#hofas summary

[readychilledwine]

Pieces of You pt 3

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings - self doubt, slight manipulation, discussion of moving forward after the death of a spouse, hurt people hurting people, HOFAS spoilers *slightly* (a lot of us had this theory to begin with and I just played with it to fit this)

A/n - It can only be uphill from here, right?.. Special thank you to @honeybeefae and @thehighladywrites for helping me think through how quickly I should let reader and Rhys move on, and for convincing me that I should continue writing this. (Ps friends - sorry I can't tag you. I evidently hit the max tag amount with my taglists.)

✨️ Pieces of You Masterlist ✨️

The 3 month milestone had changed your and Morwenna's lives forever. Rhys had finally convinced you to move into one of his homes. He was insistently whispering to you over and over that the small cabin wasn't going to work anymore, that Cassian and Azriel barely fit inside it, that once his Little Mor and sweet Nyx began to move you four would need more space.

It had been also heartbreaking, entering the home Feyre had crafted, each room so individually thought of for who it was intended to belong to. Above all else, though, it had been lonely.

It wasn't your home. It wasn't the finely crafted wooden arches your mate had assembled by hand. It wasn't the rooms you had spent hours picking colors for. It wasn't cozy. That lack of security and warmth was why you were once again up at 3am. Despite the babies now sleeping for longer chunks of time, you never did. Regardless of if it was a night Rhysand spent at your side or one he spent tucked into the room he had shared with Feyre.

You leaned your head back against the exterior of the home, looking up at the glittering sky, and it finally happened.

3 months of mourning in silence. 3 months of screaming into your pillow. 3 months of stress, of anger, of overflowing love, 3 months of feeling like a shell of the female you were, of feeling as though your body was no longer yours, it crashed into you like a tidal wave. And it swept and destroyed everything in its path.

Rhysand shot awake in bed, feeling something was off. His chest ached, begging him to get up, to move, to search. He pulled on pants, glancing at Nyx and Morwenna sleeping peacefully, but you, once again, had not come to the room. He waited for the wraith to appear, feeling her just moments after he called. “Is it y/n,” Nuala nodded to the question, moving to admire the sleeping babes. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. She is mourning. That is her right.”

Rhys sighed, moving to your room without hesitation. He had hoped getting you out of that house would help. He had hoped the luxury he could offer you would have helped. He knocked on the door, listening for the broken come in that followed. “Why haven't you come to bed?” You were taken back by the question, taken back by him holding that perfectly tanned hand out. “Come to bed. Let me hold you until those sorrows melt away for the night.”

He knew you didn't feel it. That soft string that had made him scream, made him question all he knew about love and life. Part of him hoped you never did. Part of him hoped he would never have to explain to his family how it had taken him a miniscule 3 month period to fall in love with you and for a Mother given mating bond to snap. Part of him hoped he would never have to experience losing you, to add you to his list of things he would bury too deeply to properly mourn.

“I was unsure if I was wanted there.” That hand reached for yours, clasping it. He was so warm. Always so warm. You could bask in his warmth like he was the sun if given the chance. You shook the feeling mentally, though. “It is-”

“Our room,” he finished softly. “It is our room. Where our children are sleeping. Come to bed.”

Morning came much too soon for Rhysand. It had come much too soon for you as well. You took both of the babes, laughing as they spoke to each other in a language only they knew. They had begun taking more interest in each other, in toys, in the world. They were making life the greatest adventure, even if a lingering pain came from both of you seeing them smile so brightly.

It happened at the worst possible time. You were holding Nyx, forearm under his little tummy and letting “fly” as he worked so very hard to stretch his growing wings. Rhysand was watching you from the doorway, Morwenna on his hip as she looked up at him. Her thoughts were jumbled baby speak, all so happy. Nyx's were elated and fast. When you looked to the doorway, your wide smile fell as that string finished itself and settled deep into your chest.

Rhysand had never watched someone's mental walls fall as quickly as yours did. The silence in the room almost made the giggles of the two unknowing parties fade to background noise. “I was shocked too, darling. It's okay.”

Rhysand had dinner without you that night. He flew to the House of Wind with Nyx to eat with the Inner Circle. He wanted to give you time. He remembered the moment Azriel and Nesta came home, questioning their bonds after exploring those damned caves with the Quinlan girl and learning how the Cauldron had been corrupted. He knew you needed to process. He had too after all.

He took his seat trying to ignore the one that sat empty next to him. Everynight a plate was still sitting there. Even when you came, that chair sat empty, plate untouched. It was a screaming sign that the Inner Circle had not moved in. That they may never move on.

“It just makes the two mates theory make more sense,” Cassian and Amren were deep in a debate again. “If the Daglan, asteri, whatever the fuck we want to call them, did something to the Cauldron to ensure the mating bonds were taken over by it's creation for breeding purposes, then the existence of a Mother Blessed Bond must also be there.”

Amren sighed, ���So which do you two have then?” Nesta stiffened at the question. “A Mother Blessed Bond is meant to be true love. It's who we are technically meant to find as a soul mate. A Cauldron made Bond is evidently strictly for breeding. Which do you two share?”

The table hushed. It was a valid question and point. “To continue,” Amren took a drink from her glass before setting it down with a gentle click. “If we come out and tell other courts about this, how many other fae will begin to question their bonds? Kallias and Vivienne? Tamlin and Briar? Helion and Saraya? Lucien and Elain? How do we even begin to prove which bond is which? Does it mean they love that mate less? Rhysand would not have loved Feyre less regardless of the bond type. He will never remarry. Never move on.”

Azriel flicked his eyes to Rhysand. He knew about the bond Rhysand shared with you. He had given Rhysand his blessing to move on and pursue. He had asked his brother to find happiness again. He watched the words land on Rhysand's features, watched his eyes dull.

“If Rhysand did find a new mate,” Azriel spoke softly. “We would all support him moving forward with the bond.”

Nesta scoffed from next to Cassian. “Imagine being that poor female. Living in the shoes of Feyre Cursebreaker. No one could compare.”

But you did, didn't you? Rhysand's grip on his thigh tightened before relaxing. You were just as special, as kind, as loving. You were beautiful. Gods knew you were absolutely beautiful. You were selfless.

“I wouldn't want to try to sit in her place. I would reject the bond,” Mor sipped her wine, leaned back with one arm across her stomach.

Cassian and Azriel both looked to where Rhysand was dead silent. “I need to take Nyx home. He's getting hungry. I'll be right back.”

When Rhysand came back to the House of Wind without his son, he had no intentions of coming back to you that night. So, he never did.

3 awkward weeks passed between you and Rhysand. 3 absolutely strange weeks of either heated kisses and touches or nothing. Not even a good morning. You sighed as you laid Morwenna and Nyx down in the nursery before taking the few strides to Rhysand's office.

He was avoiding you, and it hurt. It hurt knowing your mate, this beautiful unasked for second chance was avoiding you. He was hunched over his desk, reading over some papers and signing a few. “Are we going to talk about why you are avoiding me?”

“I am not avoiding you. I am busy.”

“Yes, busy avoiding me.” You sat across from him, feeling so cold and informal. It was as if you were nothing more than his employee. “Our children are asleep. We should talk about this while we can. I deserve to know if I did something wrong.”

He didn't even look up at you as he replied. “You didn't do anything wrong. As I said, I am busy.” This wasn't the voice of the male who coaxed you to sleep. The one who whispered his dreams to you. “You can go.”

The dismissal made the bond go taunt, and when he felt the first wave of your confusion and hurt, he locked it down more. “Rhys-”

“I think we should sleep in separate rooms again. Our relationship has crossed some lines.”

You blinked at him. Stunned and almost dead silent. “I don't understand where this is coming from?”

“It's the truth. I am your High Lord. You are my subject.” It killed him to say it. His own heart was screaming to stop, but that first brick wall now stood, waiting for the other 3 sides. “We cannot continue blurring that line.”

“You're my mate,” your broken whisper almost made him stop, but he dug in.

“Something we will need to discuss at a later date and time. Surely there will be away for us to reject the bond without causing a downfall and hurting your ability to nanny Nyx.” A second wall stood in place of you and his heart. He knew it was a low blow, and he watched your brows knit and mouth slightly open.

“Rhysand.”

“High Lord,” he corrected.

“Why are you doing this?”

“The bedroom you were in previously is fine.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I am establishing a boundary, y/n.” He watched as you began to cry, holding in his own tears as he did. “Our relationship needs to remain appropriate.”

"Do you not want me? We are blessed with this second chance, and you are just turning your back on it. Please, is it me? I know I am not the beauty she was, I know I am not as special as she was. But I'd fight to make you happy, for our children-”

"Nyx isn't yours. Stop acting like he is.”

He watched as you crumbled inside of yourself, that last wall forming around his heart by destroying yours. He didn't mean a single word, but how else was he supposed to save you? All the Mother had ever done to Rhysand was take and take.

You recovered from the blow quickly, nodding as you aggressively wiped the tears from your face. "You have the weekend to find someone else to do what I am. Wen and I are leaving.”

"You can't just take her from me.”

"Yes I can," he knew what was coming, that new bond screaming for him to stop this all. "You aren't her father. Stop acting like it.”

You wanted to slam the door as you walked away before his act fell, before he gripped his chest and warded the room to sob. Little Mor had quickly become his everything. That dark hair, that button nose, those deep blue eyes. She looked like his sister, but you didn't know that when you threatened to take her away. Hadn't known why all three winged males so quickly became attached to her.

And now he was losing her. He was losing you. He was losing everything.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @fandomrejects @bookishbroadwaybish @littlestw01f @la-petite-lapin @juniperberriesaries @anuttellaa @luvmoo @mirandasidefics @soph1644 @hungryforbatboys @awkardnerd @bruxa0007 @eerievixen @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @ghostlyrose2 @amygdtjhddzvb @marvelouslovely-barnes @batii-skies @emma-andrea1 @buckystevelove @slut4acotar @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @throneofshadows @sevikas-whore @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @why4anne @miadialila @12358 @blushingfawnsposts

✨️If you are not tagged but your name is listed, Tumblr will not allow me to tag you for some reason!✨️

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property. 

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate. 

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried. 

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin

(users in bold could not be tagged)

[azrielslittleslut]

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, angsty, az is going through it, small mention of alcohol at the end

Word Count: 4.1k

series masterlist

a/n: comment a “🗡️” if you find the HOFAS easter egg..

Enjoy!

Azriel was soaring through the night sky, his wings carrying him high above the city of Velaris. The stars above were unusually bright, and he had to squint his eyes against the radiance. He felt an overwhelming sense of calm wash over him, and for the first time in his long life, he felt free. Free from his responsibilities and the darkness that seemed to cling to him since his childhood.

The stars began to dim, and Azriel banked as they started falling from the sky. He cried out as he felt a sharp pain shoot through his wings, and when he looked back, he saw them tattered and shredded.

He plummeted to the ground, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He crashed into a thick forest, the trees slowing down his descent. He hit the ground with a loud thud, his body screaming in agony. He laid back against the earth, gasping for air, unable to cry for help.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the figure of a woman walking toward him. She was shrouded in light, standing tall with the air of regal grace and ancient power. Her hair blew around her head, concealing her face from him. The female had massive wings, shimmering with faint iridescence. In her hand, she held a massive double-edged sword. He wasn’t able to get a good look at the weapon because his vision was blurry.

In a soft, lilting voice, he heard her say, “Wake up, shadowsinger. Bring me home.”

Azriel’s eyes shot open, and he swore he could still hear that voice ringing in his ears. It was the sweetest voice he had ever heard, and he very much longed to return to the dream to see that female. There was something about her that called to him, but he couldn’t put it in words.

He took a deep breath, wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs and back. His entire body throbbed with pain, and each breath brought a fresh wave of agony. Slowly, he ran his hands along the surface beneath him, trying to find the strength to sit up. He paused his movements as memories began to wash over him like a flood.

The Whispering Woods, the otherworldly power, the Moonstone Amulet, the strange language, his body feeling like it was being torn apart. Truth-Teller falling from his hands.

Despite everything that had happened, Azriel quickly moved his hand to his thigh, running his finger over the sheath strapped there. The empty sheath.

Azriel closed his eyes as he let out a harsh breath. “Not again,” he mumbled. He moved his hands up, bracing them against whatever the hell he was lying on. He pushed, trying with all of his strength to sit up. He bit back his scream as his muscles gave out and searing pain shot up his arms, down his back, and across his ribs.

He was over five hundred years old. He had been in countless battles, tearing down enemies left and right. He had been tortured and maimed and had experienced excruciating pain.

Yet here he was, unable to even sit up. His body felt drained, weak, and powerless. He raised his hands, looking at his siphons. They were still strapped there, but they were empty, their usual blue glow extinguished. Through the black glass, he could see his broken reflection, and his heart clenched. He willed his power into them, but nothing happened. It was like trying to grasp smoke; his magic was… gone.

Azriel tried to move his wings, flexing his back muscles. He felt nothing as he strained, as if his wings weren’t even there to begin with. Panic rising, he slowly turned his head to the side, and all thoughts left his mind as he looked.

Where the fuck were his wings?

They were gone, and he felt his heart sink at the phantom sensation along his spine where his wings should be. A cold dread washed over him as he stared at the empty space. His chest tightened, and a wave of nausea hit him.

Desperately, he called on his shadows, crying out in that nonverbal language he had taught himself while he was locked in a dark dungeon. His voice was a silent scream, echoing in his mind, pleading for the comfort of his shadows. They had always answered him in his time of need, but now… nothing. The silence was deafening, a dark void where the familiar whisper and caress of his shadows should be.

No wings, no siphons, no shadows… no Truth-Teller. The realization struck him like a physical blow, and he crumbled inwardly.

Useless. Helpless. He had failed them.

Azriel’s heart began to beat so fast he thought it was going to leap right out of his chest. For a few moments, all he could do was lay there as panic flooded his veins, clouding his mind. His vision went dark, and he felt himself begin to fall back down that tunnel of unconsciousness.

“No,” he groaned, his voice a ragged whisper, as he willed himself to stay awake. His body screamed for rest, but he forced his eyes to stay open, his mind to stay focused. Something really strange was happening, and he wasn’t going to figure it out by being comatose. He needed to stay alert to understand this bizarre and unsettling reality. The world around him felt alien, everything distorted, every shadow unfamiliar.

He started to take deep breaths, slowing down his breathing. He willed himself into a cool calm, the type of calm he had trained himself to fall into before a battle when nerves and fear threatened to overwhelm him.

Although he wasn’t about to step onto a field of slaughter, he had the sinking feeling he was about to enter a whole new battleground. The air around him was charged with an unfamiliar energy. This was no ordinary challenge; it was something far more sinister and unpredictable.

Since he couldn’t move, he relied on his senses, which still seemed to be strong. He could smell damp earth, laced with something sweet, like vanilla mixed with jasmine. The scent wrapped around him, calming him enough to stay focused. Underneath, there was the unmistakable aroma of damp earth and a hint of something briny, reminiscent of fish or marine life.

The first clue: he was somewhere next to water.

He tried to think of all the bodies of water in Prythian as he continued his exploring, running his hand along the surface he was lying on. It was soft and plush, the sweet scent clinging to every fiber. Realization dawned on him with a small shock: he was in a bed.

The second clue: he was in a very dark bedroom.

Azriel continued his search, contemplating who in the world would let the Spymaster of the Night Court into their bedroom. He squinted into the darkness, straining to listen to the sounds around him. Faintly, he heard what sounded like horns in the distance, their tones unlike anything he had ever heard. A screeching noise mingled with the murmur of voices speaking in that unfamiliar language he had encountered in the Whispering Woods. It wasn’t the familiar language of Prythian, but somehow, he understood it.

Third clue: he had no idea where the hell he was.

Azriel was about to go against all of his training and scream for help. He was lost and confused; a sensation foreign to him. He had just opened his mouth to yell when the bedroom door clicked open, revealing the frame of a female, outlined by the dim light behind her.

She stepped into the room, and Azriel was overwhelmed by that scent again. Her scent, he realized. He fought back the small feeling of panic at the realization that he was injured and helpless in a strange female’s bed in a place he didn’t know or recognize.

What if she had been sent to assassinate him? The Mother only knew how many people wanted him dead. He was in bad shape, so she might just get away with it.

At this point, Az just hoped the female would let him live long enough for him to ask how she accomplished such a feat.

She softly padded over to the nightstand beside the bed, as if she were trying to be quiet. Azriel winced slightly as one of the floorboards creaked loudly beneath her.

For an assassin, she had horrible stealth skills.

He heard a click, and bright light filled the room from a small object on the nightstand. He lay there, totally motionless, praying to the gods that maybe she was blind and wouldn’t see him.  She turned to him, and all hope for blindness was lost as she jumped back slightly, taking him in.

Azriel didn’t notice that too much, though. Instead, he found himself staring at her, and his heart stuttered as he came face to face with the most beautiful female he had ever seen. She stood before him, a vision of allure and grace. Her features were a study of delicate beauty- full lips, expressive eyes, and soft hair that he desperately wanted to run his fingers through. Oddly enough, looking at her, he was reminded somehow of the female in his dream, the one with the sword.

The dream female had not been human, though, while this one was. She had the unmistakable air of mortality wrapped around her, but there was something there. Despite her human appearance, Azriel could sense the strength and resilience surrounding her, almost transcending the ordinary.  

For a moment, Azriel found himself captivated by her, his thoughts going into dangerous territory. He inwardly chastised himself, forcing his focus back to the situation at hand. His eyes raked down her body, looking for weapons she could use to finish him off. He stopped when he saw the small tray of food she held in her hands. His mouth watered at the amazing smell wafting from it. It was rich and savory, wrapped in the scent of spices that were unfamiliar to him.

The female laughed softly, and Azriel’s chest tightened at the lovely sound. “Good,” she said gently, her voice carrying a compassionate warmth that contrasted with the gravity of the situation. “You’re awake.”

-------

For a few moments, the two of you just stared at each other in awkward silence. You took the opportunity to look the man over, noting the way his golden-brown cheeks flushed as he looked up at you from the bed.

Your bed.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time a man had been in your bed. But it was the first time a man who looked like him had been in it. He was... very handsome. He was tall and lean, and you could see the outline of his muscles through that tight leather clothing. His black hair fell just over his brow, curling slightly from the Louisiana humidity. Full lips, gracious jawline, elegant throat. Hazel eyes that seemed to glow in the dimness. You swallowed as you felt a strange warm sensation flooding your chest.

The bedroom was so silent you could hear the clock ticking on the wall, save for the sound of your rapid breathing. “How are you feeling?” you ask quietly, trying to end the awkwardness. This whole situation was uncomfortable, but you would do your best to act normal.

