#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

[limeandorange]

Honestly, I'm so bored with the Night Court.

They have no culture. The only holidays they celebrate are a random party with stars in the sky (with zero lore or explanation) and the capitalist version of Christmas.

Like, give me Calanmai, Samhain, Beltane. Give me Inti Raymi, Yule, Diwali, Lunar New Year, Carnival, Nowruz, Midsummer — anything with meaning, folklore, and history.

We all know the other courts have these kinds of celebrations because spring has calanmai soooo. Where’s the storytelling, rituals, and actual traditions?

The Night Court? Just modern parties and... nothing else.

[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 🙏)

[roxan1930]

Anyone got any good fics for me where Feyre, Rhys and the IC are called out on their BS?

And I don't mean just with locking up Nesta and turning her into their personal weapon to use, because as fucked as that still is, there's a billion fics of that.

I also mean where others call them out on going too far and destroying Spring, stealing from Summer instead of explaining themselves, making a point of terrorizing 2/3 of the own court, attacking others including other HL and their family and more

I just hate how in the books almost everyone is constantly just "Oh, they're hot and or I'm friends with one member so who cares?"

[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.

[elainarcheronslawyer]

Does the night court have a news paper?

Do they allow freedom of speech?

Is it possible for a rag tag group of journalist underdogs to expose the oppression and tyranny faced by those in Illyria and the hewn city?

Could Rhysand (& Co.) land in a pile of shit as a result of his war crimes?

Does someone want to collaborate and write this with me?

[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

[viajandopelomar]

What if Nesta found out she was pregnant with Cassian's child and left?

After the walk. What if her scent had changed in the library and a priestess had spoken and she had gone to one of their healers and left? Something like "I cannot allow a child of mine to be punished in the same way when he does not please his father or Rhysand" something like that.

Just an idea, now write it down

🇧🇷 E se Nesta descobrisse que está grávida de Cassian e fosse embora?

Depois da caminhada. E se o cheiro dela tivesse mudado na biblioteca e uma sacerdotisa falasse e ela fosse até alguma curandeira delas e saísse? algo como "não posso permitir que um meu filho seja punido da msma forma quando não agradar seu pai ou Rhysand" algo assim.

Só uma idéia, agora escrevam isso

[merwgue]

The idea of Nyx and Tamlin becoming mates in a platonic, parental sense is an incredibly profound and heartwarming twist. It redefines what it means to be a mate—showing that the deepest connections aren’t always romantic but can also be based on trust, care, and the unconditional love found in parental relationships.

Imagine Nyx, the child of two deeply traumatized and distracted parents—Feyre and Rhysand. Despite their best efforts, they rush into parenthood for all the wrong reasons, feeling the pressure of impending danger and the belief that time is running out. They're powerful, yes, but so burdened by their past that they can’t give Nyx the love and attention he needs to thrive. They try to be present, but emotional neglect slowly seeps in, leaving Nyx feeling alone, unloved, and desperate for connection. They compensate with material things, but it’s not enough. Nyx is still just a boy, craving someone who will truly see him.

At around ten years old, in an attempt to make his parents notice him, Nyx starts sneaking off to the Spring Court. What begins as an act of rebellion turns into something entirely unexpected. Tamlin—who has been broken, hollow, and struggling to rebuild his life—finds this small, vulnerable boy suddenly seeking him out. At first, Tamlin is hesitant. He’s never been good with children. He doesn’t know how to connect, especially not after all the devastation he’s been through. But slowly, Nyx keeps coming back, visiting him again and again. Tamlin begins to open up, maybe not in grand gestures, but in small acts of kindness—offering Nyx a safe space, listening when he speaks, giving him attention that’s not laced with expectation or distraction.

As the months pass, something shifts. Nyx starts to see Tamlin not as the feared High Lord of the Spring Court, but as someone who cares for him in a way that his own parents cannot. He finds solace in Tamlin’s presence, and Tamlin, in turn, finds a sense of purpose in looking after Nyx. It’s not about power or obligation—it’s simply about being there for this boy who so clearly needs a father figure. Tamlin never asked to be a father, but he can’t ignore the bond that’s quietly forming between them.

Then one day, after countless visits, Nyx accidentally calls Tamlin “papa.” It slips out in a moment of vulnerability, perhaps after a particularly rough day back at home. Immediately, Nyx freezes, terrified of how Tamlin might react. He starts to apologize, stumbling over his words, thinking he’s crossed a line. But instead of pulling away, Tamlin wraps him in a hug, a genuine, comforting embrace, and quietly says, “If you want me to, I will.” And in that moment, everything shifts.

