#eris third house

[sunkissedchld]

𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒 (𝟏𝟑𝟔𝟏𝟗𝟗) 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐈. 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒

asteroid eris is named after the greek goddess of discord and strife. eris is known to be a troublemaker and is often credited with starting and sustaining the trojan war. although eris is often associated with creating problems for people, liana miate asserts that hesiod (an ancient greek poet) splits eris into two: a younger version who aligns with sowing discord for no reason and an older version who intends to bring about competition and push people to go beyond their set limits. 

in astrology, eris follows her mythological roots and represents areas of life where we can encounter disruptions, major losses, and chaos. eris can also tell of where we face injustices and where we need to learn to stand up for ourselves.

asteroid eris mainly makes itself known as it moves and creates transiting aspects, but for this post i will be focusing on how it functions in one’s birth chart. (if you do want me to analyze how it may work as it makes aspects to planets and other object - let me know).

𝐈𝐈. 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐒

asteroid eris has an orbital period of about 560 years, so it moves through the signs really slowly. this asteroid has been in the sign of aries since the mid-1920s and won’t be in taurus until 2048 where it will stay until around 2146. with this in mind, i will only explain the way the signs aries and taurus will influence the way asteroid eris can function.

𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦

eris in aries could be tumultuous. there could be more of an emphasis on literal war and combat which makes sense in my opinion given the world wars were in and around the time period of this asteroid being in aries. i also see eris in aries being more likely to fight back against the chaos the asteroid can bring; if older eris wants people to learn to stand up for themselves, then aries is the perfect sign for that to occur. again, we can look back in history to see revolutions like the civil rights movement, the vietnam war protests, the breaking up of the british empire and more occur while this asteroid was in aries. of course, these things happen all throughout history, but i want to specify how often this seems to happen while in the specific period of eris in aries. asteroid eris in aries seems to function as dealing with catastrophes head-on with the idea of pushing through the tough times instead of succumbing to them. while discord may hit hard; the collective will rise back with more strength than what was had before.

𝗧𝗔𝗨𝗥𝗨𝗦

eris in taurus could bring about a sort of predictable chaos. build ups to conflict may be obvious, but when it occurs it could destroy people’s comfortability and especially bring havoc to finances. conflicts could last for long periods of time, and people overall could fall into a “woe is me” attitude when it comes to figuring out how to move past catastrophes; instead of figuring out how to advocate for one’s self or the collective when facing injustices - those born under eris in taurus could try to wait things out. the idea of fighting back or advocating for oneself could take a while to be viable, but once it becomes an option i could see people putting up a hard fight.  asteroid eris in taurus could be reluctant to face conflict head on, but once decided to it will be obstinate on its course. i’m reminded of the phrase “when an unstoppable force hits an immovable object”.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒

𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧

you could go through drastic physical changes. if you were to get into plastic surgery, fillers, botox, etc. it may not bode well for you; your body could react negatively to the treatments and/or you may not look as well as you wanted to. you could also struggle with your identity or feeling like you don't truly know yourself or what you want to do in life. you could go through "phases" or looking and/or dressing a certain way. you could feel as if no one understands you, or as if the way you view yourself is vastly different from how others see and understand you. people may not be able to come to a consensus about who they think you are as a person. it could take you a while to find out "who you are", and your body may change often throughout your life. those with eris in the first house probably need to come to terms with the way they look instead of trying to constantly change their appearance, and they also likely need to learn how to settle down with one way of living or learn to embrace that vastness of who they want to be instead of trying to put themselves into a box.

𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗗

money and other financial successes could easily come and go out of your life. you may be the type of person who loses things more easily than the average person, and you may find it hard to retain money and possessions. during tense transits, you could have items repossessed or even stolen from you. your routines could be hard to maintain, or you could find random incidents keep you from being able to have one. it could be easy for you to break bad habits (but again, could be hard for you to maintain good ones). you could find yourself struggling to keep jobs or find that you're drawn to jobs where every day is different and unpredictable. you may need to learn how to stay on top of what it is you want and need to do (ie. writing down a schedule, having someone hold you accountable, etc.). you may need to learn how to say no to yourself when it comes to spending money and work on having a savings account you can't touch at all. it may be better for you to make large purchases with cash instead of setting up payments, so you can keep possessions long-term.

𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗗

you could find yourself being ghosted often and/or you could have trouble maintaining contact with others. you could be "horrible with communication" or even technology to an extent. you could find that people misunderstand you or they think you're more harsh in your words than you intend to be. you could also have a tumultuous relationship with your siblings - maybe you've always found it hard to connect with them, or you go long periods of time without talking. your early education may have been interrupted in some way (having to move away, change schools, etc.). you could also have issues with transportation more often than others like your car breaking down randomly or always being late to events due to unreliability. learning how to advocate for yourself will be a major key to dealing with this eris placement. there's a need to learn how to "speak up" and deal with confrontation without running away and also without arguing. you may find it better to try leaving early to account for possible transportation issues. there's a need to learn to set boundaries with your siblings also in order to maintain the connection.

𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗛

you could have an unstable home life. maybe you had (or you do) change living situations often, or your relationship with your family might not be the best. your childhood might’ve been fractured as a result of family issues. people, areas, or things you find comfort in may seem like they always get “ruined” at some point (ie. if you have a comfort show it gets canceled or the writing starts going downhill, a celebrity you like ends up being very problematic, etc.). you may feel as if you have no control over your emotions, or whenever you try to control your emotions you end up breaking down anyways. you may even find it hard to trust your instincts. you may also find it hard to create and maintain relationships with women - especially your mother. you may need to learn how to come to terms with the fact your childhood wasn’t as good as you wanted (or as good as it should’ve been); you might even have to realize you need to put yourself and your needs above your family due to their issues. you may need to learn to step back when it comes to parasocial relationships; figuring out it’s okay to find comfort in things or people, but not putting them on a pedestal anymore.

𝗙𝗜𝗙𝗧𝗛

eris in the fifth house is also a contender for having an unstable childhood. maybe you weren’t allowed to behave like a child, or your childhood abruptly ended due to unforeseen circumstances. when engaging in creative avenues, you may encounter blocks often - in terms of imagination, originality, or physical blocks. you might even find that the art you create gets messed up in some way (ie. you delete a song or a section of a song you were making, you mix the wrong paints together, etc.). you may spontaneously lose interest in hobbies, or you’re prevented from being able to do them (ie. it rains on a day you planned to golf, you run out of yarn when you were planning to knit, etc.). with this placement, it may also seem like your romantic life is never going anywhere; this is another house that may see people ghosting them, or when you go out on dates they could be horrendous. you may need to learn how to create things out of your messes when it comes to creative endeavors; there’s a need to learn how to “roll with the punches” so to speak. you may find it best to engage in multiple hobbies instead of just one or finding a way to have someone hold you accountable for the creative work you want to create. there’s a need to allow yourself to go back to being the child you never got to be at some points.

𝗦𝗜𝗫𝗧𝗛

you may be the type of person who always has health issues or some sort of injury. when you try to create good health habits you may find it hard to stay on track, and there may even be instances where you unintentionally break your habits (ie. you’re counting calories and want to stay under a certain amount but by day three you’ve forgotten you were dieting this way, you’re forced to work overtime one night and it just happens to be one of the days you’ve set aside for weight training, etc.). you may lose items easily, and when you try to help others you may have a way of making things worse (ie. you tried to help someone cook, but you burned part of the meal). you may need to advocate for and pay attention to your health and your body more than the average person. similar to other placements, having other people hold you accountable may be helpful for you to maintain habits you want to implement.  you may find it best to keep items in the same place each time you don’t have them in your hand, so you don’t lose things as often. when helping others, try to have someone check your work to be sure you’re providing aid the right way.

𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗛

you could find yourself entering toxic relationships often or at least relationships that often never go anywhere. you might find yourself being ghosted by people for seemingly no reason or drama arising out of relationships you have from out of nowhere. contracts you write up or engage in could fall apart easily (ie. you receive a job offer, but it’s randomly rescinded for no reason; you have everything in order to move to a new apartment, but you get rejected out of nowhere), or they could cause more headaches than they’re worth. you might find people often don’t give enough in their relationships with you - like you’re the one running the show, making all the plans to be together, spending all the money, and they’re only along for the ride, or they only focus on what they can gain from you. you may need to learn how to have respect for yourself when it comes to relationships of all kinds. learning to not set yourself on fire in order to keep someone else from being cold, demanding equality in partnerships, etc. with this placement in aries i could even see a need to step back from relationships in some way - to allow or force others to pull their weight instead of making everything happen on your own. there’s a need to learn how to advocate for yourself and your needs in partnerships and contracts.

𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗛

you could feel as if you’re always going through some sort of transformation - almost as if your life itself or life circumstances are always unstable. when you try to share with others you could find your kindness is not appreciated, so you may feel reluctant to give people money or take money from others for seemingly no reason. whenever you try to create deep connections with people it could feel like things never work out or always fall through (ie. you want to have a business partner, but the person backs out at the last minute, you need someone to cosign on a loan for you, but no one is willing). also, with this placement you may feel as if people leave randomly; this could range from being ghosted, them not putting in effort to maintain a relationship with you, conversations going stale to literal death taking people away from you without warning. additionally, your long term assets may be unstable. there could be a need to learn how to let go of things and people once they’ve served their purpose in your life; some people are meant to be present for only moments or periods of time in your life as opposed to throughout the whole journey. there’s also a need to stay on top of contracts and long-term investments; you could find that lower risk investments work best for you. there’s also a need to learn how to share yourself with others and allow others to do the same with you even through times where you may have been betrayed - learning from your mistakes is important in this area.

𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗛

this is another placement that could encounter issues with transportation since the ninth house deals with travel. going further though, you could often experience disruptions when going on trips or vacations (ie. forgetting your passport, wallet, or other important item; flights being canceled or delayed for no reason, having “bad” experiences when you visit other areas). this could also be an indicator of struggling in areas of higher academia; this could be in regards to the material feeling overwhelming to learn or things always going wrong during the school year (ie. experiencing life changing events that make it hard for you to attend class, having to drop classes or finding it hard to create a schedule that works, etc.). connections to religion could also be unstable; you could feel uncomfortable with the idea of religion because of issues with religious institutions. you may find that people often try to suppress your culture or way of living, or you could find it hard to connect with your culture because people push you away from it in some way. there’s a need to be proactive when it comes to the way you travel – opting to leave too early instead of even on time, checking your luggage twice and three times over, etc. you may need to advocate for yourself more when interacting with higher institutions like college or religious places, and there’s also a need to be proud of your culture and views despite people’s attempts to erase them.

𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗛

when it comes to receiving recognition for your achievements you could find that you’re often looked over. your career path may be hard for you to narrow down, or you could find you’re let go from jobs without warning when everything seems to be fine from your point of view. you may jump from job to job or be promoted and demoted to certain positions for no reason. you could encounter extreme highs and lows when it comes to your reputation; it might even be possible that your reputation is not consistent amongst people, and it could be hard for you to control it. when you’re in positions of power you may find that people often undermine you or refuse to take you seriously - especially men. on that note, you may find it hard to create and maintain relationships with men (especially your father). you could find people always find a way to criticize you or tell you all the work you do is wrong no matter what you do. there’s a need to possibly embrace whatever reputation people assign to you instead of trying to control the narrative or change who you are to appease everyone. there is also a need to demand recognition and praise when you know you deserve it - possibly even walking away from job opportunities when you know you’re being lowballed. there’s a need to maintain your sense of self trusting that the truth of who you are will guide you towards those who will appreciate you.

𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗛

it could be hard for you to maintain friendships and connections with the collective and other groups in general. you could find yourself being iced out or being the “odd one out” when you try to fit in. technology may fail on your frequently, or you may feel like it doesn’t like you (ie. you find it hard to connect to wifi, you always have phone or computer issues, etc.). you may feel as if (or told) that you’re not as helpful as you think you are when it comes to collective situations (ie. group projects). you could find your ideas and dreams for the future often don’t work out, or you find them hard to maintain. there’s partially a need to embrace your individuality - to come to terms with the fact that you will eventually find a group that aligns with you and won’t push you out or make you feel othered. there’s a need to keep putting yourself out there even when you feel like it never works out. there’s also a need to maintain hope – for the future, for connecting with others, and when it comes to interacting with technology.

𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗙𝗧𝗛

this is another placement that would indicate feeling as if you’re always going through some sort of transformation or ending in life. you could feel as if your spiritual life is in constant chaos (ie. having times where you’re clear on what your journey is and then suddenly feeling like you have no clue what you’re doing; being able to communicate with your guides clearly and then suddenly hearing radio silence, etc.). you could feel as if you don’t “truly” or “intimately” know yourself. you could find that your subconscious activates at random times and could cause trouble when you least expect it. you could feel as if your fate changes quickly going from having great luck to none at all. when it’s time to end certain cycles in your life you may find it hard to let go, or you may feel as if things end abruptly leaving little space for you to accept these endings. there’s a need to learn to be okay with abrupt endings or the idea of never receiving closure – finding a way to maintain peace even if this doesn’t happen. there’s also a need to take fate into your own hands instead of always being passive (or learning to be passive when it’s necessary). there’s a need to be open to ambiguity as opposed to running away from it.

[myvoiddreams]

Fragments of Starlight (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Finally saved, there is nowhere else to turn other than the impending war.

Word Count: 4,666

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: First, I am SO sorry that this took me ages to get together. Second, I am SO grateful for all the amazing feedback and sweet messages I’ve received from everyone. This is a hobby of mine that I love and love to share.  Third, please don’t be mad at me after this.

Part 1, Part 2

---

Before

It had been a long night, full of unsettling dreams. Not that that wasn’t normal. A yawn escaped my lips as I rolled over to the morning light peeking through the curtains, the haze of night still lingering on me. Morning, that meant training. Stretching off the daze and the dreams, I sat up in bed and an herbal smell crossed my senses. With furrowed brows I looked to the nightstand next to my bed.

There sat a steaming cup of tea. Tea? Where the hell would that have come from? I reached for it, pulling it from the nightstand. Under the mug was a folded-up parchment. Placing the mug back down, I reached for the note and unfolded it. Azriel’s neat handwriting adored it.

“No training today. Cass and I are off to meet Eris. Drink up in the meantime. – Azriel.”

A smile spread across my face as I sat the note back down and took the mug into my hands. Blowing some steam away, I brought it to my lips. Peppermint. My favorite. My heart fluttered at the hot drink. Azriel must have caught on that it was always peppermint tea I would drink when staying up to finish work, a book, or whatever it may be.

After a few more sips, I set the mug back down on its place on the nightstand. I picked up the parchment once more and flipped it to the empty side and with a pen adorning my nightstand drawer wrote, “Don’t forget to breathe between brooding sessions. Stay safe out there, Az. – Y/N.”

Settling the parchment back onto the nightstand I knew the house would have it delivered for me. By the time I had reached for another sip, the note was gone.

---

The exchanging of notes had become a normal thing for me and Azriel after the first one I found placed on my nightstand. It was sweet really. They went from anywhere about having a good day, to meeting up later, or even just teasing one another. Teasing one another was my favorite.

Azriel, with his slinking shadows, was always sneaking up on me. Whether that be in the training ring, or in the library. So, I had left a note on his desk for him. Trying to get the house to understand that I wanted to deliver this one myself before it could simply just take it from under my fingers. The house had also grown accustomed to mine and Azriel’s note sharing.

Upon his desk in his room, I left a note that read, “If you keep sneaking up on me, I might have to start carrying a bell for you. -  Y/N.”

Satisfied with leaving it on his desk, I left his room and made for my own. I walked down the hallway, and as I was turning the knob to reach my own room, a hand clasped around my shoulder, “A bell won’t help you, but nice try.” Azriel’s voice made me jump out of my skin.

I swirled around and all but smacked his hand off my shoulder out of instinct. He chuckled at my response. His stupidly beautiful smile was something I still found myself grateful for being able to see. His usually stone-cold appearance would fade away when you knew him well enough. When you knew him the way I do.

“Damnit! How the hell are you that quiet and that fast!” I was smiling now, but still flustered with his surprise appearance. I was just in his bedroom after all. A blush crept up my cheeks at the thought.

“I have shadows in my room at all times, they just whispered to me about a certain someone sneaking around there. Then, they told me what your note said. I couldn’t just pass up on the opportunity to tease you a little.” His voice was warm. Azriel was always warm to me. He lifted his hand to my face and brushed some of the hair that had fallen into it from his surprise, behind my ear.

I’m sure my cheeks burnt bright now, at the touch, but I couldn’t help but just smile and shake my head. I pushed him away playfully and turned to my bedroom to enter.

As I entered, I heard his chuckle dancing in the hallway again and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of its chest as I shut my door.

---

Now

The pain that decorated my body was nothing compared to what was soaring through my hands and my heart. After being rescued I was taken directly to a camp where some of Rhys’ armies were. Instead of being put in the infirmary, they put me in a tent of my own, where Madja could tend to me personally.

I had asked Madja to tell the rest of the Inner Circle to leave me be while healing. I wanted to be alone. I wasn’t ready to forgive and forget.

Madja was there, unwrapping my hands again. It has been a few days since I was saved, but my hands were not healing at the same rate the rest of me did. At the site of my hands, I became nauseous. Fresh, pink skin was covering the back of them, but the palms. The palms were still blistered. Still sloughing off with old skin and trying their best to cover it with the same granulated tissue of the backs of my hands.

“Listen Y/N,” Madja sighed, “I cannot express to you how important it is for you to keep resting. You need to keep these hands bandaged at all times for the foreseeable future. This war is something you may need to take a step back from. You have been through enough.”

I respect Madja, I respect everything she had to say to me, but there was no way. “I can’t simply sit out Madja. Not after what they did to me.” I said back quietly, not letting my gaze meet her’s.

“I was afraid you would say that,” sighed the older female.

“Madja, can I ask you something, personal?” I winced as she applied a balm to the palms of my hands.

“Let me guess, it has to do with that silly Shadowsinger?” She didn’t look up from what she was doing, but I took the invitation anyways.

“How the hell do I put this behind me? This entire Inner Circle has changed since those Acheron sisters entered it. I want to be able to know my friends, my court, is there for me as I am for them.” The words were getting harder and harder to get out of my mouth, but I ventured on, “They left me there, grabbed Elain, and left me there to die.” Tears started flowing then, “I have known them for centuries, and yet, they still chose her over me.” I was slightly embarrassed at my vulnerability with Madja.

She simply continued to wrap my hands after finishing applying the balm and hummed. She let some silence slip on as she thought of a response.

“Y/N, you are right, you have known them for centuries, and Elain not even a cusping a year. You have to understand that that’s why they left you there. They were under duress, either save her, who does not know how to defend herself, or you, who has proved time and time again you can withstand so much.” Madja looked up into my watery eyes and continued, “They were terrified out of their minds when you were up and missing. Cassian did nothing but blame himself. Azriel sent his shadows to all corners of Prythian searching for you.”

I calmed my crying and was only sniffling now as she went on, “They love you Y/N. Even if their misplaced actions are not great at showing it. They may not deserve it right now but consider finding some forgiveness to show them. They are your family.”

I let her words fumble around my mind as she got up and left the tent. As much I want to forgive, I just couldn’t.

---

Before

I was exhausted, truly exhausted. There was a meeting earlier in the day, about strategizing when it came to getting more information on Hybern. I had offered to become an inside agent. To follow Hybern, become one of his soldiers, and send the information back to the Night Court. Rhysand on the other hand had gawked at my offer, and utterly refused it. He then decided to reprimand me, in front of everyone, on how reckless I had been even suggesting such a thing. It was embarrassing.

My mind had been reeling since. I was no use just sitting around, waiting for shit to hit the fan. I wanted to be helpful, I wanted to do something. I was a warrior to this court, an emissary to Dawn. I was no stupid child, like Rhysand had diminished me to during that meeting.

After a day of sulking and my mind reeling, I needed out of the House of Wind. So, I went to one of my favorite places. It was one Azriel had flown me too once. But, I wanted to be alone. Without him to fly me, I’d have to hike there.

A high hill on the outskirts of the city, where the Sidra had broken off into many little streams and creeks. The hill was plush with fresh beautiful grass and a cool evening breeze made the grass sway. Night had fallen by the time I had made it there, to my favorite spot.

Right on time. I told myself as I laid directly into the grass, looking up into the expanse of stars above. It was here I was usually able to find some solace when my mind would wander. Everyone had their burdens to bear, but this place made it seem a little easier. Everything I loved was slipping away from me, I could feel it. That impending feeling of pure dread.

I tried to push it away as I looked up into the stars.

A few hours had gone by when I heard the beating of wings. I sat up in the grass to see Azriel landing on the same long grass, only a few feet from me. I gave Azriel a half smile as I sat up to meet his eyes.

“I was starting to worry about you.” Azriel sighed, playing with his hair as he walked over to me.

“I just needed to get my mind off everything. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Azriel sat down next to me, our knees touching now. “Remember when you brought me here for the first time?” A smile spread across my face for the first time that day.

“Of course I remember it.” Azriel smiled as he reached to take off his jacket. My brows furrowed as he handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” I took the jacket from him. His comforting smell immediately filled my nose. Cedar and the night mist itself.

“Please, I can see your goosebumps from here.” He chuckled as I looked myself over. I had hiked up here during the warm of the evening, only sporting shorts and a short-sleeved leather top I usually dedicated to training. I hadn’t paid much attention to the cold that had slithered its way to my skin while I was trying to sort out my mind.

