#anti rhysand fanfic

[viktoriaashleyyx]

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

We are headed to the House of Wind to confront RhySAnd and we see more of Sky's past as she taunts RhySAnd with it.

Tw: Discusses RhySAnds SA of Feyre UTM, magical violence.

((Thank you for being patient with me. Moving sucks, but things are starting to settle down now))

Ch 1

Ch 6 >> Ch 8

Chapter 7:

Today is the day we were heading to the House of Wind. I had sent a letter to Rhysand offering to meet him, that Tamlin will join me, it took him a few days to respond. Lucien was back on his feet feeling good as new.

After putting on one of my dresses, I sat at the vanity as Tamlin braided my hair, he was getting better at it. This has become almost a morning ritual for us. Brushing and braiding each other's hair as we discuss what's on our mind. Today we were both silent, we didn't want to do this, but at least we will be together.

When we were both ready we joined Lucien in the dining hall for breakfast.

“I almost want to go with you, just to see the look on Rhysands face as I walk in there unscathed.” Lucien admitted.

“I'd rather see the hate in Feyres eyes when I tell her you're dead by Rhysands hand,” I teased.

Lucien chuckled, Tamlin wasn't amused.

“You could go in disguise.” I joked, “have Tamlin turn you into a Raven and perch on my shoulder if you're so nosey.”

“Don't tempt me with a good time.” Lucien was going with it.

“No,” Tamlin huffed.

“Please, imagine how badass I would look walking in with a raven on my shoulder.” I whined. Still teasing, trying to lighten my nerves.

“I'm okay with that.” Lucien shrugged. Tamlin just groaned.

♡♡♡♡♡

“No, not a red raven, they're gonna recognize him. A normal raven.” I ordered.

“I can't believe we are actually doing this.” Tamlin sighed.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

I portaled us to the door of the House of Wind, held Tamlins hand, and knocked. He was nervous, he had never been to Velaris before, but, thanks to my brother, the secrecy of this city has faltered.

“There's my baby sister! Can I finally get that hug?” Rhysand tried to embrace me and I put my hand on his chest pushing him back.

“I don't like to be touched.” I said dryly. “See how easy it was for me to show up on the OUTSIDE of your house and KNOCK?” I judged. “Show us to where we are having this meeting.”

“So bossy,” Rhysand teased, “you're not even the slightest bit happy to see me?”

He led us to a large sitting room, Tamlin and I sat on one couch, well, I perched on the edge, (how do the other illyrians sit here comfortably?) Rhysand and Feyre on the other, with who I assume to be, Feyre's sister and either Cassian or Azriel, I couldn't remember, the one with long hair, sitting in the corner, obviously eavesdropping. “Why would I be happy to see you? The last time you threw Lucien's dead body at me.”

Rhysands face dropped, he expected me to be more subtle. Feyre's face lined with shock as tears welled up in her eyes. “What? What is she talking about, Rhysand? You told me he left to stay at the Spring court.”

“Well? It was obviously a cry for attention, now you have it. What do you want from me?” I said coldly, cutting her off.

“I just want you home, where you belong.” Rhysand said, annoyed that he will surely have to weave another lie to Feyre later.

“I am where I belong. Is that all? You just want another prisoner to add to your collection?” I noticed Feyres sisters' ears perk up. She had no walls built up to protect her mind, odd for someone living in a house with daemati.

“You wouldn't be a prisoner.” Rhysand snapped.

I laughed, “no one generally chooses to stay in your company, brother.” Feyre still had pain on her face, lost in thought and trying to hold it together just long enough to finish the meeting. Hmm, it seems she might still have a heart after all.

“I would just like to show you around Velaris, catch up and show you what I've accomplished in the past years.” Rhysand admitted, trying, and failing, to stay collected.

“Velaris has always been perfect and protected, as done by our grandfather. If you want to impress me, show me how you have improved the lives of the people in the Hewn city and illyria.” Velaris citizens were safe, well cared for and ruled justly. Illyria has been used as my family's own personal warrior farm, and the Hewn City citizens trapped since long before I was born. “Tell me, do the majority of Illyrian citizens still live in tents?”

“We are doing our best in illyria. It's not as easy as you think.” Rhysand replied with a slight hint of attitude. He wasn't used to someone calling him out on his fallacies.

“Huh, I would believe that 500 years is plenty of time for the most powerful high lord.” I said mockingly. He loved to spit that phrase unto himself, a gross display of arrogance was all it ever was. “Tell me, how many mansions do you have now?”

“Six,” Feyre whispered, deep in thought, she seemed like she also had not heard anyone question him.

“Gross.” I replied bluntly. “Mother isn't going to be happy to hear about this.”

“Mom is alive?” Rhysand gasped, a light flickered in his eyes, Feyres jaw dropped slightly, the other Illyrian stared at me. “Where is she?”

“She lives amongst the warrior women of Brokilon, a forest warded well against anyone who wishes it or its inhabitants harm. I don't mind telling you this because there is absolutely no way for you to get there without my help. It's located in an entirely different realm. I needed divine intervention to return, something you would never be able to hack.” Every eye was on me, as they tried to make sense of it. “Our sister and I visit her regularly, she doesn't ask about you much.”

“Sister?” Rhysand seemed to finally be speechless. That last line stung.

“Yes, Yennefer. Half human, half Illyrian. She is an insanely powerful mage. She looks like us, violet eyes, black hair, but no wings. She had a slightly easier time in that realm considering they kill ‘Pointy ears’ on sight there. Think of what I would look like masquerading as a human, and that's her.”

“A mage?” Feyre questioned.

“Yes, in that realm magic is pulled from many sources, not just the earth, and they use that magic to.. mutate(?) humans into immortals. Thats where I learned the portals.”

“How did you and mother get there? How did you survive?” Rhysand pressed. I am not going to lie, I am enjoying the attention.

“When Tamlins father raised his blade to strike me,” I gripped Tamlins hand, I didn't blame him for breaking when the information of my location was tortured out of him. “I panicked. I held mother tight and reached out for any escape, and when I opened my eyes, we were in a forest I had never seen before. An Ash forest. I learned later that the power I grasped was chaos, not the power of the land.”

“Don't forget it was Tamlin who had you killed. He locked Feyre up and he hurt her.” Rhysand spit.

“He didn't ‘have me killed’ if I am currently sitting here, Rhysand. Mother and I are both alive, that is more than I can say for my predecessor, the last Lady of Spring” I retorted with a too sweet smile. While we hadn't exactly made it official, how could we with an empty court, this is the first time I have claimed that title. I wanted to turn to see Tamlins reaction, but I didn't want to lead on how significant this was to the others in the room. Tamlin showed his approval by softly moving his thumb over the back of my hand.

“And fair, yes, both Tamlin and Feyre made mistakes, that is not my place to comment on. Keep in mind, though, WE are the ones that wanted to stay away. You drug us here. Tamlin apologized, she didn't accept, and since then he has mostly kept to his own court. You and your brutes are the ones that keep going to him. Tell me, did you ever apologize to Feyre for what you did to her under the mountain?” I could see out of the corner of my eye, Feyres sister was shocked. She obviously didn't know what all the other High lords and courts witnessed. Rhysand and Feyres eyes both narrowed at me.

“If there is anything that is not your place to bring up-” Rhysand started.

“You did it so publicly,” I cut him off, “all the other High lords in Prythia became unwilling participants to your weird exhibitionst kink. You even admitted you did it to hurt Tamlin.”

“What did he do?” Feyres sister demanded through clenched teeth.

“Nothing Nesta. Mind your business.” Feyre snapped.

“He drugged her, and made her the nightly entertainment for all the courts under the mountain as she was stripped naked and forced to dance for him. If you knew she was your mate, why would you treat her that way?” Directed to Rhysand, then back to Feyre, “why cant your older sister know? Everyone else in Prythia does.”

“He did it to protect me.”

“Is that what he told you? You deserve better, babygirl.”

Rhysand was losing control. Both Lucien and Tamlin had the metal shields up that protected them from Rhysands daemati powers. So what does any self centered brat do when they are losing control? They change the subject, hoping to garner favor.

“I still remember you, bowed down kissing my boot and begging,” Rhysand taunted Tamlin.

I heard him take a deep breath, Lucien's talons gripped into my shoulder and I tried not to flinch at the pain. I retorted quickly, “what for? Oh that's right, it was to convince you to not sell Feyre out to Amarantha. Or should I say ‘Claire.’ Right? I wonder if your love for your mate is strong enough to entice you to do the same, dear brother.” Feyre began to choke.

Nesta was angry, confused, trying to process everything she just heard. Shock lined the Illyrian males face too, he hadn't heard either.

“Let her go.” Rhysand snarled at me, unmoving. His eyes void of any emotion.

“Ah, ah,” I sang, pointing a finger down to my boot. “You know what I want.”

“I will never bow to you,”

“Quickly, she's fading fast.”

Nesta cried out and bowed herself. The illyrian brute holding her back, Rhysand remained still, not breaking eye contact. I sent a message to her mind, Feyre will not die, I promise.

“Enough, Sky.” Tamlin growled at me.

I released my grip on her lungs and she took a heavy breath, fear, anger and confusion in her eyes.

“Let it be known, Feyre, that your ‘mate’ wouldn't even move a muscle to save you, but Tamlin questioned even me.” I said to her softly. “It seems you have a lot to think about.”

“Let's go,” Tamlin hissed at me. Uh oh, I am in trouble. I opened a portal home and we left.

♡♡♡♡♡

“We don't hurt people, Sky, that's not who we are.” Tamlin was angry. He shifted Lucien back to normal.

“I was in full control the entire time, I was not going to let her die,” my response was cold.

“I thought it was great,” Lucien muttered, eyes wide, but not meeting ours.

“If you are jealous of her–” Tamlin accused.

“JEALOUS? of her?” I cut him off and raised my voice, “I am angry with her. I do not give half a fuck who you had in your bed while I was gone, Tamlin, what I do care about is her destruction of my court. You, and her, were so incredibly toxic together it ended with entire cities burnt to ash, my people lost their homes because you two couldn't talk to each other. That is where my frustration starts and ends. My people, families, children, entire lives uprooted and destroyed. People shouldn't have to suffer because their leader is going through a break up. Childish nonsense caused me to return home to an abandoned court..” my voice softened, ever so slightly, “you are doing the work to rebuild and correct your mistakes while she is gallivanting around the night court like the sun shines out of her ass. She shows no remorse, no empathy for the people she destroyed. I cannot express how little I care that you enjoyed the taste of her.”

His stance softened and he whispered “I'm sorry, Sky.”

“Don't ever question where my loyalties lie, again.” I spit. Lucien reached a hand out to me, and I turned and stormed off to compose myself.

♡♡♡♡♡

I found myself outside my old gallery, a room I have dreamed of returning to for 300 years, I opened the door and creeped in.

It was obvious that others have used this, Tamlin admitted as much, admitted that Feyre would paint in here. I carefully studied the art laid out around the room, the paints and brushes strung out and left to dry. I felt a twinge in my chest, was it jealousy? No, I didn't seriously expect an entire room left empty for so long, did I?

And then I found hers. Much simpler art than the realism I painted in, lots of abstract splotches and lines, and crudely drawn pictures. It was beautiful in its own right, obviously done while she was a human. A human. Turned Fae, after the atrocities of Amarantha. Still a child by Fae years, forced into Prythia, forced into marriage after marriage. I know as well as anyone what a prison a crown truly is, her youth, her freedom, stolen from her by tradition, power, and lust. I had been treating her as the High Lady she chose to be, I wonder if that decision was made with her properly informed consent, or just pushed on her by my brother.

♡♡♡♡

An hour or so later, I headed out to find Tamlin. My head was clear now and we needed to talk.

He was in his study, hunched over his desk, head in his hands. It was dark now, the moonlight was the only thing illuminating the room. “Tam?” I creaked the door open and entered slowly. He didn't respond.

I walked over to him and laid a gentle hand on his back. “My love,” I whispered, “can we talk? I'm sorry I blew up today.” He slid his chair out and pulled me onto his lap, holding me in his arms as I nestled my head in his neck.

“I love you, I am sorry I upset you.” Tamlin whispered. “I just didn't expect that today. I shouldn't have accused you. I don't, honestly, think that low of you, I was just angry.”

“I shouldn't have hurt her like that. I used her to shut my brother up the same way he used Lucien. Tensions were high today. I wanted to just stay away but my brother is so spoiled he can't take no for an answer. I'm sorry, I understand that seeing her in pain is not easy for you.” He just held me tighter, and I kissed his neck.

“I don't like leaving Spring.” Tamlin admitted quietly, “It just makes me feel sick every second I am outside my borders.”

“You're gonna have to pick one,” my voice soft and sweet, “either you swallow your worry, or your unease. I need to be able to leave if we are going to rebuild.” I lifted my hand to caress his cheek, slowly brushing his golden hair behind his ear. He laid a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“So, Lady of Spring, huh?” He smiled sweetly down at me, I sat up and turned slightly to look him in the face. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” I breathed leaning in closer, our lips almost touching, “unless you object?”

He pulled me in closer and kissed me deeply, “I would never object to that.”

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria @littlefantasylover

[ennawrite]

What’s your biggest controversial ACOTAR take?

Mine is that I think under completely different circumstances, Rhys & Nesta would be so hot together. In a way that can only truly work in fanfic, where the only thing happening is pure, outright smut that doesn’t really lead anywhere. Enemies banging it out? Sign me up😏

(it’s still fuck canon Rhys though 🙏)

[sirenpearldust]

A kiss with Death - part two

series masterlist ⋆ part one

Pair: Azriel x Hewn City! Reader

Word Count: 3.719

Warnings: mentions of violence, r*pe (only mentioned), killing, death, cursing, “delusional” Azriel, abuse against kids (only mentioned), complicated feelings towards mating bond

“So, I have a mate?”

“Yes,” 

“And I will kill him?”

“Yeah, basically,” replied Imani, her tone tinged with sadness as she looked up from the crystal ball. The violet light from the crystal ball cast a reflection on her face.

“That’s rough, buddy,” Camilla remarked, nonchalantly munching on dried meat.

“And he’s the shadowsinger too,” Estella added, her eyes unable to look away from the crystal ball that still depicted him and you, the scene replaying over and over. Her expression was a mix of pity for you and anger directed at him for being your mate, making it difficult to read her true feelings.

“Well, at least he’s handsome and tall,” you stated, eliciting laughter from the group. The room was warm, but your heart felt gripped by a cold hand, racing uncontrollably. You couldn't tell if it was because you had discovered he was your mate or because he had to die. You loathed him with a passion, but the conflicting reality was that he was your damn mate. 

“Now, we need to be cautious when dealing with the scum from Velaris. If he and the High Lord catch wind of what’s going on... He can’t be near you, or the bond might snap,” Stella cautioned.

"Well, at least we're in the same boat," Camilla said casually, still munching on the meat as she patted you on the shoulder.

"You tried killing your fiancé. She's killing her mate. That's different, you dumb idiot," Estella chided, giving Camilla a light slap on the back of her head. 

"Stella, that hurt."

"Well, then don't be stupid," Stella snapped back.

As they continued to argue, Imani shook her head, and you found it difficult to process this new revelation. The realization left you feeling queasy. Glancing into the crystal ball and catching a glimpse of him, seeing both of you happy together, made you question why would you even let him near you. 

Was a bond really that strong? 

Had something transpired between you two? 

Why did Camilla help you? Scratch that! What a dumb question. Camilla would always help you kill someone - even mates. She abhorred them immensly.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, your heart heavy as you watched him bleed. Tears welled up, and you felt sick to your stomach. You couldn’t look away from his face. He still gazed at you with love in his eyes, though the light in them seemed to dim with each passing second.

He kept saying something to you, but his words were muffled and his lips blurred as the vision faltered.

