#feyre archeron x tamlin

[sad-scarred-sassy]

The tragedy of Spring - Chapter 7

Summary: Settling into the new Spring Court, Feyre has a conversation with the High Lord of Spring.

Notes: I couldn't stop writing this so here is an early update. I hope you enjoy the Elucien cameo on this one!

Tag list: @foxcort @viktoriaashleyyx @ninthcircleofprythian

Read on ao3👇 or keep reading below the cut

“Mama?” Nyx’s little voice sounded from her arms, he had finally calmed down and his soft call had brought her back from her thoughts.

“Look baby” She half-heartedly pointed at some deer grazing contentedly in the distance and Nyx giggled. He was in a far better mood than he had been when they had first arrived here, and she was glad. They were standing in a big room with a huge arched window in the new Spring Court manor, if you could call the intricate villa created out of stone, connected by bridges and tunnels a “manor”. If Feyre had the mental capacity to enjoy the view she would, much like she could see Nyx was enjoying it from the huge window that separated them from the luscious Spring forest in all its glory. She would have never imagined what the forest could look like without those horrible foreign creatures stalking the lands, she had never seen the Spring Court during actual peace until now.

For a moment Feyre did lose herself as she stared at the landscape, the multiple levels of buildings intertwined with nature, coexisting with the enormous trees, with the crystalline waterfalls that cut the land, wildflowers and tended gardens mixing with each other, all alive and thriving with so many faeries of all types, working, living, laughing together. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

Her brief trance was cut short when she heard Tamlin’s voice give some more orders to his people. Her eyes traveled to his broad back facing her.

“Please, have a room ready for our guest” Tamlin said finally and the fae with green scales nodded before taking one last look at Feyre and exciting the room. Only then Feyre noticed the furniture. It was a drawing room.

She braced herself, tightening her grip on Nyx’s body, bracing his weight on her hip. When Tamlin hesitated before looking back at her she felt a cold sensation run to her stomach. Why did she think this was a good idea?

“I’m sorry, Tamlin” She blurted out as he finally turned to her. He paused.

His emerald eyes studied her for a second and she stiffened her posture.

“I will leave as soon as possible, I-I shouldn’t have come here.” She continued, her voice was rough from crying so much but she couldn’t stop the words. “This place- This place is beautiful, wonderful. It was a mistake coming here” She repeated.

Tamlin frowned slightly, then he walked slowly towards her, his hair still tied in a knot, messy. His clothes were slightly dirty and wrinkled. He had been doing hard labor when she arrived, she now realized.

He stopped just in front of her and Nyx, her eyes didn’t leave his even though they were so intense she had the unbearable urge to look elsewhere. Her face flushed as she imagined what he must be thinking.

Her, coming here, with his enemy’s son in her arms, crying for help, barefoot and looking half crazed. She almost laughed bitterly at the image.

Tamlin shook his head slightly. “There’s nowhere else I would rather you be than here” He startled her by saying, almost as a whisper.

Before she could say a word his green eyes dropped towards Nyx’s big blue eyes staring right back at him. The toddler smiled a small toothed smile at him and Tamlin’s features softened inadvertently. He smiled back.

His gaze lifted back up to hers then, and she felt her heart pound in her chest for an unknown reason.

“He has your eyes” He only said.

Feyre let go of a strained sob-laugh.

Tamlin only stared at her some more, concern painted all over his face and she couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, it felt too raw, she felt too pathetic. She looked out the floor-to-ceiling window, trying to hold herself together.

“Feyre” He tried. “Tell me what happened” He urged a bit too softly. She hated it. Hated the care in his words. She deserved this, all of what was happening to her, how couldn’t he see it, how didn’t he agree?

“I won’t bother you for long” She said, still not meeting his piercing eyes. He sighed.

“Can you sit down for me, at least?” He pointed at the couches surrounding the fireplace with his thumb. She bit the inside of her cheek as she nodded.

Her bare feet paddled through the wooden floor before feeling the soft rug on her achy soles. She was so tired.

She sat down on the couch as he took the loveseat right next to it. Nyx was already yawning when she cradled him on her lap. She tucked his wings and pushed his black hair back from his soft forehead as he drifted to sleep.

“I’ve already sent reinforcements to guard the borders. You’re safe here” He said softly and she nodded, not meeting his eyes. She knew she should tell him, she owed it to him to be clear about the actual risks of giving her refuge. But the words felt so heavy on her mouth, so foreign and unreal.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” He said. “Just… enough to be prepared. Does he know you’re here?”

She finally reunited their eyes and somehow it was even more unbearable. Shame and guilt and embarrassment flooded her veins when looking at him. She took a steading breath.

“I don’t know” She said. “I don’t think he knows where I am yet. But I think he will figure it out soon” She wet her dry lips before looking at him again. “Tamlin, it’s worse than I thought, I honestly don’t- I’m scared he will come and destroy-“

“Don’t worry about that”

“But it is very likely, I have his heir-“

“You have your son.” He said matter-of-factly and she swallowed hard. “Trespassing would be considered an act of war, and I don’t think he’s in the position to start one” He said calmly. “Either way, we are prepared.” He rubbed his hands on his pants. “You should rest, let me take you to your room” He stood up and she simply nodded, picking herself up along with her baby as she let him winnow her just to appear right in front of a wooden door.

He grabbed the knob, his body closer to hers than he had been since she arrived, she could feel the heat emanating from him, his manly scent invading her senses which she ignored. He paused.

“Feyre, what did he do?” He said so low she felt it coursing through her body. His green eyes were digging themselves into hers so deeply, she couldn’t help herself anymore, he was looking at her like he needed to know, and she needed to have the truth out of her system.

She took a calming breath before she spoke. “I found out he made me seal a deal with him Under The Mountain when I was drunk on faerie wine” She said with a small voice. Tamlin’s body tensed instantly, every cell listening carefully as she spoke. She gulped and took a breath, holding Nyx closer as her extremities trembled. “He created our mating bond with a bargain” She said, the words so cold and nauseating that bile rose up to her throat. Tamlin straightened at her words, face unreadable, eyes moving quickly as he took the information, face turning from lost to shocked to outraged.

His mouth opened and closed, grabbing the door handle so hard it was a surprise it hadn’t broken yet.

“H-how” He managed. “Hybern… the king should have broken it along with the other one” He blinked.

“I don’t know… I think he may have thought he was breaking both when we only knew about the first one… still I don’t know the ways he managed it and why exactly he did it, other than…” She trailed off as she looked down at her son sleeping beautifully in her arms. Tamlin’s eyes only widened. She could see the battle going on inside his head, he looked like he wanted to crush something, someone, but he surprised her when he took a steading breath and gulped his anger down.

“I’m sorry” He said and she only stared at him. “We will talk about it more if you want, now, please rest.” He finally opened the door. “If you need me just ring the bell next to your bed” He stepped back as she stepped inside the spacious room.

“Thank you” She said. He bowed his head slightly and then he closed the door, leaving her and her baby alone

—

When Lucien Vanserra finally found the High Lord of the Spring Court in the depths of the forest, shirtless and half-ferally cutting tree trunks with an ax that had obviously lost all sharpness years ago, making the wood splinter instead of slicing through it, he knew for sure they had come to the right place.

“What did that oak ever do to you?” He asked as a way of greeting, but Tamlin didn’t even look at him as he continued on. There was a silent rage in him he had never seen before, and he honestly felt bad for those logs of wood.

“What are you doing Tamlin?” He tried again.

“I’m cutting wood” He mumbled, as he exploded another trunk almost as thick as his torso.

“In the middle of the night” He pointed out. Tamlin simply ignored him.

Lucien sighed. “Is she okay?” He asked and Tamlin finally paused for a second, before he delivered a final blow to the last remaining log, making splitters fly across the air, getting stuck in his hair.

“She’s resting” He said, breathing much less heavily than he should be for the amount of work he had put in. “Do you know everything?” His eyes didn’t meet Lucien’s as he began to load a cart with all the wood he had exploded.

“Elain was the one who saw it for her,” Lucien explained. The whole thing was still hard to process. Lucien had seen plenty of vile things during his long life, but a betrayal of this magnitude was something that would make Beron hesitate. When Elain had explained to him and Nesta what had happened, he knew they had to leave the Night Court immediately. He had winnowed them to Spring almost instantly, after trying to get Nesta to come with them. She had declined with a determination he had learned to never cross when it came with Archerons. Elain had known Feyre would be here even before arriving, while Lucien still struggled to believe it. He had spent hours looking for Tamlin as his mate tried to gather where exactly her sister was located, since no one was willing to tell her.

“How are you feeling?” He asked his friend as he helped him with the logs of wood. Judging by the haggard look on his face he wasn’t taking the events too well.

“I’m not the one you should be asking that” He replied.

“Quit diverting my questions. I can see right through you, and you look like shit”

“Then it was a stupid question to begin with” He replied and Lucien granted him that it was.

Tamlin sat down on the floor, back resting on the wooden cart, grabbing a used and abused handkerchief from his back pocket and cleaning his face with it. Lucien brushed his hands together, getting rid of the splinters, and sat down next to him.

“How didn’t I see it?” Tamlin said to himself, looking at a distance.

“Why would you? It looked like a real mating bond, even if it was a bit… odd”

He had always thought their bond seemed a bit unbalanced, to put it in some way, but he had assumed it was a natural occurrence to Rhysand’s overly controlling nature.

Tamlin sighed loudly. “She has nowhere to go” He continued. It was a truth Lucien had known for a long time, how Feyre’s deeds had isolated her from the rest of Prythian. Now he realized it probably hadn’t been pure coincidence.

“She has you” He said. The High Lord shook his head.

“I also failed her before”

“You can make up for it now. Will you let her stay?” He asked him, but he already knew the answer. Tamlin’s hands gripped the piece of cloth tightly.

“I would never turn her away”

“He’s going to come, one way or another” Lucien said as a matter of fact.

“Let him” He spoke eerily. Lucien knew that determined gleam in his green eyes, he had only ever seen him look like that when it came to Feyre and no one else. Lucien rested his head on the cart on his back as he took a breath.

“Elain told me he made her do that promise back when she was a human… back in Under the Mountain. Why?” Tamlin tensed instantly. It was confusing, the fact that Rhysand chose a mere powerless human to mate and bear his heirs, as if he somehow knew that she would be one of the most powerful beings in Prythian. He would have to discuss this with Elain later, try to figure out what else she can gather from this whole ordeal, what did Rhysand know beforehand?

“It makes no sense” Tamlin rubbed his eyes. “I should have fought harder for her back then” His voice was hoarse.

Lucien shook his head slightly. “How?” He knew he still faulted himself for everything that had happened to her back in that gods’ awful place. “You were overpowered, we all were”

Tamlin shook his head, lost in thought, probably reliving everything. “I should have sent her further away with her family, I should have-”

“Tam” Lucien cut him off but the male barely registered it. His green eyes were bloodshot, his body so tense it was almost trembling. “Listen to me” He said with a stern voice and his friend’s gaze finally met his. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, not this” Lucien said, holding his eyes unflinchingly. Tamlin understood what he meant then, he could see he remembered all the times he had also looked Lucien in the eyes and told him those exact words whenever he felt like giving up after Jesminda, when the guilt had been too much to bear. He wouldn’t let him fall down that path too, not again.

