#dawn court oc

[dawneternal]

Masterlist | The Benevolent

☁︎ Eris Vanserra x Dawn Court OC

☁︎ Summary: The Lady of Autumn hires a healer behind Beron's back. Sworn to secrecy, the healer helps Eris when he is punished by his father and forbidden to see a healer from their court. Eris did not expect to find himself growing attached. He comes to realize that he may know plenty about sacrifice, but he has a lot to learn about choosing to live for the ones you love.

☁︎ Warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, talk of domestic violence

☁︎ AO3 Link

☁︎ Other things:

- Aya moodboard

- A portrait of Aya

- Aya in chapter one

☁︎ one - bound

☁︎ two - queen of games

☁︎ three - clementia

☁︎ four - juno

☁︎ five - scars

☁︎ six - snacks

☁︎ seven - spy

☁︎ eight - tapestries

☁︎ nine - aftermath

☁︎ ten - answers

☁︎ eleven - new beginnings

☁︎ twelve - not goodbye

☁︎ thirteen -

☁︎ fourteen -

☁︎ fifteen -

☁︎ sixteen

☁︎ seventeen

☁︎ eighteen

☁︎ nineteen

☁︎ twenty

☁︎ twenty one

☁︎ twenty two

☁︎ twenty three

☁︎ twenty four

----

☁︎ bonus scenes:

- after the high lord's meeting

[dee-writes-angst]

COURTS SERIES MAIN MASTERLIST

Lucien Vanserra x Female Reader

You run a flower shop in the lively hustle and bustle that is the center of the Autumn Court. Your dream has always been to travel the courts to meet new people and see new things. When Beron finally meets his end and a new High Lord steps in, you find yourself perfectly positioned to sell your shop and live your dreams. The plan was to go to the High Lady's coronation and then leave the next morning, unfortunately (or fortunately) the High Lady runs into you and takes a liking to you, offering you a position to be her traveling emissary when she finds out about your dream. You accept, only to find yourself paired with a more experienced emissary with a reputation for working for both the Spring and Night Court. Will love find a way to blossom along the way? Or will he never be able to let go of his mate who never returned his affections unless it was for show? 

Content Warnings Include: banter, aggression, descriptions of toxic relationships, violence, mentions of death and loss, Tampon interactions (Tamlin), and more to come as chapters are posted!

NOTE: this is a spin-off to the Flowers Series, if you are planning on reading that, then I highly recommend that you do that first before reading this series as there are spoilers to the ending of that fic. With that said, if you don't wish to read Flowers, then you do NOT have to for this story to make sense. Thank you and enjoy! -Dee

dividers for this series are made by the wonderful @/tsunami-of-tears

IN PROGRESS

THE AUTUMN COURT | none (a hint of fluff?) | These last few centuries you have felt that your home court has become drab and all too familiar. In the rush of a new High Lord, you finally decide to follow your dream, but when meeting a certain High Lady, you're forced to ask yourself whether or not you wish to make your dream bigger than you could have ever imagined. Are you willing to take the risk and jump into the unknown? |

THE SPRING COURT | a, f, h/c | A conversation with the High Lady leaves you with a lot to think about, especially the odd tug you feel toward Lucien. It certainly doesn't help when you both set off on your journey and in between the rustle of the changing trees and the calls of the birds around you, you discover a soft side to Lucien that makes you feel warm in a terrifying way. |

THE SUMMER COURT | a (?), f | Tarquin's court is beautiful, so dazzling it takes your breath away. If only that were the only thing. |

THE WINTER COURT | f, a (??) | The Winter Court is in desperate need of help and you are finally able to be of some help, to do the job you were meant to do in the first place. |

THE DAWN COURT | f, a, h/c | On the way through dawn, Lucien begins to open up to you and your stubborn heart can't resist falling deeper and deeper into the warmth of his beautiful smile. |

DAY | ??? | ??? |

NIGHT | ??? | ??? |

super secret potential extra chapter?

[jules-writes-stories]

In Silt and Sun

Thesan x his Peregryn | Day 3 | @nameless-acotar-weekend

The winged alpha bowed again and Thesan could tell he was biting back his smile, as he caught a flash of white teeth and dimples. Gods. The Mother gave him dimples?

Nuan chuckled and it was then Thesan realized he’d spoken aloud. His face burned as she bumped their shoulders. “You can look, princeling, but no touching.” His best friend’s voice was smug and sing-song. He rolled his eyes. 

The darling prince of Dawn would be good, would keep his sharp little tongue behind his teeth. But then, the Peregryn’s scent carried on the breeze. It was smoky myrrh and amber. It was mossy earth cooled by a late summer storm.

An alpha’s scent had never affected him this way. The cord in his chest coiled and tugged tighter, leaving him breathless. Sure, his mother gave him the talk and he’d laughed at the drawings in Nuan’s anatomy books. But nothing could have prepared him for this sensation. 

It was falling from great heights, the rush pulsing low in his belly and trembling beneath his skin. Thesan felt the urge to grab onto the sturdy male and pull him close, to bite down and feel the crunch between his teeth, before it cracked open to melt in his mouth, viscous and sweet. 

He quickly glamoured his own shifting scent, but not fast enough. The smarmy little beta at his side clicked her tongue. “And no scent marking either, Thee.” She huffed a laugh. His face burned even hotter, for if Nuan could smell him… 

It was at this very moment those lush green eyes locked onto his. Had the alpha been able to sense an omega’s interest, sitting so close? Thesan tried to swallow, to look away, but felt pinned down by the male’s gaze. The tug at his breastbone intensified.  The young warrior turned to look away first and presented the final object from the leather satchel at his side: a large, opal-like stone. It was so beautiful, all light and prisms cradled in his large brown hand. 

Thesan smiled conspiratorially and whispered low, “I want that alpha.” “You cannot be serious,” Nuan smirked. “Have you noticed his wings?”    

How could he not? | Chapter One on AO3

. . .

Thank you to @the-darkestminds and @mistandmemories for help and hype and so much more ✨

. . .

Please let me know if you want on/off my Thesan taglist | @mistandmemories @the-darkestminds @zenkindoflove @g00seg1rl @themadmorrigan @ejkreader @buffy-vanserra @chunkypossum @weyward-fae @wovendreamscapes @thesourcabbage @irithiadourden @disney-acotar-hp @chaiblossom-code

[lady-of-tearshed]

Succumbing to temptation

Pairing: Thesan x OC!Eitan

Summary: Eitan, the captain of Thesan's Peregryn army, cannot contain his jealousy anymore. He's about to snap, especially when a certain Day Court heir (ahem- Helion) won't stop eye-fucking his High Lord.

WC: 2.7k words

Warnings: Jealousy, smut

A/N: I have barely seen any Thesan and his Peregryn lover (who's only mentioned once, i think, in the whole ACOTAR series) fics around here. So, I'm writing one because I can! Also, this takes place before "Under the mountain".