“Thank you,” I smiled at Azriel. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, he knew me well. I placed the jacket over my own shoulders and placed my gaze on the sky again.

Azriel had joined me, our knees still touching, his wing behind me now. We looked up into the night sky until dawn neared. We didn’t speak, but Azriel’s presence made everything feel lighter somehow.

---

Now

I had made it clear to Madja that I didn’t want any visitors while I was healing. I knew that that would only last so long. I had just finished getting dressed when I heard my tent flap open. Those were not the light steps of Madja. I looked up to see Azriel entering. His wing cramped in the small space.

“Y/N,” his eyes widened at my appearance. While the bandages on my body were covered with clothing, my hands were wrapped out in the open for him to see and my face still held some of the fading bruises. He winced at the sight of my hands.

I looked down, away from him. I went to work on getting my boots on to the best of my capabilities. “I told Madja I wanted no visitors.” I said coldly, still not meeting his eyes.

“It’s been days, I needed to see you. To check on you, myself” Azriel cautiously walked toward me.

I began to fumble with my boots, becoming frustrated at the laces. My healing hands did not have the dexterity they once did, and the bandages were not helping. I began to shake as Azriel’s form got closer. Tears were burning at the back of my eyes. It was evident to both of us that I wasn’t going to get my boots laced up by myself. His stupid, comforting, beautiful scent made its way to me. It was only making me lose whatever composure I was forcing on myself.

“Let me help you,” Azriel all but whispered as he reached to gently grab my hands in his.

My hands.

“Do not touch me.” I breathed out, ripping his closeness away.

He stumbled back, looking shocked. He pulled his wings in closer to himself at my outburst. I could feel him, feel his regret and agony through the bond. Through that annoying, patronizing, tug in the deepest part of my chest.

“Y/N, I care about you, let me help.” His hazel eyes were pleading now. I could almost see a silver rim aligning them. He looked helpless. I hated seeing him this way, it hurt me to know that I was causing such helplessness. But, how could I just let him in? Not after everything.

I all but laughed at his statement, huffing hair out of my face, I met his eyes, “You don’t care about me,” my voice wavered, “you showed me that when you left me there to die.”  I couldn’t help but let my lip quiver.

“Y/N, you have to understand-“ Azriel began to plead, but I would not hear it. I would not silence myself on his account.

“I’ve made my mind up Azriel. If I make it out of this, I’m not going back to the Night Court. I’m leaving.” The statement truly shut him up then. I almost couldn’t believe myself either. But this pain, the pain of knowing I would never be good enough in his eyes. I would never be good enough in the Inner Courts eyes. I had gotten myself taken into Hybern’s clutches, after preaching to Rhysand to let me do more. It was mortifying, I couldn’t even get myself out. I still relied on them even after they left me.

Pathetic.

“You don’t mean that, do you, Y/N?” His face completely fell. His hazel eyes wide, his hair pushed away from his face.

“I do. I can’t stay.” I started to shake my head now, tears finding their way into my face, “You lost me when you left me there. Hell, I fucking lost me in that tent. I lost me.”

“No, Y/N, you haven’t lost anything, please.” Azriel was pleading now, I turned from him. I couldn’t stomach the sight of him on top of his emotions flowing through the bond. “Please, listen to me. I lost it when you were missing. Cassian did too. Even Rhysand.” He took slow steps toward me. “I was ordered into that camp by Rhysand to get Elain, I had no idea that you would be there too.” He swallowed before nervously continuing, “We couldn’t grab you both, it was going to be impossible. I know you, I knew you could handle another day, and then we’d be back to get you, better prepared that time.”

It made sense, really, but it didn’t cut it. “That’s not good enough.” I finally met his eyes again. Mad, this time. “I was strung up. Beaten. Cut up. With no powers whatsoever thanks to their Fae Bane knives. I was dying, and you left me there. So, no Azriel, those words are not good enough.”

He opened his mouth to retort something, but a noise of the tent opening behind him cut him off. Peering over his broad shoulders and wings, Cassian was at the entrance of the tent. He was fully armored, weapons in tow, and concern was etched in all corners of his face.

“I hate to break up the reunion, but we have to go. Now. Hybern is moving in.” Cassian was on edge with his words, unknowing of the conversation that was at hand. I hated that seeing him gave me some ounce of relief as well.

With his words, I grabbed for my weapons. A sword, sheathed at my hip, and my bow and quivers strapped to my back. The set that Az had gifted me all that time ago.

Azriel grabbed my arm as I tried to move past him, “Madja told you to sit this out.” His eyes now were full of passion, his touch was unmoving, but light. At the contact my heart fluttered again. That bond sung between us, but only I could feel it.

I ripped my arm from his touch, no matter how badly I wanted to give into it.

“I’ll see you on the battlefield, Azriel.”

---

Before

Starfall was always one of my favorite times of the year. To just spend time with my family, to share gifts, drinks, and even dances. It had gotten late, the festivities finally winding down, and everyone going to their rooms.

I wanted a final look off the balcony before fully retiring. The present giving and gifting had gone great, everyone enjoying the gifts that had been gifted. I also loved the pieces of jewelry, the books, and even the apron, that Feyre, had gifted me, knowing how much I like to cook.

The midnight blue gown followed my footsteps out. It truly was beautiful. Backless, long, shimmering, Mor had gotten it for me, and of course dolled me up to go along with it. It wasn’t often that I got this way. Only when we had to take trips to the Hewn City or other Court business to attend to. My hair was curled and draped across my back. Light makeup littered my face as well.

I was leaning against the balcony railing when I heard those tall tale footsteps. I knew that if I was hearing them then he would want me to know he was there. I turned around and met Azriel’s gaze. He was stunning. In an all-black suit, but still sporting his blue syphons. I tried to hold back my blush at his appearance.

He walked towards me, a large, wrapped box in hand. I had already given Azriel his gift. I wrapped a leather journal, and a custom-made dagger, with a necklace that had Ramiel engraved on its pendant. He had thanked me, and did not give me one in return.

I guess he is now.

Azriel approached and handed me the large, slim box.

“What is this Az?” I took the wrapped package from him.

“Open it,” he nodded his head to it, “I wanted to give this to you privately.”

I smiled up at him and reached for the wrapping. Carefully, I unwrapped the box. Once completely unwrapped, I opened the box itself. Inside adored the most magnificent bow and quiver I had ever set my eyes on. I lit up at the sight of it.

“Az, this is amazing. Was this made in Dawn?” I took the bow and quiver from inside the box and admired it. Felt them in my hands, the beautifully intricate wooden long bow, with engravings from top to bottom. The quiver made of a light leather material, fashioned with some kind of fur on the strap.

  “Yes, Thesan helped me find it himself.” Azriel put his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.

“Thesan himself, thank you,” I gathered the bow and quiver and gently set them down. Then, I reached for Az, my arms stretching around his neck. I buried my head into his collarbone. His arms found their way around my waist, and his head on top of mine. “You remember when I first came to Night? Nothing but my old bow strapped to my back?” I smiled into his chest.

“And it broke, on one of our first missions together. You hit that poor male right over the head with it,” he quipped, bringing one of his hands to the back of my head, patting down my hair.

“Thank you, Azriel, thank you.” I told him again. That bow meant so much to me. It reminded me so much of who I used to be.

---

Now

My hands were in no shape to be in a battle. It was nothing like I had ever seen before. Carnage was raining down everywhere. When I wasn’t striking with a sword, I was shooting with my bow. I was going to bring down anyone in my way.

Pain or not.

Sweat was beading down my forehead, and my back. The bandages on my hands were in ribbons, blood staining what remained. My hands made it difficult. I had to adjust to the sloughing skin and ignore what pain I felt jarring up from them to my arms and shoulders.

Rage fueled me as I made my way around the battlefield. Rage for myself not being good enough to save that first night. Rage for my family, who was scattered across the grounds. Rage for falling in love with Azriel. Rage for my unreturned bond screaming in my chest.

Screaming. It was screaming in my chest. A punch to the chest made me stagger back. I grimaced and looked up to my attacker, but no one was there.

Something was wrong. I scanned the skies.

Where are you?

There. Falling.

He was falling from the sky. A scream pierced my throat as the sight. He hit the ground on a hill above the main field being fought in. All my instincts were shouting at me to go to him. The bond was crying at me to go to him. So that’s what I did. Whether I was pissed or not, I could not lose him. Not like this.

I ran, taking out everyone in my way. My body was close to giving in, not fully recovered from my time with Hybern. The pain in my hands continued to radiate through me with every swing of my sword and draw of my bow.

I crested the hill to see Azriel had propped himself up against a tree. His head was lying back, and he gripped the side of his abdomen. I could see the blood from here. A naga was closing in on him.

The bond in my chest thrummed and hurt. It was pain, Azriel’s pain that I was feeling. Panic surged in my bones.

I pulled my bow from my back, skin ripping on my fingers as I drew. I aimed at the fast-moving creature and with a yell released my arrow. I was moving on instinct. No different than hunting for a meal.

It hit its mark. The naga slumped over not more than 10 feet from him.

Ignoring the blood dripping from me, I rushed to him.

He had blood running down his brow. His hair was strewn everywhere. His wings were limp at his sides. Limp. His breathing was ragged. His hazel eyes were shut, pain corroded his face. Even the gold of his skin was damped. I reached for his cheek, feeling his clammy skin. My other hand found his shirt and lifted to see his wound.

It was gaping, there was so much blood. Muscle was torn, ripped open.

“Az, Az, tell me what happened,” I begged him. He only lulled his head further against the tree in response.

The bond, it was fading.

Pure fear burned through me. If that bond was fading, that meant…

I gripped him by his shoulders and shook as hard as I could, “You cannot do this to me! You cannot leave me!” My voice was raw from the hours of battle, my entire being felt like it was being ripped in two.

“Cassian! Rhysand!” I belted at the top of my lungs, praying that someone would hear me over the carnage.

I again reached for his abdomen, placing as much pressure as I possibly could on his wound. He winced in response. Good, that’s good.

“Az, Az listen to me.” The bond was flickering now. “Get up. Get your ass up!” I reached for his end, tugged at it as hard as I possibly could, but I was met with a wall. Terror, true terror overcame me.

The Night Court might have been where I lived, but Azriel was my home. I was losing my home.

There was so much blood. Blood.

That’s when it hit me. I reached for a blade that was fastened to his belt. I didn’t hesitate when I sliced into my arm, deep enough to get good blood flow.

“I’m so sorry Azriel.” I cried as I put my arm to his lips, forcing his mouth open, and the warm sticky liquid into it. “I wish I loved you less,” I sobbed, forcing more into his mouth, “I wish you weren’t my stupid, fucking, mate.”

Saying it out loud, even if he wasn’t in a state to understand, made my heart stand still. Lightheaded, I moved from in front of him. I sat next to him, holding a hand on his abdomen, and a hand on my still bleeding arm.

I couldn’t scream for help anymore, not with the dizziness that clouded me.

So, I sat, holding our bleeding wounds together.

Slowly, I began to feel his end of the bond knit itself back together. Breathing was a little easier when I realized this. He was healing then. It worked.

I looked up from our battered state to see a red blur moving toward us.

Cassian, thank the gods.

He landed on the hilltop and ran to us, taking in our current predicament. Azriel started to stir at the sound of his brother approaching.

Cassian kneeled down, taking my arm in his hand, and staring between Az and I.

“I leave you two alone for an hour and you guys decide it’s a good time to die?!” His voice was rough.

“I don’t know that now is the time to joke around, Cass.” I winced as I sat up toward him. “I’m okay, but Az..”

“Where did all this blood come from?” Cassian said gazing over Azriel’s entire form, panic lacing his voice.

“I saw him fall, when I got to him, he was down, bleeding from his abdomen.” I lifted Az’s shirt to show Cass. The wound had started to close together thanks to his quickened state of healing.

“What about the blood on his face?” Cassian was looking him over for injuries.

My heart hammered. How do I just admit it? Out loud, for anyone to hear this time. It was a fact that I had held so close to myself for so long. I had pinned after Azriel for years now, in silence. I was nothing more than a friend to him, while I fell in love with him.

“Y/N?” He looked over at me again, panic danced around me. “What happened?” His face turned stone cold.

“I.. he’s..” I trailed off, swallowing my fear. I looked into Cassian eyes, more tears somehow finding their way onto mine, “he’s my mate. It was the only way I could save him.” It was almost a whisper as the words left my tongue.

---

Taglist: (sorry if I missed anyone)

@saltedcoffeescotch @thirstyroses-world @kingshitonly @spidersfrommars15 @mariahoedt @missromantasy @breadsticks2004 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @vhjlucky13 @helo1281917 @i-am-infinite @emptyporsche @quiet-loser @watermelomsuger @anxious-cactus @rcarbo1 @latinxbipride @chelsiemp @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @marina468 @kennedy-brooke @myromanempiree @craftytrashprincess @fairydustblossom @st4r-girl-official @darkbloodsly @kitsunetori @historygeekqueen @ivy-34 @optimisticbabydreamer @fightmedraco @maruiin @thefandomplace @bxtchopolis @annamariereads16 @whosmys @toobsessedsstuff

[parkerslatte]

Incompatible | Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/N Archeron was a human living in the land of the fae. For her own protection, the Inner Circle keeps her in Velaris, safe and protected. One day, Azriel invites her to a meeting after seeing her close into herself more and more. There she meets the one who flips her whole life upside down.

A/N: This is a request from @talesofadragon , thank you so much for sending it in, it definitely helped with my writers block :) also this will have a second part and possibly a third so keep an eye on for those soon!

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Y/N Archeron remembered the day she returned to the house her two younger sisters lived in and found it completely destroyed. It had only been three months since she had last visited as making the journey across the human lands was a tiring one that Y/N did not make very often. Far from the village her sisters lived in, Y/N lived mostly alone with a large stretch of farmlands and woodlands. The closest neighbour to her was nearly a mile down the road. But Y/N liked that, she liked the peace living on the farm brought her. 

After she moved when she was freshly eighteen, Y/N sent most of her earnings to her family and lived off of the bare minimum. But she was happy, probably happier than she had been in a while. 

Now years on from that, at twenty-eight, Y/N continued to sit at the table in the town house and watched the world go by. She tried to concentrate on her book or anything else but she couldn’t, her mind was elsewhere. It always was this past year. Occasionally someone would walk by but Y/N made no effort to make conversation. All she wanted to do was leave the damned house. 

Y/N was only a human living in the land of the fae. When she first arrived, she was happy. She was back with her sisters and she was in a new place to explore. At first, Rhys allowed her to walk the streets of Velaris, browsing the shops and market stalls. Soon that transitioned to her needing an escort wherever she went and very soon after that, it turned into Y/N being locked up in whatever house everyone decided that week. Today was the town house. She knew that her family were only looking out for her and only wanted to protect her. After all, Y/N was not immortal. She was not fae. She could bruise easily, was far weaker than anyone else around her. 

Y/N sighed yet again and threw the book in her hands to the floor. She didn’t understand why she was here anymore. Y/N knew that she was of no use to anyone around her, she felt more like an inconvenience if anything. They should have just taken her back to her own damned farm.

“Hey,” Azriel said, approaching the eldest Archeron. “I came to check on you.”

“Of your own free will or because you were forced to?” Y/N snapped back. She instantly felt guilty. Since she was brought to Velaris, Azriel had been nothing but kind to her. They all had but he was the only one who had gone out of his way to talk with her everyday. Her sisters had stopped doing that when they had either begun their own families or had gone travelling. 

“My own free will if you really want to know,” Azriel said and sat down in the chair next to hers. He glanced down at the book on the floor. “Did the book really deserve that?”

“It probably deserved a lot more than that,” Y/N said, bringing her legs up onto the chair. She looked back out of the window.

Azriel sighed. “Y/N, look, I know that you don’t want to be here–”

“What gave you that impression?” Y/N interrupted.

Azriel simply ignored her. “But you are safe here.”

“I could have been safe at my farm,” Y/N said. “There was no need to bring me here. Feyre and Nesta are both busy with their families to sit with me anymore. Elain is busy travelling the continent with Lucien. I don’t have any friends here–”

“I am your friend, Y/N,” Azriel interrupted her. “And all we are trying to do is protect you. The whole of Prythian knows that there is another Archeron sister and they all know that you are human. If anyone were to get to you, it would put you as well as your sisters in danger. Because you know that they would do anything to get you back safe.”

Y/N sighed. “I know but this is not a life, Azriel. All I do is sit indoors and waste away. I am not even allowed to go outside anymore. Whenever there is a meeting happening, I am sent away to the furthest possible room. I feel like a prisoner, Azriel. You may not see it, but it is how I feel.”

Azriel sighed and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Y/N said. 

“To a meeting,” Azriel answers. 

Y/N huffed and turned back to the window. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “Have fun.”

Y/N expected to hear Azriel’s retreating footsteps but she didn’t. Slowly she turned her head and found him standing there, his hand outstretched. 

“What?” Y/N asked.

“Are you coming or not?” Azriel asked. 

Hope lit up Y/N’s heart. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly,” Azriel said. 

Y/N stood up and threw her arms around the shadowsinger, nearly knocking him off balance. “What will the others say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azriel said. “If they say anything, let me deal with it.”

“Thank you!” Y/N exclaimed, pulling back from Azriel.

Azriel chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet. You are going to hate it once you realise how boring these meetings are.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said as Azriel began to lead her to the meeting hall. “As long as I can actually be involved in something, I’ll find entertainment in anything.”

As soon as Azriel opened the door to the meeting hall, all eyes were on her. Y/N didn’t shrink away, she lifted her chin and looked around proudly. There weren’t many in the room at all, in fact there was only one new face amongst everyone else. Y/N studied him and, upon inspection, decided that he was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. His copper hair sat neatly on top of his head, a singular strand falling across his forehead. His fashion sense was immaculate and Y/N wanted to study the embroidery on his jacket up close. 

As Y/N moved her gaze back to the man’s face, she found him looking at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. Y/N gave him a small smile. 

A chair scraped across the floor, drawing Y/N’s attention away. 

“Azriel, what is she doing here?” Rhys asked, his voice low and deadly as he spoke to Azriel.

“I thought she could sit in on a meeting,” Azriel shrugged, pulling out a chair for Y/N. One directly across from the handsome man. “You and everyone else made Y/N read books on fae politics, so I thought she could see a political meeting in person.”

Rhys tried to remain calm but Y/N could easily see the anger and tension slipping through the cracks. 

Cassian was the next to speak up. “Az is right Rhys. Y/N must learn about all of this at some point. And there’s nothing like the present.”

Rhys’s gaze hardened on Cassian before he turned back to face Y/N. He offered her a small, barely there smile. “Very well.”

The stares of her two sisters burned into Y/N as she looked down at the table. Y/N hadn’t seen Feyre and Nesta in at least three weeks, but Y/N had to admit that by fae standards, three weeks was not a long time. But to Y/N it was, especially when there was barely anything she could do to pass the time. 

The chair next to Y/N scraped across the floor and Azriel sat down next to her. Y/N turned her head to look at him.

Thank you, she mouthed. 

Azriel gave her a small nod before he turned his attention to Rhys as he began to speak up. Y/N had to admit to herself that she did not find any of what Rhys was saying particularly interesting, but she still felt glad to finally be included in something. 

The meeting felt like it had drawled on forever and Y/N had learnt to block everyone out. Though, if Y/N had to admit to herself, whenever the man with copper hair spoke, she found herself tuning into the conversation just to hear his voice. Not only was he the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on, his voice was the most beautiful she had ever heard. Y/N wasn’t sure if one could fall in love with the sound of someone’s voice but she already had. 

Y/N shuffled in her chair and finally looked up from where she was looking at the small crack in the table. Her back ached from her lack of movement and the uncomfortable seat she had found herself in. The sun outside had begun to go down, casting the room in a faint orange glow. The expression on Y/N’s face saddened as she looked at the sunset. All she wanted to do was go outside and bask in the sun on her own. She wanted her own place to live without the constant feeling of being babysat. All Y/N wanted was her own life back. 

Cassian cleared his throat and it interrupted Y/N from her own thoughts. As she zoned back in, she made eye contact with the handsome man again. He was looking directly at her, a gleam in his eyes that seemed like…concern. Y/N didn’t avert her gaze. Something within her made her not want to look away. She was swimming in his eyes and she would happily drown if she had no other choice. 

The corner of the man’s mouth twitched and Y/N couldn’t help but mimic that movement, fighting the urge to smile. Nothing had made her smile properly in a while but just simply from looking at this man, she wanted to smile, share that experience with him. Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line and averted her gaze, only for a quick second. As her eyes met the man’s once more, a small smile pulled at his lips.

“Eris,” Rhys interrupted and the man reluctantly looked away from Y/N. 

“What?” The man, now known to Y/N as Eris, said sharply. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Rhys’s gaze flicked between Eris and Y/N and his gaze darkened the smallest amount. “I asked you if there was anything else you wished to discuss.”

Eris leaned back in his chair. “Actually there is one thing. I would like to know the name of the beautiful woman I have not been introduced to yet.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Her name is–”

Eris held up his hand, cutting Rhys off. “Ah, I did not ask you for her name.” Eris turned his attention to Y/N. “I would like her to introduce herself.”