The man said nothing. He blinked at you, and you watched as he squinted against the light. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, reaching down with your free hand to turn the lamp down a little.

He watched in silence as you completed the task, something like confusion gracing his handsome features. His eyes met yours in the dim light, and you felt suddenly naked under his gaze.

You felt heat bloom onto your cheeks, and you hastily looked away, setting the tray down next to his body. “I brought you some food. You should eat something.” You stirred the contents inside of the bowl, the spoon clinking against the glass. “It’s leftovers, but it’s warm. I did cook it though, but it’s my mom’s famous red beans and rice recipe.” You clamped your mouth shut, stopping your nervous rambling.

Still, the man said nothing in response. He looked down at the food in the bowl, sniffing lightly. He pursed his lips, settling himself back more into the pillows. More silence followed, and you were growing restless.

The dude might be hot, but he sure as hell didn’t talk that much.

You cleared your throat. “My name is Y/N,” you said, your voice firm. “I don’t know how much you remember, but I found you floating face-down in the bayou. I thought you were dead.” You laughed softly but quickly stopped as he narrowed his eyes at you. You continued, “I think you hit your head pretty hard, and from my examinations, it appears you have at least two or three broken ribs. Your ankle looks swollen, too, but I don’t think it’s broken.”

It had taken all of your strength to carry him inside. You had hauled his pretty much lifeless body across the gravel driveway, up the stairs, and across your living room floor. Then, you had lifted him onto your bed, cringing slightly as the grime, blood, and swamp water on him soiled your clean sheets. In the process of it all, you had dropped him a few times, banged his head once or twice against the stairs, and hadn’t been able to catch him fast enough when he slid off the bed at first.

You questioned whether you had caused him more harm than the original incident itself.  

“I probably should have taken you to a hospital, but as a nurse, I assure you I examined you thoroughly, just like any emergency room would.” You had spent at least forty-five minutes looking him over. After making sure his vitals were stable, you assessed his body, looking for anything life-threatening. You had done your best to clean the strange cuts along his face and neck, wondering what the hell had happened for him to end up in such a state.

He would probably live, but… “I wasn’t able to look all of you over. I wasn’t able to get your clothes off.” You had been so confused at the different laces and buttons on that leather outfit. You had eventually given up, hoping that you weren’t sealing his fate by skipping that.

You wouldn’t admit the real reason why you had stopped taking his clothes off. You wouldn’t let yourself think about what that body of his probably looked like under them.

The male sighed. It was the first sound that he had made, and you froze. He looked at you as he said, “Where am I?” His voice was deep, low, and dark.

It was sexy as fuck.

You didn’t have time to wonder at that. The way he said the words caught your attention. He had the strangest accent… You have met many people from all walks of life, but you’d never come across that one before. It was lyrical and elegant, carrying a musical quality.

You took a deep breath. “You’re in New Orleans,” you said slowly. He must have hit his head hard. Damn it, he probably had a concussion, all thanks to those stupid stairs. Or the door. Or the floor.

His eyebrows creased. “New Or-leans?” he asked, sounding out the words as if he’d never heard them before, like they were new to his vocabulary. You were captivated by the way he said the words, drawn in by the way his vowels elongated and consonants softened.

Your mind scrambled as you tried to think of all the places on Earth he could have come from.

“Yes. New Orleans, Louisiana,” you said cautiously. “You’re in America.”

He started to shake his head, wincing slightly. “I don’t know where that is. How far is that from Velaris?”

You frowned at him. “Velaris? Isn’t that a city in California?” How the hell did he end up in a Louisiana bayou?

He looked at you with wide eyes. “Cali-“ he cut himself off, breathing hard. His strong neck muscles strained as he said, “Where am I?” His voice was nothing short of a snarl, and you took a small step back at the sound of it.

“I just told you! You are in New Orleans. I found you in the water and brought you inside of my house.” You stepped forward again, leaning down until your face was mere inches from his. You had dealt with angry patients before, and though this guy was a tad bit scary, you wouldn’t cower. “And if you are going to yell at me like that, I’ll be more than happy to call the cops to get you off my hands!”

Your outburst must have stunned him because his hazel eyes softened. “I am sorry,” he said, his voice tight with something that sounded like regret. “I just don’t... I don’t understand what happened.”

You had yelled at a patient, which is something you had never done before. You looked at him with compassionate eyes, willing your bedside manner to return. “I know, I’m sorry for yelling.” You sat down beside him on the bed, careful not to move him too much. “Do you remember your name, at least?”

He let out a soft laugh. “Azriel.”

You smiled down at him. “Azriel,” you said, loving the way his name sounded on your lips. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know. I heard you the first time you said it,” he said, that harshness creeping back into his deep voice.

So he was hot and a little bit of a smartass.

Great.

You reached down to grab the bowl, lifting it to him. “You need to eat. You’re pretty banged up, and food will help you heal.” You reached down to grab the spoon, intending to force-feed him if necessary.

Azriel’s harsh response stopped you. “I’m not eating. It could be poisoned.”

The nerve of this guy! You slammed the bowl back down onto the tray, causing the spoon to rattle. “And why the hell would I want to poison you?”

He raised a brow, his hazel eyes darkening slightly. “You tell me.”

Asshole.

“If I wanted you dead, I would have just left you in the water as alligator food.”

He looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe you should have left me.” His voice was oddly distant.

You huffed out a soft laugh, trying to break the tension. “You know, you were a lot easier to deal with when you were unconscious.”

His gaze snapped back to you, and you felt your skin tingle with the intensity of his gaze. There was something… strange about him. Something different and mysterious seemed to lurk beneath the surface of his body. “If I’m so difficult,” he said, his tone flat and almost challenging, “maybe you should just kill me. I’d be off your hands then.”

You shook your head as a wave of frustration washes through you. “And deprive myself of the pleasure of your sweet company?” You leaned forward, so close you could count each of his eyelashes. “Besides, I didn’t save you just to end your life now.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features, quickly masked by his usual guarded expression. “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Hell, I don’t even know what I’m getting into. Something strange is going on.”

You felt a chill run down your spine, but you kept pressing. “Lucky for you, strange is my middle name. Let me help you, Azriel,” you said, softening your features to let him know that he was safe here.

You couldn’t let him know you had every intention of taking him with you to the hospital so he could get his head looked at.

Azriel turned his head to the side, his matted black hair draping across the pillow.  Something that looked like disgust filled his face. “Is that really your middle name?”

He didn’t know where he was, and he didn’t understand figurative speech. He really needed to go to the doctor.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the shrill sound of your alarm clock blared through the room, cutting you off. “Shit,” you grumbled. You had to be at work in an hour.

At the loud sound, Azriel jumped, groaning in pain at the movement. “What is that?” he demanded, his voice edged with alarm and irritation.

You quickly reached over to click the button to turn it off. “My alarm clock,” you explained, noting the puzzled look on his face. Had he never seen one before? “I have to get dressed for work.”

He looked at you with eyes so wide, you could see the whites around the hazel. “You’re leaving?” he asked, a small hint of desperation filling his voice.

You stood from the bed, aiming for the dresser in the corner of the bedroom. You rummaged through it, settling on your favorite pair of cobalt blue scrubs. You turned around to look at Azriel, and his eyes flickered as he looked at the bundle of clothes in your hands.

“Believe it or not,” you said as you walked towards the bathroom, “you’re not my only patient.” He let out a breath but said nothing. No, he just stared at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the world. “Plus, I plan on taking you with me. A doctor needs to take a look at you.”

Azriel froze, his body going rigid. “Doctor?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion and curiosity. “Is that like a healer?”

You paused, trying to find the words to explain it. “Yeah, a doctor is a kind of healer, I guess. But they use science and medicine, not magic.”

Something you said caused him to jump. “Magic?” he asked with excitement, his eyes lighting up. “Is there anyone with magic here? I need to see them. Immediately.”

What the…

You stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?” You shook your head at him as worry filled your chest. “No, we don’t have magic here.” You paused for a moment, watching him carefully. “And before you ask, we don’t have magical healers, enchantments, or anything like that either.”

Azriel’s face fell, the excitement in his eyes twinkling out. “No magic,” he muttered, almost to himself. He looked lost, as if the very foundation of his reality had been ripped from beneath him.

“You should rest,” you said, turning back to the bathroom door. “I’ll be dressed soon, and then we can leave.”

Azriel said nothing. He was just lying there, his eyes vacant and distant. He gripped your sheets in his scarred fingers as if they were the anchor in a stormy sea. It almost looked as if he truly didn’t belong here. He had this… aura about him, something unusual and odd.

The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, and the tightness in his jaw told you that you had lost him, that this conversation was over.

Ah, back to the silent treatment then.

Numbly, you walked into the bathroom and got to work getting dressed. As you pulled on your clothes, your mind raced as you thought back through what had happened over the past few hours. You had an injured man with a weird accent lying in your bed. He claimed to have no idea where he was, and it seemed like you would have better luck getting a wall to talk than him.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, grimacing at the dark circles under your eyes. You had barely slept and playing nursemaid to Mr. Mysterious in your bedroom hadn’t helped matters.

Coffee. You needed coffee.

You had just reached up to turn off the bathroom lights when your phone rang. You picked it up, frowning as you read an unknown number flash across the screen. You answered it and raised it to your ear.

“Hello?” you asked cautiously, wondering who the hell would be calling you this early in the morning.

“Hello, Y/N,” came a velvety smooth voice on the other end. “My name is Serena Rousseau. You don’t know me, but I know you.”

Your grip tightened on the phone, irritation rising. “Listen, lady,” you began, trying to keep your tone controlled despite your frustration. “I’ve had a shitty morning. Go talk to someone else about their car’s extended warranty.”

The woman on the other end of the call let out a smoky laugh. “No, my dear. You misunderstand me.” She paused for a long moment, and you lowered the phone from your ear, intending to end the call.

Her next words stopped you in your tracks. Her voice was loud and clear as she said, “Tell the male from Prythian that I saw him fall through the portal.”  

Forget the coffee. You needed an entire bottle of wine.

tag list: @starofanotherworld @lilah-asteria @melmo567 @xxemmarldxx @a-frog-with-a-laptop @saltedcoffeescotch

@that-one-bibliophole @happyt0exist @thefandomswhre

@serxndipity-ipity-blog @doodlebugg16-blog @berrikun

@wolvesnravens @bluejayswhistle @vera0124 @jananigk

@carnelshephard

[theseeingfawn]

My Elriel Subscription list on AO3

Below are the MANY Eriel fics I am currently subscribed to and DYING for more of…

🌹A Court of Blooming Sight by katkos96

Summary: Post ACOSF and HOFAS Eriel fan fic! This fan fic will try and stay as canon as possible, with theories based off of many lovely creators as well as my own. There may be some head canons involved, as we have not had a book come out yet, but any theories and the minds behind them will be tagged. This is duel-pov between Elain and Azriel!

🌹A Court of Sunlight and Shadows by Ahimadala

Summary: Just when Elain thought she had found balance since her life was turned upside down, someone begins to doubt the true nature of her powers. Koschei threatens the fragile peace that has settled over Prythian with his search for the cauldron. However, its power is now inextricably linked to the one who has been gifted by it.

🌹A Match Baked In Heaven by NikeTheStatue

Summary: Elain Archeron, owner of the prestigious Marigold Agency, which specializes in exclusive matchmaking has a new and very challenging client. Azriel Night, football superstar, 'stubborn as a mule' (according to his brother Cassian), handsome womanizer is under pressure to find himself a wife. At stake--a 230 million inheritance.

🌹A Shot in the Darkest Dark by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: It was always those who understood fate the least who spoke most freely of it, as though the future were a path carved of marble, all roads leading in one direction, and one direction alone.

It was always meant to be this way, they said, never understanding that fate was chaos and not order, madness with no clarity. And fate could be changed, if you knew which strands to pluck.

🌹Chiaroscuro (Series) by Meraki_Moonglade/a>

Summary: A collection of beautifully told stories on the budding relationship between Elain and Azriel.

🌹Cruel Summer by slythrhys

Summary: With a broken heart and a bruised ego, Elain tries to survive a week living alongside Azriel in her family's summer home, where they all gather to celebrate Nesta and Cassian's wedding.

🌹Everywhere, Everything by duskandcobalt

Summary: Two close friends, one crossed line… After a decade of friendship, Elain and Azriel are left to navigate the fallout following an encounter that's far from platonic. or A friends to lovers fic about denial and longing.

🌹Forgotten Bonds by noedovenest

Summary: After the events of ACOSF, Elain is torn between exploring her bond with her mate and her growing affection for Azriel.

🌹Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow by Violetasteracademic

Summary: A week after Solstice, Elain is lost and heartbroken by Azriel's rejection. A surprise encounter with Lucien in the townhouse leads to an offer Elain wasn't expecting, and a readiness to face the future.

🌹High Infidelity by tswaney17

Summary: Elain and Azriel are fuck buddies, nothing more. But when a word slips out in the heat of the moment, their entire relationship comes to a screeching halt.

🌹Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: Fresh off a brutal break-up, Elain is in need of a distraction. A casual fling. One no strings bad idea, with a guy she definitely won't get attached to, so she can finally move on. Azriel has lost count of the number of women who've come to regret meeting him. But while he may be the worst idea Elain has had in a while, he's determined to prove that she won't regret him.

🌹Satin and Steel by airelemental

Summary: Princess/Knight alternate universe. Elain Archeron is on her way to visit her sister, the newly crowned queen of Prythian. With no romantic prospects and a new inheritance of all of her parents' land and most of their wealth, Elain wants nothing more than to lead a quiet life where she's finally in charge of her own destiny.

Upon her arrival, King Rhysand appoints his highest ranking knight, Sir Azriel, as her royal guard and chaperone. She thinks he's a brute and is appalled at the idea of someone following her around everywhere she wishes to go during her stay. He finds her spoiled and can think of a thousand different ways to better spend his time.

🌹Shining Through That Moonless Night by tealeaves_and_rosepetals

Summary: Good intentions went wrong on the night of Solstice, and ever since, Elain and Azriel have struggled through days that felt darker and colder without the joy of the secret love that grew between them. Yet for both of them, a tiny glimmer of hope remains, bright and unyielding.

[elainemg97]

❤️ACOTAR multiple bonds theory❤️

🛑MAJOR SPOILERS for ACOTAR and Crescent City Series (especially HOFAS)🛑

Summary: I believe there to be 2 types of mating bonds in the ACOTAR universe specifically. 1 bond is the original bond that spans universes and planets. The kind of bond that is there since you are born. This bond transcends worlds and species. It pairs humans with Fae, demons and Fae, Illyrians with high Fae, etc.

Examples: Feysand, Nessian, Rowaelin, Quinlar, Theia x Aidas, Elorcan, etc.

Cauldron Bonds: When the Asteri moved into Prythian, they used and corrupted the cauldron to do their bidding. One of these corruptions was to pair people together for the best breeding outcomes. They love to experiment and pair people together to produce the best offspring in CC, and it wouldn’t surprise me that they did the same in ACOTAR. This bond is flimsy and weak. People hate each other after a time because it is based on breeding, not soul pairings.

Conclusion: The Elain and Lucien bond is a cauldron bond— an Asteri bond. It is solely made for breeding purposes.

Conclusion number 2: Elain and Azriel have had a connection since they first met in the human lands, and Azriel is progressively suffering the consequences of having the bond being unacknowledged. He’s having headaches; he can’t sleep; he has “writhing need.” He’s in his “I can’t stay away” moment. 🤭

Conclusion 3: Lucien could potentially break the cauldron bond as it is a possible ancient Asteri spell. That or they could use Truthteller to unmake the bond and possibly de-corrupt the cauldron.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Shadows and Sins (Ruhn Danaan x Reader)

Takes place pre HOFAS

My masterlist

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this for so long and guess what I GAVE HIM A BIKE HAHA biketok girls we ride at dawn. 

Summary: All is fair in love and war… (enemies to lovers inspired by House of Balloons by The Weeknd) 

Warnings: SA, intoxication, banter

Word count: 3981

Prince, starborn, bad boy, party animal, loose cannon and playboy, those were the words typically used to describe Ruhn Danaan. 

Asshole, spoiled brat, antagonizing, vexing and unfortunately handsome…those were the words I used to describe my best friend's brother.

Ruhn came into my life about a year ago when I started working at the archives with his younger sister Bryce, who I became friends with almost instantly. He came in one day demanding to speak to Bryce and since I thought he was just some lovesick guy like all the others who came panting after the redhead I promptly told him off. It wasn’t until 30 minutes of fighting back and forth that Bryce returned from lunch with Hunt that I found out I was wrong, and the prince never let me live it down. 

Since then, we were like oil and water, order and chaos, and love and war. Though I suppose all was fair when it came to that. 

We fought whenever we saw one another, which was often since him and Bryce had become reacquainted. At first she hated our squabbling, but with Athalar’s calming presence in her life she had grown to use it as free entertainment. So when the bell over the door to archives rang and her laugh echoed subsequently I knew I was in for a fight… 

“Brought your wallet,” called the voice I dreaded to hear. “You gotta stop leaving it at my place.”

“Thanks Ruhn,” Bryce chirped, confirming the worst. 

Sure enough I turned around to find Ruhn Danaan waltzing in like he owned the place, which I sure he could if he wanted to, he was a prince after all not that you could ever tell. In all the fairytales I had read as a little girl the prince’s always wore fine tunics and rode on white horses. But Ruhn opted for a black t-shirt and a speed bike and unfortunately if he had been anyone but who he is I would’ve found that incredibly hot.

“I still don’t know why you insist upon hanging out with the rabble,” Ruhn said to Bryce leaning his forearms against the countertop. 

Bryce shoots her brother a look that begs him to behave himself for once in his life, and part of me thought I should be the bigger person and not fight back. But I wasn’t a bigger person-I was a petty bitch, and I’ll be damned if I let Ruhn Danaan come into my place of employment and talk smack to me. 

“It’s probably because she needs at least one acquaintance who doesn’t need someone to wipe his ass for him,” I said with a fake smile, continuing to polish the silver chalice in my hand.

Bryce snorts as she shoves her wallet into her purse. Both of us turn to her to find her trying to hide her giggle at my comment. 

I cross my arms over my chest giving Ruhn a self satisfied look and as usual he won’t let me win that easily. 

“Funny you should mention it. I've been looking for someone else who would wipe it for me. Interested? I’m sure you’d love the view,” he smirks that godsdammned lip ring making an appearance. 

“One of these days I’m going to rip that ring right out of your lip,” I growl bracing my arms on the counter like I might do it right now. 

