#elain and the threads of creation

[wingedblooms]

Language of creation

This post synthesizes the potential forms Elain’s magic might take in her story because of her connection to Wyrd’s original power, creation.

—————————————————————————

Farseeing and Benevolent Wyrd

Farseeing and benevolent Wyrd is the higher force in the Maasverse. She is described as a mother to all, and a cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Over time, she became known as the goddess of fate but is actually a force that governs worlds. Very few depictions of her exist because she, like fate, often shifts form. The one consistent depiction we see of her is a bowl held by female hands. Sometimes the full female figure is shown. This depiction appears in the Spring Court (acotar), Night Court (acosf), and the Bone Quarter (hofas). She is referenced across worlds in different terms (Wyrd; Urd; Mother, Cauldron, Fate/Forces That Be; and I suspect we’ll discover Chaos is yet another one of her names. I use them interchangeably for this reason).

There is still debate in the fandom on whether Wyrd (the Cauldron) is separate from the Mother. The Cauldron (Wyrd) is described as a mother to all and a dark womb, and we know life blossoms from her in female hands, so I lean more toward these terms describing different parts of one consciousness. And the female form in her depictions represent female vessels, or bearers, of her creative powers (and I know others, including @offtorivendell, suspect the same) rather than a goddess.

In acowar, we learn that three stones represent the three faces of the Mother (Wyrd) in scrying. It would make sense for these three faces to describe the three parts of her identity: Cauldron and Mother and Fate/Forces. She is a literal Stone Mother (Cauldron) that breaks into three pieces like a blossom unfurling. Her power birthed the world (Mother), and she moves like a force through the universe to maintain order (Fate) in a grand tapestry.

Mountains, objects, and females can bear her power. There are three sacred sister peaks and the one in the heart of the Night Court (Ramiel) was depicted as bearing Wyrd. The priestesses’ invoking stones are said to bear her healing power. And the three Archeron sisters, two of which were reforged in her dark womb, represent her three faces in the flesh. Like the peaks and stones, the Archeron sisters function as vessels and can channel Wyrd’s power. Feyre puts her hands directly on the Cauldron and calls to mind the image of life flowing from Wyrd in Spring. Nesta calls upon the Mother, the Cauldron to help her master death and save her family. To follow the pattern, we’ll probably see Elain use Wyrd’s power for rebirth. Life and death and rebirth.

Among her sisters, Elain is especially connected to Wyrd. It gave her such powers and her Wyrdcrown (my word, not Sarah’s) reflects Wyrd’s blossoming imagery and power: sleeping buds among leaves and thorns. I’ve wondered before if she has direct access to Wyrd’s secret language (creation), which could manifest in different ways.

Elain senses the threads of creation around her

When she was first Made, it seemed as though Elain experienced sensory overload and didn’t know how to control it. She struggled to distinguish dream from reality and sensed life (earthworms, heartbeats, etc.) around her. Like @silverlinedeyes and @offtorivendell, it made me wonder if she could sense creation differently. Does creation sound like a song, every creature possessing their own unique melody that she can hear and respond to, as @silverlinedeyes and @offtorivendell suggested long ago? What might she see when her doe eyes land on them - vibrant threads of life that flow across time and space? Can she influence those threads and weave new possibilities in Wyrd’s grand tapestry? Is that why she needed to be present to learn about the living thread of Hope within the Void?

Elain as a weaver of the threads of creation

Blossoming with life—@willowmeres, @offtorivendell, and I have wondered if Elain has a deep connection to the land like those with earth magic, allowing her to sense channels of energy (threads of life) and feel discomfort when those channels are warped, like they might be in thin places (e.g., Hewn City). As a gardener, it would make sense for her to play a key role in freeing the magic of the land in those places and weaving new life—blossoms, vines, trees—into the earth’s tapestry.

Farseeing—We know that Elain is farseeing like Wyrd, but how far, exactly? If trained, can she pluck a thread and unravel a creature’s past, present, and future? Understand their secrets on sight like Baba Yellowlegs? Influence their fate, as she seems to do from the shadows? Feyre suggests Elain might hear the whisperings of Wyrd in her murky realm, which I’ve theorized is a direct pathway to Wyrd’s dark womb, the Cauldron. She seems to be able to use this connection to locate living creatures (like the Suriel) who travel as swiftly as the wind, without any formal training. As she wanders with Wyrd, will she need something, say a grounding ritual at dawn, to keep her tethered to the earth?

Traveling like a force—Elain repeatedly appears suddenly and surprises her family. Has she just learned how to use light and shadow to her advantage from her friends, or does she possess the power to winnow? Winnow derives from the Old English word for wind and can be used to describe the movement of the wind (or bird wings in flight 👀). It makes sense that the ability to winnow in acotar allows characters to travel like an unseen force, like the wind, like…Wyrd. It’s no coincidence Elain’s first question to Azriel yielded information on Illyrians hearing the song of the wind, and characters connected to Elain—Azriel, Nuala, Cerridwen, and Lucien—possess the ability to travel fluidly. Three of them also have fluid forms.

Shifting form—Wyrd is notoriously hard to depict because she continually shifts form. Even before we learn this in CC, it is demonstrated in the acotar series. Wyrd slithers like a snake when she steals Elain from camp and shifts into different creatures during the final battle when Feyre is connected to her through a direct, living bond. She soars through the battlefield like a bird, skims the ground like an insect above a pond, and creeps along like a hound at Nesta’s side. (As an aside, I think the bones in scrying might represent different animal forms of creation; another nod to Wyrd.) The most interesting part about this scene, though, is that when Feyre begs Wyrd for help, it is Elain—not Wyrd—who appears out of nowhere and answers her call, reinforcing the link between Wyrd and Elain. Elain is also associated with an animal form, one that is linked to rebirth: the lovely fawn. The Suriel saw her doe eyes peering at it from across the world. Like Wyrd, does she travel in animal form in her sight? Is it possible Elain can learn how to weave different forms in reality, like Dorian, with her powers? That might explain why she asked Amren so pointedly about changing forms over dinner in acofas.

Healing—Wyrd’s power is connected to healing (rebirth). In tod, we learned that raw healing magic is pure life and most associated with the dawn. The Dawn Court in acotar is also known for powerful healing. And while we witnessed a dusk service in Lady Death’s story, we have yet to see what the priestesses in the Night Court do at dawn (groundings 🤞). Elain is consistently compared to the loveliness of dawn and glows like it in the dead of night. Will this association remain figurative? Or will we see Elain, like her sisters, channel Wyrd’s healing magic? Perhaps we will see her use healing magic to unbind Wyrd and the land since those with raw healing magic can unbind the very fabric of life, of worlds.

Wyrd’s creative magic appears to be fluid and interconnected, so if our gardener is as connected to her mighty power as we’ve been led to believe, it would make sense for her to be able to use it fluidly in her story as well.

[bright-side20]

HOFAS SPOILER (concerning the Cauldron)

_First let's go back to Rhys's explanation of the mating bonds:

“What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

It is clearly stated that the bond can be decided by fate, the mother, or the cauldron.

“There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had'.…' Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

There are bonds only to provide the strongest offspring, like Rhys's parents or Tamlin's parents bond and there are rare bonds of true paired souls like Feysand and Nessian bond.

HOFAS:

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the daglan captured it and used their power to twist it. To turn it into something more lethal. No longer a tool of creation, but of destruction.

An explanation by a Daglan:

We gathered our power and imbued these gifts in the Cauldron, so that it would work our will. With this, the treasures were made. And then we connected the essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world. Destroy the Cauldron and you destroy this world. One cannot exists without another.

The Cauldron was turned by the Daglan to serve their agenda, and they connected it to Prythian in a way that if anyone tries to destroy it, Prythian will be destroyed as well.

_Now, let's get an idea about the Asteri's aka Daglan breeding system:

Celestina only said, “He departs tomorrow. I shall visit his keep next month if there is not … a change in my situation by then.”If she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Hunt nodded, even as disgust and rage curled through him. The Asteri had ordered this, done this. They’d make Celestina keep going to Ephraim until she was pregnant with the child they wanted her to bear. Another little Archangel for them to mold into a monster.

Doesn't it sound like 'producing strong' offspring, 'natural function'?

What if the Asteri back in Prythian manipulated the cauldron to create mating bonds, knowing the importance of it for the Fae, so they could benefit from their children and manipulate them?

I don't know why antis kept accusing Elriels of spreading misinformation, considering our conclusions are based on what's written in the books.

The Cauldron literally operates under Daglan's system, so it can't be trusted; indeed, it is not a perfect matching system.

_Let's get back to these important scenes:

"If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”.... “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

Madja here is clearly addressing the real meeting bond—the one of paired souls.

Lucien:

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us. .... “And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for. Even if we had no idea what, precisely, that was.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Azriel :

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

I think this was foreshadowing. Even though a bond exists between them, Lucien wasn't able to sense the change in Elain, while Azriel managed to discern it.

What if the Cauldron's bond between Lucien and Elain, described as 'a thread tied to a rib,' is what was considered a 'natural function'? Yet, there exists another bond between her and Azriel, 'a bridge between souls,' and they are the true paired souls by the mother or the fate . What if the Cauldron was wrong?

I know the antis argument of that means Lucien is stronger than Az, which is why the Cauldron chose him for Elain. When the bond snapped between them, Azriel was out of power, literally dying. It's another reason the Cauldron might be wrong.

Also, the argument: if the Cauldron is corrupted and loves Elain, then she's a villain.

Duh? Why not consider that even though it's corrupted, it recognized Elain's pure heart and her power, the different kind of strength concentrated in her kindness? If she influenced it, maybe she has the ability to fix the Cauldron, turning it back to its original purpose, a tool of creation, not destruction.

[violetasteracademic]

Hi :)

I know that you believe the Elucien bond is real but it's Cauldron created so it's not a bond of love, rather a bond of matching Fae to create offspring that the Asteri can feed off. (I'm honestly torn because there is so much evidence suggesting this but there's also some evidence to suggest that the Elucien bond is similar to Rowan/Lyria's; all that to say, I constantly go back and forth 😂)

I'm curious what you make of Azriel being able to smell the Elucien bond. It seems odd to me but I don't have your repertoire of ACOTAR knowledge, so I'm interested if you've given it any thought!

Hellooooo my darling! So, I think both are actually true; I think the Cauldron bond is "real" in the sense that the Asteri used their power to actually create new bonds to serve them. I think they are a perversion and corruption of what the bonds were intended to be- but they aren't "fake" in the sense that with ToG Maeve used her power to create an illusion:

Whereas the disruption of Rowan's mating bond was a tug in a psychic thread, using Maeve's abilities to control and manipulate minds and reality, the Cauldron corruption was a base warping of the power at the heart of fate and all creation.

I know some people believe the Valg and Asteri are the same. I vehemently disagree with that. So my perception is that you are right- it is the same thing as what happened in ToG- but there are different powers at play going about it in a different way.