Y/N briefly glanced at her sisters. Their expressions did not give away much but for some reason Y/N had a feeling that neither of them wanted her to introduce herself. It only made Y/N want to do it more.

Y/N plastered a bright smile on her face as she faced Eris once more. “I’m Y/N Archeron.”

“Y/N,” Eris repeated, her name sounding like poetry on his tongue. “A beautiful name to match such a woman.”

Y/N’s smile only brightened. 

“Now all introductions are over, I will see you out, Eris,” Rhys said. 

“I can see myself out Rhysand,” Eris replied, standing from his chair. “Although I would not complain if the beautiful Y/N walked me out.”

Y/N felt Eris’s eyes bore into hers and she couldn’t help the heat that rose to her cheeks. 

“I–” Y/N began to speak but she was cut off by Rhys.

“She will not escort you out, Eris,” Rhys said.

“I’m sure Y/N can speak for herself, Rhysand,” Eris said, his eyes not leaving Y/N’s. 

Reluctantly, Y/N shifted her gaze from Eris to Rhys. The High Lord’s violet eyes hardened and Y/N knew exactly what that look meant. It was a warning. Y/N then looked at her two sisters. Feyre did not seem to mind as she slightly nodded at Y/N. Nesta only looked at Rhys’s annoyed expression in amusement. Y/N looked at Cassian and Azriel. While they didn’t say anything, the protective look in their eyes said enough. Though as her gaze met Azriel’s he shrugged. Do what you want, his look seemed to say. It doesn’t mean that I need to like it.

Y/N turned back to face Eris. “I’ll escort you out.”

Instead of a smirk, Eris plastered a pleasant smile upon his handsome face. Y/N pushed back her chair, it scraped loudly against the floor. She could feel the eyes of everyone on her yet she was only focused on one. As she walked around the table to meet Eris, he offered her his arm. Y/N took it gracefully, feeling the hard muscle beneath his jacket. 

As soon as they were outside of the meeting room, Y/N let out a long breath. She looked at Eris to find him already looking at her. 

“I can feel how suffocated you are,” Eris said, his eyebrow knitting together in concern. “I know the feeling all too well myself.”

Y/N sighed. “This is honestly the first time I have ever been allowed to do anything on my own in a long time.”

“I cannot imagine how that must feel,” Eris said. “If I were in your shoes, I would simply run for the hills.”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of doing that?”

“I don’t see why you don’t,” Eris said, as they finally stepped outside. Y/N lingered in the threshold of the doors. Eris’s concern seemed to heighten. “How long has it been since you have been outside?”

“Well only a few days since I moved from the House of Wind to here,” Y/N said. “But actually being outside and feeling the sun on my skin, quite a while.”

Eris scoffed. “Moved around? You are not a piece of furniture.You are a human being.”

“Exactly,” Y/N replied. “A human being. I am not fae. I am not safe if I am to live and walk around in daylight.”

“That is no way to live,” Eris said. 

“It is the way I have been living for nearly four years now,” Y/N said. 

“Well why don’t you and I change that,” Eris said, trailing his hand down Y/N’s arm to intertwine their fingers together. Y/N smiled as she felt his warm palm against hers. “Step out into the sun with me.”

“But it is sunset,” Y/N commented.

“It is said that that is when the sun looks the most beautiful,” Eris replied, nodding his head in the direction of the large hill obscuring their view of the sunset. “We will get a perfect view just up there.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, stepping back from Eris, though she didn’t release his hand. She didn’t want to release his hand. The warmth she felt from it was unlike any other. 

“Don’t do that,” Eris said softly.

“Do what?” Y/N asked.

“Shrink into yourself,” Eris said, lightly pulling her so she stood close to him. “Come with me. It is only over the hill after all. I can walk you back here safely after.”

Eris’s expression held no ill intent and deep down Y/N already knew that for reasons she couldn’t explain. Y/N nodded her head slowly. A wide smile spread across Eris’s face and Y/N couldn’t help herself but smile back. His smile was infectious. 

Together they stepped out of the townhouse and Eris led her further away from the building. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she felt the warm sun on her skin. They stopped at the top of the hill as Y/N’s eyes widened in wonder. It had been a while since she had seen such a beautiful sight. 

“I have to admit that this sight is rather beautiful,” Eris commented. “But the sights in Autumn are even better.”

Y/N turned her attention to Eris. “Perhaps I can see them one day?”

Eris smiled. “I would happily take you now if you wanted.”

The smile fell from Y/N’s face. She glanced back towards the townhouse. “I would love that, but…”

Eris glanced at the house. “They won’t let you.”

“It is their way of making sure I am protected, though I just feel trapped all the damn time,” Y/N said. “I hate feeling useless and that my life has no meaning. I rarely see my sisters because they are busy with their own families or travelling. I am not even allowed to train to pass the time, I am considered too delicate apparently, even for the training dummies. I just want to finally leave this court. I want to go back to my farm.”

“Your farm?” Eris asked.

“Before my sisters were turned into fae, I lived on my own farm hundreds of miles away. I sent most of the money I made to my sisters. I lived on the basics but I was happy,” Y/N explained. “I would kill to go back there.”

“Why don’t you?” 

“Well everyone inside of that house for starters but by now I am sure it is run down. I didn’t have anyone to help out on the farm, only the occasional person passing through if they were in need of work,” Y/N explained. “I am sure that it is not the cosy home it used to be by now and if I’m being honest, I do not have the motivation to even think about remodelling it.”

“What if you had help?” Eris suggested. 

A small smile creeped onto Y/N’s face. “Eris, are you offering to help me?”

“Perhaps I am,” Eris replied, taking a small step closer. “And if I was, Y/N Archeron, what would your answer be?”

“I would say–”

“Y/N!” Rhys called from the townhouse. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to look at Rhys. He stood in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. Y/N sighed. “I should get back inside now.”

As Y/N went to take a step back but Eris gently gripped her hand. “I take it that it would be impossible to convince you to come with me.”

“It wouldn’t be impossible to convince me,” Y/N said. “But convincing the Inner Circle to allow me out of sight is near impossible.”

Eris briefly looked at Rhys before looking back at Y/N. “Maybe I can convince them.”

Y/N laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I take that as a challenge,” Eris smirked. “Mark my words, Y/N, that by this time three days from now, I will get you out of that house.”

Y/N linked her fingers through Eris’s. “Well I cannot wait until you do.”

Eris lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “I will look forward to seeing you again, Y/N.”

“Y/N,” Rhys said, interrupting Y/N from responding. 

“Rhys,” Y/N greeted. 

Rhys turned to Eris. “I see that my sister-in-law has escorted you out, maybe it is time for you to take your leave, Eris.”

“I was just leaving,” Eris replied, a gleam in his eye. “I have a very important letter to write tonight.”

Eris slipped his hand away from Y/N’s but Y/N found herself wanting to take his once more. The immediate coolness that wrapped around her hand was far from pleasant and she missed the warmth Eris provided. 

“I will see you very soon, Y/N,” Eris said, that gleam still shining brightly in his eyes. He turned on his heel and walked away without turning back. The light shone on his copper hair and Y/N wanted nothing more than to follow him. 

Rhys offered his arm to Y/N. “Let’s get back inside.”

“Before someone sees?” Y/N replied sharply. She walked ahead of Rhys the short distance to the town house. Though she felt a fluttering in her stomach and waited in anticipation to see if Eris’s words would come true. 

[elssero]

being pro hero eraserheads full time babysitter.

when agreeing to take on eri full time he didn’t quite realise how often he would be forced to leave her alone- forcing him to drop her off with friends or call someone at all hours in the morning to pick her up.

the hours began to increase and he knew this situation wasn’t good for her- she shouldn’t be seeing a new face everynight.

he needed a babysitter. and off on the hunt he went.

it began after he took one look at your profile on some job app and decided you were the perfect fit, there was no picture on the photo- no age for him to go on.

your quirk was listened as a canceling quirk- having the ability to stop the use of a persons quirk by simply touching them.

it was incredibly strong- and perfect for the type of work you did.

you had specialised in teaching children with unstable quirks- often putting yourself in danger to be able to help those who needed it most.

you accepted the position immediately- it beginning as an on-call night job whenever he required.

you were beyond happy to help- it also helped that the hourly rate was nearly as much as you made in a day.

the first time you babysat you didn’t see him- walking into the house to find a man with blonde hair who you didn’t recognise-

after forcing him to prove to you his relationship with the family he quickly made his way out- face red and clearly impressed you had been so protective of eri already.

the nights you spent with eri were easy- it wasn’t until your third time babysitting you actually met eraserhead.

normally you would sleep in the quest room when you stayed over- leaving in the morning before heading to ur teaching job.

you found yourself never crossing paths with the man who seemed to go straight to bed after coming home in the early hours of the morning.

tonight however was different- he’d came home earlier than expected.

it was near 11pm when you heard the rattling of the door- immediately snapping you up from your place on the couch.

preparing for the worst you brace yourself when the door finally opens- only to reveal a very tired looking eraserhead.

he sounds surprised to see you- as if he’s not paying you an insane amount to be there.

the first meeting is awkward- he makes tired small talk before he sends you home early and thanks you for your hard work.

his mind is in shambles when you leave- yes mic had said you were pretty but holy shit.

your younger than him- maybe by a couple years. seeing your work history he had assumed you had been working with children for alot longer than he had.

you took his breath away. the way you were so ready to protect eri had his heart swelling and seeing you in comfortable clothes had his heart beating a little faster- he almost regrets sending you home.

he tells mic about it immediately in work the next day- his friend only laughs at his little crush on his babysitter. giving a quick “told you so.”

he makes an effort to get home earlier now- your asleep most of the time when he gets in, he begins going into the quest room to look at you check on you before he heads to bed.

you begin to realise that he has started doing handover with you- noticing how he struggles to keep eye contact with you, how the tips of his ears go a little red everytime you get closer to him.

you notice how his stare lingers a little too long on your thighs- how his eyes snap between your cleavage and the wall.

he can’t remember the last time he was intimate with someone- it’s been over a year at this point.

he tries to blame his current lack of a sex life for his infatuation with you, he excuses his teenage like crush on the fact it’s been awhile- he’s sure once he gets some this feeling in his chest when he sees you will go away.

it doesn’t though- he tries to sleep with someone! but he doesn’t get past awkward bar flirting before he’s heading home to you- the smell of alcohol on his breath.

he doesn’t know why he does it- why he invites you to have a drink with him- why he sits right next to you on the couch. it just feels right.

the feeling he’d been looking for all night suddenly explodes in his stomach when he sits next to you- attraction, intimacy, lust.

he can’t remember the last time he’s wanted someone this badly. he shouldn’t though- your eri’s babysitter and a perfect one at that.

you get increasingly drunk as the night goes on- drifting into conversation about your teaching jobs and his pro-hero life.

the atmosphere is intense- feelings sitting on the tip of his tongue as he looks at you- taking in the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle he’d handed you. god.

suddenly he’s inviting you to move in with him- it completely shocks you both as it leaves his lips. a moment of silence is created before he begins to stutter out his explanation.

your here almost everynight anyway? the spare room is basically yours- the drawers filled with your own belongings.

it would mean you’d see eri more- (and him)

it doesn’t take long to convince you in your drunken state- eyeing him suspiciously as he helps you put ur apartment up for sale- you’d probably regret this in the morning.

he celebrates you moving in with him with a kiss-

it doesn’t take you by surprise- your no idiot.

you’d seen the way the older man had looked at you the first night he met you- you’d noticed it straight away.

you had began wearing more revealing clothing around him weeks ago- putting on pretty sleepwear when you’d found out he had been watching you sleep.

he thinks he’s won here- he’s gotten you drunk and coerced you into moving in with him, you can’t back out now.

he doesn’t know that this had been your plan from the start- that your belongings in your home have been packed for days.

he’d played right into your trap- you had decided on the first night you met him you were going to have him- and now you finally did.

[lotusunique]

Nights Like This

Armando Aretas x Fem! Reader

Mkay so while yall wait on this pt.3 of The engagement, ima give yall this lil story I been working on! Im ngl I did cut it in half this was long as HELL! So enjoy ❤️

“We should go out tomorrow night. We never do that anymore.", Kelly says grabbing her purse. "Yeah because you and your man are always boo'd up somewhere. Marcus isn't allowed out too many times in a row or Theresa will kick his ass. Mike is happily married now. And I refuse to be a third wheel on you two’s date" I explain.

“So why don't you invite Armando out.", She looks over to Armando who's looking through a case file. Since he helped take down McGrath and saved Callie, Mike tried to sort out a deal for him. He'll work out his sentence, here at AMMO, being apart of the tactical weapons team.

"Um absolutely not. He literally doesn’t know I exist in that way", I groan. "That’s not true. You just gotta make yourself known. Plus he’s kinda a dick. I don't know why you like him anyway.?”,she says damn

near screaming my secret. "Um firstly, shut up. What you wanna tell the whole world my secret?", I shush her. That’s all I fucking need. For Armando to find out I like him or WORSE. Mike and Marcus could find out. I’d never live it down.

"Invite him out or l'm gonna shout it from the rooftops.", Kelly gives an evil smirk.

"Shout what from the rooftops?", Mike looks over to us. "Oh nothing just that Y/n li-", you elbow her in the side. "That Y/n is going out with Kelly and Dorn tomorrow night", you give a tight lipped smile. "I'm so excited I could scream", Kelly smiles.

"Y'all weird as hell man", Mike says just giving the two of you a glance. Kelly lets out a laugh before nodding towards Armando's seat. "No.",you give a stern look.

"Yes!", kelly says seriously. "Fine. I'll do it before I leave later.", you give in, not wanting to discuss it any further.

- Later-

"I'm out, don't stay too long okay", Kelly says patting your shoulder before heading out, quickly shooting a glance over at Armando, signaling you to talk to him.

She heads out, the door closing, being a deafening reminder of how quiet it is since you and Armando are the only ones in the office. The dim lights giving an Erie feel. "Breathe Y/n. Now's the time to go talk to him", You think to yourself.

"Hey."you walk over to him. He looks up at you with a stare that says "what do you want". "Well I just thought that since it's just me and you tonight, we could at least conversate so it won't be absolutely boring", You sit on his desk.

"What do we have to talk about?", He says with that accent that just drives you crazy.

"Well I do technically have something to ask you", You say looking down at him. "There it is", he flashes a smile. "Stop", You roll your eyes.

"Mkay shoot.", He crosses his arms with a smirk.

"Please come with me tomorrow night. Kelly wants me to go out with her and Dorn. And I really don't wanna third wheel.", you plead.

“What’s in it for me?”, he looks up at you, placing the pen in between his plump lips. “What do you want?”,you ask, staring right down at his lips.

“What’re you offering?”, he asks, moving his rolling chair to where he’s sitting in between your legs,staring up at you with this smirk on his face like he just knows what he’s doing to you.

“I..I..uh”,your breath starts to hitch. “Use your words hermosa.”, he glances up at you through low eyes.

He has to know what he’s doing to you right? The only option is to match his energy, even though it’s all a front.

“Mister Aretas, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”,you snap out of whatever shy shit you just had going on.

“And if I was?”,He traces his finger up your exposed leg. Today was the perfect day to wear a pencil skirt.

The sound of the glass doors creaking open surprises you, causing you to move off the desk swiftly as possible.

“Sorry, I left my house keys”,Marcus walks in, not looking at the two of you.

“Hollup…it’s real dark in here. What yall in here-“,he looks between the two of you. “Nothing we were just talking”,you say quickly. Marcus looks over at Armando who has a condescending smirk upon his face. “Oh okay”,Marcus laughs. “It’s not like that Marcus”,You bury your head in your hands with a laugh.

“Look that ain’t nun of my business. Just make sure you use that latex. Cause you don’t wanna get that I’m late Text!”,he says before dapping Armando up. “What is HAPPENING”, you internally scream to yourself.

Marcus quickly makes his exit, leaving you and Armando to discuss what just happened. “That was embarrassing”,you groan. “It was hilarious”,he laughs. “No it wasn’t”, you lean against the door. “I’ll go with you. I’ve got something to handle before hand though,so I’ll meet you there”,he smiles over at you.

“Okay great. I’m gonna go home. Be safe. I’ll see you tomorrow”,you nervously grab your things before heading out to your car.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Part 18

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: pls trust me that some things will be explained in chapter 19 🙇

word count: 7,003

-Part 17- -Part 19-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Sharp, amber eyes pierce down into the male, despite having less than an inch’s difference in height. 

Lucien keeps his surprise under wraps as he greets his oldest brother, stood before the slightly dilapidated building he and his companions have taken up in, a few boards nailed over one of the upper windows that had broken during a particularly vicious storm. He recalls how Jurian had scavenged some of the plain silverware and they’d drawn spoons to see who would have to climb the roof and patch it up before the autumn chill hit. It’s a fond memory, in spite of his loss. 

“Eris,” Lucien greets shortly, holding position in blocking the male from strutting straight into his home as he knows the male would, given the chance. Not the building itself, exactly, but the people hidden away inside it, and he’d rather not subject them to another visit unless absolutely necessary. Neither of them are particularly well-equipped against Eris’ kind of verbal espionage, how he hunts the information he seeks and so effortlessly riles them up. Vassa is particularly prone to bursting into a flaming temper whenever the male pays them an unpleasant visit. 

“It’s rude to keep a guest waiting, Lucien,” Eris drawls from overside the threshold. Even after all this time he can’t help the instinctive part of him that cringes at the razor sharp tone used to cut into his name, carve it into something jagged and serrated. Perhaps when he was younger he might have returned with ‘it’s rude to show up without invitation’, but he learned long ago it’s best to avoid any kind of verbal conflict with the male. Ultimately it’s tiring and a waste of energy, so instead Lucien offers a mildly withering glare, and asks, “What are you here for?” 

Eris’s features remain sharp but blank, unshifting and drawing a clear line in the sand. Another silent demand he’s more than accustomed to, and wishes he wasn’t. “You can’t just show up without prior notice and expect to be escorted in. There are humans inside and you’ll scare them off.” 

“That’s fine by me,” Eris replies, his amber eyes silently simmering with inherent arrogance. “Step aside.”

“Don’t order me around,” Lucien replies evenly, not a note of sharpness to be found, but firm and unyielding. “You’re in their lands. Besides, they’ll be leaving shortly. You can wait a few minutes.” 

“It’s time sensitive,” Eris replies smoothly, neither having broken the eye contact. 

“You can wait a few minutes,” Lucien repeats.

Silence stretches, Eris’ brows narrowing ever so slightly in a frighteningly scathing glare that would have sent him sprinting to his room a few centuries ago. But he’s a grown male now, so he weathers the simmering look, keeping his feet firmly set on the ground, unfaltering in his stance. 

Within the silence, both can pick out the shuffle of human footfalls, the conversation that floats throughout the house, only detectable to fae hearing and each brother picks out as they trail further. It’s not until a latch clicks and a bolt is slid into place on the other side of the slightly wrecked estate that either of them shifts, and to Lucien’s invisible astonishment it’s Eris who looks away first. Even if it is to glance at the approaching Vassa over his shoulder, he notes it. 

“What’s he doing here?” Vassa questions, a derisive sneer in her tone as she pins the male darkening their doorstep with a look that could turn steak to coal in seconds. Lucien glances to Eris, wondering the same thing—wondering if he’ll answer now the humans have left and he’ll inevitably be allowed in. Sharp amber eyes slice to his own russet one, cutting and demanding, and Lucien bites back a sigh at his oldest brother’s incessant insistence on being obeyed. Even after all these years he’s just as controlling as he always was, though Lucien shouldn’t be surprised—Eris practically thrives in the cutthroat coliseum of the Autumn Court. 

Lucien steps aside in the doorway and Eris enters, bringing with him the harsh bite of the cold that’s sharper than it should be in the human lands. The distinct crispness that passes him as Eris strides past the both of them, removing his surprisingly plain cloak in one swift movement and chucking it over one of the hangers without looking. “I have news,” Eris replies vaguely, before striding further into the heart of the house and disappearing out of sight. 

Vassa shoots a fierce glare his direction, a slight scowl between her brows. “Did you know he was on his way?” She asks, already looking about ready to try smacking the male across the jaw. But Lucien shakes his head, already resigned to the evening being ruined, knowing her impatience isn’t directed at him. “I’m sober, aren’t I?” He replies wryly, a twist of a demeaning smile on his mouth to cool her flammable temper. 

After a long moment of pause, she huffs a laugh, low and raspy, some of the tension relieved from her rigid posture, fiery coloured ringlets jostled slightly from the tremble in her full shoulders. “We’d better go after him,” she says, a little more amused than she was previously, though that amusement dims swiftly at the thought of having to deal with more of the male’s unnecessary and underhanded jabs. Lucien nods, sighing once more before steeling himself, knowing he will inevitably end up in the position of mediator as he always does when people lose their calm, following after her. 

“And just when the cards were finally about to come out,” she mutters under her breath, and Lucien can practically see the scowl that has already worked itself back between her fiery brows, “I was looking forward to wiping the floor with Jurian.” 

The comment has his nostrils flaring delicately as mirth curves his mouth, lips twitching faintly. Between the three of them, Vassa is almost constantly on a losing streak, while Jurian frequently takes them for all they’re worth. He supposes it shouldn’t be as surprising as it is—Jurian’s mortality is debatable at best, an unverifiable grey area at worst. 

“Maybe we can fit in a few rounds after,” Lucien suggests as they make their way through the hallways, headed to the sitting room where the meetings most frequently take place. “The mood will probably be in need of some friendly competition.” 

