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elriel-oblivion · 4 years ago

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In Defence of Elriel (I suppose bc I don't really know what this post is lol)

I've been thinking about how elriel are actually such a wonderful ship in my eyes. Of course, I'm biased to them at this point, but a lot of people say Elain and Azriel don't fit well since neither would help the other grow because they'd be a boring couple who don't talk or do anything interesting. And I have two thoughts on that: (this is not against elucien in any way, it's just in favour of elriel 😅😅)

First, we've barely seen them as characters, and not even from their own povs, so I don't think it's fair to judge what they can and can't do for one another just yet 😅

Second, from the few tidbits we have seen, Elain - for all the meekness and passivity everyone seems to associate her with - seems to be one of the only people who can get straight through to Az on another level without trying or making him uncomfortable.

She gives love so freely, it's natural to her to show kindness, so I doubt she thought twice or felt hesitation when she called Az's hands beautiful. And I doubt people generally have the guts to comment on his hands in his presence anyway.

Not to mention the blush that blossomed on his cheeks straight after. To me, it sounds like he doesn't get genuine compliments much, and most people fear him anyway, so imagine drawing attention to a part of himself he's insecure about, a part he can't even hide because it's on full display. I don't think that's an easy feat, especially for someone who's barely acquainted with him. So for Elain, this fawn-like girl, to comment - breathe - about his scars so easily, like she was looking at a piece of art, isn't something that should be overlooked, in my opinion. She saw beauty in him from the get go where he sees none.

Then there's her Solstice gift to him. Not only was she observant enough to notice his headaches, but even Feyre mentioned she hadn't heard such a laugh from Azriel before. A laugh in response to Elain. Elain seems to have this effect on him whereby he experiences emotions he usually wouldn't show or let himself feel; I feel as though she untangles something inside him in a way nobody else has done before, and it'd be interesting to see this opposite given the way we saw Rhys help Feyre feel again.

Her interactions with him are so effortless and natural, yet they hint at her ability to see through his cold stone mask and unravel some warmth in him. I think she would be able to show him what love is, all different types, the beautiful and the gritty because she's not only not afraid to get her hands dirty, but she's also strong enough to own up to her mistakes. I feel like she could definitely push back if she thought Azriel was doing something that didn't align with her values - but that's more something I hope to see as part of her character growth out of the passive archetype and into the type of person who learns and knows themselves and isn't afraid to stand up for themselves and their beliefs. As it is, we've already seen Elain display these traits in trickles before, what with her fervour in protecting the humans any way she could.

On the flip side, Azriel actually sees Elain for Elain. Barely anyone sees her, and she knows it too, given how she mentioned it so morosely in ACOWAR. But Az noticed her from the start, from that fork she gripped like a weapon, to her seer abilities. He's the only one who didn't think she was mad - perhaps, save for Nuala and Cerridwen - the only one who is attentive to her needs and willing to help her.

He opens her up during a time when she's completely closed off to the world and probably even herself. She doesn't even understand what's going on in her mind when he reaches a hand through all that chaos with a guiding light and everything just clicks. She still probably wouldn't have a clue she's a seer without Azriel. He asks the right questions, looks at her without judgement and holds her in this space of comfort she doesn't seem to find elsewhere.

And he doesn't seem to harbour any prejudice against her, not even when they first met. He was polite, by nature presumedly, but Cassian's and Rhysand's comments about Nesta's and Elain's lack of support for Feyre weren't ever seconded by Azriel. I'm sure that lack of judgement doesn't go unnoticed by her and serves to make her feel even more comfortable in his presence.

Do I even need to mention when he risked his neck to save her from the Hybern camp? 😅 By this point, he still barely knew her, yet he was instantaneous and steadfast in his decision to get her back. If he can display that kind of support for her even when they're little more than strangers, then it's a wonder how ardent, unrestrained and free he'd be in his love in an open, mutual relationship with her. Of course, that would depend on his growth too, which is why I think they'd work so well together, he learning to love himself and give his love more freely and she learning to take on life with a bit more verve.

Perhaps he wouldn't be the person to push her and tease her the way Rhys and Cassian do to Feyre and Nesta, but Elain is a completely different strain from her sisters; there's always been a stark contrast that Feyre notes repeatedly through the series between Elain and her siblings. So I think it unfair to expect the same arc for Elain and her relationships. Maybe she just needs someone to listen to her, not play and get under her skin to elicit a reaction. And so far, Azriel and the shadow twins seem to be the only ones capable of truly doing so.

He even gave her his own blade, a possession he hadn't let anybody else really touch. And with it, whether she thought she'd do anything or not, she managed to save the fates of her sister and his brother. If that doesn't say he sees her, or sees something in her, then I don't know what does.

So I would love to see Elain and Azriel push and pull at each other, but not in this chaotic, hate-to-love trope we keep seeing in the series. I think they would wind and untangle and bloom different parts of the other whilst working through the forests of their own souls, teaching each other when to cut away one thorn and healing through the pain of another. I imagine their relationship would be like tending a garden, with care and love and a capability for seeing the beauty within the soil, the beauty that could be with the right nurture. Yes, there would be blood, sweat and tears, but ultimately, the reward would be worth the hard work. Because both have a lot of darkness on the inside that's buried so deep, both have tangled histories to sort through, yet both see the other, see potential, in ways nobody else does. And I think it would be lovely to see them grow on that journey together 🥰

Okay, so maybe a little more than two thoughts haha 😅 But most of this is just an extension of that second thought 😅 Also, this is my first ever written post on tumblr after thousands of reblogs so 🎉 to me lol. And it's four am so if I made any mistakes about the canon, please tell me so I can correct them 😅😅

#elriel #acotar #azriel #elain archeron #acowar #acomaf #acofas

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years ago

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Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 6

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Six: Moonlight Meetings

The contracts were beginning to make sense. Turns out, there weren’t nearly as many for Elain to sort through as she first expected. It seemed that the Band of Exiles had had a pretty stagnant first year whilst staying in the mortal lands, with their biggest success lying in the Declaration of Peace Between Fae and Mortal Realms achieved on the anniversary of the Hybern War.

Elain had gone through each contract and made a note of it in her own diary: the contract between the Spring Court and the human lands to organise trade routes in the future, the agreement of a ceasefire on trespassing fae in favour of imprisonment, etc. There had even been copies of contracts between other humans that had most likely occurred at these weekly meetings: such as the Nolan’s agreeing to 100 shipments of Ashwood Weaponry per month to the Darlingtons, and the reinforcement of internal borders.

Elain had sat with Nuala and a few pots of tea in the library, and by the time she stretched her legs to take a turn around the room, the sun was plummeting towards the horizon. She liked it. She liked the feeling of her hand aching from her meticulous note-taking, she liked that the pages of her new notebook (a gift from Rhysand) had slowly began to fill up, she liked that she now had detailed questions to ask Jurian, Vassa and maybe even Lucien.

If anything, she liked that tonight she would sleep, her eyes tired from reading by the candlelight and her brain fizzing with the numbers of stock, armies and debt.

The library was at the back of the house, with delicate yet large glass windows that looked out onto the Manor’s Garden. So far, Elain had avoided the grounds, mostly because one look of the greenery told her that there was nothing for her to do. Whoever tended to these gardens had a similar mind to hers, it was wild and restless. A garden belonging to a true cottage, her father would say.

“Lord Lucien is home,” Nuala’s velvet voice swam into the air as she spoke without looking up from her book. The shadow wraith’s always had been Elain’s closest friends, and she liked the side she got to see of them, the one she was sure no other had yet had the privilege.

“Oh…good,” Elain said non-committedly, forcing her eyes back to her notes which she’d already preened to perfection. Sighing, Elain looked over her and Nuala’s make-shift joint desk, and without thinking, she reached for a local map.

It was strange, to look over a map of lands which felt both so familiar and so foreign. With her finger, Elain could trace the path from her first childhood home, the Manor down by the lake, up and up to their runt of a cottage so close to the border, and then a little east to their other home. Elain’s hand recoiled from the paper. That home was cursed. That was the home from which she had been stolen from.

“Do you miss it, being human?” Nuala asked. Elain peered at her. She’d always found the term ‘lesser fae’ to be entirely unbefitting. Nuala was perhaps the most gorgeous person she’d ever seen; her skin was a deep grey and her hair a shifting black in which shadows seemed to fall in whisps as it moved. Her eyes were uncannily wide, and her irises were of purest black and filled her entire lids.

“I don’t think so,” Elain answered softly, her finger running back to that first home. The home in which her parents were alive and well. “But I avoided coming here for a long while because of that reason.”

“You wanted to go back?” Elain nodded, a small shift of her head.

“Becoming fae didn’t make sense to me for a long time. I didn’t understand how to be fae, despite the body. When I looked around all I could see were my sister’s, who fit in so well at the Night Court and I just…didn’t.” Elain looked at her friend. “I feel terrible about it. About how I tried to come back to Graysen. It was the first time in my life I’d made a stand and it was for something so, hollow.”

“You’re not a terrible person for feeling as though you don’t belong, and wishing that you did.” Nuala tilted her head, her pin straight hair falling with a trained precision across her bare shoulder.

“No, but I feel terrible because…I still feel that way, to some extent.” Elain sighed, tucking up her legs on the chair and leaning her head back.

“I got into a fight with Jurian today – I slapped him -” Elain peeked a look at Nuala and was pleased to see her mouth slightly ajar and her eyes bright with amusement. “I know. But what he said was true, and I can’t stop thinking about it. He saw me during the war and saw how I was so desperate to be human again, and he thinks I’m here for that reason-” Nuala opened her mouth to protest, “I know, it’s stupid, but…what if I am here for that reason, and I just don’t realise it yet? Because Nuala, if I am, I can’t – I can’t forgive myself for that, I can’t do that to-”

Elain cut herself off by biting her tongue. She’d only spent a day and a night in Lockhart Manor, but Elain was sure she could feel the bond. Often she didn’t, then every couple of months, something would happen, she would feel some emotion that wasn’t hers or have dreams of places she’d never been to, and she’d just know that it was him. But being here, actually being around him, she felt herself turning towards him the way flowers turn to the sun.

“I don’t think it’s strange, if you feel you do not belong in the Night Court, to want to belong somewhere else,” Nuala spoke carefully, slowly, as though every word carried weight, “But just because you feel you do not belong in the Night Court, does not mean your only other option is the human lands.”

“What? I might belong somewhere else in Prythian?” Nuala stretched and leaned back in her own chair.

“Prythian is a large place, and you have an eternity ahead of you. You do not need to rush in finding somewhere you can settle, travel around for a bit, see the world. There is not the same pressure for you to be a wife as you had when you were human, maybe you could try just being Elain for a while?” Nuala yawned after she spoke, a sign that she was well and truly relaxed. Elain just hummed, her mind whirring as she looked back at the map, her finger drifting back to that last home, the one she had been ripped from.

Just then Elain noticed how the sun and well and truly dipped behind the horizon, casting the world in shadow. The night sky looked unbearably dull compared to the thriving chaos of the Night Court’s evenings, but there was something familiar in the mundanity, something that allowed Elain to be the magical thing in the world, not the other way around.

“Vassa and Jurian are preparing to leave,” Nuala said without opening her eyes.

“Ugh, teach me your ways.” Elain joked, and a sly smile pulled at the shadow wraith’s lips.

“No, because then you won’t need me, and I won’t get to come with you to see the world.” Elain paused, and looked at her friend.

“You’d come with me?” It was now Nuala’s turn to peer at her.

“Of course, don’t tell the High Lord but, since being Under the Mountain, I’ve rather missed the world, and I’d very much like to see it.”

“I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like,” Elain shivered. She’d never bene able to truly comprehend what had occurred in those 50 years. The idea of her friend being subject to such atrocities for a time longer than she had been alive, it was unfathomable.

“I remember your mate being there,” Nuala said, tentatively. Every muscle in Elain’s body went rigid. She’d assumed, somewhere along the line, that Lucien must’ve been there with Tamlin when they’d been taken, but Feyre had never confirmed, she’d been surprisingly elusive of the specifics of what had occurred. She couldn’t think about it. Because the instant she considered the torture Lucien must’ve faced, she began to feel herself lose control.

“Speaking of your mate,” Nuala murmured, and Elain didn’t miss the slightly pleased look in her friend’s eye at having gotten a reaction out of her.

Just then a knock came from the door casing Elain to turn in her chair sharply, by the time she turned back, Nuala had already disappeared into the shadows.

“No, but thanks for the offer,” Lucien ground out through his teeth. Waiting on the cartographer had taken all day and it turns out the maps he wanted hadn’t even been done correctly. It had been so much of a waste, that some part of Lucien was grateful he’d managed to send Elain home, he didn’t want her thinking that the extent of his life consisted of pathetically waiting on map-makers who can’t even make the right, damned map.

“Oh come on Luci, it’ll be fun,” Vassa goaded, looking a bit more like herself than she’d been the past few days. Her hair was iridescent, and her gown was of deepest emerald, with golden gemstones that matched the simple, modest tiara upon her head. Lucien snorted.

“Oh yeah…fun. Well you can have fun for me, but I’m not going.”

“You might as well go for the free whiskey. That’s the only reason I’m interested.” Jurian grinned, throwing a far too casual arm over the queen’s shoulders, who huffed a laugh and shook him off.

“No touching Jurian. This dress is worth more than your head.”

“Ooh – not sure about that love.” Jurian grinned back, and Lucien observed the way the two mental mortals bounced off each other.

“Ugh, I don’t know who I feel worse for, you or the Nolan’s.”

“Oh it’s not just the Nolan’s going,” Jurian grinned, “I have it on good authority that Delilah will be there too.”

“Oh, Delilah,” Vassa hummed, twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes.

“Shut up the both of you,” Lucien rolled his eyes.

“Well if it doesn’t work out with the mate, just know you have a small army of humans who wouldn’t mind a piece of you,” Jurian chortled.

“Men and women,” Vassa smiled at Jurian, “I heard that Lord Smith wouldn’t mind warming himself by the fireling.”

“Yeah, yeah, I trust you got her home safe then,” Lucien pointed at Jurian, hoping his easy smile covered the anxiety that had been growing over the day as he became convinced that something terrible had happened to Elain now that she’d been removed from sight.

“Oh, the Archeron is home safe alright,” Jurian said in a tone Lucien couldn’t quite read.

“Good…well then, you two bests be off,” Lucien turned back to the house. “Don’t stay out too late kids.”

“Alright dad,” Vassa scoffed.

“Oh and Luci,” Jurian was halfway down the garden path, “Don’t make us regret leaving you home alone with your mate!” He winked at him that time and then he and Vassa were two colourful blurs in the summer evening, their laughter making music with the chirping of cicadas.

Something cold ran the length of Lucien’s spine. He would be home, alone, with Elain, for an entire night.

Fuck.

***

“Come in?”

