#did we learn nothing from mission winnow actually

[whewchilly]

Scuderia Ferrari Hewlett-Packard might actually be my last straw.

[mcuamerica]

Welcome Home | Azriel x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Cassian x Reader (platonic)

Summary: After seeing how fun you have with Cassian, Azriel decides to test out a form of punishment... Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, mean/possessive Azriel (because of a potion), scared by mate (?), alludes to SA, (I honestly don't know what to warn here, read the original request for context), not proofread

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

While Azriel was on a mission, you decided to spend time with your best friend and the other deadly warrior of the Inner Circle, Cassian.

You were having a fun time with him, running around with some odd game he had created. Cassian, seemingly, kept changing the rules. You popped up behind a shrub of the garden, jumping on his back. "Mr. Illyrian Warrior, sir, you cannot keep changing the rules to make yourself win." You giggled.

"Foul! No jumping on the backs of winged faeries!" He called out, trying to shake you off. You giggled even more, dropping down onto the floor.

"Cass, seriously," you scorned, crossing your arms. "Tell me the actual rules of the game so we can properly play!"

You felt like a child pouting next to her older brother, but sometimes it was all you needed to let go a little bit. Forget the wars and politics that plagued the Inner Circle of the Night Court for just half an hour and play a stupid game, which involved you chasing Cassian around the garden. To what end? He still hadn't told you.

Cassian was the first one you met from the IC. He found you in the outskirts of Velaris, shivering at the end of a very small stream. In the middle of winter. You had been thrown out of your home by your father. You were trying to make it to Velaris when you encountered an incredibly vicious male who only wanted one thing from you.

Luckily, you fought him off and ran away, but not without falling down a rocky hill and cracking your ribs. That was when Cassian found you, patrolling the forest for a few run away soldiers. You were scared by him at first, not letting him anywhere near you.

But when he lowered and tucked in his wings, crouched down to be even lower than you, you knew he wasn't going to hurt you. The kindness in his eyes spoke enough.

So you let him take you in his arms and fly you into the city, settling with Madja to take care of you. For a week he sat by your side, wanting nothing other than to make sure you were okay, after he found the male that had hurt you... and sent Rhys to deal with your family.

After that, you showed your knowledge of spell cleaving, your mother a strong female from the Day Court, and became a quick member of the Inner Circle. After years of working and getting to know each member, you quickly fell in love and mated with Azriel. Your official acceptance of the bond was just about a year ago, meaning you were still learning a lot of new and exciting ways to make your lives even richer in love.

"Cassian!" You yelled as he picked you up and set you on top of a bench, peering down at him.

"You stay there for five seconds, eyes closed, and you have to catch me somewhere in the garden." He said.

"And what do I win if I do?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"Extra dessert?" He teased and you narrowed your eyes.

"Deal." You said, closing your eyes and counting to five.

You opened your eyes and instead found your mate, peering up at you. With a look of lust and desire on his face, but something else tugged at the bond. Was that jealousy? You couldn't tell nor did you have time to decipher it because the next thing you knew, Azriel was carrying you up to your bedroom. He didn't even take the stairs, instead winnowing up to the room. Before you were even orientated, he was setting you on the bed and immediately pinning you down.

You quickly became overwhelmed by not only the change of scenery so quickly, but the scent that leaked from your mate. And the anger in his eyes. Did you do something wrong?

You let out a squeak when Azriel trailed his hand up your loose fitting shirt, grabbing hold before tearing it in half. "Azriel! What are you doing?" You managed to say, trying to scoot back from his grasp, your breath quickening. Azriel must have been so devoured by lust, or whatever it was, that he didn't hear you. Or.. didn't care?

"You are mine, understand? No one else's." He growled. Not a sensual one that drove you crazy most of a time, but more crazed. More desperate. "And I'm going to show you exactly how much you belong to me."

Your past, with the cruel male in the forest, flashed through your mind. You begged down the bond for him to stop. You shook your head again, eyes widened when he leaned back.

You took the opportunity and scrambled away, almost tripping over your feet as you ran from the bedroom. You ran down the stairs, hearing Azriel call your name. You whimpered, looking back to see him slowly stalking towards you. You made your way back to the garden, only to run into a hard wall. No, not a hard wall, Cassian.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" He asked, noticing your missing shirt, the silver lining your eyes, and your quick breathing.

"He- I don't know. Cass please make him stop." You said and wrapped your arms around his waist. He quickly looked up, noticing the stalking male now seething at the sight of his mate and his brother embracing.

Cassian soothed you, pulling you behind him. "Azriel... you need to stop." He said firmly, going into the protective warrior mode. Why was Azriel acting like this?

