#fireleaf

[greeneyedivy]

just so you know, @acourtofwhatthefuck and i love you as much as you love us @kennedy-brooke 💕

and this applies to all of you who read fireleaf ��️

[kennedy-brooke]

HELLO. i actually dont have any words. i cant believe its over. actually crying atm.

Fireleaf (Part Twenty-Three)

Oh, @greeneyedivy and I are SO not ready for this 😭😭😭. The LAST PART. It has been such a pleasure having you readers come along this journey with us. Right from the very first conversations Ivy and I had, when Fireleaf was just a little idea, we knew it was going to be something special. We've enjoyed every second of working on this story, and we thank you all so, so much for the comments, the likes, the reblogs, the asks. We appreciate you and love you all, and we hope you enjoy this final chapter!

And Ivy, my love, my soulmate, my moon and stars, my braincells, I thank you for writing this with me, for sharing your brilliant brain and ideas and coming together with me to write the Lucien fic we so badly wanted in our lives. I love you wildly 💋.

Warnings: None.

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Dion and Willow were officially, finally, mated.

Their bond, your sister had told you in an excited letter sent to Dayview Cottage, had snapped into place when they, too, had decided to take a vacation. 

And though you and Lucien had taken an entire, much-needed month to just be together, you were looking forward to seeing everyone. To celebrating. To see what the new era of the Autumn Court was like.

“Hold still.” You murmured to Lucien, your faces inches apart. He’d watched your reflection in the mirror applying gold shimmer to your face, and had decided that he wanted to match.

“I couldn’t get any more still if I tried.” Your mate snorted back.

“You’re a fidget.” You dabbed at his cheeks, the gold absolutely resplendent against the tone of his skin. You leaned in to plant a quick kiss to his lips. “But a very pretty one.”

You couldn’t be more excited for Dion and Willow’s mating ceremony. A night of eating and drinking and dancing and just enjoying that the worst was behind you all. And after that, you were ready — ready to throw yourself into whatever the future held.

With both you and Lucien dressed up to the nines, the two of you stepped back to survey yourselves, side-by-side in the mirror. Your dress was of the same burgundy shade as the tailored jacket he wore. You’d both left your hair flowing down around your shoulders, little flowers pinned within — which Lucien had also insisted on joining in with. And with the shimmering gold on your faces, the sunlight streaming through the window, the love that radiated off of you both…

“We look…” you blinked, lost for words.

“Like a king and queen.” Lucien finished with a smile. “Or a High Lord and High Lady. Perhaps we should start our own court.”

You snorted. “A court of chaos.”

“A court of flowers and gold.”

You reached out, touching that gold that lined his cheeks, his outer eyes. “A court of poems and sonnets.”

And those russet eyes…emotion filled them. Love. Happiness.

“A court of always and forever.” He grabbed your hand. “Come, my queen. We have a ceremony to attend.”

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They’d opted for an evening ceremony, when the colours of the court were at their greatest. It was as though the day’s sunlight had lent its vibrancy to the various shades of autumn, painting a landscape that was simply breathtaking.

Almost as breathtaking as Willow in her gown. 

Ivory and jewelled, every drop of light seemed coaxed towards her. And she — she was glowing. As was Dion.

They made an utterly stunning couple, and that feeling of rightness that radiated from them, their love…you knew that you and Lucien must give off the same feeling. And proudly so. 

The ceremony felt intimate, despite the many people who had gathered to attend. The temple in which it was held was bathed in the buttery evening light, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows and seeming to cast a spotlight on Dion and Willow, and the priestess who had been selected to swear them officially mated. And gathered on the seats to watch the ceremony — your family.

Not the one you’d been born into. There was no sign of your mother or your other sisters, and it didn’t bother you one bit. Everyone you cared for was there, in that room. Eris and Linden. Catrin and Helion. Members of the Vanserra household’s staff that you were all equally fond of. And to tie it all up — you finally had the pleasure of meeting the other two Vanserra brothers, Lux and Hale.

It said a lot that they hadn’t rushed back upon Beron’s death, but were here for the ceremony, wives and children in tow. It was a relief that your introductions hadn’t given off any negative feelings, not made any alarm bells ring. It seemed that Lux and Hale were another two decent Vanserras. And had absolutely no qualms about the fact that Beron had been killed, and by Eris, no less.

And so, Dion and Willow swore their eternal love and loyalty to each other, their hands joined as the priestess announced them Cauldron-blessed. And with a chorus of applause and well-wishes echoing through the temple as they sealed their vows with a kiss, you weren’t surprised to find your eyes tearing up.

Such a journey you’d all been on. So much you’d all had to withstand. And yet here you were — you with your love, and your sister with hers.

Beron Vanserra had tried to break you. Had tried to destroy what you’d dared to dream of having. And now you had it — the happy ending. You all did. And he would never again be around to ruin it. 

You caught both Dion and Willow in a tight embrace, barely able to congratulate them around the lump in your throat. But when Lucien wrapped his arms around the three of you…when the four of you squeezed each other and truly stepped back to look at what you’d lived to experience—

You’d never felt happiness like it.

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The true celebration began when the sun had set, and everyone had sat down for the feast. 

The air held nothing but a sting of pure elation as you ate and drank and talked, the various voices of your loved ones all mingling together to create the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. There was nobody in that room that didn’t deserve to be there — that didn’t belong. And as you sat at a table with your mate and his brothers, getting to know Lux and Hale and their wives, their children running around excitedly whilst you talked, your sense of family only strengthened. 

This was home. This was love. 

Soon, the food was gone, making way for the best part of the evening — the music and the dancing. A live band of minstrels played fast, excited music amongst the beauty of the gardens, and it wasn’t long before most were gathered on the grass, their clothes a flurried flash of colour as they spun and danced and cheered, the flames of lit pyres casting such brilliant, intimate light. Every song was better than the last, every dance more freeing.

It was in the gardens that you found Linden — leaning against a wall, a wine glass in his hand as he watched the dancing. 

Or rather — you realised, as you followed his line of sight — as he watched Eris dancing.

You sidled up to your friend, easing his chalice from his hand and finishing the drink off in one huge gulp. He gaped at you in comical outrage, reaching out to gently pinch your arm.

“Asshole.” He admonished playfully. “I was drinking that.”

Your eyebrows flicked up. “Were you? It seems to be that the wine went warm while you were busy ogling the High Lord.”

Linden scowled. “I wasn’t ogling, I was just…”

“Ogling.”

The two of you stared at each other, a beat passing—

And then threw your heads back in laughter at the same. Linden pulled you into his side, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“Okay. Perhaps I was ogling a little. He’s a very pretty High Lord.” A smirk played on his lips. “Where is your lover boy?”

“Right now?” Your eyes flicked around the huge gardens, looking for any sign of where Lucien had got to. “I believe he’s happily being chased by a group of children. I don’t have the heart to break it up.”

You felt the chuckle that rumbled through Linden as he continued to hold you against him. And you contentedly sunk into the embrace, savouring his warmth, his scent.

You’d lost so much time with him when he’d been sent away. Never again would you lose that contact.

It was as though he’d read your thoughts as he pulled back, angling himself to study you. And despite the comfort and ease you’d always felt with him, in that moment, you felt strangely…self-conscious, under the intensity of his gaze.

“…What?” You asked, running a hand over the tight, hugging fabric of your dress.

“You’ve been through so much.” Linden murmured, rare emotion sparking in his eyes that instantly replaced the humour. “So much in that time I was away. All those years I spent training you…strengthening you…I never could have imagined what you’d have to eventually face. What you’d have to use that strength for.”

Pink dusted your cheeks as you dipped your head. “You taught me well. It was the strength that you gave me…thoughts of you…that got me through it. I never forgot what you said when you gave me that braid.”

He smiled — though it soon dropped. “I’m just—sorry, Y/N. That I didn’t come sooner. That I—”

“Enough of that.” Your hand flew up to cup over his mouth, halting his words in their tracks. “We were both victims of circumstance. Of my father’s schemes. But looking back on it now, I think…I think I needed to face it on my own. To learn what strength I truly had.”

Your dear, closest friend stared at you, the regret in his eyes eddying and shifting into warmth. Softness. Pride.

“I firmly believe,” you said, removing your hand from his mouth, “that everything happened exactly the way it needed to. Even the painful, lonely parts. The parts when I wasn’t sure I could get through it. I think…I think I had to face those things to get where I am now, Linden. And I couldn’t be happier—”

Your words cut off with a whoosh of air escaping you as he yanked you closer to him, wrapping his broad, muscled arms around you and squeezing you tight. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and he pressed your face against his chest. Pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I am so fucking proud of you.” He said quietly — just loud enough for only you to hear over the music. “So proud. You are brave, Y/N, and you are strong. And I cannot think of anyone more worthy of this happy ending.”

Tears warmed your eyes, and you pulled back to look at him, your arms still wrapped around him. “And what of you? What’s your happy ending?”

You didn’t think he was even aware that his gaze immediately made its way over to Eris, still dancing and showing no signs of stopping. Linden seemed to consider your words for a moment, his head cocked slightly.

“I’m not at all sure.” He admitted softly. “The future is always uncertain, no? But…but for now, I have a reason to stay here. And I feel excited to explore that.”

You could already see it — Eris, High Lord of the Autumn Court, and Linden at his side. The two made a stunning pair. And perhaps Eris was the home that Linden had spent over two centuries searching for.

At the mere thought of it, you almost succumbed to your emotions again — until a burst of excited giggles sounded nearby, and both you and Linden looked up to watch Lucien happily zipping through the hedges, his nephews and nieces hot on his trail.

Linden chuckled, loosening his hold on you slightly. “What’s next for the two of you, then? Children?”

You blinked. “Cauldron, no. I’d like…I’d like to live first. To just…be with my mate. And to see what the world is like when I’m not watching it through the bars of a golden cage.”

His smile was so utterly brilliant as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t wait to see what you do with the world.”

Before you could think of a reply, Eris was suddenly flouncing over to you, his cheeks flushed and his hair tousled. He met Linden’s eyes briefly, sharing a heated smile that was too intimate for your eyes, before he turned to you. 

“Care to dance with me, sister?” He held out a hand.

Your heart immediately warmed — not just at that word, but…but at the memory. All that time ago, now, at the Harvest Festival, when Eris had asked you the same then, too. 

Neither of you had known, at that time, the bond that would be built between you. 

One that you knew you would never, ever let go of.

It was with a great, unguarded smile that you placed your hand in his and squeezed.

“It would be my pleasure.” 

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You didn’t know how long you and Eris spent dancing, your feet eventually beginning to ache and the heat of the nearby pyres causing sweat to roll down your neck and back. But eventually, the fast-paced music slowed into something gentler, and you smiled as the two of you followed its lead, falling into a more languid dance that offered you the space to talk as you moved around the other dancing bodies.

“You look beautiful.” Eris told you earnestly, fond eyes flicking over you. “I hope my brother told you that.”

You laughed softly. “He tells me multiple times a day.”

“Ah — you’ve trained him well.”

The two of you shared a grin, yours shifting into a softer smile as you stared back at him. “You look beautiful, too.”

Indeed, he looked every bit the honourable High Lord he’d always been. A tailored suit of the deepest red and gold brocade, a crown of twining autumn leaves atop his head, and the strength and pride that shone in his amber eyes—

Magnificent. Eris Vanserra — your High Lord, your friend, your brother — was truly magnificent.

“And how is it?” You squeezed his hand. “Being the most important person in the entire court, and all.”

He snorted. “It’s a fucking chore. I’ve never drowned in so much paperwork. I’ve almost lost my voice multiple times, from the sheer amount of people I have to talk to. Sometimes, I’m so tired that I fall asleep sitting up — eating dinner.” He paused, his eyes glancing over your head…to Linden. “But I find that I’m actually enjoying it. Perhaps because of who I get to do it with.”

Something squeezed tightly in your heart. The realisation, perhaps, that things couldn’t have turned out more perfectly for your close unit than it had.

There had been pain. Tragedies. A senseless loss of three innocent lives.

But together, you would all live for them. Together, you would make your court into something everyone could be proud of.

Eris suddenly pinched your side, and you raised an eyebrow. “And what of you?” He asked.

“What of me?” You shot back.

“How is it being a wife?”

Your feet stuttered in their movements, causing you to stumble so clumsily that Eris had to right your stance. You blinked up at him to find him smirking at you, mischief shining in his eyes.

“You little shit, how did you know?” You asked.

You’d deliberately kept the news a secret and surprise, not wanting to steal the thunder of Dion and Willow’s ceremony. 