“You fucked up, yes. You lost her trust once. Don’t make the same mistake” Lucien placed a hand on his shoulder. Then he stood up from the ground and offered his hand. “She’s here for a reason, Tamlin. She didn’t hesitate, she took her baby and winnowed here without a second thought”

His friend looked at him for a long moment before taking his hand as he helped him up to his feet again.

“Thank you” He said quietly but not weakly. Lucien only nodded.

“Now, quit moping and get some rest. Gotta be prepared to kick some bat’s ass if they dare present themselves” He half joked. “And knowing them, they won't take long”

—

Feyre was sitting in the bed while Elain combed her hair when the thought lit up inside her mind like a wildfire.

“Did he know?” She blurted out to her sister, who paused her movements to look at her.

“What?” She asked softly.

“That I would die and get the High Lord’s powers” She blurted. “D-did he know?”

“I don’t know” Elain said, dropping the comb on her lap.

Feyre’s mind had not stopped for one moment since she had arrived, piecing clues and conversations together as if she was finally seeing things for the first time. When Elain had finally found her she had discovered her sitting on her bed, wrapped under a towel, looking at the wall, lost in thought. This idea in particular had arrived to her like a stone falling on her head.

“He told Amarantha about me” Feyre said. “He had made Tamlin and Lucien beg on their knees for his silence, but then he told her anyway”

She looked at Elain’s face, her sister was looking at her with a mix of sadness and anger in her beautiful brown eyes.

“I can try to look.” She said. “But it may take me longer, since I can’t touch him” She said, and Feyre only nodded.

Things didn’t add up, and the fact that he had been the one to set things in motion for her to go save Tamlin made too much sense now. All of the things she had never questioned herself, had never questioned him, were now coming back to her in waves, as if she had woken up from a glamour he had placed upon her.

“Feyre” Her sister called her. “You need to rest, we will figure this out tomorrow” She caressed her hair. Feyre’s eyes landed on her sleeping child in his crib.

“Elain, I don’t think-” She swallowed hard. “I don’t see what’s the point of anything anymore”

“Don’t talk like that” Her older sister said, but Feyre couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t stop the words coming out of her mouth.

“It’s true, he destroyed everything I am, everything I was. I- I couldn’t even recognize myself anymore and I thought at least I had him, at least I had a mate and I had a family. I finally had a family and it was all fake” She couldn’t help but sob as she said the last words and Elain held her to her chest. Feyre hated crying, hated feeling weak, and that was all she felt for so long now, she didn’t know who she was, who she was supposed to be, what she was supposed to fight for. Did she even deserve to fight?

“Listen to me” Her sister held her tightly to her chest. “He didn’t destroy you” She said as she grabbed her with both hands and with surprising strength pushed her to look at her fawn-brown colored eyes. “He tried to own you, he tried to tame you and he couldn’t do it” She said, her face the definition of determination. “He will pay for what he’s done, and you-” She looked at her directly into her eyes. “You will thrive”

Feyre felt silent tears sliding down her face as her sister spoke to her in a way she had never done before.

“You have a family. You have Lucien, Nesta and me. You have him” She directed her gaze to the sleeping baby and Feyre felt the fire in her gut, the deep maternal need to protect him, to never let him go. “And you have Tamlin” Elain said more quietly, making Feyre’s eyes snap back to hers. “He will not let anything happen to you, or Nyx. I know it.”

“I don’t think I deserve it” She said with a small voice, speaking the darkest thoughts in her mind. “These people Elain, I’ve wronged them so horribly, I don’t deserve their help, their care. I don’t deserve you or Lucien or Nesta. I don’t deserve Tamlin and I certainly don’t deserve Nyx” She let the words spill from her and Elain only listened, her eyes wide and glossy.

“Then make yourself worthy again” Elain said calmly. “Look these people in the eyes and tell them you’re sorry. Help them as they help you.” Elain smiled at her softly. “Right the wrongs, find your power again. Do it for him” She nodded at her son again. “Do it for you”.

Feyre only nodded her head softly before Elain embraced her again and she let her, let herself cry and be comforted by her older sister in a way that she had never let herself before.

After a long time of crying and Elain telling her it would all be okay, Feyre finally managed to fall into a deep sleep, feeling like a child in her sister’s arms but knowing that when the day came, she would find the woman she had been before, the one who had found the strength to enter a cursed mountain and save the one she loved, the woman who had endured unimaginable things and persevered, the woman who had learned the truth and had taken a decision to leave, she would find her and she would pull her from the inside and she would not break.

Not anymore.

[wiltingcrowns]

book one! feyre archeron x tamlin dancing at solstice ( as requested by @goforth-ladymidnight ) ! this scene had me besotted ! here you go, darling! i am terribly sorry for the late response ! mwah ! and never worry about me turning down a request, i always try ! i hope this is okay !

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

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[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Feyre: if you take me from my mate, I’ll destroy your court and everything you hold dear

Tamlin: takes Feyre from her mate

Feyre: destroys his court and everything he holds dear

Tamlin:

[acomaflove]

Tamlin: How can you claim to love Feyre when you STOLE HER AWAY from the wedding against her will?!?

Rhysand: 1. Don’t talk about Feyre like she is an object.

Rhysand: 2. She wanted to leave. She asked for help to leave.

Rhysand: 3. Don’t think that it didn’t hurt me to interrupt the wedding.

Tamlin: *huffs* You being upset doesn’t count as being hurt.

Rhysand: You misunderstand, I meant physical pain.

Tamlin:

Rhysand:

Tamlin: ?

Rhysand: She threw a shoe at my head.

[merwgue]

No, neris is not a crackship, they could have ended up together because its in the fucking book. Hope this helps!

[utterlyotterlyx]

When I Met The Devil

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Part Two to When I Kissed The Teacher which you can read here.

Summary - Azriel adored everything about you, but there was still certain information that you were keeping from him. Azriel finds out exactly what you've been hiding thanks to a particularly unfortunate visit.

Warnings - mentions of sexual abuse and neglect, angst, mentions of trauma

It had been three months since Azriel had taken you on your first (of many) dates. Azriel had been so nervous, not sure where to take you that would be able to live up to your expectations, even Nyx had given him some ideas by babbling on about what made you smile in the classroom.

Apparently you loved nature, of course you did, you were from the Spring Court. So Azriel had packed up a picnic and taken you to a garden of wildflowers away from the city to watch the sunset and gaze at the stars. You had taken his breath away when you had opened the door to him, you had dressed in a loose fitting pale blue dress with white flowers embellished into the bodice, the sleeves hung off of your shoulders and your hair lay unbound down your back.

That day had been one of the best days of his life, he had gotten to know you beyond your profession and learnt so much about you, but the nagging feeling that you were omitting some truth tugged at him, but not enough for him to make a deal about it. Azriel had kissed you under the stars, he had run his fingers through your hair and kissed you so passionately that you swore the world had stopped moving just so it could watch you

Since then, you had been inseparable.

Azriel showed up at the school each day after that, sometimes in the morning at drop off or in the evening at pick up, sometimes both, and he always brought you flowers or chocolates or anything he could think of that would bring a smile to those lips. He would walk you home, but more often than not he would pull you inside the River House and force you to have dinner with them.

You never objected to his wishes, you enjoyed his hands on you far too much to say no.

Azriel was happy to take things slow with you, you were so gentle and pure, if you wanted to wait years to share a bed with him then he was okay with that. You were worth any wait.

One morning you had opened the door to the school, frowning slightly when you couldn't see Azriel or Feyre and Rhys with little Nyx waiting on the grass. They would have told you if Nyx wasn't well and needed to take the day off unless it was serious, but even then, Azriel still would have showed up on the grass with our without Nyx just to see you.

It plagued your mind all day, and you did your best to conceal your worry from the children and continue as normal, but when it came to home time and none of them were there, you knew something wasn't right.

You had locked the room up quickly and stopped by a healer to pick up some infant friendly tonics just in case Nyx needed anything, bundling the vials in your hands as you rushed down the winding streets of Velaris, allowing your feet to take you where you needed to go whilst your mind reeled with endless possibility.

Lifting the hem of your skirt as you ascended the steps of the River House, you completely missed the scent that haunted your nightmares, too frantic with worry to notice it curling around you like chains. Then you saw the back of his head, shoulder length blonde hair and broad shoulders, and then the scent hit you, one of Spring rain and lifeful earth, and you dropped the vials in your hands onto the floor, not even flinching when they broke and cut through your skin.

The thing in question turned his head to the side and sniffed, smirking with feral delight before he fully turned to you, and you saw nothing else but him and those eyes that had made you do things you didn't want to too many times, they were dark and honed in on their prey. His lips tilted upward and he rose to his feet, and you didn't hear anything anyone else was saying or commanding as he strode across the room and stopped right in front of you. You didn't dare look up, you couldn't, and then his fingers gripped your chin harshly and forced your gaze upward.

"I've been looking for you," the room held a collective breath, his shoes crunched down on the broken glass and the liquid parted under his weight.

You knew that they were all watching you, waiting for you to say something, you averted your gaze to Azriel who was on his feet, fists clenched and glowering at the male who dared to touch you, "Nyx didn't show up to school, I thought he was sick, I was bringing tonics."

Feyre rose to her feet beside Rhys, "It's okay, Y/N," her eyes were soft, she could feel your terror, they all could, and then it seemed like your secret and finally been released from the depths of your shame, "Let go of her, Tamlin."

Tamlin chuckled but didn't take his eyes off of you, he cocked his head to the side and breathed you in, "Don't tell me to take my hands off what is mine," his voice was dangerously low, possession had taken over every part of him and the wolf was coming out to play, "Isn't that right, fiancé?"

"I'm not your fiancé," tears bubbled at the corners of your eyes and Azriel saw how small Tamlin made you feel, your shoulders had curled inward, your entire body was preparing to protect itself against the male who held your head in his hands. You looked to Azriel then, "I ran. I couldn't do it," you blinked hard and your tears flowed down your cheeks.

"Just because you ran doesn't mean that the agreement is void, Flower," you cringed, you felt helpless in his grip, like all of the independence you had worked for was nothing but dust dancing in the breeze, "The Tithe has been particularly awful without you."

Azriel lost it then, he grabbed Tamlin by the shoulder and forced him round, the action making his hand jolt away from your face, and Azriel landed a sickening blow to the side of his face.

"This is not a battle you want to fight, Tamlin," Rhys stood beside Azriel who was panting with fury, he knew what the Tithe was, they all did, and the thought of Tamlin using your unwilling body as a vessel for his sickening ritual was enough to send Azriel into a blind rage.

Azriel bent down to Tamlin's level, noticing Feyre rush to your side as he did to comfort you, and growled, "Touch her again and it won't be a battle, Tamlin. It will be a war."

Tamlin had the gall to grin, "She's my fiancé, Shadowsinger. Not even you can get between that."

"No, but I can," Cassian grabbed Tamlin by the neck of his coat, hauling him to his feet in front of Rhys, "Y/N is a member of the Night Court, she is a cherished member of my family. She is not your mate, so you have no claim on her and you know it. Now, leave my city before I cut your head from your shoulders and leave Spring lordless."