"Get away from my mate." He growled. There it was again. That crazed tone.

Then it his him. Cassian smelled the potion on him as he closed the gap between them, meaning to knock Cassian to the ground. "Azriel, this isn't you." He said, gripping his shoulders. Azriel's eyes darkened, moving to hit Cassian again. Cassian was faster, knocking him unconscious with a quick knock to the head. He stood for a moment, making sure that Azriel was indeed not waking up before he called for Rhys to get Madja here as soon as possible. Then he turned to you.

You were still shaking, arms wrapped around yourself as you cowered against the wall. You were never like this anymore. You were strong and independent and didn't need help from any of the warriors you called your family. Not after you learned to defend yourself.

But everyone was so overwhelming, you forgot all that training. You felt like the fragile female on that river bank again.

Cassian slowly approached you, again tucking in his eyes and bowing below your eye level. "Hey," his voice was barely above a whisper, "can I take you to your room?" He asked and you quickly shook your head, not wanting to go where Azriel had taken you. "My room?" He offered and you nodded, wrapping your arms around Cassian's neck as he picked you up carefully and took you to his room. He made sure you settled down, bringing you tea and your favorite comfort snack. Once you had eaten and stopped shaking, he lulled you to sleep with some very off key humming. Nothing like Azriel normally did when nightmares awoke you. Either way, by night fall, you were tucked into what was Cassian and Nesta's bed, sound asleep. No stutter of breath or shift in movement.

Cassian walked out of the room and crossed his arms when he found Madja and Azriel in the living room.

"I didn't even know it until I drank it... it smelled normal." Azriel finished saying, his eyes clear.

Cassian stalked over to him and grabbed him by the collar. "What in the Cauldron did you do to her?" He growled.

"Cassian! Get off of him." Madja said and swatted at his arm. Cassian quickly let go of his brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't pissed. "He had a jealousy potion in his system. One that, from the sounds of it, makes mates even more possessive of their partners. And will drive them to the brink of madness if anyone even looks at their mate."

"He hurt her." Cassian seethed.

Azriel's eyes flashed with hurt. He looked like he had been through hell. Good, Cassian thought, let him rot there a little longer.

"Cass, you know I would never hurt her intentionally." He said, frowning.

"You better talk to her in the morning.. but leave her alone tonight." Cassian demanded, not even wanting to talk with his brother right now. Rhys, who had been standing in the corner this whole time, decided not to chip in. While he was close to you, he wasn't nearly as must of a friend to you as Cassian was. He knew Cass would defend you no matter what, he saw you as a little sister. And if Cassian deemed that you needed space from Azriel, your mate, right now, he was probably right.

"I will..."

You were groggy when you woke up the next morning, not recognizing the scent of your mate or the feeling of the sheets. The events from the past day came back to you and you frowned.

It was then that you realized Azriel sat next to the bed, sleeping in a chair tucked in the corner.

You tentatively sat up, knowing there had to be an explanation of what he did. He had never acted like that with you before. Even when you were trying new things in the bedroom, he was always slow and considerate.

"Azriel..." You whispered, your timid voice betraying the courage you worked up in your mind. You reached for the glass of water next to the bed, slowly drinking as Azriel shot up in the chair.

"(Y/N)... sweetheart, I am so sorry." He said, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed. You pulled back from his touch, tucking in the glass of water against your chest. "It's not an excuse, but I was under the influence of a potion. If I had known the effects, I would have gone as far away from you as possible. But it didn't kick in until I saw you with Cassian and I was so jealous of the two of you all of the sudden and-"

"Az. You're ranting." You said, a small smile coming to your lips. As soon as he mentioned the potion, you remembered the strange smell that coated his scent. It wasn't like anything you had scented on him before, and you were glad it was just a potion and you wouldn't again.

"I'm so sorry." He said again, eyes pleading you to understand him. You slowly set the glass down on the nightstand, resting your hand over one of his.

"Promise you will never do that again?" You asked quietly.

He let out a sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing. "Yes, I swear on my life I will never do what I did to you yesterday. Never again." He said and shook his head.

You brought your other hand up to cup his cheek. "Well then..." you trailed off, leaning forward. "Welcome home." You sealed the statement with a soft, sweet kiss.

A/N: Okay, hope you enjoyed! I had a hard time thinking of any reason that Azriel would intentionally harm/force himself on his mate, so hopefully this makes sense!