But it had been that same night that you’d officially accepted your mating bond that Lucien had gazed at you, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin — and asked you to marry him.

And you, of course, had accepted. 

You didn’t want a big ceremony. Not after all the planning you’d had to sit through for your wedding with Dion. The thought of months of planning a big event, just for the satisfaction of those you’d have to invite, made you recoil.

You just…wanted to be Lucien’s mate. And his wife. And so it was that very next morning that the two of you had gone to a temple alone, dressed in nothing but casual, everyday clothes, and had a priestess swear you not only mated, but wed. 

Lucien Vanserra — your mate and husband. You still couldn’t get your head around how lucky you were.

But the two of you had hidden your rings for the duration of Dion and Willow’s ceremony. You gaped at Eris—

“How did you know?” You asked again.

“One of the first tasks I wanted to face as High Lord,” Eris answered, “was to visit the various temples across the courts and begin discussions of repairs and renovations that my father neglected for years to arrange. He held no regard for the priestesses and their beliefs — and he allowed a lot of their temples to waste away over the centuries. It was during one of these visits that a priestess enthusiastically offered me congratulations on yours and Lucien’s nuptials — not realising, of course, that the two of you had kept it to yourselves.”

You snorted, hiding your face against his shoulder as your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. We didn’t want a big ceremony…after everything.”

“What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” He paused, pulling back to stare at you. “After all the two of you have been through, it seemed only right that you had something just for yourselves. Weddings are a chore, anyway. I’m happy for you.”

You swallowed hard, sure your eyes were glistening again. “Thank you.”

“And I’m absolutely honoured to officially welcome you to the family.” He grinned. “Mrs.Vanserra.”

You blinked, still not entirely used to the title. You’d not found yourself in a situation, yet, where you’d needed to be referred to by your new surname. 

It sounded…strange. Wonderfully so. And right.

“You know,” you cleared the lump from your throat, “there was a time when I dreaded the day I would be called that. Now…now I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Because you married the right Vanserra.” He squeezed your hand. “And you’re going to have a sickeningly happy life together, just as you deserve to.”

Never, under the heat of a thousand fucking suns, could you have predicted such an outcome. On that first night that you’d been at the estate, when you’d stumbled upon Lucien reading in the forest…never would you have thought that he would be the one to become your husband. Or your mate.

Perhaps you should have had an inkling — with how drawn you’d been to him, right from that first encounter. 

Be it fate or the Cauldron or the Mother…the path you’d journeyed, even at its toughest, deepest cracks in the road, had been the one you’d needed to traverse to get where you were now.

You had no regrets. Not a single one.

“And you and Linden…” You smiled up at him — your brother-in-law. “Perhaps one day, we’ll be revisiting this conversation, and you’ll be calling yourself Eris—”

“Y/N!”

Upon the interruption, the two of you glanced up…just in time to see Lucien hurrying over to you, hands firmly steadying the little girl who was perched on his shoulders…and who was sprinkling daisies in his hair.

“Look.” Your mate beamed at you, entirely in his element. “Hana and I made daisy chains.”

You stared at your mate. 

And then turned to meet Eris’s gaze.

And you knew — you damn well knew, as the two of you threw your heads back and laughed loud enough to drown out the music, that you were both thinking the same thing.

Thinking back to that conversation you’d had with Eris all that time ago, not long after you and Lucien had first slept together.

To what Eris had said to you: we don’t have the luxury or freedom to go gallivanting around fields and making daisy chains, or whatever it is that Lucien does in his spare time—

The two of you laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed until your stomachs hurt, until tears were escaping your eyes.

And Lucien just blinked at you. “What did I say?”

Eris snorted, shaking his head. His laughter was still choking him slightly as he let go of you, pushing you towards your mate.

“Dance with your wife, brother.” He said. “And stop hogging our niece. I want to dance with Hana.”

Poor Lucien still looked bewildered as Eris reached up, plucking his niece from his brother’s shoulders and setting her gently on the ground. And the sight of him tenderly leading her into a dance, holding onto her little hands and guiding her feet whilst she spun around in her dress — your heart damn near burst out of your chest at the sight.

But then Lucien was spinning you around to face him, planting his hands on your waist. You grinned up at him, holding back another laugh at the smattering of daisies in his hair.

He pushed his lips into a playful pout. “Why are you laughing at me, mate?”

Because you were happy. Elated. Because you could finally breathe and imagine a future. One that you’d chosen for yourself. 

But you merely pushed up onto the tips of your toes, a smile still on your lips as you kissed the love of your life.

“I’m not.” You said softly. “I just love you.”

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Hours upon hours passed, with no signs of the celebrations slowing. 

You enjoyed every second of it. Dancing with Lucien, and then Dion, and then Willow. Sitting down on the blanket that Catrin and Helion occupied and enthusiastically speaking to them, drinking down their stories. Getting to know even more about your other brothers-in-law and their lives, their histories. And you and Linden chasing the children through the wildflowers and joining their hands to dance in a circle whilst the sweet sound of childlike laughter mingled with the ongoing music.

It was easily one of the happiest nights of your life.

And when the sky began to lighten…when things finally began to wind down, and the children had curled up around Catrin and Helion and fallen asleep, and guests had begun to return home, and Linden and Eris and Dion and Willow each broke away from the group to go off in their couples…you grabbed Lucien by the hand and tugged him away with you. 

The two of you settled atop a knoll covered in vibrant wildflowers, and it was there that Lucien slotted you between his legs and you happily, quietly, watched the sun rise over the court, painting the sky in peachy hues. 

A new day for all of you. A new era. The rising of the sun felt beautifully symbolic, and for a long, long while, you and Lucien didn’t need to speak a word. You were content to just lie in the grass and flowers together, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

Day had truly broken by the time he angled you to look at him. And his russet eyes were brilliant and unguarded as he gazed at you.

“The book,” he said — the first words he’d spoken since you’d nestled down on that knoll, “the book of poems and sonnets.”

You reached out, idly playing with the braid he now wore every day. “What of it?”

For a moment, he seemed to ponder his words. And then he smiled…somewhat coyly. “I don’t know…it sounds a little silly, but…I began to wonder if that book was a prophecy, somehow. Of our story. Each of my favourite poems from that book — that I knew by heart before I even met you — seem strangely…accurate…to us.”

Your head fell into a tilt. “How so?”

He laid back, pulling you down with him. And his fingers slid into the strands of your hair as he stared up at the morning sky.

“The tempered glow of moonlit skies, sketched waltzes in his lover’s eyes, and no immortal heart did dance, the way his did so thoroughly.” He recited, the words smooth like silk. “That one reminds me of the masquerade ball — when we first kissed.”

You smiled, perching your chin on his chest. Gazing up at him. “And what else?”

“And in the storm, however brief, he bared himself for soil and leaf, and skin-to-skin he branded her deep, with all his flames that burned beneath — that one reminds me of the hunting trip. When we bedded down in that cave for the night and…kept each other warm.” He squeezed you. “And it goes on…a mossy cave that swallowed light, was where they bedded down that night, and as she slept, her face to his, he knew he’d never win their fight. And it’s strange…because I remember watching you sleep that night…looking so soft and gentle…and thinking that there was no way I was going to be able to fight off my feelings.”

Slowly, your fingers inched up to his face, dancing over his jaw, his lips. The words sent a shiver down your spine…such beautifully accurate words. 

It was almost as though that ancient, beaten-up copy of Poems and Sonnets Volume II had, indeed, prophesied the journey that you and Lucien would be taken on.

“I love that book.” You hummed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It makes me think of that first time I saw you…reading it against that tree, and looking effortlessly beautiful while doing so. I found you breathtaking.”

His lips twitched beneath yours. “Even though I was terribly rude to you?”

“I think it intrigued me even more.”

The two of you laughed, your eyes meeting and just…staring. Drinking each other in, bathed in that early morning light. Your happiness glowed even brighter than the sun.

“There was one more poem…” Lucien murmured, his breath fanning your face. “One more that always stuck in my mind.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheek. “Tell me.”

He paused, eyes scanning your face. And then he sucked in a slow breath, as though he was…nervous. “…For she was love, and lust, and hate. The lightning storm that souls create. And what chased him nightly from his sleep — the truth. She was, in fact, his mate.”

You stared at him, a lump rising in your throat.

And Lucien stared back at you.

And you only became aware of your tears as your vision blurred, and Lucien was reaching out to wipe the teardrops from your cheeks. Reaching out to kiss them away with his lips.

It was your story. Poems and Sonnets Volume II was, somehow, your story. 

It had all been there, perched in Lucien’s hands, from the first moment you’d laid eyes on him. A beautiful telling of what was to come.

And you were thankful for it all — even the bad parts, the hard parts. The parts that had seen you curling yourself up to cry yourself to sleep at night.

Because every bit of it had lent itself to this outcome — you and Lucien here, now. In love. Mates. Husband and wife.

Lucien Vanserra. He was yours, and you were his.

It was a purely happy sob that choked you as you told him, “I love you so much.”

And those beautiful russet eyes shone brighter than any sun possibly could.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. A promise of forever.

“I love you, too, my fireling.”

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lucien tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95 @draguta @pee-stachio @rem-ie @mateobneun-rattattui

[thetreetopcity]

The Bake-Off has begun!

Look at 'em go! Baking like the wind! This is... this is really impressive, how do they bake so fast? Oooooh, somebody dropped their mixing bowl. At least it only had eggs! Definitely saving that one for the highlight reel.

[koffing-time]

[an audio file, a recording from a radio show!

GOOOOOD Afternoon Hoenn and whoever listens in! Back with battles, back with tension, this is 99.9 FM Battleradio Hoenn! We are waiting for our Reporters to come in from Fortree City where a tournament is held for the Fireleaf Festival!

That’s right! We are here waiting for the very first battle to begin for the “Battles under the Big Tree” Tournament! My name is Thomas Lorraine and Melanie Shuckle is here with me reporting LIVE from the event! The first round is about to start and we see two almost monotype-teams already on the field!

Thanks Tom! Yes, indeed a Monotype Flying Team from Camper Terrell who is here, defending the Fortree City Gyms honour against Trainer Tix, a foreign trainer coming here all the way from Unova! They even participated in the Bake of yesterday and won 2nd prize! And now they try their skill in the tournament with an ALMOST mono-poison type team! Only their Rotom is the odd one out!

Now, Mel, lets summarize the matchup before the fight begins! Since you already mentioned the Rotom, let’s complete Tix team: We have: Toxicroak, Toxtricity, Clodsire, Crobat and Scolipede! I think it’s worth mentioning that Rotom is in its Heat-Form! Maybe even possessing Tix own oven?

Tom you clown! Anyways, Terrell is bringing his well-known Taillow and Swellow into the fight who are his aces in the gym! But he’s got them well supported by Skarmory, Dodrio, Fearow and a Noivern! Tom, what do you think about this matchup?

Well, Monotype Teams are usually easier to assess, and i think that’s the case here! While Flying and Poison Type usually have a neutral matchup, i think Tix has clearly the upper hand here! TWO electric types are already a HUGE boost for them and the fact that Rotom is in its Heat-Form will give another edge, especially against Skarmory who is immune to the Poison-STAB-moves. On the other hand, i do not see many type-based advantages on Terrells side!

Tom, i think i can’t actually add a lot to this! Let’s hope Terrell won’t be shut down too hard by this unfortunate Matchup! Oh- We are not bad with our timing, they are recalling their Pokémon and the referee is counting down to begin the battle!

There we go Mel! The Lead we are seeing is certainly interesting! I’m not sure if Tix meant to send out Toxicroak first, but Skarmory was an expected lead from Terrell!

Well, if Skarmory is trying to set up Entry-Hazards, Toxicroak might become a dangerous opponent, and we have no knowledge of his moveset yet! Oh and Tix is bold and just goes for the Swords Dance! Will they be punished or is Terrell going for the obvious Spikes?

NO Mel, he is not! An offensive Brave Bird Attack immediately OHKO’s Toxicroak that is NOT a good first round for Tix! But if i’m honest i didn’t expect Toxicroak to do much in this matchup anyways! What will we see now?

An interesting move from Tix to say the least! That is Crobat! What do they hope to do against Skarmory with Crobat Tom?

I have no idea Melanie, but what will Skarmory do against Crobat either? NOTHING it would seem! Terrell switches out! That is… Dodrio! Dodrio is coming in! AND WHAT IS THIS? Crobat uses Tailwind, very clever! You see, Terrells Team is very fast while Tix has barely any fast threats! And while we see Dodrio set up a Swords Dance just like Toxicroak, Tix switches again! This time Toxtricity comes in!