Knowing he wouldn't win on Night Court soil, Tamlin scoffed and headed for the door, not before stopping at your side and letting his gaze roam your figure, "They can't watch you forever. I'll see you soon, Flower."

Then he left.

And you stood standing in Feyre's arms pale and frozen, looking at the broken glass on the floor and shaking your head, "I have to go," you announced, peeling yourself out of Feyre's embrace and feeling like a completely awful friend to her, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N.."

You couldn't stick around and listen to her call your name, you couldn't stay there and witness Azriel looking at you like a stranger. So you ran. You ran all the way home, you didn't stop for a single moment until you closed the door behind you and slid down the wood, bursting into chest wrecking sobs.

If anyone would know who you were, it would be Lucien Vanserra, he was Tamlin's friend after all.

The red haired male found himself dragged before the Inner Circle by Elain, a thing he detested, he had just returned from the human realm and wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up with his mate, sitting in front of them was something he wanted to be rid of and fast.

"What do you know about Y/N? She came from the Spring Court," Lucien's eyes widened in saddening alarm at Feyre's question, he looked about the room as if you'd pop out from a corner at any given second.

"She's here?" Feyre nodded, "How is she?"

The question took them by surprise, and confirmed what they already knew, that you certainly we no double agent, but they had to know your story, it was a matter of protecting you, "She could be better. Tamlin was here."

Lucien's eyes darkened into molten lava pools and his nostrils flared, "Did he see her?" the silence confirmed his own query and he looked deflated, his shoulder fell and sadness floated over his face, enough sadness that Elain had moved to his side and wrapped his hand in her own.

"We need to know everything," Rhys ordered, moving his gaze to Azriel who was itching to leave the house and go to you, but even he had to know what had happened.

The Autumn male sighed, feeling conflicted, not wanting to tell your story for you but knowing he had no choice, "Y/N belongs to a very powerful Spring Court family, her father wanted a direct line to Tamlin so offered up his eldest daughter, Y/N, for marriage. Her father was a prick, no doubt still is. He sold Y/N to Tamlin like she was worth nothing more than what she could breed. She tried so hard to put off marrying him, she wanted a long engagement so that she could get to know Tamlin but everyone knew she just wanted more time to find a way out. Then the Tithe came and even I couldn't stop him from taking her into that cave," Lucien looked to Feyre who knew Tamlin all too well to know that what he was saying was nothing but the truth.

"Each year after that first Tithe, he sought her out against her will, you could hear her crying bouncing off of the walls. I couldn't watch it anymore so I helped her escape, I gave her enough money to be able to travel the continent and never heard from her again. I just did all I could to throw him off, to keep him away from her. Y/N was the happiest person in Spring, everyone loved her so much, and Tamlin ruined her."

"Seems like a pattern," Feyre cleared her throat and settled into Rhys' warmth that had wrapped around her like a blanket. She felt horrible, she thought she had it bad, but at least Tamlin never took her against her will like he had done to you repeatedly.

"Feyre I don't want to compare, but you have to understand that what he did to you was not nearly as bad as what he did to her. He took her light away, he forced her into a darkness I've never seen before or seen since, the neglection was sickening, she would cry for days on end, she'd mourn the life she dreamed of. It was unbearable."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, "She made it here though, I knew she'd find where she belonged in the end."

"Why didn't she tell me? I would have understood."

Rhys shushed his mate, he knew how much Feyre loved you, they all did, "Sometimes you don't want to talk about what others made you do," his mind drifted and eyes glazed over as he remembered his own story for a moment, the painful memories tugging at his heartstrings.

Rhys knew how it felt to be used against your own will, he knew how it felt to lie there each night and feel like a worthless pawn in someone else's game. He knew how it felt to work yourself into exhaustion trying to forget the terrors others had willingly inflicted on you.

If anyone could truly understand you, then it would be him. And there was no way he was going to let you lock yourself away and perish with shame when you had a family and life awaiting you.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

fawn -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. The Cauldon trasforms her into a fairy, and there's only one certain thing in her life: she doesn't belong in the Night Court.

warnings: slightly suggestive, Tamlin (haters step back🙏🤺)

wc: 5,5k

enjoy😉

The Cauldron made you a fairy. A fairy. You scoff at the thought. Nesta has become death itself, Elain a seer. You a stupid, little, useless fairy.

That day, when Fae warriors came into your and your sisters' home and forced you into that place, you never thought you would end up with pearl-colored wings and be able to talk to flowers.

You've always been shy, you've always made yourself small in front of others, and when they threw you into that pile of magic, the Cauldron was generous, in the telling of your sister's lover.

"You went in last. It could have given you nothing, as it could have killed you, but it gave you wings. And flowers, plants, and everything a fairy possesses. You shouldn't pout." But you never asked for that.

When they pulled you out everyone's eyes were on you. How could they not? They had never seen such a thing. Sure, the Cauldron could turn a mortal into a Fae, but a fairy?

You didn't look anyone in the face that day, or the weeks that followed.

"I would like to learn to fly," you once said to Azriel. He replied that he could not teach you, that the fairies belonged to the Court of Spring and that even there they were so rare and secretive that no one knew anything about them.

"But you have wings, too. You just need to teach me how to move them. Please."

Azriel shook his head, a neutral expression on his face.

"I can't. Besides helping you support its weight, your wings are shaped differently from mine, they are smaller and more fragile. I cannot put your life in danger." The authoritative tone makes it clear that the conversation is over. You would have hoped to find a friend in him. Instead, every time you try to talk to him, his gaze has only coldness to offer. Perhaps all his warmth-which doesn't seem much to you at this point-is reserved for Elain.

So, for you, the days go on with no clear meaning. You are not allowed to leave the house, and you can only afford to observe Velaris, such a beautiful city and full of life, from the balcony of the house.

When Feyre returns, you thought for a moment that things would finally change. That she would convince someone to help you get to know your new form, your new being. But you were okay, sure, you were a little confused, but you were living. Elain was much sicker, and all your sisters' priorities belonged to her.

You found comfort in Lucien instead. A charming, red-haired Fae who had lived in the Spring Court for years. That's how you became friends: no one would take you into consideration, and you were desperate for some information, some help. And Lucien fortunately seemed to have answers to your questions.

"I remember you. That day, I mean." You and Lucien are playing chess. It is rare that you talk about that day, but sometimes it happens. You don't care much, talking about it with him has helped you in the past, "Actually, I don't remember much. I remember what Tamlin reminded me of."

Now that's new. Never once had the Fae told her about his High Lord turning his back on her sister. She knew something about it, but she didn't know the whole story.

"Did Tamlin recall to you about that day?" She asks a little incredulously. Lucien nods and tightens his lips, makes a move with a chessman, and a feline smile lights up his face.

"I think...," he freezes for a moment, as if to think carefully about his next words, "he's playing some kind of double game, with Hybern. To get information. He's a good male, only sometimes he struggles to show it."

You feel a twinge in your heart. You don't know why, you should be furious with the man who took your life to give you this. The man who hurt Feyre so deeply. But the way Lucien talks about it, with so much regret....

You are sitting on the armchair in your room, already wearing your nightwear. You have a book in your hands and are completely immersed in reading, so much that you don't hear someone's footsteps outside your door. You gasp when they knock. You place the book in the small coffee table, and you don't bother to fix yourself: Lucien had told you he would come by and deliver a few things before he leaves Velaris for good. You get sad at the thought.

When you open the door you find not the familiar face, but Feyre's.

"Hey." She greets you. You return the greeting and wait for her to tell you why she is here. Although your new life started off on the wrong foot, feeling ignored by your family and useless, everything healed over time. Now the relationship between you and Feyre is closer than ever, Nesta is doing well, Elain is working on it. You have also learned to accept your sister's Fae friends. You even talk to them from time to time.

"I'm sad that Lucien is leaving. Especially for you" You nod, you know there is something else she is not telling you, "You know how much I told you about the High Lords meeting? I'd like you to come too, if you feel like it." You don't hesitate when you say yes. Your sister told you that not everyone had confirmed their attendance, of whom Tamlin. And she did not tell you about what happened with him. But something inside you urges you to go and meet him. It's for my being, you think, I just want answers, that's why I'm so impatient.

That night you struggle to sleep. At dawn you stop tossing and turning in bed and start getting ready, by now you give up: you won't rest that night anyway.

"You look wonderful" Feyre's words make you smile. She takes Azriel's hand, and in the blink of an eye they transmute into the palace of the Court of Dawn.

After greeting the others politely, you realize that Tamlin is not coming. You do not understand the reason for the disappointment you feel. Perhaps it is even better, so you avoid any awkward situation that might arise with your sister and Rhysand.

The meeting begins, and it is just as you start to disassociate yourself from the High Lords' boring talk that Tamlin appears.

He is alone. You don't remember him from that day in the Cauldron. But he is as you always imagined him. His blond hair reaches a little below his shoulders, clearly unkempt. His green eyes remind you of the blossoming plains. His skin tone is a rosy tint, his facial features delicate, almost princely. He is the very definition of spring, you think. He is a beautiful man, and you understand why his sister was once in love with him.

The silence in the air is tense. Tamlin looks at each person and takes his time with each one. And when he gets to you -- you feel his gaze run through your body, but you ignore him. You make a mistake, though. You look up too soon and meet his eyes. And now the thing is clear as day to you, what you feel in the center of your chest.

A bond.

Tamlin is your mate.

His expression turns surprised, his lips tight and his jaw contracted. He doesn't say anything. He moves on to the next person as if he hadn't heard it himself. But you can't contain yourself, and before you can stop it, a gasp escapes your mouth and tears cloud your eyes. You back away, stumbling back in your chair.

"Are you all right?" Feyre asks you, visibly concerned. You do not answer, but it is Beron, High Lord of the Court of Autumn, Tamlin's friend, who answers for you.

"A bond." He says simply, his tone both haughty and amused. Feyre sniffs the air, looks at you. Then she looks at Tamlin. And then back at you again. The look in his eyes... Rhysand says something, but everything around you is a blur.

First the Cauldron made you a useless fairy. Next the Mother punished you by tying you to Tamlin.

You listen to no one, with hurried steps you leave the room. No one follows you. Good, you think, I don't have to explain myself to anyone for a while.

With one exception, someone has followed you. Your body recognizes him before you do, your heart beats wildly, and you could cry from how wrong this all simply is. Your sister was going to marry this man. And she didn't, she ran away because he did something terrible to her, and now it was going to be your turn.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, and Tamlin grabs your arm gently, leading you into a small room. You try to ignore how such a soft touch puts a pleasant twinge in your stomach. No, you would never do that to your sister.

When you enter, no one says anything for a while and you feel his gaze on you, making you blush. He doesn't even know your name, probably.

As if he hears your thoughts, the Fae speaks to you. "Y/n." His serious tone makes you set your eyes on his. This is so wrong, yet looking at your mate feels like the right thing to do.

"How-how do you know my name?"

Tamlin smiles at your words. An expression so different from the one you saw on his face when he first walked in. It fits him, you think, and fear invades your senses because of the things you realize you would do, because of that smile...

"I remember it ... from that day, with the Cauldron..." Your body stiffens, as if remembering who the male in front of you really is. What he did to you. What he has done to your family.

It doesn't matter that he is your mate, you think. Your body may react to his look and touch, but you will not be betrayed by it.