Imani took hold of your hand, "Perhaps there's a reason. Maybe you don't have to end his life. You can alter fate." 

Her smile was reassuring. "Perhaps the crystal ball showed us the vision so we could prevent it."

"Yeah, fates change, and perhaps you have a role in that too," Estella shrugged.

"You saw me in the vision too. Maybe I'm meant to help you prevent kill—" Camilla attempted to say.

"You would support her, not stop her, you witch," Stella huffed.

"Damn, you're right, and I did," she proudly pointed at the crystal ball. She wasn't phased; you knew she cared. Her only aim was to make you laugh, and it worked as you smiled slightly.

Rubbing your hand over your face, you sighed heavily, a frown etching your features. "Let's go. We've got work to do."

• •

Walking into the cold night, small fae lights scatered across the city illuminated the way to your destination for the four of you. The darkness and chill sent shivers down your spine, you regretted not dressing warmer. Stella rubbed her hands over her arms as her teeth chattered. 

"It's freezing. Damn, I should have dressed better," she cursed. Cam and Imani chuckled softly, while you managed only a faint smile in response. 

Hewn city was unsightly, to say the least. The dim light didn't alleviate the sight, instead it highlighted its unattractive aesthetic. The area where you and your friends were taken was particularly dark, with only occasional glimpses of light penetrating the neighborhoods you all inhabited.

You and your friends heard of the world above, the different courts, the continent, the magical stories. You've heard how happiness and love supposedly filled the air.

When you were younger you had gathered as kids around the merchants, to listen to the stories, them recounting everything that happened up there. 

They spoke of the green fields, the summer breeze, the blazing sun on hot summer days and the snow-covered fields in the winter court. 

They described magical libraries accessible to people from all walks of life; the poor, rich, priestesses, females.

Every month, they returned with different foods and snacks from the various courts, such as the Pear and brown butter strudel from autumn and the pistachio ice cream and butter pecan from winter, showcasing you all the diverse culinary enjoyed above ground.

They also displayed the colorful garments worn in different courts, offering glimpses of the vibrant, varied clothing thriving beyond the confines of the Hewn City. 

You used to dream about the dresses they described at night. You still remember lying in bed at 18, hearing the distant sounds of the ball echoing through the city, imagining yourself dancing with a charming male who would rescue you from your family.

You recall the shimmering fabrics worn by females during winter festivities, the luxurious velvet garments people wore in Velaris during the solstice, and the intricate jewelry crafted in Hewn City, kept hidden from your people in fear of theft and only presented and sold outside its borders.

Above ground, the world was colorful and lively in contrast to the life the citizens of Hewn city had to endure. Hewn City was cold and dark, with only the rich and the nobility granted access to places touched by the sun and the privilege of entering Velaris. 

However, even they faced limitations on where they could go and how often they were allowed above ground and who even sold to them.

No one liked the High Lord. He had trapped you all down here under this mountain to fend and fight for yourselves. Everyone agreed that he and his goons were nothing but hypocrites. Supposedly welcoming of all but the citizens of the Hewn City and Illyria. This sadly included your mate too.

People down here were indeed cruel, but being nice and naive wouldn't save you, it would only get you used and killed or worse sold. You all had already been dealt different kinds of bad cards, but being sold into slavery was undoubtedly the worst of them all.

Trying to survive, you and your friends lived together in your house.

Your group consisted of you four girls: Estella, Imani, Camilla, and yourself.

Camilla, the daughter of Lord Thanatos, who was a close friend of Lord Keir. She was the one who had the ties to the aristocrats. Rejecting multiple suitors, almost killing her last fiancé and generally causing trouble for her father, it was a wonder how she still lived.

Despite her efforts to talk to him and initiate change for the people, she was reminded of her place as a women in this society.

She knew that running away wasn't an option, as her father would likely lock her in her room until they found someone who was willing enough to handle her. 

He barely tolerated her coming and going and how she would hang out with you all as if you were beneath her.

She still joined you and the other two, to have somewhat of an escape, somewhere she could feel comfortable. 

Estella joined you for the same reason; she was alone and seeking safety. She had a mysterious aura around herself and aside from her disdain for men and love for teasing Camilla, not much was known about her. Despite her quiet demeanor, Estella had a tendency to surprise you. Get too close, and you risked losing your eyes to her sharp nails—an experience you had witnessed firsthand.

Centuries ago, Imani healed your injuries with her witch powers, binding you to her ever since. Her motherly instincts led her to „adopt“ the three of you, completing the last piece of your puzzle. She only practices her powers at home, for if they were ever discovered, you would all be condemned to the dungeons to face the merciless beasts.

You lived good, well had lived a pleasant life. Your family, once part of the upper class, fell from grace a century ago, with your family of six meeting an untimely demise, you the only survivor.

It was deemed an accidental death, but deep down, you knew something was wrong.

Since then, you've been living with Imani and Estella in the house left to you by your parents. Without a father or younger brothers to control you, and lacking a husband, you were deemed shameless for not conforming to higher society.

Offers from men came left and right not only to get your inheritance but also your estate and body.

• •

After only a few steps, you entered the warmth of the bar. The sound of piano music and laughter filled the air. The customers were already drunk, the booths occupied by young soldiers enjoying their free time and chatting with the bartender.

Your eyes roamed the bar, searching for him. It would have been easier if everyone didn't have dark hair and was dressed in black down here.

"Oi, fuckface, there you are!" Cam yelled across the bar.

"Fucking quiet down," you hissed.

Attracting attention was never smart. Thankfully, people only glanced for a second before turning back to their conversations. 

Black eyes met yours as he walked toward you, clad in the black leathers of the Darkbringer Legion. 

"I wonder how you made it to 500 years and survived. How hasn’t anyone killed you yet?"

Calix approached, grinning slyly.

"I often have the urge," you said, grinning back.

"I'm too cute to be killed," Cam huffed, tossing a strand of her honey-blond hair back.

"I keep her on a leash," Stella grinned, giving Cam a playful shove.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Stella, as if—" Cam retorted.

"Oh god, these two will never stop," Kieran remarked as he approached.

"What are they arguing about now?"

"Everything and anything," you replied wearily.

"They never quit," Imani sighed, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"You act like you don't enjoy it," you teased with a smirk, she only grinned.

"So, how has soldier life been treating you?" Imani asked, her eyes sparkling like stars. Her crush on him couldn't have been more obvious, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Let's get to our table before Cam decides to kill Calix next to merchants over there," you said, pointing behind you at Cam, who was gripping Calix by the neck. The group was already eyeing them, probably thinking of harvesting his organs.

Kieran was too immersed in Imani's eyes to hear what you said. You could only look at them, aching to be that in love.  You couldn't shake the longing for the love you'd felt in the vision. You felt fuzzy and warm remembering Azriel's eyes, the way he looked at you with so much affection, the way his large hands held you, how in love you both seemed. You could only hope to feel that way again, even though a nagging thought reminded you he was basically your enemy.

Seconds passed before your group gathered and went to a shadowy corner at the end of the bar. You sat next to Kieran, feeling the others close in around you, their eyes focused intently on Kieran. From the table, you had a clear view of every possible exit and patron. Most patrons were drunk enough not to notice your table or smart enough to stay away.

"So, what have you guys got?" Stella asked, snacking on some chips.

"Good news and bad news," Calix replied, putting his arm around Camilla's chair, subtly pulling her closer to him.

Kieran took a sip of his drink, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously as he grinned.

"Your father has done it," he said with a smirk. Camilla only raised her brow.

"He arrested your piece of shit ex-fiancé. He's been in the dungeons for a few days."

Cam snickered as she flicked her caramel blonde hair behind her back, unintentionally hitting Calix square in the face. His eyes narrowed before he retaliated by pinching her side. She jumped with a yelp, shooting him a glare. 

"Children, concentrate!" you exclaimed. 

Those two could never sit still, but you found yourself envious of their playful dynamic. Was your relationship with your mate similar, or was it more like Imani's and Kieran's—soft, loving, and peaceful?

Kieran continued, “He was caught in bed with Lord Radbrick’s wife - by none other than, you guessed it, Lord Radbrick himself.” 

Lord Radbrick, a close companion of Camilla's father, Lord Thanatos, was understandably furious.

It was rather surprising that Randell would pursue Lady Radbrick at all. As far as you knew, he typically avoided older women whom he considered “used” or “damaged goods.”

"I knew he was stupid, but I never knew he was this damn dumb," Cam shook her head in disbelief.

"I never knew he liked her. Isn't she, like, really old?"

"Well, she's pregnant."

At that, Cam fell out of her chair, bumping into Calix, while you snorted your drink out of your nose. Imani coughed, her drink going down the wrong way and Stella laughed out loud. 

"Unbelievable!" you laughed, wiping the tears away.

After a while the atmosphere calmed down, it got tense as Kieran glanced at Calix, who placed a file on the table with a serious expression.

You opened the file, reading his details aloud. Thanks to the magical bubble Stella had put up, no one outside your group could overhear your conversation.

"He is the new target you have to take care of," Calix said gravely.

The man's file was full of crimes, indicating he was a more challenging criminal to catch than the others - involved in trafficking, robbery, and rape, everything under Velaris.

"I can't believe this," you said with anger evident in your voice. 

"He seems to be an upstanding citizen," Stella added sarcastically. 

His file revealed he was a well known predator, with multiple victims, mostly young children - girls and boys alike - especially in the more rundown areas of Hewn City. He had fled from Velaris, and the authorities had not been able to catch him—or, in other words, they did not care enough to save our children from him.

"He was last seen at Stronghold's Inn," Calix said, his voice low. "He's been staying in one of their rooms for two days. Stronghold's daughter mentioned he hasn't done anything yet, but he's been lurking around the young women serving there. She said he tried to touch a waitress, but the cook intervened before it went any further." Calix rotated his ring around his pointy finger, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"I hate people from Velaris. They should perish and stop letting their degenerates enter our city," Camilla snarled, her red eyes locking onto yours.

"Didn't you know we're less worthy of our High Lord?" you retorted, laughter laced with bitterness. 

"We should be grateful we're even allowed to live," Imani quoted the High Lord.

"I will never forget why we started taking care of the problems in the city! He is the root of all evil! Him and Keir!" Kieran's eyes blazed with fury.

"At least we should be proud we managed to get rid of some problems" Stella sneered, her jaw tight with anger. "We can't expect them to help us, not even The Morrigan."

"That bitch should have been dead anyway. I thought if she went to Velaris, she would be able to help us, but no, she made it even worse," Camilla spat, her voice dripping with contempt.

You all knew what she was talking about. Laws had changed after Morrigan went to Velaris and the High Lord’s son Rhysand came into power. They laws got stricter and the problems bigger, you could only assume they were out to punish the whole city for what had been done to her.

Morrigan was a greedy and prideful person, her demand for diamonds and rubies only grew stronger over the years. The number of people dying in the mines increased tenfold; mothers lost their sons, children their fathers, wives their husbands...

During Amarantha's reign, times were even worse - a period you’d like to forget if you could. It was the most brutal time, marked by a high rise in famine, crime, and a horrifying rise in cannibalism. Half of the population had already been slain by Amarantha, but the misfortunes didn't end there. Degenerates had overrun the city, and your group took it upon yourselves to make it safer.

You'd been eliminating threats left and right, yet it felt like more criminals kept appearing out of nowhere.

• •

Slipping on the blood-covered floor wasn’t on your agenda today, it covered your skin in a sticky, warm coat. It felt disgusting. 

You were brutal today, maybe you'd been too harsh, but the thrill of his fear, his powerlessness - it fed something deep within you, it felt like justice. You wanted him to feel how his victims had felt. 

A few scratches and a bruised cheek were all you had to show from his pitiful resistance.

With a grim smile, you lifted his head from the floor, one less threat loomed over your people.

He should have been glad it was you if Camilla had pursued him instead, he might have been left alive but with missing limbs. 

You preferred methods involving torture and hand-to-hand combat for dealing with your targets. Occasionally, you resorted to quick measures or utilised your abilities, which still required further refinement. 

Your abilities were known as dream manipulation, similar to that of the Daemati; you could not only delve into their minds, read their thoughts but also bent them to your will. With this you would ensnare them in dreamscapes, trapping them indefinitely in their worst nightmares, possibly to never awaken again.

You had to stand up Imani would soon arrive to clean up the mess you had left behind. Exhausted you realised everything would need to be replaced, cleaned, and the area sanitized.

You made a note to yourself that you definitely needed to work on finishing your work faster and more efficiently.

• •

Azriel had been sleeping more and more the recent days, yet he felt even more exhausted than usual. He struggled through training, unable to concentrate fully. His shadows, typically calm, now enveloped him more protectively than ever before, almost completely concealing his body. Others could barely see or only caught glimpses of Azriel's face amidst the shadows.

Despite this, he didn't mind; he was consumed by obsession. He had seen her, his mate; he was sure of it. He had been dreaming of her, but he could never see her face, or at least he couldn't remember it upon waking. He remembered her soft skin against his scarred and rough hands, her gentle touches, her scent, and the way their heartbeats seemed to synchronize, making him feel whole.

Even days later, he could still feel the warmth of those kisses on his skin. He was reeling while trying to find her again, the feeling she gave him, he felt above the world with her, a high he never wanted to loose, she made him feel safe and fuzzy.

The lack of sleep has drained him of his energy, his attention span had also been wavering, affecting his ability to listen to anything being said to him. 

The others of course had been noticing, but Azriel would never talk about what had been bothering him. 

It was his own yearning for a partner, his own delusion, his secret. Nobody should know about her until he found her or was certain she existed.

Flying through Velaris he was trying to look for her, trying to find her scent. Thoughts of her consumed his day, his shadows in a frenzy themselves. He thought of her day and night. 

His emotions were high and low, he was happy one day and sad the other. He wanted to finally hold her, shower her in his love, fly with her, love her, he was craving her. His feelings and thoughts weren’t logical, he knew that, because he didn’t know her yet but he was convinced she could only be perfect. 

• •

30 minutes after Dinner Rhys called him into his office.

"There had been multiple reports from Keir. People have been disappearing - high officials, merchants, soldiers, and others. Find out where they've been going or if they are still alive," he instructed.  Azriel nodded silently, going towards the door. 

"Az, please talk to us if you’re having any issues. We are your brothers," Rhys urged, concern etched on his face.

Azriel stopped mid-step before walking out, then turned around. He managed a small smile at Rhys. "There’s nothing wrong. I'm good. I’ve just been busy," he said softly.

Rhys wasn’t buying it. His eyes were tired, his face pale, and he hadn’t shaved in a long time. His black hair was unkempt, and his shadows moved about him more protectively. Rhys knew he shouldn't assign Azriel to any missions, but Azriel had insisted on working.

• •

He needed to concentrate, otherwise, this situation could escalate further with Keir. If those involved aligned themselves to rebel or simply disappeared, it could cause trouble. He didn't care much if they were dead, his priority was finding the culprit responsible if harm had come to them.

The air in Hewn City reeked of dirt and decay, like a rotting washcloth, but Azriel's nose would quickly adjust. The Court of Nightmares lived up to its name; it was darker than the nights in Illyria, buried underneath Velaris with so few lights illuminating the unbuilt and filthy streets. 

Azriel knew this area well enough to pinpoint where most incidents occurred.

Entering Stronghold's Inn, Azriel's shadows swirled in a frenzy throughout the tavern before fixating on a female. His eyes widened as he caught her scent.

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters @fieldofdaisiies

A Kiss with Death - Taglist: @bubybubsters @fieldofdaisiies @sidthedollface2 @rcarbo1 @megwan @duhgurl @lilah-asteria

[lainalit]

A Father's Promise

I made a post yesterday about a Darkbringer being denied to purchase sweets and toys in Velaris for his daughter. I couldn't let the Idea go so I wrote a little scene where the father comes home to his family with empty hands.

