#i cannot imagine Rhys responding well to this

[lordofhaterism]

Is this the time to mention an au i unironically enjoy is just Lucien whos kinda ynsure about his mating bond and Cassian whos unsure about HIS potential mating bond bonding over it and then becoming closer and closer and woops, trip and fell into a committed relationship, oh no! Surely this will go down well when announced at the family dinner (it did not)

[readychilledwine]

Thrive

Summary - After being sent to the Spring court by her new High Lord, y/n Vanserra is in for a bigger surprise and welcome home than she could have ever imagined. (Smut)

Warnings - mentioned failed engagement, praise kink, mention of breeding kink, vine related bondage, sex pollen, Rhys kind of being a dick, and some Rhys slander, unedited by an outside source (dying on the inside about that, so will continue to you know constantly fix it)

A/N - I apologize for the delay on this. After rereading the original, I REALLY hated how I had Rhysand treating my Vanserra reader when the reality is he is pushing her there for the good of everyone involved. I'm still not 100% happy with this piece, but I'm a sucker for the Tamlin.

There were perks to being Lucien's sister.

You always had the best clothing, sparkling jewelry, and Lucien, ever the dutiful brother since the shared banishment, would always ensure you were warm and safe.

There were also downsides to being Lucien's sister.

The biggest was sitting across from you at his mahogany desk, inky dark hair a mess from the verbal disagreement you two were having.

You hated the Night Court. Rhysand reminded you too much of Beron, too much of Eris. And for no reason.

The most powerful High Lord in the History of the lands, but he couldn't be bothered to take care of all of his fae? Just the ones in his precious Velaris?

That wasn't power in your mind. It was discrimination. It was willful ignorance.

“You cannot command me to go to a court I am banished from, therefore to my fucking death, just to repair YOUR mistakes. Send Azriel or Lucien.”

Rhysand sighed and leaned back. “Azriel has better things to do than play liaison between the Night Court and Tamlin. Lucien was also beaten the last time he was there.”

Rhys paused, locking the door with his magic as footsteps were heard approaching. “You know damn well why I am sending you.”

“He doesn't want it, Rhysand,” defeat laced your tone. “He made that pretty clear.”

“That was when Amarantha was alive. When being with you would have endangered your life. See it from-”

“I see a male who went to war for someone else,” you interrupted. “Who is mourning someone else.”

Rhys slammed his hands down and stood, “Enough! You're going. Pack a fucking bag and get ready.”

An order.

You felt it sit into your bones, weighing them down. You stood and left the office, Lucien closing his book as you did and walking beside you.

“It will be fine,” Lucien seemed to be convincing himself more than you. “He won't hurt you.”

The reality you didn't respond with was that he already had.

Azriel walked beside you silently. You were leading him, gently tugging that frayed bond to lead you to Tamlin. “I won't leave you.”

You nodded. “I wish you would.”

He looked up and sighed. “He shouldn't have asked this of you.”

“He didn't ask,” you clarified. “He ordered. I wasn't given a choice but to obey.”

Azriel's jaw tightened. “I wish you two would get along.”

“Tall ask. You can go. I know where he is.”

It was the same place he always was after Feyre left.

The same place Lucien had found him.

It was the same place you knew you were walking towards for the last mile.

The Starlight Pool.

You had heard the whispered ghost stories. The now almost legend of the High Lord of Spring, a male so lost in grief over the loss of his love that he changed himself into a beast and seemed to have lost the ability to turn back.

The myth Tamlin had become was almost laughable.

Children would whisper that he'd shift back for true love and nothing else. Once that shift happened, Spring would repair and thrive under his hand.

You sighed, sitting next to him as he glared hard at you. True love, my ass, You thought to yourself. “Don't look so thrilled to see me. I'm not exactly excited to be here either.”

Tamlin seemed to roll his eyes before placing His head into your lap. He didn't verbally respond in your mind. Just kept staring ahead at the pool, watching as sunlight danced off the water.

Your hand absentmindedly went to scratch behind his ears, a soft chuckle escaping as he began to purr softly. “We're worried about you, Tam. About Spring. Dad has allied Autumn with a Death God. The continent is an unknown ally. He sees your current state as a chance to start war between the courts.”

His eyes shifted towards you, and he stood. He seemed to motion for you to follow. Eyes locked towards where the remains of his home, your former home stood. “I'm not going in there,” you whispered. “The last time I was in there-”

You didn't need to finish the sentence.

He had locked you and Feyre inside. Trapping you both there.

Only she had been saved by Mor.

His efforts to lock you in had been greater.

Leaving you in just your room with only Alis allowed to enter and leave until he and Lucien returned. Your captivity didn't end until he banished you after Feyre and Lucien ran.

It was worse than being confined to Amarantha's room with Rhys as your only company.

Here you had been alone. Truly alone.

At least Rhys had tried to make light of the situation.

And if you were honest with yourself, constantly seeing Rhysand naked also helped. But he's had told you many times that feeling was mutual.

Tamlin stopped. He turned to you with his head cocked as if questioning your stubbornness and then stalked over to you. “We talk where there won't be ears listening or not at all, y/n. You decide.”

You didn't have time to answer before he all but headbutted you onto his back and began walking.

Tamlin all but threw you down when you two entered the manor. He sat staring at you, not shifting from his beast form. “Did you forget how to shift back? Or do you just not want to?”

Tamlin huffed again, eyes staring into you as you dug into the broken glass on the floor with your foot. He disappeared for a few moments, returning to you in his fae form.

“Tam..” You moved to him, hands holding his dirty face. “You can't keep living like this.” His normally silky golden hair was tangled and stained. Grown out and matted from a lack of maintenance. He was covered in dirt, and Mother knew what else. “Tamlin-”

He shook his head, moving to the stairs while holding your hand in his. “There's still one safe place here. Come.”

You followed him, heart aching as you took in the wreckage of your home. Your former safe haven. Glass and splintered wood were everywhere, deep claw marks down formerly painted walls. Doors ripped from hinges and rooms ransacked for money, for goods, for anything worth a mark.

He took you down a familiar path, down a familiar hall. He took you past the room's Feyre and Lucien had occupied, down further and further until you were in an all too well-known spot. The hall you and he had occupied.

His room was destroyed as well. Windows shattered, floor boards missing.

But two doors at the end of the hall stood closed and heavily warded.

The one you two had built a nursery in.

And the one that led to what would have been your quarters as Lady Spring.

He opened the door to your chambers, wordlessly, and pulled you in. He watched in silence as you stood there.

Nothing had changed.

It was as if your room had stood completely still as war raged all around it.

Countless flower crowns hung on the walls. Their beauty perfectly preserved. Your perfumes, makeup, lotions, hair brushes. They all sat neatly lined up on that carved rosewood vanity, mirror still tilted exactly how you liked it. The romance novel you had been reading sat, bookmark still in place on the coffee table.

Even the two-piece light blue dress you had planned to wear that day he sent you from home was hung up in the exact spot.

“I had always wanted to see you in that dress,” Tamlin walked to it like a ghost, fingers reaching for the material before pulling back. “You never wore it, though.”

Your response was quiet, brain still processing the room, “I didn't ever have an occasion to. We purchased it for our engagement tour.”

Tamlin hummed softly. “I never wanted to call that off.”

The confession hung. Ringing in your ears as he moved to your bathroom, also untouched as the day you had left, and shut the door behind him.

You turned to that other rosewood door. The one you knew led to the nursery for the future babe you and Tamlin had planned on trying for before Amarantha came and ruined your wedding, your mateship, your lives.

You turned the golden knob before freezing completely.

Nothing had moved. The stuffed animals still sat in their hammocks. The crib was still made. The soft curtains still drawn to allow in light.

He preserved you. Only you. Only memories and places involving you. A familiar deep voice entered your mind. I sent you for a reason. You are just too damn stubborn to listen. Claws left as quickly as they came. Your mind empty until two now clean hands found your upper arms.

“I have a lot to make up for-”

You stopped him before he could start, turning rapidly in his arms and pulling his lips down to yours.

Apologies didn't matter to you right now.

You had always believed actions spoke louder than words ever could, and his actions were screaming. They were pleading, no begging, for you to see what Rhysand must have when he came here.

Tamlin didn't want Feyre.

He didn't want that forced love that came from dire circumstances.

He wanted you.

He wanted that love that had started as friendship when you took asylum in Spring.

He wanted that love that grew from several years of courtship.

He wanted the love you two shared that came long before a Mother placed mating bond ever snapped.

Tamlin quickly lifted you, carrying you into the bedroom. You pulled away, forehead resting On his to catch a breath. “I never stopped loving you, and I am so sorry my anger, my hatred, and my need for control stood in the way of that. I will never be able to fix what I broke.”

You shook your head, ignoring the tears forming as he stroked the bond gently. “Sometimes broken things become better once they're allowed to grow and repair.”

Tamlin hummed softly. “You're making this easy on me.”

You responded only with a kiss as he laid you on the bed, hands finding his bare chest. “You cleaned up quickly.”

“You tend to when the love of your life is standing in your ruined home and all you want to do is show her how much you love her, how sorry you are, and worship every inch of her body.”

Tamlin began kissing your cheekbones, then ear, then down your jawline. You nodded as he paused at your neck, a brow raised and waiting for confirmation and consent. You eagerly nodded. Mind already getting lost in the sensations you had not felt in over 50 years.

You knew the anger would come back, the absolute rage with him for what he did to you, to Feyre, to Lucien. You knew the hurt would come back. You knew this was a bandage on a gapping wound just waiting for infestation, but all you could think about what his soft lips kissing and marking their way down the column of your throat, and those wandering hands.

“Hate Night Court attire,” he mumbled into your collarbone before both hands ripped the dress to your navel. “Might as well wear nothing.”

You hand traced to his hair, gently massaging his scalp as he continued to kiss down to your breasts. “So perfect,” he seemed to be speaking to himself, mind trapped in a fog as he licked between the valley of chest and squeezed both of them. He flicked your right nipple as he gently pinched the left before beginning to lick and suck at the sensitive peak, smirking as your back arched and a soft whisper of his name fell from your lips. He waited until he was satisfied before releasing the bud with a soft pop and moving to the other side.

His hands continued moving down, lifting his body slightly, he tore the dress the rest of the way, leaving you bare to him and allowing his hands to move down to your hips, thumbs softly massaging the area.

Tamlin had always been a gentle lover with you, kissing and worship, murmuring praise and adoration into your skin as if those words would erase the years of degradation and pain your father had inflicted.

It was like a fever had hit you the second you realized his lips had followed his hands and he nipped at your hip bone with a hum. You sniffed the air as you felt him chuckling below you. “Unfair,” you whined, back arching again as he kissed your inner thigh before placing your leg over his shoulder. “Tam!” You almost jumped as he kitten licked your core, a growl coming from him as the sight of your soaked heat just begging for him. “Tamlin, I'm not going to last if you keep-” a lick through your folds that nudged the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs made silence fall over you.

You sniffed the air again, scenting that almost sticky sweet scent again as your body began to heat up and relax further into his touch.

Being the mate of the High Lord of Spring had it's perks.

The first was the male, due to years of celebrating Fire Night, knew what he was doing. That was evident as he alternated now between pushing his tongue into your core, opening your walls for him, and suckling and rolling that sweet bundle of nerves over and over humming with each moan that tumbled from your lips and each tug of his hair.

The second perk was also a downside.

Tamlin's powers allowed him to control pollens.

All pollens.

Including the sweet smelling one that was adapting it's self to a scent of musk and rain, wrapping you in the all too familiar and intoxicating scent of your mate and sending your body into overdrive with need.

Sex pollens were Tamlin's favorite thing to use on you.

He loved watching you writhing below him, begging incoherently for something-anything- to ease the heat and arousal paining you.

He loved how quickly you became cock drunk for him, eyes glistening and glazed over from tears. Mouth open as you panted the entire time.

And he loved how quickly and how many times he could force you to cum.

He was pushing for that one, eating your pussy for his pleasure as if it was the most divine meal he'd had in years. Savoring each drop of you like it was the finest wine in the land.

You were almost in tears at this point, riding and grinding on his face until a forearm came and held your hips firmly against the bed. A warning of the third perk of being his mate if you did not behave. “Stop. Moving.” He growled at you, “Or I will stop you myself.”

“Yes, High Lord,” he growled again at the submission, going back to his task at hand. A long whine left your throat as he sucked your clit into his mouth and his free hand moved up your thigh, stroking the soft inner skin there before running along your dripping core. He didn't ease you in, pushing In two wet thick fingers and make your mouth fall open into a silent scream.

He curled them up exactly where he needed to and began hitting that spot over and over in time with his tongue, humming and moaning into you as he got off on your noises of need and pleasure.

You could feel your peak building rapidly and the bond beginning to vibrate for release. “Tam,” you panted out. “Fuck! Tamlin!” You came without warning, screaming his name as his tongue circled your clit again. He never slowed his assault, forcing you to ride it out until your body began to slowly calm itself from the dragged out high and the heat from the sex pollen subsided slightly.

Tamlin released your clit and pulled his fingers from you, licking and sucking them clean as his eyes closed and he almost purred.

He crawled back up your body, kissing you softly. “More,” you begged as your stomach began to retighten, pussy clenching around nothing.

He kissed your neck, nipping at the spot that he knew drove you wild with need. “More?” You nodded eagerly, hands shooting for his pants only to stopped by a familiar thick crawling feeling.

Vines wrapped around your wrists and ankles, pulling your hands above your head and your legs wide open for him. Trapping you with nowhere to go and completely at his mercy. “I told you to stop moving,” he tutted softly.

You watched as he stood, fighting helplessly against the vines pulling tighter and tighter until you stilled. Tamlin removed his pants antagonizingly slow before getting back on top of you. You whined again, unable to communicate what you needed as a full pollen induced haze left you nothing but a mess soaking the sheets below you. “There's my lovely little mate,” a finger stroked your cheek, affection and adoration pouring down the bond. “So pretty when we need our High Lord's cock, aren't we?”

“Please,” his eyes fluttered shut at The plea, loosing your legs slightly to wrap and lock them around his waist using the vine. “Mate, please.”

That one word.

That one Mother blessed word.

It had his end of the bond screaming. Pushing lust, love, and primal need to breed down to you.

Tamlin lined up either your entrance, head of his cock already leaking as he twitched with anticipation. “Mate, take me, please.” He pushed in to the hilt swiftly causing a gasp to push through you as he all but ripped the Air from your lungs.

He didn't wait For you to adjust, that feral urge now winning over, and he set a rough fast pace. Pulling back and slamming into you over and over causing the headboard to pound against the wall.

You had forgotten How he felt, stretching you wide and kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. You had forgotten how good he felt, each vein massaging your walls and hitting nerves Helion's court had even discovered or named yet. You had forgotten how perfect and complete You felt below him, how his length filled you to the brim, slotting him inside of you like your pussy was a sleeve made just for him.

You remembered now why You had turned every lover away at your Door now.

No male or female could make you feel the way Tamlin did as he threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut moaning your name.

Even in submission, spread wide and laid bare for your mate, Tamlin made you feel power as he fucked you, taking your very being into his hands and craddling you tenderly.

“Fucking love you. Love you so much, y/n.” He groaned again, feeling your walls twitch. “Won't last in this perfect pretty pussy, Baby.” His hand moved, coming to your clit again. “Need to feel you cum on my cock. Need you to scream my name. Need to cum inside you, petal.”

You moaned, eyes beginning to water and drool coming out of your constantly open mouth. You were so lost in each thrust, each roll of his hips, each soft circle his finger made on you that you could only lay There. All words besides his name and the pleading for him to keep going to keep fucking you had eddied from your mind.

You felt your walls begin to twitch and then as your need for release began to approach a crescendo. “Tamlin,” whispered. “Tam-”

“I know, petal. I know. Me too. Need you to cum, y/n. Need you to, baby. Please.”

And there is was. His submission and begging sent you over the edge, screaming his name as you began to milk his cock and tightened your leg around him.

He spilled into you seconds later, moaning your name loudly as he buried himself deep inside of you.

Neither Of you spoke as you came down from that shared high. Vines slowly removed themselves from your body, causing you to fall limp onto The bed in a mess of whines and whimpers.

Tamlin rolled over, pulling you onto him and keeping his cock deep inside of you.

He reached to where the covers had been kicked to, pulling them on top of both of you and cradling you against his chest.

You felt the shields go back up. Eyes fluttering shut as he played with your tangled red hair.

“Y/n, you knew what today Was before you came. Right?” You hummed against him with a shrug. “Petal. It's Calanmai. We just-” Tamlin stopped speaking when he saw you were deep asleep. “We'll talk about it in the morning.”

[sad-scarred-sassy]

This is a wild Elucien headcanon…

but please imagine Lucien being in a really dangerous situation with the Autumn court, like something happened and they have him as a prisoner, or unable to leave.

And Elain is there listening to how Lucien could potentially be held captive in a cold cell or even tortured.

And shes there when Eris says the only way to save him is if he has real ties to the Night Court or if he officially becomes a member, and the only way to do that is if he gets mated/married to someone from there, not anyone, but the High Lady’s sister.

And everyone is outraged with what he is suggesting but Elain is suddenly quiet.

And she suddenly says “I will do it” and everyone gapes at her, some try to talk her out of it (possibly Feyre or Nesta) but Rhys just nods.

And they send notice to the Autumn court that they cannot harm Lucien because he is a Night Court citizen, but Beron doesn’t believe it, he demands that Elain goes there so he can determine it.

Chaos, outrage, but she agrees, and she obviously doesn’t go alone. She convinces herself that while she doesn’t owe Lucien anything, she is tired of the bloodshed, the loss, and if she has the power in her hands, she will act. That is all, she couldn’t care less about him. She convinces herself she would be this worried for anyone that is close to her sister, it’s not because shes worried and scared and petrified of something bad happening to him.

They’re in the Forest House, they bring out Lucien who is luckily generally unharmed but Elain looks at the binds in his wrists and her whole body reacts to the sudden urge to protect. Beron takes one sniff at them and knows it is true. They’re mates. But Beron says an unfulfilled mating bond is not valid (listen idk about these fae laws bear with me) they need to marry. Elain declares that was the plan all along. Lucien is shocked. (I just imagine what must be going through his head seeing his mate stand before Beron in the same room where Jesminda was killed)

They let Lucien go with his mate but they have to stay in the Forest House until everything gets resolved. Elain and Lucien are shoved into a room, no more chains on him, but he doesn’t understand any of it.

Both of them are standing awkwardly in the room. Lucien is staring at her as if she has grown ears, still shocked, still reliving moments, furious at them for being so dumb as to risk themselves for him. He supposed he really was a big asset for Rhys to have done this. But her… why was she here? Why did she put herself in this position?

“Did they make you do this?” He says through his teeth.

She muses on what to say. “No” she gets offended with the assumption that she can’t make decisions for herself. “I agreed to this and came on my own free will”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I’m tired of people dying, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I could have done something” A silence and for some forsaken reason Elain has the need to add. “This doesn’t mean what you think it means”

Something irks at Lucien then, and the awoken nerves on his body make him respond to that. “And please tell, Lady, what do I think it means?”

Elain clenches her fists. “That I’ve changed my mind about you… about this” She signals between them. “This is just temporary, out of necessity”

Lucien just stares at her.

