#child aelin

[pergaminaa]

Modern au:

When Dorian started dating Manon, he was able to see a few things in her that made him suspect something was off. At that point, he was able to see the pressure her grandmother put her under and he felt helpless in the face of that kind of thing.

Manon was really going out of her way to make sure everything is perfect and yet her grandmother kept scrutinizing her.

At formal events, he got to see that first hand. Manon would be super stressed, it would get worse about 2-3 days prior where her anxiety is at it’s peak; she won’t be able to sleep, and can’t keep anything down.

Dorian can see all of her effort and yet her grandmother’s responses are a variety of

“Don’t embarrass me,”

“What a disgrace,”

“This is worthless,”

And it really angers him.

But that was nothing compared to what he saw when they moved in together.

Prior to that, Manon was able to maintain her mask of aloofness and perfection. It was only when they lived together than Dorian saw how she struggles with insecurity and abandonment issues.

He learned of the long months she’d spend at boarding school, her grandmother wouldn’t allow her to return home if her grades are anything below a 100%. She’d call her an embarrassment and let her spend the holidays studying and making up for those grades.

He also saw how she struggles with boundaries sometimes. Moreover, he noticed that she instantly panics whenever she thinks that she made a mistake. Like forgetting her jacket on the counter, or leaving some of her work behind on the coffee table.

Dorian hates hates hates how her grandmother turned her into this person. She honestly believes that as soon as she commits the tiniest mistake, Dorian is going to leave and find someone better. He told her time and again that he doesn’t want anyone else, better or worse. He wants only her and nothing will ever change that.

But of course, his reassurance does nothing to elevate those issues that have been there for two decades. All he can is promise to always be there, that no matter what happens he isn’t going to leave or find someone else.

Now another issue is their families. They attend the same social circles and their families no each other. Chaol is against their relationship because he wants someone other than a Blackbeak to be with his friend. Aelin doesn’t care much, she tries to get along with Manon but the two of them don’t spend any time together to have any sort of relationship.

Then there are his parents; Georgina wants to pick her son’s lifelong partner. The fact that he’s with the Blackbeak heir infuriates her to no end.

Now normally he would ignore everyone and does as he pleases. However, now that he lives with Manon and knows exactly how vulnerable she is, he had a meeting with his parents and Chaol.

He sat them all down, and told them in no certain terms that if he brings Manon over for a visit, if any one of them make her feel unwanted, he’d get her out of there immediately and never return back there.

Dorian is serious, she’s been though enough and he sees how she struggles. That the perfectly put up woman is hiding a lot of things underneath and he hates how he can’t shoulder some of those things. All he can do is love her through it all and hope that one day it will be enough.

[erisvansserra]

Follow You Fenrys x Reader x Azriel

Summery: 30 years ago, Y/N fell through a portal and woke up in Prythian naked an afraid. She counted herself lucky that she was found by the shadowsinger and his high lord, who took her in and gave her a home. Despite their hospitality she dreamed of her home and the mate she left behind, Fenrys, who searched for her until one day.. he finds her.

AN:- GUYS this fanfic has legit been keeping me up at night so I thought I would share it with you all hahaha!!.

The light of the morning sun edged its head between the crack in the curtains, Azriel knew you were still asleep in the bed you shared, still snuggled between the sheets. He cursed himself for not coming through the door and choosing to fly straight to the balcony after work, spy work. Slowly he pushed the door open and poked his head inside. Relieved to see he hadn't wakened you up, he walked inside, spreading his wings to block out the rising sun from your face. Closing the door he walked over to his side of the bed, sat down and started kicking off his boots when he heard you stir behind him. "You're home late" You groan as he tips his head over his shoulder to look at you "Did something happen?" you continue and shuffle along the bed to make some room. "No, just had some reports to write up" Azriel answered as he slid into bed and wrapped you in his arms. Smiling softly, you nuzzled into his chest, still cold from riding on the wind to get home. You hummed sleepily and allowed yourself to fall back into that familiar comfort he offered you and began to dream.

30 Years Earlier Terrasen, your home as wild and free as your queen, Aelin. You sat at the dining table with Lysandra and Aedion as they spoke softly to their adoptive daughter. You hummed to yourself as you worked on the jewelry in your hand, slowly needling little diamonds onto it. You were so deep in concentration you didn't notice your mate's approach until his large hands landed on your shoulders, jolting you slightly. "Fen!" you yelp turning in your seat to look back at the golden male. Fenry's smiled down to you, his large canines making his smile look a little more sinister than he attended. "Did I scare you?" he chuckled, sliding into the seat next to you after placing a small kiss to the top of your head. "No" you lie and continue working on the necklace you're working on for Lysandra. You felt him move closer to you, his nose buried in your hair as he inhaled your sent "why don't we go for a swim? get your mind off this" he purred, his hand coming up to cover the necklace in your hand. You felt the want for him almost immediately, the hot pool in the pits of your stomach started to raise its head at his tone of voice. "There is a child present" Aedion snapped from the other side of the table, drawing both sets of eyes to him. Both you and your mate chuckled and decided to leave the room, together.

Fenrys was your typical fae male mate, he never left your side unless he needed to, he was territorial and protective... but what you loved most about him was he was fun. His golden hair was tied back in a bun, showing off his high cheekbones and sharp jaw line that made him look delicious. His onyx eyes slid to yours as a small smirk rose on his lips " like what you see?" he asked as he wrapped a toned, golden arm around your waist. "Always" you answer matching his smirk with your own. Your answer made his smile grow into his normal shit-eating grin, you roll your eyes playfully and rest your head on his shoulder as you continue making your way outside. The warm air kissed your skin as you opened the door to the courtyard, it was a beautiful day.

You and Fenrys skinny dipped in the lake not far from the keep, splashing each other playfully while swimming around in the cool water. What neither mate realized was this was the last day they were going to spend together, the last happy memory they would share before you were stripped from his arms in the middle of the night.

And dumped in Prythian.

Present Day

Mate, mate, mate, mate.

You miss your mate. As the dream rattles you awake you realise that Az is still asleep next to you, guilt hits you so fast you run out of the room and into the bathroom to throw up. As you retch into the toilet bowl you hear Az approach the bathroom and knock softly from the other side of the door. "Another dream?" he asks as he enters the room and crouches beside you to rub soothing circles on your back. "My mate" you answer as you peer at him between strands of fallen hair. He nods slowly, understanding the pain you feel and tucks some strands behind your ear. "Did you dream of falling again?" he asks, his voice as soft and gentle as silk. You nod once in response as your gut twists again threatening to spill more into the toilet bowl. Azriel was the most understanding person you had ever met, you weren't always with him, you were friends first. He was the one to find you that day, laying cold and naked on the forest floor. He took you to Rhysand, where he looked into your mind and saw everything, your home, your family.. Fenrys. It had taken some time for both sides to trust you, but in those years that Rhys was under the mountain you had grown close with the inner circle. Particularly Az. He knew your past, knew of the mate that you had been ripped away from... but he loved you all the same and was willing to give you the time you needed.

So here you both sat in front of the toilet bowl for the thousandth time in your relationship. Him giving you soft soothing words while you mourned the loss of your mate and your life. After some time, he scooped you into his arms and placed you back into bed. ......................

Later that day you sat in the living room with Feyre and Nyx, laughing as you watched the young lad learn to walk but failing. A warm cup of tea sat in your hands, the heat slightly burning the sensitive flesh of your palm, but you ignored it. Azriel had been called on by Cassian, something about a disturbance near the Illyrian camps they had to check out. He placed a warm kiss on your cheek before he flew off with his brother. "Any improvement?" Nesta asked as she walked into the room and plopped onto the couch next to you. "Hardly" Feyre answered as she took the babe back into her arms and planted kisses all over his face, making nyx scream in laughter. You and Nesta smiled as Nyx's fits of giggles filled the room, you looked to Nesta and offered her the cup in your hands. "its still warm" you prod as you hand the tea to her, she sips it then hands it back to you.

You and Nesta were best friends, she was a huge bitch to you at the start but recently... she's been the only person besides Az that understands your pain, your longing for home. She's also the only person in this whole house that reads dirty smut books with you.

"Bleh, I hate peppermint tea" she croons as she pulls a face, looking at the cup in your hands. "But its good for you" you jest and give her a sweet smile, bringing the tea back to your own lips. You and Nesta spend the rest of the afternoon talking and watching her nephew rise and fall. Feyre is about to out Nyx down for a nap when Rhysands voice fills your head.

"Come to the forest at once"

You and Feyre share a look, obviously she had been given orders to winnow you there. She quickly explains this all to Nesta then plops her son into her sisters hands, you hadn't had time to say anything to Nesta before Feyre grabbed you and winnowed away to the forest. Snow crunched under your feet as you landed behind the three warriors. Cassian, Az and Rhysand all had their weapons out and their backs turned to you. The wind hit your body so hard it almost knocked you backwards, the smell of pine and snow filling your senses as you tried to blink away the stinging in your eyes. "I don't want to fight you" came a rough voice that didn't belong to the three males in front of you, but did belong to someone you knew. Rowan, your oldest cousin and longest friend. Stalking forward you pushed through the three males that shielded you, you could have fell to your knees as Rowan's eyes met your own. A hand flew in front of you protectively, but you knocked it away as you ran to him, calling his name over and over. "y/n!" Rowan shouted, dropping his sword so he could wrap you in his arms. "How? How?" You asked as you buried your face into your cousin's neck, your body shaking as he held you against him. "Aelin, she worked it out" he explained as he pulled you away from him, his eyes darting from one side of your face to another taking in everything you were and everything you are. The Night Court stood behind you in complete shock, their faces blank as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. Azriel felt the pull to go and comfort you but held strong, not knowing this male and how he would react. Then a crunch of twigs caught their attention, a small blonde female emerged from the forest surrounding them, a small ball of fire danced in her palm as she walked towards you and rowan. You looked to Aelin for the first time in 30 years, she looked slightly older but unchanged from the Aelin in your memories. You didn't even shout her name, as she approached you fell to your knees and placed your head on the snow below you. "Aelin, forgive me" you pleaded to her, to your queen "I tried to come home but-" you continued but your words hitched in your throat as you felt her body call over yours. "Don't apologies you idiot" she said against your skin, slowly you raised and hugged her back while rowan stared down the night court still behind you. "Should we introduce ourselves?" Cassian mumbled to no one in particular catching your attention. You take Aelin's hand and help her stand; you walk her and your cousin over to your friends and make introductions. "This is your cousin?" Cassian asked, nodding his head to Rowan as he stood with Aelin, a protective arm wrapped around her waist as he held her close. You nodded in response and looked up to the white hair male, his green eyes still darted between each person in front of him. " He is a bit of a brute" you say as you turn your attention back to the night court, earning a small smile from Feyre and a chuckle from Az. It hit you then, Azriel was here and had watched you reunite with your family, your court. You took a few steps toward him, but he held up his hand stopping you from coming any closer, confused, you nodded and stood still. Rhysand invited Aelin and Rowan to stay in the townhouse while the night court discussed their next move, they obliged and allowed Rhy's to winnow them away. "You must be happy" Feyre said coming to your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "I am" you said smiling back to her " I could go home" you continue softly. Feyre looks over her shoulder to Az who stares emotionless into the distance, she sighs and then turns her head forward again and whispers "he will miss you". You feel that guilt from earlier pang around in your chest again, you don't dare to look back at the shadowsinger, you and he both knew that your time together had just come to an end. " I will miss him too" you confess as Rhys winnows back to the forest.

"Come on, I will take you to be alone with them" Rhy's says and extends a tanned hand to you, smiling you leave Feyre's embrace and fit your hand in his. Not looking back as he takes you to the family you have dreamed of every night for the last 30 years.

[yazthebookish]

Why is the whole "Gwyn is a child" topic is being discussed again? Sarah killed it in May 2021 by confirming Gwyn is a "fully grown woman". She left no question about it.

Cassian calling her a girl is irrelevant because Rowan called Aelin both a girl and a child, that didn't stop him from ending up with her because we know Aelin is already almost an adult at 19.

Sarah retconned (which is not something new) the aging process of Fae in ACOMAF. The bat boys and Mor fought in the Great War in their mid-20s, are we to believe the Night Court is sending children as soldiers? Mor and Lady of Autumn were betrothed/engaged at 18, would SJM promote child marriages? Gwyn tells Nesta she didn't get a chance to lie with a male during the Great Rite, meaning she was already old enough to have sexual relations with others.

The books have enough hints that High Fae are already adults once they reach their 20s. If people didn't complain about Mor and the Bat Boys joining a war as "children" in their 20s, then there's no point in arguing about Gwyn's age over something that was retconned in ACOMAF not ACOSF.

Her being bubbly has nothing to do with maturity, if you don't have a bubbly adult in your life it's probably dull. Also, it's not like she's bubbly and unserious 24/7, she's vigilant about her work and is quite empathetic and helps Nesta understand her own feelings.

This argument has been dead for 3 years and a half, let's put it to rest.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.1 (Azriel x reader, eventual Fenrys x reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terassen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

See masterlist

A/n: hey everyone! so this is my first work on here and I just hope you will enjoy it. Please do not hesitate to comment whether you like it/want more of it or if you have some good constructive criticism to give! I will give some clarifications at the end of this chapter as to not give away any spoilers beforehand:)

Being a female Illyrian with wings was never meant to be easy. Growing up and not knowing your parents was perhaps the greatest pain a child could endure. Especially if that child grows up in a cruel place like the Illyrian camps. For the first 20 years of her life, y/n knew nothing but pain, mistreatment and hatred as she spent her youth at the cruel hands of an old Illyrian bastard. Of course, what y/n went through was never kept as a secret but it is not like anyone cared anyway. This was Illyria, the mistreatment of females was not a surprise. In fact, the vile monsters who called themselves warriors, encouraged it.

And just like any other female unlucky enough to be born in Illyria and have wings, y/n had to get her wings clipped. Even after all those years, that moment that changed everything for y/n is still so vivid in her mind...

The leaves in the forest crunched as his boots kept stepping on them while dragging her through the maze of trees.

"Please, please I beg you do not take my wings!"

He kept on ignoring her. She called him a 'He' because y/n would never willingly say his disgusting name. Not when he was the cause of all her trauma and illnesses. She kept thrashing, begging and trying to get away but it was useless.

"I beg yo-"

Her words were cut short as a slap was delivered to her face.

"Shut you mouth! you useless bitch"

She never begged. No, y/n was strong, even then, at her weakest she was strong. She never begged. Not when he would burn her hands, not when he would whip her back, not when he would beat her up because she forgot to do a chore. But now she begged. She begged for her only form of freedom, her precious wings. At that moment y/n knew what had to be done. This was the last straw.

"Stay like that on your knees and do NOT move, or else you won't like the consequences."

As he turned around to search for his tools, y/n sat there on the ground in the middle of this dark forest just outside the outskirts of the village and knew she could not go down like those before her. For 20 years she submitted to his every will but not now, not again. Weak coward is what she has been and now it was time to change that.

When he turned around, y/n was holding her only form of protection, her pocket knife that she would always hide under her clothes. When he was close enough, y/n gave a final prayer to the mother and attacked him with a sloppy move that would result in either her freedom or death.

"It is time to truly make you bound to me you bi-"

He did not get to finish his words as the knife he did not see in the dark, found its mark in his throat. Crimson red blood was everywhere as that monster choked on his own blood like a damn fool and finally, slumped to the ground.

The rest? Well, the rest became history as y/n left that night with his blood still soaking her own clothes and body and his fresh corpse laying on the ground. She would never let anyone ever dictate her life again. Never would she be weak again. And so, for the next 80 years of her life, y/n went from one place to another and taught herself how to fight and be like a warrior. Her name began spreading around like wildfire, as people started talking of the Illyrian female who not only managed to keep her wings but also killed her abuser.

She helped hundreds, by recruiting victims of different horrible events and teaching them how to fight and protect themselves. Y/n became a legend especially in the eyes of female Illyrians who tried to follow her lead. This was also the reason why y/n one day opened her door to see the High Lord of the Night Court waiting for her. The smile on Rhysands face was blinding as he praised y/n while also telling her about how it was a dream of his to get rid of the old Illyrian traditions and rules set against the females. It was on that eventful day that the High Lord also offered y/n to join his court and make a very impactful visit to Illyria after all these years to help him make those changes.

At the time, it was a huge step for y/n as she delegated her role as a trainer to her first-best student who was more than honored to continue y/n's job in the training academy. When she came to Velaris she was in awe of its beauty and comfort. The inner circle welcomed her with open arms and although y/n was a little distant at first, she soon got along well with everyone and especially Cassian as they trained daily together. It was also the time when the first seeds of her crush on Azriel were planted.

Therefore, by the age of 100, y/n was an official member of the night court, a legendary figure who started to make her changes during her visits to the Illyrian camps. This time, she went in not as a weakling, but as a feared and well-respected fighter, female and most of all, Illyrian. But even with all of the fierce titles that she got, y/n still felt like turning into a small, shy and meek girl whenever Azriel was around. Rhysand sending them together on constant missions did nothing to ease her increasing infatuations with the famed shadowsinger either.

Unfortunately, they got closer during the darkest of times when Rhysand sacrificed himself to protect his court and city from Amarantha. It was then that, Azriel and y/n shared their deepest, most raw and intimate moments with one another while also doing their best to protect the city in which they were locked in thanks to Rhysands wards. Those moments were what led y/n to confess her true feelings to the spymaster during the 4th year of what would be Amarantha's 50 year reign of terror. After that day, they truly became lovers in all aspects that mattered. Even though that unmistakable bond of a mate did not appear, y/n knew it was only a matter of time before they both felt it. There was no other way.

Today, sitting here on her lovers chair in his office, y/n felt proud of herself and her loved ones for overcoming so much. Rhysand and Feyre under the mountain, the war against Hybern, Nesta and Elain becoming high fae, and the attack on Velaris all left many scars both visible and invisible on everyone. Knowing that everyone has finally found some form of happiness and that her lover is safe with her should have made y/n happy, excited even. But as of late, she could not bring herself to feel anything because Azriel was not the male she once knew.

For a very long time now, the shadowsinger has been distancing himself from y/n in favor of spending more time with a specific redheaded priestess, Gwyneth. What was once called the hour of reading by y/n and Az in the comfort of their home, turned into reading with Az and Gwyn in the library. Even during training, Gwyn would respectfully decline y/n or anyone elses offers to train her and would instead ask Azriel to teach her. He would always happily oblige, leaving y/n alone as Cassian trained with Nesta. At first, y/n tried to understand and reason by thinking that since Azriel was the one to save the priestess from facing a terrible fate in the library of Sangravah, it was only fair that she felt safe around him. However, the other priestesses were also saved by Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand and yet, y/n never saw them be as clingy as Gwyn was towards Azriel.

The final nail in the coffin came when Azriel started coming home late and locking himself up in his office and leaving early in the morning. This meant that y/n never saw her lover, let alone kissed or made love to him. That is how it led to her finally coming to his office to wait for him and get some answers to her questions.

"Y/n? W-what are you doing here?"

That slightly nervous voice drew her back into reality as y/n looked back from the window showing the beautiful city, to see Azriel standing in the doorway with dishelved hair and a sort of scared look in his eyes, no matter how much he tried to not show it, y/n knew him like the back of her hand. Being together for 52 years does that to you. This was not a good sign then, for Azriel never showed such a shameful expression and his shadows were nowhere in sight.

