few hours and you’re already planning to follow me in death?” she said with a snort.

“What can I say, I am a simple male. A beautiful female tries to stab me...how can I do anything but yearn?” he replied and Iris rolled her eyes at his sarcasm.

“Charming.” she deadpanned, his smirk grating on her every nerve.

“Would you still like my assistance or do you plan to sleep like that?” he asked. “All it would take is a few tears in the dress here and there and they’d believe I did my duty by you so well, you simply couldn’t be bothered to remove the dress before fainting from pleasure.” 

Fury fueled her body, for she was sick of his taunting and Iris had barely raised her hand, ready to strike him, to show him exactly how much she’d tolerate his bullshit when Eris caught her arm.

“You got away with it once. I will not allow it again.” he said, his tone ever so pleasant but Iris didn’t miss the fire in his eyes.

“Then don’t say things that make me want to rip your fucken throat out.”

Eris smiled. “You want to rip my throat out?”

Iris smiled at him in return. “Desperately.”

Tension rose between them as they shared an unexpectedly heated glance. If it had been any other two people, their lips might have already met.

“Don't threaten me with a good time, wife.” he said quietly, his eyes scanning her face before she yanked her hand away.

“Stop calling me wife. I have a name. Use it.”

He chuckled and Iris wanted to throttle him. 

“But you are my wife, Iris.” he said softly and she was embarrassed to note the goosebumps that erupted on her arms when her name slipped from his lips. “I like saying it. Or would you prefer I gave you a pet name?”

Iris scowled, shaking out her arms and she knew he noted the movement when the corner of his mouth turned up. “I’d prefer if you didn’t speak at all actually.” 

“Ah wife, I’m afraid that’s a preference I won’t be catering to.” was his reply, and Iris whirled at him with a glare. 

“Cut the bullshit. Will you help me with my dress or not?”

“A question for a question.”

Iris pursed her lips, curious even as weariness started to weigh on her. 

“You have no reason to distrust me this much, you know,” he said casually, pulling the hair tie from his ponytail and running his fingers through his hair. 

“I have no reason to trust you either.”

Once again, Eris shrugged as casually as could. “This is why I’m proposing a middle ground. A question for a question, Iris.”

“And you’ll be honest?” she asked with a quirked brow. 

“As honest as you’ll be.” 

“And you deem me trustworthy enough to share information with me?”

Eris raised his brows. “Well...as my wife, you can’t run off anywhere and share this information. I’d just kill you.”

Iris gave him a small smile. “Not if I kill you first and then run off,” she said and he had the nerve to look delighted. 

“Oh, I do love the way you flirt with me.”

Iris shot him a look full of loathing but turned away from him, finally weighing her options. She could give him a chance. He hadn’t broken his promise of not harming her so far. If she was being honest with herself, Iris had imagined the exact scenarios he had described earlier to happen to her this evening but...her husband seemed to be surprising her. At least the expectations have been made clear. 

“Fine,” she said and took her sweet time walking over to their shared vanity, making sure to stop by the dagger still stinking into their dining table and grab it. She placed it on the vanity, gripping the handle tightly, meeting his gaze in the mirror as she sat. “Just in case you get any ideas.”

And for the first time that night, Eris’s lips curled into a small genuine smile.