“I never entertained that you did, I can assure you.” It is easier to turn on her, on this beautiful female that is putting herself at risk for him, than to be hurt at the continuing rejection from her. “You’ve always just assumed that I’m some brute fae that wants to steal you away, let me tell you now that we’re speaking frankly, that its not the case. I can’t control the pull from the bond, but I have no interest in pursuing a female who doesn’t want me”

That sends Elain to retaliate. “What about the gifts then, was that not pursuing?” She cocks her head arrogantly.

“I was bringing them to Feyre as well. That was me being polite, but guess you don’t know the first thing about that”

“You are one to talk about politeness when I’m here risking my life for your neck and this is how you treat me” She takes one step closer.

“I never asked you to do it” He mirrors her and steps closer with his broad hands clenched in fists.

“I will just let you die next time then”

“Fine by me, as long as I don’t have to endure you shoving it on my face”

“Asshole”

“I’ve been called worse” A sly, angry smile creeps at one corner of his mouth. She suddenly realizes they’re breathing on each other’s face.

“And all this time I thought you were a gentleman” She summons her anger to keep focused.

“You will learn I can be a gentleman, Elain” Her name on his lips, for the first time. “But I can be so much worse too”

His breath is hot on her face, their hearts already beating fast.

“You admit you were pretending then, to win me over”

A sharp breathy laugh from him. “If I wanted to win you over, I would not have tried to be gentle”

Her lips form a thin line as she holds herself, the pull, his words, the sudden effect of his mismatched gaze intense on her face.

“You shouldn’t have done this” He says quietly, roughly, his eyes showing something beyond just annoyance, she sees the fear in them. She pushes it back.

“What’s done is done” She says. “We will pretend, see this through, and then we’re done”

“Alright, dove”

She’s startled. Her nostrils flare. She ignores the outrageous pet name he just used on her. “I’m going to take a bath, I suggest you do the same, you stink” She begins to walk away and stops herself “I mean after I’m done” She frowns as she strolls away.

He watches her with sudden amusement.

He’s scared, hes pissed and hurt. He’s tired. But something inside him sparks, and he can’t really put a name to it.

Oh he’s not alright.

[sunshinebingo]

Thanks loads to my beta readers @sadiegirl2021 and @daughterofwrathandruin <3

Chapter summary: Time for the first ball of this season! And it might bring along a few surprises. Word count: 1.5k

Read this chapter on Ao3 or below the cut

“Wow!” Cassian exclaimed as they stepped foot inside what the River House, home to Rhysand and Feyre, had been transformed into.

Azriel agreed that no other word could describe what their eyes were seeing. Starry Night indeed, he thought as he took in the curtains that had all been replaced with midnight blue ones, the silver candles and other glittering ornaments around the massive room. What marked the quintessence of the theme of the first ball of this social season however, was undeniably the high ceiling painted like a galaxy, and from which dangled tiny crystal stars that casted specs of light on the walls and floor, as well as on every guest that gaped at the place in awe. It felt like magic was in the air.

Azriel and Cassian had teased their brother for choosing a theme after the name of his own land. The Duke of Night hosting a Night themed ball? How unpredictable, they had commented with barely concealed chuckles. But they had to admit that Rhys and his wife had excelled at bringing their vision to life. And looking at the couple strolling towards them in their outfits that complemented their decor, they truly did seem like the eminent rulers of this world of theirs.

“Blimey! This is magnificent brother,” added Cassian.

The couple smiled, but it was Feyre who responded. “Thank you. I spent weeks preparing this.”

“I did things too, darling,” Rhysand chimed in with a frown directed at his wife.

“What was it that you did? Flashing your useless smiles at my sister the entire time?” Nesta raised her brows at Rhysand from where she stood with her hands holding onto Cassian’s arm.

Rhysand graced Nesta with a smile. The kind that he reserved for her whenever they were among society and he wanted to maintain his image of the ever charming Duke who had never considered throwing her into a fountain.

“You look lovely tonight, Nesta,” Rhys praised her.

Indeed, Nesta and her husband had both donned elegant outfits of a purple so deep it could have been mistaken for black. As for Azriel, he had disregarded all of his mother’s colour suggestions and had gone straight for regular black, with a white shirt and cravat to avoid a complete funeral look.

Nesta’s silvery blue eyes narrowed on Rhysand as she looked him up and down.

“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for you.”

A few snickers rose among the group, as well as a reminder from Cassian to his wife to, “Be nice to the host sweetheart or he might be tempted to kick our arses out.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but failed to reign in her smile when Cassian leaned down to kiss her temple. The gesture prompted Azriel to raise his hand to his temple where he adjusted the strand of hair he had used to cover the purplish bruise there.

An entire night and an entire day had gone by since his serendipitous meeting in the woods near his home, and yet Azriel’s mind was still stuck into that moment. And all those that had followed in the presence of the miss Berdara who looked like a Vanserra.

He suspected that he had indeed suffered a small concussion. Not from the proof that still lingered on his head. But from the way his entire thought seemed to be consumed by this most unexpected yet not unwelcomed encounter. If his mother and his staff had not seen her with their own eyes, and if the former had stopped talking about their guest since she left their home yesterday, Azriel could have believed that he had in fact hit his head after a fall and had imagined Gwyneth entirely.

He was still doubting this now. That was until Nesta pointed towards the entrance, causing everyone in their little circle to turn around.

“Who is that?”

Standing there, looking as bright as the moon against the dark sky in an ivory and grey gown, her updo adorned with little diamonds that caught the light and that he could see shimmering from this distance, Azriel was certain that Gwyneth was not a figment of his imagination.

“I have never seen her before.”

“She is breathtaking.”

“There’s another one of them now?”

“She seems a little tense, don’t you think?”

Azriel heard the comments made by his family but could not bring himself to make any. More questions about the newest arrival were whispered by the other guests around them. Still, his focus could not be taken away from the entrance for long enough to note who was asking what to who.

He stared at her for long enough to see more than her exquisite attire. There was something odd in the way she stood. Her shoulders were slightly slumped and her chin not raised like it had been when she had responded to his barbs with more of her own. He also noticed how her fingers were fidgeting with the white fan she held in her hand.

It was understandable that anyone would be nervous when entering a place for the first time, especially if said place was a grand ball filled with all the members of a society one was not yet well acquainted to.

Five man had entered behind Gwyneth, with three of them quick to scatter across the room. The Earl Beron, head of the Vanserra brood, and his wife, walked past Gwyneth and their two remaining sons, Eris and Lucien, the eldest and youngest respectively. Azriel noted with astonishment how a whisper from the Earl had the young woman immediately straightening up. With a frantic nod of her head and a noticeable deep breath in, her face transformed from a display of nerves to a display of nerves with a smile that did not reach her eyes. It made Azriel uneasy to witness her in any state that did not involve her enchanting teal eyes shining with mirth, and where her smile seemed like a mask to hide behind. Even the irritation that had been apparent on her face when they had met was preferable to what he was seeing now.

“Let us go greet our guests, dearest.” Feyre tugged on Rhysand’s arm and walked towards the Vanserras.

With his eyes still on the woman who had captured everyone's attention, Azriel’s feet followed his brother and sister-in-law. His breath caught in his throat when they stopped before her and those mesmerising eyes finally noticed him. He did not even acknowledge the disdain in the Earl’s facial expression and words as he greeted them. Beron soon dragged his wife further into the room, leaving Eris to present Gwyneth Berdara as a cousin from Sangravah.

“These are the Duke and Duchess Velaris of Night.” Eris introduced Rhysand and Feyre. “And this,” he motioned to Azriel, “is the Viscount Singer.”

Without thinking twice, Azriel took Gwyneth’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss Berdara,” he said before he placed a swift kiss on her knuckles.

He wished there weren’t so many eyes so that he could remove their gloves and hold her hand in his bare one. He had been thoroughly surprised by the way she had taken his hand the other day with no sign of disgust or any concern at all about his scars. It had made him feel as though, for the duration that Gwyneth had held them, his hands were to her as smooth and beautiful as hers were to him.

A flush spread on her freckled nose and cheeks, changing the colour to a delightful peach. Azriel was vaguely aware of the four other people who stood beside them, as well as the others who were close by and pretending not to watch. Gwyneth quickly pulled her hand back after Eris cleared his throat.

“The pleasure is mine, my Lord,” she replied with a curtsy, the clear nervousness in her body coming out in her voice as well.

“Have you made any friends in the area yet, miss Berdara?” Feyre inquired with a smile meant to put her guest at ease.

Gwyneth’s eyes flicked to Azriel before she turned to Feyre. For a second, the smile that she offered the Duchess was the same as the one she had on in his and his mother’s company the day before, around the tea table. But it vanished as soon as the voice of another person was heard approaching behind them.

“Good evening,” Tamlin Churchill, Duke of Spring, greeted them all tersely.

He clapped Lucien playfully on the back before he took Gwyneth’s hand. She tensed as he hooked her arm in the crook of his elbow but made no move to step away. She opened her fan in one swift and smooth flick of her hand and began fanning herself as she looked everywhere around the room.

“Are you feeling well, miss Berdara?” Azriel could not help but ask.

He assumed that she had already met the tall, blond man who was a very good friend to Lucien. But her behaviour was becoming more unsettling by the second. Gwyneth forced a smile on her face once again and nodded.

“Ah,” Tamlin exclaimed, looking down at the woman on his arm then at Azriel, Rhysand and Feyre. “I see you have already met my betrothed. Lovely, is she not?”

His what?

[wishcamper]

the culpability (or not) of Mor

CW: sexual assault, violence against women

Okay I want to talk about the Mor of it all for a moment. She’s going to be present frequently in my story, more than I expected. She’s an interesting foil for Nesta, especially in their individual relationships with Cassian. I have opinions on Mor and the events surrounding what happened with her engagement, but I want to check to see if I’m way off base.

Seeing it through Cassian’s eyes, I imagine I’d be really fucked up if I found out one of my friends/lovers was assaulted as a direct result of us sleeping together. On top of that, Mor knew her family would likely retaliate for what she did and chose not to tell Cassian. Why? 

Genuinely, why didn’t she tell him? Because he was strong enough to fight Eris and her family? Or because she thought he’d say no if he knew what followed? That makes it seem like she believed it was fucked up, and kept him ignorant on purpose because she needed him to accomplish her goal. I have a problem with that!

Let’s also remember this man’s mother was abused (and later murdered) via systemic gendered violence. To then be the catalyst for a woman’s assault - it would be soul-crushing. I cannot see a world in which he would’ve followed through had he known the potential consequences. He says in Wings and Embers that he regretted it the moment he realized she was a virgin, and by that point it was too late.

With Nesta and the priestesses, even Feyre, Cassian is shown to be very aware of women’s body cues when they feel unsafe and respond to that sensitively. Sometimes he gets angry and retaliates when he feels rejected, and he usually feels shame for it. It’s clear that, on many occasions, being a safe person for women is really important to him. It’s also true that in Wings and Embers he calls Nesta a bitch in his head, so it’s not like there isn’t room for growth here, too.

I recognize that Mor was 100% in an absolutely horrifying position. I would not blame her for making the choices she did in order to survive and maintain autonomy over her body and her life. She says she was desperate, and that can cloud even the best decision-making. But given that they’ve been friends for centuries it feels odd to me that this is unresolved, and that no one seems to find her responsible for the breach of trust. Or that none of them realize the ways it’s affected Cassian and his romantic relationships. The ways it’s affected all of them, really, Az and Rhys too.

So I want to know:

Do you think Mor wronged Cassian by having sex with him to get out of her engagement and/or not telling him about the consequences? Why or why not?

If yes, to what extent should she be held accountable for those choices given the situation before and after, as well as the larger context of the culture she’s operating in?

[panicatthenightcourt]

Break It

Pairing: Elucien

Summary: Lucien asks something of Elain.

Warnings: Mean Lucien, mean Elain...that’s all lol

wc: 550

a/n: Super short drabble that came about really quickly- it’s unedited! Love me some mean elucien. I know they get fiery. Enjoy :)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three [Read on AO3]

“I can’t do this anymore,” Lucien’s voice was sizzling hiss. His flaming red hair blowing aggressively in the wind hitting them on a balcony in the River House.

“I don’t know what you speak of,” Elain replied. Her back was ramrod straight. Ready, in her own way, for an attack. She watched, her own cheeks pinched rosy pink from the cold, as Lucien’s face flushed with annoyance.

Whipping his head away from her he said, “You damn well know what I speak of.”

“The bond,” she stated simply with a dip of her chin.

Lucien scoffed, his head shaking with disdain. “Elain, I have reached my limit. I cannot continue to walk on eggshells around you. Cannot continue to watch as you skitter away from me and avoid me like the plague. I cannot continue letting Rhysand use our bond as a leash to keep me here doing his bidding.”

Elain bristled, her body beginning to shake softly. From the cold or from anger, she would not know. “Do not speak of my brother that way. Rhys would never do that.”

Another scoff left his lips and Elain felt her anger intensify. “He may not do it with malice, but it is a political gain he has exploited.”

Deciding not to speak on it further, Elain snapped, “What is it you have dragged me out in the cold to tell me?”

In an instant, a bubble of warmth surrounded them. She felt her shoulders, tight with tension and emotion, fall slightly at the comfort the heat brought her.

“Break it.”

At once, all the tension returned. If Lucien had slapped her, she would have been less shocked. Elain would have never imagined Lucien to ask that of her. He was a fae male, the bond, however estranged, should have been sacred to him.

“I will not.” Elain heard herself say. She hadn’t meant to say it. She hadn’t meant to say it because she could not reason, even to herself, why she couldn’t allow the bond to be broken.

“You are being unreasonable and I will not stand for it.” Flames lit his russet eye, his golden one whirring madly.

Elain had no idea what came over her when she wittily responded, “Then sit.”

She swore Lucien’s mouth twitched with a hint of a smile before forcing it back into an unimpressed line. 

“Lady Elain,” his voice was a low murmur. “This is not a time for jokes.”

Elain suppressed a shiver at the way he addressed her and met his gaze with the same fire she found in his. “I would say now is as good a time as any.”

Lucien brow quirked up. “You find humor in breaking a mating bond?”

“I told you,” Elain stated calmly. “I will not be breaking the bond.”

Matching her tone, Lucien responded, “I guarantee, Lady, that you will.”

She studied him for a short while. From his shock of auburn hair to the gold of his skin. The impeccably pressed linen of his clothing to the freshly buffed leather of his boots. Elain flicked her eyes back to his to find him studying her just as closely.

She whipped around and began walking back inside. Calling over her shoulder, she said, “I haven’t the slightest idea how you will manage that.”

[demonlovesangel]

Elucien VS Elriel throughout the books

Brace yourselves because this is going to be a LONG post but I'm going to do it because people seem to disregard Elain's feelings at all times, especially regarding how she reacts around both Lucien and Azriel. So here we go!

And by the way I'm only going to count actual interactions to make it fair, and the most important ones because if not I would be here all day.

Acomaf

Elucien

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him-

~

But Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder.

At Lucien- whose face she had finally taken in.

Elriel

Elain said, "It's all very disorienting."

"I can imagine," Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare but Azriel's attention was on my sister, a polite bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

~

Rhys chuckled, Cassian's wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel's ease as proof that things weren't indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.

In Acomaf we can see the start of both relationships, but they start with a real difference. Elain and Azriel get along from the very beginning, whereas with Lucien she cringes away because he's one of the reasons she was turned and she doesn't know him, even if she did realize he's her mate.

With Azriel though they talk about his flying, how beautiful it is, she smiles and asks him directly every time. Their interactions come naturally.

Acowar

Elucien

For a long moment, Elain's face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. "Lucien," she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. "From my sister's stories. Her friend."

"Yes."

But Elain blinked slowly. "You were in Hybern."

"Yes." It was all he could say.

"You betrayed us."

He wished she'd shoved him out of the window behind her. "It- it was a mistake."

Her eyes went frank and cold. "I was to be married in a few days."

~

She looked away- towards the windows. "I can hear your heart," she said quietly.

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

"When I sleep," she murmured, "I can her your heart beating through the stone." She angled her head, as if the city held some answer. "Can you hear mine?"

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, "No, lady. I cannot."

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. "No one ever does. No one ever looked- not really." A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. "He did. He saw me. He will not now."

~

Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. "It felt... strange," Elain breathed. "Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib."

Lucien exposed his palms to her. "I'm sorry."

Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded as she shook her head...

~

But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward.

Lucien inclined his head in a bow the movement hiding the gleam of his eye- the longing and sadness.

And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go... He did not glance back at Elain.

Did not see the half step she took towards the stairs- as if she'd speak to him. Stop him.

~

"I'm fine," Elain said quietly. And then asked, noticing the gore on him, the torn clothes and still-bloody weapons, "Are you-"

"Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but... Yes, I'm in one piece."

A faint smile bloomed on Elain's lips.

~

Lucien shrugged. "First- here. To help. Then..." Another glance at Elain. "Who knows?"

I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, "You could come to Velaris."

Elriel

Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face.

Azriel smiled faintly. "Would you like me to show you the garden?"

She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breath of his shoulder. The wings peeking over them.

But Elain did not balk from him did not shy away as she nodded- just once.

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn't tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, "Beautiful."

~

"I can help her," said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his finger as he extended a hand.

Nesta monitored him like a hawk but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.

~

The shadowsinger angled his head.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, "Should we- does she need...?"

"She doesn't need anything," Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

Elain was staring at the spymaster now- unblinkingly.

"We're the ones who need..." Azriel trailed off. "A seer," He said, more to himself than us. "The Cauldron made you a seer."

~

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

~

Yet Elain didn't seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger's cheek...

~

Elain weighed my words... And slowly closed her fingers around the blade.

(...)

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.

What is funny to me here, is how the relationship between Elain and Lucien seems forced but at the same time they kind of try. She directly says to him he betrayed them, continued to ignore him and eventually she did try to get close (in her own way) but apparently decided against it. And at the end even Feyre has to nudge Elain to say something to Lucien, which she did.

Elain's relationship with Az starts off from him putting her down on the town house's foyer, and her never balking away from him. Like literally never, in all their interactions she takes his arm, his hands, looks at him unblinkingly, and even kisses his cheek. Ends up accepting Truth-Teller too, and locking eyes with Azriel. The sweetest girl is not afraid of the most frightening illyrian male... Considering how Elain is, that says a lot.

You can look at this in many ways, but no one can deny that by this book, Az and Elain have a mutual understanding and chemistry.

Acofas

Elucien

A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. "Both of you."

Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.

~

My sister rose to her feet. "I should get refreshments."

Lucien rose as well. "No need to trouble yourself. I'm-"

But she was already out of the room.

Elriel

Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants.

I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.

(...)

But I strode to my seat- nestled between Amren and Mor- in time to see Elain say to Azriel, "Hello."

(...)

But Azriel only took Elain's heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, "Sit. I'll take care of it."

Elain's hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them...

~

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. "It's for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often."

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

(...)

Elain smiled again, ducking her head.

~

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room my sister showing him the plans she'd sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.

Honestly, for me, this is by far the most telling book even if it is a novella.

The interaction between Lucien and Elain was so forced. She didn't want to be there, he was kind of uncomfortable too and he even says he can't stand being in the same room as her. Afterwards Elain clearly shows no interest in him and even leaves the room. And Elain says to Feyre that he's not entitled to her affections of attentions, we really need to pay attention to her!