Tom, i think the battle is turning quickly! Toxtricity is VERY fast now and those Electric Type Moves will do a LOT of work here!

Yes Mel, i think Terrell just lost his composure! He is Staring in disbelief, his Dodrio just got absolutely DESTROYED by that Toxtricity! That was an Overdrive and Tix just drove over Terrells plans i think!

Tom, please don’t make any more puns today. Anyways, Terrell wouldn’t be a Gym Trainer if that would be the end of the battle already! He sends in his Noivern! Yes, i think that’s the only viable play here since it is not vulnerable to the Overdrive like the others.

MELANIE did you see that? Toxtricity does not care at all! She is just standing there, MENACINGLY! Playing Music, and breaking into a solo to release another Overdrive! And it is simply too much for Noivern, Terrell is in real trouble right now! His Noivern went down so fast!

Tom, it’s not looking good for the Fortree Gym here! Terrell sends out his Fearow, but i’m not sure what his plan is!

Mel, i have to say i think he’s not sure either! Because we are seeing a real quick battle here! Fearow comes out of her ball and immediately drops down as well! Terrell has only three Pokémon left, and all three are not well equipped to deal with Toxtricity!

Yes, yes you are right! His next choice is Swellow it seems! Or is it Taillow? No! No, it is Swellow!

Yes, that is Swellow indeed, but it seems Crobats Tailwind from earlier has subsided and Toxtricity has lost a bit of her speed! At least, ouch my ears! That was a Boomburst from Swellow. I think Toxtricity felt that too, but it is NOT enough to knock her out! instead, that’s it for Swellow, fainting from one more Overdrive!

There it is! That is Taillow now! I think Terrell has accepted that he will be defeated? Maybe? I’m not sure, that Taillow has trouble a few Gym challengers in the past!

Yes Mel, and Terrell has not given up yet it seems! Taillow is quick on the move and that is a very quick move by the little bird! Is that a Brave Bird? Or was it a Façade, i can’t quite tell!

It does not matter Tom, it was not enough to take out Toxtricity, and there goes Taillow! Oh my arc, a sweep to open the Tournament like that!

Don’t say that yet Mel, Terrell still has his Skarmory and he is sending it out right- OH MY ARC MEL! NEVERMIND THAT, THIS OVERDRIVE WAS SO FAST! AND IT KNOCKED SKARMORY CLEAN OUTTA THE SKY! WE HAVE OUR FIRST WINNER!

YES! YES WE DO! IT IS TRAINER TIX FROM UNOVA! WHAT CAN BE SAID TO-

the recording stops here.]

[pokemoncenterofficial]

OH MY KYOGRE I DID IT. I BAKED THE THING.

i dropped a bowl of egg but it's fine!!! washed it off and keep going! i'm definitely not going to win, but i'm happy with what i made!

[victorluvsalice]

-->While that was going on, I decided that while Alice was outside indulging her werewolf instincts, she could spread a little feed for the chickens -- while most of them were asleep, there was one hen up and hungry, and Cockadoodle the rooster was getting ready to wake everyone else up, so yeah -- might as well be prepared! She then wandered off to make a clay bunny on the back porch (fortunately avoiding the specter) before I directed her back upstairs to work on her book. THIS time, she was actually able to sit down and concentrate for a while, hooray. May all us writers be so blessed. :p

-->Smiler, for their part, got sent to check in on a yowling Kelly when she appeared on the back porch! Seems mama cat was feeling a little neglected with all the attention being showered on her kittens, so I had Smiler give her lots of calming pets to make sure she knew she was still loved too. :) Smiler then joined Victor in the greenhouse to unleash Bugs and Elmer on the plants, before hitting the cauldron grill to do a bit more herbalism! After all, they'd just gotten a bunch more locusts from Victor earlier this morning to use in their concoctions. :p They made a Soothing Skin Balm, which got them all the way up to Herbalism level 7, meaning they can make Natural Herbicide Oil! :D ...Theoretically, as it once again requires ingredients I don't have. >( I need to get them back to Granite Falls at some point to gather more plants and insects... Anyway, with that sorted, they then moved onto making a lovely yellow-and-orange flower arrangement, which got them to Flower Arranging level 6! Seriously, they were just BANGING out the skills today, let me tell you...

-->Around this time, Moory wandered out of their shed looking a little worse for wear, so I had Alice take a break from her writing to go give the cow a nice brush off. She then headed into the bathroom to give herself a pep talk (she was still feeling Gloomy from earlier), before being put on chicken coop cleaning duty. Smiler, for their part, tried offering the specter the Fizzy Fruity Drink from earlier -- unfortunately, this did not go well either, so I had them just harvest all their herbalism stuff and plasma fruit before going to clean out the cow shed (because, for some reason, the game wouldn't let me clean it magically anymore >( ). Victor, of course, was kept busy tending and harvesting the rest of the garden, because that's what he does around the house these days. XD What can I say, he is the Plant Guy!

[toxic-heartz-pkmn]

Oh yeah I forgot to mention it here, I'm going to be part of the battle tournament at the Fortree Fireleaf Festival!

I can't wait, me and my team have been training a ton, so we're definitely going to win that competition!

[ssspringroll]

U kno i got it bad when i remember one of my sims' first and last names and I've never even played with them before.

[teamgamble]

Midterms is over for us! We just got on the plane to Hoenn, since Jacob just got access to another part of his inheritance. See you in Fortree City!

Mod Isaac

[fukushublog]

the kids have been having a fantastic time here so far. damn fortree city's sure is giving me one hell of an arm workout.

[curses-and-curiosities]

FINALLY made it to my stand at the Fireleaf Festival! I'm on the further side of the street, look for the deep purple stand on the left! Nevermind that I'm nearly 2 hours late and I broke a definitely-cursed glass cup on the way here, I'm sure it's fine! Offering a Festival Discount today!

[kennedy-brooke]

STOP IT RIGJT NOW IM SO OBSSESSED WITH TJEM ALREADY.

If i wasnt beyond excitrd by the first chapter and actually buzzing over this one.

STOP KM SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES CHLO HELP

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | (02)

summary; after an awkward breakfast and some clarification, you and azriel take the next step in your agreement.

word count; 8091

notes; y'all I hope you love this, it's pretty much just 8,000 words of pure fluff, it's adorable. I love this series so much.

When the sunlight first hit your eyes, you groaned, twisting your face to bury deeper into the pillow. It wasn’t usually the direction that sunlight came in through your dingy window, warmth cascading across the wrong side of your face, and you dragged your hand up to cover it. 

Some day, you’d be able to afford curtains to properly block it out. That little indulgence just surged up a few places on your mental list. Before your hands reached your face, however, cool darkness blocked it out, your hand skimming across the mattress lazily, and one eye cracking open. 

Before you, like a swirling mass of darkness, was a tendril of shadow. Twisting slowly in the morning light, dancing between golden sun-rays and blocking it from your field of you. Your body jerked, a slight shriek falling from your lips as you scrambled back across the bed, bracing yourself to fall over the edge and hit the floor. 

You never did. The plush mattress seemed to stretch on and on, your body aching and protesting the sudden movements from where you’d still been on the cusp of sleep. 

The shadow looked almost amused, dancing along the streams of light and closer to you, meeting the mattress and slithering its way across the comforter towards you. At the first cold brush of it across your knuckles, the fog cleared, and your memories all seemed to come flooding back. It was some kind of blur, sweet smiles and towering wings and the taste of berries and warm spices like a memory across your tastebuds. 

Hauling your legs up to your chest, you bent forward, until your forehead could press to your knees, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. Your toes curled in the bedding, still warm, the smell of mist and fresh earth lingering around the room, like the smell of the air after it rained, calming and soothing and cool. When you finally lifted your head again, you could take it all in. 

There, still sitting atop the chest of drawers was your dress, folded neatly just as you’d left it. The tray of tea and cookies had been cleared from the stool at the end of the bed, but the plush cushioning still held a slight imprint of where it had sat all night. 

The shadow was back, splitting into two and whirling around each side of your face, the touch of them light like a ghost, smoothing over your skin like a feather, and your lips twitched a little at the edges. 

“You scared me, y’know.” The spiral they made around your fingers when you lifted a hand was like a silent snicker, and you watched them form ever-changing patterns across the surface of your skin, playful and sweet. “I’m not used to waking up and finding the shadows moving.”

The windows were shut, no gust filtered through the room, but the shadows in the room all seemed to sway once, like a breeze through curtains, shimmying back into place, and a gasp held in your throat.

“Am I supposed to leave now?” Your heart clenched a little at the thought, and though Azriel was nowhere to be seen now, you knew he must be somewhere, he wouldn't have just left you here in his bed. The shadows banded around your wrist, the darkness in the room seeming to pulse for a moment, and your brow inched up. “No? Am I supposed to stay?”

The flicker of shadows seemed like a far more empathetic yes, and your smile stretched more. 

“Well, then, where is your master?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d have sworn the shadows bristled at that, a sense deep within you telling you that they’d give a disgruntled huff if capable, and your chuckle blew them like powder on the wind. Detangling from our arm, they blew across the air, before reforming from mist and hovering in a swirling column near the bedroom door. 

The carpet was plush underneath your toes as you stood, stretching your arms high above your head, feeling your joints ease happily into the day after sleep on such a comfortable mattress, nothing like your own. One step after another, you seemed to inch silently across the house, no creaking or cracked floorboards, and the door clicked softly out of place as you twisted the knob open.

The shadow moved, darting away from you like a flash of black, and you glanced around the corridor, tracking each direction. Nothing seemed to give away where you should go, the maze of corridors and doorways looming along each direction was dizzying, and you wished you’d paid at least a little attention last night when Azriel had guided you through the house, instead of staring at his back muscles and blushing. That same blush played on your cheeks now as you thought about it. 

Hovering at the end of the hall to your right was the shadow, bobbing almost impatiently in the air, it's twirling like a ballerina’s ribbon increasing in speed as it hurried you along, and your footsteps were rushed as you chased after it before it disappeared again. By the time you reached the end of the hall, though, it was gone, and you peered around the corner just to be met with more halls. 

Hovering by an open-arch doorway, your guide traced the patterns on the wood, playing in each dip and rivulet, and the rest of the shadows along the hall fluttered towards it, encouraging you to keep going. As you neared, the smell of bacon hit your nose, warm and salty and enough to make your stomach grumble, and you licked across dry lips at the thought of it. That same shadow darted down, smacking across your forehead lightly and bouncing off, spinning through the air toward a set of stairs at the end of this room. 

You followed them down, down, down, until the carpet gave way to cold wooden floorboards, and more shadows seemed to slither along the bottom floor of the house, like lazy puddles that barely dared to shift or glance up as you passed by. 

The first few you tried to avoid, hopping around and past them, before it was impossible, and you were stumbling through clouds of darkness that merely shifted around your ankles, reforming on the other side, entirely unaffected by your presence.

At last, you found the kitchen, a room you knew, following the shadow, and the faint humming of a deep voice, accompanied by the popping of oil in a pan. Standing before the stove, miles of tan skin and dark leathery wings on display, Azriel stood before the stove, shirtless as he cooked, and leaving the few pale scars across his back exposed to you to observe. They were nothing like the ones on his hands, the uncontrolled and swirling flesh he’d been branded with. These were precise and clean, nicks from blades and arrows, even a few slightly puckered that seemed to mark the lashings of a whip, almost faded into the depth of golden skin now. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” A deep voice uttered, even more so than it had been the night before, and you felt the slight tremble of your legs with the rasp of it. Throaty and thick, his morning voice still hadn't cleared, and you wondered once again how this man could possibly be single, could need to resort to making a deal with you; the absurd deal he likely regretted once the sun had risen. 

“Good morning.” You mumbled, watching as he turned, a wide smile on his face as he put out the flame on the stove, the sizzling of the bacon slowing without heat. When he moved, you could see the contents of the pan then, your mouth watering. Not just bacon, but sausages too, and eggs. He stepped toward you, revealing more of the counter, a plate of toast and butter, ready to go. 

“You hungry?” He teased, shifting to grab for the kettle, and pouring some tea into an empty mug, before adding a dollop of honey into it. Making his way over to you, you could only nod, watching all the stacked, towering muscle of him closing in on you, until your back was pressed to the doorframe, head tipped back to look up at him. The teasing grin faded to a smile as he pressed the warm porcelain into your hands. “I cooked for you.”

“Very kind of you.” Your whisper was shared in the space between you both, and he raised a hand to tuck some stray hair behind your ears, before stepping back. His eyes flickered across every inch of your face, observing, analysing, and you hoped what he saw was what he wanted. 