Disclaimer: English is not my native language so I apologise for any errors upfront

Edit: Story is now available on ao3 and any future chapters will be on there

______________________________________________

The thick air of the Hewn City clung to Cadell as he walked slowly through its shadowed streets, the jagged stone walls pressing in on him from all sides. The flickering faelights cast their cold, eerie glow, as the weight of the day bore down on his shoulders.

In his hand, he clutched the empty bag that should have been filled with caramel bonbons and the pink teddy bear he had promised his daughter. But it was empty—just like his heart feels now.

He had traveled to Velaris, the secret city, which not long ago only a few in the night court knew about. The city itself radiating with vivid colors, creating a striking contrast to the darkness and gloom of his home city.

Keir’s agreement with the High Lord, in which nobles and Darkbringers where allowed into the blessed city, had granted him this rare opportunity to leave the oppressive confines of this mountain, and he had hoped to bring back something special for his daughter Trina—a taste of freedom, sweetness, and warmth that felt increasingly elusive with each day they spent beneath this mountain.

As he approached the small alcove he called home, which is tucked away in a quieter, less-trodden part of the city, he hesitated.

The familiar scent of his wife’s cooking filled the air, usually a comforting reminder of home, but today it felt almost stifling. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The modest space was dimly lit by the soft glow of faelights. Enid was at the hearth, stirring a pot of stew over a small, magical flame. Her chestnut hair was tied with the silver hairpin he gifted her on their wedding day, which reflects the warm light, a stark contrast to the cold, hard stone around her.

Trina, his six-year-old, was playing nearby, her black hair that she inherited from him in pigtails as her small hands carefully arranged her few toys: a second-hand doll named Lucy with one eye missing, a stack of building blocks, and Mr. Starfall, a star-shaped plushie made from the scraps of their blue-white dotted tablecloth and named after her favorite day of the year.

“Daddy!” Trina’s voice broke through his thoughts, her eyes lighting up as she ran to him. Nearly knocking him over before he could kneel and pull her into a tight embrace.

She looked up at him with excitement, her face bright with anticipation. “Did you get the bonbons and the new friend for Lucy and Mr. Starfall?”

Cadell’s heart clenched at her words. He had promised her those things—something special and new just for her, not borrowed or second-hand. But now he had nothing.

He felt the weight of the day pressing down on him, every step back from the shops and the words spoken to him replaying in his mind as he answered his daughter, “I… I’m sorry, princess. I couldn’t get them today.”

Trina’s face fell, her lower lip trembling slightly as she looked at his hands, where he clutched the empty bag. Her voice was small, laced with confusion and hurt.

“But…you promised.”

Enid, who had been watching the exchange, set down the spoon she was using and walked over, her brow furrowed with concern.

She knew her husband well enough to see the strain in his posture, the way his shoulders sagged under a weight that he couldn’t shake. “Trina,” she called gently, her voice calm but firm, “why don’t you go pack your schoolbag for tomorrow in your room? Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

Trina hesitated, her gaze flicking between her parents. She sensed that something was wrong, though she didn’t understand what. With a reluctant nod, she turned and walked towards one of the small adjoining chambers, casting one last look over her shoulder before disappearing into the other room.

As soon as Trina was out of sight, Enid turned to her husband, her concern deepening. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against his arm. “Cadell, what happened?”

Cadell let out a heavy sigh, standing up and running a hand through his hair, the tension in his body palpable. He felt the sting of humiliation and anger, emotions that he rarely allowed himself to dwell on but that now threatened to consume him.

“I went to five different shops, Enid. five. The first four wouldn’t even look at me. I waited and tried to get their attention, but they just ignored me like I wasn’t even there. And the last one…” He clenched his fists, his voice trembling with frustration and hurt.

“The last one, the owner saw me, made eye contact, looked at me as I was dirt under his shoe, and they…they said they don’t sell to fae of ‘our kind’.”

Enid’s heart ached at his words. She had always known their status as residents of the Hewn City made life difficult, but hearing the hurt in his voice brought the harsh reality into sharp focus. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Honey, I’m so sorry…”

He shook his head, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I just wanted to bring her something nice, something that would make her smile. But they wouldn’t even give me the chance. I hate that I failed her…again. Because of who I am.”

Enid tightened her hold on him, her eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and anger. She knew all too well the cruelty of this city they call home, and it pained her to see him suffer because of it.

She had chosen Cadell precisely because he was different, because he was kind in a place where kindness was rare. And because he was not like the others—not like the male she had once been betrothed to.

Enid’s betrothal had been a match for power and influence, a union that should have secured her and her family a life of privilege in the Hewn City.

But her betrothed, a lord of considerable rank, was notorious for his torture methods, especially towards females. The stories of his cruelty had reached her ears long before their engagement was made public, the whispers of the unheard brutality had chilled her to the bone even in a place like this where the darkness inside these mountain walls was never-ending.

But then she had met Cadell, at the time a quiet novice Darkbringer with a gentle heart who conceals it behind a facade of seriousness in front of the other males.

But in the privacy within their walls, he treats her, and later, when Trina came along only with tender hands, something she had never known was possible.

She had fallen in love with him, drawn to the very qualities that lay beneath his made-up appearance. And with that realization, she could not bear the thought of marrying her betrothed; she had made a desperate decision.

She had convinced Cadell to take her virtue, knowing full well what it would mean. It was the only way to escape the fate that awaited her otherwise—a marriage to a monster who would have destroyed her.

Cadell, too, had his own scars, though his were not just emotional. He had fought in the war with Hybern, called to battle alongside the rest of the Night Court’s forces.

He had seen the horrors of war, felt the bite of steel and the crush of magic against his body. His broadsword that he wielded had saved him more than once, but it had not protected him from the memories—the screams of dying comrades, the blood-soaked fields, the weight of loss that clung to him like a second skin.

He had returned to the Hewn City a changed man, quieter, more reserved. The war had left him with a deep sense of weariness, a bone-deep exhaustion that no amount of rest could erase.

And though he rarely spoke of it, Enid knew that the memories of the battlefield still haunted him with the way he rises at night to visit Trina’s room, watching over his daughter like a fallen angel poised to confront death itself if it dares to breathe in her direction.

“Honey,” Enid whispered, her voice fierce with emotion, “you are worth so much more than they will ever understand. You are a good father, a good male. We’ll explain it to Trina, in a way she can understand."

she looked at him with a small smile when she spoke, "And tomorrow… tomorrow, we’ll find another way. I’ll ask Nemain to see if she still has the soft fabric, so I can sew the teddy myself and try of dyeing it pink. For the caramel bonbons, my cousin has a butterscotch candy recipe that I can use. I simply shaped the candy into rounds instead of rectangles, so Trina wouldn’t notice the differencee."

Cadell smiled back a little while he nodded slowly, her words seeping into the cracks that the day had left in his resolve.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded in the quiet darkness of their home.

“Thank you, my love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Enid held him close, her head resting against his chest. For a moment, they simply stood there, drawing comfort from each other’s presence.

She knew the weight he carried, the burdens of being a lowborn Darkbringer in a world that valued power above all else. And she knew the guilt he felt, knowing that she had chosen him over the luxurious life she could have had.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes filled with the same fierce love that had driven her to choose him all those years ago.

“We’re in this together, Cadell,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Always.”

They stood in silence, holding each other closely, before parting ways as Enid headed to their daughter’s room to announce that dinner was ready, while Cadell looked to the small family portrait that stands on their living room drawer.

The Hewn City might be cold and unforgiving, but within the walls of their home, they had each other—and that was enough to keep the darkness at bay, if only for a little while longer.

[achaotichuman]

Recently I delved into the depths of my docs to find the first fanfiction I wrote for ACOTAR that never saw the light of day.

Obviously it's horrible writing, but I like the premise and since I am addicted to piling more projects on top of my scheldule I rewrote the first chapter and redid the plot for it.

Originally these events take place a year or two after the war with Hybern, and everything is the exact same EXCEPT for somethin Tamlin is doing.

I changed it so that this is a fic of what would have happened if Tamlin didn't give over that drop of power to bring Rhysand back.

Anyway, here's there rewritten chapter. Tell me if you guys like it!

“Be happy Feyre.”

The words nearly tumbled out of his mouth. The carefully loving words that wrapped like ivy around his throat, choking him, those last cords of love that had twisted into something else. That had made him soft for her. He had offered his heart like ripe fruit on a silver platter for her to take and now look at where he stood. 

Bloodied, gore and guts clinging to his armour like a second layer of skin, mud caked on his legs and arms. Hair a mess, dirty and disgusting. His people, his armies, whom he had gone to his knees to earn the trust of them back, after she twisted their minds, undid their memories, stared in every personal thought to create a new story for all of them. One that fit her narrative. 

The damage she had caused, the things she had taken. What she had done, what she had cost not just them but all of Pryhtian. Destroying the Courts she had saved not even a year ago. 

Now, on her knees, holding the man who had assaulted her night after night after night whilst she vomited, cried and danced and laughed, and been drugged. She screamed his name whilst she cling to his lifeless form. 

The good for nothing bastard Lord was finally dead. Tamlin should have breathed a sigh of relief. 

Instead every High Lord stood around awkwardly, as one after the other they had willingly handed over their magic despite what this man had done to them. Despite how much they all hated him. They did it for his grief-stricken mate who screamed for them to help. To bring him back the same way she had come back. 

But he was dead for what he had done. Giving over power to remake the Cauldron, the mother had taken his very soul with the magic, the price paid to put the world back together. 

Truly, who were they to defy her?

Tamlin stood up straight, when Feyre stared up at him, eyes filled with tears as she saw his stone-cold face. 

“Please,” She screamed, “Please I’ll do anything!”

Green eyes cut from her to the other Lords. None made eye-contact with him. All looking elsewhere, anywhere, the grey-red clouds above, the torn battlefield layered with bodies on decaying bodies, the rivers running red with blood. Some of them, no doubt reminded of Amarantha’s reign of terror by the bloodshed, looked to the muddy ground. 

But none dared look in his eye, all knew what she had done to him. Her reasons for doing so. They also all knew what he had done to her. 

But staring down at her now, thinking back on all of it. 

Thinking back on the slander of Court, the destruction of his people. The lying, the scheming, the pure hatred. 

Then there was one final thought that struck true. 

What would they have all done if it had been him dead on the floor and not Rhysand?

The image of his bloodied mother, his dead brothers, even as cruel as they were, flashed before his eyes. 

“No.” He said. Standing tall and true, “I will not hand over my magic.”

“You fucking monster!” A girl with gold streaked blonde hair lunged at him from out of nowhere. Morrigan. 

She didn’t get far, from where she was knees deep in the mud. A flash of gold and a short-sudden scream from her. She was pinned to the floor with golden threads. Not painful, but certainly startling, and no doubt humiliating. 

Tamlin couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Feyre stared up at him. Her wet blue eyes boring into his own with a deep-cut grief that would have broken him just a few weeks ago. 

Now. 

Now all he felt was mild pity, and a distant sadness, for the girl who had been killed under the mountain and never brought back. 

“Who's to say the real Rhysand would even return?” Tamlin said, voice mockingly kind, “When the first time we brought a human back, she was not the same at all?”

Feyre’s saddened eyes turned wrathful, her beautiful face twisting into a deadly scowl. All that hatred, focused solely on him. 

“You were what led me to my death! And now you refuse to even help him!” She screamed, the pain and grief tearing through her, along with the emptiness of where her mating bond used to be no doubt fueling her rage. 

“You led yourself to your death as did he.” Tamlin said, perfectly calm and stoic. She wouldn’t get a rise out of him. Not anymore. 

Tamlin looked to the others, “Think about all that male has done to us. Think of what his mate has brought down upon our lands. And maybe rethink tossing your magic carelessly at whatever dead corpse lays before you.”

“He is not a corpse!” Feyre shrieked. Her cries and screams becoming distant. Vague. As weariness bore heavy on him. For the mortal, the living, unfortunately exhaustion was a natural occurrence. 

Tamlin’s eyes went down to Rhysand. Least he’ll never be exhausted again. 

The thought was cruel, and maybe he was a horrible man for feeling relief. Staring into that lifeless face, knowing he was dead forever. Gone. Bound to never bring him misfortune again. 

“You are a heartless male.” A seething voice said somewhere near him. Tamlin looked towards where a limping Illyrian with blue siphons hissed, looking like he wanted to tear the High Lord to shreds but his own limitations and injuries prevented it. 

A cold, humourless smile broke out on his face. The Spring Lord looked down upon Feyre. 

“Give him your own magic.” He said, tilting his head, “Why don’t you hand over those drops of power you claim to make yourself so, so powerful?”

She was silent, as tears continued to stream down her face, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Oh right, you can’t.”

He would leave after this and never see her face again, he hoped, but he didn’t bite his tongue to prevent the final blow, “Our magic is the only thing holding you together. You claim yourself so powerful. Above the rest of us entirely. The self-proclaimed High Lady of the Night Court, equal to the most powerful in all the Earth. But you really aren’t. You need our magic to survive.”

Tamlin looked back at Rhysand, and didn’t hide the relief on his face, “You can’t bring him back without us.”

The Nightmare was gone. Now all that was left was the cleanup. 

Feyre screamed, whether it was an insult, her hatred or simply incoherent, he didn’t know. He winnowed away. Back to Spring. 

It was time for a cleanup. 

And he had plans to make things right in his Court. In Prythian in its entirety. 

***

I probably will not continue this fic since I have so much I need to write already, but I think its fun to go back and reflect on my old ideas and rewrite to compare to how my form was before and how it is now.

[bxriles]

What if the Court of Nightmares rebelled against Rhysand?

Chapter 1 of my fic about the rebellion in the Court of Nightmares has been posted to my ao3 here!

If you're interested, please check it out and leave a comment!

Long before Amarantha came to Prythian, an eldest daughter from the Court of Nightmares entered into a marriage with Rhysand, the future High Lord of Night. It was a political arrangement and not a particularly happy union, but it was necessary to prevent unrest in the Hewn City. Unfortunately, centuries pass and Amarantha's reign leaves scars all across the land. Prythian's stability is questioned. The Bride of Spring is stolen. And the Lady of Night mysteriously ends up dead after discovering that Rhysand has found his mate.

When news of her death arrives, the Hewn City is pushed to its breaking point. A rebellion sparks and the flames are fanned by centuries of abuse and mistreatment. Rhysand may not believe there are any dreamers left in the Court of Nightmares, but he's wrong--and those dreamers vow to be his downfall.

[sukaaxo]

my hot take is imagine that Rhys didn’t suddenly turn into the good guy with reasoning for all is actions…… but Feyre turned into a villain so it all BECAME justified in her mind.

just think, last chapter of the last book and it’s just Rhys’s pov as he’s being crowned High King, congratulating himself on how well he manipulated everyone into thinking he was a good guy.

something like:

***

Feyre sat by my side looking down at the fae lingering below, her excitement and happiness seeping through the bond and battling with mine. Except my happiness obviously wasn’t for the same reasons. Sweet Feyre. Sweet oblivious Feyre. Her hand gripped mine and she turned her shining eyes and soft smile my way. I properly studied her. Looked deep into her face. She’s rather plain i realised, plainest of the 3 sisters. Indeed rather boring compared to the fae females i’ve come across in my years, fucked in my years. Even Nesta’s cold but ereatheral looks caused more lust in me, her power especially made my soul sing and i knew i would’ve had a fun time pinning her beneath me. Unfortunately the Mother fated her to another. Jolting out my thoughts at the squeeze of my hand, I eventually returned a smile to Feyre but it felt more like a grimace and must’ve shown as her grin faltered and eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Rhys….. are you ok?” her voice filtered into my mind and i just looked away, not bothering to pretend anymore as i let my disgust and mockery at her fly down our bond. She gasped as it hit her, visibly recoiling away from me with tears in her eyes. Cassian moved to her side in a flash, hand on his sword sheath, scanning for whatever he thought had affected her enough to make her flinch. Even though i had no use for my ‘brothers’ anymore i felt i would miss them. I had grown to look upon them fondly and even at times felt a bang of guilt at lying so easily to them. Maybe i could convince them to follow me. Cassian looked worriedly between me and my so called High Lady, i scoffed internally at the thought, before locking eyes with me confused, mouth opening to say something but before he could the crowd hushed and i turned back towards them.