With Azriel though... Wow, their interactions just kept on growing and growing. Elain is clearly affected when she looks at him, her throat bobs, she gets all shy (in a good way), smiles at him too, and even gifts him the headache powder because she was paying attention to him throughout the previous months. That clearly says how much she's been noticing Azriel. Not to mention she explains all her gardening plans and they stay talking after everyone went to bed.

I honestly think it's really cute and that's how a relationship should develop.

Acosf

Elucien

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

~

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian's heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of the newfound boldness to be seen.

Elriel

"I always thought she was born on the wrong side of the wall," Elain admitted. "She made ballrooms into battlefields and plotted like any general. Like you two," she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel.

Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.

~

"I was just checking on dessert," Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain's breath caught slightly, she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

By this point it's just painfully obvious. Both Lucien and Elain are uncomfortable with each other even if Lucien still does try (but I still think it's because of the mating bond, not because he likes her). He even says in a previous chapter that he's not always in Velaris to see his mate and looks uncomfortable saying that.

With Azriel we can see something has happened or is happening. Small glances, Elain getting shy but smiling at him, him smiling at her and her looking away? That charged look? Elain's breath caught slightly? There's definitely something going on there and we know what it is from Az's PoV. By that point they have been looking at each other, smiling and brushing hands, not to mention Elain started every single interaction in that PoV. She wanted to kiss him, and gifted him another funny and thoughtful gift yet again because she notices him.

~

I didn't put every single one of the interactions, just the ones that said a lot from Elain's reactions because that's the point of this post, to show how she clearly acts around the two males. And I didn't put the PoV because it's a bonus chapter even when it clarifies Elain's feelings.

With Lucien it's forced, she cringes away, doesn't know what to do, and in the end she's just uncomfortable and clearly doesn't want anything regarding their situation.

With Azriel it started off naturally, they developed a friendship with mutual understanding and respect, and it evolved into something else. The interest in each other was always there. Clearly both of them don't know what to do with this because the feelings are strong and have been there for a long time (at the very least a year because of the last Winter Solstice). From the PoV we know it's not easy, even if both of them like each other (Elain has a mate whether she likes it or not). By this point, because of all the external influences, they can't be together, but I think that's what going to play off in her book, choice.

We need to take into account Elain's reactions and choices. Elain's book is most probably the next one, she's going to be the main character as Feyre and Nesta were. What she wants or needs is what matters, not what everyone else thinks. And from all her scenes we can gather that she's going to fight to make everyone change their mind regarding what she wants to do, who she wants to be.

As you would with a female friend, be supportive of her journey and choices and don't bring her down because it's not what you would have chosen for yourself. Everyone deserves the world, and everyone needs to follow their own path and make their own choices.

[likeiwishiknew]

Azriel x Gwyn - The Jump

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716227/chapters/73319802

He was not a fan of birthdays. 

He certainly never celebrated his own. 

But the Night Court, his family, enjoyed them plenty. Though, admittedly, they enjoyed any occasion where they could all gather together for good fun and good wine. 

Tonight was Nesta’s birthday, and Cassian had gone all out on decorating the House of Wind. Rhys had gifted the place to Cassian and Nesta in honor of their mating, but Azriel still kept rooms here. The pair had insisted upon it, saying that it was much his home as it was theirs. 

Azriel wasn’t so sure about that. Home...he didn’t quite know what that was supposed to feel like. 

He stood off to the side as he always did, watching the revelry. 

Mor was speaking to Emerie. There was an ease between them that he was quite certain he’d never before seen from the female who’d once consumed his thoughts. 

It was no question that Mor was beautiful. He would always acknowledge that, would always care for her, but after centuries of pining after her, he found, in recent years, she no longer affected him the way she used to. And in truth, he was grateful for it. 

Over the centuries he’d tried to convince himself to be content with what they had. That her companionship, her friendship was enough. But that was the thing about one-sided love. No matter how hard you might feign contentment at being able to remain by their side, a part of you would always hope for more. And a heart that yearned for someone who showed no reciprocation was bound to become bitter. 

He was no exception.

One would think it would’ve made him wise enough not to ensure he never fell into the same pattern again. But he damn near had. 

Elain Archeron was lovely, gentle, and seemed to have shared his attraction. 

She was also another’s mate. 

He and Rhys had almost come to blows over Azriel attraction to the middle Archeron sister. His brother had gone as far as ordering him to stay away. An order that had irked him and had the dominant side of him almost determined to go against his High Lord’s order, if for no other reason than to prove his will was no one’s to command. However, time and some distance had given him perspective. He’d come to realize that perhaps it wasn’t so much Elain that he wanted but the idea of her. The idea of belonging with someone so beautiful and soft. The idea of being made whole, the way his brothers had when they’d found their mates. 

That was what he wanted, to feel whole. To be unbroken. 

His quiet introspection was interrupted by a burst of laughter. His eyes darted across the room at the almost musical sound. He caught sight of Gwyn speaking to Nesta and Cassian. Her face alight with happiness.

He hadn’t seen her since their uncomfortable encounter at the shop.

The sight of her put him in good spirits. Until he noticed the excessive rosy tint to her complexion. It took him a second to realize the issue. 

She was drunk, or at least well on her way to it. 

What the hell? 

He headed to where she was, eating up the distance in a few long strides. 

Cassian was the first to notice his approach. His brother gave him an interested look. Perhaps, surprised to see him headed toward people rather than away from them. 

He came up beside Gwyn, something she would normally detect immediately. But with her dulled senses she took far too long to notice. 

When she finally did she only looked up at him in confusion, like she did not know who he was. 

“Are you drunk?” he asked concerned. 

A mischievous smile crossed her face, recognition in her eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Maybe just a tiny bit,” she admitted, raising her fingers to emphasize how tiny. 

Nesta spoke up, “It hadn’t occurred to me how low her alcohol tolerance would be. Though, in retrospect, it should’ve. I doubt she grew up drinking much at the temple.” 

“I feel great though,” Gwyn interjected. 

Cassian gave her an affectionate smile. His friend looked as though he found this amusing. Azriel did not. He wanted to insist she go rest and sober up, but he knew in his gut she would not appreciate being ordered about. 

“Perhaps, you should like to get some air,” he offered instead. 

Her smile grew wider and she nodded, “That is a most excellent idea.” 

She turned to Nesta and Cassian, “Would you the two of you like to join?” 

Nesta smiled at her friend.

“I think we’ll stay inside, mingle with the others. But you’ll be safe with Azriel,” his brother’s mate started saying, only to meet his eyes, “Right, Az?” 

He returned her stare, “Of course.”

Nesta gave an approving nod and took Cassian by the hand, leading him away. 

Azriel offered Gwyn his arm, uncertain she’d be able to make her way to the balcony without some assistance. He waited for her to scoff, offended, but she took it with no protest. 

He led her over to the double doors leading to the balcony and pushed them open.

Releasing his arm, she rushed to the edge. Her face was awash with wonder as she took in the light of the stars, almost as if seeing them for the very first time.

He quietly observed as she took a deep breath, taking in the cool night air. 

“You know I never knew how much I missed the sky until I saw it for the first time again after spending nearly two years locked away in the dark,” she confessed, a smile on her face, “I thank the stars, that I found the courage to meet Nesta and Cassian up here that first day.” 

He did too. 

In moments like this, he was in awe of her. This young woman, whose soul remained bright, whose heart still managed to be grateful, even after all she’d endured. 

Gwyn spun back around to him, “Shall we play a game?” she teased. 

He smirked at her, “What sort of game?”

“A trust game,” she hopped up onto the ledge, sending his heart damn near leaping out of his chest.

“What are you doing?” 

She stood facing him and shot him a playful smile. 

“Game starts...now!” she called out, letting herself fall backward off the ledge. 

Fuck. He cursed. 

He spread his wings and jumped after her. 

She was falling fast, but he was faster. He swept her up into his arms and pulled her close. Moments later, he had them touching down gently on the ground below. 

“What the hell was that!?” his voice near shouting. 

Gwyn tapped her chin in thought, “I believe humans call it a trust fall.” 

His brows furrowed in annoyance, “You could’ve been hurt.”

She stared at him, looking genuinely surprised at his frustration, “I only did it because I knew it was safe.” 

“Jumping off a balcony when you cannot fly is hardly safe,” he admonished.

“It is when I know you’ll catch me,” she all but sang back, grinning up at him. 

He fell silent at her admission. He wasn’t sure how to respond. 

So, he shook his head and changed the subject. 

“Let’s get you back into the house.” 

As he readied to fly them back up, she spoke. 

“About the necklace...” she started. 

He winced that the mention, uncertain he wished to discuss it with her in her current state or any state. 

But she was too drunk to pick up on his mood.

“I want you to know I was never angry I was...hurt some. But mostly I was...embarrassed...I think...I don’t...it doesn’t matter,” she trailed off, “I know you didn’t have ill intentions. I’m the one who made assumptions.”

He paused. About what?

“So it wasn’t you who hurt me. It was me. I - never mind, it is silly anyways.”

“No. It’s not. Tell me,” he insisted. 

She hesitated, “I was silly for thinking someone like you would like someone like me.” 

Her admission floored him. Why would she think that?

Any male would be so lucky to -

He stopped himself. He couldn’t have this conservation now. Not when she likely wouldn’t even remember any of this come morning. 

Tucking her close to his chest, he went ahead and winnowed them back upstairs. 

Gwyn glanced around, clearly not understanding how she’d gotten from one place to the next. 

“I’m taking you back to your room,” he declared. 

She shook her head, “You can’t enter the dorm area, priestess’ only.” 

Damn, that was right. Funny how she happened to remember that little detail. 

As though summoned by her sister’s presence, Nesta appeared.

“She’s a bit of mess so it probably would not be wise to bring her downstairs,” the female pointed out, “I’ll take her back to my old rooms, that way if she needs anything I’ll be close by.” 

“It’s alright. I’ll bring her,” he insisted. 

Nesta raised a single brow. 

“I want to make sure she’s fine,” he defended, holding the female’s stare. 

“And you don’t trust that I’d make sure of that?” Nesta returned, with the barest hint of offense. 

“I - Nesta, please, let me do this," he requested. 

She took him in with her all too seeing gaze. 

They stayed like that. Assessing each other, until she realized he wouldn’t yield on this. At which point, she only nodded her assent. He gave a single nod, passing her to take the stairs up. 

Reaching the room in little time at all, he opened the door - taking care not to jostle Gwyn in his arms. 

With steady footsteps, he headed over to the large bed. Kneeling on the edge, he laid her down as gently as possible. 

His shadows danced around her, kissing her skin as though wishing her good night. 

She curled up with his arm. He tried to pull away but she held on tight. 

“Gwyn, Gwyn,” he whispered, to no avail. 

He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into her face, and she nuzzled his hand. Her hold on him loosening. 

He was about to pull away again when she whispered his name, “Azriel.”

The sound was so faint he wondered if he’d imagined it. He stared down at her, trying to discern if she was awake. But she did not stir. 

His name on her lips brought the tiniest smile to his face. Carefully, he extracted himself from her hold and reluctantly got off the bed. Something inside him calmed at the sight of her peacefully sleeping face. He stared down at the hand she’d held in hers. 

“If there’s anyone who isn’t good enough, it’s me,” he whispered, eyes returning to her.  

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, “Goodnight, Berbara.” 

- - - 

Her head was pounding. 

She had a sour taste on her tongue, and she was unbelievably thirsty.

Turning over in bed, she opened her eyes. It took all of two seconds for her to realize this was not her room. She sat up and frantically looked around. Absolutely nothing looked familiar. 

Staring toward the door Gwyn willed herself to remember how she’d gotten here. 

She took a deep breath and counted down from twenty. By the time she reached ten, everything from the night before came flooding back. Her face heated from embarrassment. 

God, she could not believe she’d done and said those things. 

Glancing on the nightstand she realized someone had placed a jug of water there, along with a glass. She smiled at the thoughtfulness. 

Filling it to the brim, she took a large sip. When she suddenly remembered she had morning plans. 

With Azriel. 

Oh, gods. 

She was never drinking again.

For a brief instant, she considered not showing up. But that idea went as quickly as it had come.

She was a grown woman. She would not hide from her mistakes and avoid Azriel when he’d been nothing but good to her. Despite her ridiculous behavior. With that in mind, she jumped out of bed and quickly hurried back to her own room, to change out her clothes, before heading up to meet him.

Gwyn had just made it past the archway when Azriel turned. He looked almost surprised to see her. Which was strange because surely his shadows had warned him of her approach. 

He watched with keen focus as she approached.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admitted.

She met his handsome gaze head-on, “I wouldn’t miss this. I know how busy you are, and I’m the one who asked you to teach me the technique I found in the old tome.”

For a moment, Azriel said nothing. She started to grow a bit anxious, but thankfully he put her out of her misery. 

“Shall we get started then?” he asked. 

She nodded, getting into a fighting stance. 

And with that, they fell into familiar territory.

- - -

Any unease and tension between them had faded with each calculated movement.

He would have to leave soon. Spymaster business. Nesta mentioned it to her the other day in passing when she’d visited her in the library.

In one final attempt to take him down, she darted forward. But just before her hit landed, he stepped out of the way. Her momentum had her tumbling forward, but before she started to fall Azriel caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

Still off-balance, she didn’t catch herself in time and wound up crashing into his firm chest.

Palm pressed against him, she pulled back. Praying she managed to keep from blushing, she looked up into his warm hazel eyes. 

“Thank you for catching me,” she voiced, and then, remembering events of the night before, she added, “Both times.”

A smile slowly curved his lips. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re welcome, on both counts.”

She knew she was doing a piss poor job of not blushing.

“Oh, also, I meant what I said by way. I know you giving me the necklace didn’t mean what I thought it did. So you don’t have to worry about me having any silly ideas.” 

Gwyn felt him stiffen. Turning her head, she saw his expression had shuttered at her words. Which left her a bit confused. 

Perhaps, her words hurt because they made him think of his own situation. How he pined after a female who already had a mate. It pained her to see him this way, but it wasn’t her place to address it. He wasn’t hers to worry over. 

“Right...well I should go. I mean, I know you have somewhere else to be and so do I so...”

When he said nothing to stop her. She turned to leave.

His voice was so quiet, she almost didn’t hear him, “Gwyn...are we okay?” he asked hesitantly.

She looked over her shoulder at him. She was the one who’d made a fool of herself yet he seemed to be the one beating himself up over his own mistakes. 

She smiled, meaning every word, “We’ll always be okay.”

~~~

Author notes: I thankfully have not been privy to much the fandom drama that apparently has been occurring as of late, and for that I am grateful. But knowing that it is happening somewhat inspired the ending for this chapter. The reminder that no matter the drama: We will be okay. I genuinely enjoy this series, and I obviously ship Gwynriel. But I know that at the end of the day, this is a work of fiction. We’re meant to get enjoyment out of it. Not start petty wars over it. Anyways, that’s all I have to say on the topic and I promise shall not bring it up again because I don’t like to invite negativity into my life. I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter, and if so do please like and comment =D

Bonus notes: 

Me: You’ve determined a schedule Cindy. Do not post until Saturday.

Also me: The world needs more Gwynriel / Azriel x Gwyn content now!

Me:...

Me: Random whims you win again! 

So yeah, let’s just say I’ll post once a week whenever I fancy the chapter complete 😆

~~~

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium

@brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​

@my-fan-side​

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyncien part 5 (last part)

Thank you to all who supported this short little story! It really kept me motivated. This is the last part. I’m gonna be honest this part is not as edited at the other parts but I finished it and wanted to get it out to all of you so thank you!

Warning: the smallest amount possible of smut at the end.

Gwyn's body jolted as they hit the ground. Lucien let out an annoyed huff while straightening out his jacket. The wards around the House of Wind truly made winnowing in unfavorable. As soon as she stabled herself though, she felt a rush of happiness.

Home.

It was her only thought. She missed this place- the smell, the comfort, the people. She started to buzz with excitement at the thought of Nesta and Emerie.

"You made sure someone brought Emerie here?" Gwyn double checked with Lucien. He simply nodded while giving her a sad smile. The moment was bitter sweet. She was happy to be reunited with her sisters, but she would miss her newest friend. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. He returned it just as fiercely.

"Thank you for all that you did for me. It means more than I could ever express." She buried her head in his hair and took a deep breath. He smelled of roasted chestnuts and a summers day. She would miss it.

"I know a way you could make it up to me." He said as he pulled away. Gwyn looked at him expectantly.

"Promise me I will see you again soon." A soft smile graced Gwyn's face.

"I promise." She wanted to show her sisters the Band of Exiles castle anyways. They would love it. Lucien smiled broadly before dropping a kiss on her forehead next to her invoking stone.

She finally decided to wear it as all the priestesses do. Lucien took her to Sangravah to see Catrin's grave. She had been so sad and angry that she almost destroyed the stone right then and there. She did not deserve the stone while her sister's body lay cold in a grave. But then Lucien took her to meet the priestesses and children that had rebuilt the temple. The children that Gwyn had saved. They all remembered her and flattered her in compliments and hugs. The called her their hero and said that they were petitioning to make that dreadful anniversary known as Berdara day. In honor of the twins who sacrificed so much to protect those children. Gwyn cried for a week straight after that. Once her emotions leveled out though, she began to wear the stone. The children had been a distant memory that she forgot about while grieving for her sister. Seeing them, happy and healthy, reminded her that the sacrifice was not in vein. She may have failed Catrin but she did not fail those children. It was one more thing that made her grateful for Lucien.

Gwyn took one last look at Lucien before he winnowed away. She turned back towards the door, took a deep breath, and headed straight for the personal library. She was so excited she thought she might throw up. She wished she had kept her composure to walk the entire way there, but as she came closer and closer to the library, her feet began moving faster and faster until she was practically running. The moment she burst through the doors she scanned the room for the two females. She found them sitting side by side, each with a book in their hands. It made Gwyn smile broadly. They both whipped their heads up at the same time- startled. Nesta reacted first, practically throwing herself at Gwyn. Emerie was close behind, and then they were crushing Gwyn in a hug.

"Gwyn!" Nesta cried. Emerie just squeezed her tighter.

Home.

Gwyn felt completely at ease now that she was reunited with her sisters. She had missed them so unbearably that she almost forced Lucien to bring her back several different times. She was afraid that if she came back, she would not have left again. After a very lengthy hug, the girls pulled apart. Nesta was subtly trying to wipe tears away which only served in making Gwyn start to cry herself.

"We missed you." Emerie said softly while running her hand over Gwyn's hair. It was such a comforting gesture that Gwyn forced another hug from the Illyrian female.

"I missed you two more than anything." Gwyn pulled back from Emerie so that she could grab both of their hands. She pulled them over to the couch and forced them to sit down next to her.

"You better explain why you ran off with Lucien and you better do it right now because I am angry with you so I want a good explanation before I start yelling." Nesta warned with a hardened expression. Gwyn squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile.

"Lucien helped me with some things." Gwyn did not even know how to start explaining everything that had happened. She knew Lucien did not want her telling anyone of their ancestry, but Emerie and Nesta did not count. At least in Gwyn's mind they didn't.

"Things we could not help you with?" Emerie asked. Gwyn could hear the touch of hurt in her voice and suddenly felt very guilty. She never imagined they would blame themselves. She should have known better though, especially with Nesta.

"You cannot repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone." She gave them both a pointed look but it got a snort from Nesta.

"Who would I possibly tell other than Cassian?" She rolled her eyes with a slight laugh. Gwyn continued to give her a serious look.

