#fourth wing candle

[printcharms]

♥ Hey there, book lovers! Light up your space with our Smells Like I'm Thinking About Xaden Riorson Fourth Wing Soy Vegan Candle.

♥ Perfect for fans of the Fourth Wing series, this candle is the ultimate bookish gift and a must-have addition to your Fourth Wing merch collection.

[silentlyscreamingatyou]

For all my romantasy pals out there, Briarwick Candles released literary linen sprays today. Good option if you can’t burn candles.

I ordered Basgiath, Xaden, and Book Dragon. I’ll let you know if they are worth the money.

Her candles I’ve ordered before. The Xaden one is the best smelling in my opinion, but Rhysand and Velaris are fantastic too. (The only one I don’t like out of all the ones I bought is Cassian)

[catching-thefire]

Those around me: “Can you like anything a normal amount?”

Me: *wearing all the merch, watching/listening/rereading the same thing over and over. Getting tattoos, annoying every person to come in contact with me with facts over what I like* “no 💖😃”

* basgiath war college crewneck, fourth wing book, scheduling tattoo appt for my IF/FW tattoo, prints to hang up in my space, violent little thing crewneck, signed copy of iron flame, xaden riots on candle, mini FW/IF books I made for a mini bookshelf, riorson house tshirt 🌿🤍🌸

[lostinw0nderlandd]

[serpentandflame]

Yup, I'm a slut for our Shadow Daddy's out there. Rhysand? Yup. Xaden? Sure thing. Darkling? Sign me up. (But only if it's Ben Barnes)

And if you wanna support a small candle shop. You can find this here.

[siobhanbooks]

random reminder that in Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, Xaden Riorson smells like actual things. Leather, mint, and occasionally churam (which is essentially weed I think). therefore we could conceivably make a book accurate Xaden candle.

[phoenixcatch7]

Tips and tricks to survive Eden even less

Seeing a lot of people struggling with the fourth quest of Revival, aka the 'die and come back for one (1) heart pretty please' quest, and I thought some helpful hints and tricks I've found over the years might be helpful! (Feat: spoilers, obviously)

Step 1: Overcome your fear of death and accept your fate.

I'm serious! People are very cautious in Eden, and often to their detriment! Panic and rush will only make you clumsy and make the whole thing far more stressful than it needs to be! And take longer too!

Step 2: Carry a source of light, or bring a friend! Assembly guide sells a torch, I believe, but in an emergency the rememberance guide sells a teapot on a brazier that does the same... At a Very slow rate. If you bring a friend, you can carry friendship candles that work really well! Unfortunately they're also sort of fragile, so it's best when someone who is being carried holds it.

This will go a long way both to being useful and easing any stress! Just... Make sure not to place it anywhere in the way of krill or rocks.

Step 3: Don't rush after lost wings! If you're already losing light, you're not in a situation to be chasing the metaphorical ball into the busy road! Your first priority is yourself, get to safety and recharge. Lights that land nearby or in safe places sure, but don't jump into the path of rocks just to try and get one back!

I know it's counter instinctive, but you're going to be losing those lights anyway in a few minutes. Even if you have low numbers to begin with, you want to focus on keeping the ones you do have!

Step 4: Jumping vs skipping, also sliding. They're your best friends.

To jump, you press the jump button. Easy. To skip, you want to take your finger off the move circle so it fades, and then flick the screen in the direction you want to go, so your sky kid skips in that direction! The best part is, it has tracking abilities, which is invaluable in helping you land precise jumps (such as that freaking candle bridge in valley). Cool, but why is this important?

Skipping isn't affected by the winds like jumping. Well - it is a little, but it won't send you backwards the way a bad jump will. Not to mention the homing ability will make things easier! It's a bit weaker than a jump, but mix it in to make the journey easier!

Similarly, sliding can be achieved on almost any surface flat enough to walk on. It's not affected as much by the winds either, so try to slide where possible for some speed! Especially if you can move it into a skip, to get a good boost! (This is because you can slide without actively moving your sky kid.)

Step 5: Did you know? Emotes affect not only your hitbox, but also your knock back? If you're unfortunate enough to get caught by a short ledge, try using an emote to duck behind it! When you're in a standing emote (ie, one you have to stop manually and can't move until it's finished. Think the point emote vs the wave emote) you also become a lot harder to knock over! (Warning: this does not work on krill! They are bigger and beefier than you in every way!)

I recommend an emote that's fast to get in and out of, like the first stage faint emote! It's saved my hide many a time.

Also, most people run on Sunday, so if you're looking for a kindly guide, that's your best time!

Now. The route.

At the very start of Eden, there's a thin stone bridge with rushing rocks blowing left to right.

That bridge is optional.

For more experienced players with enough wedges, you can fly right across to the door with a little skill. (There's lots of video tutorials on youtube if you're curious!)

For people with less wedges or skills, hop right on down into the gap. Follow the bridge to where it meets the other side, and there's a slope you can climb back up to skip the rocks entirely!

The second area loads all at the same time. To be precise, in roughly the time it takes to open the door and trigger the cutscene with the krill, you'll usually hear the sound signalling a wave of falling rocks after the second horn note. You can still move in this cutscene! Also that krill can't see you, thank goodness, so don't worry about it.

For taller players (I'm serious lol) there's a big chip in the wall on the far left of the room. It's about in the middle, it's part of a seam, but if you can't find it get your candle out. Walk into the crack. Jump forward a couple times. Escape to oob. Make sure you got the door cutscene, though, because it will get you if you don't!

Climb the clouds as high as you can, following the path. You want to be ridiculously high up to avoid the invisible wall and the winds. You will get softlocked. Not 'I think I'm high enough', not 'I gotta be high enough now', you want 'I'm going to faceplant the sun' high. 'This feels like I shouldn't be here' kind of high. Right by the giant red pillar at the end! Then dive down. Straight down. Straight towards the entrance to the hall of lights. Avoid flying above the krill!! You should land without bother, but run to safety!

^^^ it looks cool, but don't land here! Land in the actual area down there, by the krill!

For shorter players or less experienced ones, run out and as far left as you can to make it to a safe spot to ride out the first wave of rocks! When the camera returns to you, I recommend keeping left and then running right to the tunnel: keeps you in the path of the rocks as little as possible. RUN.

You have a few seconds between the signal noise (which sounds like a match striking, or a carbonated bottle decompressing) and the surge of rocks (which sounds like strong winds and crunching). There's always particles flying, they're just decorative! It's safe to run when the rocks have stopped!

If you're close to safety, don't stop running!! Don't divert to somewhere that looks safer, get there as fast as you can. Because of the angle of the rocks, at the tunnel/pipe entrance, there's actually a little bit of area in front of it they don't hit. You're closer to safety than you think.

The next phase: pipes. Now, this area is either very easy or very hard, depending on if you get seen by a krill. There's two.

These guys work on a timer. They loop. You can hang around in the pipe between phases and watch them to get an eye on what they're doing, but they move pretty slowly lol. This is the phase you want to rush LEAST. If a krill is coming, hide under the girder. It has a zigzag pattern to help spot, and it's on the switchback leading up to the giant pipe. Don't try and rush it, there's very few places to hide quickly here.

However, the winds are very weak here! You can fly and run, if you're careful! Should a krill spot you on that ledge around the pipe, you can simply fly around it to the other side! Be aware, though, that you might fall into the sludge water below, so check you don't fall in! It's an annoying climb back up lol, but krill don't check down there unless they've been disrupted, so you're safe if you fall.

Do not jump over the girder bridge! Just run! I know it's faster but the girder is thin and slippy! If you get spotted there, just keep running, there's a rock you can hide behind on the other side.

Inside the pipe, you can take a break. There's a brazier of light and some crabs in a ditch you can take your anger out on. You'll see krill lights, but they can't get you as you climb out, they just pass very close. You can safely ignore that one!

Emerging, you'll see the giant red crystal. That's the goal. Again, keep left, use emotes and hiding spots. Listen for the signal sound. Do not be fooled by the placement of braziers! Some spots can still be hit with rocks if you're anything but a chibi!

There will be black, calcified bodies starting to appear. Do not worry. You can't interact with them. You can't save them. They will not protect you from rocks.

When you see a miraculously intact stone arch, you're close! Don't hide behind it, though! You want the ledge just under it. The arch won't keep you from rocks or the krill just ahead.

The krill moves in a very tight circle, for a krill. I'd recommend following its path from a distance, because it moved faster than we can, right now. Spots that will protect you from the krill won't save you from the rocks, either! This is a very tough spot to move through, so take your time choosing the right moment!

Also, there's a child of light, just to the left. This is a trap. Reach the safety of the corridor first, then once you've caught your breath drop back down and grab it. Grabbing the child on your way up risks slowing you enough for the krill to spot you.

And you're in the hall of lights! Lighting all the statues won't do anything, unfortunately. But this is also the first time you'll see children of light in any position other than standing looking up... It's a bit eerie. They're still the same thing, though.

At the end of the corridor, READ THE WARNING that pops up. This is your last chance to avoid death, if you're here to help a friend, or there's lights you want to get first, now is your last chance. Returning home after this point will take you to a scary, empty home, where thunder rumbles and the portals have been returned to rubble. The only way out is through eden.

The final phase: the eye of Eden.

There is no flying. Don't even bother. You'll need to conserve your light. Your goal is to light every calcified body you can - you can see them by the blue lines, if you're struggling. They also look unlit from the front, which can be very annoying, but if they're on fire or glowing, you've already got them. Eden can only be run once a week, and that's why. They don't reset until the Sunday/Monday daily reset, I'm pretty sure. You can still die and light ones you missed the first time, but it's usually not worth it. You'll need all your courage and recklessness here to move quickly.

There are no krill here. There is no clever skip. The only problems are the rocks and the sludge water (though that's not nearly as much of an issue lol. It's never more than ankle deep). Also the rocks to hide behind aren't very good. Sometimes you'll get hit despite being in a 'safe' spot. Don't linger.

Now, the rocks. You have more time than you think between waves, but as there's no noise to signal their stop, it can be hard to tell.

What you want to be listening for is the signal, of course, but also the sound of crashing. The signal is early. You have a few seconds. The crashing only starts when the rocks hit the floor.

What you want to be looking for is the bright neon red of rocks breaking on objects. It comes in waves, starting from the eye and washing to the entrance. These are the only rocks that will hit you, and if you see it coming, you can move out of the way! When they fade, start moving again immediately for the maximum safe time!

Watch for the blue or black of lights! They cost one light each, and each one will become roughly 1/3 of an ascended candle later. Get as many as you can!

Light every statue you go by and refill your light. If you're experienced, it might feel inefficient, but YOU WILL get hit at least once later and you don't want to crawl all the way back to the start to re light lmao.

The waves will come faster and harder as you get closer to the eye, and the angle the rocks fall from will also change, so watch out for that! If you get too close to the sides, they'll change direction SPECIFICALLY to spite you, so be aware of that too lol.

The very final stretch starts when the ground flattens into broken tiles. It's a straight line to the eye, and that's where we're going! Rocks fall all the time, there's little to no cover or light.

You just gotta run. You can't jump, don't try, it'll knock you down fast. You gotta take the hits. There's no two ways about it.

Well... There's kind of a way.

You see, the rocks fall in a pattern. Of you look up, you see them spawn in zigzag lines, and then fall at about 40° from horizontal. If you're very lucky, or very skilled, you can use that to predict where the rocks will fall. And avoid them.

Unfortunately, you can't move very fast. Especially once (not if!) you get knocked to a crawl. Sometimes you're just going to watch a rock spawn and then fall directly onto you lol. Don't try and zigzag to avoid, it'll just slow you down and you'll get hit.

Because of the rocks and the sludge water, any lights you lose will disappear the second they touch the ground. They are no longer your concern. Don't bother trying to focus on reaching the eye, just return the lights you do have to as many crystallised bodies as possible.

And then you die.

You gotta wait ages, at this point. For some reason. It can take about five minutes, longer if there's people there with you, but EVENTUALLY a pop up will appear asking if you want to move on without waiting for people. Click yes, or you'll be waiting even longer. Don't worry, your friends will come with you if they've also died.

Hug your own light, your bright reflection. It's always the exact same height as you. Fly up through the torrent.

There's one last shortcut, funnily enough. I'll include a picture.

See that pale window on the left of the giant doors? That I'm flying away from? That's intangible. You can fly straight through it to oob.

