#feyre x tamlin

[theegemini92]

Potential Tamlin Mates: (not briar)

@thefatesofspring made a great suggestion when it came to Tamlins mate not being Briar and i totally agree. She could be someone older, with raw pure magic, and hopefully ANOTHER SPECIES of fea. Kinda over the humanoid looking ones. She could have horns, wings (something other than bat or angel, kinda tired of that) a true fairy 🧚 feature. Heck a tail would be nice. And honestly a little diversity too. ( I know some authors like to stay away from other characters because they can’t describe them or their “sexy time” but it just shouldn’t be that hard 😂 you know what we aren’t being picky here. She can be as black as night or have blue skin, green skin… red skin… that would even be perfect but fae at her true core. Below are some examples. Let me know your picks I’d love an imput. Also please I just randomly selected of the internet no ai brigades please it’s an idea I’m throwing out there.

I love the freakin fairy with leaves in her hair 😍😍

[gigi-drxws]

Tamlin and Feyre from the ACOTAR series

•

finally finished the first triology and i made some sketches while reading it, this was the coolest one the other one are just head studies and nonesense stuff, tbh im a lil scared of this fandom but i couldnt resist showing you how cool my mind is ngl so enjoy or scroll 🫶🏻

[sukaaxo]

“tamlin was so gross for sl*t shaming feyre at the HL meeting, rhys was such a feminist king for taking away his voice bcz of that”

like rhys didn’t enter her mind against her consent and tell tamlin her dirty thoughts about him. like rhys didn’t pin her against a wall and force her to kiss him. like rhys didn’t comment about feyres breasts being like apples to tarquin. like rhys didn’t touch her up in front of his entire court for no actual reason.

but sure tamlin being a little (validly) butthurt about how shit went down is such a problem 🥴

he’s a better man than me, i would’ve been airing out dirty laundry like it was my JOB

[ladymidnight-goesforth]

In His Arms

I fell asleep in his arms, and when I awoke a few hours later, we made love again, lazily and intently, a slow-burning smolder to the wildfire of earlier. Once we were both spent, panting and sweat-slicked, we lay in silence for a time, and I breathed in the smell of him, earthy and crisp. I would never be able to capture that—never be able to paint the feel and taste of him, no matter how many times I tried, no matter how many colors I used. ~ A Court of Thorns and Roses, ch. 27

My finished Feylin piece, as promised. ❤️ (The entire piece is below the cut, though. 😘)

I am the artist. Please do not repost.

@bookishfeylin @camelotisshining @feylinweek @feyres-divorce-lawyer @foxcort @positivelyruined @sad-scarred-sassy @shi-daisy

I have been assured that a piece like this isn't too spicy for Tumblr, but hey, it's my first one! Forgive me for being a bit shy about it. ��

Thank you all for your support. ❤️

[yelyahrodrigo]

I saw a description of ACOTAR that said something like "poor, starving, peasant girl kills an innocent person and her punishment for murder is living with a hot, single king on his beautiful estate where she can do literally whatever the hell she wants and she still finds reasons to hate everything" and it just really stood out to me

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Tamlin to Feyre: I noticed you were wearing open toed shoes.

Feyre:

Tamlin: Since when did you become a whore?

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

YOU SHANT DISS “i love you thorns and all” IN MYYYY HOUSEHOLD. “OH BUT RHYS WOULD’VE TORN THE WORLD APART FOR HER” BOOOO BOOOO TOMATOES 🍅🍅🍅🍅 BOOOORRRING. “HE’D END THE WORLD FOR HER” JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER BASIC BITCH DON’T YOU GET IT! SHE’S THE THORN AND HE’S THE ROSE! SHE’S THE ONE DOING THE WORLD TEARING! HE’S THE SHY GUY THAT AWKWARDLY FLIRTS WITH THE FERAL FOREST GIRL! SHE’S THE POSSESSIVE ONE, SHE’S THE ONE THAT GETS JEALOUS EASILY! AUUUGHHH

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Unhinged rating of SJM characters' ships from someone who hasn't read any of the books.

(Purely based on posts I've seen on social media. This is what I think of the ships based on what the fandom says about them. This is not a serious rating, obviously, since I haven't read a single book of hers or even a fanfic based on those.)

1.. Feysand 3/10

I've seen people say he drugged her and forced her to perform a lap dance and he twisted her broken arm until she agreed to a deal with him. And that after they got together, he didn't tell her that her pregnancy could kill her because the baby couldn't come out with wings.

2.. Feyre and Tamlin 5/10

I have seen people shit on Tamlin for being the worst, but I've never seen anyone provide direct examples from text. All people say is that he's very toxic and that he wanted to imprison Feyre in his house. But she was in danger? And she was a 19 illiterate peasant girl and there were centuries old fearies who wanted to harm her?? Maybe prioritize your safety for the time being, girl? Idk, maybe Tamlin did some other worse things, but if his list of crimes against feminism only consists of this, then he's not that bad.

3.. Nesta and Cassian 2/10

I'm sorry, I don't see the appeal. Nesta needed therapy, not Cassian. If Nesta was Lady Death and Cassian stood by her side ready to bathe in her enemies' blood, I'd dig it. But I've heard Nesta loses her powers?!!!... No. Just no. Also, Cassian has internalized bastard phobia he had centuries to get over and he still hasn't. We do not tolerate bastard slander in this court. It's not a personality trait. And he laughed when she fell down the stairs??

4.. Nesta and Eris 9/10

These two would slay sooooo hardddd!!!... The amount of cunt they would serve. Drink wine and talk shit together. Also, they fit together more. Autumn court would show Nesta that even death and decay can be beautiful. Not every Archeron sister needs to be paired with a Bat boy.

5.. Gwyn and Azriel 4/10

I mean, sure, but why? No spice, no salt, no nothing. They had completely normal boring interactions. Not much potential here.

6.. Elain and Azriel 7/10

Is flower girl/warrior boy cliché? Yes. Do I care? Not really. Azriel seems a level-headed guy in general and he's more open to Elain than Gwyn. Also, there are already parallels with Rosehall and Elain being compared to a rose.

7.. Elain and Lucien

No rating because I'm very confused about these two. Why is she even Lucien's mate?

8.. Aelin and Sam 8/10

They were cute. He seemed like a good guy. He loved Celeana, he would've loved Aelin.

9.. Aelin and Chaol 5/10

I have no idea who this guy is. No disrespect. I gave a middle score.

10.. Aelin and Dorian 6/10

They're better off as besties. They're both in line for their own thrones, so it would complicate things.

11.. Manon and Dorian 9/10

Dare I say, they'd be the kinkiest couple? Pop off. Love it. Zero notes.

12.. Aelin and Rowan 6/10

Aelin only settled for Rowan because she was too tired for something else. Bold statement from someone who has no idea what she's talking about. But I just get these vibes. They were both damaged and tired people. Aelin still deserved more empathy. I've heard he once hit her out of anger. And kept saying he would never love her like he loved her ex.

[bookishfeylin]

It'll never NOT be fascinating to me that the romance between a feral half-starved human girl and her High Lord bf who fell for her as she was half-starved and because she was feral is written off as him thinking she'll play his perfect little cute housewife lmao

[theclayr07]

Hey, Elriel here. Making moral judgements on who people ship or stan is dumb. These are fictional characters and everyone is potentially problematic. Who fucking cares?

[stargirlfeyre]

Tamlin fans hate Feyre because she didn’t suffer in silence. She’s not his perfect victim that slowly adapted to his abuse.

Instead she broke free from him and didn’t allow herself or anyone around her to make excuses for his behavior. She was quick to distance herself from Lucien when he tried to, she didn’t sugar coat anything he did when she told the Inner Circle, and she didn’t hide how much she suffered at his hand either.

She didn’t do what they would have done. She showed the world her starved body, her bruises, and the lack of control she felt when she was around him. She let everyone see the type of man he is first hand at the HighLord’s meeting when he sexually harassed her for leaving him.

She showed everyone the harsh reality of his abuse and in turn the world was harsher towards him.

[headfulloflettuce]

Puppet Darling - Part 3

Inspired by @wallflowers-in-the-wind’s post here.

