#i wish he did it and had feyres permission

[batboys-cumdumpster]

You will never catch me hating Rhysand for anything. But you will especially never catch me hating him for threatening Nesta for abusing Feyre. You will never catch me hating him for hurting Kier over his treatment of Feyre. You will never ever catch me hating him for the lengths he would go to for his mate.

I stan angry Rhysand.

Feyre has literally died for the world, given up everything for the world, and she deserves nothing less than a mate willing to do anything for her. Rhysand would destroy the world just so Feyre could recreate it if she asked, and that is true love to me.

[marvelsmylife]

Too innocent for your own good

Pairing:Azriel x innocent!reader

Plot: You are finally ready to have sex with your mate. The only problem is you’ve never had sex before. When you decide to ask nesta for advice on what you should do so it’s a pleasurable experience for you and your mate, Nesta ropes in the rest of the females from the inner circle to give you the sex talk. Where you proceed to ask questions the other females aren’t ready for.

A/n don’t worry I’m already planning on writing a part two to this story

Masterlist

Request

What was meant to be a sit-down conversation with a trusted friend about how to pleasure a male turned into an open discussion with several of your close female friends. You told them you were finally ready to accept the mating bond between you and Azriel. They all had smiles on their faces at your decision, but they also knew you were scared because they knew you were still pure.

The ladies of the inner circle were more than happy to answer any questions you might have on the topic. Amen was the one who broke the ice on the subject and asked you, “What have you done so far?”

“We kiss A LOT,” You felt your cheeks growing hot, “Sometimes he even slips his hands under my blouse when we kiss and gropes my breasts.“ the females listen intently as you described what you and Azriel do behind closed doors, “There are moments though when he gets so excited when I touch a specific part of his wing that he quickly excuses himself and comes back wearing a different pair of trousers.”

Nesta and Feyre exchange looks because they know exactly where you touched Azriel. “Did he tell you why he likes being touched there?” Feyre asked.

“No,” you answered innocently, “He just asks me to touch him there when we’re kissing on his bed,” you added before taking a sip of your wine and reminiscing on the night you touched his wings for the first time.

You were both kissing on his bed with him on top of you. “Oh, Azriel,” you moaned against his lips when you felt his scarred hands slip under your blouse and start massaging your breasts.

This was nothing new between you two. The only new thing was him fondling your breast. He was hesitant at first because he didn’t want to make you feel like he was pressuring you to do anything you weren’t comfortable doing. “It’s ok, I want you to do this,” you reassured your mate.

With your permission, Azriel slipped his hands under your blouse and groaned when his hands cupped your breasts. They fit perfectly in his hands, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck them. He began to picture his cock moving between your breast. You stuck your tongue out so you could lick the tip of his cock. The more he thought about it, the harder he got and wished to find a release. 

That’s when he decided to ask you to do something he’d never asked any of his previous lovers. It was so intimate that he waited until he met his mate to request it, “Stoke my wings,” Azriel requested.

You looked at him, puzzled, and asked, “Why? I thought Illyrians didn’t like it when someone touched their wings?”

“Please, just do it for me. Touch me right there,” Azriel begged and quickly pointed to where he wanted you to touch him.

Not one to disappoint your mate, you did exactly where he told you. “Oh gods,” Azriel shut his eyes tightly and groaned into your neck as you stroked the sensitive part of his wing over and over.

“Is this making you feel good?” you asked.

“Gods, yes,” Azriel groaned into your neck and unintentionally ground into you, “Fuck. I need you to stop before I do something I’ll regret.”

You immediately stopped your action but held onto him as he breathed heavily into your neck, “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I just need a few minutes,” Azriel panted.

Azriel stood up a few minutes later and excused himself to his bathroom. Just as he was about to enter, he stopped by his closet and got a pair of trousers, “I’ll be right back,” Azriel reassured you before disappearing into the bathroom.

He was gone for a moment before reappearing, wearing the new trousers, and walked over to you. “Are you ok, sweetie?” You asked in a concerned tone.

“Perfectly fine.” Azriel smiled down towards you, “What do you say we go out for dinner tonight? I want to thank you for what you did for me.”

You frowned at him and replied, “But I didn’t do anything.”

“Trust me, my love, you did,” Azriel kissed you one last time before he took you out to dinner.

With the new piece of information given to them, the females in the room were even more intrigued, so Amren asked, “What else have you two done besides kissing. Have you two seen each other naked?”

Your cheeks grew warm at Amrens question, “NO !” you replied sheepishly, “I mean, I accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom once when he went to the bathroom to change his trousers, but I turned around immediately.”

While the ladies enjoyed hearing about your interactions with Azriel, they knew they had to begin their lesson. The only problem was that they didn’t know who was going to kick off the lesson. 

Deciding to take one for the team, Nesta tried to come up with the words to describe what Azriel would be doing so you wouldn’t be freaking out, “When he inserts himself-” 

Nesta was about to gesture when you interrupted her, “Inserts himself? Inserts himself where?”

It took everything in the females in the room not to burst out laughing at your question. “Oh, sweetie,” Amren shook her head.

You looked over at Amren, confused, and asked, “What? Did I say something funny?”

That’s when Amren decided to give you a quick anatomy lesson before Nesta continued. 

Once it was Nesta’s turn to speak, she began to explain what most males enjoy before getting intimate. That’s when she decided to break the news to you about what you were doing to Azriel was somewhat of an equivalent of you giving him a blowjob. “So what I’ve been doing is equivalent to me sucking on his penis?” You gave Feyre and Nesta a confused look.

“Yes, kind of,” Feyre replied, “it’s hard to explain, but from what Rhys had said to me, they have a nerve in their wing where if you stroke it, it will bring them pleasure.”

You nodded your head silently as you took in this new information. Nesta then began to explain why males enjoy getting their cock sucked so much when you raised your hand and asked, “Um, do I actually suck on his penis? That sounds gross and unsanitary.” You scrunched your nose at the thought of putting it in your mouth.

Elain reached over and held your hand. “You don't have to if you don't want to. I don’t, and unless he’s lying to me, Lucien does not mind. I’m sure Azriel would understand if you don’t. He knows you're not experienced, so he won’t be expecting you to do that your first time together.”

Hearing that put your mind at ease until Amren said, “Yes, but every male I’ve encountered loves it, so you should consider learning.”

“No, she doesn’t have to,” Elain argued back, “y/n,” Elain turned towards you, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You started to tense up at the argument that had broken out, with half of your friends saying you should learn and the other half saying you shouldn’t if you’re not interested. Wanting the arguing to stop, you decided to speak up, “Ladies, while I have no interest in giving Azriel a blow job, Amren is right. I need to know these things if and when I want to try it out in the future.”

Amren had a smug look as she went into great detail on what you needed to do to get Azriel to climax.

By the end of the night, you learned what you should and shouldn’t do during sex to make it pleasurable for you and Azriel. Your friends would stop every so often to control themselves when you would ask innocent questions that had sexual undertones to them. Finishing the night with them wishing you luck and telling you to cherish the moment. “I love you guys so much. Thank you for all the tips you’ve given me,” you got up and gave each of them a hug.

What you didn’t know was that Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand overheard your entire conversation. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I hope you bring your A-game when you finally do it. It seems your mate is taking this seriously,” Cassian told Azriel.

“I can't believe you didn’t tell her about the wings,” Rhysand glared at his brother. Azriel just hung his head in shame because Rhysand was right, and he was already planning on apologizing for not telling you.

“Don’t worry, I’m already planning on apologizing for keeping it from her,” Azriel nodded at his brothers before entering the living room and making his presence known to the females inside the house.

@azswife @myromanempiree @blushingfawnsposts @idkwahr @jessie8605 @feyreswaterybowels  @dxjaaaa @esahintzkanen @mischiefmanagers @venelopevon  @mybestfriendmademe @canadianmama  @latinxbipride @despoinasstuff @username199945 @azriels-human @pruvii @annaaaaa88 @alessiazeni @folklorefairyy @madelyncullen @melmo567 @jiminslostjams54 @fanttasttica @stuff-i-found-while-crying @acourtofwips @katherinearcheron @misskennygirl @userxs-blog @its-sam-allgood @andreperez11 @sweetorangeblossom @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @pit-and-the-pen @sirensficlibrary @menaosama @panther-girl-124 @elyntiasblog @sickbuth0t @whyshouldihaveanam3 @aaahhh0127 @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @miadialila @mahiiis-world @l11ll1th @slut4acotar @notepaper @carinaswife

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Five

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Angst, implied SA, Tamlin and Amarantha are mentioned, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s off on a mission, so you train with Cassian. Upon returning, the Spymaster doesn’t like seeing you with his brother.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four

The next morning, you were up early but no one was there for breakfast with you. And instead of Azriel, Cassian was in the training ring. “Oh… is Azriel not here today?” You asked.

“He’s got some spying to do, so I’ll keep up with your training.” He said.

Of course Azriel wouldn’t want to keep training you along with his spying. He had so many more important things to do than babysit an amateur Shadowsinger. And it was very apparent from the training session yesterday that you didn’t know nearly as much as him.

“You ready? Or do you need to stare off into the distance for a little longer?” Cassian said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m ready, Commander.” You teased, getting in the position he started with the warm ups.

Cassian was more brutal than Azriel was, enough so that you were thinking Azriel was going easy on you. The prick. Cass made you sit in squats for longer, balance with your wings stretched out or tucked in more. It was all you could do by the end of it to not fall down the stairs to the House.

“Az said to give you these.” Cassian said and handed you a basket, your muscles groaning at the extra weight. “Said something about an owing you a massage when he got back.”

Your eyes widened and face flushed before you heard Cassian let out a loud chuckle. “You’re almost as bad as him.” He said and laughed. “For spies, you sure don’t hold back when you get embarrassed.” Cass said and winked at you before going to the dining room.

You set the basket in your room, opting to take a bath first before you went to the dining room to dig into the roast that was waiting for you. Then, you went to the library to start on your research into the Cauldron.

You never saw Gwyn. Though Rhys told you that the new priestesses normally took a while to adjust before being out of their dorms. What happened to her just yesterday made your stomach turn… and you couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been for her to wake up today in a new place. You’d have to ask Clotho how she was doing when you got the chance.

You didn’t learn anything new about the Cauldron, but you brought more books up to the personal library to read more.

You still wondered how Feyre was doing with Tamlin. You remember when Rhys told you the story of what Tamlin’s family did to Rhys’s mother and sister. And how Tamlin himself had killed Rhys’s father. Hearing about the rage that Tamlin held that day… you’d hope it had changed. You’d hoped that Feyre was happy with him, and that he would treat her well. Still, the thought of Feyre with him was unsettling to you. You couldn’t figure it out, and your shadows seemed to be just as disturbed by it whenever it came to your mind.

As you read into the night, waiting to see if you heard Azriel come back, you couldn’t help as your mind wander to how lucky you were that you ended up here after Amarantha died. How you found friends that seemed to care about you, and a High Lord that didn’t just want to use you for his own bidding, but wanted you around because he trusted you. You could get used to calling Velaris, in all its beauty, your home. And these new friends your family.

Azriel didn’t come back to the House of Wind for two weeks. Cassian had taken up your training, and you were already learning how to handle a sword (with the wooden practice ones) when Azriel watched you both from the steps.

He had been searching for the other parts of the Cauldron, ordering his spies to find out anything they could about what Hybern planned to do with it. And he only figured out that Hybern had Jurian’s eye and finger bone. Someone had snuck it off of Amarantha’s body before Tamlin killed her. He still couldn’t find out how, or who.

Seeing you work with Cassian strained something in him. A desire to be around you, or the jealousy that Cass was training you and he wasn’t. Azriel couldn’t tell what it was. Either way, he was almost proud to see you doing so well. What took most young Illyrian’s years to master, you had seem to do it in two weeks. All while taking flying lessons with Cassian as well. Cass told him that you were doing great with all of it. Better than any male he’s trained, actually. And you took it in stride too. Doing everything that Cassian threw at you. He even loaded a pack on your chest two days ago and had you fly up and down the mountain for two hours. You were almost ready to throw the pack at him by the end of it. But you knew it was to build up your strength. If you were going to be carrying Illyrian blades and a bow, you would need it.

Azriel knew you could do good. From the moment you agreed to train, he knew you had the motivation in you to do it. Whether it be from hate of what your family did to you, or from dedication to not let it happen again, he knew you would do it. He wanted to be the one to train you. He wanted to see that dedication every day. He hadn't seen an Illyrian learn so fast in a long time, and he knew it was a testament to an underlying power that brewed within you. That his shadows whispered to him about.

And yet, he took the first mission Rhys offered. There was something about you that pulled his attention every time you were in the room. And he couldn’t place it. His shadows wouldn’t tell him anything. And your few shadows that danced around his ankles up to his hands and neck whenever he was close to you drove him crazy. It’s like he couldn’t get enough of you but also didn’t want to get too close. He couldn’t handle getting close and you pushing him away. Or going for another male like Rhys or Cass. Like Mor had done when she chose Cassian over him. And then never acknowledged him more than a close friend. Family. Nothing like he wanted. He may have given up on her a long time ago, but sometimes it still stung.

So he took the mission to keep his distance. No matter the tug he felt when he was around you. He fought it. And kept his thoughts and emotions about you to himself.

“Azriel!” He heard your voice say, followed by a yelp when Cassian hit your stomach with the butt of the sword.

“Really, Cass?” You growled and nudged him away before jogging over to Azriel. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been?” You asked, catching your breath.

“We’re not done!” Cassian yelled at you, but you simply stared at Azriel, waiting for an answer.

All Azriel could do was trail his eyes up the leathers you were wearing. The way they clung to your curves. The way they were already filled out much more than they were that first training day. Your hair was in a braid, but little wisps if it were out, clinging to your forehead with sweat.

“Azriel?” You asked again, not shifting under his stare like you had before. Training like this with Cassian had made you much more confident. Like you were before Amarantha came and tore your life apart. You still didn’t want to admit how much those 50 years effected you. Even if they were still recent. You wanted to put them in the past and not think about them any more that you were required. And luckily, no one had asked you much after the first day of telling them your story.

Cassian bounded over, patted Azriel on the shoulder in a way of greeting, and then picked you up over his shoulder.

“Cassian!” You yelled and clenched your fists. “Put me down,” you ground out.

“No chance, you are still training. And no pretty boy is going to distract you. Got it?” He asked and you grumbled. “Got it?” He asked again.

“Yes! Cauldron… Now put me down before I start clawing your wings.” You said firmly. He set you down back in the middle of the training ring and handed you the sword you discarded.

“What’s the number one rule I taught you about your weapon?” He asked.

“The pointy end goes away from you?” You remarked, earning a swipe of his own sword, which you blocked. “Don’t drop it in the middle of a fight without a purpose.” You said and knocked his sword back.

Azriel watched as you bantered with Cassian almost as seamlessly as you fought. At one point, you had Cassian so speechless and stunned that you were able to knock his sword from his hand. It was at that point that Cassian knocked you from your feet, your sword clattering much farther away from you than his. Cass always did want to be the one to win the battle.

It was everything Azriel could do to not go and help you out. Or coach you on how to get out from under him. Especially since Cassian was much larger than you. Not to mention better trained.

He must have been feeling generous, or you got the drop on him (probably the former) because you were able to use his weight against him and flip the two of you over so you were on top. Straddling his hips, your hands mere inches from the tips of his wings. Panting.

“Rhys wants us in the dining room for lunch.” Azriel called out, knowing that Rhys would wait. And if he really wanted you all to meet, he could speak mind-to-mind easily. But Azriel couldn’t stand to see you in that position with Cassian. And he couldn’t stop himself for imagining him under you instead. He quickly turned on his heel and vanished with his shadows back to his room.

“Just when it was getting fun.” You joked as you stood up and held out a hand for Cassian, who let out a booming laugh.

“Keep saying things like that and Az might slice me to bloody ribbons.” He joked and you shrugged.

“I doubt it. He doesn’t seem too interested in me.” You said as you grabbed a glass of water and downed it. “And if he is, he sure has a weird way of showing it. He ignored me the whole first month, trained me one day, and then disappeared on a two week mission. And he’s still ignoring me.” You muttered and downed another glass of water.

“Hmm… let’s show him what he’s missing, then,” Cass said and slung an arm around your shoulder, avoiding your wings. Your shadows curled away slightly from his touch. Not in a bad way, but in a way that didn’t happen with Azriel. They always curled around him. Even if he wasn’t touching you, but in the same room. You always tacked it up to him being a Shadowsinger himself, and maybe it was comforting for your shadows to have someone else to cling to. You still barely knew how the things worked. Even after having them around for a hundred years.

You knew how to hide in them, how to listen and talk to them, how to winnow with them. But not much else. It was still a hassle most of the time when you wanted to control them. So if a few of your shadows wanted a more experienced singer to cling to, you were more than willing to let them. For a little while. You still liked your shadows. If you ever had to go without them, you wouldn’t know what to do. Wouldn’t have the comforting feel of them whirling your ankles and wings. Throughout your hair.

“Come out with us tonight.” Cassian said once you made it down the stairs.

You looked up at his towering form and rose your eyebrows. “Where?” You asked. Even the first month of you here, you didn’t go out with them. You didn’t go into the city much either, barely even visited the town home. You didn’t want to impose on it just yet. And it was too many people who would be watching your every move. Like they did when you worked for her. So you stayed in the House. And you liked it. Plus, you started to see Gywn around the library, not speaking to anyone, but at least she was out of her dorm.

