#azriel x morrigans sister reader

[velarisnightsky444]

Scorched Shadows: Part 12

Eris x Azriel's Sister OC

Summary: Estella is the younger sister of Azriel. Like her older brother, she is a shadowsinger and spymaster for the Night Court. When she meets Eris, she initially despises him, but after a bargain is made between them, and they are stuck Under the Mountain together, things begin heating up.

CW: Overprotective brother, smut, degradation, impact play

A/N: I'm well aware it has been forever, I promise I am going to do better, I've just been very busy. I am going through and editing some stuff in past chapters, and I am adding in the fact that they can talk to each other through the bond.

Word Count: 1895

Series Masterlist

Part 11 || Part 13(upcoming)

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     Estella sometimes visited Eris late at night when she couldn't sleep. She only did this when she could sense his thoughts buzzing around in his restless head, and she knew he was also awake. She didn't disrupt him when he was sleeping peacefully, though that was rare.

     She would hide her dagger beneath her skirts, throw a shawl over her shoulders, and pinch her cheeks to add color before leaving. She didn't want him to see her looking entirely exhausted.

     The stroll down the corridors was anything but peaceful, especially at night. But she couldn't winnow without her shadows, and flying would only bring attention to herself.

     But she had a weapon, and she was ready to strike. She never did see that male again, the one she stabbed in the face. She still wasn't sure why she panicked so much when she had spent centuries doing the same thing.

     Maybe it was the implication of what he had wanted to do to her, whereas the males she had killed in the past had been assigned to her. They were not after her directly, not until she began targeting them.

     But Eris had been a comfort. He had held her all night, which had surprised them both, it seemed. Since then, he had become softer with her. She found that she didn't mind that.

     Estella liked seeing his softer side. She felt special like she was the only one that got to see him that way. Then, she would scold herself for feeling like that. He was a Vanserra, for Cauldron's sake. She wasn't allowed to feel that way.

"Estella," the voice said, causing her to freeze. Her eyes jumped from the tile in front of her to the source of the sound.

     Rhys stood with his brows furrowed, taking her in. He was looking worse every time she saw him. His skin had gone pale, his face gaunt, and he'd lost a significant amount of weight and muscle. His violet eyes had lost the life they used to have in them.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked her, his voice quieter than usual.

"I couldn't sleep," Estella said honestly. "I needed to go for a walk; get my mind off things."

"In this part of the Mountain? At this time of night?" he doubted, raising a brow. She shrugged, doing everything she could not to crumble under his assessing gaze.

"It's not as cold out here as it is in my bedroom," she said quietly, staring at the floor.

"You have a fireplace," he reminded her.

     Her head snapped up, and she shot him a look, one that reminded him she would not touch a fireplace with a ten-foot pole. His gaze softened just slightly.

"Let's go back to your room," he decided. "I'll light the fire for you."

"Rhys, I'm fine," she insisted, glancing at the path she was taking to Eris's room.

"We're going back to your room, Stella," he repeated in a way that let her know he wasn't asking.

     She didn't argue; she just followed him as he took hold of her arm and led her the opposite way from where she was heading. She grumbled to herself, irritated at her brother's constant, overprotective antics.

     She felt a shiver go through her body when she returned to her bedroom. It was utterly freezing in her quarters, and she knew Amarantha did that purposefully.

     Estella sat on the bed, wrapping the shawl tighter around her shoulders. Rhys went to the fireplace, kneeling before it. She watched as he placed a few pieces of wood in it and lit the fire.

"Thank you," she said softly.

     He nodded, getting to his feet. He came over to her, ruffling her hair affectionately.

"I love you, little shadow," he said.

     Estella smiled softly, knowing it didn't reach her eyes. Rhys leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then left her alone, wrapped in her shawl and shivering.

     Even with the fire going, she couldn't sleep. The cold was bitter, and even though she was Illyrian, she was sensitive to it. She remembered being a little girl in that cell and how cold it was. She would curl up in her brother's arms, her entire body trembling, trying to stay warm. It was never any use. The rags they wore were always ripped, short-sleeved, and made of thin material.

"Are you still awake?" Estella asked Eris through the bond, hating that she was craving his comfort. It took a moment for his reply to come through, but it did.

"Yes. Where are you? I thought you were on your way."

     He sounded irritated, making her roll her eyes, but she answered anyway. "Rhys found me in the corridors, and he made me go back to my room."

"How old does he think you are?"

"I'll never be older than six to him. You'll have to come here."

"I wasn't planning on leaving my room tonight," he drawled.

"Too bad," Estella responded. "Get over here as soon as you can."

     Eris didn't argue with that, though his side of the bond went silent. She spent the next ten minutes wondering if he would show at all. She didn't want to beg, but she certainly wasn't above it.

     However, she found that there was no need for that when her door opened. Eris looked tired, and Estella didn't blame him. She knew he hadn't been sleeping lately. Neither of them had. It was hard in a place like the Mountain.

"It's freezing in here," he murmured as he closed the door behind him. 

     He glanced at the flickering fire, waving his hand. The flames leaped higher and glowed brighter, making Estella flinch. "It's fine. It'll warm up the room faster."

"I want you to warm me up," Estella hinted, sitting up and letting her shawl drop from her shoulders. A smirk fell upon his features, one that made her want him even more.

     He stepped over to her bed in very few strides, crawling on top of the girl. She laid back down, smiling as he hovered over her, his hands on either side of her head.

     His lips met her jaw, peppering kisses, leaving her sighing softly beneath him. He trailed down her neck slowly, stopping in her most sensitive spots to suck just slightly, leaving her with marks she knew she would spend the next week concealing. 

     His teeth closed around the strap of her dress, pulling it down from her shoulder to her arm. She helped him get the dress off her, but it wasn't much of a struggle.

     When she was bare beneath him, he sat up, fumbling with his belt as he pulled his cock out of his pants. It was rare that he fully undressed during sex or took his shirt off at all, but she never commented on it.

     He slid a hand down to her core first, rubbing tight circles on her clit with his thumb as he slipped two fingers inside of her. She groaned, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Ready for me so early?" he teased, commenting on the wetness he had found waiting for him. She nodded. "Such a desperate slut."

     Her core clenched at the words, and he pressed one more kiss to her neck before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and flipping her around so she was on top.

"Sit up and ride me," he instructed. "If you want it to bad, take it yourself.”

     Estella pushed herself up, hands braced on his chest, to a sitting position. She took his perfect cock in her hands, pumping it a few times, delighting in the way it twitched in her palm.

     He groaned as she lowered her cunt to him, very slowly sliding down onto his cock. She whimpered at the slight pain she always felt when he bottomed out.

     Estella began riding him, her pace slow at first so she could get used to the fullness—the pain. He grasped her hair in his hand, pulling it forcefully. She whined, staring at the ceiling as her head was forced back, their pace speeding up.

     His other hand came down hard on her ass, a smack sounding through the room. She cried out, more in pleasure than pain, her hand reaching down to rub her clit. He smacked her rear once again, and she knew there'd be marks in the morning.

“Harder, Eris," Estella moaned out, desperate amid her pleasure.

     His hips began jutting up to meet hers, and the smacks to her ass sped up, getting harsher each time.

"You like that, you filthy whore?" he snarled. She could only nod, tears welling in her eyes. "Use your words."

"Yes, I like that, Eris," Estella gasped out, voice breaking between moans.

     He let go of her hair, though a stinging sensation remained at her scalp. He gripped her breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them in a way that made her wild.

     Eris loved her breasts, which had been evident since their first time. He often took his time with them, teasing, pinching, and squeezing.

     Estella was getting close, but she needed something more, something she hadn't craved in centuries. She craned her head up, forcing herself to meet his eyes in her pleasure.

"Touch my wings," Estella gasped out.

"What?" he asked through his pants.

"My wings," she repeated, grabbing his wrist.

     She guided his hand directly to that perfect spot on her wing, demonstrating how to touch it.

"Rub small circles," she managed, her eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

     He obeyed, rubbing circles on her wing, gentle at first.

"Harder."

     He took her command, his movements quickening as he pressed harder on the spot.

"Oh, Gods," Estella cried out, bouncing on his cock, throwing her head back. She hadn't ever felt pleasure so intense. "Please, may I cum?"

“Now?"

“Yes, now, please," she begged. "I can't hold it back."

“Cum, then," he allowed, and she thanked the Cauldron that he was feeling gracious today.

     Estella cried out, cumming harder than she ever had, her core clenching around his cock. The feeling sent him over the edge, and not long after, he released inside of the girl.

     She collapsed on top of him the moment she came down from her heavenly high, fingers clenching his shoulders as her body shuddered from the aftershocks. He was��so warm.

"Your wings, huh?" he teased softly into her ear. 

"It's an Illyrian thing," Estella explained through labored breaths.

"Why have you never told me that?" he wondered, quirking a brow. "I've never seen you cum like that before."

"I've only ever let one other male do that," Estella said, rolling off of him and settling under her blanket, still naked. "It's not something I usually allow."

     The first male she'd ever slept with, her first love, Marcus, had been the one to introduce this concept to her. But after he'd broken her heart, she didn't want any males doing it again. Eris, however, was different.

“What makes me so special?" Eris asked her as he tucked his cock back into his pants. 

"I'm not sure," Estella answered honestly. "It just felt right at the moment."

"Can you cum from your wings alone?" he interrogated.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "There needs to be another form of stimulation."

"Oh, I will have fun with this," he smirked.

     Estella flushed a deep red, almost regretting giving him this information. Almost.

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Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @a-court-of-mischief-and-madness @sourapplex @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @i-know-i-can @mp-littlebit @paintedbyshadows @kristijenner19 @kitsunetori @lorosette @bookwormysblog @libraryofshan @historygeekqueen @eyes-capone @prettty-thing

Eris Taglist:

If there is a line through it, it won’t let me tag you.

Comment to be added to the tag lists!

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[fantasyandshit]

The light and the dark

Type: series

Part: 3/?

Other parts here

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron sister reader

Summary: That was not expected.

Four guards open my cell yet again and unshackle me, roughly grabbing me. one stands in front of us, one behind, and one holding each arm. I struggle in the males grips, my clothes are ripped to shreds, my hair is so matted you couldn’t brush it, blood and dirt cake my skin from various cuts and bruises and I’m thin, much thinner than I was, but I’d made sure to keep whatever muscle I could. As I’m brought to the so-called ‘king’s’ room, I notice Elain and Nesta, both are a bit thinner, then again they always were and more pale but I was glad to see they had very minimal damage other than Nesta matted hair. I look around the room as I’m pulled forward and completely freeze when I see it…them.

Feyre and Azriel…with a bolt through his chest… I’m shoved to the ground and take this as my moment, twisting around and kicking one of the guards in the shins, then sweeping another’s legs from under him, grabbing the sword one dropped and stabbing it through one of the others abdomen, then. Finally, I tackle the other to the ground, the blade lodging in his skull. I stand up, my breath fast and shallow and turn, looking from Nesta and Elain to Feyre and her friends, then finally my gaze lands on Hybern, who’s slowly applauding.

“That was quite the show darling.” I almost vomit at the way the last word rolls from his mouth, the only other times he’d used it were when- god I can’t even think about it as I make my way in front of my human sisters. I know the fae can handle themselves, my only concern about them is Azriel who is uncharacteristically pale, and hold the sword in front of me, my arm latching around them. “Start with her.” Before I know what’s happening four men pick me up, snapping the wrist that holds the sword and im forced to drop it.

“Get off me!” I scream and claw with my good hand as I’m brought up the stairs and forced into the cauldron, my head pops up until it’s held under. The sensation is weird… to say the least.

It’s cold yet hot, agonizing yet peaceful, it brings sadness and joy, light and dark, life and death, before I can think anymore wise opposites I’m thrown to the floor, an unknown weight sitting on my back as I splutter, lifting my head and seeing shocked faces. What- My thought is cut off by the sound of a thump and Nesta is thrown beside me, then Elain. I notice it now, they’re different- they have pointed ears, limbs longer- They are fae. What the hell?

I slowly stand on shaky feet, stomach cramping and nearly falling to my back just before I see Hyberm raising his hand and instinctively I do just as Cassian does-I jump. I throw myself over my newly fae sisters and white hot agony flows over the unknown weight on my back and I don’t even realize I’m screaming till it’s all over and I collapse to the side.

I look over to check on my sister when I see it-them. Wings, wings attached to my body that are shredded beyond belief, blood pooling around them. Wings- no I couldn’t-I couldn’t have wings. I hear people shouting my name and a cold sensation envelopes me before it all goes dark.

I groan as I’m jostled before I’m placed in a cot, back up, wings. Wings-holy shit. Draping over the edges, i loom to my right to see Azriel and Cassian in the cots beside me and a voice-a voice I’ve fantasized about yells for me, over and over, begging me to stay awake but it’s just too hard so I close my eyes and peace washes over me finally.

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I know it’s short but I took medicine to sleep so I can’t write more tonight. I’ll give you more tomorrow. Love y’all!

@wallacewillow0773638

@pinksmellslikelove

@sassybluebird

@gorlillaglue25

@khaleesihavilliard

[fxckmiup]

𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐎𝐂

♡ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | ♤ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 | ♞ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟��𝐫𝐭 | ☆ 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 {𝟏𝟖+} | ♛ 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞 {𝟏𝟖+}

Chapters: {01 / ??}

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Arya Darling, The Princess of the Night Court. 

Arya Ashford, The chosen mother of the Archeron sisters. 

Both were created to be the Salvation of All.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

      » [ Nuvole Bianche ] «

     ⇄   ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹   ↻

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Chapters: {01 / ??}

Disclaimer & Trigger Warnings

Prythian & The Lands

Seven Courts & High Lords

The Inner Circle

The Archeron's

Playlist

Prologue

01 , 02 , 03 , 04 , 05 ...

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Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list :)

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

☾ 𝕐𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐫𝐞-𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝔸��𝕐 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝕀 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝔸𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. ☽

Disclaimer: All characters and the storyline of the acotar characters belong to Sarah J Maas. My OC's (Arya and a few others) and their storyline/anything to do with her, belongs to me.

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[a-court-of-mischief-and-madness]

Midnight revelations

Part 2-------Part 3

Summary: having a dream about Eris you are now conflicted on whether he is truly being honest or just playing with your feelings. The worst part is you can't believe why he would want you. Is it because of his father's orders to get closer to you and use you? Or is it because he is actually in love with you?

Note: sorry if this is too long 😭😭 but I promise good things await in the next chapter. So please enjoy!!

Warnings: slight smut! Mentions of kissing

As Eris’s lips claimed yours, the world around you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the intoxicating heat between both of you. His kiss was a tempest, a blend of unrestrained hunger and deep-seated emotion, stirring something within you that you had long kept buried. He pulled you closer, his hands exploring your back with a possessive tenderness that sent shivers through your body.

The taste of him, a mix of fire and forbidden promise, sent your senses reeling. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Every brush of your lips against his , every flicker of your tongues, ignited a fire that burned away any lingering doubts or hesitations.

Eris’s hands, once gentle, became more urgent, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your heart ache. His touch was a heady mix of demand and devotion, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you. The heat between them intensified, a magnetic pull that left you breathless and yearning for more.

With a sudden, possessive intensity, Eris’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. He kissed you harder, his lips and tongue demanding more, drawing a soft moan from your lips that seemed to inflame him further. The world narrowed to the sensation of his lips on yours, the press of his body against yours, the way his hands roamed, setting your skin aflame.

Your own hands moved to his chest, feeling the powerful beat of his heart echoing your own frenzied rhythm. You arched into him, the heat between you and him almost unbearable, every touch and kiss a blend of desperation and raw desire.

When you finally pulled apart, both breathless, the charged silence that followed was filled with unspoken words. Eris’s eyes bore into yours , dark and smoldering with a passion that sent a shiver down your spine. His thumb traced your swollen lips, a silent promise of the depth of his feelings.

“Eris...” your voice was a hushed whisper, filled with uncertainty and longing.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “This isn’t just a game to me,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I know I’ve made mistakes. But I want to be different, for you. For us.”

As you woke up, a jolt shot through your body, leaving you breathless and disoriented. The intensity of the dream still clung to your senses, the phantom sensation of Eris's lips and touch lingering on your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

You sat up abruptly, your hands clutching the thin blanket as if it could ground you in reality. The room was dimly lit, dawn's first light casting long shadows across the walls. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, anger, and an unsettling yearning that you couldn't shake off.

"No," you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling. "This can't be happening." You hated him. Eris had caused your cousin Mor so much pain, and the memories of those betrayals were still fresh and raw. The idea that you could feel anything but loathing for him was unfathomable, yet the dream had felt so real, so vivid. The intensity of your connection in the dream left you shaken to your core.

You pushed the covers aside and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, trying to dispel the lingering feelings of warmth and desire that made your skin prickle. You stood up, needing to move, needing to escape the remnants of the dream that clung to you like a second skin.

As you paced the room, your mind raced. How could your subconscious betray you like this? How could you dream of him with such intimacy when your waking thoughts were filled with anger and resentment?

Images of Mor's tear-streaked face and the stories of Eris's cruelty played in your mind, a stark contrast to the Eris in your dream who had shown vulnerability and passion. You clenched your fists, frustration bubbling up inside you. "This is just a dream," you reminded yourself, trying to steady your racing heart. "It doesn't mean anything."

But even as you said it, doubt gnawed at you. What if there was more to Eris than the monster you believed him to be? What if, despite everything, there was a part of you that was drawn to him, a part that saw the flicker of remorse and vulnerability in his eyes?

You shook your head vehemently, rejecting the thought. You couldn't afford to let your guard down, not after everything he had done. You had to protect yourself, protect Mor. The dream was nothing more than a cruel trick of your mind, a manifestation of conflicting emotions and unresolved tensions.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself. You had to focus, had to push aside the confusion and the unsettling warmth that lingered from the dream. There was too much at stake, and you couldn't let a dream cloud your judgment. A knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts, your heart leaping into your throat. You turned towards the sound, trying to steady your breath and compose yourself. “Hey, you okay in there?” Rhysand’s voice came, laced with concern.

You took a deep breath, forcing the lingering images of the dream from your mind. “Yeah, just a minute,” you called back, trying to sound calm. You walked over to the door and opened it slightly, just enough to see your brother’s worried face. He was dressed in his usual morning attire, his hair still tousled from sleep.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress. “I heard you moving around. It sounded like something was wrong.” You forced a smile, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. Just a nightmare.” His brow furrowed. “Must have been some nightmare to get you this worked up.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just one of those really vivid ones, you know? But I’m okay now. Promise.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. “Alright. Just... if you need to talk about it, I’m here, okay?” “Thanks,” you said, genuinely touched by his concern. “I appreciate it.”

He gave you a reassuring smile before turning to leave. “Try to get some more rest if you can. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” You closed the door softly, leaning your back against it as you exhaled slowly. You appreciated Rhysand’s concern, but there was no way you could tell him about the dream, about the unsettling mix of desire and confusion that Eris had stirred within you.

As you walked back to your bed, your mind raced with conflicting thoughts. Rhysand hated Eris with a passion, and for good reason. The pain Eris had caused your cousin Mor was unforgivable, and you knew your brother’s feelings were rooted in a deep desire to protect your family.

But if Rhysand ever found out about the dream, about the way your emotions had been stirred, would he understand? Or would he see it as a betrayal, a sign that you weren’t as loyal to Mor’s memory as he was? The fear of being cast out, of straining your relationship with Mor and the rest of your family, weighed heavily on your mind.

You shook your head, trying to clear away the doubts. You couldn’t let a dream—no matter how vivid—dictate your feelings or your loyalty. You had to stay focused, to protect your family and shield them from any further pain.

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Later that afternoon, after the unsettling dream and the brief interaction with Rhysand, you found yourself summoned to his office once more. Anxiety churned in your stomach as you made your way down the hall to his study. The door stood slightly ajar, and you knocked softly before entering.

Rhysand was already there, seated behind his desk, studying a map spread out before him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but he looked up as you entered, his expression serious yet not unkind. "Come in," he said, gesturing for you to close the door behind you.

You did as he asked, crossing the room to stand before his desk. The tension in the air was palpable, and you struggled to meet his gaze. He folded his hands on top of the map, his eyes assessing you carefully.