“Oh the women of Crescent City would weep at the loss of my beloved lip ring, they do so love when it grazes their-” 

“That’s enough!” Bryce shouts pushing Ruhn towards the door. “I do not want to hear about your bedroom activities!” 

“Same here I just ate lunch!” I shout from behind the desk. 

“Please, you're begging for more images of me to get off to!” Ruhn shouts from the threshold of the door as Bryce continues to push him. 

“If I wanted to see mediocre fucking I’m sure there’s a website for it!” I holler as Bryce closes the door. 

I smirk and waggle my fingers at him as he bangs on the door. Once again I got the last word and oh boy did it feel good. 

Bryce didn’t walk away from the door until the revving of Ruhn’s bike could be heard taking off down the road. She turned to me with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. My lip twitched up in amusement and her scorned look broke as both of us roared with laughter.

“Okay I have to admit the ass wiping bit was pretty good,” she chortled, coming around to help me polish again. 

“You like that one? I’ve been saving it.” I laugh remembering the look on his face when his own sister laughed at him. 

“I still hate that you two fight, but at least it’s like getting my own comedy show now,” she shakes her head. 

We finish our polishing in peace, talking over last night's episode of Fangs and Bangs, and our raucous plans for tonight. It was friday, which meant girls night was happening at The White Raven. It was honestly my favorite day of the week, I looked forward to it more than I cared to admit. Society called us vicious party girls, but how bad were we really? 

“So I’ll meet you there at 10?” Bryce asks, locking up the shop. 

“Yeah what are you wearing though?” I ask rummaging through my bag for the key to the lock on my scooter.

“I was going to wear that red silk dress, you know the one Hunt tried to tear off me,” she smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Ooo someones playing dirty trying to get laid tonight,” I muse, if Bryce did one thing well it was ruffle Hunt’s feathers everytime he had to pick her up after a girls night. 

“Like I even have to try that hard anymore,” she laughs tucking the keys into her bag. 

“Oh how I wish I had a man to carry me home from the bar and dick me down afterwards,” I sigh with fake longing, though we both know I was telling the truth.

“Prince Charming is out there and who knows you might meet him tonight,” she smiles as she begins to walk towards her apartment. “Wear the black and silver dress!” she calls back. 

I shake my head and continue walking towards the other side of town. I hadn’t planned to wear the black and silver dress tonight but Bryce was never wrong about fashion, so black and silver it was. 

The White Raven was alive and bouncing per usual. Couples coupling in dark corners, some drunk girls grinding on each other wearing bachelorette tiaras, men shouting at their friends to finish their beers. Among those rowdy men, Ruhn Danaan. 

He had kindly greeted Bryce and unkindly greeted me when he first arrived. Bryce promptly shooed him off letting him know that it was girls night and he said he’d rather chew glass than stick around. While he was across the bar it didn’t help with the awareness that he was there. 

Normally girls nights were carefree, Bryce and I might end up dancing on a bartop and of course they would call the Umbra Mortis to haul us over his shoulders. Sometimes we would kick Hunt out his own bed and force him to sleep on the couch so us girls could have a “sleep over”. 

Tonight was different. The last thing I needed was to commit some atrocious behavior that Ruhn could put in his arsenal of insults. I could already hear him jesting about how I made out with a lion shifter or fell over on the dancefloor. So Bryce and I stuck to sitting at the bar, sipping our drinks and talking shit like sophisticated women.  

Two drinks turned to four, and four turned to six. The colorful lights only made my head spin faster as I downed the rest of my drink. I looked to my right to find Bryce’s nearly untouched. Athalar had showed up about ten minutes ago after our bartender told him we were approaching being cut off. Of course the moment Bryce saw him all bet were off… she now stood with her tongue down his throat and he didn’t seem inclined to protest. Turns out she was right about that red dress. 

I roll my eyes and grab her martini and down it slamming it back on the bartop, not like she was going to need it.

“Bryce I’m heading out,” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder. 

She gave me a thumbs up as Hunt moved from her lips to her neck. I just shook my head and grabbed my purse. It wasn’t uncommon for me to go home alone, she had my location and we always kept tabs on one another.

The second I stood on my feet all the alcohol rushed to my head, and I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself. I looked at my barstool and thought about sobering up, but the last thing I wanted to see was the mate makeout session, so I shook my head to try and clear my mind and sauntered out towards the door. 

The night air did little to sober me up, and my stilettos didn’t help with the wobbling. I pulled out my phone to try and find a ride home, but when the rideshare app quoted me $100 to go two miles I shoved my phone back in my purse with a huff and started walking towards my apartment. Like hell I was paying that for two miles.

My heels clicked on the pavement, echoing off the alley walls. Suddenly another pair of shoes echoed off the walls as well, not light and feminine steps, big clunky shoes. 

“Where are you going darling?” crooned a voice I didn’t recognize. 

I tried my best to pick up the pace, but the nature of my delicate shoes did little to give me any sort of advantage. My hands fumble with my purse trying to pull out the pepper spray Hunt got me for my birthday last year but those last two drinks were starting to catch up with me and my world was spinning. 

I feel a pair of hands grab my shoulders and slam me against the wall of the White Raven. My purse falls to the ground and I’m met with a pair of brown eyes. The guy had a backwards sunball hat and a blue shirt and he reeked of liquor. 

“Come on baby it’s not safe for pretty things like you to be out here,” he slurred, his body pressing closer to me. 

I cringe at the smell of his breath, “Get off of me creep!” I shout hoping that the alley isn’t that empty. 

My hands try to push him off but my intoxicated nature doesn't allow for much dexterity on my part.  

“Oh come on sweetheart don’t be that way,” he mumbled drunkenly, attaching his mouth to my neck. 

I try to push him off once more but I wobble, uneasy on my shoes. His hands fall from the small of my waist to the hem of my dress and I feel my blood run ice cold. 

“NO!” I shout scrumbling to get the sleeze off me. 

A hand grabs the back of the males collar and the sound of a fit making contact with his jaw reverberates through the alley as the male hits the ground. I stand shocked with my hands over my mouth as Ruhn Danaan shakes out the hand that delivered the punch and kicks the limp male. 

“You okay?” he asks nonchalantly, giving me a once over. 

I stand there still too stunned to speak, my eyes wandering from the male on the ground to Ruhn standing there with that damned black t-shirt clinging to his torso. 

He bends down to pick up my purse and shoves it into my arms. The gesture that finally breaks me out of shock. 

“T-thank you,” I mutter, still a little slow. 

“Where’s Bryce?” he asks looking around the alley, the sound of the club music inside still booming. 

I push myself off the wall stumbling a bit, “Inside sucking face with Athalar,” I slurr. 

“Thanks for the visual,” Ruhn purses his lips.

I straighten myself up and take a deep breath trying to act as sober as possible which probably was making me seem even more drunk, but I had to at least try. 

“Well thank you for uh…that,” I say gesturing towards the man still unconscious on the pavement. “I’ll see you around I guess.” 

I start wobbling down the alleyway once more, blinking my eyes rapidly to get my mind to clear and focus on walking home. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going princess?” he croons. 

Princess. Gods that fucking nickname. Most people would use it as a compliment or a pet name, but Ruhn knew how it drove me insane. He claimed I was just a spoiled princess one time and when I freaked out and yelled at him about it he proceeded to make that his nickname for me.

“I’m going home,” I sneer, trying to walk as best I can. 

“Like hell you’re walking home alone,” he growls, gripping my arm.

My eyes fly too the tattooed hand on my arm, and then up to those violet blue eyes that sparked with rage. 

“I do it all the time I’m fine,” I growl trying to rip my arm out of his grasp but I only succeed in making myself stumble more. 

He steadies me before speaking again, “Stop I’ll give you a ride,” he says motioning to his blacked out R1 parked in the alley. 

“I am not getting on that death trap with you after you’ve been drinking,” I scoff. 

“I’m not drunk, I don’t get drunk in public, it’s bad for appearances,” he says, irritation flitting across his unfairly handsome features. 

“Then how do I know you’re not going to dump me into Istros?” I sneer and the muscle in his jaw ticks and I can tell it’s taking everything in him not to fire back at me. 

“Because Bryce and I are finally on good terms and I’m pretty sure she would never forgive me if something happened to her best friend,” he explained, his words cold as ice. 

Maybe I was stupid, maybe I was drunk, maybe I was just cold and wanted to go home, but I actually believed him.

“Fine, let's go,” I say, walking towards his bike. 

I had to admit I always wanted to ride a motorcycle. Now riding on the back of Ruhn’s while I was drunk wasn’t exactly the time I wanted to do it, but I suppose beggars couldn’t be choosers. The bike was large and completely blacked out, if the moon hadn’t illuminated it just right I wouldn’t have been able to see it. 

Ruhn approaches the bike and starts the engine, every movement is like second nature to him. He takes the helmet off the seat and goes to put it on himself but then stops, turns to me, and punks it down on my head. The darkness of the visor mixed with the late hour making it impossible to see. I huff and flip it up, giving him a pointed glare. 

“I don’t have both helmets so this will have to do,” he says studying the way it fits me a little big. 

Tattooed fingers brush under my chin, tilting it up so he can buckle the strap for me. I would protest and say I’m capable of doing it myself but in my drunken state I’m not so sure. When he clips the buckle it pinches my skin for a moment and I yip.

“Ouch you pinched me!” I yelp smacking him in the arm. 

“Well if you stopped squirming I wouldn’t have pinched you,” he smirks, throwing his leg over the bike. “Now swing your leg over the bike and put your feet on these pegs,” he instructs me. 

I do as I’m told, using his broad shoulders as support as standing on one leg, drunk, in stilettos was never a good idea. Once I’m seated I keep my hands on his shoulders lightly and my bum on the edge of the seat, putting as much distance away from each other as possible. 

“You gotta hold on or you’ll fall off sweetheart,” he laughs, somehow finding humor in the precarious situation we’re in. 

“Yeah fucking right, like I’m going to wrap my arms around you like a little lovesick puppy,” I huff. “Just drive.” 

He shakes his head and revs the engine making the bike jerk forward. The momentum has my bum moving further into the seat and my arms instinctively wrapping around his middle, like I was afraid to fall off.

“There we go much better,” he smirks before revving the engine a couple of times. “Hold on tight princess.” 

I’m not given another warning before he speeds out onto the streets. Thankfully there aren’t a lot of cars and people out this late at night, but it doesn’t stop the crown prince from weaving around traffic that is there. He goes so fast I feel compelled to hold onto him with a deathgrip. 

By the time we pull up to my apartment my stomach is queasy. I swing my leg off the bike and nearly fall over until Ruhn catches my arms and hauls me up. 

“Woah there princess, maybe we better keep the helmet on, you’re a walking liability.” he laughs clearly enjoying seeing me in a vulnerable moment. 

“Take it off,” I grumble as I stand up straight again. 

He repeats the motion from earlier, tilting up my chin to help me take the damned thing off instead this time he ruffles my hair when he’s done. 

“You did pretty good for your first time as a backpack,” he smirks as I glare at him. 

I go to walk up my front steps and slip on my damned heels again, the ones that were definitely going to the back of the closet after this outing. Arm wraps under my shoulders and I feel Ruhn helping me up the steps to my second floor apartment. 

“You don’t have to do that, I can make it,” I grumble. 

“Trying to stay in Bryce’s good graces remember,” he says as I fumble with my keys.

My apartment wasn’t the nicest. It wasn’t a dump by any means, I did my best to keep it homey and clean, but it also wasn’t as nice as Bryce’s. Well I suppose Bryce and Hunt’s apartment now. God she was definitely having a better night than me. 

I walk inside and go to close the door but that damned tattooed hand stops me. 

“Not going to invite me in? That’s not very friendly,” Ruhn tuts walking right past me.

I scoff at him, walking in like he owns the place. Part of me wants to drag him out by his ear, but the logical part of me bends over to get myself out of these death trap shoes. I throw them across the room as punishment for their crimes tonight. 

When I walk further into my apartment I find Ruhn has completely made himself at home by grabbing a beer out of my refrigerator and cracking it open. 

“Are you serious?” I scoff walking to the sink across from him and getting myself a glass of water. 

“Consider it payment for the free ride home, I’ll take my thanks at any time you know?” he says smugly, taking another sip.

“Thank you for the ride,” I sigh. “Now will you please go?” 

He furrows his brows, “And waste a freshly opened beer? I don’t think so.” he says. 

I lean against the counter adjacent to him and sip my water. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the male. This was just like Ruhn, finding simple ways to get under my skin. I hated the fact that I liked the way he looked in my kitchen, black t-shirt in jeans, hair tied to the nape of his neck. 

Ruhn’s eyes flicker with amusement and then he chuckles, “I really do get under that delicate skin of yours don’t I princess?” he croons. 

“I told you. Don’t. Call. Me. Princess.” I snap at him, oh god if looks could kill. 

He pushes himself off  the counter, “Then stop fucking acting like one,”  he says low prowling forward with every step. 

The closer he gets the taller he looms. I know this little scare tactic, him trying to invade my space and make me feel small. It’s not like I have much of a choice either, not with the way my back is pressed into the counter. 

I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the expensive cologne pouring off him but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that is so damn arousing. A fucked up part of me wanted him to stick his tongue down my throat but I quickly threw that thought away. 

He was mere inches away from me when I started to think he would do just that. My pulse raced and my thighs clenched. But when his arm reached up brushing the shell of my ear it just kept reaching until it came to the top shelf of my cabinets and plucked the bag of chips off the shelf. 

My shoulders sag as I realize he was just reaching for a snack to go with his beer, and I mentally cursed myself for hoping it would be more. 

He chuckles, opening the bag of chips and popping one into his mouth, not moving from where he stood just inches away from me. He clearly was loving this little power trip he was on. 

“You look disappointed, princess,” he chuckles, fishing another chip from the bag. 

I roll my eyes and look to the side, unable to meet the predatory gaze that almost had me throwing my moral code out the window just minutes ago. 

His hand drifts under my chin pulling my gaze to his as he takes a step forward again. 

“Did you think I was going to kiss you?” he asks low, his thumb and forefinger pinching my chin so I can’t look away. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. My logic screams to shove him, my alcohol induced brain says to kiss him and my mouth can’t find the words to speak. 

Ruhn smiles, lowering his head to me, “Maybe I should kiss you, it would be good to shut you up,” he laughs, voice gravely. 

His lips are so close to mine I can feel the warmth of his breath, I swear the cool metal of that damn lip ring brushes my mouth. My body leans forward of its own accord but then he reaches his other hand up and pops another chip in his mouth thoroughly running the moment.

“No I don’t think I will kiss you, even though it’s clear that you want me to,” he smiles, that damn knee wobbling smile he gives every woman to bring them to their knees. 

I stand in a state of shock as he back up to his side of the kitchen again, he plucks his keys off the counter and twirls them in his hand as he walks towards the front door. 

“Have a good night, princess,” he says on the way out, putting an emphasis on the name that drives me crazy. 

I’m left standing alone in my kitchen, glass of water long since forgotten and mouth agape. Ruhn Danaan almost just kissed me, and the fucked up part of it was I wanted him to.

part 2 coming... Lmk if you want to be on the taglist for this little mini series.

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202, @batboyrhyrhy , @kennedy-brooke , @sunshineangel-reads , @lilah-asteria , @evergreenlark, @cheneyq, @readingislife2006, @tincanhat, @shadowofazriel, @tumblgirlie0210, @panther-girl-124, @callsigns-haze

(if you are on my permanent taglist and you don't want to be just let me know! I'm not offended!)

[skyjasper]

Betray You Like A Man.

Azriel X Rhys sister oc (but Rhys Centric kinda?! Rhys and Az angst?)

Summary: HOFAS bonus chapter inspired. Azriel and his mate Y/N Moonbeam aka Rhysands little sister have been hiding for over 50 years. When her older brother finds out he is anything but happy.

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of SA, Yelling, lots and lots of Angst, quite Az.