“To Rita’s. I know Mor would love it. She’s been complaining that you didn’t come last week.” He said and you smiled a bit. You quite liked the female. She was bright and full of energy. And she didn’t take shit from the boys. And barely took it from Amren, who still scared you enough to not meet her eye.

“I don’t have much to wear.” You said, Cassian cringing as you both heard a yelp from down the stairs to the dining room.

“Did I hear that we’re going shopping?” Mor said and bounded over to the bottom of the stairs, bouncing on her heels.

“I didn’t say that.” You teased as you stepped down beside her.

“Oh, please? I’ll help you pick out the perfect outfit.” She said and nudged you. You winced a bit, still sore from the training. Your braid was still a mess. But you didn’t care, you were starving and just wanted to eat. Even if you looked ridiculous.

As if reading your thoughts, your shadows swirled around your head, either covering or smoothing your hair, you couldn’t tell. Either way, you silently thanked them.

“Hmm.. fine. But I would prefer to go when it’s not too crowded…” you said and she gave you a knowing look. As if she too knew what it was like to want to hide away. You weren’t sure how she would ever feel like that. You figured she got more energy from being around people, new people, than anyone else. Where as for you… well you learned to like your solitude. Probably from the years you spent locked in your cabin while your family went to train. And then the years following that was spent in a village with no more than 50 inhabitants.

“So you’ll come out with us tonight?” Cassian asked as you entered the dining room with them.

Shrugging again, you answered, “Sure. Though if people start asking me to do party tricks with my shadows, I’m leaving.” You said and rolled your shoulders back, tucking in your wings.

“Trust us, they won’t. Not when Az is the only Shadowsinger they knew and he once stabbed someone for looking at him the wrong way.” Mor joked and you furrowed your eyebrows. Even though Azriel was a little cold to you, you could tell he was kind. Especially with the way this family acted with him.

“He was 38 and we were recovering from the war, remember?” Rhys added from his spot at the table. “And that was in Hewn. Everyone in Hewn would be stabbed if they looked at Az the way that male did.” He mentioned and then leaned back. He didn’t have his wings out today, so you figured this was a business lunch more than a formal one. They had all mainly been away, or you’d been I’m your room burying your nose in the books on the Cauldron. Or they had been meeting in the town home. Definitely not around you.

Soon you were all settled, Azriel appearing before the meal was served and sitting next to Rhys and Amren. Cassian was on your right, and Mor on your left. That left the other three across from you. It felt like someone was missing from the table, but as you counted around, you knew that was everyone.

After you had all ate a couple bites (Amren pushing her food around like always), Rhys looked up, setting his utensils down. “Cassian, I need you to go to Windhaven.” Rhys said. “See how the army is coming along. And if the females are being trained properly.” He said, then looked at you. “And I would prefer if you went along.” He said.

“Just with Cassian? Don’t you need to introduce me as emissary?” You asked and Rhys shook his head.

“Cass is the commander of my armies. If he says they’re to listen to you, they will.” Rhys said and you rose your eyebrows. You knew Illyrians. And you knew that wasn’t true. You also knew that Rhys knew it too. But you weren’t going to push, so you nodded.

“How long do you want me there?” Cassian asked.

“Two weeks, and then you can come back in time for the Solstice.” He said. “We’ll spend it in the townhome.”

“You think Devlon is ready for another Shadowsinger?” Azriel piped in.

“The question is, do you think Devlon is ready for the first female Shadowsinger?” Cassian asked.

You hummed. “I think you all need to be asking if Devlon is ready for me. I’m not just a Shadowsinger, you know.” You said, crossing your arms. “And I think the answer is no. Devlon used to be a friend of my father’s. He very might well faint when he recognizes me to be the daughter of Rechard Vash.” You stated and smirked.

“I like how you think, girl.” Amren said and leaned back in her chair, her arm draped over the arm of it. “I say Devlon has whatever is coming to him from her,” she said as she looked at Rhys.

He only chuckled as he went back to eating. “Was that it?” You asked and leaned forward. “Or should I leave so you can discuss what Azriel learned on that mission?” You asked.

None of them stiffened at your tone, or the implication that they didn’t trust you.

“I merely wanted to finish my food,” Rhys said with an easy smile. “But if you’re eager to learn about what the Spymaster learned, go ahead Az.” He said and took another bite of the roast.

“I didn’t learn anything useful,” Azriel said. “Well, other than that there are two pieces of the Cauldron missing and I still have no clue where the third one is. Though, it’s probably in a temple.” He said. “Hopefully here. If it’s in another Court… that’ll be harder to detect.” He finished.

“I never thought you’d be one to be down on yourself,” you said, taking a bite of vegetables. “Sounds like you learned quite a lot.”

Once again, he ignored you and looked at Rhys. “Any chance I can go back to Sangravagh and examine it again?” He asked and Rhys waved his hand. “Go where you need to, but I still have one more thing to ask of you when we’re done with lunch.” He said.

As much as you wanted to slump into your chair, you stayed still as you ate. You didn’t know what you did wrong to have Azriel act so indifferent towards you. Of all the Inner Circle, you thought you would bond with him the most. Being a Shadowsinger… it wasn’t easy. It was rare and the looks that you got. The burdens that you had to carry. You figured only he would understand. But he didn’t even try to speak to you.

And it continued into the night, after you went shopping with Mor. She even had Rhys’s in-house tailor fix all the clothing so your wings would fit seamlessly around them. All in time to go to Rita’s.

A/N: This is a fun little chapter with some of Az’s pov - a little longer than the rest. When the IC + our reader goes to Rita's in the next chapter... I think you'll enjoy it!!

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[shadowqueenjude]

A rant from Eris if he finds out how Cassian treated Nesta

Eris: What the hell is wrong with you people? Rhysand: Excuse me? Eris: You have the chance to befriend a goddess in a Fae body, and you lock her in a house when she's depressed? Are you insane? Rhysand: Now see, she was wasting away- Eris: And, what, you thought locking her away was the SOLUTION? Rhysand: I had to do something! She was spending my money! Eris: Oh shut up Reece's Piece of shit. Don't complain about money like you don't have 5 fucking palaces you dickhead. If Nesta asked for my money, I'd have said, whatever you wish, queen!" Rhysand: That's because you didn't see her- Eris: I saw her when she was just made before you morons even knew what she was. And I'm not talking about her silver flames. She made all the High Lords listen. Even my father. A human just turned Fae. How dare you treat her like she's something to be ashamed of? That brute had her hike a MOUNTAIN? Those flawless feet should not have to do any manual labor. Rhysand: She revealed our secrets to Feyre. Eris: Yeah, the malignant pregnancy. Why the hell wasn't Feyre being informed anyway? Nesta was completely right to tell her. You're worse than my father, Rhysand. Rhysand: How dare you- Eris: Did I give you permission to speak, you Illyrian brute? At least my father would've tried to save his wife from the unborn child. He would've yeeted that mfer out as soon as he or she appeared. But you didn't do shit to try and protect the mother. No, you were more concerned about the goddamn egg. Rhysand: How dare you speak to me this way- Eris: You GASLIGHTED her into believing she's worthless, all while making her complete the tasks of a HIGH LADY by going after the Dread Trove. And when she was at her lowest, she inspired an entire library of traumatized priestesses to rise up and restore the Valkyries. And you dare treat her that way? You don't even realize the treasure you have. I would've made her my High Lady without hesitation. Matter of fact, I think I'll call the Blood Duel for her. Rhysand: You'd better not try anything, Eris, or I swear... Eris: You'll what? Kill me? Didn't Lucien tell you? Death threats are simply another Sunday evening while growing up with Beron as a father. Fucking try me, bitch. You should be grateful I spared your little Morrigan from her father after you forced him on her. Rhysand: What do you think you're d- Eris: I'll see you at the blood duel!

@thatlosernoonelikes This is Eris's part of the rant!

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 9: Two witches go to a war camp… /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: After a much needed talk with Elain, Nesta takes Y/N to Windhaven.

Word Count: 2,2K

Warnings: None for this part.

Notes:

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Worlds Apart Masterlist

“I'm sorry if I made everything weird between you and her.” Y/N started, remembering the way Elain tried to stop him from going with her.

“She confuses me.” Lucien sighed, sipping on the liquor she had found hidden in a cabinet. “She’s with him, but whenever she sees me trying to move on, she finally remembers she’s my mate and acts with jealousy towards me.”

“Love sucks.” She let out a humourless laugh.

“After everything with Jessminda, I just wish to be happy.” Sadness overtook his features, he had shared about his past lover that day at the city, and Y/N felt her heart crack a bit.

“You will be.” She promised him.

Y/N woke up that day on her bed, her talk with Lucien still fresh in her mind, and as she jumped out of the bed, showered and got dressed, she knew what she would do that day.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Meraxes landed near the garden, on an empty part of the house Rhys and Feyre lived, she already had to talk to them, talking to Elain in the process was going to be perfect.

She strolled towards the hallways, the sound of her boots echoing around the house as she reached the office Rhysand had indicated to them last night as they got back from Hewn City.

She knocked, waiting for them to allow her in. Feyre opened the door with a gentle smile, welcoming her in. The office had dark wooden furniture and grey walls, a portrait of Feyre sat beautifully behind the desk, like she was the force that guided Rhysand even when she wasn’t there in person.

“Good morning.” He said, cradling his sleeping son against his chest.

“Good morning! Thank you for receiving me.” She cleared her throat. “I’m here to ask for permission to leave with Lucien and explore Koschei’s home.” The two shared a look like they were talking in each other’s mind. Like Maeve did.

“You are free in this court, but we appreciate your consideration.” Feyre spoke, hands cupping his shoulders. “We’re going to ask for Azriel to join you two, we also need to deal with Koschei and he can share what he already knows with you.”

Being stuck with Azriel and Lucien, when the two couldn’t stand being in the same room with each other for more than 5 minutes? Great, just fucking great.

“Do you think this will help?” Rhys inquired, his violet eyes piercing her into her seat.

“I’m willing to try anything at this point.” She shifted on her seat, her scar throbbing with anxiety.

“Mor found this.” He handed her a book, covered in a dark leathery material, looking like a diary. “She looked around her father’s office and this was the only thing that made sense.”

Y/N grabbed the book, flipping through the pages, drawings and an ancient alphabet she knew very well, Wyrd marks. She closed the book quickly, wanting to read it just as fast.

“This is going to be very useful.” She smiled at them. “May I take it with me during the trip?” Feyre nodded.

“Please do.” She waved her hand and Y/N shoved the diary in between her leathers. She groaned as she saw the state of her clothes that morning, the ripped fabric making her angry.

“We also will have some incursions of our own. Nesta and Cassian fly today to the war camps to see what they can discover . You may want to find her, she wants you to join them.” Rhys announced. “We’re in touch with the other High Lords, Koschei is a threat we all have in common, so it gives us the perfect excuse to roam around their libraries. Except Autumn of course.”

“Lucien asked his brother for help.” She blurted. “Eris says he will try his best.” Rhysand and Feyre shared a surprised look.

“Well, that is nice of him. Thank you.” Feyre spoke.

“Thank you for all your efforts.” She thanked them, getting up. “I need to get going so I can do everything that I need to do before travelling.” Feyre nodded.

“Of course, go ahead. But just be careful.” The female begged and Y/N nodded.

“I’ll try my best.” She said with a confident gleam in her eyes, exiting the office.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She leaned in the doorway, Elain was kneeled on the ground, hands digging in the soil as she planted another pink flower in that already full and beautiful garden.

Elain stiffed, the black wyvern approaching the garden, its huge snot bumping against her perfect flowers, Meraxes sniffled, sitting on its back paws as his head rolled to the sides, happily appreciating the smell.

“Oh, do you like flowers?” She asked, looking curiously at the creature, Meraxes took a deep breath and his big grin appeared in approval.

“He does.” Y/N replied from behind her, prompting Elain to quickly whip her head in her direction, hurt and sadness filled her brown eyes as she made eye contact with her.

“What do you want? Tell me how wonderful your night with Lucien was!?” Elain got up, removing the gloves from her hands and walking towards Y/N, standing in front of her.

“I did have a wonderful night with him.” Elain scoffed but her eyes filled with tears. “Because Lucien is an amazing, caring friend. I came here to tell you that nothing happened yesterday, at least not what you think.”

“You two didn’t sneak out to be alone?” Elain’s breath hitched.

“We did, but I just needed to get away from that crowd, it reminded me of bad times, he was just helping me to get back in control of my emotions.” Elain watched her silently. “Take care of him, please, love him how he deserves to be loved. Lucien has a gentle yet fragile heart, handle with care.”

“I thought about what you told me.” She started. “Azriel and I are no longer together, and now it’s my turn to ask you to love him how he deserves, Azriel has been searching for love for so long, and I wasn’t what he needed, but I have a suspicion that you might be, so please, be careful and patient with him, he deserves it.”

Her words left her astonished for a few minutes, just blinking towards the female like a confused kid. Did Azriel say anything about dreaming about her? Did he feel the same increase in his heartbeat that she did whenever he looked at her? Did he love her like she loved him?

“Thank you Elain. And after everything ends and if I’m still here, would you teach me gardening?” Elain smiled.

“I would love to.” She nodded her head, smiling back at Elain before she headed towards Meraxes, she had to find Nesta.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t go like this.” Nesta stomped her foot down, looking at the damaged clothing Y/N was wearing. “You would be better in Illyrian leathers, they’re amazing.”

“And where do we get them?” She asked, to which Morrigan happily chimed in.

“In the best shop of all Illyria.” She had a big smile. “My mate’s shop.”

Y/N sat atop Meraxes, Morrigan pressed against her as the two made their way towards Emerie’s shop. Before Y/N met Cassian and Nesta at the camp.

Mor rambled about how she and Emerie met, the bond snapping for them and how they had busy life’s but always made time for each other, and in every opportunity she would fly to be with her lover.

The wyvern waited outside the town, and they walked towards the tiny shop in the middle of the town. Thousands of winged males and females walked there, minding their own business and going on with their lives.

The heavy door scratched against the floor as Mor pushed it open, revealing a well lit inside with clothes hanging around and a leathery smell. Behind the counter the female from that training day stood, her hair was braided and she was reading a book.

“Do you have any leathers available?” Mor said in a slow and sensual tone, Emerie lifted her eyes, her expression going from serious to pure delight as she saw her mate standing in her store.

“For you? I have everything.” She crossed the store in two quick steps, embracing Morrigan and pulling her in for a kiss. “I missed you.”

“Me too baby, me too.” The female turned to Y/N. “Emerie this is Y/N, Y/N this is Emerie.” Y/N shook her extended hand.

“It’s nice to see you again.” She spoke and the female nodded in agreement.

“She’s the female that disarmed Azriel, that I told you about.” She told her mate, who looked at them confused.

“Oh okay.” Morrigan laughed. “Makes sense.”

The blonde then started to talk about how Y/N could use some new clothes and Nesta had sent her there. It took exactly twenty minutes for her to get in full Illyrian attire, very tight on her body but not in a restricting way. And four more pairs ready to take home with her.

She had thanked them, leaving the two alone. Walking towards Meraxes, the clothes felt okay, not that different from what she was used to. She clicked her jaw and exposed her teeth, Godslayer behind her back. She mounted the wyvern and headed towards the camp where she was supposed to meet Nesta.

Devlon kept staring at her with annoyance, he hated having Nesta around, a witch as he claimed she was. The female’s gaze turned to the sky a few times, waiting for the winged shadow that would make them tremble in fear.

With a loud roar, she saw it. The wyvern descending from the skies, his powerful wings carrying the winds in them. Devlon turned to the commotion, cursing loudly as he spotted Meraxes landing and his rider dismounting, sliding down his leg and landing on the ground with ease.

“Who the hell is that?” He demanded to know, turning to the General that didn’t even try to suppress the smirk at the male’s terrified gaze.

“Our guest for today.” He announced. “Welcome to Illyria, Lady Blackbeak.” Y/N bowed her head to Cassian, not even looking at the static male beside him.

“Lord Cassian, thank you for having me. Lady Nesta.” She turned her body to the female.

“What are you?” The male spat, and she turned those deep blue eyes in his direction, her claws scratching her chin as she grinned, the sun shining on the iron, giving the metallic smile a creep touch.

“I’m a witch, what else would I be?” She spoke in a condescending tone, like it was obvious what her true nature was.

“First you bring her.” His crooked finger pointed at Nesta, the female scoffed. “And then another one? You curse our land. You two are going to be our doom.” He pointed to the females, Nesta had walked to Y/N’s side and the two smiled at him sweetly.

“I’m kinda busy to be anyone’s doom.” Nesta sarcastically remarked.

“Oh yeah, me too.” Y/N shrugged. “Maybe next year.” She winked at the male.

Devlon was seething with anger, their mere presence was an affront to them and their traditions, Cassian as an Illyrian should know. But it looked like he and the two females didn’t give a shit about it.

“What do you want?” He sighed deeply.

“Your oldest scriptures.” Cassian spoke and the male rolled his eyes before giving in.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“What is this?” Y/N pointed to the drawing of a monolith, the stone was sculpted with square edges with a slit on top. Like a keyhole.

“This is the monolith atop Ramiel, it’s where you have to reach in order to finish the Blood Rite.” Cassian spoke, giving her a brief introduction of what the Blood Rite was.

“And when you finish it just teleports you back?” She inquired.

“Basically.” He shrugged, not knowing where she wanted to go with it.

“Ramiel, here says it’s a sacred mountain, very powerful.” Both Cassian and Nesta nodded. “Powerful enough to open a gate?”

“What?” Cassian asked and in a second the two stood behind her.