Main Masterlist

[highfaelucien]

While on the topic of wishing sjm had done something different for her characters, I really wanted something more for cassian. For example, cassian’s wings going from being completely ruined in the end of acomaf to being 100% healed in acowar made no sense to me. I think it would’ve been an opportunity for the growth of cassian’s character to see him go through the loss of losing the ability to fly and instead retrain himself to be a warrior in other ways and find other things about himself that prove his own worth to himself. Given the fact that cassian’s confidence is aligned with his ability to protect and serve others, it just would have been sooo good to see him overcome his grief and become even stronger of a character. And how wings, in general, are a sense of male pride among illyrians. I think this would’ve been the perfect way to write cassian and have him break away from his own idea of masculinity. He could have redefined what it meant for him to be a Man ™. Ugh, it just could have been so GOOD, imagine the character we could have gotten from him.

Listen, after ACOMAF, when this happened, EVERYONE was buzzing about this. Most people thought he wouldn't outright lose his wings permanently, but there would be a LOT required.

And then ACOWAR came and approximately nothing happened whatsoever. Oh he had to be healed. the healer had to rebuild his wings. he had to do strength training every day. But fundamentally: not a sausage.

Personally? I think Maas chickend out. I think she was unable to commit to taking Cassian's wings, or figuring out how to write him as anything other than what she's established him as: fun jock man who likes to hit things real hard and make dick jokes sometimes.

Having to see Cassian vulnerable? Having to see him broken, and struggling, and having to reevaluate his entire life and self-esteem and sense of masculinity would have been an incredible option for a character arc.

Most of the theorising/Nessian fics involved Nesta helping him. The two of them being broken/fundamentally altered by their experiences in Hybern - she being killed and Made with a dark power, Cassian losing his wings.

There was expected bonding over that, peeling away the masks they both wear to discover the softness underneath. The two of them being able to reach one another, because of their bond, in a way the others could not. It produced some pretty epic stuff, honestly.

And how badly I wanted that I didn't FULLY realise until the disappointment of ACOSF, when it hit fully.

Because instead of stripping Cassian back and seeing the tactician, the strategist, forcing him to put his other skills to use, to develop those skills, rather than 'smash with sword and ask questions later'. This man is a General. All the combat training in the world doesn't let you be good at this job if you can't command, if you can't use tactics, if you can't strategise.

And THIS is where I wanted to see Nesta. Nesta, the woman who calculated how many ships would be needed to save the humans of Prythian. The woman who looked at Greysen's manor and assessed its capabilities and saw a prison. The woman who devours history novels, who has a tactical, cunning mind. Who has never been a warrior or a creature of brute strength or physical abilities.

THIS is how I wanted to see Nesta evolve. This was how I wanted to see her develop. I didn't want her taken out of lady's dresses. I didn't want her forced into fighting leathers, to basically become another copy of her sister, and follow down that path.

I wanted her to take her own. I wanted her to finally be in a place where she could learn, and strategise, and contribute. And I wanted her to work with Cassian on this - who was grounded because of his wings, who couldn't command on the frontlines anymore, or even fight. Who had to stay back, and see how he handled this. How he maintained his authority. How he maintained his sanity without his wings.

We could have had so fucking much. Such a powerful narrative about survival. I wanted her in the library, with the other survivors, (and with fucking MORRIGAN - not sidelined, not dismissed, not being bitchy and catty for the sake of it. But someone who visits the library frequently, who interacts with the women there, and sometimes just is a woman there herself, because there are still hard days.)

But no. No instead of something nuanced, and original, and actually tailored to Nesta's strengths as a character, we got Yet Another Weapon's Trainng Montage.

We got the narrative that the only way to heal from abuse is to be able to beat the shit out of your abusers. Because that's #GirlPower, right?

It makes me so furious I almost want to just. Just fucking rewrite the whole damn fucking thing myself the way it SHOULD have gone.

And I know you talked about Cassian and not Nesta, so I do apologise, but they were tied together. But I agree.

We all wanted Cassian to evolve from that 'Lord of Bloodshed' / "savage brute" because reading between the lines and forcing some nuance from these books, which is the only way to survive: Cassian has a lot of layers. There's a lot of trauma there. A lot of insecurity. A lot of angst. A lot of heart. A lot of fucking INTELLIGENCE. (I'll fight on that point, I really will. Cassian is not a dumb himbo who can barely add 1 and 1).

But sjm was too busy writing him having a hard on for Nesta to explore....anything about himself. Or his relationship with Azriel, and Rhys, and Mor, and everyone else.

The removal (even temporarily) of his wings would have allowed for a LOT of that exploration.

Firstly, the fact that he injured them by CHOICE, saving Azriel's life. That would have been such a deep connection and bond between them. The guilt that Az would feel - but the potential for Cassian to step in, even with his wings gone, and say that he'd do it again.