Tamlin probably feels your emotions through the bond, and with a step forward he grabs your arm gently. He needs to touch you, and you don't realize how much you needed him to touch you, too. You welcome his warmth without fighting back.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm not just saying this because you are my mate, " Both of you seem to feel satisfaction when he says such words, the bond in your chest seems to glow and sing "I... had to do terrible things to protect my court. To protect Prythian. It was not in the plan to do such a thing to you."

You think about his words, his eyes shining with sincerity. Lucien has told you things that would explain Tamlin's words, that actually make him a good male.

"Tamlin." To the sound of his name on your lips, the man suppresses a growl. "I... Lucien has been telling me things. And I believe you, and I believe you are good male. But the thing with my sister..."

The look in the Fae's eyes becomes embarrassed, and the emotions you feel through the bond are a mixture of shame and remorse. You don't know what happened between the two, but it must have been really difficult if it causes him such a reaction.

"I regret how I behaved. What I did. I was broken, as was she, and I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to protect her, and to this day I realize my mistakes."

You study his face. You find nothing but honesty and pure feelings, and he is really putting your instincts to the test. He's so handsome that you want to jump on him, but on the other side of the coin-you still don't know if you can trust him. But he's your mate, and he deserves at least a chance. There's such a battle inside your head.

"I forgive you. For the Cauldron, I mean. I don't know if she has forgiven you, or will but..." Your hand moves to his where he still holds your arm, both of you smiling. "I think you deserve a second chance, Tamlin. And I -- I'd like to try."

The smile he gives you, so genuine that it makes his eyes sparkle with brightness, makes you realize deep down that you made the right choice.

You have not made the right choice.

Neither you nor Tamlin ever returned to the meeting.

When you see your sister and the Inner Circle again, they are all furious with you. As if you chose the bond. You scoff at their looks.

"You disappeared all day with Tamlin. Do you realize that? What was I supposed to think you were doing with your mate, huh? Do you realize who we're talking about?" Rhysand yells at you. Feyre, who does not look angry but grieved, lays a hand on his arm, and after what seems like a brief mental conversation, the High Lord comes out with one last murderous look directed at you. Tears sting your eyes.

"Y/n, he didn't mean to be so mean, it's just that they have so many unfinished business..."

"What about you? What unfinished business do you have with him? Why do you all hate him here? And I'm not talking about the alliance with Hybern."

"None, Y/n. I have none. I have had my revenge. In all sincerity I wish him the best. And I want the best for you, too. So if you-if you've talked to him and he seems to-you seem to like him I won't have anything against you, or him, if you accept the bond." Saying these words seems like a great effort for her, but you appreciate it very much. Mor grimaces.

"No one? That male locked you up - no, he let you drown locked up inside his house. Don't you remember what condition I found you in? Well, in case you don't remember, I'll remind you, Y/n. That male after she was turned into a Fae locked her up in a room, denied her every single space of freedom until she went crazy and we rescued her. So don't-"

"Enough, Mor." Feyre says annoyed.

"You want the best for your sister, and you send her into Tamlin's arms without warning her what he would do to her?"

You are speechless. Tears wet your cheeks.

"But he told me-he told me he regretted it. That he was just as broken as you and that he just wanted to protect you..."

"Those are just words, Y/n. But in actions--what do you think is keeping him from doing the same thing to you? We will have no right to rescue you and bring you back here, because you are in fact his. Think carefully about what you want to do with such an individual." And with these words, Mor leaves the room, leaving you whimpering and afraid. Feyre approaches you and wraps you in a hug.

"Everything will be all right. I know you are afraid, honey. You just try, never stop trying, okay? You don't have to accept the bond right away. Even when you move in with him, if you decide to, you can wait and see if it's worth it. And in case it's not worth it, you can always come back as a free woman."

"I thought you hated him."

"No. Everyone deserves happiness, honey."

Before you can even consider your sister's words, war breaks out. Tamlin takes Hybern's side, but as you expected, it actually turns out to be all a double-cross.

You can feel his emotions through the bond, and you know he can feel yours, too. Sometimes your dreams come together and you are able to talk. If you were uncertain about trying before, now you are convinced.

Once you even woke up in the middle of the night. The bond in your chest overflowing with emotion - lust. Excitement. Pleasure. It didn't take long to realize that your mate was pleasuring himself. Just the thought of it was able to make you damp between your legs, and you discreetly slipped a hand under the sheets and touched yourself fantasizing Tamlin in front of you, rubbing his hard cock with one hand, while his eyes were fixed on yours. You reached your climax in the same moment he did, and you could have sworn you heard his laughter on the other side of the bond.

It was also the first time you tried to touch that bond, pulling on that sort of golden thread that connects the two of you. Tamlin responded by doing the same, and when you went back to sleep, you fell asleep with a smile. That night you dreamed about how your mate taught you how to fly.

The next day you were not able to look anyone in the face, though.

But that was a long time ago.

Now you are not in the comforting warmth of your bed. You are in a tent in a war camp and you are freezing. Your body shakes as you try to rub your hands together. Your wings are sore and have taken on a worrying purple tint, you are almost tempted to go to some healer's tent and ask for an extra blanket, but surely they would be full of injured people, and they would need it much more than you do.

A wave of warmth through the bond radiates through you, and you are grateful to have Tamlin right now, but it doesn't stop there. He touches the bond, like he did all those nights ago, and you find yourself out of your sleeping bag, but not to go to the healers. You meet no one as you head to the Spring Court camps. Your heart pounds - you haven't seen Tamlin since that day at the High Lords meeting. A slight blush covers your cheeks. How will you look that charming male in the face after what you did that night?

You don't know which tent is his, but your body seems to know. The bond takes you straight to him. You can smell him - citrus and spice - even before you see him. You enter without even knocking or warning of your presence, aware that he is able to feel your closeness just as you are able to feel his.

"I've been waiting for you." The male offers you a mesmerizing smile. He is different from how you had seen him. He has cut his hair, and it now reaches just below his ears. He no longer has such dark circles under his eyes and looks decades younger. He is now the living definition of spring more than ever. The mere sight of the man could bring you to your knees.

"Hey." You greet him softly, still a little embarrassed. He notices, because his smile now turns feline. You're my little prey and I want to play with you, he seems to say. Only now do you notice a pungent note in his scent - blood. Your worry fills the bond. Yet you have felt no pain through it lately.

He seems to sense the direction of your thoughts, because he shifts his gaze from your figure to his chest. That's where he bleeds. He has been wounded in the chest.

"Tamlin... You're bleeding." He nods, then offers you a reassuring look.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a little scratch. You, on the other hand, looked very cold earlier." He cannot hide his concern.

"It's already better here, much warmer." You still feel the tips of your wings sore, though.

"To get to such a situation you must have been freezing for a long time, Y/n. Didn't they teach you how to take care of your wings in this situation?"

"Not really-I tried to ask, but I never got an answer." The anger on his face is impossible to mask. He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

"'Brute bastards." He hisses through his teeth. You feel in awe at his words; they are still your sisters' family.

"Tamlin..."

"No, Y/n. I'm fine, but you...fairy wings are different from Illyrian wings. They should have done some fucking research. You could have lost them, and do you know how painful that is? You could still be losing them." He finally realizes, and jerks around to get his blanket from his sleeping bag. It's thick and woolen, and as he wraps it around you, it smells of him in the best way.

"You're taking care of me." He looks at you surprised.

"Of course I'm taking care of you, Y/n."

"I want to take care of you, too. These days I've treated the cuts of the wounded, I can help you." Tamlin lets out a low growl, then shakes his head. He sits you down on his sleeping bag and positions himself next to you. Shoulder to shoulder. Even this small contact, divided by several layers of fabric, is capable of making your heart race.

"Please, mate. Let me take care of you." Tamlin sighs, then murmurs an unenthusiastic consent. You get up with the blanket still tangled around you, leave the tent without a word, and return a few minutes later with gauze, alcohol, and a clean bandage. You freeze in the doorway when you realize the man has taken off his shirt.

A shirtless male body was no stranger to you. You had often accompanied your sisters to see their males working out. You had gotten to appreciate the muscles. But Tamlin... seeing your semi-nude mate activates something in you, something similar to that night when you came with his name on your lips. You blush and approach slowly, he still has his back to you, as if he didn't hear you come in.

"Didn't they tell you it's rude to stare?" You know he's only joking, yet you still get embarrassed. Yes, you are used to a shirtless male. But to a shirtless male flirting with you? Absolutely not.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, but the thing that cools your blood is the wound you see ripping through his chest as he turns around. You look at him surprised, anguish and disquiet flow freely through the bond.

"It's nothing, Y/n. I'll live." You find it ironic how he is the injured one, yet you are the one being comforted. You approach in silence, your eyes fixed on the injury, and let him rest his back on the sleeping bag. You kneel beside him, the blanket now forgotten on the ground, and soak the gauze with alcohol.

"Put the blanket back on, Y/n. It's cold." You ignore him, focused on wetting every last millimeter of the fabric. Tamlin is about to get up, but you place a hand on his chest, blocking him. The contact with his warm skin makes your cheeks warm, but the blood on his chest freezes them.

"What is it?"

"The blanket. Put it on."

"No, I'll be uncomfortable while I medicate you." Tamlin growls when you answer him. You snort a laugh, protective males. "Do you find my worry funny, fawn?"

"Fawn?" You startle at the nickname.

"Don't change the subject, put it on."

"But I'm uncomfortable, Tam."

"Then sit on my lap and wrap it around both of us." You don't let him tell you twice. You do as he says and start dressing his wound, which reeks of Faebane. That's why it didn't heal. You notice Tamlin clenching his teeth from the burning and as if on instinct, you reach down to kiss his chest above the wound. At the level of his heart. You both smile, but do not utter a word. When you finish bandaging his cut, you give him another gentle kiss, this time over the bandage.

"So you heal sooner and feel better." You smile at him.

"You are such a little fairy."

"Is that an insult?"

"No, fawn, how could I ever."

You don't converse much longer, the fatigue of battle preventing you from doing so. You get off his lap and lie down beside him on top of the sleeping bag. You remove the blanket and he seems to inspect your wings. A satisfied expression appears on his face and without needing a word, you remove the blanket and use it to cover yourselves. Just five minutes, you think, then I go back to my tent or I'll risk worrying my sisters.

Five minutes turns into the whole night.

When you wake up, Tamlin is not there. You are under the sleeping bag, though. You smile at the thought. His side is cold, and you wonder how long you slept for. You get up and stretch, and take some time to poke around his tent, something you didn't do the night before. There isn't much there, but you were expecting it. You find a blanket with a note.

Take care of your wings.

You smile like a little girl under her Christmas tree. You leave the blanket there, but take his instead. It smells like him.

A little alarm bell rings in your head. Oh, God. Your sisters must be worried sick. You quickly grab your new blanket and run through the camps until you get to your tent. God, why did they put the Night Court and the Spring Court at opposite ends? It's an almost 10-minute walk.

You enter your tent panting where you find a very, very worried Feyre.

"Are you crazy! Where have you been!" She shouts without even looking at you. But then she does. She smells Tamlin's familiar scent on you. His blanket in your hands.

"Feyre...I can explain, I swear-" She turns a mocking smile on you.