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 🩷

Eitan’s patience is running thin. He has spent all night shooting warning looks in the heir of Day Court’s direction, and he is getting very, very close to snap. 

Helion is known to be the biggest flirt in Prythian, sure. But that shouldn’t give the male the right to undress his High Lord with his eyes. He’s just a guest in this castle, he should show more respect for Thesan. 

Eitan feels the low rumble of a growl vibrating beneath his chest. He feels like a lion ready to pounce. He turns his back to Helion, spreading his wings discreetly as to form a shield around his High Lord. 

Thesan notices the action. Of course he does. 

“What is it?” Thesan asks in that soft, airy voice that makes Eitan’s heart skip a beat. His hand splays on his chest, as if trying to calm the raging heartbeat pounding below his General’s chest. 

Thesan looks exquisite tonight. His stylists—to Thesan’s request—have started to add more ample and flowy outfits to his wardrobe. His High Lord’s attire looked similar to the Day Court’ fashion, but Thesan wears it better. It looks different on him, good different. 

The silk robe-style gown draped around his body is new, daring. Eitan knows it will make people talk, and bring a pleasant shift in Dawn’s fashion. The sleeves fall mid arms, leaving space to appreciate the many golden jewelry adorning the High Lord’s wrists and fingers. The soft pink material looks ravishingly good, it makes his skin look even more tan.

But mostly, this outfit only serves to feed Eitan’s madness.  

“He keeps looking at you in a way that I find…” He looks over his shoulder with daggers in his eyes. Of course that bastard is still staring, he even looks amused. “Disrespectful.” 

“Are you jealous?” Thesan cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching.

He looks back down at Thesan. His pupils are blown wide, he really can’t help it. He’s fighting against every natural instinct he has in order to not just scoop Thesan up into his arms and drag him far, far away from all these people. 

Eitan’s lack of response makes Thesan giggle. “Oh, you so are!” He quips, bringing a flute of Fae wine to his lips. 

The room feels instantly too crowded. Thesan can’t see it, but Eitan is drowning. He’s drinking up his laugh, getting drunk on it. It fills his lungs, catches his breath, but no one but him can see it. 

His jaw makes an audible click. He is. He is jealous. It’s a dangerous thing, it puts his job at risk. And there's nothing he can do about it but to watch and endure. 

Thesan, somehow, seems to catch on Eitan’s distress. His teasing smile fades, and his eyes seem a bit darker, too. 

“Come with me.”

Eitan follows, walking behind Thesan with barely any space between them. He’s practically on his heels. 

Thesan is walking fast. They cross the busy ballroom in a blur. No one seems bothered by their High Lord’s exit. Each steps Thesan takes makes Eitan's heart beat faster. Thoughts are overwhelming him. He’s going to lose his job, he thinks. Thesan is going to remind him of his place, because it clearly is not Eitan’s place to judge whether or not a male is deserving of his attention. 

When Thesan stops, a few miles away from where the celebrations take place, Eitan takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. 

They’re alone, in a concealed corridor of the castle. Tall columns of marble are towering above them, climbing all the way to the very top of Dawn’s colorful ceilings. They’re cast in shadows, which is a shame, because it makes it hard for Eitan to read Thesan’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” He starts, before Thesan can start reprimanding him. “I know my duty is only to watch after you. It was not my place to-”

“Why are you jealous of him?” Thesan asks, turning around slowly. Their eyes meet in the darkness.  “Shouldn’t other males be allowed to want me?”

The jealousy in Eitan’s chest starts to soar again. Reasonably, other males should be allowed to stare, to flirt… perhaps even to touch. The thought of hands wandering over Thesan’s golden, silky skin makes his fists clench at his sides.

 “Or should it be only you that have me?” Thesan asks, reaching for one of Eitan’s balled fists. His skin is soft, and warm. It makes Eitan want to lick, and bite, and mark- “Do you want to have me, Eitan?” 

“Yes.” He growls, no better than a beast.

“Well then do something about it. Because I do, too. And it’s driving me insane.”

Eitan should run away. Should tell Thesan that they shouldn’t. Fucking his High Lord right here and now, as tempting as it is, remains a terrible idea.

And yet…

All it takes is Thesan taking one step closer, and the feather-light touch of his fingers against his chest, for Eitan’s control to snap. 

He meets Thesan halfway, hardly controlling any of his movements. His body moves on its own, his lips chase Thesan’s in a frantic hurry. His teeth catch his bottom lip first, tugging, tasting. Their ragged breaths mix together as they hold onto each other like it’s a matter of life or death. 

Thesan follows when Eitan leads him backwards. He grunts when his back is suddenly pressed against the cold marble column. Eitan breaks away from the kiss only to sink to his knees before his High Lord. 

“Gods,” Thesan whimpers, eager to have his lips back on him. 

“Shh… Let me show you how much I yearn for you, angel.” 

Eitan might be the one with wings, but his words could make Thesan start floating. 

Thesan’s head hits against the column, and he closes his eyes shut when he feels Eitan’s fingers travel gently from his ankle up to the back of his knee. He feels his skin begging to warm up under deft fingers, his cock begins to stir beneath his robe, visibly pointing towards the male kneeling before him. 

“Cauldron boil me. Angel…” Eitan rasps, his pupils blown wide as he stares up between Thesan’s legs. “You spent the whole night by my side without wearing anything underneath that pretty gown?” 

Thesan shakes his head from side to side, looking down at Eitan with flushed cheeks. He’s too worked up to even speak. The male in cause of his state has—and has had for a long time now—the power to turn him, a High lord, into a blushing, blabbering mess. 

Eitan licks his lips, his wings ruffling from the unadulterated lust boiling inside of him. He swears under his breath, then his hand moves higher. He bunches the side of Thesan’s dress in his right fist and holds it up against his hip, exposing his tan skin to his hungry gaze. 

His tongue meets Thesan’s inner thigh. He shudders at the exquisite taste of his too soft skin. He wants to bite right through it, like a fresh peach savored on a warm day of June. He sucks his skin in his mouth and holds it there. When he releases it with a loud pop, a dark purple bruise is already showing. His trousers suddenly feel too tight. Way too tight. 

His attention shifts back to Thesan’s face. “I could eat you up.” He confesses, his voice trembling with need. 

“Then do it.” Thesan answers, desire burning just as much in his eyes. 

Eitan scoffs, a smug grin creeping up his lips. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

But he doesn’t waste his time, doesn’t make Thesan beg for it. Not tonight. Perhaps another time,only if there is one, that is. 

Instead of dwelling on the thought, Eitan takes Thesan’s hand and leads it where he’s holding up the silky fabric. “Hold it there for me, would you?” 

Thesan is quick to comply. He’s eager, hung onto Eitan’s words. At this moment, he feels as if Eitan is his axis, and his whole world revolves around him only.  

Thesan gasps when he feels Eitan’s tongue pressing against his tight ring of muscles. His cock is painfully hard, a bead of clear liquid shining at the top of it. 