I looked across at the High Lords all seated, all sensing a change in the air as my walls lowered. The only one staring at me without movement or worry was Tamlin. Tamlin. The thorn in my side throughout my years. He was always there foiling my words. He never believed my stories, never believed my lies about UTM, peace and prosperity. Never believed my participation in the War on the side of Prythian. The only fae i grew to respect and even admire. We would’ve been unstoppable if he’d been by my side, he being both the youngest and most powerful Spring High Lord to exist. Alas, once he figured out that it was me who set up the murder of my entire family and his, he refused every attempt at contact i tried. That…. hurt. However now that i no longer needed to pretend i cared about the snivelling wretch in the chair next to me, maybe we could re connect. I locked eyes with him and could almost see their green narrow like a snake my way and i felt his magic slither out, tasting mine in the air. The corners of his mouth turned up as he felt my truth, finally. I raised an eyebrow ever so slightly at him and suddenly he was gone. Vanished into his winnow. But the tilt of his head in my direction as he left gave me hope. We would be friends once again.

The other High Lords jumped up, turning to where Tamlin had disappeared and staring at me in a panic but it was too late. The crown landed on my head, the High King power suddenly coursing through my veins making me take a deep breath in. The fear and regret on everyone’s faces as i finally unleashed my dark aura was pleasurable.

A familiar slow smirk spread onto my face,

“Let’s begin”

***

[skyjasper]

Imagine Being Loved By Me

Gwynriel: Talk by Hozier

COMPLETELY INSPIRED BY @avabrynne !!!

This idea comes completely from @avabrynne !! Great thanks to her for letting me use this prompt!!!

Masterlist

Summary: Gwyn and Azriel had been tiptoeing around her connection for almost a year now. The night before summer solstice the group goes out to Rita’s. Things finally snap for them when Azriel sings her a song.

Warnings: light NSFW, other than that nothing!! Complete fluff!!

Word count:3270

~~~

It was the week of summer solstice which meant the glorious city of Velaris was bustling with parties and celebrations. Gwyn had been comfortable enough to start going out with her girls and the inner circle by last winter solstice after Nesta and Cassian got together.

So here she sat in Nesta's room getting ready with Mor, Emerie, Nesta, and Feyre. She sat on the bed watching as Nesta moved her hair into a lovely ponytail. Nesta's eyes met hers through the mirror.

“Come on Gwyn, let's find you a dress, Mor can you do her makeup?” She turned to the blonde and waited for a nod before walking off to her wardrobe. Gwyn moved into the stool that sat in front of Nesta's vanity, staring at Mor evaluating her.

“Let’s make you irresistible, maybe you’ll find a lovely suitor.” Mor’s brows wiggled with intention as Gwyn’s cheeks flushed.

She didn’t tell anyone about her small crush on the court's shadow singer, nor did she tell anyone about their midnight training sessions. She nodded her head to Mor with a smile.

“Oh, I haven’t even thought about that. Where are we even going tonight?” She asked as Mor applied a Smokey line of Khol to her eyes.

“Rita’s is having a live singing night tonight so we are going to go and force the boys to sing,” Feyre spoke from her spot next to Gwyn.

“All the boys?” She poked her head to look at Feyre before Mor grabbed her chin to guide her back to where she needed.

“That’s the goal!” Feyre's happy voice chipped.

“I found the perfect dress!” Nesta shouted before coming out of her closet with a mid-length silk dress that was the same shade of blue as her priestess robes. A gorgeous number that had Gwyn melting at the idea of wearing such a delicate piece on her body.

“That’s gorgeous Nes, I can’t possibly take that from you.” She whispered as if her voice would hurt the dress.

“Gwyn, I don’t even know why I have this dress, it certainly is not my color.” Nesta shrugged before moving to place the dress over a chair.

“Hey, Gwyn?” Emorie came to sit next to the nymph.

“Yes Em?”

“You remember when we went and you bought those lacy underthings even though you knew you weren’t gonna wear them?” She whispered only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

“Yes, I got them because they gave me power over myself, even though I have no reason to wear them they make me feel pretty,” Gwyn responded, currently applying a reddish-pinkish colored lip salve.

“Well… they would be perfect to wear under this dress.” Emorie shrugged. Gwyn paused, contemplating it, after a hesitant moment she nodded and stood to ask the house to retrieve them.

Once she was in the bathroom with the dress and her underthings she quickly changed. She pulled on the light blue lacy underthings before slipping on the matching slip for it. She took a second to observe herself in the mirror, reminding herself of her affirmations. I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break me.

She pulled on the tight piece of silk, marveling at how it hugged her form to her waist before slightly tapering out into a lovely flowing skirt. The neckline was something she hadn’t seen before, the fabric was rippled in a purposeful way to look like loose silk when in fact it was not. It gave her a sight of her cleavage, her breasts were not large but they were at least a handful. The skirt had a dangerously high slight that came to rest at mid-thigh. As she laced the back her waist became more accentuated.

Gwyn took a second to take in the sight of herself and how beautiful she looked. The light blue- almost iridescent- silk showed off her slight tan from training and her vibrant hair. Even her freckles seemed more prominent.

“You ok in there Gwyn?” Nesta's voice asked, laden with concern from the other side of the door. Gwyn walked over to the door and opened it.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Are you sure this dress isn’t too much for tonight?” Gwyn asked shyly.

“No this is perfect! You look gorgeous Gwyn! Let’s do your hair.” Came Feyres voice from behind Nesta who was still staring at Gwyn with her jaw open.

“You look absolutely stunning Gwinnie. I know a certain male who is going to explode when he sees you.” Nesta told her while pulling her back to the vanity.

Gwyn took a second to mull over Nesta's words as one of the girls put two thin braids in her hair at the front before pulling it up into a ponytail, one braid running on each side.

“Who do you mean Nes?” Gwyn finally found the courage to ask, hoping she doesn’t sound as hopeful as she is.

“Oh come on Gwyn, we all know the shadow singer holds a certain appreciation for you, we see the way he looks at you. And those midnight training sessions, he’s never done that with anyone.” Mor spoke from behind her as she applied perfume oils to her skin.

“Wh-what, I don’t know what you are on about. Az and I are certainly just friends.” Gwyn blushed at the implication.

“If that’s what you think.” Emorie chuckled.

~~~

More and Feyre winnowed all of them to Rita’s. The girls ordered a round of drinks while waiting for the males. Not five seconds after their drinks were in hand did they hear the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s laugh.

They all turned towards the sound, finding Rhys dressed in his normal dress pants and a button-down, Cassain in typical pants and a loose top. Gwen slightly choked on her drink when her gaze ran across Azriel, he was hardly ever seen outside of his leathers, but tonight he wore black tight jeans and a black shirt that hugged his muscles, his wings standing proud and his black hair a bit messy. He looked more than edible, and when his gaze found Gwyn staring her cheeks blushed.

Azriel was the first to move towards them, his head dipping in acknowledgment to the girls before his eyes raked over Gwyn's form. His gaze moved down her body slowly, taking in each and every element of the gorgeous nymph. Azriel had always been attracted to Gwyneth and not just her beautiful looks but her intelligence as well. She was the only one who matched him, who challenged him in all ways, intellectually, in the ring, and all other aspects. Gwyn never failed to turn every interaction into a game.

When he finally came face to face with Gwyn he could only think of one thing to say.

“You look absolutely stunning, Gwyneth.”

A blush quickly rose on her already pink cheeks, her entire neck now heating at his compliment.

“You as well Shadow singer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of your leathers.” She smiled at him, not noticing her friends staring at the two of them. Azriels eyes slightly widened at her words, taking them in a different way.

“Not like that Az!” Gwyn laughed out. “I just meant you are always wearing your leathers, I’ve never seen you in casual clothing. It looks good.” She explained herself as the left side of his lips twitched.

“I understand Berdara.” He shook his head. He leaned over Gwen’s small form to get the bartender’s attention.

Gwen’s eyes stuck to his chest and his very prominent pecs. She turned her head to the girls before sliding out from under the shadow singer, reaching out and hugging Cassian.

“Gwinnie.” He shouted before patting her head.

“Cass.” She laughed, “Have you already had some drinks?”

“Oh absolutely, Rhys and I finished a good bit of scotch, Azzie insisted on being sober until we got here.” He continued before moving over to his wife and mate, whispering something in her ear that made her blush.

Gwyn said her hellos to the high lord before they all moved to find a booth tucked away somewhere. They all moved in, Feyre and Rhys on the innermost part, on their right were Nesta and Cassian, and on their left were Emorie and Mor, which left Gwyn and Az to sit together. He stood to the side waiting for her to slide into the booth.

She felt his gaze on her back, by now she had already finished her first drink and was feeling the effects of it. Her skin flushed with the heat of the alcohol, her grace already a bit more clumsy. Gwyneth Berdara was and always had been a lightweight.

Azriel slid in next to her, his thigh meeting hers. His shadows slid over her legs and up one of her arms, curling themselves around her as they always do in her presence. Her light giggle hit him hard. He turned his head to find her playing with the shadows as they moved all over her arms.

“Ok, shall we kick this night off with some singing?!” Mor clapped from her seat, startling Gwyn.

“Who’s first?” Feyre asked, looking around the table.

“Gwyn should go first. I’d kill to hear your voice again.” Azriel muttered the last part only loud enough for her to hear.

“Oh no, I’m already tipsy. I don't think it’d be that good.” She chuckled nervously, silently praying to the mother it wouldn’t have to be her.

“I’ll save you Gwinnie, I’ll go first. Don’t fret you’re next Gwinnie.” Cassian rumbled, trying and almost failing to stand and get out of the booth.

Cass semi-stumbled his way to the stage, asking for the projecting device and introducing himself. Rita’s erupted in cheers as Cassian started to sing a newer song about senseless love and nonsense. Something that Bryce chick had taught him.

“Gwyneth…” Azriel drew in a whisper, “Why wouldn’t you sing? You have a beautiful voice.”

“I am not nearly drunk enough to sing in front of all of these people. Maybe later tonight.” She shrugged in response, turning her head towards the shadow singer, not realizing how close he was.

“Speaking of, would you be a doll and go get me a new drink Azzie.” She mocked Cassian’s use of the nickname.

He chuckled and nodded before slipping out of the booth, walking with his head high through the crowd, power radiating off his body. When she turned back into the booth she saw Nesta and Feyre staring at her.

“What?”

“What?!” Feyre mocked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Azriel give this many smiles in public before.” She said, sipping on her drink.

“Oh hush, he’s just comfortable because he’s around his family.” Gwyn lied smoothly. “Plus maybe it’s just because I’m that funny” She mockingly flipped her ponytail, freezing when she felt it his something, or someone.

She turned and saw Az standing there with two drinks and a raised eyebrow looking down at her. Azriel had always towered over Gwyn but with her sitting in the low booth and him standing she was face to face with his stomach. She winced before scooting over to let him in.

“Hush.” She muttered before taking her drink out of his hand and chugging it.

“At this rate, you’ll be drunker than Cassian in no time,” Emorie spoke from her side of the table.

“Maybe I need to be so you all will be somewhat tolerable.” She replied with a thick layer of sass. Rhysand let out a deep chuckle, turning back to Feyre as they engaged in a silent conversation.

She felt a large hand run over the length of her ponytail, toying with the ends. She turned to look at the shadow singer as he stared at her.

“Can I help you?” Her eyebrow hiked up as his hand glided over the back of her neck, resting there as if it were normal.

“If I sing will you?” His deep voice asked, sending shivers through Gwen’s body.

She was speechless, Azriel had only ever sung for her once, granted his voice was beautiful, but he had said he doesn’t often do it in front of people.

“I suppose that is a fair deal. But first, since Cassian is finally done torturing the crowd with his voice let’s dance!” She clapped, standing quickly and swaying from the rush. Azriel’s scarred hands found themselves on her waist to help stabilize her. She smiled down at him before forcing everyone else to dance.

The song was something upbeat and fun, after Bryce had left to fight her war she came back with a gift, the swords, and these things called speakers that connected to one of her phones, she had also given them a large amount of batteries so it would last them while they studied the devices to replicate them. It made them all quite happy to have a new form of music, though some people were skeptical.

Gwyn grabbed Azriel’s hand and dragged him to the area of people dancing. She was a giggling, bubbly mess, and the shadow singer loved it. He had never seen her so unrestrained, save for their conversations while no one was around. Azriel cherished those conversations, he replayed them constantly in his hand, his heart fluttering at the memory of her bright smiles and sassy jokes.

With all regard abandoned Gwyneth danced, moving her body in a way that wasn’t meant to be sensual, but to the intoxicated shadow singer, was so enchanting. His shadows whispered to him about holding her ponytail around his fist as he thrust into her from behind, or about sliding the top of her dress down and watching her beautiful breast bounce. He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts and mask his scent. He didn’t used to have fantasies about Gwyn, but recently most of his nights are spent in a cold bath.

Azriel did not dance, he stood there like a guard to Gwyn, and when she noticed she stopped dancing. She moved her way to Azriel, wrapping her arms around her neck to raise herself to his ear.

“Why aren’t you dancing Azriel?” Her sultry voice spoke into his ear. Azriel stifled a groan at the sound of his name out of her mouth.

“I don’t dance, you know that Gwyneth.” He responded, placing his hands back on her hips to keep her steady.

“But Az…” she whined, dragging out the Z in his name, sending truly impure thoughts into his filthy brain.

“Gwyneth.” He spoke curtly with a voice so low she thought she might be imagining it.

He placed her on the floor before looking up, trying to regain his composure and restraint. He let go of her before walking up to the stage. He looked back at Gwyn and watched as her eyes widened as he took the amplifier.

He waited for the crowd to calm down before starting without any music.

I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus

When her body was found,

Gwyn stared at him as his beautiful voice started to sing a song she hadn’t heard before.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief

That drove him underground,

Gwyn felt Nesta slide next to her, also completely enamored by Azriel's voice.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee

That made him turn around,

“How did you convince him to sing?” She whispered, barely audible, so as to not disturb the delicate song.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness

In Eurydice.

“I didn’t.” She responded, making eye contact with Nesta as he sang the next line.

Imagine being loved by me!

Gwyn felt something pool inside of her stomach. She had spent many late nights in the bathing chambers, pleasuring herself to the thought of the shadow singer.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

Not once did Azriels gaze stray from Gwyn, not as he watched every emotion fly across her face, or as the heat rose in her cheeks at the implication of the words he sang.

He moved on to the next line as Gwyn stood there staring back at him. Suddenly, as he reached the end of the last verse, everyone else disappeared. It was just her and him as he wholeheartedly sang the words.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

Azriel watched as realization flicked upon Gwyn's eyes. Her chest and neck started to flush the same color as her cheeks. The same flush he had imagined in his mind as he stared up at her from between her legs.

Gwyn's eyes flicked back over Azriels form as she realized he was single-handedly singing to her. Heat raked through her as she recalled the lyrics.

“I’ll be back Nesta.” She whispered breathlessly, turning and walking quickly to the back hall where there was an exit into the alleyway.

She rested her head against the brick wall, her heart beating wildly and her breath completely gone. She closed her eyes as she ran back through all of their interactions, screaming at herself for being so naive and blind.