"I need you to do something for me," Rhysand began, his voice low. "It involves the Autumn Court." Your heart skipped a beat. The Autumn Court, where Lucien resided—the brother of Eris. The thought made your stomach churn, but you knew better than to question Rhysand’s judgment. "What do you need me to do?" you asked, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

"I need you to go to the Autumn Court," Rhysand explained, his tone grave. "Lucien has contacts and information that could be valuable to us. I need you to gather whatever intelligence you can, discreetly." You nodded, already beginning to process the implications. "And Azriel?" you asked, glancing towards the doorway where the shadows seemed to move on their own. Rhysand’s expression softened marginally. "Azriel will accompany you," he confirmed. "He’ll ensure your safety and provide backup if needed."

Relief washed over you, but it was quickly replaced by concern. "Do you think they’ll cooperate?" you asked, your thoughts drifting to Lucien and the complicated dynamics of the Autumn Court. Rhysand sighed, his shoulders tense. "Lucien owes me a debt," he said cryptically. "He won’t refuse, not when I ask."

You nodded again, understanding the weight of Rhysand’s words. Loyalty and debts ran deep in the courts, and the Autumn Court was no exception. "When do we leave?" you asked, your mind already racing with preparations.

"Today," Rhysand replied, his voice firm. "Azriel will meet you here shortly. Make sure you’re ready." You nodded once more, your mind already planning the journey ahead. There were risks, you knew, but gathering information for the Night Court was your duty. You would do whatever it took to protect your family and serve your court. "Thank you, Rhysand," you said sincerely, meeting his gaze. "I won’t let you down." He nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I know you won’t," he said quietly. "Now go, get some rest. You have a long journey ahead of you."

With that dismissal, you left Rhysand’s office and returned to your quarters. The afternoon passed in a blur of packing and preparation, your thoughts still haunted by the dream and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

As dusk fell and exhaustion finally caught up with you, you stood by the window, waiting. Azriel arrived as promised, his presence a comforting reassurance in the face of the daunting task ahead.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

You nodded, a mix of determination and apprehension coursing through you. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Azriel's hand closed around yours, his touch both reassuring and grounding as he prepared to winnow you away. His wings unfurled, casting a shadow over the room, and in the blink of an eye, you were surrounded by the beauty of the Autumn Court.

The air was crisp and cool, filled with the scent of falling leaves and the distant murmur of the court. The landscape was a riot of color, with trees ablaze in hues of red, orange, and gold, and the ground covered in a carpet of fallen leaves that crunched softly underfoot. The Autumn Court was known for its breathtaking beauty, and you couldn't help but be captivated by the serene yet vibrant atmosphere.

As you stepped towards the gates, Azriel beside you, a guard approached, his armor gleaming in the golden light of the setting sun. He raised a hand to stop you, his expression stern.

"Only one person is allowed to enter," the guard stated firmly, his eyes flickering between you and Azriel.

Azriel's jaw clenched, his wings rustling in frustration. "She's under my protection," he insisted, his voice edged with irritation.

You placed a calming hand on Azriel's arm, meeting the guard's gaze with determination. "It's alright, Azriel," you said softly. "I'll be fine."

Azriel's gaze softened as he looked down at you, his concern evident. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'll gather the information Rhysand needs and return safely. Don't worry about me."

Azriel hesitated for a moment, clearly torn, before he reluctantly nodded. "Alright," he said, his tone still tense. "But be careful. Call for me if you need anything."

"I will," you promised, squeezing his hand briefly before releasing it.

---------------------------♧-------------------------------

As you ventured deeper into the heart of the Autumn Court, the beauty of the surroundings didn't distract you from your mission. The air was crisp with the scent of autumn, and the colors of the foliage around you were a striking contrast against the darkening sky. The court was quieter than you expected, the sound of your footsteps echoing faintly as you walked towards Lucien's quarters.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by Lucien himself, his golden eyes assessing you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. His handsome features were set in a neutral expression, but you could sense the tension in the air. "Rhysand sent you?" Lucien asked, his voice polite but guarded.

You nodded, keeping your tone respectful. "Yes, he did. I'm here to gather some information for him." Lucien's expression softened marginally. "I'm sorry for what happened to mor," he said sincerely. "Eris... he regrets what he did."

You stiffened at the mention of Eris, your emotions conflicting. "That doesn't change what he did," you replied, your voice firm.

Lucien nodded, seeming to understand. "Of course. I won't pretend to understand your feelings, but I know Eris. He's... complicated."

You didn't respond, unsure of what to say. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, collecting the documents and information Rhysand needed. Lucien provided what he could, and after a brief conversation, you bid him farewell and made your way back towards the exit. However, as you navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the Autumn Court, you took a wrong turn and found yourself in an unfamiliar part of the palace. Frustration welled up inside you as you tried to retrace your steps, but the twisting halls seemed to lead you further away from the exit.

Finally, you turned a corner and came face to face with Eris. He was leaning against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you approach.

"Well, well," Eris said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "What brings you to this part of the court, little Night Court spy?"

You clenched your jaw, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm not here to play games, Eris. Just let me pass."

Eris straightened up, blocking your path. "Why so hostile, darling? We both know there's something between us."

You scoffed, your frustration boiling over. "Don't flatter yourself, Eris. There's nothing between us."

Eris's smile widened, his gaze searching yours. "Is that so? I felt it in your dreams, you know. The way you responded to me."

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing. How could he know about your dreams?

Eris took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "Admit it," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "You feel it too."

You shook your head, trying to deny the undeniable pull he had over you. "This changes nothing," you insisted, your voice wavering.

Eris's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "Maybe not now," he conceded. "But someday..."

Before you could respond, Azriel's voice echoed down the corridor. "There you are," he said, his tone sharp with concern as he approached.

Eris stepped back, his gaze never leaving yours. "Until next time," he said quietly, his words hanging in the air.

You tore your gaze away from Eris, focusing on Azriel, not caring how he managed to get in as he reached your side. Relief flooded through you, grateful for his timely arrival.

"Let's go," Azriel said tersely, his hand on your back as he guided you away from Eris and towards the exit.

As you walked away, the encounter with Eris left you shaken. The intensity of your emotions, the undeniable attraction and the anger, all swirled inside you. You knew this wasn't over, that Eris would continue to haunt your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to push him away.

But for now, you had a mission to complete. With Azriel at your side, you returned to the Night Court, the weight of the information you had gathered heavy on your shoulders. The journey back was quiet, both of you lost in your thoughts, but you knew that the repercussions of your encounter with Eris were far from over.

----------------------------♧-----------------------------

As night fell, the Night Court's inner circle gathered for dinner in the grand hall of the House of Wind. The atmosphere was usually lively and warm, filled with banter and laughter, but tonight there was an unspoken tension in the air.

Feyre and Rhysand sat at the head of the table, their presence commanding yet welcoming. To their right were Mor and Azriel, engaged in a quiet conversation. On the other side, Amren and Nesta shared a private joke, their laughter low and conspiratorial. Cassian sat beside Nesta, his eyes occasionally drifting to you, a look of concern etched on his face. Elain, Nesta's sister, and the newest member of the inner circle, sat quietly beside Feyre, her presence gentle and serene.

The meal proceeded with the usual fare—exquisite dishes that reflected the skill of the Night Court's chefs. Conversation flowed around the table, topics ranging from recent political developments to light-hearted gossip. However, amidst the chatter, Mor couldn't help but notice that you were unusually silent.

"Hey," Mor said gently, her voice cutting through the din. "You've been quiet tonight. Everything okay?"

You looked up, meeting Mor's concerned gaze. "Yeah, just tired," you replied with a forced smile, hoping to brush off her concern.

Mor frowned slightly, her brow furrowing in worry. "Are you sure? You seem... off."

Amren, who was sitting nearby, glanced over with a sharp gaze, her interest piqued. Nesta, too, watched you carefully, her expression guarded yet curious.

"I'm fine, really," you insisted, trying to sound more convincing this time.

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her voice cool and measured. "Tired? You've seemed distracted all day."

You sighed inwardly, knowing that Nesta and Amren were not easily fooled. "Just a lot on my mind," you admitted reluctantly, feeling a pang of guilt for not confiding in them.

Amren leaned forward, her eyes sharp. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Before you could respond, Cassian interjected, his voice tinged with concern. "If something's bothering you, you know you can talk to us."

You glanced around the table, feeling the weight of their concern and the warmth of their support. "It's nothing, really," you said softly, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Mor reached out, squeezing your hand gently. "We're here for you, you know that," she said sincerely, her eyes soft with empathy.

You managed a grateful smile, touched by their kindness. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the dinner continued with lighter conversation, but the concern of the inner circle lingered in the air. You knew you couldn't keep them in the dark forever, but for now, you were grateful for their understanding and their willingness to give you space.

----------------------------♧-----------------------------

Later that night, after dinner had ended and the others had retired to their rooms, you found yourself staring out of the window in your chamber, thoughts swirling tumultuously in your mind. The events of the day, particularly the encounter with Eris in the Autumn Court, weighed heavily on your heart. A soft knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see Nesta standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable. There was a rare softness in her eyes, a concern that made you realize she knew something was wrong.

Without a word, Nesta entered your room and closed the door behind her. She approached you slowly, her steps measured and deliberate. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to confide in her. But seeing the understanding and support in her eyes, you found yourself nodding slightly. "I... I'm not sure," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nesta sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on yours. "What happened?" she asked gently, her hand reaching out to rest on yours.

Taking a deep breath, you recounted the events of the day—the encounter with Eris in the Autumn Court, his teasing words, and the unsettling dreams that had haunted you. You told her about the confusing mix of emotions you felt, the anger towards Eris for what he had done to Mor, and the undeniable attraction that both scared and intrigued you. Nesta listened quietly, her expression grave as she took in your words. When you finished, there was a long moment of silence between you. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft yet firm. "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you," Nesta said, her hand tightening around yours. "But I'm glad you told me."

You looked at her, feeling a surge of gratitude for her understanding. "I didn't know who else to turn to," you admitted, your voice cracking with emotion.

Nesta squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You don't have to go through this alone," she said firmly. "I'm here for you, always."

Tears welled up in your eyes, overwhelmed by her kindness and support. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Nesta pulled you into a gentle embrace, holding you close. "I promise," she murmured into your hair, "I won't tell anyone. This stays between us."

After Nesta comforted you, she gently pulled away and stood up, looking at you with a determined expression. "Come on," she said softly, offering you a hand. "Let's get you something to drink."

As Nesta poured the drinks, her movements were confident and purposeful, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Here you go," she said, handing you a glass with a playful smirk. "Liquid courage for the soul."

You couldn't help but chuckle at her boldness, feeling a surge of gratitude for her unwavering support. "Thanks, Nesta," you replied, raising your glass in a toast.

"To living life on the edge," Nesta declared with a grin, clinking her glass against yours before taking a sip.

As the night progressed and you and Nesta continued to share stories over drinks, the conversation eventually turned to a more serious topic. Nesta, always direct and perceptive, looked at you thoughtfully before asking, "Do you have feelings for him?"

You nearly choked on your drink, surprised by the bluntness of her question. "What? No," you replied quickly, a bit too quickly perhaps, as you tried to dismiss the thought.

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice gentle yet probing. "I've seen the way you look at him."

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. "Maybe... maybe there's a little attraction," you admitted reluctantly. "But it's complicated. I don't trust him." Nesta nodded slowly, understanding evident in her eyes. "That's wise," she agreed quietly. "He's not exactly known for his trustworthiness."

You took a deep breath, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your mind. "Do you think he's playing me?" you asked hesitantly, your voice tinged with uncertainty. Nesta's expression turned serious as she considered your question. "It's possible," she said slowly. "Eris always has a plan, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals. You might be a part of that plan, whether you realize it or not."

Your heart sank at her words, the truth of them hitting you hard. "I don't want to be used," you admitted quietly, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. Nesta reached out and squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You won't be," she said firmly. "We'll make sure of that."

You nodded gratefully, appreciating her support more than words could express. "Thank you, Nesta," you murmured, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

As you and Nesta continued your conversation, the atmosphere lightened, and you found yourself laughing at one of Nesta's witty anecdotes. Yet, the topic returned to Eris, and Nesta's next question caught you off guard.

"Do you think Eris is your mate?" Nesta asked, her tone serious and concerned.

You froze, the question striking you like a bolt of lightning. "What? No," you blurted out, feeling a mix of shock and denial. "I haven't felt anything... like that."

Nesta studied you intently, her expression softening with understanding. "Good," she said quietly, her voice filled with relief. "I worry about you, you know? I don't want you to have a similar fate to Mor."

Your heart ached at the mention of Mor, knowing the pain she had endured. "I won't," you assured Nesta, your voice firm. "I promise I'll be careful."

Nesta nodded, her eyes searching yours. "I know you will," she said sincerely. "Just... be cautious. Don't let your guard down, especially around him."

You nodded in agreement, grateful for Nesta's concern and wisdom. "Thank you," you murmured, touched by her protective nature.

"That's what sisters are for," Nesta replied softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

Taglist: @sunny1616 @blackgirlmagicforever

[yourlittlebunnyy]

a court of shadows and darkness

chapter two

masterlist - previous chapter - next chapter

summary: Selaene, Rhysand's sister, Azriel's mate runs away after the High Lord of Spring tries to kill her.

warnings: none

enjoy! <3

"How much longer do we have to stay here?" The young Fae asked exasperatedly. By now they had both lost count of the days, impossible to keep track without the sun or a watch. 

Selaene was furious: not only had Vanessa driven her away from the place where she had fallen, causing her to miss the chance to find the rift between the two worlds from which she herself had passed, but she also continued to remain silent and explain nothing to her. 

She reminded her of her brother. The one who wanted to protect her by not telling her things. She used to get angry, but she understood him and the thing ended in a hug and an explanation. She wonders if Vanessa also keeps her mouth shut to protect her from whatever they are waiting for, or to protect her heart from vain hope.

"The necessary." The tiger answers annoyed, also exasperated by all the times she has been asked the same question and accusation by the Fae. Vanessa cannot see Selaene's eyes, but she is certain she is rolling them up to the sky at the moment. Or to the darkness. She wonders what color her eyes are. She shrugs her shoulders, as much as that form allows her to. She should just have faith, thinks the white-coated female, some trust, since they are both stuck in the same situation.

Vanessa had heard her that night. She had awakened with the sound in the inevitably younger Fae's stifled sobs, but had kept her breath controlled by giving her her space. She too had initially reacted that way, if not worse, and she understood Selaene's anger very well. And she thought she understood her as well, given the similarity of their fates, but instead she had created a wall around her and her thoughts and shut the tiger out. She does not know what is worse: to be alone with her own thoughts or to be in the company of a stranger who is so selfish. She wants to leave as much as the Fae does, so why so much distrust and meanness toward her?

Selaene on the other hand had no other choice: the wound left where the bond once was, the emptiness...the silence between the two mates and everything around them was too strong and was driving her crazy.

More days pass, by the Fae's reckoning.

Days in which the same conversation happened over and over again, in which the silence was ripping her ears and the darkness was tearing her eyes. If she wasn't staring above her, staring at nothingness, she was asleep. At first she was hopeful that sleep would help her, that it would help close the bleeding wound in her heart, but her sleep was as dark as where she was and offered her no comfort except freedom from her thoughts. Which was still better than having to hear them. Maybe, she thought, it was even better than dreaming about her family, her old life, so she wouldn't have to deal with reality once she woke up. 

But-sometimes it happened that she and her brothers, or she and her mate communicated through dreams. She does not tell the tiger, but nothing has appeared yet, and she doubts it will ever happen. She is more likely to be able to warn the three males with her mind than whatever the other female has in mind. Although she can sense it, from the tone and how stubborn Vanessa is remaining, how much the tiger cares. 

And that is why she will never do her such a tort: force her to leave with her to go back to where she came from. She will go alone instead. Seven days of walking and she will be back under the Illyrian Steppes. 

She knows Vanessa is sleeping, and it is just now that she gets up and with a sigh-the only sound she has allowed herself to let escape-she leaves.

"Selaene?" 

Doesn't she ever sleep?

Obviously, the Fae thinks bitterly, she can't have a second of peace; she can't even leave without the tiger getting in the way.

Selaene thinks of an answer so vulgar that it makes herself blush, the kind her brothers and her mate often exchanged, and she would have even said it except that lightning-no, not lightning, someone, rips through the sky of the UnderWorld. A light illuminates the void and the figure of a man appears for less than a second. 

Around her, however, there is nothing. 

Absolute emptiness.

Vanessa's laughter, which the Fae managed to see for that instant when that kind of lightning radiated the place, echoes joyously everywhere. It didn't last long, just long enough for that someone to step into the UnderWorld to get to his destination, but for Selaene everything changes. She too laughs with the tiger, a rich giggle that leaves her with a happy aftertaste.

"I told you so!" The tiger exclaims joyfully. Now, she can finally put a face to that voice.

"It's beautiful." Says the Fae still amazed. She will never admit it out loud, but Vanessa was right: a small spark ignites in her heart, and maybe, she allows herself to think just for a moment, maybe there is a way.

The tiger speaks again. 

They exchanged more words now than in all the time they had been there waiting. "While I was here, I thought that if we can grab someone, wherever they are going, they can get us back to the world above."

"And how long will that take?"

"It will take as long as it takes." 

In spite of the tiger's usual vague words, Selaene could not bring herself to get angry, not when such an opportunity was offered in front of her. She was right about one thing, however: Vanessa and Rhysand are more alike than expected. Her brother would have done the same, told her nothing so as not to create false hope and waited to show her the facts. To protect her, to protect her very delicate heart. 

Perhaps Mother took away a brother to give her a sister.

Now all they have to do is sit and wait for the moment when they and someone above are lined up so they can hold on and be taken out. 

masterlist - previous chapter - next chapter

[onlybeeewrites]

A Dance of Ash and Steel (4/)

Pairing: Oc!Elara x Inner Circle, OC!Elara x Mor,

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: Eris meets with Elara and the rest of the Inner Circle to negotiate but a later realization may change the terms agreed upon.