As y/n got up from the chair and started walking towards him, her mind and soul clinged onto that last thread of hope that the male whom she loved was not unfaithful to her, that he would explain everything and she would see that she was making silly little assumptions out of nothing.

Unfortunately, all that hope came crashing down as y/n got close enough to him and smelled that scent of another female, that scent that belonged to...Gwyn. And if the small dark marks that were peeking above the spymasters shirt were any indicator, they did more than just read together.

Y/n felt like she was drowning, like a huge mountain just crashed down on her and she was left under all that rubble to suffocate and die. She was frozen in her spot, unfeeling and unmoving as she felt her body shut down completely. Clearly, this only meant that she would shatter soon enough but not here, not in front of him. Never would she ever be weak infront of any male. And so, with a voice that conveyed no emotion, she asked, "How long?"

"Y/n ple-"

"How long, Azriel."

Azriel sighed as he looked anywhere but at her when he said, "Since the first time Nesta brought her to train with us."

"But that was 2 years ago."

After seeing him nod very slightly, she reigned in her tears that were burning the backs of her eyes, and asked one simple question,

"Why?"

Now it was the shadowsingers turn to look as emotionless as he could while saying, "Because she is my mate y/n."

Mate, mate, mate ofcourse he would have a mate, no matter how many years they were together, neither of them ever felt that bond snap. Foolish, so foolish to think, to hope that they were destined to be, that their bond would snap any moment. But how cruel can one be to hide the truth for 2 years, To go behind her back, even if Gwyn is his mate, and be unfaithful? To not admit the truth as if y/n wouldn't understand. And Gwyn? how could she never once mention it to y/n during all those moments spent together? How, how how..

As if that pain was not enough, Azriel confessed, "I am sorry y/n but truly, did you think we were fated to be? I always knew what we had was temporary, that we were never going to have a happy end as the cauldron would give us both our own mates. My love for you has always only been platonic...have you not noticed that I never once said 'I love you'? I saw you as a friend, a companion in whom I could loose myself for a while as I waited for my mate to come. Truly, you were good, so good to me, kind and caring and yet, so foolish. You imagined and expected too much of us y/n...for you I was a male whom you desperately loved but for me, you were simply someone who I could spend my time with until my mate arrived. I love Gwyn, I have taken her to the house of wind multiple times and made love to her there, I have spent my time understanding and creating as many memories as possible with her. From the moment I saw her 2 years ago when Nesta brought her, I felt this pull towards her and now...now I could never get enough. I do not say this to hurt you, but to make you see the truths that we were never what you wanted us to be."

Y/n took a deep inhale, the only indicator of her emotions at the moment while still processing his words and asked her final question while still staring at the wall behind him, "Who knew?"

Azriel was confused for a minute because after all that he had just confessed, she only asked that? Not to mention how much it was killing him to not understand her current emotions and expressions as y/n stayed completely unflinching, staring at the wall and expecting an answer from him. So, with a shameful sigh, the spymaster replied, "Everyone knew."

At that moment, y/n knew 2 things with clarity. First, never should you trust someone, no matter how close you are with them. Never should you give your heart to someone because in the end, they shall shatter it anyway. In this life, you are always on your own. Y/n has always been alone even after joining Rhys, y/n walked her own lonely road. Second, her "family" were traitorous liars. For the past 2 years as y/n descended back into her depressive moments, as she got flashbacks of those horrible times from her youth spent in the Illyrian village, as her panic attacks and insecurities started to resurface, the inner circle did nothing to pull her out of it. But what else would you expect from them? of course they would protect Azriel and his actions, no matter how disgusti-

"Y/n? please talk to me, I am going mad here with your lack of words and emotions. Please sweetheart." as Azriel's hand made contact with y/n's wrist, it was as if an electric shock brought her back to life.

Y/n slapped him right across the face as she said her next words in a tone so cruel and unfeeling, her enemies did not even hear that tone before meeting their death's at her hands, "If you touch me again, my knife shall find it's mark between your eyes, so unless you do not want to leave your precious mate a widow so soon, I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight, shadowsinger."

"Y/n ple-"

"Oh and, since you are such a loyal dog to him, do tell your rotten high lord that I am leaving his rotten court. I shall be gone by sunrise."

As she turned to leave his office throught he backdoor, Azriel did something that Y/n had never known him capable of doing. He fell on his knees as tears threatened to spill from his eyes and begged in a voice so shaky, y/n could only think whether he was even real.

"Y/n I beg you, let us talk properly, Gwyn kept telling me how I must let you know. That she hates being a secret but I was such a coward I-I..plea-"

"I do not care what Gwyn has to say. Save your tears and pleas for someone who cares Azriel, you are right, you are a coward and perhaps you always were one for playing with my feelings in such a cruel way. Do not come after me or I swear I won't hesitate to end you with my bare hands."

With that, y/n turned her back on the male for whom she would once move the mountains for, for whom she would sacrifice herself for. The male whom she loved so much and yet, this whole time he toyed with her, he saw her as a placeholder. What a blind fool have you been y/n.

The second y/n made sure that Azriel left the house, she broke down in tears. For the first time in a very long time, y/n cried unstoppable tears. But that moment came to an abrupt end as she heard a voice. Whether it was within her mind or from somewhere else she did not know and did not care because even though the voice sounded so far away, she got this immediate urge within her soul to go find it.

Deep down, y/n knew she should let it be, that she is possibly imagining things and that she should start packing now but that urge within her tightened as if wanting her to go find the source of the voice. So, with a final wipe of her tears, y/n stood and leapt through her window, spreading her wings and following that string to reach the distant voice.

As y/n began nearing the source of the sound, she realized that it is coming from the house of wind. She should have turned around and left at that second because seeing this house now only brought back Azriels words about how he spent his time here with Gwyn. Atleast that is what the y/n who was not possesed by an urge would do. But alas, this thread only grew stronger within her, leaving her no other choice.

As she began walking down the halls of the house, y/n looked back on all her memories with the inner circle here. Once, those memories would have made her smile fondly but now, they only make her feel anger and disgust. They knew this whole time...such liars, such tra-

No...this could not be it. The urge within her must have been playing a foolish trick because no way was the voice coming from this room. But that urge within her had died down as if finally only the double doors in front of y/n were stopping her from getting to the voice. But this room wasn't just any room. It was the warded room containing all 3 objects of the Trove AND the Book of Breathings.

From here, she could clearly hear the ugly, hissing voice of the book saying, "Welcome, The Terror."

"Why are you hesitating? Open the door child, open it."

As if on cue, the wards around the room disappeared and the doors opened for her. Y/n could only be confused for a second before an unknown power forced her to walk into the area. And there it was, that book sitting on the circular table in the middle of the room, beckoning for her to come closer.

"The Iron Phoenix, you finally came to learn your destiny."

Y/n scoffed as she looked at the silly book from a distance and said, "Did you truly waste my time by making me come to you so that you could spit your nonsense at me? I have enough to deal with already, I do not need another headache from you."

As she turned around to leave, the book hissed loudly, "Do not mock me you fool, I know your deepest secret Winged Fury, a secret so precious not even your once beloved lover knows."

At that, y/n turned around with a shocked expression all over her face and asked, "How? How do you know of it?"

"You can not know more than me, Valkyrie, I am the one who knows it all."

It seems today was the day when y/n had to find out just how little she knows about everything. She had enough, and this stupid book will be the unfortunate one to be the outlet of her emotions. Furious, she took quick strides to reach it as she began, "How dare you?! you call me here to spit nothing of value at me while I just went through the wo-"

A sudden wave of power hit her as y/n felt like she was stuck in one place right in front of the book. Her walls, her mental walls they...they were being melted down as she felt her mind fall into some hypnotic spells.

With a voice so beautiful and eerily soothing, the book says, "Open me, open me Braveheart and see your true destiny."

Somewhere, the last sane part of her was telling y/n that this was wrong, that whatever will happen once she opens the book won't be good. Unfortunately, y/n seemed unable to follow that voice as her fingers made contact with the cover of the ancient book and flipped it open.

The book started flipping its own pages until it landed on the one with language so old, y/n knew that it was not remembered within the past history. Her mouth began moving against her will as she began saying the words on the book in such an experienced manner, it felt as if the ancient object had posessed her.

At some point, y/n could hear distant voices...was that Rhys? Az? Cas? or no, no maybe that is Nesta or another female who is screaming? Y/n could not move, could not think, as if her sole purpose was to finish the spell. She could distantly feel her body loosing its physicality. Was she disappearing? Was she becoming a ghost?

As she was saying the final words of the book, y/n turned around to find everyone from the inner circle in the room trying to get closer to her. Despair was all over their faces but it was Azriels tear striken face that y/n saw for the last time before darkness welcomed her.

"You are home now, Stormbreaker, you are home."

"Now, you shall unfold your true destiny."

With a jolt, y/n shot her eyes open and got up from...was this a grassy hill? as she turned to look behind her, there was a small lake with a white...is that a deer? What is this place? Where was she?

But y/n did not get to explore anything else as she felt the cool edge of a knife press into her throat from behind as a male voice said to her, "You move, you die."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n: Damn this was fun to write! What secret does y/n have? I did leave a very tiny clue on that for anyone who might find it;) Anyway, I know most of you were maybe expecting Az to cheat with Elain but i am a Gwynriel shipper through and through and just could not think of Elain being such a homwrecker. Of course I am pretty sure Gwyn isn't one either butttt just for the sake of plot ya know. This won't be the last time we see the acotar characters as they will appear hopefully in the later chapters. But for now, sit back and watch y/n's new journey in this new world.

[ircnwrought]

__________△       DESPITE       THE       NERVES       &&       THE       PAIN       SHE       FINDS       HERSELF       IN,       HIS       JEST       BRINGS       A       LIGHT       LAUGH       TO       HER.     she    tries    not    to    wince    at    the    movement    it    causes,       but    she    is    glad    to    have    him    at    her    side    in    this    moment.     ❛    i   believe   we   could   come   to   an   arrangement.    ❜       no   one   has   ever   treated   her   this   gently.     he    has    just    seen    her    kill    a    man    without    flinching    &&    still    looks    upon    her    with    such    softness,       she    cannot    quell    the    way    her    stomach    flips.     ❛    i   know   you'll   intend   them   to   be   guard   dogs,       but   i   warn   you   that   i   will   spoil   them.    ❜     she   grounds   herself   in   the   way   he   strokes   her   hand,       in   the   way   he   has   left   his   face   open   to   her.     she    wonders    if    he    could    see    the    shift    occurring    in    her     (       her   entire   world   seems   to   have   tilted   on   its   axis    &&    she   is   only   just   now   finding   her   new   balance     )

△__________       HER       SHOULDER       IS       ON       FIRE       AS       THE       PHYSICIAN       PACKS       &&       WRAPS       THE    WOUND.       she   never   looks   away   from   him,       trying     (    &&    failing     )       to   keep   the   pain   off   her   face.     still,       she    does    not    make    a    sound.     ❛    i   look   forward   to   it.       i   have   only   seen   the   beach   twice    &&    have   not   stepped   foot   in   a   sea.       terrassen   is   mountainous.       we   swim   in   the   lakes    &&    rivers.    ❜       her   tone   is   wistful   as   she   thinks   of   home.     she    misses    it    deeply.       she   always   knew   that   taking   a   reigning   monarch   as   a   husband   would   mean   splitting   time   between   their   respective   countries,       but   sometimes   she'll   smell   pine   or   feel   a   breeze   just   a   certain   way    &&    think   of   her   birthplace   with   a   bittersweet   nostalgia.       he   gives   into   her   dream   of    family,       of    ordered    chaos,     &&    she   looks   at   him   anew.     there    is    wonder    &&    astonishment    in    her    gaze    &&    she    offers    a    watery    smile.     damn    her    for    melting    as    she    does.     ❛    it   will   be   a   shared   burden       …    ❜     teasing   is   cut   short   as   she   bites   her   lip   to   stop   the   term   of   endearment   from   leaving   her   lips.     my    heart.       here,    she   can   pretend   it   is   because   of   the   physician's   now   finished   work.     she    tastes    blood.       she   hears   him   begin   to   pack   his   instruments,       leaving   instructions   for   care    &&    assurance   he   will   check   on   her   before   the   end   of   the   night.     the    queen    is    lucky,       she   catches.     lucky    indeed.

"Naturally," he continues her jest, amusement playing at the corners of his lips despite the seriousness of their situation. "Although, I think I'd prefer a different kind of treat..." he winks, ignoring the fire burning in his stomach as the physician approaches. It was taking all his effort and control to remain calmly seated at his wife's side, instead of raging to his men to immediately find who the assassin was working for. His expression softens at Aelin's earnestness in response to his suggestion, and he nods. "Of course, I'll get you two," he promises, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand.

He flinches as the physician smoothly pulls the knife free from Aelin's shoulder and staunches the sudden gush of blood that follows. Remarkably, his reaction is almost greater than his wife's own response and he looks at her in surprise - he is accustomed to obtaining injuries of similar severity, but that would not stop him from roaring with pain. But, for now, he ignores the implication behind Aelin's evident familiarity with pain (he'd drawn his own assumptions about her numerous scars, but had hoped he might have been wrong) and remains focused on her words, a small smile tugging his lips upwards. "Yes. We must visit as soon as you are recovered," he nods, certain that their army could manage without them for a day or two. His expression turns uncharacteristically soft as she continues his talk of children, and he hums in agreement. "We can have that," he assures her. "In fact, we will have that. As many children as you wish. Just as long as I don't have to clean up after them all," he teases, ever so gently moving over to press a kiss to her cheek. Bizarrely, the thought of half a dozen children running down the corridors of the palace does not feel him with fear as it once did - not when he imagines Aelin's eyes that gaze up at him from their tiny faces.

[danikamariewrites]

hii!! I was wondering if u could write a fic with azriel and one of the spies he trains, kind of like arobynn and aelin but not creepy lol. azriel always protects reader yet when rhys notices the special treatment in his court, he grows distant. angst ensues!! possibly smut whatever youre feeling!

My Sweet Spy

Azriel x reader

Notes: I hope you don’t mind that it’s in bullet form anon! I can’t believe I haven’t thought of something like this before, I did change it a little and made them fall in love (so not rlly a master and apprentice thing) I also don’t know the word count for this but know it’s a lot.

Warnings: angst, enemies to friends to lovers, fighting and violence, blood (apologies for any typos I sped through editing this)

Your father was one of Azriel’s senior spies. At 100 years old you were still acting like a petulant child, driving your father mad. Being at his wits end he dropped you off in Velaris for training with Azriel. It was more of a punishment than anything

He wanted the high lord and spymaster to set you straight

During one of your father’s more high profile missions he was attacked and didn’t survive

His death made you resent Azriel for a long time

You didn’t come to training on time or at all some days, you wouldn’t speak for almost a year, and you acted out so bad (during Nesta’s stint at the bars as well) you and Nesta were separated and it was time for an intervention

While Nesta stayed at the House of Wind you stayed in the Town House

You still refused to speak with anyone, especially Azriel, but you pulled yourself together

Though your father was a hard-ass you loved him dearly. He was the only person you had left in the world

Realizing you couldn’t blame Azriel or Rhysand for his death you started putting in the effort of training and being a better person. If anything you were really at training for Nesta. You missed your friend and she was the only person you would talk to. Meeting Gwyn and Emerie at training made you light up. You hadn’t had many friends as an adult so this group of girls excited you.

You still wouldn’t speak to Azriel. At least not in depth. You would acknowledge him, giving him nods and the occasional yes and no. Azriel tried so hard to get you to open up. He apologized about your father’s death and even went as far as buying you a box of your favorite pastries, but nothing.

Months after Nyx was born and Nesta, Gwyn, & Emerie won the Blood Rite you were starting to warm up to everyone. You even spoke to Azriel, “Thank you.” Azriel was taken aback by how quietly you approached him, even his shadows were unaware of you. “You’re welcome.” He didn’t ask for what. Azriel had a feeling that those two words encompassed everything from putting up with you to housing and training you.

You started going to family dinners and get togethers more. While you still didn’t talk much you were showing more emotion.

You were on time for training and showed improvement. To Azriel’s surprise you were more skilled than he thought. When he reported your progress to Rhys he seemed to take interest in your skills. “Maybe her father taught her more tricks of the trade than we thought.” Azriel didn’t like what Rhys’s tone was suggesting.

Azriel tensed, waiting for the order he knew was coming. Rhys gave his brother a look he knew all too well. Then the dreaded words left his mouth, “I want you to build her up. Y/n’s father was a valuable asset, we need that again.” Azriel clenched his jaw. Doing his best to bite his tongue to think about his words.

The Spymaster knew this was an order from his High Lord, not a suggestion from his brother.

So Azriel began your training. You became more observant, an extension of Azriel’s shadows. His own shadows took a liking to you. Becoming their second master on missions, they protected you.

The only missions Azriel would take you on would be a year after your training started. And they would never be solo trips. You would go with him or another partner on short missions. You were never far from Velaris and if need be Azriel could come get you if you were in danger.

There was definitely a few tense nights where you two spent the night at an inn. You two never knew how to approach each other, never wanting to say the wrong thing to one another.

Your first solo mission was given to you by Rhys. The High Lord went over his brother’s head assigning you this. “I believe you are ready to do this y/n. You have shown change and a tenacity I haven’t seen since Feyre under the mountain.”

The high praise from Rhys made your heart soar. The fact that your change was noticed made you feel like life was going well. That there was a place for you.

“Thank you, Rhysand.” You bow your head slightly. “Azriel has trained you well, and you’ve done excellent work over the last few months.” Rhys slides a file across his desk to you. Opening it he informs you that you’ll be traveling to just outside Vallahan. A male who was once on Kier’s council defected and has been on the run for years. He has crimes to answer for and you will be delivering the High Lord’s justice.

When you didn’t show up to training Azriel went looking for you. Not being able to find you in the House he went to Rhys. “I sent her on a mission to the continent. Caliban was sighted and I thought she was the perfect person to handle it.”

Steam was coming out of Azriel’s ears. “How. Dare. You,” he gritted out. Rhys’s eyes widen at the change in his brother’s mood. Azriel was borderline erratic. “How dare you make that call!” Rhys held up a hand. “Brother, please. Calm down and think—” “Don’t tell me to cam down! Y/n has never been to the Continent! And she is far from ready to do something like this on her own!”

“Az just listen—” Azriel closed his eyes, taking deep breathes. “Where?” Rhys gave him a questioning look. “Where on the Continent id you fucking send her?” His voice was growing angrier with each word. Once Rhys told him he punched his brother square in the face and stormed out of the house.

Your father didn’t make many enemies but he had one that eluded him for years, Caliban. Once considered royalty in the Hewn City he became a fugitive of the Night Court. Now you were his target. Somehow he found out that he is your mission in Vallahan. Instead of running again he decided to face you.

Caliban made it easy for you to track him. To the point where you knew it was a trap

“You look just like your father,” was the first thing he said to you. “I suppose you’ll be just as easy to kill.” All rational thoughts left your head. You saw red as you charged at him. Azriel had taught you to used controlled emotion through your fighting technique, helping you unlearn your irrational behavior.

Diving at Caliban he swiftly side stepped you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Still a petulant child I see.” You let out growl from deep in your throat. Jumping to your feet you unsheathed the dagger from your thigh. Caliban drew his own from thin air, ready to fight.