Go through. Go up.

Follow the clouds, just keep flapping up, as high as you can, even when you get lost. Aim for the space at the top.

And then you're headed for orbit, and there may be a giant slug whale sharing your personal space. Don't worry! It won't hurt you!

And that's Eden!

[babybemydownfall]

Mind and Soul

AKA Helion visits Velaris and learns all about Feyre's glow.

My first ever Feyre x Rhysand fanfic. I haven't written in years, but I recently read the ACOTAR series and of course these two just imprinted themselves on me.

My mind is now continuously full of smutty one shots, and here is the first.

Rated M/NSFW. Pretty much PWP, with Helion and wine for added entertainment.

If you find this, if you read it, if you enjoy it - please let me know!

Now posted on AO3 as well.

II

"You fuck her while you're flying?"

It has been almost a year since the end of the Hybern war, and some kind of peace has settled across most of Prythian. Since the secret of Velaris came out during the conflict, Rhysand and Feyre have begun to host their allies - their friends - in their home city. To show off the place they so love, the place Rhys and his ancestors have governed and protected for millennia. Helion came first, two months back. He stayed for a week with a small entourage, and everyone involved spent the entire time either drinking or hungover. Feyre had never seen her mate so at ease with anyone outside his Inner Circle, and she loved discovering yet another new side to him.

Even when he winnowed home intoxicated each night, long after she’d excused herself from the raucous drinking circles at the House of Wind, stumbling into furniture and waking her up. “For a lethal predator you make a hell of a lot of noise,” she grumbled the fourth time it happened. Usually she just tried to go back to sleep, but tonight something made her turn to him. She sent sparks of flame to the candles on the dresser.

“Sorry,” Rhys whispered, so loudly he may as well have been shouting. She sat up, watching him pull off his clothes - all of them - and felt her body heating up despite itself. Coming to bed alone was so unusual, and even though they made up for it each morning, Feyre suddenly felt starved of him.

He caught her gaze and his beautiful mouth curved into a devilish smile. “You missed me.” He let his eyes roam downwards, focusing on her breasts which instantly swelled beneath her cream satin slip. The friction against her nipples made her gasp softly.  

“Oh darling,” he sighed, kneeling on the bed and crawling towards her. He was so gloriously naked, with his tanned, tattooed muscles, dark wings and rapidly rising erection, that Feyre felt her mouth start to water. “Admit it,” he said when his face was an inch from hers. “Say that you missed me as much as I missed you.”

She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but his arousal was so strong it had immediately sharpened what the drinking had dulled. He really was a predator, and now he had only one thing on his mind.

Feyre swallowed at the power he contained, the power her held over - but tried her best not to let it show. She had power too. More than enough to make him fall to the ground at her feet.

“You missed me?” she asked lightly, hands rising to his shoulders, his neck and jaw and into his hair. Exploring the contours she knew so well, and yet could never get enough of.

Rhys leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. “From the moment you left. I didn’t even get to kiss you goodbye.”

“You were busy with your friends. You deserve to enjoy yourself, after everything.”

He looked at her again; kissed the tip of her thumb as it caressed his lips. “I still wanted to ravish you before you left. I always want to ravish you. And as nice as it is having Helion here, I miss it being just us.”

“Me too,” she sighed.

As they gazed into each other’s eyes the air around them closed in, becoming thicker, hotter, making it harder to breathe. Feyre thought of a hundred things to say, a thousand ways to tell him how much she loved him, but it all seemed insignificant when she could show him instead. She slipped her thumb past his lips, feeling his teeth clamp down, and it instantly set her alight.

She closed the space between them and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. Her body rose automatically into his until they were both kneeling, connected thigh to thigh, his cock pressed into her belly and her aching breasts pushed tight against his chest. His huge arms wrapped around her back, fingers in her hair, squeezing her backside - all of him, all over her, and it wasn’t enough. It never was.

After devouring her for several long, luscious moments, Rhys moved to sit back against the pillows and pulled her to straddle his lap. His tongue was hot in her mouth again as his hand reached between them and pushed up the short hem of her gown, groaning when he found her bare beneath. He slid his fingers against her and then straight inside, when he discovered she was soaking wet and could take him. Feyre’s head fell backwards and she moaned from the depths of her soul.

Fuck, he shouted inside her mind. You are so- Feyre! I’m so-

Incoherent? she managed to tease, although Gods-knew how because she was rapidly turning into a puddle of molten fire. So unlike you, High Lord.

Rhys growled aloud and bit the side of her neck, hard enough to make her yelp, to gush more wetness onto the fingers which were stroking her insides at an increasingly rapid pace. She knew what it did to him when she used his title like that. Knew what he’d do to her when his arousal leapt up another notch - and shivered in anticipation.

His tongue licked the spot he’d just hurt and Feyre’s hands went to pull off her nightgown, the last barrier between them, but he stopped her with his mind.

Leave it on. You look… so sexy.

Yes my Lord, she replied breathlessly. This time he bit her breast through her gown, just below her left nipple, and then sucked the whole area into his mouth, swirling his tongue over her again and again. The roughness of the wet fabric, the pressure of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth on one of her most sensitive parts - it was nothing but pure ecstasy.

I want to lick you everywhere. I want to drown in your wetness. I want you to come on my tongue, my face as I suck on your clit-

The only other sign of his insobriety - his thoughts rolling freely into her mind, completely unfiltered and unbelievably arousing.

Do it then, she urged, already close to the edge. Just fucking do it, Rhys darling.

He pushed her back onto the mattress and ate her out so thoroughly she came in no time at all, her thighs squeezing his head as golden light burst through her skin, bright behind her eyelids. Then darkness came, enveloping her senses as Rhys settled his weight on her and began to pound into her, lifting her left leg over his elbow and kissing her wildly, with all the heat inside his magnificent body.

Again, he commanded.

Yes High Lord.

“Fuck, Feyre,” he gasped against her lips, quickening his pace even further. She was so close to orgasm again, the all-consuming, earth-shattering kind that he gave her every single time he was inside her like this. As his mouth dipped to suck on her nipples again, she reached over his shoulders and ran her thumbs along the edges of his wings; gripped them tight as he roared and she screamed and they came together, a tangle of sweaty limbs and thundering hearts and desperate, messy kisses.

Eventually, finally, they stilled.

“Wow,” Feyre breathed, touching his face with reverent fingertips, marvelling at him even after all this time.

“Wow indeed,” Rhys grinned, nuzzling her nose with his. “I hope you weren’t doubting my ability to perform, after the drinking.”

“Would I?” she asked innocently.

“Hmm.” He shifted his hips and made her groan. “Well, you need never doubt me again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lord.”

She kissed him sweetly even as his eyes darkened, and then pushed his shoulders so he reluctantly moved off her. Taking his hand, she led him into the bathroom and they took a very quick, very soapy shower together. She realised the alcohol had finally caught up with him when he didn’t even try to seduce her again - just lovingly held her as she washed him, humming contentedly against the top of her head.

They snuggled back into bed and she felt his body and mind curl around hers, as he did every night. Just after she put out the candles and closed her eyes, a sudden thought came to her - one so bizarre, it made her burst out laughing.

“What?” Rhys asked drowsily, right on the edge of sleep already.

“My glow. Helion’s light. I wonder if he has any idea what he gave me.”

Through the bond, shimmering as golden as ever after their shared release, she felt something akin to guilt from her mate.

After a moment of hesitation, Rhys confessed: He does.

Oh. Because… the same thing happens to him, after sex?

No. Because I told him.

And then he sent her a memory, of them sitting together earlier that night, overlooking Velaris as Helion quizzed him on Feyre’s power. “She glows like the sun,” Rhys had said reverently, and she knew from his voice and the haze of the images that they were already several drinks deep. “When she… When we’re… in bed together. Not just in bed, obviously. On the floor, in the bath; against the wall. When we’re flying-”

Helion had choked on his wine. “You fuck her while you’re flying?”

“Several times now,” Rhys had said and she could hear him smirking. “It’s… high stakes, high reward.”

“Gods almighty.” Helion whistled through his teeth, his eyes bright with amusement and - was that envy?

The memory faded. Feyre thought she should feel embarrassed, that this other male - practically a stranger to her - knew how she looked when she orgasmed. But of all the Fae in Prythian, Helion had to be one of the most open and sexually free. So much so, she actually felt pride at the fact that Rhys had managed to shock him.

He said he wished he could try it sometime, Rhys confirmed, his thoughts so tired she could barely hear them. I politely declined, of course. Even though I know he wants me.

Feyre snorted. You wish.

I don’t. You’re the only one for me, High Lady.

She squeezed his arm tighter around her. Next time we play, you can call me that.

Oh, I will. I love you.

I love you too. Forever.

She felt him drift off into a dream, and followed shortly after. Her last thought was that lunch at the townhouse tomorrow with their honoured guest was going to be interesting, now that he knew one of her most intimate secrets…

II

Of course, Helion made sure he was seated right beside her at lunch. They ate in the dining room, all of their Inner Circle and his filling the twelve seats around the long table. Mor was flirting with Athenna, a beautiful dark-skinned female with waves of black hair down to her hips. They had been drinking and dancing together last night, and Feyre wondered if they’d gone home together. They certainly looked close, touching each other at every opportunity, giggling into their champagne glasses as they tried and failed to maintain some sense of decorum.

Not that it mattered. The House of Wind was where they hosted their formal engagements. Here in Rhys’s home, her home, they wanted their guests to feel as relaxed as possible. And with the warmth of the roaring fire in the hearth, the platters of hot meats and vegetables and gravies, the animated chit chat between acquaintances old and new, Feyre looked around and knew that they were. And it made her heart so happy, to know they had found peace, and great friends, and love.

Helion, who had taken Mor to his bed the last time they all met in Dawn, didn’t seem to care in the slightest that she was half-draped over one of his most trusted advisors. His attention was entirely on Feyre as she helped herself to roast potatoes.

“I heard a very interesting fact about you last night, Feyre Cursebreaker.”

“Oh yes?” she asked innocently, adding slices of venison to her plate.

“Yes. And once I learned this fact, I wondered if I might be able to - sense it. Being here in Velaris, so close to my power.”

“My power, remember.”

She held his gaze for a moment, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Indeed. And so there I was, finally lying in my bed after a most enjoyable evening being plied with drink by your dear Rhysand - and then I felt it. Felt you.”

His amber eyes shone, and his voice was a purr when he said: “Feyre - it felt good.”

She glanced over at Rhys, her smile now a full-on smirk. “He does.”

Helion grinned, showing off all his perfect white teeth. “I am in no way surprised.”

Rhys obviously felt them staring at him, despite being deep in conversation with his neighbour, because he frowned and silently asked Feyre, What?

Nothing darling. Our guest is just speculating on your sexual prowess. 

Ah. I hope you told him it is unparalleled. Something that has to be seen to be believed. 

Are you inviting him into our bed?!

He laughed in her mind, his lips curving as he took a long drink from his glass. He wouldn’t say no, if we asked.

Rhys!

You know I’m right. 

Feyre shook her head, chuckling to herself even as her cheeks felt warm. Helion noticed, as he seemed to notice everything about her. 

“How I would love to have a lover like yours, Feyre dear. Someone who could whisper their every dirty, depraved thought straight into my mind. Someone who could make me blush like that across rooms, cities; mountains and seas.”

“It does come in handy,” she mused, enjoying Helion’s attention and the chance to show off just how smoking hot her relationship with her mate was. She couldn’t talk like this to Mor or Amren, or to his brothers or her sisters - they all felt like they saw too much already. And while she had a few friends in the city now, particularly in the art studios and restaurants of the Rainbow Quarter, she was first and foremost their High Lady. They would be horrified if she started talking about her sex life.

She leaned in to Helion, breathing in his warm, spicy scent as she spoke close to his ear: “I can feel him in my mind, as well as on my body. He can fuck me in both places at once. His power reaches for mine, and mine for his, and they wrap around each other, so close it’s impossible to tell where he ends and I begin.”

Even speaking the words out loud was turning her on. She hadn’t ever really stepped back to think about how unique she and Rhys were: two daemati, two of the most powerful Fae in history, not just in love with one another but mated. Forever bonded by their minds and their souls. And when their naked bodies entwined, when they whispered ‘I love you’ over and over as their hearts thundered to the same beat - no two creatures should be able to contain so much raw, unadulterated power, so much love and passion and longing. It was no wonder Feyre felt like she was going to explode, each and every time. It was no wonder she burned like the sun and Rhys’s darkness soared out of him, stars and moons and entire galaxies sweeping away everything in their path.

