#colored by vassa

[areyoudreaminof]

Now I can’t stop thinking about Elain and Vassa trying edibles together.

[mehanizem]

Hotel Royal in Vaasa

[oristian]

ELUCIEN | GWYNRIEL — MAASVERSE SPOILERS

I tend to see posts and videos from a multitude of people who seem to be reluctant to accept foreshadowing in the ACOTAR books—specifically regarding the endgame couples to finish out the overall series. As this post is simply beating a dead horse down, I find that it is very much needed as a specific group of people lack the capacity to understand the books.

Foreshadowing is not meant to be obvious. There are, of course, cases where it is relatively obvious, but only within the parameters of back-to-back scenes. Foreshadowing is meant to be picked up on, but to be fully understand later on in the story when everything comes to fruition. Examples of foreshadowing include color descriptions, specific use of language, emphasis on certain scenes, emphasis surrounding specific objects, et cetera. If something happens obviously and you can read the scene as-is, it is not foreshadowing.

I see many people who ship Elriel claim that there is buildup across the entire series that foreshadows why they will be endgame. As the books do not support that claim, it is outlandish and a spread of misinformation. Allow me to disprove this theory using the books alone:

— 🌸 ACOTAR: Zero interactions between Elain and Azriel as Azriel had not been introduced as a character yet. This book highlighted Feyre surmising that Elain would thrive within the Spring Court, that her sister enjoyed typical emissary work, and instead introduced Lucien as a character.

— 🦢 ACOMAF: This is the first book where Elain and Azriel met, as is this is where many Elriels like to claim that the Elriel build-up begins. However, this book says otherwise. Elain and Azriel’s first meeting is neutral, quiet conversation to ease a tense situation as Nesta/Feyre/Cassian/Rhys were creating an uncomfortable atmosphere and Elain meant to ease it. This book highlighted how in love Azriel was with Mor and how Elain was engaged to Grayson. Many Elriels also claim that the color of Elain’s dress in this first meeting—being cobalt—is indicative of endgame between she and Azriel. However, cobalt is also the signature color of Grayson’s family crest. Their interactions die out after that first meeting and instead focus on Feysand again. The throne room scene in Hybern also showed the beginning of Elucien and their mate bond, while Azriel was on the floor reaching for Mor. (I go more into this on my Tik Tok page: @oristian)

— 🔥 ACOWAR: When Feyre returns to the Night Court after her month in Spring, she finds that Elain has been within a catatonic state for the entirety of that month and has shown no signs of recovering—that is, until Lucien came along. Elain began eating and moving around once he came and after tugging on the mating bond, her visions first started showing. themselves. Everyone likes to credit Azriel for most of this, but all that Azriel did (take her to the garden) was suggested previously by Lucien. Lucien, who was not able to be alone with her due to Nesta and Feyre. Next, everyone tends to say that Azriel “saw” Elain when he named her power. “What we need is …” Contradicts such a thing. Naming a power does not cure someone of their trauma. Lucien is also canonically the first character to take Elain’s visions seriously and went in search of Vassa, ultimately finding Papa Archeron and creating an even deeper connection into the Koschei plot arc with Elain. This is also where we get the iconic half-step on the stair scene.

Elain is now kidnapped by the cauldron portraying itself as Graysen—Elain wanting so badly to be with her previous lover. This is a scene where many Elriels claim that it is supportive of Elriel being endgame. However, it is within character for Azriel to save someone, especially people close to him. Certainly, Elain being appreciative of being saved and kissing him on the cheek is cute, but that is not enough “foreshadowing” for an endgame. Next, Azriel hands her Truth Teller after Elain refused other weapons. Elain is hesitant and only agrees to take it once Feyre chimes in that she will not have to use it. Juxtapose this with Elain immediately giving it back after the battle is over, not saying a word, and instead falling into conversation with Lucien. Lucien, who is canonically the only character to credit her for assisting with ending the King of Hybern.

— 🌨️ ACOFAS: This is the buffer book that was meant to do two things: Establish Nessian as the next couple for the following book, and establish a clear love triangle between Azriel/Elain/Lucien. Elriels use this book to drive the idea of an Elriel endgame. While this book has scenes between Elain and Azriel, there is unfortunately no foreshadowing present enough to support that claim. This novella emphasizes, from a conversation between Rhys and Feyre, that Azriel may be inclined towards Elain due to her having traits that may remind him of his mother (Freud). We also have Solstice where Lucien brings Elain a gift—a gift that fully reflects her interests—Elain brings Azriel a gift, but Azriel does not bring Elain a gift. Azriel even questioning beforehand if he has to get the sisters a gift at all. Elain’s gift being superficial and more of a joke than anything truly meaningful to them as a relationship.

— 🗡️ ACOSF: The book that ended Elriel. We have this book set up as PRE-BONUS CHAPTER | BONUS CHAPTER | POST BONUS CHAPTER. In the pre-bonus chapter, we have a few scenes between Elain and Azriel that is a glance, or a very small interaction. The infamous scene that Elriels like to use to “prove” that his shadows actually like Elain is the scene where Cassian says that Nesta upset Elain and his shadows seemed poised to strike. His shadows reacted to his anger, not to Elain. Next, the Solstice scene where Azriel refused to be within the room due to the mating bond between Elain and Lucien and Nesta seeing that he was interested in Elain—which is never brought up again, however we do get a scene post bonus chapter of Nesta encouraging Gwyn and Azriel by calling him the “new ribbon.”

The bonus chapter ended Elriel officially as endgame. The chapter is told from Azriel’s POV and documents his lustful thoughts of Elain and how he wants a mate, hurt and confused why his brothers had two of the Archeron sisters and the third was given away to another male. Rhysand even asking Azriel what his plans are after seducing Elain and Azriel having none “past the fantasies he pleasures himself to.” This is also a chapter where Elriels like to claim that Elriel is a forbidden romance. ACOWAR Rhys clearly objects to this being the case. (I have a video on my Tik Tok going over this @oristian) The bonus chapter then moves to Azriel finding Gwyn, his shadows not warning him of her presence at the HoW. His shadows are curious about her and dance with her breath. Azriel then finds out that Elain rejected his necklace—the only Solstice gift that he has gotten her, and one he expressed as “nothing extraordinary”—and the next morning finds him re-gifting such to Gwyn. Azriel can picture her eyes lighting up at the gift and he smiles—this is also where mate language is used to describe the spark in his chest at the thought of her and the glow of the thought. “A thing of secret, lovely beauty.” A line that was used twice—one to describe the necklace, and another time to describe the thought of Gwyn.

Post bonus chapter has zero interactions between Elain and Azriel. The interactions between Azriel and Gwyn are charged and witty. Energetic. This is also where we see Azriel’s siphons glowing darker at the thought of the Valkyries in the Great Rite—the first instance that this has happened.

Next, we go into the last two remaining plot arcs: Koschei and Dusk Court. Both ACOSF and HOFAS have set Nesta up as the driver for the Dusk Court arc, with Azriel as the character to follow. With SJM’s Bloomsbury contract slating her to have two more main books with dual POV romantic interests, the Dusk Court arc book would only make sense having Gwyn and Azriel as the FMC and MMC of that arc. The Koschei arc has been carefully crafted for Elain and Lucien to be the FMC and MMC of that book, with both of them being set up for this since ACOWAR. Elain with her visions of Vassa, the lake, and Koschei’s black box, and Lucien being tied to Papa Archeron and Vassa and the mortals. (I have a video on my Tik Tok that goes more in depth with this @oristian)

— SUMMARY: Elain and Azriel do not have multiple books of foreshadowing, a Gwynriel and Elucien endgame is not fanservice, and the remaining two plot arcs do not support an Elriel endgame. If you have any problems with that, take it up with SJM.

[dreamdragonkadia]

As Written Above, So Shall It Be Below Part - II Word Count: 6.4k A/N: Insert dramatic music here. Feedback, comments, thoughts, and theories are always appreciated! Main Pairing: Rhysand/Reader/Feyre Prev - Next ✦ Ao3

The letter arrived before you could properly get Jurian up to speed—before he could even begin to wrap his head around the fact that Fae walked these halls freely, laughing and talking with the very humans they had once been at war with.

"You’ve been busy, I’ll give you that," Jurian muttered under his breath that morning, seated beside you at the long dining table. His eyes flickered over the gathered council, studying them like a battlefield he had yet to understand.

The human and Fae councils sat side by side, conversing easily. The only person missing was Vassa.

Meanwhile, Estella was perched happily in the lap of Eosara, the Peregryn Fae who represented the Dawn Court. Her tropical colored wings were tucked neatly against her back, eyes bright as she murmured something soft to the little girl curled against her.

A trusted guide to flight. A mentor. One who had fought in the war and had chosen to stay.

She was young, but stubborn, unyielding in her will. A trait she shared with Estella, which made their friendship even more surprising.

"It was a long process," you murmured, lifting your cup to your lips. "Please don’t fuck it up."

Jurian let out a soft, disbelieving huff, but whatever snide remark he had prepared was cut short as the doors swung open and a courier entered the room, balancing a golden tray stacked with letters.

You barely glanced at the first three—more complaints from lords and ladies whining to the crown. Those, you swiftly passed to Vassa’s advisors.

Another letter, from a different kingdom, seethed at Scythia for harboring Fae. That one, you crumpled up without a second thought.

But the last one—that made your breath catch. 

The wax seal pressed into the envelope. A rising dawn. Your fingers tightened around the letter, the rest of the room fading into the background.

This wasn’t addressed to Vassa. It wasn’t addressed to the mortal queen or anyone in the human court.

It was addressed to you. To the Lady of the Night. Your full name and title. The ink burned into the parchment like a brand. Jurian must have noticed the shift in your demeanor because his voice lowered, words laced with curiosity. "What is it?"

You said nothing.

Just stared at the dawn wax seal. 

"Eosara."

The name left your lips before you could even think, the sound sharper than you intended.

The Peregryn looked up from where she had been gently braiding a loose strand of Estella’s hair, her eyes blinking at you curiously.

"Yes, M’lady?"

You hesitated for only a second before asking, "Did you see your brother? At the battle?"

Her face lit up instantly, her wings twitching in excitement.

"Yes!" she beamed, nearly bouncing in her seat. "He was shocked to see that I was alive and well—we both cried. Oh! And the stars you read were right! High Lord Thesan and him are an official thing! Only took them how many years."

A Fae from the Summer Court let out a soft scoff, muttering, "About damn time."

Eosara ignored him entirely, too swept up in her own story.

"And even the High Lord hugged me," she continued, "though it’s a little weird to think that we’ll be family one day, you know?"

Your fingers flexed around the letter, the parchment rough beneath your fingertips.

"Eosara," you said again, voice calmer now, more stable. "Did you… mention anything? To them?"

She blinked, tilting her head. "Mention anything?"

"About the others. About who survived."

The Peregryn’s brow furrowed, and for the first time, some of her excitement dampened. "I—" she hesitated, shifting slightly. "I didn’t say much. I mean, I told them I had been safe all these years, that I had found shelter, that I had found—"

She stopped, eyes flickering with uncertainty.

And you knew.

The way her wings tucked in tighter, the way her fingers clenched the hem of Estella’s sleeve.

You knew.

Her throat bobbed. "I… might have let it slip. Not about everyone—just that I wasn’t alone. That I wasn’t the only one to make it out."

Jurian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, this just keeps getting better."

"Did you say my name?"

The Peregryn’s wings twitched, her gaze dropping. "No," she said quickly. "I mean—no, not exactly. But I think—Lord Thesan might have guessed."

Your stomach twisted. Thesan was not a fool. He was one of the most observant High Lords in Prythian.. If she had so much as hinted—

If she had spoken of you in any way—

Then he knew. And that meant this letter…

You looked down at the wax seal once more. "Shit," you muttered under your breath, your fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before breaking the seal. The parchment unfolding smoothly:

Lady of the Night,

If what I have been led to believe is true, then I am glad that you are alive, and I sincerely hope you are well. It has been many years, and though I understand why you have remained away, I will not pretend that your absence has not been felt.

I cannot blame you for not returning, not after… certain circumstances within your court. But my friend, know that you are always welcome in Dawn, should you ever wish it. You, and all those who fled with you. I extend this offer without expectation or condition—merely as a standing truth. Especially after everything you have done for Eosara, and by extension, for my court.

I was admittedly surprised when she declined the invitation to return home, as I was by every Fae who stood with the mortal queen and chose to follow her back instead of seeking refuge with their former courts. Not one dared to speak of how they lived, how they survived, even when we were told the Weaver had eaten her fill that night.

