#darkbringer

[lainalit]

A Father's Promise

I made a post yesterday about a Darkbringer being denied to purchase sweets and toys in Velaris for his daughter. I couldn't let the Idea go so I wrote a little scene where the father comes home to his family with empty hands.

Disclaimer: English is not my native language so I apologise for any errors upfront

Edit: Story is now available on ao3 and any future chapters will be on there

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The thick air of the Hewn City clung to Cadell as he walked slowly through its shadowed streets, the jagged stone walls pressing in on him from all sides. The flickering faelights cast their cold, eerie glow, as the weight of the day bore down on his shoulders.

In his hand, he clutched the empty bag that should have been filled with caramel bonbons and the pink teddy bear he had promised his daughter. But it was empty—just like his heart feels now.

He had traveled to Velaris, the secret city, which not long ago only a few in the night court knew about. The city itself radiating with vivid colors, creating a striking contrast to the darkness and gloom of his home city.

Keir’s agreement with the High Lord, in which nobles and Darkbringers where allowed into the blessed city, had granted him this rare opportunity to leave the oppressive confines of this mountain, and he had hoped to bring back something special for his daughter Trina—a taste of freedom, sweetness, and warmth that felt increasingly elusive with each day they spent beneath this mountain.

As he approached the small alcove he called home, which is tucked away in a quieter, less-trodden part of the city, he hesitated.

The familiar scent of his wife’s cooking filled the air, usually a comforting reminder of home, but today it felt almost stifling. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The modest space was dimly lit by the soft glow of faelights. Enid was at the hearth, stirring a pot of stew over a small, magical flame. Her chestnut hair was tied with the silver hairpin he gifted her on their wedding day, which reflects the warm light, a stark contrast to the cold, hard stone around her.

Trina, his six-year-old, was playing nearby, her black hair that she inherited from him in pigtails as her small hands carefully arranged her few toys: a second-hand doll named Lucy with one eye missing, a stack of building blocks, and Mr. Starfall, a star-shaped plushie made from the scraps of their blue-white dotted tablecloth and named after her favorite day of the year.

“Daddy!” Trina’s voice broke through his thoughts, her eyes lighting up as she ran to him. Nearly knocking him over before he could kneel and pull her into a tight embrace.

She looked up at him with excitement, her face bright with anticipation. “Did you get the bonbons and the new friend for Lucy and Mr. Starfall?”

Cadell’s heart clenched at her words. He had promised her those things—something special and new just for her, not borrowed or second-hand. But now he had nothing.

He felt the weight of the day pressing down on him, every step back from the shops and the words spoken to him replaying in his mind as he answered his daughter, “I… I’m sorry, princess. I couldn’t get them today.”

Trina’s face fell, her lower lip trembling slightly as she looked at his hands, where he clutched the empty bag. Her voice was small, laced with confusion and hurt.

“But…you promised.”

Enid, who had been watching the exchange, set down the spoon she was using and walked over, her brow furrowed with concern.

She knew her husband well enough to see the strain in his posture, the way his shoulders sagged under a weight that he couldn’t shake. “Trina,” she called gently, her voice calm but firm, “why don’t you go pack your schoolbag for tomorrow in your room? Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

Trina hesitated, her gaze flicking between her parents. She sensed that something was wrong, though she didn’t understand what. With a reluctant nod, she turned and walked towards one of the small adjoining chambers, casting one last look over her shoulder before disappearing into the other room.

As soon as Trina was out of sight, Enid turned to her husband, her concern deepening. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against his arm. “Cadell, what happened?”

Cadell let out a heavy sigh, standing up and running a hand through his hair, the tension in his body palpable. He felt the sting of humiliation and anger, emotions that he rarely allowed himself to dwell on but that now threatened to consume him.

“I went to five different shops, Enid. five. The first four wouldn’t even look at me. I waited and tried to get their attention, but they just ignored me like I wasn’t even there. And the last one…” He clenched his fists, his voice trembling with frustration and hurt.

“The last one, the owner saw me, made eye contact, looked at me as I was dirt under his shoe, and they…they said they don’t sell to fae of ‘our kind’.”

Enid’s heart ached at his words. She had always known their status as residents of the Hewn City made life difficult, but hearing the hurt in his voice brought the harsh reality into sharp focus. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Honey, I’m so sorry…”

He shook his head, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I just wanted to bring her something nice, something that would make her smile. But they wouldn’t even give me the chance. I hate that I failed her…again. Because of who I am.”

Enid tightened her hold on him, her eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and anger. She knew all too well the cruelty of this city they call home, and it pained her to see him suffer because of it.

She had chosen Cadell precisely because he was different, because he was kind in a place where kindness was rare. And because he was not like the others—not like the male she had once been betrothed to.

Enid’s betrothal had been a match for power and influence, a union that should have secured her and her family a life of privilege in the Hewn City.

But her betrothed, a lord of considerable rank, was notorious for his torture methods, especially towards females. The stories of his cruelty had reached her ears long before their engagement was made public, the whispers of the unheard brutality had chilled her to the bone even in a place like this where the darkness inside these mountain walls was never-ending.

But then she had met Cadell, at the time a quiet novice Darkbringer with a gentle heart who conceals it behind a facade of seriousness in front of the other males.

But in the privacy within their walls, he treats her, and later, when Trina came along only with tender hands, something she had never known was possible.

She had fallen in love with him, drawn to the very qualities that lay beneath his made-up appearance. And with that realization, she could not bear the thought of marrying her betrothed; she had made a desperate decision.

She had convinced Cadell to take her virtue, knowing full well what it would mean. It was the only way to escape the fate that awaited her otherwise—a marriage to a monster who would have destroyed her.

Cadell, too, had his own scars, though his were not just emotional. He had fought in the war with Hybern, called to battle alongside the rest of the Night Court’s forces.

He had seen the horrors of war, felt the bite of steel and the crush of magic against his body. His broadsword that he wielded had saved him more than once, but it had not protected him from the memories—the screams of dying comrades, the blood-soaked fields, the weight of loss that clung to him like a second skin.

He had returned to the Hewn City a changed man, quieter, more reserved. The war had left him with a deep sense of weariness, a bone-deep exhaustion that no amount of rest could erase.

And though he rarely spoke of it, Enid knew that the memories of the battlefield still haunted him with the way he rises at night to visit Trina’s room, watching over his daughter like a fallen angel poised to confront death itself if it dares to breathe in her direction.