Here you can read part 1 and part 2 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7

Nesta was hiding. Lucien insisted they split up after Feyre's…breakdown and she had been here ever since. 

Stuck in a broom closet.

If her mother was still alive to see this she would have proceeded to keel over and die again.

Nesta snorted.

For a general he was rather bad at this game of hide and seek, though perhaps this would be more up Azriel’s lane.

“Nesta? Nes? Where are you?” Cassian called out, the sound of his boots coming closer.

He passed the broom closet.

“Sweetheart?”

Nesta smirked.

He didn’t even think I would try and hide in a space as…messy as this.

She shifted, the grime from the cleaning supplies sticking to her dark blue dress, her hair falling out of her bun in a messy fashion. Nesta knew she was being petty; not dancing with her mate because he hadn’t complimented her dress.

It was stupid. But so was he, so in her mind, it evened out.

Even though I spent hours preparing. 

I mean, if he can compliment Mor’s dress for fifteen minutes straight, surely he could spare me a glance. 

Nesta crossed her arms. Until he acknowledges her efforts she wasn’t going to come out of this closet. 

The door creaked, making Nesta jump, hitting her head on the low ceiling. A breathless Lucien scrambled inside, shutting the door closed behind him.

He stared at her.

She stared back.

“Excuse me but this hiding spot is taken.” Nesta smirked, raising her eyebrows at the red head.

Lucien only brought his fingers to his lips, begging her to be silent. 

Nesta quieted, listening closely to the sounds around them. 

There was nothing.

“Lucien, what is-”

He covered her mouth with one hand, listening intently, using the other to pull back the curtains on the small window in the closet, illuminating the whole space with bright sunshine.

Nesta listened too. She heard it now - the soft whispers.

Along the edges of the door she could see them, the small shadows that squirmed and weaved their way through darkness, trying to see what was inside the closet, but failing due to the light’s presence.

Lucien exhaled as the shadows left, removing his hand from Nesta’s mouth, “We’ll have a short while before Azriel realizes where we are.”

“Sorry, but where you are. I am not in on whatever you’re doing.”

“I am trying to find the reason why Rhysand lost control of Feyre.”

Nesta looked at him.

“Feyre said that this is the first time she’s been in control in years, that means something here must have disrupted Rhysand’s power over her.” Lucien explained, “I was sneaking around, trying to find clues when Azriel got suspicious and began following me.”

“Did you find anything?” her voice softened.

“Perhaps.” Lucien muttered, “Apparently a fae called Elanor interrupted the High Lord’s meeting, which was when Feyre left. I suspect she has something to do with this. She is a scholar employed by Helion in the palace. Maybe she has some sort of power, or magic that influences Rhysand.”

“A power? That can influence a High Lord? Please, Lucien, that’s absurd.”

“It is, but it isn’t unheard of. After all, they’re not invincible against ash wood, why can’t something else mess with them? Or any fae for that matter?”

Nesta shrugged, feeling doubtful about the whole situation.

“I am going to try and sneak into her study and see if there’s anything there.”

“What if I tell Rhysand that you’re plotting against him?”

Lucien paled, “You wouldn’t do that…”

“Would I not?” Nesta jutted out her chin.

“You hate him.”

“Oh, and here I thought I was supposed to love him?”

“Nesta, this is your sister, please.”

“Please what?” Nests was annoyed, first Cassian, now Lucien was bothering her.

Can you not leave me to enjoy my quiet and peace for five minutes?

“Please, help me.” Lucien’s eyes were earnest, “Help me save my friend.”

Friend. He was still willing to call her friend after everything.

Nesta sighed, “Fine. I will help you. If next time you won’t bother me when I am relaxing.”

Lucien looked around the small closet they were sitting in, “I am sorry, I didn’t realize we were at a luxurious spa resort.”

Nesta glared, “Do you want my help?”

“Yes, sorry. No more spa jokes.” Lucien nodded apologetically, scooting over to the door and checking the hallway, “It’s clear. We can go.”

She crawled out of the cramped space, following Lucien who dusted his pants off from the dirt that got on his clean pants. Nesta looked down at her dress, covered in dust and soot. She took out her handkerchief, trying to clean it off as well, but it only smudged.

Lucien took the lead, walking down the hallway, carefully checking corners and continuously looking around to ensure they weren’t being followed.

“Are you a ballerina Lucien?” Nesta noted.

“Sorry, but if you haven’t forgotten, an infamous shadowsinger is on the lookout.”

“Right.” she still thought he looked silly.

Nesta hadn’t decided what she thought of her sister’s ramblings. Because truly? Mind control? She couldn’t bring herself to trust such a statement when Feyre had raved about how amazing Rhys was. How he saved her from Tamlin. How the Spring Lord was the worst male to ever walk this planet. How Feyre practically worshiped the ground Rhysand walked on…

Nesta paused, her youngest sister’s panicked expression flashing in her mind.

What if it was true though? What if Feyre truly wasn’t Feyre all this time? 

Nesta glanced at Lucien’s concentrated expression.

Lucien took her seriously the moment she confessed.

“How much farther?”

“We’re here.” Lucien turned into another hallway, pressing his ear against the third door, checking if someone was inside. He then pulled out a lockpick and began working the lock.

Nesta kept watch, ready to shut down the operation if anyone came close.

The lock clicked.

“I got it.” Lucien pushed the door open, Nesta stepping inside.

The room was tall, with models of planets hanging from the ceiling amongst the faerie lights. A large window behind the work desk provided additional illumination. Lucien began carefully searching through the items left on the couches, while Nesta gazed at the bookshelf lining the wall in wonder. 

She ran a hand down the spine of an ancient text. 

Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. The knowledge you must hide within you.

Nesta paused her musings, smirking as her fingers found a romance novel.

My, the smut you hide inside you…

Turning away from the books Nesta walked over to the large work bench covered in papers and various instruments. She leaned in, analyzing the beakers and vials closely.

Which one of you is weakening Rhysand?

Her eyes scanned the crystals, rocks and moss littering the space, stopping on a vial full of golden powder. Nesta huffed, sensing Lucien peeking over her shoulder.

Personal space much?

The sparkles shimmered, mesmerizing her with the lattice patterns being constructed and destructed as it swirled. She picked up the vial, giving it a gentle whirl. 

It was definitely a powder, despite its watery visuals. 

The door clicked, as someone began unlocking it.

“Shit.” Lucien whispered, quickly taking Nesta’s hand, winnowing them away as the door swung open. 

They teleported into the Day Court’s garden’s maze. 

“Wow Lucien.” Nests chuckled, “What will the faeries say when they see us here together?”

What would Elain think?

Lucien looked away, putting distance between the two of them as he began navigating his way out of the garden maze, “We needed more time. That powder must be related to this situation somehow.” he gritted his teeth, regretting that he hadn’t grabbed it.

“You mean this powder?” Nesta pulled out her handkerchief, filled to the brim with the sparkling dust.

Lucien stopped walking, staring at the dust, “I thought you said you would sell me out to Rhys.”

“I changed my mind.” Nesta pocketed the powder, “I can’t let you have all the fun now can I?”

“No, I guess you can’t.” he conceded. 

“What now?”

“We should find Feyre, tell her what we found.”

“Then we have no time to lose.” Nesta took the lead, “Who knows when our dear High Lord will come looking for us.”

Nesta couldn’t believe the person standing across the ballroom was the same sister who had just been sobbing, begging her for help. Feyre was chatting with Day Court nobles casually, the superior aura that Nesta had grown to despise back in full force. Her sister giggled at something a fae female said, bidding them goodbye as she was left alone.

“Now’s our chance.” Nesta gritted her teeth, ready to hurl the stupid powder into her sister’s face and remind her of the things she had been spouting mere hours ago.

“Wait.” Lucien spoke up before Nesta could get closer, “We can’t just throw the powder at her.”

“Why not?”

“If it is the thing causing him to lose control over her he will find out if he searches her memory, it’s best to be discreet.” Lucien grabbed a tray of wine glasses from a servant passing by, “Put it in here.”

“Should I add it to ours too?”

Lucien hesitated before nodding.

“Isn’t that unsafe?” Nesta asked pointedly.