What I do think is interesting is the usage of threads being pulled and tied in different ways, and that language remains consistent. Maeve pulling at psychic threads, and then this "thread tied to a rib" that Elain and L/ucien are experiencing:

What is interesting is L/ucien experiences surprise at actually seeing the real thread between himself and Elain. Whether that's because he was still questioning the validity of the mating bond- wondering how a woman so unlike the woman he loved was thrown at him- or he is just surprised to see a physical bond, I'm not sure:

Now, the thread language also continues when discussing enchantments, spells, and glamours. What is so wild is this is all done in the same book, ACOWAR. Elain and L/ucien's bond which snapped immediately after Elain was poured out of the kettle, which is NOT how Nessian or Feysands bonds formed. Feysand and Nessian also experienced golden threads or unbreakable chains weaving their souls together after accepting their mate, but did not experience any sensations of threads tied to their ribs a moment before then.

And now to explore how I think this story will differ from ToG!

Let's take a look at what L/ucien is able to see with his eye:

Interesting. This is also the book we discover L/ucien is actually Helion Spell Cleavers son, who later describes his powers as such:

Shout out to @elainemg97 for catching that one!

SJM has been swinging a bat in our faces that reads Elain and L/ucien's Bond Is Abnormal.

L/ucien seeing the single thread and Elain experiencing it as something tied to her rib (or perhaps bindings around an individual, as Helion describes) is abnormal.

A woman feeling a bond without any sense of consent or interest in their mate is abnormal.

An immediate snap between two people who have never met has only occurred once before, with Rhysand's parents. Then in ACOSF, Elain and L/ucien are compared to Rhysand's parents again by repeatedly pointing out they willingly live apart and actively choose to stay away from each other, which is abnormal.

Elain and L/ucien:

Rhysand's mother and father:

So- I think where this differs from Rowan and Lyria is that even though there was still some difficulty (Rowan recalls how difficult it was to court Lyria. Again, abnormal) Maeve's power of mind control and psychic illusions would never have been able to be caught by anyone and Rowan overcame the challenges in their mating because in ToG's world, there is no discussion of mates being poorly matched or allowed to reject each other.

It seems to me that E/lucien's bond is being highly alluded to as something that can be physically noticed and hopefully broken by those like L/ucien's father and even L/ucien himself, in conjunction with items like Azriel's blade Truth-Teller that have the power to unmake things:

We are definitely headed in a direction leading up to all the things that can quite literally unravel the threads that the Asteri have forced.

SJM has given herself an incredible amount to work with here. I'll be home excited to see how it all plays out, and I wonder if she'll ever tell us exactly how far along she was when she started writing ACOWAR. Did the Asteri exist yet? Or was she working off Valg ideas like Maeve?

It's all pretty damn badass and interesting. But essentially the main difference I think it boils down to is this: the only way to break free from Maeve's tampering is the mental strength and ability to do so. In that sense, the forced bond wasn't real. The Asteri bonds are going to require a bit more work. In that sense, they are wrong, but they are real.

I think Azriel can smell it because he and Elain are true mates and it is being interfered with. I don't care whether or not they are actually mates, and it'd be cool even if they weren't. I just think that is where the story is headed. Feyre also got major headaches on the Faebane, the same thing Azriel was shot with, that cut off her bond from Rhys. Azriel's headaches start on page at the end of ACOWAR. So hopefully his nose will get some relief soon!

This is where I'm at right now! But what I love about SJM's writing is that even after all these years and rereads, there are still new things to discover. I know a lot of people are ragging on her right now after a highly criticized book release and a long wait, but damn if she didn't do soooo much that we are all still analyzing and assessing her work and dying to see what will happen next. I think that is pretty impressive, and I'm still just as excited as ever for Elriel's book and the incredible literal threads woven for them.

[nikethestatue]

@elainarcheronweek Day 3 "Strength"

Elain Archeron's strength is the matriarchal strength of all women throughout history.

Her strength lies in her ability to find the best in every situation. To bring warmth and connection between people. It's the strength of rising up from adversity and moving forward.

Her strength is in learning new skills, and seeking the wisdom of other women in trying to find her place in the new world.

Her strength is in feeding those she loves and in making the world more beautiful. She bought Feyre paints because she knew that it would give Feyre joy, but also, would make their drab existence a bit brighter, a little prettier.

Elain's strength is in cultivating life, in growing gardens, in seeding the earth so it would bring forth fruit and abundance.

Her strength is in creation, and not destruction.

Her strength is in her ability to do what's needed in the moment, and then walking away and not seeking praise or platitudes. It's giving credit where credit is due--to the twins, for example, who decorated the cake for Feyre's birthday.

Her strength is in noticing those around her--their sadness and their happiness, their pains and their smiles. Her strength is in buying blankets for the twins and 'swaddling' them in love and affection. It's in healing Azriel. It's in giving Nesta peace and happiness within her books. It's giving Feyre what she loves to be the outlet for her creativity and her emotions.

Elain is the thread that binds them together. She is the keeper of the hearth. She is the one who understood the importance of holidays and traditions before anyone else, and sought to incorporate them in her own life. She sits at the head of the table because without her, it's every man for himself, but with her, they become a true family.

The story of Elain, is the story of strength of all women--strength that is often overlooked and forgotten and taken for granted. Because people only remember those who built a house, but not those who made it a home and filled it with life.

[lucienarcheron]

↠ SJM Masterlist

Below you will find all my SJM fanfics/creations linked. You can also find my fanfics here.

All my writing belongs to me with a disclaimer that any character that isn't an original character belongs to their authors. Do not copy or claim my work as your own. Do not feed my work into AI or third-party platforms. Do not translate my writing without my permission. I do not consent for my work to be reposted anywhere.

Thanks for reading and enjoy :)

Creations/Moodboards; this is across all ships.

Headcanons ; across all ships

—

🌹 A Court of Thorns and Roses 🦊🌸 Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra [ Elucien ]

Bouquet Full of Loathing Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor Flower Shop Modern AU - Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter, and says, “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”  

Bouquet Full of Love Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor Elain visits Lucien at work, new bouquet in hand.

The Sun Rated SFW | Fluff/Angst Elain has a nightmare and turns to her mate for soothing.

No Place I'd Rather Be Rated SFW |  Fluff with a smidge of angst. Elain's visions giving her nightmares that can only be soothed by one person.

 A Light Against the Darkness   Rated SFW | Angst/fluff Lucien battles his own nightmares with Elain there to soothe him.

Forget Me Not Rated SFW | Fluff Drunk Elain and her shenanigans.

Boys Night Out Rated SFW | Humor & fluff Drunk Lucien and his shenanigans. – companion to Forget Me Not. 

Sleeping Beauty Rated NSFW-ish | Fluff ‘Wake me up’ kisses because foxboy and flower girl can't help themselves.

A Fox and a Flower Crown Rated NSFW-ish | Fluff + Humor Elain has a vision and it, uh, has her feeling all types of ways.

Tales of the Fox & the Fawn A series of short snippets to fill my Elucien heart.

Around the World - Part 1 | Part 2 | Bonus Rated NSFW |  Prostitute/Client AU for laughs.

An Unexpected Visit Rated SFW | Fluff Drunk Lucien visits Elain at an inappropriate hour.

Quiet Thunder - Part 1 | Part 2 Rated SFW | Angst | Lucien expresses his frustrations to Elain. Elain follows up.

Morning Pranks Rated SFW | Fluff.

First Kisses Rated SFW | Fluff.

Instincts - Part 1 | Part 2 Rated SFW Lucien follows his instincts when it comes to Elain. It's the start of something new.

Frenzy Rated NSFW | Elain and Lucien like to spend their yearly mating anniversary fully wrapped in each other, sinking into a frenzy.

A Simple Request Rated NSFW-ish. A still shy Elain finds a different way to tell her mate what she wants.

Inspiration Rated NSFW | Modern AU Aspiring writer Elain Archeron is looking for some inspiration for her new novel when she happens to meet the perfect man for the job.

Oh, What a Night (Elucien + Nessian) Rated SFW | Fluff Nesta and Elain’s first Starfall, the two celebrating it in different ways.

Unexpected Surprises Rated SFW | Lucien has been trying to plan the perfect proposal for his mate for months. Things do not go as expected.

A Bouquet of Good Intentions Rated SFW | This little drabble was inspired by my Elucien Modern AU - Bouquet Full of Feelings series

A New Year with You Rated SFW | Celebrating NYE together

This Time, I'm Ready Rated SFW | Elain has a vision and it has her running.

That Single Thread of Gold Rated SFW| Inspired by eospaint's elucien piece

Heading Straight to You Rated SFW | Inspired by this post here and giving a bridgerton-inspired moment!

-

🍂 Eris Vanserra

Spirit Meets the Bones Rated M | Eris x Iris (OC) | Drama & Romance An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the hate, the two are more alike than they’d like to be.

-

✨🖌Feyre Archeron x Rhysand [ Feysand ]

Big Baby Rated SFW | Humor & fluff | Modern AU Rhys gets drunk at the bar and calls Feyre to rant about how much he loves her. 

All It Takes is A Wingman Rated SFW | Humor & Fluff | Modern AU ‘Hey I’m sorry to bother you but I’m trying to convince my friends I’m a sex god so can you please write a fake number on this napkin for me real quick’

Do the Do Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor Rhysand taking care of Feyre's ridiculously drunk self.

-

⚔️🔥 Nesta Archeron x Cassian [ Nessian ]

Bouquet Full of Lust (ft. Elucien) Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor Nesta gets a little taste of sisterly revenge. | Read after Bouquet Full of Love and Bouquet Full of Love

Oh, What a Night (Nessian + Elucien) Rated SFW | Fluff Nesta and Elain’s first Starfall, the two celebrating it in different ways.

Banned by the Boss Rated SFW | Fluff & Humor  Nesta pulls a mama bear move and bans both mating bonds of her sisters.  

Till the Darkness Dies Rated SFW | Angst and fluff Nesta’s battle against her inner demons.

Butter My Muffin Rated SFW | Fluff Nesta being a very soft girlfriend in private with Cassian combined with how I picture Drunk!Nesta.

Protect & Serve Rated SFW | Fluff Nesta has a nightmare and just wants to make sure Cassian is okay.

My Remedy Rated SFW | Fluff Cassian helps Nesta overcome her fear of the bathtub.

Change of Pace Rated Steamy | Modern AU “I chickened out of sex ages ago and you haven’t brought it up since but now I really want it, but I'm terrible at communication, so let me just strip shirtless/model lingerie for you until you snap”

Weakness Rated SFW | Steamy fluff Cassian does love his mate.

My Curse to Bear Rated SFW | Steamy fluff | Modern AU Based on the prompt “Matching couple shirts that say “bearer of the curse” on one of them and, “the curse” on the other”

-

⚫️ Gwynriel

Choices - [ Gwynriel ] Rated NSFW-ish. Gwyn makes choices for her happiness.

-

👑 Throne of Glass

Boner for You - Elide & Lorcan [ Elorcan ] Rated SFW | Humor & fluff  Fake Dating AU where Lorcan just wants Elide to be his girlfriend for a party and Elide wants to pretend she isn’t thrilled about it.