I will not lie to you—Helion suspects. He would not voice it, not for Rhysand’s sake nor for the High Lady’s, but he requested an audience with me regarding the matter. It is both a hope and a fear for him, and I suspect he dreads the answer as much as he longs for it.

Court politics aside, I hope you might grant me an audience—not just for the sake of Prythian, but because I send this letter in good faith. There is much we could discuss, including the possibility of establishing ties with the human territory you have deemed worthy enough to protect.

And, if nothing else, my captain would be overjoyed to see his baby sister again. He has not stopped worrying for her since the end of the war, and I suspect no order I give will ease his mind until he hears it from her own lips.

I ask that you allow Eosara to deliver your response and grant her permission to explain what happened. Whatever your answer may be, I will respect it.

With sincerity,ThesanHigh Lord of the Dawn Court

The words blurred for a moment as you read them over again. Once. Twice. 

Thesan’s letter was carefully worded, diplomatic, but you knew the truth beneath his polite phrasing. A slow breath slipped past your lips as you set the letter down beside your plate, fingers pressing into the parchment as if it might run away.

"Well?" Jurian drawled, breaking the silence. "Anything scandalous? Or should I be disappointed?"

You huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back into your chair. “I think I need a drink.”

Jurian’s brows flicked up.

“Something strong enough to knock me on my ass for a few days,” you clarified, rubbing your fingers against your temples.

The rest of the room buzzed with chatter, the hum of conversation a distant, unimportant thing. You could have tossed the letter into the fire right then and there—no one would be the wiser. Let the flames consume it, let the ashes scatter into nothingness, as if Thesan had never written it at all.

But Scythia was a land of trade, a land that had flourished on the backs of merchants and contracts, on the careful threading of alliances. A trade agreement with the Dawn Court would introduce new goods, new wealth, new influence.

And if war broke out between the human queens—if their fragile alliances shattered, if blood once again stained these lands—then having a court’s backing could be instrumental in ensuring Scythia’s survival. More than survival. Expansion.

The thought curled through your mind, enticing, logical, a strategy as old as time. But it was cut short as quickly as it rose.

No.

Scythia had been content as a small kingdom, one that did not hunger for more, one that did not seek to stretch its grasp beyond what it could hold. It was an option you had proposed time and time again, a vision of stability, of safety. And time and time again, Vassa had rejected it—just as her mother had before her.

Still, the thought itched at the edges of your mind. A court’s backing. A court’s wealth. A court’s protection.

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself, then said—loudly—“How would Scythia feel about hosting a High Lord in our grasp?”

The room went silent. Conversation cut off mid-sentence. Several pairs of eyes turned to you, brows raising, spines straightening. Some in curiosity, some in suspicion.

Slowly, you lifted the letter, letting the parchment catch the daylight. “The Dawn Court requests an audience,” you announced, voice carrying through the hall. “And I think we can time this with Vassa being a part of it.”

“Court, court!” Estella chirped, her illyrian wings popping out in excitement. 

The room unraveled all at once. Voices rose, tangling over one another—arguments, ideas, concerns. Someone banged a fist against the table, another sighed heavily, already weary of whatever this would bring.

“What does he want?” someone demanded.

“Can we afford to host a High Lord? What would be expected of us?” another countered.

“If we deny him, what message does that send?”

“If we accept, do we risk becoming entangled in Fae politics?”

“We already are,” you muttered, but no one heard you over the din. 

By mid-noon, the letter of response was finished. The room waited anxiously as you read it aloud,

High Lord Thesan,

It has been a long time, and though I hesitate to confirm your belief, I find myself unable to ignore it. If what you suspect is true, then I am glad that it is you who has discovered it.

I had expected some resentment from you—for leaving you all beneath the Bitch Queen’s thumb, for not returning to Prythian even after her reign ended. I will not lie and say I do not still wake in the dead of night, expecting to find myself trapped Under the Mountain once more.

I am sorry that I could not rescue you as well. But know this—those who left with me are alive. They are thriving. They are living as they should, free from the shadows that once loomed over us.

Perhaps one day, I will take you up on your offer—to settle in the Dawn Court, to walk its halls once more. I have missed your palace, our talks. Next time we meet, perhaps I will read the stars for you again. As for my home, I do not wish to cause more trouble than my departure already has. If he is happy, then I will ask for nothing more.

For my High Lord of Night.

For my once-husband.

I ask only that you tell no one. Not for their sake, but for mine. This entire situation has left me on edge, and I know you will understand why.

On the matter of diplomacy, I extend an invitation—you and yours are welcome within the walls of Scythia. I urge you to winnow if you can—it is quite the journey across the sea, and I doubt you would find it pleasant. But know this: you will be stepping into a human kingdom, one that offered sanctuary when no one else dared.

These are a people who took us in when we had nowhere else to go, who shielded us. They are to be treated with respect—with honor. I would find great insult should any of yours disregard them.

As for what happened all those years ago…

It is not a story for Eosara to tell.

It is one you must hear from me. I leave her in your care so that she may guide you to our refuge, so that she may show you the life we have built here.

I look forward to seeing an old friend again.

Yours,

Do I even call myself the Lady of the Night anymore? Perhaps, Starseer then?

As simply as that, the letter was sealed, handed off to Eosara, and within moments, she had been winnowed back to her birthlands, the place she had once called home. From there, she would fly the rest of the way.

Two weeks.

That was the date you had provided.

Hopefully, it would be enough time to get this city into shape—to prepare, to fortify, to anticipate what it would mean to welcome a High Lord Fae into a human kingdom.

And yet—

That was also the night the dreams changed.

They had started a few months ago, and always the same. The grassy field stretching wide before you, the manor behind you, its presence looming even when you did not turn to look at it. Human lands. You were certain of that much. The air smelled of earth and green things, of summer turning to autumn. You always sat at the same small table, drinking your tea, alone.

And yet, you had never been alone. Not truly.

There had always been a presence within that manor—silent, hidden, watching. You had felt it ever since the wall had fallen, since that barrier between humans and Fae had shattered. The very day this dream had begun its relentless cycle.

That presence had never been warm, never comforting. It was a sliver of a blaze, distant yet unbending. Hardly ever the night sky anymore—never the stars.

Dreams were odd things, so similar to reality, yet so... wrong.

Tonight, there were two chairs.

You had assumed, if someone came, it would be someone you knew. A ghost of your past, a specter of memory made flesh.

But the Fae woman who stopped several feet from the manor entrance was no one you knew.

A queen, perhaps?

Devastatingly beautiful, without a doubt. But not in just the way of the Fae. Not in the effortless, gilded beauty of their kind. No, this was something sharper, something carved out of wrath and resilience. Those piercing blue-gray eyes held far more emotion than a Fae should allow. Anger was its shining center, but beneath it—something deeper, something buried.

You held her gaze for a long moment before tilting your head and gesturing to the empty seat.

"There is no point in standing there looking like I've done you wrong," you joked, leaning back.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then—her voice, flat and edged like a blade casually dragged across stone.

"Aren't you supposed to be with the Mother? Or whatever nonsense afterlife Fae believe in?"

No fear. No reverence.

Just disdain, as if she found your very existence mildly inconvenient at best, utterly irrelevant at worst.

You glanced up at the sky, unconcerned, and shrugged. "Suppose she didn’t want me."

The woman huffed, arms crossing over her chest, her weight shifting in a way that made her irritation obvious. “So, you’ve come to plague my dreams like your and my sister’s court don’t do that enough?”

You blinked.

Your court? Her sister’s court?

There was no missing the venom in her tone, the way the words curled with something bitter and long-standing, something older than whatever had drawn her here tonight.

Who the hell was she?

And why did she speak as if she already knew you?

"You assume I have control over this," you said, studying her. "I assure you, I don’t make a habit of haunting strangers."

"Strangers," she echoed, her lips twisting slightly. 

A test. A taunt.

You didn’t rise to it. Instead, you gestured toward the empty chair again. "If I’m already in your dream, you might as well sit. Unless you’d rather stand there glaring at me the entire time you sleep."

She held your gaze, unflinching. Stoic.

Then, with a sigh—one that sounded less like surrender and more like exhaustion—she moved.

Slow. Careful. As a predator on the hunt.

She pulled out the chair opposite you and sat—not in a way that suggested comfort, but rather control. Back straight, arms folding over her chest as if daring you to think for a second she had relaxed.

"You’re awfully calm for a ghost who doesn’t know where they are," she mused.

"You’re awfully defensive for someone who acts like they don’t care," you countered.

Something flickered in her expression. Surprise, irritation—it was hard to tell.

"You don’t speak like them," she said at last.

"Them?"

Her mouth pressed into a thin line, as if she had already said too much.

You studied her—the steel-cut posture, the restrained fury beneath her skin, the way she spoke of Fae courts as if they had disappointed her in ways only someone intimately familiar with them could understand.

Your lips parted. "Well, I’m—"

"I know who you are."

The words landed like a sentence, final and irrefutable.

You frowned slightly. "Then I am at a disadvantage here, Miss...?"

A long, tense silence.

It took a long minute to realize that last name, why it had such an impact that you practically yanked yourself out of that dream.

"Nesta. Nesta Archeron."

~ ✦ ~ ✦ ~

“Why do you look like Doomsday is around the corner?” Jurian snorted, breaking the silence.

From her place beside him, Estella peeked over his armrest, her violet eyes curious as she studied you. She’d already been awake—waiting when you startled up. You hadn’t even opened your eyes before you'd felt her there, hovering quietly beside the bed like a little ghost.

It was an odd habit she’d developed lately—if she woke before you, she’d sit and watch, as if waiting for the precise moment your breathing shifted. Never spoke. Never touched. Just... watched.

You weren’t sure if it was endearing or unsettling.

You exhaled heavily, rubbing your temples before muttering, “I fear that I’ve started haunting the Kingslayer’s dreams.”

Then, before either of them could pry, you summoned a bottle of Fae wine.

It was early, but after that, a drink was already needed.

“What? You can do that?” 

“No.” Dream-hopping had never been a power you possessed. No, this had to be something else. Something not of your own making.

The Mother.

You pulled the cork from the bottle with a pop and took a long sip before saying, “And do you really think I’d choose her dream to haunt of all people? You’d be first on my list.”

Jurian scowled. “Please don’t. Seeing you every day has already reminded me why we were always two seconds from stabbing each other during the war.”

You smirked over the rim of your glass. “Then maybe I’ll start showing up in your dreams just to make sure you don’t forget.”

Before he could retort, a soft voice cut through the conversation.

“Sad?”

You blinked, turning toward Estella. She had climbed onto Jurian’s chair, her small hands gripping the edge of the armrest as she peered at you with a serious expression.

"I'm not sad," you clarified, brows knitting slightly.

Estella made a face, like you were missing something obvious. Then she sighed. Actually sighed, like a miniature adult disappointed in your inability to keep up.

"Not you, Mama," she said, matter-of-fact, before promptly deciding the conversation was beneath her.

With all the flair of someone who knew exactly how dramatic she was being, Estella hopped off the chair and disappeared under the table.

Jurian raised a brow.

You exhaled, “I have no idea. She’s on a high horse today.”

He gave a dry hum of agreement.

For as young as she was, Estella already had every telltale sign of her father’s personality—observant, amused by things going wrong, and entirely too good at making you feel like you were the ridiculous one in the room.

Gods help you when she was older.

The table moved on—several conversations sparking up around you, clinking dishes and low laughter weaving into the lazy rhythm of the morning. You had just started to relax, letting the dream slip from your mind, when a small finger poked your thigh.

You glanced down.

Estella stood beside you and in that same calm, certain voice she’d used before, she murmured—

“Kingslayer. Seer. Cursebreaker.”

You stilled.

Her gaze didn’t waver.

You simply reached out and patted her head.

Because you didn’t know what else to do.

~ ✦ ~ ✦ ~

It had been nearly a week before the Kingslayer returned to your dreams.

She had not appeared again in that field—not a flicker, not a whisper. For nights, it had been just you at the small table, in the same quiet meadow, with the manor looming at your back.

But tonight—

Tonight, as you drifted into sleep, she was already there.

Sitting.

Waiting.

Nesta Archeron.

Neither of you said anything as you took your usual seat.

No words. No glares. No accusations. Just… presence.

And that’s how the next three nights went.

No dreams but this one. No visitors but her.

She said nothing. You said nothing. But the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it became useful. Time suspended outside of politics, outside of reality—a still place where thoughts could unfurl freely.