You slashed hard, chasing every step he took with a more aggressive one of your own. If Caliban was going to kill you, you were going to make it hard for him.

If you were going to die tonight you were taking this vile murderer with you.

Letting your rage take hold your moves become erratic. Distracted. Caliban lands a blow to your gut forcing you to double over. He grabs a fist full of your hair, clutching it as tight as possible he punched your face over and over again. Once your face was drenched in blood Caliban dropped you to the ground.

You were breathing heavily through your mouth trying to regain your strength. To get back up and fight again.

Caliban circles you, sneering down at you. “Poor little spy. Going to die all alone just like her father.” He lets out a deep laugh. A burst of anger rushed through you. Holding on tight to your dagger you quickly sit up and slash at Caliban’s inner thigh.

He howls in pain and drops to the ground next to you. “You bitch!” He spits at you. You laugh, collapsing on your back.

As the edges of your vision blur all you can think about is your friends. Specifically Azriel. He has been a constant, steady presence over the last few years.

All you could think about was how ungrateful you’d been to him. All the attitude you gave him that you never apologized for. All the things you didn’t let go of and had blamed him for, like your new shitty life and your father’s death.

But your life wasn’t shitty. It was good and you had a purpose.

Your father’s murderer was going to get up and you weren’t going to fight back because you were just so, so tired. And maybe you deserved to die. But you didn’t want to die without telling Azriel everything you were thinking.

Caliban screamed in pain. Turning to face him you see your guardian angel kneeling over him. Truthteller dripping with Caliban’s blood.

Azriel was fuming. His chest moving up and down with his rapid breaths. “Azriel,” you croak out. He snaps out of his trance. “Y/n,” he slide over to you on his knees, cradling your head in his hands. “It’s ok. We’re going to take you home.”

Mor appeared over his shoulder. A relieved smile gracing her full lips. Azriel stands with you in his arms. Mor holds onto his arm winnowing you both back to the Town House. Azriel brings you right up to his old room, setting you down gently on the bed.

Mor comes back with Madja in tow. The old healer giving Azriel a look that said “I know this is your brother’s fault” as she mended your broken nose.

Azriel holds your hand the whole time, being that silent calming presence for you until Madja left

“Why didn’t you fight harder? I know you could’ve gotten up.” There was pain in his voice. A long painful silence fell between you two before you answered. “I thought maybe I deserved it.” Tears silently fall down your cheeks as Azriel lightly squeezes your hand. He felt his heart crack a little. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For everything.”

Azriel shakes his head, his heart fully cleaving in two. “There is nothing to be sorry for y/n. Things haven’t been easy for you and I’ve seen that.” Azriel pulls you onto his lap hugging you to his chest as you sob.

Weeks later Azriel hasn’t left your side. Your words troubled him and he wants to show you that you deserve everything good in life. It was his mission to make sure you stopped punishing yourself for his past.

While Cassian gave him suggestions Azriel ignored his brother. His and Nesta’s relationship got off to a rocky start and the couple are still working their issues out.

Az decided to take a different approach with you. Some days you would take breaks from training. He would take you out to eat in the city or for a bonding activity, as Az liked to call it.

You gave him a questioning look the first time he suggested it. Then followed up with, “We do what I want everyday. Let’s do something you want to do.” You raised a brow at him. Feeling like this was a trap. But you’d take it. “Ok,” you shrugged and headed out the door.

You dragged Azriel from shop to shop to see where his limit would be for you buying extravagant items. He didn’t complain once though. Az just smiled and held a majority of the bags for you

Over the next few months you became closer with Azriel. The two of you have gotten so close you consider him one of your best friends. The spymaster quickly became your confidant. You opened up to him about things you haven’t even told Nesta.

It was your scheduled fudge night, where you each bring a different kind of fudge home, eat and gossip. Along with the occasional glass of wine. You were laughing about a story Az was telling you about Cassian in their 30’s. Rhys away with his father and the pair decided to party it up in the city without their brother. Azriel isn’t sure how he lost Cassian but when he finally found the General he was floating on his back in the Sidra.

“Just floating,” you snorted out covering your mouth. “Yes! He told me he saw a mermaid and just had to woo her.” That made you laugh even harder, leaning on his shoulder as you regained your composure. Azriel’s heart stutters at your palm lying flat against his chest. Your touch is soft and welcomed.

Az smiles down at you, watching the color of your cheeks go from that cherry red to their normal color. Your lips still pulled into a smile as you wipe the tears from your eyes. Azriel didn’t realize that he was softly smiling at you until you looked at him asking, “What?” He shook his head, “Nothing.” His voice gentle.

You brush it off going back to the chocolate peanut butter fudge Azriel brought. Taking a bite and sinking back into the cushions you ask for another embarrassing story. Azriel obliges because he could never deny you.

Another bonding activity you two cherish is painting. Like for the kids Feyre runs classes for you and Az find it therapeutic

Once a month, when there’s a free afternoon in the studio’s schedule, Feyre lets you two have a free paint session. You and Az set up easels to face each other and chat while you paint.

Your first painting session was silent except for the sound of the brushes and occasional question azriel would ask you. You only gave him one word answers of course. And the painting you made was a mess of colors. You just had to get your anger put and didn’t feel like trying. At the end of the hour you shoved it in the trash can and left without Azriel.

Today that first session felt like a lifetime ago. You were chatting with Azriel, gossiping and laughing like you’ve been friends for centuries

This time you were adding to a painting you started two months ago. You really wanted to get better at drawing and even asked Feyre to teach you the basics in your free time. Hands are a hard thing to draw but the skill came quite easy to you.

Putting the finishing touches on the shading of the sword you stand back and admire your hard work. It’s of one of the most important moments in your life, when Azriel taught you how to hold a sword. On that day you knew everything would change. There was a new trust between you and Azriel, he trusted you and believed in your abilities. It felt like the first time someone really believed in you, like your potential was truly seen.

In the painting Azriel was guiding your hand to grip the hilt correctly. The sapphire siphons looked like they were glowing and the white ribbon you cut on your fourth try was wrapped around your wrist.

“Are you finally going to let me see it?” Az asked, dragging his own brush in long strokes across the canvas. You squinted your eyes in thought, debating if you truly wanted to show him or wait for Feyre’s critique. “I guess,” you sigh.

Azriel laid down his brush and pallet, wiping his hands off with a paint cover cloth. Coming to face your painting his jaw dropped and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Azriel was rendered speechless by your skills. “Wow,” he breathed out. “Y/n…this is incredible. The detail. My scars even,” his scared hand reached out to touch the painting before he realized he shouldn’t. Instead he mindlessly moved to gently hold your hand.

The two of you stood there staring at your art for a while. You finally noticed Azriel had laced his fingers with yours. You smile at your joined hands, squeezing his before staring back at the painting.

Azriel looks down at you, that love sick smile you always seem to miss was on his face again. Just as he’s about to say something (he hoped would be romantic) Feyre came back from lunch. The bell above the door chimed causing you to jump apart.

“Wow!” She quickly made her way over to you to get a better look at your painting. “Y/n! This is fantastic! We must get it framed and hang it in the house.” The High Lady rambled on, praising your skills.

Azriel crept out as you and Feyre talked. He would talk to you again and there would be another time to tell you what was on his mind.

Missions these days were always vetted by Azriel before Rhys asked you to do anything. You haven’t been doing many lately anyway. Helping Azriel delegate, strategizing, and desk work has been your strong suit.

When Rhys noticed he called you both to his office. Azriel could tell Rhys was angry with him. He knew his brother’s tells well enough. You on the other hand just thought Rhys wanted a progress report on your skills again.

“Sit,” the High Lord said through gritted teeth. You tried to avert Rhy’s gaze while Azriel held strong, staring his brother down. Azriel would stand by his decision to keep you safe. That day he found you with Caliban scared the shit out of him. He never wanted you out there alone or without him again.

Rhys looked at you first. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been going into the field lately.” You shook your head, finally looking at your High Lord. “Care to explain.” You didn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t this be a problem between him and Az. “I—Az has been pairing me up less. I’ve been training more with the Valkyries and field work has been pushed back.”

Rhys let out a hum, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Azriel,” he directed his attention to his brother whose eyes haven’t left him once. “Why isn’t she out there? Is she not one of your spies? Is there not work to be done?” Azriel clenched his jaw. Once again biting his tongue.

“I have had y/n doing other tasks she is comfortable with.” Azriel’s voice was restrained. He saw right through Rhys’s questions and damn him. Azriel saw you were reluctant to go out after Caliban so he made a choice that would keep you safe. “Was it y/n’s choice or yours?” Before Azriel could explode on Rhys you rest a hand on his thigh for comfort. “It was my decision, Rhys. I haven’t been the best out in the field and Azriel found what I’m good at.” You look between the two of them with a small smile to diffuse the tension.

Rhys returned your smile giving you a nod. “I’m glad that you found something you like. Could you give Azriel and I a moment please.” You wordlessly get up and give Azriel’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

Once they were sure you were down the hall Rhys began his tirade. “You do not get to decide what her limits are. I know what she said just now, that was clearly to cover for you. But you cannot keep treating y/n like this.” “Like what,” Azriel spat back.

“Like she is a child! Y/n has come very far in her career, something her father would be proud of. By resigning her to desk work you tear down all the confidence she has built. You’ve kept her away from everything since Caliban. I needed her in the Hewn City and you told me no. I needed her in Autumn and Day and you shot those down too. Why?” Rhys was trying to keep his cool but there was a desperation to his questions.

Azriel stood from his chair. “She doesn’t want to be her father. Y/n is more than this.” Realization flashed in Rhys’s eyes. “Y/n has truly found something she is good at. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and one of your best strategists.” Without another word Azriel turned on his heel and left.

After that conversation Rhys laid off you more. He quickly realized things were more organized since you had left spying

You kept your distance from Azriel for a few days, unsure if you got him in trouble by lying to the High Lord. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. Az just suggested a new position and you took it.

Did you work for those few days? No. You took them to rest. You haven’t taken a day off in over a year so, why not relax.

You baked cookies, something you used to do with your grandmother every week. You decided on snicker-doodles to enjoy while starting the stack of books Nesta and Emerie suggested you read.

Azriel also gave you your space. He’s been by your side for months at this point. You could use a few days without him, even though it pained him. Azriel loved spending time with you. Sure you brought chaos into his life, but it was the good kind.

On day four of being apart Azriel couldn’t take it anymore. He found you wrapped in your favorite blanket in one of the least used siting rooms in the House of Wind. A fire roaring in the hearth to keep you warm, a mug of tea next to a plate of cookies ready for you when you take a break.

Putting your book down you finally notice Az staring at you in the doorway. That love sick smile he thinks you don’t notice plastered on his face. “Hey,” you say excitedly. “Come, sit with me.” You pat the spot on the couch next to you.

He plops down next to you, curling a wing around you for extra warmth. Without a second thought you snuggle into his side. A blush dusts Azriel’s tan cheeks as he looks away from you. You giggle at the sight of the feared spymaster blushing.

You gently trace his cheek down to his jaw, taking in his beauty. Over the last year you had become very taken with Azriel. He had been there for you no matter what you threw at him. You pull Azriel’s face to look at you. You met his hazel eyes that held so much love and adoration for you, you just didn’t see it.

“Y/n I, there’s something I’ve wanted to say and I just—” Azriel cut himself off with a shake of his head, leaning in so his lips meet yours in a soft kiss you’ve been waiting months for. You kissed him back, running your fingers through his hair.

Breaking apart you give him a giddy smile. It was the most genuine look he’s seen on you since you came to them. “That was better than anything you could’ve said.” You whisper, leaning your forehead against his. Az smiled back, “I still have so much I want to say. Have to say.” “I have all the time to listen.”

[theladyofbloodshed]

I’m going to be a little controversial under the cut

Sjm meeting her husband on her first day of college and only loving one man since she was 18 is very evident in her writing. I don’t meant to say it’s a bad thing to only have one relationship, but she writes all previous relationships of her characters as meaningless compared to the current one.

Any previous crushes/relationships of her characters were shallow. Whilst they may have felt like something at the time, in hindsight they pale in comparison to the Great Love. Or she writes them as being wrong, wrong, wrong and has to tarnish it in some way to make the Great Love seem better.

Rowan wanted to marry Lyria and was expecting a child with her then sjm retconned it to be a false bond to manipulate him and has Aelin be the much greater love, disregarding the past. He loved her so much he was going to have a baby with her.

Sam becomes just a memory of a teenage crush because he can’t compare to Rowan for Aelin as they’re mates.

Sorcha is just a servant who Dorian had fleeting feelings for despite her losing her head for getting close to the prince when he was lonely.

Isaac Hale is just a boring tumble in the hay - and not the boy who Feyre shared her worries with and he cared enough to buy the contraceptive tea because she couldn’t afford it.

Tamlin was a walking red flag and Rhys can love her so much better despite the months they spent together happy and falling in love.

Graysen and his father swap roles so the former can bash Elain and treat her cruelly while even his father looks shocked.

Jesminda is murdered but she was just a lesser fae and clearly will matter less to Lucien than his mate.

Shahar gave Hunt an opportunity to be something great then its revealed she just used him for his power and didn’t love him to the same depth - not in the way Bryce can.

It is so odd that she cannot write a couple who realise that they’re not each other’s endgame. She could have written that Feyre and Tamlin struggled greatly after the war and realised that the curse had forced them together but their romance dried up, no hard feelings.

Rowan could have been Lyria’s mate and still loved Aelin just as much 200 years later. Graysen could have said to Elain that he loved her still but could not be a fae rather than insult her.

People can love many times in their life. Just because they don’t end up together forever, it doesn’t mean a relationship didn’t matter.

[throneofsapphics]

have your little girlfriend, part seven

poly!Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: Catching Aelin's eye, you quickly end up entangled between her and Rowan, forced to navigate their darker sides in your new relationship.

Warnings: included on series masterlist to avoid spoilers!

Word Count: ~4.4k

A/N: we've reached the penultimate chapter!! thank you to both @whisperingmidnights and @moonlightttfae for your support <3 (and all of you who kept motivating me and reminding me about this little story)

series masterlist

Settling next to her on the bed, Aelin ran a hand down her thigh, “Rowan and I are thinking about trying for a child.” 

The happiness she felt in that moment wasn’t faked. It was true, bright, and genuine. 

“That’s wonderful,” she breathed, reaching out and clutching Aelin’s hand gently. “Are you?” She glanced down towards her stomach

Aelin’s bright laugh tinkled through the room. “Thinking about trying, petal. You should listen more,” she chided ‘jokingly,’ but she caught the small down curve at the last syllable. 

Her mouth curled up at the corners anyway. This was something that had been hovering in the back of everyone’s minds for so long it only felt right. Now, her mind drifted to how she’d celebrate with Aelin. She glanced at the small bottle of oil on the side table. A massage would help her mate relax. Running her hands over her shoulders, she realized just how tense she was, and noticed the light bags underneath her eyes. 

Aelin read the question in her eyes. 

“There’s been a lot to … catch up on,” she said delicately. 

‘Because of you, your settling, your burden,’ her mind whirled, the voice not her own. 

“No,” Aelin said firmly, aloud. “What you’re thinking - it’s not true.” 

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” she countered automatically. Aelin frowned and she winced, sending a silent apology. It seemed to appease her mate, especially as she reached for the oil, motioning for Aelin to turn around, eagerly complying. First, she undid the ties on the back of her tunic, letting her skin expose inch by inch, fingers running delicately over the relatively smooth skin, tracing the lines and swirls of her tattoos. 

Aelin laid down, head turned sideways to rest her cheek on the pillow. Straddling her waist, she let the oil drip directly on her back. 

Not having any training or particularly good technique, she just went for whatever drew the best reactions out of her mate. Thumbs dug into sore spots, nails scratched down lightly, gentle kisses left on shoulders, teeth nipping, dodging when Aelin’s fingers shot out to pinch in playful reprimand. 

The breaths grew longer, more ragged, less controlled. Bodies shifted to release tension, thighs rubbed together subconsciously, hands jolted, movements less smooth and controlled. 

The game reached its expiration point as Aelin flipped over, throwing her underneath and straddling her hips to pin her in place. 

Leaning down, brushing lips against her ear, “my turn,” she breathed. 

Strands of fire wrapped around her wrist, not burning but pinning them above her head. She lifted her chest, arching her back, giving her mate her favorite view. 

Aelin’s thumbs brushed over her breasts in appreciation. The touches grew firmer, a mark of exactly who was in charge. 

“So beautiful, petal,” she murmured. “I’m so lucky.” 

“We’re so lucky,” an amused voice interrupted from the back. Aelin waved him off - a half hearted dismissal, countered with a laugh and slow but purposeful steps across the room.  

Her mates locked eyes, a silent conversation she wasn’t privy to passing through. Her legs shifted, subconsciously reaching for their attention. The smiles appearing on their faces set her on edge. 

Before she could think further, or ask more questions, Aelin had turned, slid up the bed, and hovered above her. She faced away, toward Rowan, who was currently lining up between her thighs. 

“Snap if you need to stop,” he said roughly. She didn’t get to see him enter her as Aelin lowered herself over her face. She didn’t care. 

-

Later that night, curled up next to them in bed, she realized she’d probably never fall pregnant. Biologically, it didn’t matter to her who birthed the child, she’d help raise and love them all the same. But was pregnancy something she wanted? It would interfere with the royal succession and all of that. Things her mates had probably thought of and discarded for a later time. Well, now was the later time. Right now … she was a royal concubine, wasn’t she?

Still, they already had little time to spare, and a child would … she shook her head. How gods-damned selfish could she be? The time she took up in their lives would be better spent on a child. A child would be more worthy of the time than her. All she’d done is drag her mates down since they met, causing problems and bringing chaos in her wake. She was, at the very least, a basket case. 

She should be happy for her mates, for how long they’d wanted this baby - held back by her. She was the one holding them back from their dreams and everything they wanted.

It was bullshit, she knew. The child would be more than happy with three parents. She wasn’t happy, and the time was coming where she picked for herself for once, but she had to be careful about it. 

Right now, she didn’t know what she wanted. Of course, these concerns couldn’t be raised because at the first hint of suspicion she might leave them she’d be placed firmly on lockdown - not given the slightest chance. Their love always came hand in hand with obsession, and with that a heavy weight she couldn’t quite kick. Several days, all she wanted was for the heaviness to leave her chest. 

Besides, they were Fae and it could take years for any of them to fall pregnant. When that time came, she knew what she’d have to do, and knew it would hurt like hell in so many ways. 

“What’s on your mind?” Rowan murmured from her right. To her left, Aelin was sound asleep. She hadn’t realized he was awake. 

“Life,” she whispered. 

He wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer. Aelin had spread out to take over most of the bed, and seemed perfectly content wrapped in all of the pillows and blankets but she knew her mate would reach for her soon. Until then, she let herself melt into Rowan, his warmth and the steady circles he traced on her back. 

This, this feeling, warmth, and content. She wanted desperately to be selfless and stay, but eventually she’d need to be selfish and go. The clock was ticking down. 

-

A year later, she knew something was different. Firstly, she could barely stand to have others near Aelin. At first she thought it was because they hadn’t gotten to spend much time together, but then her mate’s scent changed. 