“The Valgs used wyrd keys to travel, they inserted them in wyrd gates to open portals to other worlds. If the drawing is accurate..” She pointed to the marks adorning the monolith. “These are wyrd marks and this..” She pointed to the top part of the monolith, towards the slith. “Is a keyhole for a wyrd key.”

“How do we know that you’re truly correct?” Nesta inquired.

“I would have to see it with my own eyes.” She groaned, if they didn’t wanted her there, there’s no fucking way they would allow her at Ramiel.

“Rhys can show you.” Cassian spoke and she looked at him. “We have to go back to Velaris.”

The three rushed outside, thanking Devlon for the scriptures and Y/N promised to stay away for a while, making the male growl at her. They stood in front of Meraxes.

“You two go, I’ll meet you there.” Cassian urged and they nodded, Y/N climbed towards the saddle and Cassian dropped Nesta behind her, securing both in place, they flew, this could finally be a step towards the right direction.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[velarisnightsky444]

Punishment*

Kinktober Day 2: Impact Play

Feysand x Reader

kinktober masterlist

A/N: i might struggle with this one. the randomizer chose feysand for this one so wish me luck, yall. 18+

CW: sexual themes, impact play, fingering, punishment

You are mated with Feyre and Rhysand. They have been away for a meeting recently.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Your mates had been away on business for over a week. You had missed them so much that you had hardly left your room.

Rhys had been sending you images of him and Feyre making love every night.

The night before, you hadn't been able to help yourself. You'd slipped your fingers down and rubbed that bundle of nerves until you came.

"Touching yourself with permission, darling?" Rhys had said into your mind.

And now they were coming home, and you were waiting in the bed you all shared, knees pulled to your chest.

The door opened.

You glanced up, seeing the High Lord and Lady in the doorway, Rhys with a disapproving expression stretched across his features.

Feyre pouted when she saw you, she floated over and sat down at your side. She placed her hand on your cheek.

"Are you angry with me, Fey?" you whispered. She hummed and brushed her thumb across your lip.

"Is what Rhys told me true?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Did you touch yourself without permission?"

You looked down at your lap, unable to lie to her. She tutted and shook her head at you.

Rhys approached, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. With a thought, your clothes were gone. You squealed, your hands covering your chest.

"Nothing we haven't seen before, darling," he teased. You glared at him.

The talons of his powers clawed at your mind. You opened your shields to him and he entered.

He took over your mind, forcing you to turn around for him and get down on all fours. You arched your back under his control, dropped to your forearms, and lifted your ass.

You tried to fight, but you couldn't move. He was inside your head, holding you in place.

"You'll take ten," he decided.

You nodded, knowing it could be much worse. Feyre heatedly slid two fingers inside you. You shuddered and let out a moan.

"Don't make any noise," she cooed, stroking your hair with her other hand.

You bit your lip to keep quiet as her fingers continued to move in and out of you. Rhys was on the other side of you.

You jerked, screaming as you felt the first smack land on your ass. Feyre gripped your hair and yanked your head back.

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" she reminded you. You tried to nod against her grip. "Good." She let go of your hair and you dropped your head.

The second strike landed and you whimpered. Feyre's pace, which she had set with her fingers, stopped. She delivered the third blow herself. You hid your face in the mattress to muffle your sounds.

The fourth slap was also delivered by Feyre, but after the fifth, she returned to sliding her fingers into your core.

The sixth strike was hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. The pain mixed with the pleasure Feyre gave confused and aroused you.

The last four made the tears actually fall. But you managed to hold back your sobs.

"You took it so well," Feyre praised with a smile.

Rhys' talons released your mind, and you sat up immediately, tears streaming down your face. Feyre wiped them away for you.

"We missed you, y/n," Rhys promised you. You glared at him, which made him smile sinfully.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Feysand Taglist:

comment to be added to the Feysand Taglist!

[theladyofbloodshed]

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter 27

Under another glorious sky where the clouds were gilded by sunlight, the meeting resumed.

Nesta’s head was not in it. She remained mute throughout, heart still in Illyria. It took all of her strength not to lean over Feyre and grip Azriel’s hand. Last night had opened her eyes to a world that she’d never known. The one crude, excruciating conversation her mother had ever had with her about intercourse had never mentioned a women’s pleasure – only that of a husband. It was a woman’s job to lay silent on her back until it was done, whether she liked it or not. A man could take his wife or whatever other woman he wished.

Nesta knew she should feel ashamed for what had occurred. It was not what mortal women did. But she was a fae female now. A marriage was an after-thought for their kind. And she found that she could not feel embarrassed for seeking pleasure with Azriel because each time she glanced at his handsome face, she craved it again.

The conversation about numbers washed around her. Tamlin parried words with Helion about his army. Feyre shifted in her seat, face contorting with something like regret. Tarquin began to-

Nesta sucked in a breath.

A feeling like a hook stabbing through her stomach had her lurching out of her chair onto her knees.

She tried to stand, a hand pressing to her chest which felt like it was cracking.

A hand brushed her shoulder – Feyre’s? – but Nesta tipped forwards from the sudden pain. Somebody grabbed her before she hit the reflection pool.

‘What’s wrong?’

Mor’s face was close to hers searching for an injury. Nesta couldn’t say. Couldn’t speak through the excruciating pain.

‘Something…’

Another body was behind her, cold and flanked by shadows. Azriel’s hand slid around her waist but she lurched from his grip too then emptied her stomach into the reflection pool. More touched her; Feyre, Thesan, Cassian. Clamours of poison rang out in the room. Nesta gave a shuddering breath before vomiting again. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. A shadow pressed to her forehead, its touch like ice to take the edge off of the heat coursing through her.

‘Something’s wrong.’ She panted. Hating the stares around the room. ‘Not with me. Not me.’

The whole room shook. Shadows blanketed Nesta then Azriel threw himself on top of her and Mor, spreading his wings wide as debris rained down on the room.

Screaming rose up from the valley below but silence reigned in the palace.

The last of the pain receded from Nesta’s body.

‘The King of Hybern just used the Cauldron to attack the wall,’ announced Rhysand. ‘The wall is gone. Shattered. Across Prythian and on the Continent.’ He shook his head with dismay. ‘We were too late – too slow. Hybern just destroyed the wall.’

 ***

It took heartbeats for them to evacuate from the Dawn Court with the other delegates peeling off at an equal speed back to their territories.

Mor reached for Cassian who had everybody’s bags hanging off one arm to winnow him then Feyre and Rhys went, hand in hand. Azriel lifted Nesta into his arms and carried her through the open doors then winnowed back to Velaris. When the cooler air hit him, Azriel did not stop. He carried her straight through the Town House, past the others gathered in the hallway, past Amren and Elain who joined them.

He settled Nesta down onto his own bed in his small room on the top floor and drew the curtains to block out the light. Her skin still burned like a furnace beneath his hand.

‘I will fetch the healer,’ murmured Azriel as he pushed golden strands of her hair away from her face.  

Nesta tried to rise and he pushed her down by the shoulder.

‘I don’t want a healer,’ she said, words coming out breathy.

He could feel Rhys entering his mind so pulled his shadows even there so he wouldn’t see this moment.

I need you to go there, Az.

Nesta touched his hand then dipped her chin, giving permission. He didn’t want to leave. Not now they knew her magic was inexplicably tied to the Cauldron.

‘I’ll rest a while,’ Nesta said. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

Although Azriel ached to leave her, knowing she was curled up in his bed soothed a part of him. He caught Feyre in the corridor. The worry on her face also eased him.

‘Will you check on Nesta?’

Feyre blinked. ‘She’s not in her room.’

‘I put her into mine.’

His High Lady drew back and scrutinised him with a gaze not unlike Nesta’s. ‘Why?’

‘It’s the coolest part of the house,’ he lied. It was hot as hell in summer in the roof room, but Feyre didn’t need to know that.

She nodded then patted his arm. ‘Be safe, Az.’

That was his dismissal. While the others could regroup together, Azriel was always sent away. He understood the necessity of it; his skillset was unlike the others. But it stung at times. Part of it was his own fault for never voicing his unhappiness. Sometimes he needed that break or needed to be useful. Others times, it felt like he wasn’t wanted. He was better elsewhere than kept near.

Why do you always send me away? The words bubbled on his tongue so he let his shadows wrap around him to whisk him away.

Hours later, he returned with little to show for it. His mood was irritable as a result of lurking near the mortal lands with no results. They had not noticed the wall's absence - not the mortals or the foul creatures that resided in the Spring Court woods.

Noise filtered from the dining room – subdued for once. Azriel had half a mind to bypass them and return to his room in failure then Nesta’s voice snagged his attention.

‘We should have evacuated months ago.’

Azriel slipped in unnoticed, as always, but then Nesta’s eyes caught his. She assessed him in silence, examining from head to toe for injuries before returning to her untouched plate of food.

‘We can go to your estate tonight,’ Rhys said. ‘Evacuate your household and bring them back here.’

‘They will not come.’

‘Then they will likely die.’

Nesta straightened her cutlery so it was in line with her plate. ‘Can’t you spirit them away somewhere south – far from here?’

‘That many people? Not without first finding a safe place, which would take time we don’t have.’ Rhys blew out a breath between pursed lips. ‘If we get a ship, they can sail-’

‘They will demand their families and friends come.’

The silence was thick and heavy as Azriel took the empty chair beside Cassian. His brother gave him a look of acknowledgement.

Quietly, Elain spoke. ‘We could move them to Graysen’s estate.’

Her finger brushed the ring on her left hand.

‘His father has high walls – made of thick stone. With space for plenty of people and supplies. His father has been planning for something like this for… a long time. They have defences, stores…’ A shallow breath. ‘And a grove of ash trees with a cache of weapons made from them.’  

Surprising them all, Cassian and Elain traded words about her once-lover’s home. About the weapons he had against fae, the dogs to hunt their kind, about setting up a guard, the escape tunnels.

‘I can speak to him.’

‘No,’ Feyre said in unison with Nesta.

‘If- if you and… they,’ Elain said glancing to them, ‘come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs.’

Nesta’s voice became tender. ��You are fae, too, Elain.’

‘Glamour me,’ Elain begged, pleading with Rhys. ‘Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open the gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set wards around the estate.’

Cassian ruffled his hair with his hand. ‘With the wall down, we need you to make a few things clear to the Illyrians, Rhys. I need you at the camp with me – to give one of your pretty speeches before we go.’

Rhys’ mouth twitched. ‘We can all go then head to the human lands. We have an hour to prepare. Meet back here – then we leave.’

Azriel had only an hour to prepare himself for mortals – and fucking Illyrians. Worse was to invite the Archerons. Nesta had only met his mother in a quiet part of Illyria where the land was sweet. She’d see the true brutality of his people; their viciousness, their cruelty.

A brush of knuckles sounded at the door.

Nesta stood with her shoulders rigid and spine as straight as an arrow. ‘I forgot… something in here.’

That sort of oversight wasn’t like her. Azriel moved towards the bed, finding it neatly made without even a single hair left behind. Nesta closed the door behind her and leant against the wood. Ah, an excuse to come to his room. One that was welcomed.

They met each other halfway and embraced. He tucked Nesta’s face into his neck, breathed deep the smell of jasmine and vanilla from her skin.

‘Keep your wits in the mortal land. The lack of magic can affect your senses,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘Be wary of ash. Even a scratch can make you queasy enough to set you off balance. And Illyria…’ Azriel swallowed. ‘Do not be alone with any. Do not be with any of the males except us three. Whatever they say to you, don’t react.’

Nesta pulled away with a resigned look upon her face. Her fingers grazed his then she slid a pin from her hair.

‘I found it.’

With that, she was gone.

***

Despite the summer, the Illyrian mountain camp was damp. A brisk wind was carried from the mountaintops.

All of the males that Nesta spotted were busy in the camp and all sported the same dark crop of hair as Azriel and Cassian. Their skin matched too, the golden-brown hues glistened with sweat as they trained under the keen eyes of Lord Devlon who wore full armour. None of the males wore more than two siphons. It made the seven that Azriel had seem obscene by comparison. Nesta looked at him long enough to see the tension tightening his body. He stood beside Rhysand although none of the other Illyrians paid any attention to him or Cassian. Nesta remained clustered with Morrigan and Feyre to hide Elain; they stood a few steps away from the meeting as these males weren’t known for welcoming females.  

‘It’s true then,’ said Devlon, his voice far deeper than Nesta was expecting, like the low rumble of a storm in the distance. ‘The wall came down.’

‘A temporary failure,’ crooned Rhys.

As he delivered unwavering, cold instructions about the impending push southwards, Cassian added his own input to clarify orders, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Through it all, Azriel stared them down with hatred burning in his eyes. She could feel his anguish passing through their bond. His disgust to be amongst them, revulsion for himself. The other Illyrians met his lethal gaze with rage and dread. It was a different side of Azriel. One that Nesta wasn’t sure how to cope with.

Devlon’s eyes slid to her then widened. ‘What is that?’

Another lord nearby made a sign against evil.

‘That is none of your concern,’ said Cassian, eyes going to Azriel with wary regard.

‘Is she a witch?’

‘Yes,’ replied Nesta, in the flattest voice she could manage.

‘She is High Fae,’ amended Rhysand.

The camp lord was not satisfied. His stare was rude. Azriel’s fingers flexed. Shadows crawled up his legs in a promise of what was to come.

‘She is no more High Fae than we are,’ countered Devlon.

Her magic rose up her gullet and Nesta fought against it to push it back down. The last thing she wanted was a display of power here when she’d been adamant that she had none.

‘Let’s find something warm to drink,’ offered Feyre with a pointed look to one of the largest tents In the camp which had a black banner streaming from its apex. A mountain was sewn into the material with three silver stars above it.

It was not at all what Nesta was expecting inside. There was a luxury to it, from the thick carpet that covered the low platform to keep out the damp, to the braziers of faelight that flickered. There were chairs and chaise longues that had furs strewn across and a massive desk occupied half of the space.

Nesta said a silent prayer that Cassian was the one who’d remain with the Illyrians – that Azriel would accompany them to the mortal lands. She could not stand the idea of leaving him amongst people who brought him such discomfort. Part of her knew that he needed to overcome that hatred one day. To fight alongside these males meant that he needed to trust them, understand they were not like the ones who’d hurt him.

Once Elain had been glamoured – the faint glow of immortality hidden away and spiked ears changed to rounded ones – they departed for the mortal lands.

The heat lay heavy upon them. The grass was dry and brown, the earth beneath cracked. It all felt wrong. The stress fractures upon the stone walls of Nolan’s estate stood out to Nesta’s eyes. It seemed so plain. Compared to the golden palace of Thesan in the Dawn Court or the great House of Wind cut into the red mountains, mortal architecture paled in comparison. The walls were rectangular and made of ordinary, grey stone. The thick, iron gates were crude. It was like a prison – yet it had room. For mortals who needed a place to hide, this would be the chosen option.

‘Tell Graysen that his betrothed has come for him. Tell him… tell him that Elain Archeron begs for sanctuary.’

Mounted guards galloped down the long, dusty road to the fortress while they remained at the walls in wait.

‘How did you even meet him if he’s locked up in here?’

At Feyre’s question, Elain’s face fell into a distant memory. ‘At a ball – his father’s ball.’

‘I’ve been to funerals that were merrier,’ muttered Nesta.

She had not wanted to go at all. Her heart still ached for the sister lost to faeries, but she was the only one who knew such a thing had occurred. Elain, delighted over their new found wealth, had begged and pleaded with her to attend so they could spend the run up comparing new fabrics for dresses or looking at jewels. The three of them had gone so they could be reintroduced to society properly. It had been a sombre affair with Nolan’s tight fist clutching at his purse. A meagre spread of food and a handful of musicians with beaten up instruments. The dancing had been stiff. The men even worse.

‘This house has needed a woman’s touch for years,’ shot Elain.

Nesta held her tongue. It would not be Elain to give that touch. If Nolan supported the village better – hired housekeepers rather than sentries – the manor would not have had such a sour feel.

Entry was permitted as far as the guardhouse and guards swamped them. Whether they sensed the otherness that pulsed from Rhys was unknown, but it was Azriel who received the most uncomfortable looks. He was the most different, she supposed, with his massive wings and shadows. A sudden need to step beside him in defence came to her.

‘Two dozen guards,’ he murmured to Rhys, oblivious to her need. ‘Lord Graysen and his father, Lord Nolan.’

Elain went as still as a doe. Any attempt to harm her, Feyre and Nesta knew what to do.

She stilled her body, ready for the approach of the dim-witted male who’d captured Elain’s heart – then a single shadow brushed the back of her neck.

Azriel had seen her step towards him but this was the only way he could acknowledge it.

Graysen was not as Nesta remembered him to be. He’d been solidly built, a strapping young man that turned the eye of many women who were prepared to put up with his father. But he seemed dull now. Drab. The colour of his hair wasn’t the warm chestnut that Nesta remembered, but almost grey like the colour had drained from it. His blue eyes weren’t bright. His flaws were more obvious; the slight crook to his nose, the way his ears stuck out. Mortal. Painfully mortal.

Behind him, holding him back from Elain, was the tall, hawk-nosed father who Nesta had traded more than one barbed word with at his ball. His son was in want of love that night, but his father had his own reasons to host – and being his wife offered no joy to Nesta so she’d made it known to him and her own father in colourful words.

‘What is the meaning of this?’

‘Sir – Lord Nolan,’ attempted Elain before falling into silence.

‘The wall has come down,’ said Nesta, stepping forward and meeting his steel gaze. When both men noticed her spike ears, Nesta continued, ‘I was kidnapped from my bed. The enemy has a Cauldron of great power that turned me into this against my will.’

They catalogued the other four – Feyre, Rhys, Mor, and Azriel – noticing all of their differences.

