#be consumed by the flame

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter One

My little brain worm has wiggled in with another Lucien x Nesta idea despite my many other projects.

This fic is set a few months after canon ACOSF. Nesta has doubts about her mating bond and life in Velaris. She feels as if she's drowning but nobody notices - except Lucien. Lucien sees Nesta cutting out parts of herself to please the Night Court and is reminded of his mother. He offers Nesta a lifeline to be a neutral party to vent to and a travel companion.

The theme for this fic is Would That I by Hozier!

Tea poured from the spout of the porcelain teapot, filling the cup almost to the brim.

‘Sugar?’

Nesta’s eyes swept over the tray. ‘Lemon?’

‘I’m sure I can find one for you.’

Her eyes trailed the male as he stepped into the kitchen that wasn’t his to find lemon for her tea. It was a noisy evening. The wine had been broken out long ago as stories were traded over raucous laughter. Elain had been part of it until Lucien arrived late, during the third course, so she had slunk away into the safety of Azriel’s shadows rather than risk a conversation with him. The two wraiths were keeping an ear out of Nyx whilst he slept upstairs and Nesta had wanted to sneak upstairs out of the way before Lucien had occupied the chair beside her.

It had been months since the ordeal of the Blood Rite, months since Nyx was brought into this world through Nesta’s intervention, and months since the lavish mating ceremony that she had thought would fix everything. It hadn’t. With every day that passed, Nesta felt less and less like herself. She glanced over at Cassian who had one leg slung over the arm of a couch and his head was in Mor’s lap while she squeezed his cheeks together, both laughing. Everybody was laughing, even Azriel. And Nesta sat on the outskirts of a group she didn’t belong to, as always.

‘Found one,’ said Lucien, as he brandished a wedge of lemon at her.

The juice dribbled into her tea as he squeezed it, but his eyes were also on the group. A crease appeared between his brow but he did not pass a comment.

‘How was the Continent?’

‘Enjoyable. I was in Rask.’

‘I don’t know it, I’m afraid.’

Lucien seemed to come alive now that there was an opening in the conversation. ‘It’s obscenely wealthy – worse than here. Their army is vast and all have gilded armour. The actual country is beautiful too. It has deep mines filled with jewels. Palaces built into the clouds.’

‘And the people?’

‘Like any nation. Intelligence is valued in Rask. There is no king or queen, but instead an elected council of strategists and dreamers who strive for greatness. The people vote every decade and there are year-long campaigns for positions on the council.’

It sounded unreal to Nesta. A place where birth right or a marriage of opportunity was not the only way to climb high in society.

‘I wanted to go to the Continent,’ she shared. ‘Years ago, when I was dreaming of a life away from our cottage, before all of this.’

‘You still could go,’ said Lucien.

There were still uneasy relations between Prythian and the Continent due to the war that happened five centuries ago. They had poor opinions of mortals – and some nations had almost allied with Hybern again during the most recent war. Nesta knew it edged too close to Koschei as well for her to ever be allowed to go there.

‘I don’t think Cassian or Feyre would be happy for me to go there.’

A strange expression twisted Lucien’s features then he let out a sigh. He brought his cups to his lips, deep in thought.

Elain’s eyes flickered to the pair of them, worry rendering her silent as if Nesta was spilling all of her secrets to her unwanted mate.

‘Would you like a glass of wine like the others?’

Nesta shook her head quickly. ‘It’s better if I don’t drink.’

‘Who said that? You or somebody else?’

Nesta’s lips pursed. Many people. Mor. Amren. Cassian. Feyre. Rhys. They all had their opinion on her life.

‘It’s better if I don’t.’

‘Then how about a drop of honey in your tea?’

She let out a soft exhale. ‘Sugar is not good when I’m training. Lacks any real energy.’

Lucien’s fingers tightened around the spoon, poised to dollop a spoonful into his own cup to sweeten it. ‘You’re not training now. If you want it, say so.’ He blinked a few times then dropped his voice. ‘They don’t sound like your words, Nesta. If you want it, have it. It’s a bit of honey, for goodness’ sake.’

She gave a stiff nod. The tea did taste better with it, far sweeter as she preferred. It was the only sugar she was likely to get in the next few days besides. Weeks earlier, Cassian had steered her away from a decadent new bakery overlooking the Sidra where everything was fried or pumped with cream or rolled in sugar. She was still dreaming of it.

In silence, they sipped at the tea, letting snippets of the group’s conversation meet their ears. The high lord and lady were being their usual nauseating selves by managing to slip innuendos into every topic. Their hands pawed at each other regardless of the audience. Even after all the time that had passed, it still made Nesta uncomfortable to bear witness to it. She was becoming used to the highly charged comments that seemed to be a currency in Prythian, but others were not as sex-obsessed as her sister and her mate. There was a time and place for that impropriety – the living room with everybody looking on was not it.