Words: 1,382.

~~~

She and Azriel had been seeing each other secretly for over 50 years now. They had been through hell and back together, finding out about Rhysand under the mountain, Supporting her brother with his mate, fighting a damned war, and even finding out they were mates. Not once did either of them let on to their secret relationship, always passing each other with cold glances and curt words. The only form of kindness shown was on important occasions. But the minute they were alone, when they got back to their secret apartment, they were perfectly fine.

That was until Rhysand barged into Azriel’s apartment yelling something about Nesta telling Feyre something about their babe and found the two of them laying on the floor. Y/N reading and Azriel mulling over paperwork with a biscuit. In an instant, albeit a second too late, Azriel’s wing was covering her. Rhysands words fell away and he stood still, she could see him just barely through her mate's wing but she knew that her older brother could smell her.

“Azriel,” Rhysand growled out. With a knowing sight, Azriel released his wing that covered Y/N’s frame, not hiding her wings.

The moment Rhysands eyes found her matching violet ones he turned and walked out, slamming the door. She turned her head to her mate whose eyes were glazed over in silent conversation, she decided to listen to what Rhys had told him.

“Do we go? We should probably give him time to calm down shouldn’t we?” She asked, staring at Azriel’s golden eyes. He just nodded quietly.

Silently and with deathly calmness they gathered themselves and flew to the river house. She winced as they walked in the door, taking in the ruined vases and the loud shouting of her other brother and sister trying to calm Rhysand down.

“I DO NOT CARE. THAT IS MY SISTER.” He screamed at Cassian. She turned to Azriel, putting a hand on his chest to stop him,

“Maybe I should go in there alone.” She offered. And with a short nod he agreed, before she could walk away he grabbed her arm, and with a deadly voice he spoke,

“If he even thinks about yelling at you I will be in there. I will just be right outside.” Then he let go so she could enter the room. When she did she gasped at the sight of her older brother.

“Rhysand,” she spoke firmly, only slightly scared as his raging eyes turned on her.

“Is that bastard here?!” He spoke.

“It doesn’t matter, Rhysand.” She went to place her hand on his arm when he flinched away and stared at her with disgust.

“Don’t even get me started on you.” He raised his voice, tears springing to her eyes at his reaction. The pair of them had always been as thick as thieves, never staying mad, and definitely never yelling at each other like this.

In an instant, Azriel was behind her, hands on her waist to inform her he was behind her. Her brother didn’t even glance at the male behind her before continuing,

“I can’t believe you slept with my brother like some common whore.” He spat out like a slap in the face, he knew what she had been through, what she had done for him while he was under the mountain. A cry fell out of her mouth, his words inflicting more pain than any physical blow could.

Before she could say anything the entire room went still, the bottom half of the room covered in angry shadows. Before she could blink her mate had her brother around the throat against the wall.

“Be very careful how you talk about my mate,” Azriel growled, she could feel his anger festering through the bond. She sent a comforting phantom hand over his shoulder.

“Your mate?!” Rhysand laughed, “That’s hilarious brother, no one could ever love a bastard like you. We all know it, just admit it Azriel, you aren’t capable of loving a female.”

And then it was Y/N who was on top of her brother, facing him with a slap that resonated throughout the entire room. Not a single soul spoke as the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room. Not even Feyre said anything as her sister-in-law hit her mate.

“Fuck you Rhysand.” She yelled. “Fuck you for reacting like this! You are nothing but a cowardly piece of shit. You blame everyone else for everything that is your fault. Did you ever stop and think as to why we didn’t tell you?!” She yelled, Rhysands mouth opened to respond but she continued, “No Rhysand, you don’t get to speak. Maybe if for once in your godsforsaken life actually looked at anyone other than your mate you see that the people around you are going through shit! You would see the face that Elain is on the verge of breaking, that Nesta was going through something none of us could possibly imagine, that Cassian was coping and that I, your fucking sister, was traumatized. I get it Rhysand, what you went through under the mountain, trust me I get it, but it does not give you the right to treat everyone else like shit because they don’t react the same way you do to trauma. You do not get to sit here and act like my brother trying to defend my honor when you haven’t actually acted like a decent brother for the past 3 years!” She screamed in his face.

She gave him one more resounding slap before standing up and finding Azriels hands.

“Do not come find us brother, for I do not want to see your pitiful face.”

Then, hand in hand with her mate, they left. They both flew, flew for hours till they were at the cabin Azriel had built for his mother before she passed. When they arrived and got out of the cold she sunk to her knees, tears finally flowing.

Az’s rough hands came to hold her face, “Shh my love, he is not worthy of your tears.” He murmured into her hair. Instead of trying to calm her again he just let her cry, not once letting her go, instead instructing his shadows to gather water and blankets.

So she fell asleep crying in his arms over the hurt her brother had caused. And when she woke she found Azriel’s dark hair. She stared at him as her fingers twirled in the onyx strands.

“You know what he said wasn’t true right, you know how to love and you are worthy of it Azriel. You and I are the proof, this right here,” she gestured in between the two, lightly pulling on the golden ribbon that flowed between them. “This is the proof. I love you beyond words Azriel. I know you feel the same shadow singer.” She told him. Observing as his hands tightened around her waist. They had both suffered far too much to let the words of her cruel brother diminish all the progress they had made.

It wasn’t easy at the beginning, getting Azriel to open up and come to accept himself. It took him years to realize he was worthy of her love. That he wasn’t a broken bastard.

“I love you beyond the sun and the stars, I would travel worlds for you Azriel. And if the stars would vanish then I would voyage through the darkness with nothing but my bare hands to find you.” She whispered, “I would rip the wings off my back if yours were ruined because I know how much you need to fly. I would kill gods and kings alike to ensure you are safe. For as long as I am alive you will no longer be alone ever again, you will always be loved. I will always love every part of you.” She brought his scarred hands to her lips and kissed the skin on them. When she released his hands her lips found his mouth.

“There are not enough words in this world for me to express my love for you Y/N Moonbeam, So instead let me show you.” He spoke against her lips before moving his kiss down her neck.

And show her he did.

~~

Taglist:

@littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

[xxvalkyriesxx]

The Blood on Your Hands

Summary: Cassian's had enough of Rhysand threatening his mate. He's decided to show his High Lord what happens when he threatens her for a second time.

This is pure smut. The first half is somewhat violet as a heads up. Also warning, there's slight HOFAS spoilers but I made it vague enough that it doesn't go into much detail. This isn't an anti Rhys train, I was just mad at his reaction.

Additional Tags: I was mad once again at HOFAS / Mainly the BAM bonus chapter / Cassian is crazy in this / 1000% alphahole / But I love him / Possessive Cassian / Mating bonds / Its pure filth in the second half / Smut / Praise kink /Not really blood play but blood is kinda there 

Read on AO3 or below

Tag list: @separatist-apologist

There was so much red, Cassian couldn’t see his siphons anymore. His hands were coated in blood, his blood. The male who was his brother, his friend, his High Lord.

Rhys would heal.

That was his only reassurance as he punched his face again. His fist connected to Rhys’ mouth once more. From the hit, he spit out the mixture of saliva and blood and tears.

“We’re Ilyrian. So today we will follow their laws.” Cassian growled, his teeth baring at Rhysand. Rhysand was smart not to say anything. His breathing was heavy as he gasped for air.

Rhysand was high lord but he was no Lord of Bloodshed. He could fight his way through a battle with strategy, but when it came down to physical strength, that’s where Cassian had him. But Cassian had another factor in his anger. Something ancient and holy that not even the Illyrians would deny.

His hazel eyes met her silvery blue ones. Her face remained stoic, not a single wince of fear in sight. Yanking the High Lord by his hair, Cassian dragged Rhysand to Nesta’s boots. She wore Illyrian leathers, just like the two of them. An Illyrian in mind and soul.

“Apologize.” Cassian demanded. Rhysand mumbled something but Cassian decided that wasn’t good enough. He pulled on Rhysand’s hair, making him look up at Nesta.

“Apologize to her. Now. Be clear with your words. I will not ask again.” The High Lord gulped as more blood left his mouth. His entire face was bruised in shades of blues and purple. Ironically it complimented his violet irises.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Rhysand spoke. Cassian sneered. “For what?” Rhysand coughed more of his blood.

“For threatening to kill you, Nesta…For a second time.” Cassian roared at the apology, his hand finally letting go of Rhysand’s head. He marched forward until he stood behind Nesta, his mate.

Silence from Nesta amplified Rhysand’s gasps and coughing fits. Still standing without so much of any emotion. The queen of queens her mother projected her to be, and today she was.

“Rhysand.” Nesta spoke. Her voice firm with her silver flame eyes.

“You will never threaten me, or my loved ones again. I did what anyone with a human heart would have done. That includes my sister. The very sister you’re mated too. There are concepts that even century old fae like yourself cannot understand. I hope after this, you understand my actions. You do not have to agree, but respect is something of mutual value.”

She offered her hand to him. “You’re high lord, which is why Cassian decided to do this in the training yard and not in Illyria. We need to be strong and unified against the ones who cause unjust rebellions. So let this be a one time moment. A learning moment if you will.”

Rhys looked up at Nesta. “Never fuck with Cassian’s mate again?” Nesta smirked. “You’re a fast learner.”

She grabbed his hand and helped him up. Together they brought him inside where Feyre was sipping her tea. Looking up, she grimaced.

“Jeez Cass, did you have to go that far?” Cassian glared at her in reply. She rolled her eyes.

“Has everyone learned their lessons?” Feyre asked. Rhys and Nesta looked at each other then nodded.

“Good. Cassian, put him down over there. I’m going to make his favorite tea and then I’ll start healing.” Cassian did as the High Lady instructed. He graciously placed the High Lord down on the sofa. All three of them heard her mumble about ‘big Ilyrian babies’ as she walked to the kitchen.

“Brother.” Cassian said, firm but gently. Rhys kept his eyes closed, but he spoke softly. “I would’ve done the same thing to you, you piece of shit.” And for the first time that evening, Cassian laughed. He bumped his fist on Rhys’ shoulder who hissed in pain. “You did that on purpose.” “Just a love tap, brother.”

Cassian walked over to Nesta who stood with her arms crossed, watching the whole scene. “Ready, Sweetheart?” A crack in Nesta’s steel armor appeared. A soft smile welcomed his question. “Always.”

The General of the Night Court swooped his mate into his arms and disappeared to their room.

The second Cassian closed their bedroom door, Nesta quietly asked the House for a sound barrier under her breath. The House created a barrier as asked, keeping everything inside their room private. Cassian looked over to Nesta and as he started to approach her, she backed him up against the door.

His eyes widened for a split second before he could smell it. Her yearning. Her need. Her desire. She placed a hand on his cock, feeling it grow hard through the leathers. A breath left him as her lips connected to his neck. She nipped and sucked at him, their desire growing.

“Never have I ever been turned on by a brutish fight.” She mumbled into his skin. “Good to know what gets you off, Sweetheart.” Cassian replied.

Her hands ran to his leathers, slowly undoing the armor letting it fall to the floor. Eventually as she reached his pants, they dropped down along with her knees. Nesta didn’t even flinch at the impact, as it just made her more turned on. His cock, thick, long, and throbbing to be inside sprung out. Quickly she took her hand and started to pump. Her lips found his head, licking his slit before putting his length in her mouth.

Cassian moaned, grabbing Nesta’s hair, pushing his cock deep inside her throat. She gagged as tears sprang into her eyes. A throbbing need matched at the apex of her thighs.

“Look at you. Taking my cock so well, Sweetheart. You didn’t let me clean up first. Does beating the shit out of someone do it for you? Do you want me to fuck you with their blood on my hands?” In response Nesta moaned, picturing the thought in her head.

“You’re filthy, Sweetheart.” The humiliation burned her desire great as she squeezed his cock harder. Cassian hissed, fucking her throat. He pulled her mouth almost fully off before entering her mouth again, letting a slip of air come in.

“If you don’t stop, Sweetheart, I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that? You want my cum everywhere, don’t you?” Nesta’s tears splattered on her face as Cassian yelled, his hot finish releasing. Nesta pulled her lips off, drooling.

“Your beauty will end me and all our enemies. They will fall to their knees looking upon you.” Cassian fell to his own knees, pushing Nesta down on the wooden floor. He quickly removed her leathers, wanting every piece of her. In seconds Nesta was bare before him, her arousal coating her inner thighs. A smirk fell to his lips.

“All of this, for me?” Nesta whimpered, her hips bucking wanting to be touched.

“Answer me, Nes.” Cassian ordered. “All of it. All of this. It’s for you, Cassian. Now please fuck me!”

“Or do I have to get your other brother involved to finish the job?” Nesta taunted.

Immediately Cassian wrapped a hand around her throat squeezing. His teeth bared as he growled. “You will involve no one else but me inside you, Nesta.” He squeezed harder. “Understand?”

Nesta’s eyes fluttered, air being trivial at this point. But she nodded to his command. Gently his hand left her neck. And right as she gasped for her air, Cassian put his mouth on her clit. Nesta swore so loudly as she saw stars appear in her vision. He sucked on her before his lips left, dragging his tongue everywhere. The taste of her consuming him to no end.

His mouth traveled from there to her inner thighs, biting the soft skin, claiming every part of her. Nesta gasped as her hands pulled at his hair. His lips found her clit again and with a tiny nip of his teeth, she came. He pulled away, keeping her legs spread apart, watching her cunt clutch at nothing.

“Please, Cassian. I want your hands, your cock. Please. Please fill me until your cum is slipping out of my cunt.” Her face flushed at her own words.

Cassian growled and let go of her legs before grabbing her cheeks. “Get on the bed. Choose whatever position you want, Sweetheart.” He let go and watched her scramble to their bed. Her arms down on the blankets with her ass up. Mother above he could die just by that view.

“I’m going to wash my hands and then I’ll be back, Sweetheart.” Nesta whined, stomping her feet the best she could in that position. Cassian strolled over, yanking her hair so her upper body came up. “I would rather chew my hand off, then have another male’s blood inside you, Nesta.” The way he growled her name made her desire leak onto the bed.

He slapped her ass hard, catching Nesta off guard. She gasped at the impact, the upper half of her body dropping back down when he let go of her hair. The red handprint on her ass was divine as he walked away. As he got into the bathroom connected to their room, he kept an eye on her.

“Touch yourself, Nes. I want you to get yourself ready for me.” Cassian called out.

Slowly Nesta brought her arm in between her legs immediately sinking three fingers inside herself. Cassian and Nesta moaned in unison. Quickly Cassian washed his hands, the blood leaving a pink faded trail behind. In mere seconds he walked out to the bed, putting two of his own fingers inside Nesta, joining her own. She squealed at the tightness of having five fingers inside her.

“You can take it, Sweetheart. You take my cock and my whole fist. You were made for me. Just as I was made for you.” He whispered into her ear. The action of their hands thrusting faster and faster made Nesta gasp as she came. Cassian licked his lips.

“I love it when you do that.” Nesta huffed a breath. “I could have gotten myself off three times by now.” “You sure you want to be a brat today?” Nesta shaked her ass in response. Cassian growled. He took her hips into his hands and thrusted his cock into her. They moaned at the sensation as it been days since they last fucked.

“I don’t have the patience for discipline tonight. So you’ll get it rough and learn your lesson later.” Cassian shouted, his hips slamming into her. His cock thrusted in her cunt as Nesta held onto the bedspread for deer life. He grabbed a hold of her neck again, pushed her body flat against his, her back on his chest.

“What do you want? Tell me, Nesta.” “Want you. Fuck me. Make me cum.” “Not what I’m looking for, Nes.”

She screamed as his pace slowed into a taunt. So slow that his cock left her except for his tip.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Nesta screamed in agony. “Please, Cassian. Fuck me. MATE. My Mate. PLEASE.” Then he found himself back inside her, pounding into her. They moaned and screamed as their desires finished, coating her walls. They breathed heavily as she dropped back down to the bed, his cock leaving her.

Cassian watched the cum leave only for it to be pushed back in. Nesta moaned at the sensitivity of the area. She gasped for him to be gentle. He noticed the bloody fingerprints over her thighs making he purr at the sight.

“I will mate. Now before we take a bath, let me clean you up.” He flipped her onto her back before he walked off and wetted a clean washcloth with warm water. He came back and gently began cleaning her thighs and in between.

“Should I beat up more people around you, Nes?” Cassian looked down at her. “Maybe I should join you and Azriel in your interrogations.” A feline grin on her face. “Perhaps, if you’re good.” He teased before he threw the cloth into the hamper. He picked her up in his arms, and off the two went to bathe.

[olenvasynyt]

I have always been uncomfortable with the SF scene where Cassian takes Nesta on the hike, but I didn't fully understand why until my most recent reread. And it is one of the reasons why I am anti-Nessian.

This is a summary of my tiktok video, feel free to check it out, and follow me over there as well if ya want.

So this hike was right after Nesta lashes out and tells Feyre that the baby was going to kill her during the birth, and this was because of her frustration and hate towards Rhys and the IC and how she has been treated.  

Chapter 46 of ACOSF: “Is it respect that she offers you?” Nesta spat.  “Is it respect that your mate offers you?” Feyre went still. … “What do you mean?” “Have any of them told you, their respected High Lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?” “…I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you about the truth.  Did you all vote on that too?  Did you talk to her, judger her, and deem her unworthy of the truth?”

It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumbling Feyre’s paint-smeared face.   She had gone too far.  She..oh, gods.

But as Feyre and Cassian both point out, she saw the parallels between Feyre’s situation and her own, and decided to avenge both of them.  Rhys and Amren were hiding the truth about Nesta’s powers, she knew that a lot of them did not trust her to know the truth about her own body.  

Chapter 47 of ACOSF: I think she saw the parallels between your situations, and, in her own way, decided to avenge both of you. That’s my feeling too.  Rhys disagrees.

I think Feyre’s situation was much more serious than Nesta’s powers being kept from her, but that is also why it was good for Feyre to find out the truth even if the situation was upsetting.  

Cassian was like oh "I’m sorry you found out the baby could kill you" and Feyre was like "I’m not.  I’m mad at you guys for not telling me.  Nesta was the only one brave enough to."

Chapter 47 of ACOSF: “I’m sorry you had to learn of it.” “I’m not.  I’m furious with all of you, I understand why you didn’t tell me, but I’m furious. Well, we’re furious with Nesta. She had the courage to tell me the truth. She told the truth to hurt you. Perhaps.  But she was the only one who said anything. — I wish you’d found out a different way. Well, I didn’t.  But we’ll face it together.  All of us. — I want you to come back home.  Both of you.

I love how Feyre, who is the one was the victim in this moment, was like “I’m not sorry this was how I learned about the baby but I’m glad someone told me.  Rhys overreacted, I calmed him down and I want both of you home.”

Rhys overreacted.  He completely and utterly overreacted. — Rhys had no right to chase you from the city, or threaten Nesta.  He has realized that, and apologized.  I want you to come back home.  Both of you.  

Now kind of going off topic with Rhys threatening to kill Nesta: people get mad at Cassian for not standing up for his mate.  And I can understand that, I also think that’s frustrating and Cassian not standing up for Nesta is something we see often, including the Ember and Randall bonus chapter in HOFAS.  But it can be complicated because a lot of people will defend Cassian like this: Rhys is high lord and it will be very hard to stand up to him as someone who’s not on his level, so of course Cassian couldn’t do anything to defend his mate in this situation.  And yes this is true, and we see a very similar situation between a High Lord and their superior with Tamlin and Lucien in ACOMAF. Lucien tried to stand up for Feyre but couldn’t, and was shut down and abused. 