“Friendly?” Vassa repeats sardonically, pausing just outside the door to the living room. “Those games are nothing short of bloodthirsty. Treating them so lightheartedly is why you never win.” 

Lucien refrains from reminding her that she has yet to go on a single winning streak against either of them. 

————

You shift uneasily in your seat, pulling the silk of the scarf a little tighter, making sure no patchy flesh will slip out from beneath the fine covering. Especially not over a meal. 

The comment springs to the forefront of your mind, rising like the sediment that’s stirred up upon a stone being dropped into the murky bottom of a lake. You know you’ll never be first choice. You’ll never have someone who’d choose you over everyone else, and if you’re honest with yourself it wouldn’t be that bad. You’ve survived this long without being someone’s first choice, so what’s changed? 

What’s changed?

A cold feels skates delicately beneath your speckled flesh at the imposing question, impossibly vast and inconceivably nuanced. So much has changed in the past two years it would be unreasonable to try and tackle it now, without even a paper and pen to aid you in the coherency of your thoughts. But maybe it’s a place to start—some small ideas to help take those opening steps, like how freshly born deer totter around on their delicate hooves, on thin, gangly legs before learning to leap and bound. 

So, you ask yourself again: What’s changed? 

Had it bothered you before that you weren’t first choice? Had you known you weren’t anyone’s first choice—yes, somewhere, but you hadn’t figured it out yet. Perhaps that’s why the comment stung, that you were robbed of making the discovery yourself, red-painted nails having clawed over the stone, carving scratches into the previously smooth surface, permanently tarnished and disheveled. 

No, thinking back, you’ve been first choice before. When you were eight, nine-ish, when you’d run down and about in the garden with Feyre who at that point couldn’t keep up with you yet. When you’d leap over tree stumps and balance on fallen trunks, sticking your arms out unevenly and watching with a strange sense of pride as Feyre doddered behind you, mimicking your stance and holding her own arms out as she made the trek over the mossy trunk. 

Then you’d gotten older, and left Feyre to play in the gardens, in the forest, by herself. Then you’d become closer with Elain a bit before your teens, the two of you often joined at the hip at parties, Nesta bearing down on the few who tried to approach, warding off any unwanted company with her fearsome countenance. You think you’d been one another’s choices then, when your mother would dress you up in complimentary fabrics, selecting patterns that would work well with one another, with little regard for the young girls she was dressing up—her own daughters. 

You like to think it had been you and Elain sticking together, in those last few years when your mother was around. 

That’s what’s changed. 

You’re surrounded by people who have found one another. 

And now your loneliness is starker than ever, yet you hadn’t even really realised it. How Feyre has Rhys and Nyx, Nesta has found Cassian, and even Elain is finding her way with Lucien. They’re the closest you’ve ever been with other people, and the closest you’ll get to other people. But they’ve all found someone else now, and you’re the odd one out. Of course you’d be the one without a mating bond, or whatever the special connection is that they were all afforded. 

You’re reminded of the confession you’d let slip in the midst of your fumbling mouth back in the library all that time ago. How you’d thought maybe…possibly there was a reason you’d felt a click with him. But you suppose you should have known better. You can’t even pretend that he was leading you on, in hindsight. It was obvious he was interested in Elain, and yet you’d thought… How stupid. And to tell him, too. To want something so sacred to them, and to wish it between yourself and him. All from wanting to be first. 

It shouldn’t matter to not be first, and yet it’s starkly painful. You can’t help but want that place. Wanted it so desperately you’d fooled yourself into seeing interest when in reality there was, just none for you. 

Your eyes traitorously stray from the small details on the rim of your porcelain plate—tiny ink drops of blue, red, and orange dotted about the edge—to the empty seat to your left, at one head of the table. 

Why had you ever made the mistake of opening up to him? Hoping for a gentle touch when your body feels like it was hewn from the most unloveable stone. The most unforgiving rock, and the coldest ice. So cold it would peel skin from flesh, so harsh it would be impossible to touch, so utterly unbearable there would be no choice but to remain alone.   

“Will you pass the potatoes?”

You’re drawn from your spiralling thoughts by the golden voice, meeting twinkling amber eyes as Mor watches you with a familiar expression. Warm and welcoming despite how you’d last seen one another. 

Swallowing, you nod. “Yeah, sure,” you reply as normally as you can, hand clutching the orange silk of your scarf to keep the material from sliding up as you carefully grip the lip of the ceramic bowl, passing it to her open hand. “Thank you,” Mor smiles, and you blink before remembering to retract your hand. She seems as she was before…back to the female you’d known her as. Is this…does it mean she’s accepted your apology? She’d seemed convinced of what she had told you, so you can’t quite trick yourself into believing that. But maybe civility? 

Right, you can understand it now. No matter how upset or hurt she might feel, she must not want to make it other people’s problem. Causing a scene over a dinner, one of the rare moments everyone’s together—most of you, anyway—isn’t worth it. No matter how your relationship might have soured, there’s no need to make the people around you miserable, too. 

Amber eyes gleam beneath the warm light, and you feel as though you can come to an agreement—one you’re ready to accept. You can both silently agree not to make it an issue for anyone else, a small kernel of warmth daring to flicker to life in your chest, the sense of connection that comes from mutual understanding despite a disagreement. For everyone else’s sake, the two of you can put everything aside. Even if it might only be temporary. 

“I like your scarf,” Mor says lightly, scooping the jagged, crispy roast potatoes onto the side of her plate, setting the bowl down in a spare space, “it suits you.” 

Again, you blink, caught off guard. You swallow thickly, managing a nod of your head, chest swelling as you eagerly take on the compliment, content to pretend even if it’s only for an hour or two. “Thank you,” you reply, keeping your voice steady, “I love your necklace.” Which is true, though in honesty it wouldn’t be difficult to find something compliment-worthy about her. She’s beautiful. 

Mor hums, glancing to another bowl, before settling on the reasonably sized boat of sauce, creating a small pool at the edge of her plate. You’re a little too occupied with watching Mor to notice the wary glance sent her way by Amren, or the warning one delivered from the High Lord himself. The tiny flicker of hope that maybe things could be patched up blocking out the rest of the picture as you gaze longingly at the female diagonal from you. 

“I suppose with the autumn chill in the air yours is a little more practical than some flimsy jewellery,” Mor replies lightly, plucking a cut of bread from the wooden board, drawing the butter closer to slather the fluffy and crusty slice. “Where did you find it? I should fetch one for myself.” 

“I’m sure you have more than enough scarves, Mor,” Rhys interjects smoothly, the serrated blade of his knife slicing effortlessly through the sinew of meat, slowly dissected into politely bite-sized pieces. “Any more and you’ll struggle to shut your wardrobe properly.”

Mor smiles icily, meeting his gaze with a cold look on her beautiful face. “Just stocking up before we have our eastern visitors.” 

Tension crackles across the table, so acute even you realise something strange is happening, watching nervously, and feeling somehow responsible for the perceived fallout. Eastern visitors…? People from the continent? Eastern…eastern…oh. Feyre had mentioned briefly the deal that had been struck between the High Lord and the Lord that reigns over his Court of Nightmares—Mor’s father. The permitted invasion of her safe haven. The slight fissure that had been opened raw between them—one you’d forgotten about, and had assumed had been fixed. 

“How is—” You fumble when Mor’s sharp eyes cut into you, caught off guard by the fierceness held within them. “…How is he?” You manage to ask, unsure whether you should even be interfering or whether you’re just putting your foot in it. Your hands shake under the table, heart pounding but you keep from shifting in your seat. 

“Who?” Mor asks blandly, ignoring the sharp glare Amren’s pinning her with. Disregarding the hard look on Rhys’ face, slight disappointment. Possibly wholly unaware of the grip Feyre has on her cutlery, head cast downward, brows pulled together. Your throat rolls, not wanting to say his name. 

It would be wrong. 

“Who else?” Nesta asks from across the table, her voice singing with the clean cut of steel as it slices through a silk ribbon, a whisper of anger hissing beneath her tone. Sharp amber eyes clash with cool silver, glinting like mercury and ice in spite of the oranges and yellows filling the room to give the allusion of warmth and familiarity. Tension simmers just below the surface, crackling like a metal weather vane struck by lightening, sizzling with barely restrained power. 

“Azriel,” you say quietly, hurrying through his name in less than a breath, feeling it brand your tongue, tingling at the roof of your mouth. Dispersing some of the charge. “How is he?” 

Amber and silver eyes remain locked for a little while longer, a pause stretching across the table and even to fae hearing there’s hardly a sound being made save for the strain of metal as knuckles strangle and warp the handles of fine cutlery. 

At last Mor looks away, dragging her gaze back to your own, the fire dimmed and smothered. 

“Well enough to be drinking again,” she answers, and that seems to be the end of the conversation. 

————

It’s a little difficult to dry the plates off with the scarf tied at your front, hiding your arms, but you manage. 

A cluster of small, iridescent bubbles float past your nose, wafting by, and Elain laughs as you step back suddenly in surprise, having been zoned out. 

There’s no need to be washing up anymore, not with the aids of magic, and if you’re honest you aren’t entirely sure how the two of you had ended up coming to the same wordless agreement, but here you are. Elain’s at the sink, bubbles frothy and foamy as she scrubs at the crockery and cutlery before depositing them on the side for you to dry with a towel. You don’t think the soapiness would agree with your skin.

The quiet settles between you, comfortable and without strain, two people sharing a space, and the apprehension you’d had before the dinner begins to slowly mellow, ice thawing out over a chilly night. 

Despite the slightly rough start, the night had progressed surprisingly smoothly, with you content to sit quietly while the others discussed various matters: Amren’s recreational studying of the Old Language; Nesta’s progression with swordplay, having begun wielding ataraxia during training; a discussion lead by Rhysand about wards that you’d partially tuned out, thinking of the crater you’d blasted through the House of Wind—at least it sounds like something that can be fixed. They aren’t permanently broken, just temporarily disabled. 

“Feyre’s birthday is coming up,” Elain says, seemingly out of nowhere, and you glance at her questioningly, humming in acknowledgement. “What are you thinking of getting her?” You ask, curiously content to follow along this path and see where she takes it. Elain sighs faintly, “I was thinking of making some herbal teas, actually…not many, but a few different ones to see if any help with stress, or sleeping, or the like. Generic benefits.” 

You nod your head slightly—it’s a thoughtful gift, bespoke and personal, too. She’s always good with presents. 

“You?” Elain asks, glancing at you lightly, speaking only loud enough to top the gentle babbling of water and splashing of suds. You glance down at the stack of dried plates, reaching for the wet cutlery to start on. “I haven’t thought of anything yet,” you answer honestly, considering, “it’s still a couple of months away, so I guess I hadn’t started thinking about it yet.” 

Elain’s quiet for a bit, and you get the sense she has something to say but is unsure how to bring it up. You wait patiently, preoccupying yourself with the cutlery, careful not to accidentally carve a chunk of flesh from the heel of your palm. 

“I think…Feyre would like to do something with all of us,” she says quietly, a little absently. “Perhaps not on the actual day, but sometime nearby.” 

“She would?” You ask, slightly surprised. Elain doesn’t meet your gaze this time, continuing to focus on washing up, giving her hands something to do, and you copy her after a moment, carrying on with the drying up. “She hasn’t said anything explicitly, but it’s the impression I’ve gotten,” Elain says faintly, then pauses again. “I think…I think it would be nice, too.” 

There’s a tremor in her fingertips, but she pushes them below the warm water, out of sight as if reaching for a fork or spoon beneath the frothy surface. 

“Particularly, after…” Her throat closes up, and you hesitantly reach out, gloves temporarily discarded while drying, bare fingers grazing the soft skin of her forearms, unable to feel the gentle tickle of tiny hairs anymore. “I’m sorry…” you murmur uselessly, watching helplessly as a droplet falls from her eye, splashing through into the dishwater below. But Elain shakes her head, hands raising from the water to continue moving, absently washing the last plate from the dinner. 

“I’d like to see more of you, too,” Elain says, swallowing thickly as she scrubs at the gleaming porcelain, clearing her throat. “So would Nesta. I think we’ve all been a bit distant lately, with one another I mean, and with Feyre having Nyx, and Nesta off in Day… We should spend more time together, and see each other more often, and speak more, just in general. And then there’s also Starfall, and we can see each other then, and celebrate, and—”

“Elain, Starfall’s months away,” you say gently, fingers shifting so they’re lightly gripping her wrist, pausing her motions, pulling her eyes to lock with your own. Wider than they should be.

You look at one another, watching silently, and you can feel the flutter of her pulse beneath your fingertips, erratic enough for even your own damaged hands to pick up on. 

“You’ll be there, won’t you?” She whispers, eyes hot and wet. 

You blink, grasping the heaviness of the question, then nod, unable to make your throat work, lower lip trembling a bit. “I’ll be there,” you manage to get out, feeling the familiar pressure behind your eyes. 

She nods back, before finally handing over that last plate that has been clean for a while, but between the soapiness of the dishwater, and the trembling of both your hands, the plate slips, and smashes on the floor. The pale fragments split and shatter, spraying across the cold tiles, and both of you jump at the startling noise, before looking at each other again, and laughing. Gasping, ragged breaths that have both of you leaning for support, tears welling in eyes as each of you are split between crying from desperate, manic humour, and dreadful, fearsome sadness. 

Neither of you can find it in yourselves to care about the shattered porcelain, the jagged fragments with blue, red, and orange ink drops dotted around the utterly broken rim of the plate. 

“I…I need to find something…to clean that up,” you gasp through laughter, wiping away the tears. Elain just nods, still heaving ragged breath into her lungs, eyes squeezed shut, ringlets of hair jostling with each shudder of mirth as she grips the edge of the sink, expression torn between sobbing laughter and wrecking grief, and you don’t think you can stand to be in the same room for much longer, subject to the violent turbulence. 

The light from the kitchen dims but your eyes adjust swiftly as you walk unevenly out into the dark hallway, rounding the corner to go look for a brush, or duster of some kind, even a cloth or a rag would do—

Both of you freeze as you round the corner to see one another, Mor’s figure losing its rigidity much more swiftly compared to your own that will remain locked up for the following few minutes. 

You swallow thickly, eyes wide as you take her in: the dimmed gold of her lustrous hair; the bare expanse of her elegant neck; the tray held in her red-tipped hands, those long, slightly rounded nails gleaming a deep rouge. “Mor,” you greet, a touch quieter than usual, “I didn’t see you there.” 

“Nor I, you,” she replies, watching you. A beat passes, and you swallow again, eyes flicking down to the tray in her hands. “Azriel’s?” You ask through the tightness in your throat, gently probing to see if she’s open to a conversation. You’ll leave, if she’s unresponsive—you know now what it’s like to be on either end of this strange dynamic. Mor nods her head once, still watching you silently, and you look elsewhere. Then nod your own head. “Nice seeing you,” you say quietly, then move to walk around her. 

“Wait,” Mor whispers at the last second, holding the tray in one hand and gripping your wrist with the other. You recoil sharply when her fingers squeeze your arm, and her hold lightens significantly, but she doesn’t immediately let go, digits stuttering away a second later. “Sorry,” she murmurs, stepping back by half a pace. “It’s okay,” you reply hastily, looking away as you pull your hand back to your body, “you didn’t know.” 

The words hang between you, and silence stretches in the relative darkness of the corridor.

When you manage to raise your gaze to glance at her, you nearly regret the choice—she’s making no effort to conceal the fierce defence in her sharp amber eyes. You’re about to turn to try and leave again though, when she speaks, and the tremor in her voice is pronounced enough to root you to the spot. 

“Tell me why you went to Eris.” 

————

The expression that was on the commander’s face had been enough to set the two of them on edge, Jurian offering Eris one of those slow but rare, slightly insane half-smiles he can make, that often has the spiralling effect distinctive to falling down through a nightmare on whoever’s unlucky enough to have it turned on them. It doesn’t come out often, but that it’s made an appearance this evening is a dark sign, and Lucien silently prays he will not be forced into a position where he will have to default to Eris’s defence in attempts to calm the potential ire that could catch in either of his human comrades. 

The day has proven to be tricky enough on its own—none of them need this added abrasion. 

Vassa strides across the room, taking up in the seat closest to the crackling hearth, the flame making her hair blaze brighter than natural, her already sharp eyes glinting in the firelight. 

It seems he’s the only one actively trying to avoid the conflict that’s brewing in the air, the other two appearing ready and more than content to fight fire with fire. He knows there’s no use explaining the redundancy of wielding that tactic against the male across from the human queen, with fire burning in his very blood. 

“You said you had news,” Vassa demands, charging straight to the point before Lucien’s even had a chance to seat himself on the other end of the sofa, opposite from Jurian. Between his chosen family and his blood-given one. But Eris won’t be rushed, and instead turns his attention to his youngest brother, the fire doing nothing to thaw the cool ice in his amber eyes. “How is your mate, Lucien?” 

Lucien allows himself the space of a blink to recompose himself, vaguely trying to hide his suspicion. It’s never good when he can’t see the end Eris is pursuing, but he’s used to being left in the dark when it comes to the male’s schemes—he just can’t help the instinctive aggression that prickles up the back of his neck at Elain being brought into this. 

“You aren’t one for idle chatter,” Lucien replies, calming the flame that had begun sizzling in his blood, “why don’t we skip ahead and get straight to the point, as this is such a time sensitive matter?” A sinister gleam appears in his oldest brother’s eyes, and he braces himself for whatever whip is about to lash into his skin. “Very well,” Eris says instead, leaning back into his chair, practically sprawling across it, dominating the space he takes up in his typically uncaring, arrogant fashion. But then the air shifts, his expression becoming serious. “How well-informed is your mate of Night Court affairs?” 

“Enough with this evasive subterfuge. What news do you bring?” Vassa demands harshly, Jurian seemingly agreeing with her anticipation to have the male rid of as soon as possible, a disagreeable look simmering in his rough features. But Lucien levels his brother with an evaluating glance, mechanical eye whirring faintly against the dim heat of the fire. “We each have our distances,” Lucien replies evenly, yielding a vague answer. He’s getting the distinct feeling something large has happened, or is about to. Maybe even happening as they speak—slabs of rock knocking into one another, having already been pushed into motion. 

Does this have anything to do with Elain’s visit being postponed? She had been supposed to arrive two days ago, but had had to change their meeting to a later date as she’d had a family matter to oversee. Lucien hadn’t tried to pry. 

“But you’re aware that Nesta Archeron and the General took a vacation to the Day Court?” Eris questions, and again Lucien has the distinct sense he’s missing a piece of the puzzle. A very big, very crucial piece of the puzzle. 

He nods, and braces himself. 

Though even foresight wouldn’t have been enough to prepare him for the news Eris had brought. 

A warning that shook him to his fae bones. 

————

You swallow thickly, frozen stiff as her truthful eyes bore into you. 

You open your mouth, lips ajar, but your throat is much too tight to release any sort of sound. 

Mor doesn’t shift, holding your gaze with a steadiness and conviction you can’t look away from, bound to her by an invisible tether that’s keeping you from hiding or running how you’d like to. “Surely you know…” she whispers, taking in a shallow breath, her lashes fluttering with an almost imperceptible shudder. “Surely you know what he did to me.” 

You give a faint nod of your head. 

Her amber eyes sharpen, and your stomach clenches beneath the look. “So explain yourself,” she utters lowly. “Don’t leave it up to me to pry the answers from you.” 

A seed of fear plants itself in your throat, something cool and slimy rinsing gently down your spine and you’re worried sweat is dripping down your ribs, rolling in salty droplets down the soft inside of your arms where the skin hasn’t yet grown dehydrated and flaky. Fingers tighten absently on the silk of the orange scarf banding around your upper body, tugging at the folds to try and hide the tremor of adrenaline that’s filtered into your bloodstream. 

You swallow thickly, but your throat won’t clear, and you realise that’s because there’s nothing there—no matter how much it feels the opposite. 

“I didn’t…” you clear your throat again. Rip your gaze away. “I didn’t want to disappoint any of you,” you force yourself to answer, voice catching at the pitiful excuse. 

Mor’s silent. 

Silent for long enough you nervously look at her. 

You flinch internally at the expression of horror on her features, shoulders bunching with shame as your brows curve, silently begging for a reply, and not this awful quiet that’s slowly gutting you. 

“You chose…” she swallows past a lump in her throat, and her scent has shifted but you can’t understand what it means, the minute changes that occur within fae bodies. “You willingly went to him? He didn’t even have to try and persuade you?” 

“Mor it wasn’t like that,” you try to clarify hurriedly. “I just—…I just thought it would be—”

“Easier?”

“No! I just thought it would— I don’t know… It would’t cause trouble! I just wanted to do it by myself so I wouldn’t have to bother any of you!”

“Wouldn’t cause trouble?” Mor repeats incredulously, a look of disbelief on her features, like she can’t grasp what you’re saying. “We were ready to help,” Mor bites back sharply, “all you had to do was ask for it. You could have spoken to Feyre, or any of your sisters about your magic. Any of us. You could have come to me, even—but you went to Eris.” Her voice is taut, rife with anger and hurt, but even in the dim light there’s a faint shine in her eyes, belying their wetness. “What made you think that we weren’t enough?” 

“I didn’t want to bother you!” You say back, matching her volume. 

“We’re your family! You’re supposed to bother us!” 