This could not be her life forever. Before Lucien had sat beside her, it could not have been more apparent that Nesta still sat on the fringes of this group. She had sat alone with only a book for company while they clustered together near the open windows, chatting with an ease she didn’t possess after dinner. She had tried so hard to fit in – to be like them. Nesta attended every dinner but when they became a nightly ritual to eat, drink, chat, she began asking Cassian if they could have time as just the two of them. He wondered if she had argued with her sisters. The idea that Nesta wouldn’t want to spend every free evening with his family was unfathomable to him. She had only wanted his company sometimes, not all of them. Nesta stopped asking. And for her sisters, Nesta visited them whenever they requested. She cared for Nyx but he spent so much of his time with the wraiths so Feyre and Rhys could remain locked together as they ruled their court. Elain could only talk of gardening and Feyre could only gush about her baby or her mate.

If Nesta did not have Gwyn and Emerie, she would have been so lonely. It was their company that kept her standing. These last few weeks had felt like trying to hold together a crumbling building – but she felt as if she was the only one who saw the damage. Cassian didn’t seem to notice how muted she was. Nobody asked her about training. They didn’t ask about her friends. There was no expectation for Nesta to do anything now except be Cassian’s mate. And she hated herself for having no goals for the future. This could not be her life, night after night, sat on the edge of a group she didn’t belong to, trapped in Velaris. There had to be more to it.

Lucien settled his cup down on the small table in front of their couch. ‘I’m quite tired from my journey. It was nice to talk to you, Nesta. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you a lot previously.’

‘I was a viper before my mating.’

She had meant it as a jest, but part of Lucien’s expression fractured into something like pain. He nodded then made to say his goodbyes to the others.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve set up a room for you in the House of Wind while you’re here,’ Rhys said, a hand tangling in Feyre’s hair. ‘Nyx is cutting a tooth and he’ll keep you awake otherwise.’

Lucien shrugged to show he didn’t mind, but he added, ‘It’s not my house. Cassian, Nesta, if you don’t mind?’

‘No problem, Vanserra. You’re welcome to join training in the morning. The females can show you what they’ve been learning.’

‘Not for me, but thank you for the offer, Cassian.’

Rhys stood to winnow him. Nesta leapt to her feet too. ‘Can you take me too? I’m quite tired.’

It wasn’t unusual for Nesta to leave early. Often, she feigned tiredness or a late-night meeting in the library with Gwyn. She’d rather sit alone at home than sit alone here.

Cassian reached out his hand to summon his mate to him. He couldn’t stand up because Mor had her legs draped across him. Nesta pressed her wrath down and let him kiss her on the lips, even if she hated to do so in public. But he liked it. There was a lot that Nesta did to please her mate.

Rhys didn’t linger after winnowing them onto the roof. He gave a short goodbye before disappearing into the night. Lucien followed Nesta as she walked the lengthy corridors, peeling back doors to find which room had been designated for Lucien while he stayed a couple of nights in the City of Starlight. A plush room overlooking the city was his, complete with a desk and rug from Sangravah.

‘I hope it’s to your liking,’ she said.

Lucien’s fingers enclosed around her thin wrist. The heat from his skin sizzled like a brand against her own. Cassian would scent him on her when he came home.

‘How can you bear this?’ His voice was quiet, hurt.

Her brow furrowed at his question. Was he asking about the unbearably tender way his thumb stroked over her veins or her life in general?

‘What?’

‘This is your house, apparently. And I am a guest because the high lord decided it. Not you. Not your mate. How are you not angry, Nesta?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Do you like this? Any of this? You live in a fucking house you cannot escape from.’

‘The house is my friend.’

‘It is a house! You cannot leave without your mate allowing it. And still the high lord uses it for his official functions so it is not truly yours. He has put me in your home as a guest without your consent. None of these rooms were decorated by you. You own nothing here. You are a glorified prisoner.’

It should have made her angry. Her rage should have been a wild, violent thing but Lucien’s words had rattled around in her own head for weeks. She wanted a garden to potter around in when they had fair weather, a nook cut into the window to read her books in as the sun kissed her skin, a place for just her and Cassian that wasn’t a communal space. But in the last couple of weeks, she had wanted a space for her, without Cassian. She wanted a break from him sometimes. There was no joy to be found with him. Nesta no longer looked forward to him returning from lllyria – she dreaded it. Whenever their bodies weren’t slick with sweat from coupling, they had little to talk about. She listened to him speak of Illyria or Rhys, but she had nothing to share with him. He was with her when she trained, with her for dinners. The only time she had alone was when she was sent to work in the library or when she read – and Cassian didn’t care for books.  

‘Do you even want to train?’

‘It makes Cassian happy when I do.’

‘And you?’ He stared at her in disbelief. ‘What joy do you get from it?’

Nesta tried to leave. He was throwing truths at her that she’d been trying so hard to ignore. That hand stayed clutching her wrist like an anchor that Lucien would not let go of.

‘Nesta Archeron, you changed your anatomy for that male after he made you march in the Illyrian mountains until you collapsed. They have torn out your claws and ripped out your fangs to make you more palatable. How can you not be angry when your mate has his head in another female’s lap? When he cannot even be bothered to say a proper goodbye because her legs hold him there. How are you not angry about the way he treats you?’