Warnings: threats of violence, snarky comments, light sexism, light mentions of self-deprecating thoughts

A Dance of Ash and Steel: Previous

~~~~~~~

Eris had waited there perhaps longer than necessary as he watched Elara disappear into the trees. The dark sweep of her wings blending into the early afternoon air. She didn’t look back. Not once. And soon enough, her figure disappeared behind the freezing clouds of the Winter Court.

And Eris remains there. One heart beat. Then another as his eyes lingered on the horizon, as if steeling himself for what was to come.

With a sharp exhale, Eris turned on his heel and vanished into the woods, shadows swallowing him as he made his way back to the heart of the Autumn Court. He took his time doing so, he was never completely eager to return to his home to his father, especially when in a mood. 

And Beron was still furious.

It had been about a week or so since Elara’s escape from their court, and yet his father’s wrath had not waned. If anything, it had only festered, darkening the halls of the Autumn Court like a storm waiting to break. Like thunder about to crack.

Eris strode through the grand halls of the Autumn Court’s palace, the familiar scent of burning leaves and rich earth surrounding him. The morning’s encounter with Elara lingered in his mind, an unbidden warmth spreading through his chest—a sensation he was unaccustomed to and preferred to ignore.

As he approached the throne room, the air grew heavier, charged with his father’s simmering rage. Beron Vanserra, sat upon his ornate throne, fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Eris the moment he entered.

“You’re late,” Beron hissed, his voice echoing through the chamber.

Eris offered a shallow bow, masking his irritation. “My apologies, Father. I was attending to court matters.” He said before walking to the side of the room, leaning against an ivory pillar.

Beron’s nostrils flared before he shook his head, “Days, Eris,” Beron seethed, his voice barely more than a growl. “It’s been days, and that Illyrian filth is still gone.”

One of Eris’ brothers cleared his throat, “The Illyrian’s escape was unforeseen. Our scouts are still investigating how she managed it, Father,” 

“Unforeseen?” Beron rose from his throne, descending the steps with predatory grace towards the middle son. “You assured me she was secured, that there was no possibility of her slipping through our grasp. And yet, days have passed, and she remains free.”

His voice echoed off the walls, his rage barely restrained.

No one dared to speak. Not the rest of his brothers, not the lords who had come to bow and scrape before their father. Even they knew better than to poke the beast when it was already snapping its teeth.

Eris, however, remained leaning against a pillar, expression carefully neutral. Practiced.

His father’s fury was a predictable thing. Elara had humiliated him, had slipped from his hold like a ghost in the night, and Beron hated to be made a fool of.

Hated to lose.

Especially to a low fae like an Illyrian.

And though Eris had spent years perfecting the art of indifference, he found that his own irritation stirred beneath the surface at the thought of what could have happened if Beron had kept her. 

If he had never intervened.

Eris knew Elara had no idea who this female was, the one they were looking for. He knew it a few days in on her interrogation. The Night Court had no idea either. So how far would Beron go to pull information that Elara didn’t have? 

His father turned, eyes cutting to him like a blade. Determinate and slightly mad, hungry for answers. Hungry for blood. Revenge for making him look so utterly foolish.

“You—” he sneered. “You spent time with her before, did you not? Tell me, what tricks did she use to slip away?”

Eris met his gaze with cool detachment. “If I knew, I would have told you. I tried to pull answers out of her but she remained silent,”

A lie, of course. But he had long since mastered those.

Beron studied him, suspicion flickering in his molten gaze. But before he could press further, one of his lords murmured something low in his ear, something that made the High Lord’s lips curl in disgust.

With a scoff, Beron waved a hand and turned sharply on his heel. “Useless, the lot of you,” he muttered before storming from the throne room, his heavy steps echoing in his wake.

Eris didn’t move until the doors slammed shut behind him.

Then, slowly, he exhaled, rolling his shoulders before pushing off the pillar. The court began to murmur again, but he ignored them. Ignored the way his brothers seemed to discuss amongst themselves out they’d find and recapture her. 

Rolling his eyes, he stalked past them and made his way toward the doors leading to the crisp autumn air.

It was then—just as he stepped into the courtyard—that he caught it.

A scent.

Faint, but unmistakable.

Wildflowers.

The Autumn Court never held wildflowers. Well, most courts didn’t considering they only lingered in the mountains. The Autumn Court was all smoke and cedar and damp earth. But this—this scent was something softer, something that didn’t belong.

His fingers twitched at his sides, and before he could stop himself, he turned toward the source. 

There, nestled in a crack between the stone, was a single, stubborn bloom. A wildflower, pale blue and delicate, its petals fluttering in the breeze.

Eris stared at it for a long moment. Admiring the resilient stubbornness this wildflower seemed to have. Growing between cracked stone of where it certainly didnt belong. 

He ignored the way his fingers ached to reach out, to pluck the bloom and tuck it away before the cold devoured it.

Instead, he inhaled sharply, straightened his coat, and walked away.

~~~~

It was two days later, Elara had come to collect Eris and brought him into the Night Court. Above the Court of Nightmares and into as neutral territory as they could get without bringing him into Velaris. The Moonstone Palace. 

The journey to the Moonstone Palace had been a long, tense flight. Elara had found Eris waiting at the border that morning, his usual smirk in place, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. As if he wasn’t about to walk into a room full of people who would love nothing more than to send him back to Autumn in pieces.

Elara had barely spoken on the way there, her mind clouded with the weight of what she was asking her family to do. The looks Cassian and Azriel had given her before she left still lingered, burning into her skin, filling her with a gnawing guilt she couldn’t shake. But she pushed it down.

Now, standing in the Moonstone Palace, she wasn’t sure if she had been right to.

Elara had never felt more like a traitor.

Not to the Night Court, but to the family that had taken her in all those centuries. To the family that help train and raise her the best they could. The family that helped her through all of her nightmares and pushed her to grow as a strong female. The very family that was sitting in front of her now, their eyes sharp and wary as she entered the Moonstone Palace with Eris Vanserra at her side.

The silence was suffocating.

Rhys sat at the head of the table, his expression as unreadable as ever, his violet gaze assessing the male standing beside her. Azriel and Cassian flanked him, shadows curling, siphons gleaming, muscles tensed as if they were waiting for an excuse—just one, to punch the Eris’ lights out.

Mor stood by the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her golden hair catching the soft light filtering through the glass. There was no masking the mix of fury and discomfort written plainly across her face.

And Amren—Amren only watched, her expression one of disinterest, but Elara knew better. Knew that those silver eyes saw everything, knew that Amren was already sorting through the threads of this conversation before it had even begun.

Eris, of course, was utterly unbothered. He exhaled sharply, glancing around before flashing a smirk, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “Well, don’t all jump to welcome me at once.”

Cassian’s chair scraped against the marble floor as he leaned forward, his glare promising violence. “Shut up, Vanserra.”

Elara could already feel the headache forming behind her temples. Two minutes. He had been in the room for two minutes, and Cassian was already ready to rip his head off.

Her hands clenched at her sides, nails digging into the leather of her armor. Her siphons flickered a deep green in warning as she forced herself to keep her voice level. “Can we not start this already?” She flicked a pointed glare between them.

Rhys’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze flickered, settling on Eris as the two moved to sit at the opposite end of the table—confidently farthest from the other members of her family; which also made this feel more and more like an interrogation than a negotiation.

But Elara didn’t need to be a Daemati to know that Rhys was already sorting through the possible outcomes of this meeting. Already weighing if this was worth the risk.

If Rhys said no, that would be it.

“You’re here because you claim to have information on a missing individual,” Rhys finally said, his voice smooth, but sharp.

Eris’s smirk didn’t waver. “Missing is an interesting choice of words.” He tilted his head slightly. “I would categorize her as a wanted female. She might have gone into hiding, or she has no idea how powerful she actually is. We don’t know. Regardless, I intend to find her before my father does.”

“And you needed Elara to do that?” Azriel’s voice was soft, deadly. His hazel eyes had darkened to something near black, his shadows curling tighter around him.

Eris’s gaze slid to her, a flicker of amusement crossing his face as his eyes traced her tense posture as she sat in the chair beside him, the way her wings tucked in tightly against her back. 

“She offered.”

Elara stiffened, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes in the room land on her. “I didn’t offer,” she snapped, her glare cutting toward Eris. “I said I’d help.”

Eris only shrugged, as if the distinction didn’t matter. “Same thing.”

Cassian’s knuckles turned white where he gripped the table. “And what do you expect from us?”

Eris met his glare without flinching. “A bit of cooperation, perhaps. Your High Lord is known for his diplomacy, after all.”

Rhys’s answering smile was faint, but there was nothing warm about it. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I want access to your resources while I’m here.” Eris leaned back against the chair, as if the tension in the room didn’t exist. “A fair trade, don’t you think?”

Mor scoffed, shaking her head. “You must be joking.”

Eris turned to her, that damn smirk still in place. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched.

The tension rose, thick as fog, suffocating. 

Always suffocating.

Elara forced herself to take a breath. She had known this wasn’t going to be easy. Had known how much of a fight this would be. But this—the way her family was looking at her—like they didn’t understand how she could stand beside him, how she could ask them to consider trusting him—

She swallowed the feeling clawing at her chest, choosing her words carefully. “It benefits all of us to find them before Beron does. It would keep our Court safe from whatever threat this is,”

Azriel’s wings flared slightly. “And we’re supposed to just trust him?”

“No,” Elara admitted. “But you can trust me.”

That landed.

Cassian exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. His hazel eyes softened, just slightly, as they met hers. “Elara—”

“I know how this looks,” she interrupted, her voice quieter now. “But I wouldn’t have agreed to work with him if I didn’t think it was worth it.”

She felt like a child again. The same child who had stood before them, begging for them to let her train. Begging for a chance to let her prove herself.

And now she was standing before them again, asking for their trust in a different way. Something much bigger than just her.

Asking them to trust her.

Cassian’s jaw tightened. “You’re not the one I’m worried about.”

Eris chuckled. “That’s fair, actually.”

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter around his shoulders.

Rhys was still watching Eris carefully, his mind likely turning through every possible outcome.

Finally, he exhaled. “This stays on our terms.” His voice was smooth as silk, but there was steel beneath it. “You don’t step foot in the Night Court without an escort. You don’t make any deals behind our backs. And if you try anything, you won’t be leaving the Night Court at all.”

Elara braced herself for Eris to argue. To push back. To make some smart-ass comment that would send Cassian over the edge.

Instead, he simply inclined his head. “Understood.”

Too easy.

He agreed to that….too easily. 

Elara wasn’t the only one who thought so. Cassian narrowed his eyes, his grip still iron-tight on the table’s edge. Azriel didn’t move, but his shadows thickened, whispering through the air. Even Mor looked like she was waiting for the catch—the moment Eris would remind them all why they had every reason not to trust him.

Rhys leaned back in his chair, folding his hands before him. “You agreed rather quickly.”

Eris’s lips curved. “Would you rather I argue?”

Rhys didn’t smile back. “I’d rather know why you’re suddenly so cooperative.”

Eris sighed, tilting his head back slightly, as if debating whether this was worth his time. Then he met Rhys’s gaze, his own gaze sharp, burning with something unreadable. 

“Because this,” he gestured vaguely between them all, “is bigger than whatever personal grievances you and your court hold against me. I don’t have time for a pissing contest, and neither do you.”

Cassian let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humor in it. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Eris barely glanced at him. “Believe it or not, General, I do have other priorities beyond irritating you.”

Cassian’s hands curled into fists, but before he could snarl a response, Rhys spoke, cutting through the rising tension. “You want access to our resources.” His violet eyes gleamed. “Be specific.”

Eris smiled, slow and deliberate. “Your network of spies. Your contacts across Prythian. Shelter, food and supplies, basics, really.”

Azriel’s shadows stilled. Then, they surged back to him, curling around his shoulders like a living warning. His expression didn’t change, but the tension in the room sharpened like a blade.

“You want access to my spies,” Azriel said quietly. His voice was soft, deadly—a whisper of a threat that sent a chill down even Elara’s spine.

Eris met his gaze without a flicker of hesitation. “I want to find this female before Beron does,” he corrected. “Your spies might be useful.”

Azriel didn’t so much as blink. “No.”

A muscle in Eris’s jaw ticked, but he only sighed. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Rhys, to his credit, remained unreadable, but Elara knew him well enough to see the calculation in his eyes. “Our spies are not a bargaining chip,” Rhys said smoothly.

Eris’s smirk didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something underneath it—frustration, maybe, or something close. “Then what exactly are you offering, High Lord?”

Rhys tapped his fingers against the table, considering. “Information,” he said at last. “We’ll grant you access to what we choose to share. We’ll determine what’s relevant and what isn’t.”

Eris exhaled sharply. “So you want me to trust you blindly?”

“Funny,” Mor muttered, arms still crossed. “That’s exactly what you’re asking of us.”

Eris turned to her, and for a heartbeat, something unreadable passed over his face. Then, his usual mask slid back into place, his smirk turning almost lazy. “Fair point,” he admitted.

Elara could feel the conversation slipping, the negotiations starting to fray before they had even begun. She exhaled, forcing herself to unclench her fists. “Compromise,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt. “That’s what we need.”

Eris glanced at her, assessing. She ignored the way his gaze lingered, turning to Rhys instead. “If we don’t share resources, he doesn’t get what he needs, and we risk Beron getting to this female first.”

Rhys studied her for a long moment. Then, his gaze flicked to Eris. “I’ll allow you access to some of our contacts,” he said carefully. 

“But only under strict oversight. You work with us, not around us. You don’t approach our informants without permission. You don’t set foot anywhere in our Court without an escort. And if I suspect for even a second that you’re withholding information, this deal is over.”

Eris’s smirk remained, but Elara knew him well enough now to see the tension in his shoulders. “Such warmth,” he murmured. “It’s almost like you don’t trust me.”

Cassian scoffed. “Because we don’t.”

Eris ignored him, keeping his gaze on Rhys. A silent challenge passed between them. A test of wills. Then, slowly, Eris nodded.

“Fine,” he said. “It’s agreed upon.”

The tension in the room didn’t ease, but something shifted. A delicate, uneasy truce settled between them—one that could shatter at any moment.

Eris leaned back slightly, his smirk still in place, but Elara didn’t miss the way his fingers tapped against the hilt of one of his knives. Always poised, always calculating.

Rhys exhaled through his nose, then leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “Since this arrangement will require your presence in the Night Court longer than a single meeting, I assume you’ll need a place to stay.”

Elara stiffened.

Cassian’s chair creaked ominously. “You’re not serious.”

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter. Even Mor’s arms uncrossed, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

Rhys’s expression didn’t waver. “The Moonstone Palace is neutral ground. If you’re staying here, that’s where you’ll be.”

Eris, to his credit, looked only mildly surprised. “Generous,” he murmured.

“It’s not generosity,” Rhys corrected, his voice smooth, cool. “It’s control. You’ll stay there under our watch, under our terms. If you so much as breathe wrong, we’ll know.”

Eris considered that, golden eyes flicking to Elara for a brief moment before he smiled. “And if I refuse?”

Azriel’s voice was like ice. “Then you leave the same way you came.”

Cassian, still bristling, bared his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Or in a body bag.”

Elara barely resisted the urge to rub at her temple. Cauldron, give me strength.

But Eris just laughed, soft and amused. “Touchy.” He turned back to Rhys, inclining his head ever so slightly. “Fine. The Moonstone Palace it is.”

The room remained tense, no one fully satisfied, but Elara knew this was as good as it was going to get.

Eris had what he wanted.