“It is, we don’t know if it has negative consequences besides disrupting Rhysand’s powers.” Lucien agreed, “But we don’t have to drink, just pretend to.”

Nesta sprinkled some of the powder onto the top of the drinks, pocketing the rest of it afterwards.

“Hey Feyre!” Lucien approached the High Lady of the Night Court, smiling brightly, “How is your evening going?”

“Oh, it’s good.” Feyre smiled, her movements smooth and controlled.

“Good, would you like to have a drink? We wanted to toast to you and Rhysand.” Lucien offered her a glass.

“Haha, you’re so sweet Lucien.” Feyre took one of the glasses, Lucien and Nesta matching her movements.

“To your happy union.” Lucien congratulated.

Nesta looked at her sister, searching for any hint that this whole thing was a ruse. That this was all an elaborate scheme to trick her and Lucien into doing something they weren’t supposed to. 

She found nothing but the familiar blue-gray eyes, soulless and void of the spark, the anger and happiness Nesta witnessed in them when Feyre found her and Elain in the kitchen.

Feyre smiled, her eyes glazed over as she tipped her glass to them, bringing it up to her lips. Taking a sip, Feyre’s eyes widened, the panic and clarity Nesta had seen in her sister earlier returning in full force as she swayed, Lucien placing a hand behind her to keep her stable.

“Luc-”

“Don't draw attention.” He said quietly, still smiling, waving to a few emesseries that passed by.

Feyre nodded, blinking away the mist from her eyes.

“How did you do it?”

“We found the thing that does it.” Lucien kept his wording vague.

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief.

“What now though?”

“We need to run.”

“Feyre you can't be serious, that's suicide. Rhysand will easily catch us.”

“We have to!” Her voice rose, catching the attention of a couple noble females nearby, “He knows I am free, he'll come as soon as he can away from talking with Helion and Thesan!”

“Feyre you need to be quiet.” Lucien shushed her, “I understand you're scared but if you yell it'll only get him here faster.”

“We should go a route he wouldn't expect us to.” Nesta spoke up, her mind already spinning with ideas.

“We should just winnow away-”

“No, that's what he'll expect us to do.” Nesta cut Lucien off, “We'll go by foot.”

“By foot, are you crazy? We'll get caught at that rate!”

“Not ‘we’, us, you are staying back.” Nesta gave the order.

Feyre stared at her sister.

“What are you talking about? Of course I am coming with you!” Lucien sputtered 

“We need someone to keep an eye on Rhysand, if we leave with no one on the inside we'll be in more danger.” Nesta explained.

Lucien reluctantly nodded, seeing her point, “So you want me to be the sneaky fox on the inside?”

“More like a mole or a rat.”

“I prefer Fox.”

Nesta turned to Feyre, not wanting to continue this useless debate, “Is there anything you need before we leave?”

“Nyx.” Feyre said, “We need to get him. I can't leave him with Rhysand.”

“Where is he right now?”

“With Naula…”

“We can go get him together.” Lucien offered, “Nesta you should stay back to not raise suspicion.”

“Right…” Nesta responded dryly.

“Wait,” Feyre looked to Nesta, “Can you get Elain to come with us?”

“Feyre, I don’t think she wants to leave at this point.”

“It’s dangerous…please, I don’t want her to get hurt.”

So me getting hurt was fine, but her no?

Nesta sighed.

Well…at least we can agree on her wellbeing.

“I’ll convince her.”

“We’ll meet at the docks.” Lucien took Feyre’s hand.

“Why at the docks?” Feyre sounded exhausted.

“You’ll see.”

Nesta found Elain chatting with a group of Day Court herbalists.

“Elain, may I have a word?”

Elain looked annoyed but stepped away with Nesta to the side, “What is it?”

“We need to go.”

“By the Mother, did Feyre convince you?!” Elain looked disappointed in her sister.

“Elain, I think…she might be telling the truth.”

“She was just drunk.”

“Lucien took her seriously.”

Elain quieted at the mention of Lucien, narrowing her eyes, “What did he say?”

“He said it was because of the bargain they struck under the mountain.”

“What bargain?”

Well, at least I wasn’t the only one out of the loop.

“The one that required Feyre to spend a week with Rhys in Night Court.”

“What…?”

“We’re planning on running.”

Those words didn’t sound real to Nesta. The idea that they were finally leaving? After all this time? Abandoning the very thing they-she, had sacrificed so much to?

It was liberating.

“Hold on, isn’t this an overreaction? We should try to talk it out with Rhys, or ask Mor for help. Oh, I am sure Azriel would be willing to listen!”

“Elain-”

“No!” Elain raised her voice, startling Nesta, “You don’t get to tear me away when I just settled in. You don’t get to tear me away from the life that I had built for myself. Feyre was happy living in the Night Court as the High Lady until what? An hour ago? Claiming to have gotten mind controlled?” she took a step forward, “And why are you so keen to believe her? Don’t tell me you’re trying to play the caring older sister after”

Nesta didn’t say anything, watching as her sister caught her breath, calming down.

“Better?”

Elain nodded.

“Elain, I understand that this is all…a lot right now, but I still think that this is a good decision.”

“Leaving?” Elain snapped.

“No, call it taking a vacation.” Nesta corrected, “We’ll go somewhere else. Someplace we can treat as a neutral ground for our conversations with Rhys and the others. If…and when we have resolved this conflict we can go back.”

Elain gently brushed her dress out, processing.

“When are we leaving?”

“Now.”

“The main part of the event is over, you should be able to escape on foot.” Lucien explained as the group, dressed in gray cloaks, approached the port, “You’ll escape on a ship heading back to Summer Court, from where you can travel to Spring and to the human lands.”

“Thank you.” Feyre murmured, holding a bundled up Nyx close to her chest.

“It’s nothing.” Lucien avoided making eye contact with Elain, leading the Archeron sisters to a large transport ship, “I already checked, there is a large crate at the very end of the ship that has free space that won’t get filled up with produce. Hide there.”

With that he winnowed away.

The three sisters exchanged a look, carefully boarding the ship, Nesta keeping a lookout to ensure they weren’t spotted. 

Feyre sat quietly, holding Nyx close to her chest, gently bouncing him to keep him quiet.

Elain curled in on herself, while Nesta tapped a rhythm with her finger.

“Is the ship ready to depart?”

“Yes captain!”

“Good, we’ll be departing in fifteen minutes.”

The sailors moved around the ship, chatting and double checking that everything was secure.

Feyre flinched.

Nests cast her a questioning look.

“Sorry, it’s the bond.” Feyre cringed, “Rhysand is screaming at me to return through it.”

“Maybe we should.” Elain said pointedly.

“Absolutely not.” Feyre’s voice regained its previous panic, “We cannot go back.” she hissed.

I hate that look in your eyes.

Nesta gazed at her younger sister.

I hate how weak you are.

Feyre took a deep breath, trying to ease an invisible pain.

Where is my sister? The one who hunted? The one who protected us?

“Captain! Captain! The High Lord of Summer is here!”

“Please, just Tarquin is fine.”

“Right sir.”

“Are we ready to set sail?”

“Yes sir!”

“Don’t High Lords winnow home?” Elain mouthed to Nesta.

They’re supposed to.

She didn’t give her sister a response.

“Sir, please take a look.” the captain opened a nearby crate, “While in Day we were able to purchase some of their wines.”

“There was a second crate with more somewhere over here.” another voice sounded.

Light hit their faces as someone opened the crate they were sitting in. A sailor stared in confusion at them.

“Kid, the other wines are to the left of that.”

“Um, sir. There’s…uh.”

“What is it?” Tarquin’s voice approached, his face appearing beside the younger fae’s.

He made eye contact with Feyre.

“You.” Tarquin glared, his voice like the ocean hitting sharp cliffs.

“T-Tarquin.” guilt flashed across Feyre's face as she pulled away, hiding further in the crate.

“Why the hell are you three in here?”

“Tarq-”

“Here to steal another ancient artifact?”

“No!”

“Let me guess, Rhysand is hiding in one of these as well.”

“High Lord-” Nest was also interrupted.

