#hermajestymanon fanfic

[cleopatraas]

Byrne: Part Six

I, II, III, IV, V

“Brother, I do not think it is wise” A simple head tilt and a raised eyebrow from Byrne effectively caused Iskra to close her mouth, pressing her lips together. Byrne turned forward and he continued to walk, acutely aware of Abraxi so close to his side. 

“You will dispatch those units, because I told you to, sister” Byrne gave her a lazy grin, before hooking his fingers around her arm, pulling her close. He put his other hand up, stopping the witches that surrounded them. Each witch grabbed their prisoner and he leaned his head down, whispering in her ear. “Do not test my authority, Iskra, or you will soon be in the same position as Aradia” 

Byrne pulled back and he kissed her forehead slowly. “And do not tempt my wrath” Iskra grimaced and she struggled not to turn her face up. Abraxi watched the interaction out of the corner of her eye, then she was being shoved forward again. 

Iskra clenched her jaw and Abraxi found a dry satisfaction in Byrne putting her in her place. Byrne gave a curt nod and started forward against, his hands clasped behind his back. 

The trip from the cells to this familiar hallway had been short, quiet, and formal. After revealing himself with his short, quick words, Byrne had walked down the stairs, a small beam of light from an unknown source in his hands. He had whispered something to Iskra, and she had left, albeit a bit unwillingly. 

Then Byrne had released them from their cells, just in time for them to be hauled out of the dank room, into the awaiting arms of Yellowlegs witches. And not once had Byrne looked at her, not once had he said anything to her. He had acted as if she wasn’t even there. 

“Byrne” Her voice was frailer than she remembered. Quiet, useless, like a mouse. Abraxi cleared her throat and she tilted her head up, swallowing harshly, before trying again. “Byrne” 

A tick worked in his jaw, but he didn’t stop moving. “Byrne!” Her voice cracked, but her eyes continued to glare at his back. She ignored her siblings silent protests, watching as the male slowly turned around. 

“Is this where you plead for your life? Is this where you beg me to let you inside, to show you why I’m doing this? Or is this where you trade your life for those of your family and friends? Tell me, Abraxi Sorscha Blackbeak Crochan Havilliard, what could you possibly say that will not have me taking your head off, effectively proving you do, indeed, bleed blue” 

Byrne was right in front of her now. Abraxi swallowed, her throat closing up. She watched as he ran his thumb down the column of her neck, over the slightly dried blue blood that stained the skin there. He looked up, their noses brushing as he wiped his thumb on his trousers. “This is where you speak, Abraxi. Plead with me, beg for me, tell me how much you really want to save the lives around” 

“You’ve changed,” Abraxi whispered. She stepped closer, ignoring her personal witch bodyguard. She stared at that crescent shaped scar on his cupid’s bow. Her eyes moved over his face, to the scar that ran down his cheek, curving and marring his neck. Who had hurt him? Who had left scars on his face, a permanent reminder of what exactly? 

Byrne held her chin gently, the movement, the position far too intimate considering who surrounded them. He snarled softly and Abraxi’s eyes fell from his face. “This is where you are wrong, I’ve always been this way”

Byrne stepped away and he walked down the hallway once again, picking up the pace. Abraxi’s guard snarled in her ear, but she ignored the witch. She watched Byrne’s back until they were back in the throne room, until she was chained once again. 

“What are you doing?” Ciel hissed. Abraxi looked to her right, meeting Ciel’s cold, calculating eyes. His blood still stained his body, his eyes sunken. He always looked almost like a mirror image of their father, but now, he looked like death. A pang went through Abraxi and she squeezed his hand tightly. 

“Trust me, big brother” Abraxi nodded, and turned forward. 

“What do you plan on doing to my aunt, your mother?” Iskra was saying. Someone had dismissed the Yellowlegs, and now it was just Iskra and Byrne. The former was leaning over the latter, who sat on his throne. “You are not thinking clearly, there is still much to be done, Byrne. Do not let that - that girl - cloud whatever judgement you managed to retain from the-”

Byrne gripped her neck, forcing her head back. Abraxi gasped, watching as Iskra choked, her eyes becoming solely black. He had changed. Wherever Byrne had gone, whatever he had done, it had unlocked something in him. It was always there, but for the first time, he showed it. 

“Believe me when I say this, Iskra dearest, that that thing is not my mother. I will no longer call her that, and you will no longer say that she is. Because whatever I will do to her, I can easily do to you, dearest sister of mine. And for the time being, I wish to have you at my side” Byrne whispered something in her ear and Iskra let out a strangled cry, before she collapsed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, her body limp. 

“Is she...?” Artemis whispered, her shoulders shaking. 

“Resting” Byrne answered simply. Artemis nodded, and she slumped against Nadia. Abraxi looked around, at her friends, her family, her brother and sister. She made a very clear decision then, one she would not be able to go back on. 

She would free them. 

A door to the room opened and a little girl ran in. Byrne leaned forward in his throne, and he did something that confused Abraxi even more so. He smiled. 

Yes, there were in fact two Byrnes. There was the Byrne she just saw. Then there was her Byrne, this Byrne. It made her head spin and Abraxi was forced to close her eyes, trying to take in this information. 

The little girl, no more than three or four, ran up to Byrne. She jumped into his arms and Byrne silently picked her up, setting her on his lap. Her small, dark fingers clutched at his, grinning. She did not giggle, or make a noise at all. 

“Nehemia!” Sam hollered, beginning to struggle against his bonds. He snarled, twisting and turning, staring at the dark-skinned girl who sat in Byrne’s lap. The girl didn’t seem to hear him. She didn’t seem to hear at all. 

“Is that what you’ve named the horrid creature?” Aradia snarled. Byrne’s shoulders tensed, but he continued to stare down at the young girl. His eyes seemed to say something in a way only she understood. The little girl grinned and nodded, before slipping out of Byrne’s lap and sitting before his feet. 

Slowly, shadows curled around her. Nehemia grabbed for one, just in time for it to slip between her fingers. Her eyes lit up and she pounced on the next one, as it slipped under her body. And if she could, Abraxi knew the little witch would have screamed in delight when twin ravens began to fly over her head. One with blue eyes, and one with hazel eyes. 

Byrne waved his hand and darkness consumed the little girl. He stepped around her, walking towards Aradia. Aradia scowled at him and Byrne bowed his head, raising his palms. “I apologize, mother,” He whispered and Abraxi gaped at him. 

“You, you little,” Aradia snarled. Before Abraxi could blink, swallow, or try to figure out what was happening, Aradia’s hand came down. And Byrne was bellowing, falling back, his back slamming against the ground. 

He gasped, his chest contorting up and down. And Aradia stood there, her iron claws on full display, yet free of blood. Abraxi snarled, wanting to leap forward and rip her throat out. 

In that moment, everything disappeared, but him. His legs bent awkwardly under his body, his arm covering his face, his body almost spasming against the hard, cold floor. Byrne didn’t bleed, but he felt pain. He was Fae, and he felt the pain of iron cutting into his skin. 

He took the blow instead of Nehemia. Instead of Aradia tearing that little girl apart, Byrne allowed iron to grace his skin, to join the scars already on his face. And at that moment, Abraxi knew exactly who gave Byrne his other scars. 