You take a small step back, fighting the humiliating wobble of your lip before you shake your head, fingertips tingling. “No. You’re— You’re Feyre’s family.” 

“Feyre’s your sister,” Mor emphasises, knuckles pushing up from beneath the smooth softness of her skin, pronounced from her bone-white grip on the tray that’s beginning to splinter. “Or is she no longer part of your family either? It seems the only person you even bother to speak to is Elain nowadays. Her and Azriel, anyway.” 

“And what does that matter?” You bite back, hands itching. “What does it matter if I only speak to Elain? Would you prefer I start speaking to you, Mor?” 

“Why not?” She nearly spits, energy being drawn out from the cave where she’d tried to smother it over dinner. “Why not?” You repeat, neither of you completely aware of how your voices are beginning to rise incrementally, ignoring or oblivious to the faint, sickly green light that definitely isn’t coming from the kitchen. “You’d like me to speak with you when this is the kind of conversation we’re having? You want me to be emotional, or vulnerable with you, or ask you for help when you shut me out the moment I do something wrong? When I fail?” 

“I might have shut you out but you didn’t even open up. Didn’t even give us a chance in the first place, don’t pretend otherwise,” Mor spits back. “If you can’t understand the pain you caused me, fine. I can’t help it if you won’t allow yourself to think of us as family. But what about your actual family? What about them?” 

“Don’t you dare try and talk to me about my own family Mor,” you grit out, nails digging into the flaky skin of your palms, heart pounding in your chest. “Haven’t you pried enough?” 

“Did you even think to consider how it would make them feel?” Mor jabs, barrelling ahead. “Can you grasp how hurt Feyre was that you didn’t go to her? Three sisters, and you decided that none of them were good enough? Just because you aren’t their first choice doesn’t mean they can’t be—”

“Mor.” 

Utter silence falls throughout the hallway at the barely restrained interruption. 

Both of you freeze at the sound of the third voice, filled with hissing winds and rasping shadow. Managing to stay calm despite the tempest in her blue-grey eyes. 

Before you, Mor blinks, and you’re unsure if you imagine the way colour drains from her features, still watching you. Further unsure if the faint green light was smothered of its own accord or the dark shadows that seem to be heavier now Feyre has appeared. Now the Cursebreaker has entered. 

Mor turns on her heel, shifting to meet Feyre’s eyes, but quiet stretches between them, and you get the impression a conversation is being had, though not through daemati powers. A single lock of golden hair shifts over Mor’s shoulder, falling out of place, though you can no longer see her expression. And then she nods. Just once, hardly perceptible, even to fae eyes, and you watch with a still pounding heart as the tray vanishes from her hands a second later, heels clicking softly across the floorboards as she wordlessly takes her exit, leaving you and���Feyre, alone in the hallway. 

You shift anxiously on your feet, swallowing thickly. 

“How much of that did you hear?” You ask quietly, looking away again, all the fight drained from you after the brief altercation. You’re entirely unaccustomed with those open arguments, haven’t had one since—well, since that last one with Feyre, that had the sound ward placed on your room. 

Feyre watches you, the previous storm quietened, but her eyes aren’t sparkling as usual. Instead she looks drained. Drained, and tired, and a little wary. “Enough,” she answers.

You shift again, a little begrudging she saw fit to interrupt, like you needed her to intervene. “It was fine, you know…” 

Feyre’s quiet, and you’re unsure if she’s angry. Angry at you for speaking to Mor that way. Angry at you for speaking so loudly when Nyx is probably asleep. Angry at you for not speaking to her first. Angry at you for the long, long list of reasons she should have by now. 

“It did hurt,” she says quietly, and you raise your gaze to meet her own, “that you thought you couldn’t come to us. To me.” 

Your lips purse, and you look away. 

“I was upset with your choice. Disappointed a little. Confused,” she continues in that quiet whisper that could carry with ease across a cavernous hall. “But what Mor said wasn’t true. Not in the way she phrased it.” 

“Feyre, it’s fine,” you say softly. “You don’t need to—”

“Mor knows that’s not true either.” 

Your lips purse again, that quiet stretching between you. 

You want to disintegrate on the spot. 

Fabric rustles slightly, and it’s the only clue you have to Feyre shifting. Then, “it’s late,” she says, moving away from the open wound of a topic. “We should talk more about this in the morning. When Madja comes round too.” She nods her head toward the corridor, but you look at her a little apologetically. “I was supposed to find Elain a brush,” you say, feeling embarrassed, “we broke a plate.” 

“The kitchen will clear it up,” Feyre replies, leaving no room for you to skate back to your older sister. 

So you end up walking with her back to your room. 

It’s dark out, and you can’t help but look forward to settling into bed, even if it hurts sometimes to roll over beneath the covers. That it hurts sometimes to lie on your sides, when your arms press into the sheets, with your weight resting atop them. At least you’re beginning to get used to it, the pain much more tolerable now, despite it having not decreased. 

You’ve both reached the top of the stairs, turning down the hallway that will lead to your bedroom, walking close enough together to make up for the fact your arms aren’t linked—Feyre guessing correctly it would probably hurt—when Feyre speaks. “Are Eris and Azriel the only other people who’ve felt your magic before?” She asks tentatively into the darkness of the house, seemingly having cooled off now you’re further from the spot of altercation. 

“Yes, I think so,” you answer in an equally soft voice. 

“Have either of them every commented on what it feels like?” She asks, and you’re aware how she’s keeping her gaze ahead. You move your eyes to look in the same direction, spotting your bedroom door on the right not far ahead. “Not that I can think of,” you reply, before adding, “though it’s never been…going, for as long as that.” 

Feyre’s silent, and you glance at her through the shadows, wondering what she’s thinking. You can’t read her expression, so resume your looking ahead. 

“When I was in autumn, though,” you begin hesitantly, hardly louder than a whisper, worrying who might overhear the unpleasant reference, “my magic almost…I don’t know…burst? It came through me very suddenly, and forcefully.” You recall the frighteningly large creature that had charged at you while in the woods, how your magic had melted the skin from its flesh. “We were both sick afterwards.” 

“Azriel was sick a lot when he first woke up,” Feyre says faintly, and your stomach clenches with guilt. 

You try to swallow past it, but it seems to remain lodged in your throat, unpleasantly settling in your stomach heavily enough you’re thankful when you reach your door, the evening nearly over with. 

“Why did you ask, by the way?” You question before slipping away into your room, paused over the threshold. 

Feyre glances at you, turned to leave but stopping. “Your magic…I could feel it in the hallway,” she answers, a wary note creeping into her voice. 

She seems disinclined to give anything else, so you again shift awkwardly in the doorway, before gathering the gut to ask, “how did it feel?” 

Something passes behind her blue-grey eyes, shuttering briefly as they close, before reopening. “Like I was dying again,” she answers quietly. 

You stare at her silently, the threshold of your room between you, the silence heavier than it was before. You don’t even know what to say to that. 

She doesn’t give you the time to think of a reply, however, as she releases a sigh. Her throat rolls as she meets your eyes. “Sleep well,” she says, and you catch as her attention dips to your hands, like she wants to take them, to hold them. 

But she doesn’t, instead looking back at you again, throat rolling for the second time.

“I love you,” she says hoarsely, speaking those words that are so sparsely exchanged between the four of you. 

You stiffen, emotion of a different kind tightening your throat, and you nod faintly. 

“I love you, too. Sleep well.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND

PROLOGUE

SUMMARY: a child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 1k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: none for now

The Night Court was home to Prythian’s oldest and darkest secrets. Perhaps it was the rippling terror of the Court of Nightmares, or the nightfall darker than any other region, that granted it the ability to house so many enigmas. However, from the city of Velaris to the Ouroboros, each secret had its expiration date. As the old saying goes, there are no secrets that time does not reveal—and in an immortal world, time was a fickle thing. But few knew of the Night Court’s best kept secret.

She was the bastard child of Keir, the Steward of Hewn City, and Marjorie, a high fae librarian of the Day Court. Born from an unwilling affair between the two immortals, she was kept hidden from her father. For nearly two decades, Marjorie used every last drop of her powers to conceal her pregnancy and her child. The Day Court faerie knew that if her abuser ever gained knowledge of his child’s existence, it would be a death sentence. Marjorie raised her daughter alone. She grew up concealed among the infinite bookshelves of the Day Court’s libraries. She learned to read before she could walk, and speak in ancient tongues at the ripe age of five. Despite her haunting ability to sink into the shadows, a gift bestowed upon her by her ignorant father, she was a child of the Day Court, through and through. It wasn’t her spell-cleaving ability or the tendrils of light she could summon at her fingertips that made her a child of the Day; rather, it was her thirst for knowledge and sharp intelligence that even the Cauldron itself marveled. 

Morrigan, the third in command of the Night Court, was the first to find her. As the threat of Amarantha’s rise dispersed through the courts of Prythian, Marjorie knew she had to act quickly. Driven by the fear of her precious child landing in the hands of Kier, the librarian wrote to the only family she trusted to keep her daughter out of harm’s way. Despite the shock of her half-sister’s existence, Morrigan acted without hesitation. The third in command took her sister to the safety of Velaris without hesitation. Marjorie promised her weeping daughter that she would one day return; that they would meet again when all evil had been righted. But she knew. She knew in her heart that it would be the last time she would see her mother. Despite the terror that Amarantha’s invasion instilled in Marjorie, she died peacefully knowing that her pride and joy was out of evil’s grasp.

The inner circle of the Night Court was the next to learn of her existence. They were at first wary, due to the threat of war growing through Prythian. But the doe eyes identical to Morrigan’s were a window into the goodness of her soul. Rhysand didn’t need to tap into the cobblestone barriers of her mind to see her striking erudition, sharp tongue, and despite its intricacies, her pure heart. But time, in all its futility, was against him. As he travelled to Under the Mountain, where he would remain for the next half-century, she found solace in the library of Velaris. Although not as vast as her once home in the Day Court, she valued the wealth of literature and treated it with a level of admiration Clotho hadn’t witnessed in centuries.

When she wasn’t browsing through the rows and rows of titles, she found herself growing close with the other members of the Night Court’s inner circle. Amren took a liking to her quick wit. Azriel found himself drawn to the gentle curiosity, rather than fear, that graced her features when she first studied his scarred hands. Cassian admired the unrelenting fearlessness she carried from fickle debates to the training ring. And Morrigan found a piece of her heart she hadn’t known was missing since the day her father dropped her at the borders of the Forest House in the Autumn Court. She had found her sister. A sister not only bound to her by choice, but by blood. Through the constant fear of Rhysand’s absence and Amarantha’s rule, she was the silver lining; the flickering flame that wouldn’t go out, no matter how hard the winds of evil blew. 

Nearly a decade into her stay in Velaris, she began to grow restless. She had spent the first twenty years of her existence cooped up in the libraries of the Day Court. She appreciated the change of scenery that Velaris brought. But there was an incessant itch in the back of her brain she could not scratch. She had read thousands of books detailing the histories, landscapes, and people of Prythian. Yet she had never set foot into the vast world surrounding her. She was a caged bird, yearning to stretch her wings. So, she concocted a plan. Rhysand’s last ditch effort to keep Velaris safe only forced his inner circle to remain within the limits of the city.

She became Athena Ellesmere: a merchant and cartographer’s daughter, sent to each court to engage in tradings and research the vast lands and seas of Prythian. She forged relationships with citizens of each court—farmers, vendors, lower-level employees of the High Lords. She gathered intel on the inner-workings of each court, the sentiment of its people, and the status of Amarantha’s cruel grasp. She became an asset to the Night Court during the queen’s rule of terror. Upon Rhysand’s return decades later, she was officially inducted into his inner circle as the Liaison of the Night Court. During the war against Hybern, her role as a liaison was critical for reaching parts of Prythian the Spymaster’s shadows could not through conversation. Her fluency in literature and ancient tongues was invaluable in helping Amren crack the code of the book. Her allegiance to those who had saved her from certain doom at the hands of her father was unwavering. And when the famed Archeron sisters took residence in Velaris, she vowed to protect them as her Night Court family had protected her.

To Prythian, she was a merchant and cartographer’s daughter. To the inner circle, she was their best kept secret. But as the old saying goes, there are no secrets that time does not reveal.

[myromanempiree]

enchanting ; act one

(Previously titled; dreamers with no stars.)

Pairing; Eris x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: angst if you squint.

Summary: Your sister invites you to a ball, you meet an enchanting man.

"With all I've loved,

I loved alone"

-Edgar Allan Poe

....

To be isolated is to walk down the mahogany stairs of the House, trailing curious fingers down the barely textured, cream-colored walls. To hear the third step squeak when you place your weight on it, just on the left side. To walk down the endless hallways, filled with family portraits that seem to mock her existence with the words whispered in the back of her mind,  "you are lost, yet no one cares to find you.” To walk into the warm light of the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the breakfast table for some Saturday tradition.

Forgotten as Feyre and Rhysand dote over the bump that grows larger and larger with each day, forgotten as Nesta and Elain quietly converse, still adjusting to the crowd of fey, yet comfortable in their presence. Forgotten as Azriel makes an off handed comment that rials Cassian up, Mor grinning against the rim of her glass.

To be isolated is to walk to the counter to grab something to eat, only Amren sparing her a single glance, paired with a barely-there nod.

She slowly piles food onto her plate, before finding those same portrait filled hallways, the same cream-colored walls, the same mahogany steps, a new day, yet the same routine.

….

Hours pass as she searches the library, keen eyes scanning the leather bound books looking for a specific title that one of the priestesses had recommended. She pulls a book down with nimble fingers, before adding it to the pile of books for the week. 

She absent mindedly sorts through the books, eyes darting from the stack of books to the list she had made a few days ago. Her mind was much too focused on the titles to hear the soft shutting of the large doors, and the rustling behind her. It takes the woman behind her a few tries to pull her out of her focus, Feyre's voice growing louder as she repeats her name several times, before tapping on her shoulder.

“Yes?” She said, head slowly turning to glance at her sister. Feyre hums, circling the chaise and sitting down beside her. “I wanted to speak to you about something.” Feyre began, opening her mouth to speak before being interrupted by the woman next to her. 

“Is it about breakfast? I don't usually go anyways–” “No, no… its not about breakfast, I wanted to ask you to join us, Rhysand is hosting an event in Hewn City and… Don't make that face, Sea Lion.” Feyre said at the obvious distaste in her sister's face. 

Ah, yes… that nickname. Born from Nesta's teasing over a decade ago, due to her brief curiosity of the creatures after hearing of one from her fathers business partner, it was mocking at first, but morso a pet name as they grew older. Something she had never understood was how her sisters could use something that was originally thought of as mocking, as an endearment. 

She was pulled from her thoughts yet again as Feyre sighed, gently reaching out for her sisters hand. “It is very important to me that you go, I would like all my sisters to be there.” At her sisters silence, she nods.

“Please, think about it.” 

Please was not a word any of her sisters used often, other than Elain, of course. Feyre must really want this, so she sighed, “I suppose  Ill attend.” She said softly, turning to her sister and nodding, looking into her eyes for the first time today.. Feyre thanking her hand skittering off, probably to tell Rhysand.

“Smile. You look like you don't want to be here.” Nesta said, looking amused as she sips from her glass. 

“I don't.” She responds, her sister sighing. “Neither do I, and I much less want to have to seduce that.” Nesta said, gesturing to a man in the crowd, speaking with Mor's father, Kier or something. The man turning to look behind him towards the dias, letting her see a proper peek at his face.

Oh, Mother.

There stood the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, cropped copper hair, high cheekbones that added an air of regality to him without making the man look haughty. Plump  lips pulled into the most self assured grin, showing his perfect teeth, keen whisky eyes examining the room in a manner that bordered on predatory.

 The moment those dazzling eyes met hers, she looked down to her glass, cheeks pinked. Unable to see his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, unable to see the urgency in which he looked away. 

She silently excused herself, moving to the clear balcony to catch her breath, not knowing whatever the feeling she held in her heart was. The thought slightly scaring her. 

She stays on that balcony for a long while, only parting with it when the still-new sensation of a presence in her mind. And Rhysand’s voice echos words into her mind. “Come to the dais”

….

She walked to the dias, her midnight blue velvet gown ever so slightly brushing against the floor as she steps into the spare spot in between Nesta and Elain, assuming that to be her designated spot. She stands there for a while, watching silently as the beautiful man walks up the stairs, conversing with the High Lord and Lady. 

What was said not registering as she gazes at the man. Something about him felt familiar, though she was sure she'd never met him. She only began to pay attention as he walked their direction, Nesta adjusting her posture to appear more sensual. 

She assumed this to be the part where Nesta seduced the man, which felt wrong to her, for whatever reason. However, he does not stop at Nesta, he moved past her to stand in front of herself. He stepped a stair below his current stature and bow, taking her hand to his lips and brushing them against her hand. 

The sensation setting a fluttering feeling off in her stomach. “What is your name, Lady Archeron?” The man asked her, tilting his head. As she introduced herself, and he introduced himself, she was led to the dance floor by the man– Eris. 

Eris. 

Her eyes find a mole on the side of his face, right below his right  eye, gaze trained on it as they begin their waltz. She claws at her brain to find the steps, yet cannot remember. Eris gently moves his hand to the small of her back, bringing here closer to him and leaning his face  against her neck as he whispers softly.

 “Follow my lead.”

It felt natural to do so. Even though Eris kept attempting to strike up a conversation, she was too focused on trying to not step on his toes and bring them to the ground to converse. The waltz came to an end, and she bows, her hands shaking. 

The walk back to the dais was as silent as the rest of their interaction. She felt guilty for not being able to seduce the man, but regardless, was glad she was even able to waltz without falling and crashing into something or someone. 

She moved swiftly up to her sisters as shocking words ring in her ears. 

“I will offer you support, in exchange for her hand.”

a/n - I read this back and she's kinda autistic-coded, so I hope everyone is okay with that :)

Taglist;

@babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @impossibelle @thestartitaness

comment if you want to join taglist!

[fatkish]

Hey hey I was wondering if you could do a aizawa with his teen daughter who just found out she was pregnant and how he and her deal with everything

[Since Anon didn’t specify whether the daughter was impregnated by choice, I’m going to go a darker route and say that the reader was r~~~d by their ex (they were together at the time, but they broke up after the reader found out their boyfriend assaulted them in their sleep) and although they are upset about the situation, they can’t bring themselves to terminate the baby.]

Aizawa x Teen Daughter Reader: Teenage Pregnancy

You and your boyfriend had a really good relationship going. You both had agreed to save sex for when you were out of Highschool and both had stable jobs

At least, that’s what you thought

You were 17 years old when you got ‘sick’. Constantly throwing up in the mornings and certain smells made you puke.

Aizawa had noticed this and hoped it was just the flu but decided to be safe and went to buy Pregnancy tests and left them on your bed with a note saying:

“I picked these up for you, I promise I won’t be angry or upset with you if you’re pregnant. You’re old enough to know that every action has consequences. Just know that I’m here to help in any way I can.

Love, Dad”

When you missed your period you decided to take the tests. Needless to say they were positive.

When Aizawa heard you crying through the bathroom door, his heart slightly broke, so he tried to talk to you

“Sweetheart, are you going to be able to come out and talk to me? I know that you’re upset but please know that I’m not going to be mad at you or scold you. You knew that this was going to be something that could happen when you had sex”

Cue the reader crying even harder. That’s when Aizawa knew, he f~~~ed up.

Oh, oh this is much worse then he could have possibly imagined. His heart broke in two and he felt a simmering of rage start to boil in his gut

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry, forget what I said, you didn’t choose this but I promise I’m going to be here and help you no matter what you choose to do.”

Eri was awake and heard the commotion and asked about what was going on. When Aizawa tried to explain what was happening that’s when you exited the bathroom with a positive test

You knelt down and did your best to explain to Eri what was happening and what it meant. When you saw the look of wonder and excitement on her sweet little face, that was when you decided to keep the baby

Aizawa had called Mic and let him know what was happening as well as Midnight. They both drove over and stayed with you (Midnight didn’t die in this story) whilst Aizawa left to go deal with your Ex

First Trimester:

Aizawa, Mic and Nemuri are there for everything. Aizawa is there at every checkup and has a picture of the ultrasound in his wallet

He started getting things early and stocking up on necessities like diapers, bottles, wipes, etc.

Started to baby-proof the house, helped get a crib set up as well as the nursery

Second Trimester:

He started preparing for you to be homeschooled during maternity leave and made sure you would still be on track to graduate

He and Mic start to buy gender neutral baby clothes, books, toys, etc.

He takes you to every appointment

Third Trimester:

Oh boy, he nervous

His students hear about it and hold a baby shower for you. Each member of class 1A gets you of the baby something. Some of their gifts include: an All Might and Eraserhead onesies, cute baby clothes, some books, a baby food processor and recipe book with storage containers, maternity friendly tea, stuffed toys, etc.

As you start to show more, Nemuri takes you shopping for clothes

Aizawa and Mic surprised you with a painted nursery as well as a car seat

Birth:

Aizawa never had so many mixed emotions all at once

When he got the call at school that you went into labor, he dropped his things and immediately headed to the hospital

Grabs the to go bag as an after thought

Eri calls the baby her little brother and promises to be the best big sister ever

Every milestone, Aizawa is taking pictures of

Of course, uncle Mic helps out with the baby and everything

[nocasdatsgay]

Happiness is a Foreign Concept

Day 2: Legacy @erisweekofficial

Word Count: 1637 | Rating: T | Genre: Gen.