[clockwork-ashes]

Day 7 - Free Day

Note: thank you to the lovely mods of @erisweekofficial for such an amazing event!!! i had so much fun, and i can’t wait to catch up on all the wonderful creations <3

Summary: Eris no longer wants to ignore the connection he feels with Cora (one-shot). All 7 (!!!) of my eris week one-shots can be read on Ao3 <3

Another Note: cora is an OC who heavily features in my elucien multichapter fic! she acts as elain’s lady’s maid while she’s stuck in the autumn court, but her and eris became very close ;) this can be read as a standalone, it’s just a spicy little one-shot <3

All You Have Is Your Fire taglist: @sad-scarred-sassy / @teddyhoneybear / @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Join me tonight.

Eris had whispered the words against the smooth arch of Cora’s pointed ear. His lips had brushed the skin lightly, a promise of what could be if only she agreed. His head had been bowed, shoulders curled towards her as if he had been pulled closer by an invisible thread. She had slipped from his grasp, water through his fingers, her dark skirts trailing in a river of fabric as she walked away. 

Impress me, and perhaps I will. 

Her rich voice had echoed in the empty corridor as she had chased the sound of the orchestra’s music. Cora had moved like a predator, silent and precise, each of her steps graceful. She was a queen, royalty in hiding. 

Eris had been given no choice but to follow her, an amused tilt to his mouth. She had smelled of spruce trees and mountain air, her scent lingering on the velvet of his jacket the entire evening. It had been a welcome distraction. He had, for the first time in weeks, forgotten about the mess his younger brother had gotten himself into. 

Lucien had danced with his mate, Elain having managed to impress the vicious courtiers of Autumn with little more than a practised spin. Cora had spent most of the night at Eris’s side, drinking wine in small sips and glancing at him over the rim of her glass. The tension between them could have been cut with an ash-tipped knife, a near irresistible desire had made it difficult for him to focus, but he had tried his best.

Time had moved slow as honey, and when Elain and Lucien left the ballroom holding arms as though they were in love, Eris decided he would not be staying either. He offered Cora his hand, not really expecting her to reach out. She linked their smallest fingers together in a gesture Eris found both surprising and endearing, winnowing them into a different part of the Forest House with very little effort. 

“We stop at my chambers next,” Eris warned, wanting to make it abundantly clear what he wanted, hoping Cora felt the same. She was hard to read, her brown eyes revealing nothing. 

She looked up at him with a raised brow, one of her hands resting on her hip in a way that accentuated her figure beneath the conservative dress she wore. “You’ve changed your mind, prince?” There was a challenge in her tone, as if she would have argued had he suggested such a thing. 

Eris shrugged, feigning indifference. “Don’t feel obligated, I would hate for you to feel…used.” While his words might have sounded cold, he meant them. He was fully aware of her position as a lady’s maid, and of the fact that she served another High Lord. He recognised the power he possessed, and he did not wish to coerce Cora into his bed. 

Instead of responding, she took a measured step towards him so that their toes were nearly touching. There was an angry twist to her mouth as she lifted a hand and brought it to his lapel. She adjusted the fold, her fingers toying with a button on his shirt. 

Eris felt as the breath caught in his throat, desire thrumming in his bones, barely leashed. He wanted to see her long hair wrapped around his fist, to feel her body against his own, and to hear the sounds she made while in the throes of pleasure. 

Cora smiled, the expression looking more like she was baring her teeth. White as bone and sharp as a knife, her canines flashed in the dim lighting of the hallway. “I don’t answer to you, Eris Vanserra, first son of Autumn.” 

At the sound of his name falling from her lips, Eris closed the distance between them. Eyes shut and the sweet taste of her against his tongue was overwhelming. She clutched his jacket, using him for balance as he threaded desperate fingers through her hair, keeping her in place for better access. 

Cora gasped, her soft moan muffled as he deepened the kiss, winnowing them both to his bedroom in a flurry of dancing embers. He fisted the fabric of her skirts, searching to feel the skin of her thighs, their newfound privacy making him bold. Her hands were locked around his neck as she fought for dominance, nipping at his bottom lip in warning. 

Eris moved to the skin below her jaw, taking pleasure in the way she pulled on his jacket, urging him to take it off. He threw it to the floor, untying the cloth at his throat with quick fingers. He briefly wondered if she would let him use the piece of fabric in other ways, but all his thoughts scattered at the way she tugged at the strands of hair on the nape of his neck. He moaned appreciatively, encouraging her to be as rough as she wished. 

Eris trailed his lips along her collarbone, licking and biting at the exposed skin of the tops of her breasts. He was hard, he noticed, his length pressing painfully against the seam of his pants. He yanked at the laces tied carefully at the back of her dress and she arched into him with a sigh. 

“Cora,” he murmured, her name unbelievably familiar as it rolled off his tongue. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes still shut as he swallowed. “Cora, tell me to stop.” 

The Night Court female brought a hand to his cheek, running her thumb along the sharp plane of his face. He ached all over, his muscles tense as he waited for her consent once again. “I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered, tugging his head back down. 

Eris smiled against her lips, grabbing the backs of her thighs to lift her into his arms. Cora hooked her legs around his waist, her slippers falling to the floor to join his discarded jacket. He nearly stumbled on the edge of the carpet as he carried her to his bed. 

They fell in a tangled heap onto the mattress, his arousal hard against her core. She ripped at his shirt, buttons hitting the ground like rain water. Each of their actions was desperate, as if they had been drowning and were coming up for air. Eris moved her skirts, adjusting the fabric so that he had better access to the space between her legs. Cora tilted her hips up, giving him the permission he needed. He gave her no warning as he slipped two fingers between her slick folds. She hummed in approval, grabbing his wrist to show him what she liked. 

He continued to move his fingers at the pace she set, using his magic to strip them of the rest of their clothes. Eris pulled away, wanting to get a better look at her. Cora made a low sound of objection, clearly not wanting him to stop. While the thought satisfied him, his overwhelming need to see her was stronger. 

There was a scarlet flush to her brown cheeks, her straight hair a tangled mess along his pillows. Her pupils were blown wide and her lips were swollen. She took Eris in hungrily, her dark eyes falling to his length almost involuntarily. 

“Beautiful,” Eris said softly, loud enough for her to hear. 

Heat blazed in her gaze, and the candles on the nightstand flared brightly in response to the inferno raging inside him. Cora reached for him, her palms skimming his shoulders to once again rest on his neck. Eris hovered above her until she pulled him closer, arching her back so that she could press herself fully against him while they kissed. He groaned, his grip on her leg tightening as he carefully angled the tip of his length at her entrance. 

Before Eris could give her the option of going slow, Cora has already shifted, taking more of him suddenly. She moaned into his mouth, Eris gasping at the feeling of her walls around him. He moved inside her, and she gave herself over completely to the steady rhythm he had set. 

Cora’s fingers fell lower on his back, her nails dragging against the skin. He felt the way she tensed beneath him, and nearly hit his head against the bed frame in his rush to move away from her. If something was wrong, if she wanted to stop—

Cora did not let go of him, her strong legs keeping him in place. She looked up at him, the question bright as starlight on her lovely features. Eris belatedly realised that she was tracing the length of a long scar with the tip of her finger. He relaxed into her arms, pressed his face into the crook of her neck so he would not need to face her. “Lashes,” he said against her skin, his movements becoming more desperate as he neared his climax.

Punishments.

Eris did not need to say it out loud, but he could practically sense understanding wash over her. Her touch instantly became more gentle as she took his chin in her hands to tilt his head in a way where he could look up at her. Cora brushed her thumb along his bottom lip. “Beautiful,” she murmured, kissing him sweetly, stunning him into silence. She was careful with her touches, handling him with care, as if he were easily breakable. 

Eris felt drunk, desire fogging his thoughts. He continued to move at the pace he had set, her hips meeting his with every movement. He brought his one hand back between her legs, stroking in time with his thrusts, wanting her to break first. 

“Eris,” she gasped, his name uttered in a strangled moan. He felt her walls clench around him, pressing his hips flush against hers as he saw stars. Her pleasure was enough to bring him to the edge. He bit down on his tongue, tasting copper as he stifled a cry. 

They stayed tangled together for a moment, Cora’s legs still wrapped around his waist loosely as he remained seated inside her. There was blood rushing to his ears, and her heart was beating rapidly, perfectly matching the rhythm of his own. Eris moved first, falling onto the mattress beside her with all his weight. The ragged sounds of their breathing broke the silence, but neither of them spoke. 

For the first time in centuries, Eris had let someone share his bed as he slept, unguarded. The night carried, and his rest was dreamless. When he woke in the morning, Cora was already gone. 

[achaotichuman]

The Mother's Least Favourite Son

Out of spite, I have written this. Hope you guys like broken mating bond Lucien angst.

Trigger warning- Suicide.

Lucien stumbled through the dark. Tripping over something thrown carelessly across the cobblestone ground, an arm shot out to grab the nearest wall to stabilise himself. Skin scraping against the cold wet stone, it burned as it pulled away, blood beginning to prick the surface. 

Why? 

Why did it have to-

He lurched forward, and a crate at his feet caused him to fall to the ground. Dirty water splashed across his face, ruining his formerly perfect clothing. His trousers now wet and stained. His pristine Night black jacket now half covered with mud. 

Fuck-

It lurched in his chest again. Screaming like a torture victim locked in a cage. Bleeding from the inside.

Golden threads that were cut and exposed like raw nerves. His heart beat faster than it ever had in his life. His hair fell around his face. Rain dripped down from above, beginning to race faster and faster to the surface of the earth, until it hurtled down upon him. 

The stars were no longer visible. The alleyway, and the darkness it provided was his only comfort or protection. 

A sob ripped from deep within the back of his throat. Each pitter of rain that fell upon him he felt starkly. Like needles were pouring down on him. 

Why?

What did he do wrong?

Fuck-

He asked for an answer, did he not?

He wanted to know what she wanted. 

Break it, or accept it. 

He offered his heart on a platter. 

Like his heart would ever be enough. 

He fell back against the wall behind him. Eyes tilted to the sky. 

What the fuck did he do to deserve this?

The sky held no answers, nothing spoke back to him. As his skin burned, flesh bubbling under the surface. 

The thunderclouds rolling in the sky tormented him. Laughing as it was split with lightning. Turning the sky to flashing works of silver. Velaris was laughing around him. The Court his mate belonged to pointed and ridiculed the outcast that thought it could crawl in and find comfort. 

No home Court. No mate. 

The Mother’s least favourite son. The Cauldron’s hated creation. 

Her eyes had held no remorse. No care. She hadn’t even put down her knife, as she cut vegetables on the wooden board. She looked up to him. Those soft brown iris had never looked harder. 

“Please, just an answer.”

The Inner Circle stood around him. Feyre flanking Elain’s left, and Nesta on her right. Rhysand picked a piece of lint from his jacket, eyes laughing even as his mouth was firmly straight. Cassian however looked fully and utterly amused at the situation. Azriel stood behind Elain, eyes dead on Lucien. Waiting like a trap to be sprung. 

“Then here’s your answer.” Elain whispered into the space between them. 

Then it broke. 

And Lucien screamed. 

Cassian practically dragged him out. His legs unable to hold him up for long periods of time. They let him fall to the ground. Rain starting. There was no sympathy in his eyes, not even a hint of pity. Just laughing amusement as the door slammed shut. 