These dreams, oddly enough, had become productive.

You used the stillness to think—to plan. Thesan’s impending arrival weighed heavily on everyone, and there had been more than a few hiccups in the preparations.

Vassa had been debriefed the night the letter arrived, and as expected, she’d had more than a few opinions to share. She wasn’t against the idea of making Scythia the largest trading outpost in the human realms—not if an alliance with Dawn could guarantee it.

But she had crushed any suggestion of invading the sister lands before it could take root.

“We trade. We expand. We do not conquer,” she had said, voice firm, eyes hard.

It had all come to a head during one of your late meetings when Jurian had said something that shocked both of you.

“Your dear Starseer is right,” he said, casually swirling a glass of wine like he wasn’t dropping a verbal match into dry grass. “If the other queens were willing to toss you aside that simply, they’ll be willing to wage war with you, too. Take your wins the moment they show weakness.”

You remembered how still Vassa went.

How the room seemed to inhale, waiting.

And then—

She kicked both of you out.

Literally.

You and Jurian had barely cleared the threshold of her war room before the door slammed shut behind you, lock clicking into place.

“Do you—”

The voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You turned slightly.

Nesta wasn’t looking at you. She sat rigid in her chair, hands clenched in her lap, knuckles white from the effort. Not trembling. Not weak. Just… contained. Controlled.

“Do you regret what you’ve done?”

The question came out too quickly to be soft, but too quiet to be a challenge.

A blade, held point-down.

You let it hang between you for a long moment.

“I don’t know what you’ve suffered,” you said finally. “And I don’t know what you go through now.”

Her eyes flicked toward you—the faintest movement, but there.

“If you’re asking for your sake,” you continued, “and hoping my answer might somehow condemn us both, I’ll spare you the effort.”

You met her gaze then. 

“No. I don’t regret what I’ve done. Not who I’ve hurt. Not who I’ve killed. Not the ones I made suffer.”

The words slipped out like truth carved into stone. Not cruel. Not boastful.

Just fact.

“I do not know you,” she said. “And yet why is it you—who is dead—who haunts me?”

Her hands were no longer in her lap. One now gripped the armrest of her chair like she might crush it.

“I know you from a painting,” she went on, “and from stories the Illyrian brute had let slip when he’s distracted. That’s it. That’s all.”

She looked at you then—truly looked. 

“Out of all the dead,” she said, practically hissing the words through clenched teeth, “it’s a woman I have no connection to—no bond with—who keeps showing up, night after night.”

She paused. Her voice dropped, bitter and frayed at the edges.

“I figured if I got drunk enough, you wouldn’t come back.”

You let her words sit between you like a storm on the verge of breaking.

Then, simply, calmly, you answered, "Your guess is as good as mine. I do not know why the Mother has deemed us to share this space. If anything, it should be your High Lady."

"Not my High Lady."

The words came out a hiss—immediate.

That took you by surprise.

You studied her again, more carefully this time. “She is your sister, is she not? From my understanding, you sit within her court, no?”

Nesta’s jaw clenched, her eyes flashing. “I never asked to be this,” she bit out, each word rough and raw, like it cost her something to say it aloud. “It is the least she can do—letting me stay—for dragging Elain and me into this mess.”

The bitterness in her tone was layered. And despite the fire still simmering in her gaze, for the first time, you saw it—the hurt underneath.

Not weakness. Not regret.

Just the kind of wound that never quite scabbed over.

“Interesting,” you murmured, watching her carefully. “I’ve known humans who would give anything to become Fae. Yet you resent it.” A soft pause. “Why? Because this was a fate you were forced to take?”

“What does a dead woman know?”

You didn’t flinch. Just tilted your head.

“I know what it is to have someone else dictate your life. Down to who you’ll marry, how you’ll serve, when you’ll speak. For me, Rhysand, for what it’s worth, wasn’t the worst option for a husband.”

She snorted. “He’s a prick.”

“He has his moments.”

That caught her off guard.

You laughed softly, not unkind.

“Oh, I’ll be the first to admit the Inner Court is far from perfect.” You shrugged. “But no one is.”

She didn’t respond right away. Something in her had… shifted. Just a fraction. But you noticed.

“Even yourself?” 

You snorted. “Especially myself. Whatever they’ve told you, don’t believe it.” There was no heat behind the words, only the easy comfort of truth long since accepted. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you lifted a brow, eyes flicking toward her like you were letting her in on a secret you rarely shared. “I’m a wicked woman who loves power.”

Nesta blinked—startled, maybe. Like she hadn’t expected the confession to come so effortlessly, so unapologetically. Just a heartbeat of hesitation, of something shifting behind her eyes. And then—barely there, but unmistakable—her lips twitched. Not quite a smile, not quite approval. But something real. Something human. It vanished a second later, wiped clean like a crack sealed with frost. Still, you saw it. And she knew you did.

The silence that followed didn’t feel cold this time. It felt suspended. Waiting. And maybe that’s why you said what you did next—not out of cruelty, but because there was no one else who would say it. Not like this. Not to her.

“You forge your own path. If your soul cannot bear this existence, Nesta Archeron,” you said quietly, the words dropping between you like a stone in still water, “then simply cease to exist. Be remembered only as the Kingslayer. Let that name be the last thing you let the world remember you by.”

Nesta didn’t flinch, but she didn’t breathe, either.

“Why suffer?” you continued as the dream began to shift. That familiar pull stirred at the edge of your awareness, the weightlessness that always signaled you were being drawn back—back into your body, into waking. The meadow around you dimmed, blurred at the edges, but still you held her gaze.

“And should you choose to go,” you added, finality ringing beneath the calm in your tone, “you won’t see me again. I will not follow. That is a death I cannot follow in.”

Then the world dissolved around you, unraveling like thread through fingers—slow, soundless, inevitable. 

And when your eyes fluttered open, Estella was already there, perched just above you on the edge of the bed, her little brows pulled together in a tiny frown of concentration.

She blinked once, solemn and confused. You barely had a moment to register the expression before you reached for her, arms wrapping around her small body and pulling her close until her cheek was squished against your chest.

She huffed in your arms—an exaggerated little sigh far too dramatic for someone so small, her wings fluttering once in protest.

“Why her?” she mumbled against your nightgown, voice muffled, still thick with sleep. “Why not the ‘nother one?”

You stilled, heart thudding softly.

Estella shifted a little, her hand grabbing the fabric near your shoulder in a tight, toddler-sized fist. “She yours. And you hers. That’s what they said.” Her words were slurred and messy, tangled together in the way only young children speak when their minds move faster than their mouths.

Then, a whisper—curious and oddly knowing.

“But you don’t dream of her. Or him.”

You had no idea how to answer her.

Your hand stilled where it had been brushing over her hair.

“Sweetling… are you watching my dreams?”

A flicker of worry laced your voice, soft but rough at the edges. Had she started coming into her magic? Was this the beginning of something—too early, too much?

She shook her head against you, the motion small and stubborn.

“No.” Her voice was quiet. “I feel.”

Then, after a pause, one hand resting over your chest like she was trying to anchor herself:

“I dunno what you said ...but they’re there. I feel them. But…They don’t see me. See us. You... you block us out.”

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly tight.

She wasn’t accusing you. Just stating it—like it was simply a truth of the world, the way the sun rose or rain fell.

And then, as toddlers do, the moment was gone.

Estella suddenly wriggled and rolled off you with all the grace of a sleepy cat tumbling out of bed.

“Mama! Food!” she declared, as if the past minute hadn’t caused you more confusion than these dreams.

She toddled toward the door like her words alone would summon breakfast.

~ ✦ ~ ✦ ~

“Esoara will arrive home tomorrow, then?” Vassa asked, cutting into her dinner with careful precision. Her tone was casual, but the tone beneath it wasn’t lost on you. This was the final dinner before hosting a High Lord—before the balance of power might shift, one way or another.

“They’ll be joining us around lunch tomorrow,” you confirmed, reaching for the breadbasket and handing a small roll to the tiny Fae beside you.

Estella clutched it with both hands, then looked up at you, eyes wide.

“Friends?” she asked hopefully. “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow,” you corrected gently.

She gave a very serious frown, clearly unconvinced by this injustice, but began gnawing on the roll anyway.

All the preparations had been set. Every contingency considered. Every piece on the board placed just right. And yet, the closer dawn crept, the more it felt like something was coming that no amount of planning could stop.

“Are we all ignoring the elephant in the room?” Jurian muttered, stabbing his fork into his food like it had offended him. “When, exactly, did Lucien get invited to be part of this?”

At the mention of his name, the one-eyed High Fae looked up from his plate with a raised brow. 

Vassa’s knife clinked a little too hard against her plate. “When you and her”—” she stabbed a glare in your direction—“came to an agreement to invade the other lands.”

You threw your hands up. “No one is invading anything.”

“Yet,” Jurian added under his breath, just loud enough.

You glared at him, but he only smirked, thoroughly unbothered.

Turning back to Lucien, you forced your voice pleasant. “You are more than welcome here, if Vassa has invited you to be part of her court.”

Lucien leaned back, gaze flicking between the three of you. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here to observe.” 

“And not report back to the Night Court?” Jurian cut in, voice dry and dripping sarcasm, “as their Emissary? That their precious Lady of the Night is alive and well and their High Lord has a daughter?”

“We’ve already gone over the threats when he first found out,” you reminded flatly, not bothering to hide the warning in your tone.

Jurian made a sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a grunt and a groan.

“Now that’s boring,” 

You shot him a look. “Try diplomacy sometime.”

“I have. That’s why I prefer swords.”

Lucien let out a low hum, studying the two of you with mild amusement. “I’d have figured you two would have nothing but disdain for each other.”

You didn’t miss the twitch of a smile at the corner of Jurian’s mouth.

“You should see how he and Vassa argue,” you said, sipping your wine. “It’s less debate, more bloodsport.”

“She’s the one who throws things,” Jurian muttered.

“Only because you talk like that,” Vassa snapped, not looking up from her plate.

You stared at the three of them for a beat. Vassa stabbing her roast with a bit too much force. Jurian smug as ever. Estella happily chewing on a stolen piece of bread and whispering to her cup like it might answer her.

You were surrounded by children.

Truly.

And somehow, that realization tugged at something in your chest—something you’d buried.

It crept in uninvited, that ache of memory. Of home.

Of the Inner Court.

Of Cassian challenging you to a drinking contest and losing spectacularly, his laughter echoing into the night. Of Mor and Cassian shouting at the top of their lungs to see whose drunken voice would carry farther. Of Azriel sitting beside you in the shadows, silently snorting before asking if he needed to go drag them apart. Of Amren muttering under her breath about why she stayed in this court of fools in the first place.

And of Rhys.

Rhys, who would simply snort, kiss your forehead, and murmur, “Come on, my dear—let’s sneak away and leave the drunks to their fun.”

You blinked, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Those nights were lifetimes ago. And still, some part of you felt them—echoing.

You set your glass down. Carefully.

Because if you let yourself fall into that feeling, if you truly allowed yourself to spiral into the ache curling in your chest like a long-forgotten flame, you weren’t sure you’d find your way back out again. You had spent so long containing it—pressing your grief, your longing, your history into neat corners of yourself, shoving it all down where it couldn't touch anything tender. But it was still there, waiting in the hollows. And tonight, in the quiet of the garden, in the lull between breaths and stars, it stirred.

I want to go home.

The thought didn’t just rise—it split through you. Choking and sudden. Like lightning flashing down your spine, lighting every dark corner you’d sealed away with that single truth.

And that had been dangerous to think.

Because in a world like this—where magic listened, where power didn’t always respect boundaries—desire had weight. It was a tether, a beacon. A whisper that could become a call. And when you let yourself want something badly enough, the world had a habit of listening. Of answering.

You should have known better.

And yet—tonight, the sky had been so impossibly beautiful. The kind of beauty that made you forget the years, the wars, the politics, the fear. Stars scattered like a blessing across the velvet dark, glowing long after the palace had settled into silence.

You’d wandered into the palace gardens barefoot, the stone cool beneath your soles, the scent of night-blooming flowers curling through the air like silk. There was no sound beyond the hush of wind in the hedges and the soft rustle of leaves. And in that stillness, you stood utterly alone—wrapped in the gentle hush of a world not watching. The kind of quiet you’d forgotten you missed. The kind that only came when no one else was listening.

That was when you felt it.

A brush of cold across your skin—too precise to be wind.