And so did they.

~~~~~

Eris had returned back his room in the Moonstone Palace after Rhys insisted that they all have dinner together—much to Cassian’s disagreement and Azriel’s distaste.

Neither of her brothers really caring for outwardly showing their opinion on the whole arrangement.

ANd after a long conversation, though it was more like a negotiation, Elara and Eris agreed to start their search for the female in three days

Three days to prepare for this wild goose chase with almost no leads, no idea where to start, and having to beat Beron. Three days to research and figure out where the hell to start.

They agreed to start in the Night Court. Thought they hadn’t heard of any female pulling attention, the vastestness of their home provided plenty of smaller villages for someone to go into hiding. 

From there they would move into the Day Court. Luckily Helion was fond of Elara and she was sure he’d allow both of them to search his territory or provide word if they spotted anyone suspicious. Then they’d move to Dawn Court. Then the Winter Court. Then-with avoiding Autumn- going to Summer. Then finally, ending at Spring.

Tamlin was certainly more fond of Eris than Elara so they agreed that he would take the lead when they got to that point. Which was probably for the best because Elara couldn’t stand looking at the High Lord of Spring knowing what he had done to Rhys’ mother and sister.

Now after returning back to the Townhouse, Mor laid sprawled across Elara’s bed, idly toying with a loose thread on the blanket. “You know Cassian and Az are still brooding downstairs, right?” 

Mor drawled, moving and propping herself up on her elbows. “Rhys is trying to reason with them, but you’d think you just suggested letting Beron himself stroll into Velaris.”

Elara huffed, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t expect them to like the idea. I didn’t expect anyone to. But it needs to be done and it’s our best chance to find this female before Beron does…somehow, there are in fact worse males than Eris,”

“That’s an understatement. Trust me I hate that asshole more than anyone else. But Beron?” Mor muttered, shaking her head, almost looking ready to rip the head off the next person who walking through the door.

“Az looked like he was going to start sharpening Truth-Teller just for the thought of Eris being anywhere near us.”

Elara didn’t respond, her fingers deftly unfastening the leathers at her wrists. She wasn’t in the mood to rehash the argument—not when Cassian had already spent half the night making his disapproval painfully clear once they returned to the townhouse.

“Trust me,” Elara sighed as she pulled off her leathers and tossing them aside. She pulled off her under shirt as well before reaching for the fresh sleep shirt she had left draped over the chair of her room. The fabric was soft, freshly laundered, and smelled faintly of the townhouse and faintly wildflowers—of home.

“Nothing would make me happier,”

“No kidding El, I don’t know how-Mor’s voice faltered was no longer teasing. No longer light, “wait…”

Elara glanced up, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Turn around.” Mor’s voice was concerned but light, almost as if she wasn’t sure either.

Elara blinked at her friend. “What? Why?” She was about to argue when Mor quickly stood up and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her around to face the mirror again. Elara was about to protest when she saw the way Mor’s eyes were fixed on her back in their reflection—wide and unsettled

“Elara,” Mor whispered. “What is that?”

Confusion flickered across Elara’s features. She glanced over her shoulder in the mirror, expecting to see some mark or injury she hadn’t noticed, but there was nothing that seemed unusual.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice soft, then turning slightly to get a better angle. “There’s nothing—”

But Mor had already moved closer, her fingers hovering above Elara’s skin, eyes still locked on the spot between her shoulder blades.

Elara felt a slight tension coil in the air, a strange unease settling over them both. “Mor, seriously, stop—what is it? You’re starting to freak me out,”

“Turn around,” Mor demanded again, the edge in her tone sharpening now, no trace of teasing left in it, “look!” She said, her tone growing furious now.

Puzzled, Elara slowly complied. But as soon as she turned fully, the shift in Mor’s demeanor hit her.

“Mor, I think you—”

She moved quickly, spinning and looking over her shoulder at herself in the mirror. And as her back came into view, she saw it.

The tattoo started in the middle of Elara’s shoulder blades, a subtle but distinct swirling pattern that was almost hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt.

At first, it seemed faint—just a soft, dark ink of shadow and flame that slithered like smoke across her skin. The shadowed tendrils seemed to reach outward, curling as if alive, while the flame-like marks flickered at their core, twisting and flickering like something burning beneath her skin.

It was almost as if the tattoo itself had a life of its own, a deep, pulsating energy that hummed under her flesh. 

Unmoving, but humming.

The design spread outward in delicate tendrils, following the natural curve of her spine, the ink spreading like a slow wildfire.

As it reached the nape of her neck, it was no longer just a faint design but a vivid, unmistakable mark—shadow and flame entwined in a powerful, hypnotic dance.

The full extent of it became clear—how much of her skin was marked, how much of her back, her neck, and even her soul, felt bound to something she couldn’t remember. 

Something she didn’t realize she did.

Elara felt her hands tremble, but she couldn’t stop herself as she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it up slightly to reveal the faint trace of the ink reaching the very edge of her hairline.

There was no way. 

No.

No, that wasn’t—

She hadn’t—

Mor sucked in a breath. “Oh my gods.” Mor’s face was pale, her golden brown eyes wide with disbelief and anger at her cousin. 

She looked and looked to Elara voice barely a whisper, but confusion and fury filling her tone.

“Elara… what did you do?”

Elars stared at her back in the mirror, her hazel eyes wide in disbelief, denial as her mind raced before she breathed out with the only explanation she could think of. The only reason why this ink would be on her skin. 

The smoke. 

The flames.

“I made a bargain.”

[soulofapatrick]

Snap into place - Azriel x female reader

Summary: You meet Azriel and the mate bond snaps into place

Words: 2.7K

Warnings: None really; heated make out session

Notes; debating on a smutty part two...

Y/N's POV

I land softly in the grand dining room of the House of Wind, the air thick with the scent of fresh herbs and a hint of something sweet. Rhysand’s arms release me gently, and I steady myself on my feet, my heart racing from the exhilaration of flying through the skies of Velaris. The room is filled with soft, glowing light, casting an inviting warmth over the beautifully arranged table. A high ceiling adorned with intricate carvings seems to echo with laughter and conversation.

Before I can take in my surroundings fully, a stunning figure catches my eye. A woman with long, flowing blonde hair and striking features stands nearby, wearing a form-fitting red dress that barely conceals anything in the front. It clings to her curves, exuding confidence and allure.

“Ah, my cousin,” Rhysand announces, his voice filled with warmth. “This is Morrigan—though everyone just calls her Mor.”

Before I can respond, Mor crosses the room in a heartbeat, pulling me into a fierce hug. Her laughter is bright and infectious. “Welcome! I’m so glad you’re here!” she exclaims, her voice a melodic blend of mischief and sincerity. I feel an instant warmth in her embrace, a sense of belonging I didn’t expect.

“Thank you,” I manage to say as she releases me, taking a step back with a bright smile that makes her appear even more radiant.

Feyre steps forward, her expression friendly and open. “Let me introduce you to my sisters,” she says, guiding me toward a small group nearby.

Nesta stands with her arms crossed, an aura of guardedness surrounding her. She meets my gaze with a sharp look, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders. “You’re Rhysand’s guest?” she asks, her tone skeptical.

“Yes,” I reply, trying to match her intensity with a friendly smile.

Elain, their sister, smiles softly at me. She has an ethereal quality, with gentle features that instantly make me feel at ease. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she says sweetly, her voice warm and inviting. “If you need anything, please let me know.”

I nod, feeling a flicker of appreciation for her kindness.

Cassian stands next to Nesta, his muscular frame radiating strength and energy. He grins widely, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just don’t let her intimidate you,” he teases, motioning toward Nesta. “She’s really just a big softie at heart.”

“Hardly,” Nesta retorts, rolling her eyes but the corners of her mouth lift slightly.

As they all welcome me, I feel a tug in my chest, an inexplicable pull that draws my attention across the room. I turn my head, and my breath catches in my throat. Another Illyrian soldier stands there, much like Cassian but not. His arms are crossed over his toned chest, looking out the large windows at the stars. His dark hair catches the light, and there’s an air of quiet strength about him. He seems lost in thought, his posture relaxed yet commanding.

“Azriel,” Rhys speaks to his friend, his tone light but expectant. “Won’t you greet our guest?”

Azriel turns slowly toward me, and I find myself momentarily entranced. He is classically beautiful, though nearly unreadable, an enigma wrapped in shadows. He stands tall, his dark hair tousled and framing his face perfectly. Golden-brown skin gleams softly in the warm light, and his massive Illyrian wings are folded elegantly behind him, giving him an imposing yet graceful presence. The planes of his face are striking—high cheekbones, a strong jawline—carved by years of rigorous training. His hazel eyes, a blend of green and gold, hold a depth that makes my breath catch.

As our eyes lock, that tugging sensation in my chest intensifies, pulling me closer to him, and then—snap. It’s as if an invisible bond has snapped into place, an undeniable connection that leaves me momentarily off-balance. I stumble, my breath hitching, and I reach out instinctively for support.

Rhysand’s violet eyes widen with concern as he steps closer, his hand steadying me. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice laced with genuine worry.

I nod quickly, but my attention is drawn back to Azriel, who steps toward me in large, graceful strides, closing the distance between us with an effortless fluidity that only heightens the charged atmosphere.

He reaches out, taking my right hand in his scarred one, the warmth of his touch igniting a thousand sensations within me. Then, with a deep bow, he bends slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, his voice low and velvety, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

At his touch, a wave of emotions floods through me. I can feel everything he feels—an undercurrent of fear at this unexpected connection, a deep anticipation for my response, and there, beneath it all, an undeniable want and lust that makes my cheeks heat with embarrassment. It’s as if our souls are whispering secrets to one another, threading together in an intricate dance of intimacy and longing.

I try to pull my hand back, overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions coursing through the bond, but he holds my gaze, and I find myself rooted to the spot, caught in the depths of his hazel eyes. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying, a whirlwind of sensations that leaves me breathless and wanting more.

I glance down at Azriel’s scarred hands, tracing my thumb along the rough texture of his skin. The warmth of his touch sends a soft shudder through him, and I feel it travel down the bond between us—a wave of heat that washes over me, igniting something deep within. It’s an intimate gesture, one that feels both innocent and charged with unspoken promises.

But suddenly, I feel something else—claws prying at the edges of my mind, a persistent probing that sends a shiver down my spine. I snap my head to the side, my eyes landing on Rhys and Feyre. Rhys stands with his head tilted slightly, a focused expression on his face as he tries to break through my mental shields, searching for what I’m thinking and sensing what’s happening between Azriel and me.

“Rhys!” I snap, my voice sharper than intended. “Get out of my head!”

His bright violet eyes widen in surprise, but there’s no malice behind his glare—just concern and curiosity.

I squeeze Azriel’s hand slightly, seeking comfort in his presence as I feel the bond shift, allowing a flicker of privacy to return. With a subtle sigh, Azriel finally lets me go, his grip loosening but the warmth lingering on my skin.

With the weight of too many eyes on me, I feel exposed and overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of it all. I take a step back, my heart racing. “I need some air,” I manage to say, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me. Without waiting for a response, I move toward the balcony, seeking solace in the open air. The stars shimmer above me, bright and unyielding against the velvet backdrop of the night sky. The cool breeze nips at my skin, sending a shiver through me, and I realize with a pang that I shouldn’t have let Feyre dress me up so much; the delicate fabric feels too thin against the chill.

I take a deep breath, looking up at the stars, trying to quell the turmoil in my head. They are more beautiful than I ever imagined, each twinkling light a reminder of the vastness of the world beyond this moment. The Night Court is far more peaceful than anyone ever says it is, a soothing embrace of tranquility that wraps around me, lulling my racing heart.

But then, just as I begin to gather my thoughts, I feel the presence behind me. Scarred hands rest on the balcony railing between mine, and a solid body presses against me, immediately calming the raging thoughts and anxiety within me. It’s as if now that Azriel has been found as my mate, he can calm me with just a touch. My parents always told me stories about mates, about how their presence could soothe even the most tumultuous of storms.

Suddenly, I’m no longer cold. The heat radiating from him envelops me, grounding me in the moment. I seem to fall back against him instinctively, feeling the solid strength of his body as he envelops me in a comforting warmth. I breathe him in—the scent of dark wood, cool night air, and something uniquely him that sends my heart racing anew.

I take a deep breath, letting my eyes slide shut as the back of my head rests against his shoulder, feeling his presence wrap around me like a protective shroud. I can’t help but open my mind to him, allowing our connection to deepen. I show him every thought I’ve ever had about mates—the way my parents were so perfectly entwined, the love that seemed to glow around them like a beacon. I share my awe from moments ago, the overwhelming rush of emotions when our eyes first met.

I can feel him absorbing my thoughts, understanding the weight of them as they flit through our bond like soft whispers. And as I let go of my worries and fears, I realise that in this moment, with Azriel, everything feels right. The bond between us is no longer just a connection; it is a sanctuary.

When I finally open my eyes, I realize it’s not just Azriel’s presence wrapping around me but his massive wings have unfurled, forming a dark cocoon around us. They block out the view of the dining room and the curious gazes of the others, creating a sanctuary that offers me the privacy I’ve always craved, especially in gatherings like this one. I’ve never liked being the center of attention, and now, in this moment, I’m grateful for his instinct to shield us.

His wings are magnificent—dark and leathery, reminiscent of a bat’s, stretching wide to envelop us in shadow. The texture is smooth yet powerful, each wingbone prominent and elegant. I slowly turn to face him, our bodies close but still connected through the warmth of his wings. His arms remain on the balcony railing, and the soft look on his face takes my breath away. There’s something in his gaze, a mix of vulnerability and fierce desire, that makes my heart race.

I reach out tentatively, fingers brushing against one of his wings. At my touch, he lets out a breathy sound, a mixture of surprise and something deeper. A surge of sexual want travels straight through the bond between us, igniting every nerve ending in my body and leaving me breathless.

Azriel’s hazel eyes flutter open a moment later, the warm color gone so dark they’re almost black, filled with an intensity that makes me shiver. His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks, the words rolling off his tongue like a whispered secret. “I need to kiss you.” There’s a desperation in his tone, almost like a plea, and my hands instinctively reach up to cup his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palms.

In that moment, everything else fades away, and it’s just the two of us in our private world. His hands finally move, wrapping around me with a possessive tenderness that makes my heart leap. He pulls me closer, pressing my hips into the balcony railing, creating an exhilarating friction between us. One hand weaves into my hair, the other slips to my thigh, lifting my leg and wrapping it around his waist as if to draw me even nearer.

And then, as if the world outside has disappeared, he dives down and kisses me like I’m the oxygen he needs to breathe. His lips are soft yet insistent, sending sparks of electricity through my body. The taste of him is intoxicating—warm and rich, like dark chocolate laced with a hint of something sweet. With every brush of his mouth against mine, I feel my heart race, igniting a fire within me that spreads from my chest to my fingertips, making me dizzy with desire.

I can’t seem to get enough of him. My hands instinctively roam over the contours of his back, searching for a break in his Illyrian armor, eager to find hot, bare golden skin beneath. I’m met only with cool metal and the hard lines of his physique, a growl of frustration escaping me when I can’t reach my destination. The sound draws a deep chuckle from him, vibrating through our connection and sending shivers down my spine.

As we pull apart just enough for him to speak, I’m breathless. “I have waited hundreds of years for you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion and longing. The weight of those words settles over us, filled with the gravity of a bond forged over lifetimes.

Before I can process what he means, he surges forward again, crashing his mouth against mine with a heat and passion that sends my mind reeling. I feel every dip and curve of his body pressed against mine, the solid strength of him overwhelming me in the best way possible. I don’t care how hard the railing is digging into my back; everything Azriel is consuming me, and I want him—no, I need him—right here and right now.

A low sound of agreement rumbles in his chest, deep and resonant, making my insides flutter with excitement. But just as I lose myself in the warmth of his embrace, a sudden clearing of the throat outside our cocoon of wings startles me, and I yelp with fear, pulling back from the kiss.

“Darlings!” comes the voice, sickly sweet and teasing. Rhys’. “As hot and amusing as this is, please do whatever this is somewhere else where your mental shields won’t go down and blast unwanted thoughts my way.”

I glance over at Rhysand, who stands just outside the shadow of Azriel’s wings, a smirk playing on his lips. His violet eyes dance with mischief as he takes in the scene, clearly amused by our moment. I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, my heart still racing from both the kiss and the unexpected interruption.

Azriel's presence remains a steady anchor behind me, the heat radiating from his body enveloping me in a comforting embrace. Despite Rhys's teasing, I can’t shake the feeling of exhilaration coursing through my veins.

Without breaking the intense gaze between us, Azriel flips Rhys the bird over his shoulder, a smirk dancing on his lips. It’s a surprisingly playful gesture from someone as serious as him, and it sends a flutter of laughter through me, lightening the tension in the air.

Then, with a sudden and fluid motion, he scoops me up in his arms, mirroring how Rhysand had carried me here. The world shifts around us as he cradles me against his chest, his hold firm and secure. My heart races, not from the shock of being lifted, but from the thrill of what’s to come.

He strides out of the House of Wind, his powerful legs propelling us into the night, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on his dark wings. I let my head rest against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—woodsmoke and night air, a mixture that calms me even as my pulse quickens. Anticipation and want settle deep in my bones, intertwining with the warmth radiating from him, making it hard to think straight.

What does my mate have planned for us once he gets me to his bed? The mere thought sends butterflies swirling in my stomach, a mix of excitement and nerves. I close my eyes, surrendering to the feeling of safety in his arms, relishing the electric connection that pulses between us.

With each step flap of his wings he takes, I feel the promise of the night stretching out before us, a canvas of endless possibilities. All I can think about is how I’ve finally found him—my mate—and everything is about to change.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[illyrianbitch]

Back to Our Roots

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the Acheron sisters out of town, you and your family plan for a quiet night in— just like old times.

Warnings: drug use, just fun lil high times tbh. Az being a cute partner, Cassian and Reader being best friend and war strategy planning goals

Word Count: 2.3k

An installment of the Mirthroot Mini-Series

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

As if she had sensed their arrival, Mor squeezed through your half-opened door and shut it swiftly behind her, wearing a sly smile that made Rhysand instantly still. 

“Heyy, guys.”

Rhysand and Azriel exchanged a look before bringing their attention to the blonde in front of them once more, her body angled awkwardly to block the entirety of your doorway.

“Mor,” Rhys said, eyeing her with a scrutinizing gaze, “Why do you look so guilty?”

She held his gaze for a moment, her mouth falling open slightly as she blinked. Then, she casted a glance to her side before giving a small sheepish smile “Because I am?”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed even more. “Is that a question or an admission?”

Mor’s smile widened as she gave a small shrug. 

“Mor.”

Her eyes were brought to Azriel as he spoke, an expression on his face that mirrored that of Rhysands. His shadows hadn’t warned him of any imminent danger, hadn’t informed him of any threats. Yet Mor stood in front of him with a sense of suspicion he wasn’t able to read. 

She remained quiet, opting to raise a brow at him instead.

“Morrigan.”

Mor's smile faltered. "I had no part in this. It was their idea, I swear," she admitted.

Rhys dipped his chin slightly. "Whose?" 

"Y/n and Cass.”

Azriel had grown tired of the conversation, of the strange stalling Mor was attempting to do. The mention of your name snapped the last threat of his patience, and with a swift and determined movement, he brushed past Mor, his expression unreadable as he entered your home. Instantly, his shadows slithered along the walls and floors, guiding him unerringly toward you.

Mor trailed after him, her steps quickening. "Truly, I didn't realize how... well, you'll see," she called after Azriel, her voice echoing in the hallway.

It had been a long day. Azriel was looking forward to relaxing tonight, to spending time with his family in a way he hadn’t been able to recently, not when there had been so many concerns, so many threats to worry about.  Driven by his eagerness to see you, and a small growing fear that had nestled into his heart at Mor’s welcome, he paid little attention to the subtle noises drifting around him or the faint aroma that began to fill the air. 

It didn’t properly hit him until he began opening the dainty glass doors to your living room. 

As they swung open, Azriel was instantly hit by a powerful scent, his hand flying to his nose reflexively.  Earthy and woody, with a sharp edge that hinted at… skunk?

Azriel blinked.

He recognized this smell. It was one he knew deeply— one he hadn't encountered in what felt like centuries. Blinking rapidly, Azriel squinted to see through the dense cloud that enveloped the room, the air thick and difficult to breathe. With his vision obscured, he could barely make out the shapes on the ground before him. But quickly, through the haze, he discerned your and Cassian's forms, laying leisurely amidst the swirling smoke.

A smile tugged at his lips. 

From behind him, Azriel heard the shuffling of Mor and Rhysand as they entered the room, a strong cough following their entrance. 

Rhysand let out a whistle, walking to stand next to Azriel. “Damn.”

Despite the three new presences in your living room, neither you nor Cassian seemed to notice. The cloudiness of the room, now seemingly thicker than before, suggested to Azriel that you and Cassian were indeed on a completely different level than him and Rhysand– than Mor, as well, from what he could gather. 

You laid on the ground, your hair messily sprawled over your soft rug, eyes closed in bliss, a gentle laughter escaping your lips. Azriel could make out the movements of Cassian’s frame beside you as he mirrored your laughter.

"It's been like this for hours. I thought it would wear off by now," Mor murmured. 

Azriel turned his head to look at her, watching as she walked over to one of your bookshelves. She picked up a small container before turning around.

"I guess it's just... really strong?" Mor offered, her expression marked by furrowed brows and a hint of uncertainty. She offered the container towards Rhys with an extended hand. 

Rhysand grabbed it gently, examining it before giving it a light squeeze, the top popping off with a small sound. He brought it to his nose. Instantly, he recoiled with yet another small cough. 

“Gods, Mor. That is horribly potent.”

Azriel grabbed the container next, bringing it up to smell in the same manner his brother had. Faintly, he felt the cool slick of his shadows as they snaked up his body, a few around his arms, a few curling around his ears in curiosity, attempting to get a better look. The scent tickled his nostrils and he drew back, his shadows mirroring his movements as if the scent had, somehow, also hit them too. Azriel looked up through his brows, casting a quick glance over to where you laid.

“This has rootdust,” Azriel stated, holding up the container for emphasis. “Mor, this is basically all rootdust.”