“Honey,” Enid whispered, her voice fierce with emotion, “you are worth so much more than they will ever understand. You are a good father, a good male. We’ll explain it to Trina, in a way she can understand."

she looked at him with a small smile when she spoke, "And tomorrow… tomorrow, we’ll find another way. I’ll ask Nemain to see if she still has the soft fabric, so I can sew the teddy myself and try of dyeing it pink. For the caramel bonbons, my cousin has a butterscotch candy recipe that I can use. I simply shaped the candy into rounds instead of rectangles, so Trina wouldn’t notice the differencee."

Cadell smiled back a little while he nodded slowly, her words seeping into the cracks that the day had left in his resolve.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded in the quiet darkness of their home.

“Thank you, my love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Enid held him close, her head resting against his chest. For a moment, they simply stood there, drawing comfort from each other’s presence.

She knew the weight he carried, the burdens of being a lowborn Darkbringer in a world that valued power above all else. And she knew the guilt he felt, knowing that she had chosen him over the luxurious life she could have had.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes filled with the same fierce love that had driven her to choose him all those years ago.

“We’re in this together, Cadell,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Always.”

They stood in silence, holding each other closely, before parting ways as Enid headed to their daughter’s room to announce that dinner was ready, while Cadell looked to the small family portrait that stands on their living room drawer.

The Hewn City might be cold and unforgiving, but within the walls of their home, they had each other—and that was enough to keep the darkness at bay, if only for a little while longer.

[elleybug]

Keres Vanserra (from here ) and her intended, A Darkbringer lord from the Court of Nightmare.

[ladydeath-vanserra]

rhys- this is feyre, she is my whore

Keir- calls feyre a whore

rhys- breaks keirs arm and threatens his life

me- ??????

[kataraavatara]

i still can’t believe the idea that the CoN as a front to “pROtEcT VELaRis” is an acceptable idea both in world and to the fandom at large. like. imagine you’re at the faerie equivalent of a UN meeting and you don’t trust one of the countries because they have a history of serious human rights violations. and the leaders of said country are like. “Yeah. We DO allow tons of human rights violations in our territory, but only in one area. we actually have a secret city where none of that happens, and the reason we encourage those human rights violations is so our evil reputation can PROTECT the good city” and your reaction is “oh word. You were actually the GOOD GUYS all along, sorry I wasn’t familiar with your game.” instead of like idk being horrified that some citizens are subjugated and treated as second class in order to benefit the others.

[sonics-atelier]

Okay who wants to read a sapphic story between Amarantha and Ianthe ( two very fucked up people ) and explore prythians history while miryam plans drakons murder and jurian travels helping the humans to start a revolt ???

First chapter will be posted on October 1st

[shadowqueenjude]

Eris makes a deal with Keir

for @the-darkestminds

Eris interlaced his hands before him, smiling insouciantly at Keir Darkbringer. Despite technically being Rhysand’s subordinate, Keir had little to no fear of the man, and shockingly, Rhysand had let him stay in power for centuries despite being a despot. Having just learned of his position of power and the second game afoot with Rhysand and the Night Court, Eris set out to figure out why. It seemed that however much Rhysand and his dogs claimed to care for Mor, they hadn’t cared enough to warn her about their deal-making with Keir and himself.

Which left it to Eris to be the compassionate one. Shame; compassion was certainly not his strong suit. There were perhaps only two people in the world he had ever truly been kind to, and one would barely speak to him.

Eris shut out the pain at that thought, focusing instead on the man before him. “Hello, Keir.”

“What is this about,” Keir asked flatly, sitting down at the long table with Eris. They were on neutral ground in the Middle, just feet from the infamous mountain where Amarantha had ruled. Eris gestured towards it. “You know, that’s the place where much of Prythian was trapped and tormented by the dark queen for decades. Seems rather ordinary from here, doesn’t it?”

Keir’s lip twitched. “Quite. But I’m sure all the magic occurred underneath.”

Eris raised one leg onto the table, the picture of the arrogant prince. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Keir? In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Amarantha’s domain was modeled after your own.” Keir’s brown eyes turned dark with rage, and Eris noted his hands fisted against his thighs. “Not my domain,” he hissed. “It was Rhysand’s father who trapped us here. The High Lord is merely continuing the family tradition.”

Eris chuckled. “One would think after fifty years in that place Rhys would be more sympathetic to your plight.”

Keir looked mollified at that, straightening his baby crown over his blonde waves. “Instead he has only cracked down more on us since coming back.”

Eris clucked his tongue sympathetically. “Rhysand got special privileges,” Eris drawled, twisting a golden ring around his finger. “For being Amarantha’s whore, he didn’t suffer as we did. He didn’t need to worry about seeing his mother die right before his eyes, or being impersonated by those creepy Attor, or becoming the nightly entertainment, which typically involved lots of blood and torture. For giving her a little dick every now and then and killing some children, he got away scot-free.”

And Eris knew much of Prythian would never forgive him for it; especially not when Tamlin himself stood against Amarantha for as long as he did. When it was a mere human who freed them all. Eris did not forgive or trust Rhysand, but he supposed he was in no place to judge considering all he had done in his father’s name. He just wished Rhysand would stop acting like such a hero. It made him insufferable.

“Dirty, sniveling bastard,” Keir muttered under his breath.

“Anyhow, I understand your position where even Rhysand cannot. He wasn’t restrained to Under the Mountain like we were. He went there often, yes, but he was free to leave. But now then, Rhysand being a prick doesn’t make you any less of a jackass. Nailing and mailing your daughter to me, Keir? Could you be any more barbaric?” Eris spoke lazily, popping a cork of a champagne bottle as he finished, pouring it generously into a glass he conjured from midair. He then poured another glass to Keir and offered it to him. He didn’t take it.

“She was of no use to me here,” Keir answered coldly.

“No regret about torturing your daughter?” Eris crooned. “Were you hoping I’d accept her still out of pity, perhaps? Surely you knew there’s not a kind bone in my body.” That was true, but preventing Mor from crossing into Autumn territory was one of the greatest kindnesses he could’ve done. Being in Autumn Court territory would have bound her to him forever, and Eris knew she did not wish that at all. Better dead than suffer as his spouse.

“She deliberately disobeyed me and gave herself over to that savage,” Keir snarled, slamming his fists on the table. “This occurred long ago; what is the point of mentioning it now.”

Eris shrugged, tracing a finger across the rim of his glass, toying with Keir. “Well you see, it has always been a lifelong dream of Mor’s to free those girls from the Hewn City. Girls like her who have been trapped in cruel marriages to cruel men. And I can make it happen. I shall, if you wish to make a deal with me.”

“I tire of these games,” Keir snapped. “I already have a deal to be able to access Velaris. Why do I need you?”

Eris smirked. He had Keir right where he wanted him.

“Oh please, Keir, we all know you despise Night Court land, and I wholeheartedly agree,” he purred. “The atmosphere is terrible and the land is barren and who wants to live with all those Illyrian brutes anyway?”