And she hated Aradia Yellowlegs more than she hated anyone else in the world. 

When Byrne pulled his arm away, Abraxi saw them. Four deep stark white scars against his naturally tanned skin. She cringed, watching as the scars moved and shuddered with each clench of his jaw. 

His arms and legs still shook, pain coursing through his body. In front of his enemies, Byrne allowed himself to be vulnerable. To feel pain, to be in anguish, to save a child. Abraxi could only blink, only swallow, then do it all over again. 

“Get up, you wretched little monster” Aradia snarled. Byrne pulled himself to his knees, his shoulders tugging forward, as if he wanted to curl into a ball. A small ball, defenseless, helpless. His tall body, bending forward, his face still contorted in pain. “After all I’ve done for you, is this the thanks I get? After saving your life, after raising you myself, after accepting you as my Heir, you ungrateful little being, you don’t belong here. I would have sent you back, had I had the means to do so” 

Byrne was entirely curled into a ball, his arms wrapped under his legs, pinning them harshly into the floor. His ravens sat on his back, wavering in and out of their form. Almost as if they, too, felt the pain of Aradia’s words and the pain of her iron on his skin. 

“He had ought to left you there, prone to burn and die in agony. Yet Cairn brought you to me, the fool he was. Why, Byrne? Why are so many people willing to fight and die for you? To stand against Aelin Galathynius, against her Fae warriors. All for your sick attempt at-” Her words stopped there. 

Byrne lifted up his face, pure agony and fury written as clear as day. Aradia swallowed thickly, rubbing the base of her throat. Byrne watched her, his breathing deep. Aradia coughed, trying to swallow again. Then black blood dripped from her lips and her eyes widened. 

“Look away,” Byrne gasped out. He turned and his eyes connected with hers. Pure power ran through that gaze. His brows furrowed on his forehead, his arms still pinned under his legs, his shoulders curved so hard Abraxi was afraid they would break. “Look away” 

Abraxi turned back to Aradia, watching as black blood, blood so thick that only a slight blue hue could be seen, now began to trickle from her nostrils. Aradia’s eyes widened even more, as black engulfed them. Abraxi watched in horror as it seemed she was squeezed from the inside out. 

Aradia doubled forward and she spat out a pool of blood, her back trembling. “No...please...” She lurched forward, falling to her knees, then to her side. Aradia choked and choked, unable to scream. 

Then she went still, two thin lines of blue blood still rolling down her cheeks, coming from her eyes. Byrne pressed his forehead to the floor and he rolled over on his back, just as Aradia disappeared into the shadows. 

Abraxi had no desire to know where her body went. 

The shadows disappeared from around Nehemia, the small girl’s hands extended in front of her. She grinned, her small white teeth shining at her success. Then she got up and skipped over to Byrne, before kneeling before him. 

Slowly, the girl lied down beside him, pressing her cheek to his. Her cheeks deepened as she smiled again. Abraxi had come to learn that was how she giggled. Nehemia lifted her hands, and the shadows slowly left her palms, before sinking into Byrne’s chest. 

Byrne’s eyes fluttered and he lifted a trembling hand up, brushing his fingers on Nehemia’s small hand. He angled her hand towards them and before Abraxi could shout in protest, another wave of shadows knocked her and her companions into nothingness. 

Here you are. Another part in Byrne’s story. I won’t upload Part Seven until Part Six gets a certain amount of notes. 

Thanks for reading. 

Please reblog, leave comments, share your thoughts. 

[aqueenpromised-blog]

Favorite blogs you just love?

HEY NONIE IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE ONE OF YOU HAVE DECIDED TO GRACE MY INBOX ALSO I HAVE A LOT OF EMOTIONS RIGHT NOW SO DON’T THINK I’M YELLING AT YOU I WAS JUST READING ACOWAR BUT THAN YOU SENT ME A QUESTION AND I GOT EXCITED OKKKKKKKAY ANYWAYS 

These are gonna be just some of blogs I love because I honestly forgot a lot of them because so first things first my tumblr friends, all of you are so lovely and beautiful I just really love you guys, no I’m not crying because of you guys I have dust in my eyes I’m not a baby : 

@missarcheron @feysandsmut @rowan-buzzard-whitethorn @lu-cien@cassianandfenrysaremyboyos @readinglikewildfire @easkyrah @squaddreamcourt @elidexlorcan

Then blogs that just in general have amazing blogs/ art/ fanfic included: 

@live-and-breathe-fantasy @abookandacoffee @meabhd @merwild  @fuckyeahazriel @dorianthekinkymf @my-name-is-fireheart @hermajestymanon @blogtealdeal @elains @underthe-mountain @cass-ian @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks @bloodydamnit @crochanblackbeak @acourtoffuckmylifeup @starofvelaris @king-havilliard @feysanded

IM PROBABLY LITERALLY FORGETTING A LOT OF BEAUTIFUL AND TALENTED PEOPLE THAT I LOVE ALSO BUT YEAH THAT’S IT NONIE I HOPE THIS WAS USEFUL AND BE SURE TO FOLLOW THESE FUCKING TREASURES ♡♡♡♡

[modernbookfae]

Hi! I love your Nessian stories! Do you have any other favorites, or any Elorcan favorites? I just can't enough

OH MY GOSH I PRETTY MUCH LOVE ANYTHING WITH NESSIAN!

Here is a list of writers you should definitely check out though! And from there you can swim in the glorious Nessian + Elorcan fics~!

@accidental-rambler​ ➳ AO3 Page

@catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks​ ➳ Masterlist

@elnabu​ ➳ AO3 Page

@getalittlecountry ➳ AO3 Page

@hermajestymanon​ ➳ MasterPost

@highfaelucien​ ➳ Fanfic Page

@illyriantremors ➳ Fanfic Page

@propshophannah​ ➳ AO3 Page

@pterodactylichexameter​ ➳ Fanfic Page

@squaddreamcourt​​ ➳ Nessian Fics

And since there are so many more fic writers out there be sure to check out @acourtofheadcanonsandfanfiction​ ➳ Archive or AO3 page!

[sjmaas-addict]

What are your favorite feysand, moriel, nessian amd rowaelin fanfic? Can u pls link them? Ps: i love your blog

Rowaelin:

http://thelittleloverofbooks.tumblr.com/post/151581551743/dont-touch-me-like-that-a-rowaelin-short-story

https://iheart-my-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/156813769859/rowaelin-you-found-me

Nessian:

https://sarahjtrash.tumblr.com/post/155265130100/you-brute

https://hermajestymanon-fics.tumblr.com/post/152791092231/cassian-pregnancy-reaction

http://modernbookfae.tumblr.com/post/154391848675/reconciled

https://propshophannah.tumblr.com/post/157627191198/cassian-nesta-said-shut-up-she-crossed-the

Feysand: 

http://illyriantremors.tumblr.com/post/147989604534/chapter-17-feyres-nightmare-rhys-pov

https://courtsofdreamsandstars.tumblr.com/post/149883784618/these-stars-will-guide-us-home

https://bats-and-hawks.tumblr.com/post/156914002804/come-home-feysand-angst

Thanks Anon! Unfortunately, I have yet to read enough Moriel fics to give you good recommendations, but perhaps ask me again in a couple of weeks, and I might have some for you:)

[sparkleywonderful]

What is 'the war'? I've been here since december and i've never heard of it. Love your fics btw!