"You cannot tell Cassian or Mor either. They will feel obligated to tell Rhys. This information is dangerous for me and I need to know before I tell you that it will stay between us three." She squeezed both their hands again. Nesta and Emerie shared a look before giving her a concerned one.

"We promise. We would never do anything to endanger you, Gwyn." Emerie insisted as Nesta nodded in agreement. Gwyn took a deep breath before explaining.

"Lucien's my grandfather. After the autumn court high lord killed Lucien's lover, him and a brother hid my mother at Sangravah." Emerie's eyes widened comically while Nesta took this in with a straight face.

"Holy shit. That makes you the only living heir to the day court." Emerie muttered. Gwyn's brows furrowed in confusion.

"The day court?" Nesta inquired on the same topic that Gwyn was confused about. The winged female gave them a sheepish look.

"Shit. I wasn't supposed to say anything." She gave a deep sigh. "Mor told me that Helion is Lucien's real father and that would make Lucien the only known offspring of Helion." Gwyn wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Does this mean you'll get a real Pegasus?" Nesta pondered. It made Gwyn smile thinking of the tiny Pegasus the house conjured for them.

"I would demand weekends with it if so." Emerie added while leaning back on the side of the couch to fully face the other two females.

"Well anyways, Lucien helped me with some things regarding Sangravah." Gwyn directed the conversation back on topic. She did not want to think about being the future heir to some random court. "I did not ask for your help because I did not want to be dependent on you two. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it on my own. Trust me, it had nothing to do with not wanting your help. There were so many times I almost forced Lucien to bring me back." Nesta looked at the priestess and a smile finally graced her face.

"You are wearing your invoking stone." Gwyn blushed and looked down at her hands. Nesta was one of the only people she had confided in about why she never wore it and she had only done that because she knew that Nesta would understand.

"I am."

"Are you happy?" Nesta asked wearily. The blunt female was not a fan of Lucien's for some reason.

"I am now that I am home. I have so much to tell you, but I might still need to process some of it before then." Gwyn warned. She may not be ready to give them all the answers that they needed or wanted. Gwyn put both her arms around both the females shoulders, tugging them in closer to her.

"You know just by the way, you could have given Az a heads up about your departure. I had to convince him that Papa Lucien did not kidnap you for nefarious revenge plans." Nesta responded after awhile of comfortable silence. Gwyn cringed while Emerie cackled over Lucien's new nickname.

"I figured his shadows told him." She shrugged. It's not her fault if he was being a bad spy master. He should have known Lucien did not kidnap her. Nesta gave a small smirk while nestling her head into the crook of Gwyn's neck. Emerie mimicked the gestured and suddenly all three of them were cuddling on the couch. It made the priestess feel safe.

"Mor said he finally confronted her about their situation." Nesta's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Gwyn was just as surprised. The Shadowsinger practically ran screaming from emotions.

"How did that go?" The red headed female asked incredulously. She also had no idea why he would chose now when he was finally with Elain to have that conversation.

"Good? I did not get a lot of details but Mor seemed happy." They all sat in another comfortable silence again. There was so much to say on both sides. Gwyn was sure she had missed out on a lot, but they all knew they just wanted to enjoy each other's presence for a bit.

"Hey Nes-" Cassian stopped mid-sentence when he saw the priestess as he strode into the library. A huge smile broke out on his face. "Gwyn!"

"Hey Cas." She gave a small wave as all three girls sat upright on the couch. They all moved over some so Cassian could sit next to Nesta. It was a tight squeeze especially with his wings but they made it work.

"Shit, I have missed you, Berdara. Training is not the same without you. Please tell me you have kept up with it." He berated her like the good trainer he was.

Gwyn gave a short laugh. If only he knew what she had been doing to keep up with her training. She knew he would approve though. She truly had missed Cassian. Nesta and his bickering was a high quality form of entertainment for both Gwyn and Emerie. She also missed his quite encouragement and lame jokes, she would never admit to the latter, though.

"I have missed you as well." He gave Nesta a peck on the cheek which caused a smile to bloom on her face. They were sickeningly adorable.

"Are you coming tonight?" He asked.

"What's tonight?" He obviously did not know that Gwyn just arrived back. They had no time to discuss anything other than her trip.

"Oh I forgot to mention. Remember Balthazar? The guy that helped Emerie and I in the blood rite? Well Feyre and Rhys are throwing him a party in windhaven for not killing us." Nesta rolled her eyes. Clearly, she did not feel that was worth celebrating

"Seems kind of like the bare minimum." Emerie muttered the same thing that Nesta must be thinking. "No need to throw a party for letting us live." Emerie mimicked Nesta with an eye roll of her own.

"Sounds fun.” Gwyn could not stop the sarcasm that flooded her voice. “But I will go anyways.” She relented.

"Really?" Cassian was clearly surprised as he looked at her with raised eyebrows. Gwyn watched as he subtly set his hand on Nesta’s shoulder and rubbed his thumb back and forth. Part of Gwyn felt jealous. She wanted to experience that type of intimacy with someone- with Az. She let out a sigh.

"Yeah. I have had a very enlightening five months. I think I am ready to brave windhaven in a showy dress while everyone schmoozes the high lord and lady." Emerie and Nesta both cheered at that while Cassian gave her his biggest smile. It made her laugh.

"Azriel is at the River house. Want me to take you there?" Cassian suddenly changed the topic. Gwyn narrowed her eyes at him. She most definitely did not want to see the Shadowsinger right now. Besides, she still had so much to discuss with her sisters.

"I can only take so many reunions at once. Perhaps his could wait."

+

Gwyn had never felt this confident. Her normal anxieties were still there, but it was not nearly as overwhelming as it once had been. She felt a little guilty for crashing Balthazar's "thank you for not killing my sister in the blood rite" party, however, she knew the male would not care much. She glanced at herself one last time in the mirror- only to feel that a stranger was looking back at her. For the first time in front of her friends, she wore her invoking stone atop her head. The color matched her dress very well. It was quite a scandalous dress by her standards even if Nesta had said it had nothing on a few of Feyre's court of nightmare dresses. The neckline went up relatively high while the back dipped down low enough to barely reach her tailbone. It left her entire back exposed. There were very few scars there which made her much more comfortable than some of the dresses with low cut necklines. The waistline came in tight enough for Gwyn to struggle to breathe. Luckily, the skirt was flowy with a slit in the side that showed off one of her legs as well as her dagger which was sheathed to her thigh. It was very unlike Gwyn. She would not wear it again, but once for a grand entrance seemed like as good of a time as ever. Lucien bought the dress for her before realizing how scandalous it really was. He saw the color and was reminded of her eyes which she apparently got from Jesminda. She tried it on once for him which resulted in him stumbling over his words in a very un-Lucien manner. He told her he would return it at once and then begged for forgiveness. It was a bit of an overreaction that had her giggling for a decent amount of time. She told him she would keep it and wear it when she was ready. She knew she would be ready when she could walk out of the door without changing. She allowed herself five more minutes of staring before heading upstairs to the House of Wind. Cassian, Nesta, Emerie, and Mor would all be waiting for her up there. She did not quite expect the reaction she received. All four of them stared at her, wide-eyed, for longer than socially acceptable. Gwyn almost asked if she should change, but then Nesta and Emerie were gushing over the dress, Mor was demanding to know where she got it from, and Cassian gave her a shy compliment. The anxiety released her chest as everyone went back to discussing their original conversation.

It appeared the high lord and lady did not spare a single expense for this party. Food and alcohol was everywhere, music played loudly, and everyone was dancing. The dances were different than the ones Gwyn was used to, but Emerie showed her a few of the steps. She had gotten so good at one of them that a crowd formed around the three sisters as they held hands and danced around in a circle, adding in different kicks and twirls on beat. Gwyn had laughed more tonight than she had since Catrin’s death. Perhaps everything was finally falling into place for Gwyn to live her life unafraid. Exhaustion pulled Gwyn from the dance floor and back onto the dais where the high lord and lady stood- deep in discussion. Gwyn did not interrupt them, instead opting to stand by herself for a moment in order to catch her breathe. She chugged her cup of water that was much harder to find than it should have been. She was not alone long before a male approached her.

She recognized the red-haired fae. She was trying to remember how she knew him, but it just barely kept slipping her mind. Based on his looks, he was from the autumn court which made Gwyn wonder why he was even here in the first place. To Rhysand and Feyre's surprise, the male asked to dance with her. Before she could accept or decline though, her high lord interrupted.

"No." Gwyn's eyebrows raised to her hairline. He did not speak for her. Now or ever.

"Rhys," Feyre began, shifting her eyes from her mate to the quickly angering priestess. "I do believe Gwyn has a voice of her own." The couple shared a look before turning to her. The red haired male looked as annoyed as Gwyn felt.

"Gwyneth, I apologize for speaking on your behalf, but he is not to be trusted. He is dangerous." He continued to dig himself further into a hole. Gwyn was the last person to openly trust a strange male, but she could handle her own. Especially against him.

"And here I thought we were allies." The strange male rolled his eyes with his sarcastic comment. All three of them ignored him.

"Do you see me warning you away from every female in this room?" It was a rhetorical question, but her point was made. "How would you like me to throw Amarantha in your face every chance I got under the guise of protection? If I want your opinion on a dancing partner, I will ask." She was a blunt person, but she was not typically so harsh. The overwhelming pity that Rhysand sent her way brought the ugliness out of her in a way that many others have not been able to do. She could see the guilt on his face. She also saw the flinch when she uttered Amarantha's name and she wished more than anything that she could take it back. Just because he reminded her of Sangravah every chance he got did not mean she had to stoop to his level.

"I apologize. Obviously, you may dance with whomever you chose." He bowed his head to her and flourished an arm towards the waiting male. Feyre was too busy watching Rhysand to add anything more. Gwyn supposed they were having an internal conversation. She stepped down from the dais to follow the male onto the dancing floor. She did not want to dance with him in particular. Truly, she only wanted to dance with Azriel who had yet to make an appearance, but she was curious. That nagging feeling at the back of her mind said that she knew him. He grabbed one of her hands to hold and placed his other at her hip. The placement at her hip was odd. Typically, that was reserved for more intimate dances between couples, but that was not why he did it. Her back was completely exposed due to the dress. He must have figured this would be better for her. She narrowed her eyes at him. He must know Lucien and therefore who she is to him.

"Eris Vanserra." He finally announced as they began their dance. "Pleasure to officially meet you." Gwyn met his stare. It was surprisingly soft. Lucien's brother she realized. This could be good or bad depending on which brother he is she contemplated. She had only heard wicked things about all his brothers except when Lucien was discussing her mother. He mentioned a brother helped him hide her mother.

"We have met before." She said it as a statement of fact, but in truth it was a question. He gave her a wicked grin before twirling her.

"We have."

"Where?" He twirled her once more before glancing over his shoulder at Rhysand. He must be listening in.

"Sangravah." Was all he said. It was all she needed to remember. He came to the services Sangravah held on Sunday's. It was not every Sunday, but enough of them to recognize him. He sat in a pew in the back and watched. He never participated. Catrin complained one time that she felt he was watching her. Gwyn had brushed it off as mere paranoia- she knew better now though. She wanted to respond with a million different questions; however, she was expected to be vague with prying ears around.

"Why?" Was all she could muster. If Lucien was not willing to risk a visit, then why was he? She was searching his eyes for any clues only to discover a hint of sadness that was quickly covered up.

"To remind myself that it was worth it." The music stopped as the dance came to an end, so he moved his mouth to her ear to continue. It would have seemed an intimate moment to anyone watching. Truly, it was only an uncle speaking a secret to his great niece. "That all I had become to save her was worth it."

Before she could respond she felt a sharp tug on her mate bond, a whisper of a shadow on her wrist, and then Azriel launched himself at Eris.

"For fucks sake." Cassian could be heard muttering as a brawl ensued between the pair. Gwyn couldn't help but agree. Punches were thrown back and forth, but once truth teller had been drawn, Gwyn did the only thing she could think of. She lightly scraped her nails on the back of Azriel's wings. Almost immediately he wrenched himself away from Eris to give her a startled look- his wings tucking in tight. Luckily, Cassian chose that time to insert himself into the fight and hold Eris back.

"Do not do that again." Azriel gave her an intimidating look, but she did not balk from him. Not now.

"Do not give me that attitude, Shadowsinger." She returned his stare with such intensity that he finally looked away.

She turned to Eris who now looked much worse than her mate. He was wiping blood from his nose with the end of his sleeve. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave a tight squeeze. He barely had time to return the hug before she pulled away. Everyone was clearly shocked, but it mattered little to Gwyn. This dangerous and cruel male had gone against his abusive father to save her mother. He had risked his future as high lord by visiting her and Catrin. It was not all that long ago that Gwyn thought she had no family. Then she met Nesta and Emerie and now she had a grandfather who loved her despite knowing little of her and a great uncle who cared for her enough to risk all he had tried to achieve. It made her feel a little less alone in this world.

"Thank you." Was all she uttered before turning back to her mate who had the audacity to be glaring daggers at Eris. She narrowed her eyes at him before grabbing him by his hand and tugging him all the way to the exit. She could see him about to speak so she stopped him.

"No. No speaking. Show me to a private room so I can scream at you for a solid five minutes and then I shall allow you to speak." She was fuming mad at the arrogance of this male. He was in a completely committed relationship with another female and he had the audacity to attack her dance partner. He took her down a long hallway, his shadows twirling around him in chaos. His wings were tense even as his face gave off an air of cool indifference. He took a sharp turn and then they were in an empty bedroom.

"I have been back for a total of six hours and before I can even utter a word to you, you have gone and fought Eris Vanserra of all people? Really Azriel I am starting to get whiplash from you. One second you are proclaiming your love for Elain Archeron and the next you are attempting murder on my dance partner. What would you like from me? Because I was hoping we could start off with a pleasant conversation but I suppose that is too much to ask for?" She was glaring him down which was not something anyone else had ever done. While he was beautiful, his icy cruelty laid right beneath the surface. It was enough for everyone to walk on eggshells around him. Even some of his closest friends. Gwyn had never done that though and she would not start now. He looked down at his feet as his shadows went still. Perhaps they also realized they were in trouble.

"You are wearing your invoking stone." He peeked at the stone that lay across her forehead before glancing out the window. She huffed in frustration.

"This is the first you have seen of me in five months and that's all you have to say?" Her glare turned more incredulous.

"You never wore it before." He paused to glance up at her before continuing. "You look beautiful." Gwyn groaned in frustration. This male would be the death of her. She sat at the edge of the bed in the middle of the room. After a moments pause, he followed suit and sat next to her with a small gap in between them. It was silent for another moment.

"I am sorry Gwyneth. My shadows refuse to tell me anything about you and I assumed the worse when I saw Eris whispering into your ear. The mate bond has become harder to control the longer you have been gone as well." She could agree with that. Her own mate bond had become more and more incessant the longer she had been gone. It was like a buzzing in her mind that would not stop. She wondered how Elain managed.

"Lucien, and I suppose now Eris, are important to me Azriel. I cannot explain why quite yet, but it is important to me that you try to be polite specifically with Lucien. Okay?" It was probably more information than she should give. She wanted to be clear with him. He gave her a curious look. He wanted to ask more that was for sure.

"Okay." He whispered. They both looked down at their hands. His were laid loosely on his thighs while hers were clasped tightly together in her lap. "Elain and I decided it would be best if we stopped..." he trailed off at the end, braving a glimpse at her. She was surprised by this. Perhaps Elain's visit to the Band of Exile's was not to reject Lucien. Almost two weeks ago, Gwyn had bumped into Elain in the castle. Their conversation was awkward and brief, but Gwyn thought for sure that the beautiful female had come to reject the mating bond with Lucien.

"Why?" Was all Gwyn could muster. She suddenly felt so tired.

"After our kiss," he started. His hands ran up and down his thighs and she realized he was nervous. She grabbed one of his hands with her own and squeezed. "Nothing had ever lived up to that. I had been chasing what Elain represented that I forgot what I was missing out on. I don't want Elain now and maybe I never truly did. I know I don't deserve it, but I would like a chance to be with you Gwyn. We can go as slow as you like." His sudden proclamation was hurting her head. It was like sensory overload.

"What makes me different from Elain?" She didn't want him to make this decision solely because they were mated. She wanted this to be different. She squeezed his hand tighter.

"You see me for who I am and you aren't phased. You have never hesitated before grabbing my hands. You didn't even so much as blink at my shadows the first time you saw them. You understand why I hold myself to such high standards and you aren't scared of me." He looked directly into her eyes to make sure she understood that every word was true. He wanted her to see him be vulnerable. His stare was so intense that she had to look away before responding.

"I missed you." She gave him a small smile. "But I have been missing you for much longer than I have been gone. I miss my friend. You were so much more to me than just my mate when it snapped into place and I feel like we lost that along the way. This has nothing to do with what you deserve, Azriel. I want you to know that. But right now I would really love my friend back. We can see where the future leads us later." It was not the speech she planned to give him when she thought he was still with Elain, but it was true. They both still had so much to deal with even now. She wanted to deal with it with her friend by her side though. His shoulders slumped slightly which had the mate bond clenching tightly in her chest. After a moment though, his head lifted and he gave her a brilliant smile. One she had never seen from him before and she realized she would do just about anything to see it again.

"I would love to be your friend, Gwyneth Berdara." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She let out a content sigh as she put her arms around his neck. Her head rest on his shoulder as his head lay atop hers. His shadows were moving languidly as though they were also happy.

"Can I ask a favor of you though?" He mumbled against her hair. She nodded slightly.

"Can I ask that you not touch my wings in public again?" His tone was almost pleading. She quickly looked up at him putting a couple inches between them.

"Oh gods! I'm sorry. Did it hurt? Nesta mentioned that they were sensitive once and I figured it would be the easiest way to stop you from killing Eris." She didn't mean to be too rough, but she also wasn't familiar with Illyrian wings. He gave her a sheepish look. A slight blush gracing his cheeks.

"Um, that's not what she meant by sensitive." He glanced at her before laying his head on top of hers again to avoid eye contact. "It's just not something that one does with Illyrian wings in public." There was heavy insinuation in his voice, but Gwyn could not figure out why. What could she possibly be missing?

"Well we aren't in public now? Could I do it now?" If he wouldn't outright tell her, perhaps she could threaten it out of him. She brought her hand up to his wing only for him to quickly grab it and push her away. She started to laugh as his face grew even redder. "Az, just tell me. Are you ticklish?" It was just too easy to tease him. He held both of her wrists between his hands to keep her at bay.

"Gwyn, I am begging you, which I never do if I must add, please do not touch them unless you would like to act out a scene from one of your romance novels." He truly was begging. She smiled until his words finally caught up to her. Now it was her that was blushing like crazy. Nesta was going to get an earful for being woefully stubborn with details.

"Sorry!" Was all she could splutter out like a fool. She quickly shoved her hands in her lap. Azriel began laughing very loudly as realization of what she almost did hit her. Oh, how the tables have turned she thought. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer, dropping a kiss on her head.

"I truly have missed you, Gwyn. Tell me everything."

+

Sometime in the future

Gwyn felt a tickle on her bare back. She tried to ignore it and go back to sleep by burying her head further into her pillow. Another tickle brushed against her. She swatted at her back which was more difficult than she wanted to admit considering she was laying on her stomach. One last tickle had her groaning as she finally popped her eyes open. She immediately gave the Shadowsinger a glare.