Even from out there, in the cold of the night with the door separating the Fox from the inside, he could hear the cheering and the celebrations.

Chest heaving, skin too tight, fire burning and burning and burning. 

Through a window he saw the form of Azriel, shadowsinger, wrap his arms around his rejected mate. 

Lucien had run. 

Run and fell across the floor, scraping his arms before he ran again. 

Another wretched cry was torn from his throat, as he screamed to the sky, “Why? Why fucking me?”

What did I do wrong?

Hated son. 

Exiled. Outcasted. 

Were mates not supposed to love each other more than sun or moonlight? 

Were they not supposed to rather give themselves up then each other?

Where were the stories? Where were the tales? Why did he not get that?

Fucking why?

The cold rain dripped from strands of his hair, down his face, and disappeared down his neck. His body began to shiver, wishing, begging, to draw up fire to warm himself. He let his body shudder and quake, barely feeling the cold pressing in under the weight of the bond now floating out in nothing. 

Darkness edged in, spreading from some place in his chest through the rest of his body. Until he felt hollow, unseeing. Lucien could barely hear anything at all. 

A sharp pain shot through his side, and he looked up to see a male with green hair and purple skin. Wide eyes, all black, glaring down at him. 

“Beat it kid, no loitering around here.” He snarled. 

“Sorry, I’m, I’m sorry.” Lucien said quickly, voice quivering. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The male said, as Lucien got to his stumbling feet. As the Fox made for the mouth of the alleyway, he heard him mutter, “Stupid kids.”

Stupid kid. 

Stupid kid indeed. 

Lucien left the alleyway. The rain pounded down harder, the thrum resembled the beating of drums. Lightning forked, and thunder cracked the sky. A familiar song, a dance that had followed him since the day Jesminda had been slaughtered in front of him. 

He had spent his days running from the song. The beating that would never cease, howling through the night, hurtling towards him. 

Death did not come silently. 

It came with war horns, riding into battle like screaming a cry. Music played in its wake. A tune no one had heard but everyone knew. 

Lucien closed his eyes, as his heart fell into sync with the beat. His voice a gentle hum as thunder whipped again. As that song raised its tune. 

He stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked ahead. And he winnowed. 

The view of Velaris gave way to dark foliage. Oranges and reds covered one side of the earth, and the other was filled with spidering dark greens and untrained brambles. 

The border of Spring and Autumn. 

The rain had not stopped. The storm had spread through Prythian as if waiting for him. 

It poured down upon him, until he was practically drowning on land. The ground of Autumn was practically unrecognisable as such, as the dried leaves were turned to muddy decay by the rain. 

Lucien fell back and stared up at the sky. 

A familiar tune. 

It had been waiting for him. 

The Mother’s least favourite son. 

He closed his eyes. 

He hoped he wouldn’t ever open them again. 

***

Three years passed and it never got better. 

It got worse. 

So, so much worse. 

Waking up and seeing the ceiling was agony. Most days he stopped bothering trying to get out of bed. Eating had become a rare occasion, so much so that Jurian and Vassa couldn’t hide their excitement when he took so much as a half bite out of his food. 

He didn’t know if Prythian remembered him; he hadn’t set foot in any of the Courts since the day Tamlin found him at the border. That was at least what he was told when he woke up. Something about the rotting High lord bringing him to the Band of Exile’s manor before disappearing back to Spring. 

Lucien didn’t care. All his thoughts were drowned out by mate, mate, mate, mate. 

He couldn’t think of anyone, of anything else, other than her brown eyes, and curls, and red stained cheeks and lips.

There was nothing else to him, nothing anymore. 

He stopped hoping she would return to him. As the darkness, the hollowness caved in. Pillars of marble in his mind turning to dust, whatever he used to know becoming nothing in the face of the broken bond. 

The last time he spoke, he didn’t know. The last time he went outside, he didn’t know. 

His skin was pasty, grey. His eyes deep with purple. Every bone on display, with his prosthetic eye sinking back into his socket, falling back from the shift in weight. 

His body was decaying. 

He stared at the ceiling. 

It wasn’t worth it. 

This would go on. 

And on.

And on, and on, and on. 

Prythian had forgotten him. His mate had rejected him. His last two friends, the last he could consider friends, were tied up with each other. 

He wasn’t worth his mate’s love. He wasn’t worth being remembered. 

“Might as well get it over with.” Lucien whispered to the ceiling, the first words he had vocalised in so long. 

For the first time in what may have been a week or more, he dragged himself from the bed he had practically become attached to. Limbs heavy, eyes fluttering, pain struck him from all sides and he wanted to fall back down and rot. 

But Jurian or Vassa would eventually convince him to a meal or something to keep him going if he stayed on the bed. 

So he walked. 

He walked to a dresser, where beside it laid a bag. It had all sort of provisions and things needed should he have been stranded somewhere in Prythian. He kept it packed ever since he was thrown out of Autumn. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

Inside one of the back pockets was a long spiral of coarse rope. Rough against his weary hands as he pulled it out, a sudden disruption to the soft sheets Lucien was used to holding these days. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

The curtain rod was sturdy and could hold a fair amount of weight, not that it mattered very much as he was practically just skin and bones. It took little to stand atop a chair by the window and put the rope over the rod. Part of Lucien wished Eris had never taught him to tie knots, if only so he didn’t know what to do now. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

It was rough around his neck. He felt nothing. He didn’t want to feel anything. 

It was sunny outside. The flowers were in bloom. He saw Elain in the sunshine. In the flowers below him. He saw home in the ground, in the trees in the distance. He remembered the feelings of Autumn leaves under his hands. And he remembered the smell of pollen from Spring. He remembered the chill of Night’s air. 

He remembered her soft skin when he put his jackets over her arms after she came out of the Cauldron. 

Lucien let go of all memory as he let himself swing from the curtain rod. 

He hoped he wouldn’t remember in the Mother’s land of milk and honey. 

Mother’s least favourite son. 

Cauldron’s hated creation. 

[wildlyglittering]

Silver In Her Eyes - Chapter Three

Happy New Year's Eve everyone! Whatever your plans, I hope it's a good one!

Chapter 3 is up! Please show it some love here or on Ao3.

Silver In Her Eyes - Chapter 3 - writinginthedust - A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas [Archive of Our Own]

Silver In Her Eyes

Rhys’ eyes shone when he scrutinised what Nesta had forged. The blades were mainly daggers but there was the occasional broad sword varying in size and width. He looked upon them all the way Nesta imagined the dragons from her childhood fairy stories would look upon a hoard of gold.

Covetous.

“This one’s most spectacular,” he said, palming the flat side of a sword. Both the blade and Nesta squirmed, Nesta feeling the unwanted touch as though Rhys had traced his fingers down her spine. “This would suit Cassian, don’t you think?”

The sword was the tallest and widest Nesta had forged so far, the hilt of it reaching the underside of her breast. The handle twisted into wings spread as though in flight and the blade shimmered with barely visible words, all in a language she instinctively understood to be Old Illyrian.

This was a rare occasion she agreed with Rhys. In truth, as she hit the hammer down onto the metal, she only had Cassian in mind. Images of him in battle played before her, torrents of rain slamming into his frame as he wove through soldiers, his body twisting and turning as if in dance.

Whether she was remembering the time she watched him fight or whether she was seeing flashes of him from his past, Nesta didn’t know. Maybe these were events yet to come, the ground wet with blood.

There had been a moment, when she struck the final blow to complete the sword, when she envisioned him running someone through with a blade, so similar to the one in Nesta’s hands it couldn’t have been any other.

Elain had the curse of prophecy not her so Nesta didn’t know if what she saw was true. Who Cassian was slaying Nesta couldn’t see, but the sword screamed its victory. Death to the High Lord.

“Well? Is this for Cassian?”

Rhys was staring at her while she was elsewhere inside her head, those purple eyes flashing mauve. The whispers of the blades in the room started soft and grew in intensity until they were roaring. What is he doing? What has he done to you, Mother? To your sisters?

The noises overlapped but a quiet blade in the corner, its handle twisted into a snake drew her eyes. It had called to her before, quieter than the rest but more insistent. It gave Nesta an image, of her picking it up and slicing open Rhys’ cheek.

“Yes,” she said, forcing the noise into silence. “It’s Cassian’s.”

Rhys’ smile was all teeth. “I wonder what he will name it.”

He wasn’t talking to Nesta but himself. Her involvement was done, as though she’d birthed a child and handed it over to be fodder. What was once hers, was no more.

Her fingers buried themselves in her skirts. The enjoyment of this room, of the act of creation, was dissipating. A thrum of power tinged under her skin and spilled forth from her palms as she forged, the clash of hammer upon metal was a song which sent delight coursing through her.

Before he took the sword away, Nesta reached out to touch it. Betrayer, she called it. She didn’t know why.

***

While Rhys was inspecting Nesta's work, Mor and Cassian stood at the top of the House of Wind staring outwards at the rooftops of the city and the winding path of the Sidra.

The light breeze drifted through their clothes and hair and Mor threaded her fingers through Cassian’s free hand which curled around hers. His other hand scrubbed over his face as though he could wipe away the fatigue which showed.

“We can't turn Kallon, he’s Keir’s through and through. The others? Breaking that news to Rhys is worse.”

Mor gave Cassian’s hand a squeeze. “That they won’t declare either way?”

Cassian cleared his throat. “They’ll declare but not for Rhys.” He paused, struggling with the words. “They’ll declare for me.”

Mor gasped and looked up at her oldest friend, her dearest friend. He stared straight ahead at the open sky, refusing to look at her.

Mor’s lips twitched upwards. Despite herself she found this development had a seed of... something. She didn’t know what. It would have been a failure had the War-Lords of Illyria declared for Keir but something squirmed in her chest which spoke of another disaster if had they declared for Rhys.

“Don’t tell him,” she said. Cassian looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Rhys isn’t in his right mind. I don’t know how he’ll react.”

Cassian shifted; Mor knew she was another person asking the most honest of their group to lie. This was too close to Cassian taking power away from Rhys; the armies now with an Illyrian ruler instead of a fae one.

“Please,” she said, this time stepping in front of him, sliding her other hand into his, tilting her face upwards towards his. Mor had been opposite her cousin in his study only hours before and had seen that Rhys wasn't himself.

A darkness was creeping in and while they battled to save Feyre and Nyx, to save the lives of all the Night Court, there was part of her which believed there was no saving Rhys.

They may as well try and save themselves.

Cassian smiled a half sad smile and shrugged. “I can never say no to that face.”

Mor let go of his hands to grip him in a hug, her arms barely able to wrap his entire body as he enfolded his around her. Mor leant into his strength, her face pressing against his chest as she listened to his heartbeat.

When she first saw him, she was shocked at how pale he had become, how his wings drooped. Rhys had Cassian flying across the entirety of Illyria, meeting with every War-Lord regardless of how small the camp.

Mor pulled back to look at him. “Rhys is going to the Mortal Lands to speak with Lucien. He’s hoping he will convince Tamlin to side with us. We now have Eris.”

“I’m surprised Eris agreed so easily.”

So, Cassian was unaware of Eris’ request. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him but instead she blurted out another thought. “I think Feyre should know the truth.”