Elain already knew it was Lucien before his head of fiery hair, now unbound, peered at her from around the door.

“Good evening, Lady, um…may I come in?”

Elain looked at him over the papers she’d randomly grabbed and was now pretending to read. Nuala certainly could have given her a little more warning.

Lucien looked so shy, half standing behind the door, and Elain found all her anger at him having sent her home evaporating. He was just as confused as she was about this whole bond thing, it was something they’d have to figure out together.

Elain gave a small nod and Lucien seemed to let loose a long breath before he walked into the room, turning around to shut the door and then turning to face her. Lucien glowed in daylight, out there in the woods it looked at though the sun were always reaching for him, as though it, like so many others, adored him. But there was something so alluring about Lucien by candlelight. The shadows and the orange light that moved over him, he seemed darker somehow, more dangerous. More intoxicating.

Lucien cleared his throat, standing with his hands held behind his back, and Elain adverted her eyes.

“I’ve come to apologise, Lady.”

“Apologise?” Elain repeated numbly. She hadn’t been expecting this, to her knowledge, men didn’t apologise.

“For how I spoke to you, earlier today…” Lucien seemed to shift slightly, “It was entirely unreasonably for me to send you home when you wished the know the way. I got spooked with the trap and, and-”

“It’s fine. Thank you,” Elain smiled at him, setting the papers down and leaning forward in her chair. Lucien looked bemused.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I, uh…it’s not your fault I got upset, not really. I’m just quite on edge recently,” Elain began to fiddle with the threads of her dress.

“Is something wrong?” Pure concern laced Lucien’s voice as he strode a little further into the room.

“No, just…I think it’s just being around you…” Elain trailed off and Lucien’s eyes widened. Never before had she brought up the mating bond. Not with him.

“Oh, yes, it’s...uh, quite annoying isn’t it.” He grinned easily, and Elain felt something inside her relax.

“Not annoying just…things get to me easier.”

“Yes,” Lucien nodded, “When we’re close to each other the mating bond will be more…demanding. You’ll probably be more aware of it, as I am.”

“You…you feel like this, all the time?” Elain blinked at him, and Lucien shifted awkwardly, he did not want her to pity him.

“You get used to it after a while,” He grinned at her again. Elain quickly became lost in thought and Lucien could practically see her mind working, her eyes becoming distant. He took this moment to look her over, just checking for injuries, of course.

She’d changed her dress; the other one no doubt having being stained with grass and mud. It was a pale yellow, one that he found suited her hair greatly. Layers of skirts and a corset bodice, and with her hair pinned up and away from her face she looked every bit of the goddess he thought her of being.

It was then that his eye caught on the dainty necklace around her throat, a single pearl hanging at its end and…

Mother, that was a low neckline.

A low neckline for Elain of course. But still. The dress allowed him to see the beginning curve of her breasts where that single pearl lay, nestled-

Lucien snapped his eyes away and dug his hands into his pockets, digging his nails into his thighs.

He was sure that by now, Elain could read scents, and he really, really, didn’t want to make this more awkward than it was. Mother, he’d just been talking about how he’d become accustomed to controlling himself. But perhaps the beast within hadn’t been tamed, maybe it was just resting.

As though they’d been called by his arousal, the base mate desires sang through his blood. Touch, smell, taste…The last one was strangely powerful today, but maybe it was because the more time he became familiar with her scent, the more he could imagine what she tasted of. Sweet but in the way fruits are sweet, like his own personal nectar-

“Are you alright?” Elain’s soft voice sung into the air and Lucien realised that he was digging so hard into his thigh that tears had sprung up into his eyes.

“Yes, sorry,” He sniffed before huffing a laugh, “I’m just tired is all.”

“Of…” Elain prompted softly, and for a moment their eyes met and something enigmatic passed between them. “I um,” Elain sprang from her chair and began to gesture, unable to meet his eye. “I was about to go to the kitchen and steal a pot of tea and sit if the garden if you wished to, if you wished to-”

“Yes,” Lucien blinked, and Elain nodded furiously before meeting his eye and giving him a shy smile.

“Lead the way,” Elain said softly, and Lucien felt his heart skip a beat, and from the way Elain’s smile grew, he knew she’d heard it too.

***

Since it was well into the night, Elain and Lucien had to make the tea themselves, Lucien trying not to puff his chest too much when Elain gasped at how he heated the kettle with his fingers.

“It’s about as useful as it gets I’m afraid,” he grinned at her as steam started to pour from the spout.

“Well, being a seer seems far more pointless.” God she looked good in the moonlight.

“I wouldn’t say that…” It seemed that that part of Lucien would always protest at Elain being insulted, even if it were her dishing out the affront. “You knew to find Vassa, your visions before the war were invaluable, we most likely would’ve lost without them.”

Elain poured the tea, her brows furrowed in thought. If they were truly mated, if the union had been accepted, Lucien realised that this was a moment where he’d be able to reach for that bond and feel what she was feeling. He could understand, in a millisecond, what was going on behind those honeyed eyes.

Elain moved to the kitchen’s backdoor, which looked out onto the path leading down to the road which led to town, arching through the gardens. To his surprise she settled in the doorway, tucking her skirts so that they spilled out onto the gravel path.

“What is it?” Lucien prodded, as he settled down next to her, making sure that he was leaning against the left doorframe and that no part of his body was touching hers.

“Compared to the likes of Feyre and Nesta,” Elain began in a dreamy voice, “My powers are pointless; you can’t deny it.”

Lucien didn’t know what to say to that. It was all kinds of wrong. As he thought about how to exactly tell Elain she was quite insane for thinking such a way, he looked out on the moonlit gardens. The sky here was duller than the Night Court, but there was something peaceful in these lands, something innocent. A warm breeze caressed his face, and just as he was about to speak, Elain beat him to it.

“I should’ve been there, tonight, Feyre and Nesta would’ve gone.” Lucien’s hand paused as it carried his tea to his lips. Fury jolted through him.

“I don’t know about that,” Lucien proceeded in sipping his tea, trying to cool the flames within.

“If Feyre could handle seeing Tamlin, then I could’ve handled tonight,” Elain said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Lucien considered what she had said, trying to slow his heartbeat as he thought, especially now that he knew she could hear it.

“Are you so desperate to be like your sisters?” Elain cocked her head at the garden.

“Of course…they’re brave and I…I don’t know, how could I not?” Elain appeared as genuinely confused, and something inside Lucien’s chest ached.

“No offence,” he flashed her an easy grin, one that seemed to tell her that everything was going to be okay, “But I don’t think the world would recover from having another Feyre…and especially not another Nesta.”

“You know what I mean…” Elain huffed, bumping into his shoulder slightly as she flashed him a shy smile, one that made him feel like glowing. “They would’ve gone tonight. They would’ve marched into that manor and sat down in the Nolan’s chair and if Gray so much as looked at them wrong they would’ve burned the house to ashes.”

Lucien ignored Elain’s nickname for her ex-fiancé, and took a moment to cool the raging part of him that sought to seek out the boy and erase him from history. Elain was poking fun at her ex-lover, she was wrinkling her nose and shaking her head, it was obvious she wanted nothing to do with him. And yet that nickname stood like an island in the stormy ocean, a reminder that at that moment, some unevolved, bastard, human fae-hunter had a firmer place in her heart than he.

“What the hell is the Nolan’s chair?” Lucien asked after a moment, batting the vitriol from his mind.

“Oh,” Elain’s eyes lit up, “It’s some stupid, big Ashwood throne which they have in this weird trophy room, apparently it’s been passed down through generations of fae-hunters. I couldn’t touch it of course because I hadn’t been initiated into the family and that would be sacrilegious or something.” Lucien tipped his head back and huffed a laugh, and Elain felt something inside her sing to answer. She’d noticed Lucien’s beauty more this past day, but that moment right there, had been the loveliest he’d ever been. His eyes shut, his grin wide. He seemed happy. It was beautiful.

“Oh Gods, let me guess, they have it behind some sort of curtain and they do a grand reveal whenever guests come for tea?” Elain blinked at him with those brown saucers.

“Have you visited?!” Both of them titled back and let out genuine laughs, no one to interrupt them but a warm breeze making the plants rustle.

“You know, it’s funny,” Elain sighed, curling her arms around her knees and looking out on the moon-lit shrubbery, “When you stop loving someone, it’s almost like you see them for the first time.” Lucien shifted awkwardly, trying to ease the itching across his skin. He’d never talked so much about the boy before, and it was making his powers sing.

“And what do you see now?”

“I…I can’t say a bad word against him. I don’t know why. I think even if he were standing in front of me right now I would just politely ask him to leave.”

“I think that says more about your character than his.” How could the Cauldron have thought him worthy of this female? In the face of her abuser, she chose pacifism.

“It’s strange because now I guess I see him how everyone else has always seen him. But when I was human…” Elain’s speech faltered and she flashed her eyes to him, “I’m sorry you probably don’t want to hear about this.” Lucien took a deep breath before setting his cup down.

“Elain I…I want to be your friend, and I want to know everything about you. If that includes your weasel of an ex, so be it.”

“Be nice,” Elain half-told him off with a laugh as she reached out and shoved his shoulder. Lucien saw stars.

“When you were human…” Lucien found his voice after a second, and prompted Elain along. She curled her arm back around her knees and her eyes drifted off to some far off place.

“I…I just wanted to be loved, so badly. I wanted a fairy-tale romance and, I don’t know, someone who would want me, you know that kind of romance you only read about in novels where the guy walks into a room and only sees her.” Elain huffed a laugh and Lucien bit his tongue. “I just assumed that it would never happen, not with us falling into poverty, but then, we weren’t in poverty anymore, and Nesta and I were back looking for husbands. Graysen isn’t…special…I know. But I never wanted special, and for a girl who had grown up believing she’d have nothing, what he gave me seemed like the whole world. Things like sneaking out to meet him without a chaperone, or, or, sneaking away from family dinner’s to hide in the gardens. It…it felt like falling in love…”

“When you having nothing,” Lucien began tentatively, “And someone shows you an inch of kindness…well, that becomes invaluable.” Elain hummed softly in agreement.

“I didn’t want much – I’ve never wanted much - but that’s because it always seemed greedy. I just wanted my own garden, and then Graysen promised me 12 acres of land, and he did seem to care for me. Well…at one point he seemed to care.” Elain shivered, and that age-old anger flashed in his eye. He didn’t know what Graysen had said to Elain when she’d come to the Noland Manor during the war, but by the way the entire Inner Circle seemed one bad day away from cleaving the boy’s balls from his body, he got the idea.

“Now that I can see him clearly, and I can see all the terrible things he did and said, to me and…and about me…” Elain turned to look at Lucien and found him already looking at her, his expression soft, but something made of steel in his eyes, “It’s easy to not love someone when you don’t like them, but I am afraid.”

“Of…” Lucien said gently, his voice as soft as the wind in the leaves.

“How can I…” she was looking at him directly now, “How can I do it again,” she whispered in a voice that reminded him of a petal. “I was so blinded by love; how can I trust myself? You know, sometimes it feels like I’ve felt enough heartbreak to fill several lifetimes.”

Lucien surprised himself by huffing a soft laugh.

“I know how you feel. But that’s the thing about being immortal. They say time heals all wounds, and it does. But most of us, and I suppose particularly humans, don’t get the chance to wait out our pain. But being fae, well, you’re convinced you’ll never get over it until one day you wake up and, you just are.”

Elain had never heard him speak for so long before, and she realised she could’ve sat here and listened to him talk all night. There was an aged wisdom behind his words, like a promise that everything was going to be alright. A small silence settled on the two as they both looked up at the moon, glowing like an eye of the Mother, winking with contentment.

“Graysen is a bastard isn’t he.” Lucien laughed, loud and brashly, and even though it was nearly midnight, Elain was sure he’d momentarily lit up the world.

“No comment,” Lucien held his palms up to face her to show his pacifism.

“Oh come on, you must not like him if you’re sitting here with me rather out there at the Nolan’s sipping, oh, coffee liquors.” Lucien wrinkled his nose.

“Gods, they sound awful.”

“Oh. They are,” Elain moaned with a smile. Then she peered at him again, “You’ve really never been.” Lucien shifted slightly, sitting a little straighter.

“Yes I, uh, I hope that wasn’t an intrusion or-”

“No, no!” Elain rushed, before sighing heavily as she bit her lip in thought. Lucien’s eyes, one metal one fae, roved over her. Oh how he wished to know her thoughts.

Then, Elain was reaching out for him, putting her small hand on his shoulder and looking up at him with those dark, sultry eyes.

“Thank you…for having my back,” she practically whispered. But Lucien wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her given that his entire focus had been zeroed onto that single palm pressed against his shoulder, how he could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin linen of his shirt.

“I…no problem, Lady…It’s no problem at all.” Elain smiled at him softly, but her hand stayed where it was.

Lucien wondered if she felt it too. The electricity that was flowing through his blood. The bond that seemed to glow from between his ribs, buzzing with contentment at their contact. He wondered if she felt the squeeze in her chest – the possibility that this wasn’t just a bond at all.

Suddenly, voices from the hall erupted into life. Brash singing, and a cackling laugh that startled Elain enough for her hand to lift from his shoulder, before she slowly pulled it back in her lap. Lucien was dangerously close to running into the hall and carrying both his friends back out into the garden and dumping them in the flower beds.

He’d had two stolen moments with Elain today, and the secret seemed to lie in their solidarity from the rest of the world. Sighing Lucien leaned back on his hands.

“It seems that Jurian and Vassa have made it home.”

Tag List:

@ladyelain @chloepereyra @exiledelain @bow-dawn

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elriell · 4 years ago

Note

what are ur thoughts on eris, there seems to be a lot of chaos and seperation in the fandom atm... how'd you feel about his showing up in acosf?

This feels like a tricky question to answer, because opinions about this really do verge on the extreme of both sides. From what I have seen at least, and I definitely feel this has caused a great deal of division amongst fans of the series.

While I certainly didn’t expect an appearance of his character in ACOSF, I am not surprised in the slightest at a potential redemption. As soon as he made the comment about “not knowing what it cost him” in ACOWAR, I got major Rhysand flashbacks... And from the moment I read that chapter I felt SJM was going to go down the redemption arc path as she did with Rhys. (Assuming of course that is her plan.)

Because it is definitely her type of character and one she enjoys writing, example; Rhysand & Rowan.

So! We have a month before it releases so let’s talk about it all, good, bad and ugly, as always everyone is free to share their own opinions but can we keep it civil it is just a book after all and not reason to attack anyone, one view or another.

A big reason a find it so incredibly hard to answer this question is because I do dislike Eris for his actions, from what we have been told about him from day dot he is not written to be a likeable character. But here is where the big issue lies I feel like SJM is going to try and flip the table on us, as she has so many times before.

And at the end of the day we can either go with it, like for example people had to accept Rhys for his appalling behaviours in ACOTAR or ignore her attempt at a redemption ARC. [Up to you.]