She opened her eyes as she heard the door she came through open and close. Azriel was standing there, something like fear on his face as he waited for her response. All Gwyn could think to do was to walk up to him and kiss him.

Her arms flew around his neck as their kiss became hungry and passionate. Gwyn's hands found one of her thighs, pulling one leg up to his hip as he walked them so her back was against the wall. He broke the kiss, staring at her.

“Gwyneth.” He whispered.

“Azriel.” She whispered back, her lips ghosting against his. This time it was him smashing his lips to her, pushing her against the wall as one of his hands tangled itself in her ponytail.

“Wait. Gwyn, are you sure? Are you sure you want this? Us? I know I’m not the most honorable male, and I definitely don’t have a clean past.” He asked her.

“Azriel. I have wanted this since I cut that ribbon, I have wanted you since we started our training sessions and I found out just how beautiful your soul is. I don’t give a crap about your past, mine is definitely not clean. And those hands that you despise so much are the same hands that saved me, the same hands that taught me how to defend myself and reclaim my power, and hopefully the same hands that will make me cum.” She stared up at him as his hands flexed against her skin.

“Thank fucking gods, we can have a more meaningful conversation later, right now I just need to kiss you. Is that ok?” Before his sentence was fully out of his mouth Gwyn was nodding.

Azriel continued their kiss, pulling her leg tighter around his hips. The hand that was in her hair came down to her other thigh and tapped at it, signaling for her to jump. They were both breathless as they broke the kiss.

“Thank you, Gwyn.” He whispered, staring into her beautiful blue eyes.

“For what?”

“For showing me that I’m not ruined.” He smiled at her, a wide bright smile that carried across his whole face.