Characters: Eris, LOA, Male OC (Rowen), Elain, Lucien, Elain/Lucien’s children

Warnings: Contemplating the future, feelings of melancholy, talk of marriage and children | Read on AO3 | Masterlist 2024

Summary: Eris is feeling the pressures to marry and have an heir.

A/N: I fully admit I projected onto Eris in this. This fic about the struggle of uncertainty and the pressure to fit into expectations. Emotions are complex, and while a lot of people find peace quickly in choices they make, sometimes others don’t.

Gen Tag: @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @ninthcircleofprythian dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

The invitation laid in front of him on his desk unopened. Eris knew what it was at first glance. Elain’s famous loopy handwriting was on top, addressing the letter to him. Yet he couldn’t stomach the thought of opening it. It was no doubt another invitation to meet his new niece, Elain and Lucien’s third youngling but first girl. He should be happy for them. Instead he got up and poured himself a drink.

His whole life, all nearly seven hundred years of it, he told himself he was fine without a spouse, or a mate, or younglings. A spouse was a liability during his father’s reign. A mate was a death sentence. Younglings were out of the question. And his mother- he loved her dearly. But now with father gone and her newfound happiness in Day Court, she would not stop asking him if he had found someone. Or if, by luck, there was a babe on the way.

“I’m only asking because your brothers are so happy. I want that for you.”

He walked over to the window and nursed the glass of fire whiskey in his hand, shoving down his feelings. He was High Lord. He didn’t have time for romance. He was too busy fixing the wrongs of his father. His duty was to the court. And yet… He stared out into the jewel-toned leaves in the trees, his mind wandering. If his life had been different, if his father was kinder, would he have a spouse and younglings by now?

Melancholy settled in him and he shoved it down. He didn’t have time for ‘what ifs’. They only slowed him down though it didn’t help his mood. Later when he was sword fighting with Rowen, his mood had not changed. And it was showing. Rowen nicked his side, tearing his shirt. Eris stumbled and Rowen grabbed him by his arm.

“Are you ill or something? You never let me get that close to you,” his eyes dropped to the tear in Eris’s shirt.

“I’m fine.” He pulled his arm back. “Just having a hard time focusing.”

“Finally get yourself a lady friend?” Rowen grinned, his deep brown eyes looking his friend over and wiggling his brows.

“No,” Eris glared and he could feel the heat rise up in his body.

“Sorry,” Rowen threw his hands up. “I just haven’t seen you. Governors been talking and-“

“What did they say?” Eris held back his power enough to not command him, but his rage was increasing.

Rowen studied his friend again, frowning. “You’ve been High Lord now for a few decades. Things have settled. They talked like you were looking for a Lady.”

“Well I’m not.” Eris gripped his sword tightly.

“A Lord then?” Rowen asked softly.

Eris let out a growl. Eris had male and female lovers- a secret only Rowen knew as he was his look out for half of them. And while the governors would simply have to deal with it if he chose a male as his partner- it wasn’t the point.

“I’m not looking for anyone. Next time you hear talk, you tell me who it is and I will deal with them accordingly.” Rowen nodded, still eyeing him cautiously. Eris ignored the twist in his gut and put himself into a stance. “Let’s go again.”

A week later his mother came to the Forest house under the guise of spending tea time together. He should have known she only came to pester him. The moment she sat down she began to babble about Elain and Lucien’s newest youngling.

“Azalea is starting to crawl. Oh Eris, she’s so precious. First girl in a millenia. She reminds me of you when you were little. Curious about everything.” She looked off to the window, a whimsy glaze to her eyes. “The boys adore her. You should really come and-“

“I do not have time, mother.” Eris said sternly.

She was silent for a moment. “Surely High Lord duties are not so strenuous now. Unless you have other reasons-“

“Enough!” His mother froze and guilt washed over him. He sighed. “Mother. Please do not start with me.”

She finally exhaled heavily. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, mother.” Eris retorted, not looking at her.

“Are you?”

He truly didn’t know. Happiness was a foreign concept to someone who lived and breathed torment for centuries.

“I am.” A slight lie. “If this is about me not going to see Azalea, I will make plans this afternoon.”

He finally looked his mother in the eyes again. She knew he wasn’t being fully truthful, he could see it in the way she stared right through him.

“You should stay for dinner.” He added. “Piran is coming. Asher, Rowen, Claudia, and Celeste will also be there.”

His mother smiled. “I would enjoy that.”

Visiting the Day Court was always a tumultuous affair. Helion still gave him a weary look when he was present, despite having warmed up to him more over the decades. Thankfully it was his brother who greeted him, clad in his Day Court attire.

“I’ll never get used to seeing you in this.” Eris wrinkled his nose, looking his brother over. Day Court was always too simple for his tastes.

“Says the male buttoned up to his neck in this heat,” Lucien shot back. “Come meet the babe before I change my mind and send you home.”

On the way to their chambers, Lucien lamented that once Azalea was old enough, they would go back to the border of Spring and the Human Lands. Eris wrinkled his nose again but kept his mouth shut. He knew they stayed in Day so Elain could be close to her sisters and Lucien, to mother. He never understood their love of living so close to a land with no magic.

Eris’s expression softened once they entered the sitting area where Elain was holding up her new babe in her lap. She was already old enough to sit up without much help. Eris ignored the twinge of regret for waiting so long.

“Elain, beautiful as ever.” He walked up to her. “Motherhood has been much kinder to you than fatherhood has my brother.”

“Good to see you Eris,” Elain laughed and Eris could hear his brother grumbling behind him.

“You must be Azalea. Hello, sweet girl,” he crouched so he was eye level with the babe sitting in her mothers lap.

She was beautiful. Unlike her brothers, she inherited the Autumn red hair from Lucien. Her eyes were like her mother’s, wide and the color of a fawn. She was adorable in her little white floral dress. She grinned at him and when he smiled back, she waved her arms about.

“I think she likes you,” Elain said, watching her daughter.

“All babies love me. May I?” He stood and held out his hands questionably.

Elain didn’t hesitate to hand off Azalea. Eris ignored the ache in his heart as he took her, that momentary thought of how he didn’t have one of these to hold and cherish. He instead proceeded to coo at her and make her giggle. When the door opened, she squealed. He looked over to see two younglings rushing to him.

“Uncle Eris!” The two boys yelled in unison.

Eris braced himself and let them both run into him for a hug.

“Boys. My goodness you’ve gotten taller.”

The eldest, Andre, was at his waist before and now came up to his elbows. The middle boy, Apollo, was now up to his waist. He noted the boys' hair was lighter, more akin to the golden brown of their mothers than the darker locks they were born with originally.

“We want to show you the puzzles Aunt Nesta gave us.”

“I’ve got her,” Elain appeared behind him, taking the babe. She leaned in and whispered, “the boys have been looking forward to seeing you.”

He nodded. “Show me the way.”

With yells they dragged him out of the sitting room and into their rooms. Eris spent the rest of the afternoon putting together puzzles, play fighting, and Eris purposely letting Lucien win while fencing. Lucien finally took the boys to wash up and Eris was left to sit with Elain and Azalea in peace for a moment.

“She is beautiful, Elain.” He held Azalea in his lap, cooing at her and making her giggle. “She’s so happy.”

”She is a lot calmer than the boys were at that age. I fear once she starts crawling and walking, she will catch up to them.” Eris’s face must have faltered. “You seem troubled.”

Eris sighed heavily, gently adjusting the babe in his lap. “Mother is pestering me to marry and have younglings. Which is nothing new, but now the governors are talking. It’s just tiresome.”

Talking with Elain was always easy. He used to hate how loose his lips were around her but now it was a blessing. He didn’t have to mince words. She nodded.

“Is that what you want?”

”I don’t know.” He replied truthfully.

She hummed. “You can always take the boys if you get bored. I’m certain Azalea will also want to spend time with her uncle Eris when she’s older.”

“Thank you.”

The door opened and Apollo appeared around it. “Mama, papa said dinner is ready.”

“Tell him we are on our way.” Elain smiled and he disappeared back into the hall. She turned and took Azalea from Eris. “Happiness comes in all forms, Eris. Never feel like you have to fit into a mold.”

Eris laughed, a sour twinge in his tone. “My whole existence is nothing but fitting into a mold.”

“Then maybe,” She whispered as she stood. “You should break it and make your own.”

Eris gave her a soft smile. Maybe he should.

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 2)

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Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angsty fluff?, angst, hints of anxiety, anxiety attack, nightmare

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

A/N: Hey guys! It took me a bit longer to write this chapter than I had planned to (accidentally deleted a part of the story ups) but finally did it! And I recommend you listen to "Remember that night" by Sara Kays and "The night we met" by Lord Huron.

Anyway, enjoy reading! 😙

Part 1 ⎮Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Six days. Six days had passed since the incident in the conference room. Six tough days and not a single glimpse of him. No word, no letter, no message of any kind.

The water of the Sidra washed up on the shore in mesmerising waves, each time stealing a bit more of the glittering sand. Sunlight reflected off the mirrored surface, magically illuminating the facade of the River House. 

The hammock I sat in swayed gently in the afternoon breeze and, thanks to Elain, the sun didn´t bother me too much. My aunt had planted two Illyrian oaks in our garden the year I was born, providing shade now that they had grown from tiny sprouts into strong, sturdy trees. As I became older, I found my favourite reading spot underneath them. They stood a few feet from the River House and were the perfect place to relax and simply be. 

A piece of bark crumbled onto the pages of the book I was holding right now. `Feathers and Fire´ was written in large, ornate letters on the leather-bound cover. Nesta had borrowed me one of her novels to keep me company, as I had spent the last few days mostly by myself. 

I give up! After reading the same paragraph for the third time in a row, I finally slammed the book shut. I had really tried to concentrate on the story in the last hour, but my mind had drifted off more than once. And always back to the same place. 

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I was in shock. Or so I thought, as I couldn´t think clearly. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so loudly that all of Velaris must´ve heard it.

Mate. Eris Vanserra was my mate. 

I couldn´t believe it. I mean, he doesn´t even know me?

The beige sofa under my legs felt too soft, as if it wanted to pull me into a hug and never let go. And the ticking clock on the opposite wall made my ears twitch in annoyance, so I decided to get up and pace around the living room, trying to quiet my mind. I was massaging my temples to ground myself a little when a soft touch stopped me in my tracks. Small, gentle fingers starting to trail along my shoulder in a soothing rhythm. 

„Sweetheart, look at me, please.“ My mother´s calm voice made me turn to her. „Everything´s going to be all right.“ She radiated pure love. „Whatever happens next, I want you to know you´re not alone. I´m here for you, okay, honey?“ It helped slow down my racing heart a little, but not enough. I sincerely hoped my father and his brothers hadn´t beaten Eris to death just out of anger. 

Just as I thought of them, three men winnowed into the living room. With long strides, my father rushed towards me, some of his darkness still clinging onto him, and cupped my face with both hands. „Darling, are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?“ He asked worriedly as he inspected me for any injuries, whatever he was looking for. 

I withdrew from his grasp, spun around once to show him I was fine, and put on my most reassuring smile to calm his worries, making his tensed muscles relax. „I´m so sorry. I never wanted you to see this.“ Regret seeped into his voice. „But…“ He paused, visibly struggling to find his next words. „Did the bond snap for you too?“ The question caught me entirely off guard, as I thought he was angry with me, trying to argue. I could almost feel my family holding their breath, dreading my answer. Silky hair fell around my face, casting tender shadows on my features as I shook my head. A quick glance at my parents and I knew they were having a silent conversation. Sweat formed on my palms as I unconsciously clenched my hand into a fist. With each passing second, an unpleasant feeling returned to my stomach, making me want to throw up.

It spread even further when my father turned his attention back to me, and my heart sank as I noticed the sudden change in his expression. A completely blank canvas. The mask of a High Lord. Others probably wouldn´t see through his masquerade of deceit. But I could. I did. I had studied his features over the years, every time he put it on. How his jaw tightened just an inch, noticeable only to the trained eye. How his eyes shimmered in a more vibrant shade of violet. I´d seen him in his role so many times that I´d learned to watch out for him. The real him. Not the High Lord, but my father. He kept his face sealed, but I could see what he hid behind that mask. Fury over Eris. His worry. But the strongest emotion was his love for me. 

„I want you to stay away from him. Or even talk to him.“ Someone had just knocked all the air out of my lungs and punched me in the guts. I hadn´t been braced for what was to come. My pulse skipped a beat and the blood in my veins began to boil. He can´t do this! Voices shouted in my head and a lump formed in the back of my throat. But why? I didn´t even know Eris, even though he was my mate. I shouldn´t be so disappointed. He is practically a stranger. 

At a loss for words, I stared at my parents. „We don´t want to make decisions about your life, but Eris is a... complicated man.“ my mother interjected. You mean dangerous. 

„Wait, Eris is your mate?“ I flinched and turned around, only to spot my brother hidden in the darkness with a shit-eating grin on his face. „Finally something interesting is happening.“ he chuckled, earning him a slap on the neck from Cass. „Hey!“ he cried out as my father shot him a warning glare before continuing his lecture. „Darling, listen. We only want to protect you and make sure you don´t get hurt. And Eris is not good company. He has proven that several times in the past. So please believe us when we tell you to stay away from him. We have our reasons.“ And what are they? A knot tightened in my stomach when I heard Azriel whispering from behind: „Especially after what he did to Mor.“

But he is my mate! Even if we don´t know each other well, don´t I have the right to figure out what´s happening between us? My mind screamed at me. Say something! Anything! You know you can! I forced my thoughts to shut down. We would not have this conversation now. Fight back! But I didn´t. I understood that my parents were trying to protect me. They were angry, no doubt, but with the love in their eyes, I couldn´t argue against them. 

So I only looked up and nodded, giving them a coy smile, even though it felt wrong. So terribly wrong. 

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This moment had been stuck in my head for the past few days. Although I´d agreed not to approach Eris, somehow I still hoped he would talk to me. Maybe to explain when and how the bond had snapped for him. 

Starlight? Az is waiting for you in the training ring.

Oh, right. I looked at the sun, which was already sinking deeper into the sky. Uncle Az had asked me yesterday if I wanted to train with him. We usually met at the same time every week to train, but over the last few days he had become more careful around me, giving me more space.

I quickly stowed the book away, not wanting Nesta to get upset if something happened to her beloved book. Changing into my fighting gear, I winnowed to meet Azriel. 

„Faster!“ Azriel shouted, lunging forward, but not fast enough. I sidestepped his punch to the right, and in the brief moment his defence was down, I landed three swift blows to his ribs. He groaned in pain and tried to sweep me off my feet in one smooth motion. Just as I was about to dive again, my back hit the sandy ground, Truthteller at my throat. A sweaty Azriel lay on top of me. 

He pulled me up, brushing the sand from my clothes. „That wasn´t too bad, but you´re less focused today.“ A questioning look crossed his face for a second as he looked down at me, then it returned to his usual straight expression.

I opened my mouth slightly as if to reply, but shrugged instead and walked towards the edge of the training ground, breathing heavily. Az only threw a knowing look in my direction. He knows. He knows how I feel. 

We had been training for about two hours and I didn´t know how my muscles were still able to keep me standing, but anyway, I was grateful for them when I winnowed us back to the River House for dinner. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴��✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

After a quick shower, I now sat opposite to my brother at the wooden table eating dinner and it was truly a symphony for the senses. Wine glasses clinking. Knives scraping against plates. The aromatic scent of grilled steak and vegetables wafting through the room as my family engaged in a huge debate about who had the biggest wingspan. All I could do was smile at the silliness of it all and feel it seep into my soul. 

My father stroked my back lazily beside me, probably to keep calm, as Nyx started throwing peas across the table at Cassian, who dodged them. It really was ridiculous. „Seriously! A little decency, please!“ Amren hissed at this `display of strength´. Mor chuckled, „They´re Illyrians. Do you really think their egos would just ignore it if someone with bigger wings came along?“ My mother nearly choked on her wine at this comment, earning an amused look from her husband. „Can we all just calm down a little before the whole dining room is decorated with pieces of food?“ A quick, stern glance around the table from the High Lord and everyone resumed eating, interrupted now and then by a few giggles.

Ten minutes had passed, and the others had just finished chatting about upcoming events in Velaris, when Amren apparently decided to break the comfortable silence. „So y/n. Has anything been happening with the Autumn Heir lately?“ The wicked smirk on her face made her look like a cat that had caught a mouse to play with. All of a sudden, the room fell silent and everyone stopped eating. I felt my father stiffen beside me, his muscles tense. „Amren.“ Azriel warned, a low growl escaping his throat. „What? Just a sincere question.“ Not impressed by his threatening face. Not in the slightest.

Of course, the incident with Eris had spread around the River House throughout the last few days, fuelling rumours, but the others hadn´t said anything to me yet. I should have guessed that it was only a matter of time until the tension would blow up.

I think I might throw up. I certainly wasn´t in the mood to talk about it with my family. Not today. My blood froze as I gathered the strength to look into Amren´s cold, steely eyes, which were fixed directly on me. She didn´t even flinch when my father shot her a terrifying glare that would send shivers down your spine. 

Words began to flow into my mind, begging to be heard and a familiar feeling crept through my entire body, making my nerves go blank. It felt like I couldn´t breathe. 

„Are you all right, dear? You look a bit pale.“ she said, making me feel even more nauseous. „Amren, don´t.“ Everyone had stopped breathing by now. „You don´t have to answer her question, darling.“ My father´s hand darted out to graze my fingers, but I pulled back at the sensation. „You are his mate y/n, aren´t you? Must be desperate to know why.“ „Enough!“ Pure darkness collected in the corners of the dining room, ready to consume everything. I´d never seen my father so pissed off. „Why would you say such a thing?“ Mor uttered. „Exactly! She´s my sister, I´m the only one allowed to make fun of her!“, Nyx joined in. „I´m in the mood for some trouble.“ she responded honestly, taking a sip from her wine glass, completely untroubled. 

Everyone began to talk over each other, making it difficult to distinguish the individual voices. Tears welled up in my eyes as I covered my ears. The noise was becoming too much to bear. I sniffled, holding back a cry as I stood up and took a few steps away from the table. My chair scraped along the floor, causing everyone to turn around to me and all the shouting stopped. The tears began to trickle down my cheeks as my mother noticed them first, „Sweetheart, we´re so sorry.“ She stood up too. „We didn't mean to make you cry.“ Mor tried to reassure me, guilt clouding her voice. Everything felt too overwhelming. Leave. Walk away. Get out of this situation. 

„Starlight, come here. It´ll be fine.“ He took a few steps in my direction, but I quickly held my hand up in front of him to keep a distance between me and my father. 

„Y/n. Darling, we´re…“ But he stopped when I shook my head and scowled at him. Stared at all of them, anger written on my face, before I winnowed to my room. Leaving them all guilty and silent. 

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With my back against the door, I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. It´s my life! I get to decide how I deal with Eris! Why do they keep talking about it like it isn´t my decision? Like it´s not my life? 

My nails scraped the floor, attempting to hold on to something, anything, as I spiralled down a path I didn´t want to go. A guttural sound escaped my lips as my hand clenched into a fist and slammed into the expensive wood panels beneath me. Pain shot through my knuckles, making me want to scream. Anger. Fear. Emptiness. These emotions ran through my mind as my body shook with sobs. Why can´t I just talk? I want to, but I can´t... I don´t know... the words just won´t come out when I try. It made me even angrier when I thought about it. Do I not feel safe enough around my own family to talk to them? Or is there something wrong with me? 

A knot formed in my stomach. I had never had a big problem with myself before. Not with my body, nor with my inability to speak to others. But now I wished, longed to talk to someone. Just someone who understood me. Someone who...

A certain scent wafted through the room making me pay attention. Was that smoke? I sat up straighter to observe my own bedroom. Books were scattered across the floor and the door to the neighbouring bathroom was open. My bed was made, covered in indigo silk sheets that shimmered slightly in the moonlight streaming in through the closed windows. A few plants hung from the frescoed ceiling. Nothing more.

My eyes were no longer watery and my heartbeat had stabilised. But I could still smell that there was... something. Parchment.

I looked over at my desk, which was littered with various rolls of parchment, papers and pencils of all kinds. But right in the middle. Something had changed. 

Slowly, on shaky legs, I got up and walked over to my desk. A crimson envelope lay there, and next to it a shiny golden feather with light brown spots. I couldn´t remember putting anything like that here. It smelled of an open fire, fresh rain and a hint of vanilla. 

Deep down I knew who must have sent it. I opened the letter with trembling hands.

 ・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

Hello Princess,

Do you remember the night we met? To be honest, I can´t forget you. Standing on the balcony in your stunning gown, watching the stars fall upon you, even though they couldn´t diminish your appearance. At first I wasn´t sure how to approach you, but I did it anyway.

And it turned out to be one of the most wonderful nights I have ever had, and I wanted to thank you for it.

I could almost hear him chuckling to himself as a warmth filled my heart.

As you probably know by now, I'm your mate, but I don´t want you to feel obligated to anything that concerns me. It is your decision whether or not you wish to meet with me. ( Though I wouldn´t mind, of course) 

A blush spread across my tear-stained cheeks and I instinctively smiled. He had thought of me. He really had. My heart melted like snow in early spring. Something about him made me feel complete and understood. 