Cassian paused but nodded. His hands squeezing the tops of Mor’s shoulders. “I want Nesta to know too. She’s no fool. She’s watching us all to see our missteps.” His voice then turned sharp. “Rhys has her working every day in the blacksmiths he built her. I hate this, I hate lying too her, I hate Rh-”

He cut himself off, swallowing down the words he couldn’t take back if he said them out loud.

Mor was amazed that Nesta had been forging without question but perhaps Mor was wrong. It was possible Nesta was, as Cassian said, monitoring them all with querying eyes. Of course, there was a shift in Cassian, one of such significance that even if Mor wasn’t so close to him, she would have been able to scent it a million miles away.

Instead of thick earth and smoky air, Cassian now smelt of rich, floral scents, reminding Mor of times when she walked the gardens of Winter, their snow-white roses in full bloom or of the hot nights on the Sidra when the jasmines were in blossom.

Mor placed her open palm over his heart wondering what would happen if she dug her nails in, if she curved her fist into a claw to pluck out the thread woven tight around him binding him to another.

It was as though that very thought had summoned a demon. As if Mor’s mental will to cut the thread for Cassian had thrummed it, bringing the heart on the other end to come calling.

A delicate cough announced her presence and Mor and Cassian pulled apart, their conversation dead.

Nesta stood at the entrance of the rooftop, golden-brown hair bound about her head like a crown, those eyes almost silver in the light. The expression on her face spoke of boredom. Bored of being in the House, bored of forging, bored of seeing Mor draped around Cassian like he was wearing a fine silk scarf.

“Azriel’s here,” Nesta said, her voice ringing clear across the roof. “From wherever it is Rhys has him flapping about.”

Nesta glided towards them like her footsteps were oil and the stone stabs were water. Nesta paid Mor no attention, those sharp eyes on Cassian. “You wanted me to tell you the second he returned. You’ve missed Rhys though.”

As Nesta moved closer, Mor scented the perfume of Nesta’s skin. She smelt like the freedom of the sky and the cold mountain top of Ramiel.

Cassian seemed to stiffen and relax in Nesta’s presence. A curious juxtaposition of calm reassurance that the female he loved was before him and the terse excitement of a battle about to begin.

His spar partner had arrived, his new best friend, his love. Their eyes fixed only on each other and Mor stood, surplus to requirement.

It wasn’t true. Nesta’s heart may have been a withered old thing with only love enough for one, but Cassian’s was an unlimited space and he could keep loving everyone for an eternity.

Mor could share him; she’d learnt she had to but as she thought it an image passed through her mind. Prophecy or wish fulfilment she didn’t know, but it was of Nesta writhing in a gilded golden bed of Autumn, satin sheets sliding over soft skin.

If truth was Mor’s gift, then she was terrible at giving. Cassian didn’t need to know about the conversation Mor and Rhys had only hours before. Rhys wouldn’t allow any union between Eris and Nesta, if only for Cassian’s sake, for the love he had for a brother.

Mor wouldn’t allow it either. Whatever thread bound Nesta and Cassian had been woven at the will of the Cauldron and she wouldn’t have Cassian fractured. She’d already shared him enough and if a piece broke there would be little left still for Mor.

***

“Do you want children?”

Cassian tensed, the beat of his heart under her fingertips quickening as she traced patterns on the skin over his ribcage.

He’d been lying on his back with his wings spread over them both like a canopy of black. Nesta lay on her side, as naked as he was, tucked into him. Since she spoke his muscles were tautened and ready to spring.

Why shouldn’t she ask? When what they did in this bed had a possible outcome. She had the right to know his truth.

“Are you drinking your contraceptive tea?” His voice was low, serious.

“Yes.”

“Good, don’t stop.”

A shard of hurt burst through Nesta like she’d been pierced with glass but she sat up and fixed her face with a glare, moving away so no more parts of them touched. “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

Cassian’s eyes flicked over to her quickly and then back to the ceiling, his jaw clenched. It wasn’t true, she realised. His response would never be a denial of wanting children, she felt his want as though it were hers.

A house of them. That’s what Cassian dreamed. Small, winged Illyrian babies that would light up his days, who would bundle him to the floor and squeal with delight at their father’s return.

“Where is this coming from?”

“You’re fucking me,” Nesta said, “sometimes said fucking has consequences and I want to know where I stand if a consequence arose.”

His eyes widened as he now stared at her, the whites showing and his pupils shrivelling into dots. Nesta was reminded of a panicked horse bolting in a field because it stumbled upon a snake.

“You’re not already-”

“Cauldron, Cassian I’m not. Didn’t I just tell you I was taking the tea?”

Nesta rolled her eyes, moving from the bed as quick as she could in case he tried to stop her but she needn’t have worried because he didn’t try.

Her robe was draped over the back of a chair in front of the window, the dark starlit sky the backdrop to the table which still housed their dinner plates. She bound the garment tight around her body, her back to him.

“Nesta-”

“I’m going back to my room. I’ll see you when you next return from one of your ridiculously frequent Illyria visits.”

“Nesta.”

His voice sang of desperation and she turned. Cassian was sat up, the sheets falling around his waist. He scrubbed a hand over his face, a tell that he was tired.

“It’s not that I don’t want children. It’s just-”

He glanced away and for a moment Nesta felt a pang of sorrow. His handsome face was etched in worry lines that grew deeper these past months. His skin held a pallid hue, the same hue she noted on Morrigan earlier. She who was golden had lost her shine.

Agony stretched over Cassian’s face and as he tried to force words out and force them back at the same time. She hadn’t the patience.

“What,” she spat, “just what.”

“I can’t have them with you.”

A heat flooded through her and as she clenched her robe there was a hiss and scent of burning. When she looked down, scorch marks charred the material where her fingertips had been.

She stormed from the room, ignoring Cassian’s calls behind her, hoping that her bare feet smacking against the stone tiles wouldn’t leave their own mark. Nesta slammed the door of her bedroom, telling the House not to let him in even if he begged.

But Cassian didn’t beg. There was no plea outside her door.

Nesta closed her eyes, holding her hand over her chest, pressing firmly over her heart. Connected to the other end she sensed he wasn’t pleased she had marched away but there was a sweet taste of relief laced with the bitter flavour of guilt. It was the latter which caused him to lash out.

Panic had risen in him like a tide at her questions so Nesta let him believe she had taken offense, that she had interpreted his words as wouldn’t have children with her. The actual words were as loud and clear as a church bell. Can’t have them with you.

Can’t.

Her head hurt. Although the blacksmith room was a distance away in the House, the blades were calling for her. They wanted her time, her attention, her love. Another voice, something both large and small, spoke to Nesta in warm tones.

It is good you asked.

Nesta pressed her palms to her eyes. She sipped her apple blossom tea that morning as she did every day, the sweetness of the contraceptive medicine tingling her tongue, when that same voice slid into her mind. Ask Cassian if he wants children. So, she asked.

Nesta unfurled her wrap, ignoring the newly formed holes and picked up her silk nightgown from where it lay. She smoothed the material over her hips and turned to the mirror to tame the strands of her hair.

Voices were everywhere; from the smithery to this unknown other. Everyone was dancing to different tunes now, a waltz that appeared to revolve around some avoiding Rhys and others clamouring for him. Now there was Cassian’s faux pas.

Can’t not won’t.

Although she was one step further along the path to the truth than before, Nesta didn’t smile. “No,” she said to her reflection, “I don’t think the truth is something to smile about.”

[kopfkino-o]

The Seer’s Stone: An Fanfic Preview II

Only 28 DAYS until Elriel month and I, for one, cannot wait! I’ve been working on a long-form fanfic I plan to begin releasing on April 30 and wanted to share another taste to celebrate the arrival of Spring. I can’t wait to share more with you all come May. Constructive criticism welcomed, as always. Thanks for reading ❤🥀⚔ 

Summary: Elain Archeron is tired of being the “lovely, sweet gardener” everyone wants her to be. After losing her beloved, her humanity, her life, she’s ready to claim her own path forward with the help of her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, as she searches far and wide for the mysterious Seer’s Stone: an ancient artifact of old rumored to once belong to an ancient Seer Queen. But will fate itself step in to stop her? Or will Elain defy the strings of destiny that bind her and forge her own path forward, choosing her own fate, friendships, future, and love, along the way.

Word Count: 451

Timeline: Post-ACOSF

Pairing: Elain x Azriel (with strong Lucien x Vassa hints)

Chapter ??? - Enjoy tho ;)

She was wrath and fury, she was twenty-six years of pent up rage. She was her lost humanity, an iron ring yanked free from her finger, her father’s neck snapping beneath the devil’s hands. She could fell empires, she could burn cities, she could slay kings. 

You have slain kings, that petulant little voice murmured. 

Whether it was her own or the Cauldron’s, Elain still did not know. She never knew these days. Her blessing was her curse, but she reached for it and seized it anyways. Let it rise up and devour her, let it build like a storm, like a thunderhead waiting to collapse upon her tired shoulders. The Cauldron could create, but it could also destroy. 

Then that thing inside her began to sing, and Elain Archeron opened. 

Her white light of creation cleaved through the word, opening fissures along the battlefield and stirring ancient bones still asleep beneath the earth and calling dying stars to her aid. They speared towards that dark tower just as she commanded, warping and changing alongside her as she winnowed towards it. Soldiers died screaming wherever her light touched, nothing more than stalks of wheat bending before her holy power. The earth blackened and curled, the sky heated and shivered, her power an ancient song that shook the very foundations of this world, and then the next and the next and the next. 

An echo. 

Kingslayer, Worldcleaver, Cauldron-Blessed, Our Lady of Sight and Sorrow. 

Elain shoved her hands forward once more and another blast of her magic skittered down the line of Koschei’s soldiers, drawing out a chorus of screams that rent the twilight. They had hurt her, they had changed her, then stolen him right out of her arms. 

Him. 

She would not let herself dwell on it, on the vision of Azriel deep beneath the Tower, black iron hanging from his wrists, flames twinning around his sleeping figure. 

Never again, she’d promised him.

And Cauldron spare her, she’d meant it.

Somewhere, distantly, Vassa’s flames gilded the evening sky and an explosion of Lucien’s warm golden light sang in answer. A lord of Fire and a bird of flame. Two sides of the same fair coin, an echo and an answer she did not fully understand but knew fate demanded. 

This was why they’d been bound together, her and him, this was why they were here. To save him, to free her, to forge their own paths forward, to cleave the threads of fate they had not chosen, but needed to have in order to reach this place, this moment in time. Not a bond of love, but a bond of friendship, of power. 

A single word slammed into her. 

Carranam. 