Mirthroot was a tricky herb to work around. You and Azriel had your fair share of expertise, spending many of your younger years sneaking out into the mountains to smoke together. All of you dabbled, at some point,  with holidays spent at the cabin covered in smoke. You and Az had a habit of collecting as much rootdust as possible, a tradition of making the last smoke of the holiday the strongest one— a grand finish, you used to say. Azriel always loved it. But it had been years, and from what Az could tell, Mor wasn’t as skilled as she once was in recognizing the quality of what she was taking in.

“Oh,” Mor breathed out. “Well. I guess we got a really good deal then, huh?”

Rhysand let out an amused breath. “Are you telling me that Cassian and Y/n have been smoking the most highly concentrated part of mirthroot casually?”

“For hours?” Azriel added.

Mor sheepishly smiled once more, "Like I said– it was their idea," she responded, her tone laced with a hint of amusement.

With a thoughtful hum, Azriel turned away from Mor, his gaze now fixed on you. He made his way towards you, his shadows leaping forward eagerly, swirling around him like excited children. Within seconds, they reached your form, gently dancing around your body in movements that elicited soft giggles from your lips. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, curiosity flickering within them as you lifted your hands to watch the shadows playfully run along your hands.

Azriel watched as the realization dawned on you. With a sudden burst of energy, you sprang up from the ground, your eyes lighting up with excitement as you looked up at him. Cassian's head snapped back in surprise, his own grin widening as he caught sight of his brother. 

"Az!" you exclaimed with a big grin, a sheer joy evident in your voice that made his heart flutter. 

His gaze swept over the coffee table next to you, noting the scattered papers, remnants of ash, and the loose mirthroot nuggets. He let out a laugh at the array of snacks messily spread amongst the herbs, crumbs from what he could only assume were some sort of baked goods— cookies, his shadows informed him. Chocolate chip. He met your eyes again with a grin. 

"Hi, gorgeous," he greeted warmly. 

With a gentle ease, he made a move to sit down next to you, his movements accompanied by the subtle sound of his knees cracking in response. He lowered himself to your rug, leaning his back against the couch as you scrambled to reposition yourself, your movements slow and uncoordinated. Somehow you managed to settle yourself between his legs, pressing against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You craned your head to look up at him.

Azriel's gaze softened as he looked at your face, illuminated by a wide grin that stretched across your lips. Your eyes were narrowed and slightly puffy, a faint blush painted on your cheeks. Still gorgeous, Az thought, always so gorgeous. A shadow brushed over your cheek, moving to push back a stray strand of your hair. 

Cassian’s voice disrupted the moment in a small whine. "Hey, what about me?" 

In unison, both you and Azriel moved your heads to look at him, watching as Cassian’s eyes floated between you two. Just like you, Cassian’s eyelids were puffy and half-lidded as he held your stares.

Azriel let out a small snicker. "Hey,” he said.

“What?” Cassian's expression shifted into a frown. "Am I not gorgeous?" 

You gasped in mock horror, your body pushing up with the force of the sound. "You are so gorgeous!" you exclaimed earnestly.

Cassian seemed content at the answer, a small smile gracing his face. His gaze then shifted to Azriel, and you followed suit, both of you staring at him with eager eyes. The sight itself was more amusing than anything Az had seen recently, two of the most feared members of the Night Court staring at him like two curious animals.

Azriel flicked his eyes between the two of you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. With a laugh-sigh, he looked at his brother.  "You're so gorgeous," he affirmed, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Cassian's gaze lingered on Azriel as he continued. "So gorgeous. If I didn't have her," he gestured towards you, then waved his hand casually, "Nesta would have competition, brother. I mean—"

 "Ah, suck a fat one, Az,” Cassian grumbled, pouting to himself as he leaned against the coffee table. “Can't take anything seriously."

Azriel grinned at the response, pulling you closer to his chest as you laughed, the sound caressing him with a familiar warmth. His gaze was pulled up as Mor and Rhysand approached the rug, both wearing amused smiles on their lips.

"We run late and you decide to have all the fun by yourself?" Rhysand teased, raising the container in his hand.

"Actually," Cassian responded, his voice carrying a hint of excitement, "Y/n and I were discussing some strategies."

Rhysand's amusement only seemed to grow at the comment.  "Strategies?"

Azriel felt your nod against him. 

With a grin, Cassian leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "For, you know, Koschei," he added, emphasizing the last word with a mischievous sloppy wink. Mor snorted at the sight, a laugh falling from her lips. 

Rhys glanced between Mor and Azriel.  "And?"

Cassian's grin widened, "And we solved it."

Rhysand's gaze returned to Azriel, whose eyebrows lifted in surprise, the corners of his lips turned upwards. "You did?"

Cassian leaned back, with a confident nod. "Ohhh yeah. Tell 'em, Y/n," he prompted eagerly.

You shifted into a new position, leaning sideways against Azriel, as you moved your gaze between all of them. Even the movement of your head was slow, sluggish, and Azriel wondered just how well you were able to see all of them considering how closed your eyes were. 

"Koschei is confined to the lake, right?" 

The room went quiet as you continued to move your gaze between your family, silence falling upon the group as they waited for you to continue. When a beat passed, Azriel met your gaze, understanding dawning in his eyes as he realized you were seeking confirmation. "Right, yes," he responded with a nod, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you grinned at him.

"So,” you paused, the grin spreading across your face, "what if," you continued, your voice tinged with excitement, “we just drain the lake?"

You and Cassian exchanged a look.

“What’s he gonna go without a lake?” Cass emphasized, “Nothing.”

“Exactly. And we get free water. We could make a pool.”

Finishing your sentence with a sound of content, you looked between everyone in the room. Cassian nodded enthusiastically, as if your combined strategy was the strongest plan he’d come up with in centuries. And he was really excited about that damn pool.

There was a sleek silence as your words were processed. 

And then Mor’s reaction came first.

"Oh my Gods," she exclaimed, laughter bubbling up as she covered her mouth in amusement. 

Rhysand and Azriel exchanged a knowing glance before Rhysand let out a bellowing laugh, the sound echoing across the room as he ran his hand down his face.

"That is," he managed to say between laughs, “The best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Azriel looked down at you with a smile that threatened to split his cheeks, small chuckles reverberating through his chest. 

You stared up at him, leaning your head closer to his. "Right?" you chimed in eagerly, seeking validation for your idea. “Right?’

He nodded, unable to resist leaning down to kiss your forehead tenderly. "Genius plan, my love," he praised softly. 

"I know," you replied with a satisfied grin.

With another laugh, Mor walked to her cousin and grabbed the small container from his hand, eliciting a small eyebrow raise in response. 

"For old times' sake," she declared with a grin. With a small groan, she settled down next to Cassian, nudging him to make room. She looked over her shoulder, "Maybe we can brainstorm how it was possible for you to accidentally send a love letter meant for Feyre to Cassian.”

Rhysand’s mouth dropped as he let out a small scoff.

"That happened once!" 

“Wait,” Cassian frowned. "That wasn’t for me?" 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

i wrote this while on mirthroot *cough cough* so ignore any typos

p.s i want to make an entire mirthroot series with fun one-shots just cause i luv the idea of the IC just getting time to relax and do silly goofy stuff like recreational drugs (i’m also a stoner so this is my territory 🙏🏻). should i? yes no maybe so (3/9 update: it has been created!! Read the Mirthroot Mini-Series

[yearning-for-autumn]

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

[mother-above]

I'm Not The One For You

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has been stressed at work and decided to hit the bars with his brothers. He gets so drunk that he may have forgotten what his love looks like

Warnings: fluffy with some spicy implications

WC: 1.1k

*masterlist*

a/n: I've been writing some heavy things and needed a break. I hope yall enjoy this short fluffy piece! xx

The sound of heels clicking on cobblestone joined the myriad of sounds along the Sidra. The city was lively, and all types of music and chatter filled the crisp air in Velaris. As you got closer, the bass at Rita's was getting louder. You, Morrigan, Amren, and the Archeron sisters were glowing from the spa's lavender-scented oil and dressed to the nines. After an afternoon of well-deserved pampering and last-minute shopping, it was time to meet with the boys.

You were wearing a dark blue mini dress, the material sparkled and reflected light with every movement of your body. The black strappy heels matched with your manicure and pedicure.

You were vibrant and ready for the night out with your mate and friends. Work had been tiring, especially when it was your job to organize military exercises with other Courts armies.

Excited to step into the bar, you grinned as the music vibrated all around you. Scanning the dance floor, your grin spreads when you see your blue-siphoned mate absolutely smashed and tearing it up on the dance floor with his brothers and other partygoers. Happy to see him relaxed, you go over to the bar to order yourself a drink before joining Azriel.

Despite being known as the “quiet one,” Azriel loved to dance and party occasionally. Work had been stressful lately, so he let loose and drank to his heart's content. Females and males were coming up to him all night asking to dance with him, but he refused, and if they got insistent, he’d give them the “sorry, you’re lovely but I’m married” speech. Everyone was always respectful and backed away, after all, he was the Shadowsinger.

It wasn’t even late but admittedly, Azriel drank too much, and his wild erratic dancing proved the point. His brothers and family teased him from afar, even Elain was poking fun at the drunken shadowsinger. In the corner of his eye, a female in a short blue sparkly dress approached him. Smelling like lavender, the female slid an arm around his waist and pressed her body against his.

You were about to bop to the beat of the music when Azriel stopped dancing and ripped himself away from you. The movement was so sudden, that the cocktail in your hand splashed droplets on the floor.

“Az? What’s wrong?” you asked wide-eyed.

“S-sorry, I’m taken. I’m just waiting for my wife,” he slurred as he deliberately turned away from you and started dancing again.

Startled, you looked at Cas, Rhys, and the girls and you burst out laughing. You pointed an accusatory finger toward the Illyrians.

“He doesn’t even recognize me! I can’t believe he’s shit-faced this early!” you weren’t mad at the boys, just highly amused.

Tapping Azriel on the shoulder, he turned, and you gave him your most dazzling smile. “I haven’t seen you all day and this is how you greet me? I’ve been wanting to dance with you, love.”

His eyes run down your body appreciatively, his gaze slowing around your thighs, he’s always loved your thighs. You gave him an encouraging nod, but he was still clueless.

Bringing up his left hand, he shows you the golden band around his ring finger. “I told you I’m married, see? She also happens to be my mate.”

You stifled a giggle and stepped closer to him. Surely, he would recognize your scent, right? You grabbed his hand and let your fingers trace the scars, he loved it when you did that.

In complete shock, he snatched his hand away after a few seconds.

“Look, you’re beautiful but I’m not the one for you. I would walk away before my mate gets here. She’s Night Court’s best warrior and I’m afraid she won’t let you get away with you bothering me so much,” said Azriel, his lips pressed into a line.

You started laughing, your handsome mate was so loyal. You can’t believe he would have sic’d you to flirty females. His family, who were listening to the whole thing, was snickering as well. Rhysand pinched his nose highly regretting pre-gaming at the townhouse, at the time it was a great idea.

Azriel squinted at his family when he realized they were laughing at him. “What?!”

Rhysand clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Brother, you’re so drunk that you don’t even recognize your own mate!”

Azriel’s eyes furrowed as he looked at your beautiful twinkling face, your lips forming into a smirk. Azriel tugged on the bond three times, and after a short beat, you tugged the bond four times. It was something the two of you did, the first person tugged three times and the four tugs meant that the second person loved them more. Clarity burst through his intoxication and when he realized, he tipped his head back in laughter.

Moving closer to you, he pressed his lips onto your temple and murmured an apology against your skin, this was the last time he was going to drink this much. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a hand on your waist and the other on your bum. You turned to place a kiss on his cheek and then his lips.

He squeezed your body, and you pressed your lips on him again. “Why do you smell like lavender? No wonder I didn’t recognize you, I hate lavender!”

“That’s the oil they used on our massage today,” you said. A slower song was playing so you swayed with Azriel. He held you tight as you gazed into his eyes, melting at the sight of the brown and greens melting together.

After a few more hours of partying, it was time for you and Azriel to go home. Smelling of sweat, booze, and lavender oil, the both of you opted to bathe together.

You relaxed and laid on Azriel's chest as he took the loofah and scrubbed your skin. He said he wanted you to smell like yourself again and insisted that the bath water was to be changed for the two of you to properly soak. Now that the suds smelled of your favorite soap, he pulled you against him and he closed his eyes.

“Az?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m really happy to know that even when you’re shit-faced, you won’t ever cheat on me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, his hand splayed across your stomach and held you tighter. “Why would I do that when I’ve got the most perfect person in the world in my arms?”

You blushed; he always knew how to make you feel loved. Turning around to straddle him, you bent down to capture his lips. Who were you to question his logic?

[velarisnightsky444]

Scorched Shadows Part 4

Eris x Azriel's Sister OC

Summary: Estella is the younger sister of Azriel. Like her older brother, she is a shadowsinger and spymaster for the Night Court. When she meets Eris, she initially despises him, but after a bargain is made between them, and they are stuck Under the Mountain together, things begin heating up.

Word Count: 1797

Series Masterlist

Part 3 || Part 5

»»————-　♔　————-««

Year 3

     The night of the Autumn Equinox fell on the weekend Estella usually spent at her mother's. The last weekend of every month, she spent three days and two nights at the little cottage Azriel had bought for their mother. 

     Sometimes, Azriel joined her, but this month, he was busy. So she packed her bag and showed up at her mother's door alone. 

"Oh, I've missed you, little Stella," her mother expressed as she opened the door. 

"I missed you too, Mama," Estella grinned, dropping her bag and leaping into her mother's embrace.

     She felt safe in her mother's arms���she always had. Inhaling the scent of ravensara brought her back to her childhood, to that hour a week she spent with the female. Her mother had always smelled of ravensara, and it was one of the most comforting scents in the world.

     Estella's mother opened the door, allowing her daughter to bring her bag inside the little cottage. Estella's shadows swirled around her mother, greeting her with affection. 

"I bought everything we need to make your favorite for dinner--lamb chops," her mother announced. 

"Oh, that would be lovely," Estella said with a smile. 

     Lamp chops had been her first real meal after she had been rescued from her father's keep. It was the first authentic meal she'd ever had in her life. 

     She continued, "We could go to the orchestra; I know how much you love it. " 

"It would have to be tonight or Monday," Estella sighed. 

"Well, I was thinking tomorrow night," her mother disputed. 

"Mama, do you remember the Winter Solstice ball a few decades ago?" Estella asked, fidgeting with her hands. "Well, I spent the night here and left my dress behind." 

"Yes, it's in my closet," she told her, brows furrowed. 

"Well, I was invited to a ball in the Autumn Court tomorrow night," Estella said anxiously.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" her mother exclaimed. "I've been waiting for you and your brother to settle down and start families, Stella; I mean, you're both five centuries old-" 

"It's not like that," Estella denied, a flush creeping onto her cheeks. "In fact, I despise the male that invited me. But so do Rhys, Cass, and Az. Especially Az. And they forbade me from attending, so . . . " 

"You felt you needed to attend out of spite?" her mother guessed, rolling her eyes. "You've never changed." 

"Yes," Estella admitted. "But I also do want to attend. I haven't been to a ball in years, Mama. You know how much I loved them." 

"Yes," her mother sighed with a slight smile. "Then I assume you don't want me mentioning this to your brother?" 

"Gods no," Estella scoffed. "He would kill me." 

"Oh, Stella, you know I can't stand to lie to either of you," she fussed, shaking her head. 

"Mama, it's not lying!" Estella disputed. "It's just withholding misinformation. Please." 

     Estella's mother met her gaze and let out a sigh. She studied her daughter's features and saw the desperation on her face. Her mother had never been able to deny her little girl anything. 

"Fine," she agreed, stroking Estella's cheek. "I'll get the dress out for you. But you come right home after, and if your brother finds out, I didn't know a thing." 

"Okay, Mama," Estella smiled, affectionately leaning her face on her mother's hand.

»»————-　♔　————-««

     Estella looked gorgeous if she did say so herself. 

     The dress was a floor-length, midnight blue satin gown featuring an off-the-shoulder neckline and a fitted bodice. It flowed into a graceful A-line skirt embellished with delicate silver embroidery along the hem for an extra touch of sophistication. There were slots in the back for her wings. A pair of white elbow-length gloves covered the scars on her hands. She wore silver strapped heels that complemented the embroidery on the dress. 

      She added a pair of delicate chandelier earrings with sapphire stones that she borrowed from her mother, along with a simple silver bracelet. Her mother did her hair in an elegant updo to showcase the dress's neckline and earrings. Her mother also did her makeup, painting her eyelids with blue and silver to match the dress. 

      She knew the low neckline was too scandalous for the Autumn Court, but she also knew that Eris had only invited her to irritate her. So she would irritate him right back.

     Estella stared down at the leaf-shaped tattoo on her wrist as her shadows whispered to her, warning her not to go. To her, if it pissed her brothers off, it would be worth it.

"Are you all ready?" her mother asked. "How are you getting there? Are your shadows going to winnow you?" 

"Yes, Mama, flying would ruin my hair," Estella reminded her. 

"Oh, right," her mother said softly. "I always forget you can fly. It's so rare for a female of your age." And there was a bit of sadness in her eyes as she said it. 

     Estella frowned, leaning in to kiss her mother's cheek. Her mother had never told her about how her wings were clipped, but she assumed it had happened when she was young, like most Illyrian females. Selene had saved Estella's wings, and she was forever grateful for it. 

"I love you," Estella expressed. "I'll be home before midnight, Mama." 

     With that, Estella's shadows winnowed her away. 

     She landed in front of the Forest House, where she found herself surrounded by Autumn Court High Fae. Some shot her looks, likely due to her lesser Fae heritage and shadows. 

"He's staring," a shadow informed her. 

     Estrella glanced around until she met Eris's eyes. He stood just a few yards before her, his amber eyes taking in every inch of her.  

     His smirk made her want to claw at his face. But she let him make his way towards her, though she glared at him with every step he took.

     She couldn't deny how handsome he looked. His hair was combed neatly, and his suit was black with an emerald coat and tie. He smelled nice, just as he had the last two times she'd spoken with him. 

"Shall we?" was all he said, holding an arm out to her. She scowled but took it. "I'm surprised you agreed."

"I only agreed to annoy my brothers," she said, hoping to humble him.

"And how does your cousin feel?"

     She yanked her arm away from him at the words, a genuinely hateful glare twisting her face and pointing in his direction.

"You don't deserve to even speak of her," she snarled at him.

     He didn't reply. He just gripped Estella's arm again, tugging her into the ballroom. 

     The ballroom was gorgeous, with tiles of gold and walls of marble. Fae all around wore fancy suits and gowns. A few of them had to dodge Estella's wings, shooting her dirty looks as they did so. She just glared back at them.

     Eris didn't speak to Estella as his hand slipped around her waist, his other joining with her gloved hand. She begrudgingly began to dance, only because she could imagine the looks on her brother's faces if they were to see her.

"Why did you invite me here?" she demanded.

"You pissed me off in that forest," he said to her, his voice smooth. "It seemed only fair the favor you owed me be something that pissed you off, as well."

     Estella scoffed, rolling her hazel eyes as she danced with him.

     She noticed a couple beside her whispering to each other as they eyed her. Then, it hit her why he had invited her.

     He was trying to embarrass her. He knew everyone would stare and judge her for being Lesser Fae. For her darker skin. For her shadows. For her Night Court fashion.

"I wouldn't think your father would be too happy about you inviting me to this," she said, her shadows sticking close.

"My father doesn't care who I fuck," he replied. "Just who I marry." Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head.

"Sex is not part of the arrangement," she reminded him anxiously. He was out of his mind if he thought he could call that in as a favor. 

"Of course not," he assured. "But people will assume. And talk. And if my father gets word, he won't care."

"He sure seemed to care who your mother was fucking," Estella shot back.

"Careful," a shadow warned. 

     Estella didn't know if the rumors were true, but everyone mentioned his mother and Helion and how Beron found out.

"What did I tell you about saying a word against my mother?" he snarled, his entire demeanor changing as his grip on her waist tightened.

"You invited me here to humiliate me," she replied smoothly. "I will say what I please."

"I don't know what gives you that idea," he denied. "Besides, you and your brother are bastard born, so they say. I can only assume the worst of your mother."

"You know nothing of my mother or the conditions under which I was born," Estella replied, face heating.

     She thought of her mother, the female who had done her hair for the night. The female she had only been allowed to see once a week for the first six years of her life. She hadn't spoken a word to her in those years, her trauma rendering her speechless until she was 11.

     But she loved Estella. She would hold her during that hour, letting Estella nuzzle her face in her neck as she stroked her hair and sang to her.

     She was everything to Estella. She and Azriel were all Estella had for so long.

     Hearing Eris insult her struck something deep in the girl. Her sweet mother had been insulted enough, having two children out of wedlock. She'd been shunned, shamed, and tormented. Not to mention how unbelievably cruel Estella's father had been to the female. She didn't deserve any of it.

     Eris was studying her as she lost herself in her thoughts. She glanced back at him, eyes narrowing.

"Neither of us will speak of the other's mothers," she said.

"Fine," he agreed.

     The dance was one she'd never learned. But he was leading, and she was picking it up quickly. He spun Estella around, then dipped her.

     Estella looked up at him and admired the stunning amber color of his eyes. She found herself captivated, her brows lifting in surprise at his beauty. There was an undeniable connection pulling her toward him, something she could almost feel.

     At that moment, she gasped as if an invisible thread tightened between them, intertwining their fates.

"Mate, mate, mate," her shadows whispered.

     His eyes went vast, wild, as she tore herself from his grip.

"Wait--" he insisted.

      But her shadows had winnowed her away before he could say another word.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria

Eris Taglist:

Comment to be added to the Scorched Shadows or Eris taglists!

»»————-　♔　————-««

[fantasyandshit]

The light and the dark masterlist.

That’s right it’s longer enough to get its own masterlist.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

[fxckmiup]

𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐒 - 𝟎𝟏 || 𝐀𝐳𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐱 𝐎𝐂

{gif not mine}

♡ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | ♤ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 | ♞ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 | ☆ 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 {𝟏𝟖+} | ♛ 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐞 {𝟏𝟖+} 

MINORS DNI

Series Masterlist || ACOTAR'S Navigation

Disclaimers / Trigger Warnings

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

 Arya laughs loudly as she chases her older brother down the hall of their townhouse, "I'm coming to get you!" Her wings flap a little making her slightly bump into the wall. "You'll never catch me Arya!" giggles a teenager Rhysand.

Arya scrunches her face in concentration with the tip of her tongue out on the corner of her lip, her eyes zeros in on the center of her brother's back before she flaps as hard as her 4-year-old wings can. A few more inches and I can tackle him.

Rhysand continues to jog while laughing until he realizes the sudden quietness behind him, worried that her sister accidentally winnowed out, he turns around to check only for the wind to get knocked out of him as his little sister tackles him onto the floor.