But if that´s the case, winnow to the border of Autumn in two days. I´ll be waiting for you under a birch tree when the sun sets. You can´t miss it. Sleep well, Princess! 

His letter also contained a small note. 

(Oh, the feather and the paper you write on will appear on my desk as soon as you write back).

・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

I was speechless. Not just because he had thought of me or wanted to meet me. No. But because he would let me decide for myself. He wouldn´t force me to accept the bond, even if it hadn´t snapped for me yet. 

Not wanting to think clearly at the moment, I did the only thing that seemed right. I broke the agreement with my parents. 

I pulled out the chair, sat down, picked up the quill and wrote back. 

Half an hour later, I was lying in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a gentle night breeze caressing my form. A few candles were lit to provide some sort of night light. 

Just as I was falling asleep, footsteps came from the hallway and my bedroom door creaked as it slowly opened. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk to whoever it was. „Darling, are you still awake?“ My father´s voice echoed through the room as he peeked out from behind the door. 

Just breathe. He won´t recognise it.

And he didn´t. He only walked over to my bed and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, while the last thing I heard was him whispering: „I´m deeply sorry, Starlight.“ before he silently walked out of my room, leaving me alone. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not the slightest flicker of light. Total darkness consumed everything around me. No light, nor sun, nor any kind of something... soft. Something to keep me warm as the cold crept up my body, like a hidden shadow from the depths of darkness. 

I gasped for some air to reach my lungs, but all I could inhale was dust. Air! I need air! My lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen and a tingling sensation shot through my entire being.

I felt like a flame being smothered as a deep, dark wave crashed over me, trying to drown me, as if I were nothing. As if I didn´t matter. 

The darkness drew closer with each passing second. Minute? Hour? Time didn´t matter in this place of emptiness. A place without walls or windows or even solid ground. The only things that trapped me were my own thoughts and the giant beast I couldn´t see, but felt. It swallowed everything around it as its claws raked along my skin, my soul, leaving scratches all over me.

I screamed, but all that came out of my mouth was... nothing. Every sound, no matter how small, was absorbed by the emptiness of this place. 

My body was drenched in sweat and my voice must have been hoarse by now from screaming my heart out for I don´t know how long. Slowly my body was losing consciousness and I was drifting further and further into the devouring void as I frantically tried to breathe. Please! I need to breathe! My heart stuttered for a moment. Help... help me! Somebody! Please, I... Hot tears streamed down my face and my eyes slowly closed as I was suffocated and drowned by the beast that guarded this place. My body went limp, tired from fighting. 

A gentle brush of soft fur against my back was the last thing I felt as I drifted into nothingness. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

I jolted out of my sleep, my heart racing and the sheets beneath me damp with sweat. You´re awake! Everything is fine! I placed my hand over my chest, feeling my pulse slowly steady as I realised it was all just a nightmare. The silver curtains swayed slightly at the open windows and the moon shone so brightly I had to blink my eyes. `Shh, it´s all right, Little one. I´m here´ it yearned to say. My breathing had normalised and I ran a hand through my sticky hair. It was just a dream. I lay back and tried to sleep again, but I knew it was going to be a long night. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

[genericpuff]

ok i know it's a webtoon you can read online for free but Rachel/Inklore really did just spoil every twist and plot beat within the plot summary of volume 8 huh

this is literally the next volume they just announced and it's going to be releasing after LO goes behind daily pass and yet they're not even trying to keep things even somewhat interesting for the trad pub market that they're trying to expand through, jesus christ lmao this is yet another lesson in "what not to do" courtesy of LO 💀

your plot summary is supposed to be a HOOK. NOT A WHOLE ASS SYNOPSIS THAT GIVES AWAY EVERY TWIST AND PLOT BEAT. By comparison, LO's Volume 8 "summary" isn't a plot summary, it's a goddamned Cliff's Notes 😭 like ... this feels like they accidentally included the extended pitch notes in the summary, like is there seriously not a single person at Random House going "um, isn't this a little too much?"

I'm not even joking when I say you can deadass just read this summary and understand the gist of the S2 finale. The actual episodes do not contain anything else of substance beyond this summary. All the 'twists' are given away, and anything else that might be 'interesting' is literally dropped or forgotten about by the end of S2 anyways so it winds up not mattering (cough Eris cough)

Literally the first two paragraphs would have sufficed, with the additional removal of the Apollo lineage reveal because again, THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A TWIST. IT'S A DUMB TWIST, BUT IT'S STILL WRITTEN AS A TWIST LMAO everything in that third paragraph and beyond is WAY TOO MUCH and it's not even making any efforts in its prose to pull you in with enticing set-up, it's just clinically saying "this happens and then this happens and then this happens".

Compare it to the Volume 1 description, it's like night and day:

"Persephone, young goddess of spring, is new to Olympus. Her mother, Demeter, has raised her in the mortal realm, but after Persephone promises to train as a sacred virgin, she’s allowed to live in the fast-moving, glamorous world of the gods. When her roommate, Artemis, takes her to a party, her entire life changes: she ends up meeting Hades and feels an immediate spark with the charming yet misunderstood ruler of the Underworld. Now Persephone must navigate the confusing politics and relationships that rule Olympus, while also figuring out her own place—and her own power."

Short, sweet, to the point, gives us enough setup to understand what we're going into but not enough details to spoil the whole frigging thing, and it ends perfectly with a hook that gets you interested in both Persephone and Hades as characters.

Y'know what, Inklore, here's a freebie on me, for Volume 8:

"Court is in session, the witnesses have spoken, and now it's Persephone's turn to take the stand. Torn between her loyalty to her mother, Demeter, and her blooming love for Hades, Persephone reveals to all her true motives for the Underworld - but shocking revelations are brought to light by the scheming Apollo that may determine Zeus' verdict and Persephone's fate once and for all.

Meanwhile, deep within Tartarus, a long-forgotten threat from Hades' past has re-awakened, and has set his sights on Persephone as his new wellspring of power...

Will Persephone and Hades finally find their peace? Or will fate tear them apart for eternity? Find out in this visually stunning and climactic conclusion to Lore Olympus' second season."

[chunkypossum]

WIP Wednesday I guess 😭😭😭😭… Jesus. This one hurts. I have been working on it all day and I … actually recommend no one reads it. I’m writing it bc I have to.

Question for the class. Is dead dove appropriate for hurt/very little to no comfort, major character death(s) … like… what I tag is what you get with this one

Anyway. Here is a snippet if you’re brave (under the cut … and a little peek at the art I made for it…unedited …

“Your hair is getting long.” Like the observation alone would be enough to break the curse on them, Azriel’s hand rose. He reached out to touch a stray strand that had fallen over Eris’ face, to tuck it behind a pointed ear as he had once done. Before he could feel the resistance that tore his heart to pieces each time he met it, Azriel let his hand drop.

Eris watched his hand fall and looked away without saying anything.

“I’m sure Beron hates it.” Azriel tried again. Hoping to lighten the mood before Eris had to leave. It would be dawn soon and Eris could not be caught sneaking in and out of the Forest House.

When Eris still didn’t say anything, Azriel’s brows drew together in frustration and he sat up. His bones ached with the need to reach out and take Eris’ face in his hands, to shake him and force their eyes to meet. Anything.

Azriel rubbed his scars absentmindedly, and waited.

“Do you remember the last time we were together before…” Eris started, his words quickly trailing away.

“Of course,” Azriel said in hushed tones, afraid of disturbing their small bit of peace with his shaking voice. “That, I could never forget.”

“Before you left that day, you brushed your fingers through my hair.” Eris’ voice, already at a whisper, faltered and Azriel lay back beside him.

“Eris.” Calling for him, Azriel blew a small puff of air toward the other male. The hair he had aimed his breath at lay unmoved. Not even his exhales could enter Eris’ space. “Look at me.”

Azriel waited patiently for Eris to respond, counting the breaths by the rising and falling of his chest. His own chest hurt. After a while, Eris did turn back toward him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He blinked and let them fall.

“It was the last thing you touched and I-I can’t bear to have it cut.”

The air left Azriel’s lungs and distantly he knew he should be filled with some kind of emotion, rage, sadeness, despair. Yet, there was nothing. Or rather, there were too many feelings coursing through him he couldn’t pick one to focus on. His grief was a coat of thorns, the roses all torn away by time and cruel hands. All of the pain, none of the beauty.

Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train :

@talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @ninthcircleofprythian @matrixsss @going-through-shit @c-starstuff-man0 @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @krowiathemythologynerd @cauldronblssd @hieragalbatorixdottir @yourlazykitkat @hellolordling @christeareads @climbthemountain2020 @lilah-asteria @shadowsandlint @acourtofbatboydreams @theeternalstruggle @christeareads @molcat07

[autumns-high-lady]

My comfort headcanon is that, instead of going to the house of wind, Nesta decided to run to the human lands instead in a petty act against the IC, as if saying she preferred a sure death than live with Cassian. And you know what court is closest to the human boarders?

The Spring Court.

Nesta going there and kinda forcing Tamlin into taking her in, both turning into reluctant housemates that clash a lot, but Nesta isn't afraid of his beast form and her mean tongue doesn't bother Tamlin. Eventually they become friends because they bond over the ic's hypocrisy and how they've been treated over glasses of wine. They both get their healing arcs together.

She gets to see Eris sometimes, outside the IC machinations, and while they don't like each other yet, she gets to know him a bit better.

Until the IC comes looking for her (because of course Rhysand had Azriel track her down to drag her back) Tamlin helps her escape and guess who ends up finding her this time?

Eris, who brings her to his court as a refugee, and she has to navigate around the complicated family dynamic and the twisted court where no one can be trusted. But much like Feyre's canon story, what seemed like a terrifying and evil court turns out to be way more than it meets the eye. The Vanserra are not what people think, none of them. And slowly, Nesta finds her place within them

First of all, I love this. I believe she would heal better away from the IC and outside of the NC (though the Valks helped a lot). I do think Nes having a hand in taking down Beron and rebuilding Autumn with someone who gets her—Eris—would be very cool and fitting.

Second of all, I think I partially read a fic that went something like this. I didn’t get to the part where Nes got together with anyone but Nes and Tam’s bond was really sweet. I think the endgame for the fic was Az—which I love bc Nesriel is on par with Neris for me.

It’s called “A House of Flame and Flower” by Mellowenglishgal on AO3!

Third of all, I was not expecting this but I love that you wanted to share your Nesta-related thoughts and headcannons with me!

If anyone wants to send their Nesta/Valk/or Autumn Court theories and headcannons with me, please feel free to send it in asks! I’d love to read them!

(I’m actually working through 3 theories rn and hope to post those with evidence in the next month or so)

[sweet-honey-tears]

Blanket Fort

Shinso x Gn!Reader

Hello everyone! Hope everyone is well! This was a request for some Shinso Fluff. I hope you like it! 🤍

Aizawa was gone, week week-long mission he begrudgingly accepted. More so against his will than anything, as it was the week of Eri's birthday. To say he was angry, would be an understatement. You were half sure hero society was about to revolt at the fact the commission took Aizawa away from Eri during her birthday week. Even Hawks seemed pissed, stopping by on Tuesday to drop off a present for Eri. You spoke to him shyly, the young civilian talking to a top Pro-Hero. “Thank Dove,” a nickname he called all fans, “ Still can’t behave they pulled the old man away from his daughter.” His voice teetered on venomous before he snapped back. “But hey, Eris got you and little Azawia, so I’ll know you make it great!” Damn straight you would.

The house was void minus the cats, Eri, Shinso, and yourself. The no-so-adopted third child who for a small moment, everyone thought was another addition to the family. In actuality, you were Shinso’s (Girl Friend, boyfriend, significant other) Though to Eri, you were big (Brother, Siter, Sibiling)

3am. Shinso phone rang, your pretty photo popping up. Shinso, as you knew, was awake, wide awake. But why where you?

“Baby why are you-”

“I HAVE AN IDEA!”

It was your idea to do the blanketfort. You had planned it before Aizawa had even left for the mission. Even ended up even planning the day with Aizawa. Which Shinso found both adorable and hilarious. Coming home from practice to see you at the counter, Aizawa leaning over the other side. Both of your faces in pure concentration as you talked about what to do for the fort alone- not the whole week itself.

Stuffies, blankets, fairy lights, pillows and what ever else where shoved into you bags. The zippers struggling to keep the stuffed animals from bursting. When Shinso opened the door for you, you where breathing heavily, arms full of bags stuffed with material.

Eri jumped up and down the moment you brought up at idea. Shinso smirked at your bad acting, saying the idea just came to you. You both where half sure Eri almost squeezed you to death when you started to talk about what else you all could do.

The Fort itself was the biggest challenge to set up. A drying rack, TV, and couch where the best bases to create a large enough Fort for the three of you. Stuffed animals surrounded the edges of the fort, and layers of blankets and bed mats covered the carpet in the living room, adding a much-needed cushion. Fairy lights hung inside like glistening vines and soft music played in the background.

Shinso and you self made sure to take photos, as many as your phones could hold. The large files sent to Aizawa, would barely responded, but you both knew he was happy.

Around 2 hours later, the blanket Fort, dinner, and Pjs done and you all rested in the rather large Fort. Shinso rested by your side, scrolling through his phone on bordem. Eri was thankfully fast asleep, her little area of the fort darker with only the twinkle of fairy lights to show her sleeping face. Shinso’s eyes caught the slight smiles on his little sister's face. Her arms wrapped tightly around one of the many stuffed animals you brought or bought for this occasion. His heart swelled, he was lucky for you. Lucky you loved everyone in the family so much, lucky that you loved Eri arguably more than him.

Shinso knew he and Aizawa wouldn't have been able to do this. They were stupidly busy, tired, and bogged with hero duties. In Aizawa’s casework, and his own being homework, patrols, and training.

“Shinso” you had whispered, causing him to snap out of his trance. “Your phone” you slightly giggled. Shinso looked down. In his distracted state, his thumb had been placed on the ‘f’ key. Typing out a long line of ‘fff’ as a comment on a video. Quickly canceling it, he let out a sigh.

“Got distracted” you laughed slightly, pushing yourself farther into him, yawning slightly. It was 1 am, and to his surprise, he was tired. “Tired kit?”

“Yeah… think I may call it” you yawn. Scooting down to lie down. He followed you, and quickly, almost garingly, pulled you close to him. Barely giving you time to move your arms around your boyfriend, lest they be trapped.

”I love you.” Your face softened, relaxing at the realization everything was okay. His arm brought you closer to him. “I love you so much.” He kissed the space available to him, an area of your clothed shoulder.

“I love you too Shin” he huffed, his chest tightening a little. He pulled away slightly, staring at you for a slight moment. As if ensuring you were telling the truth. You were, it didn’t take him long to conclude that. He leaned in to kiss your lips softly. Pulling away for only a moment before continuing. His hand slid to your hair, playing with the strands softly. Words weren’t needed, you both already knew everything he wanted to say. You scootched yourself under him, face nestled into the area of his neck and shoulder. Your legs weaving together to get unbelievably closer. “I love you so much, Shin.” Your face felt warm, and happiness almost caused wetness to prick your eyes. Shinso kissed the top of your head, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I love you too kitten, so much.” He squeezed you again, letting you both fall into a peaceful, gentle silence as you dozed off.

@waytotiredforthis

@bookcluberror

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself to Hate You - Part 11

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: I restarted this about four times—re-wrote the last few sentences for about half an hour. Also I was so excited to write Eris again but he wouldn’t fit in this chapter 😔

Warnings: sexual assault, Bas and his bloody knuckles, Azriel

Word Count: 5,830

-Part 10- -Part 12-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Azriel is going to die.

He’s going to die, and it will be at your hand.

Silence echoes through your mind, the world filled with dark blues and dismal greys—the colours of rainclouds and heavy fog over a midnight river. While the air is warm, ice prickles the layer beneath your skin, seemingly caught in your clothes, captured in your flesh. The perpetual cold of the mortal lands perhaps never fully having left the marrow of your bones.

At the table you sit still, trying to silence your mind to focus on the task at hand. You don’t want to be thinking about that right now. Not today.

Brow pulls together, lips twisting down as the bone of your thumb presses to the line between your eyes, pushing away the pressure.

Ease out a breath, shoulders slumping, muscles draining away as the door is closed on the world. Locked cozily within the dark quiet of the open kitchen.

The last time you’d sat here feels like months ago, presents stacked upon the table with a pretty cake to tuck into. Now there’s nothing to offer but a meagre cupcake, a lone candle put sadly into the spongy head you hadn’t even paid for—it had been a sample, someone giving out free little things so none of the food would go to waste.

It isn’t even decorated, aside from the thin waxy stick the House had offered up.

Lower lip curls, scowling with hot eyes at the small cake.

You stare for a long while, vision blurring every so often before it’s cleared away by a disciplinary blink. Loathing carved between your ribs, twisting and slicing, but never ending. A muscle flickers in your jaw, before finally shifting into motion, sitting straighter.

This night isn’t about you, and you’ll be damned if you make it so.

Breathing deeply, the wooden figurine is placed on the table, palm damp and cool without it’s warmth in your hand. The maiden looks on at the small cupcake, disappointed, pretty flowers drooping in elegant fingers. The skirts of are caught frozen in motion, the hem lifting from her ankles, the graceful sweep of hair being pulled gently toward the candle, as if the breeze is luring her in.

Eyes stare at the sight, and you have to sit back in your chair. Observing the scene, how small and meagre it is for something that deserves much more.

When the world blurs this time, you don’t blink it away, letting it fill and swell. Break over the edge of picked-thin lashes.

Slowly, you lean forward, picking up the light box of matches, taking one out, and striking it against the abrasive card. Fire flares before dimming, wisps of smoke curling from the glowing light, putting a pleasant scent into the room as you lower it to the candle, spreading the scant glow. With a single flick of your hand, the flame is put out, sending up a poor last signal with its diminishment, glowing weakly, before finally extinguishing.

Inky blues and grey-blacks dim the already sparse light, encroaching on the small patch of light like wolves circling a small, run-down hut. Waiting for the first sign of dilapidation before pouncing, sharp canines sinking into the soft, fleshy centre.

Your head hangs, forearms braced on to table either side the little show. Fingers curl, pressing into the now-soft skin, callouses from the days of wood-chopping and frostbite softened by a single dip into freezing cold water. Murky and depthless.

Bringing forth irrevocable change.

————

Azriel’s wings stretch out over his chair, the muscles rippling, shoulders working free of the tension before standing from his desk.

For what ever reason, the House has decided he should get his own food for tonight, evening long since passed with the days becoming shorter and shorter. Light waning, the dark sidling closer the deeper into autumn time flows. Like clockwork, shadows skitter off down the hallway, floating along floorboards and dipping beneath rugs, settling at the darkened threshold of her door. No light warms the gap, and habitually they listen out for the soft sighs of breathing, forgetting the enchantment that’s been placed on the room.

They hurry back, curling around his ear, delivering the information seamlessly as he makes his way silently down the dim halls. He can see perfectly fine in the night—there’d be no point to lighting a candle.

Strain remains tight in his shoulders, having finished reading through Cass’ letter as well as the dozens of other reports monitoring various changes and shifts in courts. Other things to deal with, to allocate time and resources to, seamlessly shifting his network of spies to target and attend to the more prominent catches in his web.

He doubts he’ll be able to catch even a wink tonight, a tight pulse in his chest warning him of sleep.

————

The breath exhales softly, staring at the lone flame, flickering dimly in the overbearing darkness, and you can’t help but think of your youngest sister. The wane light in the wintry forrest, battered by icy winds and freezing frosts.

Calming the beat of your heart, you press your palms together, leaning forward so the knuckle of your thumbs slot above the bridge of your nose. Head bowing toward the candle, eyes sliding shut, keeping the pressure at bay.

“Happy birthday, dad,” you whisper.

Already the edges of your mouth tremble, but you try to stay firm, sucking in a shaky breath. Blurred memories of the war begin seeping back in, the damp smell of blood and sickness, mixed with sweat and leather. Slowly lower your hands, palms pressing flat against the table as you look at the flickering light. The miniature wood carving bought in memory of his carpentry.

“I miss you,” you murmur, voice wobbling in the silence. “It’s been difficult since you’ve gone. Difficult for a while now.” Throat rolls, shifting in your seat, spine straightening. “Feyre’s doing well though. As much as I can tell, anyway. She’s had a baby too, did you know? I don’t know if you’re still able to watch us anymore, so sorry if you’re all caught up—I just thought might as well be on the safe side, and I don’t know what else to talk about besides them.”

Tongue darts out to wet your lips, breathing softly, calming the emotion in your chest. “He’s called Nyx, and he looks just like them.” The flame blurs, light dripping out in dots through the room, and you quickly wipe your eyes. “She’s been busy with him—I think she’s been taking him out on walks through Velaris every now and again when he wakes up early, though sometimes the others take on some tasks. I know Mor likes having him around, and even Amren has a soft spot for him already.” The corners of your mouth tug down, head lowering as you stare into the flame. “I think she’s doing well, after all this time. She can stand on her feet.”

Night-kissed memories float up through the fog, of crunching snow and steaming blood, dribbling out of a doe carcass.