“You feelin’ okay? How’d you sleep?” The words were thrown over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen island, tugging out a stool and tapping it, a silent order to take a seat. Your feet were moving before your brain had even caught up, sinking down onto the tall stool and bracing your elbows on the counter, still clutching the mug. 

“I slept better than I have in a long time. Maybe ever. You have a very comfortable mattress.” Words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, words that made you feel like an idiot, a fool— until he laughed, a soft chuckle under his breath, eyes sparkling as he turned to face you.

He passed over a plate, piled high with more food than you could possibly eat, before his own followed to the seat opposite you, and he sunk onto it. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Cutting into the meat on your plate, you could only offer a smile in response, choking back your embarrassment to cater to the hunger growling within you, and focus on your food. 

Several moments passed in silence, nothing but the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, the scraping of cutlery on the plates, and the occasional rustle to break the tension. Eventually, it was all too much. 

“We should probably talk about… it.”

“By ‘it’, do you mean our deal?” Azriel grinned, smirking a little as he popped another forkful of toast and egg into his mouth, chewing and staring at you, like you were supposed to start this conversation. Putting down your knife and fork, you crossed your arms over the marble countertop in front of you, settling the nerves quelling in your stomach that was almost making you nauseous.

“Look, Azriel. I really appreciate everything. Seriously, I can’t tell you how much it all means to me. You’ve been like some kind of guardian angel, sent to me when I needed you most, before I forced myself to do something I’d never be able to forgive myself for.” The smile slipped from his lips slowly, a more serious look taking over his face, and you rolled back your shoulders, willing yourself to be strong, and taking a deep breath. “However, I’m not the sort of person to take advantage of you, of any of it. So, I’m giving you an out. I know how bargains work in this court now, so surely I can give you a way to undo it.”

He stared for a second, chewing his mouthful slowly, and his gaze upon you seemed to narrow as he swallowed. Then, he took a sip of his tea, still staring at you across the rim of his mug, and your whole body felt electrified. Reaching up, you rubbed slowly across the back of your neck, feeling nothing of the mark that had formed there last night, and making a mental note to look for it later. “I don’t accept.”

“What?”

“I do not accept your out. I don’t want it.”

“You— You have to!” You burst, and he only shrugged, cutting off another piece of toast and dragging it across the juices on the plate, before stuffing it into his mouth. 

“Well, I’m not.” He spoke around his food, and you stared at him helplessly. “Now, eat up. I know you’re hungry, and I can make more if you still want something else after.”

“Azriel,” You started, and he stared pointedly at your food, like this conversation wasn’t going any further until he saw you eat. You’d barely started your meal, and he was halfway through his. With a grunt, you cut off a large chunk of sausage and bacon, shoving it into your mouth less than gracefully, and wiping at the droplet of grease that was making its way down your chin. He only grinned at you.

“I’m not accepting your out, because I don’t regret making that deal. Not even a little bit. I will give you an out of our deal, but only after you let me talk. Will you?” You were still chewing, slightly regretting your passive-aggressive portion, because you could only nod in response. “I don’t regret our deal, because when I woke up this morning, I was happier than I have been in a long, long time. That’s because of you. Do you know what I woke up to this morning?”

You could still only shake your head, wincing as you tried to choke down the mouthful with at least a little decorum.

“I woke up to the sound of your heartbeat. You were lying in my bed, one hand still around me, and my head was on your chest. I lay there for a good fifteen minutes just listening, and feeling, and loving it. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been alone for?” A shot of pain sliced through your chest, aiming straight for your heart and hitting its mark, your gaze softening as you looked at him. “I have not woken up in somebody’s arms like that before. I’ve— nobody ever stays the night. I don’t let them, and they don’t want to. They take what they want, and they go. By the morning, it’s cold and empty all over again. This time, I fell asleep in your arms, and I woke up to you.”

“Az…” Your voice was hoarse, and you ran a hand down the side of your face, stopping to rest trembling fingers over your lips gently, trying to process. 

“I’ve never slept so well either. But, it’s not just about that. Do you have any idea how nice this is? To cook for someone, and get to talk, and know someone else is here? I want this. I want it all.”

“But it would be so unfair to you.” Your words shook, and you reached out, taking one of his hands gently in your own, and smoothing your thumbs across the marred flesh, staring at the movements to avoid the weight of his gaze. “You’d be letting me live in your house, providing everything for me, you’d be changing my life, and—”

“And you’d be changing mine too. You know this.”

“But I can’t give you enough! I can’t make it even.” Sadness welled in your throat, a lump that made it hard to breathe. The selfish part of your mind was beating you for turning down everything you needed as it was handed to you on a silver platter, because your heart was in control right now. 

“You don’t mind my hands?” He said after a few moments of silence, and your motions stilled, eyes snapping up to meet his own. 

“What?”

“My hands. You don’t mind them?” His fingers flexed in your own, and you squeezed a little tighter. 

“Of course not!”

“And what about my wings? My shadows. Do they scare you?” He pressed, and a deep sense of longing, to comfort him, to hold him, rushed through your veins like a drug taking hold.

“Your wings are beautiful, Az. Every part of you is beautiful. From your golden heart to your pretty golden eyes.” His cheeks flushed with a little colour, and you smiled despite yourself, loving that you could dot hat to him. To the infamous and terrifying spymaster of the Night Court. “Your shadows are adorable and playful, and I like them very much.”

“Do I scare you?” His voice was a whisper now, strained like he didn’t want to ask at all but just had to know the answer. 

“No.” You replied, just as small and delicate. 

“Then why can’t you see, that it has to be you? There’s something special about you. I don’t want anyone else. If you don’t want this deal, then I will let you go, without question or pressure. But I don’t want anyone else, I won’t offer it to another.” He held your hand properly now, lacing his fingers with your own and holding tight. “You have no idea how much you’d be giving me by being here, how much I need you already. By staying, you’d be giving me everything, I’d be the one unable to ever repay you. I want it to be you, I want you here with me. Please, stay.” 

You worried your lower lip, your heart beating so hard it almost hurt, and your mind warred with the organ in your chest. You wanted to, you wanted so badly to stay here and be with him. It was surreal and wild and nothing like anybody had ever prepared you for. It was confusing, and different, and so strange. But despite every concern, it felt so right, like somehow, you’d stumbled to exactly where you were supposed to be, with whom you were supposed to be. 

“I have so much… so much to give, and nobody to give it to. Let it be you, please.”

“I think I would like to stay too.” You finally whispered, a shot of adrenaline surging through you as the words slipped free. Happiness followed, an overwhelming burst of it at the smile that Azriel gave you, dropping his forehead to your clasped hands. 

“Thank you.”

“Thank you, I have the easy part here.” You chuckled, taking your hands back to pick up your knife and fork when he finally freed them for you, still beaming as you as he resumed his own breakfast.

“Not true. All I do is let you move into my house, and live with me. It’s no great struggle. You have to…” He trailed off, shrugging a little, and your face flushed with heat, much like his own. 

“I hardly think you’ll be a difficult man to love, Azriel.” Your words were whispered, hanging in the air for only a second between you both as he stared, before you cleared your throat, shattering the moment. “What do I do? What would you like? We should probably talk about that.”

He was silent for a few minutes, contemplating your question, and you resumed your eating, trying to get the spinning whirlwind of your thoughts back under control. You’d seen less chaotic sandstorms in Dawn than this felt.

As you finished your plate, somehow managing to finish off all the food that was there, a proud look passed across Azriel’s face as he watched, pleased with himself, it was clear.

“We do… whatever you want. I’ll follow your guidance, you tell me where your line is. If all you want is to be roommates, then that’s what we will be. I want everything, and anything you want to give.” He finished his food, stacking your plates together with a satisfied nod. “You make the rules, you set the boundaries. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“Should we make another bargain of it?” You pondered aloud, reaching for your lukewarm tea, and your companion was full of simple amusement.

“Don’t ever make a bargain of something where the terms could change, or you’ll never be able to get rid of your promise mark. If I teach you only one thing about the Night Court, I will teach you about deals and promises.” Your hand flew to the back of your neck again, eyes widening.

“They can go?”

“Of course, once a promise is fulfilled, they disappear.”

Your gaze flickered down to his chest, across swatches of strong and taut muscle that was decorated with ink. “You’ve got all those promises currently?”

He sat back, arms stretching a little, and looked down at himself. “Some of them. This one,” He traced his fingers across a splotch of intricate ink just to the right of his heart. “is a promise to my brothers. We all made a promise, to be there for one another no matter what, always. It hasn’t been always, and so the mark remains.”

It made sense, and you looked for more, picking out a blooming pattern across his left shoulder. “What about that one?”

“That is a mark gained by becoming a warrior in the camps. Illyrians wear these tattoos like medals of honour, the more tattoos, the more honour you have. You see how they look ever so slightly different to the promise brands?” He beckoned your clothes, and you rounded the island to observe them with more detail. A shimmer of starlight passed through the promise marks, hardly visible to the naked eye unless you really looked for it. The Illyrian swirls, however, were ink-black and ominous. 

“Will you tell me about the rest someday?”

“Happily.” He whispered, muscles jumping under his skin a little as you raised a hand, not daring to touch him but tracing the air over his skin, looking at the beautiful designs that covered so much of his shoulders, arms and chest. “There’s a lot, though.”

“We have time.” You offered, and he swallowed thickly, only nodding a quiet response. 

“Yes, we do.” Quiet hung between you both again, dragging on, until you finally stepped away from the magnetic pull of his space, putting a healthy amount of distance between you both. Finally, you could meet his eye again, and finally, you could take a lung-filling breath. “We should go to your apartment, and get your things.”

“I can do that.” You waved a hand, and he scoffed, slipping from his stool to deposit the used dishes into the sink to be tended to later. You made a mental note to make sure you got to them before he did, it’s the least you could do after he cooked.

“Let you go back there alone, are you crazy? Not a chance.”

“I’ve been living there for weeks just fine.”

“Don’t remind me.” He grumbled, wiping his palms across the front of his sleep pants, and shaking out his wings. “Wait here, I’ll go get dressed. You can go in that.” 

His words were final, and he disappeared through the kitchen archway into the mass of shadows looking far less sleepily now. You stood no chance of following him through the house without getting entirely lost, and so you only huffed, glancing down at yourself. It would do, you supposed. It wasn’t exactly a classy part of town anyway, and your dress was far worse. 

You contemplated putting your heels back on, having just about found your way to the doorway once again, taking the jacket he’d loaned you last night and shrugging it on, heels in hand as he came back. Just the look of them made your feet ache already, and you decided against it, barefoot it would have to be, even if the thought made you cringe. 

When Azriel reappeared, it was in black skinny jeans that did wonders for his thighs, and a hoodie just as dark to match. He’d tamed the messy bed hair he’d been sporting, and donned a glowing blue siphon across the back of each hand. 

He looked so normal.

“How does that work?”

“How does what work?” He asked, dropping down to begin doing up the laces on his boots, and you felt under-dressed and embarrassed, feelings you were rapidly becoming accustomed to.

“Your hoodie and your wings.” He raised a brow, straightening up as he finished tying his laces. 

“They have slots of my wings that fasten underneath, just like this t-shirt and jacket.” Sliding his hand around your back, you gasped as he slipped his hands through the gaps, calloused fingertips brushing the bare skin of your back for just a second. 

“I get that, I meant, do you have to get them custom made, or is there… y’know, a store. Wings R’ Us.”

He paused, staring at you in pure shock, before bursting out with laughter, and his hand tightened a little on your back, tugging you a fraction of an inch closer to him before he slipped his hand free. 

“What? It’s a valid question!” You mused, but your laughter mixed with his after only a few seconds, his hand retreating to hold your arm instead. You were still laughing as shadows flocked around you, darkness consuming you both, before you were re-emerging on the street outside of your apartment building only a few seconds later.

It was even worse in the daylight, and your laughter fizzled out as you looked up at it. Broken windows, glass covering the sidewalk, dead grass and mysterious puddles all over the pathway. The door was busted in, some windows border up entirely, graffiti and gang signs and burned patches of grass. One patch still had embers flickering. Running down the steps in a disgusting stream was a fresh upchuck of vomit, the tang of it lingering in the air, threatening to turn your stomach. 

“You should stay out here. I won’t be long.”

“What? I can come up with you.” He took a step towards you, and your hand pressed to his chest, fingers spreading, and your head shook softly. 

“It’s fine, you just wait here.” You didn’t want him to see your apartment, the broken window you’d tried to cover yourself that let in the cold, the mould on the walls, the broken furniture and door that didn’t look properly. You weren’t sure you’d survive that humiliation, having seen his house now. Your new residence, you supposed. There was no need for him to see this. 