And here is how I think it is going to go, I think she is going down the path of unreliable narration, I.E Lucien’s clouded view, and the IC views from Mor.

It would not be a shock to me at all, and we have seen very prominent example of this very thing between Feyre’s skewed POV to Nesta’s reality.

“It wasn’t entirely my fault that I was scarcely able to read. Before our downfall, my mother had sorely neglected our education, not bothering to hire a governess. And after poverty struck and my elder sisters, who could read and write, deemed the village school beneath us, they didn’t bother to teach me.”

VS.

“I didn’t know you couldn’t really read,” Nesta said as she paused before a nondescript section, noticing the way I silently sounded out the words of a title. “I didn’t know where you were in your lessons—when it all happened. I assumed you could read as easily as us.”

“Well, I couldn’t.”

“Why didn’t you ask us to teach you?”

“I trailed a finger over the neat row of spines. “Because I doubted you would agree to help.”

This is a classic example of how unreliable narration can cause a massive perspective hinderance. Feyre made the audience believe her sisters did not care/want to teach her, yet they had no idea she was illiterate. And even further still she never even asked for help, she assumed what the answer would be, but the ripple effect of this is that we as readers will now go three books thinking this is a fact rather than her personal assumption.

“A shadow crossed Eris’s face. “There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”

The fact is we know very little about Eris, we are told what a rough childhood Lucien suffered at the hands of his family [Eris included] but then by that token the same should apply to Eris. We have so little information about his childhood, and about his character save for the opinions of Lucien and Mor (and company).

We have as a fandom touched on this time and time again, whether certain characters and actions are redeemable. Some people will stand by Rhysand’s actions in ACOTAR and others will find it unforgivable, the same applies for Nesta most commonly. But really it can apply to almost any of the characters in the series, Azriel tortures people, Cassian wiped out a whole village, and so on, I do not think that it is fair to criminally punish some characters above others IMO.

Now if you want to hate them all and stand by your feelings, go for it, To each their own, but everyone (or next too all) have done something highly questionable over the course of the series.

The people Rhys has killed, minds he has invaded. Azriel/Cassian’s victims, they were all someone too. They all had a potential partner, family, life, dreams & goals. But because we do not see or hear about them we are desensitised of it. We overlook it.

With Eris, we have two of his victims for lack of a better word, in front of us. Some readers love them, feel protective of them and therefore prioritise their POV over every other. Does that make sense? And that is fine.

Completely, everyone is entitled to enjoy or express their view however they see fit, but I personally do not want to demonise people for wanting to make a more informed opinion on a character and not shutting out the possibility of there being more to his story, for better or worse.

I do believe whole heartedly that nothing Eris has done is any worse than Rhysand and/or the IC, the only difference is he was raised in a crueler environment, amongst cruel people. As readers we sympathise with Az and Mor for their upbringing with good reason, because we know of it, yet condemn Eris when we scarcely know his.

A much larger can of worms is the question of culpability, and I have seen so many incredible meta’s about childhood trauma and it not being used as a excuse for toxic behaviours (mainly in respect to Nesta in this fandom) but I do think it is a important key to understanding the overall character... And note, I do not say like but rather understand/empathise with him more clearly, because right now I do not have any real compassion for him.

And as I said above all of them have done some fucked up shit, it is up to you as reader to decide for yourself whether you consider the particulars forgivable.

I could go on and on about the details and nuances of all his individual relationships but no one wants to read that, and me ramble on and on and on...

In summary, love him or hate him, he is in the next book. We just have to wait and see what SJM’s plan for him truly lies. Fo all we know he could still be an antagonist, but I highly doubt it.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#i could go onnnnnn and on #but i shant #eris vanserra #acosf #a court of silver flames #acotar #not really anti anyone tbf

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elrielllll · 5 years ago

Text

“Perfect” part 3

A/N: As promised :) Also updates after this should be every Sunday x

Today didn’t start well.

She was late. Not to mention the pounding headache that came from marking into the early hours of the morning, and possibly a little too much wine.

She huffed as she turned into the car park, pushing her glasses up her face, annoyed that she had to wear them but with that headache she just couldn’t manage contacts.

As she pulled in she saw her parking space, or what it used to be, covered by a pile of bricks.

Not today.

Today of all days, not today. She didn’t need some thing else to contend with, she thought as she drove off to find another space.

She was still cursing those builders and the school’s long corridors as she ran, or as she preferred to call it, delicately speed walked to her room.

She only just got there in time before her students spilled into her room and she sat down, ready for a long day of teaching.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Out of all of the 5 years at this school this had been the worst morning by far. The noise and novelty of the build and the very shirtless sweaty builders, she couldn’t get her kids to concentrate for more than 5 seconds. And all of the previously intellectual questions she was used to receiving had now turned into,

“miss how do you say “you’re hot” in French?”

“how do you ask someone out in French?”

“don’t you think French is a sexy language miss? I reckon if I asked in french first I’d get their number.”

And whilst she tried to ignore her students and act like the professional adult she was, she couldn’t help but think the same things.

But how did they expect her to concentrate? Let alone teach 30 teenagers.

She came back to Lucien waving a hand in front of her face “Ellie? Earth to Ellie? Where did you go?”

“Over there,”she grumbled, gesturing in the general direction of the building site, and the people that came with it.

Lucien groaned, head in his hands, “not you too, I’ve had to deal with the kids all morning.”

Elain laughed while also internally crying, “why do they all have to be shirtless?” she asked.

Lucien raised his eyebrows, “Elain, only one of them is shirtless”

Elain froze mid bite of her sandwich, “No I swear there’s more”, but sure enough when she turned to look out of the window Lucien was right.

And just her luck, It was Azriel.

She threw her head down and groaned. Typical that the first man she would find attractive since Grayson was her sisters boyfriends brother.

It sounded like soap opera that she had absolutely no intention of being in.

Lucien laughed and gave her a quick one armed hug ,“hope you’re less distracted the rest of the day” he said with a wink as headed off.

But she wasn’t. By the end of the day Elain wanted the builders gone. After only one day dealing with them and being embarrassed by her class, she was fed up.

So much so that she found herself walking towards the site and the one builder left.

“Hey!” she shouted as she neared, “ are you trying to make my job impossible? Have you ever had to deal with 30 teenagers at once? Well let me tell you it’s not easy, It’s like being in a pit of snakes!”

She stopped the man turned around and familiar hazel eyes met hers.

She stopped, unsure. Should she really be shouting at her sister’s friend?Azriel opened his mouth to speak but she carried on,

“And now with the noise, killing my head and making it a nightmare to teach, especially a different language! And if you wouldn't mind-”

She stopped her rant as she looked at him. Still shirtless, taking in the tattoos and the muscles and the sheer size of him towering over her. She took a shaky breath and looked at the point on the wall over his shoulder, deciding that it was the only safe place to look.

She finished her rant significantly quieter, “-putting a shirt on”

She let her eyes flick back to him as she saw him reach down for a shirt and pull it on.

She wasn’t looking at his tattoos swirling up and down the planes of his chest.

She wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, his deep voice going right through her, “I’ll talk to my guys and we’ll see what we can do about the noise.”

Elain nodded, now daring to make eye contact, “thank you ,” she said, feeling ashamed of shouting, It wasn’t his fault and she knew that, but he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She stuck out her hand, “I’m Elain by the way,”

“Feyre’s sister,” he nodded as he took her small hand in his big one, “I’ve heard lots about you, I’m Azriel.”

She nodded looking down, noticing how her hand was completely enveloped in his, and for the first time noticing the scars that decorated his hands. She hadn’t seen them during his little speech yesterday, but then again she was a bit preoccupied.

“Beautiful” she breathed.

Shit. She shouldn’t have said that. Of all the stupid things she could have said, it was probably top of the list.

She peered up at him, to gauge his reaction, feeling guilty when he blushed faintly and nodded just once.

Way to make a good impression.

Elain looked down, realising that her hand was still in his.

“Well I have to go” she blurted out, withdrawing her hand and clenching it by her side, noting how his stayed in the air between them for just a few seconds longer.

He nodded .

Elain stood blinking for a moment before he gestured to his work, “um I should”

“Oh yeah, yes of course sorry,” Elain said plastering a smile on her face and waiting for him to turn around before practically running back to her room and leaning against the door.

Nice one Elain.

Why did she have to be so awkward. She just went out there and shouted at him for doing his job and hadn’t even apologised. What was wrong with her?

That was often the case with her temper, she always regretted getting angry afterwards, but never while she was ripping into people.

She looked down to see her phone ping with a message from Feyre,

F: Hey! Come round to mine tonight, we’re getting a Chinese x

Elain didn’t have too much work to do tonight and she could use a good catch up with her sister, and Rhys always had good wine.

E: I’ll be there! On a side note will you apologise to Azriel for me? I may have shouted at him xx

F: Ooh he must have done something wrong if YOU shouted at him. But he’ll be there so you can tell him yourself! ;)

That probably wasn’t the best idea, she’d probably make a fool of herself again. Yeah that sounds about right. But she did owe him an apology and she was going to have to do it sometime. And preferably not in front of a group of teenagers.

Not that Feyre’s family were much better.

She grabbed her keys and headed out to her car dropping Lucien a text that she was off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Azriel had had one hell of a first day. When he took the job he thought he would be working over the holidays, with no kids. Or people in general. He though Rhys had known that and assumed he wouldn’t have brought the job up otherwise.

Azriel had apparently underestimated how much his family wanted him home.

It had started off with that speech yesterday, public speaking was not his forte, but he could manage talking to adults.

Teenage girls however, were not manageable.

Every time he saw a group giggling in the corner while stealing glanced when they thought that he wasn’t looking he wanted to jump into the hole they were digging and stay in there, perhaps be buried alive.

He wouldn’t have objected to it right then.

And just when he thought he might finally have some peace Feyre’s sister came storming out, guns blazing. .

He’d seen her a couple times throughout the day in her classroom, when he’d stopped for a moment and she seemed invested, using wild hand gestures to get her point across.

Though she didn’t use them when she was annoyed apparently.

Thinking back he turned away from her too fast. It was rude and he was politer than that, but in his defence it had been a while since he had made an effort with someone, or even made a friend. He kept himself to himself while he was in London.

He put it out of his mind as he pulled up to Rhys and Feyre’s apartment and headed up the stairs. He was pretty sure he could already hear Cassian’s voice echoing down the hall followed by Mor’s indignant cry.

It was like he’d never left.

He smiled as he pushed the door open and was bombarded with a hug from Mor.

“I missed you” he said around a mouthful of hair.

“I missed you too,” Mor shouted in his ear, “I can’t believe that you didn’t come and visit once!”

Azriel winced, “ I was busy”

Mor waggled her eyebrows, “ I bet you were in high demand”

Chuckling, Azriel made his way next to the couch and sank down next to Cassian who passed him a beer with a grin.

“Speaking of high demand, how was your first day at the new job?” Rhysand asked from where he was sat on the opposite couch with Feyre, eyes dancing.

“Hell.” Azriel, cracking open his drink and taking a long swig.

“Oh do tell,” said Rhys through a half smirk.

Azriel pointed at him, “you know very well how it went,”

Rhys only laughed as Cassian pushed, “Come on Az, it reminds us of being in school, tell us.”

“That is not something I want to re live thank you,” Azriel grumbled.

“Oi we tried to make you popular but you were too damn scary” Cassian protested.

Cassian and Rhys were on the rugby team all through school, and everyone knows that the rugby team was a free pass to an easy ride through school. Azriel was more focused on important stuff like athletics, and Mor, who coincidentally came with it, being the star of long jump.

Thank god that crush had passed, he was happy to see Mor with her girlfriend, they all were.

“Where’s Emma?” Azriel asked, subtly trying to change the subject.

“Working late,” Mor replied, “but that’s not what we want to talk about” she sang.

“I had a gaggle of teenage girls staring at me at all times. And some of the boys.” Azriel admitted.

They all burst out laughing as Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder and said, “Well you can’t really blame them”

“I second that,” Mor piped up.

“I just want to work”, Azriel said, exasperated.

“Are you kidding? Soak up all the attention, that’s what I do. Whenever I need an ego boost, I just head into Feyre’s class and flex a bit” Rhys said, demonstrating.

“I thought you were coming in to see me,” Feyre said as she smacked him over the head with a pillow.

Cassian’s laugh boomed around the room as Rhys yelped.

“I’m not trying to be a pig but where’s the food?” Mor said frowning at Rhys who was still rubbing his head looking betrayed.

“Pig,” Cassian quipped and got a pillow to the head as well from Feyre.

“We’re waiting for everyone to get here.” Feyre said as she sat back down, glaring at the boys.

They all looked around the room confused. Azriel could see Cassian counting on his fingers and looking at Feyre like she was crazy. They were all here, who where they waiting for? Amren was in Australia with Varian, and Nesta had gone to school down south so it wasn’t her-

And just then the door cracked open and Elain slipped through with a shy smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next>

Masterlist

Tags:

@stars-falling @abraxos-is-toothless @cirieael @suppengott @candid-confetti @nite0wl29 @tyheronthorn @negativenesta @sleeping-and-books @awkward-avocado-s

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secretlynestaarcheron · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Five + Six

The Selection AU - acotar

Sorry it was late, I work in the medical field and a coworker tested positive so I had to in on my usual writing day! I hope everyone is staying safe!

tagged: @justgiu12 @blxckbeaks @justabunchoffandoms @swagbookmaster @my-fan-side @heyitsrhysand @acourtofmarauders

Does anyone know why some of the tags don’t work?

Chapter Five: Nesta

“Isn’t this so interesting?” she asks, moving through the hall with the other girls, flipping through the pages. She had gone to school the longest but hadn’t learned anything about war and history like this book taught. Usually the schools said the same thing every year, that they were lucky the king’s family had saved them and how great of a country they were because of it.

She felt foolish, as a young girl in the caste four, she did feel lucky and great but now seeing the brink of poverty as a seven she knows the truth. She sees it in the sixes and the fives, she can’t imagine how the eights are feeling, practically forgotten by society.

Rita chuckles next to her as they make their way to the women’s room. “You know that there is so much more that those books purposefully leave out, right?” Rita says with a mischievous smile. Nesta glances back at her as she moves through the door. They make their way towards the side of the room, taking seats next to each other.

“What do you mean?” Nesta asks, glancing down at the page number before shutting the book and placing it on her lap. “Are you talking about the rebels?”

Rita nods, “It's like the palace wants to pretend they don’t exist,” she says.

Nesta narrows her eyebrows, “I don’t think the rebels let them forget,” Nesta replies, thinking about all the articles and news reports talking about the small to huge attacks on the palace brought on by the rebels. “Houses are burned down, people die, when there is a rebel attack.”

Rita turns to face her, a new seriousness in her features, “Those are the south rebels, they are out to be heard no matter what,” she explains, “The north is much more quiet and strategic.”