“Fuck,” He moans, his fist coming over his mouth to stifle the sinful noises he makes. 

Eitan turns his head just a fraction of a second, and nips at the skin of his buttcheek, making Thesan yelp. “Let me hear you, Thesan.” He growls against his skin, going back to devouring him. 

“Y-You jealous bastard…” Thesan hufs a laugh, his voice coming out shaky. “You just want ‘em to hear.”

“Perhaps.” Eitan hums against his skin. He gives his twitching hole one last lingering kiss before raising to his feet and coming face to face with Thesan. “Don’t you want them to hear? To make them wonder who’s the lucky one to make you feel good?” 

His eyes are burning through him. Thesan is in a daze, completely drawn into the male standing in front of him. His fingers reach for the wing behind Eitan’s back, they trace the shape of a purple feather, appreciating the softness. 

“Thesan.” Eitan calls to catch his attention. “We can stop. Or take it elsewhere. It’s your decision.”

Thesan’s eyes widden. He cannot believe how this male would even think that he might want to put a stop to this. “I do,” He says, confidently. He wraps his arms around Eitan’s neck. “Let them hear, Eitan.” 

The sound of his name coming from Thesan’s lips sends Eitan into an animalistic frenzy. He loops Thesan’s thigh around his hips, kisses him hard, and lets his right hand dive between their bodies.

His fingers easily find Thesan’s wet hole. It’s him that has made him wet, all lubed up for his fingers. He grunts at the thought, and sinks one finger into his heat. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growls against Thesan’s lips, moving his finger in and out slowly. He swallows every wanton moan his High Lord makes. 

Eventually, he adds another finger. He’s attentive to Thesan’s reactions. He’s a mess already, moaning and panting only from two of his fingers. 

By the time Eitan bottoms out his two fingers, Thesan thighs are shaking.

“Shh, you’re okay, angel. I’ve got you.” He kisses the side of Thesan’s face gently. His left hand is tightly holding Thesan up against the wall, his thumb drawing circles on his skin. 

Thesan nods frantically, trying desperately to loosen up. Eitan guides him into taking deep breaths, and when he’s finally loose enough, he moves them. 

He starts off slow. Twisting and curling his fingers slowly in and out of him, analysing the sounds it draws out of Thesan. “You’re doing great. Looking so beautiful, angel.” He praises Thesan over and over again. 

Thesan grows restless. He’s digging his heel into Eitan’s lower back, his toes are curled around some feathers, and he’s pretty sure he has ripped some off his wings. “P-Please,” He whimpers, fucking himself faster onto Eitan’s fingers. “More. Need your cock.”

Eitan’s breath hitches, his forehead falling against Thesan’s shoulder with a grunt. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He mumbles, slipping his fingers out of his ass. “Turn around.” 

Thesan scrambles to obey. He flips around, bracing his arms against the column and looks over his shoulders. His lips are swollen, dark pink. He pushes his ass back against Eitan’s clothed cock. 

Eitan lifts Thesan’s robe, pushing it up to the middle of his back. He applies pressure there to incite Thesan to curve his back more, and he does marvelously good. He’s pliant under his hands, like a clay statue. 

“I wish you could see yourself from my point of view.” He whispers, undoing the ties of his pants and finally letting his cock free from its confine. 

He strokes himself a few times, holding Thesan’s stare while he does. “Are you still sure about this?” He asks one last time, just to make sure. 

Thesan nods frantically, but Eitan needs to hear it. To make sure he’s not dreaming, that this is really happening. “I want to hear you say it, Thesan. Do you still want me to fuck you?” His grip on his hip is harsh, probably bruising. The tip of his cock is pressed against a fluttering ring of muscles, warm between Thesan’s buttcheeks. 

“I do. Please, Eitan, just- Gods!” 

Thesan’s face falls forward when Eitan slides into him, his chestnut hair sticking to his forehead. 

This is nothing compared to anything he’s ever experienced. He’s overwhelmed with feelings he’s too high to sort out now. All Thesan knows is that it feels good, right. Eitan fits inside of him like he belongs there. He’s a mess of tears, he’s sobbing, for some unknown reason. 

Eitan halts when he notices, but Thesan pushes himself back against him. “Feels good, that’s all.” He sniffles, silently begging for him to never stop. 

“Come here.” Eitan says, pulling Thesan up against his chest. 

Eitan has a hand wrapped around Thesan’s throat, the other circling his hip, his fingers grazing the skin on his lower abdomen. He’s back to thrusting into him, his hips rolling against his round ass. 

Thesan leans his head back, resting it against Eitan’s shoulder.

“Touch yourself for me,” Eitan whispers into his ear. “Come on, angel. Do it for me.” 

Thesan whimpers. He’s close. So close. This might just push him over the edge, but he does as he’s told anyway. 

Being the one on the receiving hand of being given orders and loving it is something Thesan would’ve never thought about himself. He’s only been told what to do by his parents, before, but only on rare occasions. He’s always been spoiled, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he’s well aware of that. But having Eitan tell him what to do, at this moment… It feels weird, new, but right. 

His fingers shakily wrap around his shaft. He shudders when he finally makes contact with the warm, damp skin. He strokes himself in sync with Eitan’s cock fucking him against the pillar.  He’s so close. Too close—

Thesan doesn’t even get to warn Eitan before he’s coming, thick lines of cum erupting from his cock and landing on the floor beneath him. Tears are rolling down his cheeks, he turns his head, and presses sloppy, shaky kisses against Eitan’s throat. He feels it vibrate against his lips, then Eitan’s grip tightening around his hip. Thesan feels Eitan’s cock twitching inside of him, his hips snapping forward one last time before he is filled with warmth. 

They’re both panting, the distant sounds of the still going party coming back to their ears when they come down from their high. Eitan slips out of Thesan, slowly, giving them both time to adjust to the loss of each other. 

Eitan puts himself back into his pants in silence, an uneasy feeling sticking to his skin, now. Thesan still has his back to him. He’s readjusting his clothes and casting cleaning spells on them both. 

“I don’t regret it,” Thesan finally says, breaking the silence. He shrugs, then look at Eitan over his shoulders with a grin. His cheeks are still rosy. “It was fun.”

Fun.

The word doesn’t sit well, it weighs down on Eitan’s shoulders. He feels his stomach twist, but he hides it behind a reciprocal smirk. “It was.” 

Thesan looks him up and down, and Eitan wishes he had daemati abilities to be able to sneak into his mind and know what’s going on in there. But he can’t. And he won’t ask, it is not his place to ask questions. 

He has already crossed many lines tonight. And he’ll have to suffer the consequences of his actions when it will all come back running to him.  

Thesan turns around, and heads back to the celebrations. Eitan follows, because he always will. Because he’s captain of Thesan’s army and his personal protector. 

But also because he simply cannot ignore the golden string that is constantly pulling him to this male. 