He didn’t look too happy, gaze moving to the building when voices trickled out from inside, unpleasant curses reaching both of you through the broken windows. “Fine. But, be quick. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I know you will.” That seemed to satisfy him a little at least, and you didn’t look back at him, not as you weaved up the stairs, being careful to avoid all substances in your bare feet, and slipped through the broken entry.

The stairs were cracked and splintering as you made your way up, you wouldn't miss them even slightly, and as the shock of it all settled into acceptance, a secret smile just for yourself formed. It still felt somewhat selfish to be having what Azriel offered you, you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve it, but it didn’t stop the relief, the overwhelming flood of warmth that filled you, knowing that soon enough, you’d be out of this building for good.

As you slipped through the unlocked door of your squalid apartment, you hoped to never see it again once you left. 

Dragging out the solitary trunk you’d been able to travel with from under the bed, you hauled it up onto the squeaky, stained mattress. Undoing the latch, you flicked it open, dust and dirt forming in the air as you swept your hand through to clear it. Below your feet, shouting started, voices beginning to raise from a couple below who seemed to do nothing but fight through all day and night, and you sighed. You certainly would not miss them. 

Slipping off Azriel’s jacket and laying it across the box, the first thing you did was find some socks, and a real pair of shoes. Finally, with them laced up and secure across your feet, you felt a little more secure with every footstep you took, no longer dodging splintered wood or hurtful shards. 

After brushing your hair and washing your face, you were finally beginning to feel more like yourself again, a small back of rapidly dwindling cosmetics sitting on your broken bed. Below you once again, the fighting got even louder, before something heavy crashed, and the impact of it reverberated up the walls and shook the floorboards under your feet. You paused, the sprinkling of crumbling drywall falling to the floor as the cracks in your walls expanded.

Darkness flashed across the room, exploding out to all corners so quickly you almost missed them. Shadows darted to observe as Azriel spun in place, calculating gaze taking in everything, a dagger in one hand, shoulders squared and braced for a fight. When he deemed the space clear of immediate threat, he turned to you, shocked and shy, mortification creeping in until the edges of your vision was blurry. 

“I heard a crash, and I panicked. What the Hell was— are you okay?” He was on guard again, stalking across the room to loop an arm around your waist, crushing you to his chest, and you gasped a shaky breath. 

“I told you to wait outside!”

“I know, but I was worried!” A tear threatened to break loose from your eye as your body heated from head to toe, humiliation making itself known. “Let me help you pack. The sooner we get you out of here, into a place with a door that actually locks, the sooner you’ll be safe, and I’ll feel much better.”

The words echoed across the front of your mind, and you stepped away from him, emotions overwhelming as he looked at you in confusion. “How did you know about the door not locking? Did you send one of your shadows to spy on me?”

“No! Of course not.” His shoulders slumped a little, and you almost felt guilty for the accusation, his shadows coiling tighter around his body now. “They just told me when we got here, and I think some of them came with you. They kinda’ have a mind of their own sometimes. You asked me to wait, and I respected that, but I thought you might be in danger. This place is…”

Your chest felt hollow, fiery emotions pulling back and leaving you utterly drained, and you looked away from him to wipe at your cheeks and blink back tears. “This place is all I could afford. It’s not much, but it was good to me, for what I needed. I know it’s not great, I wish I’d had a chance to…” You waved a hand around the awful space, a wet and self-deprecating laugh leaving you, “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to see this—”

“I grew up in a dungeon.”

“You what?” The words best out of you on a shocked breath, your upset was temporarily forgotten as you looked up to him, and he grimaced at himself just slightly. Tucking his knife back away safely behind him, he scratched at the back of his head. “I didn’t… that wasn’t the best way to say that. I just wanted you to know I wasn’t judging you. I grew up in a dungeon, literally. The dark and the cold were my only friends. I would have gone crazy for a place like this as a kid, it would have been a luxury. And don’t even get me started on the trainee dorms and cabins at the camps. I don’t think I knew what it was to not live with illness from the damp or cold until Rhys’ mother took me in. I had my first ever hot bath with Cassian on one side of me and Rhys on the other.”

He reached out, taking your hand much like you had done not so long ago at breakfast, and running his thumb reassuringly over your knuckles. It took several deep, steadying breaths before you were back in control of your emotions. “I hope you don’t still bathe like that.”

“Only on special occasions.” He beamed, lifting his other hand to smooth his thumb over your cheek, before letting the both drop back to his sides. “Let me help you pack?”

“Okay.” You headed back to the bedroom, the room that undoubtedly had most of the items in, and he followed. You’d hardly brought anything with you when you travelled, moving fast and light, hoping you’d escape your meaningless life in Dawn only to end up worse here, until last night. “There’s not much to pack…”

“Then we’ll be home in no time.” Home. The word sparked through you like the ember that lit a fire, your smile beyond your control as you nodded. Azriel moved his jacket out of the way of the box, throwing it onto the dirty bedsheets, and rubbing his hands together. “I assume you’re not bringing everything.”

“Definitely not.” You shook your head, staring at the bed you’d been sleeping in, your skin crawling a little. His shoulders sagged with relief. 

“Good, I have guest rooms with all the basics, you can pick any to make your own.” Once again emotions welled within you as you stared at Azriel, who had his hands resting on his hips, glancing around the room, a blue glow cast over it all now. You watched him move, taking in the space, moving towards the wardrobe on the far side of the room and swinging it open. 

You were content just watching him, truly believing he wasn’t judging you now, your heart thumping in your chest as for the first time in your life, you felt supported.

He pulled back from within the wardrobe, clearing his throat and letting an item dangle from his fingers. Your jaw dropped open, everything in your head clearing out as he stared at you with wide eyes. Hanging by lacy straps was one of the items you’d bought in preparation for your new job, a garment that was nothing more than netting and threads, and barely enough to cover you from nipple to thighs. “Uh, how exactly do you put this on?”

You flew across the room, faster than you’d ever moved before, snatching it from him with wide eyes and scrunching it between your hands. There was so little fabric to it that it almost disappeared between your palms as you did so. You turned, shoving it into the corner of your case where you hoped he couldn't see it anymore, practically feeling his breathy laugh wash over you as your nerves fired on ends. 

“No?” You turned back to him, a strangled sound leaving your lips as he lifted out some red mesh, waving the bodice in the air like a flag. “What about this one?”

“Stop!” You coughed, taking it and throwing it over your shoulder, not caring where it went, as mischief shone in his eyes. He didn’t look away from you as he reached in again, clearly enjoying being able to get this reaction, but you weren’t sure you could handle any more. Snatching his hands up into your own, you clutched his much larger ones tightly, pulling them to your chest and scowling up at his gleeful expression. “Stop pulling out… those items!”

“Those items are all that’s in there!”

You could only groan, and he flexed his hands in your tight grip, his knuckles brushing your collarbone lightly, and you gasped, releasing him immediately, unsure your blush could get any worse as his hands fell away from your chest. You sank to sit on the edge of the bed, covering your face in your hands, muffling another distressed groan. 

Azriel took a knee before you, his fingers firmly prying your hands from your face. “Where are your real clothes?”

“In the drawers.” You sighed, waving to the rickety dresser against the far wall, and he nodded. Rising, he opened the top drawer, scooping out your folded clothes carefully and laying them in the trunk on your bed. He returned, opening another drawer, and another. “What are you doing?”

“Where are the rest?” 

“That’s it.” You sighed, his brows raising high as you stood, finally retrieving the red corset from the floor and folding it neatly, before placing that inside too. 

“That’s it?” He echoed, disbelief in his voice, and you only shrugged, pulling the final few items free from the wardrobe. A few more clothes, two more pairs of heels, and a single old coat you’d managed to buy here for a few coppers at a second-hand store.

“I didn’t have much to start with, I had to travel light, only what I could carry. I bought a few sets of clothes, some books, and my savings.” He retrieved said pile of books, holding them carefully and arranging them amongst the clothes, making sure not to look at the items from the wardrobe you’d carefully laid inside. “I was naïve. I thought I’d get her, to the Court of Dreams, and all my dreams would come true. I thought I’d find a job, buy more clothes, and live happily ever after. I was an idiot.”

“Hey,” He muttered, lips pursing, hand resting over your own. “You’re not an idiot. You’re optimistic, and hopeful, and that’s how it should have been. That’s the reputation this place has, it’s not your fault. You’re supposed to come here to find better, I’m sorry you didn’t.”

He spoke with such conviction on behalf of his court you almost felt like you had personally offended him, until he offered you a small smile. 

“After paying the rent for this crappy place and being unable to find any other job, I invested what little of my savings I had left into those stupid clothes.” You rubbed your forehead, feeling a headache coming on if you didn’t leave the stress of this place behind soon. “Luckily, before I ran out of money, I bought some ridiculous little baskets and a throw blanket when I first arrived, to cheer myself up. Stupid decision, really, but they were colourful, and they brightened this place up a little, and made me happy to come back to.”

You wouldn't call this place home, it had never been, and Azriel left to the rest of the cramped space, wings tucked tight. You sealed up the box again, brushing your hands across the top of it now that it held everything you owned, and lifted it to the floor. It was barely any heavier than when you’d first arrived. 

He returned, clutching your two baskets in hand, and he throw-rug rolled up neatly and placed inside of one. They made you smile, the first purchases you’d made upon getting here that were purely for indulgence. “They’re kinda’ tacky, I know, but—”

“I love them.” Azriel left no room for argument on it, his tone final, and you pressed your lips together to hide the size of the grin you wanted to offer. “Is this truly everything?”

“Everything I want to bring.” 

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here.” He jerked his chin, motioning you forward, his arms full but you freed a hand to settle on his arm, and darkness wrapped around you both again to move you through the shadows.

Back to safety and comfort, it was an effort to step away from Azriel’s side, even when you were within the walls of his home once again. Your home now, too.

Putting down the baskets and the blanket, Azriel took the trunk from your hands, motioning to the stairs with his free one. “Let’s get you settled in, huh? Before you decide to back out on me again.”

“Oh, shut it.” Your scowl only made him laugh, following you up the stairs towards the upper level of the house. He took over, guiding you down corridors you vaguely recognised from this morning, and you knew that you’d either have to ask him for a tour or do some serious exploring before you knew this place properly, but you’d have plenty of time for that. 

Azriel had paused before a smaller door, solid wood frame and a panelled white door, closed currently. He tapped his knuckles on the frame, before twisting the knob and letting the door swing open. Inside was spacious, natural light flooded in from all corners, and if you’d thought the wide halls and floor-to-ceiling windows were grand, this was something else. Decorated much like the rest of the house, with simple tones of cream and beige, this room was one of the most beautiful. 

A bed the same size as Azriel’s sat against the far wall, accessible from both sides with no cramping, and delicate gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze. Through one archway was a whole walk-in closet, with endless empty racks and drawers for you to fill, a whole wall designed for shoes. Through the other cracked door, you could see tiles and a tub, an ensuite bathroom for your personal usage, just like Azriel’s room. 

There was a desk, a wall of bookshelves with a few trinkets and half-burned candles on, and a small armchair sitting just beneath them. 

“This is your guest room?” You sputtered, and Azriel only leaned on the doorway as you stepped inside, taking it all in, from the paintings hung on the wall to the ornate faelights.

“Sometimes Mor stays over, she prefers this room. Cassian prefers the other guest room, he says it has a better view of the mountains.”

“Mor?” You echoed, tracing your fingers over the silky bedsheets and biting back a smile, that same feeling that none of this could be real coming rushing back, with force. 

“Morrigan.” The name flashed through you from his stories last night, and your back straightened a little.

“She won’t mind if I use this room, though?”

“Mor hardly stays over, and she never stays the same time as Cassian. She can use the other guest room, you seem to like this one.” His tone got lighter toward the end, and you couldn’t agree more, barely containing your expression of joy.

“I do like this room.” You let go with a dreamy sigh, and Azriel placed your case just inside the door, sinking into the soft carpet. Your gaze moved back to him, from the flicker of a smile on his lips, to the spark in his eyes, to the casual slump of his wings behind himself. Shadows were slipping in around him, exploring this room too and dancing around your legs. Striding back to him, you clasped both of his hands in your own, searching his eyes once more, just to be sure. “Are you certain about this, Azriel?”

“There are very few things I ever say I am absolutely certain of, I am not a man of exaggerations or hyperbole. I value statistics, and realism, and honesty.” Azriel squeezed your hands when your throat bobbed, “But I can say with total confidence that this, that you, are one thing I am sure of.”