‘I am angry,’ she roared back, her rage flooding out of her in a wave she could not longer control. ‘I hate it. I hate all of it. I hate who I am – worse than before. I hate everything, Lucien. I feel like I am drowning and nobody can see.’

He gripped her other arm so he stood in front of her. ‘I see you. I see a female who is cutting out parts of herself to please others – and you will have nothing left, Nesta. Do not become my mother. What has Cassian changed for you? What has he altered in his life for you?’

‘Nothing. He has changed nothing. He has given up nothing. And I have given up everything for him.’

A sob broke out of her. She hated to cry, hated anybody else to bear witness to her pain, but Lucien wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as she cried.

On the dawn of her mating ceremony, her stomach had been in knots. She’d wanted to call the whole thing off, but Elain and Feyre had convinced her that nerves were normal. If it was her wedding morning as a mortal, then she’d feel the same cold feet and reluctance so she had gone through with it. After, when Cassian danced with Mor and Feyre instead of her, she had cried on Gwyn’s shoulder. Nobody had noticed she was not even there for the final few hours. Emerie had told her that a mating ceremony was supposed to fill her with absolute joy – not dread – as she’d rubbed a hand along her spine. She had known a handful of people at the mating ceremony. They were all associates of Rhysand. Nesta had felt like a shiny trophy that was showed off by the Night Court; a prize that Cassian had finally won.

For weeks, Nesta’s mind played the same thing on a loop: not right, not right, not right.

Without Cassian, without the Night Court, Nesta had nothing. No money, no home. And she had lost her last home, lost the wealth that the High Lord of Spring had provided, lost her damn mortality due to the Night Court’s interventions. She had lost it once, lost it twice. There was no happiness here. Nesta couldn’t even say if she loved Cassian or the idea of him anymore. She could lose it all for a third time. Start again and try and find the happiness she deserved rather than the one she tried to give to everybody else by trading in the parts of her she had once liked.  

‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.’

Nesta managed to pry her head from Lucien’s chest. She hadn’t shared those words with any – not Gwyn or Emerie – and shouldn’t have admitted those things to Lucien. A mating bond was supposed to be a happy thing. They ought to have been happy. But maybe Lucien knew better than any how wrong a mating bond could be.

‘Tomorrow, why don’t we take a walk in the fresh air? Consider me a neutral party to your woes.’

‘I have to train tomorrow.’

‘Have to?’

It was almost a year since she began the rigorous daily schedule laid out by her sister in that terrible meeting. Wake up, eat, train, eat, go to the library, eat, rest, repeat. She had barely missed a day. There was little variance to her days. It had panicked Nesta once, to think of a life without that steady, predictable routine. Now, she loathed it. It was a monotony that was slowly killing her.

‘In my personal opinion, it is better to step out now rather than one hundred years down the line. You do not want to look back and think of how much time you gave to people who did not deserve it. Time is the one thing we can never have again.’

His words made sense, but it was terrifying to go against the grain once more.

‘Let’s say ten by the market. If you’re there, you’re there. If you’re not, I won’t be cross.’ Lucien finally released his hands from her body, and she felt suddenly cold without his warmth. ‘Nesta, do what is best for you. They surely will do the same for themselves.’

That night, she was unable to settle. Her mind churned with worries and possibilities. In the rare time that Nesta had ever expressed to Cassian the desire for more, he could not understand it. For him, Velaris was everything he needed. He was settled. He’d had five hundred years here and wanted five hundred more. That thought terrified Nesta. There was a whole world out there and she would never see it if she stayed here, confined to the secret city.

When Cassian came to bed, he stunk of wine. He lumbered through the doors with his heavy steps. If she had been asleep, the light streaming in from the open door and the noise would have woken her. Nesta forced out a breath to try and calm her before she snapped at him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come crashing into their bedroom after drinking with Azriel or Mor, sometimes even Feyre and Rhys. It was fine for them to do such a thing. Of course, it was. She forced out another breath, trying to calm the waves of anger that had been coming more frequently recently.

A heavy arm landed on her, pinning her to the bed, then a wing. It had once been something she craved. Now, Nesta knew she had only wanted comfort. Cassian had provided release to her when all other opportunities were taken. His weight was too heavy, suffocating even. And as Nesta tried to sleep, two words rang out again in her mind: not right, not right, not right.

***

The quilt was slowly pulled from her body as Cassian attempted to wake her. Nesta had slept terribly, adrift with worries and stress. It had not been far off dawn when she had finally managed to close her eyes and sleep.

‘I drank half a brewery last night and even I’m up before you.’

‘You smell like it,’ she said, before she could jail it.

‘Someone woke up pissed today.’

Last night, Nesta had prepared reasons to excuse herself from training. They had ranged from feeling unwell, her cycle coming, having plans with Gwyn which would require her to race to the library and ask her friend to also not attend. All of them disintegrated. She didn't owe him - or anybody - a reason.

‘I’m not training today.’

Cassian folded his arms across his chest. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m not.’

Her mood was prickly already like she had been months ago. It didn’t matter how many times Nesta had cut off her spikes, they always grew back.