Keir hesitated before he nodded. “True.”

“And as I’m sure you know, I am not merely the general of the Autumn Court armies. I am also lord of the Hestian plains, some of the finest land in Autumn.”

Keir raised an eyebrow, starting to put everything together.

“So, I’ll allow your people to begin to relocate there. But,” Eris raised a hand, interrupting Keir as he was about to speak, “only select citizens of my choice. This is my land, so I get to choose who lives on it. You will, of course, be provided with a fine estate of your own there, and plenty of comforts. Is that not a better deal than the closed city Velaris?”

Keir narrowed his eyes at Eris, considering his offer. “And if I reject your offer?”

Eris shrugged. “You won’t be rejecting it.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

Eris stood up, leaning across the table towards Keir. “There’s a reason you wanted your daughter to marry me so badly,” he murmured. “There’s a reason that after my rejection, you seek me out still. Unfortunately for you, I have discovered it. Why you desire me to be part of your family so.”

For the first time, Keir truly looked afraid. Eris relished that look. “And? What have you found out?” Eris was sure it was meant to sound like a demand, but Keir was far too breathless for his words to sound remotely commanding.

“There aren’t many who delve into the mystical arts,” Eris hummed, not letting his eyes leave Keir’s. “It took…more time than it ought owing to my father’s interference, but I discovered the one you went to before you were trapped under the mountain. And, well, with the right encouragement, the woman was perfectly happy to talk to me.” Eris didn’t elaborate on what he meant by “encouragement,” instead drinking in the scent of Keir’s growing anxiety.

“Your daughter will possess the power of Truth,

She shall attain great success with her strength and youth,

Her spouse shall come from Autumn or Night,

Listen carefully, oh Darkbringer, for she may be your plight,

You’ve been gifted the boon of invincibility,

But such a blessing must always be accompanied by an Achilles heel, silly,

Yours is her. Despair, for you cannot have her killed,

Your destiny by her shall be willed.

Should she marry Autumn’s heir, you shall attain untold amounts of power,

But should she marry an Illyrian, soon not even your servants shall cower,

For Autumn’s son shall be your sword,

But the Night’s son shall be your lord.”

Keir’s skin paled. Eris had recited his prophecy to completion. He knew his darkest secret. He had no cards left to play.

“I don’t think you want this information in the Inner Circle’s hands, do you?” Eris whispered.

Keir’s body swirled with darkness. “I could just kill you and be done with it,” he mused. Eris had to laugh. Powerful though Keir might be, he was no match for a High Lord’s heir, especially not Autumn’s.

Eris let his body encircle itself in flame. “I’d like to see you try. You do know what light and heat does to darkness and cold, don’t you, Keir?”

Keir stayed in a fighting stance for a moment longer before he relaxed. “Fine. I agree to your deal.”

“Swear to it,” Eris insisted. Keir looked murderous, but he grumbled, “I swear.”

Eris watched as black swirls creamed up the inside of Keir’s arm. A matching gold mark formed on Eris’s. He winked at Keir. “Good boy. Pleasure doing business with you.”

Then he winnowed out of the meeting spot before Keir could snarl insults at him.

[woeddbeanna]

I've been running circles around the Hewn City drama for months now.

Most of all thoughts about the legion...

Like, they are prohibited underground and they are generally not as cool as Tolkien’s dwarves.

Like, there was an evil queen hanging out in their home.

Like, they are all generally considered the last bastards.

Like, they are controlled by the last bastard.

And instead of deciding anything, the brilliant Highlord and his people simply allow Keir to do whatever he wants, because he controls them. They are literally sold for services, and they die in war.

They are rightfully the elite, the fighting unit of the Court, and they are treated like dirt.

And then together with any glory? respect? receive a vile attitude and a ban on appearing in precious Velaris.

I'm going crazy around the Darkbringers.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

My baby work hard.

Wottice dis, Frankie? Is YOU outchea checking for the blue boy too? Tell the truth: We ain't never see Frankie talmbout no, "Tell us about yourself." And Maya rocking on them heels a whole lot when she say things to he.

SOLIDARITY. And... something else...

No, because why is this current dynamic -

Zeran: *Exists*

The League of Godlings: 😏🥰😊

?

This team tryna kill me. Frankie and Zeran to the rescue now. They becoming some lil' magic musketeers. I... have so much content right here for all of my many needs. This chapter!!!

[extremely-judgemental]

Okay, Rhysand is not power hungry.

Then again, Amren, a feared ancient creature is his second-in-command. Morrigan, supposedly strong and powerful, is his third-in-command. Two most powerful Illyrians are his lackeys. He may very well have an army of Valkriyes on top of the Illyrians and Darkbringers soon. Let's ignore all this because it's just his government.

Night would possess the Book of Breathings if it wasn't lost, half of which technically still belongs to Summer. And the Cauldron itself is hidden away in a secret island run by Rhysand's friends whose location is known only to him(and Azriel..?) They have the Dread Trove hidden in their court and Helion is entrusted with that secret only because they needed his help. They have weapons made by Nesta in their possession. I haven't read HOFAS but my understanding is that even Nesta can't access them without Rhysand's permission..? Nesta is blessed by Mother even after she returned her powers to the Cauldron, and they found a way to keep her on a leash. Elain is a seer.

I don't know how else to say this but Rhysand is a hoarder of power.

[litnerdwrites]

The NC is literally a dystopian hellscape.

The Capital, or Velaris, is the safe zone from where they watch the suffering of others (the CON and Illyrians). They srpead propaganda to hide the hellscape that they've turned the NC into, painting themselves as paragons for good, and like siding with them is the best and only option. The IC themselves are a form of walking propaganda, calling themselves "The Court of Dreams" and gas slighting the citizens of Velaris and other courts into thinking that they're in the right and are just misunderstood good guys all along.

They use the CON and Illyria as forms of propaganda, showing it off to others, and painting a tail of them doing their best, but that these places are just too far gone or stubborn or whatever, to paint themselves as the ones struggling as they try to offer them help.

They use force as a way to control the populous, instead of starting with negotiations, or enforcing laws. Instead, they put down rebellions and slaughter their own people, while leaving the females to suffer, and orphans to starve.

They use force in the Hewn city too, though at the wrong times. He used force to control them when Kier called Feyre names, but not when they needed to get control of the Darkbringers? Once instance seems a lot more important than the others.

They control the spread of information, even from their own "family" when they feel like it, as seen in ACOSF. When information leaks from the NC, rhys (or another nc damati), wipes their memories of it. This is seen in ACOWAR after Eris and his brothers found out about Feyre's powers, while his brothers had their memories wiped, he uses it as leverage.