“No, that’s too beneath him. He’d rather send his dear High Lady here to do his dirty work.”

Feyre looked at him pleadingly.

“Get out.” Tarquin’s face showed no sign of backing down.

Feyre paled, “No.”

“Did I not make myself clear?”

“High Lord.” Nesta spoke up, Tarquin glaring at her instead, “We’re not here to steal from you.”

“Then are you here to have a tea party?” he laughed.

“We’re on the run.”

Tarquin raised an eyebrow, “On the run? From what?”

“From Rhysand.”

The group went quiet.

“What are you talking about?”

Nesta looked to Feyre.

I don’t know how to explain your situation.

“Rhysand used his daemati powers on me.” Feyre explained.

“What are you talk-”

“He started when I first went to the Night Court. After he showed up at mine and Tamlin’s wedding.”

“From what I heard you seemed happy to leave Tamlin.” Tarquin countered, “Didn’t he keep you trapped? You made a big deal over it.”

“I was happy to leave Tamlin.” Feyre said, “But the more time I spent with Rhysand the more he took over my mind. The less I could properly think for myself.”

Tarquin still looked skeptical.

“Please Tarquin.” Feyre begged.

My sister could beg.

Nesta had never heard her take such a pleading tone.

It clearly took Tarquin by surprise as well, his skepticism vanishing for a second. He opened his mouth to speak when a familiar dark voice greeted him, “Tarquin, long time no see.”

“Rhysand, what brings you here?” Tarquin gestured for the fae beside him to cover up the crate, plunging Nesta and her sisters into darkness.

Feyre squeezed Nyx closer to her, her eyes full of fear and quiet tears.

“Ah, I just wanted to stop by and say hello.” Rhysand’s footsteps approached the crate.

“Feyre, you need to breathe.” Nesta whispered to her sister, watching her begin to hyperventilate “You can’t let him know he’s close.”

Feyre nodded, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to remain calm, Elain doing her best to keep Nyx distracted from the situation.

“Say, you haven’t seen Feyre have you?” Rhys asked casually.

Silence.

“No, I haven’t. Why? Did you lose your wife?” Tarquin’s tone was humorous.

“Of course not.” Rhysand said, gritting his teeth, “She said she wanted to go on a walk around the town, so I was just curious if you had seen her.”

“No.” Tarquin smiled, “No, I haven’t seen her.” 

“A pity. I was thinking we could have had dinner together if she was still close by.”

“A pity indeed.”

“She probably has gone home then. I hope we’ll get to talk more another day Tarquin.”

“Have a safe trip home, Rhysand.”

The group beside the crate went quiet as Rhysand left. Once safe, Tarquin reopened the crate, “Get out.”

“Tarquin please-”

“I am not kicking you off. I am going to hide you better.”

The three let out an exhale.

“On one condition.”

“Yes?” Feyre asked tentatively.

“You get the fuck out of my court within three days of arrival.” Tarquin helped Feyre out of the crate, “If you do not, I will send sirens after you to show you the door.”

Next: Part 4

[sad-scarred-sassy]

The tragedy of Spring🥀 - Chapter 6

Summary: Feyre Archeron finds out the truth.

Notes: I needed to get this out before it drove me insane! I hope you guys like it.

Read on AO3 or keep reading below the cut.

“You will be mine” She heard his voice, soft, vibrating over her body and luring her through the haze.

“And I will be yours” She felt his fingers on her waist, the place where she had felt them on her all night, moving her, guiding her. She felt a creeping sensation throughout her body, emerging from the pit of her stomach, screaming at her to run, but when she opened her eyes she saw stars and a universe of calm and comfort. A voice in her mind told her to run towards it, to grasp it and bathe herself in it, in the feeling, in his touch, his words.

But her body felt paralyzed, unsure.

Through the fog in her world she conjured a thought. “I don’t need you” She tried to get away, but his hands held her to him and she couldn’t help but stay still under them.

“Oh but you do” He said, voice soft and breathy, like a beautiful viper. “I can give you what you want, what you need. I can keep you safe”

“Safe?” The word felt so foreign to her now.

“Nothing bad will ever happen to you by my hand” He breathed on her skin and her body reacted. “That’s my word”

She knew something was off, something she couldn’t place, like when trying to hold on to a dream but feeling it slip away.

“Say it. Say it, Feyre” His breath hit her neck and her body trembled, urging her to speak or to flee, she wasn’t sure. The world was too dark, her body felt too tired and she was so desperate for that light, shining from his star-flecked eyes.

“I am yours, you are mine” She chanted, her words coming out monotonously, her vision blurring, hands and legs tingling.

“Perfect” She heard him say. “Close your eyes and rest, my mate ”

——

“Feyre”

She felt a pang in her stomach, like a rock had been dropped inside of it, painfully and all at once. Her arms and legs lost all strength as she looked into her sister’s wide and shocked eyes. She heard a horrible, consistent ringing in her ears, like a woman screeching inside her head, maybe that was her.

“You will be mine. And I will be yours”

Rhysand’s voice rang inside her mind. It couldn’t be. It had to be a mistake, Elain had to be mistaken.

“Feyre, calm down” Elain said, but she wasn’t calm herself, she looked lost too. It didn’t reassure her in the least.

“Y-you have to be mistaken” She felt herself say.

“Feyre I-“ Her brown eyes were glossy, tears beginning to form. Feyre couldn’t accept it.

“No! He’s my mate! I felt it, I felt him!” She was yelling now, but her sister only watched her.

“What I showed you, I didn’t make it up” She said softly, holding her hand tightly, as if she may disappear.

Feyre stared at her and it dawned on her then. How the moment she had come back from the dead she hadn’t felt it anymore, that tether to him that used to be like a piece of her soul, like he owned some of hers the way she owned some of his. How it had been easier to separate her thoughts from him then, easier to reject him, easier to want to leave him. He had broken the bargain.

“Nothing bad will ever happen to you by my hand”

She realized she was hyperventilating when Elain got to her feet and told her to breathe with her, to calm down. But she couldn’t calm down, because she was inside a nightmare, her world was falling apart, her life was a complete lie.

Why? The question popped inside her head and she couldn’t find an answer.

Why? Why? Why?

She realized she was chanting it, holding herself, rocking back and forth. Elain was trying to hold her together, but she was panicking herself.

“What’s happening?” She heard a familiar voice ask. Lucien. She started sobbing then.

“Lucien, help me. You need to get Nesta” The world was a vacuum, the voices were muffled. She needed more air or she was going to die.

“What is happening Elain? Why is she having a panic attack?”

“Listen” Elain rose. “I think we could be in danger, just get Nesta and don’t tell anyone. Not Azriel, not Cassian, not Rhysand. Please”

A moment later Elain was holding her hand again.

“Feyre, listen to me.” Her voice was so clear and solid she had to obey. “You need to breathe slowly, or you will pass out” She held her face in her small hands. “Listen to me, everything will be okay”

“No, it won’t Elain” She was sobbing, her head was throbbing and her whole body was shaking. “Why would he do this? Why would he make me do this?”

“I don’t know” Elain was trying not to cry.

As if on cue she heard Nyx’s cry from his nursery room.

A second rock, a bigger, more disgusting rock dropped inside her stomach and she looked up at Elain’s face with a horrified expression.

“No” Elain whispered. She shook her head softly. “It couldn’t be” But her brown eyes cleared, and she could see the truth hitting her in the face.

“An heir” She coughed.

Something inside of her snapped, and she stood up, running towards his room. She almost tripped a few times, dodging vases and furniture as she kept going towards the voice of her son crying.

When she finally arrived she almost threw herself at him, picking him up and cradling him in her trembling arms.

Feyre Archeron knew two things. One, the love of her life had lied to her, manipulated her and used her. Two, she would not let anyone take her baby away from her.

Elain caught up to her, Lucien and Nesta trailing behind her with concerned faces.

“Feyre-“ Nesta said, her grey eyes looking at her with such concern it made her want to keep crying. She looked at her older sister straight in the eyes.

“Run” She said and she winnowed.

——

When she arrived in Spring, she didn’t have any time to question herself, question why she had come here, she only had time to hold her baby tight to her body, as if scared someone might rip him away from her at any moment, and started running through the thick foliage of the forest. She knew she was close to the old manor, she had memorized these woods thoroughly.