‘That’s not a reason.’

‘I need to be flown to Velaris this morning, please. Otherwise, I should begin taking the stairs.’

Cassian raised his brows, but did not say anything else. It almost disappointed Nesta because she had been hankering for an argument. That was their most effective way of discussion. When Nesta tried to breeze past him, Cassian stopped her. ‘Breakfast.’

Nesta was in that mood. It had been a long time since she had let herself feel that way. As they sat at the table for breakfast, the house deposited a bland bowl of porridge for her. It had become her staple breakfast. Occasionally, a handful of berries might appear in it too, but it was usually plain porridge with water – not even milk. She added a heaped spoon of sugar into her porridge, under Cassian’s watchful eye.

‘That much sugar is not good for you, Nes. You’ll have no energy.’

Nesta nodded, used to the lecture, and added another spoon of sugar because that mood meant she was ready for an argument.

‘I want sugar. Porridge is the most boring meal I could ever envision. At least some sugar makes it bearable.’

‘If you must sweeten it, try a mashed banana.’

‘If I must? Yes. I must, because it is my breakfast and my body, Cassian. You do not have authority over it.’

Cassian threw up his hands so Nesta knew the battle was already won. ‘Ask Az to take you to Velaris. I’m not dealing with you this morning.’

Another person in their house.

Nesta watched him leave, satisfied and angry all at once. A banana appeared on the table near her bowl. She frowned. ‘Don’t listen to him. I hate banana.’

The house reclaimed it.

Knocking on the bedroom that Azriel tended to sleep in was always intimidating. He never ever let Nesta see an inch of the room. He’d slip through the gap and stand in front of her, closing the door behind him or obscuring it was shadow. Her, Gwyn, and Emerie had once spent an evening wondering what nefarious things he might have inside of it to make him so secretive. Emerie was certain there was a body in there. Or several of them.

As expected, he quickly hid his room from view.

‘Please could you take me into the city?’

‘Where’s Cass?’

‘Not dealing with me this morning,’ she replied brightly. Not a single part of Nesta felt bad about irritating Cassian over breakfast either. ‘Can you?’

Azriel nodded. ‘I’ve just taken Lucien’s to Rhys. Do you need to go now?’

There was about forty minutes until Lucien’s suggested meeting time, but Nesta wanted out of this house. ‘You sound irritated about that.’

‘I’m not a delivery service,’ said Azriel.

Nesta gave a shrug of her left shoulder. ‘Then maybe I shouldn’t be forced to live in a house that I cannot enter or leave without assistance. And maybe Rhys shouldn’t invite people into my house who have the same issue as me.’

She clapped her hands together. The words were leaking out, words that she had spent months clipping and locking away so that she would be seen as nicer and softer and kinder and gentler. Nesta was sure the moment that Azriel came into contact with Cassian, the males would discuss how difficult she was that morning, because as soon as Nesta stopped being compliant to their every whim, she was difficult.

If Azriel was annoyed, he did not show it. Gently, he lifted her to his arms and flew her into the city. Flight still made her queasy. The sudden drop made her stomach lurch no matter how carefully an Illyrian flew. She was set down on a street where she could look up to the House of Wind cut from the mountain. ‘Should I collect you at a certain time or send Cass?’

‘I’ll figure something out. Thank you.’

Without lingering, Nesta turned on her heel to examine the streets that she rarely got to explore. It was a pretty city, undoubtedly, but a city did not feel like home to Nesta. Neither did a crumbling cottage in the woods. Home had existed for a brief number of months. It had been the manor provided by Tamlin that straddled the forest and society. Nesta had enjoyed stepping into civilisation as much as she had enjoyed taking a step back and savouring the peace and quiet that the grounds had allowed. She wasn’t likely to find that in the Night Court, although perhaps Illyria could provide that if the males weren’t so decidedly hateful towards females, and especially towards her. It would be a life of fear there. Nesta had stepped foot once in Illyria since the Blood Rite and it had almost sparked a war. None would listen to her pleas that she had not wanted to enter it, that reaching Ramiel hadn’t been a goal, but the only way for her friends to survive. She had needed to be whisked out of Windhaven as a mob grew. They claimed she had made the ground unhallowed. No, Illyria would never be home.

With every passing minute that Nesta had her own independence, she remembered how much she had loved it. Nobody barking orders at her. Nobody thrusting her into a hole that she didn’t fit through. No expectations, no judgements. Just her.

Although Nesta did not have her own bank account, she had access to Cassian’s, as his mate. Until it was time to meet Lucien, Nesta pottered amongst the shops, gazing wistfully at the items. If it was her own money then she’d have happily splurged on more, but she settled only for a notebook with a darling illustration on the cover. The market was busy so she kept to the edges, peering over shoulders or through the gaps of bodies at stalls. The rich scents of spices filled the air, making her long for the far-off places that she would never visit if her life remained this way.

‘You freed yourself of the shackles of the House of Wind then?’

Nesta rolled her eyes at the sight of Lucien’s grinning face. ‘You are a bad influence.’