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He squeezed once more, before letting go, and standing back from you. “Unpack your things, and then meet me downstairs when you’re done.”

The door clicked shut behind him when he went, leaving you alone for a while to admire your new bedroom. It was bigger than your whole apartment had been, luxurious and ornate and beautiful. 

It didn’t take you long to unpack your things, putting each different item in a different drawer one for shirts, one for pants, one for pyjamas. You hung your coat up on a stray hanger, and placed your few pairs of shoes into the first of the many cubbies lining one whole wall, already picturing how beautiful it would look when it was full. 

Stacking your few books on the bookshelf, you arranged them alongside Morrigan’s half-burned candles, sniffling each one, and approving each time. You re-fluffed the pillows of the armchair, and then the bed, the shadows watching you explore the whole room with excitement. 

Lastly, you toed off your current shoes, setting them neatly by the door, before padding into the ensuite bathroom. 

Pale brown stone tiles lined the floor, white tiles lined the walls, with exposed wooden beams just like the rest of the house, pulling it all together. A few soaps and oils sat along one shelf in the shower, with more stashed in a cupboard that stretched from the floor up to the ceiling. Neatly folded towels filled a rack in the corner, the cotton warm to the touch as it was coated in golden sunlight, with bounced from every mirror and made the room glow. 

Half sunken into the floor, entirely separate from the shower, was a large bathtub, big enough to accommodate anyone with wings even if they spread them out, and when you sat in the empty tub, you could hardly reach the sides with your arms stretched out. 

Your cheeks almost hurt from grinning so much by the time you got control of yourself again, beginning your exploratory mission throughout the house to try and find your way once again. 

It wasn’t as hard this time, the third time you’d made the journey, all of it finally starting to feel a little easier. Even if you did cheat a little, following the floral smell of whatever tea Azriel had busied himself with brewing while he waited. He wasn’t in the kitchen when you found him, though. 

He was in a room you hadn't seen before, the living room, a space somehow even bigger than your bedroom and his. Combined. The fireplace was crackling to life, the quiet pops of logs sounding through the space, and another tray of tea sat out on the table. He was sitting in one of the many armchairs that were designed to accommodate wings, low-backed couches and loungers filling the room, making it look cosy and inviting.

All the books on these shelves were lined up neatly, arranged in groups with ornaments and trinkets splitting them up, the kinds of things you’d never seen before, surely mementoes from his travels all across the continent and beyond. Hanging over the fireplace was a portrait, snow outside the windows and a Solstice tree full of presents, with what seemed to be Azriel’s entire family gathered around, smiling happily. Even the infant heir was present, little Lord Nyx as a baby, sitting on his mother’s lap. 

“Feyre painted it, it was a gift for my birthday last year.”

“When is your birthday?” Your attention moved to Azriel as he stood, smirking and moving to pour a second cup of tea. He told you as he moved, and you stored the information away for later, making sure you’d do something special for it. He asked for your own, information which you happily offered in return for the mug he left on the table for you. 

As you stepped closer to the chair beside his own, you spotted your baskets, sitting in a neat stack beside the fire. Decorative and perfectly imperfect in the space, a disbelieving laugh on your lips. On the back of the couch was your blanket, thrown artistically over the cushions, and a squeak left your lips as you saw them.

It was the final drop, the bit that sent every other emotion overflowing within you until tears of happiness were lining your eyes. Seeing them here, so simple but it meant so much to you, and you raced to him, until your arms circled his middle, face pressing into the centre of his chest. You nuzzled in close, overwhelmed by your emotions, overwhelmed by him, and letting out a shaky sound that was muffled by his hoodie. 

“Is this okay?” You mumbled, twisting to the side, to press your cheek over his heart instead, the same way he’d fallen asleep on you last night, and the stiffness of his body melted away. His arms wrapped around you, so tight you swore he’d never let you go as he hauled you even closer to himself. 

“Yes,” His response was breathy, just as timid as your question had been, but laced with so much emotion it practically lanced right through you. His cheek came down to rest atop your head, kissing your hair before he was hugging you just as desperately as you were him. 

“Y’know, this is really nice,” You sniffed, laughing through the tears that were going to break free any second, and relishing the affection he was giving to you. “I think we’re going to work out just fine.”

“I think so too, sweetheart.”

[thetreetopcity]

Open RP - Fortree Fireleaf Festival - Foraging and You

The meeting room is filled with a few other people by the time you walk in. It's organized so that there are three rows of four chairs facing the front of the room, and each unoccupied chair has an orange backpack placed on it. In the front of the room sits a cheerful older man wearing a dark green sweater embroidered with a Seedot. He's wearing a name tag that says "Calvin (he/him)" in nearly-illegible scribbles. On his left sits another person, about 20, with a buzz cut and bomber jacket. They have a name tag that reads "WREN! - THEY/THEM" in big bubble letters, and they look excited but visibly nervous. In between them stands an empty bulletin board.

As people trickle in, Calvin addresses the crowd. "Hello, everyone! Welcome to our workshop! We're going to wait just a few minutes before we dive into the spiel. I'm Calvin, and this is my grandchild, Wren!" Wren looks up, waves, and gives a small smile.

They take a deep breath and then say, "We've got a great presentation for you all today. I hope you're as excited as Grandpa is!"

[koffing-time]

\\Heeeeyyyy I've contacted a Radio Station! Who were willing to share their reports from the Battles under the big Tree! From the Fortree Fireleaf Festival!//

\\I've also talked with some TV channels. But they were ALL totally boring.//

\\I'm still processing them, but i will upload the files soon!//

//meaning i'm scheduling the posts to not clutter the dash because these posts are LONG

[pokemoncenterofficial]

Open RP Starter - Fortree Fireleaf Festival - Pokémon Care by Type

The meeting room holds about 5 other people as you walk in. At the front of the room sits a man in his 20s. He wears a light blue hoodie and has bright orange hair. His name tag reads, "theo (he/him)" and he's messing with a laptop. Finally, he pushes a key and the title slide of a slideshow is projected onto the projector sheet to his right. "There!" he says, obviously relieved. He puts his laptop to the side and picks up his Cleffa, who sits in his lap. His Porygon and Unown-Y float on either side of him, and a Cherubi sits on the table to his left along with a case of 16 Pokéballs colored light blue with a Feather Badge sticker on them. "Alright, we'll wait a few more minutes before we start! In the meantime, I'm Theo, and this is my team! The Cleffa in my lap is Celeste, above me are Widget," he pauses to gesture to his Porygon, "and Yogurt," he says as he gestures to his Unown, "and on the table is Jellybean! I've also received a few loaner Pokémon from the Fortree City Gym that we'll meet later!"

[lexluvswriting]

screaming. clawing at my eyes. my brain has melted. my heart is a shell.

@acourtofwhatthefuck @greeneyedivy they have done it again omfg. i am so in love, and so devastated.

Fireleaf (Part Eighteen)

Hiiiii! Hope you're all well and have had a nice weekend! Here is Part Eighteen for you! @greeneyedivy and I hope you enjoy, and thank you - as always - for all your love and support on this story!

Warnings: None.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Dion had long stopped feeling the burn of the whiskey, and he didn’t like it. 

That burn was miles better than feeling thoroughly useless. It was far easier to sit with than the pressing sensation that he was failing – miserably. 

He’d sat, staring into space, long after Willow had drifted to sleep, her beautiful face unbothered in slumber, free of the pinched brow and worried line of her lips that had shadowed it earlier. He’d tried to reassure her, to tell her all would be fine. Wasn’t sure if he even believed it anymore. 

So he’d scattered responsibility and sensibility to the ashes and opted for drowning his sorrows instead. A much more achievable feat, for sure. 

He didn’t know how long he’d spent in the games room, alone, just dwindling faelights and a half-empty crystal decanter for company, when the door inched open. He glanced up, his body tensing slightly at the sight of Y/N. The two of them stared at each other. 

She looked about as bad as he felt. 

It was abundantly clear that she’d spent the past however many hours crying. Her eyes were so red-raw, they looked like they’d be agony just to blink. Silvery trails had dried down her cheeks, her neck. Her skin was sallow, wan.

She looked like…like a shell. Of the person that Dion loved, held dearly. 

His eyes skipped over her, concern rising in him. His anger had dissipated hours ago; Y/N, Willow had very strongly pointed out to him, was who she was. Sometimes she acted recklessly, sometimes foolishly. But she always, always did it for love. 

She did. She had. And Dion…he didn’t want to fight with her again. She meant a lot to him. 

Which was why he sat up in his chair, watching as she slowly pushed the door shut and stepped further into the room. With the dim lighting catching her, it was then that he noticed the muddiness of her dress. The blood on both her knuckles. 

“You’re hurt.” He breathed, pushing to his feet.

Y/N stared at him blankly as though he’d spoken in a foreign tongue. And then her eyes fell down to her hands; she promptly wiped them on her dress. “Yes.” 

In three great strides, he was in front of her. “What happened?”

It couldn’t be Beron – not this time. He and Barric were still handling business away from the estate, and the place had been mostly quiet, despite all four of his brothers floating around somewhere. Her knuckles were bruised, split – as though she’d been fighting. Dion gently took one of her hands into his own to inspect it. 

“Um.” She rasped, frowning down at the injuries. “I punched a tree, I think. Or maybe a wall.”

So she had been fighting. Herself. 

Dion sighed softly, pulling her through to the connecting washroom. She made no protests, no witticisms. She was just…silent. Empty. 

And it was a growing cause for concern as Dion filled the sink with warm water, began gathering what he could find to tend to her hands, and she merely stood in the doorway, swaying slightly, staring vacantly into space. He cleared his throat, attempting to gain her attention. She barely blinked. 

“Come.” He said softly. “You should soak your hands.” 

Only then did her eyes dance over to him. She didn’t move. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about that.” 

“Stop—stop being nice to me. Please. I don’t deserve it.” 

He studied her; realised that she meant that so ferociously, it pinched at his heart and sat uncomfortably within him. In front of him was not only his friend, but a female – he realised – who had, perhaps, never had much of a sense of self worth. Who didn’t believe she deserved kindness, understanding. Who behaved wildly and stupidly sometimes, because she didn’t believe anyone would care enough to worry about what might happen to her.

A female who needed a friend. Some love. 

“I won’t stop.” He answered quietly. “Because I care about you.” 

Her eyes shuttered at that – what, exactly, his words had caused her to think of, he didn’t know. But a shadow passed over her face, and when she opened her eyes once more, they were glistening with tears. 

“I’m not angry.” Dion strode over, misreading the cause of her emotion. “I shouldn’t have said–”

“I finished things with Lucien. For good.” 

He stopped in his tracks, seeming to just stare at her for a moment. He blinked, slumping against the counter. “I…why, Y/N?”

“It needed to be done.” Her voice was dead. Flat. “He deserves someone who can give him everything. Who can love him freely without fucking up every five minutes and bringing trouble to his door. That’s not me.”

Wrong. She was so, so wrong. She was precisely what Lucien needed — a person who could match his fire, his heart. Nobody else could ever come close. And that she didn’t — couldn’t — see that…the entire situation was such a mess.

“Look,” Dion tried to reason, “today has been difficult. Just…sleep on it. Don’t act so hastily. You and Lucien are good for each other.”

A short, scathing laugh broke from her throat, entirely void of any humour. “No,” she argued, “you and Willow are good for each other. Because you and Willow are good. And Lucien is good, too. But me? Not me. Lucien deserves someone like Willow. He deserves—”

With a touch both gentle and firm, Dion reached out, grabbing her face and forcing her teary eyes to look at his. “That’s enough. There’s a way out of this, Y/N — for all of us.”

For a moment, she stared at him, seeming to be somewhat in a daze. As if…as if she wasn’t quite seeing him. As if his words had gone in one ear and out the other.

But then her eyes shuttered, and she took a breath.

“No,” she rasped quietly. “There isn’t.”

It was frustrating — hearing and seeing how defeated she was. Realising every flame of hers had been harshly snuffed out. He wanted to shake her, to talk some sense into her — would spend all night doing so if he had to. But he was stopped in his tracks before he had the chance, stalled by the door to the games room swinging open. 

“What the hell is up with Lucien?” Eris’s voice snaked through to the washroom, his footsteps fast approaching. “I just saw him out in the woods…”

His words trailed off as he came to a stop in the doorway of the washroom. His eyes landed on Y/N, who didn’t even acknowledge him, her cheeks still wet and knuckles still bleeding as she stared forward, deep in thought. And then he turned to Dion, a frown furrowing his brow. Dion subtly shook his head.