She felt goosebumps on her skin and swallowed. Helion was perfectly still as he listened, enthralled and - she had no doubt - aroused as well.

“He sends me pictures too,” she continued in a lighter tone, trying to quell the growing ache between her legs. “So I can see myself as he sees me, as he’s fucking me. Or if we’re apart, we can… tease each other.”

She knew Rhys was looking at her now, undoubtedly fully aware of how flustered she had made herself, but she couldn’t look back at him or she would be climbing over the table to pounce on his delicious body. Caught in the full attention of two High Lords, her blood pounding through her veins, Feyre had no idea what to say next - but fortunately for her, Cassian interrupted them from Helion’s other side.

“You two look very cosy together,” he said, oblivious to the topic of conversation. “What are you gossiping about?”

Helion smiled broadly as he began, “Feyre-”

But Rhys immediately cut him off, his voice friendly but firm. “-Is entitled to her secrets.”

Their guest’s honey-coloured eyes were full of amusement. “As I was going to say, Rhysand, Feyre is clearly enjoying life here in the City of Starlight. Every single day, she positively… glows.”

“Oh, at least once,” Rhys smirked, and then changed the subject so swiftly that Cassian and anyone else listening had no time to work out what he could possibly mean by that.

“Can I propose a toast?” he said loudly, and the whole table quietened. His brilliant violet eyes gazed first at Helion, and then straight into Feyre’s as he went on: “To our alliance with the Day Court. To the coming together of great minds and souls.”

His intonation was lost on everyone else as they toasted, but Helion laughed aloud and Feyre flushed from head to toe at the fact he’d heard everything she’d said, and the fact that he liked it, judging by the dark desire painted all over his face.

As much as I want to, he told her, his smooth voice caressing the inside of her skull, We can’t leave this table just yet. But perhaps you can send me some of those pictures you were telling Helion about?

Prick, Feyre replied, clenching her thighs together despite herself.

Come on, darling. Show me how you want me later.

She picked up her glass and drank the rest of the champagne straight down. Then formed an image of herself dancing with Helion in the living room, both fully dressed but entwined together, while Rhys was forced to sit and watch, his wrists bound to his chair - and flung it into his mind.

He blinked in shock, and then the most dangerous smile lifted the corners of his lips. Feyre was remotely aware that Helion had started conversing with Cassian, obviously realising that he had lost her attention. And she knew it was rude, especially as she was his host, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care right now. Not when her mate sent his own pictures back to her - of the same scene but with him naked, reclining on the chair as he stroked himself, getting off on watching her move her body against another male.

Rhys! she yelped, shifting in her seat. She longed to be closer to him, to be able to smell and touch him, to feel his muscles and his power thrumming next to her own. But she knew that if she moved any closer, it would be the end of decency.

Eat, he commanded, fully aware of her internal struggle. Most of the time she loved that he knew her so well - better than she knew herself, in a lot of ways - but right now she just wanted to damn him for winning the upper hand yet again.

And, sweet Feyre, he went on, At least try not to look like you’re thinking about me fucking you in here.

It was a miracle that she got through the rest of the meal, and dessert, and fortified wine, with more rounds of toasting as everyone grew merrier and more uninhibited. They eventually adjourned to the living room, spilling out into the back garden, and it was hours but felt like days until Rhys tugged on her hand and stole her away from the party, winnowing them into his study and pressing her back into the locked door.

“Hi lover,” she breathed, gazing at him with all the adoration and desire she felt for him as her arms locked around his neck and she drew him as close as physically possible. It had been sweet torture being so near to him all afternoon and yet unable to touch him, to hold him in the ways she wanted to most of all. “Is it finally time?”

“For what?” he asked, his voice low, his body hot and humming with deadly promise.

For you to take me in here. She sounded playful and sultry; a combination she knew drove him wild. Come and smother me in your darkness. Come and lick me all over. Come and claim me.

His growl made the bookshelves shudder.

His mind and soul, heart and body claimed her so thoroughly she didn’t even know her own name by the end.

And outside, as he felt her power suddenly burst free, Helion fell to his knees under the early evening sky and roared with laughter.

II

[todorokies]

megumi reminds me so much of autumn . . . the leaves turning frail and crunchy, the outdoor air carrying a cold breeze that shakes wind chimes, the days fall short whereas the nights stills longer, warm maroon coloured sweaters, vanilla and apple scents follows in bakeries and candle shops . . .

this time of year cast a lovely veil over megumi’s life which temporarily reliefs him of his duties as a sorcerer. he chooses his spare time wisely and doesn’t take it for granted, since you occupy most of his thoughts its only warranted he spends his lazy saturdays with you by his side.

the first saturday of october, you both visit a secondhand book store after grabbing tea at a cozy cafe. megumi buys a agatha christie novel, the murder at the vicarage, you on the other hand buy a r.l stine goosebumps book. he sighs with a soft smile of his face, “typical…” he mutters to himself.

the second saturday of october, you, yuji, and nobara somehow grouped megumi into playing with an ouija board. after countless attempts of asking questions to the actual thin air, the planchette moves to the ‘yes’ side of the board after you and nobara jokingly asked: ‘does someone haunt the dorm room in the male east wing?’ the room was soon filled with screams of terror . . . needless to say you spent the night in your boyfriend’s dorm cuddled up in his arms.

the third saturday of october consists of going into tokyo for a street festival. traditional snacks, candy apples, cinnamon rolls and the smell of caramel wafts throughout the street. going hand in hand manoeuvring through the large crowd while looking at the cool vendors and displays and occasionally saying, “look 'gumi let's check this one out!”

with the fourth and final saturday of october, you currently reside in the commoner kitchen sitting on top of the counter watching megumi use halloween-themed cookie cutters on pre-made dough. the plan for tonight was to stay in and watch hocus pocus, after some time you break the comfortable silence, "so... since when do you like halloween?" a small smirk plays on his lips "who said i didn't?"

“you don’t seem like the type, you know?” you take a neatly rolled up piece of cookie dough off the baking sheet to prop it in your mouth, “if i didn’t know you well enough i’d probably think your favourite holiday was something boring like new year’s.” he snickers at your claim but covers it up with a fake dry cough not wanting to give you that full satisfaction.

he ends up choosing to ignore your comment, “there’s a lot of things to do around the fall time that entertains me. that’s all.” you teasingly wiggle your eyebrows clearly fascinated by this new discovery. “did you ever dress up for halloween?”

“gojo used to dress me and tsumiki up all the time when we were little. one year we went as oompa loompas and he dressed as willy wonka.” his eyebrow slightly twitches in annoyance by the faint memory.

you hold in your laughter mainly to protect megumi’s ego and make a mental note to ask gojo for proof with pictures later. “i’m glad you wanna spend this month with me it seems like it means a lot to you.” you blurt out suddenly while fondly smiling at him as you softly trace over his chuckles with your finger.

his breath gets stuck in his throat and he can practically feel the blush climbing from his neck up to his face. you always seem to do this to him; make him awestruck and flustered like an idiot with a freshly new crush. but in hindsight, he doesn’t think the puppy love phase will ever end, at least not for him, you still make his stomach flip and tumble after many months together.

contrary to popular belief, megumi believes that the month of love doesn’t take place in february, but in the month of october. where the orange, yellow, and red is a far more appealing set of colours than pink and white.

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3 a/n: in honor of it being september

[whiteskullofroses]

STAR OF JERUSALEM

Baldwin Iv x Reader

🕯️Imagine you're a theatre star touring the world. Once you perform on the Holy Land, The king notices your talent and wishes to get to know you.🕯️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"AND ONE AND TWO AND THREE AND Y/N GO!"

And you went. Stepping on the red X drawn upon the stage. Your joyful and youthful face turning into a straight and emotionless one.

"Esto quod es, ex animo, ex Luna."

The scene looked absolutely mesmerising. On the huge wooden floor sat a man-made moon in the phase of waning crescent. Behind you swung stars, the hot weather of Jerusalem making them shimmer and shine as though they were a sheet of a book kissed by candle light.

"Esse est percipi." Clapping sharply and reaching for one of the stars: "ad altiora tendo." Throwing the star on the ground, having it dramatically break apart: "ad astra."

Swirling in your own little world as the strings played a gentle, heart touching melody on the command of the harpist's fingertips.

"Luceo non uro." You sang, breathing steadily and stopping on the centre of the stage again: "nec spe" the music picked up the pace, you dropped to you knees: "nec metu."

"BEAUTIFUL Y/N! BEAUTIFUL!"

You inhaled deeply, for this night wasn't like no other. Rumors roaming around like a vampire at night, that his majesty, Baldwin the fourth will be joining the hopeful crowd of people who share a passion for ancient poetry combined with dread that comes with being alive and wanting it acted out infront of them.

Such news excited you madly, wanting to do the best of the best you practiced day and night for this magical show which will appear before everyone's eyes tonight.

You were incredibly lucky to have God bless you with the talent of being such a delicate preformer. The bigger the crowd, the better. The more eyes were glued to you the smoother words ran out of your mouth.

'What a lovely feeling it is, to be loved.' you thought, not only today but often as you've seen all of Europe, have met hundreds of impressionable people of whom you only heard in fairytales as a lowborn child. Them preaching what a fine show you've put on behind the stage curtains after every show made you feel like a flawless angel with bright wings and the purest soul.

The Holy Spirit inside you was preaching that showing off your skill to who some call 'the messenger of God', or simply the ruler of the Holy Land, should be your top priority. You always listened to it, as a personal belief of yours was that It was in fact God speaking to you through it. So what other choice could you have?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heavy clouds casted upon the wide stadium. Whispers of wonder were dominated by laughter of those already tipsy ones. These kinds of special events that to foreigners often seemed formal, were in all reality a party for all kinds. Those who wished to drink through the show were allowed without any restrictions, yet those who listened and watched you, were rather intoxicated with words that cut deep.

And so it is. The Greek harpist began strumming a century old melody called: 'Stella iuxta Lunam'. The crowd went silent like birds during a storm. Curtains coloured dark blue opened, presenting a beautiful young woman in a black dress with pearls in her hair. That woman was you.

The people of Jerusalem weren't used to a woman showing her hair, not only because of how religious the people were, but also because of the hot weather. Many people would suffer heat strokes and terrible migraines without them.

As you sang in Latin, the clouds cried down on the Earth. Soft tapping mother nature provided with the downpour gave out a great additional scene.

"Ad astra..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Folks cheered, threw roses and whistled in your honor over and over again. The rain had long before stopped allowing the stars to shine up in the skies.

Bowing and sending kisses to the sea of people, you left the stage.

Sighing and letting your hair down. Just as you were about to go drink some water, you heard an unfamiliar voice speak your name.

"Yes?" Breathing out and turning towards the one standing behind you.

As soon as you saw his metal mask you quickly added: "Your majesty."

Straightening up and giving your hair a quick fix, he started: "I greatly apologize for interrupting you while on break."

Sitting down on a chair, breathing heavily.

He was so sick. It broke your heart, poor twenty year old couldn't even walk a couple of meters without almost passing out.

"However" he continued: "I must say I'm a great fan of your work."

Taken back from the fact that the King of Jerusalem himself came to see you perform despite his state: "I'm truly honored, your majesty-"

"Baldwin." Interrupting you. Noticing your surprised expression he chuckled.

"Alright, Baldwin. Thank you for coming to see me tonight." It wasn't unusually for you to have people of power view you as one of them. After all you made good money and were loved to death by whole of Europe.

"I'm really proud of how far you've come." Baldwin was showering you in compliments and all you could do was redden in the cheeks and grin.

After a while he pondered: "How long are you staying here, Y/N? Tilting his head to you, who was now sitting opposite to him.

"Three days."

Baldwin leaned forward: "Do you play chess?"

You did. And you were bloody good at it too.

"Join me tomorrow for a round then." Standing up and taking one last look at you: "when the Sun goes down."

THE END.

[printcharms]

[lilyrizzy]

day 3 of 12 days of the maxiel advent calendar lol. this one is sad in a bittersweet way. content warning for a discussion focused around the loss of a newborn child. Please don't read if that is something too upsetting to you <3 set in the same universe as this.