There's also the fact that most people consider Illyrians uncivilised brutes and the denizens of the CON to be unpleasant at best, monsters at worst. People from outside the NC or from velaris, don't really have any way of knowing if it's true first hand. They have the accounts of the IC, but that's it. They just take their word for it. It's not like Feyre or anyone ever see any of the CON outside of that court, that's basically an elaborate masquerade for the sake of survival.

They deny free thought, since we all saw what happened to Nesta the moment she dared to disobey, have individual autonomy, free thought, and healthy boundaries. She was pretty much tortured, and denied information regarding her own body. Even in the HL meeting, anybody with an opposing view, like Tamlin, was quickly shut up, dismissed and/or kicked out.

There's also the fact that it's unlikely anyone from Velaris has ever left it. It's hidden, cut off from the rest of the world, and it's not like we're told of any other safe places in the NC. It's either Velaris, this perfect city, the hellscape that is the CON (supposedly), or the frozen wastelands of Illyria. On top of that, if they stay, they remain the IC's priority, since he did only act to protect Velaris during Amerantha's reign, and not any other location. Has anyone ever left, without getting their memories wiped? Are their methods of transportation for people to leave Velaris, or come to it, if that's what they wish? Unlikely.

The IC don't let anyone see any good in any part of the NC, aside from Velaris. They convince their citizens that they are the only good thing in the NC, putting them on a pedestal above the rest of the territory. Velaris is protrayed as this Utopia, with the rest of the NC being portrayed as the kind of places they tell kids about to make them behave.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whisper of the Forgotten | pt. 10

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 1,5k words | warnings: war | masterlist

“AZRIEL!” Your wail, the scream of pure pain and agony, tears through the few Illyrian warriors left on the battle ground, shaking the ground. You need to find him, but have no idea where he is. Dead bodies are scattered all over the ground, covered in blood and weapons, and dirt and fear kicks in that he is one of them. 

You haven’t felt like this in a long time, helpless and broken. Last time you had felt like that was when you had been locked into the Prison, many centuries ago. 

Your heart hammers against your ribcage when you spin around, trying to make out anything in the distance, but the dust in your eyes and fog hovering above the ground make it hard for you to see. 

Wails of pain coming from warriors who have been injured reverberate through you, making you shudder and you fold your arms around your body. 

The feeling within your soul, the tug, the bond that connects your souls, fades more and more with every ragged breath you take. The air burns down your throat, and tears start to fall from your eyes. 

Only an hour prior the battle had still been raging on, Illyrians and Darkbringers, joined by all the armies from the other courts, battling and fighting against the Death God and his supporters. It was blade against blade, steel against steel, wails and war cries sounded from every corner and then—

Then the land fell dark as an otherworldly being, a creature made of darkness and vengeance, one that you once used to call your friend, and hope to do so in the future again, landed upon the fighting warriors, upon those who supported and belonged to Koschei.

It was a nest of swirling black shadows, ruling over the land, wiping out every living being in its wake, sparing those on your side, until nothing but destruction and dust was left.

You and Nesta, your powers unified, were the ones who landed the death blow. 

Ataraxia tightly clasped in her hand, she lunged at Koschei first. You joined her on her quest, fuelling your energy, gathering all the power you had, and then, joined by the forces of the Wild Hunt, you came upon him, knives and magic working together as one — ending his life.

He had been weakened before, but had his people, his supporters, armies from the continent to protect him, shield him.

The battle had raged on for months, you had all been weakened, but you had known the day would come where you would face him. The battle would come and you would return from it victorious.

The land roared, cracked open, screamed when Ataraxia pierced through his chest, followed by the blow of your magic. You sent a gust of wind at him, at the ashes and dust, the only thing left of him, and allowed the wind to carry him away.

A mixture of tears, dirt and blood coated your face, your entire body, and when you turned back to face your family, you fell into their arms.

The Wild Hunt, brutal beasts and warriors, all came together to hug one another, screaming and weeping now that you were reunited and won the war.

But right now, you can’t waste any time, you need to find your mate. 

All these centuries, everything that has happened between you – you can’t lose him now. Not like this. Azriel doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to die out here. You need to find him and tend to him, heal his wounds. And–

“Y/N!” Cassian calls to you from a distance and you need a moment to figure where his voice is coming from. Eventually, your eyes land on the Illyrian male who looks battered and broken, his body coated in grime and blood. He is standing in front of a healer’s tent, but walks into your direction, limping. 

“Y/N!” he calls again. “It’s Azriel!” Cassian trembles as he braces his hands on his thighs, his eyes revealing everything you need to see. 

And the pain in his voice is everything you need to hear. 

Driven by fear and terror, you dash forward, into the general’s direction, past him and into the healer’s tent and fall to the ground, a sob bursting from you when you take in your mate and the–

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

You wake up with a loud scream parting your dry lips, and burning fiercely in your throat. Your eyes a damp with unshed tears and—

A strong arm curls tightly around you and you feel the soft press of lips against the side of your neck.

“Share your nightmare with me,” Azriel mumbles, his voice hoarse and low.

Your breathing is ragged but you relax immediately, pressing into his warm and solid body, finding solace in it. 

You close your eyes, hoping to ease the burning and for your heart to calm down. Your breaths start to calm as well, levelling, and you slide your hand into his scarred one.

“I dreamt of the war.”

Azriel’s body shudders in response to your answer, and his arm curls tighter around, his naked body flush against yours. 

“I dreamt of how I couldn’t find you, how I was looking for you, and how I was reunited with my family.”

“But you found me,” Azriel breathes, his voice full of emotion. 

You turn in his arms, slowly in order to not hurt him. The war hasn’t been over for too long, Azriel earned himself many deep gashes. The blades that caused him those had been drenched in faebane and the healing took much longer.

“I did,” you whisper and a tear rolls down your cheek.

“I can’t believe you could forgive me, Y/N.” Azriel‘s eyes are closed almost as if it pains him to look at you. “After I‘ve hurt you so much, after I betrayed you, after—”

Having wiggled one hand free, you place it atop his lips, stopping him. “Our souls belong to each other, they were for another and so are we — made for another. Two hearts that belong together shouldn’t be kept apart. It is true that you hurt me, but you apologised and you have shown me that you are a better male now.”

You push up on your elbow, allowing your naked limbs to tangle with his. 

You lean over him and brush your lips against his, at first sweet and delicate, then a little deeper. The kiss is bittersweet, full of tears, longing, love, pain, madness and desire.

“I love you, my mate.”

“I love you, my mate,” he says with a smile but claims your mouth in another kiss in the next moment. This one is deeper, hungrier, a dance of tongues and lips.