Nesta glances at her friend, opening her mouth to ask her how she knows so much about all of this but Ianthe cheerful cheering interrupts her thoughts. “Its so good to see you again, ladies! How are your rooms? How was breakfast?” Ianthe calls out standing in the center of the room like she did during their first encounter.

Nesta glances around the room, counting the girls, they were missing ten. She turns towards Rita, “The girls that stayed behind, they were sent home,” Nesta says.

Rita glances around the room, Nesta assumes doing her own count, before turning back towards Nesta and whispers, “There's only twenty-five of us left, after the first day.”

Nesta can’t help but feel that her frightened sense of time running out wasn’t because she could be sent home without more than a few words with the prince but something else entirely.

“I have a special day for you ladies,” Ianthe says, waving her hand as maids come in with trays of tea. “We are going to have our very own tea party. It is very important as queen to be able to host through eloquence and manners.” Nesta swears that Ianthe looks at her at the last part. She realizes that Rita and her are the only ones below a caste four left.

The maids come around, leaving little trays on the table with everything they could need for a tea party. Nesta realizes that three more girls had joined them at their table looking uneasy and nervous, she guesses that they realized that the others were sent home as well. “I don’t think I’ve been to a tea party so elegant before,” Nesta chimes.

One of the girls gives her a soft smile, “I’ve been to one when I was younger, I can’t imagine having to plan everything to perfection while also being a gracious host. It seems so overwhelming!”

Nesta nods in agreement, “I am sure it is, but you’ll have the queen who will teach you everything you need to know,” she says and can not help but add, “As well as Ianthe, who I am sure will be with you every step of the way.”

The girls chuckle at that and it makes Nesta feel better that they all saw how overbearing Ianthe was.

The tea party went smoothly as far as she saw, she befriended the girls at her table Alyssa, a four, who was soft spoken and shy. Kamri, a confident and determined three, as well as Sara, a two, who wanted anything but the spotlight.

Ianthe said final words, how she was proud of them all for their hard work and can’t wait to continue this journey with them, before announcing that they were free to do as they please for the rest of the day. Nesta was glad at the words, she wanted to head back to her room to see if her sisters wrote back.

She surprised herself with how quick she was to learn the layout of the palace, but it wasn’t that hard when the only places she cared about was the library, her bedroom, and the dining hall. She walks past the library wondering if she should stop by and pick out another book but her excitement for the thought of a letter from her sisters kept her going.

She walks through her room, she sees her maids Beatrice and Hanna, who look up in excitement at the sight of her. “Lady Nesta, you’ll be so excited,” Hanna says, lifting the envelope. “It came this morning while you were at tea.”

Nesta smiles taking it from Hanna’s outreached hand. She rips the seal excitedly, sitting down on the small sofa by the fireplace. She scans the letter, Elain spoke about the news in town and how they were all rooting for her. She added that she thought she looked stunning in their mother’s red dress. She sends her thanks for the botany books and flowers.

Nesta raises an eyebrow at that, Rhysand did not mention that he was going to send flowers along with the book. She finishes Elains letter to read Feyre, who asks question after question. She wants to know how the food is and how the other girls are, if they are treating Nesta nicely. She brings up the book next, wanting to know if they look as beautiful in person as they do in the book. She also adds a thank you to the prince for the paint and wants to know if he's as handsome in person as he is on camera.

Nesta feels dumbfounded, she was surprised he would send the books but to add extra gifts made her feel bad for every poor thought she had about the royal family.

“Was it a nice letter?” Beatrice asks.

Nesta looks up from the letter folding it as she gives a small smile to her maids. “Yes, very much so,” Nesta says, feeling uncomfortable with the sense of homesickness. “I didn’t realize how much I missed them until reading this,” she replies honestly. She couldn’t wait to get home, to be able to hug them and fight with Feyre on her readings. She missed everything about them.

She found a purpose to be here but before she could work on building a better future for the castes below four, she had to thank the prince for the gifts he had sent her sisters. “I am going to go for a walk, would you mind finding me some paper? I would love to write them back tonight,” Nesta asks, standing up and straightening her gown.

“Of course,” Beatrice says, “Would you like dinner in your room as well?”

“Yes, thank you,” Nesta replies, sticking the letter in her pocket and then exiting her room in hopes of stumbling upon the prince which she assumed was impossible.

She moves down the hallways, wondering if she should stop by the library or if she should ask a maid. She didn’t want to seem too forward or take him away from his own work or perhaps from another girl. She turns down the hall and sees the guard that is normally around him, the one she had run into last night. “Hey!” she calls and he stops short and turns towards her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be abrupt. I was just wondering if you were headed towards the prince.”

His eyes narrow, “I am not taking you to him nor am I taking anything to him.” He seemed irritated, Nesta assumes that he was stopped by many girls who have also noticed his friendship with the prince.

“Oh, I am sorry to bother you,” she replies quickly, she was too forward and that was something she should probably work on hiding during her time here. She adapted the trait when she was moved to a world where you had to fight for what you wanted on a daily basis. “I just wanted to send a thank you for the books and gifts he had sent my sisters, I didn’t expect him to do so much for them.”

He frowns, his eyes softening before he was back to the stone cold guard that she met yesterday. “I’ll let him know, I am sure he will be glad to hear it,” He says with a sharp nod before moving back down the hall. She calls out a thank you but she doesn’t know if he heard her or just ignored her.

She decides that that is the best she's going to get and makes her way to the library. She finished the two books she had borrowed the night before and was itching to get more. She wanted to know as much as she could about everything before heading back home. She wanted to be able to tell her sisters all that she learned so they could move their way up the caste system.

She knew her sisters could be better. Feyre was a beautiful artist that could sell her work for a lot and Elain would be the best scientist. They needed to be able to hold their heads high to be taken seriously, work harder than anyone who was born into a higher caste system to be noticed.

She had to work hard to get her sisters to be noticed, that was her job as the oldest to protect her sisters from the cruel world around them and she would do what she could to make their lives happy. She enters the library, moving towards the middle of the room where Prince Rhysand had said the index of the library would be. She wanted to borrow books on artists and poets as well as science textbooks.

She found the large table, touching the tables and feeling the curves of the letters engraved in the map. There were so many books she doubted that the index was kept up to date. She began to read through them, making a mental note of what she wanted to learn about and when. She wondered if they knew how lucky they were to have such a source of knowledge at their fingertips whenever they wanted.

“I hope I am not interrupting,” she looks over to see Prince Rhysand standing in the aisle to her right.

She stands up straight, “Not at all,” she replies, “I wanted to thank you for the gifts you sent my sisters, I can’t wait to see what they’ve created when I go home. I am sure Feyre has already painted the canvas she had stored away.”

He nods, taking a step forward, “And are you enjoying your time here? Enjoying the resources that normally go to waste in this castle?” He asks, glancing around the library.

“Yes, I’ve enjoyed my time here so far,” she replies.

“Good, I am glad,” Prince Rhysand says, “I wanted to speak to you about something important, I hope you won’t find it offensive.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow, she knew her time here would be short but she didn’t expect to go home the second day, especially now that she had so much to lose. She would never step foot in a library of this beauty again. “There’s little in life that I find offensive,” Nesta replies, turning to face him fully, her words were full of truth. While working at a bar she had heard many sneers directed towards her and her character. She learned to build walls.

“I am not sure if you feel anything towards me,” Prince Rhysand begins. “I am not sure how to say this,” he hums, turning away and running a hand through his hair. This is the first time that she saw a boy in front of her and not the future king of Prythian. He was just a boy and she was just a girl.

She takes pity on him, she didn’t want him to feel so broken about sending her home when she knew all along that she wouldn’t be queen. “You don’t feel anything for me,” she replies, with a small smile, “I must be honest, I didn’t feel a spark with you either. I enjoyed our conversations, I’ve enjoyed the library, and I have very much enjoyed the food but you have no purpose for me here.”

“Actually, quite the opposite,” Prince Rhysand begins. “You’re right that I don’t have that gut feeling about you in the sense of marriage, but there’s something about you, Nesta Archeron, that I can’t quite grasp,” He begins, taking a step towards her before they were standing right infront of each other. If he hadn’t just admitted to no feelings for her she would have been nervous that he would try something with her in the dark aisle of the library. “You’ve shown me the light to what was happening in your caste, I would like your help. I would like to know more about your experiences.”

Nesta ponders this before asking, “You want me to stay to help you learn more about your country?”

He looks embarrassed by this. “Yes, in a sense,” he replies quickly, “I am becoming king soon, my father has been teaching me since I was younger, but in all my training and all my meetings not once was it brought up that children were being sent to work to help provide for their families. I need to know this to become the best King I can be for my country.”

She smiles at that, “Okay,” she replies, feeling the ease of the competition lifted from her shoulders. She would have to go home eventually but right now, he made her job of bringing awareness a lot easier. “I would love to help you.”

He smiles, “Good, I am glad,” he replies, “I knew there was something special about you. I think you’ll be a good friend through this all. Shall I call upon you tomorrow?”

She nods, “Tomorrow sounds great,” she retorts, he gives a small wave before moving down the aisle to exit. She couldn’t help the ghost of a smile on her face as she moved down the aisle to find the books she wanted. Her heart is full of a new sense of hope. She would be the change her sisters needed.

After gathering two books for her sister and a couple of the rebels, after Rita brought them up during tea this morning it made her curious as to what really happens during all the rebel attacks and what started them all. She had her suspicions but she wanted to know if they were true.

She makes her way out of the library, stumbling when she slams into someone dropping several of the books. “Sorry!” she says quickly glancing up to see the guard as she crouches down to grab the books. “We should really stop meeting like this,” she jokes, as he crouches down to help her, “Or maybe I should just learn not to barge out of doors.”

He chuckles as he stands up, handing her over the three books she picked up, “Prythian Artists and Rebel Attacks? Just some light reading?” he questions, but she senses he's questioning more than just her reading material.

She takes the books, sliding it below the stack of sciences books, as she states, “How else am I supposed to learn anything?” she retorts, turning to move down the hallway towards her room. She didn’t want to be questioned for her actions when he probably grew up as a two, she could tell by his judgemental looks that he didn’t approve of a seven being here.

He quickly catches up to her, moving in pace with her as she turns towards her room. “Is there anything else you would like to question me about?” she asks, holding the books tight to her chest, as she glares over at him.

“It’s after curfew, I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, so I am escorting you to your room,” he replies with ease.

Nesta rolls her eyes letting out a “hmph” noise. They walked in silence, just the echoing of their shoes against the marble filling the silence. “Do I at least get to know your name?” she asks, turning to peer at him, it's a shame he was a snob he was quite handsome in a gruff kind of way.

He looks at her with amusement in his eyes, “Cassian,” he retorts.

“Cassian,” she repeats, “Interesting name.”

He looks at her and raises an eyebrow, “Perhaps my mother should have looked in the same baby name book your parents found Nesta in,” he replies. So he was sarcastic, Nesta concluded.

She stops in front of her door and she thinks that she reads disappointment on his face but it fades so quickly so assumes she made it up. She was still a part of the competition and still property of Prythian Palace if she liked it or not. “Thank you for walking me back,” she replies, even though she’s still sure he thought she was more of a threat to the palace than anything inside was to her.

“It was my pleasure, Nesta,” he says softly, moving down the hall, “Enjoy your light reading.”

She chuckles as she opens the door, the smell of the dinner sitting on the table in the middle of the room making her stomach growl. She moved towards the table a new surge of excitement, she got the feeling that this was the beginning of a long story.

Chapter Six: Cassian

Cassian feels bad as he watches the girls say their tearful goodbyes to Rhysand before leaving the dining room. Some girls even seemed angry that they were being sent home, their hands moving wildly as they chatted with the other girls their eyebrows furrowed deep into their brows.

He turns to Rhysand who looks guilty and defeated, clapping him on the shoulder comfortingly he says, “It’s hard, but you’ll get through it.”

Rhysand shrugs, “I doubt it’ll get easier and part of me doesn’t want it too,” he retorts, shaking his hand and then running a hand through his hair. “I have meetings but want to spar later?”

Cassian thinks about the mountain of work on his desk waiting for him to get to it but finds himself nodding. “Just tell me when,” he replies, knowing that his friend needed this more than the King needed him to write a report on every girl.

Rhysand nods, moving out the room quickly to start the day, as Cassian turns to face the King. The girls had all exited with the Queen so it was just them left in the silent dining hall. “Have you thought more about my proposition? I could really use someone with your abilities,” the King says where he lounges in his chair.

Cassian wants to roll his eyes at that, the King didn’t make propositions he gave orders and it wasn’t Cassian’s abilities that made him a worthy candidate to become the King's right hand but the secrets he had and the information he already had. It would be easy for him to transition back to the old Cassian, the Cassian that wanted to please, the Cassian that shut off a part of him to do unspeakable things in the name of the King. He wouldn’t become that again.

Cassian clicked his chin, thinking about how he should properly phrase this. “With everything going on in the palace with the new recruits and the safety of the girls with the rebel attacks I need to be here,” Cassian states, standing tall as he faced the King, who merely glared at him.

The King smirks, leaning forward on his elbows, pretending to think about what Cassian said. “How are the reports on the girls going?” The King asks, “Since you’re so busy with that I am sure you have found something out.”

Cassian shifts his jaw, the King was baiting him and Cassian would have to be careful not to be caught. “ Unfortunately, the most of the work I did last night was thrown away when he sent ten of the girls I had already thoroughly checked home,” Cassian explains, “But I would be happy to go finish up the work now.”

“Actually, I have a better idea,” The King states, standing up and walking down the few steps to be level with Cassian. The King was tall but Cassian still had to look down to meet his eyes. Cassian’s frame twice the size of the Kings. Although, Cassian was built for power, the King wield it. “You can give me a list of six guards that you think are worthy enough to go out to the borders to keep the rebels in check.”

Cassian looks at the King with a mixture of disinterest and annoyance. He couldn’t let the King know it bothered him or else he would have no choice but to do it. “Does Prince Rhysand know about this?” Cassian replies with ease. “You told me I would be taking orders from him now.”

The King clicks his tongue, peering down at Cassian, but the King had to admit that Cassian had a point. It was all a part of the education of Rhysand in his future role as a King, it was a new development and the King was struggling with the release of power. “Have the list ready,” The King says, “I’ll bring it up with Rhysand in our next meeting. I am sure he will agree with me.”

Cassian frowns as the King walks by him and out of the room. He felt the rage pulsing through his body, as the words of the King echoed in his head. He wasn’t asking Cassian for worthy candidates but guards that were useless, that wouldn’t be missed, that were weak links.

Cassian knew that sending such a small group was a suicide mission, he had done it again and again for the King, watching his men take off never to return again. The rebels practically owned the borders, if the King truly wanted to get them in check or disperse the rebels he would send an army equipped with the proper tools not a handful of guards with nothing but a handgun and the shirts on their backs.