But if people are going to use this idea to defend Cassian, that he couldn’t stand up and fight his high lord, we have to make this comparison between  Rhys to Tamlin.  And a lot of pro-Rhys people don't like that conversation.

But anyways, this argument cannot be applied to this hiking situation at all, because Feyre mindspeaks with Cassian and says that Rhys overreacted, she isn’t mad at Nesta, all of those things I talked about before.  Feyre says that she wants both of them home but Cassian still brings Nesta to a hike and says he’ll call it a punishment to sort of appease Rhys because he knows Rhys is still mad about the situation.  “Tell Rhys it’s a punishment.”  Rhys was not the victim in this situation, Feyre was, and she was like fuck Rhys!  He was wrong for overreacting!  Nesta was braver than you guys and I want her home.  

Where did you even head off to? The wilderness.  I think we’ll stay out here for a few days.  We’re going on a hike.   Nesta has never been on a hike in her life.  I guarantee she will hate it. Then tell Rhys this is her punishment.  Because Rhys, despite apologizing for his threats, would still be furious.  Tell him that Nesta and I are going to hike, and she’s going to hate it, but she comes home when I decide she’s ready to come home.

But Cassian still brings Nesta on the hike.

And he was definitely doing it for Nesta and to help her work out her thoughts and not solely because of Rhys, but this hike is a terrible way to help a suicidal person work out their thoughts.

This hike pisses me off so much. The way the IC decided to “rehabilitate” Nesta in general pisses me off.  I liken Nesta’s “rehab” to those therapy wilderness camps where people get kidnapped and brought to the middle of the mountains for.  Those rehab camps revolve around forcing people to get to their lowest to rehabilitate, to acknowledge their mistakes, and it is a horrible, abusive system and very often results in resentment at best and death at worst.  And I think Nesta being locked up was the same thing and this hike is the same thing.  One of the several things those rehab boot camps do is force their patients to go on strenuous hikes for multiple days, and when it’s beyond their physical capacity.  It can lead to exhaustion, dehydration, injury, and death.

And one of my least favorite things in this entire book is that when Cassian realizes that Nesta is suicidal, he continues the hike up the rocky cliffs of the Illyrian Steppes with barely any food and even less talk.  He doesn’t look at her or speak to her in days.

It is to force Nesta to get to her lowest moment so she’ll break down.  Exactly like what happens during those rehab camps.  It is forcing her into this breakdown in an unsafe place with no professional help. 

Cassian knew that Nesta often hated herself.  But he’d never known she hated herself enough to want to…not exist anymore. He’d seen her expression when he mentioned the threat of falling. And he knew going back to Velaris wouldn’t save her from that look.  He couldn’t save her from that look, either. Only Nesta could save herself from that feeling.

When I read SF for the first time I was so weirded out by this hike and I couldn’t figure out why.  I do not find these chapters moving or inspiring, I thought they were toxic and sad and I still very much do.  And if I’m going to be honest I felt like I was also being manipulated into getting emotional like how Nesta was.  

And this is where I’m going to get into my criticisms for SJM.  

I don’t know if she realizes this comparison between Nesta’s rehabilitation in general and the boot camps and just, bad, toxic therapy in general.  I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt because I think a lot of Silver Flames is about how the Valkyries helped heal Nesta and SJM and their hike during the Blood Rite was so much more inspiring at least for me and was definitely the climax and resolution to Nesta’s healing journey.  SJM illudes to the IC’s biases very often in SF and I thought she was making Nesta’s rehab toxic on purpose, but the reason why I struggle with giving SJM the benefit of the doubt is because she said in an interview that that hike Cassian took Nesta on was inspired by a hike she and her husband went on during a vacation.

I also hate how she adds the idea that the mountains are healing, and there is a voice telling Cassian to keep pushing Nesta forward, “just one more mountain”.  Like no.  This again adds to the comparison of the fucking bootcamps because that is also a tactic they use.

Chapter 48 of ACOSF: The peaks weren’t as brutal and sharp as those in Illyria, but there was a presence to them that he couldn’t quite explain.  Mor had once told him that long ago, these lands had been used for healing. Perhaps that was why he’d come.  Some instinct had remembered the healing, felt this land’s slumbering heart, and decided to bring Nesta here.

This is fantasy, of course, so I am fine with this element of a higher presence that is healing to the characters who are struggling.  And there is the symbolic element of climbing your mountain.  But I need people to stop saying that this is a realistic way to treat people with actual problems in the real world, not only with this hike but also with all of the rehabilitation the IC made her do by locking her up.  I might make a whole other video on that but if Nesta was in the House of Wind because she was addicted to alcohol and fucking strangers and spending money, this is not the professional way to go about it.  

I like a lot of parts during this final breakdown where they talk about forgiving yourself, leaving the past behind.  But I did not like the journey they made Nesta take to get to this point.  Nesta could have very well had this breakdown not on this hike.  

And this part ends with Cassian comforting Nesta. 

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he whispered into her palm.  “Just don’t lock me out.  You want to walk in silence for a week, I’m fine with that.  So long as you talk to me at the end of it.”

Like I appreciate this sentiment.  

But, another thing that annoys me is Cassian’s conclusion after this scene

Chapter 50 of ACOSF: “She’d been suffering, and he’d had no idea how much it consumed every facet of her life.  He’d seen her self-loathing and anger—but hadn’t realized how much she’d been aware of it.  To know she’d hurt this much, for so long.

First of all, how would Nesta not know she was aware of her self-loathing and anger?  She had actively talked about it before this moment??? She fucking has. And how did Cassian not know that she had been hurting this much for long long?  I thought he was her mate who understood her?  He talked about her traumas before in ACOWAR.  Plus, I thought she was being rehabilitated.  Helping her get not addicted to alcohol and spending money and having sex?  

There is such a lack of awareness when it comes to the IC and this situation and I get frustrated when readers don’t understand it.  People say that Nesta’s rehab was very serious and complex but no.  It wasn’t.  It is a terrible way to help anyone.  

I think Nesta and Cassian still have to work on a lot to be an actual healthy relationship.  And we saw the issues they still have in the Randall and Ember bonus chapter so I am very curious to see how SJM resolves their issues in future books, if she does so at all.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 6

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 6 Summary: Nearly half a year has gone by and Reader is no closer to finding a way home. Reader has set her sights on finally going outside of the Night Court to find answer on how to return home. However, Rhysand is a prick.

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: Slight spoilers for CC3 (HOFAS).

A/N: Screw it, I'm adding a ship to this damn thing. The more I write, the more I realize that Ruhn and Reader have a thing I can't ignore (#writerproblems). Just know in advanced that they will NOT be endgame. I was debating on not splitting this part up, but I figured that this already had a lot going on so it was probably best. Its still at 5.6K words. That and I really didn't want to delay posting an update any longer. This does have some time skips, but nothing too crazy.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 5

***********************************************************************

Lucien entered the town house and immediately headed for the stairs that lead to the upper floor. He had winnowed clear across Prythian from the Spring Court upon receiving Rhysand’s note informing him that (Y/N) had an accident. Mother spare him, but despite their argument he still worried over the woman’s safety while he was away. He wanted to stay mad, he truly did however…He didn’t trust the males in this court enough to give her the space she would need to feel safe. He had debated on asking Feyre to allow (Y/N) to accompany him to the mortal lands. There she would at least have been safe with Jurian and Vassa. More so, she would have been safe with him. She likely would have been more comfortable with her own kind too. Then again, Jurian and Vassa weren’t exactly typical humans. He also didn’t know the individuals from Midgard well enough to trust them. The one male that held an unsettling resemblance to Rhysand, the way he had looked at her was like he’d seen a ghost. Lucien didn’t quite know what to make of that. No, his ability to trust anyone with caring for her was thin and needed to be earned. The fact that something happened and she’s been injured while he was away was proof enough. Trust was a precious commodity in his life.

When Bryce had first arrived, Lucien had been kept in the dark. He only became aware of everything after Rhysand had asked him for assistance in creating and securing the portal that they established near the River House. The idea was to have a secure location to monitor anyone else coming and going. Especially after they had all agreed to assist in the rescue of her mate and brother. It had honestly surprised the male that the High Lord had trusted him enough with this task. But after seeing Bryce for himself, her crimson hair almost a near match for his own. Well, he could certainly hazard a guess as to why his blood may be useful. Especially, if that message from one of the High Queen’s daughters was accurate. It was likely that inhabitants of the areas that had become the Autumn Court traveled to the new world as well all those millennia ago. As an emissary of the Night Court it wouldn’t surprise Lucien if Rhysand ultimately asked he go on a diplomatic mission to Midgard at some point.

Lucien took the stairs two steps at a time. The woman’s soft vanilla scent filled his senses as he approached the room she occupied. The one that had been his when he first arrived to the Night Court. The fire in his veins calmed as her scent washed over him. He hadn’t even realized that the magic was poised to be unleashed, tensed from his worry. He didn’t bother to knock on the door before he opened it. The human woman sat on the bed, her back against the dark walnut headboard, a leg propped up on a pillow. He barely registered the dangerously short emerald green silk nightdress she wore. His eyes immediately traveled down the bare expanse of her exposed leg to the white linin wrappings around her ankle. Relief fully washed over him. He didn’t know why he had expected something worse, but he was glad that it wasn’t. His golden eye whirred as it focused on her ankle and he took a few steps into the room. He sat on the end of the bed, his hands gingerly lifted her leg and placed it on his lap so he could examine it for himself. The wrapping was tight and kept her foot in as much of a neutral position as it possible to allow the healing magic to run its course. Once satisfied that it had been treated properly, his gaze turned towards hers. Surprise filled her expression. It suddenly dawned on him that he had rushed into her room without so much as a word. On top of that he had immediately started to inspect her condition as if she were…he stopped that line of thinking immediately. ‘She is my friend. I am allowed to be worried about my friends.’  Lucien stared as her expression went from surprise to confusion to relief.

“You came back,” Her low and warm voice was soft as the almost question passed her lips. Suddenly she tossed the book that had been in her lap to the side. She swung her legs underneath her plump frame before she launched herself towards Lucien. “You came back.” He barely had time to brace himself when she slammed against him, her arms wrapping around his torso. His own arms followed suit, holding her close. He had missed her warmth.  

“Of course, I came back. I didn’t plan to stay away long.” He chuckled.

“I’m so sorry Lu,” She whispered against his neck, her breath caused the skin on the back of his neck to pleasantly rise. “I-I should have let you explain yourself.”

“It’s alright sweet girl,” He rubbed his palm along her back. “You had every right to be upset. I apologize as well. I should have talked to you about what to share with the others before doing so.”

“Still, I didn’t need to say those things,” She pulled back slightly to look at him. “I know that you were trying to help. I know that you care. You have no obligation to me, but you are an amazing friend. I’m really sorry for the way that I treated you when I was upset.”

“I appreciate that,” His throat tightened ever so slightly. He continued to hold her, the two of them sharing a comfortable silence.

“Do you have to go back soon?” She asked.

“No,” He smiled down at her, (e/c) orbs alight with that fire he was growing too accustomed to. “I’m yours until you’re healed.”

“Oh? Aren’t I special then,” Her returning grin caused the flames to dance. He couldn’t help but laugh. She pulled away and carefully maneuvered herself back towards the headboard of the bed. She reached for the book and patted against the space next to her.

“Want me to read aloud?” She shook the book in her hand. Lucien stood and removed his shoes before crawling up the bed to join her.  

“Is this one of Nesta’s?” He asked, wrapping an arm over her shoulders and plucking the novel from her hands.

“Yes, but it’s one of the…tamer romances.”

“No smut?” He laughed.

“I wouldn’t have offered to read aloud if there was,” She settled into his side, her injured leg back on its pillow. He opened the book and she directed him to the page where she left off. After she quickly summarized the preceding events in the book, Lucien began to read.

Your fingers traced along the endless row of leather encased book spines. Every now and then the smooth texture was interrupted by the cold bite of metal hinges or raised and pressed lettering. The gold and bronze titles, those that were still visible anyway, blurred as your eyes scanned over them. Pausing your search, you tilted your head back into an upright position and rubbed your eyes trying to bring them back into focus. In the opposite row, Nesta was re-shelving one of the many tombs that Gwyn had picked out. The Priestess currently sat at a table between the rows, scanning over another book. Elegantly long fingers gloved in white gently turned the oversized pages. Every afternoon for the past six months the pair had assisted you with searching the large library underneath the House of Wind for any information that could result in your ticket back home.

It was difficult to believe that you had been in the Night Court for so long already, damn near 8 months. Each morning you opened your eyes you were greeted with the sight of the pale walls of your room in the town house. The familiar sight of pictures of friends and family that covered your bedroom back home where nowhere to been seen. Their absence reminding you of the life you would lose if you failed to return. The scrapes of your hope for returning home were slowly slipping away. Yet you remained determined to find some way back. If not for yourself, then for those that loved and relied on you.

With the hundreds of thousands of books within the library there had to be at least one that could shed some light onto your situation. There had to be some documentation, anything at all, regarding the Fae that had gone missing from the continent all those millennia ago. You had come to the conclusion that this group must have traveled to your world. Or at least traveled somewhere that could then lead you to your world. There was no other reasonable explanation for how you could have found yourself in this one. Especially if Ruhn’s suggestion of your distant relation to them was true. If you had to be honest, you weren’t sure you would ever believe that, not without some type of blood test anyway. A groan from Gwyn brought you out of your rumination.

“That’s it!” She declared while slamming the ancient text shut. “We’ve looked at nearly every book in this damned place and found nothing.” You stared at the stack of books laid out next to the female.

“If we had a better idea of what we were even looking for…” Nesta’s voice trailed off. Sun lit dust particles danced around her finger tips as they strummed against the table. You sucked in a breath.

“At this rate anything regarding the history of Prythian could be useful,” You couldn’t afford to lose hope. “ So, what options do we have?” Nesta returned to the table and exchanged a look with her friend.

“There are other libraries,” Gwyn stated simply. “But…the High Lord will need to make the request for an emissary to visit.” Nesta scoffed.

“Which he won’t do without some serious convincing,” She crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling.

“Then I’ll convince him,” You had to remain hopeful, “He’ll have to agree that looking outside the Night Court is necessary if we’ve exhausted the resources here. Where are these libraries?”

“Each of the Courts have their own set of libraries,” Gwyn offered. “If you are to start looking into the general history of Prythian then the Day Court would be the best starting point. There are near 1000 in that Court alone, and…” She trailed off at the look Nesta gave the two of you.

“No.” Her voice was stern.

“What do you mean, ‘No’?” You challenged. “Rhysand has to understand-”

“It’s not just him. It’s highly unlikely that the other High Lords would allow free reign of their resources to anyone from the Night Court,” She explained, “Not without giving them a reason as to why it would be of benefit to them. Rhys still believes that knowledge of your and Bryce’s existence does not benefit anyone and would only place the Night Court at risk.” You rolled your eyes.

“Of course, how could I forget?” It was no secret that Rhysand still didn’t trust you. It didn’t matter that everyone else in his precious inner circle could see that you were of no threat. You and Feyre surly thought that he would have come around when Amren surprisingly gave her seal of approval. It took two months before the petite female had even been willing to give you the time of day. Once she realized that you truly were stuck here she insisted on her own set of tests for magical abilities or reactions. When you couldn’t produce any of the results she suspected you should have been capable of, if you were indeed a spy or other type of threat, she finally backed off. Mor had liked you almost instantly after watching your interactions with Nyx.

“I admit that I can see how the knowledge of me being from another world is the equivalent of opening Pandora’s box,” You laughed. “But the other courts don’t have to know that little tidbit, right? We can just come up with some other reasoning. You know, some bullshit about building relations with mortals. I’m certain that Rhys and Lucien could spin something like that.”   

“There’s really only one way to find out,” Gwyn mused. Nesta let out a long breath.

“Absolutely not,” Rhysand didn’t even bother to look up at either you or Nesta.

“Why not?” You asked incredulously. “We’ve exhausted the resources available in the Night Court. You won’t let me go to the Prison or the tunnels with Bryce to see what I might be able to decipher from the images. So, if you’re going to continue to insist that I find a way home, I need access to more information. Information that is now beyond your borders.”

“Then consider yourself relieved of the task,” His eyes still didn’t look up from the parchment he was scribbling on.

“What?”

“You’re done with research,” He finally looked up, eyes cold. “You can go now.” Rhysand gestured towards the office door and resumed his scribbling. You blinked several times trying to process what just happened. To say you were baffled by his decision to just have you give up was an understatement. It made no sense. He had insisted for months that you do everything in your power to find a way home. He made you dedicate hours every afternoon while Nyx slept to the task. He didn’t want you here. He didn’t trust you. Was it really so hard for him to let go of that fucking need to control you that he’d rather you remain stranded on this planet than let you leave the court to find a way home? Clearly it was.

“No.” You felt Nesta tense at your side. The male sitting before you glanced up through thick lashes. An eyebrow raised as he paused his work yet again. You didn’t care that he could easily over power you. Easily kill you with a mere thought. You weren’t about to continue being this weak and timid thing. He may be used to the other females in his life buckling under the weight of that stare, but it would be a cold day in Hell before you gave him that satisfaction. You wanted to go home just as much as he wanted you gone.

“I don’t see a reason as to why I can’t continue searching for a way home,” You took a steadying breath. “The High Lord of the Day Court doesn’t need to know who I really am or where I’m from. He doesn’t need to know the true purpose of what I am looking for. Honestly at this point I might get more insight into travel between worlds by looking into the history of this one.” The High Lord remained silent, so you took that as a cue to continue pleading your case.

“That’s the story we tell him. I’m merely looking into the history of the various courts to compile a comprehensive history of Prythian. If that hasn’t already been done that is. I can dress up like a Priestess, or Lucien can glamor me so I don’t look human. And I know that he will go with me if I ask.”

“Helion would be able to see through any ruse, which is exactly why I will not grant you permission to leave,” The calmness with which this discussion had started was quickly fading. His arrogance and lack of confidence in you made your blood boil.

“You cannot keep me locked away in this city!” You squared your shoulders.

“Yes, I can!” Rhysand bellowed. “I will remind you that your ability to remain in Velaris is due to the love that my son has for you.”