You are both breathless when you part, your hands resting atop his heaving chest, not all the wounds from the war now having healed yet, but bandages protecting them. 

“Shall we get up?” Azriel asks, his tone a little lighter, sparkles glittering in his hazel eyes. “We have a lot of rebuilding to do, don’t we?”

You have started to rebuild the Middle with help of the Wild Hunt, your mate and some of his family members. Both Rhysand and Feyre apologised and told you that they could, for the time being, not return to the middle — their experiences and what was done to them here has been too traumatising to be yet ready to return here.

You understood of course.

But the Valkyries join you a lot, helping you greatly.

“I think that rebuilding can wait a little longer, Azriel,” you hum and kiss his jaw. “There are other things I want to do now.”

“Other things?” Azriel drawls and pulls your leg over his waist. “What other things?”

You let your fingers dance up his chest, before curling them around his neck, bringing him in for another kiss. “Oh you know exactly what other things.” Your lips curl against his when you press against his front. 

And oh does he know! Making love to you for the rest of the morning, before you head outside and start to work on your house and the large garden beyond.

general tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @azrielsmate2 @callmeblaire @lilah-asteria @berryzxx

[lainalit]

"We were born sick." You heard them say it

A acotar canon complied fanfic about a common hewn city family.

I posted a one shot that I originally did for my headcanon of a darkbringer going home to his family when he was being denied purchasing toys and sweats from velaris shopowners, just like Rhysand ordered them to do.

After that, the OC's that I created for it wouldn't leave my mind, so I plan to write one shots (probably non-linear) for them.

You find both first parts on ao3 and the second chapter under the cut their his daughter gets her treats.

The small faelights adorned the walls and tables, enveloping the Maher family's living room in a warm, dim glow. The rich aroma of butter and sugar wafted through the air, enhancing the cozy atmosphere.

Seated in a rocking chair by the hearth, Enid threaded a needle through the soft, dyed pink fabric of an almost-finished teddy bear for her daughter, her hands moving with quick steady precision. As she worked, she hummed a gentle tune from an old lullaby her mother used to sing to her—a lullaby she now sings to her daughter whenever nightmares stirred her little one from sleep.

Her husband, Cadell, and their daughter Trina were visiting Nain Ada—the female who took Cadell in after his mother passed away—allowing Enid to complete Trina's gift without needing to worry of looking after her and the fear of Trina discovering the presents too soon.

Just one of the many things Enid loves about her husband; he never takes her homemaking tasks for granted and devotes every moment of his day to their daughter after returning from his Darkbringer duties.

She sighed softly, redirecting her attention to the small pink teddy bear as she completed the final stitch on its back. She examined the meticulous work she had devoted nearly a week to while Trina was at school.

Sometimes, she could still hear her great-grandmother’s voice admonishing her that the stitching wasn’t perfect and that she would need to start all over again since only a flawless stitch could make a flawless wife. What nonsense.

She placed the teddy gently on the rocking chair and walked over to the kitchen island, where the rounded butterscotch candies cooled off.

Taking one, she blew on it and carefully bit off a small piece. As she savored the sweet flavor, she closed her eyes, recalling how her Cousin Kenna, from whom she had obtained the recipe, would make these treats for her birthday when she was young—one of the few cherished memories.

Enid carefully packed the butterscotch’s and the teddy into the bag that Cadell had brought back from his visit to Velaris, a bag that had returned empty after he was denied the very same things she had worked so hard to create now.

As she closed the bag, she struggled to quell her frustration over the situation and the injustice of it all.

She’s fed up with Keir and his elitist friends dictating what the impoverished Fae can and cannot do within the city walls. She seethes at the way the High Lord treats every citizen of her home like a criminal, all while his own hands remain far from innocent.

 But what infuriates her the most is Morrigan, whom the common folk of Hewn City derisively called the 'Red Traitor.' Enid resents how Morrigan abandoned the females, the younglings, and all the vulnerable souls once she secured her own freedom and dreams, never pausing to consider those still trapped within the dark mountain walls yearning for the same.

But she pushed those thoughts aside as she entered her daughter’s room and placed the bag of gifts on the bed. She chose to focus on her blessings rather than what she lacked.

________________

Enid stood in the warm glow of the kitchen, the faint scent of vanilla and butter still lingering in the air as she wiped the dark countertop clean.

The rhythmic sound of her cloth against the surface was soothing, a welcome reprieve in the otherwise peaceful afternoon. Just as she finished, she heard the unmistakable thud of heavy boots on their front door, stirring a flutter of excitement in her chest.

The door creaked open, and there was Cadell, his broad silhouette framed against the fading light, with Trina nestled in his arms, her small form draped against him like a sleeping flower sprite from one of her picture books.

“Wake up, princess! We are home,” Cadell announced with a playful lilt, gently jostling her.

 Trina stirred, a sleepy grumble escaping her lips as she buried her face deeper into her father’s neck, unwilling to wake fully just yet.

With quick strides, Enid closed the distance, her heart warm at the sight of her husband and daughter. Cadell leans down, his lips find his wife's forehead in the customary kiss he lovingly bestows upon her each time he comes home.

“Did you have a good time by Nain Ada?” Enid asked, her smile teasing as she tipped her head back to meet his gaze, her hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Cadell chuckled, his dark brown eyes shimmering with contentment.

"If by that you mean her feeding us until we’re ready to burst and her grumpy self finding fault with everything and everyone, then yes,“ he replied, a note of affection lacing his words as he adjusted his hold on their daughter.

Enid quirked a brow, a smile tugging at her lips. “And you, my sweetling?”

Her daughter, still half-asleep, merely nodded her head against her father's shoulder, an adorable little gesture that made Enid’s heart swell.

“Well, it seems like our princess wants to sleep instead of meeting Lucy’s new friend?” she said, glancing from her husband to her daughter.

Trina lifted her head slightly, her big hazelnut eyes blinking up at her mother with a hint of curiosity.

“New friend?” she murmured, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her words.

"Yes, they arrived just before you and went directly to your room," Enid replied, gently tucking a stray of Trina’s dark hair behind her ear, revealing her small features that already resemble her husband , though he would insist she looked much more like her.

With a sudden burst of energy, Trina wiggled in her father’s arms, determination flashing in her sleepy eyes.

“Daddy, let me down!” she demanded, her voice tinged with the audacity of a youngling sure of her own authority.

Cadell chuckled lightly, his deep laughter resonating in their living room.

“Okay, okay, but what do we say first?” he asked, lowering her slightly, giving her the room to wiggle free.

Trina beamed up at him before leaning in, planting a big, warm kiss on his cheek.

“Pretty please!” she chimed.