Underneath the apple tree in their garden, there’s a patch of daffodils.

They bloom every springtime, the vibrant shades of sunshine yellow enough to light up whatever room they are put into. The first bunch, Max always likes to arrange in the vase Grace and Joe gave them as a wedding gift, the second, third and fourth into each of the babies rooms. The air of the ranch becomes sweet with their scent, and at lunchtimes when Livia and Oli are called inside from playing, sticky pollen covers their fingertips.

“Papa,” Livia says to him on one of these September days, and Max knows to brace himself for a question by the curiosity laced in her voice. Like always, she does not disappoint.

“What happened to our big brother?”

The breath catches in Max’s throat.

He and Daniel had always agreed they would never keep their first son’s existence a secret from their children, no matter how hard it might be to help them understand. The idea of Theo becoming something that could only be spoken about in hushed whispers at convenient times was too painful when every day they felt his loss. The absence of a fourth pitch of giggles to hear playing from the next room every day, a second curly head for them to tuck safely into bed each night.

But this is the first time Livia has ever mused the ‘why’, of that out loud.

She is drawing a picture titled my family, her ‘homework’ for nursery. Max can see their flattering stick figure portraits, her and Oli almost as big as he and Daniel are, while Toni resembles an earthworm on the ground beside the four of them. In the top right-hand corner, just underneath the sun, she has drawn her eldest brother, complete with a set of pink angel wings.

“Me and Daddy told you, remember?” Max reminds her, but gently. His patience for his children is endless in a way it never was for racing. “Theo is in heaven.”

Max isn’t sure he believes in heaven, knows for a fact Daniel doesn’t, but he also knows how important it is for children to have good things to have faith in and to hope for, like the tooth fairy or Santa Clause. A source of comfort, the way his mum lighting candles used to be for him.

Livia nods seriously, busy scribbling what Max guesses is supposed to be Daniel’s hair if the twisting lines are anything to go by. Then, seemingly no longer satisfied with this answer she asks, “Why is he not with us?”

Daniel is out with Oli and Toni at the aquarium. The only reason Max and Livia aren’t with them is because in thirty minutes, they have to leave for the under 5’s football training Livia loves so much.

She get’s that from her Papa, Daniel likes to remind him, as though mashing keys on FIFA is comparable to the overexcited way their daughter squeals when she scores a goal.

Alone, Max feels totally unprepared for this. Daniel is so much better at wrapping the world up into words their children can understand and make peace with. For a moment, he almost asks her for a cuddle, the selfish reassurance of her warmth and the rise and fall of her chest as he holds her, but he doesn’t want to clue her into how hard this is for him.

He is her Papa, one of the two people who are meant to stand between her and all the bad in the world. Instead, he reaches to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she continues to draw and thinks back to how Theo’s little tuft had been all brown.

“When he was born, he was very poorly,” Max explains, and though it has been a very long time, it is as easy as anything to remember him in his hospital bed, tubes, wires and needles all protruding from his skin, tinged a sickly grey. “He wasn’t strong, like you, Oli and Toni.”

“Because he didn’t eat his carrots?” Livia asks, looking up at Max with owlish eyes, and Max has to laugh, charmed by her childish logic, her belief in everything he and Daniel tell her. He knows this phase won’t last forever, that they’ll soon be replaced with teachers and google, but for now he lets himself enjoy it.

“No,” he promises, shaking his head. “No, because something went wrong, when he was inside the tummy. Remember like me and Daddy told you that you used to be, also?”

She nods, enthusiastic suddenly to show off her knowledge.

“You had to find a lady to keep us in their belly so we could be borned,” she recites, and Max smiles. It feels like yesterday she was as small as Theo, and now she is big and smart, and her own little person, the way all of his babies got to be except for one.

“Exactly,” he encourages. “Well, when Theo was in the belly, something bad happened, so that when he was born he was sick. It made him very tired, and so he had to go to sleep forever, in heaven.”

Livia chews her lip like that still might not be enough to appease her. Max is just thinking about how to reword it, when-

“Will I ever get to see him?” She asks, like this has been the real reason for her line of questioning all along.

Thinking about the patch of daffodils where he and Daniel scattered the ashes of their first born’s, Max considers telling her that she sees him every spring, when Daniel goes out to collect a bunch to place in vases all around their home. That in a way, Theo has watched over her every year from his spot on their dresser, bringing added sunshine into their bedroom.

She is too little now though to truly understand. In time she will, but for now he wants to hold onto all the ways she is still his baby for just a little while longer. He is in no hurry for her to grow up.

“I don’t think so,” he says honestly, with an apologetic smile. “But I think he see’s you, watches you and your brother and sister play from the sky.”

Livia pauses, like maybe she has more questions and again Max braces himself.

“Okay,” is all she says though, and then she is picking up her crayons again. Max can’t help but lean over to kiss the top of her head, then tickle her side until she giggles, and swats him away telling him seriously, “Papa, you will make my drawing wonky.”

“Sorry, liefje,” he says, matching her tone, and then reaches for his phone.

Livy just asked me about Theo, he texts to Daniel. The last thing in their message thread is a photo of Oli, nose and palms pressed against the shark tank, and beneath it four words, our brave little fucker.

Unsurprisingly it’s only a few seconds before Daniel is typing a response.

its normal for her to have questions, and Max resists the urge to roll his eyes fondly, because of course, Max knows this.

Then, big kiss coming your way in approx 78 minutes, Mr Verstappen-Ricciardo.

Then, I love you.

I love you too, Max texts back, pocketing his phone. There isn’t much to be said over text, or even in person maybe, other than an repeat of what Livia asked, what Max explained to her. Everything else has already been said and these days can the pain can be shared with a simple kiss, and an evening holding each other as they watch their children play.

 Turning his attention back to Livia now, her little hands clenched tightly in fists around a black crayon, he notices the strange circle shapes she is drawing over angel Theo’s eyes.

“What are these?” He asks bemused, pointing to them.

“Glasses Papa,” she says, like she thinks this should be very obvious. “Theo needs them to see us, if he is so high up.”

[romione-trope-fest]

Whiskey on Rounds

Fic Title: Whiskey on Rounds

Author Name: Be11atrixthestrange

Selected Trope: OOTP Missing Moment

Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione skive off prefect rounds.

Word Count: 1661

Rating: General

—

The sound of Hermione’s footsteps stumbling down the stairs functioned as an alarm for Ron, who was deep into his astronomy textbook. It was a relatively uneventful Wednesday night for the fifth years. Hermione had, of course, finished her schoolwork early, while Harry sat brooding on one of the armchairs pretending to study. As usual, Ron was on his own again, and burying himself into his homework was better than getting his head bitten off by their easily-angered best friend. 

Without a second thought, Ron slammed his textbook closed when Hermione appeared at his table. 

“Ready for rounds?”

“Yes,” he said, then added under his breath, “Thank Merlin.”

“I heard that,” grumbled Harry from his chair. 

“Sorry mate,” said Ron apologetically. “I’ll see you later.”

As predicted, Harry didn’t answer. The pair had just gotten into an argument about nothing in particular, which was extra frustrating because it couldn’t be fixed. Ron was either not angry enough about something, or too optimistic about something else. Honestly, he didn’t actually know. He just needed a break. Ron turned toward Hermione who shrugged, and the pair turned and left through the portrait hole. 

“He’s being such an arse right now,” said Ron, as soon as the portrait door closed behind them. 

“Ron. Don’t swear.”

“You know I’m not wrong, though.”

Hermione didn’t protest, as Ron had expected. The pair had talked about this before. Ever since Voldemort had returned at the end of their fourth year, and Harry had that dreadful experience in the graveyard, things had just been off with him. They complained about it in private, but Ron knew they were both just worried for him. Honestly, this year it felt like they were his parents, constantly fretting about keeping him safe, happy, and out of trouble. Not that any of their efforts mattered. 

The pair trotted through the corridors toward the east wing, where they usually began rounds, but before they reached their destination, Hermione darted down an unfamiliar corridor. 

“Hermione, where are you going?”

“Follow me,” she said, reaching for his arm and tugging him alongside her. 

“We usually start rounds in the—”

“Shhh.”

Hermione tugged a confused Ron down a winding corridor, past their classrooms and up a few staircases until they came into a more familiar hallway on the seventh floor, one that they had spent a significant amount of time in with Harry and company, but never alone.

“What are we doing with the Room of Requirement?” “Just wait,” said Hermione, her voice jittery with excitement. 

She paced the blank wall across from the Barnabas the Barmy tapestry three times. “We need a place to skive off rounds.”

Ron’s jaw dropped. Skive off rounds? Hermione would never. “Hermione, are you serious?”

She didn’t answer his question, and instead, stared intently at the wall until the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. “Let’s go!”

Ron shook his head as if to wake himself up from a dream. When nothing changed, he grinned and followed after her through another corridor, this one just recently built by the Room of Requirement itself. After a short walk through the dark, candle lit hallway, the pair emerged into what looked like a miniature, dimly lit cocktail lounge. There was a fully stocked bar in the corner, a couple of chaise lounges, and what appeared to be a muggle jukebox, which Ron only knew because it was one of his dad’s favorite artifacts. 

“This is not what I was expecting, but I’ll take it!” said Hermione. 

Ron stared at the bar. Normally, they’d have to head into Hogsmeade to get a drink, and even then they were only allowed butterbeer at their age. Even if Hermione wasn’t expecting it, Ron knew the Room of Requirement always conjured up not what the seeker expected, but what they truly needed. Maybe what Ron and Hermione needed was a drink. “Are we really doing this?”

As if to answer his question indirectly, Hermione trotted over to the bar and began perusing the selection of drinks before reaching for a bottle of firewhiskey. 

Firewhiskey, of all things. 

“Want some?” she asked. 

Ron stared at her, his mouth agape. “Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?”

Hermione whisked around to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“Obviously it’s a yes.”

  x

Ron watched as Hermione fiddled with the muggle jukebox with one hand, the other clutching a glass of firewhiskey and tonic water. “I don’t really know any of these songs, but that’s okay.”

Ron wouldn’t have been much help. He also didn’t know of any muggle songs, and the jukebox in his dad’s shed had been broken for as long as Ron could remember. He sat on one of the chaise lounges and sipped away at his own drink, some strange concoction thought up by Hermione. It was tasty, sure, and Ron could tell there was a fair bit of alcohol content. He could already feel his guard coming down with each sip. Some unfamiliar music filled the room as Hermione turned and approached him before plopping down onto the other lounge. At that moment, Ron found himself wishing the Room of Requirement provided what the seekers wanted, not needed, because then there’d be a single sofa instead of two separate chairs. Then Hermione would have to sit next to him. Maybe that was the room’s way of telling him something. 

“If we get in trouble for this, I’ll take the blame, okay?” said Hermione. 

Funnily enough, the thought of getting in trouble had hardly crossed Ron’s mind. Maybe he should have been more concerned about that. Would a professor even believe this was Hermione’s idea? Probably not, but it wasn’t worth arguing about.

“So really, what brought this on?”

Hermione shrugged. ���Aren’t you stressed out?”

She didn’t have to clarify why. Ron knew she wasn’t referring to homework, classes, or prefect duties, but to their mutual best friend. 

“Is this how you manage stress now?” asked Ron. “Because I could get used to this.”

Hermione laughed. “No, but I just wanted to have a good time with a friend.” 

What a welcome distraction. “Been a bit hard lately.” 

“Yeah,” said Hermione before taking another sip of her drink. 

Ron swirled his drink around in his glass. “You don’t think McGonagall will notice?”

“Us missing one day of rounds? No.”

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. “You seem so sure. Since when are you a rule-breaker?”

“I’m not a rule-breaker, Ron. That’s how I get away with breaking the rules.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Sure it does. Think about it. If a tree falls in the Forbidden Forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

Ron couldn’t help but laugh at her ridiculous analogy. Was that another one of those dumb muggle sayings? “What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“It’s not that I don’t break rules. It’s that I don’t get caught.”

He stared back at her, his eyes wide. Everything he thought he knew about Hermione swirled in his head like a cloud of contradictions. Hermione, the girl who thought the worst thing one could be was expelled, not killed. The one who would pull all-nighters to finish an assignment, would always be back in the common room before curfew, and would deduct house points from Gryffindor for her very own uniform violations. That was the same girl skipping rounds and drinking firewhiskey in the Room of Requirement? 