Her bare feet were aching as she kept going, Nyx crying in her arms as she felt her own tears stream down her face. She was scared and hurt, and she couldn’t stop crying too.

When she finally reached the old manor she halted abruptly as she saw faeries of all kinds stopping whatever they were doing to look at her curiously.

Her chest was rising and falling quickly as she looked at their faces. Fae of all colors, shapes and sizes appeared to be working on the manor, reconstructing it. In that moment she felt the guilt of her past actions hit her like a thunder.

There she was running for help to the place she willingly destroyed, condemned thousands and never looked back. She wanted someone to step up and kill her right then and there. To make her pay. Make it all go away. The fae folk only stared at her some more.

“Feyre Cursebreaker?” One of them said and she couldn’t help a sob.

She shouldn’t be here, she should leave. Go somewhere else, somewhere no one will know.

“Feyre?” A voice soft but low that she knew all too well said from her back. She swirled to look at him, as if she couldn’t help it.

She saw his green eyes first, his tied golden hair second, strands falling on his perfect but sweaty face.

“Tamlin” She choked slightly. She looked down at her baby and then at him again. “I need-I don’t know where else to go and I-we need help” She sobbed, feeling like the worst person, the smallest most pathetic worm in the universe as he approached her slowly, as if scared she may run away, with only deep concern in his emerald gaze. As much as she looked for it, she couldn't find one hint of gloating in his eyes, not a pinch of contempt. She only wanted to crumble down and cry.

When he stepped in front of her, hands up as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, he steadied a breath.

“What do you need?”

----

The wrath of a High Lord was something Nesta Archeron had been strangely acquainted with by now. When Rhysand snarled in her face, waves of dark power emanating from his tall frame as his muscles rippled, she didn't even flinch. 

“You let her leave” He spat at her, staring her down. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know” She said, but her own anger was already beginning to drown her, she could feel the cold fire tingling in her fingers, waiting, like a snake before it strikes. 

“I said, where is she?!” He screamed, pushing the table that had been between them like it was nothing, making it crash against the wall with a loud thump. She only stared at him, unamused. 

“Rhys, let’s just calm down” Her mate’s voice sounded from her side. Cassian was wincing with each word spoken, unsure what to do, what to say. She tightened her fisted hands, the weight of Ataraxia on her hip comforting her. “I’m sure whatever is going on can be resolved if we all just calm down” 

Feyre had told her to run, but she would be damned before she did that. Nesta Archeron would never cower before a male ever again, she had promised herself that, and this one wasn’t any different, most powerful High Lord or not. Besides, she wanted to be the one to have the pleasure of delivering the news.

“No” She said and both males pinned their eyes on her. She pointed at Rhysand. “He is a liar” She made sure her voice was clear and sharp as Cassian’s eyes only looked more shocked by the second. “He machinated a mating bond with my sister, your so-called High Lady, made her seal a bargain and then made sure she forgot about it” She cocked her head at Rhysand. “Now she knows, and she left you”

Rhysand’s face was suddenly displaying a cold, calculated fury she had the displeasure of knowing too well.

“No, that’s not true, where did you come up with something like that?” Cassian was saying, but her eyes were on the High Lord. When Rhysand didn’t utter a word, Cassian became more agitated. “Rhys, what-” 

“Tell him” She said softly, tenderly, like speaking to a toddler. “Tell him what you did to her. You can also mention all the ways in which you tormented her Under The Mountain, then pretended to be her savior” She savoured the venom in her tongue. 

Shadows sizzled in the corner and she knew Azriel had been listening for a long while.

“Rhys?” Cassian tried, but Rhysand’s violet eyes were fixed on her, weighing what to do, probably planning how to kill her without making Cassian go mad.

“She took my son” He said and the whole house trembled. 

“She took her son” Nesta said. “She died for him, remember?” She was sure he would try to kill her now.

“Rhys tell me this is not true” Cassian was pacing now, his heavy steps reverberating through the wooden floors of the River House. “It cannot be true”

“It is” A melodic voice sounded from her periphery. Azriel. “You did that to her. You made her believe she was your mate? How could you do that?” Azriel’s shadows swarmed him, the anger and betrayal on his face was cold and horrifying.

Rhysand’s eyes left her for a second to look at his favorite subject. “I had no choice”

Nesta scoffed, Cassian ran his hands through his long hair. 

“I will not repeat myself, where is she?” He commanded with such force her body fought to stay still. She straightened. 

“I don’t know, and even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you even if you made him torture me” She pointed at Azriel, who was stiffly looking at his High Lord. Centuries of blind loyalty and undying brotherhood, hanging by a thread, a thread she had no issues in cutting. “I will leave now, and if you try to stop me, I will make you eat shit”

She turned to leave but Cassian held her back. “Wait, Nesta let’s just, let’s hear him out” 

“No” She said. “I don’t give a fuck about his reasons. There is no justification, not this time” She spat. Her mate’s amber eyes were devastated, lost, like he was a stranded child, he looked like he may cry, and she didn’t fault him for that. She tightened her fists again as she fought the urge to simply stay, give in to him and comfort him. But she couldn’t, and Cassian knew it, he was trying to deny it but he knew there was no coming back from this.

She looked at Rhysand one more time and her eyes of steel met the violet fury of his. He disgusted her. “Leave her alone, or I will put you down, and you know I don’t make false promises”

[sukaaxo]

does anyone else find the High Lords forgiving Rhys so quickly at the meeting but convinced Tamlin was evil as just a really ridiculous attempt by SJM to really reinforce Rhys as the ‘good guy’??

like let’s look at it from Prythians pov -

Rhys. the most feared High Lord. his court known for leaving no survivors. <500> years of known torturing and murdering anyone who crosses him. leaves dead bodies in peoples courts for the jokes. aligned with Amarantha nearly immediately and completed all the tasks she requested of him. was a bitch to everyone who came across him. literally kidnapped Feyre.

Tamlin. the High Lord who didn’t want the role. plays the fiddle with his people and allows them to roam around his manor. took in Lucien and other fae and gave them a home with no complaints nor compensation. never trusted Amarantha and told her he’d rather be with a human than her ass. spent years refusing to send his friends to their deaths and to force a human into his lands. sent said human home to save her even if it meant him having to be with Amarantha. refused to acknowledge said human when she went UTM so that she wouldn’t be harmed. killed Amarantha.

yet Rhys waltzes in, shows his wings and goes ‘lol it was all a lie guys, im acc a nice guy’ and the High Lords are all like ‘omg yes queen, hooray we love u’ but Tamlin goes to Hybern for 5 mins to save his fiancé and they’re like ‘ew he’s so evil, we hate him and will never forgive him’

lol ok

[ladymidnight-goesforth]

A Very Feylin Preview

A sneak peek of something I've been working on in Clip Studio Paint. 😘 You're welcome.

I am the artist. Please do not edit or repost. Thank you!

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - Chapter 8

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 7 | chapter 9 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, smut, domestic arguments, slut shaming, mentions of gore (UTM arm stuff) body shaming, small mention of forced food restriction, this chapter is kinda painful, feylin smut, Ianthe

Words: ~5.2k

Author's Note: it's here! I'm very happy with this chapter- well. I'm sad about it cause poor Feyre 😭 it ended up being more brutal than I had imagined it would be?? So um. Yeah. I hate, hate, hate Ianthe. I hope you guys like the chapter!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre was dying.

She was sure of it. She had to be dying, with the overwhelming heat coming off of her and the immense pains in her abdomen.

Granted, Feyre’s thoughts had been very muddled lately, moments in time disappearing from her memory and nothing made sense.

Feyre had realized again that she was back in Spring, separated from her perfect nest she had made before. She wasn’t sure how many days had passed, how long she had been drifting in and out of sleep.

Ianthe visited her far too often, cramming food into Feyre’s mouth and commanding her to eat and plying her with tea that sent her back to sleep.

Tamlin had come to her four times.

Feyre knew that one for sure, she could vividly remember the instant relief she felt when the alpha had knotted her, each and every time.