A whisper at your shoulder—not sound, not touch, but something in between. A ripple in the world around you, like a memory trying to take shape.

Your breath caught.

And then they came.

The shadows.

They slithered over the stone like ink through water, curling gently around your ankle, brushing along your wrist—not grasping, not threatening. Just… remembering. They wove through your hair like a breeze that hadn’t been there a moment before.

Because you knew them. Even now, after everything, you knew them.

Azriel’s shadows.

You hadn’t felt them in a long time, they hardly ever left his side. The way they moved. The way they lingered. The way they never pressed unless invited.

They weren’t urgent now. They weren’t warning you or dragging you away from danger.

They were just... here.

Searching. Remembering. Recognizing.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Not even when the air behind you shifted, when the stillness turned thick and heavy, like the entire garden had gone breathless. Not even when instinct told you you were no longer alone.

You stayed still—frozen in the moment between one life and the next.

Until you heard it.

Soft. Rough around the edges. A voice like gravel and shadow, like dusk curling into midnight.

“You’re alive.”

Your eyes slipped closed.

Because you knew that voice was family.

And when you finally turned, slow and unwilling, he was there.

Azriel.

Standing just beyond the hedges, wrapped in his shadows like he had never left them.

Like he had stepped out of memory itself.

Like seeing a beloved dead person hadn’t just shattered his world completely.

[crazy-ache]

Lucien Week 2024: Day 6 - Reputation | @lucienweekofficial

On the Sharp Edge of a Blade Lucien & Eris Drabble (ft. Elucien Angst) - 1k words

He found Lucien alone in the manor, a half-finished glass of whiskey in hand.  “Allow me to guess,” Eris carefully seated himself in the armchair next to him, facing the fire. “Another unsuccessful evening in the Night Court?” 

Read on Ao3 or Below Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

He found Lucien alone in the manor, a half-finished glass of whiskey in hand. 

Typically when Eris stopped by the mortal lands to meet with his youngest brother, their conversations were pointed, an efficient exchange of only necessary information. There were no pleasantries by nature of their shared blood and history, perhaps there might never have been between the brothers. Which is why the words were both stiff and strange on his tongue as Eris faced Lucien. 

“Is everything alright?” 

His brother sat upon a large armchair, staring into the dancing flames inside the fireplace, not even bothering to glance at his arrival. There was no Jurian or Vassa to be found in the human manor. It was bleak on this side of the wall, even with the fire burning in the room. Warmth only met the emptiness of the room, vanishing without a trace. It wasn’t the kind of place he imagined for his youngest brother.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” Lucien said, followed by another sip of his amber colored drink.

There was only one kind of sorrow that could affect Lucien in such a matter, to the point of bitter, cracked numbness—afflictions of the heart. For when it came to Lucien, it was always the condition of love that plagued the male. In this case, it was undoubtedly his mate. 

“Allow me to guess,” Eris carefully seated himself in the armchair next to him, facing the fire. “Another unsuccessful evening in the Night Court?” 

Lucien answered with a low, sardonic laugh. The ice clinked in his drink as he brought it to his lips for another swallow. Eris remained entirely still, waiting for him to confirm his most obvious observations. 

“I think I’d prefer if she would just reject the bond. Get it over with and relieve me of the misery.” 

Eris cocked his head slightly, his lips pressing into a thin frown. For most of Lucien’s life, his reputation across Pyrthian had been painted with broad, flattering strokes of his rakish charm, his troublesome tongue, and his beauty. It had been no secret and had begun early in the Autumn Court, and they had even followed him to Spring for some time, even after his exile. Even after Amarantha and her punishment. But these days even Eris was well aware of his brother’s current reputation—of a sad, miserable mate pining after his female. 

“Then why do you keep castigating yourself and trying?” Eris asked quietly, though sharply, like the fine edge of a blade piercing into flesh. “Why do you keep returning to their horrid court if she does not want you?” 

Lucien looked at him. His russet eye smoldered and his mechanical orb whirred, as if it were looking for something deep inside Eris. No, as if it were pleading with him. Pleading to avoid admitting the truth and hoped to find a semblance of mercy. But Eris did not waver in his gaze, as if that action alone could forcibly push the blade deeper into his brother’s wound until he talked. 

He sighed, his stare slowly dragging to the crackling fire.

“Even when she will not speak to me, will not so much as look in my direction, I feel as though I cannot stop—will never be able to stop—showing up on her doorstep with a present and my terrified heart filled with mangled hope. Because—”

The pain etched across his features exacerbated the scar spliced down his face. Eris hated this moment. He hated everything about it. 

“I fear if I stop going she will forget me entirely,” Lucien finally said, and he couldn’t hide the quiver in his words.

Eris steeled himself. To prevent himself from casting Lucien a look of pity. 

Lucien cleared his throat, staring into the bottom of his drink before finishing it all in one gulp. “On the other hand, I also fear what would become of me—of the madness they say befalls the male.” 

The fire flared at that, a small tell that Eris was displeased. He crossed one leg over his knee and curled his lip. “You would be fine, Lucien. You would survive.” 

“I’m not quite sure how I would ever be happy again—”

“Being happy is for children,” Eris snapped at him. “When you have a blade buried in your gut, happiness is the least of your concerns. You either pull the blade out and bleed out or you keep it in—to survive. You learn to live with the pain. Life finds a way around.” 

Lucien set his glass on the table. A few empty bottles clinked at the movement. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

He narrowed his eyes at his brother, unused to being questioned. But there had been more than just time and distance between the two brothers in the last few centuries. 

“Because you are a Vanserra,” Eris stated matter-of-factly. He picked up one of the whiskey bottles and pretended to inspect the label with lazy interest to avoid witnessing Lucien’s reaction. “Whether you like it or not.” 

He settled the glass bottle back on the table, forcing himself to meet Lucien’s penetrating stare. It was full of longing and crestfallen hope on the precipice of devastation. The Vanserra name brought his little brother no comfort—it never had. 

“And if mother can survive it, then so can you,” Eris said softly. 

There it was. The unspoken truth they had never so much dared to broach their entire existence. A secret so dangerous it would ruin their mother if ever discovered by Beron. The Lady of Autumn and her broken, unsettled mating bond to another High Lord. Eris was decidedly not a fool and he never had been one before in his life. Yet in that moment, he couldn’t be anything else to even whisper a mere mention of it simply to alleviate the pain on Lucien’s face. 

His brother nodded, understanding washing over him. 

Eris stood to his feet, as if Autumn were warning him to return before he did anything else moronic. Something gnawed at him to not leave Lucien behind, but he was already heading to the door, the magic of his winnowing abilities singing through his body with every step, readying to escape. 

Before he could leave, he stilled and looked over his shoulder. 

“She would have done it by now. For what it’s worth,” Eris called out. Lucien looked up, his brows furrowed in confusion. “If that’s what she wanted—a rejection. I don’t think she would have waited all this time.” 

Several heartbeats passed before Lucien made a motion as if he were pulling out an invisible dagger from his chest. It was exactly the confirmation he needed to know that he would be alright getting drunk alone for the rest of the evening. 

“You should go,” Lucien said, leaning back into his chair. “Before your reputation as a cold-hearted bastard is effectively ruined.” 

Eris laughed, even as he vanished into darkness. 

[mycadences]

When Elain was about to be thrown into the Cauldron (so this was before she even entered the "oh so evil and corrupt" Cauldron that "definitely twisted and created fake mating bonds!"), notice who was the one who had a visceral reaction:

Also notice how I didn't include Azriel's reaction? Yeah. Because he had none. Azriel had no reaction to Elain's greatest trauma -- her transformation into a High Fae. I can't even find any quotes during that scene, and if you don't believe me, grab your copy of ACOMAF and verify it for yourself. This is why they are definitely NOT mates. Meanwhile, Lucien tried to help Elain although it was their first meeting, so how it possibly be that their mating bond is fake and created by the Cauldron when he felt the bond even before she went in?

In fact, during ACOMAF, Azriel was heavily implied to be shipped with Mor:

But Mor, as we all know, was likely retconned and revealed to be bisexual in ACOWAR (with a greater inclination toward females), putting an end to their ship.

Meanwhile, contrast Azriel's reaction toward Elain's violation to how Cassian reacted when Nesta was going through the same thing:

Cassian's wings were shredded. He was in a sea of agony. And yet when Nesta was being thrown into the Cauldron, he was fighting to stay conscious at her screams. Because Nesta is his mate.

The same way that Eluciens are undeniably, irrefutably mates, evil Cauldron be damned.

Alternatively, you can also contrast to this scene:

Azriel is the Night Court's Spymaster. Yet he didn't leave a single one of the Hybern soldiers alive for questioning? He killed them all immediately, suggesting that he was in a fit of blind, uncontrollable rage.

Which one screams mate behavior to you?

Edit to add: I finally found it! The evidence that Azriel knew to keep at least two enemies alive for questioning, so it was obvious he was incapable of thinking clearly when he killed every single one of the Hybern soldiers who hurt Gwyn.

In this scene (in ACOSF), Cassian and Azriel were attacked by Autumn Court soldiers, and if Cassian knew the reasoning behind keeping two soldiers alive, obviously Azriel (the actual Spymaster) would, too.

"But -- Elain was wearing a cobalt blue dress when she met Azriel!"

Yeah, so? Nesta was wearing an amethyst dress when she met Cassian...

... and she ended up with Cassian, didn't she? If cobalt is Azriel's color then crimson is Cassian's (these are the colors corresponding to their siphons btw), and if SJM intended the scene to be a parallel, wouldn't she have Nesta in a crimson dress?

Also tons of people wore cobalt outfits. Feyre, Eris, Helion, even Vassa in ACOSF. I guess we should start shipping Vassa and Azriel! Azris shippers should celebrate, since by Elriels' logic your ship is confirmed!

And if you really want to compare outfits, I think it's significant that both Azriel and Lucien draped their coats over Gwyn and Elain respectively in light of their traumatic experiences. This is how you do a proper parallel.

Even SJM herself alluded to being an Elucien shipper:

Yes, this was from her actual Pinterest account before she took it down. If you search online for it, you'll find other people talking about it and that this is true, it's not just some random fake account lol.

Elriels claim that Gwyn is the red herring in their ship. I propose the opposite -- Elain is the red herring in Gwynriel's ship, like how Azriel is the red herring in Elucien's ship. Because think about it, if Elriel were really meant to be, why would SJM need to introduce Gwyn as a potential love interest for Azriel? She already had one red herring in Lucien, did she really need a second one? No, she didn't. So why? Why does all the evidence, new and old, point toward Gwynriel and Elucien and not Elriel?

Because there was never Elriel. Elriel were never mates, nor would they ever be. There was only ever Elucien (which came first) and Moriel (but Mor was retconned into being bisexual), which eventually gave rise to Gwynriel and highly likely Emorie (Mor x Emerie).

[acourtofthought]

What they say about Jamie:

What they say about Lucien who was based off Jamie.

From this:

He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

To this:

Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles, but I’d seen him and Tamlin in the practice ring. He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

Lucien, just like Jamie, easily transitions between both worlds. Gentlemen to warrior.

"Whisperer of fish, fowl, horse, and lass"

Lucien:

He waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands. He’d tied his hair up, a few strands of it falling into his face as he swooped down again and threw a second trout onto the sandy bank where I’d been trying to find a substitute for fishing twine. We remained silent as the fish eventually stopped flapping, their sides catching and gleaming with all the colors so bright above us. Lucien picked them up by their tails, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He might very well have, right here in this stream. “I’ll clean them while you start the fire.”

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”

"Paying attention to every little thing about Claire, making him possibly the first feminist of Scotland"

Lucien with Elain:

He knew without demanding clarification that she was aware of what he was to her.

She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn’s coat. And he could have sworn something sparked in them as she met his gaze.

“Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.”

“No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek.

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

“I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

Lucien with his female friends:

“Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

“No,” Lucien said quietly as I reached for a foothold in the next boulder. “That was all you.”

“I have an old friend at the Dawn Court. She’s skilled at tinkering—blending magic and machinery. Tamlin got her to craft it for me at great risk.”

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”

Just like Jamie, Lucien is a feminist and constantly paying attention to all the details of his mate.

"Sexy, gorgeous, and perfect"

Lucien:

The brutally scarred face beneath was still handsome—his features sharp and elegant.

Perhaps you’ll get a handsome Fae lord as your mate, too.”

I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow.

Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse.

I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm, bare chest.

Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.” He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back, and I calmed my weeping, those seawater tears drying up like wet sand in the sun. I lifted my head from his sculpted chest at last, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders as I peered into his concerned face.

She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach.

“You should kill Beron and his sons and set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn,self-imposed exile or no.

Lucien’s scarred, handsome face appeared,

He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

Lucien, just like Jamie, is the King of Men.

@lucienweekofficial

[munsons-hellfire]

Hi there!! i saw you’re gonna start writing for acotar! can i request a helion x reader where it’s a double date but theyre both like no we’re just third and fourth wheeling nbd but maybe there’s an ulterior motive somewhere to get them to realize their feelings for each other??

We’re Just Friends | Helion

SUMMARY: You and Helion are oblivious to each other's feelings until you arent.

PAIRINGS: Helion x Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: SFW, fluff, angst.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: You have no idea how excited I was when I got this request. I had come up with two ideas for this and ended up going with the more angstier version because I loved it so much. I also added a little more to it because I wanted to build something between the reader and Helion. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Thank you for requesting for Helion, he is one of my favorites from ACOTAR so I had a lot of fun with this!

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

You’d been a member of the Night Court since you were born. With friends such as Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel you were able to escape Illyria before they had a chance to clip your wings. You’d found your family became of those three males. You were an emissary to the Night Court, often traveling between Courts to form a bond to have an ally in any future war. The Autumn Court and Spring Court were courts you often avoided if you could.

You knew the history between Rhys and Tamlin and couldn’t stand the male. You didn’t get along with Beron in the least. Always trying to defy what he wanted to do. One High Lord in particular had caught your attention. Helion had taken the opportunity to get to know you, he’d befriended you and whenever you visited his Court it was hard for your friends to separate you from him.

Before Amarantha happened they could see the love that was there between you and Helion. Rhys kept quiet, as did the others but they knew something would happen between you and Helion eventually. When they were trapped Under the Mountain and you were locked up in Velaris everything had changed for you. You’d become a shell of your former self and even when Prythian had been free at the hands of a human who risked her life in the process and died, you still hadn’t managed to pull through.

The months leading to the return of Rhys you started seeing Helion again, slowly but surely becoming yourself again. It was even more of a reason that Rhys and all your other friends believed that you and Helion were mates. But there wasn’t time to say anything right now with a fight on its way. The war had been fought and won. Rhys had died in the process only to be brought back.

Everything seemed to be right in Prythian. After the way you’d stayed with Vassa and Jurian to help rebuild whatever was left standing. You’d found a friendship with the two, and eventually Lucien when he joined them. Upon returning back from the work you’d helped with in the Human lands Helion had requested that you become his emissary for the Day Court.

Helion had seen how much you’d managed to accomplish in the months after the war against Hybern was over. He knew you’d be a great addition to his court, he also knew you’d look better in Day Court colors. After a talk with Rhys and Feyre, your High Lord and High Lady you had their approval. You said your goodbyes to your family, promising to come visit whenever you could and you left.

It had been 10 years since the events of the war. Things were steady now. You had everything you ever wanted, accepted you knew there was still something missing from your life. When Feyre and Rhys invited you and Helion to join them in Velaris for an outing, you couldn’t say no to them. Helion had agreed, though there wasn’t much you’d have to say to convince the male to go with you.

He enjoyed being wherever you were, so if you want to go see your family he’d follow along with you. The night had started out wonderful, you and Helion had met up with Rhys and Feyre as a casual get together, but they had other plans in mind. The mated couple was going to get you and Helion together by the end of the night. They still didn’t understand how either of you could’ve gone this long being so oblivious to the fact that you and Helion were in love with each other.

Helion couldn’t bring himself to admit it, he was afraid to lose you as a friend or worse to someone else. Meanwhile you were afraid of his rejection. He was a High Lord after all so he’d have every right to say no to you if you’d so much as mention your affections for him. The four of you sat at a table in a restaurant in Velaris. You’d given Feyre an odd look when she had mentioned that this was a double date.

You had finished your food, your eyes were on Helion as he talked to Rhys and Feyre about something. You weren’t sure what he was talking about. You’d been so focused on his face that his words slipped right through your ears. You blinked, finally taking notice that all eyes were on you. Suddenly you felt as though you’d miss something.

“Oh, you did, sister.” Rhys whispered in your mind. You glared at him, throwing your shields up to block him.

“I’m sorry, what are we talking about?” You asked softly, not looking at Helion, afraid that you’d disappointed him by missing something so important.

“I was just wondering if you’d be coming to see the rest of the family later tonight, maybe bring Helion.” Feyre said, her eyes planted on you. A smirk rested on her lips. You knew that she was having a mind conversation with Rhys.

“Oh, I’m sure Helion wants to head back home soon, so maybe another time.” You didn’t miss the way Helion had smirked at your comment.

“Nonsense, I think we can stay a little bit longer.” Helion remarked, a smile on his lips. You gripped your drink, sipping the wine slowly.

“Great.” Feyre said excitedly.

“Maybe we can even get you two together.” Rhys said, causing you to choke on your wine. You put your glass down, attempting to stop the coughing fit.

Finally you were able to get words out. “We’re just friends, Rhys.” You said, and it was a simple answer. Feyre and Rhys had caught the look of hurt that had crossed Helion’s face when those words had slipped from your lips.

“Yes, we’re just friends.” You winced, it was almost like Helion had been hurt by your choice of words. You felt you couldn’t breathe, you were being suffocated by everything around you. This was not what you’d expected to happen tonight.

“Excuse me, I need some air.” You were quick to get up and leave the restaurant before any of them could protest. The cool air hit your skin when you walked out the door. You walked down to the bridge that overlooked Velaris and the Sidra river.

More than anything you wanted to be with Helion, you knew you’d been in love with him for so long. So why did your words affect him so much, you were so certain that he didn’t feel the same way about you. That you were just an Illyrian female he wanted to bed. Your wings moved in closer to protect you from any passersby as you let the tears fall down your face.

“So that’s what I am to you, a friend?” His voice was cold, distant as the question left his mouth.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Not when you were still crying over what had happened. You should’ve known that Helion would chase after you.

“I didn’t mean it to come out that way.” You said, pulling your wings back and tucking them in tightly as you turned to look at the male.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I just, I mean we are friends. There’s nothing between us so why does it matter?” You were really hurting him, you knew that.

“Because.” He whispered softly.

“Because isn’t an answer.” You watched as he walked closer to you, closing the space between you and him. His hand gently touched your cheek. You looked at him with a glimmer of hope, of love in your eyes.

“Because I love you, I have loved you since I first met you. I have loved you since I discovered you were my mate. And I will continue to love you until it is my time to leave this world behind.”

You felt your heart picking up its pace at his words. You could hear the honesty coming from him. And then it happened, you felt it, that gold string tie around your heart. You gasped, your hand flying to your chest as you felt the strength of the bond pick up between you and Helion. Finally he smiled, still looking at you.

“But all this time, you, you were seeing other’s.” You felt yourself cracking waiting for his answer.

“It was just for a fun time. I may bring other lovers into our bed, but they will never be able to replace anything. I fell for you, my sunshine. You are the light in my life that I’ve been waiting so long for.” You released a broken laugh, tears falling down your face. “Please don’t cry my love.” He whispered as he kissed the tears away.

“I’m just so happy.” You whispered, pushing your hands into his wavy hair. “Because I've loved you since the moment I met you too. And I am so thrilled to be your mate.” He smiled at your words and brought his lips to yours kissing you softly. Cheering could be heard in the background. You and Helion pulled apart from each other to look at your family that had been nearby.

“I think it worked, Feyre, darling.” Rhys said, as the mated couple walked towards you and Helion.

A smile rested on your lips and you pushed yourself closer to Helion as he wrapped his hand around your waist. It was the happy ending you’d been looking for, your mate. And now that you’d discovered everything that happened between you and him was the bond’s way of informing you, you couldn’t be more happy.

“I hate you all.” You whispered, resting your head on Helion’s chest.

“I don’t think so. If it hadn’t been for them inviting you to dinner neither of you would’ve known.” Cassian remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Not true, General. I’ve always known about the bond.” At this you looked up at Helion.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked him.

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship in case I was wrong, or the Mother was wrong, or something happened. So many reasons, and I just don’t care because I have you now and that’s all that matters.” He placed a kiss on your head.

“No more lies, promise?” You whispered.

“No more lies, I promise.” The bargain was set, a slight sting of pain ran through your forearm as a bargain tattoo was crafted. The night sky mixed with the sun. A bargain between you and your mate. The happiest of endings, one you were so thankful for.

[merymoonbeam]

Book of Breathings - Elain - Ankh Symbol

First of all this is tied to my "a tool of creation" theory so you can read that first if you want.

We first learned about book of breathings in acomaf. To nullify the Cauldron.

“When the Cauldron was made,” the carver interrupted, “its dark maker used the last of the molten ore to forge a book. The Book of Breathings. In it, written between the carved words, are the spells to negate the Cauldron’s power—or control it wholly. But after the War, it was split into two pieces. One went to the Fae, one to the six human queens. It was part of the Treaty, purely symbolic, as the Cauldron had been lost for millennia and considered mere myth. The Book was believed harmless, because like calls to like—and only that which was Made can speak those spells and summon its power. No creature born of the earth may wield it, so the High Lords and humans dismissed it as little more than a historical heirloom, but if the Book were in the hands of something reforged … You would have to test such a theory, of course—but … it might be possible.” (acomaf)

And as the books went on...we got the two half of the books and finally the book is somehow in cc world.

So lets start with this theory post.

The name of the book comes from Egyptian Mythology

The Books of Breathing (Arabic: كتاب التنفس Kitāb al-Tanafus) are several ancient Egyptian funerary texts, intended to enable deceased people to continue existing in the afterlife. The earliest known copy dates to circa 350 BC.[1] Other copies come from the Ptolemaic Kingdom and Roman Egypt, as late as the 2nd century AD.[2] It is a simplified form of the Book of the Dead

This information will be important for later. And in the meantime I made a post about koshei's onyx box connecting to this if you wanna read it.

Okay moving on...

I was looking at acotar coloring book pages and book of breathings drawing is... interesting.

Side not: sarah got the deals for the acotar books and then worked on the coloring book so I think this is important to add bc she LOVES to add hints as little things and whats better to add than a coloring book?

The circles of silver, gold and bronz.

It had been formed of dark metal plates bound on three rings of gold, silver, and bronze, each word carved with painstaking precision, in an alphabet I could not recognize. Yes, it indeed turned out my reading lessons were unnecessary.

I think these might be related to the book names of the new acotar books.

Silver flames

Gold(en) XX

Bronz XX (for vassa maybe? Bc she is a bird of flame...flame and bronze???)

Okay back to the other things.

The star(sun?) in the middle. When you first look at it it is like a sun but when you take into account that the asteri made this book and there is the starborn symbol of 8pointed star...its probably an eight pointed star.

She stared and stared at the Book—as if it were a ghost, as if it were a miracle—and said, “It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue.” Those quicksilver eyes shifted to Rhysand, and I realized she’d understood, too, why she’d gone. Rhysand said, “I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here … and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it.” (acomaf)

Amren turned to Rhysand and said in that new, strange language—their language: “The glowing letters inked on her back … they’re the same as those in the Book of Breathings.” (hofas)

“I can teach you things you’ve never even dreamed of,” Rigelus promised. “The language inked on your back—it is our language. From our home world. I can teach you how to wield it. Any world might be open to you, Bryce Quinlan. Name the world, and it shall be yours.”(hofas)

Also in the coloring book the ships of the papa archeron have these on them.

Feyre: moon and stars

Nesta: sun?

Elain: eight pointed star 👀

So for feyre it checks out. For nesta...why sun? When she had eight pointed star tattoed on her back(tho now it is gone after the deal with cassian is done) I thought what could the sun mean? The cover of acosf.

That's a sun. Also it is interesting that the High Lord of Day had such a negative reaction to the mask...🤔

And now... eight pointed star for elain? That remains to be seen what it could mean...👀

So thats out of the way and now we will look into the symbol at the bottom and top which I found out is the symbol of Ankh...from Egyptian Mythology.

The ankh or key of life is an ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic symbol used to represent the word for "life" and, by extension, as a symbol of life itself.

The ankh has a T-shape topped by a droplet-shaped loop. It was used in writing as a triliteral sign, representing a sequence of three consonants, Ꜥ-n-ḫ. This sequence was found in several Egyptian words, including the terms for "mirror", "floral bouquet", and "life". The symbol often appeared in Egyptian art as a physical object representing either life or related life-giving substances such as air or water. Commonly depicted in the hands of ancient Egyptian deities, sometimes being given by them to the pharaoh, it represents their power to sustain life and to revive human souls in the afterlife.