Once upon a time the ACOTAR/TOG fandom was peaceful enjoying their fluffy and the occasional angsty post. There were many great fanfic writers, but two in particular could rip our hearts out. 

On a cold December night it was decided that there would be a war of fanfics, to see which writer could capture the most tears. No characters was spared. The fics ranged from Lucien’s POV of losing his eye to character death (I’m still not over Elide’s death). 

Many of us still bleed from the loss. Neither writer won, a truce was made. 

@hermajestymanon  @underthe-mountain

Thank you for the awesome comment!

[darling-cas]

hey so i cannot for the love of me find any good rowaelin fics w a nice storyline. Have any to recommend??? my fav is yours by far. every other tog fic is just horribly written. thanks!

First off, thank you so much!! You are the sweetest!

Now, okay. I’m about to sound like the most horrible person ever. But there honestly isn’t any fanfic I’m reading right now. Between, work, writing, reading books for my tbr pile, and other personal stuff, I just haven’t had the time to actually read any fanfic right now. If something pops up on my dash, I’ll read it. But to actually go looking and/or to read full length fics, I just don’t have the time right now. (I KNOW IM HORRIBLE)

However, I recommend you check out @thelittleloverofbooks, @babinforaelin, @propshophannah, @hermajestymanon, and @underthe-mountain (these are the ones I can think of off the top of my head) if you want some good fanfics.

Sorry I can’t be anymore help!

[tntwme]

Your blog is one of my favourites! What are your favourite blogs to follow?

Hey there anon! Thank you-I follow a few thousand blogs (I'm not too picky and have eclectic tastes) but my recent favorites deal with anything Sarah J Mass related. The ACOTAR series is AMAZING and the fandom is desperate for the third book to be out (come on, May 2nd!). Also love The TOG series and its fans. So I've become obsessed with fanfics and the following blogs write INCREDIBLY FANTASTIC FANFICS/SMUT/HEADCANONS/AUs, etc. Enjoy!!@illyriantremors, @sparkleywonderful, @paperbacktrash, @valamerys, @feysand17, @hermajestymanon, @underthe-mountain, @abookandacoffee, @easkyrah, @highfaelucien There are more but I can't remember them all now! My side blog @fanfic-masterpost-site is where I reblog all the fanfics I come across.

[nightcourtdream]

I could be writing, but I’m so anxious for ACOWAR to finally get here, so now here I am. Reading fanfic by @propshophannah and @hermajestymanon.👌🏻

[propshophannah]

any good other fanfic authors out there you know of on tumblr? or suggest? i'm trying to fulfill my cravings for the next Sarah J. Maas books

OH MAN! I’m terrible about this. @itach-i, @hermajestymanon @sparkleywonderful actually, sparkley is good cuz she reblogs a lot of fanfics. And reads a lot of stuff. She would probably be a better person to ask. I tend to go blank when people ask me. And I haven’t been reading a lot of fics lately because I’ve been so busy with life (and the Raven Boys). So unless it’s short and sweet, I’ve just been reblogging to save to read at a later date. 

[manonblckbeak]

1: What book did you last finish? When was that? 2: What are you currently reading? 3: What book are you planning to read next? 4: What was the last book you added to your tbr? 5: Which book did you last re-read?

1: What book did you last finish? When was that?

My last finished book was a reread, so I don’t think it counts. I’ve been doing it a lot lately. that and fanfiction lol. it was Crown of Midnight and it was about a month ago (i should read more shouldn’t i? i’ve been so busy and fanfic is so alluring...) but before that the last book i actually read for the first time was My Life Next Door by Huntley Fitzpatrick

2: What are you currently reading?

I’m rereading Heir of Fire!

3: What book are you planning to read next? 

Queen of Shadows, my last reread before I finally read Empire of Storms, which i haven’t read yet (gasp)

4: What was the last book you added to your tbr? 

Six of Crows, because I’ve seen @hermajestymanon talk about this duology and the Grisha trilogy so much and i’m kinda hooked. apparently she loves nesta and manon as much as i do so if she says that this book is good i trust her opinion haha

5: Which book did you last re-read?

Like I said, Crown of Midnight and before that, Throne of Glass.

send me some bookish asks?

[cleopatraas]

Cyrian: Atropine

PART THREE of three short stories about Cyrian Infernos

He had tried, but his eyes were still red and slightly puffy. Cyrian let out a loose breath and he walked through the shadows of the Court of Nightmares until he arrived at his mother’s office. He waited until he heard her say, “Come in”, and then he entered.

Cyrian kept his head bowed, his arms still behind his back. He still hadn’t showered since the morning of the Blood Rite. He could feel the dirt caked behind his ears, in his clothes, on his neck. Unsurprisingly, the blood was the one thing he didn’t mind. For now.

“You’ve been crying,” His mother said by way of greeting. Cyrian wouldn’t exactly call it crying. Two tears slipping out of his eyes and a broken roar that probably shattered a mountain or two. Nonetheless, he had shed tears, his eyes were swollen, and he was standing in front of his mother.

Atropine stood up, moving like the smoke and shadow towards her son. Cyrian swallowed and he stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly. Atropine made her way to her son, her bare feet touching the floor silently. Her Night Court dress left her back bare, and her shoulders exposed due to the thin straps.

“Look at me,” She grabbed his chin and pulled him down. Even though he was several inches taller than his mother, she always had the power to make him feel smaller than Bay. Cyrian swallowed sharply. “She rests at peace now,” His mother grabbed a cloth and wiped his face slowly, being careful around his eyes. “She has been avenged and now she can rest”

Cyrian almost smiled, but then his mother was clasping the cloth over his nose. Cyrian’s eyes widened and he didn’t try to fight back as his mother yanked him down by the front of his fighting leathers, pressing her fingers into his neck.

Cyrian choked and his mother’s nails dug deeper into his throat. His eyes widened even more, showcasing how red they were. Atropine squeezed her son’s nose and whispered in his ear sharply, “No one will ever be worth your tears” She slammed her fist against her son’s face and Cyrian staggered back, but he stayed on his feet.

His mother looked at her knuckles as the redness healed over. Cyrian resisted the urge to touch his cheekbone, which he could already feel swelling. Atropine shook out her cloth and she turned away, opening the door at the back of the office.

Cyrian closed his eyes and he bowed his head, passing his mother and going down the stone steps. When he reached the bottom he took off his shoes and peeled off his grimy fighting leathers from the waist up. Cyrian tied his hair to the top of his head, leaving his neck bare. When he turned back to his mother, she nodded. He didn’t need confirmation, he always knew what to do.

Cyrian walked over to the iron chair and he slowly sat down, sucking in a breath to resist the urge to arch his back. Cyrian sat deeper into the chair and he kept his eyes on the ceiling. Atropine moved behind him and after a bit of shuffling, ice cold water fell down his body.

Cyrian teeth clattered together and he swallowed, licking his lips. His mother flicked her hand and Cyrian leaned forward, bracing his arms on the chair. Just as he had done with Malyus, his mother applied pressure to his back. Cyrian bellowed as his wings shot out of his back and his mother slapped the back of his neck.