He knew he couldn’t add more names to the long list of guards he had sent to their deaths, he couldn’t tell another family that their son or daughter had died. If the King did get his way Cassian was putting his own name on the list.

~*~

He spent the rest of the day in the training rooms, watching the new draftees assigned to the palace spar and work on their weaponry. Palace Duty was seen as a plush station, although better than most assignments, it was growing more and more dangerous with the frequent attacks.

He kept an eye on the guards that would mess around or talk back to their superiors, they would have a lot to learn before being stationed anywhere near the royal family. He had to admit that he was stressing about the added protection needed for the girls, with the announcement of the selection the King had thought it would settle the rebels but it only made them more unpredictable.

“If you think any harder your face will get stuck like that,” a new voice chirps beside him. He glances down to see Amren, she was practically his second in command. Although barely five foot she could take down any soldier. Cassian was pretty sure she could take him down in one swing but he wasn’t going to test his theory.

“I appreciate the concern you have for my face, I knew it warmed up on you,” Cassian retorts, putting his attention back on the training guards. “How’s training going?”

She snorts, shaking her head as she turns to look around the group. “There’s definitely some putting in place needing to be done.” she retorts, “but that’s why I am here, you don’t need to babysit me.”

He chuckles, leaning against a rack of wooden training swords only used in the first day of training. “I am not checking up on you, you are more than capable of whipping them into shape, Amren,” Cassian retorts, running a hand through his hair. “I just had a lot on my mind and needed to do something else.”

She raises a quizzical eyebrow, an unspoken understanding between the two of them. Cassian had to fight to get Amren her leadership role and to this day the King still pretends that he can’t hear her when she speaks. WSince the King pretended she wasn’t there the majority of the time he would speak to Cassian about certain things, not even aware that Amren was standing beside them.

Amren understood the things the King asked of Cassian but did not know the extent it went too and Cassian never wanted her too. He was scared she would bolt, he needed her here more than she needed to be here. Promoting her was the smartest thing he had ever done.

“Need to spar it out?” Amren asks.

He shakes his head, laughing at her eagerness as he says, “No, but I appreciate it. I think getting my butt kicked by you right now would worsen my mood.”

“I am here if you ever need it. One of these days I’ll get you to say yes to a spar,” she replies, shoving his arm lightly with her elbow. “Now get out of here, you’re distracting the troops with your focused face.”

He chuckles, feeling a lot better than he had when he first finished speaking with the King earlier. “I’ll check see you around, Amren, don’t work them too hard,” he retorts moving to the exit. A maid walks by telling him the Rhysand would be out in the training ring outside waiting for him.

Cassian falters, thinking about all the work on his desk waiting for him, “Okay, thank you for letting know,” he retorts, running a hand through his hair as he turns down the hallway away from his office. It would be good to procrastinate thinking about the King.

“Hey!” He turns to see one of the girls, Nesta Archeron, moving down the hall towards him. She smiles sheepishly as she says, “I didn’t mean to be abrupt.” She goes on to ask him if he is going to Rhysand. He can’t help but roll his eyes.

“I am not taking you to him or being a messenger for you, he will find you if he wants to talk to you,” He snaps, this was what he was afraid of. Girls on the hunt for the prince, ready to pounce for the crown at any moment.

He feels bad when he sees her expression, but she covers it up quickly. “I only wanted to send a thank you for the gifts he had sent my sisters,” she explains, which only makes him feel worse for his treatment but he wasn’t about to let her see that.

“I’ll let him know,” he says with a short nodd, “I am sure he will be happy to hear it.”

He moves down the hallway away from her and towards Rhysand, looking back as he turns the corner not able to stop the creep of a smile on his face as she yells a thank you after him. He chuckles as he turns back towards his destination chuckling slightly.

The more he knew about her the more he had hope that he best friend could actually find someone to be with through this whole thing that wasn’t just after the fame.

~*~

He spent a couple hours sparring with Rhysand in the training grounds. He could tell there was a lot on Rhysand’s mind but didn’t push him to discuss anything, he wondered if the King had a chance to bring up another group going to the borders. He wondered if Rhysand was in favor of the idea.

He thought about what Amren would say if he signed up to go, she would probably follow along after him complaining about how dumb he was. Would he tell Mor? No, she would stop him somehow, tell the King or Rhysand before he had the chance to go. It was cruel funny to think that everyone knew being sent to the border was a suicide mission but no one would fight the King on it.

Cassian can’t say much on the topic, it was recent that he finally decided to speak against the King. Cassian kicked his office door shut behind him, sitting down at his desk and pulling one of the last files he had to go through in front of him. He glances up at the top, Nesta Archeron, in his scrawl like handwriting. He flips it open a picture of her falling out first, her hair that was normally braided was loose and wave. Her bright green-blue eyes sparkling bright at the camera as she smiled shyly.

He saw those eyes bright before, when Rhysand shook her hand or this morning when she looked up to speak to her friend Rita about something she had read. They were bright with excitement and curiosity, he wondered what made them bright that morning. Perhaps the competition itself, or the chance to meet Rhysand and be in the palace.

He moved her picture to the side beginning to read what he assigned Amren to discover about each of them. She was born in caste four, the oldest of three girls, she excelled in her studies. Amren had reached out to a few of her teachers who were sad to see her leave. Her mother had passed away and a few months after that she was transitioned to a seven. That explains why she’s always in the library, why she’s teaching her sisters.

He reads on about her father, how he adopted alcoholism after the death of his wife and would be found at any bar open. He stopped showing up to work, began to gamble in underground casinos, brawled until he and his daughters were forced out of their house.

The thought made him sick, that someone could lose themselves so much. How he could allow himself to be lost when he had three daughters to protect, the oldest only be thirteen. There were peer reviews from many bosses for Nesta. She had worked as seamstress, earning praise from people as high as caste three and two. Her neighbors spoke highly of her. He was still suspicious of her, her father was a known member at an underground casino so he could have connections to the rebels. He continues reading, seeing how highly her town thought of her. Amren even spoke to a few of her customers at a local tavern who praised her.

He chuckles as one of them mentions how she had to kick two guys out from getting too comfortable with a fellow waitress, he tried to picture her small frame kicking out two large men. He turns the page to read the last review, deciding that she couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the rebel attacks.

He pauses as he reads the name of the interviewee, Tomas Mandray.

A chill ran up his spine as he read what Tomas had to say on behalf of Nesta. He spoke highly of her, complimenting her work ethic and appearance. Cassian frowned as the truth of his relationship with Nesta came to light. He never outwardly said it or perhaps Amren was careful with her words but it was instituted that the two of them had a relationship.

There’s a sharp knock on the door and he looks up as a guard peeks his head in, “Good evening, sir,” the guard says, nodding his head in respect before continuing, “There appears to be a girl unaccounted for.”

Cassian runs a hand through his hair, his mind moving to the rebel spy or girls sneaking out of their rooms to find the prince. “Which one is it?” he asks, standing up to get ready to track them down.

The guard looks down at the piece of paper in his hand, “Uh, Nesta Archeron, sir,” he replies.

Cassian rolls his eyes, of course as soon as he finds something out about her that could connect her to the rebel cause she has to go missing. He just hopes he doesn’t find her anywhere she shouldn’t be, hopes he doesn’t have to see those bright eyes dull.

He moves past the guard, “I’ll take care of it, go back to your post,” he replies, moving quickly through the halls toward his destination. He reaches it but before he can open the door it swings open slamming into him. He catches her elbow relieved to find her here.

She drops a few books in the collision and he thinks that they should really stop meeting this way. He bends down to pick up a few of the books, his eyes narrowing as he sees the titles, a book about prythian artists and another about rebel attacks. He makes a comment about her choices, asking if this was considered light reading.

He hands them to her as she adds them to the pile her arms, he takes in a few more titles one about the ocean and the other a book on botany and insects. He couldn’t quite get a grasp on her, she wasn’t the normal stereotype for a rebel. Perhaps that’s why they chose her, if she was even a rebel.

He realizes she said something as she moves past him and down the hall. He acts quickly to catch up with her, matching her slow pace compared to his own. He had to cut his strides in half to match hers. “Was there something else you wanted to question me about?” she asks, glaring at him. He took note of how her eyes darkened and her nose crinkled as she tried to be intimidating.

He chuckles, but when she frowns he cuts himself short. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. “It's after curfew,” he retorts with a slight shrug, “Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

She rolls her eyes, turning to face the hall again, pulling his attention away from her face and back to infront of them again. They walk in silence before she asks, “Do I at least get to know your name?”

He smirks at that, maybe she wasn’t as stubborn as he pegged her, “Cassian,” he replies with ease as he looks down at her in amusement.

She snorts, “Cassian? Interesting name.”

He can’t help but bite back a smile, she reminded him of Mor with her sharp tongue and quick wit. He wondered if she could take it as well as she dished it. “Perhaps my mother should have looked in the same baby name book your parents found Nesta in.”

She laughed at that and he realized that’s the first he heard a noise other than annoyance leave her mouth. “If you must know I was named after my grandmother’s cat, she had two others named Bernard and Gerty. Would you prefer one of those?” she questioned.

He nodded in approval, she would get along extremely well with Mor. They could bond over picking on him. He stops in front of her door and she turns and says, “Thank you for walking me back.”

He returns her smile, nodding his head, “It was my pleasure, Nesta,” he says, turning on his heel and beginning to move down the hall. “Enjoy your light reading.”

He listens to her chuckle before the door clicks and he’s left in the silent hall. He moves swiftly feeling the exhaustion set in. He turns sharply, pausing quickly when he spots a figure standing in front of his office door. The person pushes themselves off the wall and Cassian can see the wicked smile. “I was wondering when you would be back,” Tomas Mandray dreary voice echoes through the hall,

Cassian stops and crosses her arms, “What do you want, Mandray?”

Tomas chuckles, “Don’t act so angrily towards me, I thought I would warn my old childhood friend.”

“Warn me about what?” Cassian spits out but as soon as the words left his mouth there was a large crash of glass being broken and he could smell the fire. “That wasn’t much of a warning.”

Tomas shrugs, “Shouldn’t have taken your good ole time swooning one of your friends' mistresses. Which one was it? Rita? Perhaps Caroline?” Tomas asks, chuckling to himself. “Oh, it must have been Nesta. You always loved a crazy one.”

Cassian snarls, “How do you know about them?” He wanted to punch Tomas out cold right then and there but the siren was beginning to blare and he had to make sure the royal family and girls got to safety.

Tomas laughs as he begins to run down the hall towards the chaos, “I have friends everywhere, Cassian. You better watch out.”

As always - unedited

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missbrightsky · 4 years ago

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On My Honor

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 11: Rhysand

I had forgotten out good it was to spar with Tamlin. By nature, I was not normally a petty man, but Tamlin practically begged to be put in his place with his horrible attitude. We had joined the army at about the same age and were even friends once. But once we started to rise through the ranks and win glory on the battlefield, he had changed for the worst. He became a man that took and took and took, causing his military career to stall at lieutenant while I continued to rise.

Therefore, anytime I was in his vicinity, I always took the time to remind him why we were where we were today.

Cas had no qualms watching me pummel him. Mor was only against it because if he needed healing afterward, that meant that he would have to spend time in her tent. Az had yet to say anything on the matter. Amren, well… Amren never said no to a little bit of bloodletting.

Even with three days of hard riding, I flew into camp with energy to spare, it practically whining to be used and let out.

It was good to see Cassian’s face again, even though I told him with a teasing tone. It had been a few weeks since I had seen him, but that was at the front, where it was purely for battle planning. Seeing him far from the front, where there wouldn’t be a bloody interruption to our conversations, was a minor blessing.

He looked well, and happy. Or as happy as anyone could be training recruits for the slaughter of the battlefield. It was always a harsh, but necessary, reminder of the weeks ahead. I had told Mor and Az of my suspicion that the end of the war was coming, one way or another. They both absorbed my prediction with quiet, not even thinking to question me. We had all been together so long that they knew how accurate I could be. In lighter times, Mor joked that I should run away from the army and join up with a traveling circus as their oracle.

I would tell Cas later of my suspicion, but first, it was time to kick Tamlin’s ass to the dirt.

I scanned the camp, nodding to two soldiers that lingered on the edge of the main road through it, no doubt wanting to see the general of the army. One was taller with fair skin and hair, the other was on the shorter side, brown hair with streaks of gold was escaping from the bun at the nape of his neck. Both looked to not even be 20 yet, explaining their round features. The shorter one averted his gaze at my nod, causing the corner of my mouth to quirk up. They were probably not used to being acknowledged, more used to being yelled at.

Cassian had called out to two of the recruits, pausing their retreat. As we neared, I could pick out their features more. The shorter one drew my interest. He had blue eyes that looked almost gray in the light with full lips.

Pretty, for a boy.

“General Knight is in the sparring mood, what are the chances that your lieutenant would oblige him?”

“Low, sir, if he hasn’t eaten recently,” the shorter one replied. Pretty with a sense of humor, it seemed. I burst out laughing, something I could rarely do these days. Mor outright cackled at the comment and a glance at Az revealed he had a small smile on his face. I wondered if the soldier knew how rare that smile was and what they had accomplished.

“Perfect, lead the way soldier,” I cursed myself for not knowing their name, but Cas hadn’t specified which was Archeron and which was Haywood. Later, I would have to find out their name later. Instead, I spent the walk quickly catching up with Cas on any updates in training.

A minute or so later, we arrived at where Tamlin was running drills with his recruits. Hand-to-hand, a perfect excuse for me to ask for a sparring match. After convincing him, I turned to Mor. “Hold my jacket and shirt for me, will you? Don’t want to get it dirty.” She rolled her eyes while stifling a laugh.

“Try not to show off too much, we don’t need any lovesick recruits stalking you around the camp. Again.”

“No promises, cousin.” Sure, it was true that I didn’t want to get my general’s jacket and shirt dirty, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to show off a bit. I had to take my chances while I could to feed my ego.

It took all my willpower to not glance at the soldier from before as I walked into the ring, making sure I wanted them to have a good view of the fight. Tamlin entered a second later and we both dropped into defensive stances.

Same ‘ol Tamlin, I noted he moved the exact same way as always, leaving a tiny window open on his right side. He just never learns.

A cock of my head had Tamlin leaping forward, his classic left punch coming for my face. Ah ah ah, I easily blocked and twisted under his blow, countering with my own right hook to his ribs.

Tamlin took the blow and stepped forward with a kick, but as always, his kicks left his face unguarded. Usually on the battlefield, he was too quick for anyone to notice, but years of training let me see each and every weakness. Catching his leg, I used it to spin myself inwards, slamming my elbow into his stomach before snapping it up into his jaw. That move alone would have downed a lesser man. Tamlin just staggered back, ending the swift first round.

Cas called out his jeer, causing Tamlin’s eyes to only unfocus more, becoming almost feral.