[waydk]

15th edition of UDRI’s publication Mumbai Reader 22|23 - Civil Society and the City captures 24 original stories of civic action that have shaped your city. This reader is a chronicle of people’s journeys, their learnings and their impact across key urban themes woven together vividly from the threads of activism, history, and artistic expression. With the following contributions:

■ A Timeline of Mumbai’s Development and Civic Action compiled by UDRI ■ Civic Action Groups in Mumbai by V. Ranganathan ■ The Early Years of New Bombay by Shirish B Patel ■ Shyam Chainani: A Journey from Advocacy to Institutional Impact compiled by Anuradha Parmar and Elaine Agith ■ The Urban Transformer – A Brief History of The Urban Design Research Institute based on an interview with Rahul Mehrotra ■ The Story of the Kala Ghoda Arts District, Kala Ghoda Association and Kala Ghoda Arts Festival based on an interview with Rahul Mehrotra and Brinda Miller ■ Timeline of Mumbai Textile Mill Redevelopment and Recycling Urban Land by Charles Correa, Edited by Darryl D’ Monte ■ Bombay Imagined – An Illustrated History of the Unbuilt City by Robert Stephens ■ Nivara Hakk Then and Now: The Struggle for Housing Rights by Gurbir Singh ■ Restoring Mumbai’s Open Spaces based on an interview with P K Das ■ The Creation of SPARC and its Foundational Strategy Formations by Sheela Patel ■ A Glimpse of NPCCA’s Journey in Reclaiming Public Spaces by Atul Kumar and Swarn Kohli ■ Citizens Can Make Transformational Changes in Their Surrounds by Shirin Bharucha and Nayana Kathpalia ■ The Story of NAGAR by Nayana Kathpalia and Meher Rafaat ■ Saving Mumbai’s Sole Heritage Botanical Garden: The Struggle of the Save Rani Bagh Botanical Garden Foundation by Hutokshi Rustomfram and Shubhada Nikharge ■ The Story of AGNI: Cyrus Guzder in conversation with D. M. Sukthankar ■ Towards an Empowered and Accountable Local Governance by Nitai Mehta, Sumangali Gada and Anuj Bhagwati ■ The Story of Civis by Antaraa Vasudev and Divya Pinge Civic Action to Protect Mangroves at the Turn of the Century by Rishi Aggarwal ■ Beyond the Silent Struggles: The Story of Awaaz Foundation by Sumaira Abdulali ■ For the Right to Water by Sitaram Shelar ■ Save Aarey, Save Mumbai by Stalin Dayanand ■ Narratives from the Bandra Collective by Sameep Padora, Samir D‘Monte, Pronit Nath, Robert Verrijt and Zameer Shakir Basrai ■ Space and Hip-hop: The Birth and Evolution of Mumbai’s Underground Music Scene by Arushi Khare based on an interview with Tushar Adhav and Ashwini Hiremath ■ Fisherfolk Resistance to the Coastal Road: The Arenas of Struggle by Shweta Wagh ■ From Up There They Were Just Numbers by Amrita Gupta, Anuradha Pathak, Anant Jain and Kush Badhwar

[acourtofthought]

"And Urd guides all - she's the weaver of fate, of destiny." "The Fae say the Cauldron holds our fates. Maybe it became this Urd." (aka the Mother). "And she," the Under-King went on, gesturing to the unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, "was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here - a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world." Who better than a Seer, one who sees the future and fate itself, to eventually learn and understand why the Mother assigns the fates that she does? Elain is a newly appointed Seer who does not yet fully understand the powers she was given. But as her gift is an echo of the Mothers own gifts, the Mother being the appointer of fate and destiny and Elain as the one who delivers her message. Elain is not there to discredit the Mother - (FATE, Elain is but a girl in the grand scheme of all life created by the Mother, it's silly to believe her character should know better than the OG), she's there to help others understand. Elain's mating bond with Lucien was not determined after the Asteri chose to use the Cauldron to create monsters (they did evil things with it, altering one single mating bond that would not snap for centuries into the future seems a bit low hanging fruit does it not?). Elain's mating bond with Lucien was already determined when Wyrd / the Mother / Urd / the Cauldron came into existence. Just as Feysands bond was predetermined, just as Nessian's. The Asteri may have gotten their hands on the Cauldron and used it for evil but that doesn't mean they can change that which was predestined. That doesn't mean that once the Cauldron was stolen back everything that came after was corrupted as a result of it having been stolen in the first place. Epic sagas are about a FMC learning why she was set on the path she was, about learning to embrace her destiny. They are not about her ignoring and hiding from it. Fate is a thread and Elain's thread ties her to Lucien. Their lives have now merged into one thread, their destinies forever entwined. There can never be Lucien without Elain and there can never be Elain without Lucien which is why the loss of the mate is to lose the other half of your soul.

Elain Archeron, Seer, weaver of fates.

The fact her bond is a thread, tying her to her true destiny, I love what that could mean for her.

[wingedblooms]

Ooh things just got so interesting with that post from courtofmaas and your post prompted me to perform quick research.

1. Below the Edge of Darkness explores bioluminescence, which of course only truly manifests in the dark. In my research, it’s described as “cold light” as it produces less than 20% heat. Most of this light manifests as blue-green but, depending on the organism, can be in the red or yellow spectrum as well. The enzyme that compels the chemical reaction is called LUCIFERIN. Light that is emitted by certain fungi when decaying wood is called foxfire. The main uses for bioluminescence is to: hunt prey, defend against predators, and find mates. I think SJM is doing research on this bc the love “triangle” b/w Elain, Az, and Lucien.

2. The Once and Future Sex discusses the breaking of the mold of medieval women and essentially is a case study. VERY INTERESTINGLY, two of the women discussed are Eleanor of Aquitaine and Hildegard of Bingen. Eleanor was a queen and well known for learning the art of diplomacy and power brokering and demanding a divorce against the king, I’m sure among other things, illustrating the important of women life on their own terms. Hildegard of Bingen played the harp, was a nun (I’m not sure if canonized a saint, but the process had at least been started) and was well known for having “visions.” In retrospective studies, it’s believed that the visions were interpretations of auras that she saw while experiencing migraine headaches. She stood for mercy, peace, and love.

Elain’s book is 100% next. Azriel and Lucien will both play important roles in this book as accessories to her personal growth, but truly, it seems to me that light shines best in the dark. Like bioluminescence. And I can’t wait for the discussion on women’s roles in society and how Elain is going to break the mold.

Thank you so much for sharing all of this information and your excitement with me. 🥰 While those books could just be topics Sarah is interested in, it is fun to consider how they apply to her writing.

Bioluminescence is really fascinating to me, and given how important light is in all her series, I think it makes sense for Sarah to be exploring that topic (for fun and for research). One light that she returns to repeatedly in her writing is Hope, as @psychologynerd and I were discussing the other day.

Hope is the only light that shines in the Void. The scene where that light of Hope is explained is thematically important, and it shows up in each sister’s journey and the friends they surround themselves with. When Elain asks about that light, the weaver explains:

The weaver explained to my sister, “I made it after I mastered Void.”

I stared at the black fabric that was like peering into a pit of hell. And then stared at the iridescent, living silver thread that cut through it, bright despite the darkness that devoured all other light and color. (acofas)

Hope is living light, just like bioluminescence is living light. It requires characters to face darkness, no matter what it is (a feeling, power, or place). When asked how she did it, the weaver goes on to explain:

“I have to create, or it was all for nothing. I have to create, or I will crumple up with despair and never leave my bed. I have to create because I have no other way to voice this.” Her hand rested on her heart, and my eyes burned. “It is hard,” the weaver said, her stare never leaving mine, “and it hurts, but if I were to stop, if I were to let this loom or spindle go silent…” She broke my gaze at last to look at her tapestry. “Then there would be no hope shining in the Void.” (acofas)

Since Hope is living light, it should be no surprise that it is connected to creation (and, in my interpretation, Wyrd—the mother to all, cauldron of life, and weaver of fate, and no I don’t get tired of saying that 😂). And it is no surprise that each sister engages in creation in various ways, especially Elain. She was pulled from her black pit of despair, a void, by Azriel when he figured out she was a seer. She began to create again soon after this scene with Nuala and Cerridwen, her newfound friends. And her first plan post-war is to build and restore gardens, bringing more life and beauty and joy to the world around her. She creates even though it is hard and her heart still hurts.

Beyond the clear theme of Hope and Void, I think it also has implications for Elain’s gifts. Elain’s strength lies in her ability to see life and beauty and joy where others cannot.

In dark and decaying things.

In scarred hands.

This strength is one of the reasons many of us think she was gifted with such powers, including access to a murky realm where dream and reality entwine. I’ve talked about how that murky realm might mimic the black depths of the Cauldron, which is the darkness of both a womb and a void (which now makes sense, knowing what we do about how the Asteri warped it). @offtorivendell and others have discussed the need for darkness in order to see light, and the same is true for bioluminescence. Sometimes, you have to turn out the lights to see the light and life around you.

I think that might be true for Elain’s gifts, especially when she is tracking down someone or something (she closes her eyes to look across the world, like mystics seem to do in CC). It would make sense that this power might be connected to tracking life in the darkness of her sight. Those with earthen magic are also able to sense natural channels of magic (ie, ley lines) in the world. They become uncomfortable in places where those channels are warped and the natural magic of the world cannot flow freely, restricting access to their life-giving magic. Many of us believe Elain was gifted this kind of magic, and it would explain her physical discomfort and deathly complexion in the Hewn City, where channels of the earth’s natural magic, of life. have clearly been warped.

This book could also have supported Sarah’s writing of adventures outside of Elain’s murky realm, in the very depths of the earth…where it is also as dark as the Cauldron. Like this sequence:

Bryce knew it wasn’t endless only because far, far below, water roared. A large subterranean river, if the sound was this loud even up here. Bits of spray floated from the darkness, the damp air laced with a thick, metallic scent—iron. There must have been deposits of it down here.

Nesta said with equal quiet, “That bridge is the perfect place for an ambush.”

“From who?” Bryce hissed.

“I haven’t lived long enough to know every horror in this world, but I can tell you that dark places tend to breed dark things. Especially ones as old and forgotten as this.”

-

Then Bryce’s star illuminated the rock framing the tunnel’s mouth.

She ran.

A teeming mass of things crusted the entrance, smaller than the beasts beneath the dungeon, but almost worse. Cruder, more leathery. Like some sort of primordial bat-lizard hybrid. Black tongues tasted the air between flesh-shredding, clear teeth. Like the kristallos, bred and raised for eons in darkness—

A few of the creatures leapt, swooping into the void below, off on the hunt—

The tunnel, the bridge, rumbled.

Bryce staggered, the drop looming sickeningly closer, and a white wave of panic blinded every sense—

Training and Fae grace caught her, and Bryce could have wept with relief that she hadn’t tumbled into that void. Especially as something massive and slimy lurched from below, the size of two city buses.

An enormous worm, gleaming with water and mud. A mouth full of rows of teeth opened wide and snapped— Bryce fell back on her ass as the worm caught three of the flying lizards between those teeth. Swallowed them all in one bite.

Her starlight flared, casting the whole cavern in light and shadow.

The creatures on the walls screeched—either at the worm or the light—flapping off their perches and right into the creature’s opening jaws. Another snapping bite, river water and metallic-reeking mud spraying with the movement, and more vanished down the worm’s throat.

Bryce could only stare.

-

Her eyes swept over Bryce in a warrior’s wary assessment. “What manner of power is it that you possess? What sort of light is this?”

Bryce slowly shook her head. “Light. Just … light.” Strange, terrible light from another world, she’d once been told.

From this world.