And yet, she was also the girl who illicitly brewed polyjuice potion in second year. She set Snape’s robes on fire, talked back to teachers, snuck into the forbidden forest, and blackmailed Rita Skeeter. Maybe he gave her too much credit. Or maybe not enough. 

“Have you ever had firewhiskey before?” asked Ron. He couldn’t remember ever seeing it with his own eyes. 

“Once.”

“And where did you get it?”

Hermione blushed. “I confiscated it from your brothers.”

“Fred and George?”

“Last month,” said Hermione with a nod and a giggle.

Ron burst out laughing. “Do they know you drank it?”

“No and don’t you dare tell them!”

Hermione’s bounding laugh was a welcome and contagious sound, and Ron couldn’t help but follow suit. It had been a while since they’d laughed like this without worrying about being too loud and disturbing their best friend from his homework. Or his recent brooding. In fact, Ron couldn’t remember the last time he and Hermione were alone together guilt-free. Besides prefect rounds, maybe it was this past summer? 

There was a marked difference between the two ever since the Yule Ball incident, when Ron’s feelings about their friendship became all too clear. It wasn’t that he liked Hermione like that, but that it wasn’t off the table. And her going to the ball with Krum made it seem like certain things weren’t possible anymore. But, now Krum was no longer in the picture, and Ron was sitting in the Room of Requirement with Hermione, drinking firewhiskey instead of doing rounds. Maybe things weren’t quite as off the table as he thought. 

“I like this side of you,” said Ron. A lot, he wanted to add, but he stopped himself before he could come on too strong. 

“Well don’t get used to it,” said Hermione. “This is a one time thing.”

“Sure it is,” said Ron. “Wait until Harry hears about this.”

Hermione stifled a giggle with another sip of her firewhiskey. “He wouldn’t believe you, you know.”

Deep down, Ron knew that was true. No one would believe Hermione skived off rounds and whisked him into the Room of Requirement to drink instead. It was completely absurd. Little miss rule follower, or at least that’s what everyone else thought. 

“That’s fine, I’ll keep this Hermione to myself.”

Maybe he really was the only one who got to see this side of her. Honestly, that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (xx, ao3)

(Chapter 20: Awaiting the date for the second meeting with the human queens, Cassian is left in Windhaven with Rhys, who is trying - and failing - to deal with Feyre’s reaction to their mating bond) (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

Without ceremony, Cassian slammed the glass down on the table.

The amber liquid inside licked the edges, threatening to spill, but the High Lord seated at the table didn’t lift his head from his hands. Four days worth of grief lined his frame, mingling with frustration and exhaustion to lie heavy on his shoulders, and his wings hung limp at his back, tips brushing the floor and shuddering with every breath that wracked through Rhys’ chest. His sable hair fell over the fingers he kept pressed to his face, covering his violet eyes, and as he let out yet another low, mournful sigh…

Cassian couldn’t help but feel the barest flicker of irritation, his patience beginning to gutter like a candle almost spent.

Four days.

He had endured four days of this— of his High Lord spending his nights drifting through the house, eyes brimming with so much self-pity Cassian thought it a wonder he didn’t drown, and his days snapping at any who dared cross his path, bearing down on the camp with an intensity that was making even Devlon twitch. Rhys was thornier than usual, his words clipped when he spoke, and the lack of sleep had circles forming beneath his eyes that were darker than Cassian had ever seen before. That night-kissed power of his lurched through Windhaven like an ominous, foreboding kind of breeze each day, setting all of them on edge, and with Rhys so tightly wound and war so close they could almost taste it…

It was only a matter of time before something or someone cracked beneath the pressure. 

And as Cassian watched his brother sit at the table with his head in his hands for the fourth night in a row, he knew it was going to be his temper that broke first, his patience that snapped. After all, Feyre hadn’t rejected the bond. She hadn’t even rejected Rhys. She’d only asked for space, for time, and they were both things that Rhys could give in abundance. If Cassian was bitter that he had too much of the former and not nearly enough of the latter when it came to Nesta, well… 

He deserved a fucking medal for staying silent for so long.

“Rhys,” he said sharply now, nudging his high High Lord in the shoulder. When he didn’t move, Cassian smacked him about the back of the head. “Rhys.”

A dim grumble was his only response, but Rhys’ fingers curled around the glass, even if he didn’t lift his head. Cassian folded his arms.

“I’m not doing this for another fucking day,” he said flatly. “Get your shit together.”

Rhys huffed a laugh, shoulders shaking, but the sound was bitter and cracked, muffled by the hand he still had covering his face. 

“Easy for you to say,” he said, lifting his head at last to drain his whiskey— his fourth glass. “Your mate hasn’t cast you off completely.”

Cassian snarled. “Neither has yours, you fucking idiot.”

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me when she found out. The way she pulled back—”

“Oh, for fucks sake, Rhys.”

Cassian rounded the table, pulling out the chair opposite and sinking down with an emphatic huff. At least your mate isn’t married to somebody fucking else, he thought— almost said aloud. His heart ached, seemed bruised behind his ribs, and every breath he took lately speared ice into his lungs, like he’d lost the ability to breathe easy the moment he’d let Nesta leave after Starfall. A fucking idiot— that’s what he was. A monumental fucking fool for letting her go.

His wings settled around the low back of the worn wooden chair, and Cassian eyed the bottle that sat in the middle of dining table with grimly hopeful eyes— as if praying the amber liquid inside might just offer a kernel of something akin to peace. It was golden beneath the candlelight, and as he poured himself a more than generous measure, Cassian flicked his attention up to fix his High Lord with a flat stare.

He was tired.

Oh, he’d been filled with brotherly concern and sympathy at first. After Mor had winnowed Feyre away, Cassian had hauled Rhys into the house and checked his wounds, bandaged him up the way he had so many times over the centuries. All whilst he’d listened to every word of every woeful tale Rhys recounted— the arrows, the cave, the way he’d bled and Feyre had found him. The way she’d taken care of him, ensnared a fucking suriel to find a way to heal him… and the way she’d hissed, voice resounding cold on stone, how long have you known that I’m your mate?

Rhys’ face had turned ashen when he’d reached that part. So Cassian had poured him a drink, and made Illyrian stew the way Rhys’ mother had taught him— a bid at bringing his brother some kind of old comfort. And at night, when Rhys wouldn’t sleep, Cassian had stayed up with him, tracking the path of the moon across the sky as they spoke in the darkness, putting the world to rights with everything they did and did not say.

But that was days ago.

And he just… didn’t have the strength anymore. Couldn’t pretend it didn’t cut deep, to see Rhys so cut in two whilst his own heart cracked in silence. If Rhys hadn’t slept for four days, then neither had Cassian, and his temper was a fledgling flame now, a breath from flaring, and his siphons flickered uneasily with every heavy breath he drew into his lungs.

Devlon had been on his back for days, perennially scowling, and as the camps rang out with the sound of weapons being hammered in the smithies, Cassian had made his rounds, inspecting three or four of them a day. Swords clashed in the training rings from Windhaven to Ironcrest, and anvils were hammered day and night as all of Illyria prepared for war, anticipating bloodshed. It had Cassian teetering on the edge, and with Az remaining in Velaris and Mor leaving early to check on Feyre, Cassian had found himself left entirely alone to deal with both a legion on the brink and his brother’s maudlin attitude.

Like he didn’t have enough to fucking put up with. 

And if that wasn’t bad enough - if there wasn’t enough salt being rubbed into the wound that was his mate being a married, human, woman - he’d met with Emerie’s father today to discuss supplying the men with thicker leathers and fresh boots, and when Proteus had disappeared round the back to fetch a sample of the new flying gear they’d had delivered, Emerie had asked, in hushed tones, if Cassian had heard anything from their “mutual friend”.

Cassian swore his heart had cracked right down the middle when he’d answered no, and he was still fucking bitter about it. 

Perhaps that was why he’d finally had enough of Rhys’ moping, his misplaced grief. The crevice in his heart had swallowed every last ounce of patience he possessed.

“Do you have idea,” Cassian said quietly, swirling the whiskey in his glass before knocking it back and downing it in one, “what I’d give for my only issue to be figuring out how to earn Nesta’s forgiveness? For that to be the only barrier between us?”

Fuck— for days he’d been trying so hard not to think of her— of what it’d be like to have her here with him. He hadn’t let himself go down that road, to even start, but as the whiskey touched his tongue his resolve crumbled, and suddenly he was drowning in the thoughts of her he’d worked hard to bury for almost a week now. He was consumed by them— by the idea of her sitting in that shop with Emerie, discussing smut as the snow fell outside. He thought of her eyes, how they would shine in the glare of the sun on the snow-capped mountain, her silver-blue the brightest fucking thing in a place like this. 

Wryly, he shook his head, pouring another measure. “You have all the time in the world to work it out with Feyre, Rhys. Some of us don’t have that luxury.”

He couldn’t stop the bitterness that crept into his tone, and gods, for a moment he wished he and Rhys could switch places. What wouldn’t he give for Nesta to be in Feyre’s place? To be above the wall— to be fae? What wouldn’t he sacrifice if it meant he could keep her forever? If it meant she wore a ring on her finger that he had put there, not that fucking cunt of a husband—

Softly, he snarled. Nothing— there was nothing he wouldn’t give. 

Because Feyre would forgive Rhys eventually. She would accept the bond and they would have centuries together -  centuries - whilst Cassian was left staring down decades at best, desperately grappling for the time Rhys took for granted. 

The only way this ends is in heartbreak.

Mor’s warning flared in his memory, as uncomfortable as it was unwelcome, and with his heart heavy, Cassian lifted the glass to his lips and drank until his throat burned.

Rhys swallowed. 

“I…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think,” he said quietly. “You’re the last person I should be complaining to. I’m sorry, Cass.”

“I don’t want your apologies,” Cassian answered gruffly, resting his forearms on the table’s edge. “I want you to stop fucking whining. Go after her.”

“She doesn’t want me to go after her—”

“She’s pissed at you,” Cassian cut in. “Doesn’t mean she wants you out of her life completely.”

“She begged Mor to take her away—”

“She wanted time, Rhys. Fucking gods, if you can’t see how desperately in love with you she is then you’re even thicker than I thought.”

Rhys glared, his lips pressed together in a thin line as dark brows lowered over violet eyes. A crease appeared in his forehead as he frowned, and tension bracketed his mouth as he met Cassian’s eye. He hadn’t slept— for four days, he hadn’t slept properly, and from the almost bereft look that crossed Rhys’ face whenever he thought of Feyre for more than half a second, Cassian knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight, either. It made him soften, made the frustration leak out of him as he groaned, resting an elbow on the table and propping his head up on a fist. 

“It’ll be alright Rhys,” Cassian said after a moment, his voice gentler than before. “She’ll come round.”

The High Lord only huffed, taking a deep breath and tipping his head back, eyes roving across the ceiling. He let out a long breath, and when he brought his eyes back down, Cassian could have sworn there was guilt swimming there in the violet.

“And you?” Rhys asked slowly. “Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” Cassian shrugged. Softly he added, “I have to be, don’t I? We don’t have a hope in hell of winning this war otherwise.”

Gods— all he wanted was to come home to her. To stamp the snow from his boots at the threshold of a house they shared together. He’d never had a home of his own, not really, because he’d never felt the need for one until now. But now he dreamed of waking to find Nesta sleeping beside him, dreamed of late nights and lazy mornings, tea in the kitchen and wine on the porch. He wanted it all, but instead he had Rhys looking forlorn at the dining room table, Devlon breathing down his neck, and Mor’s warning from days ago burning a hole through his skull.

So yes— he’d be alright. Because there were battles to fight first, kings to defeat and walls to strengthen, and if he wanted that life - that life with Nesta - then first he had to win it, and there could be no doubt in his mind when he donned his armour, when he stepped onto that battlefield.

He had to believe that the future he dreamed of waited for him at the end of it all.

And fuck— when did he get so morose? He shook his head as Rhys studied him, at the bald honesty that he knew was on his face. He huffed a small laugh, deflecting, filling his glass once more, leaving the bottle almost empty.

“Women,” he muttered wryly, knocking back his whiskey.

Rhys snorted. “Archeron women,” he corrected.

Cassian hummed his agreement as Rhys tipped back his own glass, draining the amber liquid and hissing at the burn sliding down his throat. His brother set the glass down with a definitive thud, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head.