This time, I sprung forward first, moving through punches and kicks and blocks like it was easy as breathing. I could have ended the round sooner but where would be the fun in that? Ten minutes seemed a fair amount of time to thoroughly humiliate Tamlin and put on a show for the soldiers. Knowing his teaching tactics, they probably needed the break and morale boost from seeing me kick his ass.

By the end of the fight, a crowd had gathered, shouts nearly drowning out our pants as I finally put Tamlin to the ground and pinned him with a knee.

Because I still needed to play the part of general, I offered him a hand up, which he took and released as soon as he was up.

I turned to where Mor was, spotting the soldier from before. I briefly pinned him with my gaze, holding his stare until he shifted away, his blush deepening. Interesting.

I moved past the soldier, allowing myself one more glance before retrieving my jacket and shirt from Mor.

“Thank you for not pummeling him too much, now I don’t have to watch him sulk in the healers’ tent,” she said as we started to walk away.

“I live to serve, cousin,” giving her a mocking bow that earned another eye roll. Cassian came up behind me, “Good fight! Although I could have done with a little more blood, it’s a good thing Amren wasn’t here or she’d be chewing you out for Tamlin being able to walk away.”

I shook my head at Cas. He was right about Amren not being here, for a lady of Velaris, she was surprisingly bloodthirsty.

Steeling myself for my question, I tried to force a casual tone. “Who were those soldiers from before?” Keeping my face carefully light and my gaze steady ahead.

Thankfully, Cassian was still too focused on the fight to ascertain my motive. “Flynn Archeron was the shorter one and Adam Haywood was the other. They’re both on my archery squad.”

Perfect opportunity, “How’s that going? Are they all getting into shape?” Cas loved to talk about his special projects, and this was an easy way to learn more about Flynn.

After all, I was a general of the army and I needed to keep an eye on all important future plans.

#acotar #mulan #feysand #feyre #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #sjm #sarah j maas

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starofvelaris · 5 years ago

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The Waiting Game Part II(ish)

I haven’t quite gotten around to finishing part II of my nessian fic, The Waiting Game, but here is an excerpt to tide you over and give y’all those nessian feels we’re all craving. -g

Her hair was soaked, her limbs shivering as she threw the sodden fur collar aside, stalking to the cabin hearth. She stood as close to the flames as she could stand, swaying slightly on her feet.

Cassian’s eyes followed her from the shadow of the kitchen were he waited. He noted her body trembling from the cold, her hair disheveled and escaping its leather strap and pins that had once kept it so perfectly contained in a neat crown of braids. He watched as she peeled away another layer of her clothing, her cloak and then her jacket. She loosened the ties of her billowy cream-colored shirt, exposing her collarbones to the heat of the fire.

“You’ve been drinking, I see?” Cassian muttered from behind her. “Found the camp tavern, evidently?”

Nesta spun around on wobbly footing, barely flinching at him, though he could tell she was surprised to find him there.

“Oh…it’s you,” she slurred, now removing a boot and soaked woolen sock. Not seeming to care that at this rate she would be nearly naked before Cassian had a chance to speak again. “Going to reprimand me?”

“Well, I would if I hadn’t already done that umpteen times,” Cassian said as he stepped towards the light of the hearth.

Nesta turned her back to him, kicking off her other boot and peeling her brown soft leather pants down her legs.

Cassian froze for a moment, but he could not act not surprised. He had done far more scandalous things whilst intoxicated than this.

“You know, there is a private room upstairs? With a larger fire?” he offered, tucking his wings behind him and crossing his arms before her.

“I don’t care,” Nesta said, keeping her back to him. “I am cold,”

“And drunk,” Cassian muttered.

“Judge me, I dare you,” she said hollowly. “Remind me of all the things I should be happy darling Feyre and his royal highness, precious Rhysand have so graciously given me. How I should be grateful to you for bringing me here, to this shithole,”

He had never heard such poison in her voice, such bitterness. Or clarity, despite her drunkenness.

“I wasn’t going to reprimand you,” Cassian said softly, leaning against the old wooden table. She spun back around to survey him with those unearthly eyes.

“No? Then what?” Nesta said, lowering herself ungracefully, dropping down to her rear on the rough wooden floor.

“I was actually going to offer to drink with you,” he walked to the modest wooden cabinet on the side of the hearth, and opened it. He knocked one side and opened up a small, secret compartment. From inside he pulled an amber glass bottle.

“So you’re hiding the liquor from me, now?” Nesta gave a heartless laugh.

“No, this liquor has been hidden here for more years than I can count, long before you arrived here,” he closed and locked the compartment. “More centuries than I can count, come to think of it,”

Nesta’s face softened, in some kind of awe, which turned to confusion. “And how do you know about this?”

“This cabin used to be Rhysand’s mother’s home. And his home. And then mine,” he explained, stepping back over to her as he took a long sip from the bottle. He held it out towards her below him.

Nesta was silent. She did not take the bottle.

“I….I didn’t know,” she mumbled, looking at the floor. “You never said,”

“You never asked,” Cassian shrugged.

A flash of guilt overtook Nesta’s face, and she hugged her knees to her chest as she gazed into the flames. “How…did you come to live with her?”

“She took me in. I was just a boy….a bastard, as they called me. But to her, I was a son, and I will never be able to repay her for that, or all the other things she provided,”

“She was murdered,” Nesta said, though it was not a question. She took the bottle from him. Cassian did not know how much Feyre had told her sister of the horrors of how Rhys’s parents had died, but he could tell by the sadness on her face that she knew enough.

“What was it like?” she asked softly, taking a deep drink from the bottle finally.

“What?”

“Growing up here?” she passed the bottle back to him.

Cassian took a long sip of liquor, and lowered himself to sit beside her.

“It was hard.” He set the bottle down gently on the uneven wood floor between them. “Rhysand’s mother certainly made it easier for me than it would have been. I had a warm bed and meal to come home to because of his mother….but still, life in this village is not an easy one. Now with the right frame of mind, I have become grateful for it. I was given strength and a sense of self I’m not sure I would have otherwise,”

“A sense of self?” Nesta repeated, looking over to him, though her face was guarded.

“Being here gave me a purpose, eventually. Fighting shoulder to shoulder with my people.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

“The camps can be brutal in the best of times. It was difficult to watch my people be mistreated by our own leaders, and the females got the worst of it. So when Rhysand offered me a place by his side, in his inner circle, I knew it was time to move on for awhile, to see more of the world,”

“And leave them behind?” Nesta’s gaze was unyielding. There was no accusation in her voice, but Cassian bristled.

“I’ve worked countless hours negotiating with the commanders here, to let the females train if they so desire. Even compete in the Rite. Just because it’s from afar, doesn’t mean I’ve left them,” he tried to keep the derision from his voice.

They were quiet for a moment, only the sound of pattering rain on the roof. Nesta’s eyes were faraway, staring off into the dim lit corner of the room. Cassian watched the firelight cascade across the planes of her face.

“Tell me about the Rite,” she demanded in a low voice when she returned her attention to him. The ice of her suddenly lucid eyes startled him. He could almost feel his knees buckle beneath him where he sat.

“Well,” Cassian began, regaining his composure. “It’s an ancient tradition. All young Illyrian males compete. You begin deep in the Illyrian mountains, no weapons or supplies or barely even clothing allowed…once the signal is rung out, you must climb the sacred mountain and cross the boundary to the monolith, as fast as possible. Many live to touch the sacred stone. Many more do not,”

“They perish from the cold, the elements?”

“That, sometimes. But more often from the blows of their brothers,”

“You…kill one another?”

Cassian just nodded solemnly.

“Brutal,” she remarked. Cassian expected such a reaction, but he did not expect what she said next.

“And beautiful,”

He raised a brow and took another swig from the bottle. “You think so?”

Nesta leaned back so that she was nearly horizontal on the floor, resting her elbows behind her. “The world is cruel. Best to show that to your children while they are young. Teach them that you can only rely on yourself, that you cannot trust anyone but yourself. Best to learn that before they grow up and learn it the hard way,”

“And what exactly is the ‘hard way’ to learn life lessons?” Cassian asked with a smirk. “Surely there isn’t a harder way than the Rite?”

“Seems I found the a harder way,” Nesta muttered humorlessly.

Cassian regarded her for a moment as he slowly sipped the liquor again.

~ t o b e c o n t i n u e d ~

#nessian #sovfic #fan fic #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #sarah j maas #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #a court of wings and ruin #cassian x nesta #illyrian #the night court

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vintagesewingmachine · 6 years ago

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The Shadowsinger - Azriel Fic - Part 6/?

Azriel struggles to contain his feelings - for Elain, for Mor, for himself- and a jewel thief is running around Velaris, causing confusion. And with Cassian in Illyria, Azriel feels alone in his darkness. Into this mess waltzes a stranger, an enigma who calls herself Amuten with a mysterious past and connection to Amren.

Warning: angst, depressed thoughts, self-loathing, dark azriel, cold azriel, anxiety, graphic depictions of violence

dont worry there is happy Az too

<<First -- Next>>

Also note: part fives being a jerk so youll just have to search my blog for it. it wont link up so i linked part one instead

The lake was deep and clear, so clear you could see the bottom. It was tucked away in another small valley, and surrounded by evergreen trees. Azriel landed on the rocky shore, did a quick scan to make sure it was empty, and then winnowed to a cafe in Velaris to await Amuten.

******

She was several minutes late. But she was wearing Illyrian leathers that fit perfectly. They were in very good condition, but looked old nonetheless. She had thick black hair in a long braid, tanned skin covering Illyrian features, and purple eyes. And wings. Azriel stood when he saw her. He nodded in greeting, and she replied, "Good morning, Azriel." He held out a scarred hand. "Let's go." He whisked them away in darkness.

*****

"What a stunning location," Amuten murmured when she opened her violet eyes. The shadowsinger nodded his agreement. He did love this lake.

Taking a quick scan of her folded wings, he said, "Can you unfold your wings please? I need to take a look at them."

"Of course," the female chirped, eyes twinkling. "Just don't feel put out when they're bigger than yours." Azriel's eyes widened slightly as he raised them to look into her mirthful orbs. A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"I promise not to be put out, Amuten. I've had five hundred years of having a larger wingspan than my brothers, to their unending frustration."

Her laugh rang out, loud and clear. Then she snapped her wings open, a whoosh of wind ruffling his hair. Mild surprise rippled through him; they were... well, for lack of a better word, perfect. Smooth black velvet covered more muscle than he was expecting, and they were indeed large, though it was questionable whether or not they were bigger than his. And unlike Feyre's, where he had had to correct and direct her shaping them, they were flawlessy natural. Unaltered by Amuten's shifting abilities, and unmarked. Azriel circled her slowly, inspecting. Her wings didn't tremble or droop as she held them out, and she seemed relaxed. Finally he came to a halt in front of her. "Have you excersised your wings without actually flying? They are well muscled and you seem to be comfortable with holding them aloft."

"Yeah," she said. "But you can't fly."

"Yeah," she said, quirking an eyebrow. "Got any new information?"

Azriel's lips twitched. "Plenty."

Amuten gave a quiet chuckle. "But seriously, how are we gonna start?"

Azriel tilted his head, considering. She was already more advanced than Feyre, having always been half Illyrian, and knowing how to move her wings. "You're going to jump off that rock."

Her face split into a grin. "Sweet." Now it was the spymaster's turn to raise a brow. "You're excited to jump off a giant rock?" "Heck yes! Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to fly? I mean, I've been airborne before, and I have a basic understanding of how it works, but I've never truly flown," she said fervently. "And I cannot tell you how much it means that you'd be willing to teach me." Azriel just nodded his head. "Well, better start then."

*****

Four hours later, they were both ready to stop. Four hours of hard work on Amuten's part, mixed of course with sassy and innapropriate comments, and unending patience on Azriel's end.

Strands of curling hair stuck to Amuten's light brown skin, and a small bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face. But she was grinning like she had just recieved a large box of her favourite chocolate. Azriel was happy too; the female's enthusiasm and determination was so, so contagious. With strong wings already, Amuten had been able to keep up very well. And he suspected that after only two or possibly one more lesson, she could be well on her way to being an amazing flier. Amuten huffed a breath of cool mountain air. "Man, I haven't worked like that in a while. I've become a slacker." She hummed as she stretched her wings before folding them up behind her. They say down on the pebbly lakeshore and stared out at the water. Azriel tossed a small stone into it, watching the water erupt upwards, then fall back down and rejoin the body of liquid, causing ripples that lapped at his boots. For a moment, the sun had lit the airborne water, and something about it made Azriel feel... well, he didn't know how to describe it. Quiet wonder? Shifting rocks drew his notice to the female sitting beside him. Amuten had changed into a cross-legged position and was eyeing the lake. Without looking at him, she asked, "Can you swim with wings?" Azriel blinked. He had not been expecting this. "Yes." His answer satisfied her, and she laid back to stare at the sky. Azriel turned his attention back to the water. ***** Dinner with the Inner Circle was quiet. Azriel was baffled. Mor seemed distant, Nesta and Cassian kept glancing at eachother and smiling like lovesick fools, Rhys was frowning, Feyre was frowning at Rhysand frowning, Amren was staring at nothing, and Elain seemed absorbed with her food. The silence made him uneasy, but he took another bite of stew instead of saying anything. "So, Az," Rhys started. Azriel's stomach dropped at the tone of voice. Another suspicious questioning. An unpleasant emotion started boiling in his gut. Couldn't he have his own life without being questioned? Rhys continued, "I haven't seen you all day. Where've you been?" Azriel set down his spoon, and shadows started snaking around him. He looked right into Rhysand's violet eyes with a challenge and said chillingly, "Out." The entire room went taut with shock at Azriel's response. Nesta and Cassian exchanged glances, Feyre frowned at him, Amren turned her silver eyes to him, Mor tilted her head, and Rhysand stared at him. Azriel did not turn away, even when Elain's fork clattered slightly as she set it down. Suddenly the image of water popped into Azriel's mind. Like that pebble, his one word had caused needlessly large ripples. He had no reason to be so confrontational. What did his feelings matter? It wasn't as if he really had a life to be questioned about. His family deserved better than this attitude. Better than him. So he swallowed his emotions, broke eye contact with Rhys and picked up his spoon. "I was out. With a... friend," he said quietly. The tension abated a bit, but remained uneasy. Nobody said anything else, and Azriel felt consumed with guilt. Why did he have to screw everything up? Rhys - his brother - had just been asking about his day. Why was he so on edge? The war was over, the Illyrians settled. Aside from some normal issues, it was peaceful. So peaceful, in fact, that he had heard from Nuala and Cerridwen that Rhys and Feyre had stopped taking tonics. Cauldron, he had some issues. He was so broken. It took a moment to realize that Azriel hadn't actually been eating his stew, just staring at it intently. So he choked down another mouthful, his shadows starting to cover him, and left.