Life...soul? We always say how Nesta is death and Elain got the life. Maybe it is more correct than we had thought???

And now the bird on the cover. There is no mention of bird symbol being on the cover of the book.(Im pretty sure of this but if Im wrong...it still stand that the only quote the book of breathings has said with bird is this) So why add bird? The only time Book of Breathings is connected with a bird is this quote:

The other one, the Book hissed. Bring the other one … let us be joined, let us be free. I slid the Book from my pocket, tucking it into the crook of my arm as I tugged the second half free. Lovely girl, beautiful bird—so sweet, so generous … Together together together

Which I totally think it is about Elain and Vassa.

Lovely girl? Elain. There is SO MANY quotes with elain and lovely.

Beautiful bird? Vassa...bird of flame.

And I made a bigger post about this(the other one) if you wanna read it.

So maybe we really need to get the book of breathings back? And Elain will use it to control cauldron?

[8bitrosethorn]

One of my favorite things to do is discover new parallels and breadcrumbs in ACOTAR that SJM strewn for us in her writing.

SJM has been actively planning the Archeron sisters’ books since ACOMAF.

In an ACOSF interview, SJM talked about how while editing ACOMAF, she was currently writing ACOWAR and already thinking about the journeys Nesta and Elain were “in the middle of,” laying the foundation for their books after she infamously pitched her editor their stories over drinks.

Which brings me back to the larger Sleeping Beauty meta that Elain and Azriel have been interwoven with throughout the series and a prediction I have for their book.

Let’s begin 🤓

THE EVIDENCE

In ACOTAR, the inner shields of a characters’ mind are a large part of the imagery surrounding them, as seen through Feyre’s Daemati powers.

Let’s start by looking at Elain’s:

Solid iron. Covered in vines of flowers. Blossoms sealed, sleeping buds tangled in leaves and thorns.

This imagery screams Sleeping Beauty. And it also harkens back to the post I made about the imagery of the beasts in the Hewn City, who Feyre compares to Azriel and Cassian.

This repetition of imagery and symbolism isn’t a mistake. The sleeping beast amid vines of jasmine and moonflowers. It’s a deliberate echo of language used to tie both couples and their themes together.

Which then leads us to Nesta’s mind:

Nesta’s mind evokes images of war, a continually repeated motif that aligns with Cassian, their larger roles in their family structures, their drive to fight and protect, and for Nesta in particular, the visual manifestation of what she has to overcome in her journey. Not just within herself but with Cassian.

How do we know? Well, SJM told us.

In ACOSF, when Cassian and Nesta’s mating bond is revealed.

It’s only after Nesta bares her soul to Cassian and they meet in their mutual coupling of acceptance together that their mating bond truly comes to light and the threads of that bond are finally woven together in harmony.

So what does this mean for Azriel and Elain?

For the restless Spymaster, who “can’t sleep” despite his shadows imploring him to, and the Seer who’s “always dreaming these days,” I believe that like how Nesta’s inner walls came down when her and Cassian accept the mating bond, Azriel and Elain’s mating bond is somehow asleep, waiting to be awoken like the slumbering gates to Elain’s mind. Only then can their bond be brought to light like the sun at dawn, as right now it is asleep and half-hidden in shadows.

While the nuances of the narrative for how their “sleeping bond” would be revealed are still a mystery until we get their book, the foundation for a story of their love awakening and blooming is scattered across the series (“color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks,” anyone?).

Some ideas to consider:

Could Azriel and Elain’s bond be Mother-blessed? Could the faebane arrow from ACOMAF have led the Cauldron to give Elain to Lucien instead, in defiance of the Mother? Did Koschei cast a spell to tie Lucien to another when he alone could be one to break Vassa’s curse with True Love’s kiss as a Spell-Cleaver? Will Elain and Azriel “weave” a bond of their own making?

I’m so excited to find out what SJM has in store for Elain and her journey where she will fully bloom with the love of her life 🌸💙

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xvi - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,000+

masterlist

Eris marched to Y/N. His eyes raced across her, noting all the injuries she suffered. Her heartbeat was weak, barely audible to his fae ears. 

Azriel watched him with closely, prepared to guard and protect Y/N’s helpless body from Eris’ new and unpredictable power. 

He remembered when Rhysand had gained his High Lord capacity. The new strength was both intoxicating and terrifying. It took Rhys time to get a hold on it, to control it. 

Furthermore, Azriel didn’t trust Eris like he had trusted Rhysand. 

“Give her to me,” Eris growled, only looking at Y/N’s face and not even bothering to acknowledge the shadowsinger. 

“I am not so sure I should,” Azriel countered coolly, his hold over Y/N tightening. 

Eris finally looked into his hazel eyes, glaring into them. “I would never hurt her, Shadowsinger. I swore allegiance to your High Lord to keep her safe. She needs a healer – and quick."

And without waiting for a response, Eris scooped Y/N into his arms, fully intending to fight Azriel if he tried to stop him. 

Now that his mate was in his grasp, Eris whipped around to find his mother. But she was already standing a few feet behind him when he sought her out. 

“Go," Leonora urged him. "Take her to the healer. Lucien and I will take care of things here.”

She looked around them at what was left of Beron’s loyalists. They were either dead or had surrendered. Nesta, Cassian, Jurian, and Vassa guarded them with weapons at the ready. 

Eris nodded gratefully and rushed Y/N to the royal healer. 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Even before Y/N fully came to, she knew that she wasn’t in Night Court. 

For one, there was the smell: cedar wood, amber, rain, and very subtle hints of both pumpkin and apple. It surrounded her. Then there was the chill, it was different than the Night Court. Someone had clearly left a window or two open. And the cold was refreshing, like a relief after too long and too hot of a summer in the mortal lands. It felt like a chill that could cure the human body and soul. 

Y/N’s eyes finally found the strength to flutter open. 

She looked around to find she was indeed still in Autumn Court. 

And she was laying in a canopy bed grander even than the one she had been given in the Night Court. The detailing on the woodwork was impossible to overlook. 

It was lovely and cozy, not at all what she would’ve imagined the dreaded Forest House of Autumn Court would look like. She had expected everything to be red – red like blood – unsettling and harsh. But there was soft browns everywhere, and an overall rustic warmth to the place. 

It wasn’t until Y/N looked on the other side of the room that she started to believe she wasn’t just sleeping in a random guest room of a grand estate.

There was a coffee table with a pile of books and an old cup of tea, half sipped. As well as some papers written on, with a discarded quill sitting on top of them all. The candle and roaring fire beyond made it even cozier. 

Y/N glanced down to see that her injuries had been tended to and someone had changed her out of the soaking wet underdress that had exposed her to the entire Autumn Court. Beron had made sure to humiliate her, she was honestly surprised he hadn’t stripped her completely naked to make his point. 

Now she wore a nightgown with decorative lace and silk in the Autumn Court's colors. It wasn’t very modest – but yet again Night Court seemed the least concerned with modesty compared to the other Prythian Courts – besides perhaps Summer. 

Y/N slowly sat up in bed, making sure to be careful of an lingering injuries. But she felt refreshed and healthy. 

Beron must be dead. Surely. 

If she were alive and put in such a lovely bedroom, Eris must have won the battle. 

Come to think of it, Y/N was struggling with remembering the details of the fight. There was pain and fire and blood. But she couldn’t seem to find the last thing that happened to her before she fell into a cloud of darkness. 

Y/N found a thick shawl hanging over a chair next to the bed. Almost as if someone knew she would want to cover herself before going anywhere. 

She wrapped it around herself and searched the room for something she could use as a weapon. 

Right about now Y/N really missed the resourcefulness of having a sentient home like the House of Wind, who could just drop anything she politely asked for. 

Y/N smiled with relief when she found a dagger similar to the one Eris had gifted her. It had been slightly hidden in a drawer of one of the nightstands.

She didn’t bother keeping it sheathed, letting the deadly blade gleam. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage before throwing the door open to see what would be waiting for her on the other side. 

“Plan on stabbing me, do you?” 

“Lucien?” Y/N gasped.

The redheaded male was sitting on the ground across from her bedroom, legs crossed, calmly reading a book. He hadn’t even looked up from it when she’d emerged. 

“I was wondering when you would finally sneak out of that bedroom,” Lucien sighed as he finally looked up at her. 

Y/N looked at him wearily. 

The last few days had been harrowing and she wasn’t sure where she stood with others of these fae. They weren’t her friends any longer. But she wasn’t sure if they were quite her enemies either. 

Lucien stood. “Everyone figured you would be the most comfortable with me being the one guarding your bedroom.”

“Everyone?” Y/N asked with a scowl. 

He smiled. “Well…Eris.” 

“So…So Beron is…d-dead?” 

Lucien’s smile dropped as he heard the fear in her voice. He gave a slow nod. “I am sorry…for what he did to you, Y/N.” 

But she wouldn’t meet his gaze. 

Lucien cleared his throat. “If you are feeling well enough, I thought perhaps I could show you around the Forest House.” 

Y/N just gave me a short nod. 

Lucien looked relieved at her agreement. “I have a thing for babysitting mortal females that unexpectedly show up in fae courts.”

She could only assume he was referring to Feyre when she was in the Spring Court. But she didn’t bother asking for him to clarify. 

“I wish to keep the dagger,” she added darkly, daring him to challenge her on it.

But Lucien raised a brow. “I never said anything about taking it from you. And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind watching you stab a few of the courtiers still alive.” 

And then he started walking, not looking back or waiting to see if she would follow. 

Y/N quickly caught up with him, the dagger tightly gripped in her right hand. 

——

“Only a small portion of the house is above ground – less than half. The rest is built into the stone beneath. Most of the house is hidden amongst the trees and rocks that rest above ground. The property stretches far – even the most trained eye cannot tell where the Forest House begins or ends.”

Y/N had been quietly listening to Lucien’s little tour for nearly three hours now. Now and then she would ask questions. But mostly she just let him talk. 

Once again, the Forest House was nothing like she would have imagined. With Beron ruling this kingdom, she half-expected the place to be a dark and grimy dungeon. That evil man didn’t deserve to live in such a beautiful place.

How much had he tainted the Autumn Court with his wickedness?

“But Eris and mother prefer to remain above ground,” Lucien added, catching at how Y/N's body stiffened every time he mentioned Eris. “They need the sunshine.”

Lucien led her out onto a balcony that was surrounded by such a thick woods that it felt more like a tree house. 

For a few minutes, the two of them just stared out at the view. 

There were trees and hills as far as the eye could see. It looked like someplace one could easily hide or sneak through undetected. Yet Y/N had failed to do just that. 

“How did they ever find me in this?” Y/N whispered, really only to herself. 

But of course Lucien heard it. 

“You would have never been able to pass through, Y/N. There are wards surrounding this court. Beron knew of everyone that ever entered his territory.” 

Y/N’s head still bowed in shame. 

Then she looked up at Lucien. “Is it hard for you…being back here?” 

Lucien took a moment to look out at the trees and mountains before he answered, “I never thought I’d walk through these halls ever again.” 

“They must hold terrible memories for you,” Y/N mumbled. 

“Yes. But believe it or not, they also hold some good memories. Memories that I haven’t allowed myself to think of in quite some time. I guess that is how I coped with it: either remember everything or remember none of it. at all” 

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look and a shy nod. Without realizing what she was doing, her hand reached across the railing and squeezed his own. 

Lucien glanced down their hands with a small and shy smile. 

“Come,” he said, nodding behind them at the house. “You must be starving. And I’m sure my brother has been pacing all day, waiting to see you for himself.”

“Why wasn’t he the one waiting outside my bedroom?” 

Lucien froze and turned to look at her head-on. “Because Eris is convinced that you hate him – or you are scared of him. I can’t tell. But my brother figured he would be last person you would want to see when you awoke.”

“I do not fear him,” Y/N whispered quietly, yet with confidence. 

“And you should not,” Lucien surprised her by responding. “I’ve never seen my brother care for someone’s safety the way he cares about yours. Not even my mother.” 

With that, he began walking again, leading her through the giant sprawl. 

It took almost twenty minutes just to get to the dining hall. Of course it was grand. Clearly, it was meant for hosting the entire court and visiting guests of the court. 

And Y/N expected those guests to also be in attendance for this dinner. Or at least the surviving Vanserra family. 