-

They crossed a stream, wide enough to be a river, but shallow and rocky all the way across. Her blazing star, thankfully, pointed to the tunnel on the other side. No swimming necessary this time. As they crossed, the star illuminated slimy white creatures slithering out of their path. Bryce reined in the urge to cringe down at them. Or at the iron-rich water scent that stuffed itself up her nose. She said, if only to distract herself from the gross fauna of the stream, “Did the Fae make these tunnels?”

Bryce’s starlight in the darkest depths of the earth has a few different purposes, including lighting her path and repelling certain creatures bred and raised in darkness. Since the Asteri buried many other secrets in the earth, we’re bound to explore them in the next acotar spin-off book.

Sarah returns to light and dark repeatedly across her series, especially when Elain and Azriel share scenes. One of the fandom’s favorites is when Sarah explicitly tells us that light and dark meet when their hands do, the legendary Truth-Teller a bridge of power between them. Power lies in the space between them, so what might happen if they bridge that space?

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection…that knife. (acowar)

Sarah reinforced that concept in hofas with this:

With a prayer to Cthona, she sent twin beams of light arcing around the prisms, shooting straight into them.

Twin bursts of that light flared from either prism, gunning for each other. Bands of light falling into darkness, her power stripped to its most elemental, basic form. They shot for each other, and where they met, light and darkness and darkness and light slamming into each other—

Bryce stepped into the explosion in the heart of it. Stepped into her power. It lit her up from the inside, lit up her very blood. Her hair drifted above her head, pens and papers and other office detritus flowing upward with it.

Such light and darkness—the power lay in the meeting of the two of them. She understood it now, how the darkness shaped the light. (hofas)

I cannot wait to see how this comes into play in the next book, especially as we explore dark places like Elain’s sight, the womb of the earth, subterranean waterways, etc.

The other book, The Once and Future Sex, also sounds interesting and applies to Elain’s story so well. In a discussion of the book, the author talked about the importance of social constructs—and how social constructs can be deconstructed. It makes me think about Elain’s upbringing and role, and how she is perceived by others. There are so many assumptions made about her character and they are sometimes contradictory. I think that was purposeful and we’re in for some surprises related to her character. Sarah reinforced that in different ways in the original series, first spin-off book, and bonus chapters. Turns out, sweet and proper Elain has claws after all and she isn’t afraid to make a move on the fearsome shadowsinger and spymaster. I know not everyone agrees, but I for one find that very interesting.

[offtorivendell]

Not Another Teen Movie Elriel Mate Theory

Can Azriel both smell and see the bond between Elain and Lucien?

Please do not share or screenshot this post without credit. 

Standard disclaimer: the following is purely my own interpretation of the text, we obviously won't know what will happen until SJM tells us. If you're sensitive to anti E!ucien content, that's okay! Just stop reading right now.

This post is not intended to be anti Lucien, but discussing Azriel and Elain being endgame is inherently anti E!ucien; though complex/flawed, like all of SJM's creations, he's a great character, of whom I hope we'll see more in the next two books, even though the way that I've interpreted the text suggests to me that E!ucien won't happen. I wouldn't not ship them if they were well written - I'm currently reading an E!ucien fan fic - but I don't see them happening with only two books left, especially as I'm 99% sure that Elain's story is next. They have too far to go - Elain has less than no interest in him.

The following passage from Azriel's bonus chapter in ACOSF, which has already been analysed by brighter minds than my own, made me think.

"Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time, because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond."

- Azriel, ACOSF, his bonus chapter, after the solstice dinner

We know that, typically, mating bonds are only "scentable" by the general fae public once they've been accepted, although it sounds like those involved - at least the males, can smell them beforehand.

"I think when you were Made, it... it heightened the smell of the bond."

- Rhys, ACOMAF, chapter 50, regarding Feyre

Amren seems to be able to sense them, somehow (or she could, before she lost her powers)... also, potentially Mor, as we know her gift is Truth, and she has had a lot of interesting reactions around Az and Elain (especially in ACOFAS) that mirror her reactions to Cassian and Nesta, so I doubt are insignificant, but I won't go into them, as plenty others already have, and this is long enough as is. 

We also know that Feyre and Rhys, at least, can see their bond, and that it upgrades from a "bit of braided light," which I read as multiple threads, to an "unbreakable chain" after they've accepted it.

I let myself imagine that line between us—a bit of braided light… And there was his mental shield at the other end of the bond.

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 21, before she knew about their mating bond

I felt it then, the bond between us, like an unbreakable chain, like an undimmable ray of light. // ...until I felt and saw and smelled that bond between us...

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 55, as she was in the process of accepting the mating bond 🤭

For between us, faint and soft, hidden so none might find it … between us lay a whisper of color, and joy, of light and shadow—a whisper of her. Our bond.

- Rhys, ACOMAF, chapter 68, post Hybern, when they're pretending their bond was broken 

Nesta also saw, at one point, the multiple threads of "golden light" of her bond with Cassian. Cassian also mentions this.

Where those threads wove together, life glowed like starfire, and she had never seen anything more beautiful, felt anything more beautiful.

- Nesta, ACOSF, chapter 58, solstice

I can't remember, off the top of my head, whether Nesta mentions seeing anything more than the golden threads that Feyre also saw while their respective bonds were locking into place (my assumption of what those passages signified). Maybe the ability to see the bond at will is tied into Rhys and Feyre's daemati powers? Nesta also spent a good portion of ACOSF ignoring her bond with Cassian, at least partly out of fear of losing her remaining humanity, so she didn't mention it nearly as much as Feyre did her "bargain" bond. 

But, I digress. The phrasing of the initial quote was a little vague as to what "sight" Azriel could not stand, though it is clear that the "scent" that bothers him is the mating bond between Elain and Lucien, which he shouldn't even be able to smell - he specifies "their," singular. What if he's not referring to the sight of Lucien and Elain simply existing in the same room, albeit as far apart as Elain could manage, but the fact that he can both smell and see the bond between Elain and Lucien, even though it hasn't been accepted. 

If this is true, I don't think it's his abilities as a Shadowsinger that let him see or smell the bond, or that it's because Lucien tugged on it early on in ACOWAR and somehow activated it, because Rhys had done the same to his bond with Feyre multiple times since the first morning after UtM - they've been using it pretty much daily ever since, even unintentionally - well before she accepted their bond, let alone knew what it truly was, and Cassian and Azriel only ever suspected that Feyre and Rhys were mates.

“Do the others know?” “Amren and Mor do. Azriel and Cassian suspect.”

- Feyre, then Rhys, ACOMAF, chapter 50, just after the Suriel spilt the tea 

Surely someone else would have mentioned it, if they could somehow recognise the bond between Elain and Lucien. I take the fact that it hasn't been mentioned to mean that nobody else can sense it... except for, apparently, Az.

It is canon that some sort of bond exists between Elain and Lucien, which Lucien describes as a "thread," singular, though we don't know if he's seeing or feeling it here, as the wording is ambiguous.

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us.

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 29, regarding his bond with Elain 

Perhaps there's a reason their bond doesn't seem to be as robust as those between Feyre/Rhys and Cassian/Nesta?

My very first thought, after Lucien blurted out that Elain was his mate, and Nesta told him that "she is no such thing," (ACOMAF, chapter 66) was that Nesta can't be glamoured. Maybe Hybern pulled a Maeve?

I'm aware that I over think things, yes. 🙃

Edit: This post goes into a possible false bond in so much detail!

Solstice in ACOSF is also not the only time that Azriel actively wanted to avoid seeing Elain and Lucien together; he's been doing it ever since Lucien first arrived in Velaris, in ACOWAR.

Maybe this has been bothering Azriel since he recovered after Hybern, when Elain was Made?

Azriel left us as we took to the skies, murmuring that he had some pressing business to attend to. From the glare Cassian gave him, I wondered if the shadowsinger had invented it to avoid carrying Lucien to the House of Wind, but Rhys’s subtle nod to Azriel told me enough.

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 15, Feyre invites Lucien to the House of Wind, to see Elain 

We see that Rhys gives Az a "subtle nod," but we don't know whether that's because he actually knows of this "pressing business," or because he thinks that something else may be behind Azriel's actions.

Feyre interprets his nod as the former, which is fair enough given all that they had going on at the time, but maybe Rhys meant the latter, and he assumed - and it wouldn't be the only time that a less-than-accurate assumption has been made by a character in this (or any) series - that Azriel's reluctance to be around Lucien stemmed from his long-standing issues with the Vanserra family's actions, even though Lucien is obviously not at all to blame for what happened to Mor, rather than Elain, and any slowly developing feelings that Az may have. We know that they don't often pry into Azriel's emotions, so I can see a subtle nod being Rhys' quiet recognition of his discomfort, without truly understanding the reason behind it.

If it's the latter, and it might be, as Azriel only seems to stutter or, in this case, murmur, when Elain is involved, perhaps it is because Az and Elain were already connected, somehow - be that as true/intended or "other" mates, or maybe as carranam. Or maybe it's something completely different.

If Elain already had a mating bond with Azriel before she was Made, he may or may not have been aware of/suspected it when she was human. However, if the smell was "heightened" after she was Made, as Rhys found with Feyre (per his ACOMAF, chapter 50 quote above), it must be so confusing, not to mention painful, for Azriel to see, smell and feel something that technically shouldn't be possible - everyone else would have heard Lucien’s words at the end of ACOMAF chapter 65, and I'm sure Az was told as soon as he woke up.

This could also potentially explain why the usually calm Lucien snarled when he realised Elain had gone out to the garden with Azriel? Who knows. It's all very suss, and I can't see it ending up being insignificant. What would be the point?

Plenty of other posts have talked about the following, so I won't elaborate beyond a brief mention that:

Az's thoughts, reactions and behaviours towards Elain closely mirror Cassian and Rhys' thoughts, reactions and behaviours towards their own mates. There are So. Many. Parallels. "I'm getting her back."

Az was poisoned/dying with an ash arrow injury while Elain was chosen to go into the Cauldron - he even gave a convenient shout, that Feyre assumed was poison-related, so the cauldron might have decided to gift her with the unattached fae who tried to defend her. Lucien also managed to free himself from the King of Hybern's containment spells when Elain was in the cauldron, which could be relevant.

Maybe the cauldron was wrong! Or, at the very least, too hasty in its assumption that Az wouldn't survive. If this is the case, and Elain and Az are endgame, maybe Elain will Unmake her bond with Lucien?

Alternatively, if the E!ucien bond was actually Hybern causing havoc, and is not a true mating bond at all, perhaps Lucien (or Helion) will be able to break it for both their sakes?

Poor all of them, if this is the case!

I want to add that none of this would matter if Elain preferred Lucien to Azriel, mating bond or no; I hope that either would be respectful of her choice, and she of theirs. I suspect that they would be, as all three are decent people, despite their faults, who have given no signs of forcing anything on anyone. However, because Elain has only shown textual evidence of choosing Az, I think and hope that's what we'll see.