Rowan’s behavior confirmed her suspicion. She thanked the gods that their instincts didn't apply to each other. 

Pregnancy suited Aelin, it seemed like a gold dust or shimmer always coated her, bathing her in some sort of ethereal light. 

It took one week for her to remember the original plan. 

With her mates distracted with preparations for the babe, it was all too easy for her to get things together to leave. 

There was one thing standing in her way. Her bargain with Fenrys. Her own conscience died as soon as she began considering this. She wasn’t able to go to the Staghorns with him accompanying her, and he couldn’t run with her. Would he try to stop her if she he knew she was preparing to leave? She considered him a brother, but undeniably his loyalty went to Aelin first and not just because of the blood oath. It hurt that she couldn’t truly trust him, and she knew it was unfair but in her mind it was Aelin and Rowan stealing another thing from her. Besides, he’d pulled away from her recently. Like the rest of them, he was preoccupied with Aelin’s pregnancy. 

A blessing, but a blessing so precious it put everyone on edge. 

The only other option was to go somewhere else. She decided to post a few letters. 

Rushing over to the table, grabbing a quill and ink while they were still busy, the sound of pen scratching paper filled their rooms. 

What were those vacation spots we used to go to? I’ve been reminiscing about our childhood. 

Only brief phrases flooded into her mind as she wrote, the rest flowing straight from her mind to paper, the only filter the code she created with her cousins years ago as children. Hopefully the gods were looking out for her, and her cousins remembered. With a little luck, whoever undoubtedly read the letter wouldn’t find anything suspicious or worth reporting back to home for. Even if they did, she’d gained their trust well enough and they were so preoccupied she doubted they would pay much attention to it. After all, they hadn’t paid much attention to her. 

She glanced at the clock. Two hours til they were finished with the meeting. Leaving the castle alone wouldn’t raise suspicion anymore, now with her settling a year in the past. Black cloak pulled over her head, silver clasp fastened at the collarbone, rain pouring outside, she slipped through a servants passage, and out the front gate. Sometimes the best place to hide was in plain sight.

Sticking to main streets, smiling at the few who dared venture outside during inclement weather, she headed right for the post stand. Not unusual of her before her settling - the citizens of Orynth had long memories after all, even the mortals. Her primary form of communication couldn’t be in person after all, and she had piles and piles of letters from her cousins. Still, the code was necessary because she couldn’t risk anyone reading her mail. Everyone was nosy. Finding someone she trusted, someone loyal to the crown, knowing an extra coin would make no difference in their behavior, she made the exchange. 

Instead of a breath of fresh air, her chest tightened. This was the first step to the ultimate betrayal. 

Anxiety and panic filled her, all of her will and energy went to keeping it from the mating bond. Despite her current plans, she still cared deeply about Aelin, her health, and the health of the babe. But … how much of herself did she need to sacrifice? How much could she, before it broke her completely? 

“Is everything alright miss?” A guard asked at the gate. Miss. 

When did she start crying? 

“Just good news,” she put on her best cheery voice. He looked skeptical. “Really,” she insisted. 

“Alright,” he gave her a polite nod and she fled - well, walked as fast as she could get away with. He would undoubtedly go to someone. With Aedion gone for a few days, it would be Fenrys - the guard knew better than to approach Rowan at a time like this. Fenrys might be testy as well, she realized, but a safer option for them - and her. 

Fleeing for her safe space, she eyed the clock, counting the time until a white wolf appeared. 

Seven minutes. 

“You’re slow today,” she mumbled, wiping an errant tear with the back of her hand. 

Flash of light, a Fae male. 

“What’s wrong?” He said, voice deep and lined with a touch of exasperation. He cut to the chase, a touch of impatience in his tone. A tone he’d never taken with her before. 

“I should ask you that,” she bit back. 

His shoulders loosened. “I don’t like being away from her right now,” he admitted. 

She sent him a commiserating smile. “Neither do I.” 

He raised a brow. Why aren’t you there, you could read the words in his eyes. 

“Rowan is touchy,” she added. 

“I’m aware,” he drawled and sat on the couch opposite her, leaning forward, forearms against his thighs. “But I’m surprised he is even with you, his other mate” 

Other mate. Fenrys realized his poor choice of words immediately, she saw it in the look on his face. She waved it off, “I know you don’t mean it like that.” She wondered if he’d acknowledge the lie or brush it under the rug, and would’ve bet money on the second. 

“I don’t,” Fenrys said, “it doesn’t mean it's not wrong I said it like that.” 

Maybe she underestimated him. “I’m f-”

“Don’t say that, I know you don’t mean it,” he cut her off, “how are you handling this?” 

She pressed her lips into a tight line, going for as close to the truth as she can get. “I’m thrilled, nervous, and uncertain.” 

He huffed “you sound like the rest of us.” 

“I suppose I do,” she forced a smile. Concern flashed in those dark eyes, but he didn’t push, enough of that had been done today. 

-

She didn’t go to the healers with them, she never did anymore. The first time had been so much that they insisted only one mate could come with, and that went to Rowan. Personally, both she and Aelin thought she would’ve been the safer choice, less likely to murder someone, but even that couldn’t be completely guaranteed so it might as well be the king. It only reinforced her thoughts, without her it would be easier around. She thought it was probably better that way, each visit felt like the ticking of a clock, and at least here she could separate herself more with less worry that they would notice it. 

It felt like hours this time, and Fenrys kept her company today in her workshop. Good, better than being alone with her thoughts. Aelin was seven months pregnant, and weekly check ups quite obviously frustrated her but the rest of them didn’t care. Each check up was one week closer to her departure. 

Shaking her head clear of thoughts, her hand hovered over the material, flooding back and forth. It was frustrating, trying to get her magic to work as it used to. Half of the time she could make beautiful creations, even better than before, but the other half they were … not ugly but more angry is the best way she could describe it. They said magic spoke to her soul and she wondered what that meant about her. Nothing good. 

“I like this one,” Fenrys pointed towards a piece that pissed her off. Angry ripples of wood, different colors streaked between, “it’s … original.” 

“It should go in the trash,” she muttered. 

“No more breaking things,” he snorted, but she could hear a hint of worry. She rarely threw anything away - if anything she took them and tried to remake them over and over again. There was no point in throwing out old creations if they could tell a story of her life and work, or if they could be re-used. After the ‘broken glass episode,’ as she called it in her mind, she hated the sounds of anything breaking. 

Once, Aelin almost took the head off a poor courtier who’d accidentally broken a glass in her presence. At least her magic cooperated enough for her to make it nearly impossible for any glassware in this castle to break, unless someone intentionally threw it. The way it worked, her magic wouldn’t stop someone from breaking it if they wanted to, it only stopped accidents. 

Maybe if - when she reinvented herself somewhere else she could sell magically reinforced glassware. Although that might be too obvious and could get her caught. 

The southern continent might take her. She abandoned the glass, settling for tapping her fingers on her table instead. Fenrys was pacing by the door. This appointment had been an emergency and she was thinking of how she’d be leaving soon. 

More than ever before, she believed she was a truly terrible person. Someone, she had to tell someone about this - get them to convince her to quit this insanity. 

“Fen-” She started, his head turning towards her, just as they heard footsteps down the hall. Later on when the wolf asked what she wished to speak about earlier, she didn’t remember, mentioning offhand it must not have been very important. 

“Everything is well,” Aelin said as she entered, Rowan quick on her heels. They’d taken to coming here after - probably because she always had chocolate ready for Aelin. 

Sure enough, she slid a box of hazelnut chocolates across the table to her pregnant mate. She was absolutely insatiable. Nothing could curb her appetite, but she gladly fed the addiction. Anything to make her happy while she was still here. 

“I wish you could go to the appointments with me,” Aelin mumbled in between bites after Rowan stepped out of the room. “He’s such a bear.” 

“He’s always seemed more bird-like to me,” she countered automatically, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she focused on one piece of material. 

A palm slapped against the table, stifled breathing - panic - eyes shot up. Laughter. 

“That. Was. Horrible,” Aelin wheezed, but her cheeks were lifted, eyes light, and the giggles left her were contagious. 

“If I’m a bear,” Rowan grumbled, stalking through the door. Aelin shot you a hopeful look. Had she spoken in his hearing range on purpose? “Then let petal go next time instead.” 

Rowan turned, looking at her like he had a mental list of instructions ready. She gulped. What had she signed up for? A tiny glint in his eye told him she wasn’t too sure 

-

Her hands shook as they floated over the material. It took what felt like ages for her to work with glass again, and even now it still felt too raw but this was something she needed to do. And with the glass collected from her … melt down. A complete waste, that was. So many hours of work smashed into pieces, thrown into a bucket for her to try and fix her mistakes. She vowed to herself this wouldn’t be a mistake, that she was doing the ‘right’ thing. 

But … was it the right thing for her or for them? Could it be both? 

Too. Much. Thinking. 

She refocused on the object in front of her, passing her hands over it again, trying to let her magic flow from inside of her. Ever since her settling it had been a tad more difficult to access, but when she did manage to access it … well her workshop is now reinforced. Heavily. 

After the fifth attempt, she sighed and slid it to the side. This one had to be perfect, and if it wasn’t working now she might as well try again on a later date. If it wasn’t perfect … well, for who it was going to she’d accept nothing less from herself. Would it sting more if they knew the effort she put into it? When the time comes? 

Generally, that thought would’ve kept her mind swirling for hours but she was so damn tired that as soon as she laid her head down on her bench to ‘rest’ for a moment, she was out. 

“Beautiful,” a lovely voice whispered into her ear, a warm hand running down her arm, warmth spreading behind her. She jerked up, nearly falling out of her chair. 

“Shit,” she muttered, glancing at the clock, dings and tears on the outside. Worn down from where years ago it was shiny and new. It only started breaking down more after she moved to the castle. 

Aelin laughed, the sound beautiful and carrying. She glanced at her pregnant mate, Radiant as always. “You should get some more sleep,” she tutted. 

“You’re pregnant you should be,” she yawned, hand covering her mouth. 

“Hush,” Aelin murmured, reaching a hand to her. In her tired state, the hand seemed like a lifeline, a symbol. She took the land, but used her other to push herself out of her seat, refusing to let Aelin do any lifting. 

“I’m not incapable,” Aelin said, an edge to her tone. 

“You’d do the same to me,” she countered, pulling her hand away to cross her arms in mock stern-ness. 

Aelin frowned and snatched her hand back. “This is mine,” she flipped it off and placed a kiss on her palm, before tugging her towards the door, “and I’m hungry.”

Not for the first time that day, she wondered if she was doing the right thing.

-

It felt like years, when in reality it was months, but eventually it was ready. 

“I need to go grab something,” she murmured one night, perhaps an hour or so before they’d turn down for bed. Rowan and Aelin didn’t particularly like when she went wandering around alone after dark, but this was when she wanted to give it to them. “From my workshop,” she clarified. 

“Nobody’s stopping you,” Rowan sounded a little snippy. 

Throat tightening, she nodded and turned, blinking back tears at the slight embarrassment. Has nobody really been stopping her? Had this all actually been inside of her head? 

“Wait,” Rowan’s voice floated through the open doorway. She turned to see the male standing there, filling the space completely, the corners of his mouth softened slightly. “Let me come with you.” 

“You can’t,” she backed away, but a natural smile started playing on her lips. “It’s a surprise.” 

“I’ll close my eyes,” he took one step into the hall. 

“No,” she insisted. She’d worked too hard on it to have the surprise ruined for one of them. It had to be both or nothing. 

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes lightly, but she could’ve sworn she detected some fondness in his tone. “Be quick,” he added. 

She shifted, senses sharpening, a white fox sprinting down the hall. A fae female carried back the gift, perfectly wrapped in a small gold box, a neat bow sealing it. 

-

The cautious way she held it caught Aelin’s attention first, as if it was the most precious thing she’d encountered in so very long. She knew instinctively it was one of her creations. 

Do you know what this is? She looked at Rowan. 

No, he answered her silently, and she caught the curiosity in his eyes, probably reflected in her own. 

She motioned for Rowan to sit, and he did - amusing her. Her mate’s thigh pressed against her own, a strong and comforting weight. She stood before them, and held it out almost like someone presenting a gift at court, her hands shaking slightly. Her hands rarely shook. Aelin frowned, but working in-sync she and Rowan took the box together. 

Carefully, the bow was slid open, the lid tilted back - an involuntary gasp left her. She nearly dropped it. Thanks the fucking Gods Rowan was holding it or she might’ve spiraled if she’d somehow broken it. 

A beautiful glass sphere, painstakingly decorated with the Lord of the North, trees, rivers, mountains, kingsflame, and several other tiny decorations that must’ve taken her hours. How long had she been working on this?

More than that, as far as Aelin knew it was the first glass decoration she’d created since the episode, as she called it in her mind. 

Shattered glass. Blood. Screaming. She pushed it out of her mind, refocusing herself on the present. 

Rowan was already standing and embracing her. Carefully and slowly rising, she joined. 

For as long as it was together, the glass had a proud place on the mantelpiece, prime sight for any who walked in the rooms spot it. 

-

It was time. Barely a week after her gift, she’d received the imminent word Aelin was going into labor. An hour later, she ran. 

Not being there for her mate at her most vulnerable time nearly killed her, but she knew Rowan wouldn’t dare leave Aelin’s side to come look for her. They knew where she’d be, but they wouldn’t risk outraging the Wolf Tribe and alienating some of their subjects by coming to steal her in the middle of the night. She’d heard them acknowledge it before when they thought she was sleeping. They’ve always underestimated her, she thought. 

She wrote down the words rehearsed in her mind for months, edited and changed over and over again until they made sense. 

Don’t come looking for me, you know what will happen if you do. I’ll come back when I’m ready. I swear I love you. 

She sliced the tip of her finger with her dagger, let three drops, one for each of them, dripped onto the paper and folded it in three before placing it in as obvious of  a position as possible, their names stitched on the front in her elegant cursive. Would they burn the letter or keep it? 

It didn’t matter. 

She snuck through the castle, taking servants passageways and back exits until she was at the edges of the city. Stashed in a hidden hole next to a tree were her supplies. She slipped her arms through the loops of the pack before setting off. 

The new tree growth and winter morning smelt like fresh air and freedom to her, like a new beginning and dawn she never thought she’d see, despite the strong and ever growing tug attempting to bring her back to her mates. 

That thought posed another question, could they really be her mates if she could hurt them like this? 

She knew, in her soul, this was a betrayal she’d never come back for. What she was breaking could never be remade in its original form or anything similar. She kept going, without so much as a look over her shoulder. Yes, she felt the pain and misery and likely would for the rest of her miserable immortal life but at least she did something for herself. 

-  

Rowan knew in his soul she was gone. Physically. 

If he detached himself from the situation, he would recognize how she had good timing and planning, perhaps even appreciate it. But he wasn’t, instead he was filled with fury. That fury was contained with his pregnant wife and mate currently in labor in front of him. Distracted enough she didn’t know yet, and he’d keep it that way for as long as he could. Rowan wasn’t certain he wouldn’t hurt her for everything she was about to put Aelin through. He couldn’t kill her but he could make her life a living hell and in his current anger he swore he would. 

Surrounding himself and the room in a shield of wind, drowning out all sounds, his shaking fingers closed around the glass orb she’d painstakingly created for them. Even months of work, fine lines and pure artistry were no help in quelling his anger. Rowan let his fingers release, and the orb smashed on the tile flooring. 

He already knew could be a vindictive and cruel son of a bitch, but she was going to find out just how cruel and vindictive he could be. Boots crunched over glass, her fate sealed. 

-

taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @inloveallthetime @sstrohma @fightmedraco @daughterofthemoons-stuff @skinny-baby-4eva @feyres-fireheart @helloevilmuffins @panther-girl-124 @starsinyourseyes @natiebug1 @paleidiot @agent-anna @123345566

[ircnwrought]

__________△       SHE       FINDS       HERSELF       KNEELING       ON       THE       FLOOR,       PUPPIES       PAWING       AT       HER       WITH       LITTLE       REGARD       TO       THE       FINERY       SHE       WEARS.     she    couldn't    care    less,       so    enamored    is    she    by    the    two    canines.       she   pauses   a   moment   to   think,       before   scratching   behind   the   ear   of   the   female.     ❛    i   believe   you   shall   be   fleetfoot       …    ❜     not   to   be   outdone,       the   male   whines    &&    she   laughs   as   she   turns   her   attention   to   him   next.     ❛    –    &&    this   demanding   one   will   be   asterion.    ❜     both   puppies   seem   to   accept   the   names    &&    fleetfoot   even   yawns,       already   exhausted   from   her   introduction.       aelin   turns   her   bright   gaze   up   to   look   at   her   husband,       eyes   sparkling   from   the   easy   grin   she   wears.     ❛    i   think   they   might   be   the   best   things   you   have   ever   given   me,    ❜     she   answers   earnestly.

Her reaction is more than he could have hoped for, and a genuinely happy, relaxed grin tugs his lips upwards: such an expression used to be rare from the king, but not so since his marriage. The smile slips just a little as one of the puppies makes a beeline for him, and he narrowly avoids an excited, slobbery tongue. With the gentlest of touches from his large, war-trained hands he slowly turns the pup around and directs its attention back to Aelin. "Not yet, I thought you would like to decide. I am told one is male and one is female, and they will both grow much larger than this." He certainly hopes so, for they are far from the intimidating guard dogs he had envisaged. "Do you like them?" he cannot help but ask, despite the twinkle in Aelin's eye. He showers his wife with far more valuable presents often, but there seems something more significant about gifting a living, breathing creature.

[pergaminaa]

Modern au

Manon is a pushover in denial when it comes to her daughter. All the toddler has to do is say ‘I don’t want to go to school’ and Manon will let her stay because her daughter is smart and she makes her announcement while cuddling her mama and honestly Manon doesn’t have it in her to send the child to school.

Dorian, on the other hand, thinks that Manon shouldn’t give in so easily. To solve the problem (because he loves how Manon is a gushing mess when it comes to their daughter) he decides to take their daughter to school.

Different tactic: his daughter clung to him and cried that she didn’t want to go inside the classroom. She wants him and doesn’t want him to leave her. “Don’t leave me daddy, I want you,” and Dorian realized: she’s only in pre school, she’s not missing out on anything if she doesn’t show up for a day or two. So he carries her and leaves, returning home twenty minutes later with a much happier child eating an ice cream to make her feel better after her drop off ordeal.

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Two: cellophane wrapping on funeral flowers

tw: alcohol, intoxication

It’s always sweltering in this damn restaurant. 

Countless patrons pack themselves tightly into booths and tables throughout the building. Their hands palm at sparkling tabletops as their wine glasses stay full and their food comes out hot, steam wafting behind plates like the smoke plume of a train. You’re unsure how they can smile through the heat that radiates off of their bodies as they stuff their mouths full and chuckle with friends. Suffocating, you wipe the sweat from your brow. It clings to every inch of your body, soaking you as if you’re a drowned cat. 

Despite your discomfort, you perform your job to the best of your ability. Weaving between tables, you lead guests to their seats before racing back to the kitchen to package to-go orders, and you’ve only gotten yelled at once tonight by the waitstaff for incorrectly seating a family of five. 

(And the fight that ensued from Bianca—or, Bee—defending you was only mildly uncomfortable. You still feel the gaze of every patron staring at you as if you’re some poor creature to be doted on.)