With a laugh, he set her down entirely, watching as she dashed off towards her room, her tiny feet pattering against the stone floor in a flurry of excitement.

Just as Enid was about to head towards Trina’s room, Cadell caught her wrist with a firm yet tender grasp, turning her gently but decisively to face him.

“Wha—” she began, before she could fully voice her question, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a long, passionate kiss that seemed to stop time itself.

When he finally pulled away, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Did I tell you how incredible you are?” he breathed, his voice low and filled with admiration.

She took a moment to catch her breath, her heart racing from both the unexpected kiss and the weight of his words.

“No, that’s the first time you’ve ever told me that,” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she swatted his shoulder lightly.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her pointy ear as he whispered, “Well, if that’s the case, it seems I need to show my wife tonight just how incredible she is.”

A shiver of excitement and anticipation danced down her spine at his words, a heady mix of emotions blooming within her. But before she could form a reply, a sharp scream pierced the air from her daughter’s room, shattering the intimate moment.

In an instant, her husband’s demeanor shifted from tender to alert; he released her and sprinted the few meters to their daughter’s room, his concern palpable. She was right behind him, her heart still pounding—not just from the kiss, but from the sudden urgency that had replaced their tender exchange.

_______________

In Trina’s room, the atmosphere was electric with joy.

Enid stepped inside to find her daughter tightly clutching the pink teddy, bouncing up and down in sheer delight. The moment stirred something deep within her, an echo of uncontained happiness.

“By the Mother, don’t scare your old father like that, Trina!” Cadell exclaimed, his hand resting dramatically on his heart as if he were about to swoon.

Enid couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his remarks. Both in their seventies, they were seen as practically youthful by high fae standards, especially when compared to Ada, who was over seven hundred years old.

Trina stopped her bouncy dance and held the pink teddy high above her head.

 “I’m sorry, Daddy! But look at Lucy’s and Mr. Starfall’s new best friend!” She stretched her tiny arms up toward him, enthusiasm radiating from her face.

Cadell knelt down to her level, his gaze softening with love as he looked at the stuffed animal she clutched in her tiny hands.

"I see, princess. They look quite lovely," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Without warning, Trina launched herself into his arms, wrapping her limbs around him with all her might.

"Thank you, Daddy!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with pure, unfiltered joy.

Cadell chuckled, a deep, warm sound that filled the room, hugging her back with equal fervor before loosening his embrace just enough to look into her bright, eager eyes.

 "You’re welcome, sweetheart, but I didn’t do anything. It was all your mama’s work."

Enid, standing nearby, suppressed a smile, knowing full well that her husband had played his part as well. He had helped with the cutting and dyeing of the fabric, though she chose not to mention it now.

She’d will remind him later by mischievously depriving him of his favorite indulgence in bed, so that he wouldn’t always be so self-effacing.

Trina glanced over at her, breaking free from her father's embrace, and before she could topple into her mother’s legs, Enid bent down to catch her, pulling her into a long, heartfelt hug.

"Thank you, Mommy! I love you so much," Trina said with a soft voice, her small arms squeezing with all the strength she could muster.

"I love you too, my sweetling," Enid murmured, feeling the beginning of unshed tears prickling at her eyes.

As they slowly parted, Enid asked gently, "So, what’s the name of your new friend?"

Trina looked thoughtfully from her mother to her father, then down at the plushie in her hands.

"I think…I’ll name him Thessie." A big smile spread across her face.

"Why that, sweetheart?" Cadell asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

Trina gazed down at Thessie, cradling it in her small hands.

“His pink reminds me of the pictures from the Dawn Court in my schoolbooks, and the High Lord is Thesan, so Thessie!”

There was a brief silence as they all absorbed the weight of her words. Each of them understood, in their own way, that they would likely never see the breathtaking views of the Dawn Court at sunset.

Breaking the silence, Enid chimed in with a soft, nurturing voice, "What a lovely name, sweetie. And since Lord Thesan wields healing powers, your Thessie will undoubtedly possess some of that magic as well."

Her daughter's warm eyes widened, a spark of wonder igniting within them. "Do you really think so?"

Enid smiled brightly as she answered, “Of course! Just like Mr. Starfall has star powers, or Lucy has fire powers.”

Trina hugged Thessie tightly and gave the bear a kiss on its head. With an ecstatic look, she made her way over to her dressing drawer, where Mr. Starfall and Lucy awaited the arrival of their new friend.

As the moment unfolded, Cadell grasped Enid’s hand, every bit of warmth radiating from his calloused grip. His gaze was drifting to his daughter's bed, where the candy bag poked out from beneath the larger bag.

“Princess, look what I’ve found!” he said, retrieving the sweets and waving them teasingly.

"Daddy, my caramel bonbons!" Trina squealed, darting across the small room in an eager attempt of trying to seize the candies out of her father’s hand.

"Wait a minute, the oldest gets to go first!" Cadell declared, holding the bag just out of reach, a playful glint in his eye.

"That's not true, Daddy! The youngest gets to go first!" Trina exclaimed, hopping up and down on her feet, eager to get her hands on the sweat treats.

With a mischievous smile, Cadell raised an eyebrow at her.

 "If that’s so, why doesn’t the youngest try to catch her old father?" And with that, he released his wife's hand and dashed out of the room, laughter bubbling from his lips.

"Daddy, you cheated!" Trina yelled, her laughter ringing out as she chased after him, her little legs moving as fast as they could.

Standing in the doorway, Enid listens to the joyful peals of laughter reverberating around their Alcove, wrapping every corner in a cocoon of blissful love. A peaceful smile graced her lips.

Despite not having the opulent wealth of gems and gold that Prythian aristocrats possess, she felt immeasurably wealthy in that moment, as she watched, her greatest treasure right in front of her, scuttling through their home in a whirlwind of laughter.

[elleybug]

Lord Icelos - Darkbringer of hewn city ◾️◾️◾️

Finally drew him not in his armor. Betrothed to Keres Vanserra.

Pondered on his power. Being of the nightcourt ( CoN) I imagine his power is illusion based , specifically fear inducement.

[fourteentrout]

Acotar Hot Take Time (Again)

Rhys' whole "Everything I love has a tendency to be taken away from me" thing is often lauded as one of the most sentimental, empathetic lines from the book. rhys stans seem genuinely moved by it, even now that more books in the series have come out.

and I think...it's kind of bullshit?

not that people find the sentiment in it, you can like what you like, but the actual claim itself is bullshit.

rhys lost his mother, father, and sister, and I will not deny that it was tragic and traumatizing. by extension, he lost his close friend Tamlin because of his betrayal.

but like...what else? Now that he's been living in his Court after UTM and everyone has moved on from his Evil Guy schtick, tell me, what "everything" is he talking about? He protected velaris, which seems to be the only territory in the Night Court he really cares about. Even when it was attacked, he was able to renew it with seemingly no struggle. he has his entire original inner circle. this guy has like. 5 houses. his Court is intact and thriving (at least, the part of it he cares the most about).