"I got you, I got you, I got you!" Arya giggles while Rhys tries to catch his breath with an amused smirk.

"What did I say about running and flying indoors?" their mom scolds as she stands at the end of the hallway with her hands on her hips. Though, you can see the smile threatening to take over her face. Vera's favourite sight is seeing her children just be children, something she was ripped off of at such a young age and now that her oldest is soon to be nine years old, she knows his time as a child will soon be limited, if there was free time to be given to him at all.

As soon as Rhysand turns nine, the High Lord of Night, his father will be sending him off to Windhaven for Illyrian training, therefore Vera savours these moments when she watches Rhys hold his little sister instead of holding a sword. The night heir was supposed to start his training at the ripe age of eight but Vera had begged her mate to give him a year more to be a child before sending him off to train.

"I'm sorry momma, it's raining outside and Rhy's and I had a lot of energy to burn out," Arya pouts up at her mother while rolling off of her brother and laying beside him on the floor.

"Oh is that so little one?" Vera smirks as she slowly walks over to the two and before they know it she attacks their sides making her smile widely as the two erupt in laughter.

"Wait- no!" Rhysand laughs as Arya tries to wiggle away. "How's this for burning energy?" Vera laughs before showing mercy and letting them breathe.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Arya sips her cup of tea before placing it on the window ledge as she finishes the agreed amount of history she has to read for the day.

"I would rather go flying than read all these history books every day, I finished school years ago but I'm stuck reading to catch up on politics that happened thousands of years ago. I would take training over this momma," Arya whines as she finishes the last chapter for the day.

Vera, ever the graceful beautiful Illyrian female, sends her daughter a teasing smile, "I'm sorry little one, just be glad you were able to compromise with your father. Learn history for a few hours and then you can train in fighting and flying. You know he wouldn't have allowed the two to happen to his daughter unless he can exchange something for it."

Arya sighed as she stood up and walked to her mother who was working on a beautiful dress, "I don't even know why he's making me learn all the political ins and outs when Rhy's is the heir to the crown."

Vera's spine immediately relaxes under her daughter's soft caresses on her back. "Can you trust your brother to run the night court all on his own one day? He can barely organize his room as it is, Do you think he can organize correspondences on his table in the future?" Vera teases as she ties her last stitch on the dress.

"I'm sure Mor would love to do that," Arya chuckles before carefully lifting the dress her mother was working on off her mother's lap. "This is beautiful," the princess of night admires.

"Rhysand's future wife is lucky and she better appreciate every one of these or else I'm telling Rhy's she's not the one and I don't care if they even end up as mates," Arya comments as she hangs her mother's newest creation with the rest of the dresses she finished recently.

"Oh speaking of your brother's future wife, I need you to go to the weaver sometime this week when your brother gets here," Vera states making Arya scrunch her nose in confusion.

"Why is that?" Vera only smiles as she cleans her supplies around the room. "I want the weaver to hold onto my engagement ring for safe keeping and I want your brother to have his future wife to be one to retrieve it one day."

"Let me guess, his future wife is only worthy if she can retrieve this ring from the weaver?" Arya laughs, she loops her arm around her mothers as they walk to the dining room to prepare for dinner. "You're lucky the weaver likes me," she giggles before putting on an apron.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Amren watches with an almost bored expression as Arya narrows her eyes at the ancient one across from her, concentrating on trying to get past the ancient's thick mental shield.

Amren's shield was a thick dark grey fog that went from top to bottom of her mental field, Arya could just about see the shapes of tall pine trees behind it, it was a vast forest surrounded with mist and fog swirling around which almost represented her silver eyes.

After almost a decade of practicing with Amren, Arya has only recently managed to walk through the forest of the ancient's mind and find the actual mental barrier. For years Arya kept getting lost in Amren's mental forest. Every time she got stuck and took too long in the forest the silver-eyed ancient locked her in there, for a minute or two to teach her that time was of the essence and to be careful using her daemeti skills.

Now the princess of the night court can get through Amren's mental forest in record time, even faster than her older brother, but the real challenge was finding a crack in Amren's shield and Arya has been trying for months with no luck.

Today, Arya woke up with more determination and she vowed to her reflection in the mirror this morning that she would get through the ancient's shield no matter what she had to do to get through it. She should have asked to train with Cassian first to get some anger out but there had been no time to ask Amren and Cassian to switch training time. No time when it was only this morning that Arya's father barged into her room talking about how she is required to spend some time with one of Beron's sons as she is scheduled to be betrothed to one of them when Autumn comes.

Vera was livid when she heard her husband's command. The High Lord of Night had sold her off to Beron's son in exchange for their alliance in the coming war.

"Come on, girl, I don't have all day," Amren tells her annoyedly. Arya scoffs before once again concentrating on the impenetrable shield in Amren's mind.

Arya focuses on the bottom of the ancient's shield, she conjures thick purple smoke from the bottom of the shield and with a quick flick of her wrist, the purple smoke covers the entire shield. The half-Illyrian female clings her smoke onto the shield, making her smoke act as a second skin to Amren's shield.

Before Amren could even grasp what was happening, Arya forced her smoke to bend along with the shield that her smoke now clung to. Arya smirks as she watches Amren flinch with a hiss and half a second later the ancient's shield cracks and Arya wastes no time before her purple smoke seeps through the cracks.

Arya conjures her purple eyes into Amren's mind before quickly retracting herself from her brain. The night princess gets a growl from the silver-eyed fae which only results in the princess' smirk growing.

"Only took me almost a decade," Arya says triumphantly. "I was honestly tempted to blast your shield once I heard it crack, luckily for you I took pity."

"I could kill you right now just for saying that," Amren hisses as she rubs her temple trying to stop the headache that was slowly starting.

"Please, you know you love me," that statement was true. Even Arya's father was afraid of the ancient one, but anyone can easily see how much Amren adores and cares for the princess of the night.

"You are a pain in my ass."

"Well, my sweet Amren, wait it out a few more months and you'll be rid of me," Arya shrugs crossing her arms over her chest.

Amren narrows her eyes at the princess, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, so the news isn't out yet?" Arya says with a tone of disbelief, "Interesting. I thought the news would've been known by every fae and creature of Prythian by now."

"What news?" Amren growls, not liking the implication of what this news could be.

"I'm to be betrothed to one of Beron's sons," Arya says just above a whisper.

Amren shoots out of her chair with a growl that shakes the ground under Arya's feet, "You're lying."

Arya says dejectedly closing her eyes, "I wish I was Ams, I wish I was."

"Did that idiot of a High Lord not see what the Autumn court did to Morrigan?" Arya's eyes shoot open wide at the boldness of Amren calling her father an idiot in the open air. No one disagrees with the statement but no one dares to say it out loud. And apparently, Amren knew exactly what Arya was thinking.

"Please, you think I'm afraid of your father?" Amren shakes her head before she starts pacing again. "I will not let that male sell you off to those despicable males."

"There isn't anything any of us can do unless we want me dead because I assure you, if I did what Mor did, I won't make it out alive and I will die in the hands of my father."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Taglist: @saltedcoffeescotch ; @skyjasper ; @inloveallthetime ;

[ if your name is crossed it's because tumblr won't allow me to tag you ]

[a-court-of-mischief-and-madness]

Midnight revelations

Part 3--------Part 4

Summary: her wings had vanished ever since that night with the horrors encountered with tamlins father, only a person she feels true desire and passion for can invoke those wings. What happens when the person who does that is non other than eris vanserra?

Note: what's up guys, hope all of you are enjoying this series so far. If you have any suggestions for the next few chapters.. dw my requests are open!!! So ask awayy. Also if you want to enter the taglist please comment and let me now xx

Warnings: slight smut, romance, mentions of kissing!, angst and mentions of blood

As you stepped out of your room, the familiar corridors of the House of Wind stretched out before you, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. The events of the evening still weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you lost in thought as you made your way through the labyrinthine halls.

Lost in contemplation, you barely noticed the subtle shift in the air as you approached Amren's chambers. Her voice, sharp and commanding, pierced through your head, calling you to her side with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.

Curiosity piqued, you hastened your steps, your heart pounding in anticipation of what awaited you behind closed doors. With each passing moment, the weight of the unknown grew heavier upon your shoulders, filling you with a sense of apprehension mingled with a glimmer of hope.

As you reached Amren's door and stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted, enveloping you in a sense of solemnity and reverence. Amren's piercing gaze met yours, her eyes holding a depth of knowledge that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You have wings of great power," Amren stated bluntly, her words cutting through the silence like a knife.

Caught off guard by her revelation, you struggled to find words to respond. "Had, you mean. what are you talking about? " you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You still felt them in you but you thought it was your brain's method of coping with the trauma. To make you think they were still there

Amren rose from her seat, her movements graceful yet purposeful. "Your wings, they disappeared that night when Tamlin's father attempted to clip them, not because of their weakness, but because of their strength," she explained, her gaze never leaving yours.

Amren's expression remained impassive as she rose from her seat, her movements deliberate and measured. "Your wings are special, perhaps the most powerful I've encountered in our realm," she explained, her tone grave yet tinged with a hint of awe.

The weight of her words settled heavily upon you as you tried to make sense of their significance. "Special?" you echoed, seeking clarification.

Amren nodded slowly, her gaze never wavering from yours. "They have the ability to reveal themselves only when you experience extreme passion and desire for someone," she revealed, her voice tinged with reverence.

The revelation sent a shockwave through you, the implications of her words sinking in. "Passion and desire..." you murmured, your mind racing with thoughts of Eris and the inexplicable pull you felt towards him.

she continued, her tone steady yet filled with warning. "Such power comes with great responsibility and consequences."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling heavily upon your shoulders. "So they can be revealed at any moment, what should I do now?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Amren regarded you thoughtfully, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "Trust your instincts," she advised, her voice a mere whisper. "And be prepared for what may come."

With that, she returned to her seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of her revelation. As you processed the implications of your wings and the connection they symbolized, you couldn't shake the feeling that your destiny was now inexorably intertwined with Eris, for better or for worse.

--------------------------♧--------------------------------

Amren's revelation about your wings left you stunned. The idea that your wings could only return through the touch of someone you had extreme passion and desire for was both thrilling and terrifying. You kept replaying Amren's words in your mind, trying to process the implications.

Over the next few weeks, the rest of the inner circle learned about Amren's discovery. Rhysand was cautious, hoping the person who could invoke such passion and desire in you was not someone dangerous. He knew all too well that strong emotions could cloud judgment, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Then one evening, Rhysand invited Eris to dinner at the House of Wind to finalize an important agreement between the courts. The atmosphere was tense as everyone gathered in the grand dining hall. You chose a magnificently beautiful red dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. The fabric was a deep crimson, soft and luxurious, with a subtle sheen that caught the light just so. The neckline dipped low, hinting at the curves beneath, and the skirt flowed gracefully around your legs, pooling at your feet in a cascade of red.

You paired the dress with red lipstick, a bold shade that accentuated your lips and added to the allure of the ensemble. As you entered the dining hall, you could feel all eyes on you, but one pair of eyes, in particular, stood out.

Eris couldn't take his eyes off you the entire evening. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, as if he couldn't resist the allure you exuded in that dress. His eyes traced the curves of your body, lingering on the exposed skin of your shoulders and the dip of your neckline. Every movement you made seemed to captivate him, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

Azriel noticed, his sharp eyes picking up on Eris's fixation. Nesta leaned over and whispered in your ear, her voice teasing yet reassuring.

"He's eye-fucking you," Nesta murmured, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Relax, darling. Don't let it get to you."

You flushed at her bluntness but appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood. Rhysand seemed engrossed in the negotiations, but Feyre's suspicious glances didn't escape your notice.

After dinner, you retired to your room, thinking Eris had left, but you were startled when he appeared in your chamber. The atmosphere crackled with tension as he moved closer, his eyes smoldering with desire. You were in your nightgown, feeling exposed yet strangely exhilarated.

"What are you doing here?" The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, a mixture of surprise and apprehension lacing your tone.

Eris regarded you with an inscrutable expression, his gaze piercing as he took a step closer. "I came to see you," he replied simply, his voice low and measured.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of unease at his response, your instincts urging you to tread carefully in his presence. "At this hour?" you pressed, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions raging within you.

He offered you a small, enigmatic smile, his eyes holding yours in a steady gaze. "I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to make sense of his words, the conflicting emotions swirling within you making it difficult to think clearly. "Eris..." you began, unsure of what to say next.

As Eris approached, the air seemed to sizzle with the heat of his presence. His gaze, filled with an intensity that bordered on infernal, seared into yours, sending a rush of heat coursing through your veins. You could feel the warmth emanating from his very being, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room.

Eris stepped closer, his eyes roaming over you with an intimacy that made your breath catch. "I needed to see you," he murmured, his voice husky. His fingers brushed your face, trailing down to your hair, the touch electrifying.

Your back was bare in your nightgown, and when his warm hands slid down to your shoulders, a shiver ran through you. "Eris," you breathed, but he silenced you with a look.

His hands were warm against your cool skin, the fire within him contrasting with your own tension. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

Before you could respond, his hands moved lower, caressing your back. The touch was intimate, setting your nerves on fire. When his fingers brushed the base of your spine.

And then, in that moment of exquisite intimacy, your wings unfurled, bathed in the golden glow of his fiery touch. Eris's eyes widened in astonishment, the flames of his own power flickering in the depths of his gaze.

"You have wings," he breathed, his voice a low rumble, tinged with a mixture of awe and fascination.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find words, the heat of his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. But before you could respond, Eris leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

"Secrets like this..." he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "they only make you more irresistible."

You panicked, forcing him to keep quiet about what had just happened. "You can't tell anyone," you demanded, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eris raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what will you do for me if I keep your secret?" he asked, his tone teasing.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. "Name your price," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

Eris leaned closer, his breath brushing against your skin. "Oh, I'll think of something," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Just then Eris seemed to have winnowed away and before you could take in what just happened

Nesta entered the room, her eyes immediately fell upon your unfurled wings, their golden radiance filling the chamber with an otherworldly glow. Shock registered on her face as she took in the unexpected sight, her mouth opening to speak before she turned to you with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"What just happened?" Nesta's voice was incredulous, her eyes darting between you and the now empty space where Eris had stood moments before.

You struggled to find words, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. "He... he saw my wings," you managed to stammer out, your voice betraying a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

As Nesta's gaze lingered on your wings, her expression shifted from shock to a thoughtful understanding. "Your wings... they only come when you truly desire someone," she mused, her voice carrying a note of realization.

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks at her astute observation. "I..." You struggled to find the words, unsure how to articulate the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

Nesta's eyes met yours, her gaze unwavering. "You desire Eris," she stated matter-of-factly, her words hanging in the air with a weight that left you breathless.

The truth of her statement hit you like a bolt of lightning, stirring a whirlwind of emotions deep within your chest. You couldn't deny the undeniable pull you felt towards Eris, the magnetic attraction that seemed to defy reason and logic.

"I..." Your voice faltered, unable to deny the truth of her words.

Nesta's expression softened, her hand reaching out to grasp yours in a gesture of support. "It's okay," she said gently, her voice filled with understanding

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at her acceptance. "I hope the rest feel the same about it"

She offered you a reassuring smile before turning to leave, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of her revelation. As you processed the implications of what she had said, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just become infinitely more complicated, with Eris at the center of it all.

----------------------------♧-----------------------------

The tension in the Night Court was palpable, and it seemed as though everyone was on edge after the recent events. You had barely settled into your room when there was a knock on the door. Before you could respond, Rhysand and Feyre entered, their faces a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Your heart raced as you instinctively turned to shield your golden wings from their view, but it was too late. Rhysand's eyes widened, and Feyre gasped, stepping closer.

"Your wings," Rhysand said, his voice low and urgent. "How did this happen?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "It's... complicated," you replied, avoiding their eyes.

Feyre stepped forward, her gaze soft but probing. "We need to know. This could change everything."

You hesitated, the memory of Eris's touch still fresh on your skin, his warmth lingering against your back. But you couldn't reveal his involvement. Not yet. "I don't know," you lied, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "It just... happened."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed, suspicion and worry battling for dominance in his expression. "Are you sure?" he pressed.

You nodded, keeping your voice steady. "Yes. I'm sure."

Feyre placed a gentle hand on your arm, her eyes filled with understanding. "If you remember anything, or if something else happens, please tell us. We're here for you."

You managed a weak smile, grateful for their support but burdened by the secret you were now carrying. "I will," you promised, hoping they couldn't see through your facade.

Rhysand, however, wasn't satisfied. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "There's more to this, isn't there? I can sense it. You need to trust us."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "I trust you, Rhys," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I genuinely don't know how it happened. One moment they were gone, and the next... they were back."

Rhysand's eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his stance remained. "I want to believe you," he said quietly. "But if there's anything you're not telling us, it could put everyone at risk."

Your chest tightened at his words, the pressure of the situation nearly overwhelming. "I understand," you said, fighting to keep your voice steady. "And I promise, if I figure anything out, you'll be the first to know."

Rhysand studied you for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright. But remember, we're in this together. If you need anything, we're here."

Feyre squeezed your hand gently. "Take care of yourself. And don't be afraid to lean on us."

With that, they turned to leave, the door closing softly behind them. You let out a shaky breath, the burden of your secret pressing heavily on your shoulders.

-----------------------------♧---------------------------

As Eris stood with Lucien in the dimly lit study, the weight of his confession pressed heavily upon him. He couldn't keep it hidden any longer, not from his own brother, not when the truth gnawed at him every waking moment.

"Lucien," Eris began, his voice low and hesitant, "there's something I need to tell you."

Lucien's gaze met his, curiosity mingled with concern in his green eyes. "What is it, Eris?" he asked, his tone gentle yet expectant.

Eris took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. "She's my mate," he confessed, the words heavy with significance.

In the depths of his mind, Eris was transported back to that fateful night—the night when he first laid eyes on her, and everything changed.

The grand hall was ablaze with light and music, a symphony of colors and sounds that seemed to dance around him as he entered. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the opulence of the event, until it landed on her.

She stood at the edge of the room, bathed in a halo of soft candlelight. Her violet eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief, drawing him in with their magnetic allure. They were eyes that seemed to see right through him, to the very core of his being. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a river of midnight, the soft waves catching the light and shimmering with an ethereal glow. It framed her face perfectly, highlighting the delicate angles of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips, painted a deep, inviting red.

She wore a gown of deep blue, the fabric clinging to her curves in a way that was both elegant and provocative. The bodice was intricately designed, hugging her slender waist and accentuating the swell of her hips. A daring slit ran up one side, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her long, shapely legs with each step she took. The neckline dipped just low enough to hint at the soft curve of her breasts, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive him mad.

Eris's breath caught in his throat as he watched her, every fiber of his being drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her beauty was a siren's call, a magnetic force that pulled him in despite the danger it represented. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the golden thrum of the bond that pulsed between them.

He could feel the heat of her presence from across the room, a tantalizing warmth that wrapped around him and refused to let go. His thoughts became a whirlwind of desire and need, an all-consuming fire that burned through his veins and set his soul alight.

As she moved through the crowd, their eyes met, and he felt the world narrow down to just the two of them. The noise and chaos of the party faded into the background, leaving only the intensity of her gaze and the electric connection that sizzled between them.

In that moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to cross the distance between them, to take her in his arms and claim her as his own. He imagined the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips, the taste of her lips as he kissed her with a passion that had been building since the moment he first saw her. He longed to bury his hands in her hair, to pull her close and feel her body pressed against his, every curve and contour fitting perfectly against him.

He could almost feel the silk of her dress beneath his fingers, the warmth of her breath on his skin as she leaned in closer. His mind raced with thoughts of what it would be like to explore every inch of her, to lose himself in the depths of her eyes and the heat of her touch. The bond thrummed between them, a golden thread that tied their fates together and set his soul on fire.