Really, tonight is no different from any other night that you work. Things are always semi-chaotic at a restaurant as successful as Sapori—a controlled chaos, as Bruce would remind you—but your pay as hostess is manageable. And they usually turn a blind eye when your hours start to brush close to the fifty mark within a week. You’re glad Bruce pays you under the table for that time. It’s not entirely legal—making money without reporting it to the government—but it helps you when you desperately need it.  

A blind eye—it’s always better this way when you don’t have someone trying to look out for you. 

Except, someone is always looking out for you, which is why you shouldn’t be surprised to find Aelin strutting through the entrance with an obnoxious foam pirate hat on her head. It’s poorly made, and the Jolly Roger design is beginning to peel. Your first instinct is to grab one of the menus and hide your face, but she’s much too perceptive for you to slip away without consequence. You manage to hide away most of your grimace with a smile as she approaches your counter. 

“Ahoy, matey!” she exclaims, though she uses only half of the enthusiasm you know she can muster. 

“I don’t think Jack Sparrow ever said that throughout any of the movies,” you deadpan. 

“Captain Jack Sparrow, mind,” Aelin corrects as she points to her hat. Made for a child, it sits too small on her head and knocked slightly to the side. 

“Right, of course.” 

“I thought you would’ve remembered that better after you oh so ceremoniously dubbed me Sparrow yourself, after him,” she eggs.

“Row,” you correct, “and it was well deserved.” Playfully, Aelin sticks her tongue out at you while she fiddles with the foam hat on her head. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m here to pick you up,” she responds as if you should already know the answer. 

Just as you open your mouth to question her further, the answer smacks you. Halloween. No wonder why she’s wearing that stupid hat. It all comes back to you—the car ride, your promise to attend the party at Terminus with her; everything. You had agreed to it, and then promptly forgotten about it, which is why you’re nearing hour eleven of your eight hour shift. Had you remembered about your previous promises, you would have gone home a long time ago to recharge before spending the remainder of your exhausting night in a packed nightclub during a holiday. 

“You’re off soon, aren’t you?” Aelin asks as your silence starts to stretch. 

“Uhm, yeah,” you answer as your eyes flicker to the clock on your left. Five to ten. “Just… give me a few minutes and I’ll be good to go.” 

In reality, no amount of preparation can ever truly ready you for any sort of intense social outing, and you dread arriving at the club the entire ride there. As you sit in the passenger’s seat of her car, you find the palms of your hand slick with sweat. No matter how many times you try to wipe it off on your pants, it only seems to be immediately replaced with more perspiration. You’ve been to Terminus a few other times before this, all by request of Aelin, and still it’s not enough to become comfortably familiar. Everything is always too loud, too much, too close. 

But this is Aelin—you’d do anything for her. 

So when you find yourself in the private parking lot outside of the building, you try your best not to complain. It stands several stories tall, a hulking baronial beast that looks like an old storage building turned partyhouse. Foggy windows allow you to catch a glimpse of the sanguine lights flashing within, and you swear you see the panes shake with the beat of the music that bleeds through the stone.

A deep throb begins to gnaw at the soles of your feet and you feel a tension headache bloom by your temples as Aelin leads you to the VIP entrance. The outside area is well maintained with clean stone and well illuminated lights. There are several signs that state overall rules and regulations drilled into walls on either side of the entrance. Still, it’s not enough to hide the half-smoked butts of cigarettes and spilled liquor. In an attempt to quell your nerves, you suck in a deep breath of the cool night air as you remind yourself it can’t get much worse than this. 

Except it does—because it always does. 

You almost don’t recognize the large figure that stands outside of the entrance, but once those dark eyes land on you and you feel that pang rip through your stomach, you know it can’t be anyone other than Simon Riley. His gaze meanders back and forth between you and Aelin. Soft, inquisitive even. He lingers on you for a beat too long as if questioning your appearance like he can’t comprehend why you’re here in a place like this. As if he knows you don’t belong here. 

“Evenin’ ladies,” he casually greets. 

Even if you hadn’t recognized him visually—which would have been an odd feat, considering the sheer size of him—his voice would have been more than enough to jog your memory. You can still feel the way his breath tickled your ear the other night while playing pool. His timbre holds a delicious baritone that you swear can haunt your dreams. 

“Stuck on guard duty tonight, Riley?” Aelin teases. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Simon humors. 

“Shame. Well, Chip and I—” she continues as she tosses an arm around your shoulder to bring you close, “—are going to get wasted.” 

A slight smirk pulls at Simon’s lips. “That so?” he asks playfully. He says it as if he’s tempted to challenge her, but he steps to the side after a beat while gesturing to the open door behind him. “Cheers.” 

There isn’t any time to mutter a thanks before Aelin’s pressing onward, dragging you along with her. 

Walking into Terminus is what you imagine walking into hell feels like. Aptly named, thick air threatens to singe your hair, and you feel your diaphragm screaming as it attempts to suck a breath into your lungs. Countless patrons dance beneath florid lights, and it seems as if Aelin isn’t the only festive one tonight. Many of them wear masks, cheap costumes, or unabashed lingerie. The cheering from the dance floor forces your eardrums to pulse as if you’re listening to the screams of the damned. You swallow as you paw at your left ear—it aches already. 

Aelin yells something at you that isn’t strong enough to cut through the chatting of the crowd. Grimacing, you shake your head. Pointing her finger upwards, you’re vaguely able to read her lips. 

Up top. More room. 

Though the VIP section is usually reserved for smaller groups of people, the second floor is just as suffocating as the bottom. There is slight reprieve to be found in the fresher air and more restricted population, but not much. Aelin makes a beeline to the first bartop she sees, leaving you no choice but to follow along behind her. The bartender glistens beneath purple-toned lights that dance off her body glitter in a hypnotizing way like she’s a fairy lost in some concrete prison. Mirrors line the ceiling above her, so when you look up you’re really looking back down at yourself. Wide eyes, clammy skin, and an aura of exhaustion reflects back at you perfectly.

Once your drinks are filled, Aelin leads you to a private table in the far corner of the floor. It skirts close to the railing of an overhanging balcony that overlooks the dance floor below. Somehow it’s quieter. The speakers are positioned to blast their music toward the bottom floor rather than right in your face, giving you room to breathe through the discordance of the club. Swallowing, you toy with the rim of your cup, running the pad of your finger along the edge while trying to fight off the fatigue that yanks at your legs. 

“Well?” Aelin speaks up expectantly. She poses the word as if she had given you a question to answer, but it’s the first thing that’s been said between the two of you since you took your seats. “How have you been? How have you really been? We weren’t really able to talk the other night with all the other distractions, but I’ve been missing you.” 

“Oh. Well, you know…” you start only for the words to die in your throat. 

It’s never easy answering a question like this—not without lying. How are you supposed to twist your life into something interesting when you’re anything but? All you’ve done for the last few months—no, years—is work. Work, pick up extra shifts, and sleep with whatever free time you manage to scrounge up. Every pence you earn goes towards bills. You’re nothing but a cog in a machine. 

No, the only things worth telling Aelin are the things you can’t speak. You’re not sure your tongue would know how to form the words, but it’s not like this is anything new. You’ve gotten used to dodging the invasive questions. You’ve gotten good at lying. Sometimes you can almost convince yourself that you’re just a very imaginative storyteller rather than the rotten deceiver you truly are.  

Almost. 

“Fine. I’ve been fine. Just… working, mostly,” you excuse. 

“Oh, come on,” Aelin groans. She takes a quick sip of her drink—rum, as she had made sure to point out earlier—before overdramatically leaning back in her chair. Her hat slides to the side of her head, and she fixes it with a huff. “You always say that. It really is just work with you, huh? No redecorating the apartment again or getting excited over new cutlery? No getting out to talk to people?” 

Scoffing, your fingers tap against the table. “I think we both know that getting out is more your thing than mine. As is the excitement over cutlery,” you tease. 

“It could be your thing too if you didn’t ditch me half the time I invite you somewhere,” Aelin counters. As if tasting her own venom, she sighs as she leans forward, face softening like wet porcelain. “I meant what I said the other night. You are worrying me. More than just a little.” 

In order to give yourself some time to think, you raise your cup to your lips. Face contorting into a grimace, your vodka cranberry seems to be nine parts vodka and one part juice, and the brash alcohol tastes worse than cough medicine on your tongue. 

“What’s there to worry about?” you ask while trying to hide your cough. 

Raising an eyebrow, Aelin tosses a few strands of her hair back over her shoulder. “What isn’t there to worry about? I mean, you’re working yourself half to death, I feel like I hardly get to see you anymore—hell, I don’t even think you’ve ever managed to score a boyfriend!”

“I think I’m doing just fine without a partner,” you interject. 

“My point is,” she continues, “I just… I’m… terrified you’re still trying to punish yourself.” 

It’s difficult to believe that a place so full of life can fall so silent. Everything fades to black, leaving you with just a sharp ringing bell and an underwater fuzziness. Normal, the doctors had said. Typical for someone who went through what you did. Absolutely plaguing. There’s nothing you can say in response. Her words stun you because—unlike usual—she sees right through you. Like you’re nothing but the cellophane wrapping on funeral flowers. 

Putting you out of your misery, she continues talking so that you don’t have to. 

“Look, I… I know we’re not really family. It’s not my place to say stuff like this, but it’s… fuck.” Aelin cuts herself off with a slight shake of her head as a nervous chuckle expels past her lips. “I know I never got the chance to know you before… everything. But I look at the way you were back when you lived with John and I, and I look at you now and… it’s, I dunno. And I know that you’ve always been a little quiet, and you like your alone time but this just feels different, you know? Like you’re… pulling away from everyone. I just don’t want you to blame yourself for surviving.” 

It must be the alcohol. Surely. Aelin never talks about the accident, and neither do you. A silent rule settled between the two of you one day where you just stopped talking about it. You’d utter nothing about it when the anniversary came around, or when the events plague your sleep. You tell yourself that you’re quiet about it for her sake but really—you don’t talk about it because you’re certain the contrition will choke you on its way out of your throat. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Aelin continues softly. “For surviving it.” 

You swallow.

“I know.” 

She raises an eyebrow at you incredulously, forcing you to quickly give her a smile before she can chastise you for your sloppy deception. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever not feel guilty about it, Row,” you continue, a bit more truthfully. “It’s something that just… stays with you. I know it’s not my fault, and I’m not trying to self-sabotage or anything but it’s- like- just, some days are harder than others.” 

A bittersweet smile crosses her face as she nods. “Yeah I… I get that. Just remember that you’re not alone, okay? You’ll always have me and John. No matter what.” 

An awkward silence falls after you mutter a rigid thanks, yet everything continues to pulse around you. The music that vibrates the very molecules in the air, the patrons who jump and dance below you like a heaving pile of flesh; it all continues. 

The only thing that changes is the stale scent in the air. 

“Wow, what a way to ruin the fun,” Aelin chuckles. She shakes her head as if she’s physically removing the bad thoughts from her brain as she shakes her cup. “No more sappy talk for the night, I promise. I’m just about empty. Wanna come with me for a refill?” 

Just like Aelin had promised earlier that night, she spends the rest of the evening getting wasted, and it doesn’t take her long to get there. In a matter of hours her speech begins to blend into the mess of noise around you with fits of giggles and heavy slurring. Each step she takes is unsteady. She can hardly hold herself upright as she drags you to a pool table for what she swears will be a quick game. Her inebriation becomes so concerning that you forget all about your discomfort of being trapped in this club. You’re more focused on making sure Aelin doesn’t fall over. 

You consider it a blessing in disguise that you now have something else to focus on other than the prying eyes around you. Aelin seems completely immune to any outside forces as she sloppily leans over the pool table with her stick in hand. Each time she attempts to line up a shot, her hands seem to sway away from the cue as if its weight is suddenly too heavy to carry. This game has gone on for what you swear has been for the last hour; half in part due to you missing your shots, and half in part due to Aelin not being able to stay quiet long enough to focus on hitting anything properly. 

“Stop kicking the table,” she groans. 

“I’m not kicking anything,” you assure. 

“Why’s it vibrating?”

“That would be the music.” 

“The music?” she repeats. 

“Yeah. You know… the bass?” 

Nodding like she’s understood what you’ve said, Aelin makes her shot only to royally flub it, sending the cue ball ricocheting across the far side, nearly pocketing one of your balls instead of hers. You chuckle as she straightens herself up. Surprisingly pleased with herself, she adjusts the crooked pirate hat on her head as she grins at you. 

“Too bad Riley isn’t here to give us some pointers,” she teases. 

There’s something familiar in the tone of her voice that sends a jolt shooting throughout your spine. That familiar, yet confusing heat courses through your veins as you think back to dinner at Aelin’s house. Suddenly, you’re back in that garage. You feel everything; the felt of the pool table against the palm of your hand, Simon’s fingers brushing against yours, his voice rattling your ruined eardrum for all it’s worth…

“He seems busy with work,” you excuse. 

“Yeah?” she taunts. Her grin slowly melts into something hazier at your comment. It’s not quite malicious, yet there’s something oddly devious about it. Like she knows something you don’t. “Shame. You two seemed awfully comfy the other night.” 

You open your mouth to respond just for it to snap back shut. Of course she brings that up. Aelin can be worse than a mother teasing her school aged children about silly crushes, and you’re mortified that she’s doing this in her drunken stupor. Really, there was nothing special at all about what happened that night. Except for maybe the fact that it was the first time in quite some time that a man touched you and it didn’t make your skin crawl. 

“You’re reading too much into it,” you excuse while waving your hand. “He was just being helpful.” 

“You know, you should just date him,” Aelin says as if you had never spoken in the first place. 

For a moment, all you can do is stand there and blink. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“No, I’m being serious,” she slurs. “He’s a good guy, really. Quiet, too. Sure you gathered that from the other night. Bit of a smart arse sometimes, but I think you two get on well. He’s like… roughened. Girls like that, yeah? That’s sexy.”

“Row, I don’t think-” 

“And you need someone to look out for you at home, too. Those apartments? Those ones you got for dirt fucking cheap? They’re falling apart at the seams. I wanna kidnap you sometimes and just, like, bring you home. You’re gonna get robbed one of these days.” 

“Really, it’s-” 

“Besides… he seems to be having a much better time following me around now that you’re here,” she huffs. “He never seems this interested when it’s just me.” 

You freeze. There’s nothing but shards of ice in your veins. Your mouth grows sere as you attempt to shake the frost off your shoulders—you’re in too much disbelief to attempt to look around the area for him. Simon—following you? How could you have missed such a thing when he towers over nearly every head in the building? 

“What?” Aelin teases, nodding her head to the area behind you. “You mean you haven’t noticed your little shadow?” 

It’s only then that you brave a glance over your shoulder. Your throat grows tight at the sight of him. He sits at a small gossip table in a chair that’s dwarfed by his size; you’re surprised the wood hasn’t given way beneath him. Long legs stretch out to the side so they’re not awkwardly bent, and he slouches against the back of the chair as if to make himself appear smaller. Luckily, his attention seems to be absorbed by his phone. The screen casts a dull glow on his face, vaguely illuminating the rosy scars that faintly line the bridge of his nose and the corner of his lip. 

You don’t think you could’ve handled it if you had looked back at him just to see him already staring. 

“John likes to send him as a guard dog whenever I come here. Things got a little crazy one time and now he’s gone all scorched earth thinking I’m gonna get assaulted or something,” Aelin explains flippantly. It seems as if she’s given up on your game of pool as her hands playfully bat the balls around like she’s a cat with a roll of yarn. “I promise he’s not being a weirdo. Not on purpose, anyway.” 

Things only start to get worse. Her teasing, her insisting that you try to talk to Simon, her drinking—they only increase. Aelin’s words and insinuations make your mind spin more than the small sips of alcohol you’ve allowed in your system. You stare at her with her glazed eyes and frizzy blonde hair, and your stomach twists like you’ve been stuck with a knife. 

Your only saving grace is John Price. He crawls out of some room a little past one in the morning in an attempt to wrangle his wife in. It’s impossible to talk any sense into her, it seems. Hands on her hips, John tries to prevent her from swaying too much as she giggles. You awkwardly watch from the sidelines as she pulls at his shirt in an attempt to kiss him—you’re jealous at her ability to ignore the crowd around her. Always confident, she acts as if she owns the place. 

In a way—you suppose—she does. 

“Wanna get some fresh air?” 

You don’t realize Simon’s even approached you until his fingertips rest on the pool table in front of you. Blinking, you follow the line of his arm. The wideness of his hand sits like a riverbed for the veins that dance beneath the thin skin. It ends abruptly at the long sleeved shirt he somehow manages to wear despite the stuffy air in the club, and still you continue up along his thick shoulders until you meet his dark eyes. 

Pulling at your left ear, you grimace when the pressure changes. “Huh?” you ask while you twist your right ear toward him to hear better. 

“Some fresh air? Wanna head outside on the terrace?” he asks before chuckling. “Thought we could give the lovebirds over here some alone time.” 

Blinking, you quickly glance back at John and Aelin before answering. They’re still standing there in each other’s arms, swaying and talking to one another. Aelin’s smile is bright as she looks up at him, and John can’t help but grin at her crooked pirate hat. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Outside sounds nice.” 

Simon brings you to the back of the VIP section where a door littered with heavy sharpie graffiti leads you to a terrace. The noise level instantly changes the moment the door shuts behind you. Plenty of patrons mingle about in the cool, fresh air, but their chatter is nothing but a whisper compared to the rush of the music trapped inside. Cold autumn air chills your feverish skin as he guides you beneath a canopy of lights. 

At the end of the terrace lies a thick, metal railing. The cold iron bites through your palm as you grip it and look down at the alleyway below. Just on the other side of the railing, where the ledge juts out against the building, there are pots of flowers. They’re small, waifish little things, but their attar cuts through the dull night air all the same. 

“You smoke?” Simon asks as he shoves a hand into the pocket of his jeans. 

He’s on your left again. Sighing, you watch him carefully take out a pack of cigarettes where he beats the bottom of the carton against the palm of his hand. Shaking your head, you turn around so that your back is against the railing, putting Simon on your right side. 

“No,” you say bluntly. 

“Good,” he hums. “Don’t start.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to light the thing and start puffing away. The scent of it cuts through the air, smothering the redolence of the flowers behind you, but you don’t mind. Each time he exhales, he makes sure to turn his head away, blowing the smoke well out of your way. 

“So, Mrs. Price is a pirate. What’re you dressed as?” he asks. 

Chuckling, you stare down at your work uniform. It’s nothing special. Just a plain black dress shirt with the pants to match. There’s a small stain of ranch that haunts the hem of your shirt, but you try not to bring any attention to it as you cross your arms. 

“Oh, uh, a Sapori hostess,” you answer humorously. “Didn’t really have time to change before getting dragged out here.” 

“Sapori,” Simon hums. “Heard that place is pretty fancy.” 

“It’s up there, yeah,” you concur. 

“They pay well?” 

“Thirteen fifty.” 

“Not great.”

You shrug. “It’s enough.” 

A sharp breath cuts through the air as Simon inhales another long drag from his cigarette. The embers at the end dance to life in a bright orange before going cold when he exhales. You feel your head go light as a feather as you watch the smoke swirl and dissipate in the air. 