ACOTAR general taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover @paige0103 @princesssunderworld

[nezumez]

HAD to make a picrew of Tamlin and Gisella for Tamlinweek!! Just look at my sillies omigosh <33 They’d be gossip buddies and drink tea on tuesdays and smoke weed on Wednesdays 🤭 @tamlinweek

PICREW CREDITS : @copypastus (GO DO IT NOW!!)

And of course the little additional, Looks like Tamlin is a blushing bride this time! 🪷 Dawn + Spring !!! Also today's my birthday 😅🌸 4/14!!

[littlest-w01f]

In the Shadows

Azriel x Mohini

AZRIEL MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: He's watching her, and has been since he first came to Dawn Court for business, the ethereal dancer that struck in the hearts of not only her people but all of Prythian with every performance

Cw: Stalker!Az

part one - part two

As Mohini entered her humble home, the familiar scent of sandalwood and jasmine enveloped her, a comforting aroma that always seemed to soothe her frayed nerves. She shed her travelling clothes, donning a simple silk robe instead, before making her way to the bathroom.

Azriel watched from the darkness, his senses heightened as he listened to the sounds of her movements, the rustle of fabric, the splash of water, the gentle humming of a tune as she went about her rituals. He knew every inch of her home, every nook and cranny, just as he knew every detail of her life.

Azriel watched from the shadows as Mohini settled into her nightly routine, his heart aching with a longing he couldn't quite comprehend. He knew every detail, every intimate gesture, as if he had been a part of her life for years.

Azriel knew her by heart, how Mohini would oil her hair, exactly which oils she would use, to clean her hair from the sprays and chemicals used to keep them in place through her performances. He knew she would use cocoa butter for her legs, arms, and neck to ensure they didn't pain in the morning.

In the dimly lit room, Azriel caught glimpses of her reflection in the mirror as she worked through her nighttime ritual, her movements fluid and graceful. His thoughts wandered, imagining what it would be like to be the one touching her, massaging the oils into her skin. If she would enjoy his hands on her, despite how ruined they were.

With a contented sigh, Mohini tied the sash of her silk robe more securely around her waist, the soft fabric draping elegantly across her curves, outlining her body as she fluffed up her pillow to settle in, pouring herself some tea from the night stand, that she'd made the second she walked in, setting the flowers down on the centre table in the dining room of her house.

Azriel's gaze lingered on the outline of her curves beneath the silk robe, his mind conjuring images of tracing those contours with his fingertips, mapping the shape of her body with reverent care. He imagined the feel of her skin, warm and inviting, the taste of her lips, sweet and intoxicating. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a wave of desire washing over him.

Her night routine wasn't the only thing Azriel knew of Mohini, he knew how she took her tea, and what Dawn foods were her favourite. Azriel's mind raced with the knowledge he possessed, the secrets he had uncovered during his months-long surveillance.

He knew her favourite books, the passages she marked, the ones she highlighted with shimmering markers. He knew the melodies that stirred her soul, the dance steps that made her lose herself in the music, what her favourite moves were, seen her twirling around to the music in her own head. He even knew the special blend of herbs and spices she liked to add to her cooking, the ones that brought out the subtlest yet strong flavours.

He knew her better than anyone, perhaps even better than she knew herself. Every detail, every quirk, every secret - they were all etched into his memory, a treasure trove of information that he guarded with his heart.

He watched as she sipped her tea, her eyes fluttering closed in blissful satisfaction. He knew the exact temperature she preferred it, the perfect ratio of milk to water, and the precise number of minutes to steep the leaves. It was as if he had been inside her mind, privy to her innermost thoughts and desires. But even with all this knowledge, Azriel still craved more.

He watched through his shadows as Mohini finished her tea, placing the delicate cup back on its saucer with practised precision. The shadows shifted, adjusting their position to maintain optimal visibility without alerting her to their presence. Azriel's heart swelled with pride at their diligence and their unwavering loyalty to their mission. No harm would come to Mohini while they stood watch. Of that much, Azriel was certain. After all, they were but vessels for his own protective instincts honed to a razor-sharp edge over countless months of obsessive devotion.

Azriel's shadows danced along the walls of Mohini's bedroom, silent sentinels guarding over their mistress. As Mohini drifted off to sleep, they swirled and danced in the flickering candlelight, a mesmerizing display of dark energy that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.

A few hours into her sleep, Mohini was woken up by a sudden noise, a creak of floorboards, a rustling of fabric. Her heart leapt into her throat as she sat bolt upright, her eyes scanning the darkened room for any sign of movement.

A shadow detached itself from the others, moving with purpose towards the bed where Mohini lay. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as the sliver of shadow loomed closer, "What the-?"

She reached forward to touch the shadow and it curled around her wrist, its touch cold. She got out from under her covers, ready to make her way downstairs to the sound.

The shadow pulled away from her wrist, moving to caress her cheeks, making her giggle instead of being scared, "You're not my secret admirer are you?" The shadow guided her down the stairs, following her lead as she descended into the depths of her own home. She shook her head of the thought, someone could kill you, Mohini! She reminded herself.

Everything in the main part of her house was the same as she had left it. She had afforded the place with the money she earned dancing, successfully turning her hobby into her job, spending centuries on her craft that made her as popular as she was.

Mohini moved through the rooms with practised ease, her bare feet whispering against the polished hardwood floors. In the living room, she paused to admire the arrangement of fresh flowers on the coffee table, a bouquet of her favourite blooms, peonies and hydrangeas in shades of pink and white. The delicate petals seemed to glow in the candlelight, filling the air with their sweet fragrance.

"Who could have done this?" She wondered aloud, her voice barely above a whisper, a chill running down her spine that someone had broken into her house. The strange shadow was pulling at her robe, as if trying to lead her somewhere. The shadow followed closely behind her, its form becoming more defined as it mirrored her movements. The ethereal entity seemed almost playful now, guiding her through the house with a tender touch. "What are you...?"

In the kitchen, the shadow led her to the centre island, where a single candle burned, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. On the counter beside the candle sat a small, exquisitely crafted wooden box adorned with intricate carvings and symbols that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. Mohini's curiosity piqued, she reached out to open the lid, revealing a note written in the same elegant script as before.

"For you, my love, since you must be running out."

Mohini's heart skipped a beat as she picked up the hair oils, inhaling deeply as she recognized the familiar scents. The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air, calming her nerves.

She shook her head, shoving the glass bottles away. Mohini looked down at the gift once more, her fingers tracing the delicate engravings on the box. It was as though her secret admirer was leaving her little clues, little tokens of affection. Mohini turned to look at the fresh bouquet of flowers. She smiled despite herself, they were beautiful, her favourite.

Azriel's shadows continued their vigilance, watching from the corners of the room as Mohini admired the flowers. They buzzed with a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that they had played a part in bringing such joy to her face.

The shadows seemed to have scattered throughout the house. She could see the faint outlines of them in different rooms. Her bedroom, upstairs, was empty when she came up after checking the rest of the house.