Yes, he was separated from his family for 49 years, but he didn't LOSE them. they were there the whole time, they were there when he got back.

but like, it would be even more obvious if we had an example of someone in the series who ACTUALLY lost everything, right? with no one to compare his experiences to, maybe it really DOES seem like everything he loves has a tendency to be taken from him.

Oh wait. there is an example. Tamlin.

Tamlin lost the exact same things at the same time as Rhys: his immediate family, and his best friend.

But where rhys' loss kind of stagnated, Tamlin's continued once the curse was placed on his Court. His sentries, his friends, sacrificed themselves to help him, to the point where he literally had to stop them from going out because he was overwhelmed with the grief of losing his friends over and over for seemingly NO REASON (as they weren't getting anywhere with the curse. To him, they were giving up their lives for a lost cause.) and unlike with seemingly every member of the Night Court, these guys weren't magically coming back to life. By the time Feyre gets to Spring, the only close remaining friend Tamlin has is Lucien.

And guess what? he lost him, too! feyre left him, and she was valid in doing so, but she TORE HIS COURT APART in the process. she literally fucked with the minds of his new sentries to get them to not trust him, and to get him to not trust them. hell, she made it so he didn't trust the one friend he had left. he fought in the war and his court fell into disrepair because all of his guards LEFT. even after they fought by his side. that's how lasting feyre's impression on the Court was.

Spring was literally abandoned.

So like...let's compare. Rhys has: Cassian, his general and brother, Azriel, his spymaster and brother, Mor, his cousin and third, Amren, his second, Feyre, his mate, wife, and High Lady, Nyx, his son, and his City of Starlight.

He doesn't have: The illyrian and darkbringer troops that died in the war (though there's not much mention of them, save for the illyrians. both nations seem to be pretty removed from Rhys' mind as it is), his mother, his father, and his sister (all of which remain unnamed??? for some reason???), and Tamlin

Tamlin has: maybe some citizens left?? we don't really know. alis?? she went back to the summer court, if I remember correctly, but I could be wrong.

Tamlin doesn't have: Feyre (who, mind you, he already lost once before when he literally watched her die), Lucien (parted ways), Rhys (parted ways), Andras (deceased), all of the unnamed sentries that died during Amarantha's reign, his literal current, living guards (parted ways), his unnamed mother, father, and brothers (all deceased), any kind of love interest (nevermind a mate) (just straight up nonexistent), hell, he even lost Ianthe (deceased). she deserved it, but to him, for the longest time she was just his childhood friend that he TRUSTED. so first he lost her to her own treachery, and then she literally died, presumably without him ever being able to properly confront the fact that she wasn't who he'd thought before she was murdered. he lost troops in the war, and then he lost the living ones to the effects of feyre's destruction of their trust. by Silver Flames, he literally has NOTHING.

I don't know. just knowing all that and re-reading Rhys' line about getting the things he loves taken from him makes me...kind of think that SJM doesn't really know the meaning of having everything taken from someone. cause to me, it really looks like Rhys has...a LOT. like yes, he's experienced loss, but when you have someone like Tamlin, whose Court as far as we know is ABANDONED, it kind of negates the argument before it can even be made.

[shadowdaddies]

Could you do a Rhys x reader where people always thought she was more masculine until she mated with Rhys where she started to become and feel more comfortable being feminine and just being herself.

It’s like the saying where if the woman feels safe enough and comfortable in the relationship, she allows herself to be more feminine and starts to relax little by little.

It’s also like that trend going around on TikTok where it’s like when you’re by yourself, you double check everything and you are hyper aware of everything around you, but the second your husband is there, you can relax and just turn off your brain and not worry about anything lol

Hopefully I explained this well enough. My dyslexic ass is having a rough time today 😀

okay tbh I'm not the most familiar with this but a special thank you to @lidiacerv0s for the help + showing me the TikTok trend. I hope you enjoy this, it was fun to write🤗💜

The Archer

Rhysand x fem!Reader fluff

warnings: this gets very suggestive towards the end, I couldn't help it 🤷‍♀️

With a final sweep of black coal to your eyes, you stepped back from the mirror, taking in your finished look. You kept the makeup simple but dark, to match the all-black tailored suit you’d donned for today’s meetings. Smoothing down the sides of your hair - neatly pulled back in a tight bun - you sighed, already tired of the facade you were building.

Rhys was busy with matters in Windhaven, leaving you in charge of the meeting with the Lords in the Hewn City today. It was doomed to be a day full of males challenging you and people looking to you for direction, something that always exhausted you.

A knock on your door distracted you from those thoughts, and you took one last look in the mirror at the severe female staring back at you before striding towards the door, head held high and chest out as you wore the mask of confidence you relied on as part of your role of High Lady.

The click of your heels echoed through the obsidian stone hallways, announcing your approach to the counsel room. The set of double doors were opened for you, your unamused gaze sweeping the room as you assessed the varying levels of nerves each Lord exuded in your presence. 

With a cruel smile, you looked to Keir, the Lord immediately straightening in his seat at your piercing gaze. You let out a dramatic sigh, long nails idly tapping against the long table as you relaxed in your chair. 

“Report,” you ordered, smooth voice cutting through the room like a knife as everyone grew impossibly silent. Keir rambled about problems in the Court of Nightmares, status of the Darkbringers. Complaint after complaint from each incompetent male at the table. All problems and no solutions. 

As Lord Thanatos began to complain about his daughter and the behavior of the young women in the court for the thousandth time, you cut him off, letting the dark look in your eyes convey the thinly veiled threat that lurked beneath your words like a shark in the water.

“I will be sure to check on your daughter, as well as all the females in this Court soon. Any threats that we find will be dealt with at the hands of the Shadowsinger.” You looked pointedly at Thanatos with those words, your lips curving upwards as the scent of his fear permeated the air. 

“Now that you all have your agendas, this meeting is adjourned.” You stood from your chair, chin high as you strode towards the doors that were already being opened for you. 

With a glance over your shoulder, you flashed a feline grin at the males, each of them shrunk into the seat of their chairs as they stared at you, wide-eyed like the helpless children they were inside. “Do not disappoint me,” you purred, a final warning before you disappeared from their sight.

You barely held your composure, forcing yourself to keep a leisured pace until you were away from everyone. Closing the door to your room, you nearly collapsed against the wood as you finally let the mask slip. 