"I was trying to sleep." She mumbled, her voice still sleep laced. He gave her a charming smile back.

"Keep sleeping. I was just rubbing your back for you." He had the look of innocence perfected, but Gwyn new better.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked like that though. She moved closer to him while he laid on his side. She wrapped her arms and legs around him until she pushed him onto his back with her on top. An ornery grin graced his face as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. He began to run his hands up and down her bare thighs. It made her shutter. The warmth from his chest stopped her bare chest from being chilled by the temperature of the room. She loved waking up this way with her mate. She quickly discovered that neither of them slept too often- nightmares always finding them in their sleep. They stayed up most nights playing chess or singing or training or...doing other things. Gwyn was always curious about the scenes she read from Nesta and Emerie's romance books. Azriel was certainly willing to demonstrate for her. After one particular, evening session Gwyn profusely apologized for touching Azriel's wings in public all that time ago. It made her embarrass to know exactly how close she had been to bringing Azriel to his knees in front of all those people. She thought she might never live it down if it had happened.

"What are you thinking about?" Azriel asked while playing with Gwyn's hair. His shadows were wrapping all around her in a way that made her feel safe especially when they were being this intimate.

"You." She immediately answered with a grin while dropping a quick kiss on to his chin.

"I would hope so." He gave her one last devilish smile before leaning up to kiss her. Right as she began to grind though, Az pulled away.

"Sorry, Carynthian. That is not why I woke you." He teased. Gwyn rolled her eyes at the nickname. He loved to call her that simply to remind her of all she had accomplished. She felt he was bragging about her just a little too much.

"Well then why did you wake me?" She lifted a singular eyebrow but he only laughed her off. He sat up with her still in his lap and started to carry her towards their bathroom.

"Nyx's party will be starting soon." He set her down on the counter before getting the bath water ready. Gwyn lifted one of her legs, so that her foot could rest on the counter as well. If he was going to tease her, well then two could play at that game. Even during times like these, both of their competitive streaks came out. It was always a game to see who could get who to cave first. The look Az gave her when he turned around told her that she won this round. Before dropping to his knees in front of her though, he grabbed her face and pressed a harsh kiss to her lips.

"I love you, Gwyneth Berdara." And then she was screaming her love for Azriel, over and over again.

They were both late to the party. Neither of them cared.

The end

[luciensfox]

ACOSF Thoughts...

Don’t read unless you wish to be spoiled! Here are some things I can’t get out of my head after finishing the book...

Well first and foremost, I absolutely adore Nessian (as I always have but now it’s even more so) and I’m incredibly pleased with the direction it seems that SJM is leading Nesta’s character development! I’ve always wanted a badass warrior Nesta and I got way more than I figured (short of her growing wings at any time as I think some Valkyrie myths depict, this is amazing/ especially with all of the parallels people drew with her and Enalius). She’s going to make for an interesting character in the coming books and dare I say...commander Nesta. Oh, yes.

Of course I’ve always been obsessed with Lucien and nothing has changed on that front, but I’m even more intrigued now because we still need so many answers. When will it be revealed that he’s the heir of the Day Court? What’s the standings between he and Tamlin? With Vassa and Jurian? With his mother/ brothers? His mate? We literally got only two or three scenes with Luc involved so I knew nothing would be resolved in this novella, however I’m even more excited to see how Eris will play into his character arc come the next story (because you cannot convince me that SJM would put more emphasis on Eris than Lucien in this book and not intend for some brotherly angst in the future). Eris is also an anomaly and maybe it’s because I’m obsessed with the mysterious nature of whatever the hell is happening in the Autumn Court, but I really can’t wait to see what’s up with him and the rest of his family. (Also....the ballroom scene with Nest and Eris dancing to what is supposed to reflect Black Swan was one of my absolute favorite scenes.) Does Eris secretly desire peace and wants to take over Autumn not for power but to make amends and heal/ bring back glory to his home? And what exactly happened with Mor? SJM put so much emphasis on that too and we still have no idea.

I LOVE Gwyneth and Emerie. The triad of Valkyries was honestly the best part of the whole book for me. I know everyone is quick to match up characters with potential romances/ mates etc and it sounds like that’s what will happen with these two...but let’s not forget that they’re incredibly strong characters on their own terms and I hope whatever comes about their arcs isn't entirely placed on their romance status. However, they both seem to want to find someone to be with which leads me to believe that Emerie and Mor will very likely end up together (if only for the fact that we got one sentences indicating Em finds Mor gorgeous....I guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens) and that Gwyn is going to be a potential interest for Azriel. 

I love Lucien so much, but my soft fox boy needs to heal and stop forcing himself to find romantic love when all he really needs is some self love. (So perhaps that will be his final journey....Lucien finally coming to terms with his trauma, settling ties with everyone from his past, and taking up his mental as Helion’s son and the future of the Day Court.) 

Elain seemed a bit OOC...and yet not at all? We’ve only got the chance to see the “sweet/ innocent” side of her, but it makes sense that she’s going to be a super complex character (SJM wouldn't have set her up so mysteriously if the intent was to leave her as a mere gardener) and that her journey in following books will show us a side of her we’ve never encountered. The Elriel ship has always been a confusing one for me, not because I don’t ship it but because there’s so much happening all the time that it’s hard to get a proper read on clues when SJM throws characters like Gwyn at us...coupled with the fact that Lucien seems to still be in love with Elain (or at least he’s just lonely and doesn't know how else to react, never mind whatever is happening with Vassa and Jurian), and that Az seems intent on getting with Elain....but Az also seems to be the type of character who falls in love deeply without considering a number of things. He’s driven by his desires and often hurt by them, hence his love for Mor. Notice how shortly after he started drifting from his desire for Mor, he started to desire Elain? Part of me wonders if it’s because he found the person he’s meant to be with...or if he felt attracted to her and she was a distraction to his pain and a means to help him get over Mor. Like I said, I don’t know which way I lean just yet but these are all possibilities!

Then there’s the Gwynriel ship--totally didn’t see that coming but I can’t say I don’t enjoy it. I love how Gwyn teases Az in a way that many others usually don’t dare, and that she’s another character with a history outside of the IC. While there’s a lot to consider, like the fact that Az’s shadows shy away when Elain is around but “dance” and seem to be overjoyed when Gwyn is nearby, I think a truly noticeable parallel to the pairing could be this:

Azriel is no stranger to unrequited love. In fact, that seemed to be his overarching characteristic for the first two books. Now that he’s found Elain and she also reciprocates their shared desire, it would be easy to pair them together. However, Gwyn seems to be interested in Azriel and Az can’t seem to figure out his standings with her other than being enticed and not realizing what’s in front of him because he’s so determined to be with Elain since “she’s the third sister and he the third brother” etc so it must make sense somehow even though Elain is mated. But Gwyn, to that extent, is no stranger to unrequited love either. 

Just imagine: Azriel finally cracks in the following book and shows a rare display of emotions to either Gwyn or the IC (or both) and Gwyn decides to confront him about facing his fears (his past with Mor, his current standings with Elain, his desire to have someone) by claiming that she knows exactly what unrequited love feels like because every day she stares at him and feels precisely as devastated as he did/does whenever he sees Mor or Elain. Az will probably be shocked to all hell and maybe it’ll snap him out of his misery enough to think clearly on the whole matter.

The Rhysand and Nesta friendship was something else I wasn’t expecting, didn’t necessarily think I’d want, but now am excited to see bloom. They definitely do share traits and I can’t help but remember how Rhys once compared Feyre to Cassian and how Nesta and Rhys might be the opposite counterparts since they’re both haughty and respond to things with incredibly heightened emotions because they love fiercely. 

This post is much longer than I’d intended but oh well, some other things for your consideration.....

A Varian/Amren x Nessian double date.

Nesta taking on a similar military role as Cassian and either leading a female unit of Illyrians/ Valkyries or sharing the brunt of Cassian’s job (plus come on... those two training together is essentially their respective version of foreplay and I’m so here for warrior Nessian bonding).

I hope we get to see that mating ceremony scene!

Also....does anyone remember Balthazar--the Illyrian who showed up for one scene and fell asleep on Nesta’s shoulder during the Blood Rite while he helped them find shelter? There’s no way SJM would’ve written in a character like that without intending for him to show up again in the future....

Koschei the deathless? Wonder what will occur there. 

Damn, if you’ve made it this far give yourself a pat on the back. 

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (18/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: Everyone is back at the Spring Court, but nothing is as Elain imagined. I hope you enjoy! You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ There will be no new chapter next week because I will be on vacation with limited wifi, but after that, it's full steam ahead until the end.

Once Lucien takes Vassa to their room, Rhys and Tamlin agree to survey the wards on the estate, and Elain waits with Feyre and Eris for any sign of Koschei. She does not know what use she’ll be, but though her dress is torn and there are leaves tangled in her hair, Elain is not willing to leave the great hall.

“Will you go to the Autumn Court and claim your title?” Feyre asks Eris, her voice carefully neutral.

“I think that even with your limited years in Prythian, you will understand that such a thing is not a simple matter of appearing on the throne,” Eris responds in that silken tone which is seemingly not affected by torture or pain.

He shoots a look at Elain that indicates her presence is unwelcome. She crosses her arms.

Then Feyre turns to her.

“Can you give us a moment?” her sister asks, in that too-gentle voice that knows that Elain could not do what was needed in the moment of crisis, that she will always need rescuing.

But this is not some private room in which she can tell Feyre what is the matter. She is standing before the High Lady of the Night Court and the High Lord of the Autumn Court, and she’s been dismissed.

She forces her lips into the approximation of a smile and leaves the room, pushes her way out of the great wooden doors, and walks into the garden.

Elain has imagined this moment, her return to the gardens of the Spring Court, so many times. She would be walking with Vassa, healed and happy, and Elain would share her plans for the new garden, new hybrids developed on the continent or a more pleasing arrangement of plants, and Vassa would tell her a story about Scythia, which would make her laugh and also contain a thinly-veiled lesson on what it would mean to rule. There would be an affectionate joke about Lucien, perhaps a reference to Tamlin that would have Elain blushing, but mostly she would savor the nighttime walk in the garden with her friend, who would trust that Elain was capable of nearly anything.

Now Vassa screams at her touch.

Elain makes it as far as the edge of her field of tulips before she falls to her knees, ready for the sobs to overtake her. Instead, there is a great roaring emptiness inside of her. She’s surprised to realize that this feeling is not unfamiliar, something akin to what she felt in the Night Court months and months ago, convinced she’d turn into a monster. The feeling that she’d once had a purpose, only to find it had abandoned her.

She does not want to go back to the Spring Court, or to the Night Court, or even to all of Helion’s libraries. Instead, Elain thinks about wandering the forest, letting the low-hanging branches tear at her until she is dirty and empty and snarling.

Still, when she hears the sound of footsteps behind her, Elain does not fight. She freezes. She feels the hand on her and then she does the only thing she knows: she disappears.

Elain had worried that she’d lost this ability because of Koschei’s magic, that she’d be bound to her own world forever, but she leaves Prythian behind as easily as a leaf falls to the earth, the Spring Court gardens giving way to the familiar passageways.

Tamlin is beside her.

Watching the play of emotions on his face, Elain is sure he’s going to rage at her, point out every stupid decision she’s made, every risk and every failure, but instead one of his hands goes to her shoulder, the other to her chin, gently lifting her face until their eyes meet.

What she sees in his eyes makes everything else dissolve into mist around her. His green eyes do not waver in their gaze on her, as if he can behold every piece of her. She could never have imagined a look that tender, that hopeful, that concerned, that kind. The fairytales never went into such specifics.

“Are you all right?” he asks, the words so gentle and raw that Elain begins to cry. Not the screaming sobs she imagined. Instead, her tears leak out from her eyes, silent as they fall to her cheeks.

“I couldn’t save her,” she says. Her voice goes high and plaintive, a child’s wail. “I couldn’t take her to a place where she’d be safe. And she was there for so long. And the way she screamed when I touched her. I thought I was helping but all I did was cause her pain.”

The thought brings on the sobbing, her shoulders heaving with the recollection of Vassa’s screaming, the fact that even in the face of her friend’s suffering, Elain did not let her go. The fact that in the end, all she’s learned, all her abilities, were of no use.

Tamlin does not tell her to stop crying, does not tell her it is all right, doesn’t even remind her that everyone is waiting at the Spring Court, that there is every chance they’ll be retaliated against by Koschei or some unknown ally. Instead he draws her against him, her cheek against his chest, his hands on her back, up and down her spine, over and over, until her sobs calm.

“Without you, we wouldn’t have known that Vassa and Eris were in danger in the first place. You were the one who drew us together, who made the strategy.”

“Koschei will just claim her again.”

“We won’t allow that to happen,” he says, his hands cupping her shoulders, warm even through the heavy beading on her gown. But some perverse part of Elain is tired of being comforted.

“You think the High Lords will be willing to sacrifice themselves for the safety of a human queen?”

“I’m not talking about the High Lords. I mean you and Lucien. And me.” The last part comes after a hesitation, phrased almost as a question.

Her mind shifts them, to his appearance in the clearing.

“What happened to the shield against Koschei?”

“Feyre realized you were in trouble. She or Rhysand winnowed me to you. Koschei built a trap into the spell he has on Vassa. Likely it’s on Eris as well.”

She knows this will have political implications for Eris, but she cannot think about those now. Not when she’s dismissed from the rooms where such matters are discussed.

“I should have thought that Koschei wouldn’t make rescue so easy. Not when everyone was telling me to wait.”

He pulls away from her, meets her eyes, and does not look away.

“There is always a point where courage seems like stupidity.”

She shakes her head, tries for a smile. Of course Tamlin would know this.

“You’re being too nice to me,” she says. She was trained all her life to read the desires of men on their faces, and she knows when there’s something they’re not saying.

He sighs, looks away from her.

“You tried to do everything on your own. If you were anyone else, I would have started by saying that you should have let go of Vassa the moment she started screaming. Lucien could have winnowed her, or Feyre or Rhysand. You didn’t know what magic Koschei was working. And when I thought you were in danger, I… I was willing to sacrifice myself for you, Elain. To buy you the time to save Vassa, or run to safety. I would gladly make the same decision again. But you did not show the same amount of trust.”

She looks at him for a long moment. His muscles are tensed against her, as if he is waiting for her to rage at him, or else to disappear and leave him stranded between worlds. It occurs to her, then, that he is completely at her mercy.

In the space of that realization, all her angry thoughts toward Feyre evaporate. All she can think about is that if he braces for rejection in the face of such a gentle critique, he must have faced it from everyone he ever cared for. That she is now one of those people. Elain isn’t sure if it’s the mating bond, but this idea is a heady one, thrumming through her body.

There are a thousand reasons she should distrust Tamlin, even now, but she pushes each one firmly aside.

“I think you’re right,” she says, her voice a thread, swallowed up by the expanse around them.

When she sees the slight widening of his eyes, the surprise at her acceptance, she wants to fling herself at him, press her mouth to his. But they need to return. There is work to do, still, and she cannot lose herself to this desire, she cannot be the person who winds up trapped by the idea of romance.

And though Elain wants to trust Tamlin, believe that he has changed, that his past is behind him, she’s still comforted by the fact that in this place, she is the one with the power. That despite all his training, the arms that heft a broadsword without hesitation, the thighs that strain at his pants, she could trap him with a thought. In another world, he cannot harm her.

So instead of kissing him, she steps out of the circle of his arms, says, “We should go back to the Spring Court.”

“I need you to go to the Summer Court.” He looks down at her but she doesn’t feel him looming, only the earnestness of his gaze. Still, she steels herself.

“In case Koschei comes for Vassa and Eris?”

“Because I’d like you to tell the High Lords of Prythian everything that has happened while I ensure my court is secure. I’m asking you to be my emissary.”

“Why me?”

“You see what nobody else does, Elain, and beneath your lovely face is a mind that never stops. I think only a fool would underestimate you, but it seems this world is full of fools.”

His little speech is pure poetry, everything she’s ever dreamed a man or male could say to her, more than she ever expected. Still Elain remains out of the circle of his arms. She was part of the deliberations between Tamlin and Lucien over the meeting of the High Lords, the bickering that turned thunderous. As much as she wants to believe them, she knows firsthand how words can be manipulated, how a story of disaster can be turned into an epic tale of bravery and vulnerability and redemption. And while she believes both halves of this story when it comes to the Spring Court, tonight her heart feels too bruised and tired to take the risk on Tamlin.

“You’re sure Lucien won’t mind losing his post?”

“Lucien has been revealed as the heir to the Day Court and will likely be the consort of the Queen of Scythia. Even if he’d like to reclaim the position in the future, I don’t think he’ll object to your mission tonight.”

“Then I’ll accept,” she says. “As long as you’ll agree to consider the fact that you’ll still need an army to deal with the Autumn Court and fend off Koschei.”

His mouth thins while he considers.

“What did you see when you were there?”

“I don’t think the Vanserra brothers are ready to hand over the throne to Eris. We can try a diplomatic option but they’re unlikely to be receptive. They threatened Feyre and me with fire when they found us in the Autumn Court.”

His fists are clenched.

“How did you escape?”

“Feyre made a shield of water and we ran as fast as we could.”

“You could have--”

“I know I could have brought you from the passageways,” she says, “but this is going to be a political nightmare already, and we barely have the other courts as our allies.”

She hadn’t realized she’d looked away from him until his hand interrupts her view of the tiled flooring of the passageways. She reaches for him and their fingers intertwine, effortless.

“We will require an army,” he says, and Elain could swear that the air fills with the scent of springtime, green and sunlit and full of promise.

&

&

&

The High Lords have remained in the same room of the Summer Court, and at first Elain wonders why their expressions are rapt from the moment she appears. Then she realizes that Feyre is speaking, that Vassa is at her side.

“That is the chaos in the Autumn Court,” Feyre says, without acknowledging Elain’s appearance, “but I think that the larger threat to all of us is Koschei.”

“The sorcerer is bound to the lake.” Kallias’ voice sounds certain, but he looks around at the other High Lords as if requesting reassurance.

“He spoke to me of other worlds.” Vassa speaks into the silence, which grows more profound as her words resonate in the room. “He means to conquer them.”

“By what means?” Helion tries for arrogance but Elain can hear the concern, the curiosity in his tone. She has heard those qualities in his speech too many times to miss them.

And it occurs to Elain that she knows the answer to this question, that she’s held it inside of her since that vision long ago. The world shifted around her to make sense of it, and still her thinking mind shielded her a bit longer, as if knowing she was not ready.

Before Feyre can answer, she steps forward to where the rulers of Prythian cannot help but see her, her tired face and the leaves in her hair and the sparkling dress that’s smeared with blood and dirt.

“I think he means to get the Crown on me,” she tells them.

“I heard you were a seer.” Tarquin’s voice is calm, the sea on a sunny day, but Elain wonders what’s lurking below, how his mind moves.

This is the moment when Elain must choose how much of her gifts to reveal. For a second she hesitates, nearly looks to Feyre or Helion for guidance. Instead, she turns to meet Vassa’s eyes.

Though her friend’s face is pale and haunted, her blue eyes blaze bright. The gaze of a queen.

Slowly, because a queen is never hurried, much less by a commoner, Vassa nods at Elain, her lips ever so slightly uptilted.