“You must not cry, my son,” Atropine whispered, kneeling before Cyrian. She held his face and pressed their foreheads together, before she strapped him into the chair. Cyrian stared at her, long past begging his mother to stop. This had started when he was six, and now nineteen years later, it was as much a part of Cyrian’s life as breathing was.

It was better, though. It was better than how it had been with his father. His father had locked him away in a cell, which had begun his secret need for lighthouses. His mother had taken him then, made him stronger. He was grateful.

“I must not cry” Cyrian clenched his teeth, the iron biting and burning at his flesh. He arched his back and he regretted it immediately when his mother slowly carved into his skin with her ash blade.

Cyrian’s finger tapped on the iron again and again, until the skin on his fingertips had burned off. His throat bobbed and his muscles strained against his skin. Cyrian roared and he bucked in his seat, his mouth opening, only for his mother to pour water down his throat.

Cyrian’s head fell forward and he spit up the water, hacking and coughing. He pressed his forehead into his knees, his chest heaving up and down. His mother’s fingers ran through his hair and Cyrian looked up, watching his mother’s serene face as she washed out his hair.

Cyrian leaned into her touch and he closed his eyes when her fingers pulled and loosened  the tangled hair at the nape of his neck then she kissed his cheek. Another cloth pressed against his face and Cyrian struggled to even his breathing, but this time his mother did not try to suffocate him.

“What do I always say?” His mother whispered, washing off his shoulders, then behind his tipped ears. His hair dripped slowly and Cyrian watched the water. He licked his lips again, tasting his metallic blood.

“Never let a person into your mind. They can beat and bruise your body, but the day they get into your mind is when you’ve truly lost,” Cyrian tilted his head back slowly as he said the words. Atropine walked behind him and she pressed her fingers against his temples. “Never, ever, give up your mind,” Cyrian whispered. Then he arched his back and his legs shook as his mother dove into his mind.

Cyrian’s eyes stayed open but they glazed over. Then they rolled to the back of his head and he groaned and muttered as his felt his mother picking around in his mind. But every time she brought down the ax, a solid wall of magic slammed into her.

After what felt like days, but was only minutes, Atropine finally pulled away. She smiled and took Cyrian’s face in her hands and kissed his cheek slowly, nuzzling his skin. “You’re a good son, Cyrian. And you will be an amazing Heir”

Cyrian’s eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his forehead against his mother’s. His lips moved in their native tongue, the language only he and his mother spoke. Cyrian paused, struggling to swallow, before he spoke again.

Atropine froze and Cyrian slowly opened his mouth, his blood pouring on the stone floor from his mouth. His teeth were stained with red and Cyrian looked back at his mother and hissed when she gripped his chin. “Forget about her. She is gone. Your lighthouse is gone” His mother slapped him, before gripping his chin again. “Tania Infernos is gone!” His mother raised her voice.

“Tania Infernos is gone,” Cyrian whispered. He shuffled in the chair, but his mother yanked him out. Cyrian stumbled, but he was sure he rammed into the wall and not into his mother. He breathed through his mouth, only turning around when his mother tugged his arm.

“The tattooing of the Night Court symbol happens in one week. You will attend. But in the meantime, you will stay here, Cyrian. You will stay here until you stop believing in lighthouses. There are no lighthouses in the Court of Nightmares”

Cyrian slid off the rest of his fighting leathers. Then he held his arms out and he let his mother strap him onto her bars. He arched his back as she lowered him into the salty ice water. Cyrian balanced himself on his toes and he leaned his head forward, closing his eyes as the collar wrapped around his neck.

With his arms suspended diagonally above him, his head bowed, a collar around his neck, his ankles bound together, and his toes the only thing that kept him up, Cyrian let loose a small breath. 

Let me keep her. Let me keep my lighthouse. Mother, please, let me keep Tania.

He was a fool to have begged his mother for anything. Cyrian looked back up and he sucked in his breath as his mother stretched out his wings, nailing them to the adjacent wall. And he watched as her figure slowly walked up the stairs. She turned around and pressed her fingers against her lips.

“I love you, Cyrian. I would do anything for you” Atropine paused and she walked down the steps and pressed her forehead against her son’s one more time. Her lips moved against his ear, whispering their native tongue and Cyrian just let his head fall, not bothering to say anything back.

Then she was gone and the door was slamming behind her. Cyrian swallowed and he closed his eyes, unable to fall asleep. I am so proud of you.

“I love you too, mother,” Cyrian whispered into the darkness.

PART ONE: complete

PART TWO: complete

PART THREE: complete

[cleopatraas]

Cyrian: Tania

PART ONE of three short stories about Cyrian Infernos. 

“There’s just something about you, Cyrian,” Tania smiled, linking and unlinking their fingers. Cyrian looked down at her, watching as her golden fingers wrapped and unwrapped around his brown ones. He leaned down and kissed her knuckles.

“Is it the blood lust I get from my mother?” His lips brushed against her knuckles and Tania froze. She sat up, pressing the sheets to her chest. Cyrian watched her, bracing his palm against her back as he lied down completely, letting her have higher ground.

“No, Cyrian, it’s the way you love” Her knees dug into their mattress as she straddled his thighs. Cyrian pulled one arm behind his head and he resisted the oncoming eyeroll, tapping his fingers on her back.

“I’m serious” She whispered, pulling her blonde hair over to one side. “You love so few people but it’s doesn’t matter who they are. You love me, your mother, you love your stupid father. You love Maze, you love Nathaniel, you love-”

“Stop,” Cyrian closed his eyes. “I only love you and my mother. I love the idea of my father and I love the body parts of Maze and Nate”

Tania was the one to roll her eyes this time. She grabbed Cyrian’s hand and pressed her lips against his palm. She rubbed his chest slowly and shook her head. “What connects us all, Cyrian?”

Cyrian’s eyes fluttered and he opened them finally. Tania reached forward, brushing his thick locks off his face. She ran her thumb down his face, then she circled his lips. Cyrian let out a tight breath. “Lighthouses”

“Lighthouses?” Tania laughed softly, tilting her head to the side.

“Ever since I was little the world felt really dark. Like I could see things, but I was squinting. And it caused me not to be able to see everything. My mother was my first lighthouse. Whenever I see her, it’s like the world comes into focus. And the first time I saw you,” Cyrian bit her wrist playfully and Tania smiled, showcasing all her perfectly straight and white teeth, “that first time I saw you, it was one of the brightest lighthouses in the world. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it doesn’t matter who they are. As long as they’re lighthouses”

“Lighthouses,” Tania nodded. She moved up so she straddle his waist. Cyrian’s hand grasped at her skin, his thumbs stroking the soft, also pudgy fat there. Tania squirmed gently and Cyrian caught sight of the scars on her sides, and the stretch marks on her thighs.

Tania tried to cover them up, but Cyrian tugged her playfully and she fell back, laughing. He repositioned the blankets and pulled one of her legs around his waist and held her waist once more. “Cyrian, don’t-”

His lips were already brushing against one of the pale marks on her thighs. Tania fisted the sheets and she arched her back slightly. Cyrian grinned and bit her stomach gently, ghosting his fingers over the faded outlines of abs. “You’re so beautiful, you know that? You and all your little stripes” Cyrian teased her gently, slowly curving his thumb down another stretch mark.