“What about you?” you ask. “I know you work for John, but like… you know…”

“Security mostly. Makin’ sure people don’t get too rowdy. And whatever odd job he assigns,” he answers. “Usually end up workin’ nights. Same as you, I reckon.” 

“Yeah, though I’m usually off around midnight most nights,” you chuckle, then sigh. “I’d be in bed by now if it wasn’t for Row.” 

“Row?” Simon repeats. 

“Oh, uhm, Aelin.” 

“What’d she do to earn a nickname like that?” 

Your teeth dig into your lip as you smile. “I could tell you, but I think I’d have to kill you afterwards.” 

“Ah, one of those stories,” Simon chuckles. There’s a short pause in the conversation as he finishes off the rest of his cigarette before tossing it to the cement at his feet. He stomps out the embers with the sole of his work boots. “Alright, what about your name then, Chip?” 

A sharp, awkward scoff escapes your lips as you stare at your feet. Reliving the story of your nickname is something you haven’t had to do in a long while, and it feels wrong saying it. Like you need to keep every little thing about yourself hidden, lest someone see how truly pathetic you are. 

“You promise not to make fun of me?” you question. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he says facetiously as he leans his elbows on the railing. 

“A while back, Aelin’s grandma invited us over for tea. The cup she gave me was broken on the rim. Like, a perfect slice just missing from it. I was too… I dunno. Nervous, I guess? I couldn’t bring myself to ask for another cup, so I drank out of the broken one the entire time. When Aelin realized, she just laughed at me. Said it was like that little teacup. You know, from Beauty and the Beast? Chip? She’s called me that ever since.” 

A quiet chuckle rattles through Simon’s chest as he turns to face you. It’s deep. Canorous. Without the cigarette between his fingers to distract him, he’s able to give you his undivided attention. His gaze ignites your intestines. Burns your offals until they feel too warm within your skin. You swallow as he blinks at you. 

“Cute,” he murmurs. 

“Riley!” 

Both you and Simon turn at the calling of his name, and it doesn’t take long for either of you to find the source. John marches across the terrace with Aelin stumbling behind him. She’s somehow managed to lose her hat since you last saw her, though she doesn’t seem too heartbroken about it as she throws her arms around you the moment you’re within her reach. 

“You vanished,” she slurs, spiced rum heavy on her breath. 

“I was only gone for a few minutes,” you chuckle. 

“Too long.” 

“Riley,” John repeats again, quieter this time. “Would you take the girls home for me? Don’t want them trying to head home when she’s this… well… Just take her car, since I’m sure you took your bike here, yeah?” 

He hands off a set of keys to Simon, who shakes them around a bit like he enjoys the sound of the jingle. “I’ll take good care of ‘em.” 

Getting Aelin into the car is a difficult task. Swaying worse than a drunken sailor, she nearly sends you tumbling into the back seat after her as she plops her entire body weight while tugging on your arm. Eventually you both are able to settle just in time to watch Simon struggle to get into the driver’s seat. The poor man proves himself to be significantly taller than Aelin, and he somehow manages to bash the side of his head on the roof of the car with a grunt. After some quiet cursing from him—and plenty of merciless giggles from Aelin—he moves the seat back far enough so that he’s not completely scrunched over. 

The moment he ensures both you and Aelin are buckled in the back seat, he takes off through London. 

“This is what you get for being so tall,” she teases. “I mean, really. There’s no reason for anyone to be this tall. What did your mum feed you as a kid?” 

“You know, your husband is only a bit shorter than me,” Simon retorts. His eyes find yours in the review mirror for a split moment before his attention is back on the road. 

“Yeah, but John puts his inches somewhere a bit more important than height,” Aelin teases, low enough for only you to hear. 

Aelin manages to sober up some by the time Simon pulls into the driveway, but only slightly. Rum still taints her breath as she gives you a tight hug and thanks you for coming with her tonight, and she’s unsteady on her feet as she climbs out of the car. Simon keeps his hands up like he’s watching a toddler who can collapse at any moment. Once she’s set, she turns around to look at you where she points a finger in warning. 

“Stay,” she orders as if speaking to a dog. 

Confused, you glance awkwardly at Simon. “Uh… aye aye, captain.” 

After your confirmation, Aelin slams the door shut behind her before allowing Simon to lead her inside the house. It takes her three failed attempts to get the keys into the lock, each punctuated by an array of colorful words. The entryway is shrouded in a thick numbra that disperses when she flicks the lights on, and she confidently struts toward the living room. 

“Simon,” she says, motioning for him to follow her inside. 

Dumbfounded, he listens. Aelin makes it all the way to the living room where she slowly lowers herself onto the sofa with a huff. “Yeah?” 

“I want you to keep an eye on Chip for me,” she hums. 

Simon stiffly crosses his arms over his chest. “Of course.” 

“No,” Aelin whines, “I don’t just mean tonight. Like, after tonight. Keep tabs on her, or something. You’re good at that stuff, aren’t you?” 

Confused, Simon quickly glances over his shoulder as if he expects to find you standing in the entryway. “Is she in trouble?” he asks. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Leaning her head back, Aelin rubs at her eyes as if she can remove the drunken haze that clogs her vision. “It’s difficult to tell with her. She’s really good at keeping things hidden, but I just know something’s wrong. I’d just feel a lot better if you helped keep an eye on her. Especially in that fucking apartment. Simon, I swear, I’m surprised that place hasn’t collapsed yet.” 

“So, you just want me to be her friend?” Simon confirms. 

“Well obviously don’t be a fucking creep about it, but yes. I suppose,” Aelin nods. “And don’t tell her about this, either. And obviously not about… anything else. You know. The business and everything. I know John is strict about that but you really can’t share that with Chip. She just… needs someone in her corner.” 

Nodding, Simon mulls over her request. There are certain things that are expected out of organized syndicates—protection is one of them. When you own the streets, there’s a duty required of that mafia to serve the people who live within the community. He’s lost track of how many heads he’s knocked together in the pursuit of making sure people know the rules. Watching over you would be no different. After all, there’s really only one thing Simon Riley is good at:

Fighting.

“Consider it done.” 

The drive to your apartment is quiet. There’s nothing but the sputtering hum of the engine and the cracks in the road to fill the silence between you and Simon. Every now and then you mutter directions for him to take, but otherwise you’re thankful that he doesn’t spark up any real conversation. With it nearing two in the morning, you doubt you’ll be able to say anything coherent anyway. Instead, he turns up the radio and lets whatever station Aelin last had it on fill the dead air between you two. 

The next thing you know, the car is parked in front of your apartment complex, and Simon is opening the door for you with his hand outstretched. Blinking the weary fatigue from your eyes, you take his hand and allow him to help you out of your seat. He’s so incredibly gentle despite the fact you’re certain he could crush your fingers with a simple squeeze. He shuts the door behind you as you pat your pockets down for your keys. 

“Thank you so much for the ride, Simon,” you say once you have them in hand. 

“No problem,” he replies with a nod. Your teeth dig into the inside of your cheeks as you wait for him to leave, except he doesn’t. It’s not until he glances at the ancient building behind you that you realize he intends to walk you to your door. “Which floor do you live on?” 

Each step that stretches between you and the third floor is grueling in a cruel way. If the lift was fixed, you would have taken it but it’s been out of order for the last two months, no thanks to your less than helpful landlord. Your feet are screaming by the time you make it to your door, and you feel the earth begin to tilt. Your keys slide into the lock with ease, and it takes nothing more thana simple turn of the knob for the door to swing open and reveal your studio apartment. 

It’s nothing special. Peeling wallpaper adorns the walls like crunchy autumn leaves, and its yellow tint is brought out by the lone lamp that sits on the nightstand next to your bed. Messy sheets adorn your mattress where it sits shoved into the corner of the room closest to a lone window, and there’s a single door slightly ajar on the far side of the room revealing a claustrophobic bathroom. The entire apartment is small enough to be a coffin, but the rent is cheap enough to not leave you bankrupt every month. 

Ready to dismiss Simon for the night so you can get some well deserved sleep, you turn to face him only to see his attention has been consumed by your door. Everything in this building is near ancient, but your front door and window are probably the worst. Chipped paint and rusting brass plague the hinges, but he seems more intrigued in the plating on the frame. 

“Find something interesting?” you ask stiffly. 

“More concernin’ than anythin’ else,” he mutters. Thick fingers brush against the old metal plating where he scrapes at the screws holding it in place. “How long ago were these replaced?” 

You shrug. “I have no idea.” 

“I’ll get you new hardware,” he hums, straightening himself up. “Someone could sneeze on the damn thing and it would fall over.” 

A million excuses flood your mind on why he doesn’t need to do that, and you’re certain they would’ve left your mouth if you weren’t so exhausted. Instead of trying to deny his offer, you yawn as your heavy eyes glance towards your bed. 

“Get some rest, yeah?” Simon prompts as he places his hand on the doorknob. 

You turn to face him with a quiet smile, and for a moment you find yourself at a loss for words. The ivory light of the hallway casts a dark shadow on his face, but it’s not enough to smother the soft concern in his eyes. 

“I will. Goodnight, Simon,” you say as a gruff vocal fry seeps into your words. 

Despite his size—tall enough to nearly brush his head against the doorframe and almost just as wide—you don’t feel any fear as you witness him. There’s nothing insidious about him, especially not with the small smile that manages to tug at his lips as he shuts the door. 

“Sweet dreams, love.”

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[imsandra]

A Little Interruption

Pairing: Lorcan Salvaterre x Female Reader

Summary: Even the shadows know how to find the light of day.

Warning: Fluff

Word Count: 1239

Notes: I hope you enjoy this story by Lorcan. As always, let me know your comments, suggestions, everything is welcome as long as it is with the motivation to teach and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.

Original story, I wrote it myself. Please do not copy or plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs, and likes I receive.

Happy reading!

Master list

The cool breeze and afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of Orynth's castle.

The grand hall was filled with serious conversations, military strategies, and tactical discussions.

Aelin sat at the end of the long wooden table, with her characteristic regal bearing. Next to her, Rowan remained silent, as always, vigilant and attentive. Gavriel, Aedion, Fenrys, and other members of the queen’s inner circle were in their designated seats at the table, discussing details of recent missions and alternate routes for upcoming journeys. The atmosphere was comfortable, almost familiar, despite the seriousness of the topic.

Lorcan remained in his usual spot, arms crossed, his expression tense as always. He was focused on the conversation until he heard a light knock at the door. He barely paid attention at first, thinking it was a servant. But when the door opened slightly, and a small head peeked in, he knew his peace had come to an end.

With light steps, his small daughter, with dark hair and bright eyes, entered the room, holding a little cookie in her hands. Her blue dress swayed around her as she ran towards Lorcan, completely oblivious to the seriousness of the environment.

“Daddy,” she said with her little voice, drawing the attention of everyone present, “I brought you a cookie.”

Lorcan sighed, but his expression softened the moment his eyes met his daughter’s. He stretched out his hand and took the cookie she offered with a shy smile.

“Thank you, little one,” he murmured, whispering something only she could hear, as he patted her head.

“Aww, how cute!” Fenrys teased, never missing the chance to enjoy the spectacle.

Aedion smirked, exchanging an amused glance with Rowan. Aelin, sitting across the table, hid a smile behind her fingers.

“Daddy’s busy now, sweetheart,” Lorcan said gently. “Go to your mom, alright?”

Rosella nodded eagerly and, with a giggle, left the room again. It wasn’t long before the door opened once more, and the same little figure ran towards Lorcan again. This time, she held a slightly battered flower that she had plucked from one of the gardens.

“Daddy, this is for you.”

Lorcan blinked, and this time, a murmur of laughter rippled through the table. Fenrys couldn’t contain a chuckle.

“A flower? Well, Lorcan, it seems you’ve won over the ladies,” he said with a mocking grin.

Aelin let out a giggle, and Rowan gave her a knowing look. Lorcan, with his usual limited patience, carefully took the flower and placed it on the table.

“Thank you, honey,” he said, almost resigned. “But I need you to go to your mom now.”

Once again, the little girl left, but not five minutes passed before the door opened again, this time without even a knock. The little one burst in, a wide smile on her face and a folded handkerchief in her hands.

“Daddy, I found this. Is it yours?”

Lorcan dropped his head back, visibly testing his patience while the others struggled to contain their laughter. This time, even Gavriel, usually the most serious, couldn’t help but smile at the child’s persistence.

“Daddy, it’s your handkerchief,” she said, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Lorcan took the handkerchief and tucked it into his cloak, while the little one stood firmly beside him, not moving.

“Thank you, my girl,” he said softly, before trying again: “Now, go to your mom.”

Before the little one could leave, the door opened once more. This time, it was Y/N who appeared at the doorway, a playful smile on her face.

“Am I interrupting something important?” she asked, her voice soft but clearly amused as she looked at Lorcan with a glint in her eyes. “It seems someone can’t be away from their father for long.”

The girl ran towards her mother, but before reaching her, she spun on her heels and ran back to hug Lorcan’s legs.

“I don’t want to go!” she said firmly, clinging to her father as if her life depended on it.

Aelin, completely amused by the situation, decided to seize the moment.

“Oh no, let her stay,” she said, grinning mischievously. “It’s adorable to see Lorcan’s softer side, isn’t it, boys?”

Fenrys burst out laughing.

“I never thought I’d see the day Lorcan Salvaterre would be tamed by a five-year-old girl,” Fenrys shot Lorcan a mocking grin. “You’re completely done for, brother.”

Lorcan shot a murderous glare at Fenrys, though it was hard to intimidate anyone when a small child was clinging to his legs, insisting on staying with her “daddy.”

“If you keep talking, Fenrys,” Lorcan said in a low, threatening voice, “you’re going to wish you hadn’t when I’m done with you on the training field.”

Fenrys leaned back, feigning fear as the others laughed.

“And here I thought I’d seen everything,” Aedion added, leaning against the table as he looked at the little girl. “Maybe we should take her to the next battle. She clearly has power over you that none of us have.”

Y/N smiled as she watched the scene, crossing her arms with a satisfied expression. She knew Lorcan would never admit how much he had changed since their daughter came into their lives. He was still the relentless warrior everyone knew, but with them, with his family, he had found a kind of peace that no bloodiest battle could ever offer.

Rose, ignoring the buzz around her, leaned against her father’s knee and, with a sweetness that would melt the hardest heart, bent to kiss his cheek. Lorcan remained still for a moment, completely bewildered, while a slight blush crossed his face. The others could barely contain their amusement.

“Now,” the little one whispered, snuggling into Lorcan’s neck, and with a deep sigh, let exhaustion take over.

Lorcan glanced sideways at her, completely unable to stay impassive. As gently as possible, he shifted his daughter in his arms, settling her against his chest. The little girl sank against him, her breathing slow and calm, and Lorcan let out a soft sigh, resigned to the situation.

The momentary silence was broken by Fenrys, who leaned forward with a mischievous smile on his face.

“If I weren’t seeing it, I’d never believe it,” he muttered, while the others exchanged amused glances.

Lorcan didn’t respond. His attention was entirely focused on the small figure asleep in his arms, his demeanor now relaxed, with a softness he almost never showed. He leaned down, pressing his lips to his daughter’s forehead in a delicate kiss.

“Looks like you’re no longer the scariest person in the room, Lorcan,” Rowan teased, though his voice also held a note of admiration.

Lorcan simply rolled his eyes and threw a quick glance at her, who had now moved closer to him. She smiled, gently touching their daughter’s arm before leaning down to kiss Lorcan’s forehead.

“I think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” Y/N whispered.

He returned her look, a glint of affection in his eyes.

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though the slight smile on his face betrayed his words.

With the little Rosella soundly asleep on his chest and Y/N’s warm presence by his side, Lorcan let the rest of the meeting continue around him, though he couldn’t help but notice the knowing glances everyone was casting his way.

For the first time in his life, perhaps, he didn’t mind.

*divider by @cafekitsune , thank you <33

A/N: I had baby fever these past few weeks so I made Lorcan a dad, I hope you enjoyed it. It's probably not necessary for a 5 year old to speak extremely well or maybe it is, I rarely hang out with kids so I'm not sure lol

I love you guys 💛.

tags: @sidthedollface2 Sorry it took me so long and I hope you enjoyed it, kisses 😚.

[acourtofthought]

It's a bit of an odd take to think that Az questioning the Cauldron means Sarah's going to turn around and make Elain and Az mates or even that they'll end up together.

In Sarah's world, characters don't simply get the things they want if those things were never what fate had in store for them regardless of them questioning fate.

In book 2 Feyre was waiting for the mating bond to snap with she and Tamlin.

In book 3 Rhys says he thinks Az has been asking himself why he and Mor weren't made mates for centuries.

In the TOG series, Aelin wonders whether she and Chaol might have been mates. She's also devestated by the loss of both Sam and Nahemia yet she was never allowed to change their fates. Same with Bryce and Danika.

In TOG and ACOTAR, both Rowan and Lucien struggled for centuries with the deaths of who they thought were their mates, wishing they were still alive.

A character wanting and wishing for something doesn't mean they're going to get it. That's kind of the point. Fate is bigger than any one characters personal desires.

Fate is not a character saying, "why can't I have this!" and turning around and getting it. A characters growth comes from learning why what they thought they wanted isn't just going to be handed to them and why they'll eventually learn that what fate had in store for them was a better future than they could have ever imagined on their own.

For Feyre, it was Rhysand.

For Aelin, it was Rowan and for Rowan it was Aelin.

For Lucien it was Elain.

And for Az it's most likely to be Gwyn.

Once we see who ended up as mates it's easy to see why the person they initially thought could be their mate was never going to be their forever and Az is not any different. He's not more special than the others, definitely not more special than Lucien to SJM (considering she has made Lucien a major part of the series since book 1 and continues finding ways to elevate his character like setting him up to be a future HL). Az doesn't get to complain about what he didn't get like a spoiled child only to be given it simply because he wants it. Az's arc will be about learning to accept himself AND embracing his destiny (which is clearly not Elain), it will not be about his crying because he thinks he should have gotten something another male character got then getting it simply because he threw a tantrum.

[elrielffs]

Honestly, I don't understand how antis think Azriel wanting to sex with elain means they are endgame,

Like are they forgetting Azriel also wanted mor sexually to the point that Feyre could see hunger in his eyes when Mor wore the white dress,

But there is only one woman who caused a spark in his chest who made him unconsciously smile and has her image glowing in his heart.

Its honestly obvious who is endgame.

People just hate Gwyneth Berdara because she is the only one who could make the Coldest shadow singer and spy master of the Night Court whose face is known to be a cold mask perfect ever since he was a child feel a spark in his chest, could make him smile unconsciously while thinking of her bright eyes and smile.

They hate her because it is only her image that buried deep in his heart where it glows quietly and which he referred to as a thing of secret, lovely beauty.

There will always be an image of her glowing in his chest no matter what.

Like I am sorry I would never want a man who has an image of someone else glowing his chest.

And then I see why some people in the fandom loath her. or try to downplay everything she does.

Yeah

it's

only

cause

they

want

to

fuck.

And that's not even all their scenes and none from the BC or the other foreshadowing.

I'll take all this over a spark any day. Especially a spark that was used between:

Aelin and Lorcan

Tamlin and Feyre

Cassain x Nyx's Baby Wings

And not used in other couples.

Babes, we ship Elriel cause it's in the books, not because we hate one woman. We are not the same.