But it was only Eris at the other end of the giant hall, pacing with his back to them. 

As soon as he heard their arrival though, his back went straight and he whipped around to the face them. 

First, there was relief in his eyes at seeing Y/N safe and healed. But that was quickly hidden.

Y/N caught his usual cool and passive expression. But then she blinked and he tried to give her somewhat of a warm look. It seemed to take great effort from Eris to do so. 

Lucien was the one to break the silence. “Have any other errands for me, brother?” 

Eris glared at him. “I am just relieved you didn’t bore her to death.” 

“I am more interesting company than you,” Lucien shot back. Then he turned to Y/N, “I shall leave you two to it then.”

“You’re leaving?” Y/N blurted out accidentally. 

Lucien had an almost mischievous smirk as he nodded and took his leave. 

Y/N expected that Eris would wait for her to approach him. After all, he was a High Lord now. And she was...Well, she was nothing.

But it was Eris who quickly lessened the distance between them. However, he stopped a longer distance away from her than necessary. Perhaps he really did believe she was scared of him. 

Eris cleared his throat. “I assume eating here would be less comfortable. I requested a more…secluded place for us to dine.”

Y/N just watched him. 

His tone was softer, gentler. Like he was speaking to a wild doe who would scurry away with any sudden movement. 

Her silence seem to unsettle him, though. 

“Unless, that is,” he quickly added, “you wish to dine alone in your rooms.”

His gaze shot down to the dagger that was still gripped in her hand. 

He couldn't help but smirk. “I see you’ve grown fond of my dagger.”

His dagger? The rooms. The bedroom that seemed to belong to someone. 

“They’re your rooms?” She asked without thinking.  

Eris seemed caught off guard that she would figure it out. “Yes. I have wards surrounding them, stronger than anything else in the house. I conjured them myself. And there is nowhere safer in the Forest House.”

“B-But where are you sleeping? I do not wish to inconvenience you.”

Eris actually let out a laugh. “I assure you, it is not inconvenience. There is plenty of space in this dreadful place.” 

Y/N didn’t know what to say next. But it still felt odd, her staying in his intimate quarters. 

But then she couldn’t ignore how at home she felt waking up, how comfortable. She had just been attacked and practically tortured. Yet, she wouldn’t know it with how safe she had felt this morning.  

Y/N took in a deep breath. “I would not mind having dinner with you…if I am able to ask you some questions.” 

Eris bowed his head. “I believe that is a fair exchange.” 

Then he gestured for her to walk ahead of him. 

He led her through a few more hallways until they were outside on a terrace. 

Plates and silverware were already set up, with candles lighting the small table.

Y/N turned to look at him, but Eris seemed to be trying to ignore her stare. 

Clearly he had made a bit of an effort here. And Y/N was taken aback by it. 

Who was Eris Vanserra now that Beron was dead and he was High Lord?

He gestured toward table, signaling that she should sit first. 

Y/N reached for the one chair, and her face got hot when Eris moved behind to push in her chair for her. Then he moved into the corner across from her. 

As soon as they were settled, Eris waved his hand over the table and food magically appeared before them. It took up every inch of the table. Then one set of wine glasses filled with light wine, while the other set filled with water. 

“Neat trick,” Y/N pointed out quietly. 

“Our cooks made it,” Eris explained, almost sounding bored. “I simply summon it.” 

But Y/N wasn’t wasting any time. “When did you know?” She uttered suddenly. 

Eris froze mid sip of drinking his wine. 

“When did you figure out I was your…mate?” 

Eris finished his sip, turning it into a gulp from the question. “As soon as I saw you.” 

“But that is not normal, is it?” Y/N challenged. 

“I will answer your questions if you eat,” Eris demanded as he gestured to her full plate. “You have been healing and sleeping. You have not eaten in nearly two days.”

Y/N sighed and did as he requested. 

“I suppose it not normal,” Eris agreed to her earlier statement. “But stranger things have happened.” 

“Why take me to Night Court? It was rather obvious they are not your friends. Why did you trust them, of all people?” 

“I do not have friends,” he corrected her harshly. “I took you to the Night Court because it was the safest place for you. There was no other option. Perhaps I was…desperate.” 

Y/N’s gaze grew cold and challenging. “And you promised an Autumn army you did yet have to make them agree?”

Eris ground his teeth. “Is that what they told you?” 

“No one told me.” 

The wind then, Eris surmised. 

“Is that why you ran?” He asked quietly. 

“I ran because they are not my friends. They only gave me shelter and protected me because they wanted your loyalty – even if that loyalty was forced. And, I guess, because Rhysand’s life depended on it.” 

Eris shifted in his chair, having mental battle with himself in his head. “No, Rhysand and his inner circle are not my friends. But their love for you was no act. Even now, they have not left your side.”

Y/N’s head snapped up in surprise. “They’re still here?”

“Yes, unfortunately. Irritating that lot is. They linger here to assure that you are alright. But I told them they were not allowed to speak with you until you had expressed that it was your wish to do so.”

Y/N blinked at Eris’ consideration. 

He seemed to be reading her face quite carefully. 

“For what it is worth,” Eris began, “they kept my secret by my demand. I did not want you to know about the bond because I thought it would make things left complicated and keep you safer.” 

“If I am being fair,” Y/N began. “I am not sure how I would’ve reacted, knowing from the start. I wouldn’t have understood any of it, really. I would’ve been…Well, I don’t know what I would’ve been.”

Eris nodded, appreciating the honesty. 

A moment of silence passed. 

He leaned toward her. “Were you running here, to me when you fled…or were you simply trying to return to the Mortal Lands?”

Y/N caught the hope in his eyes. She knew immediately what answer he sought. 

But she couldn’t give it to him. Not without lying.

Her head bowed. “I was going to the Mortal Lands. I didn’t even realize I had made it to Autumn until the leaves turned red. And then it was too late to turn around.” 

Eris leaned back in his chair, controlling his expression. Yet, somehow Y/N still knew that he was disappointed. 

Y/N waited a moment before she cleared her throat. “May I…May I make a request?”

“Please,” Eris urged her. 

I will give you anything. Anything you wish, he had to stop himself from adding. 

“I require a horse. Perhaps two.”

Eris watched her carefully, his face unreadable.  

“I had properly paid for a pair in Night Court,” Y/N quickly added when he didn’t instantly respond. “I never stole them. But obviously I lost them when I was…when your father apprehended me.”

“Y/N…” It was the first time he had said her name since she'd crossed into these borders. And she didn’t know why it made her heart flutter. “It is not safe for you in the Mortal Lands. It is not safe for you to be on your own at all. There are some who do not approve of my usurping. And you were exposed. Those who wish to hurt me will come after you.” 

Y/N’s breathing was getting heavy as she tried to control her temper. “I didn’t ask to be your mate. I didn’t ask for any of this!” 

She shot up from her chair, the table shaking from the movements. “Where are they? Take me to them.” 

Eris didn’t need her to clarify. He knew she spoke of the Night Court. 

His eyes went dark when he slowly stood. 

The movement must’ve been discomforting, for Y/N took a quick step backward from him and eyed him wearily. 

“Fine,” Eris hissed before stomping away, not waiting for her to follow. 

——

Some moments later, Eris had led her to a wing that Y/N was sure was on the opposite side of the Forest House than her own. 

He gestured toward a door, apparently refusing to open it himself. 

Y/N huffed and practically charged it. 

Nesta and Cassian jumped to their feet. But Azriel looked unsurprised by Y/N’s aggressive entrance. He probably had shadows lingering in the hall that she had missed. 

Cassian was the first to start opening his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him before he could. She knew he was about to apologize by his face alone – and she couldn’t deal with it at this moment. 

“Take me to the Mortal Lands,” Y/N demanded of Cassian, before he could speak. 

His mouth dropped helplessly, and then he looked at Eris over her shoulder, as if he would silently give him answers. 

“Take me to the Mortal Lands,” Y/N repeated, even more angerily. “You at least owe me that after lying to me for months.” 

Cassian looked to his mate for guidance, but her expression was passive. 

“Y/N,” Eris spoke quietly, remaining behind her. “It is not safe.” 

“He’s right,” Azriel agreed as he pushed off the wall. “All of Autumn Court knows you are Eris’ mate – thanks to Beron.”

Y/N only glared at the shadowsinger. But to Azriel it was better than her not acknowledging him at all. 

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N nearly growled. 

Cassian stepped forward. “If you wish to go back to Night Court, we shall take you there. Or...” His eyes flicked to Eris. “You can stay here." He sighed, "But you will be a walking target in the Mortal Lands, open for the taking.” 

Y/N looked around at all of them as if they were insane. 

Only Nesta seemed to be as confounded as her. 

“So then…” Y/N whispered angrily. "I am being forced to pick between my prisons? Is that it?”

Eris stepped to her side. “You will never be a prisoner here, Y/N. You will be a guest.” 

Y/N was quiet. 

Nesta glared at the new High Lord. “And if he tries anything you do not consent to, I will cut off his prick myself and take you back to Night Court.” 

Cassian failed to hide his smile. 

Eris rolled his eyes. 

But Y/N wasn’t amused. 

Everyone watched her closely, waiting for her decision. 

“I shall stay here,” she finally announced. 

Without saying anything more, Y/N stormed out of the room. 

Eris didn’t follow. Instead, he gave the three Night Courtiers a warning look. “My borders remain open to you. If you wish to visit Y/N – on her terms – you may do so whenever you see fit.” 

Nesta gawked at him. Then glared at her mate and then Azriel. “We are just going to leave her here? Alone!? With him?!”

“She feels betrayed by all of you,” Eris countered gravely. 

Nesta crossed her arms. “And whose fault is that?” 

Eris took a moment to answer. “I did what I believed was best to protect her – and I will continue to do the same.”

Nesta slowly stepped toward the High Lord. “You know it wasn’t long ago that you were begging to marry me. I was unimpressed with you then, and I am even more unimpressed with you when it comes to my friend.” 

Eris didn’t back down though, not even to Lady Death. “And now you have your precious Illyrian.” Only he could whisper a mere fact and make it sound like an insult. 

Cassian shifted his weight nervously, fully preparing to have to step between his mate and her next prey. 

But Eris calmly looked at him and Azriel. “Y/N will be safe here.” 

Then Eris looked down at Nesta, knowing she needed to hear the next part more than anyone. “And though she is my mate, I make no assumptions that she will accept such a bond. Once Autumn Court has been calmed and she is no longer at risk, she can return to the Mortal Lands.”

“You think it will be that easy to let her?” Azriel challenged. 

Eris sneered at the shadowsinger. “You let her go, so why don’t you tell me?” 

It was now Nesta who was forced to hide her smile. 

Eris straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “Stay another night or leave. I do not care.”

Then he left to go hunt down his mate, who was surely lost in the Forest House. 

––––––

please please please let me know what you think. write me a book report. it's what keeps me going. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Chapter XVII

[telomeke]

THE SIGN EPISODE 3 – NONG KHAI, NAGA FIREBALLS AND THE DANCE OF ADVERSARIES

Only watched Ep.3 last night and it was a trip in more ways than one; this is another one of those BLs where the hand of the Tourism Authority can be seen heavily pulling the strings, and in this episode it was plugging for Nong Khai – which is especially relevant to the naga mythology underlying The Sign.

The province of Nong Khai is far to the northeast of Thailand, separated from Laos by the mighty Mekong River; its capital city is also called Nong Khai.

Nong Khai is famous for a number of festivals, including the Rocket Festival and the Naga Fireball Festival. The Rocket Festival is referenced in the subtitles at Ep.3 [2/4] 14.41 but this is incorrect, because Tharn's grandmother mentions the date as "the 15th day of the 11th waxing moon" (the Rocket Festival takes place earlier in the year).

This date (a full moon night) is actually the Naga Fireball Festival, when the phenomenon of fireballs launched from the Mekong is supposedly at its peak. (There is as yet no formal scientific explanation for the fireballs, and locals believe they are spat out by the great naga or Phaya Naak who resides in the Mekong.)

‌This is of course the same festival that Phaya, Tharn, Yai and Sand go to watch at Ep.3 [3/4] 2.18 .

And this date (วันออกพรรษา/wan ok phansa) is also the last day of the three-month Buddhist Rains Retreat (พรรษา/phansa, sometimes also called Buddhist Lent). The first day of Phansa (in the eighth month), marks the official start of the rainy season – Phansa is the Thai version of the Buddhist celebration known more generally as Vassa elsewhere, and the word is derived from the Sanskrit varsha (which means rain).