But before he could act on those desires, he felt his father's gaze upon him. Beron, ever observant, had seen the change in him, the shift in his demeanor that betrayed the truth.

Their eyes locked across the room, and in that instant, Eris knew that his father had sensed it too. The knowledge hung between them like a heavy shroud, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that bound them together.

And as Eris stood frozen in place, his father's knowing gaze bore into him, his expression unreadable yet filled with a silent warning. It was a warning that echoed in the depths of Eris's soul, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

But despite the fear and uncertainty that threatened to consume him, one thing remained clear: he would do whatever it took to protect her, his mate, from the darkness that loomed on the horizon. For she was his light, his salvation, and he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression mirroring the shock that coursed through Eris's veins. "Your mate?" he echoed, disbelief coloring his voice.

Eris nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "I've felt it—the golden thrum, the string in my heart—since the day of the reunion party," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucien's eyes widened in realization, comprehension dawning on his features. "That's why..." he trailed off, his thoughts racing as he connected the dots.

Eris nodded, relief flooding through him at having finally shared the truth with his brother. "I couldn't deny it any longer," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

Lucien placed a reassuring hand on Eris's shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "It changes things," he acknowledged, his voice filled with understanding.

Eris sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him once more. "It feels like it can never happen," he said, his voice heavy with resignation. "Rhysand is her brother, and she can never be disloyal to her family. She would never forgive herself."

Lucien's expression softened with empathy. "That's a difficult position," he agreed quietly. "Family ties run deep."

Eris nodded, his jaw tightening. "And it gets worse," he added, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Our father found out about the bond. He told me to use it to get information out of her."

Eris's mind drifted further back to a darker memory, one that had left a scar deeper than any physical wound. It was the night after the grand event, the night he realized the full extent of his father's cruelty.

He had returned to the Autumn Court, the golden thrumming bond still pulsing within him, a beacon of both hope and fear. But as he entered his father’s study, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Beron's eyes gleamed with a malevolent light, and the air was thick with tension.

"Sit down, Eris," Beron commanded, his voice a dangerous whisper. Eris obeyed, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew his father well enough to recognize the signs of impending violence.

Beron leaned forward, his eyes boring into Eris's. "I saw the way you looked at her," he hissed. "The way you reacted. She's your mate, isn't she?"

Eris didn't answer, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes gave him away. Beron’s lips curled into a predatory smile. "Good. This can be useful."

Eris's stomach churned with dread. "Useful how?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Beron stood and walked around the desk, his movements slow and deliberate. "You will use her," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Get close to her. Learn her secrets, her weaknesses. Bring that information to me. We will exploit her to undermine Rhysand and his Court."

Eris's blood ran cold. "I won't do it," he said through gritted teeth. "She's my mate. I won't betray her."

Beron's expression darkened. In a flash, he grabbed Eris by the collar and slammed him against the wall, a wickedly sharp knife appearing in his hand. He pressed the blade to Eris's throat, the cold metal biting into his skin.

"You don't have a choice," Beron snarled. "If you defy me, if you refuse to do as I command, I will make sure your mother suffers. I will hurt her in ways you cannot fathom."

Eris's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing with fear and fury. His mother—his gentle, loving mother—was the only person who had ever shown him kindness in this pit of vipers. The thought of her in pain, suffering because of him, was unbearable.

Beron pressed the knife harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "Do you understand me, Eris?" he demanded, his voice a venomous whisper.

Eris nodded, the movement barely perceptible. "I understand," he whispered back, his voice hollow with despair.

Beron released him, stepping back with a satisfied smile. "Good. Remember, Eris, you are a pawn in a much larger game. And you will play your part, or you will watch everything you care about burn."

As Eris watched his father turn away, the weight of his predicament settled heavily on his shoulders. He was trapped, bound by a cruel choice that tore at his very soul. To protect his mother, he would have to betray the woman who was his destined mate, the woman he was already falling for.

That night, as he lay in his bed, the golden thrum of the bond felt like a chain around his heart, a reminder of the impossible situation he was in. And in the darkness, he vowed to find a way to protect both his mother and his mate, no matter the cost

Lucien's eyes darkened with anger. "Beron," he spat, the name a curse on his lips. "That bastard."

Eris clenched his fists, a mixture of rage and helplessness roiling within him. "I can't do it," he said fiercely. "I won't use her like that. But if I refuse, he'll know something's wrong."

Lucien squeezed Eris's shoulder in affirmation, a silent promise passing between them. "We'll figure this out," he said firmly. "Together, but for now you need to stay away from her as much as you can, I know you feel extremely provocative but father is very brutal and if he touches her you wouldn't be able to do anything eris."

---------------------------♧-------------------------------

Later that night, Eris received a summons from his father, Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach as he made his way to his father's chambers, knowing that Beron's demands were rarely benign.

As he entered the dimly lit room, Beron's imposing figure loomed over him, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Eris," he greeted, his voice dripping with a deceptive warmth that made Eris's skin crawl.

"What do you need, Father?" Eris asked, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the unease gnawing at him.

Beron's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I want to know how your little mission is progressing," he said, his voice laced with thinly veiled menace.

Eris swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a convincing lie. "It's... progressing," he hedged, careful to keep his thoughts guarded.

Beron's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through Eris's defenses with unnerving precision. "Don't play games with me, Eris," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I want to know if you've made any progress with her. Have you gained her trust? Learned her secrets?"

Eris felt a surge of panic clawing at his chest. He couldn't let his father see the truth, couldn't let him know about the wings. This was the only thing he had left that were truly his own, and he would protect it at all costs.

"I'm working on it," Eris replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But these things take time. I can't rush it."

Beron's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "Time is a luxury we don't have, Eris," he snapped, his tone turning icy. "I need results, and I need them now."

Eris clenched his jaw, his mind racing for a way out of this impossible situation. He couldn't risk his father discovering the truth, couldn't bear to see the look of triumph in Beron's eyes when he realized the power that lay dormant within Eris's mate.

But despite his best efforts to hide it, Beron's High Lord power was too formidable to evade. With a surge of energy, Beron reached into Eris's mind, probing for the secrets he sought.

Eris fought against the intrusion, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of resistance. But despite his efforts, he couldn't keep Beron out completely. And in a horrifying moment of realization, he knew that his father had seen it—the memory of the golden wings, hidden away in the depths of his mind.

Beron's eyes gleamed with a fierce intensity, a hunger for power burning within them. "Well, well, well," he murmured, a twisted smile spreading across his lips. "It seems you've been holding out on me, Eris."

Eris's heart sank as he realized the magnitude of his mistake. He had inadvertently revealed his most closely guarded secret, and now his father would stop at nothing to claim what he desired.

Beron's gaze locked onto Eris's, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Those wings," he said, his voice filled with a dangerous excitement, "they are the key to everything. And now that I know they exist, I will stop at nothing to make them mine."

Fear clenched at Eris's heart as he watched his father, knowing that Beron's obsession with power knew no bounds. And as Beron's plans began to unfold, Eris knew that he would have to tread carefully if he hoped to protect both his mate and himself from the ruthless ambitions of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @sunny1616 @blackgirlmagicforever

[sjjareads]

az x f!reader — torment

summary: azriel can’t stand the torment of loving you and being unable to show it; pairing: az x fem! reader; warnings: none, just angst. food?

Cassian’s laugh, so rich and full, pulled you out of your reverie; spoon still in hand, your untouched porridge atop it long gone hard and cold. For the past ten minutes, you’d been trying and failing to get down the breakfast spread out in a buffet before you: bread and butter, seasonal fruits; all courtesy of Rhys’ stocked townhouse kitchen. But every time you tried to eat, the leaden weight in your stomach grew heavier. The absence of one particular male at the table was a tangible, physical thing.

But your surroundings snapped back to you then: the faces of all the people, bar one, that you loved the most in your war torn world. Feyre, to the right side of Rhys, had her hand lovingly placed atop his, but her eyes were flitting to you at short intervals with an increasing, almost motherly, concern.

You could tell within seconds that a private conversation flowed silently between the two of them. Knew it as surely as you knew it was about you. About what to do next, and how.

Indeed, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed as fully, as heartily, as Cass.

With a slight shake of your head as if to refocus, you spooned in your mouthful of oats. Chewed, swallowed. Did it again. Again. Again. Again.

Across from you, beside Cassian, this time Morrigan caught your attention. Out of everyone in your found family, you often felt she understood you best: that your trauma bond was one that ran so unspeakingly deep, between two females that had been broken and made themselves reborn.

Now, her eyes were tender, painfully so, as she sought out your own. Beneath the table, her shoe clad foot bumped yours, and you took the message as if her voice had spoken in your very own head. Come on.

It wasn’t chastising. Never would Mor, a sister to you in soul if not in blood, be chiding. Food was fuel, and they all knew it, too. Had fought enough battles, enough wars, to know it.

And the Cauldron only knew what they’d face today to make you regret not agreeing.

Still, Cassian and Amren continued their sniping back and forth across the table; what they’d been saying, you couldn’t have said, but the rumble of voices was a sure — albeit distant — comfort.

There was still most of the breakfast spread left, a veritable feast with no chance of going to waste when surrounded by such warriors.

Or, as you and Feyre liked to say, an excess of Illyrian babies.

You shut down the thought as you deliberately didn’t think about the one conspicuously absent.

As if it was a physical thing, you knew your sorrow bled out into the room; knew it was pretence that kept your friends laughing, and joking, and talking into that deep quiet.

As if on cue, Cassian and Amren’s bickering slowed, then died out altogether.

It wasn’t until that scent caught you in the gut that you realised quite why it had.

Azriel’s presence took all the air from the room, the townhouse, the world, as he took one step over the threshold. Around him, his shadows were an extension of himself: that inner darkness you knew lingered in him, that you loved dearer than your own self.

Of course, he’d known you’d be in here — those lithe whorls of living night never missed a trick, especially not when it came to you.

So it was a surprise, a shock hit to your gut, when Az’s broad frame filled the doorway, and he walked in, swift as though born on a wind, and made to the seat beside yours.

It had been a month — longer, even — than he’d been this close. Than he’d been within range of even speaking. At every chance, he wouldn’t deign to say a single word; would leave a room, no excuses needed when it was him, just because he knew you would soon enter it.

No one, as far as you knew, could discern exactly what had gone wrong between you —you certainly couldn’t. But you did know how they spoke about it in your absence, and it never sat well. Even though you knew it was for love of you both, it didn’t work to lessen the sting.

The proud, stubborn insult of it. Of being what they had to discuss.

The pains the others took to restart conversation almost brought you to tears, your heart been hammering against your ribs like a struck bird of prey trapped in its cage.

Between you and Azriel, tension thickened and wrought the air heavy with its taste. His shadows twined around his shoulders and you knew they whispered to him; could swear you sometimes felt them watch you — speak to you — as they did him.

One breath in, one out. With impossible focus, you looked anywhere but at the Shadowsinger, holding fast to the deep timbre of Rhys’ voice, and Feyre’s responding, light laugh.

The easiness between them, the intimacy that came so readily, so naturally —

You couldn’t help but turn your eyes to the male seated beside you, hoping for something, anything, some sign that he was there, just that he cared for a second —

All at once, the room changed. Azriel’s chair was pushed back with the ease and assurance of the warrior he’d always been. His tall frame seemed to fill the whole room as he stood from the table and crossed to the doorway.

He didn’t utter a word as he left, as his scent was carried on a phantom wind.

But you could’ve sworn you heard that whispering, heard it pull at something deep inside your core, deeper even than your heart as he walked from the room. From you.

Your family met your eyes, guilt and disappointment twin aches on their faces. No no no. You couldn’t stand their pity.

Even worse was the genuine sorrow not only for you, but for who they’d lost as well.

When was the last time the seven of you had eaten together, a full meal? When was the last time you’d laughed together like you used to, as a unit, as a family?

You couldn’t bear to keep count any longer.

•~•

Azriel hadn’t made it three steps out of the dining room before he could’ve fallen to his knees. He might have, were it not for him knowing that you all watched his back receding from view — he knew, even without his whispers, how acutely you all mourned his presence.

But what could he say, or do? Azriel had thought of going to Rhys, of telling him — confirming to him — what he suspected he likely already knew. That was, judging by the way he’d met his eyes just before you turned his way.

In that one look, every unspoken word between the two brothers had passed. It was a flat, unyielding look, tinged with a sympathy he couldn’t stand. Toeing the line between brother and High Lord wasn’t always easy, and it never was now. Not with this.

Not with you, his mate.

And when you’d turned your head, those wide searching eyes so damn trusting, so achingly hopeful as they sought out his own —

Your scent had lifted up from your hair with the movement, and that had been Azriel’s undoing.

He’d had to get out of that room before his heart caved in on itself. He’d had to get out, get out, and now that he was he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think around the ache in him —

Not even his shadows, in their swift stealth and silence, could quiet the voice in his mind; a child’s voice, his voice. Unloved unloved unloved.

Every day, every time — those words, and that same voice.

So if this was the price he had to pay then so be it. He would pay it, and be done. He knew exactly what he didn’t deserve.

Would never deserve.

Because if you found out the truth, if you knew for one second what you actually were to him —

He’d rather be the one to do the leaving than be left.

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (i)

ONE- THE EQUINOX

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: none for now

“There is no shot Rhys is a pillow princess,” Cassian snips through howls of laughter.

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen the way Feyre does every little thing for him? She wiped the crumbs off his face at dinner last night!” you counter in a fit of giggles.

Cassian shakes his head, the tendrils of hair tied back behind his head coming loose at the motion. Azriel sits beside him, arms crossed against his tattooed chest. It’s obvious to everyone in the room that, although the Spymaster tries his best to feign disinterest, he is highly amused by the subject matter of the argument. On the other hand, Morrigan, who lays leisurely on the couch across from the bickering pair, doesn’t even attempt to conceal her delight.

“I’m with my sister on this one. He follows her around like a puppy—he stares longingly out the window when she’s gone and wags his wings when she returns,” Mor quips.

You burst into another fit of laughter and clutch your stomach as you are reminded of your soreness from your training session the day before. 

“All the more reason he’s a munch, not a pillow princess,” Cassian barks back, his voice booming through the living room and down the hallways.

Nesta, who sits quietly in the corner and actually appeared disinterested in the discussion, perks up at Cassian’s words and gags at the thought of her sister in bed with her brother-in-law. 

“That’s enough,” Azriel interrupts before your rebuttal can roll off your tongue, “We should not be discussing what our High Lord and Lady do in the bedroom.”

“Oh, come on, Az, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Cass rolls his eyes and yelps at the subsequent kick in his side from Nesta.

“Now that’s enough from you,” she snaps, cold eyes narrowed into slits, “And you should know better than to pick an argument with her. It’s a losing fight.”

Cassian glares at the way your lips curl into a feline smirk and your chest puffs out slightly with pride. 

“Little Miss Know-It-All isn’t right about everything,” he drawls with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“She most definitely is,” Mor giggles.

“Oh, come on. Az? A little help here?” the Illyrian general lulls his head towards his friend.

Azriel drums his fingers against the arm of the couch in thought before humming, “I’m with Little Miss Know-It-All.”

Cassian throws his head back with a groan as all the females in the room laugh at him. He is spared from further humiliation by the opening of the door. You are forced to stifle a giggle at the sight of Feyre at the doorway. Her brows cinch together as you and Mor share a knowing glance, mischief dancing in your identical eyes. Despite his irritation, the corners of Cassian’s lips twitch as he tries, and fails, to suppress a smile. 

“Something funny?” the High Lady quirks a brow with a hand on her hip.

The three of you shake your heads in unison, but refrain from laughter.

“It’s always you three,” Feyre grumbles before diverting her attention to the room full of her inner circle, “Rhys is back from his meeting with Eris. He’d like to call a brief meeting before dinner.”

The joyous atmosphere of the living room is dampened, as everyone is reminded of the looming threat of yet another war. This time, you have no problem wiping the smile from your face. An unspoken tension hangs over everyone as you follow Feyre out down the hallway and up the stairs of the House of Wind. Upon entering the meeting room, you immediately notice the frustration painted across your High Lord’s features—the tick of his jaw, his white-knuckled grip around his glass of wine. Eris must have really pissed him off, you think to yourself as you take your seat between Azriel and Mor. 

“The fox was even more irritating than usual, I presume?” Amren muses as she glides into the room last, the twin doors slamming shut behind her. She was always one for subtlety.

Rhys runs a hand over his face, “I was about five seconds away from wringing his neck,” he grunts. Everyone waits patiently for the High Lord to collect himself before continuing, “I think we should consider re-evaluating our alliance with Eris.”

“As much as I would love to be rid of him for good,” Feyre is the first to pipe up, “I don’t know if we are in the position to turn our backs on him if he is our only source of information on Beron’s inner-workings.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if he may be more trouble that his information is worth,” Rhys counters.

You catch Mor chewing on her bottom lip in thought out of the corner of your eye.

“Well how valuable has his information been thus far? Has he mentioned anything Az hasn’t found out on his own?” Cassian leans his elbows on the table.

All eyes turn towards the Spymaster.

Azriel sighs and his wings flex behind him, “I’ve heard next to nothing this week. They’ve put up heavy wards that even my shadows can’t get through,” he pauses before adding, “Perhaps precisely so my shadows can’t get through.”

Rhys inhales deeply through his nose to simmer his frustration.

“Well even if Eris is feeding you more than Az can pick up on, who’s to say we can trust anything the little cunt says?” Mor spits with a venomous edge to her words.

“So we must find out if he can be trusted,” Feyre interjects.

Rhys grunts, but doesn’t disagree, “And how do we do that?”

Silence envelopes the room as everyone ponders over their options. The House of Wind seems to sense their agitation and summons a glass of red wine in front of everyone’s seat. You sing praises in your head at the sight, and don’t hesitate to reach forward and lift the generously full glass to your lips.

“Why don’t we send in our reserve spy?” Cassian pipes up from the opposite end of the table.

You splutter at his words, sending wine dribbling down your chin. You hastily wipe it off and narrow your eyes into an icy glare as you hiss, “I told you to quit calling me that.”

Mor tenses beside you.

“Absolutely not. Her role works because no one knows who she is. As soon as Eris catches wind that we have a secret member of the inner circle, we can kiss any niceties he may offer goodbye. Besides, she’s never dealt with the politics of High Lords before,” Azriel is quick to counter Cassian’s suggestion.

Your lips dip into a frown, and you open your mouth to speak, but Cassian beats you to it.

“Then we ensure Eris doesn’t find out who she is. She already has contacts in the Autumn Court. She can pretend to go there on a business trip for her father and get close enough to Eris to catch his interest. Just close enough that she gains access to the Forest House, but not so close that she ends up wrapped up in Beron’s schemes,” Cassian speaks methodically as the gears turn in his head.

Mor’s grip around the stem of her wine glass tightens.

“She has a name,” you hiss at the two Illyrians, “And you may consider asking her what she thinks before bickering about it.”

The two males shut their mouths and turn to you expectantly. Feyre eyes Mor seated beside you. She can sense the annoyance radiating from her, and speaks softly, “What do you think, Y/N?”

All eyes flick towards you. Yet, you don’t so much as tremble, even under Amren’s scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not opposed,” you speak slowly, cautious of your fuming half-sister, “But I don’t understand how you expect me to get Eris to take interest in me, let alone tell me anything useful.”

Rhys drums his fingers along the mahogany wood of the table, “We could prep you. I’ve seen the bastard with enough women to know what he gravitates towards.”

Mor’s thinly veiled patience seems to have run its course as she slams her wine glass down onto the table, red liquid sloshing over the edges, “You are not whoring my sister off to him.”

You subconsciously shrink into your seat.

“No one’s whoring her off,” Cassian speaks carefully, “She just needs to get close enough to prod him a little and snoop through the Forest House.”

“Could I not just take the wards down and then get out?” you offer your spell-cleaving abilities, searching for a compromise that could satisfy both parties.

Amren shakes her head tightly, “There’s no telling what Eris or Beron will do once they found out their wards have been breached. Not worth the gamble.”

“Don’t tell me you think this is a good idea now,” Mor seethes at the female across from her.

“It’s not our best idea,” Amren matches her icy glare, “But it’s the only one we have.”

Mor leans forward in her seat, her rosy lips curling into a snarl, “I will not stand idly by as you through my sister to the wolves.”

“Mor, please,” you speak softly as you place a hand on her knee. The tension in her shoulders eases slightly, but her jaw remains clenched. Your eyes scan over Rhys, who watches your exchange silently. You take a deep breathe, steadying yourself before speaking, “I think I can do it.”

“You think?” Amren challenges.

“I know,” you snap at the second-in-command.

Mor’s knee jerks against your hand and she bitterly grumbles, “I don’t like it.”

Rhys sighs and leans back into his seat at the head of the table. The lines have been drawn: Amren and Cassian versus Morrigan and Azirel. The High Lord cocks his head towards his mate, “I’ll defer the decision to you, Feyre darling.”

If it weren’t for the tension thick in the air, you would giggle at his words considering your earlier dispute with Cassian.

All eyes shift to the High Lady, who chews the inside of her cheek in thought. Her blue-grey gaze lands on you, “You’re confident you can do this?”

Subconsciously, your back straightens and your chin raises ever so slightly. You do your best to ignore your fuming half-sister in your peripheral as you steadily reply, “Yes.”

Feyre nods and glances towards her mate, “Then under the condition that she is adequately prepared before stepping foot anywhere near the Autumn Court, I’m in favor.”