Also they do want to fuck to each other and not the red heads and that's normally a requisite of being attracted to someone.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.8 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warning: Slight depiction of violence

See masterlist

There was the moon, casting a silvery trail across the dark waters of the shore where y/n stood. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the rocks filled the air, a soothing lullaby that mingled with the gentle breeze brushing through her hair.

She gazed up at the luminous orb hanging high in the night sky, its glow casting ethereal shadows across the sands. The shore stretched out before her, a tranquil expanse where the land met the sea in an eternal dance of tide and time. 

With each step, y/n felt the cool sand shift beneath her feet, grounding her in the present moment. The moonlight painted everything in shades of silver and grey, turning ordinary rocks and shells into shimmering treasures along the shoreline.

Then, she felt a presence right next to her on the shore, watching the waters dance under the moon. Y/n turned, startled, to see a figure cloaked in shadows, their presence imposing yet strangely comforting. As the figure stepped closer, the moonlight revealed a woman with piercing eyes and a knowing smile, displaying a set of iron teeth.

"I see you've found solace in the night, young one," the woman said, her voice a melodic whisper that carried an air of ancient wisdom.

Y/N hesitated, sensing something both familiar and unnerving about the woman's presence. "Who are you?" she asked cautiously, her curiosity tinged with apprehension.

"I am Elara," the woman replied, her voice carrying the soft lilt of someone who had seen ages pass. Her eyes, luminous in the moonlight, seemed to hold secrets of centuries past.

Y/N's curiosity piqued further. "Elara," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "Where are we, Elara?"

Elara turned her gaze towards the endless expanse of the sea, her expression thoughtful as moonlight played upon her features. "The tides of magic ebb and flow," she murmured, choosing to ignore y/n's question, her voice carrying a melody of secrets. "They bring me where the currents converge."

"You are drawn to magic, then?" Y/N ventured cautiously, choosing her words with care.

Elara's eyes sparkled with a knowing light, acknowledging the unspoken question. "Magic is a tapestry woven with many threads," she replied, her voice resonating with ancient wisdom. "Some threads are visible to those who seek them."

Y/N listened intently, sensing there was more to Elara's words than met the eye. "What are in my threads?" she asked softly, more to herself, than to the woman beside her.

Elara smiled gently, her expression serene yet filled with depth. "Your threads are intertwined with the fabric of worlds," she began cryptically, her voice carrying a melody of secrets. "You carry the essence of the Ironteeth within you—a lineage that spans beyond this realm."

Y/N blinked in surprise, her mind racing to grasp the implications of Elara's revelation. "Ironteeth?" she repeated, the word unfamiliar yet stirring something deep within her.

Elara nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Blue blood runs through your veins, child," she continued, her words carrying a weight of significance. "But it is not a curse—it is a gift, a mark of your lineage and the connection you hold between worlds."

Y/N felt a mix of confusion and wonderment. "I don't understand," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Elara placed a comforting hand on y/n's shoulder, her touch grounding and reassuring. "You are special, y/n," she murmured, her voice a gentle breeze that swept away the shadows of doubt. "Your path is woven with purpose, threads that bind you to destinies yet to unfold."

"You are wrong. My parents... I never knew who they were, but it is impossible. They couldn't have been witches," y/n interjected, her voice tinged with disbelief. She stared at Elara, struggling to reconcile the revelation with what little she knew of her own origins.

Elara regarded y/n with a patient understanding, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Not all magic is inherited through direct lineage," she explained gently, her words carrying a weight of ancient knowledge. "Love transcends worlds, y/n. It weaves its own threads through the tapestry of existence."

Y/N frowned, her mind racing as she tried to piece together Elara's cryptic words. "Are you saying... my parents were from different worlds?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Embrace your heritage," she advised gently. "Let the love that brought you being guide your steps, and trust in the magic that flows through your veins."

Y/n sighed and looked towards the waters once again "I don't understand...I don- What....no. Impossible."

"Find Manon. Let her know. And find me again when you are ready."

Y/n quickly turned around "What are you say-"

But her words were quickly cut off as she realized the woman had disappeared. The shore was empty now, save for the gentle lapping of waves against the rocks and the whisper of the wind through the night. 

She took a step forward, scanning the moonlit expanse for any sign of Elara, but there was no trace of the enigmatic woman who had appeared with cryptic wisdom and vanished just as mysteriously.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her mind racing with unanswered questions and the weight of Elara's revelations settling upon her shoulders. The realization that her journey was intricately tied to secrets beyond her comprehension left her both unsettled and strangely determined.

One second she was on that shore, the next she was back in the crystal caverns, on her knees before a mirror that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. The transition was disorienting, leaving y/n momentarily breathless as she took in her surroundings.

The caverns around her were filled with the soft hum of magical energy, crystals of various sizes and colors pulsing with a gentle light. The mirror before her reflected not just her physical form, but seemed to hold a depth that hinted at secrets and possibilities beyond.

Y/n reached out tentatively, her fingers grazing the cool surface of the mirror. It was smooth and unyielding, yet she sensed an almost imperceptible vibration beneath her touch—a sensation that whispered of connections waiting to be discovered.

Her mind raced with questions, the memory of Elara's words echoing in her thoughts. Seems like this mirror created an illusion around her. Not like the Ouroboros back in Prythian then. But...how did it connect to the enigmatic woman who had appeared and vanished with cryptic wisdom?

So many questions. Not enough answers.

A witch? How is that possible. Her whole life she and everyone who was unlucky enough to witness her blue blood thought of it as a curse. A deformity.

How in the seven hells is she an Ironteeth Witch? Was her mother a witch?

She hid this secret so well. Not even Azriel, let alone anyone else found out about it. So why now?

Whatever. This was a complete waste of time. She would never let anyone in on her secret and Manon won't know anything.

With that final thought, she got up and left the caverns, promising to herself never to come back here again.

"Y/n?....Y/n!"

Y/n came back to reality, her senses snapping back into focus as the familiar voice called her name. Blinking rapidly, she shook off the remnants of the mirror's illusion and turned towards the source of the voice.

Manon was standing right next to her, still holding her palm up. In a sudden fit of anger, y/n snatched her hand away from the silver haired witch and turned around, making her way into the palace.

"How long have you known? Kept this secret?"

That made her pause. She slowly turned around to see Manon standing in front of Abraxos with arms crossed and an unreadable expression on her face.

Y/n replied coldly "My whole life. The blue blood part not the whole Ironteeth witch part. And I would suggest you keep this a secret as well because if you don't then I won't be responsible for what happens to you next."

Manon's eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, her voice laced with a taunting edge. "You are an Ironteeth Witch. You are one of my own," she declared, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Y/n also approached her "I am not one of you. I am not even from your world. You may be the Queen of Witches but you aren't my queen."

They stood chest to chest now, the air thick with tension as they locked eyes, each refusing to yield in their stance. Manon's expression was unreadable, a mask of regal composure overlying whatever emotions churned beneath. Y/n's jaw was set, her stance reflecting both defiance and a hint of vulnerability.

Manon tilted her head slightly, studying y/n with a calculating gaze. "You're different," she acknowledged quietly, her voice carrying a note of curiosity. "But that doesn't change the truth of what you are."

Y/n's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. "I don't owe you any explanations," she retorted, her voice firm. "My heritage is my own."

Manon's lips quirked in a semblance of a smile, though there was no warmth in it. "True," she conceded, her tone sharp and probing. "But secrets have a way of surfacing, especially when power is at stake."

Y/n bristled at the implication, her resolve hardening. "I won't be manipulated," she stated defiantly, her voice carrying an edge of warning.

"You are refusing your own destiny."

Y/n gave a firm look at the queen in front of her "This is not a destiny, it is a curse. My world never had any witches or Ironteeth whatever and frankly, I never knew anything about this until I ended up here."

Manon's gaze did not waver "You are a coward then."

She was in shock. Absolute shock. Does this witch think that just because she is a queen y/n would bow to her? Declare her undying loyalty to her? She had already done that once with Rhys and Feyre, safe to say, it did not end well.

Y/n snarled as she stood face to face with her "You have no idea of what I went through in my life. This blue blood nonsense made it even worse. Where were you or the other witches when I was being laughed at, avoided, tortured, insulted and beaten for it? That's right, fucking nowhere. This is a curse and I am not about to reveal it. I am not a coward for hiding something that brings only misery to me. Queen of Witches or not, you do not hold any sway over me so do me a favor and shut your mouth about this whole thing." With that, she turned around on her heels and took quick strides towards the palace.

But she still heard Manon's voice over the distance saying, "Come find me when you are not running away from your destiny."

Come find me. Come find me. Seems like both Elara and Manon enjoy pissing her off, thinking they know her better than herself.

She did not go to dinner. In fact, she had no idea where she was going, but she was going somewhere. Preferably, far away from everyone.

After who knows how many turns and dead ends, she found herself in front of another set of double doors at the end of the hall.

Without even thinking, she just entered only to be surprised when she saw Yrene, on the floor with papers, quills and books all around her, the main book being on her lap.

Y/n hesitated, not wanting to startle her, but Yrene looked up with a warm smile.

"Y/n! don't just stand there, come and sit." the healer said, pointing to a small lounge chair in the corner of the room.

She smirked while walking towards the chair "I thought you didn't want anyone disturbing you. Except your husband, of course."

Yrene slightly shook her head with a small smile "He just wouldn't listen to me when I said that he needs rest, that Aelin has servants coming and going to this room with meals and everything I may need. He is a stubborn brute! staying by my side constantly, helping me analyze and decipher. And now look at him...I finally managed to get him to rest. Though, I admit I had to use some help from Rowan."

Y/n giggled before a questioning look overtook her face, "I saw him limping earlier. But when you two first came, he walked just fine. What kind of an accident caused that condition, if I may ask?"

The healer's expression turned downcast as she began sorting through some of the papers on the ground. "Well...when Chaol and Nesryn--the future empress of the Southern Continent--came to Antica, he was in a wheelchair. Just...long story short the King of Adarlan had used his magic to break him."

At y/n's shocked expression, Yrene just gave a sad smile and continued, "Yes. I, as a healer of Torre Cesme, an academy that houses and trains gifted healers, was appointed to heal his legs."

She sighed as she looked towards the large windows behind y/n, her gaze unfocused, seemingly lost in her memories. "We hated each other at first due to our diferring beliefs on each other but, we eventually started being civil with one another. And the whole Valg thing just brought us closer. Which eventually resulted in him being able to walk again."

"Wait. What Valg thing?"

"Well, one of the Khagan's children, his pregnant daughter got infested with a valg that caused her to murder her younger sister and then try to murder me. It took us some time, but we eventually found out it was her and then when we fought her, she landed a hard blow on Chaol. He was going to die and with him, my soul would have died as well."

Y/n was just staring with wide eyes at the curly haired woman in front of her, urging her to continue "But, the other healers joined together and helped me heal him. Though there was a price for it and I payed it without thinking, without any regrets. Our lives were joined forever. He would walk, but if I used too much magic or exerted myself, he would need a cane or his wheelchair. Vise versa if he exerts too much energy, I will feel weak, nauseous and so on. Us being bonded in every sense also meant that once one of us dies first, the other also dies. We go at the same time."

Now this was something y/n had never heard of before. She knew how her High Lord and Lady also had joined their lives together. If there were any doubts about that actually being true, they were cleared when the whole fiasco during Nyxs' birth happened. But what y/n never heard of was how the actions of one would affect the other in such a bond.

She cleared her throat, still processing the information "That sounds romantic....in a way."

Yrene let out a small, lighthearted, laugh at that "Perhaps. I am glad to wake up everyday knowing that we survived it all and have a small family of our own now."

"You do?"

"Yes! Our son, Ares is only three, but he already is showing interest in weaponry. I try to keep them out of his way because it is so dangerous and Chaol is not the most organized person but...he somehow manages to find them. It is also not helping that his uncle Dorian keeps buying him wooden swords, bows, arrows and whatever else Ares wants. Such a spoiled kid."

She could see the fond smile on Yrene's face as she began once again, flipping through stacks of papers.

How does it feel to have a family of your own? A husband and kids...once upon a time y/n would've entertained that idea but no more.

"You miss your son."

The healer sighed "Of course, but atleast Dorian and the nannies are keeping him some company. And by some I mean a lot. Dorian refuses to let the kid breathe! He is too protective, acting like a mother hen at all times."

At that, they both looked at each other with amusement before letting out loud laughs that echoed throughout the room.

When their laughter died down, Yrene quietly asked y/n, "Well, I told you something about my life, now it is your turn to tell me something about your life in your world. How is that place?"

Y/n chuckled "Wait a minute. Why are we talking about me all of a sudden?"

Yrene just shrugged her shoulders with a small smile, still not looking at her "Well, I thought you could stop me from dozing off while trying to work out this book. So...please? Tell me something. Keep me company. I am quite curious, you know."

"Very well then. Hmmmm....my life back at home was very fun. Each day would be filled with different things to do. My High Lord, Rhysand, treated us, the inner circle as his family rather than his subjects. He became even better, less stressed, less frustrated when he met his mate and they later on had a son. I would spend my free days going to my favorite cafe's in Velaris, shopping with Mor, reading with Nesta, sometimes joining Feyre in her art studio, cooking with Elain, doing absolutely nothing with Amren-"

At that, she let out a small chuckle, remembering her tiny friend. "You know, you would fit right in the Dawn court. They have the best healers my world-Prythian-has to offer. And that whole place is absolutely beautiful and so peaceful. In fact, out of all the courts, I think I like Dawn the best."

Yrene looked up from the book at y/n with a curious glance "How many courts are there?"

"Six. Dawn which is the best, Day which is the most...unusual, Winter which is always cold, Spring which I hate because of its annoying, pain in the ass of a High Lord, Night from which I am from, and Autumn which is actually the worst."

"Oh wow. Your world seems so unique. I would love to explore all those courts."

"Yeah well, Dawn would probably be the best and only one you need to see because I don't think Chaol would be happy with you being in Day after seeing Helion and his...beyond appropriate comments and parties. Spring court is literally deserted, it's a long story so don't ask about it now, and would not recommend going there if you are allergic. Autumn court won't probably let you in because it has an egotistical, ancient hag for a high lord. Winter is nice but considering how you come from a warmer place, I don't think you will stay there for more than an hour. Night court is only nice when you are in Velaris and not in the Court of Nightmares."

Yrene once again had a questioning face and so it went on for another hour as they conversed about each other's lives and got to know one another more. Of course, they both still kept many things hidden from one another but y/n was glad they at least could share some of the happy memories.

When y/n left the healers room to go to her own, it was well near midnight but her veins thrummed with energy as she felt this strange feeling of content wash over her. Out of everyone here so far, she felt like Yrene was the one with whom she felt safest and most relaxed. It was good to talk to someone so freely after such a long time.

Fenrys stared at the papers in front of him. Being the Ambassador of Terrasen meant you got hundreds of official visits, check ups and whatever else to sign and read through. It was well beyond midnight but he couldn't sleep either so getting holed up in his study room is not something to complain about.

His mind also drifted of to a certain winged female who was starting to interest him more and more....unfortunately. For some reason, earlier today when she gave him a glimpse into her life it made him feel happy. Worthy of hearing something private. Of course his happiness was soon replaced with anger and another ugly feeling when he heard the name of that male...Azriel.

Was he handsome? Was he a good warrior? How old was he? He bet that he could destroy this Azriel in a matter of minutes if they ever came face to face.

Why was he even stuck on this? What y/n does with her private life shouldn't interest him. Although he can't deny the relief he felt when she told him they weren't mates. Honestly Fenrys, get yourself together.

But no matter what, he hates Azriel. Especially after y/n explained some of the things he did. What a spineless coward, that one. And once he saw her holding back tears, on the verge of a breakdown, there was nothing else at that moment that Fenrys wanted more than to crush Azriel's skull with his bare hands.

He waited for her at dinner but she didn't come. When Manon entered the room, her expression was indifferent as usual but her movements were somewhat stiffer. And when he asked her about y/n, she just gave him a short, cold reply "I don't know."

Something was wrong. He could feel it. But, Fenrys also valued his life enough to know not to provoke the witch beside him. He would just have to ask y/n tomorrow.

A knock on the door brought him back from his thoughts as Fenrys muttered a quiet yet audible "Enter."

Lorcan entered with a small smirk, going straight to the brown leather couch in the left side of the room, "I knew you would be awake."

Fenrys rubbed his face with his hand "And why are you awake? Shouldn't you be with your wife?"

The taller man just stared at the ceiling and yawned "Couldn't sleep. Knew that you barely sleep these days so decided to come keep you company."

Fenrys sighed but got up and went towards the shelf containing various forms of drinks. He took a good old aged whisky and poured it into two glasses before going towards Lorcan.

As he got gloser, Fenrys physically gagged "You smell of sex. Couldn't even bother washing up before coming here and sitting your ass down on my couch?"

Lorcan simply smirked, taking the glass from the males hand "Too tired for that. Don't be mad at me just because you are not having any fun these days."

Fenrys took a sip from his whiskey and placed the glass on the table before sitting back down on his chair "Poor Elide. Don't know how she manages with you, your stupidity, ego, clinginess and high libido."

He heard the brown haired man chuckle "Can you blame me? I miss my wife. This whole drama has made us so busy that I use every chance we get alone. It certainly hasn't gotten better becuse of her."

At Fenrys' questioning look, Lorcan said, "Y/n. We didn't even have any problems until she appeared here and now all of a sudden we have gates reopening and Valgs somehow reappearing. I am telling you, that little snake has something up her sleeve. She is up to no good."

Now, this got his attention and Lorcan clearly did not see the irritation slowly appearing over Fenrys' face because he continued, "She's a stranger, appearing out of nowhere just when trouble starts brewing again. It's too convenient. And everyone is slowly warming up to her. Even Elide! Though, can't say I blame her, my sweetheart has always only seen the good in everyone but I know for a fact that little brat is the total opposite of innocent."

Fenrys clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he listened to Lorcan's words. The accusation against Y/n, whom Fenrys had started to slowly trust, struck a nerve. He fought to keep his voice steady as he interrupted, "Watch your tongue, Lorcan. She is just as desperate to go back to her world. Y/n has done nothing but help us so far when she could have already landed whatever her blow was if she were to be an enemy."

Lorcan scoffed and stared at the glass in his hands, "Honestly, I thought you and I were on the same page about this. Seems like her bullshit act has also won you over. Not to worry though, I gave her a good little pep talk to make sure that she knows she is never safe for as long as she is here."

Fenrys' blood ran cold. No. It couldn't be. Was Lorcan the one who threatened and caused her those marks? Fenrys felt the wolf within him slowly stir awake as he got up, eyes never leaving Lorcan, and steadily made his way over to him "What kind of a pep talk did you give to her?"

Lorcan just layed back on the couch, still not threatened by his companion as he just smirked "Pinned her to the wall by her neck. You should've seen her face Fenrys it was hilarious how she was struggling to breathe! It felt so good to finally bring down her walls and see her for the scared little girl she was. Showed her how she can talk and act brave but-"

Lorcan did not get the chance to finish before Fenrys grabbed him by the neck and forcefully pushed him towards the shelf behind the couch, causing it to fall with a loud bang and the books to scatter all over the floor.