She only wished it had happened more often.

Right now, Feyre had her hand between her thighs, desperately trying to find some sort of reprieve from the fire ravaging her flesh. She’d been in the same position, hips rocking when she could summon the energy. She wished she had her nightgown still, the one that smelled so perfect. But it had disappeared at some point when she was asleep.

Her bedroom door swung open, and Feyre managed to look towards it, hoping to scent her alpha-

But it was the rancid scent of Ianthe, wilting roses and dirt that got stuck in her nose for hours after she was left alone.

Feyre groaned, turning away from the alpha as quickly as she could manage.

“Feyre, we’ve talked about this. You need to eat, and you need to drink something,” Ianthe scolded. “Now, turn around omega.”

She fought the command as long as she could, but she was already so weak, so tired. Feyre rolled back to the alpha, grimacing as pain lanced through her.

Ianthe attempted to pry Feyre’s mouth open and place a piece of a sandwich inside, but Feyre wouldn’t budge.

The taste of her fingers were like ash, and Feyre nearly vomited, but she held her mouth closed, unwilling to eat the food she was offering. Every time she ate, it meant that Tamlin would not appear, and she needed his knot.

Feyre kept turning her head away from Ianthe’s chilled fingers, until finally the alpha huffed and stormed out of the room.

Finally. The scent of her would linger, but the intensity was already so much lesser…

Her right hand returned to between her thighs, slowly rubbing at the bundle of nerves there.

She wished she still had her nightgown, the one with her alpha’s scent… just the thought of it, so fresh and clean and intoxicating lessened the burning of her body for a moment, before kicking up to a level higher than before.

Feyre let out a wail, in so much pain that she could hardly breathe.

The door opened once more, and the scent of lilacs, cedar and earth filled Feyre’s senses. Or nearly what she needed, but it would do.

She took a few greedy lungfuls before turning her head to the door to watch Tamlin swing it shut.

“Alpha,” she groaned, and she wanted to present for him, if only she had the strength in her limbs to do so.

“Omega. Ianthe said you refuse to eat.” His voice was tense, verging on angry and Feyre cowered into herself, terrified that she made the alpha upset. “You need to eat, Feyre.”

“Pain,” Feyre whispered.

Tamlin gave her a pitying look before approaching her in her nest and sitting down next to her. “You hurt too much to eat, omega?” He asked, and Feyre nodded her head slightly. “Do you need alpha’s knot?”

Feyre moaned at that, the thought of being filled and locked to an alpha just what she needed. She let Tamlin pull the sheets from her body, prowling over her naked form. She was already leaking slick steadily, and he was able to push in in one slow thrust, stopping for a moment to let Feyre bask in the fullness.

Finally. Finally full again.

Feyre came quickly, her body overstimulated from the days on end need that flooded her. Her second came as Tamlin’s knot started to catch, so close to what she needs.

And then they were blissfully locked together, Tamlin’s seed coating her insides. I hope I have a baby, Feyre thought as Tamlin gently laid them on their sides, and arm wrapping around Feyre’s torso. Feyre sighed, the heat finally abating for the moment.

She had nearly nodded off to the calming sound of Tamlin’s breathing and steady heartbeat when his knot started to deflate, and he moved to pull away.

All tiredness left Feyre’s body, and she was flooded with instant panic as she quickly turned to wrap her arms around the alpha.

“Don’t leave, alpha, please don’t leave me,” Feyre cried pathetically, fat tears already pouring from her eyes. “I’ll do whatever you want please just don’t leave me, stay with me.”

Tamlin let out a heavy sigh. “Feyre, you know I have things to-”

“Alpha, please,” she wailed, grasping tighter to him when he tried to move.

Another sigh. “If you eat, omega, I will stay with you. But you need to eat and drink,” he commanded gently, and Feyre bobbed her head in agreement.

She still didn’t move.

“Omega, you need to sit back against the headboard to eat.” She let go of him with a pout on her face, but scooted back against the wall as he asked. Tamlin moved the tray that Ianthe had brought in onto the bed right in front of Feyre’s crossed legs. “Eat.”

Feyre sighed and picked up the sandwich, bland and ashy on her tongue. She choked it down as quickly as she could, then took the teacup that Tamlin was now offering her and drained that swiftly. Feyre placed the cup back on the tray, and turned her eyes on the alpha expectantly.

Tamlin moved the tray onto her nightstand and moved up the bed, taking Feyre in his arms. He pulled a blanket over them, a pale green and entirely too scratchy on Feyre’s sensitive skin, but it would have to do. Feyre snuggled into his hold, breathing in his scent and relaxing as she listened to his heartbeat.

Tamlin kept his word and stayed with Feyre throughout the night, knotting her a total of five times.

When she awoke for the final time, her mind felt clear once more. Her heat was nearly gone now, only a dull ache and mild fever after receiving the care and hormones she needed.

Tamlin stirred behind her, his arm tightening around her middle before pulling away entirely. Feyre rolled to follow his body, still not ready to be without her alpha.

“Tam? Where are you going?” Feyre asked softly as he stood up from the bed and began pulling his clothes on.

“I have a meeting to get to, Feyre. I’ll have Ianthe come and check on you soon,” Tamlin said stiffly, already fully clothed and walking towards the door. Anger bubbled in Feyre’s chest, overriding any sleepiness she had held onto.

“This isn’t fair!” Feyre yelled at his back. “You barely helped me during my heat, you haven’t marked me, you didn’t think to let me choose how to decorate my nest! It’s like you don’t even care about me anymore!”

Tamlin spun around faster than Feyre had seen him move in a long time, faster than at their wedding. “I’m the one who doesn’t care?!” He shouted back at her, his scent and face flooded with anger. “You couldn’t even make it down the aisle to me Feyre, how do you think that made me feel? And then you run off with him, when you were due for your heat any day!”

“You know that I had no control over-”

“You came home reeking of Rhysand! Lucien said you were clinging to him, like some desperate omega whore!” He spat at Feyre, and she shrank down into her bed.

“Get out,” Feyre whispered, pulling the blankets over her body tightly.

“Feyre, I didn’t-”

“Get out!” Feyre screamed, throwing a pillow at him as hard as she could. A moment later her door opened and slammed shut, rattling in its frame.

Tears streamed down Feyre’s face as she curled in on herself tightly, a pillow clutched to her chest.

Omega whore. That’s what she had been, hadn’t she? She had gone into Rhysand’s room, slept in his bed, ground against him…

Feyre sobbed. Everything Tamlin said was true. She was a horrible, horrible omega. She doesn’t deserve his mark, that’s probably why he hasn’t given it to her yet.

Hours passed, but Feyre stayed in the same position, tears constantly flowing down her face.

The thoughts wouldn’t leave.

Feyre stayed there until the sun had dipped below the horizon, after Ianthe had come to try and force her down to the dining room.

She finally moved to bathe. Her body felt disgusting after however many days she had spent in a heat soaked haze. The warmth of the water did little to warm her heart, which felt cold and brittle at the moment. Like she would shatter with one more vicious word from Tamlin.

Feyre stayed in there until her skin was pruney and the water had cooled, barely managing to wash herself with her limited energy. She dragged herself out, drying herself a bit before stumbling back into her bedroom.

Her nest was atrocious. She could see that now, after having built one exactly how she liked in the Night Court. It was filled with muted greens and browns, colors that she had felt safe wrapped in when she was a human- but now, now she needed vibrancy, a reminder that life is bright and joyful even when she doesn’t feel that way.

This nest, she hates.

Feyre ripped all of the blankets off, the pillows, the finally the sage green sheets, all of them tossed into the corner of her room. Feyre went through her closet and wardrobe, happening across a set of dusty pink sheets and a soft white cotton nightgown.

Better than nothing.

She pulled the nightgown over her head, then put the sheets on as fast as she could manage, feeling her exhaustion creeping back in after all of the movement. She slipped between them, relieved that these sheets seemed softer than the ones before. Feyre sighed, letting the tension leave her body with it as she curled in on herself again.

Omega whore.

Tears trailed down her face again as the insult echoed in her mind.

Finally, Feyre slipped into sleep.

Nightmares found her.