*****

Elain was sitting in Feyre's living room with her sisters, chatting like sisters do. There was still some tension between Nesta and Feyre, but they were working through it. And with Nesta's wedding, the three and Mor were very excited. Azriel refused to think that he was creeping. He was just... observing. Without their knowledge. Not creeping. His shadows allowed him to remain undetected as he... observed... from his corner. Elain's voice was full of happiness as she asked, "When should the wedding be?" "Well," Nesta said slowly. "Originally Cassian and I were just planning to be officially declared mated and then have a little party. Not like a huge human wedding." "Oh," said Elain at the same time Feyre said, "That makes sense." "But of course you'll be there," Nesta said quickly to her sisters. Azriel admired how much she was trying to mend the damaged relationship with them. They talked about Elain's gardens for a while, and then Feyre asked slyly, "Hasn't Az been helping you?" Elain blushed. Azriel grew uncomfortable in his shadows. Okay, maybe he was creeping. Just a little. But he was too curious to leave, even though he knew he should. "Well, yeah," Elain replied. "Sometimes he helps me. It - it doesn't mean anything though. He's just being nice." Azriel frowned. Was that what she thought? He watched carefully. Wow. Now he was in full on spy mode. Nesta and Feyre exchanged glances. "Sure," they said. "The spymaster of the High Lord of the Night Court helping you plant flowers doesn't mean anything." Elain blushed more. She was adorable when she blushed. Wait, what? Azriel wanted to growl in annoyance as his shadows seemed to chuckle at his thoughts. "It doesn't!" Elain protested. "I mean, he hasn't really even talked to me in a while. He seems so busy all the time." Her voice grew sad, and Azriel grew appalled. Did Elain think he didn't want to spend time with her?

Well, you have been avoiding her.

Real helpful. He repressed the urge to swat at his shadows. Feyre sighed. "Look, we all have our days. I do, Rhys does, you do. I'm sure Azriel will brood for a bit and then come to his senses and take you on a date." Elain went flushed profusely. So did Azriel. "A DATE?" She squealed. "We - I mean - He doesnt-" Even Nesta raised her sharp eyebrows. "Elain, he helps you plant flowers for Mother's sake. And don't think anybody misses the way you look at him during training. I'm honestly surprised you haven't jumped him yet." A violent shade of red covered both Elain and Azriel's faces. Nope, nope nope. He was leaving. Right now. Azriel winnowed away. But... A date. Ideas swam in his head.

*****

A date. With Elain. He fidgeted with the paper he had written ideas on. His shadows were nowhere to be seen at the moment. Did he even have a right to take her on a date? But she had seemed so crestfallen. It didn't even have to be real date. He could just take her out for some fun. They were friends, after all. Right? Azriel sighed and rubbed his face. A headache started to form, and he groaned at his muddled thoughts. Cauldron. He was a mess. In a sudden flare of frustrated anger, he shoved away from his desk with a growl. Standing, he stalked into his kitchen and grabbed the kettle, filled it with water and set it on the stove. Leaving it to boil, he opened a cupboard and grabbed a mug. After he set that down, he opened a another cupboard and rifled through a couple of different teas before settling on chamomile. The kettle started whisling, adding to his headache. He took it off and poured the steaming water into the mug, letting the tea steep as he looked for some honey. He added generous amounts of the sweet amber substance. Azriel took a cautious sip, letting the hot liquid sear his throat. He blew on it, then took another sip, still standing beside the counter. The chamomile soothed his headache, and the shadowsinger took a seat at his old, small table. He studied each mark, each nick in the dark wood, trying to remember how each one had gotten there. Nursing his tea, he thought back to when he had first acquired the apartment, and why. It had been centuries ago, not too long after Rhysand had become High Lord, the war ended. The Inner Circle had had a less than pleasant meeting, leaving Azriel much more upset than he let on. He had loathed the thought of returning to the House of Wind, and he craved privacy and solitude from his obnoxious brothers, and Mor. Mor. The female he had loved for countless years, and still did. Her name sent waves of sickening feelings through his gut. Azriel took a long draught of tea. So he had decided to buy himself a private residence, one that the others wouldn't know about. He subtly moved most of his possessions there, and had purchased some simple, minimalist furnishings. Including an adequate bed, a sturdy desk, a dresser, a chair, and this table. The shadowsinger thumbed one mark, a deep gouge. It had been left by Truth Teller. The night Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain by Amarantha. Azriel had needed to get away from Cassian and Mor and Amren, had needed to release his pain far from their prying, concerned eyes. In his rage and anguish, he had plunged the dagger into the center of the table. The dagger that was supposed to tell truths, to drag them in screams of agony out of those who wished to harm his Court, his family. It had failed him that night. The only night in over five hundred years. So he had almost destroyed the table with it. Other memories swam before his eyes, tied to other marks. A carved mark with remnants of stained blood led to images of a difficult night of torture. He had come home, hands slick with blood, still clutching Truth Teller tightly through the slippery liquid. He had leaned down, putting all his weight onto his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to calm his breathing. The dagger had accidentally scratched deeply through the wood. Azriel did not remember who or why he had tortured that night. Only how. He had sliced tendons, and broken bones. First crushing the foot, then snapping the fingers. Cutting open the back of the other ankle, stabbing just under the kneecap. Whoever it was would have crumpled had it not been for the chains suspending them. The spymaster swallowed, and drank more tea. A cluster of small nicks. That had been caused by idle boredom, at one point in time. Azriel was foggy on the details. Perhaps it had been long ago, maybe only months ago. After almost six centuries, memories tended to blur together, or be forgotten entirely. Dangerous for one who's job was gathering information. He sighed and set down his cup. Elain might like to go see a flower shop. There was one full of foreign plants down on Main Street. Weary beyond measure, Azriel divested himself of clothing and collapsed onto his bed. His groan was muffled by a pillow. Tomorrow would no doubt bring some new thing to make his life more miserable.

*****

Azriel's joints cracked as he stretched sleepily. He twisted his torso and reached towards the ceiling. More bones creaked. He wondered if it was because he was old, or just the amount of abuse his body had endured over the years. Probably both, he thought grimly. His shadows swirled around him, chipper and full of information. Their whispers filled his mind. An emerald bracelet has been returned to its place, the shop on 3rd street.

The High Lord plans to visit the Court of Nightmares soon, in a few days.

Cassian and Nesta are already up at the House of Wind training, at least thats what they had planned - they're up to something else now.

Lucien is almost finished with Jurian and Vassa, and plans to visit the Spring Court before coming to Velaris.

Feyre and Rhysand are still sleeping.

The Tiny Ancient One is also sleeping.

Elain is awake, and anticipating your presence for breakfast at the High Lady's mansion.

Azriel silently took it all in, going through his daily morning routine. Casual attire, or leathers? What were his plans for the day? Ask the flower-grower on a date. His shadows danced around him. Seek information on the emerald bracelet. Leather first, and then he could change. If Elain said yes.

*****

Anxiety pricked at Azriel as he struggled to keep steady while eating his breakfast of oatmeal and brown sugar. Would she say yes? What if she said no? He wouldn't blame her, of course. But it would still hurt. The shadows animated his nervousness by scittering around at his feet, behind his back, at his shoulders. He snuck a glance at the source of his anxiety. Elain sat, honey coloured hair cascading down her shoulders, in a sapphire blue gown. She ate sliced fruit, and he couldn't help but stare as a strawberry disappeared between full, pink lips. Azriel shook himself internally. Get a hold of yourself. He took another bite of milky porridge. Friendly chatter filled the room, so different from last night.

"Any plans today, Az?" Cassian asked casually.

Azriel nodded. "I must find out more about the emerald bracelet that was returned to its spot last night." And ask Elain out on a date. "We could train later, if you want." Cass grinned. Raising an eyebrow, Azriel replied smoothly, "The same way you and Nesta trained this morning?" His brother choked, and Nesta looked outraged. Rhys snickered with Feyre, Amren rolled her eyes and Mor laughed outright. She had a wonderful laugh. Elain just looked confused. Nesta glared at him, but said nothing. Breakfast resumed.

*****

The emerald bracelet was a dead end.

Azriel groaned when he reached his apartment to change. He still had to see Elain. All day, apprehension had brewed with excitement. Now it was reaching a peak as he landed in the gardens, where he knew the female was tending to her flowers. She looked up as he landed, smiling at him. His breath hitched. She was exquisite, soft and warm. "Hi, Azriel." "Hello Elain." "Can I help you?" No. Yes. Azriel took a steadying breath. Here it was. "I was wondering... Would you like to into town tomorrow? There's a fascinating flower shop down on..." He trailed off, unsure what her expression meant. Her eyes were wide, and pink dusted her cheeks; her lips were slightly parted. "Elain?" Azriel asked, worried. Had this been a mistake? "Yes!" She exclaimed, then cleared her throat. "I mean, I would love to." The smile she gave him melted his heart into a puddle. What was this female doing to him? Mor used to give him this feeling. Used to. He smiled back. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

*****

There was a note in his office. I leave for the Court of Nightmares soon. I'd appreciate your presence. -Rhys Azriel's shadows crept around him, the black smoke thickening. Their voices grew cold and they hissed into his mind. Darkness. Evil. Destruction. Agony. Azriel really, really hated the Court of Nightmares.

*****

thnx for your patience. and also im excited to destroy everyones happiness in the coming chapters. you think elriels gonna happen that easy? hahahahahhahaa. also the court of nightmares is gonna be fuuuuun. also im sorry for the poor editing and if i forgot to tag you. the different format is because im writing on something else and then copy and pasting .

Smiles, Holly ;)

@rosehallshadowsinger @rhysanoodle @julesherondalex @marnz @illyrianbastards @laurannasbooks @acourtofbrainstormingandideas @samaracuda12345

#azriel fanfiction #just azriel #azriel fanfic #the shadowsinger #oc #amuten #acofas #acotar #acomaf #acowar #inner circle #fanfiction

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theladyofdeath · 7 years ago

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Time of Our Lives {Part 2/ACOTAR}

Summary: A Dirty Dancing inspired AU, mini-series, based off a prompt sent in by @highladyfxyre.

Author’s Note: There’s something about imagining Cassian dancing.....that makes me very, very happy.

Let me know what you think. Part 3 coming soon.

Cassian stared at the picture that he had found the night before.

He didn’t even remember that little boy. The ten-year-old who had spent a summer at the Spellcleaver’s country club all those years ago. His mother had won the vacation for them from the local radio station, and they pretended to be wealthy and normal for three months. They pretended to not be the poor mother and son who were barely getting by.

He remembered telling all the other kids at the club that Summer that his father was away on business overseas and couldn’t join them for their vacation, when in reality, he’d never even met his father.

But all the other kids had both a mother and a father, and he didn’t want to feel left out.

He didn’t want to be different. He hated being different. He hated being pitied.

He remembered not being able to find a connection to any other kid that Summer – until he met Nesta Archeron.

She was mean, completely rude, even as a child. She was a tiny little fire ball, a complete demon child.

And Cassian had loved it.

He felt that someone else wasn’t a perfect, goody-little two-shoes. But when he tried talking to her, she always either snapped at him or walked away. And she really hated him after young Cassian had pushed her into the lake, because she wouldn’t jump off the rope into the water like the other kids were doing.

He was a bit of a naughty child, himself. But he had to do something to make her remember him. Something to make her notive him. However, it may not have been the best plan of attack.

Not that it mattered. She obviously didn’t recognize him now. But how could she? Cassian had come a long way since being that small, lanky ten-year-old boy.

Someone cleared their throat, causing Cassian to snap out of memory lane.

Rhysand was resting in the doorway, a wistful smile on his lips.

“How’s she doing?” Cassian asked, right away.

Rhysand shook his head, saying all he needed to in the simple gesture.

Cassian shot to his feet and ran out of his cabin before his friend could elaborate. He had to see for himself. Mor had kept him away all morning, and last night, saying that she didn’t want him to see her in her current state. I’ll get better. I don’t even feel that bad. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.

But she wasn’t fine. He knew that. Mor was tough, and if she wasn’t getting out of bed, something was seriously wrong.

And he saw just as much when he walked across the narrow sidewalk and into the cabin across from his. Mor was lying in bed, asleep, her eyes sullen, her skin pale and glistening with sweat.

Andromache was sitting by her bedside, brushing her fingers gently through Morrigan’s hair.

“How’s she doing?” Cassian whispered, trying not to wake her.

If Andromache hadn’t heard him coming in, she didn’t act startled when he asked his question.

“Horrible,” she replied, shaking her head softly. “She was awake for most of the night. Her fever has risen. It’s bad, Cass. And we have no idea what it could be.”

“She needs to see a doctor,” he said, out of impulse, although he knew it was impossible. She didn’t have insurance, and she sure as hell barely made anything as a dancer.

Andromache, as if reading his thoughts, just nodded. Then, she asked, “She wants to do the competition, you know. She hates that she can’t.”

“I know,” Cassian sighed. A thousand thoughts were running through his mind. Mor was in rough shape. She didn’t even look like herself anymore. “I’ll find a way, though. I’ll find a way to compete, and win, and with the prize money, I’m going to pay off her medical bills.”

Andromache raised her brows. “Pardon?”

Cassian, as if it answered everything, said, “Call a doctor.”

And with that, he left.

He’d planned on using his share of the money to start a new life for himself, to move across the country and start over. To actually make something of himself.

But Mor was more important. And she needed help.

Rhysand was waiting outside, as Cassian was sure he had been since the night before. He jumped to his feet, though, as Cassian stomped down the front porch stairs and joined his friend in his walk.

“I’ve got to find a partner,” he said, simply, as Rhysand shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“You’re going to compete?” Rhysand chuckled. “With who? You can’t train someone to learn a prize-winning routine in two weeks. Shit, Cass, not even two weeks. Even if that person has had dance experience.”

“Mor needs to see a doctor. She doesn’t have insurance,” he argued. “The prize is fifty-thousand dollars.” Cassian stopped, and rubbed his temples. “Mor never gets sick. This isn’t nothing, Rhys. She’s been feeling like shit for months, and now suddenly she has a fever, she can’t eat, there’s blood coming out of places that blood shouldn’t –“ he stopped, and sighed. “Mor needs help. She’s too stubborn to see a doctor and have a bunch of bills pile up. She will keep saying she’s fine. But she’s not. We’re getting her help.”

Rhysand didn’t argue. “Where are you going now?”

“Now….” He sighed, running a hand through his shoulder length hair. “I have a class.”

“Teaching a bunch of old women the waltz, again?”

A smile tugged on the side of Cassian’s lips. “Yes. Old women love the waltz.”

Rhysand chuckled, continuing to follow him down the sidewalk, away from the workers’ cabins.

“Hey,” Rhysand gestured, “isn’t that the girl that was creeping outside the window a few days ago?”

Cassian cut his gaze to where Rhysand’s eyes were.