After Mohini blew out the candle, she checked the doors and windows thoroughly, making sure everything was shut with locks and spells, not wanting another break-in from her stalker. Stalker, not an admirer. Not that there was any different between the two for her.

After ensuring that all the doors and windows were secure, Mohini made her way back to her bedroom. She climbed back onto her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She tried to ignore the nagging feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides, but found herself staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

The shadows, however, remained vigilant. They flitted about the room, their forms undulating like smoke in the breeze. Each one seemed to take turns hovering near Mohini's bedside, under her bed, to watch over her.

Mohini couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. She tossed and turned, her mind racing with thoughts of her mysterious admirer and the unsettling events of the past few weeks.

Mohini's eyelids grew heavy, and soon she drifted off to sleep. Once again, Azriel's shadow servants stood watch as Mohini slumbered peacefully beneath the cover of darkness. They flitted about the room, their ethereal forms shifting and swirling in hypnotic patterns that seemed to draw the very essence of the night into their midst.

One particularly bold shadow crept closer to the sleeping woman, drifting just above the surface of her pillow until its wispy tendrils brushed gently against her cheek. Mohini stirred slightly, a faint smile playing upon her lips as if her subconscious acknowledged the comforting presence of her unseen shadow guardian.

{General Taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-angst @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @thelov3lybookworm @romanticatheartt}

{Azriel Taglist- @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch @fieldofdaisiies}

[tiffyelefano]

han dynasty fashion, but make it fae✨

•••

When starting this piece, I just wanted to draw a portrait focused on the little details of hanfu (like beading and such). but then I started thinking about the Dawn Court from ACOTAR, because it’s SJM’s kind of conglomerate of all of Asia in one region, and I thought it would be fun to design a character from there.

It’s canon that a lot of the Dawn Court has roots from Xian, a place I can only assume was based off of China, so it isn’t too far off to imagine that for special celebrations, Chinese-inspired traditional clothing would be worn by its citizens.

And as I was drawing this character facial features, she just ended up resembling me lol

So TLDR; this is my ACOTAR self-insert OC from Dawn Court.

[auroraofthedawncourt]

The lovers : Cassian, Aurora, and Nesta 💕

Thanks to Bluenefelibata on instagram for this beautiful drawing

https://www.instagram.com/bluenefelibata?igsh=emVtNHg1bTc5YXYz

[sae-mian]

...uh oh

[mt-jupiter]

mireia, a lesser fae from the dawn court who works as an emissary and historical scholar

they have resting bitch face, but they're actually quite nice when you get to know them ! if you manage to get to know them

(transparent versions under the cut, they're harder to see but i do like them better)

[sketchyorsomething]

I wanted to introduce one of my OCs: Asker Quang! He's a peregryn and came to the palace of dawn court at 26 to become a soldier even though the reason he started training the traditional peregryn fighting style was, that he wanted to learn more about wounds and the body in general to become a better healer. But because Thesan's father was a bit more conservative he had a hard time to get acknowledged as a healer. He's really good at it though, a damn nerd. Besides healing, he spends his free time drawing (anatomical sketches) and training, which he still likes nonetheless. After he finished his studies he took it on himself to write a book about wings and how to heal them (with additional illustrations if course). Regarding that he's the healer with the best grades in the last couple of years, his skills and knowledge comparable only to Thesan himself, they're good friends. The two of them bonded especially over their common learning of the old language (which Thesan had to learn since he is the heir/High Lord and which Asker just wanted to learn because why not (nerd (affectionately but shh don't tell him that))) Anyway, he's also an Enfp, if anyone wants to know

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | one

☁︎ summary: The Lady of Autumn hires a healer behind Beron's back. Sworn to secrecy, the healer helps Eris when he is punished by his father and forbidden to see a healer from their court. Eris did not expect to find himself growing attached. He comes to realize that he may know plenty about sacrifice, but he has a lot to learn about choosing to live for the ones you love.

☁︎ notes: let me know how you feel about the order of this chapter. I felt like it didn't read the same to have that last scene at the beginning, but if it's confusing I will change it:)

☁︎ warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, implied domestic violence

☁︎ word count: 2.8k

☁︎ AO3 Link // Masterlist

“Hurry,” Lady Edana hissed, a sound like pinching a candle flame. It echoed in the quiet, the only sound in the dark hallway.

The silence was so immense it seemed to roar. Every hall and passage was empty and utterly dark. Aya would have thought every court had secrets veiled by this hour between night and morning. But there was no sign of life in the Forest House.

And yet, Lady Edana led the way with a knife in her hand, poised to attack. It was not even a hunting knife or one of the jeweled daggers gifted to young boys of the court. Just a knife, likely stolen from the kitchens or even the dinner table. Aya had to wonder if it was the only weapon Lady Edana had access to.

To her credit, she held it like a fighter, blade pointed down and out so she could still strike if pinned. In her other hand she held her shoes, her stocking feet making no sound as she shuffled across the stone floor. Urgency radiated from her. If it were visible, it would have given her a corona. An aura of flames.

They came to another corner and the Lady tugged Aya against the wall before peering around the corner. She deemed it safe and pulled the healer after her. One last eerie hallway and then they stopped at a large wooden door. Lady Edana fished a chain of keys from its place tucked into her bodice and unlocked the door. It opened without a sound, like the hinges had been oiled or silenced with magic.

The lady snapped and the fae lights came to life in their sconces, revealing the heir of Autumn laying face down on a large bed, bleeding profusely into silk green sheets.

Aya had been warned of his condition but it still sent a jolt through her. He was so still, his red hair stark against pale skin and moss colored bedding. His mother tossed her knife onto the side table and knelt by the bed.

“Eris,” She whispered, her face nearly as pale as his, “Are you awake?”

“Mother,” He croaked. Something in Aya’s chest twisted at the utter brokenness of his voice. It hurt more than looking at the torn up flesh of his back.

“I brought a healer,” She said, beckoning to Aya.

“Mother,” He said again, reprimanding. Pleading.

“Worry not,” Aya whispered, unable to resist the urge to brush back a strand of copper hair. She understood the urgency now, as her gaze flickered to the blood pooling around his body.

“I will take care of everything.” She stepped back to let the healer take her place, disappearing into the washroom to fetch water. Eris’s eyes, surprisingly alert, locked onto Aya’s face. They roamed over her features, assessing.

His eyes softened at her touch, chin trembling like he was a thread away from shattering. So she took her hand away from his forehead, hovering it over his injuries instead. He flinched and she closed her eyes so he would not see the anger in them. The anger at whoever had done this. He needed tenderness and she would give it.

Aya reached into the spring of power within her and willed it to the surface. Willed it to pour from her fingertips into his being and soothe the pain. She urged the bleeding to slow to a stop, for his body to numb enough that she could clean his wounds before the true healing began. She felt his energy begin to pull away, lulled by sleep.

When she opened her eyes she saw that his own had closed, his breathing deep and even.

“You are as talented as the High Lord said,” Lady Edana whispered from beside her. She held a pitcher of water and an arm full of towels.