Cyrian brought her back to the head of the bed, pinning her down gently on her chest. The sheets were wrapped around both their waists and he held her arms above her head, looking at the scars on her back. Three long, ugly, deep, jagged scars.

One, for her love for him.

One, for her loyalty to him.

One, for her bravery and strength to herself.

All three courtesy of his mother.

“I’d do it again,” Tania whispered, curving her body to look back at him. Cyrian brushed the hair off his face and he lowered his lips down to hers, moving as one.

“Hopefully you’ll never have to. I love you,��� Cyrian groaned against her lips, before Tania flipped them over, rolling across the bed, until they fell on the ground. Cyrian groaned, a dull stinging filling his back. Tania laughed and she impatiently pushed the sheets away, before she smashed her lips against his and finished what they never wanted to end.

“Cyrian, baby” Cyrian opened his eyes, pushing his hair back. His mother was kneeling before him and she cupped his face. Her brown fingers, slightly lighter than his own, pressed against his temples.

He had lost his brightest lighthouse and the world seemed dark again. Like he was back with his father, with Devlon.

“You will have your revenge” His mother’s grip tightened and Cyrian groaned as she leaned his head back. “But keep it together,” Her hand met with his cheek and Cyrian closed his eyes, knowing not to flinch. He swallowed. Twice. He nodded. Twice.

Cyrian kissed his mother’s palm before he stood up, kissing the top of her head gently. She smiled and brushed his cheek, before kissing it. “Find Malyus Batalis in the Blood Rite. And end his life, slowly and painfully. Seek justice for my daughter”

Cyrian kissed his mother’s temple again. He stepped around her and left his room, his eyes glazing over. He would hold it back until his wings were bound and he was in the mountains. But Cyrian Infernos was going to become feral.

PART ONE: complete. 

[cleopatraas]

Cyrian: Malyus

PART TWO of three short stories about Cyrian Infernos

Blood and sweat still matted his hair. Blood had dried over and now painted his skin. The sun blinded him for a moment and Cyrian looked askance. Thirty males. He had killed thirty males, but nothing would cease his blood lust until Malyus had paid for what he had done to his wife.

Cyrian stalked through each war camp, most of the occupants congratulating their children that hadn’t gotten in his way. He didn’t for one second pity the thirty that stood between him and Malyus. Especially that one that tried to break Nate’s wrist. He remembered him, from when he and Nate had first met. Cyrian didn’t give warnings, and definitely didn’t give second ones.

Cyrian slammed his boot against the door, stalking into the Batalis household. He continued to walk, his pointed ears going straight up, detecting for anyone other than Malyus. Negative. He supposed Maze’s father was at the Blood Rite, maybe to punch his daughter for surviving. If he wasn’t so busy he would rip his head from his shoulders. His mother was the most feared female in the entire Night Court, but at least she knew how to praise her child.

“I heard someone got banned from the Blood Rite,” Cyrian leaned his shoulder against the threshold, looking around Malyus’s room. It was better than a bastard deserved. Maze probably got a hole in the wall, even though she was the rightful Heir to the Batalis legacy. Cyrian grinded his teeth, pulling his lips back into a snarl.

Malyus grabbed his Illyrian blade and Cyrian had to give it to him; he may never be a true male, having been banned from the Blood Rite, but at least the little boy was willing to go down fighting. Cyrian stalked forward and when Malyus swung he grabbed the blade, yanking Malyus forward.

Cyrian slammed his forehead against the male’s and dug the blade into his thigh, skewering it completely. Cyrian gripped Malyus’s face, slamming him against the wall, his own blood running across his right cheek. “Three whole seconds, I’m impressed,” Cyrian grinned, pulled Malyus back only to slam him against the wall again.

“She screamed. Begged for you,” Malyus spat on his face. Cyrian froze and he blinked once, before dragging his sleeve across his face. “When I entered your room, she screamed for you. ‘Cyrian! Cyrian!’. She shut up eventually”

Cyrian roared and used Malyus’s weight against him. He yanked him off the wall and slammed the male on the ground. He pulled the blade out of his thigh and pressed it against his neck. He hadn’t been with her when Malyus had killed his wife, after having done much worse things. He had been with his mother, learning new torturing techniques. And then he had been with his father, only so Devlon could pluck and pick at his Heir.

He wasn’t where he was supposed to be. By his mate’s side. Cyrian snarled and he dragged Malyus up, setting him in the chair. Malyus froze and Cyrian smiled, running his fingers through his tangled hair. Cyrian pressed his lips against Malyus’s ear. “I am Atropine’s son for a reason”

Cyrian wrapped his arm around Malyus’s neck, pulling his head back. He dug his pointer and middle finger into the male’s back, applying just the right pressure. Malyus screamed as his wings betrayed him and burst free from his back.

“She has tortured demons who would chew you up and spit you out, just for the fun of it,” Cyrian snarled. It was no lie and anyone with some sense in Prythian knew it. His mother had lived through Rhys’s father’s rule. She had not cared if she won the baby High Lord’s favor, but she had tortured the Attor and then Jurian himself.

She had stolen Azriel’s name for the best torturer. She was no Shadowsinger. She was no mighty Amren. She had pointed ears, a beautiful smile, and a killer spirit. And he was her son.

Cyrian gripped the talon of Malyus’s wing. He had tortured an Illyrian once. His mother had made him, so he did not retch at the sight of a wing being torn apart. Cyrian figured that was why the General Commander hated him so much.

Malyus thrashed and Cyrian snapped his hand back, Malyus’s talon ripping clean off. The male arched his back and he screamed, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. By the time Cyrian took his other one, blood was already slipping from his lips.

“One for my mother and one for me,” Cyrian tossed the talons in the air and he caught them, rolling them over his scarred fingers, before placing them aside. Cyrian ran his hands down Malyus’s wings, before gripping the hunches.

Cyrian clicked his teeth. “This’ll hurt a lot,” Cyrian grinned and he put all his weight into snapping them. It wasn’t so much as brute strength that was needed. A person only needed to know where exactly to break the bridge between an Illyrian’s wings and his back. After that, maybe it was pure brute strength.

This was why the High Lord hated him and his mother. It was common enough knowledge on how Rhysand’s sister and mother had been butchered. Cyrian snapped down again, finally ripping Malyus’s wings from his back.

Cyrian walked around and he smiled, patting Malyus’s cheek until he finally woke up. “Not done yet, Malyus Batalis” Then Cyrian spent forty-eight hours torturing Malyus. Making him relive everything he had ever done, his worst memories. He even made Malyus grovel and pray to Maze’s name.

In the end Cyrian snapped his neck, letting him lie limply in the chair. Then he took his wings and spread them out on the bed. Cyrian wiped his hands down on Malyus’s sheets, before stalking out of the room.

He slammed the door and then he finally cried for his wife, his mate, his Tania.

His lighthouse.

PART ONE: complete

PART TWO: complete

[cleopatraas]

Byrne: Part Five

I, II, III, IV, 

Abraxi didn’t remember much. She remembered looking up at him, his canines, his eyes, his voice, his anger, and then there was only darkness. A deep, stronger darkness than what should have been possible for a Fae to create.