‘Elain, why are you with them?’

‘Because she is our sister,’ Nesta answered. ‘There is no safer place during this war than with us.’

Elain whispered, ‘Graysen, we’ve come to beg you. Please. Both of you. Open your gates to any humans who can get here. To families. With the wall down, we believe… there is not enough time for an evacuation. The queens will not send aid from the continent. But here, they might stand a chance.’

Graysen remained quiet for a time then his eyes landed on the ring that Elain still wore. ‘I would be inclined to believe you if you were not lying to me with your every breath.’

‘Did you think,’ Lord Nolan said, ‘that you could come to my house and deceive me with your faerie magic?’

Rhys said, ‘We don’t care what you believe. We only come to ask you to help those who cannot defend themselves.’

‘At what gain? What risk of your own?’

Yes, thought Nesta, because a man like Nolan only ever acted when it was in his interest. It was too far-fetched to imagine others might be moved by altruism.

‘You have an arsenal of ash weapons. I’d think the risk to us is apparent,’ said Feyre.

‘And to your sister as well,’ Nolan spat toward Elain even as Nesta and Feyre formed rank beside her. ‘Don’t forget to include her.’

‘Any weapon can hurt a mortal,’ Mor said blandly.

‘But she isn’t a mortal, is she?’ Nolan sneered. ‘No, I have it on good authority that it was Elain Archeron who was turned Fae first. And who now has a High Lord’s son as a mate.’

‘And who, exactly, told you this?’ Rhys said with a lift of the brow, not showing one ounce of ire, of surprise.

Steps sounded.

A handsome male with unkempt brown hair to his shoulders strolled down the steps. Nesta had seen him once before – on the worst day of her life. Jurian. A hero to all mortals. One who’d cut through the heart of the enemy camp and killed a faerie general. He was a legend. One she’d read stories of. Now, the reason why she was fae.

‘I did.’

[acourtofthought]

Gwynriel Stuff

Gwyn asked, on Nesta’s other side, “Do you have them often?” “Yes.” Nesta finished a sit-up, grunting through the weakness in her middle. “Me too,” Gwyn said quietly. “Some nights, I need a sleeping potion from our healer to knock me out.”

"I wish I could" he answered silently. But sleep so rarely found him these days.

They both struggle to sleep and would both find peace at night together which he already found a little bit of on the rooftop that night 🥹

Also, is it just me or does it seem like the shadows tried to prevent Az from making the mistake he did with Elain while trying to encourage him to spend more time with Gwyn?

Azriel snickered to himself, to the listening shadows around him. "Sleep, they seemed to whisper in his ear. Sleep"

But Az ignored the shadows, staying by the fireplace longer ("he knew he'd be swallowed by it if he went up to his bedroom, so he remained down here by the dying light of the fire") until he eventually left which is when he ran into Elain. Had he listened to the shadows in the first place, the situation with Elain and Rhys would have never happened, preventing Az from feeling even worse than he originally did. They knew when she returned to her room which to me means they also knew she was awake and the shadows may have encouraged Az to leave before anything more happened.

But where they initially encouraged him to sleep, they no longer seemed all that worried about it when they were "content to lounge on his shoulders to watch" Gwyn, after that restless feeling inside of Az settled.

The shadows seem to sense what Az needs while Az ignores their advice which isn't that surprising when you look back at Azriel's history and his refusal to listen to anyone who tells him what to do, even if it's the smart thing:

Azriel had sealed them in, and as his scarred hands wrapped around Eris’s throat, Rhys said, “Enough.” Azriel squeezed, Eris thrashing beneath him. No physical brawling—there had been a rule against that, but Azriel, with whatever power those shadows gave him … “Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. Azriel dug his knee—and all his weight—into Eris’s gut. He was silent, utterly silent as he ripped the air from Eris’s body. “Call off your overgrown bat,” Beron ordered Rhys.

“I’m going in,” Azriel said. “No,” Rhys snapped. But Azriel was spreading his wings, the sunlight so stark on the new, slashing scars down the membrane. “Chain me to a tree, Rhys,” Azriel said softly. “Go ahead.” He began checking the buckles on his weapons. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”

“I want to confirm that Briallyn has the Crown,” Azriel said. “I’ll travel to the human lands tomorrow.” “No,” Feyre and Rhys said at the same time, in the same breath. Azriel’s eyes shuttered. “I wasn’t asking for permission.” Rhys smirked. “Doesn’t matter.” Az opened his mouth to object, but Feyre said, “You’re not going, Azriel. “Give me some credit, Feyre,” Az said. “I can keep hidden well enough.” “We take no risks,” Feyre said, voice flat with command. “Pull all your spies out.” “Like hell I will.”

I have hope we'll soon be entering an era of Az making smarter choices though, we get the first hints that he can learn to respect the chain of command:

The High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court had faced off against the shadowsinger this afternoon, and emerged triumphant. Perhaps triumphant wasn’t the right word, but the argument had ended with Azriel grudgingly agreeing not to spy on Briallyn for the time being—and brooding all through dinner.

And he only went near Briallyn to retrieve Eris when Feyre and Rhys allowed it:

Az said, “We have to get him out.” Cassian drew up short. “We?” Rhys stepped up next to Azriel, Feyre beside him. A formidable wall. “We can’t go,” Feyre said, nodding to Rhys.“You and Azriel need to retrieve Eris.” “Why not you?” Feyre pinched the bridge of her nose. “Because Amren is …” “Powerless,” Amren snarled. “You can say it, girl.” Feyre winced. “Mor left for Vallahan this morning and is out of our daemati magic’s range. Az can’t go in alone. We need you, Cassian.”

Which also means Rhys ordering him to stay away from Elain when Az couldn't convince him that he had actual feelings for her won't necessarily result in Az disobeying him as some think.

[ellievickstar]

To Cut My Losses (Heather)

A/N: As per tradition the 100 follower special is angst :) I’m not doing request from 1 to 10 October because I have exams hops you can forgive me :( After that I will spit out a shitton of fics. Also I might start Harry Potter and Marvel fics…Is anyone still a fan of Big Bang Theory?

Ship: Eris x Sibling!Reader, Azriel x Mate!Reader, Elorcan

Please note this is after Beron finally dies

Warning:

Official Masterlist

Inspired by: Heather but a different sexuality

I still remember the third of December

me in your sweater

when you said I looked better the you did

“Come here you trouble maker!” He laughed as he chased me around the house. I stuck my tongue out at him as I winnowed again. He chuckled. “Fine keep it, it looks better on you anyways,” He shrugged. Folding his arms across his tattooed chest. I blushed as I ducked my head, glancing at the sweater I had stolen from him, baggy and way to big for me. But, it felt nice.

I peered up at him through my lashes and that’s when it hit me, that mind-numbing sense of home. The mating bond. I looked down and up at him again, eyes widening but he seemed so unfazed. I guess it didn’t click for him. I was about to say something when Elain walked in and Azriel straightened. Of Course.

Only if you knew how much I like you

But I watch your eyes as she walks by

What a sight for sore eyes

Brighter than the blue skies

She’s got you mesmerised while I die

Azriel’s eyes trailed Elain as she laughed with Feyre about whatever they were talking about. And when she started to complain it was cold, he asked for his sweater from me and passed it to Elain. I silently watched before my vision blurred. Swallowing, as I winnowed away back to the Autumn Court.

“Eris,” I whispered as I winnowed into his study. My older brother barely looked at me but when he saw my tear-filled eyes he immediately set his book down. “Y/N…,” “He’s my mate,” I sobbed. “Azriel is my mate,” I cried. Eris was confused but it then hit him like a ton of bricks. “He like Elain,” I nodded as I cried harder into my brother’s shirt, staining it with my tears. It reminded me of when I was younger, how father would beat me because I wasn’t a boy. How Eris would come and comfort me.

He ran a hand through my hair as I asked him, “Would he ever like me? I’m not even half as pretty. He gave her his sweater, it’s just polyester,” My voice cracked and Eris soothed me again. “Don’t say that about yourself, you can stay here from now on,” He mused. “Maybe it might cheer you up that Father died two hours ago,” I blinked at his words. Before giggling a little. As sadistic as it is, I was glad he was dead and I hoped he burned for what he did to Mother, to me, to all of us.

It did make me feel better, for a while.

Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand

Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel

But then again, kinda wish she were dead

It was the winter solstice as I mingled around, Eris at my side. That was when a loud gasp echoed through the room. Eris instantly turned to block my view but I saw Azriel kneeling in front of Elain, asking for her permission to get together. My heart broke in that instant.

How could he nit like her? She was clad in a beautiful flower dress that was pale pink with a snowflake necklace across her neck. And me? I was in Autumn colours, with bell sleeves, the skirt reached my knees. I turned and exited the House of Wind. Elain wouldn’t say yes, I knew that. She had written to Lorcan a few days ago wanting to try with him. But Azriel didn’t know that, yet he chose her. He chose her.

“Y/N?” A voice suddenly asked. I turned as I came face to face with my mate. “Let me guess she said no,” I deadpanned. He nodded before sitting on the bench on the porch. He looked up at me before his shadows suddenly speared for me and his eyes widened. He knew. He knew now. “Y/N, I-,” “Save it,” Was all I said. I turned away from him. “I spent years pining on you, you never reciprocated, always told me I was a sister to you,” A tear was on his face as he tried to stand. I stopped him. “I don’t think a mating bond can change the fact you don’t feel the same,” My voice was steady.

“Cause I see your eyes as she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes,” I scoffed, “Cause she is brighter then the blue skies, and she had you mesmerised while I died,” I gulped, “I wish I was her, but not anymore. I don’t want to be with someone after years of them leading me on then breaking my heart, first with Mor, then gwyn, now Elain. I have to stop breaking my own heart, I have to cut my losses” I finally finished my piece and left. Maybe one day, if he can truly love me, maybe I just met him at the wrong time. Maybe one day, but I have to cut my losses.

Cause you like her better

I wish I was her

A/N: Hot damn. This is a short one, I am still working on Chapter 4 of Climbing out but I hope you enjoy this short 100 special.

(P.S. I’m hoping to post Chapter 4 by today or tomorrow so look out for that)

tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @hideing @flightlesslittlebirdie  @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123 @bookworm-nerd6  @gigisssz @bethany-bee0128  @cityofidek  @aetherl0l @valeridarkness @starrstrucked @judig92 @starlit-terror

[gardenfaerie222]

Get in the Water: One-Shot

Pairing: Elain x Graysen (? sorta lol)

Rating: Mature

Summary: Elain kidnaps Graysen from his family home and forces him into the cauldron so he understands how she feels and what happened to her, and so they can be together forever.

Content Warning: violence, loss of a child, angst, PAIN

Note: This work was inspired by the lovely @bookishlyaries on tiktok! She kindly gave me permission to write this and anyone who reads this should watch the tiktok that inspired it! I guarantee it's a million times better haha

tiktok linked here! :)

Elain didn’t think there was such a thing as quiet in this new life. She sat silently on the bed in the room given to Nesta and her in the mortal manor, no effort left in her body to rinse the blood from her face and from the clothing given to her by the pale, white haired woman. Vivianne, she reminded herself, and she wasn’t a woman, she was a female. Just like Elain. Her hands were curled into fists in her lap, and the short nails bit into the skin of her palm as she clenched them. The coppery, metallic taste, still left in her mouth, stung with reminders of earlier in the day. What she had done. She wished she felt something, anything, about it. The only thing left in her heart was a dull ache, there was no room for remorse about who she had killed.

Murdered.

Stabbed in the back, fitting, Elain surmised.

In theory, she understood none of the people involved owed her any loyalty. They only owed their loyalty to Feyre, but didn’t that apply to her by association? The priestess, the man Feyre died for, her red-haired friend. Elain’s mate. They all owed Feyre some inkling of loyalty. At least the priestess was dead, and neither man would ever have what they wanted. She couldn’t bring herself to care. That man, male, she corrected, owed her nothing. No loyalty, no protection, nothing. She owed him nothing. Not forgiveness, or love, or her heart. She would give him nothing. She would never forgive him for what he took from her, what he tried to replace in her heart.

She was to be married, to a man who never even spared her a glance once all the fighting was done. He was supposed to love her, to care for her, to protect her. He promised, as good as made those vows to her. She had given him everything. Her maidenhood, her heart, her chance at any respectable match if he decided to cast her aside and anyone found out what they had done. She had done it for love. They had done it for love. Love that was supposed to overcome everything, love that would never change. It wasn’t supposed to change. She loved him with her whole heart and he promised her he felt the same. She knew he still did.

She twisted the iron band around her finger, enjoying the cool touch of it against her burning skin. It was still had the splattering of red crusted around it, and would have stained her fingers had they not still been covered in the blood of the man who ruined her life. They weren’t far from the fortress that would have once been her home, in a different life. In this life, if the fae thought about anything outside of themselves. She could hear everything. The slither of a snake in the grass, the clang of metal outside, amongst tents housing celebrating mortals and fae, drinking themselves into a stupor. Elain couldn’t recall a time she had ever been drunk. She had drank, of course. A glass of sparkling mortal wine, maybe two if she was feeling bold enough to endure the stares of mothers sniffing down their noses at her.

She had taken it all for granted, then. The happiness, the dancing, the demur looks shot at the most handsome lord attending that night. She was a princess in that world, and this one too, she supposed. The sister of the first High Lady of Prythian. A poor recreation of how her life should have been. A princess, dancing the night away with her knight on her arm.

She could still feel the perfectly respectful glide of his hand against her arm, her waist, their hands barely touching as they danced. He had filled her dance card all night, a not perfectly respectful thing to do, but she didn’t mind. She felt an instant connection to him, fated, to dance together all night. She remembered smiling up at him through lashes, his eyes like pools of glistening water, crinkled at the edges with the smile on his full lips. He was so handsome, her knight. Tall, with dark hair that reminded her of the warmed chocolate drink her father had once brought her from a ship when she was a child. They complimented each other, dancing together. Her own honey colored hair shining under the lights of the ballroom, almost brushing the hand he held at her waist.

They had glided around the room, her satin skirts twirling around her legs. She had been beautiful, and Elain knew he had agreed. She didn’t care that the face she didn’t recognize in the mirror was now somehow more beautiful than she had been. She had, she had been beautiful and Graysen knew it. He instantly started courting her, calling on her, leaving her gifts to showcase his affection. He was going to marry her, and her heart ached at the thought of what happened after. The night they spent, tangled together and underneath the blanket covering them. The love that had poured from her heart as he kissed her, and then kissed the ring on her hand, whispering his vows into her ear like it was something sensual. It had been. Those promises of love, and care, and providing. She knew he had meant them. Meant them in that moment they shared, and forever.

She could still feel the whispered caress of his breath against the shell of her ear as he promised, “I’ll love you forever Elain, no matter what. No matter what happens. You are mine, and I am yours. Mind, body and soul.”

It had felt like a prayer, and she the goddess he was worshipping. Everything had gone wrong after. The fae, and the creatures in the night stealing her from her bed. Somehow, they were different, those men with wings who came with her sister with warnings of war. They had vowed to protect Nesta and her, but she was coming to the conclusion that all fae were liars, unlike the stories said. The opposite of what the stories said, actually.

After days of false promises, they came in the night. Those creatures that ripped her from her bed in nothing but her nightgown, barefooted as she fell unconscious and woke in a small cell that stunk of urine and vomit, Nesta holding her protectively to her side, barring her teeth and snarling at anyone who looked too close at Elain. Already more fae then human, Elain realized, looking back. She could still feel like bite of their claws in her arm as they tugged her up and away from her sister, dragging her into the mockery of a throne room by her hair as she had cried out. There had been so many people in that room. Her sisters, those fae who had vowed to protect them, the beautiful blonde who she would later learn was the priestess who betrayed them. The red-headed male and the male Feyre had died to protect were there too, as well as what was left of the mortal queens, and the fae king. Some laugh, and some cried, as the king ordered she be put into that dark abyss they called the cauldron.

The first thing she remembered was the bite of cold, and the darkness. She felt like she lived in there for an eternity, twisting and turning in the water feeling something slithering against her skin but never turning fast enough to catch a glimpse of it. She could breathe normally there, somehow. Some kind of magic, most likely. It had felt like days before the cool caress against her body gripped her arms, holding her still, as it finally spoke to her.

“What do you desire, Elain Archeron?” it had hissed into her ear.

“I wish for nothing,” She whispered back, keeping her eyes ahead even as her body trembled under it’s grasp.

A mockery of laughter echo’d around her at her answer.

“I don’t believe you,” it had purred, the grip tightening, curling further around her.

“I swear I wish for nothing,” her voice was still terrified, her eyes still fixed on nothing in the murky darkness, “All I want is to go home,”

It seemed to study her for a moment, that essence of the cauldron surrounding her.

“You have something we wish for Elain Archeron, in exchange, we will let you escape with your life,” She startled, once again trying to twist in it’s arms to look at it, to demand what it wanted from her face to face.

“I don’t understand,” She whimpered, the tears starting to race down her cheeks, “I have nothing I can offer you.”

It laughed at her again, distorted and cruel, something she couldn’t see brushing away the tear that dripped to her jaw.

“You do,” it whispered, cold hands gripping her hips, fingers curling around her lower stomach.

They didn’t feel right. The fingers too long, too thin, too sharp to be human. Horror rushed through Elain’s body as the realization hit her, fighting in the grip it held on her, her tears pouring hotter and faster, her legs kicking. She was screaming, she realized, screaming for what it wanted to take from her. Something she didn’t even realize she had.

“No, no, no,” She begged, the word a prayer on her lips even though she had no gods to pray to, “please, no.”

