#feyre and tarquin sort of?

[viktoriaashleyyx]

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet. Contains slight violence, poisons, broken bones. Also profanity. I'm not sure what else to tw if I miss something let me know. This is my first fic. I honestly don't know how to find word count, but it's roughly 4 pages on word docs. Criticism welcome. Rhysands Sister is back and she's pissed. Rhysand gets his ass whooped and Tamlin gets shown love. Enjoy.

Ch 2. Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10

Tarquin BC

Chapter 1:

I crash landed on a stone surface. A balcony of sorts? It was well built if it was, considering how long I've been falling, I'm shocked I didn't crash right through it. I know now that making a deal with the gods is a lot like making a deal with a damn djin. 

“Who goes there??” A booming male voice barked. I could hear swords drawn. Fuck where am I? My ears were still ringing, vision blurred, and chest heavy from the impact. I blinked my eyes open to find a winged male looming over me. Another illyrian? Have I finally made it home? Fuck, then that means I am in the night court. Damnit, 7 fucking courts in Prythia and I just happen to land here. At my brother's court. 

This ones expression shifted from threatening to complete shock as his gaze landed on my eyes. “Sky?” 

At my brother's court and at his fucking house, Freya has a sick sense of humor. I slowly sat up, ignoring the hand the illyrian extended to me. 

“Your wing!” He gasped. So thats what that throbbing pain was. My wing seemed to have been snapped in the fall. “You need a healer, go get Madja” he commanded the other brute. 

“Don't bother” I dismissed, standing up slowly. I pulled a small glass vial out of my pocket, a healing potion, I always kept a few on hand, never know when you're gonna need it. I downed the bitter red liquid as I've done a thousand times and grabbed the dagger off my hip. I put the handle in my mouth and bit down on it as I grabbed my own wing and straightened out the bone. I held it right for about a minute until the potion worked its magic. It hurt like crazy but I was careful not to show these idiots, the fear and shock on their faces was satisfying if I am being honest. 

“I'm guessing you are Azriel and Cassian, though I can't tell which is which” I admitted, trying to seem just polite enough to leave. 

The one next to me spoke first “I'm Azriel, he's Cassian” okay, Azriel short hair, Cassian long hair “this is Mor and Amren and she is Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court” 

“So my brother is dead?” I had hoped my excitement would come off as concern. 

“No, no, they rule together, as equals” Cassian spoke

“Got it” this conversation is dragging. I need to leave. 

“It's so nice to meet Rhysands sister, we thought you were dead, I'd heard so much about you” Feyre gushed, “Rhys is out on important business at the moment but he should be back soon.” I had no use or interest in this small talk. 

“How old are you?” I looked at her as if to study the young thing in front of me. I was never good at pleasantries. I spent a good while in isolation and I tend to just blurt out the questions on my mind. 

“I am 21” Feyre replied sharply, yep I angered her with my lack of class. 

“Ew, 21 years? Ugh, my brother always did like them unreasonably young.” I'm just gonna keep going with it, hopefully she'll throw me out. 

“My age is not a disability” Feyre snapped. 

“It's adorable that you think that.” I'm in too deep. Oops. “Anyway, I am sorry I crashed into your home, I had little control, but I would like to leave now.” 

“You will apologize and bow to your high lady.” Cassian growled. Azriel stepped in front of the door. 

“She is not my high lady, I am not a citizen of your court, in fact, I am starting to feel like a prisoner.” It's not lost on me that I have bore the title of Queen, multiple times. In both cases I have dismantled the monarchy entirely, setting up a system in which the people vote on who leads them. Her title meant nothing to me. I bow to those deserving, not the one who rely solely on birthright. But she doesn't need to know this. I have more important things on my mind than to argue with a child "I will request one more time, you move and allow me to leave.” 

“Or what?” Azriel snapped. Unmoving. 

I did not want to show this much of my hand just yet, knowing this magic is not native to Prythia. But, if they want to twist my arm, so be it. A swirling purple circle opened up under me and I fell though, closing it quickly behind me. Portals were my favorite magic to do, in more cases than once it ensured my freedom.

Landing softly on my feet, I took in my surroundings. Cool air, rolling green hills, and the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, the Spring court. I was finally home. I eventually spotted the manor I spent so much of my time at as a child. Mother didn't make me train with the illyrians as she did my brother because she feared the treatment I would receive, also by the time I came along she had befriended the ladies of the other courts. We would spend weeks here at times, the children would play together and the mothers would discuss adult things we didn't care about. One of those things being alliances, and what better way to encourage an alliance between Spring and Night than by an arranged marriage.

I didn't mind them encouraging me to play with the cute blonde shapeshifter. He was kind and silly and only a couple years older than me. The other kids, mainly Autumn boys, were rough and volatile, and I just had no interest in what they considered fun. When I would get flustered by my wings knocking things over and getting in the way, the youngest Spring boy would remind me how beautiful they were, or how powerful they made me. The few times he would get a chance to practice his fiddle, I would dance and twirl, even if it was just the arpeggios. He was the 3rd born, and I the second and a girl, they didn't expect either of us to become High lord. 

The manor was about a mile away, I shot up another portal to the door, I was tired after all and, if I'm being honest, a little excited to be back.

When I reached the door it was broken in half and wide open. I creeped inside, cautiously. It looked to be abandoned. Dirt and dust coated the walls and floors, priceless artifacts shattered and books thrown from the shelves. I noticed claw marks in the furniture. “Please just be alive, after everything, I can’t be too late.” I whispered to myself. My heart sank as I looked around. 

Further into the dilapidated manor, I heard muffled voices coming from the kitchen. “Get out.” a tired weak growl. I ran to the entrance and just as I rounded the corner I saw my brother's boot kick in the chest of.. Tamlin. He began spitting up blood. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” I hissed at my brother. 

Rhysand whipped around towards me, Tamlin looked up from the floor, eyes wide. 

“You're alive??” Rhysand darted towards me and I shoved him to the ground, rushing to Tamlins side. I knelt down beside him, held his head up from where he laid on the floor and pulled another glass vial out of my pocket. 

“It'll be bitter but swallow” I commanded gently. He didn't argue, he took the healing potion and I kissed his forehead as I laid him back down gently to address my brother. 

I stood tall. Nothing but pure rage in my violet eyes toward my brother. I always hated how much we looked alike. “THIS is the ‘important business’ you told your wife you had to take care of?” 

“I thought he killed you, he hurt my mate.” Rhysand admitted, no remorse. 

“And I finally make it back home after 300 years in exile to find you kicking mine” I state through gritted teeth. 

Rhysands eyes narrowed “your what?” It was obvious he wanted me to retract my statement, not going to happen. I didn't waste my time away, I knew I was more powerful than all of Prythia, I had to be, in case I had returned to Amarantha still terrorizing the place. 

“You heard me.” I maintained his gaze. In a split second he lunged for me and I reached my hand out into the small portal that appeared to my side. I grabbed one of the curved blades I was gifted by the warriors I previously trained with. These blades were specifically enchanted to drip poisons into the wounds they create. This one? Bloodbane, or as Prythians call it, “Faebane.” I slashed him across the face in a controlled move, just enough to leave a scar and allow the poison to sink in. 

He screamed in pain and looked back up at me. My eyes fell entirely black and cracks formed across my face as I spit my curse at him, lifting up his chin with my sword to make him look me in the eye “IF YOU, OR ANY OF YOUR LACKEYS, ENTER THE SPRING COURT BORDERS AGAIN, ALL OF THE AIR WILL BE DRAWN FROM YOUR LUNGS, AND IF YOU CANNOT GET OUT BEFORE YOU PASS OUT WE WILL FEED YOUR BODIES TO THE PIGS.” I relaxed, my face returning to normal. “Now get out.” A portal opened below him and he fell, leaving him only halfway up the steps to the House of Wind. 

I turned my attention back to Tamlin, he had sat up, the healing potion having done its job, looking up at me with a million different emotions on his face, shock, fear, concern, confusion and relief. I sat down next to him, draping my legs over his. He embraced me like I was going to disappear any minute. “You're alive. Or I am dead, I do not care as long as I have you in my arms again.” he sighed as we just sat there on the floor. 

I awoke the daemati powers I hardly used as I pressed my forehead to his. A gentle knock on the walls of his mind, and he allowed me in. I shared the memories I held dear for all these years, of us playing in the fields of Spring, the days he would spend with me in the gallery his mother gifted me, watching me paint, the mischief we would get into and the giggles we would share. His face relaxed into a soft smile as I kissed his cheek.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@ladythornofrivia asked to be tagged❤️

[kopfkino-o]

another cracky actoar au. the setting is a hardware store in the early 2000s. Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian all work there.

Rhys obvi runs the front cash register and calls himself the shift manager (he isn't, Az is) but he actually doesn't know that much about at home projects and mostly just likes to flirt with Feyre who works at the craft store across the street. but the customers love him, and he’s charming as hell, so management lets it slide.

Cassian loves working in the powertools department. he likes them all. power saws, chain saws, drills, sanders, polishers, etc. his favorite is the nailgun though. once he almost got fired for accidently nailing Tarquin's coat to a piece of plywood but it all turned out okay in the end. sort of. most days during his shift, Cas likes to post not so subtle body shots to his MySpace in the hopes of catching Nesta's eye. It literally never works.

Azriel likes to mix different paints together to see what colors they make whenever he's on edge. it's like a damn drug. does the shop owner (Eris) appreciate all the wasted paint? probably not. but what's he going to do? fire him? laughable. Az is the only one who can actually work the cashier and Eris sort of has a thing for him so it’s basically a win win. He skateboards to work because he can’t afford a bus pass and sometimes he smokes cigs in the tile isle because, well, how many customers actually care about luxury vinyl planking

[spacerockfloater]

You know what?