The witch wasn’t even sure if Fae could have powers over pure shadows. There was so much about him that didn’t add up, and she hated it, but those were the parts that drew her to him. And repulsed her the most.

He reminded her of something, like an old fairytale your parents told you at night but you couldn’t remember everything about the characters. It was like she had met him before, tasted his magic before, but she couldn’t remember.

Abraxi blinked as white light slowly filled her eyes when she opened them. She winced and ducked her head down. She had been in that darkness for so long, she had given up hope of ever seeing light.

How long had she been in that darkness?

There were soft groans, some of them her own, and Abraxi slowly crawled forward to the light. Her hands met bars and she tugged on them, blinking slowly. A cell. A part of her was hurt that she had not woken up in a bed, with Byrne sitting in a chair.

She noticed him. Noticed him in ways she wished she didn’t, but it made her want to notice him more. The slight tremor of his jawline, the way his eyes seemed to look into two different worlds. And also the way when those eyes landed on her, it was like she was the only world.

She didn’t know what to think, or really what she had thought. But when Byrne had snapped, when darkness had filled her veins and her lungs, she knew everything she imagined was a lie. She knew every flinch of his was planned, everything he said to her was calculated, there was nothing true about him.

Still, it hurt.

“Where the hell are we?” Abraxi gasped at her brother’s voice. She peered through the bars and the darkness - though considerably lighter than whatever Byrne had put them in - and she saw her brothers eyes. “Hey, Brax” Ciel smiled and Abraxi covered her mouth, her fingers trembling.

“Back in these stupid cells,” Nadia cursed. She slammed her foot against the bars and slowly lied down, wrapping her arms around herself. “What have we gotten ourselves into? It doesn’t make sense. What Fae is that powerful?”

“Did you guys see it too?” Artemis shivered, her hands pressing down on her own shoulders. Abraxi noticed she had been a girl for a while now, and she had a good feeling she was afraid to be anything else. “The darkness? It was...terrifying. It felt like I was trapped between something as well as trapped in myself and-”

“Breathe, Artemis” Rajni whispered and reached between her cell bars to hold Artemis’s hand. “Forget about that, okay? We can see now. And we’re going to get out of this. Our parents have most likely done something by now, I mean, they’re not useless”

“They shouldn’t come after us,” Abraxi whispered, even though she hated to say it. “He wants them. Ciel, you should have seen how angry he was when I mentioned father. I’ve never seen such quiet anger like that”

“We’re bait,” Nadia groaned. She laughed drily and ran her fingers through her matted hair. “He wants your parents. That explains why the witches had such control over Erilea. He’s been surrounding us and planning for God knows how long”

Abraxi noticed Nadia said ‘God’. Even surrounded by witches and faes, with parents blessed by several gods, the girl still kept her faith in one god. In one thing, she needed one thing to explain everything to her. Abraxi wondered what that God was telling her now and if it was helpful.

She doubted it.

“Like a raven,” Abraxi whispered, remembering the ravens. That was his animal form. That was the animal his shadows took the form of whenever they came out of him. That was his very essence, ever watching, ever calculating. But did he answer to someone? The thought made her laugh.

Byrne answered to no one. But his ravens answered to him, they watched for him, calculated for him. Abraxi shuddered and she hugged herself slowly, remember that one bright blue eye and the hazel one. And the scars she had wanted to drag her fingers down.

“Gavriel,” Lyria whispered. Everyone went quiet and Abraxi tried to peer through the musty darkness and she saw Lyria’s light head. She was shaking, sobs traveling through her body. “Gavriel!” Her voice rose and she clutched at her hair.

“Is he breathing!” Artemis jumped up, trying to squeeze out of her cell.

“He’ll live,” came a voice. Everyone froze as a small flame lit. Iskra Yellowlegs stood at the foot of the spiral staircase, smiling. She clicked her iron claws together, before looking at them. “I was told you all would be awake. How was your nap?” The witch gave a cruel grin, her iron teeth gleaming in the fire light.

She walked down the row of cells, resting one hand on her hip, holding the candle in her other. “He should have killed you by now. At least sent the human’s head back home. But he hasn’t,” Iskra sighed. “But don’t worry. It’s almost over”

Abraxi didn’t believe that. There were two Byrnes. There was the one that Aradia and Iskra saw. There was the one that bit their heads off, but at the same time caressed them. There was the one that gave them their iron.

But then there was her Byrne. The one who somehow knew her favorite color was the deepest violet. The one who somehow knew about hair and liked it when it was open and free. The one who felt something, she knew he did, but squeezed himself into a chair; his legs and arms too long to be sitting down. The Byrne that danced with her, played chess, and sparred with her and laughed when she found out he couldn’t bleed.

It was that Byrne that she was counting on.

“We know what you’re doing,” Abraxi growled, snarling at the witch. Her mother had told her about the Heir to the Yellowlegs. She had tried to kill her mother once, and Petrah Blueblood. It was no surprise she would ally herself with whatever the other Byrne was.

“I doubt you do, Abraxi Blackbeak. You’ve probably pieced some things together, thanks to my brother wanting you to know. Whatever you know, it’s because he wants you to,” Iskra whispered. She slowly knelt down in front of Abraxi’s cell, gripping her chin. Her iron claws dug into her skin.

Abraxi hissed but that one word pounded in her ears. Brother, brother, brother. Was Byrne half witch then? Yet he called Aradia mother, when she was Iskra’s aunt. Brother, brother, brother. Iskra had said it a different way. A mix of love and admiration, wonder and disgust. Abraxi felt for her Byrne again. A mother and a sister who so obviously bowed to him, but at the same time would rip out his heart if they could.

What had made him so sure Abraxi wouldn’t do the same?

Somehow he knew, because Abraxi found herself less and less likely to stab him. Even when she saw her scarred brother, a barely breathing Gavriel, a panicked Lyria, an unbelieving Nadia, and a terrified Artemis, she would not lay a hand on Byrne.

The blood running down her neck brought her back to the present. Blue blood. Byrne did not bleed, there was no way to tell if he bled blue or red. Another clue, another hidden equation, another step closer. But to what destination?

Ciel and Rajni growled, wanting to get to their sister, but unable to. “I hope he kills you first. Rips your heart out and gives it to me as a present. Or maybe I’ll rip it out myself,” Iskra taunted. Abraxi winced as Iskra let her go, and as the small streams of blue blood fell down her chest.

“He wouldn’t kill me,” Abraxi whispered. Everyone looked at her and Iskra raised her eyebrow, wiping Abraxi’s blue blood on her brown trousers. “He won’t kill me” 

She felt it with everything inside of her. As she would not lay a hand on Byrne, he would not lay a hand on her. No matter what Iskra taunted, no matter what Byrne did or showed he could do, Abraxi would not be hurt.

“I think I can speak for myself, thank you.” Abraxi’s heart fluttered and dropped at the same time as Byrne’s voice filled the room.

[cleopatraas]

Byrne: Part Four

A/N: This is my favorite chapter I’ve written so far. 