Because Azriel is his brother. He loves him. And it was worth it. It would be worth it a hundred times over to save him. Because he's worth saving. And he's worth sacrificing for. And what that would have done for Az as a character, too. Who always offers himself up first for dangerous missions, puts himself in peril to protect the others.

And having Cassian join Feyre and Az's flying lessons? Because Cass having to relearn how to fly once (if) his wings healed to that extent, means letting Azriel train him. Because those old instincts aren't enough. And he has to learn how to strengthen them, and train with them. And how this affects his perception of himself and his masculinity, as he said. But also deepening his understanding for Az, and the bond the two of them share, in having this experience together.

Bonding with Rhys, who FINALLY fucking opens up to someone and has some nuanced therapy-like conversations about what happened with Amarantha. The sacrifces they've made for their people. How they'd do it again but it still hurts, and changes them, and how they have to learn and grow and move on from that and heal together.

Rhys working with Cassian on his other talents, using him as the skilled strategist and tactician he MUST be. Helping him to develop that, keeping his brother from losing his mind while he can't fight or use his physicality to solve problems, as he usually does.

Mor personally healing and tending to Cassian. Mor being there at his bedside every day while he was bed bound. Mor becoming as possessive and overprotective of both him and Az as any mate ever has been.

Mor speaking to him about her own rehabilitation after what her family did to her, the physical toll that took on her. Mor's heart breaking because she nearly lost both him and Az and she couldn't handle that at all. Mor reiterating how much she fucking loves him, and how she needs him.

Mor helping him through the darker days of his depression because she's been there. And she knows what it is to put on a front. To always be laughing, and joking, without the seriousness of life -leave that to the others. But sometimes it's too much and he needs to break down. And be angry. And furious. And hopeless. And scared. And that's what she's there for. Because she understands.

Mor winnowing him to his favourite spots that he can't fly to anymore, just so he can be there. The two of them spending time, and bonding, and developing that relationship we got in ACOMAF beyond 'we bicker constantly and drink together and make sexual innuendos'.

Even Amren showing up and doing her part. Snapping at him to stop brooding so much. But also bringing him some of her puzzles. Some of her favourite military history books (which she has anotated and edited to highlight the bits that have been incorrectly reported). Spending time with him to stop him going mad. Exhausting herself those first few days personally attending to Cassian's wings, and snarling at anyone who tried to interfere.

IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH.

IT COULD HAVE DEVELOPED SO MUCH WITH THE INNER CIRCLE. AND CASSIAN. AND NESSIAN. AND JUST. EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER BUT NAW. IT WAS BASIC ASS AND BORING AND I'M GONNA DIE MAD ABOUT IT.

[courtofsapphiresandshadows]

Chapter Seven- Rhysand

Rhysand stared at the Illyrian in front of him. Aegan, slouching enough that it must have been uncomfortable, stared back.

They had been like this for minutes now, neither of them daring to spur up a conversation. Rhysand contemplated simply searching her mind for the information that he needed, but if she really was as powerful as Cassian suggested... He'd prefer that his office remain somewhat tidy.

"So?" Aegan said finally, arching a blonde eyebrow. "Are we going to talk, or..."

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, loosening a sigh. This was going to be a long conversation.

"Tell me about yourself."

She snorted, but seeing that he was being serious, she cleared her throat. "Where do I start?"

"Start with basic information- we know absolutely nothing about you, even our shadowsinger."

"Well, I do have a remarkable ability to lay low", she joked, cracking a smile. "But, my name's Aegan, as you already know. Aegan Malum. I lived in Ironcrest, and... I left."

"You left?"

Aegan frowned. "It wasn't my choice- as much as I hated living there, Ironcrest was my home at the time."

He nodded. "Where did you go?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know where you went." Either Aegan was going insane, or she was lying.

"Exactly- well, I'm pretty sure that I didn't leave the Night Court, but I'm not sure where exactly in the Night court I was."

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you're telling me, that you were in Ironcrest one day, and the next you were somewhere else?"

Aegan dipped her head. "It's strange, yes, but it did happen. You'll have to trust me on that one", she told him.

"Trust goes both ways, you know", he reprimanded. Rhysand didn't miss the wary gaze she threw at the others, how her shadows seemed to form a protective wall around her every time one of them got near. It surprised him that she wasn't doing it now- possibly, since he told her she could leave whenever.

Aegan threw him a cold smile. "Forgive my wariness from previous experiences of men with power."

A pause of silence passed. "Care to elaborate?"

That smile dropped, her face going dark. "Not really."

Rhysand prodded her mind, surprised to find a thick adamant wall surrounding it. She obviously had practice- from who, he didn't know. Daemati were rare as is, and he doubted that there were Illyrian daemati roaming about.