I get it, ok? I understand the concept of Rhysand being a morally grey character. I understand that SJM wanted him to be an anti-hero of sorts. I would be totally okay with him doing everything that he did and standing by his actions if he simply said “The only thing that concerns me is myself, my circle and my people. I’m here to protect my interests first and everything else second. I am no hero, I am just someone who puts himself and his sphere first. I am a selfish person and I’m totally okay with that. I do not need anyone’s approval.” I still wouldn’t be his biggest fan, because I do not tend to admire self serving people, but I would totally understand him. In fact, I might have done the same thing. I guess you can never know for sure what your reaction to something would be unless you actually end up in that situation. I get that the average person would protect themselves (themselves = them and their loved ones) but I do believe that admiration should be saved for people who go against the norm. People who actually put their foot down, say no, protest, fight back, risk their lives, experience loss for a greater good. That’s why I admire Khalias, Tarquin, Helion, Tamlin etc. Because they stood up to Amarantha while knowing the consequences of their actions. I wouldn’t admire Rhysand, but I’d support him if he just owned up to his shit and said “Yup, I’m your average person, I don’t care if I come off as the bad guy!”.

But he does not! He wants everyone to applaud him and thank him and feel like they owe him and appreciate him and and and and… Jesus Christ man, you did the bare minimum and you did it all when you had nothing to lose! Thank you so much that you convinced that frigid bitch to murder two dozens of children instead of me and my family, of course I am now forever in your debt! Relax. You were able to talk Amarantha out of directly harming the other High Lords only after you harmed others to gain her favour and you saved the High Lords only because it served you better to keep them alive instead of some irrelevant children fae. I’m sure that your people should be thanking you because you did it all for them after all, but count me the fuck out of it.

Last but not least: ACOTAR Feyre was, obviously, a hero. She was a morally good character. She sacrificed herself for people she didn’t even know. I’m not gonna debate that. I actually loved her in the first book. However, I think she went through a drastic change after her metamorphosis. Her “human heart” is actually no longer human to say the least. I’m not even gonna elaborate on how she became this cruel, unforgiving person that only cared about how people treated her, or how disrespectful she is towards other people like Tarquin because Rhysand made her feel entitled to do so, or how she is responsible for the destruction of two courts that simply seemed like collateral damage if it meant that she would get her revenge on Tamlin. I’m simply going to say that logically speaking, since Feyre stands 100% besides Rhys and everything he did and supports him, she’s also a morally grey person AT BEST, though I do tend to think of both of them as villains because after all, the very definition of a villain is “someone defined by their acts of selfishness, evilness, arrogance, cruelty, and cunning” and like, come on, this screams Feysand.

The term morally grey is so overused. Someone who’s selfish and cunning and cares mostly about themselves is, at least partially, a bad person. A morally grey character is at least half a villain. When did we actually start to equate anti heros with heros?

[achaotichuman]

Okay you guys know what time it is.

Acotar Rant Time.

Okay, I know, I know, the idea that Tamlin will step down or otherwise hand the Spring Court over to Lucien and Elain and go to live his life as a travelling musician is one of the most popular theories (it most of the time involves Tam dying but I don't like that at all so we're going with him stepping down)

And whilst I see it as a possibility for canon, I cannot get on board with it, specifically because of the way the High lord's power chooses the next High lord.

Tamlin knew he was most likely the next heir since he was young, he was experiencing the power when he was a child and knew his brothers would kill him if they ever found out. He hoped that one of them could take the throne and he would serve in their armies and simply keep his head down low.

But what he wanted didn't change the fact that he was in fact the Heir.

The magic had already chosen him as its next High lord, despite him being the youngest and on the surface, the least worthy of the role.

This happens again within the books. Tarquin was chosen as the High lord of Summer, despite being Norstrus' cousin, and Varian technically being the next viable Heir. Tarquin would have hardly been trained for the position but would have been trained to be some kind of advisor or courtier for whoever the next High lord may be, assuming it would be Varian.

He even admits to Feyre that is young and considered inexperienced yet he tries his best and look, he ends up doing the same sort of thing Tamlin wanted to achieve. Which was taking in refugees, fighting for people's freedom, and trying to establish equality. I love Varian but he fell in love with a monster that wants Rhysand to take over Prythian, so I do not believe he would have tried to implement these changes. Possibly would not have even thought of them.

I say this to show that the magic chooses who will benefit the Court best, even skipping to other bloodlines if need be.

I believe this is the same for Tamlin.

When you read book 1, he is incredibly similar to Tarquin. He was not trained for the position but was trained to act as a kind of second, in assuming the form of a General. Same kind of thing as Tarquin.

He admits he is considered inexperienced but is trying his best. He fought for people's freedom, he took in refugees and post acomaf had a pretty equal Court.

My personal theory with what happened during Acomaf was a combination of many factors.

1- Amarantha most likely raped Tamlin under the mountain. Considering how she was lusting after him, she finally got him for weeks and he could do nothing but let her do what she wanted.

2- Being under the mountain brought up suppressed trauma from his childhood, most of which would have revolved around Amarantha, but also not being able to protect Feyre would have brought up not being able to protect his mother. Being tormented by his brothers. Being abused by his father. Then when they came out from Under the mountain, he wasn't able to suppress his trauma so well anymore, and become erratic and unpredictable.

3- Having the High lord's powers shoved back into him so suddenly caused him to lose control, and because he, unlike literally everyone else. Had no one to help him manage his magic, or help him control it properly. As Rhysand and Morrigan have stated multiple times throughout the series, especially in Silver Flames, uncontrolled magic will lead to madness. It can drive a person to literal insanity, which is what I think happened in the case of Tamlin (It was retconning but I am looking at the ways of which to bring back book-1 Tam within canon rules)

All of this to say, these are all outside factors things that could not be predicted. By looking at the factors of who would be best fit for Spring, Tamlin is the obvious choice.

He is empathetic. Connects well with the people. Fights for what is right and for freedom. He is kind and caring.

Post-Under the Mountain, and presumably post-curse Tamlin was one of the best High lords, his Court was thriving, his people were happy and even gladly went to their deaths for him and his Court.

The magic didn't chose wrong. It chose Tamlin for a reason. He was the best choice to bring about good change within the Spring Court.

I believe all of the outside factors are what led to Tamlin relying on his father's way of ruling, because he was unable to dig out a whole new path in the state he was in. Tamlin was living in fight or flight mode from Acomaf and onward and it shows.

I think Lucien would be a great High lord, but we also underestimate how the power is connected to the land itself and like it or not Lucien is not of Spring.

He is of Day and Autumn. It shows in his mannerisms, his personality, his way of thinking. And it will show in his power.

He will not be able to connect to the people the way Tamlin will, because Tamlin's magic comes the heart of Spring itself. He was literally forged for it. The Spring magic will be alien to Lucien, and Lucien will be alien to it.

We see how uncontrolled magic can affect the person it was built for. Now imagine that magic also not being built for the person using it. Lucien has no reason to even be able to control it, it would drive him insane as well.

If Tamlin was given someone to help train his magic, like Rhysand had Amren, Tarquin had Varian and Cressedia, Eris will have his mother and brothers, and Lucien will have Helion. He would be in full control.

Like a quote from an SJM interview stated, the characters find who they need, not what they want. Tamlin may have started out not wanting the throne, but he may very well find what he needs to control his magic and bring back his Court.

Tamlin was forged for Spring. Like Lucien was forged for Day.

Unless Sjm kills Tamlin, I highly doubt he will cease being High lord any day.

And if she does kill him, I am disappearing from this fandom because Tamlin is the only one keeping me here.

[fourteentrout]

ACOTAR tag game 💕

thanks for tagging me @mathiwrites ! I don't normally do these even when tagged because i never know who to tag, a lot of times everyone i think of is already tagged LOL, but i figured id start today!

I don't think I've seen one around, and figured this might be fun to do!

Answer the questions below & tag whoever you want, or make it an open tag!!

Who's your favourite ACOTAR character?

My boy tamlin!!

Who's your least favourite character?

Hm....hmmmm...oh Amren for sure.

Say something nice about your least favourite character.

She has a cool character concept and i thought it was really sweet and endearing when she gave feyre the bracelet (necklace?) to help her get through the Prison trip without panicking

Who's your favourite High Lord? (If you picked one for your fav character, then who's your second fav!)

Oooh hm not to be a copycat but I loved tarquin from the moment he was introduced, he was an instant fav and i was kind of sad that he didn't have more involvement later on that didn't have to do with the whole feyre and rhys betraying his trust thing

Favourite MINOR character?

ooh i dont know if this is minor enough but i've come to really like jurian. i didn't really have much of an opinion on him for most of the series and then for some reason in silver flames when he was in it for like 2 seconds i was like wait a minute why haven't i been more into this guy he kinda fucks

Favourite ship? (Crackships included!)

tamsand by far. though azris is becoming a close second.

Favourite court and why?

well i loved the spring court aesthetic from the first book, but at this point in the series I think I'd say maybe actually dawn. it just sounded so pretty, and i think it would be one of the subtler, less overwhelming courts while still being awe-inspiring.

Make up a brand new court RIGHT NOW, NO PREP JUST VIBES.

oh shoot um okay court of clouds?? people who specialize in wind manipulation, likely populated by a race related to the Peregryns or Drakon's race? an actual cloud court like in the sky could be a vibe I think. perhaps it would be more removed from the politics of prythian--they'd still have a High Lord, but maybe it would be more of a military government or something.

What relationship would you have wanted to see more of in the books?

oh wow i mean i am always here for more rhys and tamlin content obviously, but i would have also loved to see more of like stories and stuff about the sentries from the spring court that went over the wall, like Andras. andras and lucien's relationship in particular would be one I would have liked to know more about. I also really want to see Azriel and his mom.

What's your unpopular opinion?

god what ISN'T my unpopular opinion. hm. i think feyre's whole reasoning for wanting a baby out of seemingly nowhere is dumb. like i get it, yolo, life can be cut short, but like i really do not feel like she picked a good time to have a baby, nor do i think she is remotely ready to be a mother. when she realized she wanted kids in acofas, it wasn't a strong enough argument for me to actually like get behind her decision.

What's your favourite headcanon/fan canon?

omg i have so many I literally started a list lol. the first one on it is kind of silly, it's that Helion is actually the faerie romance author sellyn drake that nesta, emerie, and gwyn like

If you were swept away to Prythian, what's ONE thing you would want to do?

go to a festival! not necessarily something as crazy as calanmai, but i would love to go to some sort of celebration. maybe starfall?