I, II, III

He had spent at least twenty minutes scrubbing Ciel’s blue blood off his palm. It stained his skin, like a permanent taunt. Byrne eventually gave up, but at least the blood was gone. He ran his hands through his hair, staring at the long scar on his cheek.

It ran from his temple, down the side of his face, continuing down his neck. Byrne swallowed and it stood stark white against his tanned skin. He looked away from the mirror and walked out back in Abraxi’s room.

“Get out!” The witch screeched. Byrne raised his eyebrows and hesitantly lifted his hands over his eyes. There was a pause and a snort before Byrne grumbled, pulling his hands down. She wasn’t even bare. Though she was standing in front of him now. Byrne smiled at her shortness again.

“You look…” Byrne trailed off and he lifted his hands when Abraxi angled the her dagger at his abdomen. He sighed and took the necessary amount of steps back, until she lowered her dagger.

“I was going to say you look-” “I don’t care,” Abraxi said flatly. She slid her blade in her thigh holster, turning away from him. Byrne swallowed heavily and he nodded to himself, a small sigh escaping past his lips. 

He bowed his head slightly and settled himself in his chair again, watching her. The dark purple dress looked exquisite on her. The straps were thin and it pooled around her feet. Her back was entirely bare. He pursed his lips and leaned back, watching as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Your hair looks better down,” Byrne commented off-handedly, as he tried to give her a small smile.

She scowled and his smile fell immediately. Instead her pursed his lips. Abraxi turned her face up slightly and Byrne pulled his shoulders in, setting his face to neutral. “Why were you in my bathroom? How did you get there?”

“Nothing here is yours, Abraxi. I’m just renting the place out for you,” Byrne shrugged, holding his tongue. He slowly leaned back in his chair, his legs stretching out. His shadows rose from his shoulders and his ravens appeared again.

“What are they? Pets?” Abraxi looked at her hair in the mirror again and she scowled at her reflection. A small tick worked in her cheek and he wondered if she was thinking about her hair. He chuckled and leaned forward.

“No. They’re not my pets. I can normally summon them, but they like to appear whenever they choose,” Byrne paused and he narrowed his eyes, as if he were trying to convince himself to shut up. “Shadows are apart of me. It’s like an extension”

“Like my father?”

Byrne snarled and he held back his spat. “I’m nothing like your cursed father,” Byrne shot up and he gripped the side of the drawer, trying to calm down. His shadows rolled down his arm and Abraxi stepped back slightly. The witchling slowly took the pins out of her hair, letting it fall down her back.

Byrne swallowed slowly and he sighed. He rubbed his jaw and cracked his neck “Come with me,” Byrne tried to ask. He awkwardly held out his hand, giving her a painful smile that looked more like he was about to eat her.

Abraxi bared her teeth and snapped at him before walking straight past and out the door. “Or not,” Byrne sighed and he followed her. He paused slightly and closed the door, rubbing the long, thin scar on half of his face. He closed his eyes before he started to walk again.

He touched her left or her right arm gently, signalling for her to turn. Each time she flinched, so he pulled back and just pointed. Byrne looked down at his hands and he saw the shadows swirling.

“What the hell are Yellowlegs doing here?” Abraxi asked. Byrne looked up and he shrugged at the witches with yellow bands wrapped around their foreheads. He knew all of them by name, having met them once or twice in his lifetime. Or a hundred times.

His back grew a little straighter and he walked faster. “They’re here for hope” He grabbed her elbow gently and ignored Abraxi’s efforts to try to yank away. Byrne stopped at the large oak doors and he bowed his head, receiving head bows in return.

“Is that a person?” Abraxi prodded him. He snorted at the back of his throat and shook his head. Abraxi glared at him, and he tried his best to ignore her. 

“Iskra has arrived,” One of the Yellowlegs said. Byrne gave her a tight smile and she opened the door, along with her sister. He lead Abraxi into the throne room and he let her go immediately. He knew she hated his touch, they all did.

“Ciel!” Abraxi screamed, picking up her skirts and running towards her brother. Byrne paused and he turned around, watching as she launched herself into the witch’s chest. He could heard Ciel’s moans from here and he watched with a raised eyebrow as Abraxi gave him a once over.

“Rajni,” She sobbed and slowly walked over to her sister. Byrne turned his head and he walked away. Aradia stood by his throne and they both narrowed their eyes at the same time. Byrne snarled and Aradia stubbornly fell to one knee. That wouldn’t be the last of it. God, he could practically sense her happiness at his anger.

And the darn witch knew why he was angry.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Abraxi screamed at him. Byrne flinched as if it were a physical blow and he looked back at the witchling. He gave a long shrug and a cruel smile before he walked to Aradia.

“Where is Iskra?” Aradia gave him a cold smile and Byrne lifted up his hand. Aradia choked and blood poured from her nostrils. Abraxi gasped but he ignored it, grabbing his step-mother’s chin tightly. “I will deal with you in a moment, but I wish to greet my sister” He snarled, leveling his canines at her throat.

“Byrne, let her go,” The multi-Heir paused and he let his step-mother go. He turned around and grinned at Iskra Yellowlegs, standing in the doorway. Iskra grinned back and she walked over to him, giving him a short but satisfactory hug. “Is everyone here?” She held his face gently, stroking his longest scar.

Byrne nodded and he petted her hair from a short moment, before pulling away. He locked eyes with Abraxi and he pursed his lips. “Abraxi, please step away from my guests”

“Like hell I will,” Abraxi snarled. She narrowed her eyes, blocking Ciel with her body. Byrne sighed and he clenched his fists as Aradia laughed. A little longer. He just had to control himself for a little longer.

Byrne held his hand up as Iskra moved forward, effectively stopping his older sister against her will. “Just give her a moment,” His sister bared her long iron teeth, but she nodded before settling herself down on the arm of his throne.

“What has he done to you,” Abraxi whispered. She looked at Ciel and she nearly screamed when she saw the brand on his shoulder. Her brother hissed and he tried to pull away, blue blood streaming down his chest.

“B-Burned...wyrdmarks. What about you?” Ciel tried for a lazy grin but he grimaced in pain. Abraxi looked at her friends, her family, and she saw wyrdmarks burned into all their skin. Brands. He had branded them. She covered her mouth and looked back at Byrne.

“Finish the Lion,” Byrne said without any hint of the emotion Abraxi was used to in his voice. Abraxi wondered why she ever received any of his kindness. If what was even considered that. Maybe it was all a game. A giant chess board.

Why was he doing this?

“No!” Lyria screamed, tears slowly streaming through the blood on her face. Byrne looked away as Aradia stood up. He slowly walked onto the dais and sat on his throne.

“Aradia,” Byrne said casually, leaning back. Iskra ran her hand down Byrne’s arm and Byrne pushed her hand off impatiently. Iskra rolled her eyes, running her fingers down her braided hair. “I found out something interesting. My ravens still carry news from across the sea you know”

Aradia paused. Lyria screamed, even as her mouth betrayed her, her lips staying shut. She thrashed and Byrne twisted his fingers and she immediately stopped moving. Her light hair was matted with blood and she watched helpless as Aradia slowly began to burn Wyrdmarks into Gavriel’s chest, causing the Lion to arch and bellow.