“…okay, somebody needs to start speaking and tell me what the fuck is going on.” Eris said, filing into the washroom and pushing the door closed behind him. “Because it’s definitely no coincidence that Lucien was in a complete state, and you are, too.”

Y/N made no move to so much as glance at him, let alone reply. With a soft sigh, Dion turned to his brother. “It’s a long story.”

Eris merely folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the door. “It’s a good thing I’ve got all night, then, isn’t it?”

“You might as well tell him everything.” Y/N finally spoke. “It’s not going to change a thing.”

Dion hesitated. “You’re sure?”

The female merely shrugged. She was truly past the point of caring. Had truly checked out of the situation. And so it was left to Dion to handle Eris’s inquisitions. And he did.

His voice was mere background noise to Y/N as he launched into a detailed account of everything that had transpired. He spared no information, filling Eris in on every great and small thing that had come to pass since Y/N had arrived at the estate. The story of Dion and Willow, of Lucien and Y/N, of Beron and the Faebane and the hamlet fire. Of the threats he’d already wielded, and the calculated move of bringing Willow to visit. For what, exactly, Dion admitted, they weren’t sure. But the High Lord was planning something.

When every last detail had been shared, the words lingering thickly in the air between them, Eris’s eyes honed in on Y/N.

“I knew it.” He said. “I knew there was something between you and Lucien.”

Which meant everybody else knew it, too. Still, Y/N couldn’t muster the bleating panic that such a thought would usually bring. The emptiness was quite blissful.

“No.” She said. “There isn’t. Not anymore. I don’t know what your father has intended for me, but it’s something big. I refuse to bring Lucien into that. I finished things with him.”

There was a tiny, imperceptible pause. Both males were staring at her, but she looked at neither of them, her gaze firmly on the patterned wall tiles.

“You can’t let our father win, Y/N.” Eris said quietly. 

“He already has.”

“He hasn’t.” Dion argued. “We play him at his own game. We find a way to—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” In slow, sluggish movements, she slid off the counter. There was nothing of the fiery female that they’d grown to be so fond of. “I’m going to bed. G’night.”

“Y/N—”

“Goodnight.” She repeated, slipping past Eris. He stood aside, allowing her to exit the room.

Dion could only stand and stare helplessly, uselessly, as her figure retreated from the room, seeming so small and haggard. The true sight of a female that had lost all hope.

He turned to Eris, swallowing. “You’ve got to find some way to help us. Even if it’s just by finding out what father has planned.”

Eris studied his brother’s face. And perhaps it was what he saw in his eyes, or what he’d found in Y/N’s. Perhaps he was simply loath to see his father ruin yet another person.

Whatever it was, he found himself not hesitating for a second, not giving thought to any repercussions, as he pursed his lips and nodded his head.

“Okay.” He agreed quietly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

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Eris had an advantage.

Of the minuscule number of people that Beron trusted, he was one of them. He was the High Lord’s clone, a toy being moulded and shaped to one day follow in his father’s footsteps.

And he was so damn good at wielding smiles and charm and pretending he loved every second of it. Even though it made him sick to his stomach.

So good, that it wasn’t seen as a suspicious act to slip into his father’s office sometimes. Some of his own correspondence was kept in there, and he spent enough damn time there, anyway. If he told his father’s sentries to let him pass, they would, no question about it. Easy. 

But he decided to face the task when the manor was at its quietest. When everyone was in bed, and only one sentry stood guard. 

After nursing a couple of drinks, he made his way through the winding corridors to the High Lord’s office. It was one of the newer guards who stood outside the door — one of the young, eager ones who had been brought in to replace Nox and Auster after they’d been dismissed for helping with the hamlet fire. The newbie was fresh-faced and enthusiastic — always, always accommodating. 

“Luis.” Eris greeted him, striding confidently towards the office door. “I have some work to be getting on with and I don’t wish to be disturbed. See to it that I’m not.”

Luis bowed his head without a moment’s hesitation. “Sir.”

Slipping into the room and locking the door behind him, Eris waited a beat, two, before striding over to the preposterously huge desk across the room. With a wave of a hand, faelights breathed a glow throughout the space, illuminating right above where Eris seated himself. 

Beron was very methodical about where and how he kept his correspondence. The most important — his desk drawer. Somewhere he could lock things away, and always keep them within reach. It was firmly locked up, now, in his absence.

Unfortunate for the High Lord, then, that Eris had had the key copied long ago; something he’d felt a strange, inexplicable urge to do at the time, as though some subconscious thing knew the spare key would come in handy one day. And a true indication of how little he trusted his father. 

He got into the drawer with ease, pulling it open and finding himself faced with Beron’s neat, precise way of storing things. All alphabetical; stamped if they’d been seen to and left blank if they hadn’t. Eris thumbed through the stacks of thick envelopes, looking for any sign of Y/N’s family name, or a mention of Y/N or Lucien somewhere. 

He’d checked all the rows twice before he was sure — nothing stood out to him.

Still, something niggled away at him. Something tugging on his conscience and telling him he was in the right area, if he just dug deeper into his father’s conniving mind, thought how he did…

He brushed his fingers over the envelopes and parchment again, thumbing through one by one, front to back—

And he caught it immediately; the hollow noise as his knuckles hit the back of the drawer. He paused, narrowing his eyes, and then began to feel along the back panel. 

Sure enough, delving just a little deeper gave away the poor attempt at a false panel. Eris couldn’t help smiling a little in triumph as he unsheathed his dagger and prised it open. It came away with barely a nudge.

And there, stashed behind that false panel — exactly what he’d been looking for. 

A small, untidy pile of envelopes, not stored neatly like those at the front. It was as though they were tossed in haphazardly, in somewhat of a rushed manner. Eris fished one out at random, his gaze immediately zeroing in on Y/N’s name. 

The envelope was addressed to her, there at the estate. Written in the rough-and-ready scrawl of what he could only assume was a male hand, the return address indicating that it had been sent from a base of training barracks, not far from the continent. The envelope had been torn open without much care.

Eris pulled out the parchment within, slumping back into his father’s chair. That same handwriting had dated the letter at the top of the parchment — sent here only a couple of weeks after Y/N had arrived at the estate. His eyes dipped down, lips pressed together as he scanned the lines of black ink.

“Dearest Y/N.

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write. Your father didn’t intend for me to have the address, but your sister kindly sent it to me in secret. I’ve thought of you every day for the past fortnight and wondered how you might be doing there. 

It hurts me so much that we didn’t get to say goodbye to one another. For that, I am sorry, too. Your father as good as sent me away in the middle of the night with a few thinly-veiled threats, and I was gone before I could speak to you. There are things, Y/N, that you need to know, but that I am hesitant to write you about without knowing who may see these letters. I’d hope that they’d be delivered to you, for your eyes only, but you can never be too careful.

All I will say is this: be on guard at all times. Be alert. This is far bigger than you realise, and the danger involved is significant. I won’t see you get hurt.

I intend to find a way to meet you — somewhere we can talk, where I can tell you everything. Until then, please keep your wits about you. Keep safe. I miss you.

You have my address, now, so…I really hope to hear from you soon. 

Stay safe. Be strong. 

All my love, 

Linden.”

Eris stiffened, staring down at the parchment. Linden — the Linden that Y/N had spoken so much about. The male she missed to the point of pain. Whom she assumed hadn’t been able to write her, or perhaps hadn’t even wanted to.

And he’d done so within her first couple of weeks of arriving, unbeknownst to her.

Eris’s jaw ticked with ire as he stood again. She’d struggled; his friend had gods-damned struggled the entire time she’d been here, and the High Lord had taken the one thing that might have provided her with a bit of comfort. He set the letter aside, digging in further, grabbing another. The date stamped at the top was a couple of weeks after the first had been sent.

“My friend, 

How are you? I know you haven’t written me back, but I wanted to check in, all the same. I can’t even imagine what you have to put up with in that viper’s den. But your strength has always astounded me.

Please try to write back as soon as you can — we really, really need to meet, Y/N. I’m carrying around information that you need to know. Things that need to be spoken about in person. There are a few festivals coming up — perhaps we could meet at one of those. It’s with the utmost importance that I see you. 

I’ll be waiting to hear back from you. 

 Stay safe. Be strong. 

All my love, 

Linden.”

Cold had slowly begun to seep into Eris’s bones. Whatever it was that Linden knew…it had to be bad, to be desperate. It made him feel sick to his stomach. He realised his hands shook as he grabbed a third letter.

“My friend,

It really worries me that I’ve not heard from you at all. I can only come to two possible conclusions: either that you’ve not received my letters, or that you’ve seen them and decided you don’t wish to speak with me.

I suppose I would understand if it were the latter — I know I should have fought harder to see you before this all came about. To speak to you. I’m truly sorry that I didn’t.

I’ve decided it’s best if I stop writing for now, at least until I hear back from you. Being so unsure of the circumstances on your end, I don’t want to continue sending you letters that may potentially cause trouble for you. I’ll wait to hear back from you before I write again.

I really hope that’ll be soon. I miss you.

Stay safe. Be strong.

All my love, 

Linden.”

Eris set it aside. Quickly dug in once more. It seemed only two envelopes remained hidden behind that false panel. He plucked them out, expecting the sight of Linden’s handwriting.

But these two were different. A more elaborate, looping scrawl of someone who took great care in their handwriting. 

And the return address—

All thoughts eddied from Eris’s mind as he stared at it. He knew that address — Y/N’s family’s estate. Something about the sight of it made him feel sick, clammy.

He thumbed the letter from the envelope. Noticed that it was dated before Y/N had even come here. His hands damn well shook as he read.

“High Lord, 

I thank you again for our meeting yesterday. It was very good to see you. 

I’ve thought at length of your offer, and I would like to accept. I believe this can be mutually beneficial for the both of us. 

I would like to reiterate the issue of my daughter, Y/N. As my only unwedded child, she is a great presence in our family business. She is also unaware of the true extent of the situation we are in. 

For our agreement to work, we need my daughter away from the business — even from our family estate. She’s a curious, determined sort, and it wouldn’t be long before she learned of my dealings. 

I do not, under any circumstances, wish to have her involved with the Faebane — or even to know about it. It would pose great problems for both you and I if she were to get caught up in it. 

So I agree to the following arrangement: free of charge, I will supply you with the Faebane and any further substances you wish to receive, in exchange for your help with my family’s debts and reputation, and the security of a marriage between my daughter and your son. I thank you for the generous offer, and believe it will help both of us greatly. 

I will be in touch to set the wheels in motion.

Warm regards, 

Jesper.”

It took a hell of a lot to stun Eris. To knock him still and silent. The letter’s contents successfully did so.

The parchment drifted from his hands, floating onto the desk as he stood there in disbelief. He felt so very, very cold, right down to his soul.

But the cogs were turning in his mind — and it was like clearing fog from glass. Like opening his eyes for the first time.

Y/N’s father had sent their business under with his gambling debts.

Y/N’s father had turned to dealing in prohibited substances to…to fix his financial strain, Eris assumed. 

And the High Lord had somehow become privy to those dealings. And instead of punishing the male like any noble High Lord should, he’d seen it as an opportunity, something to benefit himself. An agreement had been born.

And Y/N was right in the middle of it. Right in the height of the danger. 

The fucking Faebane that had been used in that hamlet fire…the fire that Y/N had run towards, put herself at risk to help with…it had been supplied by her own father.

This…this could well break her.

Eris swallowed down the bile in his throat. He wasn’t sure he had the stomach to read on, but…but he would. There was one more letter hidden behind that panel. 

He tugged it out — and immediately noticed how recently it was dated. The same, familiar scrawl of Y/N’s father, sent only in the last week.

Eris unfolded the parchment. This letter was shorter.

“High Lord,

I agree that it is wise to switch up where you store the cache. I will meet you at the Old Farmhouse on the date we agreed, and we can discuss your supply going forward.

Warm regards,

Jesper.”

So — clearly that was the errand that had taken Beron away from the estate. To relocate his cache.

Eris…Eris needed to think. To be logical. 

Y/N would need to be told about all of this. It was in her best interest, but—

He thought back to the letters from Linden. This is far bigger than you realise. I’m carrying around information that you need to know.

Linden had obviously been aware of something. Perhaps that was even why he’d been sent away by Jesper. 

What, exactly, the true extent of his knowledge was, Eris couldn’t be sure. But he needed to find out, before going to Y/N with this. Linden’s warning had been clear.

Eris pushed himself into action. Made quick copies of all letters, before shoving the originals back behind that false panel. Righting everything once more. 