She was back under that mountain, trapped in a cell once more with her arm a broken, infected mess. This time, Tamlin came to see her.

“Does it hurt, omega?”

Feyre’s face scrunched at the title- “What?”

“Your arm,” he said, gesturing to it. Feyre looked down at it, saw the bone poking through skin. She nodded and looked back to him. “Good. Stupid omega whores like you deserve to be in pain.” Faster than she could see, his hand darted through the bars of her cell, fingers grabbing the bone protruding through her skin and pulled.

Feyre screamed, the pain worse than anything she had ever faced, but he didn’t let up. He grabbed her arms with his other hand and twisted, bones snapping further-

Feyre bolted out of bed, barely getting to the toilet in time to empty the contents of her stomach into it.

Knocks were coming from Feyre’s door, had been since she woke, and the door quickly opened after her retching started.

“Feyre, are you okay?” Lucien asked as he pulled her hair away from her face, a soothing hand on her back and she leaned on the bowl of the toilet for support.

“Nightmare,” Feyre whispered once she was certain her stomach was empty. She rinsed her mouth in the sink as thoroughly as she could. “What did you want?”

Lucien looked her up and down, taking in her pale, shaking frame. “I wanted to invite you out for breakfast in the gardens,” he suggested gently. “Tamlin…” Feyre shook harder at his name, and Lucien took her hands into his, the alpha’s scent of autumn leaves and crisp wind and calm soothing Feyre’s omega. “He told me what happened, your fight. I wanted to make sure you are okay, and offer you a way out of breakfast in the dining room if you wish.”

Feyre nodded her head. That sounded nice, better than dealing with Tamlin’s cruel words bouncing around in her head as he and Ianthe most likely ignored her. “I’d like that. Give me a moment to change?”

“Of course, Feyre. I’ll be waiting outside,” the redhead said with a soft smile. Feyre looked through her closet for something to wear-

All of the dresses were far too complex for her to put on herself. They required lacing in the back, both for the corset and the dress. She shuffled through everything, and happened across a few skirts and matching shirts- perfect. Feyre pulled out a pale pink set and quickly stripped herself of her nightgown and slid them on. The fabric was soft and flowy, and the skirt ended at her knees. The shirt had long sleeves that billowed slightly around her arm before coming in to a cuff at her wrists, and buttoned up the front.

How had she never worn this in the past year here?

Feyre knew the answer. She was rarely allowed to dress herself, let alone wake up on her own and not by the bustling of maids entering her room and prepping her for the day. She shook her head. She was allowed to today. Thank the Mother, Feyre didn’t think she could stand to be near Ianthe this early after such a horrible day and night yesterday.

Feyre made her way to the door, before she remembered to grab a pair of slippers to protect her feet. She opened the door, and found Lucien leaning against the wall opposite it. “Ready?” Feyre nodded. “Let’s go then, dear Feyre.” She took his extended arm gratefully, happy to have a calm, kind alpha near her to put her omega at ease. They walked slowly down the halls, as Feyre was still feeling exhausted from her heat and subsequent fight with her alpha.

Soon, they hit the front doors of the manor, the dining room only separated from them by the double glass doors. Feyre could hear the hum of Tamlin’s voice, Ianthe’s grating laughter. She tugged Lucien outside, not wanting to linger in case one of them decided to come to the door and drag her inside.

Lucien led her to a secluded spot in the garden, a table already set for their meal. Feyre was happy to note that there were no red roses in sight, something she was sure Lucien had planned for. Lucien pulled out a chair for Feyre, to which she shook her head but sat anyway.

“You know you don’t have to do that, I’m not lady, after all,” Feyre said as Lucien took his seat across from her.

“I know, Feyre, I just like to be nice and treat you as one,” he replied with a chuckle, and took the lids off of both of their plates. Feyre looked to hers, then at Lucien’s, and back to hers.

“Why do you get more bacon than me?”

Lucien snickered at her before he moved two more pieces of bacon to her plate from his, giving them an equal four each. “I didn’t plate the food, Feyre, otherwise I would have given you ten pieces, knowing how much you love bacon.”

Feyre’s plate was… sad, in her opinion. Two fried eggs, a slice of toast with a small amount of butter, the now four pieces of bacon, and a small bowl of fruit. She had forgotten how much smaller her portions were here, after being allowed to dish food out for herself as she liked. But at least Lucien was kind enough to sacrifice some of his bacon for her, that made a small smile on her face.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, though she could practically feel the questions rattling around in Lucien’s head. “Yes, Lucien?”

He sighed, setting his fork down. “Are you okay, Feyre?”

Feyre blinked at him. “I’m fine, Lucien. Pissed at Tamlin and exhausted, yes, but I’m fine. Why?”

Lucien’s eyes darted away from hers for a moment before meeting her blue orbs again. “You were very distressed when you came home, and I wanted to make sure that nothing…” he paused, searching for the right words. “If anything happened to you while you were away, Feyre, you can talk to me about it.”

Feyre stared at him. That’s what he was worried about? She couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion. “Lucien, nothing bad happened to me in the Night Court, I promise you. Rhys was very proper once I went in to heat, he brought me here as soon as it started.” Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, and it was obvious to Feyre that this had been weighing heavily on him. “If he had had any ill intentions toward me, he could have kept me for the last day of the week that I owed him. But he didn’t, he brought me back here.” Feyre couldn’t help but defend Rhysand, he had been more attentive and caring to her in the five days she had been in his court than the entire last year in Spring. Lucien opened his mouth, but Feyre stopped him before he could disagree with her. “Lucien, I felt safe in his court. He and Mor were very kind to me, and never forced me to do anything while I was there.”

Lucien exhaled heavily, Feyre’s words not what he had been expecting. “I am glad that you were safe, Feyre. I do wish you weren’t bound to him, still. But it is good to hear that you are not in danger of being tortured.”

Feyre snorted. “The only torture I’ve been through is Rhys’s training, though even that was enjoyable.”

“Training?” Lucien asked warily.

“Yes…” Feyre paused, gauging his reaction. His mechanical eye was whirring, looking over Feyre’s form for any injuries. “He asked to help me train my mental shields and…”

“And?”

“And my magic,” Feyre added hesitantly.

“What magic, Feyre?” Lucien asked. “You haven’t shown any signs of magic over the past year, you know that.”

Feyre’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Yes I have, Lucien. Remember that god-awful dress Ianthe had tried to force me into? The one with red roses stitched all over the skirt of the dress?” Lucien nodded his head the memory coming back to him. “I set it on fire.”

“No, we decided that it had caught fire on the candle nearby, Feyre,” Lucien said as he shook his head.

“Lucien. It was me. The candle was several feet away from the dress. And the first signs of magic normally come in the beginning stages of life then fade, right?” He nodded his head again, confusion in his eyes. “And I was able to conjure wind in the Night Court after practicing, Lucien. Rhys thinks that I am close to my first magical expansion in my body, and that my magic is growing in at an accelerated pace after being Made.”

Lucien looked off to the side, deep in thought for a minute. “If that’s true, Feyre, then you do need training, and as much as possible. Uncontrolled magic is dangerous, especially once an expansion hits the body…” he trailed off.

“Will you talk to Tamlin about it? I would like to train when I’m home, as well. With Tamlin, if he’s willing,” Feyre asked cautiously. The last time she had asked to train in any way, Tamlin had exploded in anger, insisting that Feyre would never need to train, would never be in danger again.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Feyre… You remember how he was when you asked to learn to use a sword.”

“But that was a year ago, Lucien! Things have changed now, Rhys told me that Hybern is planning to go to war against Prythian. I should be training, you even said so!”

Lucien sighed. “Alright, Feyre. I’ll talk to him about it. But I can’t promise anything.”

Feyre breathed out, relieved that she had convinced him to try. “Thank you, Lucien.” He gave her a soft smile, one that she returned. “So… how many days was I in heat?”

“Nine days, Feyre.”