Aradia raised her eyebrows at Byrne before focusing back on her work. The way she did it with ease was sickening and bile rose from Artemis’s mouth. She closed her eyes, whimpering as she heard her grandfather scream in pain.

Byrne drunk in his noises of pain. “And what is it you’ve heard?” She turned away from Gavriel, as his flesh slowly popping. The smell reached Byrne’s nostrils and he held back his chokes.

“You’ve hurt a child. More than one if I could hazard guess. And you’ve experimented on pregnant,” Byrne clenched the arms of his chair and his shadows exploded around him like a dark cloud as he breathed his final word, the room going deadly silent, “women”

Iskra froze along with everyone else. Shadows swam across the floor and up the walls. Byrne glared at his step-mother, his breathing getting shallower and shallower. Aradia had the nerve to grin.

“Is there a problem, Byrne?” She snarled at his name, her iron teeth scraping against her bottom lip. 

“Stop burning the Lion,” Byrne said tightly. Abraxi shuddered and she hugged herself, trying to guard both her siblings still. Lyria’s face had taken on a red color and she looked to be calming down because of his order. As if he cared. This wasn’t for her.

“Stop burning him” Byrne said again, tendrils of darkness curling around everyone. The scent was driving him over the edge, no matter how hard he tried to anchor himself. His canines elongated and his eyes burned darker, an empty bit of shadows. Abraxi gave off a short scream. 

“What are you,” Abraxi winced, backing away. Byrne flinched at that, wondering how terrible his canines truly looked. He began to walk towards his step-mother. Aradia stumbled away from Gavriel and the burning smell slowly faded away.

“Haven’t you been listening?” Byrne said between clenched teeth. “I’m a monster” He snarled, teeth clenched tightly as if he were holding back. Abraxi realized he was holding back. Even then the room still shook and Abraxi fell down to her knees, staring up in horror at the thing in front of her. Almost...demonic.

“This is what I am and it’s not my fault,” Byrne stared at her for a moment. He analyzed the fear and he shook his head, closing his eyes and gripping the back of his neck. “It’s not my fault,” He whispered quietly, before they were all devoured in darkness.

[cleopatraas]

Byrne: Part One

Continuation of Heart

He hadn’t wanted to see her. It had taken all the self control he had learned courtesy of his mother to keep from ripping her tongue from her throat. Her end would have been unsatisfactory and that wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted her to feel pain, the unending squeeze in her heart, the unending questions and regrets. There was nothing in the world that amounted to that pain, that loss, but he would try his hardest to make sure she felt it. To make sure they all felt it.

“I’m so sorry”

The nerve of that woman. For her to stand there and tell him she was sorry. For her to look at him, a monster she had created. A monster all of them had created. And she had the nerve to say she was sorry.

Not too sorry, considering she was ready to burn him to ashes. Luckily, he didn’t burn as easily as his mother had. He shook the thoughts out of his head and he turned on his feet again.

Not that it mattered, anyway. He was winning. He was doing what he had set out to do. They were all there. All except for Ciel. Byrne rubbed his temples at the thought. He stared down at the short note in his hand and he gently stroked behind the shadow-raven’s head.

It bit his finger and Byrne raised an eyebrow. “I don’t bleed,” He said dryly, even a joke maybe. The shadow-raven narrowed its eyes. Byrne held out his hand and the raven was slowly sucked into his palm. Byrne groaned and he felt slightly better. Slightly. The note was short but not sweet. The witch-boy bleeds blue. Do you? We travel soon.

Byrne slowly crumpled the note in his hand, until it was nothing but a small ball. He let the darkness wrap around it and when it pulled back, there was nothing. Why should she care if he bled blue?

His bones had a slight tingling to it as he travelled down the stairs. Byrne wasn’t sure if it was from the slight fatigue of shifting and winnowing so many times. Not to mention transporting so many people, within such a small window of time. Maybe it was just his anger.

The musty smell filled his senses and he lifted his head. He had arrived. Byrne pressed his hand against the door and tendrils of darkness slowly spread like wildfire. Byrne cringed and he stepped through the door.

At his presence the room seemed to hum. He walked down the stone spiral steps, his feet hitting the surface softly. The patterns of his breathing were even and calm. Unlike the quick breathing of those who awaited him.

When he finally entered the circular room the torches lit up in his presence. Byrne shuddered when a torch lit up too fast, warming his skin. He walked past the only empty cell left, for Ciel Blackbeak, before he found the first face.

Byrne smiled and he calmly knelt down before the figure, holding onto the bars. “Come into the light, I haven't got all day,” He spoke tilting his head to the side. The figure slowly moved and Byrne grinned when the Lion appeared.

“You,” Gavriel snarled, gripping onto the bars harder. His pointed ears perked up and Byrne watched as the poor cat looked around for his mate. “You’re-” Byrne held up his hand and Gavriel’s lips shut. His eyes widened, realizing his body was no longer his own. “Not yet, Cat” He smiled coolly before moving on. Byrne’s shadow pressed against the walls and his pointed ears stood up when he reached Sam and Lyria.

He held back his growl and he studied them. While Lyria looked like her father, the soft blonde white hair and the bright green eyes, Sam was a mirror image of his mother. Shocking waves of blonde hair that curled around the bottom of his ears, and those insufferable Ashryver eyes.

While Lyria had gotten her father’s wind and ice, Sam had gotten his mother’s flame. Byrne obviously held more hate for Sam, but that did not mean he didn't detested the sharp planes of his sister’s face. Byrne wondered if they thought they were evenly matched.

Lyria launched herself at the bars and Byrne gave her a lazily smile. Lyria slammed her hands against the bars and they barely groaned against her super-strength. He tilted his head to the side, watching her and her twin as they tried to summon their magic.

He’d always hated that fire. Wind, he could deal with. A hawk, he could deal with. It was that wretched fire that wanted to make him tear Sam’s throat out. “It’s warded. I wouldn’t bother trying to use your magic”

“Who are you,” Sam Ashryver asked again. Byrne crooked his finger and he smiled, leaning in slightly.

“I am a monster of your mother’s creation. But there will be time for my story in just a short while. Ciel isn’t here yet” Sam sat up straighter at the mention of his mate and he slammed his hand against the bars.

“Don’t touch him!” The male screamed and Byrne leaned back on his heels, watching as Sam slammed against the bars again and again. He studied his reactions, the reactions he had when it came to his mate.

“Sadly, my mother” The word tasted bitter on his tongue, “called Ciel. She has a thing against male witches” Byrne’s eyes grew dark and Lyria narrowed her own. Byrne swallowed and he raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” The female slowly sat back down.

“Why are you doing this?” Another voice said. Byrne turned around and he looked at the human. He could smell her fear, even though she was trying to mask it. He could respect that. Pity she was wrapped in all of this. He never considered her as a variable, seeing as her parents were useless twats, but there she was.

“For a while I didn’t know,” Byrne admitted. He stood up and he dusted off his pants. He walked towards the stairs and began his climb, the flames flickering out as his shadows engulfed them. “For a while I didn’t know what to do with my beating heart,” Byrne turned around and he smiled from the top of the stairs, even as there was a tight squeeze in his chest.

“But I finally know what to do now. I shall see you all very soon,” Byrne bowed his head, before slamming the heavy door shut.