Lorcan was surprised, but his shock soon turned to anger as he narrowed his eyes at Fenrys and got up "What-"

But Fenrys shut him up with a hard punch to the face and another one to the stomach. Not giving him the time to recover, he grabbed Lorcan by the collar of his shirt and pinned him to the wall with a harsh hit, causing the man to roughly hit his head against it, before using his hand to choke him.

He did not see. He did not feel. All he thought was that this bastard in front of him was one of the causes for y/n's discomfort. Never in his life had he felt this level of extreme violence. Of extreme need to kill.

Fenrys bared his teeth, displaying his sharp fangs as he growled, "I am going to kill you."

Lorcan couldn't even reply properly because of how forcefully he was being choked. His wide pleading eyes did nothing to ooze Fenrys' anger as he harshly threw the man before him to the table, causing it to break. A mahogany, durable, table just broke down because of the force with which he threw a man as big as Lorcan onto it.

Lorcan got up to his feet while still coughing and clutching his stomach and turned to look at Fenrys "What in the name of Wyrd is fucking wrong with you? I don't want to fight you."

Fenrys did not reply. Within the blink of an eye, he had the brown haired man on the ground, below him as he began throwing punch after punch, blow after blow onto his face.

His vision became red. At that moment, all he cared about was y/n and her safety. He wasn't going to show any mercy. He was going to kill him-

"STOP!"

"Gods, what in the seven hells-"

"Rowan do something!"

The next thing Fenrys knew, he was being dragged away from Lorcan. Someone was holding him to their chest. Restraining him. Stopping him from killing.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Fucking let me go!"

"Come back to your fucking senses Fenrys!"

It was as if someone dumped ice cold water all over him. The world around him started coming back into focus as Fenrys realized what was going on. Rowan was holding him back while Elide and Aelin were trying to get Lorcan on his feet.

He pushed himself away from Rowan and came closer but Aelin got between them as she glared at him "Fenrys what in the everloving fuck have you done? Look at the state of the room! Look at Lorcan!"

And indeed, the room was a complete and utter mess. Books, papers files, glasses and other objects were covering the floor. Broken or crumpled. His worktable was broken into two and the shelf was lying flat on the ground. The couch was on the verge of tearing apart. Not to mention, there were specks of Lorcans blood all over the floor.

But he did not care. He did not feel a single ounce of shame or remorse. Lorcan had it coming. He had to be put in his place. And so, he gently pushed Aelin and then Elide away, coming face to face with the male whom he considered as his close companion for so many centuries.

"If I ever find out that you have threatened, insulted, hurt, come any closer or even touched y/n again, trust me Lorcan my face will be the last thing you see before you end up in a grave. Besides, you're human now so it would be twice as easy for me to kill you."

He heard Elide gasp and Rowan sigh deeply while Aelin asked "For Wyrd's sake, what happened? What are you talking about?!"

But for the first time since taking the blood oath for Aelin, Fenrys ignored his queen and her demands as he strode past everyone towards the door "You might want to call Isolde. He doesn't look like he is in a good shape."

He did not look back as he left the room and headed towards his bedchamber.

By the time the early signs of sunrise hit, y/n was once again awake and already going through her fifth imaginary fight against the enemy in the training ring. It had been some time since she last used a sword and if she didn't practice with it more, she would be weaker in this field. Now that was something she couldn't and wouldn't allow so, here she was, using one of the swords to fling, hit and fight.

Cassian once told her how mastery over fighting with a sword was a form of art. In fact, all fighting forms were some sort of art and the one holding the weapon was the artist. She had to use the sword not as a weapon, but as an extension of herself. Smooth, swift and precise.

She was so focused on herself that she failed to notice the slight movement behind her. Y/n immediately turned around, ready to strike whoever the unluky bastard was when she realized that it in fact was not a someone but a something. Just there, in the near distance, Manon's wyvern, Abraxos was lying on the grassy ground, carefully and silently observing her.

Y/n's hand hovered near her weapon, tension coiled in her muscles as she assessed the wyvern's presence. Abraxos regarded her with intelligent eyes, his scales shimmering in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.

"What are you doing here, big guy?" she muttered, more to herself than to the creature. Despite his fearsome appearance, there was a curious gentleness in his demeanor as he lay there, observing her with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Slowly, Y/n eased her stance, recognizing there was no immediate threat from the wyvern. She slowly came over to him before crouching down, meeting Abraxos' gaze levelly. "Are you keeping watch for Manon?" she ventured, testing the waters with the formidable creature.

Abraxos rumbled softly, a sound that was more akin to a contented purr than a growl. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position on the grass but never breaking eye contact with Y/n.

"I suppose you're here to make sure I don't cause trouble," Y/n mused, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. She had never imagined having a conversation, silent though it may be, with a wyvern. Yet here she was, engaging in an unexpected moment of understanding with Manon's loyal companion.

Y/n watched Abraxos for a moment longer, intrigued by the wyvern's calm demeanor. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly extended her hand towards him, palm up, a universal gesture of trust and invitation.

Abraxos regarded her hand for a moment, then tilted his head slightly, as if considering her offer. With a graceful movement, he stood up from the grassy ground and approached Y/n cautiously. She held her breath as his massive head drew closer, feeling the warmth of his breath and the soft touch of his snout against her hand.

Y/n took a glance at his wings and....they did truly look like hers just bigger and a little different.

"Alright, big guy," Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. "Let's see what you've got."

Abraxos slightly tilted his head, as if understanding and questioning her. "Let's have a little morning exercise for our wings shall we? I haven't yet flown today and I am guessing you haven't either so, wanna do it together?"

At that, he stood as if readying himself for flight, his gaze never leaving hers. Smart creature.

Y/n smirked and flapped her wings gently first, "Let's see if you can catch me." and then, she shot upwards, Abraxos following in her lead as the two flew as high as possible, reaching the soft clouds.

The view from up here was beyond heavenly. The golden and warm hues coming from the sunrise cast a soft glow over the clouds and the skies, covering them in all the comforting hues of a morning light. Y/n felt a surge of exhilaration as the first rays of sunlight kissed her skin, enveloping them both in the serene beauty of the morning light.

As they soared higher, Y/n sensed Abraxos's presence beside her. The wyvern matched her pace with ease, his wings beating rhythmically as they navigated the skies together. Y/n glanced sideways, meeting Abraxos's intelligent eyes that sparkled with a mix of curiosity and companionship.

"You're fast," y/n called out over the wind, a wide grin spreading across her face. Despite the initial challenge, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unity with the majestic creature flying beside her. The bond forged in flight transcended words, a silent understanding between two beings sharing the boundless freedom of the open sky.

As they continued their flight, she marveled at the world unfolding beneath them. The patchwork of fields and forests stretched out in a tapestry of greens and browns, rivers winding like ribbons through the landscape. It was a view that only the sky could offer, a perspective that humbled and inspired in equal measure.

With each graceful arc and swoop, y/n and Abraxos danced through the sky, weaving a story of trust and exhilaration. In that moment, amidst the quiet majesty of the morning light, Y/n knew she had found a kindred spirit in the wyvern who soared beside her, sharing in the simple joy of flight under the gentle embrace of the sunrise.

After a while, they both gently landed on a wide and tall hill. Y/n was still smiling, adrenaline still buzzing in her veins when she turned around to see Manon approaching. That instantly made her smile drop.

The witch reached them and cast a look at Abraxos, who was feeding on the plants, "I thought only I got to fly with you in the mornings."

The wyvern gave a small rumble, more focused on eating the flowers beneath him. Manon rolled her eyes with a small smile as she gently caressed the beast.

When y/n turned to leave, she heard the queen say "When are you going to tell them?"

"I think I made it perfectly clear last night when I said 'never'." y/n replied, her voice tinged with frustration.

Manon stopped carresing Abraxos, leaving his side to come closer to y/n as she said, "So that's it then? You will keep running away from the inevitable? From the undeniable fact that you are an Ironteeth Witch? And if the Book of Breathings chose you, it seems like you have a connection, a power you have no idea about."

She scoffed "Easy for you to say. You didn't have to grow up in a world where witches, where your own kind did not exist. A world where you were an orphan who never knew her parents. A world where you were seen as a curse, a liability. You have no right to demand such things of me."

A shadow passed over her face before Manon came closer, her eyes gleaming with challenge "I don't? Last I checked, I am your queen. I may not know what that world of yours made you go through, made you believe in, but I can assure you that in this world, one of our kind is never left out. And believe me witch, I know far more about sacrifice and survival than you ever will."

Y/n let out a disbelieving huff "Do not call me a witch ever again Manon. You are neither my queen nor my leader. I am done with this conversation for once and for all."

As y/n turned to leave, she heard the witch say "Two days. I give you two days to tell them. If after two days you still haven't told anything, I will say it myself."

She whipped her head back around "What gives you the right?! Just because you are the queen-"

Manon turned around and began walking towards her wyvern "Perhaps you should also think about on the fact that maybe that world--Prythian--isn't your true home. Stop running away."

Y/n couldn't get the chance to say anything before the witch mounted her wyvern, muttered a "Ready for a second round?" and flew off into the skies.

Y/n found herself in an unfamiliar room. Aelin had gathered everyone in a sitting room to address the pressing issue at hand. Even Yrene was here. Servants had brought breakfast, which they enjoyed before being discreetly dismissed with instructions not to disturb them further. What y/n noticed was that both Lorcan and Elide were missing. And so was Fenrys. She tried not to think about him, not to worry but...why isn't he here? Did something happen?

Don't be silly y/n, he has a job to do. Maybe he is just busy. Yes. He is busy.

But that thought didn't make her uncertainty go away.

A luxurious area rug with an elaborate pattern in shades of brown and green covered the polished wooden floor, adding both comfort and regal elegance to the room. Near a tall window draped in heavy silk curtains in shades of green and gold, there is a plush armchair upholstered in gray velvet. A magnificent wooden coffee table, intricately carved and polished to a high sheen, stands at the center of the room. The walls are adorned with rich, textured gray wallpaper, subtly embellished with a delicate pattern that catches the light just so. Against one wall, a grand sofa upholstered in sumptuous brown velvet commands attention, its cushions exquisitely embroidered with threads of gold and green.

Rowan, standing in the center of the room, cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "We've confirmed that the Valgs are returning because the gates between worlds are weakening,"  he looked at Manon "I need you to order your witches to start searching for these Valgs. My guess is that there is only few of them which is why they haven't yet revealed themselves in full force."

"That is an advantage for us. Considering that we can wipe them out before they are even ready." Aedion interfered, while chewing on an apple from his place on the couch.

Rowan nodded "Yes. Which is why we need to keep the element of surprise on our side. Manon, make sure that the witches are careful and discreet."

The silver haired woman gave a slight nod while getting up and going towards the door. "Don't tell me how to manage my witches, bird. I will send word to Petrah."

Rowan rolled his eyes at her nickname for him but continued, "Next. If the Valgs are to attack us before we can find them, we need to be prepared. I will put a barrier, a ward of sorts, all around Terrasen, not to mention, I will make sure that the sages from the sanctuary use their ancient magic to create an extra barrier-"

"But what if the Valg are already inside our territory?" The question came from Lysandra who was picking at the cherries on top of the cake.

"And what if those monks are still cranky old bastards?" Aedion asked at the same time, earning a glare from his cousin.

Rowan chose to ignore his silly question but considered Lysandra's question carefully before responding. "If they're already here, our priority remains to contain and eliminate them swiftly," he said firmly, his gaze sweeping across the room. "The barrier I propose will not only protect Terrasen but also act as a detection mechanism. It will alert us to any breaches, giving us a chance to respond before they can cause significant damage. Which is why, it is essential we get the sages to cooperate."

Y/n asked from her place near the window, "What about the Book of Breathings? Didn't Aelin say it contained a text on how to defeat the Valgs once and for all?"

Aelin, seemingly in thought, replied "We still have no idea about that part of the issue."

Rowan looked straight at y/n "The seers' said that you are the one who can somehow close the gates. Any guesses?"

Tell them. Tell them you are a witch. Don't run away.

No. She wasn't a witch. She wouldn't accept this. She has a curse not a gift.

But maybe....

Y/n furrowed her brow, thinking deeply. "Closing the gates... It must involve understanding their nature," she began, pacing slightly as ideas formed in her mind. "If the gates are weakening because of a disruption in their magical alignment, then restoring that alignment could be the key."

Rowan nodded thoughtfully. "So, we need to find a way to correct the magical energies that govern the gates," he summarized, his eyes brightening with a hint of optimism.

Aedion raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly will we do that?"

Aelin sighed "Yrene, how is your deciphering going?"

The healer, who was sitting on the sofa with her husbands arms tight around her, replied "I managed to completely identify the characters and patterns. All that is left is to join them and understand the overall context. This analysis could take me another day or two."

This earned her a kiss on the head from Chaol and a proud smile from everyone, including y/n.

Aelin got up from her chair and went towards her mate "Very well done Yrene. I think for now, this is all we can do. Hopefully, we will find a way to get the Book of Breathings, somehow find a way for y/n to close the gates and go back to her world."

Lysandra, who was gently caressing her husbands injured arm, said "I just want the Valgs to be completely wiped out this time."

Aedion looked at her with all the care and love in the world "We will."

Well, seems like those two made up.

Eva came running into the room, making all the eyes turn to her as she jumped up and down, excitedly "Dorian is coming! Dorian is coming!"

Chaol was immediately on his feet as he took the letter from the younger girl's hands and read it before looking at Aelin with a smile so bright, y/n thought it could compete with the sun itself "He is on his way. He is coming."

The queen and her mate smiled as Lysandra laughed while putting her head on Aedions uninjured shoulder "Missed your brother, Chaol?"

Yrene just snickered from her place on the sofa "Can't wait to see Manon's reaction."

Once everyone started leaving the room, each going to do their tasks regarding the issue, y/n hesitantly approached Aelin in the hallway.

This is so embarrassing. Why is she worried about him? Fenrys is none of her concern-

"Aelin?"

Her mouth moved before she could even rethink her decision.

The queen turned around and came closer towards her with a questioning look.

"This....this may sound um....unusual I-I don't even know why I am asking but....I guess I am worried um....where- where is Fenrys?"

She gave her a slight smile before taking her arm and pushing her into one of the rooms closest to them. Once she closed the door, Aelin turned towards y/n as she said "Fenrys, he....he had a disagreement with Lorcan last night. I- look, I was thinking of saying this later when I forced Lorcan to apologize to you but I guess I have to do it now. I am so sorry and ashamed that a member of my own court treated you that way, I mean, choking? Are you serious? And I was wondering why would you wear turtlenecks during this season. Elide is also very ashamed on his behalf, Rowan and the others are pissed at him but....he is also blood sworn to me and very dear to Elide so it's not like I can just kill him. Anyhow, Lorcan has always been.....complicated. But I know that is no reason for him to do what he did which is why I will make sure he apologizes- no, begs for your forgiveness once he is in a proper condition again."

They know. Mother above....how? She thought she did a good job at hiding it but...

"How did you find out? Does Fenrys know?"

"Sweetheart, Fenrys was the one that put Lorcan in that horrific condition in the first place. I never saw him that mad. Rowan even said that over the hundreds of years that he has known Fenrys, he had never seen him that violent. Especially towards someone as feared as Lorcan. Not even when Maeve sent him to kill Lorcan was he this enraged."

"What?! How did he know?!"

"Lorcan himself told him apparently. I don't know the full thing because Fenrys just locked himself up in his room and ignored all of us. Wait-"

But y/n had heard enough. She was already storming out of the room, heading towards his bedchamber. How stupid can he be? She told him to not interfere!

When she was in front of his room, she knocked on the door once, not receiving an answer.

"Fenrys. Let me in."

No reply.

"Fenrys!"

Still, nothing.

"Fenrys, I swear if you don't open this door in the next five seconds, I will break it down myself!"

He was clearly ignoring her now.

"Fenrys! Why-"

The door slammed open and there he was, standing right in front of her, in a simple white tunic and black pants, hair completely dishelved from running his hands through it and speaking of....his hands were completely bruised. She should not feel this aroused just from looking at him. Stop it. He was in a fight and all you can think about is how attractive he is?

She sighed and pushed past him into the room.

"What-"

"Sit down on the bed."

"Y/n, I do not have the energy to play your silly game-"

"Does it look like I am playing games? Believe me, I am quite pissed at the stunt you pulled but you also need tending to those wounds. Sit your ass on the bed and we will talk while I tend to you."

"I don't need a nanny-"

"Fenrys."

Her voice left no room for disagreement as he sighed and sat down on the bed while y/n went to fetch a healing kit from the bathroom.

She came back a minute later with the supplies she needed and put them down next to him on the bed. She took his left hand first, inspecting the bruises and cuts on his knuckles gently, before beginning her work.

Fenrys watched carefully as y/n applied the products onto his hand. She was so concentrated that she didn't even notice his gaze burning into her skull. Her calming and delicious scent enveloped him, making him feel relaxed. No one had ever cared for him in this way before. No one.

It was always just him and himself who tended to his own wounds. Maeve never cared enough to send her healers to aid him after the things she would put him through. In battles or wars, he always put others before himself, insisting on their treatment first. He doesn't even remember his mothers face so its not like he had any caretaker anyway.

But y/n...the way she gently applied the medicine so that it wouldn't hurt him, the way she softly caressed his hand....he didn't know if she was aware of it or not but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not while he felt this calm in her presence.

That calmness, however, was shattered when she asked "Why did you do it?"

He scoffed slightly, "If you thought that I would just let it go then you were wrong."

Y/n, still not looking at him but at his hands, replied, "Clearly. I told you that I would deal with him on my own, didn't I? You had no right."

There she goes again with her agressive bullshit. She has no idea how it felt for him last night. How he was ready to tear Lorcan into pieces for touching her, for insulting her. And here she is talking about him having no right?

He moved his hand away from her, causing her to look at him with those hypnotizing eyes that make him want to commit every sin possible in the world just to-

"Stop acting like a baby. Why did you do it? I mean, we owe each other absolutely nothing and it's not like you care anyway."

"Do I need to care to beat him up for hurting you?"

"Umm, Yes? Why in the seven hells-"

"You are right. I don't care about you and neither should you so just leave."

Why did it physically hurt him to even say this sentence? A quick flash of hurt passed over her features and Fenrys wanted to peel his skin off for being the cause of it.

Her features hardened before she pulled his hand back towards her and said "You are a big, annoying, egotistic brute. I hope you know that. Consider this a thank you for doing....that."

Fenrys couldn't help the smile forming on his face "Did you just thank me? I think I am going mad."

She chuckled slightly before rolling her eyes "This is the only time you will hear it from me so don't get too optimistic."

Y/n didn't know why seeing him smile made her feel so happy. Whatever it was, she had to stop it before it got too far. But, as she patched up his hands, she just didn't want to stop. Didn't want to let go. And when she looked up to see him already looking at her with those depthless, onyx eyes that softened when they made contact with hers, she didn't want to stop anything.

But the sweet moment was cut short as the air suddenly crackled with energy. A burst of bluish-white light spread around the room and before she could even process what was happening, Fenrys threw her behind him as he drew his sword from under his mattress and got into an attackers stance.

Y/n got on her tip toes to look over his shoulders and what, or rather who she saw made her gasp in shock.

There, in the middle of the room, in the middle of what appeared to be some kind of a magical circle, her ghost like figure casted an otherworld glow all around her.

Y/n immediately stepped aside and slowly came closer, not believing her eyes.

"Amren..."

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