If you could have ONE faerie ability seen in the books, which would it be?

shapeshifting without a doubt

thanks again for the tag! ill tag @cheap-spirits @achaotichuman @thedickgraysons @wingsdippedingold @hugevanserrass @lady-of-sevenwaters @the-darkestminds @msbrownwithacrown @tamlinsnailtech and anyone else who wants to contribute!! if were mutuals and i didnt tag u im sorry i tried to think of as many as possible LOL but yeah definitely feel free to contribute if you want to! this was fun

[sukaaxo]

i never understood how ppl praised rhys for how he treats his court compared to tamlin bcz it makes 0 sense to me how rhys is seen as better?

tamlin treats his entire court like equals. he doesn’t enforce rank and anyone can be anything and all sorts of different fae trudge around his court and mansion. he helps rebuild them, protects them all and requests they help in the war (plus he refused to send them over the wall in the start). the only thing he has is the tithe (tax) which literally EVERY court has. even then he waited 3/4 months after UTM and not doing it for 50 years to request ppl start up again. it’s very blown out of proportion. he helped and buried a fae that didn’t even belong to his court n he immediately accepted lucien into the throng. he pled at the meeting to the other high lords and double crossed hybern multiple times in response to the WAR

rhys has velaris that he treats kindly and that’s it. like he doesn’t care about anything but that little city. the illyrians and hewn city are treated like crap, allowed to continue abusive practices and given no space to grow. he forces them to adhere to his will, blackmails them into fighting for him and then when they literally request to be allowed into velaris and treated better than they are, he does everything in his power to segregate them once more while pretending to be such a nice high lord and let them in. they’re basically the shit on his shoe and the only ‘omg feminist king’ thing he did was make feyre high lady and honestly i think he just did that to spite everyone else. he also was so entitled to believe that at the meeting everyone should just immediately forgive him for hundreds of years of terrorising prythian and the torture he inflicted on them UTM but continue to dig tamlins grave for his own person agenda.

im sorry but i just don’t see it at all. Tarquin for the win

[ablogofsapphicpanic]

humbly asking you to do the rest of the characters’ dnd classes because all of those were so spot on!

Gladly!!!! I have way too much free time lmao

I'll do the ones I can think of and if I miss any that you want, just let me know!

Amren - order of the scribes wizard. I partially chose this one because of the awakened book and her interactions with the book of breathings ngl. Am I hilarious? Yes. But I could also lean into cleric given that SJM has been like she's an old testament angel so I'd do war domain for that but imo that would be like a life she's left behind type thing to favor the wizardry

Mor - Okay Mor is kind of hard for me because I like the eloquence bard a little bit but not as much as I did for Lucien but we don't know her powers exactly so I am just kind of swinging in the dark for some aspects but ultimately I think I'd do that.

And then for the High Lords, I already mentioned that Helion and Beron (and Eris) would be the different subclasses of sorcerer and for the record I think Beron would specifically have gold dragon ancestry

Tarquin - fathomless warlock. It's got a whole bunch of water/sea based powers and also certain weather stuff. The water elemental summoning is giving the water wolves that Feyre makes in Velaris and she definitely stole that from his spell list imo. Also I know you horny bitches would love that the bigby's hand shows up as a tentacle

Tamlin - Path of the Beast barbarian. There's specifically a backstory option about descending from an archdruid and inheriting the ability to change shape which I feel like fits his backstory and how he chose being a warrior over any sort of diplomacy/prepping for being High Lord. I would say generally the High Lord of Spring would be a druid of some sort but Tamlin (and potentially his father bc we know he's not the nicest guy) kind of broke the line on that.

Kallias - Circle of land druid but specifically the arctic one. My man is out here commanding polar bears in his army, no way that's not some type of druid. And the arctic circle is perfect for him because it's summoning ice and snow storms and all that jazz

Thesan - Life domain cleric. That one is pretty simple, that domain focuses on healing and keeping people alive. But I could also see the alchemist artificer considering the Dawn Court is full of tinkerers and not just focus on magic for healing and protection but also actual physical solutions to things.

Gwyn - so I also generally put the priestesses into clerics but I feel like the domain can vary and Gwyn would probably go into knowledge domain but I like @separatist-apologist's paladin path for her. I waffle between vengeance and redemption because Gwyn's path as a Valkyrie seems to be more focused on protection and prevention which the redemption oath fits well. I feel like I'd need to see more of her as a valkyrie to fully settle.

Emerie - also a paladin but oath of glory. I don't say glory in that I think she's self obsessed, but more in the fact that I think she feels like she and her friends are destined for greatness and refuses to settle for less. She doesn't let circumstances hold her back even before joining the Valkyries and this oath fits that well.

Jurian - Battle master fighter. There's something to be said specifically for the interacting with a creature outside of combat and learning something about them for this one because Jurian does his watch and wait pretty much the entirety of ACOWAR and Prythian winds up better off in the fight for it.

Vassa - You know I gotta do the fiend warlock. Gifted magic from a pact with an ancient semi-demonic being? It's right there. Obviously it doesn't include her shapeshifting but so many of her abilities are based around fire that I can't not go with this one. Imagine a giant firebird casting scorching ray at you.

[cactusboil]

Some ways I believe sjm can still redeem Rhys in the future books

Rhys was forced (daemati/amarantha) to do the things he did to Feyre utm

He actually apologises to Feyre, like a proper apology. Yk like him on his knees screaming crying throwing up begging at her feet kind of apology.

Rhys reflects on what he did with tarquin and gives him a proper apology

Sjm reveals that keir has some sort of power over him (secrets/ danger to his family or wtv) which is why he does very little for his court

Apologises to Nesta, admits that locking her up was wrong and makes a deal with Nesta about being more civil towards each other

Stops acting like a toxic mother who goes around thinking he’s the only one who knows the best for Prythian

LEAVE. TAMLIN. ALONE. Just leave him be. Don’t go into his court idc if he wants to apologise just leave him tf alone. Rewire his brain to get tamlin out his head. Tamlin deserves PEACE and QUIET. Not a bat buzzing around his head.

Stop tryna get into other ppl’s relationships. Oh ur friend wanna fuck ur sister in law? Look the other way, that is ur sister in law, not ur fkn child, she can do on her own

He wants to be the kind of lover that’s like “I’ll never forgive those who hurt u😔💔” then he better do it RIGHT. Send elain to a mf hike, stomp on papa A’s grave ma boy. If u wanna be a hater, then u better do it well. The whole“Elain is elain” & “Nesta is an Illyrian” makes u seem like a fkn coward. BE THE HATER U WANNA BE AND OWN THAT FKN TITLE. Or stfu.

Realise, admit and apologise for being a damn hypocrite. I won’t explain further. If u read the books with both ur eyes open, regardless of ur opinion on Rhys, you’d know he’s a hypocrite.

I had some more but I forgot :,) Feel free to add more to it

[persieee-yoohoo]

Easy to Love, Easier to Betray (Part 2)

Pair: Tarquin x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: maybe ooc?, smut (I attempted gender neutral stuff), language

Summary: You had never been to the Summer Court before, but Rhysand finally gave in to your incessant bothering and brought you along with Amren and Feyre. Unaware of the real reason behind the Night Court's visit, you played your unknown role well and got along with Tarquin a little too easily. When the truth is revealed and people are betrayed, will anything be enough to bring two people back together? (Sort-of retelling of the Summer Court visit for half of the Book of Breathings and several events that followed.)

Note: this is my first time writing smut, so sorry it if it is complete ass, ;D

Also available: ao3

Read Part 1: Here

You kept your promise the following day, not wanting to disappoint Tarquin or even yourself. The liquid courage from the bottle of wine you'd consumed the night before had long-since faded, but the phantom heat of Tarquin's breath on your neck kept you from backing down from the opportunity to get to know the High Lord more. Your nerves caused you to take a few extra minutes that morning to get ready, which meant you missed the spread of breakfast that was most likely getting picked over by your Night Court company, but you wanted to look perfect.

There was no doubt that Tarquin seemed to want you as much as you wanted him, from the heated stares that seared your body and the desperate words that he'd scribbled on paper the previous night, but still you worried. He was a High Lord, despite how much he was teased for his age, and you were a spy. So many things could go wrong, but a sensual voice in the back of your mind reminded you that so many things could go right too.

“Going on a date?” Rhysand practically pounced on you the minute you stepped out of your room, his teasing mood overly compensating for the flash of disappointment that darkened his purple eyes for just a moment. He was dressed in his statement black with a feline smirk adorning his face as he sent a wink your way. “I knew something like this would happen.”

“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. I don't have a date. I—” You gulped, knowing that any effort to lie would just be lost on your High Lord. He knew you long enough to see right past the bullshit, and you'd given him access to your mind too many times to think that this instance would be any different. “Tarquin requested my company for the day after our meeting. Is that a crime?”

“No,” Rhysand's grin only seemed to widen at your confession, “of course it isn't a crime. I hope you both enjoy yourselves. Besides, it'll give me a chance to get back in dear Feyre's good graces. She's upset with me, if you didn't know.” Well, that explains the disappointment.

As if she'd been listening in, a loud crash was heard from the room Feyre was still hiding in, and you both quickly found yourselves heading to the meeting room.

“Feyre was right.”

Tarquin quickly took notice of the gold jewelry adorning your body, the many rings, the layered body chains, and guided you to one of his court's treasure troves. The tour had been meant for Feyre, but Rhysand had whisked her away before she could even politely deny the offer once their talk of armadas and sailing had concluded. With your plan to already be Tarquin's for the day, you easily stepped in her place. The fae seemed so proud of himself at discerning an interest of yours that you didn't have to heart to explain that you only stepped out of your room that day dripping in jewelry for his enjoyment rather than your own.

As you stood in the center of the room, full of valuables beyond your belief, facing Tarquin while you held a box containing a necklace of black diamonds, you could almost swear that you felt a light tug deep within your chest. It was subtle, and you almost ignored it if the male opposite you hadn't twitched as if he himself also felt it. Tarquin wasn't facing you, but he looked over his broad shoulder to where you stood and assessed what you were holding. If Tarquin didn't deem the faint feeling as something worth talking about, then you wouldn't mention it either.