‘I’m glad you’re here, all the same.’ Almost instinctively, Lucien moved towards her and placed a kiss on her cheek. It ought to have been nothing – she was used to such behaviour from mortal men though they tended to kiss a hand with quivering lips from the icy glares she would give them. Yet, Lucien’s touch kindled something in Nesta.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘I had porridge. Two spoons of sugar, much to Cassian’s annoyance.’

Lucien’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’ll cause a scandal. Sugar. Not training. Whatever next?’

Nesta rubbed her hands together with delight. ‘You see there is a recently opened bakery that my lovely mate forbade me from entering. He claimed there was no nutritional value in any of it. So, Lucien, I should like to stuff myself silly, if that’s quite alright?’

An arm was extended for her to take. ‘Have Illyrians never heard of eating food simply because it tastes good?’

‘If it’s not chopped from a dead animal, it’s not worth it.’

It was surprisingly easy to talk to Lucien Vanserra. Nesta could not help but think how well Elain would get on with him if she actually bothered to have a civil conversation rather than hiding, the wretch. He was well-mannered and personable, guiding her through the market while sharing details of his morning meeting with Rhysand. Nesta had to wonder if he shared it simply because he also had nobody else to talk to beyond Jurian and Vassa in the mortal lands.

The bakery was painted a navy blue with silver lettering broadcasting the name. As Nesta stared through the window, she made an audible groan.

‘There’s too much choice.’

‘Eat it all. We have time.’

Lucien led the way to a table tucked into an alcove, out of sight from prying eyes. The few customers had opted for tables outside in the sunshine, but he had joked that his eye would blind Nesta if the sun hit it at the wrong angle. She found that she liked his jokes. They tended to be at his own expense rather than hers.

For starters, they shared a pot of black tea with milk, a scone heaped with jam and cream that they cut in two and a slab of carrot cake.

‘Cheers,’ said Lucien, knocking the brim of his teacup to hers.

‘Not far from here is a tavern that I used to go to when I was the Night Court’s nightmare.’

‘And now you are their dream come true.’

Nesta grimaced then gulped down a mouthful of too-hot tea. ‘Not this morning.’

She explained how she had been happy to incite an argument with Cassian but he’d not quite risen to the bait, then had been brisk with Azriel. Lucien didn’t berate her for it or tell her to be grateful that they trained or who flew her. He just let out a soft, tinkering laugh. ‘If that’s how you feel, that’s how you feel. You shouldn’t have to constantly stamp on yourself.’

Nesta shook her head. ‘But I’m not a nice person, Lucien. After the Blood Rite, after what happened with Feyre and Nyx, I vowed to be better. I want to earn their love.’

Lucien made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. ‘Earn it? Fucking hell, Nesta, you saved the high lord, the high lady, and the heir. And you think somehow you have to earn their love?’

Before Nesta could speak, Lucien held up a hand. His brows had bunched together. ‘What have they done to earn yours?’

‘They gave me a home.’

‘After they tore down your apartment and evicted you from it.’

‘No, I mean after I left the mortal lands.’

‘Because they meddled in your life. Because Rhysand promised to have guards protect you, but when it came to it, they were not there and you went into the Cauldron.’

When it was put that way, the altruistic side of the Night Court was tinged more with necessity. Nesta swallowed against her dry throat. A small part of her had known that the only reason the Night Court had extended the branch of friendship to her was due to Feyre’s mating bond.

‘I wasn’t in a good place last year, Lucien. They helped me.’

‘They put you in that bad place, Nesta. They locked you in a house to keep you safe but trotted you out into danger when it suited them. You were taken to one of the most dangerous places in Prythian – the Bog of Oorid – so please forgive me when I say, it was not about your safety. It was about keeping you where they could see you.’

Urgh. Curse this male for striking at the truths that Nesta pretended not to see so that her anger didn’t seize control of her limbs.

‘I was fucking anything that walked.’

‘You weren’t fucking the right male, pardon my crude language. It wasn’t about the other males, it was the fact it wasn’t Cassian. If it isn’t true then why couldn’t you train with Azriel? Why couldn’t he be your chaperone? Why did they trap you with Cassian who has had his eyes on you since the moment he met you? Why did they never help you to train your magic?’

Nesta shoved the last wedge of carrot cake into her mouth, to give her a chance to think of rebuttals to all of Lucien’s very valid points. When she could think of nothing, Nesta said, ‘You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.’

‘I have,’ he said swiftly. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I worried about you. You reminded me of my mother too much. It made my conscience restless.’

‘I was pissing their money away in taverns.’

‘And they are short of money.’

‘It’s not the point,’ Nesta said, sweeping her hand in the air. ‘It was not my money to spend.’

‘Except you fought in the war and told your story. Were you paid for those things?’

‘No.’

‘And now, you are paid?’

‘What should I be paid for? For exercising? No, Lucien. I use Cassian’s money.’

It all sounded ridiculous. It was as if she was holding up a sheet and Lucien was stabbing holes into it. Everything he said made sense so Nesta couldn’t understand why she was still trying to argue in support of the Inner Circle.