Aya stared at the mess, wondering where to begin. Even with all her doubts and wariness, she had not pictured an injury this severe when she accepted this position. She had known to expect the sneaking and the secrecy, but not to be led to Eris’s deathbed.

It did not help her uneasiness in the slightest when the lady said, as she mopped up her son’s blood, “Whatever we can’t get clean by morning, just throw into the fireplace. We’ll have to burn it all.”

It was a long moment before Aya said anything. Perhaps it was a risk to ask questions, but Eris’s blood coating her hands felt like justification enough.

“Why?” She murmured, keeping her eyes on the work before her. Lady Edana took her own time answering, lips pursed as she dabbed at the prince’s back.

“The High Lord forbade Eris from seeing a healer. It is part of his punishment.”

“So that is why the job was a secret,” Aya said quietly. They still avoided each other’s gaze.

“Yes.”

“What is the prince being punished for?” Another risky question, but Lady Edana seemed to think her questions were deserved, too. Or maybe she just wanted Aya to understand. From this perspective, dishonesty seemed to be built into the foundation of the Autumn Court.

“He visited the Winter Court without telling his father first. His father wanted to know why. And decided that Eris must be granted permission to leave the court borders.”

Aya clenched her jaw, looking back at the deep wounds on Eris’s back. No doubt from a whip or a belt. They would leave deep scars, and would have easily become infected without a healer. Though that seemed to be what Beron wanted. She decided not to ask what Eris was doing in the Winter Court.

“Beron will be called away first thing in the morning,” The Lady continued, “Not that he would have checked on Eris, anyways. But you will be long gone before he wakes, just in case.”

Aya wondered for a moment how Beron would know that Eris had obeyed his order not to see a healer. And she realized with a sick feeling in her stomach that he had likely left the enforcement of that order to Edana. The entire structure relied on their fear. They would do what he said because they had to, to protect themselves and each other. So what would happen to Lady Edana if Beron knew what she had done? What would happen to Aya?

She looked down at the ring on her forefinger, the blood on it glimmering like a ruby. She wondered how much Thesan had known any of this. It didn’t matter now, anyways, since she was bound to Edana by that golden ring. And looking at Eris, his brows furrowed and skin shining with sweat, she knew it was all for him.

How often was he destroyed this way? Torn apart in mind and body, forbidden from being put back together? Often enough for Aya to be paid a monthly salary. A very handsome one. But perhaps that part truly had been to make sure she wouldn’t change her mind.

As if she had a choice, now.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Upon returning to the Dawn Court, Aya headed straight for the throne room. She did not bother to change first, her clothes still covered in ash and blood. Her whole body was stiff from sleeping on the floor and heavy from how little rest she had managed to get.

The mammoth wooden doors opened before her, revealing Thesan and a few of his councilors lounging near the throne. Their easy laughter rose into the air, dancing with the cool breeze. The open archways of the throne room showed the pastel skies and fluffy clouds around them.

It was such a stark contrast to the last hours of her life, dimly lit and painted in the dark tones of the Autumn Court. It blew a puff of air into the fire burning in her chest.

Thesan’s brows rose as his gaze landed on her, jaw clenched and eyes blazing as she strode through the room.

“How much did you know about this job?” She demanded. The irreverence shook the High Lord more than her appearance. This was the way she spoke to her cousin, and not Thesan the High Lord. And never in front of others.

He asked the councilors for a moment, keeping his eyes on Aya as they scurried away. One dared to flash her a disdainful look and click his tongue. Aya ignored it.

“What was your question?” Thesan asked softly when they were alone.

“You told me this job would require discretion,” She said, her tone cooling a touch, “Did you know why?”

“Lady Edana requested a healer for personal matters,” He took a sip from his goblet, “I did not think it would be polite to inquire about the details.”

Aya shifted on her feet, her rage slowing to a halt. How delicate was this secret? Thesan could always be counted on for his discretion. But surely there were political implications that she didn’t know or understand. There always was, and figuring them out had never been one of her talents.

“Did you not ask the details before you accepted the job?” He pressed. His curiosity about the state of her clothes was rising into anxiety.

“I assumed the details. I thought maybe she was having age-related troubles. Or perhaps an affair.”

“And you were wrong,” Thesan prompted, “You are very troubled by whatever this secret is.”

“Yes,” Aya admitted, her shoulders drooping.

Thesan’s gaze flickered to the ring on her finger. If he was surprised to see it he did not let it show.

“You bound yourself to her?” His voice still smooth, collected.

“She said a physical contract would leave evidence.”

Thesan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not believe Edana to have particularly evil intentions, but she had played Aya like a piece in a game.

“Are you able to tell me this secret?” He sighed.

Aya considered the contract. It seemed that Thesan should be exempt from the secrecy. She would find out if she tried to say it out loud, anyways.

“Beron tortures his son for information,” Aya said, dropping her gaze to the marble floor. The heaviness of her body returned and she resisted the urge to let her wings rest on the ground.

“Lucien?” Thesan tilted his head to the side. He did not seem all that surprised.

“Eris,” She whispered, lifting her eyes to his. She knew he would see how haunted they were. Filled with imagery of her long night.

Thesan pursed his lips, his own eyes sparkling with anger. Many things clicked into place with this new information.

“And that is the secret?” He asked, “Beron mustn't know you heal Eris?”

“Yes,” She felt much smaller now, all of her fury laid out before Thesan, “He forbids him from seeing a healer. But he would have died if I wasn’t there.”

They did not speak of what this meant for Aya. The danger she would be in every time she stepped foot in the Autumn Court. It passed between them without words, the worry forming like storm clouds.

“I think I should speak to her,” Thesan rubbed his chin in thought.

“Please don-” Aya began, rushing forward to plead with him. He held up a hand to stop her.

“Worry not, little bird,” He soothed, “I will make sure you keep your job. I just want you to be safe. Now rest, I can see the weariness in your eyes.”

Her mind was far from settled, whirling with countless thoughts and worries. But Eris was well and her own safety was in Thesan’s hands now. That was enough. So she obeyed, gathering the energy to trudge back to her room and rest.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

“Thesan tells me you are looking for work experience outside of the Dawn Court,” Lady Edana took a sip of her tea, amber eyes locked on the girl in front of her.

The Lady of Autumn had requested to meet with Thesan’s best healer in training. In private, in a quiet place. Thesan did not see a good reason to deny her. And he knew that she worked hard to separate herself from her husband in any manner she could. He’d heard the whispered rumors and seen the bruises hiding just beneath the fine lace of her gowns. If he could help to enable her independence, he would.

“Yes, my Lady,” Aya nodded, resisting the urge to ring her hands, “It is the last requirement I need to complete my training.”

She was proud that Thesan had chosen her as the best of her class, but now she was nervous. Edana had come alone, save for one guard who loomed off to the side of the balcony. His eyes were fixed on the glass doors behind them, but Aya had no doubt he had been listening to the entire conversation. Which, up until then, had been all pleasantries and small talk. But now the Lady’s eyes were narrowed, her focus sharp. It sent a shiver through Aya’s feathers.