“What was Feyre right about? We've spoken about a great deal of things,” the male spoke as if Feyre was the last thing on his mind while in your presence, especially as he made his way to you. The closer Tarquin got, the smaller the room felt around you. You suddenly felt crowded by all the jewels and treasures, with nowhere to escape as Tarquin's broad body loomed over you. His height and stature made you scoff, but your breath hitched as a warm chuckle escaped Tarquin's lips. “Have I rendered you speechless already?”

Exhaling a long breath, you met his gaze before you spoke, “she told you that it would be easy to fall in love with you.”

“And you agree?” His fingers teased the ends of your hair, pulling at the strands only slightly enough to earn a gasp from you.

You didn't know if you wanted to respond. It would be so easy to give in, almost effortless, but that just meant it would be near impossible to pull yourself back.

Tarquin took your silence in and brought your focus back to him as his thumb and forefinger captured your chin. He kept you there, searching your eyes for what you truly wanted. “Y/N, answer me. Do you agree?”

“Yes.”

Relief caused Tarquin's shoulders to sag, but he was still standing strong as he thought out his next move. Slowly slotting his lips against yours, Tarquin gave one final chance to back away, to stop yourself from regretting this— him. His lips were as warm as the heated air of his court, and you didn't mind getting burned by them as you deepened the kiss. You both continued your sensuous dance of lips and teeth, and it was clear who was leading and who was following.

Tarquin could kiss you however he wanted to if it meant he continued to hold you up by the strong hands that had sneaked around your waist after they abandoned their gentle hold at your face. You never wanted to drown in the sea, but there in that moment with him trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth down to the sweet spot between your neck and shoulder, you wanted to drown in the ocean of power that lurked beneath the heated skin of the Summer High Lord. Tarquin had bewitched you with his kisses, surrendered you with his gentle nips, and commanded you with his soothing licks across the marks he made on your exposed skin.

His presence surrounded you, blocking out any thoughts you had about the pricelessness of the objects that were scattered around you and filling your head only with thoughts of him. “Pick anything here, and it's yours.”

Tarquin had only pulled away from your skin for a moment, long enough to say his peace before he continued his exploration across your upper body. It was maddening, and it took tremendous strength to form together a proper response that wasn't just moans and gasps from your enjoyment.

“Are you trying to buy my affections with jewelry?” Your voice was breathy as you scanned whatever part of the room you could from where you stood with your arms clinging to Tarquin's back and your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. “I have no need for more jewelry, but you might win the affections of my female friends with what you have hoarded here.” Always working, always scheming, Rhysand would be proud.

“Just the females? What would Rhysand fall for?” As your High Lord's name fell from Tarquin's lips, you gently pushed him away. Your lips were bruised and your body was buzzing with remnant electricity from your shared heated moment, but Rhysand's name and the change in topics tampered your needy mood.

“If you give in to Feyre's fancies, he'll be sure to follow.” Even a small distance between you had your thoughts becoming your own again. You no longer ached to be one with Tarquin, but a tether deep within you longed for something similar as it continued to grow taught. “The Cursebreaker has sway over him, but I'm sure you were already aware.”

“Fine,” Tarquin huffed, coming down from the desirous high that was building between you and playing the part of a High Lord once again. “I'll let you humor me. What should I gift Rhys' emissary?”

“This,” You drop the necklace of black diamonds that you had picked up again after being dropped onto the floor in the heat of the moment into his grasp, and cross your arms over your chest. You looked at his chin rather than his eyes as you continued, “she'll love it, and it might be enough to have her lobby for an alliance with you.”

“You wouldn't lobby one for me? Even after the intimate moment we've just shared?” Once more, Tarquin's free hand found your chin and pulled your focus to his own eyes. “That doesn't seem like the rumors I've heard about the Night Court. I thought seduction was how you lot found the higher ground to get what you want?”

“I don't mix business with pleasure, Tarquin. If one is what you want, then you'll forfeit the other.” You couldn't help but think that this is what Rhysand wanted from your presence on the trip. A distraction for the untested High Lord of the Sumer Court so his plot could unfurl without a hitch. It was never as simple as your old friend giving into your desire to visit a new court, and you were a fool to believe that for even a second. “Tarquin—”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I pick pleasure.” Tarquin would have begged if that would've been what you needed to desire him the way he desired you. He would've dropped to his knees, which was quite a feat for the strong High Lord he needed everyone to believe he was. “I want pleasure, if you want it as well.”

It killed you not to let Tarquin in on your thoughts about why this budding relationship played right into Rhysand's hands, but you couldn't be bothered to as Tarquin guided you into another kiss and pulled you to the ground right in the middle of the treasure trove.

“I do.”

Tarquin took his time undressing you, first following your body from head to toe with his eyes, and then using his hands to strip you bare at an agonizingly slow pace. With the careful touches and gentle glances he gave you as more fabric came off, it was hard not to let your sighs come across as impatient rather than blissful. You needed him, and it was getting harder to ignore the heat pooling deep in your belly or the way your lower body visibly reacted to Tarquin.

Where other lovers might have teased you for your eagerness to be pressed against the cool floor under the weight of another's body, Tarquin only smiled. He enjoyed watching you squirm for more, for him to stop wasting precious time and just fuck you already.

“Tar—” His name was lost on the tip of your tongue as a whine ripped from somewhere deep in your throat. The frustration you were feeling, and hoping to warn the High Lord about, was replaced by immediate pleasure when Tarquin pressed a hand between your thighs.

You struggled to buck your hips against his hand for more friction, but Tarquin was already pressing down on your lower stomach to keep you flushed with the ground. He was in control, and you couldn't even arch your back off the ground to slide your chest against his.

This was torture, you thought.

“I'm not going to rush this, my little pearl.” Nudging your legs apart, Tarquin settled himself lower on your body between your thighs. His hands remained where they were, one pressed against your belly and the other cupping your aching sex. The parts of his skin that you could see stretched over his muscle enticingly and you tried again to buck up against him.

“I'm the only one naked. It puts me at a disadvantage.” You spoke around another whine as Tarquin slowly dragged his tongue against the aching spot that you needed him the most. With his head dipped to hover just above your hips, you reached with your fingers just enough to thread them through the high lord's white hair. With the long tresses of his hair caught between your fingers, you pulled against his roots to get him to reach your stare.

Tarquin obeyed your summons, moaning deeply as his half-lidded eyes lazily met yours. His tongue was still resting against your body in a sinful way, but he paused his ministrations to give you the attention you had pointedly called for.

“Strip,” Your demand began as a whisper, the noise almost caught in your throat at the sight of him, but you persevered. “I want to see you like how you see me.”

“Say please, pearl.”

“Please.”

Even though you asked for it, even though it was what you wanted, you hated every moment that Tarquin was disconnected from your body as he leaned back into a kneeling position on the floor. With the room lit by warm faelight, Tarquin had a golden halo of light casted around his body's silhouette. The sight was godly, especially as he shrugged off his clothes and bared his naked body to you. Tarquin was beautiful, and you would've told it to him over and over if he didn't take your breath away by reaching one of his strong hands down his body to stroke himself several times before crawling back over you.

“Are we even now?” His voice was like a caress and you shivered beneath him. You still had no words, so you only nodded as your cheeks flamed beneath his gaze.

Rather than going back to your waiting sex, Tarquin settled for pressing his body flush with yours. His wicked mouth was curved in a smirk and he was no longer the same High Lord you met the other day. Gone was the look of unease that had tried to hide behind a mask of shaken confidence, replaced by utter cockiness.

“I can feel you practically dripping against me. Tell me what you want. Beg for it.”

With no unnecessary fabric separating your warm bodies, you intimately felt every inch of skin that pressed against you. Still though, it wasn't enough for you. You need friction, you needed movement.

And if Tarquin wasn't going to give it to you, then you would take it for yourself.

You weren't Azriel's spy for nothing, you had the necessary skillset that the job demanded from you. With a brief moment to rally your strength, you forced Tarquin to the ground as you followed his movements by rolling on top of him. The look of surprise that had his eyes widening and mouth slightly agape was quickly replaced by a look of failing restraint as your ass began grinding against his stiff erection beneath you.

“I'm not in the mood for games, either you fuck me or I'll go find someone that will.” It was an empty threat. You wouldn't go find someone else. If anything, you'd just retreat to your own temporary room and take care of the dull ache between your legs yourself, but Tarquin didn't need to know that.

“Oh, is that right? I better do something about that then.” Tarquin brought his ebony fingers to your pouting lips and coaxed you into taking two digits into the warmth of your mouth with teasing coos. “That's it…good pet.”

Once his fingers were sufficiently covered in your spit, he pulled them from your mouth and trailed them down your body until he got to your waiting entrance.

Tarquin worked one finger into you, making quick work of opening you up little by little before he added another. He needed you to be ready to take him, to handle that pleasurable stretch that would slingshot you to ecstasy. To silence the moans that were being dragged from your throat as he scissored his digits deep within you, you leaned down and lost yourself in a heated kiss with the High Lord. You'd barely even begun, and you were already beginning to come undone around his experienced fingers. “Tarquin, I'm ready…just hurry up already.”

A dark laugh struck you right in the core as he leaned back on his supporting arm to look you over as you sat above him, riding his hand, desperate for more.

“Just remember, pearl, you asked for this.” Tarquin guided you off of his fingers and lap just so he could reposition you on the floor. You felt the bite of the cool floor beneath your naked body as your lover laid you out on your elbows and knees.

Your knees were kept spread apart by his own positioned between you, and your upper body arched as you felt light kisses trail from your neck down to the lower dip of your back. The brief intimacy was the only gentleness you were allowed before Tarquin thrusted back into you, picking an unforgiving pace that had you reaching for anything to steady you on the ground but coming up empty.

A strong hand found purchase on your fleshy hip, digging into the soft, glistening skin as another pressed your back into a deeper arch that gave him a better angle to drive into you from behind. His deep groans and your gasping breaths were the only noises that filled the treasure trove, and the smell of your sins mixed together amongst the jewels and other riches.

The two of you created a symphony, an orchestra made from two people, an untested High Lord and a gullible spy. Every time Tarquin's body snapped against yours, a moan was drawn from your slack mouth, and every time you clenched around Tarquin's cock, a quiver passed over his tense body. It was a game of call and response, and every response increased in intensity and volume the closer you both got to finding a tandem release. The lewd echoing of skin against skin was drowned by the guttural noises being pulled from one another.