He nudged gently against her shields, locking eyes with the young Illyrian. "May I?"

Her eyes flashed, but she relaxed in her chair once again, dropping her shields, allowing him to slip through. She murmured to be careful, before everything went dark.

Aegan's mind was nothing but inky darkness. It was cold, so cold that it could make Azriel's usual icy demeanor seem warm.

Something brushed against Rhysand. He grasped it, surprised to feel a small warmth emitting from it. Peering into it, he saw a woman's face- Aegan's face, but older.  Her mother, most likely.

"What is my little song bird doing today?" She murmured softly, brushing his face- Aegan's face- with a soft hand.

Suddenly, the memory began to fade, and Rhysand was in the dark again. He continued his search, reaching out with his power to find anything that might show Rhysand who Aegan was.

The next memory was not as warm.

He heard the Illyrian war drums first. Then he smelled the blood.

Looking around, Rhysand saw the bound wings, and the naked chested young males surrounding him. It was the rite- and Aegan was in it.

The Illyrian war drums sounded again, and Rhysand felt Aegan tense up, ready to bolt to the top of that mountain. And judging by the hard glares the males were sending her way, they were determined to prevent that from happening.

A horn blared, and they were off.

It didn't take long for the first male to jump at her. It also didn't take long for her to take him down.

She was already coated in blood by the time she reached the foot of the mountain. But no matter how many Aegan had left dead, more just kept coming. Obviously, the males had yet to learn that there was nothing more deadly than a female on a mission- Aegan would make it to the top of the mountain. Rhysand was just glad that he didn't have to face her when he completed the rite with Cassian and Az.

Rhysand could feel her shiver against the harsh wind, but she kept running. Exhaustion was creeping in, Aegan stumbling through the knee deep snow. Still, the Illyrian, the only female Rhys had ever heard of  compete in the Rite, pushed her way to the top.

Where someone had been waiting for her.

At first, he didn't recognize the male, but his nasty smile instantly showed him that it was Dircon, the current war lord of Ironcrest. He was just as ugly as he was now.

"Step aside, Dircon. You are not apart of this rite" Aegan growled, Rhysand feeling her fists clench. "What are you doing here anyways?"

Dircon smiled, both Rhysand and Aegan snarling back. "To preserve tradition, my dear. You are a threat to our way of life."

"Our way of life is a threat to everyone!" She shouted over the wind. "We pit children to fight against themselves for crying out loud! Me completing the Rite won't change anything- only the fact that females might be able to do something other than clean."

Dircon growled at her. "Move, Malum. Before I cut you down."

"Weren't you going to do that anyways?" Aegan pointed out, but dropped into a crouch, her fingers curling slightly before diving to the left as Dircon swung a mace at her. He was powerful, yet slow enough that  Aegan had just enough time to push herself to her feet. She practically hobbled for that stone, it was just an arm's reach away-

Something slammed into her side, knocking the wind out of her as Aegan went flying across the stone platform. Dircon's mace had embedded itself in her ribs- at least one of them had to be broken, judging by the crunching sound she heard as she hit the ground. Rhysand screamed at her to get up, as Dircon paced closer, but she couldn't hear him. Of course she couldn't- this was just a memory.

"Getting slow Aegan?" He taunted, crouching next to the girl, before roughly grabbing her hair. "Pity. It seems like you inherited that from your mother- she couldn't fly fast enough to avoid losing her wings."

Aegan snapped. Whatever had been holding back her powers was not enough- Rhysand feel something cold, yet fiery, wash over Aegan's body. Dircon must've felt it too, because he suddenly backed up, feet shuffling through the snow.

Cold fingers brushed over the even colder metal mace in her side. Aegan growled, and ripped it out, whatever pain she should've experienced washed down with pure anger. She rose, stared down the retreating male, and unleashed herself upon him.

Dircon screamed- actually screamed- as she tackled him to the ground. Something erupted from her fingertips, and claws- much like Rhysand's- found themselves embedded in his chest. She then slashed them across his body. He whimpered and begged for mercy, but she didn't stop- Rhysand wouldn't either.

She was about to gorge his eyes out when he winnowed away. Aegan stared at the patch of snow where he once laid before her, and roared. It shook the mountain, shouts of alarm echoing throughout the mountain range as shadows burst from her skin, the sound of leather wings ringing through Rhysand's ears-

Then there was nothing.

Rhysand looked around- he had returned to the dark abyss. At least, he thought he did, before he heard the shrieking.

Whipping his head around, he took in a forest, tall trees obscuring the sunlight that desperately tried to pierce through. The grass under his feet was dead, and no animals could be heard. Those tall trees, after a second evaluation, were actually shards of rock, blood coating the tips. Where was he?