“There is a certain situation in my home that requires a healer with greater skill than my court can offer,” The Lady began, “And the position requires discretion. I cannot ensure that a healer from my court will not betray me.”

She paused, watching Aya and waiting for a reaction. Aya knew her brows had drawn together, but she willed all other emotion away.

“There are many distinguished healers in a court, my Lady,” Aya said slowly, “Surely you would want someone who has finished their training?”

“No one with a title,” Lady Edana pursed her lips.

Aya only nodded, feeling ever more confused. The lady’s secret was that salacious? Perhaps it would be wildly foolish to get wrapped up in this situation. But offers for work outside of the court did not come along very often for trainees. And Aya would be lying if she said she was not itching to experience something outside of the soft colors of Dawn.

“I would pay you a monthly salary,” The Lady tilted her head to the side, looking as if she knew exactly where the girl’s thoughts had gone, “You will receive the same amount no matter how many calls you receive in a month. Sometimes, I may call on you often. Other times I may not need your help for a long while.”

“You need not pay me if you don’t use my services,” Aya frowned. Many healers in training took positions without pay.

“I was hoping the salary may make the strange requirements worth their while.”

She named the amount and watched Aya’s eyes widen.

“So you need a healer on call to help with private matters. And I must keep the job a secret?” Aya clarified.

That did not sound so suspicious when summed up concisely. Or perhaps the money had dulled the warning signs. She had never let Thesan spoil her just because they were related. She insisted on living in the healer’s dorms and earning her own living like the rest of her class.

“That is correct,” Edana nodded.

“And I would be under contract?” Aya asked. Another common facet of training positions.

“Three years. And it would be through an Autumn Court bargain, and not written,” She said, still watching with those bird-like eyes. She would fit well into Dawn with all of those avine features.

“Very well,” Aya said, “But I would like a written copy of what the bargain entails.”

Edana’s lips twitched up into a smile that Aya couldn’t quite decipher.

“I will write it up and send it your way,” The Lady stood from her chair, “It should be in your hands by this time tomorrow.”

Lady Edana held out her hand. Aya told herself later that she should have been clever enough to wait before shaking hands. She should read that bargain first and study the details. But she did not think of that.

When the magic snapped she let out a yelp and snatched her hand back. Her forefinger was adorned with a simple golden band. She tried to twist it but it did not move, as if it were now a part of her.

“What is this?” She asked, incredulous, turning her hand as she examined the ring.

“A symbol of our contract,” Edana said, straight-faced as ever, “It is a tradition similar to the tattoos in the Night Court.”

Aya stared at it, the pit in her stomach growing larger. How she would be scolded for her oversight. She was certain a version of herself from the future was watching this conversation and screaming at her for being so foolish.

As all of this raged in her mind, she missed the flash of guilt in Edana’s eyes, quickly overtaken by something else. Something too desperate to be sorry.

[celosiart]

Dawn Queen :3

Progress shots:

Also don’t worry about my disappearance, I just took a break

[jules-writes-stories]

In Silt and Sun

Thesan x His Peregryn

Chapter Two on AO3

The Darling of Dawn. The most beautiful omega prince. The Jewel of the North. All titles he had heard the princeling called. And the male lived up to each one. Spoiled, privileged, and absolutely perfect. His scent was a beguiling mix of pale musk, jasmine, and something he could not place. But it smelled like longing. 

Since a youngling, his feathers still down, he'd heard tales of the High Lord and his heroic, beautiful Lady who crossed a desert and a sea to find her mate, with her entire Xian’in village and several dozen mortals in tow. 

Watching her up close now, he saw her strength. For how else could she not melt at her son, kneeling, his enormous, lovely eyes rimmed with tears. 

He needed to collect himself. The little prince was adept at manipulation and lived in the lap of luxury. Growing up in a two room khutir, carved into the side of a chilled rockface, he would have traded places with this brat in a moment’s notice. 

But he was no prince, but a widow’s son, a Peregryn who’d fought for every single accolade, every step of advancement, with his own sweat and blood; he was not ashamed to mention the tears. 

Scaling that final mountain and returning to Bhora with not one or two, but three gifts to prove his worth to the Mother, had been his turning point. He’d retrieved the healing frost and healed Attika of her breathing sickness, caused by the thin, cold air in the mountains. 

And it had afforded him this. The opportunity to follow a spoiled youngling around his gilded cage. He accepted the post knowing that he would only keep it until the prince was married off to some rich alpha. 

But the omega’s scent tugged at something beneath his ribs. The male was sad… Read Chapter 2 (and discover the Peregryn's name) on AO3

Thank you to @the-darkestminds and @mistandmemories for help and hype and so much more ✨

Please let me know if you want on/off my Thesan tag| @mistandmemories @the-darkestminds @zenkindoflove @g00seg1rl @themadmorrigan @ejkreader @buffy-vanserra @chunkypossum @weyward-fae @wovendreamscapes @thesourcabbage @irithiadourden @disney-acotar-hp @chaiblossom-code

[lady-of-tearshed]

Yield

Pairing: Thesan x OC!Eitan

Summary: Summer, Day, and Winter have attempted to overthrow their High Queen, Amarantha, The Deceiver. They failed miserably. After Amarantha has taken care of their mater and replaced the fallen rulers of the Courts who have dared to try and kill her, she decides to force all of Prythian to remain Under The Mountain. Until their High Lords swore their allegiance to her, everyone shall remain under her grip. Thesan, High Lord of the Dawn Court, broke first. The memories still haunt him.

WC: 1.2k words

Warnings: Mention of wing clipping, Amarantha and UTM content, angst, vomiting, mention of vomit, Thesan PTSD from UTM

A/N: Everything in itallics indicates Thesan's flashback of things that happened UTM. ALSO! Special thank you to @ejkreader and @nocasdatsgay . This fic is dedicated to yall. Xx Thanks for the support/appreciation you've shown in the previous fic with these two!

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 💜

“All of those who dares to oppose me shall remain Under The Mountain.”

The threat had landed, and yet, every High Lord had remained. They had stayed strong, standing, united. It was the first time in centuries that every High Lord of Prythian had been on the same side. They had promised that they would not yield and that they would stand against The Deceiver.

Summer, Day, and Winter’s rebellion had been clever, but not clever enough to overthrow the red-headed High Queen. 

Amarantha, using Rhysand’s daemati powers to read every High Lords’ intentions, had set daily public tortures. Everyday, she performed a public torture to manipulate each High Lord into swearing their loyalty to her. She was like a snake, luring them into showing weakness, and striking where she thought might hurt the most. 

The High Lords, each of them, had remained unbreakable for days. 

Until Thesan broke first.  

The air shifted when Amarantha pushed those heavy onyx doors. The room fell quiet, only the sound of her pointy stilettos thrumming against the floor, and echoing onto the mountain’s walls. 