“Would you change it?” Rhys asked quietly. 

“Change what?”

Rhys shrugged. “The bond. Do you ever wish it hadn’t snapped? That you and Nesta weren’t…”

He trailed off. Cassian quirked an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Fuck, no,” Rhys answered. “But it’s different with you. She’s human.”

“And?” Cassian challenged, pinning his brother with an unwavering, unforgiving stare. “She is singlehandedly the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met. The fact that she’s human…” He paused, let his eyes drift closed as his breath shuddered in his throat. “It would never be enough to make me wish she wasn’t mine.”

His stupid fucking heart tightened a little at that.

Mine.

Because it didn’t matter that she slept beside another man at night, didn’t matter that she wore his ring. She was his, in every way that mattered, that counted— she was his.

He let out a dry laugh, one filled with the kind of mirth that was edged with agony. He added, his voice laced with challenge, “Was it enough for you? Feyre was human too when you met her.”

“No,” Rhys answered softly, refilling his glass as if he knew that this was a conversation best had with liquor— and lots of it. Cassian silently agreed, taking the whiskey from his brother’s hands and filling up his own glass, emptying the bottle. Rhys blinked slowly, cradling his drink as he sat back, wings twitching as he searched for a place to start.

“When it snapped,” he said at last, in a voice that was quiet and pained, “I was under the mountain. It almost broke me, and walking away knowing exactly who I was leaving behind…” He shook his head, and absently he rubbed at his chest, like the bond there was pulling, straining with every moment he and Feyre spent apart. Fuck if Cassian didn’t feel the same, if he didn’t know exactly what that tugging felt like. “Mor found me when I got home. I was trembling and babbling, and all I could say over and over and over was she’s my mate.” He swallowed again, dragging a hand down his face. “But I think I knew before that. Long before that. The first time I met her, when she was a human wandering through the dark on fucking Calanmai of all nights… I think part of me knew then. And that part didn’t give a damn that she was mortal.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, damn near solemn as Cassian thought of how he’d count every single one of Nesta’s heartbeats for the rest of her life, thanking the Cauldron for every single one. 

Rhys blinked, lifting his chin, and when he spoke his voice was rough and plaintive. “I need to get her back,” he said.

Cassian took one look at his brother, at the eyes almost entirely devoid of starlight, and nodded, reaching a hand over to lightly pat Rhys’ forearm. “Yeah,” he said. “You do.”

Rhys offered him a watery smile, a weak curving of his lips, before he let out a steadying breath, shaking his head as if hoping to clear it. Cassian made himself smile too, forced his mouth to twist into something resembling a smirk. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work so hard for a girl’s attention,” he commented dryly. 

Rhys barked a dry laugh. “Nor I you,” he countered. “How are your wings holding up after all those flights between the wall and Velaris you think I don’t know about?”

Cassian swore. “How do you know about that?”

Rhys grinned, but said nothing. “All I ask is that if you’re going to kill her husband, you don’t track the blood into the carpets of the House when you get back home.”

Cassian snorted, sipping his whiskey as he thought about slitting her husband’s throat. Oh, he’d relish it. The siphon on the back of his hand glowed in agreement, and a time would come, he knew, when he would have a blade pressed to the bastard’s neck, when he’d draw his blood. He just needed Nesta here first, safe. 

He sniffed as he thought of her, all those secret smiles she gave him, that slight curve of her lips when she was trying to hold herself back. He thought of the blush that spread over her cheeks when he teased her, the sound of her heartbeat kicking when he called her sweetheart. It made his own strain in his chest, swelling, and it almost floored him— might have, had he not been sitting down. 

Gently, he said, “I was taking her books.”

Rhys blinked. “Books.”

“Books.” Cassian glanced down at the edge of the table, worn smooth. It was the same table they’d sat at as boys, the same table they’d played cards at and drank around. Idly, he turned the ruby studded in his ear, suddenly needing to busy his hands. “She needed it.”

“Huh,” Rhys muttered, dragging a finger round the edge of his glass as his eyes turned pensive, but before Cassian could make a comment about how rare it was for him to take the High Lord by surprise—

A cold brush of air stole the words from Cassian’s lips, the snow-kissed night that lingered outside creeping in as the front door opened on old, creaking hinges. 

Azriel didn’t bother to knock, of course.

After all this had been his home once, too. The spymaster merely shook the snow from his wings before looking through the open space to where his brothers remained seated at the kitchen table, closing the door behind him and striding briskly towards that space filled with candlelight and warmth and whiskey. He paused only when he reached the table, bracing his scarred hands on the back of a chair. Azure siphons glowed in the low light, and as Cassian looked up and took in the cut of his brother’s jaw, the way his fingers curled tightly around the back of the chair, he knew instantly that this wasn’t a social visit. 

Az eyed the empty bottle sitting in the middle of the table. “The queens have set a date,” he announced flatly, looking for all the world like he wished that bottle was still full, if only so he could drain it himself. 

Grimly, Cassian looked to Rhys.

Suddenly it felt like time was running short, like all their preparations for war had led them to this one moment, this last meeting, and if it went badly…

All the whiskey in the world wasn’t enough for the way his gut roiled at the thought. 

He stood, pushing away from the table and crossing to the cupboard by the window— to where Rhys had hidden his first bottle of bootleg gin - bought cheap from one of the older soldiers when he was fifteen - from his mother, behind a box of old towels she no longer used and hadn’t yet thrown out. The towels were long gone now, but over the years the cupboard had become, somewhat unofficially, the liquor cupboard. Indeed, when Cassian pulled open the wooden door, two more bottles of whiskey sat waiting, as well as a bottle of Rhys’ expensive red wine. 

“Hello to you too, Az,” he muttered as he retrieved another glass and filled it with the bottle he plucked from the cupboard, handing it to the shadowsinger. “You sure know how to make a dire mood worse.”

Az shrugged. “It’s a skill of mine.”

Cassian shook his head as Az sank into a chair beside Rhys, lifting the whiskey to his lips. He stretched his wings out behind the chair, relaxing into the creaking frame as his shadows skirted the edge of the table before running up his arms, like fine mist against his leathers. 

“A message just arrived from Elain,” he explained, fingers drumming on the side of his glass as those shadows shifted, wreathing themselves around his wrists instead. “She wants us at the house in three days.” He paused, his eyes guarded as he asked, slowly, “Are we ready?”

Cassian heard the question the spymaster didn’t dare ask.

Are you ready— to show Velaris to outsiders? To face Feyre?

Cassian shot Rhys a pointed look. “I don’t know Rhys,” he drawled. “Are we?”

The High Lord groaned in answer, tipping his head back and slumping in his chair until his chest was level with the table’s edge. His groan devolved into a frustrated sigh, rumbling through the kitchen, and when he ran his fingers through his already-mussed hair, Rhys’ hands fisted.

“Tomorrow,” he said, starless eyes shuttering. “I’m winning Feyre back tomorrow. Then we’ll be ready.”

***

Az had shared a single glass of whiskey with his brothers before he needed to leave. 

By the time he pulled on his jacket it was well past midnight, and Rhys was already rising from his chair and announcing that he was going to bed in an effort to try and - finally - get some sleep. Az clapped him on the shoulder as he went, a soft kind of sympathy in his dark eyes, and only when Rhys had reached the top of the stairs did Cassian stand too, leaving three empty glasses on the table.

When Az opened the front door, Cassian had already turned for the stairs, more than ready for bed himself, but the spymaster stopped him.

“Cass,” he’d said, before Cassian could take the first step. Cassian had turned, and Az had given him a small, knowing kind of smile. “Elain said she was going to write to Nesta and tell her to be there too. Thought you’d want to know.”

Cassian had let loose a breath, his chest growing tight, like the bond there was straining against his ribs. Gently, he smiled.

“Thank you,” he’d breathed.

And that night, as he drifted off to sleep, he thought of her— thought of how he’d tease her and rile her the moment they were in the same room, how he’d do anything to bring out that perfect scowl. He thought of how much he—

Fuck, how much he loved her.

It had clanged through him as he lay staring at the ceiling, listening to Rhys’ steady breaths drifting through the room they had shared as boys. He loved her— had fallen in love with her the moment she’d grabbed his sword that day on the road, when her hand had closed around the hilt and all but knocked him stupid. 

And everything since then…

Every look, every breath, every hidden touch and secret smile they exchanged...

It had only driven her further into his soul, and now, two days later, with the visit from the queens looming, Cassian sat in his childhood home, waiting for Rhys to come back, and all he could think was…

I love her.

I love her, I love her, I love her.

He smiled softly to himself as the sound of Mor filling the kettle filtered out from the kitchen, her soft hum reverberating through the space they both knew like the back of their own hand. She’d returned the day that Rhys left, and when Cassian had asked if Feyre was alright, Mor had smiled gently and said that yes, the Cursebreaker seemed to have used her time alone to figure some things out. It was exactly as cryptic as Cassian had expected, and he’d rolled his eyes, but Mor’s smile had turned bright, genuinely pleased for her cousin and the once-human woman he’d brought home.

It was enough to have him counting down the hours until the meeting with the queens— until he could see Nesta once more.

Mor poked her head around the doorframe. “Tea?”

Cassian nodded, but before he could open his mouth to say sure—

The words died in his throat.

Even from inside, Cassian felt the power thrumming through the camp, rumbling like a storm front about to break. He recognised it— that dark brush of pure, unfiltered power, and as Rhys’ energy thundered across the mountainside, the siphon at Cassian’s chest began to glow, to flare, as if readying for battle. Mor shot him a look, but Cassian rose slowly from his seat in the living room and went to the window, cracking his knuckles and stretching his wings as he looked outside to find Rhys having only just winnowed, Feyre holding tight to his arm. 

Cassian rolled his shoulders.

His muscles sang as he smirked, and as the sky suddenly filled with wings - with warriors deciding, astutely, to be elsewhere for a while - he slid a blade into the sheath at his hip. Mor raised an eyebrow, but Cassian shot her an irreverent grin and said,

“Looks like the Lord and Lady of the Night Court have arrived.”

“Don’t goad him too much, Cass,” Mor warned, but Cassian only widened his grin as he curled the fingers of one hand into a fist.

And when he opened the front door, stepping out into the snow, he knew it was exactly what his brother needed as he quirked a brow and quipped,

“Hard ride?”

Rhys snarled— ferocious, barely contained, enough to make the mountain tremble. His lip curled back over his teeth, an entirely fae reaction as Cassian’s gaze turned to Feyre, to the flush creeping across her cheeks. Rhys’ grimace turned vicious, and gods, Cassian couldn’t help but laugh. He snorted as Feyre placed a hand on Rhys’ arm, the muscles in his brother’s shoulders bunching, gathering, tension building in the High Lord’s frame that said he was thinking of breaking bones and spilling blood. Cassian grinned, pulling a strip of leather from his pocket and setting to tying up his hair. His wings stretched behind him— braced.

“When he bashes your teeth in Cassian, don’t come crying to me,” Feyre said with a roll of her eyes.

Cassian flashed her another grin. “Mating bond chafing a bit, Rhys?”

His brother was silent, his eyes dark, and Cassian cracked his knuckles again. 

“Feyre doesn’t look too tired. Maybe she could give me a ride—”

Instant— Rhys’ reaction was instant. He lunged, fists up, knuckles connecting with Cassian’s cheek, his jaw. There was enough force behind it that Cassian knew he was going to bruise, but even as his teeth sang from the impact, he grinned still— manic, feral, and as Rhys almost knocked him to the ground, Cassian landed a solid punch to his brother’s stomach, sending the breath from his lungs in one fell, brutal, swoop. 

Distantly he heard Mor greet Feyre, heard her usher her inside, but he didn’t much care to listen— not when Rhys’ teeth were inches from his throat now, when there was a wildness in his eyes Cassian had never seen before. The stars there were almost entirely absent, a void so complete it was broken only by the barest glimmer of light, and as Rhys growled, Cassian braced for another hit, relishing the fight as his muscles welcomed the burn.

This wasn’t like the matches they had whilst training. Those were practised, strategic, finessed in a way that spoke to centuries of deadly skill.

No. This was… messy.

Brutal and basic, it was nothing but swinging fists and bone-shattering blows, based on instinct rather than any kind of tact. This was teeth bared, no holds barred violence, and it had his blood singing in his veins, his siphons gleaming brighter, brighter, brighter.