"Ooookay. Maybe next time you warn before you leave. You gave us a scare!" She says without even time for you to respond, leaving you standing in the middle of your tent like a fool.

You and Tamlin have a kind of unwritten agreement. In the evening he pulls the bond slightly and you join him in his tent. The Inner Circle knows this, but says nothing about it. It's better that way. Once Nesta even came to call you, making Tamlin chuckle and you die of embarrassment.

He never tried to do anything more than cuddle you. And you are fine with that. You don't want your first time with your mate to be in a war camp, on a sleeping bag, with the screams of the wounded in the background. One time he even took you to the top of a hill and you stayed and watched the stars until dawn, then he had to go back to fighting, and you had to go back to helping the healers.

You are afraid to admit it to yourself, but you are falling in love with that wonderful man. And you are afraid of not knowing what will happen once the war is over.

The fear of not knowing doesn't last long, though. Because the war is over. Hybern has died by the hands of your sisters, and Rhys has even died and risen again. You meet Tamlin as the camps are being shown.

"Hey, fawn." He says, smiling at you.

"Hey, Tam." You return his smile, but a motion of sadness contorts your lips into a grimace. Tears are quick to stream down your face. You don't want to cry in front of everyone. Tamlin seems to understand this, because he grabs your arm and within moments you are on the hill where he took you to see the stars a few nights ago.

"It's nothing, it's just ... I don't want us to be apart." Tamlin can swear he feels his heart break and recompose itself at the same time at your words, at your tone. At the emotions you are sharing with him.

"Neither do I, y/n. Neither do I."

Tamlin kisses you. It's sudden and unexpected. It is not a real kiss: he simply lays his lips on yours. His hands caress your face gently. After a few moments, you relax and respond to the kiss with just as much sweetness. Just as much love.

"Come home with me, Y/n. Come stay with me at the Spring Court." You think about his words. The words of the male you are in love with, your mate. Your heart tightens with happiness at those words. You will think of your sisters later: for now you just want to be in Tamlin's arms.

"Yes."

Communicating this to Feyre was easier than expected, and since you had nothing significant in Velaris, you went straight home with Tamlin.

The Spring Court is... beautiful, breath-taking even. You can't hide the warmth in your chest, the feeling of home it communicates. And seeing your mate in the place where he belongs enhances the experience.

It is warmer than the dry cold of the camps, and you begin to sweat under the layers of heavy clothing. Tamlin notices, and invites you to follow him inside his palace until you reach a bedroom.

You take time to look around. The house seems full of life, smells of flowers and nature, and glows with gold. It is different from what you expected: Rhysand had mentioned, years ago, that he had paid a visit to the High Lord of the Spring Court, and found him in a miserable condition. And like him, so was his house. But to you that sounds like a far definition from reality.

The room he takes you to is beautiful. It is very different from the typical ones in the Night Court. There the wood is dark, the floors are rough, and everything looks like it's been through a battle. They're not ugly, they're just - gloomy.

While the Court of Spring is full of light and warm colors. The bed frame is made of a light, delicate wood and is carved with flowers and leaves. The room does not have much besides the well-prepared bed. There is a closet that echoes the pattern of the headboard, and Tamlin heads straight there.

He opens it, revealing a surprising amount of clothing.

"You can choose whatever you like, I'll wait outside." He smiles at you and you smile back.

You leave the room wearing a new dress. It is the one you liked most. It makes you feel like a fairy, but positively. It is definitely better than what you wear in the Court of Night. The fabric is softer, the pinkish white of the skirt is a color you've never seen before but already love. Tamlin's face lights up as soon as he sees you.

"You look beautiful in my Court clothes, Y/n." Your cheeks take on a rosy hue as you whisper a vague thanks. He holds out his hand to you and you immediately take it. Without a word, he begins to drag you through the corridors you admire all the way to outside. Into the gardens.

As soon as your eyes meet such beauty ... your breath catches in your throat. Your mind immediately wanders to your sister, Elain. How she would love it.

Your mate looks at you smugly.

"Do you like it?" You can do nothing but nod. Tears well up in your eyes at the relief you feel, and you realize you have lifted a burden, the opression of the Night Court.

The words come out of your mouth before you can even think them, let alone stop them, "I want to accept the bond."

Tamlin looks surprised. "What?"

"I-obviously if you want to. But-"

Your mate interrupts by kissing you. You are surprised the first few moments, but you quickly recover, responding to the kiss. The bond in the center of your chest seems to sing with joy.

"Now?" He asks when he pulls away from your lips, a gentle blush covers his cheeks and he is short of breath. He has never looked so good. You nod.

"A little further on there are some fruit trees. If you want we can go there."

You nod, and he takes you by the hand, fingers interlocked with yours, and once again leads you to some fruit trees. You take the opportunity to admire the beauty of his court again. Which will now become yours as well.

You stop in front of a loquat tree. In a comforting silence you turn to pick a fruit. You have nothing with you, and you struggle a little to peel it. You split it in half and offer it directly in front of his lips. He bites into the loquat with his eyes on yours. He finishes the whole fruit.

The bond seems to rejoice and shine and seems to unite your two souls even more than before. His gaze communicates to you that you have a long day ahead. A long night, too.

He kisses you fervently, his hands gripping your hips making you moan in the kiss. You didn't expect to feel this way. Sure, your sisters told you something about the frenzy ... but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The intensity of what you feel is almost overwhelming.

You pull away from the kiss with a heavy breath. Tamlin's predatory gaze, the lust in the look, is impossible to mask.

"Fawn... tell me no now, or I won't be able to stop later." You don't even think about saying no. You desire him as you have never desired anyone. You want to feel him all over.

"Please, Tamlin. I want to be yours."

You spend all afternoon making love on the fields, careless of who might see you. You return only when it begins to get dark. A huge smile on your face.

You made the right choice.

@rcarbo1

[munsons-hellfire]

The Power of Emotions | Eris Vanserra

SUMMARY: You are Feyre’s twin sister. But like your older sisters Elain and Nesta you were thrown into the Cauldron. Now dealing with the repercussions of your powers, your finally allowed to go to an event, where you discover your mate is Eris. Things take a turn for the worse after that.

PAIRINGS: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, family drama, mentions of trauma. If I missed anything else let me know but I think that covers it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this will be split into at least 2 parts maybe more I'm not sure yet. I also changed how the powers could be used. That being said, i'm very excited for this. I hope you all enjoy it!

WORD COUNT: 5.8K

PART 2

Cold. Cold. So cold.

You were drowning, not able to breathe.

Suffocating in the Cauldron.

Your body was changing, you were no longer a human.

Cries left your mouth as you fell out of your bed onto the floor. Shivering, teeth clattering, emotions on high alert. Others crashing into you. It was the same thing every night. Every night never changes since you were thrown into the Cauldron.

You squeezed your eyes shut and pulled your knees up to your chest and moved into the corner of the room like you did every night after your nightmare woke you up. You were silently hoping that someone could help you. But Rhys, and Cassian, and Azriel, and Mor, and Amren, they didn’t know what was happening to you.

Nesta was more concerned about Elain, then she was about you. Though you didn’t blame her, Elain was a ghost in a shell. The days had passed and the only one that had started to show any trace of concern for you had been the three brothers. Every morning one of them would come into your room to give you food and make sure you were up.

Every morning they’d see you in the corner of the room. Your eyes vacant, your knees pulled up to your chest, your arms wrapped around your knees holding them in place, and your empty eyes staring into nothing. They had all tried to talk to you, to get you to move but you didn’t. By nightfall you were too exhausted to hold yourself there anymore that you’d finally eat.

Then afterwards, you’d drink the mint tea that you’d come to love. One of the brothers always made sure there was a sedative in there to make sure you got some sleep. You knew they gave you a sedative but you didn’t mind so much, it allowed you some sleep for a few hours until the same nightmare woke you up again.

But this was different, today was different. Emotions were high, the highest they’d ever been. You could feel everyones, from Rhys, to Cass, to Az, to Mor, to Amren (or what she’d let slip), to Nesta, and to Elain. Dear sweet Elain, hers were the strongest, and they were hurting you. Tears were slipping down your face.

You were in the middle of the room crying, silently. Your teardrops fell to the lush black carpet in your room. Finally you couldn’t take it anymore and stood, then you started pacing around the room. Your words were chipped, but they were the same phrases.

“Stop.”, “Please.”, “No, no, no.” All these were the same phrases that left your mouth. Your eyes were almost empty. There was pain in them, not from the nightmare you’d had but it was there. This alone was just from feeling Elain’s emotions. You didn’t understand why hers were so strong today. You still hadn’t processed the fact that you could feel emotions.

As a human you’d always been good with picking up on people’s emotions, but now it was heightened. Now it was miserable. Feyre had been back for a few days now, no one had told her just how bad it had been for you, until he had finally broken and told her before they’d gone to sleep. Rhys stood next to his mate, pain in his eyes.

Feyre was messing with her fingers, staring at her twin. They were watching you pace around your bedroom repeating the same phrases over and over. Mumbling to yourself as you pull on your hair. Emotions were everywhere, you could even feel yours. It was overwhelming and you were drowning in the sea of emotions.

You still hadn’t told them that you could feel, sense, and manipulate emotions. You didn’t understand it though so maybe that’s why you hadn’t mentioned anything to them. Maybe that’s why you had dealt with it for so long. While it was too much at the end of the day it was better than being stuck in that Cauldron all over again.

Feyre briefly pulled her blue-gray eyes away from you and connected with violet eyes that had become oh so familiar to her. “She’s been like this since you came back from Hybern?” Feyre questioned her mate.

Rhys gave a nod of his head. “Yes. If not pacing then she’d been in the corner of her room, knees to her chest, vacant stare. She’d stay in that position until she grew exhausted and we could get her to eat and drink.” Rhys explained. He then paused, running his hand through his black locks. “Then it repeats, then some days she’ll be pacing. Today, Az… he said that it’s been a rough morning.”

Feyre looks back at her twin. “What does that mean?” Her voice is broken as she asks the question and it pains Rhys to see her in pain over her twin.

“I don’t know. I might have a theory but I’m not sure yet.”

A broken sob escaped your lips. You fell to the floor, covering your pointed ears. Elain’s sadness was swimming around you, hitting you right in the face and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t block her and everyone else.

“Stop.” You whispered. “Stop. Stop. Stop. Make it stop.”

You cried harder, more tears falling down your face and onto the carpet. Feyre stepped into the room leaving her mates side as the General and Shadowsinger appeared behind Rhys. This was the first time since she had returned from the Spring Court that she was seeing you. The first night Feyre got back you’d been asleep, knocked out. You weren’t mad at all, though you had assumed that she hadn’t stopped by when she had.

“Make it stop, please.”

“What’s wrong, sister?” Feyre asked, kneeling down next to you.

When she placed a hand on your back her emotions filled you, tangled with Elain’s emotions as well as everyone else's. A scream of agony broke free from your mouth. You scrambled on your legs backing away from Feyre, moving to the corner of the room and pulling your legs to your chest as you hid your head behind your arms. The three brothers saw the hurt look that had washed onto Feyre’s face. But it quickly disappeared.

“Tell me what’s wrong sister.” Feyre demanded, moving closer to you.

Feyre needed to know why you had recoiled at her touch, why you’d moved to the corner of the room, why you’d been acting so so different from Nesta and Elain since coming out of the Cauldron Made. Feyre briefly looked back at her husband.