Lucien folded his fingers together, watching as the waitress took away their dirty plates with the promise of bringing macarons and biscuits for their next pot of tea.

‘So that I understand, you no longer have any income whatsoever. You are reliant on your mate’s money. You are reliant on your mate to come and go from your own house. You follow the same schedule every day with no room for deviation. because it might upset your mate if you want more.’

A bland smile was plastered on her face. ‘That sounds about right.’

‘How can you be happy with a life that is so…’

‘Shit.’

The male choked on his laugh. ‘I was going to say stagnant.’

‘It is shit, Lucien. I know that. I am so bored already and I have an eternity of it, of being Cassian’s pretty, docile mate. I am losing my mind in this city. I hate it. I hate it. We have already run out of conversation and we haven’t even been mated for a year. The only thing he talks about is Rhys or Mor or Feyre. I want to scream.’

‘Scream then.’

Her grey eyes scanned the quiet bakery. ‘What, here? Just scream?’

‘Why not?’ he teased.

‘You are insane.’

‘I’m not the one giving up on myself to please people that do not care.’

Their heated discussion was interrupted by their second course of desserts. In silence, Lucien poured a fresh cup of tea for them both that Nesta dunked a biscuit in so aggressively that tea spilt over the edge onto the pristine, white tablecloth.

‘I’m not giving up on myself,’ she muttered.   

‘Where are your dreams, Nesta? This cannot be your forever.’

‘I know,’ she said with a desperate plea in her voice. ‘What would you have me do? Nobody liked me when I was a viper. You didn’t like me.’

‘I never disliked you. You terrified me, yes. I admired that unbending spirit, the fact that you didn’t care who you stood up for yourself against, whether it was mortal queens or Rhys or my father. They have smoothed all of your sharp edges. The moment that they find another thing that doesn’t fit their perfect ideal, they will remove that too. Nesta,’ he sighed, ‘get yourself out of here.’

‘But Cassian’s my mate and I can’t just give up on that.’

‘He is five hundred and unlikely to change his ways. Do you want to spend every evening watching him with his arm around Mor?’

‘No. I wanted to gouge their eyes out yesterday.’

‘Me too. I nearly asked them what they thought they were doing.’

The thought made Nesta smile. Maybe there was somebody else in her corner rather than her alone. ‘Whenever I raise the topic, I’m brushed away. They’re just friends. They’re like siblings. Do you see me giving Elain a foot massage? I don’t feel good enough for him, Lucien. I can never compare to Morrigan.’

A thumb brushed against her cheekbone. There was real hurt in Lucien’s expression. ‘You are worth ten of them.’

Once they had both hit a wall with the amount of sugar they could ingest, they took a laboured walk along the river’s edge. Nesta kept one hand on her protruding stomach. ‘I am so full.’

Lucien murmured in agreement.

They followed the curve of the river all the way until the outskirts of the city where they crossed over one of the final bridges still within the boundary of Velaris then began their return on the other side of the Sidra for a different view. Nesta shared with him that this city did not truly feel like a home. And how could it when it wasn’t a home she had chosen? Not even a damn pillowcase was chosen by her. Their trailing feet led them to the sprawling river estate belonging to the high lord and lady of the Night Court. They’d have to scrounge a return to the House of Wind that way. Somebody would have to winnow or fly them both. If it annoyed them then good, Nesta thought, it annoys me that I cannot get into my own house.

‘I’m off again tomorrow for a few days. There’s a place for you to accompany me – if you’d like it.’

‘Where?’

‘Dawn Court. It’s safe. Still Prythian.’

Her body gave an involuntary twist of worry. ‘Cassian wouldn't be happy with me going with another male.’

'We're just friends. Tell him that, just as he and Mor are just friends.'

'You play a dangerous game,' she warned. 'Cassian won't-'

‘Fuck Cassian. What do you want?’

‘What’s in the Dawn Court?’

‘Only one dreary meeting with their emissary who is about as old as Prythian itself. Beyond that, golden hills and white sands. Beautiful plants, the brightest minds, and I’m sure lots of bakeries.’ Lucien threw her a wink. ‘Please, consider it. If you have to lie that you want to be emissary again or it’s for Gwyneth’s research, do it. Get out anyway you can.’

She felt her lips twisting into a rare, true smile. ‘To the Dawn Court then.’

[has-the-gavle-goat-burned-yet]

Is the gavle likely to get eaten by jackals again

I don’t know, personally I am hoping for the flames

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

The (dark heh) urge to have Gales orb markings spread through his body. Deep purple veins stretch to his arms and legs, the orb itself darker than night and the scar around it pulsing slightly with a purple glow, reaching up his neck and into his eye that has also turned completely purple.

[deadpanwalking]

[dragons-library]

There’s something so romantic about Xaden wielding darkness (shadows) and Violet wielding a very pure form of light (lightning)

[chaoticneutraltor]

[fisheito]

EVeryONE STOP SENDIGN ME THE mOoncake YAKUMO IM NOT OK!!!!!!!!+++++++++

[wiirocku]

Isaiah 43:2 (ESV) - When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.