All five High Lords were lined just before the dais, chin high, back straight—unyielding. They will not break. They had swore, joining their forces in hope to manage another rebellion against the Queen. They were trapped here, forced to work together or to serve a tyrant. 

Thesan thought he would rather die than to bow down to Amarantha. He thought he could stand against her, truly. He thought he had nothing but his pride to lose. 

But Gods was he wrong. 

His face blanched, his stomach threatening to empty its content on the shiny red marble floor. 

Amarantha hadn’t brought anyone to torture today. She was only wearing a beautiful, tight-fitted black dress. It hugged all of her curves deliciously. The V-shaped collar exposed her prominent cleavage, her pale skin marred with purple love-bites, probably left there by Rhysand. 

But her breasts weren't where Thesan’s eyes had caught, no. It was the cape draped over her shoulders. 

A long cape, sewed with feathers. Brightly colored feathers, the plain black of her dress making it pop out even more. All shades of yellow, blue, red, green, purple…

Oh,

Oh no.

Thesan was shaking. He fought himself not to look back at the crowd behind him and search a familiar pair of grey eyes, shutting the image of a beautiful winged male from his mind. His body was tingling everywhere, he was screaming inside. This could not be true, he must be having a nightmare. 

He was always having nightmares these days.

“Like the dress, sweetheart?”  Amarantha purred, twirling in her dress once. 

A tear rolled down Thesan's cheek. His heart was shattering in tiny little shards of glass, stabbing him from within. “What have you done..?” 

A devilish smile creeped up her face. Her white teeth, in full display. “Here, let me show you.”

Thesan retches, sinking to his knees so fast it sends sparks of pain up his legs. 

“My Lord!”

Thesan raises his hand, preventing his General to get any closer. His body keeps heaving, and heaving, as the smell of wet soil fills his nostrils. He’s bent over the closest object he has found to empty his stomach in—in this case, a plant pot—as his body keeps trying to evacuate something, anything from his stomach, without success. He hasn’t eaten anything for days, and has managed to throw up a handful of times already. Perhaps this time he has reached the limit one fae body can expel. Finally. 

Since his return from Under The Mountain, Thesan has become only a shell of himself. Amarantha’s grip on him is tight, never loosening. He has been dragged out of his sleep without preamble by the Attor a couple of times, the constant fear of being dragged out of his silky bed sheets feeding his insomnias. Amarantha is a cruel, arrogant, and very demanding female. 

He has sent multiple Peregryns to spy on the Spring Court under Amarantha’s orders. Those who had the misfortune of displeasing her had to suffer her wrath.  

At first, she would only pluck some of their feathers, until they would scream and beg their High Lord—who was forced to sit still on Amarantha’s side while watching everything that she made them endure—and their High Queen for forgiveness. Peregryns feathers are like hairs for faes, Eitan has once explained to him. One or two hairs plucked is uncomfortable, but not painful. A bunch of them though? It becomes painful, torture. The biggest and sturdiest feathers can even bleed when ripped from their wings. 

Looking at Eitan, or any other Peregryn in his Court now makes Thesan uneasy. Sometimes—like now—the pleasant sight of bright, colorful wings, makes him sick to his gut. They carry with them memories that will haunt him till his death. 

Recently, Amarantha has started to take more drastic measures towards his people. Instead of simply plucking feathers from the Peregryns beautiful wings, she has decided that chopping them off their back was more… efficient. She has told Thesan that her “innovative idea” —that’s what she has called it—came from Rhysand and his Illyrian lineage.

Thesan is tired. Just… So tired. 

He’s drenched in sweat, his whole body trembling from the effort of heaving. He needs to get up. Eitan wasn’t done telling his report about the Peregryn spies stationed in Spring before he started feeling unwell. 

Large, calloused fingers run through his hair. He feels Eitan putting his fringe in a short ponytail, he knows he’ll be in dire need of a shower after all this. 

“Just keep going, Eitan,” Thesan grumbles, his voice rough from the irritation in his throat mixed with the exhaustion he’s been accumulating over weeks. “Report.” 

Thesan leans his forehead against the flowerpot, concentrating on the coldness of the furniture against his forehead instead of his dizziness. 

Eitan shifts behind Thesan, still standing. His High Lord doesn’t look like one at this moment. He looks fragile…

No, broken. Thesan looks broken. 

“My lord…” He sucks in a breath a bite his lip as he considers what to say next. “I think the report can wait until tomorrow. It’s getting late, and I think you could use some rest.” 

Thesan scoffs, not daring to look over his shoulder to look at the beautiful winged male standing behind him. “Amarantha doesn’t wait, Eitan.” 

“Thesan-” 

“No.” Thesan says sharply, his tone shifting, turning darker. “To you it’s My Lord, General. Now, you will finish your Gods damned report. I will rest when I decide to. Surely a High Lord can take his own decisions about himself, don’t you think, Eitan?” 

The ire laced with Thesan’s voice doesn’t sound like him. Darkness—no, fear—has enveloped him in a suffocating cape. Eitan’s jaw clenches, his fists bawling at his sides. This male is not the High Lord he has worked for in the past. He is not the lover he used to bed sweetly until the first sun rays greeted the day. This male is trapped, shredded, by Amarantha’s claws.

“Yes, My Lord.” 

Thesan waits for him to speak, but all he hears are footsteps, moving away from him. “What are you doing?” He hisses. 

Eitan stops walking, Thesan doesn’t turn around. He sighs. “I’m going to finish my report on paper. I will leave it on your desk in a few hours.”

Tears form in Thesan’s eyes. It will water the plants, at least. 

“Take care of yourself, Thesan.” 

And then he’s gone, leaving Thesan alone, in an empty corridor of his enormous castle, with a pain in his heart just as big. 

ACOTAR general taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover @paige0103 @princesssunderworld

[nezumez]

Got bored…so I made an acotar oc!! 🤭 Meet Princess Gisella, Princess of the Dawn Court and the younger sister of Highlord Thesan. I like to interpret that Dawn is based on East Asia which explains the kimono. Get to know Gisella :

She’s the Emissary for Dawn, attending meetings with Thesan, gathering information, helping out with work around Dawn, etc.

Shes kind, sweet, and considerate because of how she was raised.(I also HC that the Previous HL of dawn and their mother were good fae and parents)

Shes close friends with Cresseida and they love to hang out at each others courts every now and then.

Shes probably around the same age as Lucien, not born during the war like her brother, but after. Id also like to think Lucien and Gisella are probably good friends since he was making friends with everyone (including Nuan)

She enjoys training with the General (Thesans lover) She heavily supports them and cares for her family and everyone in the Dawn palace, as well as her people.

She has a humongous white-feathered Phoenix named ‘Penelope’ that she can ride across the Dawn court.

She wasn’t at the first highlords meeting due to the fact she was healing from everything during UtM but during the war she was helping around, healing as many possible.

Okay that’s all so far! I hope you like her, because I love her!! <3