“Tarquin— I'm..ah fuck.. I'm so close.” You tried reaching beneath your body to reach the point between your thighs that ached almost painfully, but Tarquin beat you there. The hand that had stabilized his frantic movements as he was pounding away into you snaked around to your front where he knew he would be able to drive you over the edge almost immediately.

“Come with me. Say my name, let your dirty fucking mouth scream my name for everyone to hear.” Though he whispered his words quietly against your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there, you heard every word. Tarquin's pacing seemed erratic now, no clear pattern being followed as he rutted against you.

You screamed out Tarquin's name as you splintered around his dick, his swift fingers relentlessly elongating the high that made you drunk on him. His release quickly followed your own, his hips slamming into you once more before stilling completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was hoarse and he collapsed against your back to recover from the intensity of the orgasm you coaxed out of him.

Even as he stayed seated within you, his hilt flush against your rear, evidence of both of your releases trailed down your thighs and onto the floor beneath you. The two of you may have to take a few minutes to recover from that blinding high, but then you'd have to wear about cleaning the mess beneath you to erase any trace of your animalistic actions from the treasure trove.

And after that, you'd have to somehow face the members of both his inner court and your own, and deal with the consequences of your actions, whatever they may be.

[starsreminisce]

who do you think could be Elain's potential friends in the future books?

Hard to say because that's a part of SJM's writing where literally anything can happen, but my theory is that since this story is going to take a lot of pages from ACOMAF, there is a chance that we'd see other characters play similar roles as the Inner Circle did for Feyre while Elain processes her mating bond with Lucien.

Mor, I feel strongly, will play a huge part in it. Azriel has Great Gatsby'd her for 500 years, and we see that he was about to shift that focus to Elain. She's always been protective of Elain, and we do see her earnestly try to be friends with Feyre's sisters (say what you want about ACOSF, but at the end of the day, Mor was the one who taught Cassian how to dance to surprise Nesta, and Mor brought Nesta to Emerie no questions after her fight with Cassian and convinced Gwyn to leave the library so she could be there as well). I like to think that Elain will stand up for herself to Azriel after how he has coddled her, and that it'll spark something in Mor to finally speak up as well. Mor has shown to be very perceptive of Azriel's moods and acts with that in mind, so I would hope that seeing Elain would prompt her to do the same. Since Mor has been an Elucien shipper since day one by bringing Lucien to the townhouse, I think there will be a lot of self-reflection these two can offer each other. Mor helped Feyre recognize that being Rhys's mate wasn't that bad, and I can see her asking the same of Elain about Lucien.

Vassa would likely play the role of Amren. I mean, both of them turned into something else that acts as a trump card with a promise of being turned back, and they both exhibit a take-no-crap attitude that offers self-confidence while exhibiting tough love. Amren's motives have been pulled back, leading people to theorize that she's the betrayer, and I see Vassa doing the same thing.

Jurian will play the role of Azriel, where a lot of his history and background is kept vague but traumatic, serving as a basis for his character with a unique sort of relationship with Mor while he looks at a female longingly but doesn't want to make a move until he's sure it'll happen. Feyre had always shown some sort of apprehensiveness towards Azriel. Honestly, considering how much Feyre thought about Azriel's hands, I wonder if Elain would keep wondering how Jurian lived all those centuries as an eye.

Tamlin, funny enough, will play the role of Cassian, but their dynamic would be switched up. Cassian helped Feyre process a lot of her feelings through action, and I think Elain would be instrumental in bringing Tamlin back to the High Lord he was. Elain possesses understanding, and she has benefited the most from Tamlin's generosity when he took Feyre away, so I hope she can bring that perspective to him, especially when Tamlin shows he reveres humans and Papa Archie is a testament to that resilience. I also think that we will see more insight into his parents' bond and offer reflection for Elain, since theirs was also considered ill-matched.

Eris would probably act more like Tarquin, and Elain can see what Eris is trying to do for the sake of his court. Nuan can be like Cresseida if she and Lucien are as close as they are.

And, though not strictly ACOMAF, I do see a mirroring of Elain getting closer to Helion and LoA as Lucien did to Papa Archeron. Helion could provide Elain with insight into how a rejected male feels, bringing an understanding of what Lucien will go through if she were to reject the bond, as LoA on how she navigates through it.

That's my initial thoughts, but like I said, friendships are important to SJM's characters. Emerie was introduced in ACOSAF, and Gwyn a book later, so we might get some fresh characters as well.

[acourtofthought]

Nesta and Az are similar:

Nesta watched the shadowsinger with a frankness that most people shied from. Azriel returned the look with a stillness that most people ran from. Even Feyre had been hesitant around Az initially, but Nesta considered him with the same unflinching assessment she laid upon everyone. Maybe that was why Azriel had never said a bad word about Nesta. Never seemed inclined to start a fight with her. She saw him, and was not afraid of him. There weren’t many people who fit that bill.

Az and Rhys are similar:

Az nodded knowingly. He'd always understood me best - more than the others. Save for my mate. Whether it was his gifts that allowed him to do so, or merely the fact that he and I were more similar than most realized, I'd never learned.

Rhys, Nesta, and Az are extremely similar.

When you look at who they're mated too (since that is the authors idea of a well matched pair), it gives us some idea as to what the personality of Az's mate might be.

Is Elain or Gwyn more similar to Feyre and Cassian?

Rhys and Cassian's mate are warriors who put on their Illyrian leathers when it's necessary.

Elain … She’d taken one look at us in the swaying grasses outside that wagon, the legs and assets on display, and turned crimson (Elain returned Az's dagger and walked away without looking back).

Gwyn was in Illyrian leathers. Nesta’s old ones, from the scent of them. (Also, Gwyn is a confirmed Valkyrie).

Feyre once said:

I hadn’t lied. It would be easy to fall in love with a male like him. But I wasn’t entirely sure that even with the hardships he’d encountered Under the Mountain, Tarquin could understand the darkness that might always be in me.

Who could best understand the darkness in Az, even partake in darkness themselves? We have Elain, who is bothered by cruelty, doesn't know the things Az has done and brushed off credit for killing the king compared to Gwyn who showed zero hesitation in talking about how she tricked the beasts into attacking the Illyrians and doesn't blink over Az slaughtering everyone in front of her.

Feyre and Cassian taunted both Rhys and Nesta.

His violet eyes twinkled. I made an obscene gesture before I broke into a run, heading straight for the worm. (Feysand Book 1)

“If you bring that male anywhere near her, I’ll—” “You’ll what?” Cassian crooned, trailing her at a casual pace as she stopped perhaps five feet from me. He lifted a brow as she whirled on him. “You won’t join me for practice, so you sure as hell aren’t going to hold your own in a fight. You won’t talk about your powers, so you certainly aren’t going to be able to wield them. And you—” “Shut your mouth,” she snapped, every inch the conquering empress. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, and if you—” “You come between a male and his mate, Nesta Archeron, and you’re going to learn about the consequences the hard way.” Nesta’s nostrils flared. Cassian only gave her a crooked grin. (Book 3)

Elain is willing to interact with Az but we see her hands trembling around him, her voice hesitant, she whispers "I'm sorry" when he calls her a mistake. That is not how SJM FMCs talk to their endgame person. Elain at least showed a bit of fire around Lucien even when she was completely depressed. Now she just doesn't talk to him but ignoring someone is a stronger and more purposeful emotion (remember Nesta "dismissing Cassian entirely?") than talking shyly to them.

Gwyn with Az:

Sort of. "I forgot something", he reminded her.

"At two in the morning?" Pure amusement glittered her in the stare.

Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder.

Az’s shadows danced around him. “Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.” Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.”

Feyre:

“You said I could be a weapon—teach me to become one."

Gwyn:

“Why did you sign up for this, then?” Nesta drank the glass Gwyn extended. “If you already have mind-calming exercises you’re accustomed to?” “Because I don’t ever want to feel powerless again,” Gwyn said softly, and all those easy smiles and bright laughs were gone.

Cassian:

Cassian raised his hand as Rhys and Mor chuckled. The High Lord’s general said, “I give him an hour before he tries to see her.” “Thirty minutes,” Mor countered, sitting back down on the divan and crossing her legs.

"If Lucien shows up"

"My money's on yes," Cassian said. "Want to make a wager?"

Gwyn:

“Should we bet?” Gwyn asked Nesta. “Shut up,” Emerie hissed, though amusement lit her eyes.

Another Gwyn / Cassian similarity is how they focus and plan for victory. Think of Cassian's "secret plan" with the snowball fight and think of how Gwyn approached the ribbon and leading the beasts to the Illyrians.

Gwyn is a combination of characteristics that both Feyre and Cassian have, two very important people in Azriel's life, two people Rhys loves dearly (Rhys who is very similar to Az).

It's funny how some anti's claim Gwyn is nothing but Feyre 2.0. First it's amusing because they themselves try to convert Elain into Feyre 2.0 though the text completely contradicts that. Second, there is a reason Gwyn can easily be compared to Feyre. If Feyre was Rhys's best match and Az is most similar to Rhys, then it stands to reason their mates would share similarities too.

Throughout the series we are reminded of how different Elain is from her sisters. How her strengths lie elsewhere, how she is an optimist trying to see the good in the worst situations, how she's light and sunshine while Nesta is a thundercloud, how no matter how much she claims to be part of the NC, [wearing black] it sucks the life out of her, how despite Elain's efforts to show Feyre how much she cares for her, Feyre still only thinks of her as a pleasant companion which Feyre even admits is a bit insulting.

I have no doubt we'll see Elain come into her own in her book but we've yet to see her truly shine around the people that are supposed to be her found family. Weve gotten no clues that the NC is where she belongs. It's quite the opposite actually. SF tells us that though Elain easily finds friends and purpose wherever she goes, it's the Spring Court that had been made for someone like her.

Not only does Gwyn already share similarities with Cassian and Feyre but she shares them with Az as well. A preference for solitude and shadows, that she doesn't mind watching and waiting (a big part of what Az does in spying), a competitive nature.