Before Rhys could strike, Cassian landed a swift blow to the back of his knees. The weight went out from beneath the High Lord, sending him crashing to the floor, but as Rhys went down he hissed, swearing roundly and reaching out, firm hands grabbing Cassian’s calf and yanking. Cassian found himself on his knees too, the cold sinking through his leathers, and as Rhys dragged himself back up, his fist darted out once more, connecting hard with Cassian’s ribs. 

He’d aimed for his stomach.

“Your aim is off,” Cassian heaved. “I hope it wasn’t that bad when you were in bed—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Rhys growled.

Cassian laughed, even though his lungs protested. 

“Why?” he challenged, rising to his feet. “It’s not like we don’t all know exactly what you two have been doing these past two days. Tell me, brother,” he taunted, watching Rhys’ eyes glint and knowing he was pushing him to the limit, testing his restraint, “don’t you want to get this over with so that you can get back to your mate?”

Rhys snarled. Cassian only lifted his fists.

“Don’t worry,” he said dryly. “I won’t bruise your pretty face.” He grinned— goading. “I know how much Feyre likes it.”

Rhys snarled, and didn’t have the same reservations about bruising Cassian’s face. His fist barrelled into Cassian’s cheek, and Cassian hissed as his jaw rattled against the impact. 

“Bastard,” he spat, feeling the blood begin to well behind his lips. Rhys only gave him a devilish smile— the first hint of his brother beneath the bond.

Rhys stepped back, but he was still tense, wings still trembling at the tips, so Cassian lunged. He forgot about not touching Rhys’ face— he landed a punch to the jaw that had his knuckles barking in protest. Before Rhys could counter him, Cassian hooked a leg around his ankle too, knocking him off balance for the second time—

But as Rhys went down, he wrapped an arm around Cassian’s shoulders and hauled him down with him.

The High Lord landed on his back and lay still, coughing through tightly clenched teeth. Judging by the rattle in his throat, Cassian suspected he might have busted one of Rhys’ lungs— or a the very least a rib. He rolled to the side, lying in the snow and the churned up mud, but Rhys didn’t move, only let out a slow breath as a single hand rose to his chest, pressing lightly at his side.

He hissed as his fingers tested his ribs, as if he pressed and did, indeed, find one or more of them bruised beyond belief.

Rhys remained sprawled there for another minute as Cassian looked him over, scanning for any sign of a more serious injury.

“You alright?” he asked.

Rhys nodded, knowing, somehow, that Cassian wasn’t talking solely about the wounds he’d just been dealt. But the tension in him had eased, like poison seeping from a wound, and when he looked up, there were stars in his eyes again, glimmers in the violet.

“Thank you,” he rasped, his voice earnest even as a bruise formed on his jaw that Cassian had put there.

“Don’t mention it,” Cassian quipped as he rose to his feet, breathing hard, hands braced on his knees. “You know I’ll gladly seize any opportunity to beat the shit out of you.”

“Ha ha,” Rhys answered dryly.

But there was a ghost of smile there, hiding beneath the blood that coated his lower lip, and when Cassian extended a hand to help Rhys up, he took it. When he stood at his full height, Rhys simply clasped Cassian by the back of the neck and brought him in for a hug that said everything the High Lord couldn’t say out loud. When Cassian met his eyes, he swore there were tears lining the violet.

“One day, brother,” Rhys said, his voice hoarse. “One day I’ll do the same for you.”

He looked at the ground where they’d just pummelled each other into the dirt, at the snow spattered with blood. Cassian only wiped his own blood from his mouth and said, 

“I hope so.”

Taglist: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria @wannawriteyouabook @infiremetotakeachonce @melphss @hereforthenessian @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @the-lost-changeling @valkyriesupremacy @that-little-red-head @sv0430

[azrielsshadows42]

A Court of Scales and Fire VII

A/n: I read fourth wing a while ago, but I only read the bonus chapters 9 and 16 yesterday, and I realised that Ev is giving serious Sgaeyl vibes or is that just me? If you have read the fw bonus chapters and notice some similarities in this chapter, it might be subconsciously inspired by that, but there are no spoilers.

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Warnings: Swearing, some vulgar language, if you blink, you miss it, judgement of dog names, some fluff with Eris and best friend Cass (Separately), and brief mention of murder. lmk if I missed something

Chapter 6 Character Moodboards

Word Count: 3.7k

Italics = Thoughts

Bold = Draconic

Both = Mind speak (Colour will vary)

Y/n's Pov

I returned to my room to find that while I had dinner with Fire Newt Eris, my room had been cleaned, all the outfits I'd strewn about had been neatly packed away. I had been planning to clean it up when I returned but now I felt bad that whoever it was, probably Daphne had to do it for me, she must think I'm a snob.

Everest hadn't returned yet, the bond between us peaceful. I knew that if anything were to happen, she would say something, but I couldn't help myself. Hey Ev, is everything alright?

More than, this evening has been quite successful.

Oh? Everest sounded quite pleased with herself, so she either caught something really nice, or she found a clue as to where the smugglers could be.

Y/n, they have ponderosa trees everywhere! It's amazing, I love this place! I chuckled at her reaction. Ponderosa, like most pine trees, have edible bark, but unlike most that have a bitter taste, this specific one is spicy and flavourful. They are quite rare in Rask as it doesn't have the soil to sustain it, so growing them is a pain, on top of that, the bark is toxic if not processed correctly, which is a long and gruelling task. This, however, does not affect Everest, and she loves the taste of it.

More importantly, I heard some chatter about strange people going through being very secretive about their contraband.

You found a lead!

Damn right I did, anyways, I'm just going to get the lay of the land here and explore, see if I can find any other clues.

Alright, just come back soon, it's getting dark. Mother hen. Yes, Everest is a dragon and can take care of herself, but she's my friend, and I worry, she will just have to deal with my affection, there is no escape.

I started going through my nightly routine, I looked around for any traps or hidden weapons, made sure the was nothing behind the mirrors and then finally started to relax. This room didn't have the pool of a bath the night court had, but that's not exactly a deal breaker, as long as they have clean water that I can heat up, I'm good.

I slipped on the pyjamas provided, they were warm and fluffy, I might just have to get a pair for myself to take home. Switching off the main fae light left just the desk lamp to cast a warm glow around the room. I got into bed with my notebook to write down the missions' progress for my report. I went to bed, and just barely registered the small breeze from the window where I assume Everest had just entered. She hopped onto the side table like a cat, blew out the candle, and snuggled up next to me for the rest of the night.

The Next Morning

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the rustling of trees, mist blanketed everything outside so the harsh light of the early morning sun was dulled to a comfortable level. I carefully uncurled myself around Everest as to not disturb her, then begun quietly preparing for the day. I got dressed and then washed my face, while in the bathroom, breakfast was brought in and left on the desk by the door along with some tea.

Everest woke up at the smell of bacon, she stretched her legs and wings while yawning, her breath visible in front of her. Everest took a piece of french toast and a strip of bacon, nibbling on it tiredly, eyes drooping. She is not a morning dragon.

I wore the burgundy puffy coat hanging in the closet over my armour so Everest could hide in it, though with the dragon scales already being a good insulator of heat when the temperature wasn't sub-zero like in Illyria, plus Everest radiating warmth and a coat over that, it was dreadfully hot.

Fire Ne- Eris, didn't sat where to meet him, so I decided to wait in the courtyard, it took me a while to find it, and I got lost trying to retrace my steps several times because the place is a maze, but I made it to the doors. The air was nippy on any exposed skin, a relief to the sweltering heat of my outfit, leaves were scattered across the ground though every branch was adorned with bright, fiery colours. The Autumn Court is certainly true to its name.

I heard footsteps behind me, a few pairs, too many pairs. Turning around, I saw Eris standing there accompanied by his General, Madoc, if I remembered correctly, and at least eight sentries. I raised a single brow. "What's with the entourage?"

"They're coming with us" I almost wanted to retort 'No shit, I can see you obviously think that' but I prefer not being banned from the court. I eyed them sceptically, even if it wasn't for the fact that it would just be more difficult to have Everest around with them there, I still wouldn't want them tagging along. This is a stealth mission, and while I'm sure the armour protects them, it's exactly the type of clothing that will warn them of our arrival miles before we even get close to them. Especially with so many, eleven people in one group to track down something is far too many.

"Look, I appreciate the help, but I don't need a babysitter, much less ten of them" He looks highly unimpressed with my comment. "General Madoc will not be joining us" Right, and nine babysitters are so much better than ten. "And they are not babysitters, they are back up, if the organisation truly is as large as you say, we'll need it."

If this is what you bring to take down an entire organisation, then he's either stupid, has waaay to much confidence in his soldiers, or has a personal vendetta against these specific males and wants them to die.

"Ok, fair, but this is a stealth mission, eight fae wearing loud, clanking armour is the opposite of stealth, and besides, I'm not trying to take them down today, that requires preparation and planning. I'm just trying to find their camp, when I do, then you can bring in a battalion, but until then, they'll just be a hindrance. Maybe just one or two of them can change into something quieter and tag along"

With only two pairs of eyes on her, it will be easier to 'accidentally' leave them behind, then I can let Everest loose, and we can track them together, just like originally planned. I could see the gears turning in his head, he knew I had a point.

"Alright, you make a good argument, three of my best tracking hounds and I will come with, the sentries will return to their patrols" Not what I meant.

"With all due respect, don't you have better High Lord things to do?" His fierce eyes pinned me to the spot, it felt as though he was inspecting my thoughts, it made an unwelcome heat spread through my body.

"As High Lord I have many things to do, but what could be more important than ridding my Court of a serious threat?" He's got me there.

"Another fair point, but we won't be doing any 'ridding' yet, you'll just be walking with me while I do the tracking, so I fail to see why one of your sentries can't do that while you sort out whatever court things need to be sorted out" His gaze narrows.

"Because, little witch, I don't trust you, and you're putting in a suspiciously large amount of effort to get rid of me, so I'm going to keep my eye on you" He got closer to me, leaning down, his voice dropped lower, these words clearly not for everyone else's ears. "You bested me once female, it will not happen again"

So all this fuss is because he has paranoia and a bruised ego cause he was bested by someone who doesn't have a dick?

It would seem so, Ev. On the bright side, at least it's only one person I need to get away from, only one pair of eyes I need to escape.

True, but in your unfaltering optimism, you have failed to factor in that the pair of eyes you need to escape belong to those of an eagle.

I turn my gaze to him, walking past me to get his hounds, he holds himself with the poise you'd expect from a High Lord, then amplify it with the grace of a cat. He's tall, even for fae, and has a lithe body. Eris suits this place so well, from his hair to his clothes and to the very way he breathes, no one could question whether he belongs here. He doesn't just rule Autumn, he embodies it.

Are you done drooling?

I was not-

Yes you were, do not embarrass yourself further by denying it.

...Shut up

Madoc and the Autumn sentries left, and it wasn't long before Eris returned with three hounds trailing him. Not just any hounds though, smoke hounds, a rare and highly sought after breed here, known for their speed, tracking ability and long lifespan unlike those of most dogs that humans keep as pets.

"So, Little witch, where do we begin?" He said the words casually, or as casual as a High Lord can, but the words had this element to them that made me feel like I was being watched, hunted, it sent a shiver down my spine, though I ignored it.

"Not a witch, but we should start with asking the traders if they know anything, if they saw where they broke off from the group to do their own thing. Maybe find something that your smoke hounds can trace" Eris didn't comment, just merely nodded.

We had walked in silence for the entire trip, Eris hadn't made any attempt at conversation, so neither had I. We talked to the traders but nothing they told us was fruitful, we were currently following the path they had taken to try and find a scent for the smoke hounds to track.

I was of course, very focused on the mission, but it was impossible to resist admiring the nature around us. Sure, back home, my brother and I literally lived in a forest, constantly surrounded by trees and shrubbery, but we lived in an evergreen forest, so all these colours were unusual, new and exciting.

The vibe of it was also differed greatly, ours had this ancient ominous magic atmosphere around it that you had to get used to, the trees were huge, so large if five full grown fae were to wrap their arms around the trunk, you still wouldn't be able to touch the other person. But here, the forest was welcoming, and some had branches low enough that children could climb them.

I hadn't seen the ponderosa trees Everest had told me about, but that was another great thing about this place, it had such variety, you just had to walk a few hundred metres to see a different kind of tree, back home, you could walk a thousand kilometres and you'd be lucky if you saw a different sub-species.