“Believe me, I am perfectly aware of the fact that my freedom is an illusion,” You seethed. “And it isn’t right. What kind of example are you setting for your son? He will pick up on the way that you treat me, as well as the other females in his life, and that will be his template for how he will treat them in turn. Tell me, do you want him to grow and be known as male that has genuine respect for females? To be known for treating them well beyond just common decency? Do you want him to build this court up as a safe place for women to live the lives they choose? To carry on a legacy of Velaris being a city that all can aspire to? Or do you want him to continue this farce of what you spout as being a progressive court but continue to belittle, undermine, and covertly fuel misogyny?” You felt a power ripple through the air. The edges of the High Lord’s figure darkened. You definitely hit a nerve and had to fight back the triumphant smirk.

“You despise me, so why are you so fucking hell bent on keeping me here? Wouldn’t you and everyone else be happier if I was gone?” The power that had been growing sputtered. The silence that replaced it filled the office, setting your already frayed nerves on edge. Nesta placed her hand in yours and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I do not despise you (Y/N),” Rhysand let out a heavy sigh. “And given the fact you believed that to be true, I must apologize. Genuinely apologize.” You stood in front of the High Lord, not quite sure if what he had to say next would truly be as genuine as was merited. The male stood from his chair, walking around his desk to stand in front of you.

“While it is really no excuse, I have let my fear of the unknown dictate my interactions with you,” He explained. You bit back the sarcastic remark that threated that danced on your tongue. His unequal treatment towards you was obvious to anyone present when you and Rhysand occupied the same room.  

“However, you-”

“Ah! Do not turn this around and make your actions and reactions my responsibility,” You warned. The male simply smirked and nodded.

“The mistrust goes both ways, and yours is highly understandable given how I treated you upon your arrival,” He leaned against the desk, “Give me time and let me make it up to you. I will make more of an effort to get to know who you are. From there we can discuss if, or when and how, to move forward with you leaving the borders of the Night Court.” You held his gaze, weighing his words. You didn’t miss the fact that there was no promise that he would ever actually allow you to leave. Nor did he give any indication of timeframe for when this future discussion would take place. But for now, this concession would have to suffice.

“So, with the research on a temporary hold,” You needed some direction, “What else will you have me do exactly? Feyre has a solid early morning routine with Nyx and-”

“You will start early morning training with the Valkyries,” The High Lord smiled as your eyes went wide, “Feyre will be taking on more responsibilities as High Lady. Primarily she will become responsible for ensure that Velaris operates smoothly so that I can focus on finally enacting the overdue changes in Illyria and the Hewn City. After all, this is a progressive court. With both of us busy, you will need to learn how to not only defend yourself as a human in the Fae lands, but also how to protect my son. Afterall, you will be with him more often than anyone else.” You groaned internally. You were not a morning nor an exercise person, and combining the two…gross. You turned towards Nesta, who appeared to be just as surprised as you with the High Lord’s declaration. However, she quickly schooled her features into an unreadable expression. Rhysand then retreated to his chair, a clear dismissal and one that you were more willing to accept. You had just made it to the doorframe when he called out.

“Oh, in the spirit of building trust, Azriel will be the one to fly you to and from the House of Wind for your training.” You stumbled at his second declaration and glanced over your shoulder, however, you stayed silent. While there had been tension from the mutual distrust between yourself and Rhys, you struggled significantly whenever the Shadowsinger was present. Therefore, it made sense to give this task to Azriel.

“You don’t have to talk to him, but being near him is a necessary step in your healing,” He continued. “Even you have to admit that.” You hated that he wasn’t wrong.  

You trudged down the steps from the top floor of the town house as you did each morning for the past four months. Each morning was just as much of a struggle as the day before. You really were not a morning person. Just like every morning, Lucien had left the simple breakfast he prepared for you both in the oven to keep warm. He was an early riser, which worked in his favor as it meant that he could avoid the male that was the bane of your existence. Although, you had to admit that that line of thinking was a bit harsh regarding Azriel. Your interactions with the hazel eyed male had been slowly, albeit excruciatingly, improving. You didn’t share more words than was absolutely necessary, but you also didn’t leave the room or run away whenever he entered.

You took the scrambled eggs out of the oven, not even bothering to get a clean plate or even move to the table. Instead you just slowly shoveled them into your mouth as you leaned against the counter top. An unpleasant shiver ran up your leg. You didn’t have to look to confirm that the sensation was brought on by one of Azriel’s shadows. A silent “hurry up”. With tensed muscles you finished your eggs and placed the skillet in the wash basin. Plucking an apple from the bowl on the center island, you headed for the front door.

“You’re late,” Azriel stated, yet there was no real irritation to his voice. You tossed the apple into the air trying to shake away the unease that his shadows still elicited whenever they touched you. The sun was just peaking up over the eastern horizon, the early rays of dawn told you that you were right on time.

“Yet it’s the same time as every other morning amigo,” You took a bite of the apple, juice dribbling on to your chin. Rotating the apple in your palm you offered the opposite side for the male to take a bite. You had been prepared for his usual refusal; however, your regular morning routine was about to take an unexpected turn. You watched in slow motion as Azriel’s scarred hand gently covered yours before he brought the apple closer to his lips. You held your breath as his eyes bore into yours, his teeth sinking into the bright red flesh of the fruit. After taking a sizable chunk he released your hand and the world sped back up. It took an additional 30 seconds for your brain to catch up.

“Az!” You tried to fight the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Did you have to make it that creepy?” The male merely shrugged in response and took a step closer before wrapping his arms around you. You stepped into the embrace, bringing your own arms around the top of his shoulders. You were always mindful of his wings, making sure as to not brush against them while still maintaining a secure grip. Not that his hold on you ever faltered. Honestly, it was a miracle-in your opinion-that he was able to fly while carrying you at all. He had assured you early on that your weight was a non-issue, but that didn’t prevent the thoughts from springing to your mind every time you had to do this.

“Come on Koala, you know the drill,” He smiled as he tapped your thigh. You rolled your eyes. Jumping as instructed you allowed him to wrap your legs around his waist, just as you had that very first day of flying. You hadn’t meant to cling to him so fiercely at that time, yet it was the only position in which you felt secure. With his arms supporting your lower back, he shot up into the sky.

Barely even 10 minutes later and you were set down in the training ring at the House of Wind.

“I’ll be back in couple hours,” and with that your personal jetpack flew back towards the expanse of mountains along the northern edge of the city. You took another bite of the apple that you thankfully managed to hold on to before it was plucked from your hands. You spun around to face the asshole of a General that had taken it from you.

“You’re late,” He smirked.

“Like Hell I am,” You glanced around the training area. So far it was just you and Cassian. Not even Lucien was present. You scowled to yourself as he claimed he would be. However, you didn’t have time to wonder where he was when a set of arms wrapped around your shoulders, pining your arms to your sides. Your newly ingrained instincts kicked in. Planting your feet as best you could you reared your head back, hoping to make contact with the face behind you. Whoever it was ducked and grabbed the high pony tail that held your hair out of your eyes. The grip was tight and you immediately regretted your actions.

“Fuck!” You hissed, reaching up to try and pry the fingers away. You found the assailants wrist and dug your nails along the tendon, effectively forcing them to loosen their grip. Ruhn howled.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” You punched his chest as he danced away from you. “Are we five-year-old’s on a playground again? When did you get back from Midgard?” The asshole just laughed.

“A few hours ago, Bryce and Hunt are still sleeping. And I would say I’m sorry, but I was instructed to not be gentle with you today,” His smile was near feral. You ignored him and grumbled to yourself as you pulled the elastic hair band out. Bending over you let your now long hair cascade towards the ground. Concentrating on gathering the (h/c) strands at the crown of your head, you didn’t see the male shamelessly staring at your ass in the training leathers you were provided.

“Ruhn’s going to be to be your sparing partner today,” Cassian informed. “Let’s get you warmed up.” You flipped your hair up and secured it back in place in a messy bun.

“Your ass is grass Danaan,” You threatened, a playful smile on your own lips. “You fucked with my hair.”

“Baby, I could have sworn you enjoyed it before,” His blue eyes sparkled with mirth in the early morning sun.

“What?! No!” You looked over at Cassian, his eye brows raised. “No! Shut up asshole.” You hadn’t even started your training and you already knew this was going to be a long morning.

“Save it for the ring,” the General motioned for you to approach him so he could assist you with the warm up. As you completed your warm up routine you heard Lucien’s rough morning voice strike up a conversation with Ruhn.

“I hear your already causing trouble,” He nagged.

“Oh no, no no no,” You waggled your index finger, marching over the redhead. “These two motherfuckers started it.” You pointed at each of the males as they tried, Ruhn failing, to suppress their laughter. Yes, it was definitely going to be one of those mornings were the males all ganged up on you before the other females arrived. And not in the fun way. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop that train of thought. The last you needed was for one of them to smell that on you. Lucien just joined in on the laughter.

“Okay settle down now,” Cassian tried to regain some semblance of control. “Square up.” You walked towards the center of the training ring and planted your feet, flexing your toes to grip the ground as best you could through your shoes. The match with Ruhn started off simple enough. You had managed to dodge his attempts to get a hold of you, and he blocked all of your attempts to strike him with your fist. It was when you miscalculated the distance between your shin and his torso that was your undoing. You swung your leg up and towards his side, but he caught it and used the momentum to pull you towards him. As soon as your chests collided you shrieked.

“No!” You couldn’t suppress the giggle. Grabbing the large hands that had danced over your ribs, you easily pushed yourself away from Ruhn.

“Aw you’re ticklish,” Ruhn teased. You increased the distance between the two of you by several paces.

“If you tickle me, I will kill you,” You knew that was a lie made from false bravado. You’d never be able to get the best of any of the males here, not while you were human. It didn’t help that you could barely keep the laugh out of your voice.

“Alright tough girl,” He smiled and resumed his stance, “Come and get me.” Before you could react, the male had darted across the training ring and picked you up as if you still didn’t weigh more than him. You had to give yourself some credit though; after all you had lost a bit of weight since your arrival over a year ago. Most of it was within the last 4 months when you started this damn training. While your current performance was not a good indicator, the training had been useful. Not only had you picked up many skills with hand to hand self-defense, you were also learning how to properly use the dagger that Lucien had gifted you.

Ruhn hauled you over his shoulder like a giant sack causing you to scream again. You tried to push yourself up so you weren’t staring at his ass that was perfectly outlined in the damn leathers he wore. Unfortunately, there was nowhere except his ass for you to put your hands to get any leverage.

“Behind the knees!” You heard Lucien encourage Ruhn.

“TRAITOR!” You shouted, voice only slightly strained as you attempted to break free from Ruhn’s grip on your calves and hips.

“Thanks for the tip,” You felt his fingers lightly brush the back part of your thigh, just above the bend at your knee. You squealed and tried to squirm away with no luck.

“What about here,” Without warning, his hand traveled up the length of your thigh before giving a playful and quick squeeze to the spot just below the curve of your ass. A ridiculously comical high-pitched squeak escaped your throat. You clamped a hand over your mouth in embarrassment over sounding just like a damn dog toy.

“Was that her?” Cassian’s laughter filled the training area. Ruhn squeezed the spot again, and again you squeaked. All three males fell into a fit of boisterous laughter. You could feel the blood rushing to your head as you continued to hang over Ruhn’s shoulder. In a last-ditch effort to free yourself, you decided that you would just start attacking what you could reach. You balled your fist and reeled your arm back before slamming it down right on his own ass check.

“Hey!” Ruhn continued to laugh. You repeated the action, but it didn’t cause him to loosen his grip in the slightest. The other males just continued to laugh. Ruhn started to spin and you could see Cassian hunched over, bracing himself on his knees.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Nesta’s voice cut through the laughter, however, it didn’t die down.

“Would you look at that,” Bryce now beside her. “Ruhn’s finally getting his ass beat…literally.” You laughed at the comment, but seeing as how the male continued to tickle and tease, you decided to up your game. You raised your arm as before, but instead of your fist, your flattened out your hand. The loud smack reverberated off the stone surrounding the arena.

“Woah now!” Ruhn attempted to jump away. You smacked him again, pleased with yourself at his reaction. Using his hips for leverage you pushed yourself up to get a better look at those around you.

“Save it for the bedroom you two!” Bryce teased. Nesta scoffed.

“What!” You screeched. Ruhn and his sister just laughed harder. Cassian was in near hysterics. You couldn’t recall if you’d ever seen him laugh so hard. However, Lucien’s laughter had died down.

“Put her down, she’s not a toy,” Nesta instructed. “We need to borrow her before she has to meet my sister.” Ruhn slowly complied, strong calloused hands gripping your waist as he set you on your feet. He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before allowing you to saunter over to Nesta and Bryce.

“So whatcha need me for?” You pulled your hair free of the elastic band for a second time, the bun having already loosened. You carded your fingers through your hair before hastily pulling it back into a high pony tail. Bryce waggled her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

“An experiment.”

Next: Chapter 7

Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

Crossed out names wouldn't let me tag you

[heartofbooksandtea]

Guilty Pleasure

Wrote this a few weeks ago and thought I would write more but never did so here <3 Very slight hofas spoilers in the beginning so be warned.

2.3k words

Summary: Gwyn finds Az in the training ring to ask him a favor. He's taken by surprise, but obviously he can't deny her anything.

***

“I thought I might find you here,” Gwyn said, leaning against the archway that led into the training ring. Azriel spun around, seemingly surprised at her ability to sneak up on him. Twin daggers glinted in his hands, reflecting the moonlight that shone above them. Truth-Teller, safely returned to this world, was securely strapped to his thigh. 

Gwyn fought a smirk at the thought of how moody he’d been in the days without his favorite dagger to keep him company. As badly as she felt for him, it was simply too easy to tease him about having to sleep without his comfort weapon. 

“Berdara,” Azriel said, turning to throw the daggers at a target he’d set up at the other end of the ring. Of course, both landed dead center, the tips of the blades grazing each other in their proximity. Show-off. He turned back around with a slight twitch of his lips and made his way to the archway where Gwyn stood. “What can I do for you?”

Azriel’s shadows brought him a towel, one of them darting to graze Gwyn’s cheek before returning to lounge above the Shadowsinger’s wings. Azriel wiped the towel across the back of his neck, muscles flexing in his arm as he did so. Gwyn watched a bead of sweat slide down his forehead and temporarily forgot what she came here for. It was unfair, really, that she had never seen the male across from her have a bad day in the looks department. She’d seen him bloodied up and wincing in pain, yet that unnatural beauty never seemed to leave him. 

“Gwyneth?” Azriel hedged, still waiting for an answer to his question. She blinked a few times to clear her mind and scolded herself for getting so distracted. She straightened her spine and crossed her arms, still leaning against the archway and hoping she looked effortlessly confident instead of embarrassingly desperate to appear that way. 

“I have a proposition for you.” At his raised eyebrows, she amended, “Well, not a proposition exactly. A favor. Something I’d like you to help me with.” 

“A favor, huh? And what makes you so sure I’m the best person to ask? I’m sure Nesta or Emerie would be more than happy to help.”

“This isn’t the sort of thing they can help me with, I’m afraid. Not something I want them to help me with, at least.”

Azriel scanned her face, clearly intrigued but trying to hide it. He swiped that damned towel behind his neck once more before letting his shadows take it someplace else. With two steps, he was leaning against the opposite side of the archway with his back to the wall, mimicking her stance and forcing her to shift so she could look at him. 

“All right, I’ll bite. Though I make no promises that I’ll be of any help.”

Swallowing her nerve—and pride and embarrassment and fear—Gwyn stared into the shadowsinger’s hazel eyes and said “I wish to go to a pleasure hall. And I’d like you to take me.”

Based on the endless silence that now stretched between them, Gwyn was sure she’d broken Azriel. He stood unblinking for so long that she was tempted to reach out a finger and see if he would tip over like a statue. Cauldron, how would she explain to Rhysand why his infamous spymaster had malfunctioned?

“Shadowsinger?” Nothing. “Hello?” Nope. “Azriel?” Finally, a blink of recognition.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly,” he said, still frozen in place save for the muscles needed to blink and move his lips.

Gwyn couldn’t help the pang of satisfaction running through her at having taken him by surprise. It was her favorite pastime.

“I said, I’d like you to take me to a pleasure hall.”

“No. What? Why?” 

“I’m going to ignore that first part, and as I believe I’ve answered the second part twice now, I’ll move straight to the third. I’m sick of being stuck in this house and wondering what I’m missing out on. I read all these fascinating books about how pleasurable sex can be, and I’m ready to experience it for myself.”

Azriel finally seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, wings rustling slightly as he took in her words.

“I admire your honesty, Gwyn, but this isn’t the way you should venture into exploring your sexuality. Not with the kind of people who go to pleasure halls looking for nothing more than a quick fuck.”

“You visit them quite frequently, don’t you? So what does that say about you, then?”

“That’s different.”

“Why, because you’re male and feel some sort of moral superiority when it comes to sex? You’re allowed to seek it out if you wish but females can’t? Who are you having sex with then, Azriel, if not for the females visiting pleasure halls?” 

A feral smile took over Azriel’s face.

“If you must know, I’m not opposed to the occasional male partner, though I do much prefer the company of females.” She tried not to blush at that, though she knew she wasn’t succeeding. “And I’m not saying it’s different because I’m male. I’m saying it’s different because I have experience and it’s not anything special for me. It should be something special for you.”

Gwyn was sure her cheeks had turned even redder at this point, but they were now flushed with anger. He had no right to tell her what to do, and she deserved to make her own decisions. 

“And who are you to decide that? I didn’t have a say in how my first sexual encounter happened, and I will not apologize for wanting to have a say in how future encounters happen.” The shadows thickened around him at the mention of Sangravah, but he showed no reaction beyond that. “You males aren’t the only ones with needs and urges, Shadowsinger, and seeing how I don’t exactly have suitors lining up at my door to have sex with me, I’ve taken it upon myself to seek them out.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Gwyn held up a hand.

“I’m not finished. I appreciate that you care about my feelings, I really do. But I’m an adult who can take her own feelings into consideration. I came to you because I know you frequent the pleasure halls in Velaris and I trust you—and, quite frankly, because I don’t think sex is worth walking down 10,000 steps for.”

“That’s entirely dependent on who you’re having sex with, Berdara,” he drawled. Gwyn rolled her eyes at his arrogance, ignoring the twisting in her gut at the sound of his voice. Was it just her imagination, or had it dropped even lower than usual?

“That’s the part of my grand speech that you’re choosing to focus on?” 

Azriel ran a hand through his hair and leaned his head back against the archway. She hadn’t exactly expected an enthusiastic yes, but he was putting up more resistance than expected. Maybe she’d completely misread their relationship. Shame slithered up her spine. 

Of course this was a mistake. He was likely debating how to let her down easy because he was far too considerate to be blunt with her and hurt her feelings in the process. She might as well save him the effort.