Not to be overlooked, their differences are also the right kinds for the right reasons. Az tends to hide within himself and Gwyn doesn't back down from the challenge of that. She's not put off by his tendency to withdraw and instead pushes in an attempt to bring him out of his shell.

There's a certain type of character that belongs in the NC, they're all a bit similar because of it and Az and Gwyn clearly fit that mold, Feyre and Nesta fit that mold. It is impossible not to notice the sister who does not.

[kopfkino-o]

okay modern acotar au but the setting is a shitty local bar and I might or might not have been tipsy when I wrote this.

Rhys inherited this crusty bar from his business tycoon father and, despite being utterly incapable of maintaining a well respectable establishment, he lowkey loves being able to boss the staff around and enjoys the all the “free” booze whenever he wants. No he does not file taxes. But he has given his wife, Feyre, creative reign over the place and she painted the walls herself, which was definitely a choice, but the patrons don’t really seem to mind the various eyeballs staring down at them so it sort of works for the place.

Cassian works security with Jurian but most nights he is the one who ends up starting something and it lowkey causes a lot of insurance liabilities but Rhys isn't really worried about all that. Cas also can’t stop sniffing after veteran bartender, Nesta, who will definitely throw your ass out if you so much as look at her wrong. The tension between them is causing a lot of “bad vibes” for the bar’s regulars, Lucien and Eris, who only come to this shithole establishment to get away from their dad (he’s sleeping on their couch because their mom left him for another man). Tamlin always wants to hangout, especially on open mic nights, but he doesn’t have a car and Eris refuses to drive a few extra minutes to pick him up because he doesn't want "unnecessary mileage" on his 2008 beat to shit BWM.

Elain works the front well because she’s the only one who can use the bar's new POS system and Mor waits tables because she’s a customer favorite (she's comps drinks for literally everyone). But there’s really no need for three bartenders on every shift (the bar gets like five customers, max) and Nesta definitely has that shit handled, so most nights Mor and Elain just sit out back near the dumpsters drinking wine coolers and gossiping. They occasionally upload TikTok videos with Gwyn and Emerie, two waitresses who work at the restaurant next door, but Rhys and Feyre let it slide because it’s good publicity.

Vassa, Tarquin, and Helion occasionally meet up at the bar after work (they work at the pr firm across the street) but only because the drinks are cheap and their asshole boss, Amarantha, thinks the establishment is "below her", so they don't feel obligated to invite her along. Helion has slept with like half the staff, and has some weird thing going on with one of the regular's mom, but he always tips well and at least he's consistent. Once, Tarquin let Cassian borrow his boat so he could take Nesta on a date, but he crashed it into a dock when he was trying to park and it ended up being this whole thing. Amren, the lawyer Feyre hired, has sorta advised the staff to refrain from talking about all that though.

Azriel, the bar manager, smokes cigarettes in the old walk-in cooler (Feyre painted it one night during a staff party) between shifts and wonders how the fuck he ended up being in charge of keeping this trainwreck running. He would have quit the job five years ago but he needs the money and Rhys at least offers half decent health insurance. The bar occasionally gets letters from Beron, the local health inspector who is totally on Rhysand’s case, but Az just throws them away in the raccoon infested dumpster outback (the girls swear they haven’t been feeding them) and yearns for the day this whole shitshow finally gets shut down.

Oh, the baby? Yeah he handles accounting and the shadow monster in the basement is in charge of the social media. don't ask.

[shadowqueenjude]

Rhysta and the hat saga continues! This one was inspired by @wingsdippedingold and @copypastus (love both of your arts!)

Rhysand shifted his feet nervously. He didn’t know how to handle this situation. Last night, he had apparently drunkenly confessed his love to the viper of an Archeron and proposed to marry her. Even more shockingly, the lady had said yes. Far too prideful to admit he had made a mistake while inebriated, Rhysand had gone along with it instead.

He had tried to explain the situation to Feyre in the best way possible, but the Cursebreaker had taken it shockingly well. Too well, in fact.

“Well, that works out perfectly for me!” Feyre had answered, clapping her hands delightedly. As little affection as he had for her, Rhysand couldn’t help but feel a little insulted. Would it truly have been that bad to be married to him?

“It…does?” Rhysand asked, trying to sound just as jubilant. Feyre’s blue eyes were wide as she nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! Lucien’s brother has been writing me letters for months you see, and I find him so diverting. He hates his father so much and he wishes to leave Autumn. So I apologized and provided much compensation to Tarquin, and he has agreed to host our wedding, after which we will take up permanent residence in Summer!”

Of all the possibilities Rhysand had considered, this one had not even crossed his mind. “Congratulations are in order, then, I suppose,” he'd drawled. Feyre beamed at Rhysand. “Thank you!” Then she began to run out of the room.

“Are you going to tell me which brother? At least tell me his name!” Rhysand shouted after her, but Feyre had already flounced away. Well, she didn’t owe him anything, much as it disgruntled him to admit that to himself.

"If you're that nervous, put on your lucky hat," Cassian muttered, adjusting his bow tie. Rhysand nodded. The lucky hat was a hat he'd bought last night, after which their gambling fortunes had taken a 180 and they'd won ample amounts of money. He'd also worn it as he'd proposed to Nesta. Rhysand was convinced the hat was imbued with some sort of charm, but he had no idea what. He began to dig through his satchel for it. When his fingers finally found purchase on velvet, he pulled it out.

Uh.

Rhysand hadn't seen the hat properly last night, but now he could see it for what it was: a black top hat with the words I ❤️ MEN written across it in bold green letters.

"Cassian?" Rhysand swerved to his best man, placing his hands on his hips. "Did you know what this hat said?"

Cassian pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. "Well...it's fitting, is it not? Considering your obsession with Tamlin and all."

Rhysand felt his skin heat as he glared at his brother. "I got over Tamlin centuries ago!" Cassian looked at him skeptically. "Really?" Rhysand scowled, taking a deep breath through his nose. "Fine! Nesta helped me get over him, ok? I only have room for her in my heart!"

Cassian snorted. "Never thought I'd see the day you got on your knees for a woman."

"She's no ordinary woman," Rhysand snapped. "She is a lady. A queen amongst paupers. My only true equal."

Cassian blinked. "Wow, you truly love her."

"Of course I do." Well, there was nothing else for it. Rhysand slammed the hat onto his head. Instantly, he felt his confidence rise. "It's showtime."

Cassian gave Rhysand's back a "pat" that Rhysand was convinced would bruise, and the two men together walked down the aisle. Despite the ridiculousness of the hat, Rhysand felt confident as he walked down the aisle. Considering the wedding had been planned in several hours, the party was small, and Rhysand had a feeling Nesta preferred it that way.

Feyre stood by Elain's side, both of them dressed in lovely dresses of palest yellow, holding bouquets of night-blooming jasmine. Rhysand swallowed. Azriel stood there silently, shadows swirling around him as per the usual. Everything was perfect. Too perfect.

Now the nerves began to settle in. Rhysand twiddled his thumbs. Maybe she wouldn't even show up. He wouldn't blame her. He wouldn't want anything to do with someone who had sexually abused his sister, even if they had apologized amply for it-

Nesta appeared at the end of the aisle.

Rhysand's heart stopped. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen; nay, the most beautiful person. She was draped in elegant deep blue cloth embroidered with gold thread. Her forearms and ankles were covered with stunning mehendi patterns, and an orange cat by her side carried a ring. Her grey eyes were rimmed with sparkling kohl, her lips bloodred, her cheekbones sharp. She looked like sin itself. Gods, how was he supposed to live with himself when his wife looked like that?

She reached the end of the aisle and placed one soft hand in his. Rhysand watched as her perfect features twisted into a frown. "Why are you wearing that stupid hat?" she whispered.

Rhysand gulped. "It's my lucky hat," he muttered, embarrassed. Nesta rolled her eyes, then placed her free hand on the rim of the hat. She began to pull hard, and Rhysand protested. "Wait, stop-"

"How-is-this-so-difficult?" Nesta grunted, yanking at the hat. Rhysand winced. "Ow ow ow."

Finally, with one ripping sound, Nesta pulled the hat off of his head. She gaped at him, and Rhysand instantly knew why. She had pulled off the wig as well as the hat.

"Your head..." Nesta instinctively raised a hand to touch it.

"Don't!" Rhysand leapt back. He knew his face had to be beet red at this point, but he couldn't let her touch it, lest the humiliation worsen.

"You don't have hair?" Nesta whispered. "But...you're faerie."

"I cannot grow body hair at all, ok?" Rhysand muttered, feeling his defenses come in. "Three centuries ago, I lost all of my hair and it hasn't grown back. It's some kind of condition, I don't know." Nesta blinked. "Does that mean your eyebrows are fake too?" Unable to find words, Rhysand nodded. "I won't blame you if you run away now," Rhysand added. Nesta did not speak; she only walked closer to him. Rhysand's instinct was to pull away, but he kept perfectly still as Nesta gently ran a hand over his smooth head. Then over his cheeks. His lips.

"I don't fucking care if you're hairy as a bear or hairless as a baby, Rhysand. You're not escaping me that easily." Rhysand laughed in joy and relief at Nesta's words. He couldn't stop staring at her. Not only was she perfect in beauty and countenance, but she was the most fierce and loving person he had ever met. He would do anything she told him to. Anything at all, no matter how crazy or painful.

"Priestess, start the ceremony."

The condition I gave Rhysand is a real condition! It's called Alopecia Areata, and it can vary in severity; Rhysand has the most severe version called Alopecia Universalis!

Some pic inspos:

Elain and Feyre's dresses:

Nesta's Wedding Dress:

Nesta's mehendi:

[nikethestatue]

Hot take: I think SJM intended Gwyn and Azriel to sort of mirror Tarquin and Feyre, and I don’t think for one second she expected it to gain the traction that it did lol.

Yeah, she has these fake relationships and these 'will they/won't they' in almost every book.

Tarquin and Feyre

Emerie and Cassian

even Nesta and Eris

Because, Az is technically 'available' she threw in this red herring like she's done a million times before and it was Gwyn.

It will be resolved in the first 3 chapters of the next book.

[toporecall]

Chapter 2. Ballerina Bend Under The Weight Of It All

We're back with chapter 2 of If Forever Gets Lonely, a Feyre-born-fae AU. Another High Lords meeting, scandalous dreams, and more Prythian drama.