He finally found the source of the shrieking. A woman laid next to one of the shards, her nails digging in her scalp as she rocked back and forth. Rhysand crept closer, his feet making no sound as he watched Aegan cry.

"Get out of my head", the girl sobbed, pounding her head against the stone behind her. Rhysand crouched next to her, reaching out a hand to place on her shoulder to assure that everything was okay, when he suddenly heard laughter.

He recognized that sound anywhere- Hybern. His fingers instantly reached for a sword, but found none. Panic raced through him as he heard it again, Aegan loosening another sob. It was hell- how she managed to not go insane was beyond him. Maybe she was insane, but was able to keep it hidden from view.

"Aegan", he whispered to her, briefly glancing over his shoulder to look at her.

"Get out of my head", she repeated, her hands shaking.

"Aegan, look at me-"

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" She screamed, her face twisted with anger. As Rhysand looked at her fully, he noticed the cuts her nails created on her arms, and how her eyes couldn't seem to fix onto anything. He had blinded her.

Something sharp yanked at his spine, and he found himself flying away from the memory, and away from her mind. He saw a small light, and desperately reached for it, horror racing through him when he thought he could hear the echo of Hybern's laugh in his mind-

Rhysand gasped suddenly, gripping the arm rests of his chair tightly. For some reason, he didn't expect her mind to be so dark and cold.

Aegan looked at the floor, her face white, as tears leaked from her eyes. "Please", she whispered softly, "don't make me go through that again."

He reached across the table, and gently squeezed one of her hands. "No", he agreed, "never again."

When he stood up to leave her, Aegan whirled in her chair. "Don't tell them."

He cocked a brow. "Who?"

"Your friends. Nesta. The Illyrians. I don't want their pity", she told him, before shakily standing up.

"It's incredibly brave to go through that experience, Aegan", he assured her. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

She shook her head. "No, it's not that. I don't want Ironcrest finding out that they managed to break me."

He had no words for her. He meerly nodded his head, before walking out, not before seeing Aegan walk to the balcony, spread her wings, and take off into the darkening sky.

[lonely-little-lovely]

The Stars We Sew pt. 4

Chapter 1: https://morrigansss.tumblr.com/post/158572155526/the-stars-we-sew-pt-1

Chapter 2: https://morrigansss.tumblr.com/post/160844066961/the-stars-we-sew-pt-2

Chapter 3: https://morrigansss.tumblr.com/post/161335282431/the-stars-we-sew-pt-3

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of non consensual sex

"From Lorcan's expression, I take it you didn't find Athril's ring," Fenrys said as he slid into the blood sworn's typical booth at The Fire Drake, one of their favorite pubs. Lorcan snarled at him, but Fenrys only spared him a passing glance before turning to Kosmina. There was a tankard of ale in front of her, but she was nursing her flask instead. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen her without it somewhere on her person. Her hair was in the typical wily braids she used for battle, this time with two smaller braids by each ear, the rest plaited back from her face, which was wearing a mask of cruel amusement.

He considered Mina a friend in the same sense that Lorcan and Rowan were friends: through alcohol and bedding women (and men, in Mina's case) and bloody victories. He'd never seen her without it, though; that mask of cruel indifference. Only Gavriel and Vaughan and occasionally Lorcan saw her without that mask. He knew it was a mask, though, knew her better than she'd probably be comfortable with.

"Oh yes," she drawled. "We're all quite put out by it." She took a long draw from the flask. "There was nothing note worthy in Rune at all, unless you call skinwalkers note worthy."

"Hardly," he said as he grabbed her untouched ale.

She glanced at him. "I'm not done with that."

He grinned, but slid it back to her. "Do you even drink regular ale, Mina?"

"I do when I've been in the thrilling company of Lorcan for too long," she said, but he knew she did not mean it. If there were a person the bastard Commander could call a real friend, it was Kosmina Moreno. Ignoring Lorcan's crude gesture in her direction, she asked, "Vaughan left, correct?"

Whitethorn had once told him that Mina and Vaughan had been as thick as thieves for as long as he could remember, though Fenrys didn't know why Mina was so apt to befriend moody bastards who hated almost everyone. Vaughan was more morose in the sense that Lorcan was standoffish, but did it really matter? They were both still assholes. "Did you really think he'd be waiting around for you to come back, or is that REALLY all that he does?"

"Careful," she purred.

"No, please, go on," said Lorcan. "Antagonize her. Maybe she'll do us all a favor and FINALLY mist your tongue and lips."

Fenrys grinned at him. "Mina likes to look at me too much to mar my handsome face."