“We will take this from you,” it murmured, a cruel mockery of a lovers whisper, “and in exchange, we will give you a gift. A pretty gift, of equal value."

She didn’t stop fighting, or screaming, or pleading, not as she felt the beginning of the change. She was changing. It hurt. Gods it hurt. She was screaming from the pain now, the pain of something being ripped from her, and the pain of feeling herself be remade. Her body like clay in the hands of the creature that held her, pulling and tugging and reshaping her in it’s image. She screamed for hours, the pain unbearable. She screaming until she was sure she had torn her vocal cords and she could make nothing but a sort of pathetic whining sound. She pleaded for it to just kill her, in that broken whisper she was sure it understood. She never stopped crying, not until the grip on her lessened and she rapidly approached some kind it light above her heard, and it left her with a whisper echoing in her mind as she breached the surface and was washed onto the cold stone, her nightgown sheer and even the leering laughter couldn’t clear the last thing the creature said to her, cruel humor in it’s tone,

“We give you our gift, Elain Archeron, and thank you for ours.”

The days and weeks after that passed in a blur. She had lived a lifetime in the cauldron, had  died in the cauldron, and everything else felt like borrowed time. She wasn’t allowed out of at least one person’s sight. Normally Nesta. Nesta was scared she would try to jump out of one of the airy windows with no glass, and Elain couldn’t entirely fault her for that. She had lost everything. Her fiancé was on the other side of the wall, and what the cauldron had taken from her, what she had lost. She couldn’t even think the word. The mere thought of her brought her to tears.

Then, Feyre had returned, and the humans, gods, the humans. She had felt the wall fall, and she knew who could help them. Who was true of heart. Who would do the right thing. She went to him with her sisters and she had begged him to help them, and deep in her heart to help her, to accept her as she was, glamoured or not, and he had cast her aside. Like she was nothing, like he didn’t love her the way she knew he did. He had whispered his love in her ear like a prayer days before she was taken from him and when she returned, she was nothing better than trash in his eyes. He had even demanded his ring back, the ring she still wore for comfort, twisting around her finger when she was nervous.

She knew he was just scared. Scared of the war, of the fae converging on his home, of her. She could make it better, she knew she could make it better. She could make him see her again. Show him her heart was still the same no matter was skin she wore, what torture she endured. She just needed him to understand. To see her again. To be like her again.

Her fingers curled into the blanket underneath her as she stared blankly at the wall in front of her. That was the issue, wasn’t it? They were different now. He couldn’t understand, he couldn’t be like her. Even if he did, she would stay like this, she thought with disgust, a sneer curling it’s way across her lips, forever. Young and beautiful, and doomed to watch her beloved grow old without her, die without her.

She would be alone for eternity, because she could never make Graysen understand.

***

There was whispering outside her door, too low for ever Elain’s fae hearing to truly pickup. She gently tossed the soft blankets off of her recently cleaned body and changed clothes, glancing quickly at Nesta, sleeping soundly beside her. She must have washed the blood away, Elain surmised. She placed her feet on the ground, near silent, as she inched closer to the door to hear what was being discussed. She pressed a pointed ear to the crack, and waited.

“… Worried about her,” The voice of her sister murmured, and she heard the inhale of breath from her sister’s mate.

“I understand, Feyre darling, truly,” His voice murmured back, and she could imagine him grabbing her sister and pulling her close, by the sounds of their scuffling feet.

She heard the sharp intake of breath her sister took, “She killed someone Rhys, that’s not something someone just gets over,” Her sister breathed back to her mate.

Elain could picture Rhys nodding his head, holding her sister lovingly, all the things Graysen would have done for her, as he replied, “One thing at a time, Miryam and Drakon will take the cauldron tomorrow, and then we can worry about your sisters.”

She listened to their feet shuffle off, obviously trying to be quiet as to not wake anyone. The Cauldron, gone. That looming presence over her life. Always calling to her, it’s song on the wind like a siren. She took the moment to briefly wonder if she would still hear it’s call to her in that hidden city across the sea. That final link to her past life, what was stolen from her life, gone. She couldn’t bear the thought.

All links to Graysen gone, tied up with a neat little bow to keep her family happy. He hadn’t even looked at her, for her, in that final stand. She needed to know he still cared for her, outside the watchful eye of his father and the fae that eyed her carefully, like she was a porcelain doll set on the corner of the table, centimeters away from tumbling off the edge. She listened closer for a moment, trying to hear any more scuffled feet or hushed voices, but all she heard was silence. That’s when she made her choice.

***

Elain paid no mind the branches scraping at her face or arms, the twigs catching in her hair, or the unsteady ground underfoot. A determination had settled in her bones as she made her way to the Nolan Fortress. She hadn’t shared with Feyre she knew a way in, around the guards where no one would ever see her. A way shone to her by a boy in love. A man in love. Her fae footsteps were near silent as she finally made it into the fortress. It was practically a compound, with all the human soldiers and civilians housed within. She didn’t think she could ever forget the steps to get to Graysen’s chambers no matter how much her body had changed or when her human memories began to fade from her mind and her heart. This walk would stay burned in her subconscious forever.

She silently pushed the door open, stepping inside and inhaling the familiar scent of pine and brandy. It was so much stronger to her fae senses, intoxicating as she breathed in deeply. She could see him sleeping, sprawled across his bed, through the open doorway from the sitting room to the bedroom. He looked no older than a boy like this, the worries that plagued his waking thoughts and creased his brow smoothed over in the world he walked in his dreams. Elain hoped she was in it, something he still yearned for, if not in his waking moments, then perhaps in his subconscious.

She carefully moved towards him, keeping an eye on her steps as she stood next to his bed and took him in. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, she mused, sweeping the hair from his brow. He stirred slightly in his sleep, his brow furrowing, and she leaned forward to press her lips to it, to smooth the worry of whatever was plaguing him. She watched his eyes flutter open, and she took the moment to enjoy his sleep muddled gaze on her face as he took in who, exactly, had kissed his brow before he shot straight up in his bed, moving as far from her as he possibly could.

“Gray,” Elain murmured, careful to keep her voice quiet but loud enough for him to hear, worry coursing through her veins as she just looked at him, “it’s just me, it’s okay.”

He looked bewildered, taking her in, still in her nightgown, barefooted and hair down, loose leaves caught in the long tresses.

“You need to get out,” he whispered harshly, still leaning as far as he could from her.

“Gray, I love you,” She pleaded, feeling the tears bite at her eyes as she held a slim hand to her breast, “Gray, please.”

“You disgust me,” he snarled, looking more fae than she did in that moment. Elain felt something in her break as she recoiled as if he had hit her. She wished he had hit her. The undiluted hatred for her on his face made her chest burn. She felt the salty burn in her eyes as she just started at him.

“I haven’t changed,” She whispered, begging the man in front of her to see her, “I’m still the woman you fell in love with.”

He laughed, and it tasted bitter in the air, polluting the room they occupied, “You’re not a woman Elain, you’re not even human.”

She heard it then, that song on the wind, calling to her, letting her know it was there for her, it wanted to care for her, help her. She felt it in her bones, if she called to it, it would answer. She inched closer to Graysen, and as he moved to push her away, she gripped his arm and they disappeared from the stone fortress.

Once Elain’s vision cleared, she took in room they were standing in. All of it was wooden, and the creaking and swaying gave away what they were on, a boat. One of Miryam and Drakon’s, if she had to guess from what Feyre had whispered to her mate earlier. She noticed it then, that purr that filled the small, dark, and damp room they were standing. That purr the cauldron released in her presence. It remembered her, remembered the gift she had given it, Elain realized with nauseating clarity. She turned, quiet and trancelike, to the man she had brought here who has huddled in a corner as far away from her as he could get. She tilted her head, taking him in.

“This is what made me, Gray,” Her voice was no higher than a whisper, but it filled the whole room, “this is what I was forced into, turned against my will, and I disgust you?”

Something seemed to stutter from his lips, but Elain cocked her head to the side, letting the ache in her heart be replaced with resentment and anger, his snarled words a brand on the muscle.

“I would have given anything for you Graysen, I gave you everything,” there was a calm to her voice, a resignation even with her eyes lined with silver, “you vowed to protect me, and where were you when I was stolen from my bed?”

“Elain, I-“ He started but she snarled, stopping him.

“Don’t talk over me,” His eyes were glued to her face, distinctly avoid what was so obviously taking up most of the space in the room, “You made me vows, Graysen, and you never upheld them. You turned your back on me, you left me to ROT!” She was screaming now, she didn’t know when she started to raise her voice, but by the end he was shaking, that self-righteous disgust in his eyes replaced by fear.

“I love you, Gray,” She pleaded, reaching a hand for his face, but the sting of him still turning away from her pulled her heart further in two, “and I know how we can be together forever.”  

“Elain no,” He moved, trying his hardest to back further against the wall, “Elain, please, don’t do this-“

She cut him off with a shake of her head, nodding towards the cauldron bubbling in the center of the room, like it expected it’s new gift any moment.

“Get in the water,” Her voice was calm, but the tilt of her head and the silver rimming her eyes betrayed her desperation.

He shook his head at her, not even standing, and she repeated herself, “get in the water,” She watched as she started to shake his head again, and she held up her hand to stop him, “or I’ll release this on the humans and you can tell your family goodbye.”

She could smell his fear, his stumbling steps as he pushed himself to stand, but made no further movement, “get in the water,” she ordered, a bead of silver leaking from her eye. She didn’t want him to be afraid, she wanted him to understand. He’d never understand unless he’d been through what she had.

“Wait,” He tried to plead with her, but she shook her head, more tears leaking from her eyes as she took a deep breath and looked up before meeting his eyes again.

“Get in the water,” She ordered again, nodding her head towards the cauldron which just seemed to bubble more in anticipation.

He stepped closer to her, begging as he said, “Stop this, please,” but she stepped further away, shaking her head at him.

She felt the pain blooming in her head, her tears running fast down her checks, “I would drown for you! I did drown for you!” her voice broke on that memory, that pain she refused to speak about, “Your wife and your son drowned and you won’t do the same for us?” She didn’t even know if he could understand the words pushing through her sobs as she took him in, as her heart broke, “We DIED!” She cried, the rage bubbling in her gut exploding.

“No!” Graysen’s voice broke, stepping closer to grip her arms.

“Get in the water!” Her voice was still raised, her soul still pouring out through the tears flowing furiously from her eyes.

“A Son?” He wept, stepping close enough to grasp her upper arms, and placing his back to the cauldron.

She pressed against his shoulders, forcing him against the lip of the cauldron, “GET IN THE WATER!” she screamed, pain and heartbreak written across her face. The life she would have had with her child lost in the same depths she lost her humanity in. Then, she pushed, her fae strength overpowering him as he lost his balance and tumbled backwards into the inky, bubbling depths.

She didn’t know how long to leave him in it, how long she had been in the cauldron. She couldn’t take it much longer, the ache of being alone in the room with this thing, no one to comfort her or to care for her, and after a few minutes she pushed the lip to dump it over, and in a torrent of waves crashing against the walls of the small room, Graysen fell out with it. She breathed a sigh of relief, rushing to his side. She gripped him in her arms, smiling as she called him name, but he was cold, and his eyes didn’t flutter open as she shook his shoulder. She shook him again, harder, and then again, calling his name over and over with a more frantic need each time. He never responded, and he stayed cold.

That was when Elain let loose a gut wrenching, heart piercing scream.

Note: Sorry if it starts getting a bit loopy towards the end, I wrote this all in one sitting and finished at 1 in the morning haha. I hope whoever reads this thoroughly enjoyed my take! Also I couldn't for the life of my figure out if the cauldron fell over on it's own or if it was pushed over and I didn't want to go grab my ACOMAF book so sorry for inconstancies if there is any! Also can't remember if Ianthe is in the throne room when the sisters get turned so if that's wrong too I'm sorry!

Thank you so much for reading!!

[a-court-of-valkyries]

Engulfed In Your Flames

Chapter 2: Nesta

TW: Mention of SA, suicidal thoughts, and the awful “intervention”

“Here are your options, girl,” Amren said, delicate chin rising. “One,” Amren said, raising a slender finger, “you can move up to the House of Wind, train with Cassian in the mornings, and work in the library in the afternoons. You will not be a prisoner. But there will be no one to fly or winnow you down to the city. If you want to venture into the city proper, by all means, go ahead. That is, if you can brave the ten thousand steps down from the House.” Amren’s eyes glittered with the challenge. “And if you can somehow find two coppers to rub together to buy yourself a drink. But if you follow this plan, we will reevaluate where and how you live in a few months.”

“And my other option?” Nesta spat.

“You go back to the human lands.”

Back to the human lands where she’d eventually end up dead at the hands of the humans. They would lock her up or send her off to die.

Nesta turned to Feyre, lips pulling back from her teeth. She could feel the fury building up inside her, could feel her powers beginning to rise and boil in anger. “And these are my only options?”

Feyre squared her shoulders and stood a little taller before answering. “Yes.”

“You have no right.”

“I-”

Nesta erupted. “You dragged me into this mess, this horrible place! You are the reason why I am like this, why I am stuck here-”

“That’s enough. That is enough, Nesta. You’re moving up to the House, you are going to train and work, and I don’t care what vitriol you spew my way. You’re doing it.”

“Over my cold dead body will I go there,” Nesta seethed. 

“You will be going there,” Feyre ordered. “This is not up for discussion.”

Nesta shook her head. “Elain would never stand for this. She would hate you for-”

“Elain agreed to this hours ago.” Nesta recoiled at the admission. Elain was part of this? She had already chosen their side? The realization caused a fresh wave of pain to pierce Nesta’s heart. How could Elain betray her like this after everything they’d gone through? Nesta stayed by her side for months after the Cauldron, afraid that she would hurt herself or try to jump out the window to meet her death. She watched over Elain, cared for her, protected her, tried to make sure Elain hadn’t completely lost her mind when Nesta felt like she was so close to losing it herself. How could Elain just toss her away like this and rub her hands clean of Nesta? Elain was supposed to be the only one who could understand her, the only one who would fight for Nesta the way Nesta did for her. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes and clenched her fists together. She let her nails dig in and break her skin to keep from showing any weakness. “She’s packing up your apartment as we speak. By the time you return, it will be empty. Your clothes are being sent to the House of Wind.”

“Though I doubt they will be suitable for training in Windhaven,” Amren muttered under her breath. Feyre glared at her for speaking without permission. Then, she turned back to Nesta.

“Elain knows how to contact you. If she wishes to visit you at the House, she is free to do so. One of us will gladly take her up there.”

Some sliver of hope Nesta didn’t even know she had died like a flame desperately trying to stay alive and finally being snuffed out. She had thought that she already reached her rock bottom, but she was wrong. It couldn’t get any worse than this. Being in a room surrounded by people who had done nothing but shame her and judge her for her choices. And he had used his powers on her just to get her to submit. He took pleasure in scenting her fear. 

Nesta pushed them away after the war because she couldn’t cope the way everyone else had. They had moved on like nothing really happened, content to live in their bubble of avoidance and easy to forget the violence of the last few months. Nesta couldn’t stand any of it. There had been a smothering silence when her father died. It had begun crushing her when she’d gone to his study at their half-wrecked manor days later and found one of his pathetic little wood carvings. In her guilt, she had kept the carving just like she kept the piece of wood Feyre had painted on, a small token of her sister after Tamlin had stolen her into the night. She had hated her father for his neglect, for his willingness to let his three daughters starve to death instead of fighting for them. She burned with that hatred, and she still hated him, if she was honest. But then he had finally shown up for the three of them during the battle with Hybern. He told her he loved her, and before she could process what was happening, before she could even speak to him, his neck was snapped and the light left his eyes. Nesta had wanted to scream and scream, but there had been so many people around. She’d held herself together until the meeting with all those war heroes had ended. Then she let herself fall. Straight into that silent and numbing pit. 

You have your life and I have mine, she’d told Elain. She didn’t say it to be cruel. She said it because it was the truth. She couldn’t forget everything the way they had. Nesta couldn’t live like that. 

All her life Nesta had her choices taken away from her. Whether it was from her mother and Grandmamma, or losing everything and being poor. She lost her humanity and was forced into the Cauldron, fated to spend the rest of her long and miserable life in Prythian. Even the Cauldron had decided to choose a mate for her; the same mate who had never bothered to see her after the war, who didn’t care enough to bother, was now trying to force her to live and train with him. The only decisions she had been able to make for herself was in the last year. She got to decide what to do with her body: who to sleep with (although Tomas had tried to take that from her too), she chose to drink to numb herself and her powers and to help herself forget, she chose where she wanted to live, and now Feyre and her friends wanted to take that away from her too.

“I want to speak to my sister. Alone,” Nesta ordered. She could feel the High Lord’s eyes boring into her, filled with such an intense hatred and animosity, but Nesta ignored him until he, Cassian, and Amren exited the room and went into the hall.

Nesta held herself up, her spine straight. She hated all of them. They were nosy busybodies who were too busy sticking themselves in everyone’s business instead of working hard to rebuild their court and help the people suffering within it. They only cared about their precious Velaris; damn the victims in Hewn City and Illyria. They had never cared before. They didn’t bother to speak to her after the war, they didn’t care when she first started drinking and sleeping around. Nesta almost scoffed at the hypocrisy. When she did it, it was a crime, and extreme measures needed to be taken to make sure she stopped, but they had no problem bragging about all the sex they had and had no problem getting drunk every week. Nesta doubted they were any better than her after their first war, so why was Nesta the villain for doing what they always did?

“You didn’t care before,” Nesta said. “Why now?”