Read it all on AO3 or chapter 2 below the cut.

Prev chapters: [1]

Normally a meeting of all seven High Lords was a rare occurrence, maybe once every few years, but given the imminent war, another meeting had been called just a couple weeks later. Tension was ratcheting within Prythian. Rumors were spreading rapidly that Hybern’s soldiers were preparing to invade and Tamlin and Lucien were still trying to negotiate where the people of Spring would go in the likely event that Spring was the first landing point.

They had called this meeting and so they were hosting all seven courts in their Spring home. Tamlin had pulled out all the stops—long tables of decadent food had been prepared and, rather than a ball, the green lawn just outside the manor had been set up with all sorts of games and festivities for after the meeting. 

Meanwhile, Feyre was doing her best to avoid the eyes of both Beron and Rhysand. Beron, becuase she couldn’t get his offer out of her head. Could this whole negotiation really be solved if she capitulated and slept with him? And was that such a steep price to pay for the safety of a people she was soon to be responsible for?

Rhysand’s gaze she avoided for an entirely different reason. She did indeed like the idea of having a friend at these occasions but, over the past couple of weeks since they’d met, she was having increasingly…unfriendly thoughts about Rhysand. On the rare occasions Tamlin came to share her bed, she struggled to keep her mind from straying toward the High Lord of Night. And on the more common occurrences that she helped herself alone in bed at night, it wasn’t Tamlin’s green eyes she saw but violet ones. 

Just last night she’d been laying in bed, alone and frustrated. She was having a hard time sleeping with the anticipation of all the courts coming to Spring the next day. She let her hand drift lower, under her blankets and nightdress. But the fantasy her mind served…

Rhysand was here, at Spring. Everyone had gone to bed, Lucien, Tamlin, and Feyre in their respective rooms in the east wing and all the guests in their rooms in the west wing. She was tiptoeing back to her room after fetching water from the kitchen when she felt more than saw a shadow wrap around her, stopping her in her tracks just outside of Tamlin’s door.

She knew immediately it was Rhysand. Knew it as his hands slid down her arms from behind, sliding over her hands to the tops of her thighs. She just started to protest when one hand lifted to cover her mouth.

“Shh shh shh. We don’t want to wake Tamiln, do we?” he whispered in her ear.

He pulled her closer to him, her back flush against his strong body. She could feel every inch of him as his right hand dragged over the fabric of her nightdress, over her stomach then lower until his fingers grazed her center and she whimpered into his hand.

A cough in the room startled Feyre from her thoughts. What had been getting into her lately? She hadn’t even realized she’d slipped back into last night’s fantasy. She glanced around the room, shaking off her own thoughts. Helion was trying to negotiate with Beron and Tarquin on Tamlin’s behalf to relocate Spring’s population. Kallias and Thesan were either listening or pretending to.

Rhysand was looking directly at her. She couldn’t tell if she was imagining the sparkle in his eyes or if that was coming from the light through the window. 

She forced herself to hold his gaze, unwilling to be the first to look away. After a few long moments, he finally broke their eye contact and leaned to his left, whispering something in one of his advisor’s ears—Cassian, she had learned.

“Perhaps Feyre has an idea or suggestion on how we could negotiate this potential resettlement.” Her name on Beron’s lips snapped Feyre to attention. The rest of the room had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly. She could feel her face turning red at the reminder of Beron’s hand on her ass and his offer. “Feyre?”

She opened her mouth, trying to remind herself that no one else knew what he was implying. But before she could come up with a reply, Tamlin chimed in abruptly.

“Feyre is really just here to listen.” He placed a hand on her knee. “Maybe we should change the topic for now and return to this question later.”

Feyre wasn’t sure if she was enraged by the dismissal or grateful for being saved from having to reply to Beron’s taunt.

“Very well,” said Beron. “Then perhaps next we should address the subject of my eldest son’s impending wedding.” Eris sat beside his father, looking smug as he sipped his drink.

“As a matter of strategy?” Morrigan asked, nearly rolling her eyes. 

Beron sneered in her general direction. “One of Hybern’s generals has requested an invitation.”

That certainly got everyone’s attention.

“And you’re just now mentioning this?” Kallias asked, eyes wide.

“You neglected to mention that you’re in touch with Hybern, father,” Lucien said, speaking slowly as if he was being careful to choose his words.

“I am not in touch with Hybern. I simply received a letter from them,” said Beron.

“It seems rather obvious that given the impending war,” Tamlin emphasized, “our interests would not be served by inviting a Hybern general to celebrate with us.”

“It was less of a request and more of a decree.” said Beron.

“Who is it?” Rhysand spoke for the first time in a long while.

“Their general Amarantha.”

Rhysand’s gaze remained steady but Azriel, Cassian, and Mor all sat up straighter abruptly and glanced at each other.

There was a stilted silence in the room before Lucien finally cleared his throat and spoke. “I think it would be better if that did not happen.” 

“As I said,” Beron replied sternly, “it was more of a declaration than a request.”

Another terse silence.

“Maybe this is an opportunity to avoid war altogether? Maybe a chance for peace?” Feyre asked, knowing even as she spoke that it was an incredibly naive question given everyone’s reaction to this news.

“Maybe,” Mor said with a small but generous smile.

Tamlin stood abruptly, knocking his chair over, and left the room without another word.

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll go,” he muttered to Feyre before following Tamlin out of the room.

The room was silent for a few moments and Feyre realized with a jolt that she was technically the closest thing to the host now. 

“Well, when is the wedding?” Feyre asked Eric and Beron.

“Two months from Saturday,” Eris replied.

“Lovely. Congratulations.”

The meeting wrapped quickly after that. The other High Lords clearly wanted time to process the implications of this revelation before continuing their strategy meetings. Feyre sent them all out to the lawn for music, games, and refreshments and promised she’d be out shortly.

She hurried down the hall to Tamlin’s study, careful not to trip over her pale lavender skirts. She found Tamlin and Lucien in the middle of a tense conversation, Tamlin standing and pacing behind his desk and Lucien seated across from him. Tamlin wore a dark green tunic, a lovely representation of spring. 

“What was all of that about?” she asked, shutting the door behind her. She didn’t move further into the room but simply stood with her back against the door as if she needed it for support.

Tamlin just shook his head and waved a hand toward Lucien.

“There’s a lot of history with Amarantha, this Hybern general. She was close friends with Tamlin’s father. Since his death she’s been increasingly,” he paused and cleared his throat a bit, “erratic about her…attentions toward Tamlin. And Rhysand for that matter, who she blames for Tamlin’s father’s death given Rhysand’s father killed him.”

Feyre’s head spun and she was happy she had the door for support. This was the thing with High Lords, she was learning—immortality and power was a hell of a combination and bad blood, no matter how old, never quite seemed to clear.

“And?" she asked, sensing there was more.

“And,” Lucien’s jaw tensed, “years back I was sent to her as an emissary for the Spring Court. She didn’t take kindly to that perceived rejection from Tamlin. Words were had and she retaliated by gouging out my eye and sending me back home with a bloody hole in my face.”

 Feyre was beginning to feel ill. Tamlin’s rage was palpable in the room.

“Surely Beron can’t invite her to the wedding,” Feyre reasoned, voice coming out high and strained.

“Unfortunately, I think my father is right. It’s more of a declaration than a request. And the punishment for not capitulating could be far worse than whatever game she’s planning. It could possibly be the start to this war that we are woefully unprepared for and desperately trying to avoid.”

“There has to be something we can—” 

“Maybe the strategizing is best left up to us, Feyre.” Tamlin cut her off. He was gripping the edge of his desk and the wood was starting to crack beneath his fingers. “Our guests are without a hostess. Maybe you could attend to that.”

Feyre felt her face reddening. “We are to be married, Tamlin. I think I can be of more use to you than just a hostess.”

Feyre gasped as the wood splintered under Tamlin’s grip. Even Lucien looked startled.

“Maybe leave us. For now, Feyre.” Lucien said gently with an apologetic look. 

Feyre huffed in disbelief but did as she was told, spinning around and shutting the door loudly behind her which she recognized was someone petulant. She stopped halfway down the hall that lead outside, not realizing her hands were trembling until she took a moment to breathe.

Was this to be her fate? A doll for the Spring Court? A female to look pretty, play hostess, and receive Tamlin in bed whenever he deigned to show up? Feyre knew that as a merchant’s daughter, and the youngest at that, she hadn’t been bred for this life the way some females had but her courtship with Tamlin had lead her to believe that she would be more of an equal in this household. Even if not an equal, at least a respected voice. 

She felt almost as betrayed by Lucien for not sticking up for her.

Feyre took a deep breath to soothe her shaking fingers and headed outside, pausing at a mirror in the hall to check her appearance before returning to their guests. She looked pale and had definitely been losing weight since she’d moved here to Spring Court. Something about this lifestyle made her withdrawn and finicky about her appetite. 

She pinched her cheeks to give them a little color and went out to the lawn. The members of the various courts were mingling, enjoying the mild air and refreshments. Some were even playing the games they’d had set out. 

Feyre got herself a glass of sparkling wine and drank it quickly, as surreptitiously as she could manage. She put the empty glass aside, picked up another, and went to mingle with the guests. It did seem that everyone was trying their best to act as though they liked each other. She fielded a few questions about where Tamlin and Lucien had gotten off to with vague and pleasant replies. 

Mostly, she tried to keep at bay the dawning realization that the life she had signed on to was not what she thought it would be. Feyre had grown up fairly independent. Being the youngest daughter, there was much less emphasis put on her to marry well and be a proper young lady. Instead, she’d had more freedom to run wild in the woods, to shoot a bow and arrow, to explore her passions as long as they didn’t interfere with her family’s propriety. Her interests were often looked at with an eye roll by her family, but tolerated nonetheless. 

And then she’d met Tamlin. He’d made her feel so special and so singular. Their whirlwind romance was more than she ever could have dreamed of. Engaged to a High Lord—how fate had surprised them all! It had all seemed so magical, even with the uncertain situation with Hybern. But Feyre was now starting to realize that she had penned herself in. She was not to be treated as an equal here, a partner to help lead Spring Court, the land she’d spent her whole life in. She was a window dressing, a pretty face. 