The only thing I missed was the wildlife, if you stood in any spot and looked in any direction, you'd see at least three different animals, bird, insect, mammal, a little bit of everything, this was not the case here. The wildlife was shy here, timid, you had to search for the squirrels and birds, if you happened to see a fox, or deer, it was there one second and gone the next.

Everest had crawled out some time before we reached the merchant camp, taking a different route than us to cover more ground, so far, she hasn't found anything. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the smell of the vegetation, however I was interrupted as Eris spoke to me for the first time since this morning.

"For an 'expert tracker' you aren't doing much tracking" His voice was laced with accusation, and his face was painted in irritation.

"That's because we don't have any physical tracks, once there's an actual trail for me to follow, you'll see me do some tracking, but because of my injury upon arriving, they've had time to cover up anything I would have found had I not needed to recover. These people are evil, not stupid, they're not gonna leave any evidence, especially not this close to the Forest house. Hey, what's with the Forest house anyway, why's it underground." Eris doesn't answer.

"I suppose it makes it harder to break into, less entrances to consider and guard, and with fire magic, lighting isn't really a concern. Wait, who keeps all the torches lit? It must be magic fire, otherwise smoke from a normal fire would accumulate and suffocate everyone inside, or at least gather at the roof and make everything smell of smoke." Eris's eyes scan me sceptically, as if searching for a way I could use this information to harm him.

"The High Lord"

"Really? All the time?" He nods "From what I understand, power shifts to the worthiest son when the High Lord dies, right? And the magic takes a few minutes to transfer to the next fae, so, is there like, a short period of time when the High Lord dies that majority of the Forest house is just in complete darkness?"

"Planning on killing me?" the words were said with, dare I say, some mild form of amusement.

"Nah, too much hassle, considering after this I'm never going to see you again, and it wouldn't affect me at all in the long run" I felt a dull ache bloom in my chest, though I was unsure of its origin.

His face hardened and the cold demeaner fell back into place, though it wasn't long before our attention was stolen when one of Eris's hounds stilled, sniffing intently at something.

"What is it Cheddar, have you found something?" She kept her nose buried deep, tail straight up, muscles tense and ready to start running...

any...

second...

Her muscles then relaxed, and she huffed, dismissing it as a false alarm. "Well that was anti-climactic" Eris chewed the inside of his cheek, clearly annoyed.

"Are we seriously not gonna talk about it?" He glanced over at me, the expression of annoyance fading temporarily to mild curiosity. "Talk about what?"

My whole form exuded dramatic exasperation. "The fact that you named your extremely lethal, highly sought after and incredibly expensive hunting dog.... Cheddar"

He rolled his eyes, checking on the other two hounds. "Brie, don't stray" Said dog immediately jogged closer to us.

"Hold up a damn minute, Cheddar, and Brie? What's that one's name?" I asked, gesturing to the third, unnamed four-legged companion. "Wait, no, don't tell me, let me guess, erm… Feta! Parmesan! Swiss!" His eyes met my form, thoroughly unimpressed.

"Mozzarella!"

"Ricotta!"

"Camembert!"

The High Lord made no comment.

"I've got it, Mascarpone!"

He finally looked back at me, one thin, perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. "Are you done?"

"That depends, am I getting closer?" He sighed so deeply, his shoulders rose and sank with the motion. "Her name is Maple"

"Oh" My shoulders slumped a little. A small bit of disappointment creeps into my voice. "Are any of them called Mascarpone?"

His jaw tenses so much he's barely able to grit out the answer.

"...Yes"

A grin climbs its way onto my face, and even though I have a feeling he'd rather die than admit it, he was fighting off his own small smile. We continued trailing the dogs in a comfortable quiet instead of the tense silence we'd started with. It was peaceful, pleasant even, it felt more like a nice stroll than a high stakes mission.

That was until the sound of muffled voices and leaves crunching met our ears. All five of us stopped to listen, we didn't so much as dare to breathe.

"Cassian, you're on my foot" "Shut up Az, or they'll hear us, I thought you were supposed to be the stealthy one!" Both of us recognised those voices as the two Illyrian's of Rhysand's inner circle. We looked at each other in confusion, confirming that neither of us knew they'd be making an appearance.

We approached them silently, they were so busy arguing with each other that they hadn't noticed we were standing less than six metres away from them and had a full view of them squabbling.

"watcha doing?" They both spun around, trying to draw their weapons, but they had been so close to each other that they collided, hard, knocking the other back. The two Illyrians scrambled up, now facing us, Cassian looked like a child caught while doing something he shouldn't whilst Azriel already donned a glare.

"Yes, what are you both doing?" The slight threat was clear, if they didn't have a good reason, they'd be facing consequences. They are trespassing, not even Rhysand could excuse them if they're found guilty.

"We- uh, we were sent by Rhysand, to, um, to check on Y/n" Really Cassian, you sound so convincing. It was quite obvious to anyone who had at least half a brain that that wasn't at all what had happened, but that didn't answer why they are here.

"Rhysand said he'd check on Y/n in a week, and it hasn't even been a full day, progress updates will be sent in the evening. You both can clearly see she's perfectly unharmed, so you'd better be leaving, sooner rather than later." I think that might be the first time he's called me by my name.

It was Azriel who spoke next, seemingly unbothered by the High Lord's words. "We were further tasked with the tracking of the weapon smugglers" Cassian shot Azriel a quick thankful look, so fast I almost didn't catch it. What is going on? Why are they here?

It seemed as though Eris was about to deny their assistance, but the spymaster stated that having a shadow singer would be a huge advantage, which, he wasn't wrong. Eris looked like smoke was about to rise off of him, but he didn't refuse, he didn't verbally accept it either, just walked on in the direction we were originally going. That was about as much of compliance they would get from him.

We continued to walk, the atmosphere infinitely more tense, Eris was in front, Azriel at the back, while Cass and I stood side by side in the middle, whispering to each other, catching up.

"So, we both know that Rhysand didn't send you here, and certainly not to assist with tracking when Eris apparently has a whole back of smoke hounds, so, what's the deal?"

Cassian glanced at Eris, then bent over lower to get closer to my ear, and said as quietly as he could: "I missed you, and I was worried"

"You big softie, how'd you manage to drag Azriel here with you?"

"While first, I asked Rhysand, and he said no 'for political reasons' or whatever, then I asked Azriel-" "And he said yes?!" Cassian scoffed playfully.

"Of course not, I just pestered him about it enough that he'd do almost anything to shut me up" Yeah, that sounds about right.

All of a sudden, Eris stopped, everyone else followed, listening intently. Someone was running toward us, and they were heavily panting. Azriel, Cassian and I unsheathed our weapons, but as soon as we did, Eris snapped at us to put them away.

It made sense once we could see the fae, he was an Autumn court soldier, he looked surprised to see Eris here, but slowed down to address his High Lord, he bowed down low.

It's not my fault.

What?

"High Lord, something is attacking, several accounts claim it's the same thing that caused the disturbance"

Shit, what did Everest do?

"Where?" The soldier sifted through his head, trying to give his answer legibly "Northeast of the forest house, about twenty-five kilometres in from the coast" Eris nodded, and without warning, winnowed both him and I where the sentry had directed. It wasn't long before we heard a roar.

Everest, what's going on, what happened?

I found a scent trail, but I lost focus on keeping my scales camouflaged and a soldier saw me. He decided to bring his friends with him to hunt me down and I am currently half-way surrounded. I'm trying not to hurt them, but they're making it very difficult.

Hold on, I'm on my way.

Azriel teleported himself and Cassian next to us, they both scanned for danger, but it was Eris who took off first, running toward Everest. Oh no you don't, get back here little Fire Newt, you are not hurting Everest.

I chased after him, Cassian and Azriel hot on my tail. I could see the soldiers backing away at Eris's command. In the clearing, Everest was currently about two times the size of a polar bear, Eris began to conjure his fire into ropes, wrapping the flames around her snout.

I didn't think, I just launched my body forward, tackling Eris to the ground, we rolled, and when our momentum finally stopped dragging us through the leaves, his fiery eyes met my cool coloured ones.

Many emotions flashed on his face, shock, anger... betrayal, my heart sank, but I had to do this, I can't just let him harm my friend, no matter how it makes him feel.

We shared the same breath for a moment longer until I pushed myself up and off of him. The fire muzzle had disappeared, but now Azriel's shadows swarmed up her legs, trying to pin her down, Cassian stood in front of her, Illyrian blade held tightly in both hands.

I could feel my legs pumping, trying to get there faster, faster, but not fast enough. I grabbed the hilt of one of my blades, throwing it so that it just missed Cassian's arms, causing him to step back on instinct. I stood so that my body blocked as much of Everest as it could, my twin blade ready to be wielded if needed. Cauldron, I hope I won't need it.

"Step away from my dragon"

Taglist: @imma-too-many-fandoms @rcarbo1 @littlefantasylover

A/n: Yes, I know, cliff hanger, sorry not sorry. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!

Comment is you want to be added to the taglist! :)

[crownlandssun]

posting this to tumblr too but i am having legitimately so many fucking thoughts about fourth match flame and the scorched girl abno and how it relates to each sinner who has a fmf ego. strap in babes

spoilers for canto 4 of limbus company, as well as content warnings for violence as per project moon games!! stay safe :)

scorched girl specifically carries a theme of loss and abandonment, just as an overarching note for this post.

ryoshu is based off of hell screen, which follows a painter named yoshihide making a folding screen that depicts hell. the lord commissioning him has a really weird thing with yoshihide’s daughter and is actively throughout the story trying to make her his mistress, to which yoshihide refuses. yoshihide has this thing throughout the story where he can only paint things he’s seen, and for his references for the inhabitants of hell on the screen, he begins violently torturing his servants for these references. near the end of the story, yoshihide asks the lord commissioning him to burn a beautiful young woman to death in a grand carriage as reference for the final part of the screen. the young woman who burns alive, however, is yoshihide’s daughter. with the screen finished, yoshihide finds out what happened to his daughter, and hangs himself, to which the story ends.

so ryoshu, with her views of violence as art pretty clearly equate to yoshihide requiring these references for the screen. and with ryoshu’s new egos, spider bud is equated with themes of motherhood and the violent protection of the spider’s young. those, i don’t think there’s anything that requires in depth analysis at the moment.

ryoshu’s other two egos are both based off of fire. and scorched girl/fourth match flame for ryoshu specifically because now she has symbolism as both yoshihide AND yoshihide’s daughter.

next, rodya. and i will never forgive limbus fans for ignoring rodya’s canto as much as they do, but that’s beside the point. all of rodya’s egos down to her base ego focus pretty heavily on the freezing/hardening of the heart in order for her and others to survive, as well as how yurodivy was changing before she left. her line upon using the ego is “if even fervent flames can thaw the heart”, which keeps both rodya’s themes of “greater good” that are prevalent throughout both her canto, crime and punishment, AND the scorched girl’s themes of loss and abandonment. in particular, both the loss of rodion’s innocence and ideals for the world that she wanted to make a reality and the way she also embraces the flame in this new life, where she once again, if even for a moment, seems to have a way for her hope to burn and live again.

all of rodya’s egos so far are themed around this idea of hardening the heart. the scorched girl abno and therefore the egos as a product of her revolves around abandonment and specifically letting go. this tracks with all of the egos, but it varies from sinner to sinner, which for me only supports the theory that that their base egos are representative of both their backstories and their mental states.

finally, and my personal favorite, yi sang’s. yi sang’s stands out to me so much because it makes so much sense if you think in limbus’ context as well as the context of the narrator in the wings.

when yi sang’s fmf is used, his line is “i burn what i wish to burn”. and his stands out the most to me.

yi sang in limbus has, up to this point (pre-company) has allowed the current to pull him along and leave him with his metaphorical broken wings to where the point his colleagues/friends are taking advantage of him, similarly to the narrator in the wings and how he simply ruminates on his life throughout the story. but his line being THAT specifically holds such a candle to me (pun intended) because yi sang’s is so consciously centered around what he wants and the choice is finally gets to make; the loss of his shackles.

it’s just. it’s so important to me. ryoshu’s represents loss of yoshihide and his daughter, who both die at the end of hell screen. rodya’s represents the loss of innocence and the hardening of the heart in order to survive. and yi sang’s represents him finally having a choice. it’s so so important to me.