An inviting tug on the bond nearly brought tears to your eyes - Rhys was home. Without a second thought, you winnowed back to Velaris, kicking off your heels as you ran to where Rhys stood, stirring something that smelled incredible over the stove.

“You’re home,” you cried, running towards him. Rhys set down the ladle, fully turning towards you as he wrapped you in his arms, allowing you to sink into his comforting warmth. 

Pressing a kiss to your head, Rhys tilted your chin up to look at him. “You are so beautiful, darling,” he whispered, capturing your lips in his in a hungry kiss. You collapsed into his hold, back arched as you allowed yourself to be swept away from your worries as he swept your feet off the ground.

“Are you making dinner?” you murmured against his lips, admiring the way Rhys’s violet eyes twinkled as he looked down at you, playfully bumping his nose against yours. 

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I’m trying a new recipe that I think you’ll love.” Tears threatened to spill as relief washed over you, this magnificent male who would always care for you, look out for your needs.

“Thank you, my love,” you whispered, allowing Rhys to set your feet back on the ground as he prepared plates for the two of you. 

“Come here,” Rhys purred, patting his leg as he took a seat at the table, both plates in front of him. You practically squealed with delight as you dashed to claim your seat in your mate’s lap. Relaxing against his warm chest, you sighed as Rhys slid an arm around your waist, rubbing soothing circles against your skin as he cut your food for you. 

“Here, darling,” Rhys whispered, pressing a kiss to your neck as he brought the fork to your lips. You moaned at the flavors, head leaning back against Rhys as you murmured praises for his cooking. 

“I am so lucky to have you,” you whispered, kissing his cheek as Rhys grabbed another forkful of food for you. 

He simply chuckled, his hand squeezing your waist affectionately. “And I you, my love.”

Once you were content, a full meal resting in your stomach, you began to gather the plates to clean up. “No you don’t. Let me do that. Why don’t you go take a bath, change into something more comfortable?” Rhys teased, his eyes darkening with barely controlled desire.

You responded with a smirk, pulling your hair from its updo as you let the hair fall over your shoulders in waves. “I can do that. But I want to bake you something for dessert after,” you countered. 

Rhys swallowed thickly as he watched you ascend the staircase, his eyes trained on your form with each step. You stepped into the bathroom, a content sigh slipping from your lips as you breathed in the floral scents wafting from the already-filled bathtub. 

Peeling off the offensive suit, an unabashed moan left you at the feeling of the warm water on your muscles. Allowing yourself to soak for a short while, you scrubbed the memories of the day from your skin before stepping out of the tub. 

A devious grin graced your lips at the idea that came to mind as you stared in your wardrobe, pulling the lacy pink lingerie from the drawer. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help the bright smile that took over your features as the real you smiled back. 

You strode down the stairs, the confidence you exhibited real this time as you locked eyes with your mate. Rhys watched you, enchanted, from the other side of the room, admiring your free-flowing hair and the way the lace of your lingerie framed your curves.

“What are you doing?” he choked out, his knuckles white as they clutched the countertop.

Bending over, you gave your mate a view of the cheeky panties you wore (if they could even be called that) as you pulled ingredients from the cabinet. “I’ve had to deal with those incompetent males, wear awful restrictive clothing all day... I just want to spend some time with my mate, wearing something that’s a bit more... me,” you finished with a giggle, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you cracked an egg in the bowl.

Rhys prowled to stand behind you, his hands roving over every part of you he could touch. Playfully swatting away his hand, you shook your head as you scolded him.

“If you would like to help with the baking, you are welcome to. We can play later,” you whispered, lifting up on your toes to give a playful tug to his earlobe. Rhys shivered, but nodded as he stepped back slightly. 

“I would always like to do whatever serves my lady,” he responded, his finger lightly grazing your arm. “What can I do for you?” 

You hummed thoughtfully, swaying your hips as you whisked. “I would love if you would taste this for me,” you declared, scooping a bit of the chocolate batter on your pointer finger. Violet eyes darkened further as Rhys gripped your wrist in his large hand, drawing your finger into his mouth. 

You could see the moment he scented your arousal, his tongue flicking against the digit as his eyes remained locked on yours. “Delicious, as always,” he moaned, smirking as you pulled away with a blush.

“Alright then, let me get this into the baking pan then,” you whispered. Before you could reach for the pan, Rhys already had it in his hand, reaching for the bowl as he poured the remaining batter. 

Rhys held you in his lap, playing with your hair as you told him about your day, and listened about his while the brownies baked. 

“You are an incredible female,” your mate murmured, his sweet words interrupted by the timer signaling that dessert was ready. You leapt from Rhys’s lap, enjoying the feeling of his eyes on your body as you plated dessert for the each of you and returning to your spot on his lap. Pleased moans left the both of you at the rich taste of dessert, and you settled into Rhys’s arms, deep contentment settling over you. 

Rhys scooped you up bridal style, carrying you over to the couch where he wrapped himself around you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his hands idly wandered your body. 

“What else do you want to do tonight?” Rhys whispered, dipping his head to pepper kisses along your neck.

A content sigh left you at the comfort and care he was giving you, a vibrant contrast to the dark role you played earlier today. “Nothing tonight. I just want to spend time with you, my perfect mate,” you responded, pressing a lingering kiss above his heart as you settled into him.

“Well, how about tomorrow I take you shopping? And then we could get dressed up, go to a nice dinner?” Rhys questioned, his playful tone a show of exactly how well he knew you. 

“I could be convinced to do that, I suppose,” you retorted, unable to hold in the joyous laugh that escaped you. 

Rhys flipped you over, his onyx locks falling in his eyes as he caged you in underneath him. “Good, because I’m not done with dessert. And these,” Rhys emphasized with a snap against the band of your panties, “will need to be replaced,” he purred as you heard the fabric rip.

[sadhufflepuff]

My one criticism of Tarquin is the whole attitude that he has to do everything like his predecessors did and it makes him sad because he wants change. He gets a bit of a pass since he is very young and very new to being high lord so he’s still learning.

Rhys does the same thing basically though and he does not get a pass from me. He’s been HL for centuries, is allegedly the most powerful fae to ever live according to him, so why can’t he make change happen? Don’t give me the “change is slow” crap. Slow shouldn’t mean centuries. He just doesn’t put enough effort into making change because it’s not important to him. All he cares about is having the Illyrians and darkbringers for his armies. He doesn’t care what kind of life they endure otherwise. Who cares that females and children are suffering like his pick-me-girl cousin did. They’re not his inner circle so they don’t matter.

I just can’t get on board with the excuse that change takes time. Are you high lord or not? It’s assumed that Eris will bring drastic change once he takes the throne, so why don’t the other high lords do that?