Gwyn pushed away from the archway, smoothing her hands over her robes to keep them from shaking. 

“You know what, forget I asked. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I’ll leave you to your training.” 

Before Gwyn could dwell on the fact that this conversation would haunt her for the foreseeable future, Az called her name and a scarred hand wrapped around her wrist. Her eyes shot up to meet his, and he immediately let go as if she’d burned him. His voice was soft as he said, “Wait.”

She absolutely could not deal with a pity party right now. Those were reserved for the comfort of her bedroom with a slice of cake and a smutty book by her side.

“Shadowsinger, it’s okay—”

“You don't even know what I was going to say.”

“It’s written all over your face.”

“I’ve spent centuries making sure emotions don’t show on my face.”

“Well you’ve got a few more centuries of training ahead of you then because it’s always clear to me what you’re thinking. Especially when you’re trying to hide it.” 

At this point it would just be easier to swallow her tongue entirely. Why did she have such a big mouth? She could never filter her words around the male in front of her, and it bothered her to no end.

Something sparkled in Azriel’s eyes, though, and he barked out a laugh. It seemed to take him by surprise as much as it did her, and he ran a hand down his face. Shadows twirled at the sound. He shook his head slowly.

“You’re something else, Berdara,” he said. “Look, do I think it’s a little crazy that you want to visit a pleasure hall of all places? Yes, I do. But I agree that it would be good for you to get back out into the world, and I think you’re brave for wanting to do it.” Azriel took a step closer to her, studying her face. 

“Thank you?” she whispered.

His lips tipped up at the corners ever so slightly.

“I’ll take you.” Gwyn wasn’t sure if she was breathing at that point. Sure, this was always the goal, but now that it was within reach it scared the hell out of her. She wouldn’t deny her attraction to Azriel, but it wasn’t something she’d ever allowed herself to act on for fear of damaging their friendship. He was too important to her. She’d thought that convincing him to take her to a pleasure hall would help her get over him and, well, under someone else, but the prospect of being in a room that promised sin and sex with the male she needed to get over suddenly didn’t sound so appealing. And she was realizing that this might have been a massive mistake.

“Azriel—”

“I’ll take you,” he repeated, then walked towards the target at the end of the training ring. He pulled out the daggers still lodged perfectly in the center and twirled them in his hands. “If you can make this throw.”

Despite her doubts, Gwyn couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. If there was one thing she’d never be able to pass up, it was a challenge. Part of her wanted to be a coward and miss the target deliberately so she could take the easy way out and forget this night ever happened, but the bigger part of her knew she’d never forgive herself for the self sabotage. There was a reason she’d come to him in the first place, and she refused to question her choice any further. 

With a smirk that adorned her face often in the Shadowsinger’s company, Gwyn strode towards him. He was still twirling the blades when she held out her hand expectantly. Amusement sparked in his eyes, and he presented the daggers to her with a dramatic bow. 

“You are the most insufferable male I have ever met,” she said, taking the blades from his outstretched hands. He gave her a wink, and her stomach fluttered. “Where would you like me to throw from?”

His reply was a look that said What do you think? She groaned internally but straightened her shoulders and made her way to the opposite end of the ring where he’d been standing when she first came up here. Azriel positioned himself back in front of the archway, halfway between the target and where Gwyn now stood. 

He gestured a hand toward the target, giving her the go-ahead whenever she was ready. 

“Both blades?” she asked.

“Both blades,” he replied.

Humph. Worth a shot. 

She took a deep breath and drew back her arm, then exhaled with the release of the first dagger. It flew in a flawless arc towards the target, embedding itself dead-center. She glanced to her left to gauge Azriel’s reaction, but he tried hard to remain stone faced. A gleam in his eyes gave him away. His shadows swirled around his wings and over his crossed arms. 

Azriel glared pointedly at the dagger still in her other hand, indicating the battle was only half won. She copied his little blade-spinning trick from earlier before moving the knife to her throwing hand. Another glance in the Shadowsinger’s direction revealed a small smile blooming on his face. He’d taught her that maneuver when she’d asked him to go over dagger-handling with her in private. Definitely useless in battle but extremely fun to do.

She was waiting for him to scold her for using the same hand for both throws instead of proving that she’d worked on learning to use her left arm for throwing in case of injury to her right arm, but he either didn’t notice or decided to give her this small advantage. Likely the latter, given his title as spymaster. There was little the male didn’t notice.

Gwyn didn’t let herself overthink as she drew her arm back once more and hurled the dagger down the same path as its twin. 

Now, she knew she was good. She’d trained tirelessly to get to where she was today, and she was proud of her progress. She knew that she could trust in muscle memory and skill at this point in her training to do what needed to be done.

Still, she couldn’t help the way her jaw dropped slightly as that dagger sank into the target next to the one already embedded there, positioned perfectly side by side.

A shadow darted over to the blades, dancing around them.

The breath knocked out of her at the sight of the pure pride shining from Azriel. He held her stare and gave a slight nod, lips tugging up on one side.

“Just tell me when, Berdara, and I’ll be there.”

After one last look at the daggers, Gwyn strode over to the archway. She clapped Azriel on the shoulder and said, “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger.”

[respecttheshoes]

Part 5 of The Bonds that Break Series

Outcast on Ao3.

Summary: This is Part Five of The Bonds that Break series told in Lucien’s POV.

Takes place years after ACOSF, HOFAS and a war with Koschei.

Lucien Vanserra’s life had never been easy, but a rare light of hope came in the form of his mating bond to Elain. Endearing himself to Elain had never been an easy task, but little did he think that she would make the decision to reject their mating bond at the start of the war.

Once war was over, she married Azriel and their lives seemed content. Lucien was resigned. Until their world is rocked when Azriel’s own bond snaps … with none other than former priestess-now assassin, Gwyn. Their marriage is now over.

When Elain goes to seek Lucien out, how will he react after all these years?

Part One – Agony in Gwyn’s POV Part Two – Faded in Azriel’s POV Part Three – Snapped with dual Gwyn/Azriel POV Part Four – Spiral in Elain’s POV

(I'm also the worst at summaries ... )

[ladydeatharcheron]

A Court of Shadows and Death

Alright guys if you’re anything like me and was melting at Nesta and Azriel during hofas, then I think I wrote just the fanfic for you! You can find the link by clicking here, or by searching it on AO3 under the same username as my tumblr.

(Warning, contains hofas spoilers)

Summary

It doesn't take long for news to spread throughout Prythian that Nesta Archeron is now in possession of Gwydion, the Kingmaker sword. Her position at the Night Court has been compromised. A target has been placed on her back. Her mating bond, something considered sacred by Fae standards, is revealed to be a web of lies.

All that stands now between her and certain death are the Valkyries, and a Shadowsinger who will follow her to the ends of the Earth.

Content

While I’m unsure how many chapters it will have as of now, I’ll try to update once a week. This Azriel x Nesta fanfic takes place after the events of hofas, and it will contain romance while simultaneously exploring what Nesta’s life looks like now with the power of the Dead Trove and Gwydion. I hope you enjoy!

[boldlyvoid]

Where There is Love, There is Life | Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Choice | for @elriel-month 2024

Summary: Elain trains, Azriel Gossips, and Lucien learns the truth.

Warnings: made up Daglan lore, mentions of HOFAS, history of bonds, Helion and Lucien talk

Word Count: 6k | Masterlist

Sitting in Helion’s personal library once again, there is a sheet of paper, an ink well and pen, and a stack of books almost as tall as Elain. And that’s just what Helion has deemed important for todays lesson. The walls are covered in books, well, 3 of them are. The fourth is dedicated to a chalkboard adorned with thoughts, theories and numbers she doesn’t yet understand. 

“Now that we’ve gone over astrology, did you happen to get all the birthdays of your inner circle?” Helion asks, pushing the pen and paper towards her. 

“I thought we were doing numerology today?” Elain asks, realizing she never brought the sheet of paper with the dates on it. 

“We are,” he smiles. Today’s one of the rare hot days in spring, so her eyes dart from his smile to his big muscled arm that he has on show. The shirt he’s wearing can barely be considered a shirt at this point; it just covers his nipples and stomach… but she’s not complaining. 

“Then why—

“Everyone has a life path number, which you get by adding up the numbers of one birth month and day,” he continues. “The easiest way to learn how to calculate the number is through repetition. So, start with your own and then your sisters; we can move on to the bat boys in a moment.” 

The term makes her smile. She straightens her back, grabs the pen, and starts to write. “My birthday is May 16th.” 

“It is?” He lights up. “Well, we’ll have to throw you a party, then!” 

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay,” she waves him off. “I might go home for the day.” 

He nods, “Or we could invite your court here? There is a beautiful plot of land my Pegasus frequents. It’s lush with flowers and fruit trees; I think it would be the perfect spot to celebrate you.” 

She blushes; it sounds magnificent. “If it’s not too much—

“It would never be too much,” he assures her. “Now, May is already a single number. You’ll have to add 1 and 6 together…” 

“So 5 plus 7,” she starts to write. “My number is 12.” 

“It can also be simplified down to 3,” he smiles. “Out of everyone I’ve ever met, you radiate 3 more than I’ve ever thought possible.” 

He pulls a book from the pile, flips through some pages and slides it in front of her. “See here; people with life path number 3 are creative spirits driven by their infinite imagination. Which is why the cauldron must’ve gifted you with sight. It knew you could see the wildest visions and still decode them.” 

She continues to read the pages, absorbing the knowledge— some of it does sound like her. Like not being able to pick a singular hobby but rather jumping back and forth between everything she enjoys. She would go crazy without baking, gardening and cross-stitching. An independent, free spirit, she’s not restrained by others' expectations of her. Yet, she also loves being around people. Having friends outside of her sisters for the first time has truly changed her life. She felt so lost without Nuala and Cerridwen; she misses them so much right now. She’ll have to ensure they come for her birthday and not lift a finger the whole day! They deserve a break.

“Anything sticking out?” Helion asks. 

She nods, “a few things… I’m definitely unable to stay organized. Ask Feyre; my greenhouse is a mess on a good day.” 

“Speaking of the High Lady, what is her birthday?” 

“December 21st,” she starts to write it down. “December is 12, so that becomes 3… the 21st also becomes 3, so her number is 6.” 

“Exactly,” Helion beams. “Were you this good in school, too?” 

“All 7 years that I was able to go,” she says with a sigh. “I learned what was important, my mother said that once I was married I’d only need to focus on keeping a house together. She said I’d never need advanced math.” 

Helion presses his lips together awkwardly, “Well, at least this math isn’t hard.” 

She simply flips the pages, finding the information on the meaning of 6… which is exactly how she would describe her sister. She starts to laugh at it; it’s way too accurate. 

“As a child and young adult, responsibility was always there on your 6 Life Path, but you may have rebelled against it,” she reads. “You will learn a lot about parenting in this life time. But you are also here to create, to learn that creativity has many forms, and is not confined only to creating a biological family.”

Helion smiles. “She did make a son as beautiful as her paintings.” 

“That she did,” Elain sighs, chest full of pride. 

The 6 Life Path teaches you that you are primarily accountable to yourself, that family members and relatives do not own each other, and that love thrives when it is able to flow freely in all directions.

She’s always loved her sisters and always will… however loving them became a lot easier when they weren’t all sharing a bed. Knowing Feyre is on the other side of her massive mansion of a home, knowing she could just walk to her when she needs her, that’s a blessing. Knowing Nesta is just a quick trip to the House of Wind, living her best life with people who love her, that’s all she’s ever wanted for Nesta. 

Being apart somehow brought them closer together. 

“Nesta is April 13th,” she says, starting to write once again. “4 and 4 is 8… she has an 8-pointed star on her back.”

Helion’s eyes widen, “like the lost sword Gwydion.” 

She nods, not allowing her face to change at all. It sure was still lost… it’s totally not in Nesta’s possession.

She turns back a page, finding it interesting that she and her sisters are so close in number and yet such polar opposites of each other. That’s life, though. 

“The path of Empowerment,” she reads, filled with pride, once more… it fades when she starts to read and it gets too real. 

The 8 Life Path signifies a lifetime of investing in yourself and overcoming judgments that stand between you and your strong ambitions. Modern numerology often diminishes 8’s meaning with an almost exclusive focus on material and financial matters. Yes, 8 is the number of power on the physical plain, but it is also the number of true understanding and balance, without which personal power is superficial and material gain is easily lost.

“I love her,” she whispers, trying not to cry. “She struggles in silence and lets it eat at her until that hunger needs to bite at someone else.” 

Helion nods along, “But it’s all about balance. While she may be in her head, thinking she deserves or doesn’t deserve certain aspects of her life… she’s powerful. Not too selfish, she’s able to use her hurt and her experiences to connect. She networks and organizes, and she’s convincing. I heard about her little dance with Eris last year. I saw how she captivated the high lords during the war and managed to change even Berons mind. The bad comes with the good, making her a perfect 8.”

Elain nods along, finding her smile once more. “She is… everything.” 

“Believe me, I know,” he teases. Still hitting on her no matter how long she’s been mated. “Now, do you remember the others?” 

“I believe so… they’re on my desk in my room,” she shares. 

“I’ll have someone bring them to us,” he assures, waving in a servant. 

She writes down Azriel’s. January 27th. An Aquarius, and after her lesson the other day, nothing fits better for him. He lives in his head, thinks outside the box, and has a deep sense of justice. He's an easygoing loner, and he’s an air sign. It’s no wonder he loves to fly. One of a kind with beautiful eyes, they say what they think with great eloquence… that’s her Az. 

His life path number, however, is 1. 

“Ah… of course,” Helion says as he reads over her shoulder. “One typically takes care of themselves, stand on their own two feet and always get what they want.” 

She smirks, blushing again. “He does.” 

Once again, on his page of the book, she reads everything… but it’s not right. “He’s not self-centred or insensitive?” 

“With you,” Helion reminds her. “At work, when he’s the spymaster, the shadowsinger… he has to put himself first; he has to not care because bringing feelings into an interrogation will backfire on him.” 

“I guess,” she continues to read. 

But because 1 is the first number, being at the top – being first – is your natural place. You will gain the maximum satisfaction from this energy when, instead of using it to compete, you use its pioneering vibrations to carve new roads in areas that interest you the most.

“He is the best at what he does,” she can agree with that. “Oh, and it says concentration is one of the splendid gifts a number 1 has. When he’s been given a command, he’s always so focused on getting the job done.” 

“No wonder you’re so happy,” Helion nudges her. 

She shoves him back. “Yes, and It says here: Practice the art of leadership by welcoming and encouraging your ‘following’, while confidently maintaining your position as originator and leader. Others soon realize that you will not be tricked into anything that goes against your grain or best interests.”

“That’s your man,” Helion agrees. Standing from his seat, he meets the servant at the door and takes her note. “The most powerful High Lord was born on the Eve of Samhain… when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. When magic is at its height.” 

“So his number would be…. October is 10, so that’s a 1, and 31 becomes 4, so he’s a 5,” she says with glee. “He and Feyre are just a number apart.” 

“5s are an interesting breed,” Helion hesitates, sitting back down beside her, he takes a deep breath. “They’re intense, both emotionally and sexually. Their body, mind and emotions are equipped to easily adapt to change… However, they either flourish with the change or are overwhelmed by it. 5s are able to change their inner attitudes and outer appearances to suit different circumstances” 

“That’s my brother-in-law,” Elain laughs. 

The book states: 5 is an active and unpredictable path. It is so filled with sudden and unusual events and opportunities that you sometimes become confused by it or afraid of it. Once in a while, these 5s do let go, or the 5 current becomes so strong that they are swept away into some kind of drama, only to miss the excitement of it all because they believe they are simply out of control. The freedom of 5 starts with a burning desire to live life as fully, freely, and openly as possible and to experience variety, excitement and adventure. And, of course, these desires can only come from within. Refusing to let go of what is safe and familiar so that you can discover alternatives is a large part of what causes a mistake to be repeated. And most 5s do seem to repeat the same old mistakes, often without realizing it. Admitting to your mistakes can be a battle in itself. Accept that mistakes are inevitable in your life because that is how 5s learn and prosper.

“I’m going to need a scribe to copy this for him,” Elain teases. “He could learn a thing or two.” 

Helion smirks, crossing his arms as he sits back in his chair. “Have you ever been on the wrong end of one of his decisions?” 

“Just last week,” she shares. “He thought it was okay to tell Az to stay away from me so he could keep a good connection with Lucien and the Human Queen, Vassa. Not taking into account that fact that I may want say in my future.” 

Helion nods slowly, “Sounds like Rhysand.” 

She lets it roll off her shoulders, “I settled it. He’s learning, albeit slowly, but he’s learning how to deal with the Archeron sisters.” 

“How does Cassian deal with you all? Being a Cancer and all,” he pushes the paper towards her. 

“July 9th…” she reads aloud. “That would be 7 and 9, so 16 becomes 7.” 

“Perfectionists, prone to secrecy, but as they get older, that need to protect themselves goes away,” Helion explains. “Knowing Cassian as long as I have, he had a hard time trusting people to be as good as he was; he did work while with his legion because he knew that he would be the one to get shit done right.” 

“And now he’s accepted that the rest of us are there to help him and he’s not alone,” Elain smiles softly. “What else?” She asks as she flips in the book. 

“Deep thinker, a cleaver planner… he’s the orchestrator. It’s why he leads armies and he will go down in history as the best warrior since Enalius.” 

She finds a passage that is so Cassian, she sits up straighter as she reads it: Your intuition enables you to sense and feel your way through life. Positive results will follow when you learn to rely on the combined voice of your thoughts and feelings. While others sit perplexed by a problem, you can produce the right answer, instinctively, in one intuitive flash. And once you have the solution, your intuition will take you inward and backward to show you how you arrived at it.

Helion nods along. “Numerology is one of my favourite aspects of divination. Numbers are everywhere, you’ll start noticing them more and more now that you’ve learned this.” 

“How so?” 

“You’ll notice that you look at the clock at specific times every day, without real reason. You’ll notice things come in packs of 3 or 8 or 12. You might even have numbers in your dreams…. And in visions, speaking of which, have you had any since you’ve been here?” 

She shakes her head, “No, I haven’t had one in a few weeks. They only come to me when they want to.” 

He hums, “okay… Tomorrow, I wanted to do some hydromancy, but I think it’s time we look more into clairvoyance and clairaudience. Both are extrasensory perception; the mother or the cauldron or whatever you believe in either whisper the future into your ears or show you glimpses of the future.” 

“I have had both,” she assures. “During the war, I had no idea what was happening and while I kept seeing the firebird who ended up being Vassa, the ravens were first whispered to me. I kept hearing ‘the ravens are coming’ and it confused me so much.” 

Helion starts looking around at all his personal books, reading the titles, but he cannot find what he wants. “I’m going to have a book delivered to your room tonight,” he explains. “You don’t have to read it all. However, it will be a good introduction to what we will be discussing soon.” 

She nods, “are you sure we should have a large lesson tomorrow, given that Lucien is coming?” 

His eyes widen, as if he forgot that was happening. “What if we meet here at dawn? You can join me for my meditation to get in the zone for the day and I’ll have breakfast dropped off here so we can begin early.” 

She nods, “I would like that.” 

—