In The Sign this celebration of Phansa is significant because the word is a cognate with the วรรษา/wansa of Tharn's formal first name Wansa and the name of his previous female naga self Wansarat, which are both also derived from the Sanskrit varsha (see this link here for more elaboration). 👀

Anyway, this means that kid Phaya was actually drawn to the Naga Fireball Festival (not the Rocket Festival) and was presumably called into the Mekong by a naga. And he was saved from drowning by a reincarnated naga (Tharn) on the last day of the season that shares Tharn's name.

And thereafter, Phaya would always dream of Wansarat on the date of the Naga Fireball Festival (the 15th day of the waxing moon in the 11th month, also the last day of Phansa/Wansa).

This is why his visit back to Nong Khai coincided with the festivities we see onscreen – he was there to investigate these links to the date and festival.

So far The Sign has been fairly faithful in its visual nods to the naga and garuda mythology that underpins the narrative. There's been a lot of blue and green (very marine colors) associated with nagas Tharn and Wansarat. And there are references to red and the element of fire calling out to garuda Phaya. This scene is an example:

In the scene above the red light on one side is contrasted with the blue-green one on the other, and mirrors the dance of the fiery garuda and the water-dwelling naga. Phaya has just been rescued from the Mekong by Tharn, and he is shivering in a blue-green t-shirt (which is the naga's color, not his).

(above) Sparks erupt behind the garuda Phaya as he seeks to recover his life-force after his near-drowning; the light on his person (as he is facing naga Tharn) is of a cooler tint though

(above) Naga Tharn is also sopping wet but totally at ease; he is also bathed in warm tones as he faces the flaming presence of garuda Phaya

This scene after Phaya's near-drowning is also one of several where we see a swing (e.g., Ep.3 [2/4] 17.02, Ep.3 [2/4] 19.02, Ep.3 [3‌/4] 10.03 and Ep.3 [3‌/4] 11.07). I may be over-reaching here, but for Thai people this may be calling to mind the Giant Swing in front of Bangkok's Wat Suthat, which was once used in an annual Hindu Brahmin ceremony (now discontinued) that was held to mark the moment when the nagas of mythology abandoned their mountain stronghold on land (their coils maintaining stability) and moved instead to their permanent, watery homeland.

Noting that the nagas are shapeshifters, the green-eyed Wansarat enticing Phaya into the water is also likely to be a malevolent naga that has assumed Wansarat's form, seeking to drown Phaya (we've seen glowing green eyes before, on the naga that Phaya saw when he struggled with the Ep.1 water challenge, and also in the greenery of the garden at the bar/restaurant where the boys go to drink).

And in another nod at the naga/garuda conflict, when the abbot Luangpor lights two candles at Ep.3 [2/4] 28.36, the rumbling stormclouds outside (that are harbingers of rain) promptly extinguish the flames before speaking ominously with him.

Nagas, because of their association with all things water, are also custodians and dispensers of rain in Thai mythology. Thus the voice that speaks to Luangpor from the clouds must be that of a vengeful naga, and he has underscored his displeasure with garuda Phaya by snuffing out the flames of the candle (fire being associated with garudas in The Sign).

‌

So one more little salute to the naga and garuda can possibly be read in the matching shirts that Phaya and Tharn don when they visit Wat Phra That Bung Puan at Ep.3 [3‌/4] 11.13:

The warm tones (garuda colors) of the matching shirts contrast with the blue-greens (naga colors) of their shorts/jeans. Meanwhile, the swirling graphics on their tops are likely a reference to the naga fireballs, which reminds us that even though the nagas and garudas are supposed to be at odds, the fireballs are one area of overlap with the flames of the garuda – a kinship also echoed by the matchy-matchy going on with the outfits here (and the premise that Tharn and Phaya are a forbidden but fated naga/garuda pairing). 😍

The culture of Nong Khai also explains why there is so much naga imagery in this episode – a lot of it is to do with the festival of the Mekong naga and its fireballs. But the garuda (Phaya's earlier incarnation) is still referenced in the visuals of Ep.3 – directly at Ep.3 [3‌/4] 15.08, but more indirectly elsewhere.

The many establishing shots of the temple finials called chofa (e.g., at Ep.3 [2/4] 8.19, Ep.3 [2/4] 19.53, Ep.3 [2/4] 23.10 and Ep.3 [3‌/4] 6.52) are actually a visual reference to the garuda:

This kind of chofa (with the curved profile reminiscent of a raptor's beak) is called the pak kruut or garuda tip chofa. There are several other kinds, including a naga finial, but the ones we see here in the establishing shots of the abbot's temple are of the garuda type and are a sly, less in-your-face wink at the garuda (at least compared to the abundance of naga imagery).

Anyway the trip ends with Tharn attempting to distance himself from Phaya because he doesn't want to jinx another of his loved ones (although what that means for Yai and Sand seemed a little rude for Tharn to suggest! 🤣).

True to his naga form a lonely Tharn seeks refuge in the watery realm – his condo pool:

But the flaming red swim briefs about his loins are in the color of the fiery garuda, and belie his divided loyalty.

So when Phaya goes to confront Tharn at the rooftop gym, the dance of the naga and garuda, historical enemies, goes into full swing. Unlike their other physical encounters down at sea level (e.g., the open water challenge of Ep.1 and the Mekong rescue) here garuda Phaya is up in the sky, as close to the sun as he can be, and here he's in his element.

And when the two tussle (as would be expected of a naga and garuda), of course it would be Phaya coming out on top. It's his realm, and his turn, after all:

‌

The naga and garuda are ever-present in The Sign. I'm sure there will be more of this to come!

‌

[oristian]

I’m going to be putting into words arguments that I have made that are, more often than not, fragments of an overarching whole. Feel free to add on if I missed any.

A rejected bond trope cannot happen in a book that does not also share Lucien’s POV. Not only would this be the first rejected bond trope that SJM would have used in her entire catalogue of work, but it directly affects the males more than the females—not having Lucien’s immediate POV in the following chapter would diminish the climatic notion of rejecting the mating bond. The bond is just as much Lucien’s as it is Elain’s.

Following along, had Lucien been rejected in the previous book, the reader would now have to wait years for his POV in his own book where the reader would have to go back in time to see his immediate reaction, deal with the consequences of a rejection, his plethora of plot points, and also him somehow falling in love with a human woman. Not only is he going to miraculously bounce back from such a soul crushing rejection—in all meanings of the term—but he is going to manage to move on enough to fall in love with someone else.

Lucien and Elain have to resolve the mating bond before she can either reject it, and/or get with Azriel. That means, from a literature standpoint, that the reader needs to actively see Elain and Lucien exploring the bond and getting to know one another, finding out that they just do not work, and continuing on from there. If Elain just up and rejects the bond and decides to be with Azriel, that is both anticlimactic and a disservice to Azriel. Choosing love means exploring the other option, rejecting it/fate, and still choosing to be with someone else. If the bond is never explored, did she really choose Azriel for love?

Elain and Lucien are within the same plot arc—Azriel has his own established plot arc, away from Elain. If SJM truly intended for the next book to be told from Elain and Azriel’s POVs, she would have placed them within the same overarching plot arc. Instead, she separated them for two straight books and made certain that it was Lucien also tied to Koschei, and it was Azriel tied to Dusk, Illyrians, Gwydion and Truth Teller, and Valkyries.

If Elain and Azriel were meant to be endgame, SJM would have needed to already resolve/begin resolving the mating bond between Elain and Lucien, and she would not have placed Gwyn within the vicinity of Azriel—especially not in his bonus chapter—in the way in which she did. SJM would have titled the ACOSF bonus chapter and marketed it as the Elriel chapter, similarly to Nessian. However, she did not, she marketed it as Azriel’s bonus chapter and she included two women.

If Elain and Azriel were endgame, and are so blatantly obvious, what would the need for a red herring be for them? Elain’s mating bond is tension enough, why bother adding another female character into the mix? Why move so much of Elain and Azriel off page? Why have all of their biggest scenes be told from either someone else’s POV, or in a bonus chapter that many readers still have not found out about?

The ‘Elain in Black’ entire paragraph was meant to draw the reader in. Cassian, who should have been focused on Nesta, harped on the Night Court black draining the life from Elain. “She had to dress down for Nesta.” That is a fanon interpretation and not backed by canon; Elain is the most beautiful Archeron sister and would have outshined Nesta in that regard no matter what. Pair that with Nesta in the next chapter also confirming that the color of the dress was what was ill-suited, not the actual dress. Following by saying that Elain radiated good health in an amethyst dress, written in a similar way that the Day Court entourage was described in ACOWAR. Pair this with other characters expressing that Elain does not fit in with the Night Court, and the foreshadowing is there.

Anything that Vassa can offer to the narrative, the reader can learn from both Lucien and Elain—Vassa is not needed for a POV, as she has nothing she can offer that would create a compelling story. She would, ultimately, just be a love interest. Anything about Koschei, we can learn from Elain’s visions and any stories that Vassa tells Lucien. Anything about Vassa in general, we can learn from Lucien. The reader already knows what happened to Vassa and the readers know about her curse and that Koschei still expects her return. She is going to be a side character with her own love interest, similarly to Amren and Varian.

I am certain that there are more, so feel free to comment and/or reblog with some! Elain and Azriel were never meant to be taken as seriously as they have and do not make much sense from a narrative perspective. They do not share any overarching plot arcs, they are wildly incompatible with one another, and there is so much foreshadowing and symbolism between Elucien and Gwynriel that wouldn’t need to be there if Elriel truly was endgame.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

[shadowqueenjude]

A century after ACOTAR, and Tamlin is depressed. Everyone seems to have a cunty redhead for a mate! Elain has Lucien, Nesta has Eris (in my delulu), Gwyn has Azriel, Helion has Mamaserra. Hell, even Jurian, a human, got matched up with a cunty redhead in Vassa. Where is Tamlin’s mate? Maybe if he changes his hair color to red, he’ll also find a mate!

So Tamlin shapeshifts his hair to look red and waits. One day, this handsome Illyrian stumbles upon his yard, clearly drunk and wearing a garland of flowers. Tamlin takes one look at him and realized he’s his mate.

“What’s your name?” Tamlin asks the male.

“I’m Nyx Archeron,” he says.

Are you fucking serious? The Mother loves playing tricks on him.

No way would Tamlin entertain another Archeron.

[rizzoreads88]

This is the strangest e/ucien defense I’ve seen yet….

“SJM would never put Lucien & Vassa together they both have red hair!!! They look like siblings w the same hair coloring””you never see authors pair people with the same hair color”

Meanwhile SJM in canon:

✨Lorcan & Elide- both have black hair✨

Art by madschofield

✨Nesryn & Sartaq- both have black hair ✨

Art by dominiquewesson

✨Kallias & Vivianne- both have white hair✨

Art by Ellyness5

……………..

[crazy-ache]

Chapter 17 Update

Summary: One moment. All it takes is one singular moment to change the trajectory of fate. Following the events of Hybern, everything changes when Lucien instinctively grabs his mate—Elain Archeron—and brings her back to the Spring Court with Feyre and Tamlin.

In the midst of war and ruin, Elain and Lucien will have to face the bond that connects them together if they hope to survive the unintended consequences. To do so, they’ll have to prevail through games of deceit, powerful forces of magic, and deadly enemies. And hope their hearts survive the journey.

A retelling of A Court of Wings and Ruin (ACOWAR) and a Canon Divergent AU.

Notes: Chapter 17 Update - Sink or Swim (Elain's POV).

Start on AO3 | Read Chapter 17

Vassa was everything Elain was decidedly not—even when she had been human. Stunning with her eyes of ocean glass and fire-colored hair. She held that head up with such allure that could only be possessed by a royal. Yet, she reminded Elain so much of her sisters. Feyre’s brazen tongue and Nesta’s sharp edges.  Thoughts crept into the back of her mind. The kind of thoughts that wondered if Lucien preferred someone with equal fire to the one he wielded in magic and charm.

Tag List: @zenkindoflove, @bonecarversbestie, @little-fierling, @yaralulu, @slipmerfoot, @areyoudreaminof, @comeonladiesitstime2yearn, @ataraxiasflame, @teddyhoneybear, @the-darkestminds, @goghwilde, @positivelyruined, @sad-scarred-sassy, @works-of-heart, @sonics-atelier, @mr-agent-mulder, @shadowqueenjude, @christeareads, @emmers-bens123, @olenvasynyt, @what-about-elvenis