“Elain’s good too,” you manage, attention flicking to the wooden maiden. “I think her and Lucien have begun getting along better, or at least not as awkward as they once were. I went with her to visit him a while back—to the old human lands, and—” You fumble, tripping over your words. “Do you know it all worked out?” You ask quietly. “I must’ve told you last year, but just in case I didn’t: we won. The war, I mean.” Vision blurs again, blinking away the dampness.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, dad,” you whisper, lip trembling. “I know it’s morbid, and maybe if I had been there, I would have wished I wasn’t, but Nesta was, and Feyre was there too, and Elain got to… They got to see you again.” The first tear splashes onto the wooden grain, and you hastily wipe it away, fearing it might stain somehow. “I wish I’d gotten to see you again before you went away,” you mumble, swallowing thickly. “I miss you a lot. And they’re all doing well, and getting better, and…”

Take in a deep breath, lungs stuttering, hauling in quivering pulls of air. Dip your head slightly.

“They’re doing well,” you whisper, nodding to yourself. Repeating it in your mind.

“I think you’d be happy with them.”

————

Shadows swirl at his wings, shifting as they dip ahead into the kitchen, skittering back with their message. She’s in there, sat at the table.

Azriel pauses in the hallway, debating the merits of bumping into her at such a late hour. He remembers how poorly his last late-night interaction went, and is frankly disinclined to revisit the memory on any level. The softness of Elain’s skin still registered in some chamber of his mind, laying dusty and untouched for some time, unable to bring himself to quite take it back out just yet.

His stomach grumbles quietly, and he sets a hand on his lower abdomen, rubbing absently as he thinks. Wonders why she’s decided to come out of her room tonight instead of keeping to her space—why tonight of all nights the House is throwing him under the wagon. But he’s a full-grown male, he can handle one short interaction, even if it’s with her. It’ll be a good chance to check on how she’s doing physically in person, too, having been putting off that task for a while, satisfied with the imaginary rendering his shadows bring him every now and then.

Azriel continues down the hall, noting the dim flicker of light from the doorway, warming the blue darkness to a sparse orange, a clear outline of colour in the deep shadow and he wonders what she’s doing. A few quiet steps bring him to the threshold, steadying himself for her longing eyes and the dipped shoulders.

He rounds the frame but halts on the threshold, shadows instinctively slinking across his skin, pressing silently back into the darkness of her peripherals.

She’s crumpled over, sobbing silently, shoulders trembling as deep breaths heave and shudder from her lungs. Her features protectively hidden by the sleeves of her cardigan, pressed tight to her features as quiet, wet cries gasp from her lips, trembling in the dim light of her single candle.

He watches from the edge of the room, observing silently, caught on the force of despair. How it’s shaking her frame, wracking it like a paper lantern in a storm, tossed and battered until it’s soaked and dissolving beneath the downpour. Flame reflects in the golden pool beneath her on the table, rippling with hot droplets as they drip heavily, splashing between the grains, growing steadily larger.

The tips of his fingers tingle, but he resists stepping forward—with everything that’s between the two of them he doubts it would help.

The familiar scent of gardenias floats over to him, stronger than usual, and hazel eyes trace the bare skin of her hands.

They’re horrifically dry, despite the intensity of the scent that always accompanies her nowadays, skin peeling around her nails, cracked and flakey like freshly baked pastry, rough patches of rawness peeking through, sore and worn from the interior of her gloves.

To a less observant pair of eyes, it may have appeared as a case of frostbite, or treatable dryness, but he recognises that formation—the slight warp of burning flesh.

Her palms press to gleaming cheeks, as if the wetness will absorb into her hands, curing the desiccated expanse, soaking up until they’re perfect again, without a flaw or crack to be found. The bones in his hands ache dully, pains blooming beneath his own warped flesh, swollen and melted in parts, scarred and misshapen. Deformed.

She starts mumbling under her breaths, sobs becoming heavier, lungs gasping as air is harshly sucked in, stumbling and stuttering in her shuddering chest. She’s apologising. Over and over, murmured sorries and desperate pleas. Repeating over and over how sorry she is as the water ripples beneath her, lips tugged down, brows knotted in sheer self-loathing. So concentrated it knocks him in his chest.

He should turn away—he can wait a few hours easily, allow her to vacate and recover at her own pace—but he’s kept at the edge, watching silently, wreathed in shadow saved for the flame-lit hazel of his eyes. Observing such a pure display of sorrow and wretchedness, a sense of foreign familiarity ghosting within his chest. Like finding a new path to an exact location—one he hadn’t known existed until then, completing a fraction of the unknown map.

Azriel takes in her curled up form, hunched over the candle, back curved as she sobs into damp wool, familiarising the sight. His expression tightens ever so slightly, brows pulling in, edges of his mouth twisting down, working into the beginnings of a frown.

With one last scan, he turns silently, retuning her the privacy she’s unaware has been disturbed.

————

You ease out a heavy sigh, but your shoulders remain tense.

Half a cupcake remains on the table, the house setting a glass dome over its top.

You peer down at the symbol numbly, eyes sore and swollen. Aching from intense use. That’s all the emotion you can manage for the night—a drought forming in the desiccated innards of your soul. Tears have been bled dry to a state of numbness, skin tingling absently. Breathing mindlessly. Wandering listlessly.

————

You land three light taps to the door, the warm lamp far above you illuminating the small inlet of the entrance, a wooden frame either side to hold the vines as they’ve reached and crawled over the years, the tiny pale flowers putting out a lovely fragrance—like lilies, or sweet peas. Long moments pass, then the door is quietly opening, one dark hand resting casually at the height of it, the other against its frame.

“Hey,” he greets, the edges of his mouth relaxing a little.

“Hi,” you reply, realising how scratchy your voice is, raw from that long hour. Hastily clear your throat, shifting in the entrance. “Would you— I mean, are you busy tonight?” You ask, wringing your fingers slightly, stopping when gold flicks down to mark the action.

Bas releases the door, opening it a little wider, standing straighter and clearing his throat. “Nope,” he says, “something on your mind?” Instantly the lone candle flickers in your head, the sponginess of the small cupcake, and you blink away the prickling pressure. “Yes,” you answer quietly. “I just— I don’t want to talk about it,” you settle on, returning your gaze to his. Anxiety beginning to melt away—you can be something other than fine around him. Lower lip wobbles with the thought, but you hasten to push the welling emotion away. Your eyes would hate you if you started crying again.

A deep breath eases into your lungs, then blown out heavily.

“I had a rough evening,” you say vaguely, “and I’m feeling pretty awful at the moment, so I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a bit.”

He watches silently from the warm inside of his home, the smell of rosemary and thyme cozily wrapping around you, almost enough to make you wish for a night in, but you’d rather not feel for a little bit. “You do that a lot, y’know?” He says at last, stepping back to allow you inside. You follow quietly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow, keeping to the wall. “Do what?” You ask, wondering if he’d like you to take your shoes off since it looks like you might be coming further in.

“Phrase questions weirdly,” he laughs faintly, the deep sound breathing a small spark back into your blood. “Like that one, ‘I was wondering if you’d like to out for a bit.’ I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a bit?” He repeats, raising the inflection at the end. “You know you can ask me stuff, yeah?”

You feel the faint tug of a smile on your lips, amusement crossing your features. “I know,” you reply, “maybe I just didn’t feel like saying it as a question.” Bas rolls his golden eyes, mouth copying yours, forming a slight smile, before shaking his head and turning. “Let me grab something. Anywhere you want to go?” He calls from over a broad shoulder, reaching for a warmer piece to put over his indoor clothes.

Shake your head, keeping to the edge of the room, wary of the clean floor. “I just want to be outside tonight,” you say quietly. “I don’t…the inside just…” You purse your lips in a grimace, and he nods. “I get you.”

Another well of emotion builds in your chest, but again you push it away.

Tongue licks out over your lips, shifting on your feet, making an effort to brighten your demeanour. “What’s going on with you at the moment? There was that thing you wanted to talk about last time…?” When you’d had a small crying session in his arms. Whenever the memory inserts itself into your head, you’re torn between embarrassment and jealousy. Embarrassment at breaking down over such a small thing after having kept it together for so long, jealousy over how easily that comes to other people. That small, sad part of yourself wanting more, but as usual, she’s gently pushed aside.

Bas sucks in a slow breath, guiding you to the door. “Yeah, about that…” The two of you step outside into the crisp night air, and you wrap your scarf closer, huddling beneath the warmth. Even after all this time, the warmth in the chillier months is something you can’t help but find your stress in.

“So…” you encourage when he goes quiet, linking his arm with yours. “What did you want to say?” But he shakes his head. “To be honest, I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he answers with forced lightness. Brow dips—is it something to do with his dad?

“You okay?” You ask softly, stepping a little closer as you make the walk down his small front garden, the gate creaking open before he shuts it behind you. “Fine,” he replies, then relents. “A bit tense.”

You try to come to a stop, but he gives a gentle tug on your arm, telling you to continue on. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

With a heavy swallow, you direct your attention forward, hand pressing into the warm muscle of his arm, firmly linked together. “You’ll tell me when it’s been enough, right?” You ask quietly, forcing yourself not to peer at him through your peripherals. He has an uncanny sense for when people are watching him.

He’s quiet, continuing on with the walk, but you don’t make the mistake of trying to rush him. Sometimes he just takes a bit.

“Sure,” he says at last, and this time you do look at him, a slight glint of amusement in your eyes to soften the stern set of your mouth. “Sebastian,” you warn, and he cringes at your side. “Fine, yeah, I’ll say something,” he relents, waving his free hand, not quite meeting your eye. You manage a quiet laugh, before you both settle back into silence, quietly paying attention to the swish of the breeze, skirting around the subjects at hand.

The question’s on the tip of your tongue, eyes watching him from the side, but then he gives and almost undetectable squeeze to your arm. So light you’d think you might have imagined it. Had the two of you been human, you would have dismissed it. But fae bodies have an entire new level of awareness to them, impossibly sensitive on depthless levels. Utterly overwhelming at first. Still getting a handle on some of the more intense senses.

As it is, you take it as his answer. The promise he won’t voice.

So you continue on into the night, neither of you quite fully present in the moment to be doing something like this. But bad decisions happen, and mistakes are made. Without them, life would be boring, and dull. You’d never progress.

————

Skin buzzes pleasantly, a wide smile on your lips as you lean into Bas’ side, greedily taking in his warmth, mourning already forgotten and pushed to the side.

You stumble along, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as laughter rings between you, fuel for the rest of the night, replenishing the emptied wells of emotion like he’s pouring molten gold straight into your blood.

He’d been tense at first—nothing outright, or obvious in any sense of the word, but those small tells were there. Patterns one can only pick up on after spending pure, concentrated months with someone. And his behaviour had been erratic. The tension in his jaw when a female had bumped into him, spinning clumsily on her feet to apologise. The pause before he’d forgiven her, and continued on with his night. Then he’d refused to even take a sip of your drink, politely but firmly refusing your attempts to get him to loosen up.

You’d tried plying him with all sorts of methods, from joking and humour, to offering up some of your own little pieces, to asking directly what was going on inside his head that night. He’d diverted the first two, and snapped at you to mind your own business at the last one, which—to be fair—he was entitled to do. You know you wouldn’t appreciate one of your sisters trying to worm their way back into your life if you wanted your peace.

Eventually, you’d gotten up, telling him you’d pop outside for some fresh air—the night sky is always beautiful here—but he hadn’t wanted to come with you, simply sipping quietly on the non-alcoholic drink before him. Was it something to do with whatever he’d wanted to speak with you about?

While you’re out on the balcony, you explore the possibilities of what he might want to say. Though, you decide to stop once you notice the thoughts steadily becoming worse and worse, pausing the process before you cause yourself a public meltdown—you can theorise once you get back to the House.

But with thought of the House comes thoughts of that dangerous piece of parchment on your desk. The open challenge left for you, daring you to bring out some imagined claws. Outrageous and bold and brazen. You can’t even begin to imagine what those sorts of characteristics would imply to your personality. Do you even possess the capacity to become anything other than the flimsy spec you are? To make something out of the damage, to make it worth an amount, so it’s anything but weight, and trauma, and baggage.

Running gloved fingers over your face, you raise from the balcony, turning and heading back in. You don’t know why you didn’t try and turn back sooner when he obviously wasn’t in the right state to be coming out, certainly not surrounded by alcohol.

(I wanted to, so I did.)

(I disregarded him because I am more important.)

When you re-enter the fairly crowded room, you edge your way along the walls until you can spot him, a glass of water in his hand containing a slice of lemon and what looks like a leaf of mint. He’s speaking with a female, his expression softer than usual, and you wonder if you should perhaps complete another lap of the room if he’s managing to relax. But then another male sidles up, his arm wrapping around her waist, and she’s promptly whisked away onto the floor. Golden eyes follow the two, watching as they disappear into the night.

“Hey,” you greet, pretending to be a little more fatigued than you truthfully are. Bas inclines his head in reply, taking a deep drink of the liquid, draining the glass before returning it to the wooden surface of the bar. “Ready?” He asks, standing promptly. A smile softens your features as you nod—wondering how long he’s been wanting to leave but sticking it out. He nods again, the warm piece he’d grabbed before setting out into the night getting put over his free arm as his hand grazes the space between your shoulder blades.

You both cross over the threshold of the establishment, and the cold air smacks you right in the face, draining the warmth in an instant. Bas chuckles lowly, tossing you the outer layer, immune to the cold.

You peer at him hesitantly, but he just rolls his eyes. “You’re cold, and I’m offering you a solution,” he says pointedly. “So take it, yeah?” You give in, sliding your arms into the too-large sleeves, wrapping it around your bodice, relieved to keep out the raw bite of oncoming winter. “Thanks,” you murmur, allowing hesitant comfort to settle over your skin as his arm pulls you out in into the street.

The two of you walk mostly in silence, content to mull over your own issues in peace, the frenetic pulse of others’ lives colliding off one another.

A scream pierces out of nowhere, so shrill that you startle, Bas flinching at your side, heart pounding in your chest. Laughter echoes in response.

Both of you peer toward the sound, but all you find is a female getting to her wobbly feet, surrounded by mirth filled faces offering her various hands up, pulling her back to standing, arms linking close with one another.

You exhale heavily, but beside you Bas is tense, muscle coiled tight beneath the warm heat of his skin. Lightly, you pull on his arm, encouraging him to start moving again because it’s cold outside, and he’s given you his only good piece of protection against the piercing autumn chill. He moves along stiffly, tension tightening across his muscles, hands tucked tight in the deep pockets of his trousers.

Silently, you peer at him from the corner of your eye, noting the rigid posture, the downward tip of his brows, the tension in his jaw, as if biting down.

“Hey,” you say softly, laying your hand on his shoulder, bringing him out from whatever space he’d dropped into. Golden eyes flick to you, more distant than usual, and you realise just how lucky it was that male scooped up the female when he did—he’s clearly needing to be alone right now, in the peace and solitude of his own home.

You put a smile across your features, “scary, huh?”

A beat passes and he’s silent, just watching you.

Then muscle slopes, tension rushing from his body all at once, a heavy sigh deflating from his chest, breath billowing out into the biting cold air. He nods, a smile beginning to form on his lips.

A hand drops to your ass, squeezing with interest before smacking the plump flesh hard.

Your entire body goes rigid, legs shaking as you spin around, clutching tight to Bas’ arm to keep upright, shock disturbing your stomach as your eyes lock with pale green.

“Nice ass,” the male compliments lowly, a slight grin on his lips as he prowls forward, arms wrapping around your waist, large hands settling lightly over your rear, cupping with interest. Instantly you raise your arms to your body, itches breaking out across your skin, pulse kicking up to the beat of a war drum as disgust slithers beneath your flesh. “What—? Get off—”

“Get the hell off her.”

Bas turns on a dime, the tension breaking across his features as his lip pulls back from gleaming white teeth, golden eyes glittering with rage as he shoves one hand into the male’s chest, sending him stumbling back a few paces, storm clouds thundering in his expression.

Hands tremble at your front, managing a few hastened steps away, putting shaky stumbles between you and the male, breath shuddering in and out of your lungs as you stare with wide eyes. Bas takes a step forward, bringing his hands up out of his pockets to remove the rings adorning his deft fingers, golden bands sliding up over his knuckles. “looking for trouble?” He growls, eyes trained on the opposing male with deepening anger.

The male raises his open palms, a faint smile on his sober features, pale green eyes gleaming beneath the hot faelights. “Calm down man. I didn’t know she was yours,” he drawls smoothly, “no harm done.”

“No harm done?” Bas hisses, baring his teeth, an icy gleam in his normally perfectly golden gaze. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” he growls lowly, keeping you behind him.

The smile fades from the male’s face, shifting into a slight scowl. “Calm the fuck down,” he snaps irritably, “it was a fucking compliment.” Bas snarls, discipline slipping as he stalks forward, fist snatching up the collar of the male’s shirt, a faint tearing sound ripping through the crisp night air. Pale green eyes widen, before deepening with anger. “What the fuck is your problem? It was a fucking—”

“You fucking try and put your hands on her again,” he mutters softly, the threat reverberating deep in his chest, staring down the opposition. “Fucking try, and see what happens.”

The male’s brows dip, lip curling back as he bares his teeth, shoving the flats of his palms into Bas’ chest, roughly pushing him off. “You tore my shirt,” he mutters, staring down at the ripped fabric. Pale green clashes with raging gold, darkening to viridian. The male looks down his nose, folding his arms over his chest. “You better fucking pay for that, prick.”

“For what? The improvement?” Bas barks, hands tightening into fists at his sides, aching for a brawl, that familiar itch practically scrawled across his features. Obvious to no one but you. Silvery moonlight catches his knuckles, something sharp and glassy catching your eye.

The male’s features twist with anger, then they’re slamming into one another, light gleaming; darkness swirling.

They’re using magic.

Your pulse kicks up, hands trembling as you stare helplessly, unable to formulate any thoughts. Before you power crackles in the air, tension buzzing like static before lightening strikes, and you need to intervene. But it’s as though you’ve been vanished from the world, physical form obliterated so you’re simply a wisp of conscious being tossed brutally in stormy seas. Just your skin tingling disgustingly in the shape of large palm prints. Like he’s scorched your body, so everyone can see the patch where—

The male pins Bas to the floor, his large body thudding heavily against the stone of the cobbles, one hand splaying across his shoulder, fist pulled back tight as a bowstring, shooting down, landing blow after blow to the centre of his face, blood spraying across a vicious smile. Gold practically glows in the hot light, enjoying it, letting the rage and fury build until it’s ready to combust, to be released on the male atop him. He’s savouring it, and you can do nothing but watch as he slides back into that state of self-destruction. Right before your eyes.

A wet crunch sounds, cartilage shattering, blood coating sharp, gleaming teeth that are bared in a feral grin.

“The fuck are you smiling at?” The male laughs, pulling Bas up by the collar, arm wound back, preparing to strike hard now the bone has caved. “You fucking brain dead?” He shouts, ears wincing from the volume, green eyes lit with bloody glee, liquid dripping from his knuckles.

Nausea roils in your stomach, recognising the path Bas has settled on. The numb violence in his gaze having your throat closing up. Before you can help it, your feet are moving on their own, pushing through the shadows as you run over to the two, arms wrapping tight around the male’s elbow, locking it in place as you lean to counter-weight his strength. “Bas…” you manage, voice cracking, muscles turning weak with adrenaline, legs like custard as they tremble.

Pale green eyes snap to yours, his head whipping round, only to grow wide, features illuminated with a blinding glow. Skin burns, from your fingertips to your stomach to your heels—you’re burning. The male flinches beneath your hold, and you hardly have enough time to catch yourself before he’s jerked his arm out of your grip, the point of his elbow hitting the dip of your collar bones, just shy of your throat. Heart stumbles in your chest before a force shoves at your spine, pushing you back into the male as the knuckles of his hand smack across your cheek, sending you tumbling to the ground. Copper bursts on your tongue as you flip over, scrambling to get up but trembling so violently you might be sick.

The male raises his curled fist again, preparing to strike, but Bas has gotten his dose of violence, bloodlust glittering in blazing gold eyes as lips pull apart into a wet, bloody smile. You catch the gleam of ice coating his knuckles, cold moonlight glinting across frozen, jagged edges before he flips the male over, fist connecting with his jaw, a bloody tooth being spat out onto the cobbles. Then the furore begins, fist pulling back over and over as he keeps the male choked to the ground, sawtoothed ice smashing against skin and bone with every wet crunch.

You try to call out, but your lips are too numb to move, skin stinging with piercing pain. Dark red splatters on the cobbles, flecked through with tiny shards of ice as the crunching continues, getting wetter and softer with every hit. Like the heavy thump of raw meat upon a carving table.

Trembling, you move to get to your feet, fingertips itching with adrenaline, shaking with indecision. Bas is going to regret this, you know it. He’ll come out of that haze drowning in self-loathing for giving into the impulse after so long of numbing it. You can’t let him continue—stop him before he does serious damage to himself.

He’s been there for you, and you need to be there for him.

Breath eases into your lungs, skin itching deeper, the burning again raising as your fingertips tingle, trying to reach out for your power. The sting of the green light begins to manifest, aching in your stomach, head pounding, rising to the surface—

You’re hauled upright, turned around and directed away from the beat down, magic extinguished the second his scent wraps around you in a night-kissed breeze.

Azriel doesn’t say a thing, simply curves his wing round at your back, guiding you off into the night.

You don’t have the capacity for dread or fear at what he’ll say once you’re far enough away.

All you can think about is the quiet warmth of him at your side, steady and assured.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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