The world seems to stop for both of them. The bond that snaps into place isn’t the romantic mating bond we’re used to seeing—it’s something entirely different. It’s a bond built on trust, on care, on the love of a protector for a child who needs him. It’s a parental bond, the kind that says, I will be here for you, always. I will keep you safe. I will love you like my own.

Nyx finally feels seen, finally feels loved in a way that’s not forced or transactional. And Tamlin, who has been so lost and broken, finds a new sense of purpose. He never expected to be anyone’s father, but in that moment, he becomes one—not because of blood or obligation, but because of the bond that has formed between him and this boy. Nyx starts calling him "papa," and Tamlin, despite all his fears, accepts it with open arms.

This is why Sarah J. Maas should expand the idea of mates beyond just romantic connections. Mates should be about completing each other’s souls, in whatever form that takes. For Nyx and Tamlin, it’s not about romantic love—it’s about the love between a father and a child, a love that grows naturally and beautifully out of shared understanding, trust, and care. And in the end, it’s this bond that brings healing to both of them.

[thebookishgaymer]

When I tell you a Tamdras mate bond reveal would destroy me, you have know idea. Ugh the gay longing, the angst, the sheer raw emotion.

It would be the final beat down of what Rhys has over Tamlin.

Feyre would be devastated emotionally. Tamlin had what she and Rhys have and she's the one who took it away.

She'd push herself to reconcile with Tamlin to at least be civil with each other.

ugh.

and the Tamlin and Rhys relationship already mired in messy history would just get that extra agonizing layer because Rhys could have never met his mate without Tamlin's mate being killed.

Then we could get a story of Feyre, Rhys, and Tamlin venturing to the realm of resting to get Andras back and break the death pact.

[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

[wallflowers-in-the-wind]

Every time I look back through ACOTAR and the actions Feyre chose I can’t help but think this isn’t her. While this can all be placed on SJM and her horrible writing choices for the plot, book 1 Feyre has changed into the being she hated the first time we met her.

And my favorite theory will continue to be that Feyre is not in control of herself mentally. It’s all Rhysand. That bargain made under the mountain in book one was the beginning of the end for Feyre. And it was a trap that Tamlin and Lucien saw for what it was. But it was too late to save her.

I’d even go so far as to say that Feyre was Tamlin’s mate and that her death and the deal she made with Rhysand altered it so that the universe would believe it was Rhysand who was her mate.

Everything else was just sprinkled in at the right moments and the right times for Rhysand to play the ‘savior’ and pick up the pieces. And when his little puppet pretended that she was being controlled the entire time he genuinely thought she was broken from his spell for that brief moment.

So every little action, degrading outfit, and near death experiences were all a sick and twisted form of revenge against Tamlin. Possibly because they were exes, or for the crimes their fathers committed against each other and the unfortunate demise of Rhysand’s mother and sister.

And the real Feyre is trapped in a prison inside her mind. Watching as everyone and everything is stolen from her. And replaced with people who refuse to disobey their ‘precious high lord.’ A man so wrapped up in his own ego that he doesn’t even bother with 2/3 of his court.

[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.

[limeandorange]

Calling the experts: How would Rhys and Mor react to...

A few days ago, I mentioned the idea of a healer from Velaris falling in love with a warrior from Hewn City during the war—only for them to be separated when the Darkbringers are ordered back to Hewn.

The healer tries to go after him, but Rhysand and Feyre say it’s too dangerous and refuse to let her in.

Now… if the couple were to stay in Hewn City and actually start making changes—challenging Keir’s rule, improving life for the lower classes, and shifting the power dynamics—how do you think Rhys and Mor would react?

Because I’ve been thinking about a few things:

1️⃣ Rhysand & Feyre try to implement reforms in Illyria, but not Hewn City. Why? They have full control over it, yet seem content leaving it as is.

2️⃣ Mor openly despises Hewn City. She hasn’t lived there in centuries and only interacts with Keir. Would she even want to see it change?

3️⃣ A Velaris citizen seeing Rhys and Feyre’s “dark ruler” performances at Hewn balls would be shocked. How would this healer react, realizing that their so-called kind rulers actively maintain this system?

4️⃣ Rhys told Mor she could kill Keir whenever she wants, yet she hasn’t. So… does she not actually care how he treats the people there? Is her hatred more personal than political?

Would the IC even accept a reformed Hewn City, or would they see it as a threat to their power? Do you think they want hewn city to remain 'evil'?

And here’s the real question—would it be too much of a reach to make this a tragedy caused by Rhysand himself? 👀

Pleeease I need input!! Give me your opinions guys!

[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.