Azriel’s shadows are like a second skin to him after 500 years. He almost doesn’t notice when they come and go, not until they’re whispering secrets and warnings to him. It takes a while for him to realize that his shadows disappear around Elain. They can find her, they can follow her if he asks, yet when she’s close, they leave. He’s not sure if it’s for privacy or because they know he’s completely safe with her… out of everyone in the world, Elain is the only person he’s truly safe with. 

When he returns to the day court, his shadows simply say that she’s in the library and dissipate. 

He heads to the main library, the first of many in the day court, the closest to the palace. Inside, he can’t scent her over the smell of old books… yet there is a hint of Ash. His shadows come rushing back, worried for him after everything he’s been through in the last few years. He’s been hit with more ash arrows and faebane in the last 3 years than he has in his whole life, which is saying something. 

He follows the smell, a hand on the truth teller as he approaches an alcove. He knows the female sitting at the table, at least from what he can see of her over the stacks of books: Nuan, the Alchemist from the Dawn Court. He knew she’d be here; she had been here all week, researching the Ash family to see all that it could do to the Fae. 

He clears his throat, alerting her to his presence and making her jump in her seat slightly. “Oh, hello, Lord Azriel.” 

He grimaces, shaking his hands, “Please, it’s just Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” she settles with a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

He shakes his head, “I was looking for Elain, I think I have the wrong library.” 

“Ah,” she smiles, having guessed that the high lady’s sister and the spymaster were together. “Well, since you’re here, I have a question.” 

He approaches her, standing beside her work table, “What can I do for you?” 

“I’ve come across a book on the Daglan, the history of the start of Prythian and old folklore,” she explains. “Do you know anything about how they were conquered?”

Az takes a deep breath and assesses if he should tell her. Rhys would be pissed… not as pissed as when Nesta gave Bryce the mask, but still pissed. If answers come from this, however, he might not stay mad for long. 

So Az takes a seat. 

“Where do I even start,” he can’t help but laugh. 

He started when Bryce arrives, explaining their trip to the prison and the history they uncovered. Theia and her daughters, the Daglan, the portals to other worlds… how they concurred worlds and were overthrown only twice and finally destroyed by the portal-jumping half-fae who stole his dagger. He explains how the Daglan corrupted the cauldron and created the monsters now locked in the prison in the night court…. And how the same portals they used to jump worlds brought in the beasts that hunt in The Middle. Beings like the kelpie, the weaver and whatever Amren was before the war. Even Koshcei. 

“Cauldron almighty…” she swears, jaw dropped as her eyes wander, thinking a mile a minute in her mind. “Do you know how they corrupted the cauldron?” 

He shakes his head, “not fully. The original 8 Asteri— that is the Daglan’s true name. They pooled their power together and imbued it into the cauldron… they made the dread trove as well as Gwydion and Truth Teller.”

“Did you learn how to fix it?” Nuan asks, begging for answers just as he did that day he learned all this. “Learn why they did it?”

“No, I did, however, allow one of my shadows to go with Bryce to Midgard. The Asteri, when they were here, there was a tithe to absorb a percentage of our power; in Midgard, they created a parasite to infest the water and stifle their magic until they came of age. The coming of age ceremony was called the drop, once they partook they gave a portion of their power to the Asteri and their powers were unlocked. They were not as powerful as they could be, but they were just enough to live a long, long life. Those who didn’t partake faded away into nothing with age, like a human would.”

“And Bryce defeated them?” 

He nods, “She almost died in the process… which is another way the daglan took power. The power they took in the drop was called first light, the power they take after death is called second light. Once they took it, they didn’t get to go to the forever resting place some believe is out there. They became nothing.” 

Nuan slumps in her seat. Rubbing her hand over her face. “This is so much bigger than a family of trees…” 

Az laughs, “believe me, it was a lot to take in when it was happening. Now, we’re left with the knowledge and no way to fix the cauldron. We don’t even know in what ways they corrupted it; what they changed.” 

“The cauldron holds water,” Nuan reminds him. “They might’ve gotten the idea for the parasite from what ever they did to the cauldron.” 

He hums, thinking about it. “Are you coming to dinner tonight in the great hall?” 

She nods, “why?”

“Elain might be able to tell you about what the water in the cauldron was like,” he explains. “Seeing as she was the first one dunked into it, and she was blessed by it…” 

“Unlike the other sister who stole from it,” Nuan knows. The whole of Prythian knew that the oldest Archeon sister was to be feared for what she did that day. They just don’t know she gave the power back.

“Would I be allowed to see the cauldron?” She asks. 

He takes a deep breath, thinking it over. “Rhys and Feyre will be here in a few days, they, and Helion, can discuss if it’s a safe option for you.” 

She nods, agreeing. “I appreciate the help today. I um… I figured out something, I think it’s something you and Lady Archeron would like to know.” 

“Go on,” he pulls in even closer, anxious to know what she’s uncovered in her days of research. 

“While Ash wood can kill us, the blooming leaves of the Ash tree can be used as a tea. The Daglan did awful, horrific experiments on the fae, all of which were recorded… ingesting the leaves doesn’t maim the drinker. Instead, it gifts them with dreams of their one true love. The Daglan put a stop to the tea the moment they found out what it could do, and now I’m guessing it’s because they corrupted the cauldron to change how bonds work. The dreams would show a true love match; the cauldron now wants powerful offspring because the Dagaln fed from them for so long.” 

It all hits Azriel like a brick wall. “So if I take the tea…” 

“You’ll know the truth,” Nuan smiles. “So will Lady Archeron.” 

—

Feyre and Rhys arrive with Lucien right at noon, greeted by Elain and Helion in the golden courtyard. Helion’s hand is on Elain’s back, and she glances at him, noticing he’s holding his breath while staring at his son. Taking in all his features, noticing all the parts that are himself and what parts are Lucien's mother…, his heart breaks when he sees the scar on his face, knowing there are more scars he keeps inside. 

“Welcome!” Elain takes over for him, breaking away from Helion to meet with him. “Lucien, it’s nice to see you.” 

Surprisingly, she opens her arms and brings him in for a hug. 

He’s a bit shocked, but accepts. Holding her close, smelling Azriel on her. He pulls back with concern on his face, “Did the shadowsinger fly you in?” 

She shakes her head, “he’s been staying here during my training, assuring I stay safe after what happened with the cauldron the last time I started looking for answers.”

It's not a lie, just not the whole truth, either. 

“In your bed?” He chuckles, “I was wondering when you’d finally get together.” 

“You wouldn’t be upset about it?” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t own you; you’re free to make your own choices. I’ve been alive for over 300 years; you haven’t. I’d like to see you make your own choices and mistakes and find happiness.” 

She pulls him in for another hug. " Oh, Lucien, thank you! I expected you to want to follow the cauldron's orders.”

Lucien soaks in the hug, eyes closed as he holds her. “This is the one time I’m not going to blindly follow someone's orders. I’ve learned my lesson.”  

“It’s also why we’re here,” Rhysand says from behind them. “We’ve learned quite a few things about the cauldron, things that you should be made aware of.” 

“The uh, the dining room is all set up for lunch if you’d care to join me in there for this meeting,” Helion finally speaks. “It’s lovely to have you here, Lucien.” 

He reaches out his hand for Helion, “Thank you for inviting me. I’ve always loved visiting the day court.” 

They all agreed it’s completely up to Helion when he tells Lucien; if he ever tells him. This meeting is about the information Nuan found in her research, how to find one's true love and what the Daglan did to mating bonds. 

They gather around the dining table and fill their plates with sandwiches, fruits, and vegetables with dips, cheeses and meats. Its a wonderful spread that his kitchen staff makes on the regular. Elain is going to have to start incorporating these into her own meal rotation at home. 

“What is it you wish to tell me,” Lucien asks between bites. 

Rhysand looks to Elain and then Helion, “Who would like to explain?” 

“I can,” Elain assures, putting down her sandwich and taking a sip of her bubbly wine first before continuing. “Last spring, we had an unexpected visitor in the Night Court. She jumped from her world to ours thanks to the Harp— the 4th forgotten item from the dread trove.”

Lucien's eyes widened. “Is world jumping real? I thought it was a myth?” 

Elain sighs, “It’s very real. You need specific items to do it the right way. However, Bryce was brought here to learn more about her heritage. She was the original Queen Theia’s long-lost ancestor… it turns out that Theia killed Fionn, took the trove and opened a portal to another world that the Daglan had overtaken after they were kicked from our world. There, Theia confirmed that the Daglan, now the Asteri, are just power-hungry monsters who feed off our power. When they were here, they used the cauldron to create deadly weapons, horrible monsters they could hunt for sport, and they corrupted the cauldron to ensure that mate bread more powerful beings they could feed off of.” 

“Holy shit,” Lucien can’t believe it. 

“Nuan, who fixed your eye,” Elain continues, waiting for Luciens mind to catch up, he nods. “She has been doing research for us. The wood of the ash tree is deadly for us, however the Ash tree is a cousin of the olive tree…” 

She picks up an olive with her fork and eats it, “how can one thing kill us and the other be so delicious?” 

“That is a fascinating question,” Feyre says under her breath. 

“Nuan discovered that the Daglan discovered a tea that would allow for the taker to dream of their one true love and those who were able to could then Scry to find them,” she continues with a large smile. “Before the Daglan corrupted the bonds, all mates were assigned together for the purpose of true and happy love. They outlawed the tea because they didn’t want true love bonds anymore, they only wanted powerful offspring.” 

“Are you saying we aren’t a true love bond?” Lucien clues in, shoulders slumping. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t a strong love, I just didn’t expect it to not be true love.” 

Elain shakes her head, feeling sorry for having to break the news to him, “no, the Daglan would collect a tithe from us, taking 10% of our power that we willingly gave to them each year. They wanted a way to still take 10%, they just wanted a stronger 10% so they corrupted the cauldron to make mates who would produce powerful offspring that would satiate them.” 

“Like my parents and Tamlin’s,” Rhysand adds. “They did not love each other; they have just been born through the generations to continue to make powerful children, even after the Daglan left.” 

“How do we fix it?” Lucien asks. 

“We’re still working on that,” Helion jumps in. “Elain is still learning all that she can do with her power so we can attain more answers.”

“So far, I’ve learned basic divination, meditation and relaxation, tarot, astrology, and my favourite has been numerology,” she beams at him. “When is your birthday?” 

“Um, October 3rd,” he shares. “My mother tried to have all of us in the autumn.”

Helion stares at his plate, moving around his side salad and not saying anything. 

“So that would make you a life path number 4,” Elain explains. “Life path number 4’s spend most of their life looking for their true identity. You find accomplishment through hard work. You have great self-discipline. 4 teaches the value of determination, effort, simplicity, and dependability.”

He nods along, slowly taking it all in. “That… that sounds right. What would someone born on January 1st be?”

“A 2,” Elain answers without missing a beat, making Helion smile. 

“She is the best student I’ve ever had,” he compliments, staring right at Feyre. “I don’t want to give her back.” 

“I’ll come visit you,” Elain assures him. 

“What does 2 mean?” Lucien wonders, something like urgency on his tone.

“Um,” she looks to Helion for a bit of support. He nods his head slightly, reminding her that she’s got this. “the energy of 2 does not seek to control but to achieve balance. Those born on the 2 Life Path have the potential to lead the way for humanity through their refined powers of persuasion, their ability to inspire on an emotional level, and most importantly, their desire to bring equality and peace to this planet.”

Lucien blushes slightly, looking down at his plate. “She is going to change the world.” 

“Who?” Feyre asks, sitting up straighter. Happy for her friend.

“Vassa,” Lucien beams. “Don’t tell her, but I’m— I think I’m falling in love with her.” 

Elain places her hand on her heart, “This is wonderful news, Lucien!” 

“Thank you. I’m excited to take this tea now, to see if my true love match is her… even if it isn’t, even if it was Jesminda, I still want to be with Vassa.” 

“We’re still looking into her curse,” Helion assures him. “I’ll do anything I can to help you get to keep her.” 

“Thank you, Helion,” Lucien smiles. 

They look so similar it blows Elain’s mind. How does he not see it? It should be like looking in a mirror for him. 

“The teas will be delivered to our rooms tonight,” Elain assures. “We are all taking it. Some has even been sent back to Nesta and Cassian to check. Morrigan and Amren are taking it as well.” 

“What does this mean for you two?” Lucien asks Feyre and Rhys. 

They look at each other and smile. Rhys is quick to hold her hand above the table, “we know the truth. This love we have between us in unbreakable.” 

“I personally believe that the reason why mating has become so hard. People were shocked to find out that all 3 of us were mated so soon after becoming fae. It’s unheard of for a whole family to find a mate.” Feyre adds. “The Cauldron picked up to help it. I think the cauldron misses when it was dedicated to giving out love and life to these lands.” 

“So we bring it back,” Helion announces, holding up his glass. “No matter what it takes, we bring true love back to Prythian.” 

Everyone raises their glasses in response, dedicated to the task at hand. 

—

That night she sits in bed beside Azriel, a mug of steaming tea in both of their hands. “Are you sure?” She asks. 

“I want to know… even if it’s not you; even if I’m meant for no one, I want to know and love you anyway,” Azriel assures. 

“And if we do dream of each other?” 

Azriel’s eyes soften; he’s more beautiful than ever before. “Then we’ll know why we’ve wanted one another so badly.” 

“Do you think this tea will make us tired or just aid in our dreams when we do fall asleep?” She asks. 

A knowing smirk grows on his face, “Why?” 

She takes another sip and places her almost empty cup on her night table; Azriel follows her lead and does the same. She quickly straddles his hips, hands on his shoulders, “because I would like to remind you just how badly I’ve wanted you all this time.” 

—

Elain and Azriel are the last to arrive at the breakfast table the nest morning. Hand in hand, matching smiles plastered to their faces. 

They dreamt of each other last night. 

Feyre is sitting in Rhys’ lap, being hand-fed cantaloupe while Lucien laughs. Helion shakes his head with a smile. "Well, I take it you had good dreams?” the golden High Lord asks.

Elain nods, “We had the same dream… us and our daughter playing in the grass behind our home on the Sidra.” 

Feyre places a hand to her heart, “the same girl you’ve seen before?” 

“You’ve seen her before?” Azriel can’t believe it. 

Elain nods, “We adopt her from Illyria, seeing as I can’t have babies for us.” 

Azriel kisses her head, “we’ll create the family we deserve.” 

They take a seat side by side, across from Lucien, “So, what did you dream of?” 

“Fire,” Lucien explains, smile building. “Blinding, bright fire that took over all my senses.” 

“Your firebird,” Feyre swoons. 

He nods, overjoyed with love in his eyes, “My firebird… Helion, who did you see?” 

He takes a deep breath, thinking it over. “I saw my mate… Seraphina.” 

“That’s my… mother’s—“ Lucien blinks in understanding. “What?” 

Helion simply nods. “I met her a year before she was betrothed to Beron. We met again during the great war, and… we had a love affair that lasted over a hundred years. Beron never knew, not until the end, when she became pregnant.” 

Lucien's mechanical eye closes in on Helion, studying him. “You’re… my father?” 

Helion nods. “I didn’t know. Not until last week.” 

“Does my— does Beron know?” 

Helion shrugs, “I’m not certain. However, his level of cruelty to you, from what I’ve heard, could be explained by knowing you’re not his blood.” 

“Then where does—

“Your mother was sold to your father to ensure that the fire in her veins passed on to all his children. He wanted the strongest brood and would do anything to get it.” 

“Why didn’t you do anything about it? Why didn’t you challenge him?” Lucien begs, “You know he hurts her, and you do nothing?” 

“What do you do?” Helion challenges him right back. “Beron is not a man I would like to mess with unless absolutely necessary. Your mother asked me not to intervene. She asked me to let nature take its course, and she said when the time was right when he died, she could come back to me.” 

Lucien just shakes his head, “I wish he would die tomorrow.” 

“We all do,” Rhys murmurs, reminding the men that there are others in the room, still. 

Lucien calms, shaking his head as it all settles around him. “So I’m… I’m heir to the day court?” 

Helion nods, “you are… I’ve heard your fire is bright, almost white. That you can winnow and you run like the wind. I wonder if there’s more light to you, if when you become truly happy... if you’ll glow like myself and Feyre do.” 

“I’ve…. I’ve glowed,” Lucien admits. “I thought it was… I’m not sure what it was.” 

Clearly lying, he doesn’t seem comfortable enough to share. 

“How about we leave you two,” Elain announces, standing with her plate now filled with food. “My chambers have a sitting room; we can move there. Let them bond.” 

“Fantastic idea,” feyre is quick to her feet, feeling just as awkward as everyone else. “I’d love to hear more about your dreams.” 

@greenleaf777 @lostvillainess

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

[elainemg97]

✨True Love Bonds vs Cauldron Bonds Theory Post: First Meetings ✨

✨ACOTAR AND HOFAS SPOILERS✨

Summary: There are 2 types of mating bonds in the ACOTAR world because the Asteri corrupted the Cauldron 15,000 years ago. They corrupted the cauldron to pair people up based on breeding potential and not soul bonds. In this way, they could produce more first-light for them to eat. These different bonds are shown differently from the pairings' first meeting. In this post, I offer to show the different first meetings of 5 couples, 2 of which are true love mates (Feysand and Nessian), 2 that are cauldron mates (Rhys’s parents and Elucien),and 1 that I believe to be a true love mate, but the other cauldron bond is confusing everyone (Elriel).

Ps: Feysand have both types of bonds, the true love bond that was present for years before they met and the cauldron bond that snapped after Under the Mountain. It seems to me that the cauldron thought Feysand would make good babies after Feyre became Fae.

Credit for their amazing theories:

@elriel-fireheart

@icedflames

@nikethestatue

@nyxreads

@psychologynerd

@silverlinedeyes

@elrielbaby

@offtorivendell

@greenleaf777

[mycadences]

Notice that Lucien gave Elain credit for the pivotal role she played in killing the King of Hybern:

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

Elain studied the trees ahead. “Nesta did. I just stabbed him.”

Notice also that Azriel did not:

“We defeated Hybern,” Azriel confirmed. A glance toward Truth-Teller at his side. Then at Nesta. “Nesta beheaded the King of Hybern herself.”

Nesta severed the King of Hybern's head with Truth-teller. Azriel was looking at the knife not because it reminded him of Elain, but because it was literally the weapon used to behead said king. If I were SJM and I wanted to hint at an Elriel endgame without it being blatantly obvious, I would have rewritten the scene like this:

“We defeated Hybern,” Azriel confirmed. A glance toward Truth-Teller at his side. Then at Nesta. “Nesta and her sister beheaded the King of Hybern." [This is NOT WHAT WE GOT. THIS IS NOT CANON BTW. Just including this line because you never know what people will run away with lol.]

There. A simple addition like that would have made a huge difference while still keeping the love triangles vague. Instead, SJM was careful not to bring up Elain anywhere except one time (and Gwyn was also mentioned alongside her, and might I add, first although I admit it's probably not an important point lol) in HOFAS and Azriel's bonus chapter. One might argue the same for Gwyn's lack of appearance in HOFAS but I have written a post tying both Gwyn and Gwydion together (and Gwyn's name did appear several times... in Gwydion). I mean, technically.

And in the same bonus chapter, SJM chose to include a song called "Stone Mother", literally the most Gwynriel-coded name ever. This post by @gwyns-shadowsinger is a lovely summary of all the parallels between the song title, description and Gwyn.

Finally, since I started this post with Elucien, I'll also end it with them. In ACOSF, during Nesta and Elain's argument, Nesta made it a point to bring up their father and how Elain possibly felt guilty over not being able to save him.

Elain stiffened, but refused to balk from whatever she beheld in Nesta’s gaze. “You think I’m to blame for his death?” Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people. “No one but the King of Hybern is to blame for that.” The quaver in her voice belied her firm words.

Azriel hasn't met Papa Archeron. He has zero involvement in this. You know who has, though? Who spent the most time with Papa Archeron in the last few weeks of his life?

Lucien.

He called Papa Archeron "ever the negotiator", suggesting a degree of familiarity. I think he will be the key to Elain's unresolved guilt (and whatever else may be lying beneath the surface) toward her father, perhaps by truly letting it sink in for her how much her father loved her and her sisters by sharing parts of their journey, and that he never would have blamed her for his death.