Feyre toyed with her silver-and-star-sapphire wedding ring. “I told you: it wasn’t that I didn’t care. We—everyone, I mean—had multiple conversations about this. About you. We— I decided that giving you time would be best.”

They’d all been discussing her, deeming her unfit and unchecked, and—

Feyre said carefully, “for what it’s worth, I was hoping you’d turn yourself around. I wanted to give you space to do it, since you seem to lash out at everyone who comes close enough, but you didn’t even try.”

Perhaps you can find it in yourself to try a little harder this year. Cassian’s words from nine months ago still rang fresh in her mind. 

Try? It was all she could think to say.

I know that’s a foreign word to you.

His words haunted her all this time, the same way Feyre’s accusation would follow her wherever she went. They thought she wasn’t trying. They had no idea what is what like. They had no idea how simply dragging herself out of bed exhausted her so much that it left her with no motivation for the rest of the day. They had no idea what it was like for her to fear simply getting into a tub, but trying to anyway so she would no longer have to use buckets. Or what it was like to drown herself in liquor just to forget all that was taken from her; what is was like to lose herself as her skin was ripped apart and bones were stretched and broken just to be forged into a creature she had been taught all her life to hate. They had no idea what it was like for her to walk around with powers she couldn’t understand, powers that no one could understand. They had no idea what it was like to hate so much that no matter how much she hated them for what they were doing to her now, it would never equate to how much she hated herself. She did try. She tried every day to simply exist, but even that was becoming too much for her. But she tried because she had that one sliver of hope that things would one day change and be different, even if she didn’t truly believe in it, but now that had been taken away from her too. She didn’t feel like trying anymore.

Cassian had said that he couldn’t understand how anyone could love her. Nesta didn’t understand it either.

Feyre continued, “All you have done is help yourself to our money.”

“Your mate’s money,” Nesta corrected her. 

“Nesta, You spent 500 gold marks last night! Do you know how much money that is? Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends—my family— had to hear all about it?” 

Her family, as if Nesta and she weren’t flesh and blood. “That must have been very hard for you, Feyre.” Nesta said, sarcasm dripping off her tongue. 

Feyre went on as if Nesta hadn’t even spoken, “And to hear what you spent it on-”

“Oh, so this is all about you saving face-”

“It is about how it reflects upon me, upon Rhys, and upon my court when my damned sister spends our money on wine and gambling and does nothing to contribute to this city! If my sister cannot be controlled, then why should we have the right to rule over anyone else?”

“Don’t you dare do that!” Nesta spat. “Don’t you dare act like I’ve done nothing but be a burden. I helped you win a war that wasn’t even my concern. I was dragged into it, killed, and turned fae over it. I helped kill the King of Hybern. I lost everything contributing to help this city and the rest of Prythian and the human lands. So don’t you dare,” Nesta whispered dangerously, “act like I have done nothing. I have done more than enough. And let me make something very clear, Feyre. I am not yours to control.”

“That is why you’re going to train at Windhaven. You will learn to control yourself.”

“So your grand plan to help me get over the trauma of the war is to have me train in a war camp?” Nesta shook her head defiantly. “I won’t go.”

“You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian’s lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library. You will respect her, and the other priestesses in the library,” Feyre said, “and you will never give them a moment’s trouble. Any free time is yours to spend as you wish. In the House.”

Hot rage pumped through her, so loud Nesta could barely hear the real fire before which her sister paced. Was glad of the roaring in her head when the sound of wood cracking as it burned was so much like her father’s breaking neck that she couldn’t stand to light a fire in her own home.

“You had no right to close up my apartment, to take my things—”

“What things? A few clothes and some rotten food.” Nesta didn’t have the chance to wonder how Feyre knew that. Not as her sister said, “I’m having that entire building condemned.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s done. Rhys already visited the landlord. It will be torn down and rebuilt as a shelter for families still displaced by the war.”

Nesta tried to master her uneven breathing. One of the few choices she’d made for herself, stripped away. Her ties to it cut simply as if it was nothing more than a piece of string and not one of the few times she had been able to choose something for herself. Feyre didn’t seem to care. Feyre had always been her own master. Always got whatever she wished. And now, she wanted this too. The only thing Nesta could feel at this moment was a fierce and burning anger, so she held onto it like it was a lifeline, as she had always done.

“I won’t be your prisoner—”

“No. You can go wherever you wish. As Amren said, you are free to leave the House. If you can manage those ten thousand steps.” Feyre’s eyes blazed. “But I’m done paying for you to destroy yourself.”

“You’re no better than Tamlin,” Nesta sneered. “Taking away my choices, locking me up, dictating what I can or cannot do with my life under the guise that you are trying to help me, to protect me and save me from myself. It sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”

The blow landed. Feyre’s widened her eyes in shock and hurt, and tears quickly filled them. Nesta wasn’t surprised that Feyre didn’t see the hypocrisy in this so-called “intervention”. She had always been so naive. It filled her with even more disgust and rage, leaving no room for any undeserved sympathy. The audacity, Nesta thought, to play the victim when you’re trying to lock me up. Rhysand barged in through the doors, probably well aware of Feyre’s emotions. His eyes burned holes into Nesta, and his shadows swirled and darkened like he was getting ready to attack. Let him, Nesta thought. She was well past caring. If he tries to use his powers on me, I’ll use mine on him. Let him see what it’s like for a change.

“You said I have two choices,” Nesta sat up straighter, looking Feyre in the eyes. “Well, I’ve made my decision. I want to go to the human lands.”

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[theladyofdeath]

The Viscount Who Loved Me {Eight}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain (I said what I said) Feyre x Rhysand Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary:

As the season begins, a new Diamond is named. She catches the eye of a prince whose feelings remain unrequited. However, the man who catches the eye of the Diamond remains off the market, refusing to get married as a jab to his late father.   Meanwhile, the Diamond of the Season’s sisters have found themselves in a bit of a quandary. The elder is pushing the younger to get married to help her move on from the horrid disaster that happened last season, but in the process, the elder catches the eye of the younger’s match, even though she is considered to be an old maid and far past her time to be wed at the age of six and twenty. As they say, all is fair in love and war. 

A/N: Sorry it's been a minute since we've updated this one! I was out of town for a few weeks. Let us know what you think! Your thoughts, likes, and shares are always so appreciated.

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

It was just after breakfast when Cassian found Nesta sitting on the patio, reading a book. She seemed to be enjoying it immensely. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pursed as she flipped the page. Cassian had been looking for a moment to get her alone, to speak with her about pressing matters, and he figured this was as good a time as any. 

“Miss Archeron,” he said as he approached.

She jumped slightly, as if she had been fully involved in the world of her book, unaware that reality still existed outside the pages. 

She looked at him with a frown as she slowly set it down. “Lord Cassian.”

“I was hoping to speak with you,” he said, gesturing to the seat across the white, cast iron table. “May I?”

“It is your home,” she replied, simply. “You do not need my permission.”

Cassian couldn’t help the chuckle of pure disbelief that radiated out of him. Nonetheless, he sat and cleared his throat. “Have you enjoyed your visit?”

“You have a lovely home,” she replied, simply, looking out at the vast landscape instead of meeting his eye. “And, I must admit, my lord, you have been a gracious host. My sisters have enjoyed their stay immensely.”

Cassian noticed that she did that often - spoke on her sisters’ behalf but never on her own. “And you?” He pushed.

Nesta’s lips formed a straight line but she soon said, “The silence has been nice. I enjoy the country for that reason.”

Cassian understood. The city, although he loved the energy of it, could be loud and distracting. Perhaps that’s why he loved it. He never had to spend too much time inside of his own head. 

“Perhaps your sister and I will live here, then, and you may visit whenever you’d like,” Cassian said, and Nesta’s back straightened. “If, of course, Miss Archeron, I have your blessing to ask for Elain’s hand.”

Nesta did not, would not look at him. Her eyes remained staring at the green, rolling hills. Cassian waited patiently. He figured that Nesta Archeron was not a woman to be pushed.

Once the wait was over, however, he was only disappointed.

“No,” Nesta said.

“My intentions are—”

“I do not doubt your intentions, my lord,” she interrupted, her eyes still locked on the land in front of her. “But the season has just barely begun and I do not want my sister rushing into a marriage.”

“I would be a good match for Miss Elain,” he argued, sitting forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows. “I can give her everything she wants.”

“Do you love her?”

Cassian stared at her and Nesta finally turned to meet his gaze. “My sister will marry because it’s what my father wishes her to do, but the one thing she’s always wanted is to marry for love.” The words hung between them. “So forgive me if you claim you can give my sister what she wants when you do not even know what that is.”

Cassian was typically incredibly sure of himself and quick on his feet, but even he hesitated. Nesta was not a woman to be trifled with. She stood her ground and spoke without a second thought if it was what she thought should be said.

“I have spent hours with your sister,” Cassian said, calmly. “She has shared with me the life she sees for herself. I can give her that life. I will treat her kindly and I will respect her.”

Nesta scoffed and Cassian’s anger took root inside his gut. “Do you truly wish me to believe that you will respect my sister?” She said, shaking her head. “I know of you, my lord, and with all due respect, I have heard of your reputation. You like women. You have seen your fair share of beds and, pardon my frankness, if you do not even love my sister how will you put aside such…such…” Nesta was getting frustrated. He could see it, and that frustration only grew as she said, “desires! You may think you want a wife, my lord, but I have known men like you. And, if you are not marrying for love, I know I cannot count on a faithful marriage, a respectful marriage. Forgive me, but I will not place my sister in such a position, not when she deserves better.”

This woman.

This insufferable woman.

She was almost enough to make him wish he’d never entered the marriage market.

“So unless I am in love with your sister, you will not give me your blessing?” Cassian asked, voice quiet.

“No, Lord Nazari,” Nesta said, picking up her book and clutching it to her chest. “I will not give you my blessing until I feel that you are worthy of it.”

With that, she turned, re-entering the house and leaving Cassian behind with her unfinished tea on the table.

He fought down the urge to cry out in anger, to tug at his hair and drag her back here and make her listen to all the reasons he’d be the best husband Elain Archeron could have. Most of all his loyalty. He could be faithful, he had no doubt. He’d never had a reason to be, had the opportunity to dally on the side and took it, with little thought.

But if his allegiance lay with one woman?

He would never betray the trust and loyalty she’d be putting in him.

His track record didn’t look stellar though, and he knew it.

Taking a deep breath, Cassian reached for the teapot and poured a cup with the remaining dregs inside. After splashing in some milk, he took a drink and looked out at the sunny day.

He would prove to Nesta Archeron that he could be a good husband, if it was the last thing he did.

<.>

Feyre did not sleep for even a minute. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. And every time she saw him behind closed eyes, their encounter did not end when it did.

Her cheeks heated, even as she walked alone through the gardens. How could she have been so careless? The whole situation had been inappropriate. If someone were to have seen them, were to have walked in on them, their evening would have had an entirely different outcome. 

She had been irresponsible.

She had been careless.

Now, she was embarrassed. 

For the entirety of breakfast and lunch, Feyre had eaten with her eyes staring into her plate. She only spoke when asked a question which happened far more likely than she had cared for.

The worst part of it all was that she had liked it.

She had liked seeing Rhysand like that. She had liked getting close with him. She had liked feeling the warmth of his breath on her mouth, of imagining what it would have been like to taste him.

Even now, walking in the gardens, Feyre could not catch her breath. Her skin was on fire and she had to stop, close her eyes, breathe until thoughts of his fingers grazing her skin no longer occurred.

“Are you alright, Miss Feyre?”

Feyre’s eyes snapped open at that voice, knowing the face she would behold. Rhysand had just come around the corner of the shrubbery and was looking at her half in amusement, half in worry.

Clearing her throat, she curtsied and continued on, nodding once. “Yes, my lord, now if you’ll excuse me—”

She was almost around the corner when his voice reached her. “I didn’t mean to offend you last night.”

Halting, she turned back and met his dark eyes. Eyes that seemed impossibly darker in the daylight. “You didn’t, my lord, but it was highly inappropriate—”

He shrugged. “We happened to be in the same place at the same time after neither of us could sleep.”

“If you would let me finish a thought, sir,” she said, snapping her fan shut and advancing on him. “You were going to kiss me.”

His eyebrows raised, clearly not expecting her to be so blunt. “I had considered it.” The warm feeling his words evoked was forgotten as he spoke again. “But then I realized it would be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

Hurt flashed across her face, her cheeks reddening. Her eyes found the ground as she turned and headed for the house again. “Good day, my lord.”

A string hand wrapped around her wrist. “That…came out wrong.” She froze again, didn’t pull her hand from his grip, but didn’t look back at him. “If I were to kiss you, Miss Feyre, and someone were to find out, we would be forced to wed.”

Forced.

The words clanged through Feyre like a knell.

“And that would be the worst thing, wouldn’t it?” She asked, before she could help herself, meeting his gaze. “To be wed?” 

To me, were the words she refused to add, but flashed through her mind. 

He knew it, too, could tell by the way his body tensed. His fingers were still wrapped around her wrist. She still made no move to escape. 

“Would you have liked me to kiss you, Feyre?” He asked, quietly.

She was at a loss for words, swallowing harshly instead. He tracked the bob of her throat and then his eyes met hers again.

“You don’t want to marry the prince.” It wasn’t a question. It was a blatant statement, one he had no right to make.

But he was right. She didn’t. The thought of marrying Prince Tamlin, of being shipped off to Spring and likely end up locked in his castle to breed little heirs, title or no…

She shook her head.

Rhysand was watching her intently. There seemed to be a war raging inside him and she swore she could see the exact moment one side won out.

“I have a proposition for you, Miss Feyre,” he said, closing the distance between them. She held her head high, looking up into his face. “You seem to need a believable out from your courtship with His Highness. I am in need of a shield to protect me from the wolves of the ton.”

Feyre’s eyebrows bunched. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“The mamas, Feyre, darling,” he sighed, taking both of her hands in his. “I need a reprieve from their constant and incessant badgering. But you,” he stepped closer again. “You could be my saving grace, Feyre.”

Feyre blinked, registering his words all at once but not at all, all at the same time. “I’m not certain I know what you’re suggesting.”

His jaw ticked. “We will create a facade, a courtship that seems realistic in the eyes of the ton but remains nothing more than mere friendship. We will dance, we will promenade, and all the while I am not getting attacked by ladies and you are not getting attacked by the prince. It’s a simple solution to both of our problems.”

Feyre stared at him for a moment before barking a laugh, snatching her hands from his. “That’s absurd.”

Rhysand was not offended. He simply lifted a dark brow. “How so?”

“There is a flaw in your plan, my lord,” Feyre went on, and now she was pacing between the shrubbery. “If I were to accept this madness, I, the Diamond, would not be ending the season with a husband, now would I?”

The Viscount actually rolled his eyes, dramatically and with humor. “As you say, you are the Diamond. Of course you’ll get a proposal. Multiple proposals, I have no doubt. As the season comes to a close, I will step back and make way for the offers to roll in. My plan simply gives you a little breathing room until then.”

A little breathing room. Such a thought was lovely. There was a second fault in his plan, however. “Except I will be spending that spare time with you, my lord, and you do annoy me so.”

“And you frustrate me to no end,” he replied, “so it’s a good thing we have no intention of actually marrying at the end of the season.”

Feyre paused, actually thinking this charade through. She chewed on her bottom lip, looking up to find him watching the movement. “You truly think this could work?”

“As long as we play our parts well, which I have no doubts we will, I don’t see how it could fail.” He gestured around at the beautiful gardens. “You visited my best friend’s country home and spent time with me. No one would doubt that I charmed you while we relaxed, and it gives you a reason to reject that pompous princeling’s proposal.”

Feyre walked away a few steps, stepping out of the shade the two of them had been hiding in. She let the sun grace her face and turned up to bask in it. Finally, she turned back to him. “At least three dances at every ball, for the rest of the season.”

His dark brows rose. “Two,” he negotiated.

“Three,” she replied, opening her fan and fluttering it just beneath her chin. “All of the eligible bachelors must see me in your arms, my lord. That includes those that arrive early, those that arrive late, and those who are there the entire time.”

Pursing his lips, he nodded. “Fine, but one promenade week and one social visit.”

Feyre barked a laugh. “That’s just pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Rhys replied, face incredulous.

“Pathetic.” Pointing to the house and its owner within its walls, Feyre went on, “Lord Nazari visits our home almost every day and they promenade at least three times a week.”

Rhysand, to her utter delight, hesitated. “Fine. I’ll move it to two. But don’t expect me to stay too long for the social visits.”

Feyre, in a very unlady manner, rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Fine.” He held out his hand.

Feyre’s brows shot up. “Shaking like gentlemen, are we?”

“You’re a menace,” Rhysand muttered, and Feyre grinned as she shook his hand.

The deal was done.

<.>

“Azriel.”

Elain’s sweet voice floated from behind him as he sat in the sitting room, sketching. It was the first time she came outright and used his given name, which pleased him considering he had asked her to call him only Azriel at least a hundred times.

“Lady Elain,” he said, setting down his charcoal and wiping his hands off on his trousers, which he realized just after was not very proper. 

Her smile was radiant. “If I am to call you Azriel, you must call me Elain.”

As she sat on the couch across from him, he couldn’t help but notice how the rays of sun lit her hair up, how her eyes were molten in the early afternoon light.

He cleared his throat, but sat up and crossed an ankle over a knee. “Very well, Elain.”

He said her name as if it were a secret and it thrilled her. She was realizing she enjoyed spending time with Azriel, enjoyed how easy it was to be around him. He didn’t expect anything from her, didn’t push her to talk about things that, truthfully, she found quite trivial.