She shrugged one shoulder. "I'll still have Connall's pretty face to gaze upon in my most dire hours."

Lorcan's smile turned nasty. "I wonder who Maeve would have to warm her bed if you were... permanently damaged." A low blow. They both knew Maeve would simply use Connall.

Fenrys went lower. "Well, we certainly know it won't be you." It was a known fact among the blood sworn and some outside of their inner circle that Lorcan was in love with Maeve. Fenrys had no rutting clue why, but he DID know that Lorcan had once offered to bed their Queen, and she had laughed in his face. He'd learned that little tidbit from a drunk Vaughan decades ago, who had undoubtedly learned from Kosmina. And, since Mina's alcohol tolerance was somehow higher than all of theirs and none of them had actually witnessed her drunk, she could not blame alcohol for spilling Lorcan's secret.

She remained quiet during this exchange and as Lorcan's eyes darkened, and Fenrys knew she would not interject until the subject had changed. She never partook in mocking him about his duties in Maeve's bedroom, just as he never mocked her for her duties to whoever Maeve told her to bed. That was their silent understanding, their code; because they were the same. Maeve's whores. Lorcan's lips pulled back from his teeth, and he was obviously about to retort something scathing when Whitethorn stalked through the crowd, grabbed a chair someone had been about to sit in, and joined their table.

"Group therapy?" He asked, and Lorcan rolled his eyes.

"You've saved me," said Mina. "Lorcan was about to leap over the table to strangle Fenrys. They would have spilled my ale." As if to make a point, she finally took a gulp of it, chasing it with her flask.

Lorcan jerked his chin at his General. "When do you depart for Varese?"

"Not for two days," Rowan said. Then to Mina, "I need you to winnow me there." Winnowing- it was an incredible luxury, and the favorite of Mina's powers among them all, though misting was quite nifty, too.

She did that casual one shoulder shrug again. "I am needed in Varese anyways." Translation: Maeve was forcing her to fuck Galan one more time before the Prince went blockade running. A pause, and then, "Do try not to kill that princess."

"Good riddance," sneered Lorcan. "Shameful, abandoning her country to become an assassin."

"Yes," said Mina thoughtfully. "Almost as shameful as us not aiding Terrassen." Lorcan's head whipped to her, and Fenrys didn't bother to hide his snicker. The Commander often forgot that though she did not publicly protest, Kosmina was no fan of their Queen.

"Careful," said Lorcan, repeating her earlier word. She only smiled softly and took a slug of her flask.

Come to my bed. The words snaked through Fenrys’ brain, and he stiffened. Rowan and Lorcan were busy bantering back and forth, and even if they had noticed, they wouldn't have cared. But Mina... their gazes met, and though the rest of her face was impassive, there was understanding in her violet eyes.

"I'm needed," he said tightly, and she nodded. She did not ask if he wanted to be winnowed back, knew he would want to walk so he could delay Maeve as much as possible. He tossed a copper on the table for his drinks, nodded to the three remaining at the table, and wove through the crowd, a sour taste already in his mouth.

-

She is sixteen.

She's also pretty sure Lorcan is TRYING to make her hate him with the brutal morning sessions before she's off to learn battle plans and Wendlyn culture and what not, whatever the tutors decide she is most inept at for the day. What Lorcan does not understand is Mina can't possibly hate him. He's prickly, but he saved her life. Gavriel once told her that it had actually been him who had seen her fall from the sky, and if he hadn't, then Gavriel wouldn't have even found her and healed her. She'd be dead.

So no, she cannot hate Lorcan.

He walks next to her, scowl on his face, but she knows him well enough to know that it will dissipate into something an inkling softer as soon as they enter Maeve's court room. Mina can understand why. Who could ever hate Maeve? Mina still wakes up screaming for her brothers or her mother or even her father. She still feels phantom pains every once in a while, in her back where two mighty wings should be. She still cannot look at the sky the same. Maybe she never will. But at least she has a place here, in this strange world.

Maeve is on her throne, pale legs crossed, the picture of elegance in her long black gown. Kosmina smiles just to see her before her eyes slide to Gavriel. He looks in pain. Has something happened?

The Queen first addresses Lorcan. "How is she fairing in training?"

"Her form is poor, Majesty," answers Lorcan, but before she can bristle because she STILL doesn't see how Fae fighting stances are so superior to Illyrian ones (even if she barely remembers the stances Cas taught her), he adds, "But she is improving greatly." He's never complimented her before.

Maeve seems to realize this as well, because her lips curl. "Come here, dear." Mina does so eagerly, curtsying at the foot of the throne. She's still surprised when Maeve brushes her hair from her face. She's sweaty and grimy and there's a little blood on her left temple, yet the Queen doesn't seem to mind. "And how do you think it is going, my Mina?"