Nesta.

“Yeah,” Cassian cleared his throat. “Uh, I’ll be right back.”

With a slow-paced jog, Cassian caught up to where Nesta was walking with her sisters. After he’d reached a step behind them, he slowed and put on a relaxed, lazy grin. “Good morning, ladies.”

The trio stopped and turned around. Two out of three of them smiled, which Cassian pretty much prepared himself for beforehand.

But his eyes remained connected to Nesta’s. “There’s a dance class in the main hall, if you’re interested.”

“We were just headed there, actually.” The sister, whose name Cassian didn’t know, with light brown eyes and a floral dress, smiled.

“No,” Nesta rolled her eyes. “You two were headed there. I was just taking a walk.”

“Oh?” Cassian lifted his brows. “You don’t dance?”

“Nesta is a great –“

“No,” Nesta cut her sister off. “I don’t dance.”

Cassian tried his best not to smile, but he failed. “Not at all?”

She didn’t answer, she simply sighed and crossed her arms. “Are we done here? I have better things to do than make meaningless small talk with strangers.”

There was no bite in her words, though. Cassian followed her distracted gaze behind him, where Helion Spellcleaver stood talking with an elderly couple.

Cassian had seen the two of them, Nesta and Helion, eating breakfast together on the boat dock just a few mornings prior. She looked miserable as he rambled on and on, probably about himself, if Cassian had to guess.

Judging by the look on Nesta’s face, Cassian had guessed correctly.

“Trouble in paradise?” Cassian jabbed.

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, turning on her heels. “I don’t even know you.”

“Not yet,” Cassian winked, which she ignored.

“Helion has never shown up to one of my dance classes, you know,” Cassian grinned, following behind the three girls, into the main hall.

“That’s a hell of a selling point,” she mumbled.

“Is he giving you trouble?” Rhysand asked. Cassian hadn’t even realized he followed them, until they were all standing in the lobby of the main hall, the air conditioning humming quietly in the background.

“Yes,” Nesta blinked.

Cassian had never seen his brother at a loss for words, and yet, as Nesta’s sisters turned around, Rhysand went still, his lips falling open, staring at the youngest of the three.

“Hi,” he blurted.

“Hey,” she smiled, her blue-gray eyes lit.

“I’m Rhys,” he said, as Nesta, her other sister, and Cassian glanced back and forth between the two.

“Feyre,” she said, then.

If that was Feyre, Cassian thought, the other must be Elain. If he remembered correctly, anyway.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Well, if we’re done here, I have better things to do.”

“Wait!” Cassian shot his hand after her, and he wasn’t sure why he did. “Come to the class.”

“Why do you care so much?” she lifted her brows, a look that had Cassian weak in the knees.

Because I want you to remember who I am. “Because I think you’ll enjoy yourself. You’ll never know unless you try.”

Nesta hated to admit that she was actually enjoying herself. She tried not to show it, but she was pretty sure she had let out a reluctant smile every now and then.

Cassian kept glancing at her as she danced the waltz with Elain, forcing chills to run down her spine.

She had missed the music. She had missed the freedom one received from spinning around and around with a soft, simple melody. She especially missed seeing the smile Elain got from doing something out of the ordinary with her sisters.

Feyre seemed to be enjoying herself, too, although Elain was the only one in favor of the dance class. Rhysand was spinning her around and around, even though both of their steps were all wrong.

“You could be teaching this class all by yourself,” Cassian said, dancing with his partner – an elderly woman who seemed to be floating on air.

Nesta blushed, despite herself. “I used to dance.”

“She was good, too,” Elain followed.

Nesta purposely stepped on her toes. Elain just grinned.

Nesta was good, though, when she was young. She loved ballroom dancing, and studied it as if it was what she needed to breathe, to survive.

Over time, she became secluded. Unmotivated. But now, as she danced, she couldn’t remember why.

“You should come by the clubhouse tonight,” Cassian whispered.

“I don’t –“

Elain cleared her throat, causing her to pause.

“Don’t answer,” Cassian smiled. “Just think about it.”

With that, he twirled his partner away.

“Are you crazy?” Elain whispered, although her voice still caused those around them to turn in their direction. “Go with him. He’s beautiful.”

“Weren’t you the one hoping I would earn Helion’s approval?” Nesta mocked.

Elain just laughed, shaking her head. “I just want you to find someone, Nes.”

“I don’t need anyone,” she snapped, but Elain didn’t say anything more as she danced with her sister, her lips permanently forming the smallest of smiles.

Nesta wouldn’t go. She didn’t have time for games.

She knew him from somewhere, though. He came off too familiar. And yet, she couldn’t remember from where. It was driving her mad. Typically, her memory was pristine.

Maybe she would go. Just to ask him. Just to see if she could remember.

#nessian #fanfic #part two #im sorry if this is horrible #i hope you all like it

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emthinks · 8 years ago

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A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Honestly speaking, I feel like I expected too much from this book. I don’t say this to be mean. Far from it: I think it was 100% my fault. I’d just finished Empire of Storms and was desperate to get more of Sarah (especially after having binged all of the currently published ToG in like three weeks) and I’d put all my hopes and dreams onACoTaR. And while this book delivered for the most part, it’s still Book One and I’m not used to a new heroine.

Rating: 9/10

Warning: Throne of Glass spoilers up to (and including) Queen of Shadows

My notes (as condensed from my iPad)

Feyre’s family is shit. They just let her go out to hunt by herself all day and provide for them and chop wood and do all the dirty work and don’t even care about her dirty clothes or worn shoes. You gotta leave girl. They ain’t worth your time

Ooh. Warnings about faeries from mercenary. Not good

Damn Feyre. You skinned this guy’s friend. No wonder he’s pissed

Okay. Live in faerie world. Prythian. You can do that. At least you’ll survive

The Spring Court. Nice. Empty, but nice. Ish.

Hey! Lucien reminds me of Mad Eyed Moody. One eye that swivels around and all.

Okay, Feyre, you need to get one thing into your thick skull: stop trying to plead your case to Tamlin. I hate how she’s so one-track minded and so focused on getting back to her shittyass family. Yes, you made a vow to your mom, but how hard are you going to try to keep it? They’re fine. Stop asking Lucien. Stop.

Oh, are you still not listening? The puca was going to fucking devour you because you wanted to see your father. Jfc. I can’t deal with this right now, Feyre.

And then she goes and catches a Suriel to demand answers. Yay, you’re strong, but seriously, Lucien? You’re just going to let her do this?

And this is why. The gods damned naga are here.

And Tamlin had to save you. Feyre, you’re so useless

Ooh, finally, a lighthearted bit: Tamlin writing limericks to Feyre’s words. Hysterical

And then, in the middle of the night, a faerie comes stumbling in. Torn of his wings. Damn

To counteract that, the next chapter, we go on a picnic with Tamlin and Lucien. And this scene spawns my favorite quote: “He also said you like being brushed, and if I’m a clever girl I might train you with treats.”

And we also go swimming in starlight. Which is always a nice plus

And then it’s Calanmai. Fire Night. Feyre, why don’t you listen for once? There’s a reason Lucien and Tamlin insisted you lock yourself up. Yes, Mr. McHotty saved you (which I totally think is going to come into play later) but seriously. Tamlin was a fucking savage animal

The next party is the Summer Solstice. Which Feyre is apparently allowed to attend

And this just snowballs into a Tamlin/Feyre romance, mushy gooey-eyed shit

Oh wait. No more fluff. Apparently, Mr. McHotty is named Rhysand. And he’s the High Lord of the Night Court. Oh shit

And Tamlin sends her away. What. Feyre, why are you agreeing to this? Feyre, stand up for yourself. Feyre!

Feyre goes back to the mortal world. Where her family is now living in a manor and Elain and her father are happy as happy can be. But Nesta. Nesta remembers. Nesta was the worst, yet Nesta remembers. Nesta is automatically my favorite now

Thankfully, Feyre doesn’t stay long. Clare Beddor. Her family was murdered. Feyre goes back.

And learns the truth: that the blight is not so much a blight as a faerie. The general Amarantha to the King of Hybern. She’s been ruling Prythian for over forty-nine years and has subjected all the High Lords. She wants Tamlin, though, and made a bargain. For all these years, Tamlin has sent his sentries and friends out to get slaughtered by a human girl so she can then fall in love with him. Wow. Sadistic.

So Feyre goes to find this Amarantha. Because it’s all her damn fault that she didn’t say I love you.

Under the Mountain is shit. She’s given three tasks and a riddle. The tasks nearly kill her each time. (Is it just me, or is this very Harry Potter-esque?)

Lucien can’t heal her after the giant worm debacle, so she makes a bargain with Rhysand for her beloved. Thank God, because she can’t read and would’ve been severely fucked for the second task if not for Rhysand’s bond.

The third task broke me. She has to kill three faeries. She gets through one and two – barely – by holding onto the thread of hope that this was for the greater good. And to free Tamlin. And then number three is Tamlin. Because the Tamlin beside Amarantha is the Attor in disguise. Fuck.

Fortunately, Feyre figures out the riddle: Love.

Unfortunately, Feyre is fucked anyways because while Tamlin and the Spring Court are released of their bonds, in the ensuing fight, Feyre – get this – dies

She is then resurrected as Fae by the Seven High Lords. Which. Okay good, because otherwise the story can’t continue

And then they all go home. Happy ever after?

I don’t think so.

“But I gave myself again to that fire, threw myself into it, into him, and let myself burn.” – Feyre

The Characters:

Feyre. Feyre, I must admire. Feyre, unlike most of Sarah’s characters, is not a warrior, but she can hold her own and she will go down swinging. I think Feyre’s strongest skill set is her determination and strength, how she doesn’t back down from a challenge. Unfortunately, this admiration of mine does not stop me from continuously comparing her with Aelin. Which is bad. Because even if they are both the main characters to Sarah’s books, their situations are vastly different. First off, Feyre is a mere peasant and mortal, while Aelin is half-Fae and the rightful Queen of Terrasen. Like, their situations are so far off, and yet, sometimes, I think I forgot that. I forget that Feyre, despite knowing how to hunt, was not trained in the deadly arts of assassination and politics. I forget that Feyre does not know how to charm and scheme her way out of things. And this temporary lapse of confusion, I must admit, is especially common when Feyre was struggling or near death. I was always expecting her to suddenly come up with a plan (especially with the first task and the worm, which actually only served to reinforce that expectation) that during her second task I was wondering how she was going to do this. That’s another thing: Feyre is (basically) illiterate. And Aelin is, obviously, not. And while I love Feyre’s paintings, I kept on waiting for her to learn to read. I nearly wanted to hit her upside the head when she refused Tamlin’s offer to teach her.

Speaking of Tamlin, what do we think of him? All the members of the Spring Court wore masks for the most of the book, so we couldn’t get a good gauge on his appearances. Still, he was pretty enough and he seemed seriously nice. Like, awkwardly nice. It was adorable how Tamlin is like “you look…better than before” and Feyre is wondering if that was a compliment. Lol.

If you could read all my notes/commentary throughout the book about Rhysand, it would literally just be (in chronological order): “ooooh hottie”, “oh wait what he’s a High Lord? Damn. Like Tamlin”, “oh hell no he ain’t like Tamilin at all what a bastard”, “wait he’s fucking Aedion, whore and all. Maybe he’s actually good?”; “wait he actually is! He’s just hiding it really well. Like Aedion”; “and he has a tragic backstory too”; “he’s doing all of this for his people”; “and he actually helped Feyre”; “Rhysand is our friend!”

Alis is another character who reminds me of someone in ToG: Celaena’s servant. Philippa, I think was her name. One of my favorite quotes is for her: “Dead chickens, my sagging ass. All you needed to do was offer it a nice robe.”

Lucien was an asshole. Until he wasn’t. I don’t remember the particular moment he became my favorite character, but it definitely happened at some point. Perhaps around the same time Feyre and Tamlin kept on making gooey eyes at each other and Lucien just couldn’t stand it anymore. Granted, neither could I so I totally feel you bro. He’s like muttering to the Cauldron to spare him and saying he’s trying to eat and just being a great annoying best friend who’s cockblocking you.

Is it just me or does Amarantha remind you a hell lot of the King of Adarlan? Now here is s parallel I can draw to ToG with no regrets. Okay, a lot, but at least she’s dead in book one instead of book four. It could’ve been a lot worse. But seriously. The whole attempting to take over the continent but in reality is just doing it because of some twisted reasoning that actually kinda makes sense is so last year. Also, picking a “champion” to complete tasks is just not cool anymore.

Lucien’s fam is shit. Especially his brothers. Omg. I hate them with a passion, even before I actually met them. Lucien’s life was shit. I’m so sorry bro. And then I met them. And my opinion didn’t waver in the least. His father didn’t even really bother to make an appearance. His mother though. His mother at least tried.

“Don’t feel bad for one moment about doing what brings you joy.” – Tamlin

Questions:

So Feyre is now a Fae. A High Fae? Does that mean she has powers? Like fire like Aelin?

Because that would be super cool. Like, really badass. And while I love Feyre (and trust me: I do) I can’t really stand her being basically powerless, especially when she’s surrounded by such über-powerful people. Feyre, imo, doesn’t need others to save her ass. She shouldn’t need others. But she does because the power discrepancy is too great. So now that she isn’t a mortal, I hope to gods she can actually defend and fight for herself now.

So, um, are we ever gonna acknowledge the actual looming problem in the not-so-far distance?

The High King of the other gods damned continent wants to invade Prythian and kill all the mortals. I feel like we should get on that. Chop chop?

What was that shit that Rhysand realized just before he flew off?

Like, Sarah described it as his eyes had widened and he had looked so stunned and flew away as soon as Feyre tried to question him. Like, what? Wait. WAIT A SECOND. HOLD UP A GODDAMN SECOND. Are they…is it possible…could it really be…..they’re MATES???!!! Cuz we’ve learned from ToG that the first (few) love interests are not necessarily endgame. And. And. Oh poor Tamlin! Oh I hope this isn’t what happened but now I can’t get the idea out of my head. JFC. Tamlin better still be friends. Like Dorian and Chaol. Amicable exes and all.

“I felt as unburdened as a price of dandelion fluff, and he was that wind that stirred me about the world.” – Feyre

Hopes/Predictions for the future

Um, I don’t have much, really. We weren’t given much to work with

The King of Hybern is invading. I think? We should probably fix that.

I actually do want to see Feyre visit the Night Court to fulfill her bargain. Because we haven’t been outside the Spring Court and Tamlin is hella nice and peaceful. We need something to stop making us think all Fae (besides bitch queen Amarantha) are semi-decent

Rhysand being (more) nicer. Continuously. Rhysand being a friend! Feyre should start accumulating friends. Friends are good. Aelin has many. Then again, Aelin needs a court. Maybe Feyre will need one, too?

“Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.” – Rhysand

#emthinks #emthinks books #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas

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