While we know Lucien didn't want/intend any of the events at Hybern to happen, they still did; Lucien is, unfortunately, intrinsically tied to Elain's trauma. I will not blame her for not getting over that. Even if this wasn't the case, no one is automatically entitled to anyone else - she is not stringing Lucien along, we don't even know if she's been told that the bond needs to be explicitly refused. Also, have any "well-matched" mating bond pairs in SJM's works begun with any/both members of the couple knowing that they were mates before they fell in love? I haven't read CC, but I can't remember any from either TOG or ACOTAR.

As much as I initially wanted Elriel's story to be purely about choice over a mating bond, after Rhys' (explainable, but absolutely inexcusable) words to Az on solstice, I'll take choice with a side of vindication, ta. 😄🤞🏻💙

If you actually read all of this, thank you!

[areyoudreaminof]

Oh no @mossytrashcan! what have you done?? …I feel…fluffy!!

It had taken days, but she had done it.

It was a silly idea at first. Elain had only just discovered her powers of life and creation by complete accident. She could feel the breath of life vibrate through her fingertips as she grew tulips from nothing and revived a dying queen bee. The process exhausted her, but the results held perfectly. The tulips stood high and vibrantly colored for weeks, while her beehive produced more honey faster than she could collect. 

It wasn’t the bees that gave Elain the idea of wings, but the dragonflies and butterflies that now populated her garden. Their vibrant and intricate wings fascinated her. Wouldn’t that be a joy to have, rather than the leathery bat wings her brothers in law sported? Maybe she could build them to fly one day, but for now, she concentrated on their shape and their beauty.

From her magic, she crafted threads of gold and pink shingles that overlapped from her shoulder blades. She thought of gossamer silk as she wove her magic. She wanted her wings to look like dappled sunlight. Elain shaped them to resemble the wings of the monarchs in her garden, but as a dragonfly settled into the small birdbath in the corner, she used a stronger thread to sharpen the edges.

Now, stretching the wings from the muscles of her shoulders, Elain could hear the soft fluttering behind her. The wings felt strong and natural. New tendons stretched down the length of her back as she practiced flapping the new wings. They weren't permanent, her magic wasn't strong enough, but Elain swelled with pride anyways. 

Elain watched the sunlight strike off the smooth golden edges of the wings and light up the pink shingles. She laughed to herself as she heard Lucien enter the garden and softly gasp. 

"Well, do you like them?"

casting an evil spell that makes fic authors want to write fluffy drabbles about fairy elain

[usuallyapirate]

A short Introduction to the most common Player-Races in Dungeons and Dragons as given by the DnD 5e Players Handbook:

Dwarf

“Yer late,elf!” came the rough edge of a familiar voice. Bruenor Battlehammer walked up the back of his dead foe, disregarding the fact that the heavy monster lay on top of his elven friend. In spite of the added discomfort, the dwarf’s long, pointed, often-broken nose and gray-streaked though still-fiery red beard came as a welcome sight to Drizzt. “Knew I’d find ye in trouble if I came out an' looked for ye!" 

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crysta lShard

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains, the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges, a commitment to clan and tradition, and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs—these common threads unite all dwarves.

Elf

“I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED SUCH BEAUTY EXISTED,” Goldmoon said softly. The day’s march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost. Four slender spires rose from the city’s corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Crafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city’s only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.

 – Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it. They live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires glittering with faerie light, where soft music drifts through the air and gentle fragrances waft on the breeze. Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.

Halfling

Regis the halfling, the only one of his kind for hundreds of miles in any direction, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the mossy blanket of the tree trunk. Regis was short, even by the standards of his diminutive race, with the fluff of his curly brown locks barely cresting the three-foot mark, but his belly was amply thickened by his love of a good meal, or several, as the opportunities presented themselves. The crooked stick that served as his fishing pole rose up above him, clenched between two of his toes, and hung out over the quiet lake, mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of Maer Dualdon. 

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crystal Shard

The comforts of home are the goal of most halflings‘ lives: a place to settle in peace and quiet, far from marauding monsters and clashing armies; a blazing fire and a generous meal; fine drink and fine conversation. Though some halflings live out their days in remote agricultural communities, others form nomadic bands that travel constantly, lured by the open road and the wide horizon to discover the wonders of new lands and peoples. But even these wanderers love peace, food, hearth, and home, though home might be a wagon jostling along a dirt road or a raft floating downriver.

Human

These were the stories of a restless people who long ago took to the seas and rivers in longboats, first to pillage and terrorize, then to settle. Yet there was an energy, a love of adventure, that sang from every page. Long into the night Uriel read, lighting candle after precious candle. She'd never given much thought to humans, but these stories fascinated her. In these yellowed pages were tales of bold heroes, strange and fierce animals, mighty primitive gods, and a magic that was part and fabric of that distant land. 

– Elaine Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow

In the reckonings of most worlds, humans are the youngest of the common races, late to arrive on the world scene and short-lived in comparison to dwarves, elves, and dragons. Perhaps it is because of their shorter lives that they strive to achieve as much as they can in the years they are given. Or maybe they feel they have something to prove to the elder races, and that’s why they build their mighty empires on the foundation of conquest and trade. Whatever drives them, humans are the innovators, the achievers, and the pioneers of the worlds.

Dragonborn

Her father stood on the first of the three stairs that led down from the portal, unmoving. The scales of his face had grown paler around the edges, but Clanless Mehen still looked as if he could wrestle down a dire bear himself. His familiar well-worn armor was gone, replaced by violet-tinted scale armor with bright silvery tracings. There was a blazon on his arm as well, the mark of some foreign house. The sword at his back was the same, though, the one he had carried since even before he had found the twins left in swaddling at the gates of Arush Vayem. Father’s face was as kill she'd been fortunate to learn. A human who couldn’t spot the shift of her eyes or Havilar’s would certainly see only the indifference of a dragon in Clanless Mehen’s face. But the shift of scales, the arch of a ridge, the set of his eyes, the gape of his teeth – her father's face spoke volumes. But every scale of it, this time, seemed completely still— the indifference of a dragon, even to Farideh.

– Erin M. Evans, The Adversary

Born of dragons, as their name proclaims, the dragonborn walk proudly through a world that greets them with fearful incomprehension. Shaped by draconic gods or the dragons themselves, dragonborn originally hatched from dragon eggs as a unique race, combining the best attributes of dragons and humanoids. Some dragonborn are faithful servants to true dragons, others form the ranks of soldiers in great wars, and still others find themselves adrift, with no clear calling in life.

Gnome

Skinny and flaxen-haired, his skin walnut brown and his eyes a startling turquoise, Burgell stood half as tall as Aeron climb up on a stool to look out the peephole. Like most habitations in Oeble, that particula tenement had been built for humans, and smaller residents coped with the resulting awkwardness as best they could. But at least the relative largeness of the apartment gave Burgell room to pack in all his gnome-sized gear. The front room was his workshop, and it contained a bewildering miscellany of tools: hammers, chisels, saws, lockpicks, tinted lenses, jeweler's loupes, and jars of powdered and shredded ingredients for casting spells. A fat gray cat, the mage’s familiar, lay curled atop a grimoire. It opened its eyes, gave Aeron a disdainful yellow stare, then appeared to go back to sleep. 

– Richard Lee Byers, The Black Bouquet

A constant hum of busy activity pervades the warrens and neighborhoods where gnomes form their close-knit communities. Louder sounds punctuate the hum: a crunch of grinding gears here, a minor explosion there, a yelp of surprise or triumph, and especially bursts of laughter. Gnomes take delight in life, enjoying every moment of invention, exploration, investigation, creation, and play.

Half-Elf

Flint squinted into the setting sun. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path. Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. The man's walk was marked by an easy grace – an elvish grace, Flint would have said; yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard ... no elf, but...

“Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared.

“The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace. 

– Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Walking in two worlds but truly belonging to neither, half-elves combine what some say are the best qualities of their elf and human parents: human curiosity, inventiveness, and ambition tempered by the refined senses, love of nature, and artistic tastes of the elves. Some half-elves live among humans, set apart by their emotional and physical differences, watching friends and loved ones age while time barely touches them. Others live with the elves, growing restless as they reach adulthood in the timeless elven realms, while their peers continue to live as children. Many half-elves, unable to fit into either society, choose lives of solitary wandering or join with other misfits and outcasts in the adventuring life.

Half-Orc

The warchief Mhurren roused himself from his sleeping-furs and his women and pulled a short hauberk of heavy steel rings over his thick, well-muscled torso. He usually rose before most of his warriors, since he had a strong streak of human blood in him, and he found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did. Among the Bloody Skulls, a warrior was judged by his strength, his fierceness, and his wits. Human ancestry was no blemish against a warrior – provided he was every bit as strong, enduring, and blood thirsty as his full-blooded kin. Half-orcs who were weaker than their orc comrades didn't last long among the Bloody Skulls or any other orc tribe for that matter. But it was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Mhurren had. He was master of a tribe that could muster two thousand spears, and the strongest chief in Thar. 

– Richard Baker, Swordmage

Whether united under the leadership of a mighty warlock or having fought to a standstill after years of conflict, orc and human tribes sometimes form alliances, joining forces into a larger horde to the terror of civilized lands nearby. When these alliances are sealed by marriages, half-orcs are born. Some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals. Some venture into the world to prove their worth among humans and other more civilized races. Many of these become adventurers, achieving greatness for their mighty deeds and notoriety for their barbaric customs and savage fury.

Tiefling

“But you do see the way people look at you, devil’s child." Those black eyes, cold as a winter storm, were staring right into her heart and the sudden seriousness in his voice jolted her.

“What is it they say?" he asked. “One’s a curiosity, two’s a conspiracy—”

“Three's a curse,” she finished. “You think I haven’t heard that rubbish before?”

“I know you have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s not as if I’m plumbing the depths of your mind, dear girl. That is the burden of every tiefling. Some break under it, some make it the millstone around their neck, some revel in it.” He tilted his head again, scrutinizing her, with that wicked glint in hiseyes. “You fight it, don’t you? Like a little wildcat, I wager. Every little jab and comment just sharpens your claws.” 

– Erin M. Evans, Brimstone Angels

To be greeted with stares and whispers, to suffer violence and insult on the street, to see mistrust and fear in every eye: this is the lot of the tiefling. And to twist the knife, tieflings know that this is because a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus – overlord of the Nine Hells – into their bloodline. Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children’s children will always be held accountable.

[roamwithahungryheart]

hey lauren, hope you're doing okay with your health. just popping in because i saw someone send you ah's fan's thread from unsealed documents. what you were send are motion to limine from amber's side - meaning it's just elaine talking and there is a lot of bs and twisting in it without any basis, for example they were arguing that jd's photos had wrong creation date, but it was actually them using wrong method to check it or that jd want's to use ah's nudes or past as stripper against her, while not citing any evidence, that would point to that claim, with jd's side responding in different part that they actually don't want to include it, but if some evidence will suddenly appear and be relevant (for example nude pic that was taken after some alleged incident that shows or doesn't some bruises) then it can't be just thrown away. so just fyi it's basically just written without any context and it's elaine again

(had to cut my ask in 2 because i wrote too much oops)

Hi!

Going for more pre-op tests in 2 weeks so that will be fun 😅

Elaine The Pain strikes again huh? 🙄

Still though, the texts were uncomfortable to read, with or without context.