Mor doesn’t hesitate to storm out of the room the moment Rhys calls the meeting adjourned. You rub your temples as you know you’ll be having a rather unpleasant conversation with her later about your decision. You are aware of her history with the Vanserra family; although she has never gone into details about the events, and you have never pushed her to do so, you have heard about what transpired centuries ago from Cassian. But that is a matter to be dealt with later. Everyone files out the room after Mor, leaving you, Azriel, and Rhys to hammer out the details of your new mission.

Your façade is carefully constructed. As the fabled Athena Ellesmere, you will be visiting the Autumn Court at the start of harvest season to set in motion tradings for a variety of goods. Under Rhys and Azriel’s instructions, you send letters to two of your previous contacts ahead of your impending arrival; one to Willow, the wife of a corn farmer, and one to Ginerva, a widowed herbalist. You tell them your stay will be longer than usual, as your father has tasked you with researching some new trade routes along the border. When the time comes, your research will give you the perfect excuse to request access to the Autumn Court library, and by proxy, the Forest House.

To his part, Azriel presents all the information he has been able to collect over the years on the Autumn Court: a map of the Forest House with each room labelled, a list of employees within Beron’s inner circle, and a list of empty residences positioned conveniently between the main town and the Forest House. You study the layout of the Forest House diligently, tracing your finger along each twist and turn of the long hallways. You pay particular attention to areas surrounding Eris’s personal chambers and office. The Spymaster lists off items you should keep an eye out for if you are successful in gaining entry to the Forest House: correspondences with other High Lords, meeting notes, any information pertaining to the Night Court and Velaris.

Most importantly, Rhys and Azriel warn many times through your meeting, you are to stay far, far away from Beron. You are there to spy on Eris, and Eris alone. While any information you can gather on Beron will be welcome, you are not to interact with him directly. Females are not treated with the same respect in the Autumn Court as they are in the safety of Velaris. And if anything goes awry, you will be under his jurisdiction.

As the conversation shifts to the man of the hour, you can surmise one thing: Eris Vanserra is a fox. Sly and cunning, with a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. A predator. He enjoys the hunt more than the catch itself. If you want to ensnare the fox in your trap, you will need to play a convincing game of hard to get; hard enough to keep him chasing, but not so hard that he deems the grapes sour and moves to a different branch.

The fox is a far cry from any of your previous expeditions. You should feel on edge; nervous, anxious about what is to come. But you can’t kindle the flicker of excitement in your gut at the prospect of outfoxing the fox himself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Please check in with Rhys daily. Even if you don’t find anything. And don’t forget the tunnel escape routes Az showed you if something goes awry,” Mor rambles on as she fiddles with the buttons of your cloak.

You roll your eyes with an exaggerated sigh, “Anything else, Mother Mor?”

She flicks your forehead, and you scrunch your brows with a yelp at the assault. 

“Don’t fret, dear Morrigan. Our little Spymaster-in-training has got this,” Cassian ruffles your hair with a grin. 

You swat his hand away and turn to him with a glare, “I said quit calling me—”

“That’s enough, you two,” Feyre interjects before you can bicker with the Illyrian fool.

You hike your bag onto your shoulder and smooth down the emerald-green dress underneath your heavy cloak. The wrinkles in the fabric instantly return as Mor throws her arms around you, sending you stumbling backwards.

“Be careful,” she whispers into your neck.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, and instead return her embrace. 

“It’s just a month. I’ll be fine. Promise,” you give her a reassuring squeeze before squirming out of her tight grip.

“I’d suggest you leave now before Mor changes her mind,” Rhys speaks lowly into your ear. You don’t need to turn to see the smirk plastered on his face.

With one last adjustment to your clothes, carefully crafted to blend seamlessly into the Autumn Court, you turn towards your misfit family. An impish smile tugs at your lips as you wave at them.

“Don’t miss me too much. And Nesta, please keep your pet in check for me. Sometimes all he needs is a good yank on his leash.”

You don’t stick around to hear Cassian’s protests as the air around you twists and folds. You hold your bag tightly as you winnow one, two, three steps. With each step, you take in the chance in scenery. The beating sun of Day, snow-capped mountains of Winter, and finally the unmistakable kaleidoscope of Autumn. Your grip on your bag loosens slightly as you marvel at the latticework of red, brown, gold, and green. This isn’t your first time in the Autumn Court—in fact, it must be your fifth visit at this point. But the colorwork, reminiscent of the stained-glass windows in the Dawn Court libraries, never ceases to amaze you. Twigs crunch under your feet as you walk leisurely through the expansive forest. You suck in a deep breath, taking in the delicious smell of pine, before winnowing once more.

This time, you hit your mark. About 10 yards in front of you sits a quaint little cabin. Smoke steadily blows out from the chimney on the roof, and you smile to yourself at the sight. Ginerva must have prepared a fire prior to your arrival—a welcome gift, of sorts. You dig out the key in the pocket of your coat, which the herbalist had sent you the day prior following your payment for one month’s rent.

A sweet cedar smell invades your senses as you swing the cabin door open. The hinges creak loudly, indicative of a desperate need for oil. You take in the small space as you set your bag down on the wooden floor. A fire burns brightly in the fireplace in the corner, contained by some sort of enchantment. Directly across from the flames is a modest bed, slightly larger than a twin. A smile tugs at your lips as you picture Azriel or Cassian trying to sleep on it with their ginormous Illyrian wings. On the other side of the cabin is a small kitchenette, stocked with all the pots, pans, and utensils you could possibly need. You swing the door shut behind you, and relish in the warmth the fire brings—a stark contrast from the brisk autumn winds outside. Despite the scattered cracks in the wall and the sheer layer of dust covering the floor, the cabin has a certain rustic charm. After spending so many years confined within the same book-lined walls, you never fail to appreciate such changes in scenery. 

You set to work unpacking your bag, charmed to fit more than it should hold. The clothes Amren and Mor have packed for you are a mixture of warm oranges, reds, and greens—a far cry from your typical Night Court attire. A sharp knock snaps you from your task at hand. You plaster a kind smile on your face as you swing the door open.

Ginerva is the epitome of a typical Autumn Court inhabitant. Her hair is tied back in an intricate braid, its copper hue a beautiful compliment to her piercing green eyes. A constellation of freckles are dotted across her pale skin, lifted by the wide grin on her lips.

“Athena!”

The herbalist doesn’t give you a chance to reply as she envelopes you in a warm embrace. Your gut churns as the reality that you are now in Athena Ellesmere’s skin, not your own, settles in. Still, you return her gesture with a laugh. 

“It’s good to see you again, Ginerva,” you pull back from her with a soft smile, “I can’t thank you enough for arranging this for me.”

The female brushes off any flattery, “Please, don’t thank me. I’m merely appreciative to have your company for a short while. It does tend to get lonely around here with Ambrose gone.”

You suppress the frown that twitches at your lips at the thought of her deceased husband. You had the displeasure of meeting him twice before the war against Hybern claimed his pitiful life. Just as Ginerva was the epitome of an Autumn Court female, so was Ambrose the epitome of an Autumn Court male: pompous with a vicious temper. 

“I can only imagine,” you reply, voice dripping with faux remorse, “How has business been at the shop?”

Her juniper eyes brighten and a rosy hue spreads across her pale cheeks, “Oh, it’s been wonderful! I’ve just restocked a new barley tea which works wonders for joint pains. My customers can’t seem to get enough of it!”

That could surely come in handy after your brutal hours in the ring with Cassian. You make a mental note to purchase a stock of it before the end of your trip.

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’ll have to swing by once I’m settled in,” you grin.

“Please do,” Ginerva smiles, “I hate to cut my visit short, but I must get going to re-open the shop. Will I see you at the equinox celebration tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you swiftly reply, your cheeks beginning to ache from your calculated smile.

Your head dips into a kind nod as Ginerva departs with a wave over her shoulder. The door shuts, leaving you to the comfort of your temporary home once more. The twisting in your gut returns as you continue unpacking your belongings. It shouldn’t bother you—the seamless weaving of lies and deceit. You have been playing the role of Athena Ellesmere for decades now. But this trip is different; longer, yes, but it’s more personal. You feel a guilt you have never felt before manipulating others into trusting a person who doesn’t exist. 

The once comforting aroma of the cabin begins to grow suffocating, and you decide a walk of the premises is needed. You slip on a pair of boots and drape your cloak over your shoulders as protection from the biting autumn wind before heading out into the forest. Although the breeze in Velaris is soft and comforting, you can’t help but revel in the slightly more sinister wind that nips at your nose as you wander in the direction of the Forest House. You have frequented the Autumn Court several times now, but have never approached the grand estate, let alone entered it. With sentries littered at every entrance, it is impossible to breach. No enemies approach Beron’s home without his knowledge, and none leave without his permission. That is, with the exception of the Autumnal Equinox.

Although the falling leaves of autumn preside year-round within the court, the equinox marks the official start of autumn in Prythian, and for Autumn Court inhabitants, the beginning of harvest season. Celebrated since the country was divided into the seven courts, it is a tradition which spans centuries of High Lords. For one night each year, the High Lord opens the gates of the Forest House to his citizens, and indulges them in music, wine, and dancing until the early hours of the morning. 

You have never attended an Autumnal Equinox celebration, but you have read extensively about it. You have read extensively about a lot of things, for that matter; but have experienced so few.

As you make your way through the woods, your eyes land on the Forest House peeking through the trees. It is absolutely breath-taking. One hundred books couldn’t do the moss-covered shingles and centuries-old red brick justice. A bitter taste floods your mouth at the thought; the reality that in your 70 years of existence, you’ve seen so little of the world. You love your home in Velaris, and your little misfit family. And yet, you can’t help but dream of another reality in which you free from any obligation, free to move as you please, free to never settle down. You suppose that this must be the price for immortality.

Rather than dwindling into an existential crisis, you collect your thoughts and begin your scaling of the Forest House perimeter. Images of Azriel’s carefully detailed maps swim through your mind as you study each window. The fabled story of Athena Ellesmere rolls off your tongue as the colorful leaves crunch under your feet. And for a few short hours, you find yourself lost in the beauty of a small piece of what the world beyond Velaris has to offer.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You didn’t think it possible, but somehow the Forest House is even more magnificent up close than what you caught glimpse of from behind the rolling hills. The golden archway beckoning citizens inside its premises is full of intricate details, nearly invisible to the naked eye. Red leafed decorations are so bright they seem to reflect the stars in the night sky above. Vibrant green ivy snakes and twists along the cobblestone walls of the courtyard, tying the whole scene together. 

It is surely a sight for sore eyes. But as are you.

The silk of your ruby red dress pools at your feet and flows like a blood river with each step. The expensive material hugs your hips, but does not constrict them, accentuating your figure. A deep plunging neckline and open back expose just enough skin to leave any male wanting more. Your hair is pulled back in a tasteful updo with a few tendrils loose to shape your face, highlighting your natural beauty. And to top it all off, a deep, red lipstick. You look regal. 

If Cassian could see you now, he’d never again call you Bookworm. 

As you enter the center of the courtyard, you take in the joyful scene before you. A band of enchanted instruments play a lively tune as faeries dance and sing, the sweet smell of cinnamon filling the air. 

But you have a job to do.

You imagine Azriel’s voice in your head as you survey the perimeter of the courtyard, making note of each potential exit. Your eyes scan the crowd for any potential threats. Once you come up empty, you take a step forward towards the middle. You hold your chin high, and move with an elegance that does your elegant gown justice.

You ignore the lingering gazes of onlooking males as you weave through the crowd and help yourself to a goblet of wine. You have never tasted anything quite like it—a sweet undertone of crisp apple and nutmeg. You nonchalantly scan the crowd, this time searching for a head of flaming, crimson hair. The task, however, proves to be difficult, as nearly every head is red.

 An ominous shiver crawls up your spine as you sense an unwanted presence lingering behind you. You try to ignore the male breathing down your neck and sip your wine, but to no avail.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here alone?” your nose scrunches at the sour scent of liquor on his breath.

His threatening stance disturbs you, but you are prepared for this.

You glamour a glittering, diamond ring onto your left hand and raise it in a delicate gesture, not bothering to meet his eye.

“Waiting for my husband,” you swiftly reply.

His drunken grumblings barely reach your ear as your eyes lock in on your target.

You know what Eris Vanserra looks like; Rhys has shown you through his own eyes. But you aren’t quite prepared for how, for lack of a better word, stunning the man across the crowd truly is. 

His towering stature exudes power. The first few buttons of his emerald silken shirt are undone, leaving the top of his chest exposed. You can’t help but ogle at the way the silver chain around his neck falls gracefully down his radiant, almost golden, skin. The sharpness of his chiseled jaw slices through the air; a stark contrast to the soft texture of his wind-swept, crimson hair. A golden wreath sits flawlessly on top, its shine reflecting the moonlight above. It takes everything in you not to gawk at his beauty.

You down the rest of your wine, willing the alcohol to give you the confidence you need, before refilling your goblet. You stalk through the crowd, all the while keeping your eyes locked on him. You lean against a red brick wall about 20 yards behind the male he is speaking to—directly in his line of view. You wait patiently, allowing yourself to indulge in his regal beauty. Finally, his chin dips to the side. 

The roaring sound of music and screaming faeries washes away as his amber eyes flick towards yours. Your heart thumps as you hold his curious gaze, your own inquisitive one unwavering. A feline smile curls onto your face and you slowly, teasingly, raise your goblet of wine to your red lips. Eris’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as he studies your movements. You cock a brow in response as you take a sip of the dark liquid. A venomous smirk tugs at his lips, and your heart leaps into your throat at the playful glint in his eyes.

Just as quickly as it appears, he vanishes.

You catch sight of his golden wreath weaving through the crowd, and swiftly push yourself from the wall. With a deep breath, you will yourself into the shadows (a gift bestowed upon you by your unknowing father), and glide in the opposite direction. You stop a few yards away, and smirk as you spot Eris approach your previous spot on the wall. His brows furrow as he looks around in confusion. You wait patiently for his eyes to find yours again. The burning bonfire flickers in his irises, highlighting the unmistakable glint of mischief. He swiftly moves in your direction, and you slip away into the shadows once more, careful to conceal your Night Court power. Again, you stop a small distance away. You repeat your vanishing act a few more times, slowly luring the fox away from the center of the party and into your snare. Once you reach the outskirt of the courtyard, you will yourself completely from the shadows and set into a casual strut. You can feel his presence approaching, and your heart thrums in anticipation.

“Where are you flying off to, Little Bird?” 

His warm voice crackles like the flames of the bonfire.

You shiver as his warm breath fans over your neck, his aroma of sandalwood and cranberry dizzying.

“Maybe I’m stretching my wings,” you muse, “Or maybe I’m luring the fox from the safety of his den.”

Your knees buckle as his lips graze the shell of your ear with a smile, “I quite like pretty things with sharp tongues.”

Your lips part and goosebumps erupt along your skin. His charm is alluring, but you are prepared for this. So, you swiftly spin the face him. His golden wreath nearly scrapes the tip of your nose as he lazily raises his head, but you resist the instinct to step back. All air leaves your body as he rises to his full height. His amber eyes bear into yours, and you are suddenly aware of just how much of your skin is exposed. 

“I think you underestimate just how sharp my tongue can be,” you purr as you raise the wine still in your hand to your lips.

Eris watches intently as your lips wrap around the rim and you tip back the goblet. You allow a droplet to leak from the side and spill down the curve of your lips. As you lower the goblet from your face, his ring-clad hand darts out and catches the red drop. His thumb rubs gently along your chin, his warm touch igniting a fire in your gut. His soft grips tightens ever so slightly as he tilts your face upwards before removing his hand. Your lips part as he sucks his wine-covered thumb into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing at the motion. 

“Good?” the airiness of your voice betrays you.

“Delicious,” he sings.

He is taunting you—circling his prey, preparing to pounce. 

“A bit too sweet for my taste,” you hum and blindly set the goblet down on the low cobblestone wall beside you, “And I think my wings are adequately stretched.”

The crimson silk of your dress ripples as you turn swiftly on your heel and saunter back towards the party. A playful smirk dances on your lips as you feel Eris’s gaze on your swinging hips. His powerful aura trails behind you. He allows you to lead through the crowd, giving you a fleeting semblance of control, before his strong hand wraps around your wrist in a commanding grip.

You swallow down a gasp as he abruptly spins you around and pulls your chest flush against his. He has a direct view of the curve of your breasts down the deep cut of your dress; but his luminous eyes don’t waver from yours. He intertwines his right hand with yours so that your palms touch, while his left finds solace in the dip of your waist. Despite your best efforts, you are unable to will away the deep flush creeping up your neck as he moves you gracefully along the floor in a waltz to the beat of the music.

“I’m not familiar with the customs of the Autumn Court, you tease, “But where I come from it is impolite to steal a dance from a female without her permission.”

He ignores you and twirls you around before pulling you close again, “And where is it that you flew from, Little Bird?”

You hum nonchalantly, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His chest rumbles with laughter, sending a shiver down your spine. His head dips down so that his lips are millimeters from your ear as he whispers, “I’ve seen your eyes before.” Your heart skips a beat—you hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might recognize your similarity to Morrigan. But the tension in your shoulders eases as he continues, “Did the Mother send you from my dreams?”

You mimic his gesture and raise your lips to his ear before replying, “From your nightmares, actually.”

“Little Bird knows how to play,” Eris muses. He rises to his full height once again before spinning your body so your back is flush against his chest, your feet moving with his in a gentle sway to the strings of the orchestra, “Does she have a name?”

“She does,” you retort simply.

He knows your game. And he’s willing to play.

“It seems only fair you indulge me with yours, seeing as you know mine,” he probes.

Your face warms as he moves your bodies closer to the blazing bonfire.

“Who’s to say I know your name?” you tease in a lilted voice.

His hands trail down your body at an agonizingly slow pace before landing on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Everyone knows my name, darling,” molasses drips from his lips as his voice tickles your neck.

You reply coolly, “Vanity working on a weak hand produces every sort of mischief.”

A humorless laugh escapes from his lips, and you jolt as his fingers dig tightly into your waist, “I can assure you my hand is many things, but weak is not one of them.” His right hand leaves your waist, and you gulp as it wraps around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze—but his grip is just strong enough to prove his point. “What can I do to get the canary to sing?”

You spin around to face him and lace your right hand with his left once more. Your gentle sways become brisker as the tempo of the violins accelerates. 

“My name for a question,” you cock a brow.

“Indulge me.”

His gaze shifts from your eyes to your intertwined hands as your fingers dance along his, gently slipping one of his rings off. You roll it teasingly between your fingers before slipping it onto your thumb.

“Athena,” you finally relent with a coy smile.

A pleasured hum rumbles in his throat as he rolls the ring around your thumb, “Fitting name, Little Bird. Though I think you’re better suited as a canary than an owl.”

Pure, unbridled desire clouds your eyes as Eris raises your thumb to his mouth and nips it tauntingly.

“Do intelligent females scare you?” you muse, pushing your thumb against his bottom teeth.

A sinister grin curls onto his lips as you trail your ring-clad thumb down, over his bottom lip and to his chin, before retreating to its place in his hand.

“They terrify me,” he purrs before twirling you in time with the crescendo of the orchestra.

“My question,” you state simply as your playful eyes meet his again.

“Shoot.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as you trail your right hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, stroking your fingers gently through his scarlet locks. Your gaze shifts from his amber eyes to the walls of the Forest House behind him.

“What do you guard inside your henhouse, Fox?”

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as the words leave your lips. A dark look glazes over his eyes, sending a wave of instant regret crashing over you. Have you said too much? Pushed too far?

His grip on your hand tightens and he lowers his lips to your ear once more. But this time, they don’t graze. His teeth sink into your earlobe, and he tugs hard enough to elicit a wince; a warning.

“I indulge your question, but I didn’t promise an answer,” Eris drawls. He presses a kiss to your ear before whispering, “Be careful, Little Bird. If you fly too close, you might just get burned.”

Cauldron, save you. Your knees buckle and an involuntary moan escapes you as he trails his lips down your neck. Your eyes flutter shut as you crane your neck to the side, giving yourself fully to him. He ghosts open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin and your nails dig into the nape of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. He nips at the junction of your collarbone and you gasp, your eyes shooting wide open.

The twinkling stars above blink down at you and a wave of panic rushes in.

Rhys’s words from earlier sing in your ears: Don’t get too close.

Eris senses the rapid uptick of your pounding heart. He hums against your skin and drags the tip of his nose up your shoulder, along your neck, and finally to your chin. His lips ghost over yours as he breathes, “Change of heart, Little Bird?”

This time when you look into his amber eyes, the playfulness, the mischief, the humor, is all gone. You are looking into the eyes of a predator, seconds away from closing in on its kill. You gulp and pray that your mask of apathy hasn’t slipped. 

“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.” 

A wide grin takes over his face, but the predator within him lurks. Still, he hums in understanding and leans away, “I see. But I must warn you that my patience is notoriously thin.”

A swift movement in your peripheral captures your attention. You look past Eris’s shoulder and catch sight of a tall male stalking towards you—one of his brothers, you deduce from his flaming red hair and regal posture. A sense of relief rushes over you, as you plot your escape for the evening.

Your plaster on a sickly-sweet smile and raise your lips to his cheek, giving the Autumn Court heir a chaste kiss.

“’Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra,” you whisper.

He nearly groans at the way his name rolls off your tongue, but his brows furrow as the meaning of your words sinks in. He turns his head towards your line of sight, and you use the opportunity to swiftly slip away. You don’t stick around to hear his conversation with his brother. Instead, you will yourself to slip back into the shadows. A rush of adrenaline surges through you as you make your escape. 

It isn’t until you are far past the golden gates of the Forest House that the reality of what just happened sinks in. You gasp for air as your heart thunders in your chest. You steady yourself against a large tree, sinking your nails into the bark until the splintering pain stabilizes you. As you retract your nails from the trunk, a glimmer catches your eye. The shining silver of Eris’s ring, still sitting snugly around your thumb, seems to wink at you. You roll it around with your index finger, and a faint smile ghosts over your lips. Pride burrows in your chest as you push off the tree and begin your trek back to your temporary home.

Although the night didn’t go quite as you had envisioned it, you have the fox right where you want him. 

And he is none the wiser.