Feyre’s thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Eris in front of her. She automatically pasted on a polite smile.

“Congratulations again on your engagement. I hope you’re enjoying your time here,” she said as pleasantly as she could. 

“Oh yes, well, some marry for love, some marry for station.” An odd reply. “Care for a little friendly competition?” He asked with a glint in his eye.

“What sort of competition?”

“Lady’s choice,” he gestured to the games set up around the lawn. Feyre had the urge to roll her eyes at his cocky smile but suppressed it.

“Alright then,” she placed her wineglass on the nearest table, “archery.”

There were three targets set up at varying distances. It was decided they would each fire three arrows, one aimed at each of the three. A small crowd had gathered around them as they prepared. Eris was going first. 

As he pulled back the bow, readying to fire at the closest target, he turned to Feyre. “What does the winner get?”

She thought for a moment. “A favor. To be called in at the winner’s will.”

Another cocky grin, and not in a charming way. “Very well.”

He fired his first arrow, hitting a few inches to the left of the bullseye. The High Lords and their courts clapped politely. The middle target he hit in about the same spot, just left of the bullseye. The farthest target was trickier and his arrow landed at the very edge of the target, just barely avoiding a miss.

Feyre suppressed a smile. She was an excellent shot and was completely confident that she could beat Eris. She picked up the smaller bow, relishing the familiar feel of it in her grasp. She’d always loved how capable she felt holding a bow. Without a word, she fired her first arrow. A bullseye. She fired at the second target a little farther off. Another bullseye. 

The crowd was murmuring, clearly surprised and delighted at this turn. She looked up, smiling at the group until she spotted him. Tamlin had finally come outside and was standing at the edge of the gathering. She could feel the reproach burning in his gaze. A lady shouldn’t be so skilled with a bow and arrow. A lady shouldn’t be firing a bow and arrow at all dressed in a lilac gown fluttering in the breeze. She should scoff at such a thing. 

Feyre readied her final shot, letting out a breath as she steadied her hand. She knew she could easily hit the final bullseye, but with Tamlin watching…

She fired. And missed the target entirely. 

There was a collective gasp and a smattering of applause. Eris was declared the winner.

“I’ll let you know when I need that favor,” he said with an infuriating wink.

Feyre did her best to smile back good-naturedly before turning and retrieving her wine. The group had dispersed and was once again spread about the lawn, playing various games and chatting. It was easy for her to slip off quietly to the edge of the woods that lined the property, eager for a few moments of quiet. Tensions throughout Prythian had been increasing enough that Feyre was conscious of the fact that these moments of peace and quiet might be some of the last she’d know for a long while. 

A few moments was all she had before she heard the sound of soft steps approaching from behind her. She turned her head and peered around the tree she was leaning against to see Rhysand approaching. 

She wanted, badly, to ignore the feeling in her gut at the sight of him, at the knowledge that he had sought her out again. Wanted so badly to pretend that he was just another male, just another Prythian High Lord to deal with, but she couldn’t deny the spark she’d felt when he’d kissed her hand at Summer Court. She couldn’t deny that the sight of him out here, separated from the rest of the gathering, had anticipation coiling within her like a snake. 

“Rhysand,” she said, nodding her head in greeting. “What brings you out here?”

“Rhys,” he corrected as he reached her. “And I wanted to see where the bride of Spring had gotten off to. I thought you might be hiding some secret delight out here.”

That crooked smile. Those eyes looking down at her. Feyre shook her head as if she could shake the thoughts away.

“Just needed a moment of quiet. It’s been a long day.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and they stood in a comfortable moment of silence, gazing out at the forest. They could hear the sounds of the rest of the gathering off in the distance.

Feyre was lost enough in the sounds and sights of the forest that she startled when she felt Rhysand lean toward her, his lips almost at her ear.

“I know you missed that last shot on purpose,” he whispered. 

Feyre turned toward him which she quickly realized was a mistake. His face was so close that she could see the stubble along his jaw, could practically imagine what it would feel like beneath her fingertips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, taking a step back for self preservation.

He relaxed his posture. “Sure you don’t.”

“What reason would I have for missing?”

He said nothing for a moment, just long enough that Feyre turned to look back at him again. He looked more serious now, the crooked smile vanished from his expression.

“Don’t let them change you, Feyre. In this world, you need to be your own weapon. Don’t ever forget that and don’t ever let them take your power.”

--------------

taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @the-lonelybarricade @popjunkie42 @magic-and-ships @starfall-spirit @soopsiedaisies

[blu3b3rrymuffins]

Oranges and Starlight

What Could go Wrong?

Azriel was sipping coffee at the River House, keeping an eye in Nyx as the baby ate his breakfast next to him. The mess of bananas and yogurt on his face was enough to make Azriel chuckle. With Rhys and Feyre in the Winter Court for a meeting with the High Lords and Nesta and Cassian on a honeymoon of sorts, it was Azriel who was the one tasked with watching Nyx. At first he had protested as it was always his priority to aid and protect his High Lord and Lady. But Mor was the one with connections with the Winter Court, Elain went as an emissary to the human realm, standing in for Nesta and while Amren loved Nyx, she was still learning how to nurture him.

Azriel stood up to wipe the mess from Nyx’s face, using his shadows to distract the baby as Azriel cleaned up the kitchen a bit. He was growing so fast, learning at a quick rate that Azriel attributed to his parents. He picked Nyx up and made their way over to the sitting room where Nyx’s toys were set up. Sitting down with him, Azriel made sure that Nyx wouldn’t fall back.

“Now, I know that Uncle Cass wants you to say his name first,” Azriel said seriously to the toddler sitting in front of him. “But you and I both know you’re going to say ‘Az’ first, huh?” In response, Nyx babbled a bit and clapped his little hands which was good enough for Azriel.

They spent the late morning and afternoon playing in the sitting room and going out into the garden for a bit of sun. Azrie’s shadows made several appearances, peeking out if only to hear Nyx giggle. His shadows had quickly learned to love the little princling, working hard to keep the tears away and smiles present. It warmed the Shadowsinger’s heart to see how fearless Nyx had grown towards those shadows. Where most people shied away, Nyx looked for them whenever Azriel was present, seeking them out when they were away.

Just as Azriel was bringing Nyx inside, the distinct fluttering noise of winnowing sounded in the hall followed by the sound of Feyre’s voice echoing through the room.

“ We don’t even know where to begin, Rhys,” Feyre said with a sigh as they entered the sitting room. Nyx squealed happily at the sound of his mother’s voice and squealed a second time at the sight of his parents, his little wings flapping with excitement. “Hi, baby,” She greeted with a smile, picking him up from the Shadowsinger’s arms as the others shuffled into the room.

“Tarquin supposedly has something up his sleeve, but we will weather the storm, darling. We always do,” Rhysand answered, coming over to say hello to Nyx, stroking his hair lovingly. Standing up, Azriel asked,

“Are you going to fill me in on what happened or just talk about it amongst yourselves?”

“Yes, yes, we will get to it, boy. Don’t get your wings in a twist,” Amren grumbled as she slumped down in a chair.

Mor snorted as she too entered the room with Elain in tow, the latter stopping to greet Nyx quietly.

“We have a bit of a problem,” Rhysand said, causing Mor to snort again.

“A bit?” Mor asked, helping herself to the pitcher of rosemary lemonade that was set out.

“Yes, a bit. We have survived worse,” Rhysand insisted, shooting her a small glare. Azriel stood back, watching his friends and waiting for one of them to say exactly what the meeting was about.

“I don’t think that Bryallin and Hybern compare to Koschei,” Amren deadpanned.

“Koschei?” Azriel asked, looking at Amren.

“Yes, Koschei,” She retorted, shooting Azriel a glare with those silver eyes of hers.

“Have you not heard anything from the continent?”

“No, there has been nothing unusual,” Azriel answered simply, wondering where this was going and slowly putting something together in his mind about the peace treaty they only recently got Vallahan to sign.

”And from the human territories, past the border?” Feyre chimed in, bouncing Nyx on her hip. That changed his train of thought. Other than one of their queen’s taking up residence there, what did the human realms below Prythian have to do with the continent? Unless Vassa had something to do with the meeting that the High Lords and Ladies went to last night. Perhaps Vassa was there, that she knew something important and urgent enough to warrant such a quick assembly.

“Nothing,” He replied to his High Lady.

"Well, what are your spies good for then?” Amren asked, rolling her eyes.

“Amren-” Feyre sighed, attempting to play mediator.

“Vassa is missing,” Rhysand finally said, stopping a fight between his mate and a grumpy Amren before it started.

“What do you mean missing?” Azriel asked scenarios of how and why the queen would disappear playing in his head.

Assuming that was what the meeting was about, what could the High Lord know about such an important person’s disappearance?

“Lucien said it was Koschei, that it was Koschei’s doing that caused her disappearance. Lucien has called for aid to find Vassa. He is frightened for her,” Feyre explained with a frown.

Azriel stole a look at Elain at the mention of her mate. She was standing off to the side of the room now, not making eye contact with anyone and instead looking out the window and into the distance. He wondered if she cared that Lucien was so shaken up by the disappearance of Vassa. If it bothered her at all.

“And Tarquin?” Azriel asked, wondering what the High Lord of Summer could provide for aid. Or who Tarquin had in mind. “What does he have to do with this?”

“He says that he knows someone who might have to help. That was all he said, that she could help, whatever that entails.” Rhysand explained, running a hand through his hair. A list of names appeared in Azriel’s mind. A list of people who could aid in this upcoming conflict but there was barely a handful of people from the Summer Court that came to mind.

“Well, I can see what my spies have heard on the continent and in the mortal territories. Now that I know what we are looking for, my spies might be more useful,” Azriel said, pointing a small smirk at Amren who waved him off.

“Mor, I want to send you back to Vallahan to see if they have heard anything about Koschei’s whereabouts,” Rhysand said, turning to the blonde who lounged next to Amren, still sipping her lemonade.

“If you think it will help,” She responded sarcastically, sounding like she did not think it would help at all.

“It could help,” Rhysand said, sounding more like a confused puppy than a High Lord.

“Sure it could,” Azriel assured.

After all, what could go wrong?