“E-Elain, she’s so sad. So sad. It hurts.” You cried out. “You, you’re happy, and sad, and confused. Everyone else… it’s a mix, it’s all over the place. Please make it go away.”

Azriel knew exactly what you were. Rhysand knew exactly what you were, what you were capable of. Cassian tightened his jaw, this was going to be a headache. Not so much because he didn’t like you. No he already loved you like a sister, but if this was the confirmation of your powers they’d have to keep you hidden. They’d have to keep you hidden from Beron. He’d want you for his own personal gain. This was not good.

“What do we do now?” Azriel asked his brother.

“We keep her hidden until she’s controlled her powers.” Rhys spoke, both in Cassian’s and Azriel’s mind.

“First we need to get Feyre out.” Cassian added.

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys spoke out loud. Rhys stepped into the room and held his hand out towards Feyre as she looked back at him. “I need you to come with me back past the door.” He said softly, his violet eyes steady on his mate.

“What? Why? I’m not leaving my sister. I’m not leaving her alone to deal with this. I refuse to do that.” Feyre said, still looking at Rhys.

“Trust me.” Those were the only words that left his mouth.

The battle raged in her eyes between wanting to help her sister and wanting to listen to Rhys. She looked back at her twin. She hated seeing you in this kind of pain. So Feyre stood from the floor and walked towards Rhys placing her hand in his. He pulled her out of the room, seconds later a shield had been placed on the entire room.

You could breathe, somewhat. You opened your eyes feeling only your emotions and no one else's, Amren included. It was just as it was before you’d come out of the Cauldron, before you could feel every single emotion in that dreaded room including that King. You could still feel your power, still access it, but it was more contained by the shield Rhys had put up to protect you.

Finally you pulled your hands away from your face. Your eyes immediately found your sisters, for the first time since exiting the Cauldron a small smile graced your lips.

“How’d you do that?” You asked, eyes on Rhys as you picked yourself up from the ground and walked away from the corner. You moved closer to the door and stared at each of them.

“You’re an Empath, Y/N.” Azriel stated, Feyre looked at him with the same shock that you had on your face.

“You can feel everyone’s emotions, can manipulate them and use them to your advantage. You can even manipulate your own. You’re a very powerful Empath, considering they’re a legend. You just don’t know how to control your power yet.” Cassian added, reciting from what he knew of Empath’s.

“This shield will protect you from our emotions while you learn to control your powers. If any of us step inside your room we will have a shield around us so you can’t feel them until you're ready to try and manipulate them.” Rhys paused, his violet eyes falling onto Feyre. “We’ll need to learn all the history we have on Empath’s, it’s not much but it’ll help. We will help you learn to control it, Y/N.”

You gave a nod of your head. “Thank you.” You breathed out. For the first time since you’d arrived at the Night Court you finally felt a sense of peace. To know the true name of your ability, it no longer seemed like a curse.

-

It had taken you six years to fully train your powers. During that time you’d healed, you’d trained with Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie. You’d done the Blood Rite with them and completed it. You became a Valkyrie. You’d never again be the same as you were when they broke into your home, took you away. You’d never be weak again.

Your powers had become your friend, you’d learned to block emotions out that weren’t your own. You’d learned to manipulate them, to get others to do whatever you needed with just the single ability of manipulating your emotions. It would’ve helped in the Blood Rite but you made it far.

Training with your older sister had allowed the two of you to heal the broken relationship you’d had with each other. Now you couldn’t imagine not having a close relationship with Nesta. You were finally ready to step outside the Night Court for the first time since being Made. Rhysand wanted to test the limits of your powers.

Tamlin was hosting a party in his Court. Most were hesitant to travel to the Spring Court. He sent word that his court was finally rebuilt. He was hosting a ball. All Courts were invited, though you doubted that anyone from at least the Autumn Court would show. In the six years it had taken you to hone your powers you had discovered what they made you capable of.

Cassian was right, you truly were powerful and if Beron found out he’d want to have you. He knew that Beron would like that you could manipulate the emotions of others. That would likely be the moment they’d strike their bargain with Eris and kill the male so Eris could take over as the High Lord. You stood near a wall, a glass of wine in hand. You were near Cassian and Nesta, who were on the dance floor with a few others.

Some of the High Lords had stopped by and asked for a dance. You’d turn them down except for Helion. He’d piqued your interest. He was a beautiful male, it was glorious that he had created Lucien. Elain and Lucien were perfect for each other. In fact all your family was perfect with their mates. Even Mor and Emerie had started seeing each other and it made you so excited.

But now more than ever you felt so alone. You were thankful to be Feyre’s twin sister and thankful that they’d hidden you to keep you safe but now you felt as though you were missing something. You swirled your red wine around before taking a sip of it. Your eyes landed on your twin. She was so happy, dancing with Rhys with his hand on her belly. They were expecting their second child.

Nyx was also on the dance floor, the happiest smile on his little face as he danced with his parents. Everyone was happy, so so happy. And you, well, you were sad, so so sad. It was moments like these where you missed having your father around. A tear slipped down your cheek and you were quick to wipe it away. But that didn’t stop more from falling down.

There was a presence beside you, and now more than ever you wished the wall would swallow you whole so this stranger didn’t have to see you cry. You shouldn’t be crying; this was a happiest event. Tamlin had announced his mate's pregnancy at the start of the ball and here you were crying because you missed your father and you felt so alone.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” His voice was oh so soothing as it echoed through your pointed ears. It was a voice you wouldn’t mind hearing on a regular basis. You were drawn to it and you didn’t even know why.

“My apologies.” You remarked, still not looking at the male. You’d tried to keep your voice steady as the words came out but it was broken. He kept his gaze on you, like he was refusing to remove his eyes from you.

“Oh, come on, Little Fox. Don’t be so mean.” He paused when you finally turned to get a better look at him. You took in his toned body or rather what you could see through the warm Autumn suit he’d been wearing. His red hair was short but styled neatly. Finally your eyes landed on his beautiful amber eyes. “Like what you see, Little Fox?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “As if.” You mumbled, looking back down at your wine.

“I’ll repeat what I’ve already said, I don’t believe we’ve met.” He said holding his hand out to you hoping you’d take it. While he didn’t know exactly who you were aside from belonging to the Night Court just from the scandalous dress you were wearing. That was one thing he was certain of, the other being that you were his mate. He felt the golden thread in his chest the moment his amber eyes landed on you.

“I’m Y/N. I’m Feyre’s twin sister.” You said, taking a hold of his hand and shaking it. There was a spark she felt when he touched his hand, though she wasn’t sure if it was due to his powers or because she felt something between them. And for some reason, you couldn’t get a read on his emotions which was odd considering you could feel everyone else's.

“Eris Vanserra.” He paused looking out at your sister and her mate who were now looking over at you two. “I didn’t know Feyre had another sister let alone a twin. You two look nothing alike.”

You smiled at the mere mention of his name. Oddly enough you wanted to say it more and it was included in the bedroom. Shock found your face, why were these thoughts all of a sudden coming to mind.

“We get that a lot.” You smiled softly at him. The male felt that his knees would give out any moment if you continued to smile at him.

“Would you care for a dance?” He asked, hoping you’d say yes.

“I’d like that very much.” You placed your drink down on the table and placed a hand in Eris’.

He pulled you out to the dance floor. Some of the other’s had stopped dancing to watch you and Eris. He placed one hand on your hip while the other was in your hand. You rested your other hand on his shoulder, that sweet smile he was starting to like was still on your lips. Music began playing and the two of you began to dance, ignoring everyone in the room.

“So, dear Y/N, why has your High Lord and Lady kept you a secret?” Eris asked, as you and him spun around the room. More eyes were on you now but still you didn’t care. It was only you and Eris in the room and no one else.

“After I came out of the Cauldron I had a really hard time with a lot of things including controlling my power. They kept me locked up and protected until I got control. I trained with my older sister, made some new friends. Completed the Blood Rite and became a Valkyrie. Now I work alongside Cassian and Azriel going on missions. But Feyre and Rhys thought it was a good idea to finally bring me into the world of the Fae officially.” You explained.

Angry flared inside his chest at the mention of what had happened to you. “They kept you locked up?” He asked, bypassing everything else.

“It was a universal agreement, I couldn’t step outside the shield.” You shouldn’t be telling him this. But you felt comfortable around him, you trusted him completely.

“They locked you up.”

“Why does it bother you? We barely know each other.” You paused taking a breather. You didn’t want to talk about your powers not here. But he wasn’t giving you a choice, and you were trying to manipulate his emotions to move him away from the topic but it wasn’t working. It was like he was immune to your powers.

“It doesn’t matter. They kept you locked up these last 6 years.” His voice was the same.

“No. No. No.” You paused, then the two of you stopped dancing and the room erupted into an applaud.

But you didn’t hear it, your ears were ringing. The gold thread was tying around your heart. You were lifting your hand to your chest, a gasp coming from your lips. Eris was your mate, and suddenly everything made sense. You grabbed his hand tightly and pulled him off the dance floor leading him out of the room. Rhys and Feyre had watched the exchange between you two.

“She’s his mate.” Feyre said, a devastated look on her face.

“I think so, Feyre, darling.” Rhys’ voice was smooth as he agreed with her.

You and Eris walked into the hallway where no one else was. You walked into another room and closed the door behind you. Eris stood still watching as you turned from the door and looked at the male that was your mate. You knew the stories surrounding him, you had heard what he had done to Mor and now you were even more confused that the Mother thought this male was supposed to be your mate.

As you looked at the princling before you, you saw the sudden change in his posture. It was just the two of you and there was no audience. This male standing in front of you was so different from the mask he wore outside surrounded by everyone else.

“Why did they lock you up? Why did they keep you away from me? Six years they kept you hidden from me. Six years we could’ve had to get to know each other, exploring each other.” Eris’s anger was evident in his voice and you were trying so hard to change the way he was feeling but it still wasn’t working.

Tears started to break through again. “Because I was thrown in that Gods damned Cauldron. I was turned into a High Fae against my will. I struggled to not only control my emotions but I struggled to control blocking out everyone else's emotions. They were attacking me and I couldn’t breathe, I was drowning from the nightmares, from the emotions, from the pain of everything. I’m an Empath for crying out loud and for the life of me I can’t figure out why I can’t manipulate your emotions.”

The words left your lips before you even had a chance to stop them. Suddenly Eris was in front of you, his hands cupped your cheeks. He was wiping the tears from your face, a soft look on his face.

“Shh.” He whispered softly. “I don’t know how much you know about an Empath, but typically they aren’t able to manipulate their mates emotions because their mate doesn’t need to hide anything from them.”

You looked up with tears at the edge of your eyes. “Ooh.” You nodded your head. You closed your eyes, inhaled, exhaled, then opened them again. “Rhys and Feyre wanted to keep me hidden out of fear that your father would take me and use my powers for his own advantage.” You felt Eris’s breathing stop, his body went still and he clenched his jaw as he looked down at you.

“I will not ever let my father get near you. You are my mate, I will protect you until my last dying breath.”

You couldn’t stop yourself, the gold thread in your chest was humming. You closed the space between you and Eris, then you placed your lips on his kissing him softly. He pushed you back against the door kissing you harder. His hand moved to the door knob and locked it to make sure no one would come in and interrupt you two.