[ravewing]

it just occurred to me that since the first wof book i read was the hidden kingdom, flame was quite literally one of the FIRST wof characters i ever read . like i think thats pretty cool yanno . full circle or something

[charalol]

Imagine if the friend quest went differently.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

my student for some reason: sure the Nazis murdered 11,000,000 people in extermination camps, but the United States temporarily imprisoned 110,000 Japanese Americans, and at the end of the day, those are pretty similar

me: I guess?

[theladyofbloodshed]

Be Consumed By The Flame - Chapter 8

Night after night, they were locked in the other’s arms. Sometimes, Lucien would be exhausted from gathering intel and delivering messages across Prythian and beyond. On those nights, Nesta would nudge him gently to rouse him from the couch and they’d simply curl up together in a deep, restful sleep. Other nights, they could not keep their hands off each other after an evening spent in Vassa and Jurian’s fiery company. Lucien was a tender, generous lover who ensured that Nesta was always satisfied before he even thought of his own pleasure. It could be rough and quick – both with a desperation to feel as much of the other, as if they might never have the chance again. There were also times where their lovemaking was languid with no hurry at all like the moment could last an eternity. Nesta wished it could.

Her favourite nights were when they bedded down together, her cheek upon his chest, and they talked. Lucien had led an interesting life, first as a boy in the Autumn Court then a grown male in Spring. She loved to listen to it all – good and bad. It occurred to Nesta that the bad far outweighed the good in Lucien’s life yet he never showed that. He never let his wounds bleed on another.

More than nights spent together, Nesta discovered the joy of drowsy mornings where neither of them could commit to leaving the bed.

Cassian’s habit of waking up with the sun to train were unbreakable. Once or twice, she had asked him to remain with her a little longer but training was always his priority.

It was glorious to spend a morning, with the sun seeping through the gauzy curtains, cuddled up to Lucien. One of them would be more awake while the other nuzzled close with eyes closed then the roles would reverse. It was not uncommon for Nesta to read a book while Lucien’s face pressed to her chest or he’d rest his own book on her head while she burrowed into his side.   

Nesta couldn’t put into words how much these days meant to her.

It showed her that there was an alternative to rough couplings or constantly feeling like an aggressor.

She was not the problem.

They took tea in the garden once Jurian had departed for the day. For once, her worries didn’t gnaw away at her. Nesta did not need to tend them in private. It was easy to share them with Lucien who was sat with his face tipped up to the sun, eyes closed, to soak in every sunbeam.

‘I have to do the right thing, Lucien,’ she said, grey eyes tracking a starling as it swooped between the trees, singing for its partner.

Beside her, Lucien said nothing, only gave a slow nod of understanding.

‘I want to end things with Cassian. These days with you have opened my eyes to the shit I have to endure there. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep settling for less.’

She was grateful to him for finding her, for taking the risk in keeping her there, but Lucien kept his arms folded across his chest, handsome face revealing nothing.

‘Say something,’ she whispered.

Nesta needed confirmation that this was the right thing to do. How many faeries were denied the chance to find their mate? She wanted to see the bond, that others would kill for, in tatters.

A sparrow landed on the grass in front of them. It hopped a couple of times then pecked at the ground. Lucien’s keen eyes watched.

‘Lucien.’

‘At the risk of sounding overbearing, I am terrified of what might happen if you return there.’

Her throat closed up at that. She could deal with Cassian’s anger – had dealt with it enough. It was all fire, but it never burnt. The difficulty would be his family. They’d try to convince her that it was wrong to hurt him, that she was a villain for standing up for herself; never them for treading on her.

‘I’ll manage.’

‘And then?’ He pressed. ‘You’ll stay there? What if they don’t let you leave?’

They were options that Nesta had briefly thought about. She hadn’t delved deep into the issues because she’d spiral in panic. There was nowhere else for her to go unless she relied on Lucien’s generosity. There was not a chance that Nesta could ever go back to the House of Wind because she would truly be trapped there.

Lucien reached an arm around her, his warm hand settling on her shoulder.

‘I’m not saying this to scare you. I know what bastards like this will do to keep what they believe is theirs.’ Soft lips grazed her temple. ‘You’re stronger than me, wanting to do the right thing.’

‘I’ll regret it, I’m sure.’ Nesta leaned into his touch. ‘I’m worried what sort of danger you’ll be in if I go there smelling of you.’

‘A lovely fragrance,’ he said, a brief smile touching his lips. ‘I can be with you, if that’s what you want.’

It was so tempting to keep Lucien close, but he deserved more than to be her shield. She could barely imagine the sort of rage that Cassian would have for the male. It wasn’t fair to Lucien.

‘If you can winnow me, that is enough.’

His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to his body. It ought to have felt wrong to fall so easily into another male’s arms – especially this male. Lucien was bound to her sister just as she was bound to another. Yet, letting him hold her, where anybody could see, did not feel wrong. It was nice to be embraced and know that Lucien wouldn’t demand more, wouldn’t tease her or goad her for a reaction.