My Mina. Such a motherly thing to say to the girl without a mother. Mina beams. "I think it is fairing well, Your Majesty. Lorcan is a great teacher." He rolls his eyes at her at that, but not maliciously.

"That's good to hear," Maeve says. "I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that your afternoon lessons have been cancelled."

HELL. YES. Still, she tries to school her reaction. "Thank you, my Queen. May I ask why?" She glances at Gavriel, who is averting his gaze. "Has something happened?"

"You need not worry. I've only a mission for you, since you've been so eager to repay me for my gratitude."

Mina immediately perks up. "Anything."

That pleases Maeve greatly. "I am having a guest from our neighboring kingdom. Prince Kristoff. He arrives tomorrow." A pause. "Prince Kristoff has been very naughty. He took an amulet of great importance to me. I need you to get it back."

Behind her, Lorcan stiffens, as if to protest that she is not ready, but Mina speaks before he can, anger already burning in her gut at this Prince. "Of course, Your Majesty. What do you need me to do?" Behead him? Challenge him to a duel for the amulet? Sneak into his room to assassinate him?

No such thing leaves Maeve's mouth. "Prince Kristoff has a penchant for young Fae females. I need you to use that to get the amulet back."

Her words sink in. "You... you want me to bed him?" Maeve nods. "But... but I've never..."

The Queen cocks her head. "Did you not just tell me you'd do anything, my Mina? Is this not anything?"

"No, of course I-"

"You do not want to misplace my generosity, do you?" Another lengthy pause. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

And that-that is what does it. Because she is young, and so naive, and disappointing Maeve in her mind is perhaps the worst thing she can do. "Never, Majesty," she says fiercely. "C-consider it done."

-

Kosmina shook off the memory, adding more spice to the stew she was making. It was some time in the early morning, and the cooks were long asleep- not that they would stop her even if they'd been in the kitchen. She'd been cooking for centuries and was more skilled than all of them. And this was for Fenrys, who would be done servicing the Queen hopefully soon.

Her mind bounced to another memory, of Kristoff, of his hands around her throat as he-

No. No. She shook it off, forcefully added more liquor to the meat she was sauteing in a pan.

She had been so young, back when she still loved Maeve. And she had thought... she had thought that it would be a one time thing. But since she had had so little control over her ability to change emotions at the time, she'd accidentally made Kristoff fall in love with her. No, he had not loved her. He did not know how to love. What she had twisted inside him had been a sick obsession. Maeve had used it to her advantage, sent Mina back again and again and again until she finally gave the order for her to take a sword and cut off his head. At the time, it had been empowering. Now, though, it was just a reminder of what she'd been forced to do.

Because the Queen had not stopped there. After Kristoff, it was another male, and another, and another, and then a female. At that point, Maeve used the same line that she had first used-"You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you, Mina?"- to get her to swear the blood oath. She'd promised that if there ever was a way for Mina to get back to her universe, she'd free her of the oath. Kosmina was no longer blind. She no longer thought her Queen a Saint. Maeve would never let her go.

Her fate had been sealed the moment she'd walked into the throne room with that amulet.

There was a shift behind her, and she glanced to the door, where Fenrys had appeared. His clothes were ruffled, a hatred in his eyes so deep it surpassed even hers, but it diminished as his nostrils flared at the smell of food. He grinned tiredly. "Mina stew." 'Mina stew' was a favorite dish of hers among the Cadre- in fact, she was surprised Lorcan and Rowan and whoever else wasn't off on missions weren't already up here for their fill of it.

"I thought you could use it," she told him. His nod was almost imperceptible as he took a seat at the table. "It will be ready in about five minutes." She finished up quickly, sprinkling some salt into it and basil on top as a final touch before pouring two bowl's worth and moving to the table to sit across from him.

She didn't know what she had with Fenrys. They weren't exactly friends- not in the way she was with Vaughan or Gavriel or Lorcan. But they had an understanding. "Where's Connall?" she asked him.

His mouth tightened. "On a mission." Which meant he was stuck here for now. They were never allowed to leave together.

"When does he return?"

He sneered. "When does Vaughan?" When she raised an eyebrow, he immediately snapped out of whatever state he was in and grimaced. "I apologize."

"That's alright," she said, because it was. She understood more than anyone. Thus their understanding.

They didn't speak for a while, but despite him snapping at her, it was not an uncomfortable silence. And when the feelings of agony and hatred and something else, something deeper, finally stopped crashing off of him into her in waves, she might have slumped just a little in relief.

[tinkaranrmozelliny69insuran-blog]

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