“I am still learning about my powers,” Elain says, turning back to Tarquin, then letting her gaze rest on each of the High Lords in turn: Kallias, Thesan, and Helion. “But what I thought was the power of foresight seems to be more complicated. I can see the inflection points, where one world becomes another. These worlds are forged by our choices. In one, for example, Koschei captures me and forces the Crown on my head. In another, we defeat him.”

“And why are you the central figure in his plan?” Thesan’s voice is pleasant, almost musical, and yet she sees the tension in his body, nearly hidden. Elain thinks that, should she survive what’s to come, she would like to know him better, learn the way he balances his strength and kindness, the way it is not weakness.

But there is work to do, so she breathes deep and explains to them about the way that she can walk through worlds. She tells the High Lords about the passageways, the way she’s guided by desire, so that she can find the worlds that answer her needs in half a heartbeat. She speaks of the world of Koschei’s origin, the tethering spell, the spell that keeps Vassa in this world.

“There’s one other thing I encountered on my travels,” she says, trying not to sound too excited, too naive. “I found a world where the fae and humans live together, a world at peace. I did not speak the language and looked unlike the humans of that world, but they gave me food and shelter and kindness. When this is over, if we can defeat Koschei, that is the kind of world I want to live in. Where visitors from other realms would like to stay because they know they will be safe.”

“First we will need an army.” Vassa steps in before any of the High Lords can speak, stepping towards Elain but far enough away that their bodies cannot accidentally touch. “First we will need Eris to rule over the Autumn Court. His brothers will be easy targets for Koschei.”

“I thought you would say that we must protect Elain,” Helion says, more steel in his voice than Elain would’ve expected, until she remembers once again that Helion is now Lucien’s acknowledged father, observing his lover for the first time.

“I will not be safe if any court in Prythian falls to Koschei,” she says, shooting a glance at Vassa, makes it as warm and encouraging as she can. “The Spring Court will raise the largest army it can cobble together to support Eris’ claim.”

“The Night Court will back Eris with an army.” Feyre’s voice is as sure and savage as any of the High Lord’s, and this is the moment when Elain has most delighted in her sister, at the swell of her power in the room, her refusal to yield.

“The Illyrians?” Helion asks, crossing his ankle over his knee.

“The Illyrians support Eris.” Feyre crosses her arms over her chest.

“If it cannot be Lucien,” Thesan sighs, “Eris is the best of the lot. The Dawn Court will offer its army.”

Kallias gives a nod, and then the room goes quiet.

“This is what your son would want,” Vassa says, her face aimed at Helion.

“Then why does he not ask me himself?” The words are too hard to be entirely false.

“He is strengthening the wards on the Spring Court against Koschei.” Vassa crosses her arms. “He’d like it clear that he wants to make no claim on the Autumn Court.”

“I see why he likes you, Queen of Scythia,” Helion says, his smile brilliant. “I’ll offer my army.”

“Then we’ll return tomorrow night to discuss our strategy.” Feyre’s gaze sweeps across the room but does not rest on Elain.

“We need to rule our courts,” Kallias says, with a shake of his head. “Give us another night, and bring the firebird queen.”

The other High Lords murmur their agreement, and when Elain steals a glance at Vassa, she could swear her friend is barely concealing a victorious smile. One battle, at least, has been won.

But when they’re in the Spring Court again, Feyre tugs on Elain’s arm, pulls her into an alcove off the great hall.

“Which vision was the lie?” Feyre’s voice is sharp, her fingers pressing into the soft part of Elain’s upper arm, so that she thinks of claws.

“I meant to tell you--”

“I gave you everything you needed, and the High Lords came to your meeting, they left their territories vulnerable against Koschei and the Autumn Court, and you lied. Was there even a true vision? Because I have been looking over my shoulder and wondering how he’d use you, how he’d break you, all the misery that would happen when your vision came true. And all that time you were here, and silent, and I thought you were in danger from him. Are you really such a monster that you needed to hurt me? Or are you in league with him, trying to have us all tearing at each other’s throats until you truly do wear a crown?”

At first Feyre’s words had been ragged and filled with hurt and rage, but gradually the emotion had disappeared, leaving only a flat despair.

Elain had never stopped to consider the impact of her lie on Feyre. She’d been so focused on her escape, the life she’d made in fits and starts in the Spring Court, her power. Just as she’s always been, she realizes, focused on her gowns or the men she might marry, her dreams of flowers when they’d lived in the cabin.

“I lied to you,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. “I am sorry, Feyre. I felt… when I saw that vision, I felt like the monstrous thing inside of me was going to turn me into something completely different. A person I couldn’t recognize. Except I already felt that way. Angry and useless and vile. And I thought, I couldn’t bear it if you and Nesta saw me turn into a monster. But I should have thought of you, what it would mean if I went to Tamlin. That you were in the vision.”

She expects Feyre’s voice to soften at her words, the honesty in them. Instead her eyes are downcast, her face hard and focused.

“I want to forgive you,” her little sister says. “But I don’t know if I believe you. Because I believed you when you lied to me. And you didn’t even think…”

Elain wants to insist that she’s sorry, kneel in front of her sister and weep until she’s so wretched that Feyre has no choice but to forgive her. Somehow she forces her spine to stay straight, her head to nod.

“I understand,” she says, unable to keep her voice from wavering.

“Of course this will not affect relations between our courts.” Feyre adjusts the sleeves of her gown, the same one she’d worn to the High Lords’ meeting, black and almost severe but for its close fit against her body. Her sister, who went off into the woods every day in search of food, who learned how to be a queen.

“I wasn’t aware that those relations were particularly friendly.” Elain tries to smile and feels it twist into a grimace.

“I will never let this court fall if you are there.”

“I -- thank you, Feyre.”

She had planned to say that she did not need this special protection, but she thinks of what Feyre said. Of what Tamlin said. The feeling when she was stuck in this world and Koschei seemed imminent.

Instead of arguing, she holds out her hand to her sister, and when Feyre takes it, she squeezes it tight until Feyre steps away, leaves the alcove, her skirts sighing against the marble floors.

Elain sinks to the ground, curls herself into a ball, and stares at the tiles until she hears the footsteps approaching her, Tamlin’s scent.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“Are the wards secure?” she shoots back, looking at him, dirty and disheveled but still so handsome he’s practically glowing.

“They recognize Koschei’s magic and should repel him from appearing. And Rhysand is taking Melis to the Night Court. Apparently Nesta and her Valkyrie friends will be guarding her in the library.”

“I thought Melis would stay here.”

“We still don’t know what she can do if she touches you. As talented a designer as she is, and as beautiful as this gown is, I would rather know that you’re safe from her.”

“It’s not -- I don’t care about the dresses,” she says, holding up her hand so that he cannot get close enough to drown out her voice. “But we didn’t torture Melis. And in the Night Court, Azriel might.”

“That is why I made Rhysand swear that Melis would not be tortured as long as she behaved herself.” Tamlin crouches down, and even then, she has to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “I made sure that Melis was aware of the arrangement.”

“So Vassa and Eris are safe?”

“As safe as anyone is in this world.”

The day and night have been endless but still Elain reaches for Tamlin. The world around her wavers, half-dissolving, before she resolves herself. That this must be here and now.

Before he can speak, she presses her mouth to his, hot and searching.

There is only time for a kiss in this world. Elain is battered and bruised and exhausted, and Tamlin is needed for a thousand things, and anybody could see them, but for this moment there is only his mouth opening to hers, his arms pulling her body tight against his, Elain is only a person who wants, and wants, and wants.

[rhysismydaddy]

Dirty Daydreams (Nessian Fluff)

Cassian groaned against her neck, the sound snapping something deep inside of her. She reached up to pull his head up, needing to see him. Golden eyes, the eyes she loved so much, met hers and she smiled up at him. 

Calloused hands gripped her hips, pushing into her and making her back arch-

Nesta’s eyes shot open, gulping down air and almost falling out of the bed as she violently tore herself from the dream. She threw a pillow at the wall in frustration, barely resisting the urge to scream her head off. 

That damn bastard was really trying to get himself killed. 

She shut her eyes, but images of his tan skin, wide smile, and sinful lips kept badgering her, so she threw the covers back and stormed across the room to lock her door. 

Then she glanced at the open window. 

After locking it--and giving the night sky a foul gesture for good measure--she crawled back into bed and sighed, begging the gods for just one good night sleep.

Just one.

Ever since he’d arrived in the House of Wind four days ago, Cassian had been plaguing her dreams. And daydreams. 

She knew what he was doing.

Rhysand had told her certain people could get into your mind, and apparently Cassian was one of those people. The prick thought it was funny to use whatever demonic skills he possessed to send dirty images to her brain at all points during the day and night. 

Seriously. 

Yesterday they’d been ignoring each other in the library when she’d imagined throwing her book down, going to where he’d sat at the desk, and kissing him senseless. 

The day before that, she’d been absolutely convinced she was in bed with him, watching the morning sunlight dance across his chest. Not listening to him talk about the army’s preparations for winter. 

It was driving her absolutely insane, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of asking him to stop. She would never let him know he’d gotten under her skin.

So far, she thought she’d remained perfectly unbothered, even though she had homicidal thoughts every time he asked if she was okay, voice teasing and knowing. 

Just one night, she pleaded. 

Nesta closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to imagine steel gates around her mind. Steel strong enough to keep even the most resilient winged beasts out. 

The next morning, Nesta cursed those damn gates. 

Apparently, there was a hole in them or something because Cassian had wormed his way into her mind enough to torment her all night long. 

She’d awoken at dawn, body aching with lust, ready to light him on fire. 

Nesta threw on a dressing gown and stomped down to breakfast, trying to school her face into neutrality despite the violence coursing through her blood. 

It didn’t matter, because as soon as she walked into the dining room, Cassian’s head snapped up, nostrils flaring as he took in her scent. 

Damn. 

She’d forgotten about that.

“Sexy dreams, Nesta?”

I’m going to stab him with a knife. 

She sat across from him at the table and grabbed a piece of bacon off his plate. “Nope.”

His curly hair fell in his face as he tilted his head to the side. “Interesting. You smell nice.” 

Make that a rusty knife. 

“Well, as usual, you smell like a rotten fish. I don’t know how I ever put up with it.” 

Cassian smiled like he always did when she insulted him, as if he knew it was all a lie. “You’re in a wonderful mood today.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes and scooped some fruit onto her plate. 

She was stabbing a piece of melon, watching him somehow shove more food in his fat mouth than anyone she’d ever seen, when she thought about how easy it would be to crawl across the table into his lap.

She’d press her mouth to his, pull his hair, drive him crazy like he did her. Cassian would give her that bright smile she loved, happy he’d finally won their little game, and wrap his arms around her, mouth finding its way to her neck-

A thud sounded through the room as Nesta’s head fell back against her chair. 

Cassian laughed. “What in the world were you thinking about over there?”

“That’s it!” she yelled, not able to keep her cool any longer. “You are so fucking annoying! Get out of my head!”

She slammed her fist down into the table, making all the plates shake. 

His dark eyebrows pinched together in fake confusion. “What?”

“Get out of my head! Stop sending me these delusional, disgusting thoughts, or I’m going to gut you, I swear-”

“Wait, wait, wait. What? You think I’m...” Realization spread over his face, and his eyes lit up as he smiled happily. “Nesta, baby, I’m not a Daemati. Rhys and Feyre are the only ones I know.”

Everything inside her came crashing to a halt. Her rage turned towards confusion, mind and body not wanting to accept what she’d just heard. 

What?

He wasn’t... he couldn’t... what? 

Her face caught fire as a blush worked its way over her entire body, and Nesta dug her fingers into her thighs as a horrible, repugnant understanding formed. No one had been messing with her. 

Except herself. 

Every single dream and thought she’d had... they’d been hers. 

“So what, exactly, were you daydreaming about?” Cassian asked, smile so bright, so satisfied it almost blinded her. 

Nesta finally gave in to her impulses and shot out of her chair so fast it flipped over. She didn’t care, though; she was already half-way out of the room. 

She had to get away from him. She was many things, but she’d never allow herself to break down in front of him. 

She sprinted down the hallway to her room, humiliation pushing at her to go faster, faster, faster. 

A dark shape over her head caught her attention, then Cassian was slamming to a landing in front of her, wings spread wide to block the entire hallway. “Stop running from me.” 

Sliding to a halt in her silk slippers, she realized she’d never be able to outrun him. 

Stupid, stupid wings.

Nesta looked for any other way out of this conversation, attention snagging on the open window. 

If she could just-

“You try to jump out of that window, Nesta, and I swear I’ll wring your pretty little neck.”

She rolled her eyes, trying not to look like that’s exactly what she’d been planning. 

“Now. Tell me what you’ve been dreaming about.”

Nope. Never. “Window it is, then.”

He growled at her, and she had to repress a laugh. 

The smile fell off her face as he just crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Waiting. 

“Why does it matter, Cassian?”

He looked at her incredulously, beautiful eyes holding a mixture of anger, happiness, frustration, and an emotion she didn’t want to consider. 

“Why does it matter?” he shouted at her, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I swear, Nesta, you’re so dense sometimes. It matters because I’ve been trying to get you to fall in love with me for almost a year, and you’re finally letting it happen. Now what the hell were the dreams like?”

She should respond, should do something besides gape at him, jaw swinging in the breeze. 

He’d been trying to... he... “You love me?” 

Her voice was so small and quiet, but he heard her perfectly. 

Hands on his hips, he rolled his eyes and said, “I tell you I love you at least once a day, dumbass.” 

True, but- “That’s different. You’re always teasing me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I never tease you about that. But stop trying to change the subject, Nesta. Tell me about the dreams.”

A dog with a bone. 

“Um.” Her face was a thousand degrees of embarrassment as she gave in and said, “They aren’t all sex dreams, so don’t even start. Sometimes we just dance, or go on dates, or wake up together, or kiss- stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” he asked, biting a lip to keep the smile at bay. 

“Like a kid of Yuelemas.” She pushed against his shoulder and stomped by him. “This doesn’t change anything. Just because my brain’s demented doesn’t mean things are different between us. I still hate you.”

They both knew it was a lie. 

Cassian, prick he was, called her on it. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

She was almost to her room, the blessed solitary confinement mere feet away.

“I can prove that you don’t.”

Nesta snorted, unable to help it. “Cassian, you’re so full of shit. You cannot possibly-”

He grabbed her wrist and turned her back around, and before she could so much as blink, he was kissing her. 

Nesta stood, unmoving, as her brain tried desperately to catch up.

All her dreams, all her fantasies, couldn’t compare to this. Nothing could. 

Cassian’s lips were soft and persistent against hers, hands rough as they grabbed her waist and pulled her against him. 

He whispered her name, and she finally snapped back into her body and realized what was happening. 

She pushed out the thoughts of doubt and embarrassment and nervousness and just did what she wanted for once. 

Her arms wound around his neck, and she pulled herself up closer to him, kissing him deeper. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she lost her mind at how he tasted.

Caramel, salt, wind, Cassian. 

He tugged on her lip with his teeth, smiled, and pulled back. 

“See? You don’t hate me, baby,” he laughed, pressing kisses to her forehead, temple, cheek, chin, everywhere. 

She’d never seen him this happy. Never felt this amount of joy in herself, either. 

Laughter bubbled out of her. “Okay. Fine. I don’t hate you.”

“You love me.”

He was a cocky bastard, wasn’t he? But... she thought back on all the times he’d been there for her, putting up with her when no one else wanted to. 

All the dreams she’d had of them just being together came crashing together, and she realized she wanted that. Wanted that life with him. 

Nesta pulled on his hair to stop the assault of kisses, looking into his eyes. “Yeah. I do.”

Cassian picked her up and spun her around, both of them laughing like maniacs. “And it only took a year of flying all the way up here to bug you.”

Once she was set back on her feet, she leaned into him, trying to memorize the feel of his body against hers. “Take me on a date tonight.”

“It’ll be just like your dream,” he smirked, kissing the tip of her nose. “Dancing and drinking and good food.”

She knew where he was going, but she didn’t even care as he teased, “Then whatever you dreamed about that had you smelling like that this morning.”

“You’re a presumptuous little asshole. I don’t think I’ll sleep with you. Ever.” 

A finger on her chin brought her face up to his. “Liar,” he whispered, their lips not an inch apart. 

“Maybe.”

“Say it again,” he murmured onto her jaw, fingers moving to play in her hair.

Nesta rolled her eyes, cupped his face with her hands, and finally told him the words she’d repressed since she first saw him. “I love you, Cassian.”

______________________________________________________________

Ending’s cheesy as shit, sorry. Not really. 

@musicmaam @b00kworm @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @a-bit-of-a-cactus 

[harmonyindark245]

Secrets [2]

Summary: King's Archeron's kingdom is made up of secrets, which include both betrayal and treason. When the Prince of Velaris and his Inner Circle visit the kingdom, these secrets start revealing themselves. How will these affect the 3 Archeron Princesses, who themselves have a very deadly secret?

AN: All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas.

Warnings: Slight Mature Language

Word Count - 2.4k

Hope you all enjoy!

Masterlist

Feyre stood in front of Tamlin, perplexed. Marriage.

“Tam, what are you talking about?” Feyre asked him. She couldn’t believe Tamlin would actually say that.

“I’m serious, Feyre. There’s a reason the prince is here. Your father obviously wants you to get betrothed or involved in an alliance of some sort. Marry me Feyre. You did say that you love me.” He said urgently. 

She backed away from him. “Tamlin, I only just turned 19. I can’t get married before my sisters. And you know father will not approve of it.” She tried to reason, but he would have none of it. 

“Do you mean to say that we have been doomed from the very beginning? That you cannot disobey your father to be with me? I disobey my duties to practice with you inside rather than go out for missions.” Tamlin told her as he started walking towards the weaponry table. 

“I never told you to stay inside. I have begged for you to let me go on missions with you. I even got father’s permission, but you never let me out.” Feyre told him as anger started boiling up inside of her. How dare he blame her when all she wanted was to assist him with his duties.

“You cannot go on a mission, Princess, it is too unsafe for you. You are weak and cannot protect yourself!”

Feyre felt as if she were struck on the face. “I’m weak?” She said in a deadly calm voice.

Tamlin groaned. “That is not what I meant. You’re misinterpreting my words. Obviously, you need time to accept. I will be gone for royal business for two weeks. When I return, I will ask again and you will say yes.” 

I will ask again and you will say yes. It sounded like a bloody demand.

“Where are you going?” Feyre asked.

“You don’t need to know.” is all he said as he started strapping weapons to his belt. 

“I am a member of the royal family. I demand to know.” 

Tamlin turned to look at her and sneered, “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Princess.”

Feyre lost her temper and she stormed out of the weapons room. 

Princess. She hated that word. Whenever Tamlin said it, it felt as if it were an insult. As if she had committed crime by being born as a royal. Feyre did not want to get married. She wanted to be a warrior. She wanted to be the one who held power and was not overseen by anyone. And when everyone was asleep, she would paint all of her heart’s desire. 

Feyre started moving towards her own chambers when she collided into someone. The person held her by her waist to ensure she did not fall. Feyre held onto what were someone’s shoulders. From the shape she assumed it was a man. He smelled like citrus and jasmine. She looked up and saw a very handsome man with deep violet eyes that reminded her of the night sky. 

Feyre thought he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

The man smirked at her. That damned smirk.

-------------------------------

Nesta found it extremely peculiar that this man had winked at her. 

Was he not aware of how one was supposed to treat a princess? Or perhaps a lady?