“What are you doing up here, all by yourself?” She asked, though it was clear he’d been absorbed in his art before she came in.

Cheeks heating, Azriel flipped his sketchbook shut. A metallic silver and grey thumbprint was smeared across the top, his hands still covered in charcoal. “Sketching,” he admitted. “It settles me when…” He froze realizing what he’d almost revealed. “When nothing else can settle me.”

She looked at him like she caught the misstep, like she wanted to ask what was wrong, if he was alright. But instead, she surprised him when she asked, “Can I see?”

Azriel looked down at his sketchbook before looking back up at her hopeful, curious expression. The second he handed it to her, she had it open.

“They’re not that great,” Azriel said as she flipped through page after page after page. “Although, I did just get accepted to the summer program at the art academy.” That felt like bragging. “Not…that that’s a big deal.”

It was.

Still, she said nothing as she studied each drawing she came across. 

“So,” Azriel continued, having nothing to say after that, but fearing the silence.

“These are beautiful,” she said, at last, looking at a messy sketch of Cassian and Rhysand sitting on the couch, sipping their magical tea.  “The day I met you, you got charcoal on my dress,” Elain said, laughing quietly, although she was not specifically speaking to him, just aloud. 

“I apologize, yet again,” Azriel said, his voice light.

That quiet laughter returned, and it was a lovely sound. “No need. I did not mind.”

He smiled, but she didn’t see it. She turned to the next page where she found a portrait of a woman.

Elain tilted her head to the side. “She’s beautiful.”

“Miryam,” he explained. “She works for Rhys. We’ve known her our entire lives. Grew up together. I feel it easier to sketch those I know. I can feel their personality as I draw. I feel it helps guide me.”

Elain nodded thoughtfully before asking, “Could you draw me?”

Azriel started, surprised by the question, and Elain must have seen it as hesitation because her cheeks turned pink.

“Not that-“

“It would be an honor to draw you, Miss-.” He caught himself, and Elain laughed, loud and bright. “Elain.”

Her laughter died but it lingered in her deep, brown eyes. She handed him back his sketchbook. “When shall we do this?”

“I have time if you have time,” Azriel said, opening his book to a blank page.

“I have time,” she said, voice growing quiet. “Where would you like me?”

“Right where you are is perfect,” he assured her, but then thought again. “If you could just move your hands…maybe so they’re not…”

Elain looked down at her clasped hands and laughed, unclasping them and holding them out, palms up. “Where would you like my hands?”

He set down his sketchbook and leaned across the space between them. “May I?”

Elain nodded, smile growing soft as Azriel took her hands and put one palm down atop her skirts, then placed the other one just on top. He took her chin in his fingers and Elain’s breath hitched as he turned her face, just slightly until the light hit her just right.

“Now you’re perfect,” he breathed, his fingers still on her skin.

She blinked at him, knowing she shouldn’t move now that he’d placed her how he wanted her. Realizing what he’d said and how close they were, Azriel cleared his throat, jumping back. “Forgive me, sometimes I get so focused on a piece coming together that I can forget to heed acceptable social niceties. Act undignified and all that.”

Elain’s eyes softened and her smile was demure and pretty. “If that was undignified, I think I may prefer you like that.”

Azriel’s eyes left her face as he flipped his sketchbook open again and found a blank page. Her cheeks heated as his gaze looked over her entire body, but it was not done in a leering way. He was taking all of her in, memorizing her form, and then his hand was moving across the page.

It was quiet for a few minutes, neither of them speaking. His eyes would move between his book and Elain, sometimes getting caught in her own gaze, while his hand flew. Twice, he retrieved a fresh piece of charcoal, needing the thinnest edge possible to focus on a tiny, but important detail. His thumb was shiny and metallic from where he’d used it to soften edges and fade the lines he deftly drew.

“I’ve never really been one to fit into the ton.”

His words were so unexpected, so quiet, that Elain jumped slightly when he spoke.

With his eyes cast on his sketchbook, she took the chance to really look at Azriel. She’d, of course, noticed he was handsome before, but now, she gave herself a moment to appreciate his hazel eyes, the green a little stronger than the brown today, and his full mouth. His lips looked soft, where they were parted slightly in his concentration. His cheekbones were high and his jaw was strong. Those sparkling hazel eyes looked up and met with hers.

And Elain realized she was staring.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Why is that, my lord?”

His eyes narrowed, but he ignored her. “Because I was never supposed to have my title.”

Azriel had been the illegitimate heir to the Draeven line, a placeholder of sorts until his wife gave him a son. The child the household laundress had bore him after he’d forced himself on her was never meant to lead the house and rule the land, but his wife never conceived. Likely due to the same beatings and bruises he and his mother received from him.

And then the man had died before Azriel had even turned four, just a few months after his mother had been unable to recover from a beating so horrible that Azriel could still hear her screams. His horrible step-mother remarried, bearing twin boys less than a year after his father’s death. As he got older, he would have thought it a fitting punishment for the piece of shit who sired him, had his half-brother’s not made his life a living hell every chance they took. Had his step-mother not squandered their money away, claiming she and her new husband were acting as Azriel’s stewards until he reached maturity.

All the while, Azriel waited, knowing there had to be some other member of the Draeven line who would take the title. Into his teen years, he’d heard his step-mother talking about this cousin or that cousin who could be coming any day to oust them from their home and take the title, and Azriel almost prayed someone would.

But no one ever did.

He would not tell Elain that. No one truly knew every little detail but Rhysand and Cassian, so when Elain asked, “How so?” Azriel casually answered, “Complicated family history.”

Elain wasn’t fond of that answer, he could tell she wanted to push, but like the lady she was, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “I am glad for your title. It means that you and I may spend time with one another.”

Azriel watched as she repositioned herself, a small smile on her lips. For the first time, Azriel thought that he may not mind his title either, if only for that reason. 

<.>

Nesta knew she shouldn’t be out on her own at such an hour, but she had to get away. Supper had been excruciating, Cassian looking up at her with his stupid, cocky grins for the entirety of it. It made her skin crawl, how he thought it was all just a game.

She didn’t give him her blessing, and she wouldn’t.

She could not have such a rake as a brother-in-law. 

She fled down the steps and into the garden, only to find a stone bench to fall on.

Once seated, she closed her eyes and took one deep breath, then another.

Listening to the breeze rustling through the shrubbery around her, she waited a moment, before opening her eyes. When it was clear no one had seen her flee her rooms, Nesta reached into the pockets of her robes and produced a small metal case, which she flipped open. A strike and a flush of light and Nesta was inhaling deeply from the clove cigarette between her lips.

Cassian, with his pretentious attitude and constant smirking. She scoffed as she exhaled and it almost sounded like a growl.

He was handsome, Nesta could not deny that, but a pretty face and a title wasn’t enough to win her over for either of her sisters.

Thank the Cauldron, Feyre was smart enough to align herself with the Prince. Nesta needn’t worry about his honor.

But Baron Cassian Nazari?

Over her dead body would he marry a member of the Archeron family.

The thought was haunting her and she suddenly had a new loathing for her father. 

She had always loathed her father, had never gotten along with the man she had hailed from, but now, giving her this responsibility instead of taking it on his own…

Nesta loathed him.

She loved her sisters, but this was not her job. In her father’s defense, she didn’t know what her job was, she supposed. Not anymore. 

She had forgotten what her job was a long time ago, when she refused to marry and became the mocking center of the ton.

Nesta took a long drag and closed her eyes.

She had no idea who she was.

All she knew is she couldn’t get Cassian Nazari out of her head.

It seemed that rather than prove his worth to Nesta, he’d decided to spend the rest of their visit getting under her skin. He infuriated her to the point of no return, having consumed her every thought while she lay in bed.

She wondered if he knew he wore every emotion and thought on that handsome face. How his jaw ticked when he was frustrated, his eyes would trail down and to the left when he was deep in thought. She didn’t want to think about the fact that his hazel eyes lit up when the two of them spoke. Not every time, but often, and when they did, he looked so…alive.

But that was not the point.

Even thoughts such as those were highly inappropriate. 

Infuriating.

Nesta heard a crunch and just as she jumped to her feet, a figure came around the corner, emanating puffs of smoke. 

Lord Azriel froze, looked at Nesta, looked down at the cigarette between her fingers, then cleared his throat. “Apologies, wasn’t aware this bench was already occupied.” Nesta must have had a look of pure panic written across her features, because he continued with, “No need to worry. Everyone else has gone to bed and your secret is safe with me.”

Azriel did not threaten her in the slightest, but still, being alone with a man in the middle of a garden at night felt wrong. 

Once again, highly inappropriate. 

Better Lord Azriel than Lord Cassian, though.

“Please,” he went on, when she said nothing, gesturing to the bench. “Do not let me interrupt.”

Nesta slowly sat back down and gestured to the opposite end of the bench. “Feel free to join, if you wish. It seems this is your smoking bench, after all.”

Azriel chuckled as he sat, a couple feet away. “Perhaps it is. I love my brothers, but some days I need to come out here and…breathe. Without them.”

Nesta snorted. “That seems fair, my lord.” A moment of silence passed before she said, “You call each other brothers. Are you related by blood?”

She hadn’t thought so, but she didn’t want to assume. 

“No, though my mother and Rhysand’s were close friends growing up, so we met young. And Cassian?” Azriel chuckled, affectionately. “We met him in finishing school and the three of us were pretty much inseparable after that.”

Nesta had to resist the urge to snort. “Finishing school? Lord Cassian attended finishing school?”

He chuckled, the tip of his cigarette lighting up as took a long drag. “He may be a lot to take in, but do not mistake his fervor for life as disregard for his honor and respect.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment and Azriel feared he may have said something wrong. “You probably think I’m a hateful woman,” she said, quietly. “I don’t withhold my blessing out of spite.”

“You want what’s best for your sisters,” Azriel replied. “No one can fault you for that.”

Nesta wasn’t sure what she had been expecting Azriel to say, but that was not it. They did not know each other; yet, he seemed to understand more than anyone else.

“We are all each other have,” Nesta said, simply, before putting the cigarette between her lips. “After this season…” her words trailed off as she shook her head. “After this season, our lives will be forever changed. We have been through enough change in our lifetime, enough scandal. If our lives are to change, then I want it to be for the best. They deserve that. Both of them.”

Azriel blew a puff of smoke into the cool, night air and watched it fade away into nothingness before he said, “Contrary to popular belief, Miss Archeron, you are a good woman. A good sister.”

“That is very kind of you to say,” Nesta said, quietly. “You may be the only one in the ton who believes such a thing.”

“Yes, well,” Azriel began, snorting, “the ton does not think fondly of me, either, so do not let it upset you. You and I will be much happier in the remainder of our lives than most of them will ever be.”

Nesta looked over at the young lord, and found him smiling softly at her. He took another drag of his cigarette, before saying, “Like I said, Miss Archeron, your secret is safe with me.”

__________________________________________________________

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[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: One

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. loss of family, gore, canon level mention of violence, Tamlin, heavy spoilers for ACOTAR series. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: (Eventual) Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After you were claimed as Amarantha's Shadowsinger, you meet the High Lord of the Night Court.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

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Prologue

Just 6 months before everyone was trapped Under the Mountain is when she raided your small northern Illyria village. And it was all because of that male you slept with. When you thought he was sleeping and allowed your shadows to come out, he saw. And he knew. He ran back and told his camp Lord, who told Amarantha the second he could. The Lord had sworn allegiance to her before a few others did as well.

Every single villager was taken to one of the camps she had. Sirona, Igna, and Oran included. Every single one of them but you. At first, she threatened you with their lives, and you begged her to spare them. You begged her harder when she threatened to rip off your wings. So, she made you a bargain. One she didn’t make with anyone else.

So long as you would be her personal Shadowsinger, her spy, and told her nothing but what you thought to be the truth, your friends and your wings would remain intact. You foolishly agreed. Not aware of the loopholes that she would find ways around in the coming years.

You were there when she trapped everyone Under the Mountain. You were responsible for her having bargaining power over certain High Lords. How she was able to put a leash on everyone’s powers. You were trapped with everyone else. But you were her spy, and she still needed information from the outside. So she allowed you out, but only when she deemed it necessary.

And you met Rhysand. The High Lord of the Night Court. The High Lord of your home. Or what used to be. And not just a High Lord, but a Carynthian, the highest ranking form of an Illyrian that you knew. And he was Amarantha’s whore.

Rhysand had a familiar feeling the moment he laid eyes on you. Not only because you reminded him of his Shadowsinger brother, but something deeper. Something he hadn’t been able to place for the 50 years Under the Mountain.

When you first told him of your bargain with Amarantha, he was wary to tell you anything. He definitely wasn’t going to tell you about Velaris. Not when you had a bargain to tell her the truth about anything you learned. And lying to her would only get you killed.

Then he learned why you’d done it. How you bargained to keep your friends, your family (albeit not blood related), safe. To keep your wings unharmed. At least unharmed by her. So he decided he would do everything he could to keep his secrets from you. Not because he didn’t want you to know, but because he didn’t want you hurt. Or your family hurt.

You had learned to lean on each other during those 50 years. Amarantha would often send you out together. Even though she trusted you and Rhysand to bring her valuable information alone, she also knew that you couldn’t lie about the information that he told her. 

But Rhys had learned to keep you in the dark, away from conversations, when he knew you didn’t want her to know what was going on. You couldn’t lie about something if you didn’t hear it. If your shadows didn’t tell you.

And then Feyre came. The 19 year old girl, human, professing her love for Tamlin. One of the first things that your shadows whispered to you about her was that she indeed did love him. Something Amarantha forced out of you once they took Feyre to her cell. After they beat her, of course.

You remembered when Rhys went out for Calanmai, even if he didn’t tell you what happened. You remember him coming back from Tamlin’s manor and telling you about Clare. You were on the mission to go retrieve her, just to conceal Amarantha’s soldiers enough so they could do their worst. Thankfully you weren’t asked to question Clare… Thankfully for Prythian, not Clare. You didn’t know you were retrieving the wrong woman.

What Amarantha did to Clare, how she displayed her decaying body in the throne room, you could barely watch. You knew Rhys had taken her mind. He wouldn’t let innocents suffer. It didn’t help, either way. Knowing that Amarantha would use it against you if you looked away or left the room. Especially because she may need use of your shadows to scare the poor girl even more.

You watched as Feyre defeated the Wyrm, as she miraculously survived the second task. You knew she couldn’t read. Your shadows told you the second the spikes started descending on her and Lucien. You thought they were going to die. But somehow, after hovering over the second lever for so long, she chose the third. It was like someone told her to do it.

Rhys didn’t mention he was sending Nuala and Cerridwen down to retrieve Feyre on those nights after their own bargain. Or what their bargain even entailed. He didn’t want you knowing the secrets. Not when it would ruin the plan he had in place.

So you stood by as Feyre held the fate of Prythian in her hands, with the dagger as she plunged it into Tamlin’s stone solid heart.

It wasn’t easy, watching Amarantha as she killed Feyre for it. As Rhys roared for her, fought for her. All while Tamlin did nothing but beg. Granted, he was injured, but he didn’t do anything. Didn’t even fight as Feyre’s neck snapped. You even tried to send your shadows towards Amarantha to blind her for Rhys, but she shot out a string of magic and knocked you on the floor and held you there. 

But Feyre solved the riddle. She freed you all. And you took a deep breath as you felt more magic swell in you than you noticed before. Maybe it was from it being gone for 50 years. Or restrained, at least.

And Tamlin killed her. He did what every person Under the Mountain was wishing, any sane person at least. Amarantha was dead and you were free. Free to keep secrets from whomever you wanted. Free to see your family without fear that you would endanger them.

That final night roaming about in the upper floors of the Mountain changed your life even more. When you approached Rhys to say goodbye. To go to the camp your family was being held at and take them back to the village. If anything was left. It was then that he gave you an offer that was hard to refuse.

“Come with me,” he whispered. “To Velaris.” He said and you tilted your head, not understanding what that was. Without even reading your mind, he continued. “It’s my Court that isn’t known to anyone. I’ve kept it hidden from everyone. From her… but I want you there. I want you to meet my family. I want my family to meet the female who helped me through these years…” he said. “I want you to meet another Shadowsinger.” He said.

You stood there, blinking for a few moments. “Rhys…” you muttered. “I have my family-“

“They can come. I’ll get you set up in a townhouse with them. And if you’d like, we could see about you working as part of my Court.” He said. “Think about it. I’ll ask your decision by tonight. Once you’re with your family.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. You bounded over to him and wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done here.” You whispered. The only response from him was a small hum followed by a tight squeeze.

You stepped back and thanked him again before disappearing with your shadows to the camp your family was in. Where you would finally get to see Sirona, Igna, and Oran. Even if they weren’t blood, they had taken care of you and seen you mature all those years. You may have failed them the day Amarantha came, but you hoped they knew that what you did, you did for them.

Only, you made it too late. The camp had been burned down hours ago. There had been a spell on it, tied with Amarantha’s blood. If she was to die, all of the buildings were to burn with anyone inside. Her foot soldiers or not. And only this camp. As if that last final blow would finally break you. It almost did.

Your knees buckled as you made it to your family’s building, shadows wrapping around you as you fell to the ground. The building was still simmering with fire. But you could smell it. Burnt flesh, blood, and soot mixed together. It caused you to vomit right in front of the small room Igna and Oran shared together. As you staggered inside, you knew they were gone. You were alone again. The only people who loved you were gone.