Your hands find purchase in Eris’ red locks and you pull on them. You pull back from the kiss staring at him with glazed eyes. This is the last thing you expected to happen, but you need him, you need to feel him. Eris pulls your hands and walks you over to the bed. He pushes you down and crawls on top of you. His mouth finds your neck and he sucks some of your soft skin into his mouth. Eris moves his way down his mouth moving between your breasts.

His hands slid up your waist until they made contact with your breasts. A gasp left your mouth when he squeezed one of your nipples. Your scent was starting to mix with his and it caused a groan to leave his lips. Eris pulled his hands away from your nipple and moved down your body. Pulling your dress up off your body until it eventually comes off.

The only thing you were left in was your underwear and heels. An annoyed groan left your lips as you stared at Eris noticing he still had all of his clothes on. You leaned up just after he pulled your heels off and threw them onto the floor. You moved your hands up the length of his arm, pulling around his shoulder and down.

You grabbed a hold of his shirt at the bottom and pulled it upwards towards his head until it was off and discarded somewhere in the room. You placed a devious smirk on your lips as you moved your hands down towards his cock. It was hard and you couldn’t help but widen the smirk. You stood to your knees and shoved your hands down his pants dripping his cock tightly.

A moan left his mouth, his eyes fluttering close. “Gods.” A whisper breath left his mouth. You moved your other hand up and started to untie the strings until his pants were loose enough. Then you removed your hand helping him out of the rest of his clothes. You sat him down on the edge of the bed and moved in between his knees.

Your hand wraps around his cock and you start stroking it. Leaning forward you take his cock into your mouth swirling your tongue around the head. Eris lifts his hand grabbing onto your hair and moves it out of the way so he can watch you take his cock further into your mouth. You couldn’t fit the rest of his cock in your mouth so you used your hand to pump the rest.

This hadn’t been the first time you’d slept with someone you didn’t know. But Eirs was your mate, and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life only hearing his moans as you sucked his cock. You pulled back, moving your hand up and down his length. You slipped your tongue out and moved to the bottom of the base and licked all the way to the top.

You sucked the head of his cock back into your mouth moving further on his length until you started to gag. Eris exhaled, pulling you off before you could have a chance to make him cum. You looked up at him, a sly smile on your lips.

“As much as I’d like to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours I need to be inside of you now.” Eris stood and picked you up, throwing you on the bed. Your legs were bent at the knees. He grabbed a hold of your underwear and pulled them off, throwing them on the floor. He moved closer to your cunt and licked a stripe from bottom to top tasting your juices.

He groaned at your taste. A moan left your lips and Eris moved up your body. He grabbed onto his cock and slid it through your folds getting his cock wet. Eris finally thrust his cock inside you, both you and him moaning in unison. Eris bottomed out inside you. His arms rested on either side of your head and you had wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Gods, you’re so tight, Little Fox.” He moaned out, closing the space between you and kissing your lips again.

“Please.” You whispered when he pulled back from your mouth.

“Please what?” He asked with a stern voice.

“Please move.”

He smirked at you. “Such a pretty Little Fox.” He whispers in your ear.

Eris pulls out, then shoves his cock back in. He starts to pick up his pace, his hips slamming into you. Another moan escapes your lips, your eyes close tightly feeling him inside you. Feeling so close to him like you’ve never felt before.

“So good.” You moan out. Eris pulls one of his hands away from your head and wraps it around your neck. A groan escapes your lips as he tightens his hand around your neck. You can feel your orgasm getting closer just as you feel Eris hit that sweet spot inside you. “Close.”

“What a needy little thing you are, mate.” He breaths, continuing to snap his hips into you. His cock pulled out only to be pushed back in. He can feel himself getting closer to his release but he wants you to get your release first.

“Yes. Gods yes.” You reply. The thrum of the gold bond sitting in both your chest grows brighter and brighter as you both get closer to your release. Eris pulls his hand from your throat and moves his thumb down to your clit circling it. That’s all it takes, your release hits you and you tighten around his cock.

“That’s it. Cum for me, Little Fox. I’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good. You’re mine.” He tells you.

“Yours, all yours.” You moan out. Finally Eris feels his release hitting him. He spilled deep inside you. Dropped his head into your chest and exhaled. Eris slowly pulled out and laid down on the bed next to you and pulled you into his chest. You felt the blanket being over you, your head rested on Eris’s chest. “So what now?” Your voice was soft and afraid as you asked the question.

Your earlier words of what his father might do to you replayed in his mind, Eris turned his head and looked at you finding you already looking up at him. “I think it’s time I kill my father.” He whispered.

You picked yourself up, pulling the sheet with you to cover your chest. Eris was standing pulling his pants up. There was a serious look on your face. “What? You can’t be serious? I mean that’s… Why do you want to do that?”

Eris turned around, his amber eyes resting on you. “I’m protecting my mate-” Before anymore words could leave his mouth the door was slammed open. Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta and Azriel walked into the room.

“What are you doing?” You asked, looking at your family.

“We could ask you the same. Sleeping with the enemy?” Azriel questioned a voice void of any emotion.

“Please, get out.” You whispered softly, looking away from them. Yes they were your family and you loved them all but they still made you feel like you weren’t a part of the family. Eris noticed the sudden change in your body, like you were trying to pull away. Feyre looked at the boys, and they turned around. Then Nesta walked over to you grabbing your clothes.

“Get up, get dressed, we’re leaving.” Nesta ordered. She gripped your arm and pulled you from the bed. A whimper escaped your lips.

“Let go of her.” Eris ordered, his angry eyes resting on Nesta’s grip on your arm. You and Nesta looked back at the male.

“She’s my sister.”

“And she’s my mate, and you’re hurting her. Let go of her.” The glare was evident on his face as he continued to stare.

“Go get changed now, Y/N.” Nesta was glaring back at the male. You nodded your head and walked into the bathroom. You could hear them arguing as you changed back into your dress. You didn’t want this. You opened the door and the scene before you horrified you.

“Stop. What are you doing?” You asked Azriel who had a knife to your mates throat. He looked back at you.

“He’s manipulating you, Y/N.” You could feel everyone’s emotions. They were all on high alert, Eris had his eyes on you. He was calm, it was like he was trying to make sure you stayed calm too.

“How? How is my mate manipulating me?” Your eyes were glowing, something none of them had seen when they started training you to control your powers.

“He lured you to bed, slept with you. Now you're defending him, he’ll use it against you.” Nesta’s voice filled your ears and you looked at your older sister.

“Get out. None of you get to decide who I sleep around with. None of you decide anything for me. You’ve all kept me hidden for 6 years because you thought Beron would capture me and use me against my own will. And you might be right, that might still happen. But Eris, my mate, he will not do that to me.” You didn’t realize what you were doing until Eris was in front of you.

“Let them go.” His voice was soft, his hands cupping your face as you contorted your face in confusion.

“What?” Finally you looked around the room, your eyes landed on Azriel who was grunting over in pain, then your eyes found your older sister. She too was in the same position. “I-I did this?” You asked, staring at Eris. Feyre was near Nesta while Cassian and Rhys were helping Azriel from the ground.

“It’s ok, breathe Little Fox.” Eris gripped your hand, you'd never done something like this that much was clear. Nesta’s eyes landed on you a glare you’d never seen her give you.

“I-I-I’m sorry.”

Suddenly you could feel everyone’s emotions again, you couldn’t control it. You’d hurt two people you cared about so much. A cry left your mouth as you started to back away from Eris.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean it.” You were shaking your head moving back towards the window.

Rhys, Feyre, and Eris were walking towards you trying to keep you away from the window. The windows were opened but you didn’t know how far of a jump it would be. All you knew is you needed to get out of here. You needed to breathe.

“It’s ok, Y/N. We know you didn’t mean it.” Feyre’s voice said calmly. Everything happened so fast, you felt Rhysand’s power rumbling through the room. You didn’t mean to do anything, but Feyre was on the ground. The same pain that ran through Azriel and Nesta was running through her. The tears were back again.

“I didn’t mean to. Rhys, I’m sorry. I don’t. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Let her go, Y/N.” Rhys’ voice rumbled, suddenly the rest of the High Lords, your sister and her mate, Mor, Emerie, and Gwyn were at the door. Eris looked back and saw his father, he had his eyes on you.

You nodded your head. Eris tried to walk closer to you, but you shook your head. Feyre could breathe again and that was all that mattered. You backed up too closely to the window and before Eris could catch you, you fell out. Eris was the first to turn around and run out of the room heading to the side of the mansion. You groaned, lifting your hand up to your head feeling a wet substance.

You pulled your hand away to see blood dripping down your fingers. Panic still running through your body you stood up and grabbed a hold of your dress taking off running. You felt dizzy. So dizzy. You didn’t know where to go, only that you had to get away. You didn’t make it far though, you ran right into the chest of someone else.

You looked up seeing the one person that Rhys and Feyre had been trying to protect you from the last 6 years. It wasn’t your mate, it wasn’t your sister’s, and it wasn’t any of your friends. Beron placed his hand on your arm and gripped it tightly causing you to whine out at the pain. You were sure that a bruise would be there tomorrow.

“You’re coming with me, Empath.” With those words the two of you winnowed away, disappearing from the party.

[sad-scarred-sassy]

The tragedy of Spring - Chapter 4

Summary: An unexpected conversation.

Read on Ao3

Feyre had excused herself from Helion’s reunion in his suite, simply wanting to get some rest bracing for another long day of meetings ahead, when she stumbled upon him in the quiet halls of the palace that always hosted the High Lord’s meetings. She had gasped softly at the sight of him, and had debated turning around and leaving. Damn her when she didn’t, when her treacherous feet had planted and she had watched him come to her slowly, reluctantly, as if he was also debating engaging with her.

“I see you’re doing better” He said, his body stiff. Up close he looked better than she had seen him before. His hair seemed longer, shinier, his clothes were perfectly tailored to his strong body, much bigger and buffer than he had been the last time she saw him.

Before coming to Dawn, she had told herself that she wouldn’t spare him any of her time, thoughts or energy. Rhysand hadn’t even mentioned anything regarding their last catastrophic discussion about Tamlin and she had been glad for it. She had made a decision, she had accepted that her relationship with her mate was not what she had thought it was, she had tried to find happiness in what she could control. She had tried to forget about her conversations with Tamlin in Spring and what it had awoken in her. It didn’t serve her, it only made things murkier.

She didn’t know why she was entertaining him in that moment, but she was, and it irritated her. It irritated her the way he was looking at her, as if he could read her, as if he could see beneath her shiny exterior.

“You too” She said, signaling awkwardly to his regal attire. He did look like a High Lord of Spring, tall and proud, full of color and sizzling with raw power.

He looked down at himself, as if just now gathering his appearance, fists flexing at his sides in the dim corridor of the exquisite palace.

“It’s been nice hearing about Spring thriving again” She blurted out, well aware that this conversation was a stolen one, an unnecessary one. She fidgeted with her long midnight blue sleeve at the thought of the Court she had helped destroy, trying to bury the deep guilt she felt now. Why did she even mention it?

He nodded, flashing her a small smile. She caught the glimmer in his eye at the mention of his flourishing Court, as if something dead inside of him had come back to life. With an introspective shock, she realized he looked beautiful. She locked her jaw and took a sharp breath.