From beside Nesta, Elain clasped her hands together. “I welcome you all to our kingdom, Prince Rhysand and his beloved friends. I am Princess Elain,” She did a small curtsy and turned her hand towards Nesta, “And this is Princess Nesta, my elder sister.” Nesta followed Elain’s lead and curtsied. 

Prince Rhysand waved his hand and said, “Oh, there’s no need for that. We don’t exactly follow any formalities in our kingdom.”

That would explain why the man behaved that way, Nesta thought.

“Aren’t there three of you?” The tall man in the back asked, looking towards Elain. 

Instead of responding Elain just looked at him unblinkingly, obviously lost in another one of her dazes. The prince raised his eyebrows at her and the other man smirked. What was it with him and smiling?

“Elain!” Nesta elbowed her. Elain jumped a bit and glared at Nesta.

“What? Oh right, my bad.” She looked towards the guests apologetically. “Feyre, the youngest of us, could not join as she had a few tasks on her hand. She was very sad that she could not be here.” 

Nesta snorted. Feyre would probably be planning a romantic getaway with her coward of a lover.

The man looked at Nesta with a scrutinizing look. “Are you dumb?” He asked. Everyone in the room looked at him with wide eyes and an uneasy silence fell over the room. 

“I beg your pardon?” Nesta said with a challenging voice.

The man smirked again. “Aah, so you do speak. I just thought you were unable to as you hadn’t said a damn word since we came.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow at him. “Do women often start blabbering in your presence?”

Elain glanced between Nesta and the man worriedly. 

He simply laughed. “Why yes, in my experience, they do.” 

Nesta held her book close to her chest. “Then, my Lord, you haven’t met a true lady.”

The woman in red started laughing very loudly. The prince raised both his eyebrows in surprise and the man in the back smiled softly.

“Do not confuse him as a lord, Princess.” The short woman shot out. “And do ignore every word that comes out of his mouth. He fell asleep when manners were being taught and never thought of learning them afterwards.”

The man chuckled and looked at Nesta. She instantly felt uncomfortable to be gazed at by someone in such a manner, so she turned towards Elain who was looking at the entire scene with eyes wide. 

“I shall be in my chambers or at the library. Do not disturb me until dinner.” With that, Nesta walked out of the great hall. 

-------------------------------------------------

Elain had thought she was in one of her dreams again when she had seen the man standing in front of her. He had the same dagger she had imagined. No shadows, but his face was exactly what she had dreamt of. Even his voice appeared to be the same.

Another thing that shocked her was the small banter between Nesta and Prince Rhysand’s companion. She had never seen anyone rile Nesta up so much. Elain immediately thought of it as a romance in the making.

Prince Rhysand moved forward and cleared his throat. “I have just realised that I haven’t introduced my companions.”

Elain had, too, just realised that. However, she only cared for one name. 

The prince pointed towards the woman clad in red. “That is Morrigan. She is a distant cousin of mine.” Morrigan wiggled her fingers at Elain. “The big idiot who just taunted Princess Nesta is Cassian and the quiet man standing way in the back is Azriel.” 

Azriel, what a lovely name, Elain thought. He gave Elain a small smile and Cauldron damn her, he looked mesmerizing. 

“The short one in gray and a permanent scowl is Amren.” He leaned forward and whispered to Elain, “Between just us both, she deeply terrifies me.” The Prince said with a serious face. 

Elain laughed. “Don’t worry Prince Rhysand, your secret is safe with me.”

“Oh no, Princess Elain. Please call me Rhys. Just Rhys.”

Elain looked at him with a fond smile on her lips. He seemed to be extremely pleasant. “Only on one condition. You must refer to me as only Elain.” Then she looked at the others. “All of you, please refer to me as Elain.” They all smiled back at her. 

Elain turned towards the door and clapped her hands twice, signalling the servants to take the guests’ luggage.

“Well, then let us go and find your rooms now, shall we?” When no one responded, Elain looked back at them and said tauntingly, “Come quickly, we’re not getting any younger now, are we?” 

The prince, Rhys, let out a chuckle and they all followed her out of the great hall.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Before visiting the kingdom, Azriel had thoroughly investigated the Royal family. He had learnt that the eldest was known to be rude, which had apparently been true. He did not know much about the youngest, only that she was better than most in fighting. The one that truly surprised him was the middle sister, princess Elain. 

He had thought she would be soft spoken and would appear gentle. However, she seemed to be the one with most life within her. As if she were a box of surprises, waiting to be opened. 

Azriel had to admit though, she truly was beautiful. And the way she was looking at him had not gone unnoticed. He knew Rhys and Cassian would grill him for it afterwards. 

Elain, as she had insisted they call her, led them all through the palace into an entirely different tower. 

"This part of the castle was specifically designed for our guests. It's position is such that it would be closely connected to the main parts of the castle as well as easily accessible to the exits for town."She had turned around to face them and was walking backwards with such confidence as if she knew the position of everything present. 

"At the moment, they're empty except for one, which is occupied by Prince Lucien-"

"Vanserra's here?" Cassian asked quite loudly. 

Elain started fidgeting, evidently uncomfortable. “Um, yes. Lucien Vanserrsa. He has been staying here for a while now, claiming to be here to visit his childhood friend.”

Rhys laughed. “Vanserra has friends? Shocking.” Az laughed as well. At the sound, Elain looked up at him with gleaming eyes. 

She had a mischievous look on her eyes which made her look like an adolescent. Azriel thought she looked beautiful. 

She moved along and showed everyone their rooms and they went inside. In the end, only Azriel and Elain remained. 

An awkward silence ensued between them when Azriel finally spoke up. “I noticed how you reacted when Lucien was mentioned. Is everything alright?” 

Elain glanced at him. “Yes, everything is alright. It’s just… Nothing. I wouldn't want to bother you.”

“Let me guess, he isn’t only here for his friend, is he?” 

Elain blinked and slumped her shoulders. “No. He is not. And even though he asked recently, it’s been obvious what his intentions are since he came here.” 

“And you don’t reciprocate the feelings? Why is that?” Azriel asked.

“Why is-” She turned and gave him a disbelieving look.”Because he is extremely pushy and utterly bland!”

Azriel was amused by her reaction. She continued saying, “He may be handsome and a nice person overall, but that man cannot crack a single joke, even if his life depends on it!” 

Az smiled gently to himself. “I do agree that Lucien’s sense of humour is much worse than Cassian’s common sense. And I personally think that in comparison to his father, he is a bit bland.”

Elain widened her eyes. “Precisely! I always thought the apple never falls far from the tree, but in this case, it seems as if the tree is completely different!” Az raised an eyebrow at her as Elain widened her eyes even further. 

“I didn't mean it that way. Cauldron, that came out worse than I thought.”

Az looked around and saw that they were nearing the exit to the main town. “Princess Elain, might I ask why my chambers are so far away from the other’s?”

She paused and then gave him a sheepish smile. “Oh, your room was the first one as we entered the hall.” She then raised her hand as if she just remembered something. “That reminds me, I must go and check on Feyre.” She walked ahead, leaving Azriel slightly confused. Just before she turned towards a different corridor, she looked back at Azriel and smirked as she said, “And please, it’s Elain.”

Azriel looked down as he started shaking his head in amusement. He had been right. Each sister would be too much for them.

------------------------------------------------------------

Rhysand had gotten bored ten minutes after he entered his chambers. In all honesty, he was curious about the third sister, Feyre. Princess Nesta had been, well, a lesser version of Amren. Princess Elain had been extremely friendly and pleasant. Something told him that Elain would fit perfectly with his Inner Circle. 

The third sister was a mystery. As was the kingdom he was currently visiting. 

He knew he was not there to visit, but had a very important task. However, that could wait until after dinner. He got up and left his room to stroll around the palace. 

Outside his room, he found Az walking towards him with a smile on his face. He looked up and saw Rhysand and just said, “It’s going to be one hell of a month.” 

Rhysand smirked and clapped him on the shoulder and continued walking. After various turns and a few changes in level, he finally reached the area where most of the training supplies were kept. Rhys knew there would be a weaponry somewhere near. 

As he turned around a corner once again, he collided into someone. A lady,he figured from the dress. Rhys held onto her waist to keep her upright as she grasped onto his shoulders. She looked up at him and looked straight into her stormy blue-gray eyes. The same eyes Princess Nesta had. 

Aah, so this must be Princess Feyre, he thought.  

At her startled expression, he smirked at her and she abruptly let go of his shoulders and stepped back from him. “I apologise for crashing into you and thank you for not letting me fall.” She has a nice voice, Rhysand thought.

“You must be Prince Rhysand. I am Princess Feyre.” She curtsied. “And I am deeply sorry for being unable to welcome you along with my sisters.”

Rhysand smirked again. “I somehow highly doubt that. And please, just call me Rhys, Feyre darling.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at him. “I beg your pardon, did you just call me darling?” 

Rhysand was still smirking as he said, “Why yes, Feyre darling, I did.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Oh, I did it again.”

Feyre scowled at him. “Apparently, no one cared to tell me that the Prince of Velaris would be a prick.” She retorted. 

Oh, Rhysand loved how riled up she was. “You could take your time and learn for yourself, you know.” Rhysand crooned.

Feyre gave him a sardonic smile. “I could, but I rather not.” She then dropped her smile as she pushed Rhysand away. “Now if you would excuse me, I need to go and find Elain.” Feyre started moving ahead without glancing back at him.

Rhysand’s smirk had remained intact.

It truly was going to be one hell of a month.

[luxurylives]

Missing Pieces Part 6

Pairing: No pairing  

Book(s): Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance               

Word Count: 2,363

Rating: T (Mild language)

Summary: Ellie and Toby find Colt; Logan and Vanessa come to an agreement. 

Author’s Note: Part Six! I’ll wait to post the rest on the last day 😊 Pixelberry Studios owns the characters. The De la Cruz family is from High School Story (I chose first names for Bartholomew's parents). Thank you so much to those who read!

 Tagging: @liam-rhys @desireepow-1986 @mfackenthal @rodappreciationweek @brightpinkpeppercorn @leelee10898 @choicesarehard @client-327

A lot was riding on tonight, Logan was in trouble, Colt was up to something, and someone was after the Mercy Park Crew. The only thing Ellie felt was fear and uncertainty, lately, she had begun to wonder what her life would have been like if she never got involved with the Mercy Park Crew. However, the answer to that has remained a mystery. 

“Ximena sent me a text, she just arrived at Lilac Palm”.

Ellie snapped out of her thoughts and turned to Toby who fell into step beside her. “Good, where is this club anyway?”

“Just up ahead,” Toby said. 

Soon they arrived at a building in an alley with a few people standing around. As Toby approached the door, a man from the nearby group approached Ellie.  

“You look familiar”.

Ellie swallowed as she turned to face him, he looked identical to Detective Wallace. “I— “. 

“Did you used to bartend at the Ostrich Garage?” 

“Oh...no sorry” Ellie answered calmly. 

“My bad” the man backed away to join the group he was with earlier. 

“Ellie,” Toby said. 

Ellie turned to see Toby standing in the doorway of the club and quickly walked over to join him. As they crossed the threshold, thick, smoky air greeted them along with the sounds of upbeat Latin music. Many patrons flocked to the dance floor while others sat at their tables smoking and drinking. 

“Full house,” Ellie said as she took in the vibrant atmosphere. 

“If you think this is full, then you should see this place when Matt Rodriguez shows up, it is packed”. 

Ellie gripped Toby’s arm and motioned her head towards the bar. “Look”.

Toby averted his eyes and his eyes widened. “There’s no way…but why?”  

Both of them watched in complete shock as Vicente approached Colt. After a moment of speaking, they retreated to a back room.

“What the hell is doing?” Toby asked worriedly. 

Before Ellie could respond, she watched two burly men take their place on both sides of the door. “We’re about to find out”. 

“You can’t be serious, running off to Detroit? Especially now?”

“I know someone that I can stay with until things cool down”. 

“Just you?”

Logan sighed and shook his head. “Look, we have to split up”.

“Well, I think that is the worst thing we could do right now”.

“Vanessa, Javier knows we are in Massachusetts and for all we know, he could be in Birchport too”. 

“Logan, you cannot keep running! And I’ll be damned if I get sucked further into this black hole you and your friends created! My parents have a summer house in Nantucket, we can go there and hideout. I’ll call my Dad and tell him what is going on, we can get you a lawyer— “.

Logan shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No”.

“Logan!”

“Vanessa, too many people are involved in this already. I can take you to Nantucket but after that, I am going to Detroit…alone”.

Vanessa stared at him, only this time, really seeing him. 

“We need to split up”.

“Aren’t you supposed to meet Ellie?”

“I’ll just have to postpone that until the dust settles”.

“And if it doesn’t?”

Logan shrugged and gazed out the window. “I’ll figure it out”.

Vanessa shook her head, there was no point in arguing with him and deep down she knew Logan was right. Javier was after him, not her so it was best if they split up now. “So when do you want to leave?”

“We’ll sneak out during the barbeque”.

“You’re going to need transportation to Detroit so keep the car, I’ll come up with something to tell my grandparents,” Vanessa said. 

Logan stared at her quizzically. “They won’t suspect anything?”

“You’re looking at the girl who went streaking on a public beach while intoxicated, they’ll draw their conclusions first and ask questions later”. 

“Alright, with that said…are you ready?”

“Now or never”.

Logan walked over to his bag and began packing while Vanessa entered the bedroom to do the same.

 “How are we going to get close to them?” 

Ellie’s eyes swept over the crowded club and towards the guarded door. “Well, there’s only two of us...maybe one of us could distract the guards?”

“Eh...” Toby’s voice trailed off as he looked at the burly men near the door. “Got any other ideas?”

Ellie turned to see the man who approached her earlier, enter the club and head towards the bar. After exchanging a few words with the bartender, he began walking in their direction. 

“Toby, forgive me”.

“What?”

Ellie mustered up all of her strength and shoved Toby, who lost his balance and collided with the man she met earlier who stumbled into a nearby group of people. 

“What the hell is the matter with you? Watch where you’re going!”

Toby stared at the man for a second but then saw the altercation caught the attention of the men guarding the door. 

“How about you watch where you’re going!”

The man stepped up to Toby and shoved him, who shoved back. Suddenly, both men guarding the door left their post to intervene. 

Ellie maneuvered around a few people and slipped through the door, only to find herself in a small hallway. 

Bzzzz bzzzzzzz

Ellie quickly answered her phone as she neared a room with the door cracked. “Hello?”

“It’s Ximena, look I’m at Lilac Palm but it's dead…that Vicente guy isn’t here…”.

“He’s at the club, whatever is going on he is in on it too”.

Ximena sighed and shook her head. “Okay, I’ll head over, it’s close by, right?”.

“Yea but hurry, I had to think fast, and I may have complicated things”.

“Got it,” Ximena said and hung up. 

Ellie crouched behind some crates and boxes nearby as she leaned towards the door. 

 Colt Kaneko casually took a sip of his beer as Vicente narrowed his eyes at him. Ever since the Mercy Park Crew had split up, he was hellbent on continuing the legacy his father created. However, doing so from scratch was no small feat. 

Luckily, he was able to track down Mona, and together they decided to infiltrate and conquer. He figured, what better way to do this than to go after the people his father had unfinished business with? He’d be making an even bigger name for himself and continue his father’s legacy. 

“I just got word from David that Logan is in Boston”.

“Good, you can thank me for tracking down Zoe and Rita and passing that information to him anytime,” Colt said. 

“Hm, we’ll see about that” Vicente took a sip of his beer and slid his phone back into his pocket. 

“Look, I want to know if we have a deal? You know where Logan is, and I gave you all the information that I have on Mona”. 

Vicente stroked his chin and gave Colt a dubious once-over. “What about Toby, Ximena, and Ellie?” 

Colt slid a folder towards them. “Still working on tracking down Ellie but here’s where I last saw both of them”.

Vicente opened the folder and began sifting through Colt’s notes. 

“Well?”

“I’m suspicious Kaneko, you aren’t like your father, not sure what to expect with you. I will wait until Ace gets here”. 

Before Colt could respond a man, a few years older than him, sauntered into the room. Colt looked up from his seat and instantly recognized him, Bartholomew “Ace” de la Cruz from the Crimson Santos. 

“Sorry got held up, Vicente your guys told me there was a fight out there”.

“I’ll check it out once we’re done here”.

Bartholomew turned his attention to Colt and gave him a quick once-over. “Teppei Kaneko’s son, in the flesh. So what do you have for us?”

“I have notes on Toby and Ximena and Vicente was just telling me Logan is in Boston”.

Vicente passed the notes to Bartholomew who began skimming the pages and eyeing the photographs. 

“Nothing on Mona?” Batholomew asked as he looked up at Colt.

“No,” Colt said. “Besides, she was working with the Brotherhood, do you want to deal with someone like that?”

Bartholomew exchanged a look with Vicente before turning his attention back to Colt. “Are you familiar with ‘Walang Wa’?”

“So you’re schooling me now?”

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be a smart-ass,” Vicente said. 

“No I want to hear this, have you heard the phrase or no?”

“No” Colt answered sharply. 

“It means no mercy,” Bartholomew said. “It is also the motto of the Crimson Santos”.

With a stoic expression, Colt simply nodded his head. “Alright”.

“And what we will show you if you are playing a game here”.

Colt shrugged and shook his head. “I just want us to work together”. 

“I think we need to recap since your memory is shit, Kaneko. Teppei stole two cars from my father years ago, which caused a lot of problems— “. 

“Couldn’t have done too much damage, I hear, Cesar and Althea are doing fine with the B&B”.

Bartholomew took a deep breath and silently counted back from ten. “As I said, your father stole the 67 Komoda and the 54 Aeon SX from us, but he didn’t stop there, he tipped off a P.I. and we ended up having a mole problem”.

Colt stared back and squared his shoulders. 

“My father was only able to do so much with that…hence why he is in Massachusetts and now I oversee things here. Now, the Mente Kings...Vicente, do you care to elaborate?”

“Sure, I guess Teppei never told you about a drifting competition in Tokyo?”

“Pop mentioned it was against some guy from Las Mente” Colt answered coolly. 

“Hm, well that guy was Felix Curbelo, my brother” Vicente said. “Your father cheated and stole fifteen thousand from us. Once Felix got back to the states, interestingly enough, we also began to have a mole problem”.

Colt’s jaw worked as he eyed both men sitting across from him. 

“Javier and Ace played soccer at Terman U. Imagine my surprise when he came home to visit and told me the Mente Kings and Crimson Santos had something in common—Teppei Kaneko and the Mercy Park Crew”. 

“I get it, you’re pissed which is why I want to resolve this. I can find Ellie and easily bring her to you and believe or not, what’s in that folder should be enough for each of your guys to find Ximena and Toby”. 

An eerie silence swept through the room as Vicente, Bartholomew, and Colt engaged in an intense stare-down. 

“And you want cars and some money to get started?”

“Yeah, do what you want with them and all three of us can work together. Run this city, who knows? Maybe takeover”. 

“Hm, as nice as it would be to inflict pain on the LAPD, I’m no longer interested,” Vicente said.

Colt bit his lip, usually, he was more confident, but now he felt backed into a corner. 

Bzzzz bzzzzzzz

“That would be me” Bartholomew pulled out his phone and immediately a smiled appeared on his face. 

“Good news?” Vicente asked.  

“My old man just confirmed Logan is at their B&B. David and Javier are heading over there now”.