That damned dress.

~~~~

Note: I think this concept was so cute!!! I love writing Gwyriel!! Don’t worry I didn’t forget about the fics I promised!! They are coming, this was just my contribution to Gwynriel weeks!!

@gwynrielweeksofficial (their first kiss!!))

Taglist:

@littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

[redbleedingrose]

Always ~ Part 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?

Epilogue

A/N: Hello my lovely readers! Happy Friday! I want to start with apologizing for the wait that part 7 took, but it is the last part of this fic and I wanted it to be good and long. I was also struggling with some minor writers block and I had finals happening at the same time. I stayed up all night trying to write this out, so I hope that you all love this part. I also wanted to mention I will be having an epilogue posted sometime this weekend for Always as well as an Eris x Reader oneshot. As always, please leave a like, comment, and reblog. I love to hear your guys thoughts and the interaction always makes my fucking day.

Azriel’s grip on your fingers tightened, almost cutting off the circulation, as though he was frightened you would winnow away at any moment if he let go. His shadows were swarming around you both, enclosing you into darkness with only flickers of light from the hearth bleeding through, panicked from the entire aspect of you leaving him for good. He paused, listening to your breath mix with his, trying to formulate the words that he wanted to use to plead his case, to explain everything. To explain the pain he had caused you, to explain why he had hidden the mating bond that had snapped itself into place so long ago for him, to explain his friendship (if you could even call it that) with Elain, to explain why he had distanced himself from you. 

That is what hurt the most. The fact that he distanced himself. It made every muscle in your body ache, every doubt and worry flooded itself into the striations of the cells that make up your heart. After all this time, after everything you had been together, it was the thing you least expected coming out of him. For years, even before under the mountain, you had prayed that the precious bond would snap into place. And when the fifty years of pure despair happened, the thought of seeing Azriel once more was the only thing that kept you going most days. But he had known. He had known about the mating bond. He had held feelings for you before all of this. He had known since before Amarantha even. And yet, he never said anything. Not a single word. Not even a tiny whisper. 

“A little bit before Under the Mountain.” What the fuck did that even mean? How long had he hidden his feelings, if he even had any. Why didn’t he tell you then, and why didn’t he tell you after being away from him for fifty years without any contact? Had that lost time meant nothing to him? Had he even missed you while you were gone, suffering under Amarantha’s reign while the rest of the inner circle was allowed the peace of Velaris. In all honesty, you had felt cheated. Cheated out of what was supposed to be a beautiful moment between two best friends who had fallen in love. Cheated out of what life could have been, if only Az had told you. If only the bond had snapped into place for you at first, before him.

It was as though the spymaster picked up on your thoughts, the perceptive male he was, and tugged on the bond, trying to send all of his love and devotion down the tight golden string that held you both together as the shock of this night was starting to wear off leaving only confusion and hurt in its wake. His eyes, once more, locked onto yours, glinting with determination and truth, as he straightened his back and rustled his wings into a taut position. This would be the moment of truth, both of you knew that. Both of you were aware of the gravity of the situation. And you knew, somewhere deep inside you, that both of you wanted to walk away from this unharmed. But you also knew, you weren’t sure if Az could pull it off. 

Despite all the pain Az had caused in a short time, your feelings for him were stronger. The moments where he would take care of you when you were sick. The moments when he would hold you when you were upset for some reason, any reason, and would whisper words of affirmation. The moments where you two would get drunk and spend the entire night gossiping about the inner circle and giggling at each other, with each other. The moments where you would stay up late into the night and read to each other. The moments you would almost set the house of wind on fire because of your efforts to bake together. The moments where you would comfort him and kiss his hands to reassure him that he was worthy of every good thing that has ever happened to him and every good thing that will ever happen to him. The little moments. The big moments. Any moment you shared before any of this still meant something, everything, to you. And you whole-heartedly believed they meant something to him too. 

Azriel sent another tug at the bond before he began, “Do you remember when we first met?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond, smiling softly before continuing, “Rhys was practically forcing Cass and I to Windhaven; we had heard rumors that Devlon was planning a mass wing-clipping of the female babes at the camp, and we couldn’t let that happen. I was dreading it, Gods, I mean I was furious and was ready to rip off Devlons head. But we were dreading that we might’ve been too late. That we would walk into the massacre, and those female babes would suffer for the rest of their lives. As soon as Rhysand had informed us of our mission, Cass and I had left, flying as fast as we could to try to warn anyone who was willing to listen. Rhys had promised to come with something, or rather, someone for reinforcements, I suppose. And that was you. And you fucking stole my breath away when Rhys landed, carrying you in his arms. I had never seen someone as stunning as you.” He chuckled, clearly returning to the memory as his eyes glazed over, “Cass nearly knocked me over with a slight punch in the arm because I was so distracted by you. I was trying to commit every part of you to memory, and then Rhys told us you were there to heal any babe if our efforts weren’t to be a success, a preemptive measure he said. Cassian tried to impress you with his smooth talking, and you took it in stride and flirted right back, clearly unbothered. I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say to you. I was so anxious that I would say the wrong thing, so I just kept staring at you, and you didn’t say one word to me, Y/N. You just looked at me, eyes shining like the moon on winter solstice, and nodded in greeting before moving onto preparing for whatever was to come. You didn’t say one word, but you didn’t need to. I knew I was completely and utterly fucked, and I think Cass and Rhys knew too. They teased me for fucking hours.” 

You couldn’t help but cackle at the memory, humor seeping into you, slightly dissolving a small bit of the pain. Of course Cassian and Rhys had teased Az. The busybodies had nothing better to do with their time. You remembered every moment of that day. You had met Rhys prior in an off-chance encounter. At the time, the high lord was settling into his new role and would spend his nights walking the streets of Velaris thinking of his responsibilities, the loss of his mother and sister still fresh, and the darkness that was slowly creeping over Prythian. He had come across you stumbling, drunk beyond belief after an extremely difficult and long day, and helped you sit down in a cafe near the sidra and bought you a coffee to help you sober up before he would walk you home. All your inhibitions were lowered and you hadn’t recognized the high lord, and so, while you sipped away at the sweetened mocha latte, you rambled about your day healing the most complex patients you had seen yet. And Rhys had been too kind, too patient, and was looking for anything to take his mind off his duties, and thus, had spent the entire night listening to you. It was only when the sun was beginning to rise that you became sober and aware of who you were speaking to; you had been so embarrassed, that even when you think about it now, your pointed ears flush at the tips. Rhys had only chuckled and waved off your embarrassment as you tried to apologize profusely before scrambling away, without a goodbye, citing that you needed to return to the clinic to prepare before it opened. That night, that conversation, had been enough for Rhysand to drop by your clinic every once and a while to take you out for coffee and to listen to the complexities of your job, becoming one of your best friends in the process. 

One morning, before you had opened the doors to the clinic, Rhysand had winnowed in. He expressed his concern about the plots for the mass-clipping, describing the situation as quickly as he could, as the situation could have become dire at any moment. You hadn’t hesitated, urgently grabbing any supplies you would need to help the female babes in case anything were to happen, and practically yanked Rhys outside so he could fly you both out there. Meeting Cassian and Azriel had been as expected; the high lord outlined their personalities well during your conversations over lattes, and sometimes wine even, and had told you mid-flight that you would be in their presence. He also informed you the spymaster was to not leave your side as Devlon might plot to take out any and all healers in the region to prevent any sort of wing-saving measures. 

When you landed, you were blown away by Azriels beauty, the rumors across Velaris of his darkness, his hazel eyes, his windswept hair, the cool look of indifference that was usually plastered across his face, had not done him justice. Nothing had ended up happening that night, Devlon’s plans had been unfoiled by the illyrian brothers, but by no means was the night considered wasteful. That night, you impressed all three males with your experiences and storytelling, and despite Az not saying a word to you that night as he analyzed you from a distance, the two of you had become attached at the hip once you returned to Velaris. 

He drew you from your thoughts, “I knew that I couldn’t let you go. That first night, I didn’t get a wink of sleep because my thoughts kept drifting off to you, and my heart ached knowing that we wouldn’t have a lot of time together in Windhaven. And then we returned to Valeris, and I thought maybe because I wouldn’t be seeing you, that I wouldn’t be consumed by you. But then it became me thinking of you when I woke up, thinking of you when I went to bed, thinking of you in my dreams, thinking of you when I needed to work, thinking of you during meetings, to thinking of you at every moment of every day. 

And I couldn’t hold back anymore, and so after a week of not seeing you, I decided I would stop by your clinic every day and ask if you needed anything to try and get you to talk to me, acknowledge me, even if it were a couple of seconds. And you would always be kind and smile so softly, in a way I didn’t deserve, and thank me for my efforts. And then it slowly turned into walking you home from work, to going out for drinks after work, to grabbing lunch from nearby food carts, to going shopping together for Mother knows what. And I was fucking hooked, dove, I couldn’t get enough of you. Mother knows, I tried to hold back, because I don’t deserve you. Not after everything I have done. Not after everything these hands have done,” Azriel paused, eyes filling with disgust as he shifted, staring down at his marred hands that had continued to grip onto yours. His hold loosened, as if he didn’t want to dirty your hands with whatever he did for his job in protecting the night court. But you didn’t let him let go completely, intertwining your fingers with his tighter, squeezing at the knuckles, a habit that you had picked up in the years of your friendship in an effort to urge him to stay and carry on with his explanation. 

“Any time Rhys would send me on a mission for a period of time, I would feel sick to my stomach the entire time I was away and the feeling was only soothed when I would return and find you asleep in the comfort of your own home. And that's how it continued. Because having you in any capacity, whether it was just acquaintances or friends or best friends should have been enough. But Gods Y/N, it wasn’t. You deserve someone who is good, just like you. Someone who helps heal people, someone who is perfect in every way just like you. Someone who isn’t me, someone who isn’t riddled with self loathing and despair. But if I am one thing, it is that I am fucking selfish male. For years, I held myself back from becoming anything more than best friends. But then two years before Amarantha, on the winter solstice, the bond fucking snapped. I don’t know if you remember anything about that night, but I remember every moment.” He peaked up at you through his eyelashes as he paused, his pink tongue poking out to lick at his dry lips. You had been incredibly drunk that night, drinking the expensive wines of the high lord with the rest of the inner circle as you played group games before opening up presents, high on the fact that everything had been at peace. There had been no problems with the Illyrian war camps shockingly, the patients who you had been looking after for the most part were thriving, there was a peace over Velaris and Prythian. 

“You were wearing this silk fitted blue gown that stopped right at your knees and was sleeveless, one that matched the color of my siphons. Mother fucking above Dove, I nearly dropped to my knees when you walked in with your cheeks flushed and eyes shining so bright, I thought Rhys had plucked the stars from the sky and placed them into your irises. And then you looked around the room, and when we caught eyes, you smiled so hard and I was the first person you came to. Me. Not Rhys or Cassian or Morr or Amren or whoever else was there. You walked over to me, and you hugged me so tight and whispered ‘Happy Solstice Az,’ and I couldn’t breathe. You literally stole my breath away, the breathtaking lady you are. I clung to you the entire night, and you- you let me…  

I didn’t want to spend a single second away from you, we sat together the whole night, drinking whatever wine Morr would pull out from the cellar and whispered about anything and everything that came to mind. And then we were pulled into playing games, and we first played mafia which we won together, and then charades where we were partners and nearly beat Cass and Morr even though they were absolutely fucking cheating, and then we all exchanged gifts and I didn’t have any from you in my pile. I thought you hadn’t gotten me anything and my heart nearly shattered, but I hated myself because I knew I was wrong to be upset. Because you deserve better than what I could ever offer you. When you opened my gift and gasped, I was so fucking nervous, I couldn’t help but second guess if it had been an appropriate gift to give you.” 

“A gold locket,” you blurted out. You remembered your heart beating so fast when he had handed you your gift, silently watching your reaction as he leaned back into the couch and drank from his bottle. You shakily unwrapped the box, trying to save every piece of paper that had been delicately placed to cover it. The locket was the most beautiful gift you had ever received to date. It had a constellation carved into the front, and on the inside had poetry written in some ancient language with Illyrian roots that the shadowsinger had refused to translate for you, even to this day. But you wore it. Morning, noon, and night like clock work you would wear it. In fact, you rarely took it off, feeling panicked any time you couldn’t feel the cool metal resting against the warm skin of your collar. When you had been stuck under the mountain, you had hidden it within your shoe because you feared it would be taken. And it had been the only real connection that you had to Az at the time. You often held it in your fist on the night that insomnia racked you, the small object bringing you comfort in ways you could never elaborate on. And you still wear it to this day, even right now, you can feel the necklace grow heavy on you. 

“That night, when everyone had passed out from drinking, you and I stayed up. And we sat out on the balcony on the swing and just enjoyed each other's presence. And you leaned your head against my shoulder and I almost blurted it out in the moment how I felt about you, I didn’t want to hold back anymore, no matter how selfish I was going to be. I wanted, no I needed you. You shifted away for a second, and pulled something out of your pocket before silently handing it to me. I remember staring at the little box for a couple of minutes. My mind had gone completely blank from the disbelief that you had indeed gotten me something… I was so confused when it turned out to be this lotion that smelled heavily like lavender, and you picked up on that even though you were almost asleep, and you mumbled out, ‘It is a balm I made for your hands from herbs in the garden. It has a cooling sensation whenever you apply it, and is supposed to help with falling asleep.’ and the cap had inscribed, To keep the nightmares at bay, may you only find peace in your dreams. -Always yours, Y/N

Mother fucking above, in that moment, I fell in love with you all over and that was the moment. I felt the bond fucking snap. And I was so fucking elated, and when I turned my head to look down at you, you had passed out. And I waited for hours, holding you close, trying to calm my nerves and slow down my heart because I thought I would go into cardiac arrest. And in those hours, I thought about telling you. I thought about how fucking happy I was that you were mine, because from the moment I met you, I was yours. And there was just nothing to do about that. Fear and anxiety started to creep in as the sun rose, at this point we had both shifted to laying down, and I just held you to my chest, breathing you in, smelling your scent, watching you sleep so peacefully, and I couldn’t ruin that. I was and still am the spymaster of this court. I have done a lot of evil, things that are unspeakable, for the sake of protecting Velaris, for the sake of protecting this court. And that has brought me a lot of enemies, enemies that would gleen at the thought of you. At the thought of taking you away from me. Because if that were to ever happen, I think I would die Y/N. I couldn’t let any harm come to you. I couldn’t ruin your peace. I couldn’t ruin your happiness with my bullshit. And so I promised to myself and you that I would always protect you, I would never let anything happen to you, and I would try to be a better male. That way, you would be proud to have me as a mate. That way, you would never look back and having me as your mate.” 

Grief pulled at your heart strings. All this time, lost. All the hurt and pain was for nothing. The image of Azriel sitting in front of you pausing in his explanation blurred from the burning tears that were making their way down your cheeks, connecting at the bottom of your chin, collecting before dropping onto the sheets beneath you. It was certainly no excuse for Azriel not telling you, but it was an explanation. You thought back to all the times the shadowsinger had expressed his hate towards himself, whispering his darkest thoughts to you in the middle of the night where no one else would hear, as he raised one of his hands that had been locked with yours, and allowed the pads of his fingers to run across your cheeks, brushing away your tears in the process. 

You took a shuddering breath as he pressed his soft palm into your soft skin, his voice hoarse with sorrow, “I am sorry sweetheart. I cannot express enough how much I regret not telling you that very night. I regret not waking you up. I regret all the moments that came after that ever made you doubt our friendship, all the moments that ever made you feel like you were not deserving, all the moments that ever had the thought that I didn’t love you cross your mind. It is the biggest regret of my life, but I needed to protect you.” 

A part of you understood his reasons, understood his fears. Azriel had hidden a lot of aspects of his work from you out of fear that you would one day find yourself horrified by his actions. But inevitably, you would hear the rumors that patients would speak and through that, you seemed to have a small idea of what types of methods Az would use to get the information he needed. You never held it against him. And you made sure he knew that any time he had the slightest hint of concern shown in his eyes. But Azriels issues with himself were not yours that you could solve, you could only help him bear the load. The rest, he would have to figure out on his own, with time and acceptance of the past and present. The fact that he tried to work on himself for you was no small feat. You rested your head against his hand, scooting closer to him, desperate to close the gap even though he hadn't finished. Desperate to get the comfort you usually felt whenever you were close to him. “Every day after that solstice, I tried to work up the courage to tell you. Every time I was around you. Every minute I wasn’t working, I was thinking about flying over and just telling you. But every time I worked up the courage and would find you, it would dissipate. Every fucking time. I would take one look at you and I would fear that the way you would see me would change, that the friendship that we shared would be ruined. I was fucking terrified of you not wanting me. Of you hating what fate had decided as your mate. And I was a fucking coward. I couldn’t take the risk of losing you… and just like that, two years had passed and Starfall was coming up. I had told Amren of my predicament and she-” 

“Wait. Amren knew?” You were flabbergasted. Of all the people you had expected Az to confide in, she was not one. Rhys or Cassian, or even Morrigan. But not Amren. You were almost certain Azriel still didn’t trust Amren after all these years of her being a part of the inner circle. 

“Yes dove, Amren. I knew she wouldn’t tell you before I had the chance. But I swear she almost tore my balls off for not telling you the night the bond snapped.” Azriel’s wings quivered at the thought, loosening from their tight positioning to snap together behind his spine. You snorted as you tried to imagine Azriel facing the tiny beast and speaking his deepest secret to her, only for her to threaten him with castration. He bumped his shoulder against yours, grinning softly at you finding humor in his story, “If I could continue please, I am not finished.” You raised an eyebrow lifting up your arm to gesture in front of you, “By all means shadowsinger.” 

He cleared his throat at your approval, “We basically spent two months planning out this elaborate surprise for you, mainly me of course. But of course, Amren added her input where she saw fit. I was going to take you dress and jewelry shopping, then to dinner at our favorite restaurant where we would eat the first meal we shared together and drink our favorite wine, and then I would dance with you under the falling stars and I would whisper into your ear my love for you and I was going to ask you to marry me. About a week before Starfall, you and Rhys went on a mission,” your muscles spasmed. He was going to ask you to marry him? Dread filled you. You knew where this story was going to end. That Starfall never happened. Not for you and Rhys. 

“A mission that neither you nor Rhys returned from. Gods Y/N. I felt it. I felt the moment when Rhys cut off any connection from all of us. I felt the wards of Velaris being put up into place, locking us in for fifty years to protect us from whatever had gotten you and Rhys.” He croaked out, “I felt our bond dulling Y/N. I thought you were fucking dying. I panicked. I threw myself at the wards, pleading to be let out. I- I tried coming for you. But you and Rhys were gone. Stuck. For fifty fucking years. None of us knew what was happening, only the rumors from refugees were available in terms of gathering information. Beyond that… I didn’t fucking know whether you were dead or alive. And if you were alive, I didn’t know what you were going through. It- Y/N. Y/N, it was the worst fifty years of my existence. Every day spent without you was like a thousand spears being shot into my wings and being pulled out. It- it felt like I was burning, not just my hands this time, but my entire body. I felt like I was burning alive for fifty years without any respite. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t move. I was fucking paralyzed. All I could do was wait.” 

His grip on your fingers had gotten impossibly tight as he pulled you into his grasp, wrapping his arm that once laid on your cheek around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He buried his face into your hair, taking a deep inhale to allow your scent to calm him, as his body began shaking from quiet sobs. You could feel his hot tears landing on your scalp and you held him right to you, rubbing his spine between his wings in comfort with one hand and tangling your fingers into his hair with the other. You turned your head into his neck, allowing for your soft breaths to press kisses into the tattooed skin, shushing him with soft murmurs of “I am right here and I am not going anywhere ever again.” A promise that you had to repeat a number of times before he was able to calm down. This night had left you both emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. Whatever was to come in the next couple of hours, at least you could hinge on the fact that you both would probably pass out from exhaustion into a dreamless sleep. The cool wisps of Azriel’s shadows snaked around your arms, wrapping around you for the first time since he began telling you his side of the story, their presence offering you their silent support. 