“If you will excuse me” She turned to leave.

“Feyre” He called and she stopped in her tracks, she could feel his intent eyes on her, but she didn’t look at him. She braced herself before turning towards him again, her whole body urging her to find out what it was that he wanted to say, why he stopped her.

He was looking at her with a slight surprise in his face, as if he hadn’t meant to stop her, he opened his mouth to speak and hesitated.

“You didn’t go back” He said and uprighted himself, standing taller. “Is he treating you right?” He asked with a small nod of the head.

The question surprised her and the look of pity in his eyes enraged her.

“Why do you care?” She asked watching as his head cocked in a lupine way, hands moving to cross at his back. He seemed bigger, more confident than she had ever seen him. It made her tense and hesitant, unable to leave, to remove herself from his preying green eyes.

He shrugged. “I do” He looked her over, waiting for her response. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but seeing him here, healed, confident, thriving made her feel like she was a failure. If he wanted to hear a sob story from her he wouldn’t get it. She would be damned.

“He is” She said tightly. In a way, it was the truth. Misery likes company, they treated each other like they both deserved to be treated. Rhys was more often than not gone, and it worked to keep some peace when they did see each other. Still, silent dinners and tense conversations were the normal, and she had grown used to him deciding most of everything regarding their lives. Since their conversation he had at least stopped pretending to give her false agency.

She kept looking at him, his face was calm, unruffled, simply reading her like she was an open book. It was uncomfortable. She didn’t need his sympathy or valiant display of protectiveness.

“I’m his mate and High Lady, he would never treat me poorly” She said, the words intended to make him back off, but they didn’t land. Instead he simply watched her. His green eyes just moved up to look at the delicate crown in her brow for a second, before dropping down, gaze narrowing slightly.

“I never knew you wanted that” He said very quietly, almost to himself, words filled with something that sounded like regret, eyes saying ‘I would have given it to you, had you only asked’. She fisted her hands, she didn’t know why she felt so riled up by his soft disposition. Nothing she threw at him was giving him pause, she felt petulant and immature.

Maybe she was.

“Yes, well” She said, dropping her gaze. “I don’t think I knew myself” Her tongue finished and she immediately regretted it, reiterating in her mind that she shouldn’t even be speaking with him, and should just leave.

“You’re a fine High Lady” He said and she stopped in her tracks.

“Am I?” She pinned him with her eyes, a spark of rage in her tone “Don’t mock me”

He knew how little power she had in her situation, she could see the pity in his eyes, the ‘I told you so’ that he wasn’t voicing.

“I’m not mocking you” He said and she wanted to roll her eyes, but she held it, going with the ruse of the civil conversation they were pretending to have.

“You know I’m not-“ She said but pressed her lips. “I’m trying to help, as much as I can” As much as he lets me, she didn’t say. She had been submerging herself more on learning about politics, history and management, had also been trying to help implement new laws for the Night Court, laws that would abide females, she figured someone should care, since she had began to realize it wasn’t a priority to her husband. It also served to make herself more busy and ultimately less in her head. She had presented the new policies in the meeting earlier –Rhysand had let her, eager to display a modern front and flaunt her as High Lady– and she had felt Tamlin’s green eyes intently watching her, his whole attention poured on her while she talked.

Those same eyes were now placed on her intently, his expression serene and contemplative.

“It shows” He said, raising his eyes to look at the hallway beyond. Then he gave her a smile. “I always knew you would become a great leader” She stared at him, his words hitting something inside of her that she didn’t think she would feel– regret.

“Have a good night” He gave her a nod and began turning to leave.

“Lucien told me he and Elain were visiting the new Court” She blurted out before he could leave. “He said it was beautiful” She said and blushed a bit at her own words. She should have let him leave, should have left the conversation at that, but she didn’t. Why didn’t she?

He looked like he hadn’t expected her to say something like that. He ran his hand through his hair, she forgot he had never been too good at taking compliments, much less for his hard work. “It’s still small. I invited everyone on my lands to join and help build it, grow something from the ground up” He mumbled, then he looked up at her again.

Lucien had told her how magical it was, and she had reluctantly listened to him talk about it while they had tea, swallowing her shame and guilt. Him and Elain told her all about the new Spring Court, located in the middle of the Forest, built around a river and waterfalls. Tamlin had convinced his people –initially very reluctant– of helping him rebuild something beautiful, had used his riches to create a safe haven for whoever needed it. Elain had been so enthralled by it, even if Feyre knew her sister still held some resentment towards Tamlin, she could see she had grown to respect him.

Standing here now, a small, ridiculous, foolish part of her wished she could see it as well.

“I’m sure it’s wonderful” she cleared her throat.

“You are welcome to visit” He said, green eyes pinned on her every breath and movement. She felt a flush form in her chest all the way to her face, and she realized, all of a sudden, what she was doing, what conversation she was having. She fisted her hands and took a breath, she needed to talk plainly with him and leave.

“He knows I went to Spring” She said and looked into his unmoved eyes. Mentioning him in that manner broke her from the faint spell she was in, and she held the urge to look at the shadowed corners as if expecting to see her friend there lurking in the dark, listening, watching her at all times. She didn’t rule out that possibility.

“Hm” He said, not in shock, just as if confirming a suspicion.

“You knew?” She asked, feeling a sudden irritation rise up inside of her.

“I have been warding my lands better” He crossed his arms in front of him. “My new sentries sensed a few attempts at trespassing. I had a hunch”

She felt a cold panic go through her. “What? What if he-“ Her heart started beating loudly in her chest, she hadn’t thought of the possibility. “What if he destroyed what you’ve built?”

Tamlin gave her a small laugh. “Why do you think he hasn’t done that yet?” He cocked his head at her. “Rhysand is smarter than that, fortunately or unfortunately for us” He gave her a cold smile. “Give me some credit, Feyre. I’ve been dealing with him for centuries, I know how to keep him on his side of the continent”

“You don’t know what he’s capable of”

“I do. I know very damn well” She felt the weight of his stare then, knowing what he meant. “He probably knows you’re talking to me right now”

She pressed her lips tightly. “You are being way too calm about this”

“I do not care, I thought that much was clear”

“You should care. This isn’t a game. And I will not be a pawn you use to somehow try to win it” She said almost as a whisper.

“You still think everything I did was to win some fucking game against him? Don’t offend me” He took a step closer, a wild energy exuding from him, one she could not begin to process, resigning to simply feel it encase her, fighting the urge to enjoy it.

“It was never about him” He said. His hot breath hitting her face. “When I risked everything I had for you, it was not about him, not about winning” He stepped closer again, she felt the wall behind her as she tried to put more space between them. Her heart was suddenly pounding too loudly in her ears, her throat, the bottom of her belly.

His green eyes were roving her features, something like hunger pulsating from them. Her throat was closing, her mouth was dry. She had to stop this.

“He will kill you” She repeated what she had told him once.

“I want to see him try” He spoke and she felt the words hot on her mouth.

“I thought you didn’t care”

“I changed my mind” His face hovered above hers, his chest so close she could feel the heat emanating from him.

“I’m his mate, Tamlin” She said very, very softly, making him shudder slightly, his eyes dropping to her mouth when she spoke his name.

“That didn’t stop me before” He whispered, the rumble of his gruff voice vibrating through her whole body.

“I thought you were sorry about that” She breathed.

“I’m not sorry about trying to save you from him. I would do it again” He said and she frowned.

“Stop risking everything you have for me. I am not worth it. Move on” She clenched her jaw.

“I am not risking shit” He whispered, his lips so close to hers she could almost feel them. “I was blind before, but not anymore. I’ll move on when I see you’re happy”

“I am happy” She sniffed. He simply stared at her, saw through her lie. “You have more important things to worry about” She said when his eyes dropped to her mouth, her jaw, her neck, her heaving chest.

“Maybe” He said, voice breathy and slow. She had forgotten about the chemistry that used to encompass their relationship, that used to cloud her mind and make her forget their struggles, she never thought she would ever feel it again, the pining and heat of having him so close, talking to her like she was a beast he was trying to tame.

“Come to Spring” He whispered again.

“I can’t” She couldn’t believe his words, couldn’t believe her own words. “My life is made”

“You still have control of your life, Feyre” He said quietly. “You once dared me to fight” He looked down at her mouth, then back at her face. “Fight”

“I have fought my whole life” She trembled.

“So you know how” He gave her a one over, eyes taking her in, memorizing her.

“I won’t fight to go back to you” She said, a spiteful remark that only had him narrowing his eyes.

“You don’t have to come back to me” He said, but his nostrils flared as he smelled her, smelled her uncalled for, betraying heat. “It’s a safe haven, you will always be welcome” He cocked his head and her blush deepened. “You used to love being wild in Spring, do you remember?” His words caressed her.

Images of memories flashed through her mind’s eye–running around through fields of grass and wild flowers in feeble dresses, racing through forest paths in bare horseback, dancing sweaty and euphoric to the melody and beats of summer solstice music, making love in the soft earth–loud, messy and animalistic sex that made her feel like a goddess.

Her heart was hammering on her chest when she came back to the present, and she couldn’t form a word.

“I know you loved it, feeling free” He said softly, so softly she felt like crying.

“Was I?”

“As much as anyone can be, no one is truly free, you know?”

“Are you?” She breathed. “As free as anyone can be?”

“No” He said and wet his lips. “I’ve finally made peace with it” He said. “But you still can be”

She shook her head before responding. “No, no I can’t”

His intense eyes watched her for a few more seconds, then, he gave her a crooked smile. Stepping back he gave her a short bow. “High Lady” He said, then he strolled away, left her standing there in that empty hallway.

If Rhys knew about the conversation she had with the High Lord of Spring, he didn’t say, and she didn’t really care.

But his words stayed with her, and she realized that the decision she had made to be content, to accept her situation and not fret, tasted oddly of resignation.

And there was nothing she hated more than giving up.

[wiltingcrowns]

depending on the answer, a fic will follow suit. oh and also, my ask box is open if anyone is interested in requesting anything or wish to ask questions !

[high-queen-feyre]

Lucien who never left like he could be a good enough son for Beron, a good enough protected for Jesminda, a good enough brother to Eris, a good enough friend to Tamlin and Feyre, a good enough mate for Elain, spending time with Helion wondering if he was raised by him maybe he wouldn't be so full of self-doubt and loathing.

[unforgivenyunjin]

Eris slut shamed Mor and Azriel almost killed him for it.

Jurian laughed at Elain being raped and Lucien befriended him.

…

Tamlin degraded Feyre and Azriel threatened him for it.

Tamlin abused Feyre and Lucien still wants to be his friend in spite of it.

How am I not supposed to believe Azriel is the better man and better option when he’s shown time and time again that he respects women and Lucien…has tried to force them back to their abusers?

[ennawrite]

my dislike for Feyre started when she went back to the Spring Court in ACOWAR and told them some made-up sob story about how horrible Rhysand was to her and insinuated that he committed horrible, ungodly crimes against her but then got mad when people believed her and was like “How DARE you think my mate is a horrible person 😡” like babe…let’s think a bit…

(also: i dont hate her, i just prefer pretty much everyone else over her at the moment lol)

[acomaflove]