As if Y/N hadn’t been through enough…this was sure to destroy her. He needed to know everything before he took the information to her. Before they decided what to do.

He glanced at the return address he’d copied from Linden’s letters. That was the next course of action. 

He needed to find him. To find and speak to the elusive Linden.

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Such a pretty little thing you were. 

So preened to perfection. Flawless. A pleasurable sight for anybody to gaze upon. And many did. The room was packed full, the highest echelons of Autumn Court society all gathered to gush and fawn over each other’s wealth.

If one more person grabbed your hand to marvel the rock of an engagement ring that was weighing it down, you thought you may just vocalise the incessant screaming inside your head.

Beside you, Willow was an utter natural. She’d always taken to these events with ease, flawless at holding conversation and asking the right questions. She didn’t quake under the pressure; no one could possibly know that the male across the room — currently the centre of attention, your fiancé — was her lover. She sipped her tea prettily and dutifully played the part of sister and bridesmaid. 

“…so close, now.” Lady Autumn’s soft voice, the tail-end of her sentence, floated towards you from across the table, mere background noise. “The gown is being delivered this week.”

You blocked it out. Focused on the indolent swirling of tea inside your cup, untouched and stone cold. The gown. Your wedding gown. You couldn’t even—

“Lady Y/N?”

You glanced up, finding the eyes of every female at the table on you. You blinked the faraway look from your eyes, trying to regain some semblance of concentration. To act like you were present.

It was an Autumn Court lady who had addressed you, her name having eddied from your mind seconds after you’d been told it. She studied you curiously.

You cleared your throat. “Yes?”

“I was just saying — you must be so very excited.”

You didn’t know if the smile you forced was convincing. “Oh, absolutely. I’m tired of waiting now. I just want the day to be here.”

A sentence you’d rehearsed multiple times that morning; one of an excited, adoring fiancée anticipating her upcoming wedding. And it received the desired response — a chorus of soft laughter broke out around the table.

“Dion is a fine male.” Another lady said. “You must be proud to be on his arm.”

It was an effort not to grimace at such a statement, a suggestion that you were but a pretty ornament for a Vanserra male to parade around. But you were playing your part. Doing what you had to do to keep away from Beron’s wrath. And so you dipped your chin.

“Indeed.” You said. “I so look forward to being able to call him my husband.”

It was probably just as unpleasant for Willow to listen to as it was for you to say it. Beneath the table, you squeezed her hand. She promptly squeezed back.

Conversation began to drift again, and you once more sunk into your thoughts — a dangerous place to be these days. Outwardly, you may have been a flawless picture, but inwardly…

Inwardly, you were dying. Clawing. Screaming. Fighting. 

Inwardly, you were done.

Your eyes made their way over to Dion, looking resplendent in a tailored suit, his hair tied in a knot at the nape of his neck. He smiled brilliantly at the male who spoke to him, white teeth on show as he laughed and grinned and partook in mind-numbing conversation. He looked…happy. Peaceful. At ease.

And of course, you supposed, he didn’t have a reason not to be. You may have finished things with Lucien, but…Dion still had Willow. Still had his love.

You so wanted to be happy for them, and every bad thought that passed through your mind made you feel horrid. But to have them in one place together, to know that Dion’s focus would naturally gravitate towards her, even if he tried to place it on you…it made you feel suffocated. Trapped. 

You were trapped. Trapped in this bullshit mould of a flawless courtier and fiancée. You felt like you were screaming at the top of your lungs in a room full of people who didn’t even flinch.

Without thinking about what you were doing, you pushed out of your chair. Every female’s eyes swivelled to you in curiosity, and you plastered a smile on your face.

“Excuse me a moment.” You said mildly. You provided nothing else as you turned on your feet and strode from the room. 

The corridor you wandered into seemed winding, endless, and yet as though it was narrowing and closing in on you. You needed to breathe, to think. You rubbed at your chest, trying to ease the ache there. The garden — you would head to the garden, and get some fresh air, and compose yourself so that you could return to the tea party as prim and proper as you’d arrived.

Your legs shook as you walked faster, still massaging that gnawing ache in your chest, your heart. You rounded the corner blindly, biting back tears, willing air into your lungs—

And collided so hard with a warm body, it stunned you for a moment.

A strong hand shot out to steady your waist, and you glanced up to be met with concerned russet eyes.

No. No, no, no. You couldn’t face Lucien right now, not like this. He was both the first and last person you wanted to see. You needed to get the hell away from him.

“Y/N…” His voice was soft, gentle.

You tore your gaze from his, swallowing. Stepped aside. “Excuse me, please.”

He followed your movement, jumping into your path.“I’ve been looking for you. I just want to talk to you—”

“There’s nothing more that needs to be said, Lucien. Move out of my way, please.”

“No.” His hand shot out, enclosing around yours, large and warm. His thumb brushed the back of your palm. “Look at me…”

But you wouldn’t. Couldn’t. You put every ounce of effort into avoiding his eyes as you tugged your hand back. 

“Don’t touch me.” You said quietly, the words like knives. “Just…stay out of my way.”

The look that passed his face was so…crestfallen, distraught, that he was too stunned to stop you pushing past him again. You saw his shoulders slump, and it was the last thing you allowed yourself to glimpse as you hurried onwards. 

You headed to the doors without looking back, needing the fresh air more than ever.

It was just the way things needed to be, now.

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“Dion’s going to be blown away.”

The Lady of Autumn hovered behind you two days later, hands gently clasping your arms as the two of you stared at the mirror. The tea room had been turned into a makeshift fitting room, and two minutes into having your wedding gown slipped on and laced up, you felt like ripping it from your body. Felt like screaming.

You didn’t recognise the person staring back at you. 

The gown was undoubtedly beautiful. Pure white and form-fitting and glistening with tiny pearls and jewels. Utterly stunning. And so, so wrong.

You’d barely slept the night before — not with excited anticipation like everyone assumed, but with pure dread. Willow had successfully feigned an illness and managed to get out of the awkward predicament of watching her sister try on the wedding gown she was due to marry her love in. You didn’t blame her for missing it; envy her, though, you most certainly did.

So it was just you, and Lady Autumn, and the expert seamstress, and your packed, suffocating emotions that must have been filling the room to its very edges. 

“So beautiful.” Your future mother-in-law spoke softly, tucking your hair to one side. “You truly, truly are.”

You forced a watery smile, seconds away from succumbing to tears. She studied the emotions on your face — and totally misread them.

“Oh, my sweet. Bless your heart.” Her voice was so gentle, so kind. She lifted a hand to cup your cheek. “It’s normal to feel emotional. Don’t think that you should hold such things back.”

“Are you happy with the gown?” The seamstress smiled. “That’s the important thing. If not, we’ll change whatever you want.”

You couldn’t bear the kindness. Not with the hollow wretch of a reflection that stared back at you. They may have seen a soft, blushing bride, but you saw what was truly there. The dark smudges beneath your eyes. The emptiness in your gaze. The truth that you had taken Lucien Vanserra’s heart and stomped on it repeatedly. There was nothing soft about you.

“The gown is lovely.” You answered monotonously, no real effort in your tone. “You’ve done an excellent job. Thank you.”

The seamstress dipped her chin. “It was a pleasure, my lady. I brought two veils for you to try — the two different designs we discussed. Shall I fetch them now?”

“Please, Britta.” Lady Autumn smiled. “It would be a shame not to complete the look.”

Panic twisted inside you. You turned from the mirror, unable to face your reflection a second longer. Your eyes fluttered shut, causing tears to spill down your cheeks.

“It’s okay to be overwhelmed.” That same, soft voice reassured from beside you. “The future is an unknown, daunting thing. I think every bride has these feelings.”

You felt awful — because you knew she was trying. You could recognise that she saw your emotion, and she was doing her best to be there, to help. But you just…you couldn’t bear it. Your skin felt itchy with it, your head pounding. You weren’t at all sure that a sob wouldn’t break from your throat.

“Would you mind if I had a moment alone?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Just…just a moment.”

Lady Autumn smiled in some manner of understanding. “Of course. I’ll go find Britta and we’ll get some tea. Just let us know when you’re ready to continue.”

You nodded, folding your arms around yourself, and the kind, gentle woman in front of you stared at you a moment longer before leaving. What it was she saw…you didn’t have the energy to consider.

Lifting your dress, you stepped down from the platform and got as far away from the mirror as you possibly could. Every knock and rustle of the jewels on your dress was a deafening death knell. You clenched your hands hard, fighting off the urge to rip the material from your body.

This was the reality of the situation, now. You may as well get used to it, stop crying about it. You were Dion’s bride, and you would turn up at the altar on the day of your wedding looking like you wanted to be there. You would be the envy of every young, unmarried guest who would gaze at your dress in awe and longing and wonder when they might get their happy ending.

Never, probably, you would want to say. Happy endings don’t exist.

You dragged in a slow, shuddering breath, desperately begging your tears to stay back. Too much crying would raise suspicion. You could succumb to those urges later on in the privacy of your bedroom, but not now…not around people. Not in your gown.

You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, hoping it would force your sobs back down. All of this was so very wrong, so very unfair—

The door opened behind you, and you jolted, opening your mouth to tell Lady Autumn that you weren’t quite ready—

But it was Lucien who stood in the doorway. Lucien, who’s jaw went slack, his body falling preternaturally still, hand sliding from the doorknob. Lucien, who stared at you in your wedding gown, with such cutting pain in his eyes.

You quickly cleared your throat, turned away. “Sorry.” You uttered a pathetic apology. “I think we’ll be done with the room soon.”

There was a pause. And then the thudding of footsteps nearing. The sound of the door shutting once more.

You kept your back to him. No way could you face the expression he wore. 

“I—” He rasped. Audibly swallowed. His voice sounded raw. “You look beautiful.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Thank you.”

Silence again. If it wasn’t for the fact that there’d been no sound nor movement, you’d have assumed him to have left. You slowly glanced over your shoulder to find him still staring.

His eyes were…red. Visibly sore. The pain that shone in them…it would kill you. You were sure it would kill you.

You slammed your guard up, forcing yourself to become cold and steeled and aloof. 

“Did you need something?” You asked. “Like I said, we’ll be done soon—”

“I’m leaving.” Lucien cut in, and the words knocked the breath from you.

You turned to face him fully, the cold slice of pain cutting you right down the middle. You searched his face, searched for anything, but he…he had put his own guard up. Had become just as aloof.

“What?” You whispered.

“It’s pretty self-explanatory.” The words were cold, cutting. “I just needed to tell you that I’m leaving. Going to stay with Tamlin in the Spring Court. Getting away from here.”

From you, was what he didn’t say. Getting away from you. You thought you might be sick, all over the damn wedding gown. Thought you might lose all your resolve and collapse at his feet and beg him not to go anywhere, because you loved him and needed him and wanted him.

But you weren’t marrying him. That was the fact of the matter. And that was what stopped you from so much as flinching at the announcement, even though you wanted to do far more than flinch. Far more, like cut your own heart out. 

You tightened the way you were holding yourself as you bit out, “when will you be back?”

“I won’t.” Lucien said. “Not if I have anything to do with it. I’m done fighting. I’m done with all of this.”

Could you blame him? No, you fucking couldn’t. And in all honesty, it would be easier on both of you to have distance between you. To not have to pass each other in corridors and remember the feel of skin on skin, the taste of lips on lips. To not have to daydream about those blissful times of a love that was true and real and raw. 

One that was now over. It was well and truly over. There was no coming back from this. And even though you knew that, had known it since you’d walked into that room to find Willow staring back at you, it didn’t stop you feeling like a wound was being ripped open anew. A huge, aching chasm that cleaved your heart and chest apart until you were nothing but blood and tears.

It was over. It was over. It was over.

No more subtle glances and smiles between you and Lucien. No more laughter. No more passion.

You’d had a quick, cruel look into what a life could have been like, to be loved by Lucien Vanserra. But that life was never supposed to be yours. He deserved someone he could love freely and totally. 

And so despite you being scared to open your mouth, in case your pleading sobs tumbled out and begged him to stay, you lifted your chin and shoulders. Stared at him dead-on. The male you were so incredibly in love with.

And you offered the most meaningless, generic response that you could muster — one you would give to anyone you were parting with.

“May the Mother go with you then, Lucien.” You said

His shoulders seemed to slump slightly, as if…as if some small part of him hoped you would forget everything that had been said and run back into his arms.

But you couldn’t. Both of you knew you couldn’t. 

So he dipped his head. Turned. Walked back to the door.

“May the Mother go with you, too.” He said, voice shaking.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

lucien tags: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123