“Alright, so you have Logan”.

Bartholomew bit his lip and shook his head. “Alright, Kaneko here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll have my guys follow up on Ximena and Toby”.

“And I’ll tell David, Javier, and the new girl to bring Logan in,” Vicente said. 

“But we still don’t have Mona and Ellie,” Bartholomew said as he tapped his fingers on the table. 

“As I said, I will bring Ellie to you and trust me, you do not need Mona” Colt replied. 

“I’m holding you to it” Bartholomew answered sternly. 

Colt shook his hands with both men and exited the room. As soon as he was in the main area of the club, he pulled out his phone and texted Mona.

I just spoke with Ace and Vicente. David and Javier are taking you to a B&B owned by Ace’s parents. That’s where Logan is. You know what to do. 

Within minutes Mona replied to his text. 

Got it. I hope you’re right about this. Not comfortable infiltrating the Mente Kings and screwing with that Filipino gang in the process. One of my ex-girlfriends did some work for them, they are not to be played with.

As Colt passed by the crates and boxes, he typed out a reply. 

Look it's easy, you bring Logan in. Once all of us are together we overthrow and take what is rightfully ours. I know what I am doing. 

Back in the room, an eerie silence swept through the air as Bartholomew and Vicente sat drinking their beers, both deep in thought. 

“Were you buying any of his crap?” Vicente turned to Bartholomew. “I mean this is Teppei Kaneko’s kid we’re talking about”.

Bartholomew set his bottle down and shook his head. “My thoughts exactly, I trust him about as far as I can throw him”.

Vicente took another sip and set his bottle down. “You know a few weeks ago, this chick joined the Mente Kings, goes by the name ‘Gwen’, good driver, fast and reliable…but something about her doesn’t sit right with me”.

“What does she look like?”

Vicente pulled out his phone and passed it to Bartholomew who started laughing. 

“What’s so funny?”

“That’s the chick from the Mercy Park Crew. Shaw told me about her while we were playing cards one night. I bet she and Kaneko are up to something”.

Vicente tossed his phone on the table. “Maldita sea”.

“Let me guess, you sent her to Massachusetts with Javier and David”.

Vicente silently tapped his fingers on the side of his bottle and shook his head. “Kaneko is up to something…what should we do?”

Bartholomew set his bottle and turned towards Vicente. “We kill them”. 

As soon as Ellie heard the words, she crawled out of her hiding place and scurried towards the exit, she had to find Ximena and Toby and fast. 

[ifeelbetterer]

Hello! I'm rereading Jane Eyre for he first time since i was 12, and was wondering - what are your thoughts on Bertha?

MY BUDDY MY PAL. I love you forever for sending me this ask. If I knew who you were (and also had the moneys), I would send you daffodils every day for the rest of your mortal life for sending me this ask. I have never been given the opportunity to do this immensely awesome thing I am about to do before. I am buzzing with excitement about the wonders you are about to encounter. 

Because before I say what I personally think, I have just the BEST NEWS to give you and it is the highpoint of my literary life that I get to be the one to tell you this: there’s a book/miniseries* for you called Wide Sargasso Sea. It is SO EXCELLENT and I hope you repay me for guiding you in its direction by coming back and dropping me a line about it once you’ve consumed it. It’s Jane Eyre from Bertha’s pov. What happened was Jean Rhys, who obviously was tuned into future trends in fanfic like some kind of fandom divining rod, took this excellent fic trope of “this version is pov from THE OTHER ONE” and applied a lifetime of just masterful postcolonial thought/experience/emotion and made this goddamned masterpiece. They call it both a feminist and a postcolonial response to Jane Eyre (missing, of course, the fandom divining rod angle I am pushing hard here). It IS. It’s so good. 

* excellent book, excellent miniseries. I am not bothered by how you choose to consume, but run to it as soon as you have finished your re-read of Jane. 

God. I am so excited about you encountering Wide Sargasso Sea. Please PLEASE come back and talk to me about it someday. I know Jane Eyre is a handful and you might not get to it any time soon, but when you do. Please come back. If it is fifteen years from now, please come back and talk to me about it. I will be as excited about it then. 

My thoughts about Bertha are directly tied to everything Rhys does with the character. She’ll expand Jane Eyre for you, not damage it. You will see whole worlds that Bronte never imagined unfold in the novel. Because there’s a lot to “abroad” that Bronte was only guessing at, circumscribed as she was by her era, her privilege, her race, and her gender. So when she says “oh Bertha was from the West Indies” she has only the most broad strokes of “abroad” in mind there. So Bertha needs someone more sympathetic to expand her, to give real flesh to a character that is more a function than a person in the original novel. And Jean Rhys does that. 

There are, of course, other ways to read her. If you take as given that Bronte was incapable of understanding the realness of such a foreign person, you can see Bertha more as a reflection of Jane’s worst fears and her most extreme desires. Jane is, after all, the child who screamed in a red room once upon a time. She’s still the girl who responded to Helen’s death by curling around her corpse. This girl is, like Bronte herself, not a being who can be confined to the societal expectations of a proper lady. She expands. Jane is a little touched by the same magical “madness” that has seized her mirror locked up in the attic. Jane, who rebelled so hard when she was younger and then just crushed herself into the shape that school required her to be, that Jane also could very well set a house on fire. Jane is also the woman who walks out into the moors rather than compromise her agency for Rochester, who she actually legit loves. So I think there’s a way you can see Jane finding Bertha as a sign of the dangers of penning herself away like she already does, like women in general (at the time and even, I would argue, today) were expected to do. Bertha is what happens when you squeeze women into tiny little pigeon holes that they, as real living people, cannot be contained by. Bertha bursts her seams, so to speak, and Jane learns that this will happen to her too if she has to be contained in a neat little pigeon hole too. 

So she walks out onto the moors and makes a new life for herself that is entirely, completely subject to her own will. 

(Which is why I haaaaaate when adaptations of Jane Eyre cut the St. John bits. They’re SO PIVOTAL.)

So that’s how Bertha is more a function than a person in Bronte’s version. She’s a lesson Jane learns about oppression but she’s also not a real person that Jane is ever tempted to free from oppression. I count that more as an authorial sin than the character’s, but Jane SHOULD have freed Bertha. Like the unicorn in The Last Unicorn frees the harpy, Jane SHOULD have freed the fellow being who was like her and who she saw herself reflected in. If Jane is the character she is, she’s actually a better person than Bronte—small wonder, right? we all right our characters better than ourselves—and Jane would have saved Bertha. 

I actually think it’s a better ending. It makes Bertha a new Helen, not some kind of dire omen. Jane’s story is about her relationship with women, not Rochester. The aunt is the first person who matters, than Helen. Then there’s the bit about Rochester. But then we go back to women: Bertha and St. John’s sisters. And it makes more sense to me that a Jane who counted Helen’s death as not a freak of circumstance, but the fault of the conditions of the school.....THAT Jane should not sit idly by while a woman is killed by the conditions of where she lives. THAT Jane should free Bertha and THEN walk out onto the moors. Then there would be days of walking, of sleeping but not knowing if Bertha will come upon her in the night, of startling when she catches glimpses of Bertha out of the corner of her eye, of Bertha slowly creeping closer, of Bertha’s trauma and her rage finding outlets, of Jane finding herself in response to them and finding her own rage and her own trauma in watching someone else heal themself, etc. 

Making St. John the end of the book is the coward’s way out. 

[mllemaenad]

How to make a slave class: an essay on evil

Hawke: Why does Meredith have a Tranquil assistant?

Anders: She flaunts what she can do to mages. She likes to rub our faces in it.

Elsa: The knight-commander believes Tranquil mages to be efficient and single-minded. I, in particular, am extremely organised.

It is insidious. It is vile. It is the work of centuries. The Chantry has created a class of utter non-persons, whom even their fellow prisoners in the Circles of Thedas do not think to defend.

Look at Anders, here. In Dragon Age 2, Anders is the voice of mage freedom. There are others in the world, of course: Fiona has been fighting for her people for some time, and the Resolutionists are out there – somewhere – striving to break free of the Chantry. But they’re not here now, in Hawke’s story. Here, Anders is the one who reminds Hawke and the player of the suffering in the Gallows, and that it is not just in the Gallows: in Circles all over the continent, many mages suffer as the Kirkwall ones do, if not quite so publicly and with such startling frequency.

But here? He does not talk to Elsa. He does not engage with her. He talks about her to Hawke, and he makes it clear that he regards her position as both a threat and an insult to the mages. He’s probably right. Meredith is like that.

Elsa is not a person to Anders. She is, at best, a walking corpse – the shadow of whoever she used to be. At worst she is a psychological weapon, who can do nothing but harm the survivors in the Gallows: those mages who have not yet been given the brand. Anders has given up on Elsa.

And that’s exactly what the bastards want.

The Tranquil are the least understood but most visible members of the Circle. Every city of respectable size boasts a Circle of Magi shop, and every one of these shops is run by a Tranquil proprietor.

The name is a misnomer, for they are not tranquil at all; rather, they are like inanimate objects that speak. If a table wished to sell you an enchanted penknife, it could pass as one of these people. Their eyes are expressionless, their voices monotone. Incomparable craftsmen they might be, but they are hardly the sort of mages to put ordinary folk at ease.

– In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar

Genitivi is undeniably among the less hostile Chantry scholars. While certainly true to his faith, he tries to be aware of his biases and his interest in other cultures is genuine. Nevertheless, he is a product of Chantry indoctrination. Look how easily, how comfortably, he assures you that the Tranquil are not people. They are not humans or elves. They are furniture, to be used and discarded.

Genitivi’s books are popular: there’s a reason he pops up so often in the Codex. Think of all the people who read this, and then ignored bruises they saw on Tranquil faces, ignored Tranquil voices that described beatings and other abuse. Think of the ones who went further – who understood that peasants, elves and mages might be lowly people, but if cornered they might still fight back ... but that the Tranquil would not. And really, if you break a table you can just get a new one.

The Templars gathered you for your Harrowing in the middle of the night, without warning. Succeed at the test and you were a mage in full. Fail and you were dead. If you refused the test, you were put through the Rite of Tranquillity and rendered an emotionless neuter. It was a preferable fate for some, but Rhys found that hard to believe – he couldn’t get near a Tranquil without shuddering. He would rather be dead than spend the rest of his life looking at the world through those dead eyes.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

The amount of terror and loathing the Circle has instilled in mages for the Tranquil is appalling. Consider Rhys’s word choice here: emotionless neuter,  shuddering, dead eyes. He is afraid of the Tranquil, yes, but they also disgust him. They symbolise failure and hopelessness to him. In theory, a mage’s greatest fear is becoming possessed by demons. But in practice, they mostly fear being made Tranquil.

Imagine being an apprentice mage. Say – eighteen or nineteen. You’re anxious perhaps, or not especially skilled at magic. You don’t want to fight anything, and your teachers and your fellow apprentices do nothing but remind you, whether they mean to or not, that your Harrowing must come soon ... and you’re not going to make it.

So when the Templars come, you tell them no. You won’t take this terrible, mysterious test of theirs. They can’t make you. And no – they really can’t. So they drag you away to wherever they keep that lyrium brand of theirs, and they do what they do with it.

And when it’s done, you have no friends. No one wants to look at you. Any friend you had among the apprentices will shy away, sickened and horrified: they know that any day now, they might be mutilated like you. No one wants to talk to you. No one wants to hear about what you do – or what has been done to you. But it doesn’t matter, right? You’re just furniture now. Nothing could possibly be wrong with you. Even if you are a bit battered around the edges, it couldn’t bother you any more than a dent would bother a table.

Avexis, in Haven, says she would not accept the cure for Tranquillity because she does not believe she would survive it, given the terrible things that have happened to her while Tranquil. This young elven woman was once perhaps the most visible mage in Thedas (I mean, talking to dragons is pretty noticeable) and the Right Hand of the Divine should have had an eye on her. But she was made Tranquil, and no one noticed her enough to even stop people hurting her. In Inquisition she isn’t even named; you have to infer her identity from her damn ambient dialogue. The girl who could talk to dragons is rendered invisible by her Tranquillity.

It is even dubious whether Tranquil actually count as mages. Certainly the official stance seems to be yes:

The Tranquil, ironically, resemble sleepwalkers, never entirely awake nor asleep. They are still part of our Circle, however, and some might say they are the most critical part. They have incredible powers of concentration, for it is simply impossible to distract a Tranquil mage, and this makes them capable of becoming craftsmen of such skill that they rival even the adeptness of the dwarves. The Formari, the branch of the Circle devoted to item enchantment, is made up exclusively of Tranquil, and is the source of all the wealth that sustains our towers.

– On Tranquillity and the Role of the Fade in Human Society

... but the general feeling seems to be no:

“Yet here I am. Ask yourself which possibility is more likely.” It chuckled at her grim expression. “Ah, yes. If the Rite of Tranquillity can be undone, Templars would have to watch over the Tranquil as well as the mages. Suddenly no one is safe.”

The commons was crowded, just as Adrian had often seen it before. People stood in clumps, speaking of things in calm whispers. None of them were mages, however. They were all Tranquil. All of them.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

Notably, waaaay up at the top of this post, Elsa takes a stand on this: Tranquil mages, she says. It’s a subtle rebuke and I doubt Anders picks it up, but it’s there. She is a mage, and she is of the Circle. And right now she’s facing the possibility of an Annulment just like everyone else.

Mages are stateless persons: they are Chantry wards, and may be transferred between Circles without their consent. No government has the right to protect its mage citizens – although some do try. But the Tranquil don’t belong even among mages. Damn near no one is listening to the mages’ cries for help – but no one can even grasp that a Tranquil might ever need help.

So, we have established that the Tranquil are people to whom you can do anything, and it doesn’t matter because they won’t feel it anyway. But it does not follow from there that they will do anything:

Ser Alrik: That’s right. Once you’re Tranquil you’ll do anything I ask.

This is the Chantry’s great lie. If the Chantry has said a thing is true, triple check it to be sure – because most of what they say is an ugly lie. They have said these people are furniture to prevent you from appreciating that they’re slaves. Pharamond is quite vehement in his insistence that the Tranquil sometimes do things because they think they’re a good idea:

“The Tranquil do nothing they’re not asked to.”

“That’s not true! We have free will. We just ... desire nothing, we strive for nothing.”

– Dragon Age: Asunder

There is no denying that Tranquillity changes the way the mind works. But if part one of this plan is creating invisible non-persons, part two is then using that invisibility to force them to do your bidding. Let’s consider Karl Thekla:

Karl: I was too rebellious. Like you. The Templars knew I had to be ... made an example of.

We’ll probably never know exactly why Karl betrayed Anders. He simply isn’t around long enough for anyone to talk about it properly. And the Tranquillity itself is clearly a part of it: Karl is distressed by that state, and regards it as a kind of torture in itself. But when he asks to die, his last, desperate argument is that he cannot bear to fall back into Templar hands:

Karl: I would rather die a mage than live as a Templar puppet.

We know, indisputably, that they are beating the Tranquil in the Gallows:

Tranquil mage: Please do not steal the merchandise. I will be beaten if you do.

There is also, disturbingly, this:

A ball of white fire soared toward him, everything she had poured into it, and when it struck him it exploded into an inferno.

He was engulfed, as were the Tranquil nearest to him. They shrieked as they lit up, trying in futility to run away.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

To be fair, these aren’t real Tranquil: they are dream Tranquil. But they are Pharamond’s dream Tranquil, and if anyone gets to decide how the Tranquil respond to pain, it’s the guy who cured his own Tranquillity.

The Chantry claims that the Tranquil don’t feel, but they also know that beatings work. Tranquil scream. And so they have fear. Not as a non-Tranquil person would experience it, no, and they certainly are not able to express it in any ‘conventional’ sense. But they have it. Avexis was hurt so badly she does not believe she would survive the cure for Tranquillity. The woman selling Circle wares in the Gallows courtyard fears being beaten for others’ crimes.

Karl has free will, as a Tranquil, but has no expectation of being able to use it. What was done to him, to make him betray his principles so thoroughly?

They do have principles. The Tranquil may not strive for anything, but they will damn well take a stand for it, when the opportunity arises. The taboo against discussing the Rite of Tranquillity is broken twice in Asunder. Once is by Pharamond, who delivers a haunting description of the experience of being Tranquil. The other is by an unnamed elven woman, who draws Rhys a bath:

She stopped and turned to look at him. “If I felt pain,” she said softly, “it is meaningless to me now. Once I knew only fear, but now I know only service. Whatever pain there was, I believe it an acceptable trade.”

The Tranquil left. Though Rhys sat in near-scalding water, he felt a chill race through his heart.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

Poor Rhys spends most of the damn novel terrified the Templars are going to either kill him or make him Tranquil. This woman knows this – he initially believed she was taking him to have the Rite performed – and talked to him because she thought he needed an answer. She spoke out of compassion. And if the answer she gave him was somewhat unsettling – well, that’s the least that could be said of being made Tranquil.

This same woman turns up again later, and provides intelligence on the Lord Seeker to Wynne, Evangeline and Shale as they go to destroy the phylacteries:

“Why are you telling us this?” she asked. I’ve never known the Tranquil to do anything but what they’re told.”

The woman tilted her head curiously, as if the answer should be obvious. “Obedience is prudent. To interpret it as a lack of free will would be an error.” She turned to leave, and then paused. “Good luck, Knight-Captain.” And with that she walked away, vanishing into the shadows.

– Dragon Age: Asunder

This is a nameless elven Tranquil mage – a person with literally no identity, and zero social status. She is the least of all people in Thedas. And she twice defies what ‘everyone knows’ about the Tranquil to aid Asunder’s protagonists. History will likely forget her, but she is remarkable all the same.

And in all of this, I cannot forget Maddox.

Maddox: Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again.

Maddox: I ... wanted to help ...

Maddox loved Samson. What other words could you use for it? Cullen refers to him as ‘Samson’s Tranquil’ because, frankly, Cullen has about as much humanity and compassion as the giant scorpions in the Fallout games – but the truth is that Maddox was Samson’s friend.

Yes, they are fucked up: they are the survivors of Meredith’s regime in Kirkwall, and pretty well no one got out of that shitshow in one piece. There’s no way to argue that Samson is doing the right thing here. Samson isn’t even really trying to win: at his trial he frames it all as a means of taking the Templar Order out with one last bang. And Maddox, here, emulates that: his suicide is not practical, but a tragic act of loyalty; an effort to save Samson as Samson saved him.

I can’t applaud the pair of them for running around with Corypheus, but I can’t help but compare Maddox with Genitivi:

The name is a misnomer, for they are not tranquil at all; rather, they are like inanimate objects that speak. If a table wished to sell you an enchanted penknife, it could pass as one of these people.

That genial lie. That gentle insistence that everything is fine: these are not people, and they are not hurting; it isn’t even possible to hurt them. If they are beaten and that keeps them in line, that’s nothing to be concerned about. They don’t really feel it. Even the mages give up on those of their people who are made Tranquil. Even Anders doesn’t think to fight for the Tranquil.

But look at Maddox there, who loved Samson. Tell me he’s a fucking table.

That is how the Chantry made these people slaves.

I am very sorry that Inquisition blew up the mage rebellion and flushed its remains down the toilet. I am distressed that it chose to carve out Tranquil skulls to make magical telescopes. I hope we come back to them, next time there’s a game.

It’s time these people got their place in the world back.