The next part of his story came out as whispers into your hair, your pointed ears straining to listen, “When Feyre killed Amarantha, everyone in Pyrthian felt the shift in power. The extra wards that had been placed around Velaris fell at once, and the connection between Rhys and the rest of us was suddenly humming. And I could feel you baby. I could feel you for the first time in fifty years after thinking you were dead. And I was on a fucking high. I was going to drop to my knees and tell you that we were mates the second you walked through the doors of the townhouse. I was fully prepared. But you didn’t come walking in. No. Rhys fucking carried you in, looking the most pale I had ever seen him. You weren’t moving. You were- Gods Y/N Morr immediately burst into tears and I could only stare and watch when she screamed out for Majda as everyone rushed to gather around you. You were so pale and you were skin on bones. There were bruises covering your body, you had a broken nose, and the skin around your eyes were swollen and blackened. The second Rhysand had set you down, I grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him into the wall screaming at him, screaming at him to tell me what had happened to you. Amarantha had ordered you to be beaten to death because you had been healing some of her victims under the mountain. Rhysand had gotten to you in the nick of time after Feyre killed Amarantha. He said he ripped off the heads of the soldiers who were trying to kill you. You were asleep for a fucking week, healing from all the physical trauma.”

When you woke up from your sleep, you had tried to be elated over the fact that you were back home in Valeris. But the events that occurred under the mountain had left you truly empty. At first, you hadn’t even been able to look anyone in the eyes except for Rhys. You hadn’t been able to speak, or eat, or sleep properly. You felt like an empty shell, and Rhysand was the only one who could possibly understand why. The bond that you two had grown under the mountain was as close to brother and sister as one could get without being biologically related. He had ensured your safety for the most part, and you were his rock when he had to suffer through Amarantha’s torture. You and him were the only ones to know what the other had truly gone through, and both of you had an unspoken agreement to not speak of the trauma to the others, despite the begging of Morr and Cassian. Azriel and Amren were the only ones who didn’t dare to ask, and now you were understanding why. Unconsciously, some part of Azriel had known what had happened to you. There was no need for him to ask. And maybe, probably, he didn’t want to know what happened. Maybe, probably, it was too much to bear to know what had happened all those years you had been stuck. 

“You weren't okay dove. You weren’t okay for a while, and I couldn’t just drop this information on you like it meant nothing. I couldn’t drop this on you because if you didn’t want me in the form of a mate, I didn’t want you to feel like you had lost me completely. I didn’t want you to feel like you went under the mountain and came out without your best friend to be by your side. I just… I just wanted you to be okay. So I shoved all my feelings aside and I was there for you in the best way I knew how to be, I was your best friend. I picked up any of the pieces that were your heart and did my best to put it back together. And just when you were starting to get better, just when you were beginning to smile and laugh and talk and whisper to me and cuddle with me, it was made clear that Amarantha’s reign was only the start of what was going to be a long battle against Hybern.” Azriel scoffed at the end of his rant, clearly frustrated by how the timing of everything had worked out. Most of the inner circle had believed that under the mountain had been the worst thing that we had ever been through as a team, but fate had a funny way of throwing things into your face and telling you to deal with it. 

When Rhysand had figured out Hyberns plot, he brought Feyre to the night court from spring. Your friendship with Feyre had blossomed under the mountain when you would sneak into her cell after Rhysand would leave, and would work on healing her. Speaking to her, stroking her hair as she would cry into your lap. You forget that she was only human when the fate of Pyrthian was placed on her shoulders. And her humanity was stolen from her as she died for the high lord of spring who had done nothing to help or protect her while she faced Amarantha. When you got to see her after months, she had been in similar shape as you, suffering from the trauma that Tamlin had brushed aside. You hated the high lord of spring for that, and made clear to Feyre that you were here for her and that you would help her in any way you could. Through that, you both helped each other get through the darkest parts of your lives. The war on Hybern was another source of trauma, not only inflicting the inner circle, but this time, including Feyre’s sisters. 

When you had first met the two, you couldn’t help but hate the both of them. Letting their youngest sister go into the woods alone to hunt for their family, and treating her so poorly when she returned as a fae had bothered every member of the inner circle. But then Tamlin and Ianthe had dragged them to the cauldron and turned them fae against their will; their screams echoing in your nightmares. Nesta was still working through her trauma, continuing her training as a valkyrie and bettering her relationship with Cassian and the rest of the inner circle. She had definitely grown on you, asking you a little bit about the healing techniques that the valkyrie warriors used to use during battle. Elain had taken up gardening, and your feelings towards her had not changed. Her trauma does not excuse her from being held accountable from her past actions, no matter how merciful Feyre has been towards her sisters, you haven’t forgotten. And neither has Rhysand, though he tended to focus on his anger towards Nesta, partially because both are hot headed whereas Elain had proved to be very sensitive. The other reason you had been bothered greatly by her was obviously her affections towards Azriel, but beyond that, the way she disrespected Lucien at every turn had left you feeling extreme heartache for the male. The redhead was constantly turned away despite his best efforts, and at this point, it just felt like she was stringing him along with his hope that maybe she would warm to him. Your feelings towards Elain had only been amplified when Azriel had taken a liking to Elain, helping her through her trauma and essentially left you feeling gutted and alone. A feeling that the spymaster had been actively trying to avoid by not telling you about your mating bond. Your patience was wearing thin, you wanted Azriel to stop beating around the bush. Even if it would hurt, you needed to know what he had been thinking this whole time in regards to Elain.

“Cut to the chase, Azriel.” It came out sharper than you had intended, pulling away from him. This was it. The root of your problem with Az. The explanation that would be make or break for your relationship with him. The spymaster seemed to not want to break off the physical contact between you to despite you pulling away, he brought his hands down to yours, fingers playing with yours. He also picked up on what you were referring to, he had to have known. He had to have fucking known how much he was fucking hurting you. There is just no fucking way he didn’t. And did he fucking want her? A lump formed in your throat, creating a burning sensation that spread down to your heart as the thought made you sick. She was extremely beautiful and soft and gentle, and she was a lot different than you in terms of personality. None of these doubts or worries had truly been addressed by his ramblings. Even though they had given you a lot of context to why he had hidden the bond. 

Before you could get lost in the feeling of doubt, Azriel gave a strong tug at the bond, sending down feelings of adoration and reassurance before rasping out, “Y/N, I want to start off with I am so sorry. So fucking sorry for how these past months have made you feel. How I made you feel. I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself. The next thing I want to say is that I have no feelings for Elain besides the platonic friendship. She means nothing to me, Y/N, not like that. I am sorry I did a piss-poor job showing it to you. I am sorry that the way I acted made you think differently. I- When I first met Feyre’s sisters, we, Cass and I, made this promise to them that no harm would befall them. And then they were drowned in the cauldron and turned to fae, and it was just this huge blow. Cassian especially I think because Nesta trusted him deeply to protect her, and he felt like he had failed. And I felt the same way. I felt the same fucking way with you Y/N. I had promised, sworn up and down and left and right that I would always protect you. It felt like… it felt like I had failed you once again. This time, through Elain, in this weird projection thing. I think in my head, when I looked at Elain, I was thinking of the you before Amarantha, and I just wanted to prevent anything from happening to her, because in the end, I wasn’t able to protect you. I failed you. I failed you when you went under the mountain, and again when we couldn’t protect Nesta and Elain. It felt like I failed you again. And then Feyre left to spy in spring court, and we were left to deal with the aftermath of Hybern. So Rhysand asked Cassian to look after Nesta and he asked for me to look after Elain. And I threw myself into it, because if I didn’t, then I would think about all the ways that I was and am an incompetent piece of shit mate. And in the process of trying to make sure Elain was okay, I unintentionally neglected you. Part of me just wanted to believe that you were okay, and you didn’t need me. Part of me wanted to believe that we were okay. That nothing had changed between us, and that once Elain was okay, we would figure things out between us with all the time in the world. That I would tell you of the mating bond, and you would accept it. That we would take our mating vows, and Rhysand would be the one officiating them because Cassian would fuck it up with his crying.” 

You huffed out a laugh as sobs began to bubble from your throat, “I really needed you Az.”

Azriel had squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the sounds of your sobs as if it were causing him physical pain. “I know Y/N. I am so fucking sorry. There isn’t any excuse,” his own sobs tearing their way through his throat. He swallowed once, twice, three times before opening his eyes to focus his hazel irises into yours. “I can only promise to never do this to you again. I want- no- I need you to understand, no I need you to know that it’s you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Always. I need you to believe me, sweetheart. And if you don’t…If you don’t, then let me show you. The right way. The proper way. And if by the end of it, you don’t want anything to do with me, then I promise you, I will leave you alone, even if it fucking breaks me. Because I just want you safe and happy and loved the way you deserve. That is all I have fucking ever wanted since the moment I met you.” 

You pressed your lips together, nodding along at his promises. There wasn’t any excuse for how he had treated you. But there was an explanation. Azriel was taking responsibility, he was acknowledging his wrongs, and he was promising change. And after all this time of loving him, that was enough for now. “Az, I can’t accept the mating bond.” His entire body seized up, freezing, waiting for you to deliver the final blow where you would reject him and the bond. “Gods, Az, I want to. I have been in love with you for fucking years. But, I can’t accept it right now at least. I need to take things slow, and see the change first. I need to heal and I think you need to heal too. I need you to be my best fucking friend again. I need you to be there for me. I need you to love me.” Hope shone on his face, his lips quirking up into a soft smile as he huffed, a single tear streaking down his cheek. “How about this dove, how about we promise to each other that we will always love each other as best friends, that we will always put each other first, that we will heal each other, and that we will always come back to one another.” He held up his scarred pinky finger up to you, patiently waiting to see if you would grab on, giving you the option either way. At your hesitation, he whispered gently, “I promise Y/N.” A watery grin broke out across your face as you reached up to link your pinky with his, your own matching tear streaking down that he wiped away with his free hand, “I promise Azriel.”

Taglist: @paasrin @positivewitch @fieldofdaisiies @judig92 @sv0430 @highlady-ofillyria @wrensical003 @brekkershadowsinger @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mrs-azriel @cityofidek @nova-stardragon @thewarriormoon @ilovespideyyy @azzydaddy @bookish-dream @nobody00sthings @marigold-morelli @solossweater @rubygirly @hanasakr @ellievickstar @shadowcrowsworld @lucyysthings @cameronsails @peachycandy10 @bruhhvv @flyingsquidsgrowwings-blog @adreamerforthestars @lahoete @mis-lil-red @his-sweet-nightmare @esposadomd @blurredlamplight @elizarikaallen @tiffthebookworm @valeridarkness  @wifeofcamillamacaulay @everyonehatescarmen  @grungy-blue-hipster @azriels-favorite-simp @goldentournesol @mariana468 @elsie-bells @slvetherinseeker @cafe-inaaa @honeyrydernot

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Cover art by Konstantin Turovec

Here we begin to see more of where Sky has been this time, I am trying my hand at multifandom, but i feel i explained it well. If you're going to start reading this please finish it before getting mad at me. Rhysand is starting shit.

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

Tw: violence, blood.

Ch1

Ch 5 >>> Ch 7

Chapter 6:

After dinner in Adriata, I portaled Tamlin and I home to the foyer of the manor, him shouldering the bags of clothes I purchased from the shops in Summer. It wasn't terribly expensive, I have just always loved supporting the local shops in the towns I visit.

There came a knock at the door just as Tamlin was heading upstairs. “Oooh! Visitors!!” I said excitedly as I ran to the door. Tamlin trailed closely behind me, setting the bags on the ground, because, for a while there, visitors didn't necessarily mean good things.

Pure fear consumed my face as I opened the door to see my brother, standing there holding his breath, and Lucien. It took only a second for my brother to drop Lucien and winnow away. “No! Lucien!” I screamed as I caught him, falling forward into me. His face was beaten and bloodied and a dagger stuck out from his back. I sat down on the ground, holding his head to my chest. There was so much blood, and it was pooling around me.

“Lucien, Lucien, stay with me. You survived Baron and your brothers, you will survive this.” Tamlin was panicking. “What about that potion you gave me when you first got back?”

“He would need to be able to swallow it.” I cried, tears streaming down my face. With shaky hands I grabbed his knees and pulled them up to me. Cradling him in my arms. I looked Tamlin dead in the eyes, “Trust. Me.” and Lucien and I fell through a portal.

We landed, just outside of the gates of Darnassus. I was kneeling, still holding him up in a seated position while the rest of his weight laid on the cool cobblestone underneath us. If I could get him to this realm, I could revive him myself. He had eaten the food of Azeroth many times, albeit unknowingly, it should be enough to send his soul to the angel that guards the grave. I hope it's enough. “Are you still with me?” I asked, looking for any sign of life. The only other step was that he die, here. Death in Azeroth is not as permanent as it is in Prythia. It's still terrifying, but if you can find your corpse you can resurrect, and I brought him directly to the graveyard where his soul would go.

He let out a soft groan, blood still pooling on the ground. Good, he's barely there, but he's still alive. “Let go.” I whispered to him, my voice shaky, he was obviously just the catalyst used to send me a message.

As I felt his skin growing colder, I looked to the graveyard in front of me. “Come,” I called, “come back to your body, you will be okay.” I could never see the spirits unless I was one, I had hope that I wasn't too late. Tears streamed down as I buried my face in his cold chest. “Please come back.” I cried

“You dare bring a blood elf onto these lands?” The sentries that guard the gates noticed me and were drawing weapons. In my haste, I failed to register that Lucien, and hell even Tamlin, could be mistaken for a Blood elf, enemies of the Night elves, I just brought us to the place I called home for many years. While Night elf skin is more cool toned, they are associated with greens, blues and purples, Blood elf skin is more warm toned associated with red, yellows and oranges.

“He's not a blood elf.” I snapped as I pulled the dagger out of his back, immediately putting pressure on the open wound. Please leave me alone, this is already traumatic enough. “Lucien,” I looked toward the graveyard, “come back to your body.” Fuck, this has to work. It worked for me the first time I died.

“Get out of here or we will kill you too, traitor.”

Just then a familiar purple raven with dark sigils designed on its feathers nose dived straight for us. As he neared, he shifted back into an elf and positioned himself between me and the guards. “Leave the lady be, I will take it from here.” The guards bowed and returned to their stations.

“Thorin,” I breathed, happy to see him. “Can you resurrect him?” Thorin was a good friend of mine during my time in Azeroth that I, occasionally, had sex with. We had risen to King and Queen together before I left him to move onto the next adventure. He looked like the closest version of Tamlin a Night elf could be, long blonde hair, glowing fully green eyes, impeccable figure. What can I say? I have a type. Also, he was a druid, and druids could heal and resurrect.

“I will give it my best effort.” He began his spell and it stopped. My heart sank until Thorin spoke again “the motherfucker is still holding on.” There is too much blood, there is no way. Thorin shot a healing blast straight into Lucien's chest and Lucien woke up, inhaling heavily. The blast speeds up the healing process to almost instant.

“Where am I? What's going on?” Lucien asked, trying and failing to jump up as my arms were still around him.

“You're fine, this is Darnassus, I lived here for many years and this is my friend, Thorin. He saved your life.” I explained gently. There was still a lot of fear in Lucien's eyes as he took in his surroundings and the elf that stood before him. The vibrant purple sky and soft green moss resembled a healthy mix of the scenery in Night and Spring, while the massive trees surrounding us added a flair of Autumn. I turned to Thorin “thank you, your timing was amazing. I would love to stay and catch up but we really need to get back.”

He bowed his head slightly, “the pleasure is mine, I'm glad I heard you when I did. Don't be a stranger, come back and see us when life settles down for you.” He bent over to give me a kiss on the forehead and he shifted back into his raven form and was off.

I whispered to Lucien “we should get back before Tamlin destroys the manor again.”

“That's a terribly dark joke,” he laughed, still resting in my arms, head back and eyes closed, “I won't tell him you said that and we will be even.”

“Fair,” I giggled as we fell back through a portal home.

Tamlin was pacing just outside the manor as we returned, dashing over to us the second his gaze met mine. I held Lucien still, one arm supporting his neck, the other under his knees. “Walking is going to be painful for a day or two due to where the knife was, but he should make a full recovery.” I said as I passed him off to Tamlin. “Help him out of his bloodied clothes and into bed.”

Tamlin looked down at Lucien, still trailing in and out of consciousness, “He's alive? What happened? Where did you go?”

“Yes, my ex revived him, and Darnassus.” He knew when I kept my answers short like this, to not press further. “I am going to bathe this blood off me, and I just got this dress too, damnit Rhysand, always starting shit, just leave us alone….” I complained out loud as I walked away. I assume Tamlin did as I asked, I did my part, and I am tired.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I woke up the next morning, threw on one of my new dresses and headed to Lucien's room. I knocked “Lucien? Can I come in?”

“Come in,” I opened the door slowly and peeked in. He tried to get up, and I stopped him, sitting on the edge of his bed by his side.

“How are you feeling?”

“Groggy, weak.” He muttered, annoyed.

“That's to be expected, you died yesterday.” I reassured him softly. “I am truly sorry for what my brother did–”

“Don't pity me.” He snapped harshly, avoiding eye contact.

“Hah, this is far from pity. I am terrified of you. That much blood? For how long you held on? You are a tough one that's for sure, remind me to never get on your bad side.” I laughed and he tried to hide the smile forming on his lips. He was still holding onto that anger.

“Why? Why save me, you barely knew me?” He accused.

“Because you matter.” My tone was flat. My intention was not to flatter him, but to actually convince him. “Your value does not reside in how you can be of use to me, Lucien. You do not need to suffer for me to see you as a person whose right to life I respect.” His glare softened slightly, seeming to almost believe me. “What would you like for breakfast? I'll bring it up to you.”

“Just some fruit and maybe some water would be nice.” He whispered.

“Okay, I'll be right back” I pushed his hair out of his face and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Door, open or shut?”

“You can leave it cracked.”

I returned moments later with a tray of mixed fruit and a couple glasses of water. He sat up as I placed the tray on his lap, sitting down next to him. “What happened when you returned to Night?”

Lucien sighed. “Rhysand initially sent me, ordered me, here to convince you to come back with me. I have been at his mercy since leaving Spring, and he figured the curse you put on him wouldn't apply to me since you didn't know of me. What I didn't expect was to return to a rebuilt manor and a Tamlin that not only welcomed me back with open arms, but also an apology. Spring has always been my home, until it wasn't, but after the day I spent with you and him, I felt like I got it back. I returned to Night to tell him that you had no interest in returning and I wouldn't be the one to force you. And, well, your brother doesn't like to be told he can't have what he wants.”

“If you had truly come to Spring with the intention of harm at my brother's behest, the curse would, most definitely, apply to you.” I clarified. “I don't believe you have it in your heart to ever really betray Tamlin.”

“I didn't, and even now it looks as though I owe Spring another life debt.” Lucien sighed.

“You owe me nothing, Lucien. I am not keeping score. That dagger was buried in your back because you stood up for me. You did the right thing and risked your life for someone you barely knew,” I reassured. “I would like to request that you stay here, or at least stay away from the Night court entirely. They believe you to be dead, and we can use that to our advantage later.” A small lie, but Lucien is too proud for his own good, so I knew I had a better chance of convincing him if he thought it to be strategy instead of worry.

“I understand, I would like to remain here, at least until I regain my strength, but I don't want to be treated like a fragile child.” Lucien pressed.

“That is fair, and while I do not, could not, see you as a child in any capacity, I can understand that my kindness may translate that way at times. Just let me know when it is too much and I will back off. Deal?”

“Deal.” He sighed.

I bid him farewell and left the room to allow him to rest. Tamlin was waiting out in the hall.

“How's he doing?”

“Better, he should be well enough to join us for dinner. But I fear I may have to face my brother sooner than I wanted to. It looks like he is going to keep leaving us these grotesque gifts until I hear him out.” I replied calmly as we made our way to the kitchen.

“I don't like the idea of you going there alone. I will be worried sick the entire time. Everyone I care about that has left for Night, has come back in pieces.” Tamlin admitted sternly.

“I need you to trust that I will be fine. His wards have no effect on my portals, no one in Prythia has any understanding of how they work or how to hinder them. I am no longer affected by ash or bloodbane. I will be okay. I promise. I need you here.”