‘Later,’ she said, steeling her nerves. ‘Tomorrow. Today, I want to spend with you.’

***

There had been no discussion about what would happen with them after Nesta had told Cassian where to go. It hadn’t felt like the right time to bring it up, but it was rattling through Lucien’s head as the day wore on. In their few days together, it felt like he’d caught starlight in his hands and he was reluctant to let her go. But she needed to be alone, needed to stand on her own two feet without a male panting around her to learn who Nesta Archeron could be. And there would be many males keen to pant around her once word spread that Nesta was no longer bound to Cassian – but maybe some wouldn’t dare go near her for fear of the male’s reaction. Maybe Lucien was a little glad about that fact. He had little to offer her besides his wit.

In the afternoon, they took Jurian’s horse out for a walk since he’d left it stomping its hoof in the stable which would only need a good wind to knock it down. Lucien helped Nesta into the saddle where she sat sideways on, like a good female from the Autumn Court would rather than astride. Reluctantly, she wore one of Vassa’s garments since the few she’d taken from Velaris were on the line drying.

‘It suits you,’ said Lucien, gesturing to the gown.

It was deceptively light, cut in a style favoured by the Continent with a low, scooped neckline, in a copper colour so dark it reminded him of dried blood. It was trimmed with gold as appropriate for a mortal queen but it did not look out of place on Nesta. If anything, it suited her better than Vassa.

One corner of her mouth twitched, but Nesta remained observing the birds flitting through the low-hanging branches of the forest.

‘What, no quick, clever reply in response?’

‘I know it suits me,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘The pattern is like something you’d wear.’

Lucien led the grey mare through the undergrowth, but he could not focus on little else except for Nesta’s words. The gown suited her because it was reminiscent of him and they had – surprisingly – meshed well.

Unannounced, Nesta asked, ‘Will you ever return to the Autumn Court?’

His heart had been carved from his chest that day. Despite the horrors the Forest House carried, the traumas he had witnessed or been part of, Lucien still longed to feel the cool winds rustle through the golden trees. He missed their festivals endlessly. No court could quite captivate him in the same way. There would always be a part of him that wished to return home.

‘My head will be mounted on a spike on my father’s gates if I return.’

‘It will be the most beautiful decoration,’ she replied, lips quirking again.

Lucien tugged on her leg. ‘Cruel female.’

It was surprising that a perpetual spring had bored Lucien in no time at all, but he could never find autumn dull. High fae and lesser fae alike would gather around bonfires, drinking cider brewed from the sweet apples that autumn yielded, sharing songs and poems. It was a good place. It could be somewhere great with the right hands guiding it.

‘Why do you ask, Nesta?’

‘If I go where you go, one day, I wonder if the Autumn Court will be on our path.’

Again, she kept her chin lifted rather than look at him while he led the horse by its reins. He sensed these conversations were difficult for her; it was far easier to lock away her desires before anybody could ruin them.

‘You would like it,’ he murmured.

‘It has always been my favourite season.’  

[the-woman-upstairs]

Santiago picking Claudia’s dress out of her ashes and taking it like a trophy…oh I hope Louis personally rips him to shreds.

[cupids-fiction]

there is sometimes an overwhelming urge within me to get into call of duty purely for those little gay fuckers that haunt me on every platform

soap i see you. once i get over my fear of cis male cod gamers ill come get you dw bae.

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking about thomas lynch's "we get no choice. if we love, we grieve." and sister warrior after sister warrior finding a family in the ocs and being left indelibly inked by their time with their sisters and then falling away one by one by one, pawns sacrificed in a greater game, sister after sister after sister chewed up and spat out and left in the dust. warriors carrying their sisters and then carrying their memories and bending beneath the weight of all these ghosts. buoyed only by those who still stand beside them, who reach a hand out to raise them up, who will fall in a day or a week or a month but in that moment they're there with a forearm to grasp and a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on, the tightness of bonds formed in those intimate isolated spaces.

love like a campfire, embers smoldering long after the flames have died off, and sitting by waiting and praying for them to burn out so you can finally, finally rest. beatrice with a chest full of embers from fires that had warmed her for so long, clinging to that last measure of comfort, the lingering heat of that love, in the wake of the ark

[hersurvival]

My dearest flickering Flame,

I find myself alone, 4 a.m, writing you another apology. For I am never finished. And I have broken a promise.

You see, it is already Monday, it came so soon! And I had said I would have more for you. But you see, I have been caught up in you once again and the days they surpass me, time eludes me, escapes me - as I find a shelter within you, for the duration of the last week.

I will finish what I started for you and I hope as much as you do it may come along soon. There are other matters to attend to, though, that have left me unbelievably mad. And what can one do with mad?

I am not certain. I have spent my entire existence with a rage, born with it, and have yet to find any good for it.

All I do know, is it is not for you. I must rid myself of these feelings before I can return to my promises.

I understand I have already broken them. But the day is young, yet. The sun hasn't even begun to light the horizon. Perhaps I can clear my mind and be okay before the night time. We shall hope and see.

Sincerely, with guilt,

Your broken and violent girl