Nine? “What? But they’ve never lasted more than a week…”

“Tamlin was… well, he wasn’t in much of a state to help you, after you returned,” Lucien said cautiously, and his words lit a fire in Feyre’s chest. “You were crying out for your alpha, even when… even when Tamlin was holding you.” Heat moved to Feyre’s ears- had she really, truly been acting like an omega whore, just like Tamlin said? “It’s not your fault, Feyre, you were covered in Rhysand’s scent, and without Tamlin’s mark, well, most omegas normally latch on to the alpha they see when they first go into heat,” he added when he saw Feyre’s face fall.

“But- I don’t understand, why wouldn’t Tam help me?” Tears formed in her eyes, another layer of shame covering her.

“Tamlin was enraged that you had been near Rhysand in that state at all, he… he destroyed his study over the first few days.”

“But did he even stop to think about how much pain I was in? He stayed away long enough that my heat extended, Lucien!”

“He came to you in the end, Feyre. He’s trying, there’s just been a lot to adjust to in the past two weeks.” Feyre tried to let her anger go, she did. She knew that her leaving during their wedding ceremony would have consequences, just not to the degree that Tamlin would ignore her during her heat…

“I can’t… I can’t forgive him for that, Lucien. None of this was my choice, I should not be punished for a bargain that saved my life.”

“I know, Feyre, I know. Please, just give him a bit of time. The two of you can cool down and talk about this when you’re ready.” Feyre nodded her head in agreement after a moment. She would be giving him a wide berth for the next few days- she didn’t think she could see him and not hear the words he spat at her yesterday. Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have gotten Feyre to agree. “So, besides the training, how was the rest of your time?” Lucien asked curiously.

“Well… I started drawing again… the view from my bedroom was so magnificent, I couldn’t help but start again,” Feyre said softly, thinking about the many sunrises and sunsets she had seen over that beautiful mountain range.

“Feyre, that’s amazing!” Lucien congratulated, taking one of her hands in his. “So you were truly comfortable there?”

Feyre nodded her head. “Yes, it was a nice experience, actually. Which did surprise me. But Mor, she brought me some catalogs to shop from if I wanted, and…” Feyre paused, not sure if she was willing to share the information, but she was excited enough that she couldn’t stop. “They let me pick out whatever I wanted for my nest, and it turned out… I had never realized that I was supposed to feel completely relaxed in my nest, fully safe. But when I made one there… it was perfect,” Feyre gushed, remembering the soft feel of fabrics between her fingers, the beautiful colors surrounding her bed. When she finally looked at Lucien’s face again, his eyes had softened significantly.

“I’m happy for you, Feyre. It’s beautiful when an omega finally creates their perfect nest for themselves. Is that why you fought with Tamlin…?” He asked cautiously, and Feyre sighed again.

“Partially. I feel like my needs as an omega have been… pushed aside, deemed less important. And I feel like, if I don’t get them met soon, that…” she stopped mid sentence, unable to finish her thought.

“That you’ll collapse in on yourself?” Lucien offered, and Feyre nodded in agreement.

“Exactly. I’m still not fully used to having all of these new urges and desires, and I’ve been relying on all of you to tell me what I need. But in the Night Court… they actually offered it to me, put my omega at ease. Do you know where I’m coming from?” Feyre asked Lucien, tears building in her eyes.

“I do, Feyre, I do. I’ll talk to Tamlin about it, try to get through to him for you. You don’t deserve to be miserable in your new designation. And I’m sorry, that we didn’t help you before,” Lucien said softly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on the back of her hand.

“Thank you, Lucien. I just want to feel safe, cared for-”

“Hello, you two,” came a cheery voice from behind Feyre, but dread filled her stomach as she turned to look at the intruder. Ianthe, dressed in her priestess robes as usual. “I came to grab Feyre from you, we have a lot of preparations to get through for the new ceremony,” Ianthe said, extending a hand for Feyre to take.

Feyre stayed seated, unwilling to follow the alpha anywhere. After all, she was the reason the first ceremony was interrupted.

“Feyre, get up right now,” the alpha commanded harshly, and Feyre’s body followed the order instantly, much to her dismay. “Good girl, now come with me.” Feyre placed her hand on Ianthe’s arm and let the alpha lead her back into the manor, away from the kind aura of Lucien. “We need to get you measured for a new gown, I’m sure those heathens in the Night Court ripped it shreds and burned it,” Ianthe spat, dragging Feyre into sitting room where she had spent the majority of her time over the past year.

Ianthe clicked her tongue and a maid entered, measuring tape and full length mirror in hand.

“Do we really need to take new measurements?” Feyre asked. “I’m sure that I am the same size as I was a week ago, Ianthe.”

Ianthe sucked in breath. “I’m not so sure about that, Feyre. How much did food did you shovel into your face?” She asked, a venomous edge to her words. She guided Feyre in front of the mirror and stripped her of her clothes. “See that?” Ianthe asked as she pinched the skin covering Feyre’s stomach. “That’s fat, you silly little omega. You had to have eaten your weight in food there, Feyre.” She gave her a sickeningly sweet smile before pinching the skin on her thighs as well. “Next time, omega, show some restrain, hmm?”

Ianthe snapped her fingers, and maid came over to Feyre and began measuring every part of her body. Ianthe would huff after one, telling Feyre how much she had grown in each area. By the end of it, Feyre was holding back her tears, and could barely look at her reflection in the mirror.

She had thought her body was finally taking shape how it should have over the past year- but she was wrong. Feyre could hardly stand to see the fat hanging off of her, every movement causing it to jiggle slightly.

When Ianthe finally handed Feyre her clothes back, she put them on as quickly as she could, wishing for once that she was hidden beneath one of the ridiculously poofy dresses Ianthe liked to clothe her in.

Ianthe led her to the couches, where a tray of tea was waiting for them, kept warm in the enchanted teacups that Ianthe favored. She encouraged her to drink, so Feyre did, if only to keep the peace. Yea with Ianthe normally ended with Feyre being dreadfully tired, normally retiring to her room for a few hours of napping until dinner.

Ianthe waited for Feyre to finish her entire teacup, and then poured her another from the pot before speaking.

“Now that the… disappointment is over, Feyre, we can begin to work on the theming for the wedding. Again,” Ianthe added, anger lacing her tone. “The ceremony will be in four months. I believe that a lovely, tradition Spring Court wedding is still the way to go, what about you, Feyre?”

Feyre knew it was a trap, knew that anything beyond what Ianthe suggested would simply not do. But she couldn’t help it.

“Could we theme it to the season we’re in? We would be in Winter, by the time four months pass.” A winter wedding would be lovely, Feyre thought. She could almost see it, trees covered in glistening white snow, snow falling over a beautiful wooden archway as she walked down the aisle to Tamlin, using the season that almost killed her to bring to life the beautiful promise of forever that they would make to each other.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Feyre. Tamlin is the High Lord of Spring, he cannot have a Winter wedding.” Ianthe shook her head at Feyre, eyes narrowing heatedly at her. “Spring it is. Any requests for flowers? Roses, of course, will be included, it would be a waste to not include the former Lady’s lovely rose gardens after all.”

“Anything but red-”

“Feyre. It is foolish to ban a color such as red from a Spring wedding that includes roses!” Ianthe hissed at her, her scenting flooding with anger.

But Feyre was angrier. “I do not care, Ianthe, I will not have another panic attack at my own wedding!” Feyre screeched at her, nearly ready to rip her claws into Ianthe’s stupidly pretty face. “This is my wedding as well as Tamlin’s, you would be best to remember that.” Feyre had a growl building in her throat, until she locked eyes with the now fuming alpha.

“And you, Feyre, would be best to remember that you are lucky that Tamlin still wishes to marry you, after the stunt you pulled two weeks ago. And running away with another alpha, at that! Omega whore is right,” Ianthe spat at Feyre before standing from her chair and sweeping out of the room dramatically.

As soon as Feyre could no longer hear her footsteps, she made her way to her room as quickly as she could, choking back tears the entire way.

She reached her door, opening quickly and shutting it softly behind her before sliding down it, tears flowing from her eyes.

Too much, all of this is too much.

Feyre crawled to the bed, hoisting herself onto the mattress after a few tries. She curled up underneath the sheet, holding her legs to her chest as she slowly cried herself to sleep, sunshine still pouring through the windows of her bedroom.

Series Taglist: @icey--stars @homeslices