But you still had Rhys. So when he went into your mind, gently scraping a talon on the walls he taught you to build up, you said yes. In despair. He knew something was wrong. So he winnowed to the camp. He spotted you outside your family’s building, holding onto a small book as you trembled. And he held you as you sobbed. Just as he had sobbed when he reached his family in Velaris. Only you weren’t as lucky as him. Your family was dead, and his was healthy and happy to see him.

Series Masterlist

A/N: A reminder, this is a story about the reader more than it is a love story. It's quite a slow burn for a while. I started it immediately after I finished reading the ACOTAR series. I'm reading TOG now, no spoilers please.

Chapter 2 will be posted April 23rd.

Taglist: @cherry-cin @cleverzonkwombatsludge @nickishadowsinger139

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[separatist-apologist]

Hey, I saw a reply from you where a person proposed a one shot, do you still accept this kind of thing? If so, could you write a fic where Elain spends the night of the winter solstice trying to get close to Lucien to make someone else jealous, BUT when everyone goes to sleep they meet in the kitchen and when Lucien is about to kiss her he asks her what she wants and she says a distraction, so Lucien walks up to her, puts his knee/thigh between her legs, runs his nose down her neck, across her face, gets close to her ear and says he's not a distraction to anyone, bites her on the ear and leaves? ?? Please, I need to read something like this. Where he excites her and then leaves.

Say less, anon

Elain didn’t consider herself a cruel person—not really.She was just lonely and bored and missed the feeling of being wanted. She’d had that, for one shining, brief moment with Azriel before everything seemingly went to shit. She still didn’t understand what had changed his mind or why he’d rebuffed her, but some little part of her wanted to make him pay for it. Solstice wasn’t over; Feyre held a weekend of events giving Elain a chance to change Azriel’s opinion on her. She didn’t necessarily want him forever,but what was the harm in something easy? Something casual?

She’d never had a fling before. Azriel seemed like a safe choice. The problem, of course, was the man himself. Azriel hadn’t so much as lookedat her since the disaster two nights before though she’d offered him a polite smile she didn’t think he’d seen. All forgiven, she was trying to convey. This doesn’t have to mean anything.

She sighed softly, frustrated as Azriel kept his distance at the far end of the room, his handsome face focused firmly on Mor, who was laughing with Cassian, the three of them the picture of holiday cheer. She considered just leaving, giving up and calling it a night when Feyre and Lucien strolled in, arm and arm, pink cheeked and grinning like naughty children. Elain wondered what the pair had been up to, her heart quickening at the sight of Lucien’s mirth.

Feyre made a beeline for Rhys and Lucien walked across the room, his smile slipping when he realized she was sitting on the couch he was moving towards. That hurt her feelings, though she’d never admit it. Behind Lucien, Azriel glanced over, his jaw tightening at the sight of the two of them.

Oh. Elain scooted over just a little, patting the cushion beside her. Lucien frowned for a moment and then, with long legs, closed the distance between them and dropped beside her.

“Fun night?” He asked, his voice deep and rich. She suppressed a shiver.

“Yeah,” she agreed breathlessly, catching Azriel watching again. She’d never considered she might make him jealous. Elain wished she knew what to do that might egg Azriel on without giving Lucien the wrong impression. The last thing she needed was for him to kidnap her to Spring or wherever it was he was staying these days.

She could touch him, surely? Elain put her hand on Lucien’s knee, surprised by the radiating warmth she felt. She glanced again at Azriel, who was openly staring now, his hazel eyes angry. Good, she thought with a soft smile. She turned to Lucien, terrified when she found the smoldering flame that was his one good eye looking back at her. Oh Gods, she thought, her mind emptying out. Had he always been so handsome?

“Are you having a nice night?” She asked, swallowing hard. Lucien glanced down at her hand, still resting softly on his leg, his eyes dragging back to her face with excruciating slowness.

“It’s certainly looking up,” he agreed. Lucien glanced over her shoulder, perhaps looking to Feyre for guidance or permission. She didn’t care, couldn’t take her eyes off him. He raised one large hand, his skin golden despite how little sunlight existed in the winter, and brushed a curl from her cheek. She closed her eyes the moment their skin made contact, sucking air in softly. When she opened them, Lucien was just a hair closer. She could have tasted him if she wanted to, and Elain was surprised to find she did. She scooted closer still, until her thigh, hidden beneath her plum gown, was pressed against his own. Her fingertips grazed up his legs, stopping halfway between his knee and groin. She wasn’t bold enough to go further.

Lucien licked his lips, threading his fingers through her hair and pulling her face towards his. Yes, she thought breathlessly, forgetting where they were or who might be watching. She could hear nothing but silence, punctuated by his breath and his heart, beating a steady rhythm. His breath tickled the side of her neck.

“It looks like everyone left us,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin. Her eyes fluttered open and Lucien, still gripping her head, let her turn just enough to look at the now empty lounge. She turned back to him.

“I didn’t notice,” she admitted. He smiled, sending a bolt of white hot lightning shooting through her chest, straight to her core. He dipped his head and Elain closed her eyes again, waiting for the touch of his mouth against her own.

“What is it that you want, Elain?” He asked her roughly, lips inches from hers. She wanted to scream. Arousal pooled between her legs, proof of her want. She’d all but forgotten why she’d started touching him in the first place. She didn’t know what she wanted, though, in part because he’d stolen all her rationality.

“A distraction,” she replied, hating herself the minute the words came out of her mouth. Lucien regarded her for a moment without moving closer or further away. She held his gaze, flicking from his flame-colored eye to the golden one that seemed to see past her flesh and into her very soul.

Lucien leaned forward until Elain was pressed between the cushion and his body, his knee parting her legs. Her breath caught at the boldness of his action though she didn’t try and stop him at all. She could feel his muscular leg pressed against her body, providing friction precisely where she ached. She pushed closer against him with a sigh of pleasure.

Lucien leaned, running his nose up the column of her neck slowly, his leg moving in time with the way her hips had begun to roll, creating the most delicious pressure. She almost captured his lips when he grazed over her face, scenting her like an animal might.

Brushing her hair to the side, Lucien dipped his nose just behind her ear and murmured, “I’m no one’s distraction.”

Lucien’s teeth sank into her ear a moment before he withdrew his leg and hands. A second later, his body, too was gone. He didn’t look back at her as he left the room, gone to join wherever the rest of Feyre’s family had scampered off to. Elain lay panting, still burning with overwhelming and all-consuming desire and no possible way to extinguish the fire Lucien had set blazing within her.

She’d forgotten how they’d started or why she’d found herself beneath his body desperate for more of him. It didn’t matter, not anymore. Lucien wanted more than a distraction, did he?

Elain could give him exactly what he asked for.

[feyredarlinq]

elain x azriel: endgame

here’s why i think elain and azriel are endgame. i’ve been wanting to make this post for a while + what sarah said in her australian acosf tour livestream fits perfectly with what i had in mind so here we go. i think the title already says enough, and of course i’ll be using the proper pro and anti tags, but just in case i’m still warning you: this will be a pro elriel post. let’s start:

“(...) i was not done with this world and these characters and there was still so many stories i wanted to tell both about the characters themselves but also this concept of how do you rebuild a world that’s just been torn apart by war (...)” so these characters are nesta, cassian (obviously) elain, lucien, mor, azriel, vassa (jurian? eris? amren?) 

then she said that nothing about the overarching plot really changed, not even with the new characters (so gwyn, emerie, the new characters that will appear in acotar5 etc) because “(...) more characters have emerged (…) so i wouldn’t say things have changed as much as they just expanded (...) i have loved that my drunken lunch story has been remembered, my drunken meal with my editor, i think i’ve pitched the several next books to her and most of it remains the same (...) the next few books in the series i know this is gonna happen and these are the characters that are gonna be in it and it’s pretty much the same from my drunken ramblings a few years ago” 

so, to sum up, what she said confirms that: 

the next books are going to be about the og secondary/now future mains characters previously mentioned

the “new characters” are just secondary characters in each book, meant to only “expand the world”

the decisions of who the books were going to be about (and remember that it was going to be one book x one couple) was made before any of those new characters even existed

now, we all know that elain’s book is next, so let’s focus on that (elain, azriel, lucien). i won’t bore you with all the textual evidence and/or all the times that sarah herself talked about/said that elain was getting her own book and/or her book was next after nesta’s because, at this point -especially after the further confirmation in that interview that nothing has changed- it has become so painfully obvious that, if you don’t see that, you’re being intentionally obtuse. 

“i know what’s going to happen like five books down the road (...) and i wanna lay the groundwork for that” which basically means that she’s been dropping hints for a while. let’s see: (just a few examples because, if i had to include everything, this post would be way too long)

(feyre is talking about elain and azriel) “why not make them mates?” (...) “what decides it? who decides it?”

it made sense, i supposed, that azriel alone had listened to her. the male who heard things other could not.

“the mating bond. it is a bridge between souls.” ⇢ (...) light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two, the only bridge of connection ... that knife.”

“don’t” elain said flatly, starting once more into a walk, veils of steam drifting past her shoulders from the roasted rosemary potatoes in her hands, as if they were azriel’s shadows.

“why did you come if it torments you so much?” (...) his secrets to tell, never hers.

“what if the cauldron was wrong?”

but what about lucien? he’s still elain’s mate after all. is he though? 

(feyre is talking about elain and azriel) “what if (...) this is what she needs? is there no free will? what if lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

if anyone can sense if something is amiss. it’s a mate.” ⇢ lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on elain, “should we- does she need...?” “she doesn’t need anything”, azriel answered (...) “the cauldron has made you a seer.”

elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen” (with lucien) vs “offer and permission” (with azriel) 

lucien blushed (while talking about vassa) (...) “she’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth”

“(...) if it wasn’t for vassa.” a twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “she’s doing well enough. savoring every second of her temporary freedom.”

“a bird of flame and a lord of fire. i wondered if they’d found each other yet.”

so from what we’ve gathered so far, sjm dropped hints that: lucien is elain’s mate but they’re one of those couple of mates that won’t work and/or that azriel is her mate and there’s also something there about lucien and vassa. i’d say at this point it’s pretty obvious how things are going to go and, if you read the books, you know that there’s even plenty more evidence of that. elain and lucien won’t end up together and they A: find a way to break/reject the bond, B: choose other people even if they’re still mates, C: they’re not mates, D: none of the above, sjm will come up with something else, but one thing is for sure: they’re not endgame, and there are already hints about who they’ll actually end up with: elain with azriel (acotar5) and lucien with vassa.

i won’t talk about azriel and his pov and gwyn because:

i actually already have (x)

there’s no point in doing it after what sarah said (to keep it short, gwyn: one of the new characters that just expanded the world etc: gw/nriel = crack ship)

there was nothing there anyway except for a couple of friendly interactions in acosf (actually, not even that, since az himself thought that he didn’t consider her a friend) and lightsinger/whatever else she is hints in the pov

imo even if, in a parallel universe, everything that happened with elain, him, lucien, vassa didn’t exist, even if sarah didn’t say all that stuff about the new characters, even with no lightsingers, even with azriel going to the library because he wanted to and not because he was lured there, there’s just no way that he’s going to end up with anyone that’s not elain after “wrong. it was so wrong. he didn’t care. he needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. what those perfect lips tasted like” (and so much more *coughs* four books of build up *coughs*) vs “he wouldn’t go so far as to call gwyn a friend” + regifting a necklace that symbolizes elain and was meant for her first. i’ve seen some people say he’s “in lust” with elain or whatever and he’ll be “in love” with gwyn but luckily sarah, a feminist (and the same woman that put all of that smut in acosf, oh and let’s not forget wings and embers, funny how i don’t see people talking shit about cassian’s sexual attraction to nesta though), won’t indulge in those misogynistic headcanons and she will never write a book where everything that happened betweet elain and azriel pre acosf disappears and elain/elriel is suddenly reduced to nothing but pent up sexual frustration while gwyn “is not like other girls” and azriel will end up with her after using elain just to hook up. go read a 2012 harry styles wattpad fanfic if you’re looking for that. 

last, but not least, i’m going back one more time to those hints we’ve talked about to include my personal favorite:

feysand, nessian (or viceversa?) and elriel. 

fangest beast and trembling fawn: elain

sing me: azriel

[bloodycassian]

Branded - Az x no gender reader

Reader helps Az figure out where an artifact came from. No smut. 

Putrid stale air rose from the island off the spring court coast. The Illyirans all glanced at each other nervously. 

The rebellion when Tamlin had found out about Nyx had been...subtle. He began with calling a meeting, the first in his court in several years. Where he then proceeded to inform the rest of the courts about Nyx and his paranoia of the night court wanting total control of Prythian.

 “No different than the king that the drunk hellcat slew.” He had grimaced, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table. Cassian tensed, jaw clenching at the mention of his mate. Rhys shot him a look that had his general stay in place. The  meeting would not last long if Tamlin made many more remarks like that.

“The king that you allied yourself with, Tam?” Lucien cut, crossing his arms over his chest. His metal eye clicked - narrowing at his once friend and ally. 

Tamlin bared his teeth, the rage plain on his face. Rhys had no idea how deep the rage and pain went however. He shuddered as he circled lower with his brothers. The smell was getting worse. Rage and love were blinding effects to the mind but...enough to..torture people? To what end? 

The shanties and tents among the dead island were somehow in worse condition than the Illyrian camps. And the bodies… Azriel felt his stomach churn at the sight of the malnourished figures laying among piles of blankets. 

Trying to stay warm from the cool sea air. Tamlin never spelled the area to withstand more intense weather conditions. He had wanted them to suffer. Cassian was scouting ahead for any survivors. Azriel and Rhys walked up the creaky wooden steps to the biggest cottage in the makeshift town.

 “Mother above…” Rhys breathed as the door swung open into darkness. Azriel was next to him in an instant, letting his shadows take him over the steps. Quiet as the wind. 

His heart fell out of his body at the sight before him. Scattered in the dark room were pieces of bodies, tattered linens and blood. Cauldron, blood was everywhere. But that wasn’t what knocked the air from his lungs. In the center of the room, supported only by spikes and spears was the body of a horned wolf. Golden fur turned a dark brown from crusted blood. 

Tamlin was dead. 

Rhys was backing up, knocking into Azriel’s shoulder. Shock weighed both of them, making them numb. Rhys kept backing, down the steps until he fell on his ass into the mud next to a pile of dirty blankets. 

“Rhys-” 

“No, I dont… No.” His hands combed through his hair, pulling slightly. 

Cassian arrived then, his face a bit pale. “What-” His eyes went blank for a moment and his jaw dropped. He ran to the cottage to check for himself. Rhys couldnt even speak to him. Azriel took a breath, cracked his knuckles and grabbed Rhys’ arm. 

“Go back to her. Tell Elain-Nesta, whoever to watch Nyx and tell Feyre. She needs to know.” Azriel forced his high lord to make eye contact. His eyes were muted, but he nodded numbly. Azriel turned to follow Cassian to the bloody room. His shadows whispered to him that Rhys had gone. He breathed easier knowing Rhys was at least listening.

“Az, you see this?” Cassian called. 

He approached the wolf body apprehensively. He had never liked Tamlin, not since what he did to his almost-mother. Rhys’ mother. His head was spinning with the politics of other courts learning that Spring was now barren of a high lord. He prayed to the Cauldron that none would find it suspicious that the night court had found Tamlin. 

Cassian was pointing to the shoulder of the beast. The brand almost looked like a stamp with how deep it cut. An image of a lit torch, blood dripping from the edges of it. He didnt know if the blood was the design or if it was from the wound. 

“That’s not an insignia i know.” Azriel murmured. 

“The queens maybe?” Cassian wiped his hands on his trousers, fingers lingering towards his dagger for safety. 

“I think I know someone who may be able to help.” Azriel sent out his shadows, searching as far as he could. He would find what kind of metal made this.

+

“It’s Torvakian. Not rare but uncommon even on the continent.” You explained, weighing the metal in your hands. Azriel had it brought to you by his dark shadows before he had even arrived. 

By the time he did you were able to glean a sample of the piece and compare it to ones similar. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means it’s from even further east than Rask. You’ll have to be more specific about what you’re asking.” You tossed the branding iron back to him. He wasn’t his normal… neutral self today. He was almost mad.

“Shouldnt you know this, being a spymaster and all?” You chided, turning from him and pulling another dark iron from the wall. It was similar to the piece he had brought you, but the forging was different. Like it was carved from an entire stone instead of being put together. 

He sighed and ignored you. “Do you know anything about the insignia? Are there other courts that this represents?” He was definitely in a  bad mood. You wished you could offer him a drink, but he had been non stop questioning the entire time. Really, Rhys should pay you as well. Being the go to mystery metal solver whenever any foreign courts tried attacking… it was job security you supposed. 

“I’ve never seen the insignia. Maybe you should go ask Clotho-” He cringed, his shadows gathering around his shoulders. “or maybe Gwyn, shadowsinger. She’s trained enough with the scholars to know” You clipped, knowing it would shake him. 

If he was going to be grumpy then you could be too. You knew about his late talks with the Valkyrie, yet he was always spending unnecessary amounts of time just around you. Joking, sharing lunch and stories from the continent. You had even roughly planned a ‘dream trip’ with him there. All theoretically, of course. 

His eyes smoldered, cheeks deepening in color. You felt yourself flush red and turned from him. Pretending to inspect a sword on the wall, you felt his presence shift. You knew where he would be before you turned. You swallowed. He was right beside you, not a word spoken.

“I dont want Gwyn-” He breathed, placing a scarred hand on your wrist gently. “I want you.”

He lowered your hand and his fingers slowly slid over the back of yours. The texture of his was interesting, firm but soft as well. His fingers interlaced with yours, as if asking permission. He was slow, so damned slow with this. As if you were going to run away. 

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed lightly.