“That's not going to stop me from worrying. Someone needs to protect you.”

I stopped walking and he turned to me. I relaxed the tension I held in my shoulders and looked up at him with a pout on my lips. I knew damn well I was powerful enough to take every High Lord in Prythia with one hand tied behind my back after taking six shots of pure bloodbane. But, I didn't have to fight anymore. I wouldn't have to. He wanted to protect me. Someone wanted to keep me safe. This is all I've wanted. He pulled me into his chest and I whispered, “Then come with me.”

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic @lilah-asteria

[ennawrite]

i love having a bad memory cause i’m rereading my fic just to make sure things flow correctly and I’m just like wow…I kinda ate this shit up 😭

⭐️for those interested, you can read the fic here ⭐️

(it’s a Nyx x Tamlin’s daughter story, with themes of disrupt in the NC. I plan on exploring it more in future chapters)

[szalonykasztan00]

We love good consequences here.

[lainalit]

"We were born sick." You heard them say it

A acotar canon complied fanfic about a common hewn city family.

I posted a one shot that I originally did for my headcanon of a darkbringer going home to his family when he was being denied purchasing toys and sweats from velaris shopowners, just like Rhysand ordered them to do.

After that, the OC's that I created for it wouldn't leave my mind, so I plan to write one shots (probably non-linear) for them.

You find both first parts on ao3 and the second chapter under the cut their his daughter gets her treats.

The small faelights adorned the walls and tables, enveloping the Maher family's living room in a warm, dim glow. The rich aroma of butter and sugar wafted through the air, enhancing the cozy atmosphere.

Seated in a rocking chair by the hearth, Enid threaded a needle through the soft, dyed pink fabric of an almost-finished teddy bear for her daughter, her hands moving with quick steady precision. As she worked, she hummed a gentle tune from an old lullaby her mother used to sing to her—a lullaby she now sings to her daughter whenever nightmares stirred her little one from sleep.

Her husband, Cadell, and their daughter Trina were visiting Nain Ada—the female who took Cadell in after his mother passed away—allowing Enid to complete Trina's gift without needing to worry of looking after her and the fear of Trina discovering the presents too soon.

Just one of the many things Enid loves about her husband; he never takes her homemaking tasks for granted and devotes every moment of his day to their daughter after returning from his Darkbringer duties.

She sighed softly, redirecting her attention to the small pink teddy bear as she completed the final stitch on its back. She examined the meticulous work she had devoted nearly a week to while Trina was at school.

Sometimes, she could still hear her great-grandmother’s voice admonishing her that the stitching wasn’t perfect and that she would need to start all over again since only a flawless stitch could make a flawless wife. What nonsense.

She placed the teddy gently on the rocking chair and walked over to the kitchen island, where the rounded butterscotch candies cooled off.

Taking one, she blew on it and carefully bit off a small piece. As she savored the sweet flavor, she closed her eyes, recalling how her Cousin Kenna, from whom she had obtained the recipe, would make these treats for her birthday when she was young—one of the few cherished memories.

Enid carefully packed the butterscotch’s and the teddy into the bag that Cadell had brought back from his visit to Velaris, a bag that had returned empty after he was denied the very same things she had worked so hard to create now.

As she closed the bag, she struggled to quell her frustration over the situation and the injustice of it all.

She’s fed up with Keir and his elitist friends dictating what the impoverished Fae can and cannot do within the city walls. She seethes at the way the High Lord treats every citizen of her home like a criminal, all while his own hands remain far from innocent.

 But what infuriates her the most is Morrigan, whom the common folk of Hewn City derisively called the 'Red Traitor.' Enid resents how Morrigan abandoned the females, the younglings, and all the vulnerable souls once she secured her own freedom and dreams, never pausing to consider those still trapped within the dark mountain walls yearning for the same.

But she pushed those thoughts aside as she entered her daughter’s room and placed the bag of gifts on the bed. She chose to focus on her blessings rather than what she lacked.

________________

Enid stood in the warm glow of the kitchen, the faint scent of vanilla and butter still lingering in the air as she wiped the dark countertop clean.

The rhythmic sound of her cloth against the surface was soothing, a welcome reprieve in the otherwise peaceful afternoon. Just as she finished, she heard the unmistakable thud of heavy boots on their front door, stirring a flutter of excitement in her chest.

The door creaked open, and there was Cadell, his broad silhouette framed against the fading light, with Trina nestled in his arms, her small form draped against him like a sleeping flower sprite from one of her picture books.

“Wake up, princess! We are home,” Cadell announced with a playful lilt, gently jostling her.

 Trina stirred, a sleepy grumble escaping her lips as she buried her face deeper into her father’s neck, unwilling to wake fully just yet.

With quick strides, Enid closed the distance, her heart warm at the sight of her husband and daughter. Cadell leans down, his lips find his wife's forehead in the customary kiss he lovingly bestows upon her each time he comes home.

“Did you have a good time by Nain Ada?” Enid asked, her smile teasing as she tipped her head back to meet his gaze, her hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Cadell chuckled, his dark brown eyes shimmering with contentment.

"If by that you mean her feeding us until we’re ready to burst and her grumpy self finding fault with everything and everyone, then yes,“ he replied, a note of affection lacing his words as he adjusted his hold on their daughter.

Enid quirked a brow, a smile tugging at her lips. “And you, my sweetling?”

Her daughter, still half-asleep, merely nodded her head against her father's shoulder, an adorable little gesture that made Enid’s heart swell.

“Well, it seems like our princess wants to sleep instead of meeting Lucy’s new friend?” she said, glancing from her husband to her daughter.

Trina lifted her head slightly, her big hazelnut eyes blinking up at her mother with a hint of curiosity.

“New friend?” she murmured, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her words.

"Yes, they arrived just before you and went directly to your room," Enid replied, gently tucking a stray of Trina’s dark hair behind her ear, revealing her small features that already resemble her husband , though he would insist she looked much more like her.

With a sudden burst of energy, Trina wiggled in her father’s arms, determination flashing in her sleepy eyes.

“Daddy, let me down!” she demanded, her voice tinged with the audacity of a youngling sure of her own authority.

Cadell chuckled lightly, his deep laughter resonating in their living room.

“Okay, okay, but what do we say first?” he asked, lowering her slightly, giving her the room to wiggle free.

Trina beamed up at him before leaning in, planting a big, warm kiss on his cheek.

“Pretty please!” she chimed.

With a laugh, he set her down entirely, watching as she dashed off towards her room, her tiny feet pattering against the stone floor in a flurry of excitement.

Just as Enid was about to head towards Trina’s room, Cadell caught her wrist with a firm yet tender grasp, turning her gently but decisively to face him.

“Wha—” she began, before she could fully voice her question, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a long, passionate kiss that seemed to stop time itself.

When he finally pulled away, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Did I tell you how incredible you are?” he breathed, his voice low and filled with admiration.

She took a moment to catch her breath, her heart racing from both the unexpected kiss and the weight of his words.

“No, that’s the first time you’ve ever told me that,” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she swatted his shoulder lightly.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her pointy ear as he whispered, “Well, if that’s the case, it seems I need to show my wife tonight just how incredible she is.”

A shiver of excitement and anticipation danced down her spine at his words, a heady mix of emotions blooming within her. But before she could form a reply, a sharp scream pierced the air from her daughter’s room, shattering the intimate moment.

In an instant, her husband’s demeanor shifted from tender to alert; he released her and sprinted the few meters to their daughter’s room, his concern palpable. She was right behind him, her heart still pounding—not just from the kiss, but from the sudden urgency that had replaced their tender exchange.

_______________

In Trina’s room, the atmosphere was electric with joy.

Enid stepped inside to find her daughter tightly clutching the pink teddy, bouncing up and down in sheer delight. The moment stirred something deep within her, an echo of uncontained happiness.

“By the Mother, don’t scare your old father like that, Trina!” Cadell exclaimed, his hand resting dramatically on his heart as if he were about to swoon.

Enid couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his remarks. Both in their seventies, they were seen as practically youthful by high fae standards, especially when compared to Ada, who was over seven hundred years old.

Trina stopped her bouncy dance and held the pink teddy high above her head.

 “I’m sorry, Daddy! But look at Lucy’s and Mr. Starfall’s new best friend!” She stretched her tiny arms up toward him, enthusiasm radiating from her face.

Cadell knelt down to her level, his gaze softening with love as he looked at the stuffed animal she clutched in her tiny hands.

"I see, princess. They look quite lovely," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Without warning, Trina launched herself into his arms, wrapping her limbs around him with all her might.

"Thank you, Daddy!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with pure, unfiltered joy.

Cadell chuckled, a deep, warm sound that filled the room, hugging her back with equal fervor before loosening his embrace just enough to look into her bright, eager eyes.

 "You’re welcome, sweetheart, but I didn’t do anything. It was all your mama’s work."

Enid, standing nearby, suppressed a smile, knowing full well that her husband had played his part as well. He had helped with the cutting and dyeing of the fabric, though she chose not to mention it now.

She’d will remind him later by mischievously depriving him of his favorite indulgence in bed, so that he wouldn’t always be so self-effacing.

Trina glanced over at her, breaking free from her father's embrace, and before she could topple into her mother’s legs, Enid bent down to catch her, pulling her into a long, heartfelt hug.

"Thank you, Mommy! I love you so much," Trina said with a soft voice, her small arms squeezing with all the strength she could muster.

"I love you too, my sweetling," Enid murmured, feeling the beginning of unshed tears prickling at her eyes.

As they slowly parted, Enid asked gently, "So, what’s the name of your new friend?"

Trina looked thoughtfully from her mother to her father, then down at the plushie in her hands.

"I think…I’ll name him Thessie." A big smile spread across her face.

"Why that, sweetheart?" Cadell asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Trina gazed down at Thessie, cradling it in her small hands.

“His pink reminds me of the pictures from the Dawn Court in my schoolbooks, and the High Lord is Thesan, so Thessie!”

There was a brief silence as they all absorbed the weight of her words. Each of them understood, in their own way, that they would likely never see the breathtaking views of the Dawn Court at sunset.

Breaking the silence, Enid chimed in with a soft, nurturing voice, "What a lovely name, sweetie. And since Lord Thesan wields healing powers, your Thessie will undoubtedly possess some of that magic as well."

Her daughter's warm eyes widened, a spark of wonder igniting within them. "Do you really think so?"

Enid smiled brightly as she answered, “Of course! Just like Mr. Starfall has star powers, or Lucy has fire powers.”

Trina hugged Thessie tightly and gave the bear a kiss on its head. With an ecstatic look, she made her way over to her dressing drawer, where Mr. Starfall and Lucy awaited the arrival of their new friend.

As the moment unfolded, Cadell grasped Enid’s hand, every bit of warmth radiating from his calloused grip. His gaze was drifting to his daughter's bed, where the candy bag poked out from beneath the larger bag.

“Princess, look what I’ve found!” he said, retrieving the sweets and waving them teasingly.

"Daddy, my caramel bonbons!" Trina squealed, darting across the small room in an eager attempt of trying to seize the candies out of her father’s hand.

"Wait a minute, the oldest gets to go first!" Cadell declared, holding the bag just out of reach, a playful glint in his eye.

"That's not true, Daddy! The youngest gets to go first!" Trina exclaimed, hopping up and down on her feet, eager to get her hands on the sweat treats.

With a mischievous smile, Cadell raised an eyebrow at her.

 "If that’s so, why doesn’t the youngest try to catch her old father?" And with that, he released his wife's hand and dashed out of the room, laughter bubbling from his lips.

"Daddy, you cheated!" Trina yelled, her laughter ringing out as she chased after him, her little legs moving as fast as they could.

Standing in the doorway, Enid listens to the joyful peals of laughter reverberating around their Alcove, wrapping every corner in a cocoon of blissful love. A peaceful smile graced her lips.

Despite not having the opulent wealth of gems and gold that Prythian aristocrats possess, she felt immeasurably wealthy in that moment, as she watched, her greatest treasure right in front of her, scuttling through their home in a whirlwind of laughter.

[achaotichuman]

A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning

A Court of Thorns and Roses next generation fiction.

This is the masterpost for A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning, below are all the links related to this fanfiction.

Summary:

Life is peaceful for Dahlia Fairburn, running with her War Band, and commanding the Spring Court armies. Since the day she could wield a sword, she's been helping her father, along with her younger brother, to restore Spring to its former glory. Trying to ignore the festering magic in her body, that threatens to consume her.

One day, all that peace is threatened to be shaken, as a certain prince of Night asks for her to join the rebellion of the Hewn City and Illyria. From beneath the great mountains, an ancient song calls for her. She meets a woman with death in her eyes, and power in her veins, who makes Dahlia's blood boil while something clicks into place between them.

This new generation of Prythian was thought to be one of peace and prosperity. But the mask of the reigning High Lords begin to crumble, as secrets older than Prythian itself are uncovered, and darkness is unleashed.

Character Moodboards:

High Lord Tamlin

Dahlia Fairburn (Tamlin's Daughter)

Eden Fairburn (Tamlin's Son)

Aisling Sapphirus (Dahlia's Love Interest)

Aesira Vanserra (Eris + Azriel's Daughter)

Cynthia Vanserra (Eris + Azriel's Daughter)

Nyx Archeron

A Witch A Warrior And A Reckoning: ACT 1 Spotify Playlist

DM or reply in the notes of this post if you would like to be added to the tag list for this fanfiction!

[shadowqueenjude]

Lucien finally loses it and does something bat-shit crazy

@theewicked @ramim @sonics-atelier @duskcourthighlady This is for you babes😘 After Feyre shit-talks him and the BOE at ACOFAS, Lucien reaches his breaking point, and he resolves to do something crazy. Part 2 coming soon!

Lucien was absolutely fed up with everyone’s bullshit.

It was coming from every side. Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Tamlin, Beron, Elain, Nesta, and all of their relatives were giving him hell every day. He had just about had enough.

How long was he supposed to just sit there and pretend like everything is fine? Even the finest outfits couldn’t pull him out of his misery.

This was all Rhysand’s fault. He had ruined everything for him. His relationship with Tamlin and Feyre. His home, his life. Hell, he was even the reason his mate had gone through hell. He had failed to protect Feyre’s sisters. He couldn’t understand how Feyre could stomach him after everything he did under the mountain. God knew Lucien barely could most days. Every time he saw his smug ass face, it reminded him of Ianthe.

And after all this time, they still treated him like an outsider. When he had come to the Night Court for the first time, they had treated him like an enemy. Pulled out all the stops to make sure he knew his life was thoroughly threatened. Despite everything he had done for Feyre. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be trusted, it was her.

She had completely used him. He wondered sometimes if she ever thought of him as a friend, or if he had just been a means to an end, and later an enemy. Well, they should know Lucien didn’t respond well to threats. He had been exceptionally tempted to pull an Amarantha on Rhysand and tell him to return to the shit-hole he had crawled out of, but he had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t have been so lucky as to escape with his life this time.

They had actually made him thoroughly sympathize with Nesta. Hell, his asshole of a brother Eris was better company than those two. He now spent most of his time in the company of two humans. And Feyre, a formally human girl, had become the epitome of all she claimed to hate about the Fae in the first place. “They peddle tales of defending our land and peace. And yet she came to my lands and laid them bare for Hybern. She took my High Priestess and warped her mind—after she shattered her bones for spite. And if you are asking yourself what happened to that human girl who went Under the Mountain to save us … Look to the male sitting beside her. Ask what he stands to gain—what they stand to gain from this war, or lack of it. Would we fight Hybern, only to find ourselves with a Queen and King of Prythian? She’s proved her ambition—and you saw how he was more than happy to serve Amarantha to remain unscathed.” Lucien hadn’t been there for the High Lord meeting, but he had heard the recounting of it afterwards. He somehow thought his former friend was right. He highly doubted Rhysand’s ambition ended at High Lord. And with the power he possessed…all of Prythian would be in danger should he become High King. He'd seen the state of the lands Rhysand thought beneath his notice. Velaris was beautiful yes; more beautiful than he cared to admit. But what of the rest of his nation? Lucien could only imagine how little attention Tamlin’s former territory would get should it fall into Rhysand’s hands. But how would he ever keep Rhysand from gaining such power? He had power of his own, sure, but compared to the might of the entire Inner Circle… Although, he did have one advantage: the Inner Circle had no idea how deep his power ran. Even Lucien didn’t know. He could do things that nobody else could. With the magic eye and the spell-cleaving powers he inherited from his biological father…

Could he do the impossible? The cauldron itself had failed. Then again, that could possibly be attributed to the fact that Feyre and Rhysand had been held together by not one, but two bonds. Now that one of them had been broken…

Lucien chuckled to himself. Such wicked thoughts were unbecoming of him. But especially after today…

“And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party-planning committees?”

What a bitch. They had always had banter between them, but it wasn’t like this. Feyre hadn’t been saying it playfully, but just being exceptionally rude. As if she wasn’t the reason the BOE was all he had.

Sometimes he wondered if Rhysand DID have her under mind thrall. Or perhaps the mating bond was what was manipulating her. God knew it affected him.

Elain. A twinge of pain went through him. Why did it have to be her? She wants nothing do with him- and long ago, he had known a girl who had approached him, seduced him, wanted no one but him. Who didn’t see a High Lord’s son, but a male. Who he had loved with every inch of his being.

Elain was beautiful- the most beautiful female he had ever seen, though it still felt like a betrayal to Jesminda to admit that to himself. He had tried to learn about Elain however he could; he’d asked Feyre about her, had observed her, had observed others speaking of her. But it was hard- damn near impossible, really- to get a read on her. He didn’t want to force himself on her. God knew it was hard what she had been through. She was to be married. Then, she’d lost everything.

Well, Lucien knew what that felt like.

He could feel her through the bond. He still remembered that day he had explored deep into the bond and had found thoughts so unbecoming of a lady like Elain he had blushed.

Yet she shrunk away from him.

That wasn’t new to Lucien. It seemed like the only two people who enjoyed his company nowadays were Jurian and Vassa. And of course, they were into each other. Lucien was so sick of being the third wheel, he came on holidays to the Night Court not because he felt particularly welcome, but to give those two human idiots time to sort out their problems sexually before he had to deal with them again.

His self-control was exceptionally high owing to a childhood growing up under the parentage of Beron, but even he was reaching his breaking point.

The next time somebody tried him a little too much, he was going to do something absolutely bat-shit crazy. Haha. Bat-shit. Like the Inner Circle’s bat wings. Lucien cringed at his inner monologue and tried to focus on the present, but the thoughts lingered in the back of his mind.

[wingsdippedingold]

Astraea and Azriel from his pov:

I wrote this up really quickly so I'm not sure how cohesive it even is, so I apologize for any clunky sentences

We had been sitting on a cliff off the Illyrian mountains for some time, it had already gotten dark and the wind had picked up, but I dared not to utter a word, possibly tearing the delicate tension between us. My gaze has been on Rosalyn the entire time, but never once did she share it. The wind continued in my ears, until it went quiet. It seems that now even the sky bows to her.

"Azriel" Rosalyn's eyes softened, not in a kind way, but like how a snake coils in the grass before striking, but they still strayed from mine, "Do you remember when we were children, and Rhysand saw that young Illyrian boy getting beaten to a pulp by two other boys? And he rushed over, putting his body between them?"

"What is this... Ros..?"

"Azriel? Do you remember how he cleaned the boys wounds? And sewed his torn skin?" Her eyes refused to meet mine.

I don't recall what she's speaking of at all, but I can only imagine it's what's been on her mind this whole time. "No. Rosalyn I don't."

"That's because he didn't help the boy. He was the one beating him up." Her eyes finally locked mine. "I cleaned your blood from your bruised body. I sewed your skin and held your hand." Her tone was no longer soft, now it was anguished and fraught. She wants to yell, but her throat is strained to contain it. I wish she would, I hated when she hid herself from me.

But that thought perished like a candle blown out.

Why is she bringing this up now? Rhysand is my brother, that was a skirmish between children.

"He is not your brother," she retorted as if she had heard my thoughts, cutting them off, just like they had been a moment before. "He is not your equal and he has never seen you as one. From that day you have become his lackey. You're not a dear friend, you're his soldier. He trusts you not because he loves you, but because he's put a leash on your collar and tamed you." Had she always harbored so much distaste from Rhysand? I had heard her speak about her father this way, but Rhysand? Her brother? The High Lord? The man who had risked himself to save Velaris?"

"You may be his sister, but watch how you spea-" My voice was cut off by her sudden stance. Now she looked down at me.

"Rhysand allows you your freedom, he is your master. A dog doesn't bite the hand that feeds it, and Rhysand has made you his bitch."

She had never spoken to me so abrasively, in all the time I had known her she was nothing but sweet. Had she always look at me like this when she saw me, when she told me she loved me? Her beautiful eyes full of disdain?

"I suggest now you reevaluate who you're loyal to." And then she walked away, leaving me alone again like she did all those centuries ago.

@littlemisssatanist @hrizantemy @rowletlittenpopplioteam @szalonykasztan00 @redcherrypineapple finally writing ab this again 🙏