#its normally not a good thing when ianthe Knows Things

[technicolorxsn]

I love cam and gideons bromance it's everything to me

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 1

oooh and now we have another countdown - this time its five days until the tomb opens! which is both concerning and mildly confusing given Harrow already opened the tomb

and a new image for the chapter header - not an animal skull or a skull at all but a cave with chains over it! presumably representing the tomb itself which in of itself is very intriguing

‘Late in the year of nobody she really thought of in particular’ hah, take that John

ok so Nona’s dreaming of a painted face … the first two immediate options that come to mind are Gideon and Harrow, clearly. in a body of water, could it be the River? or possibly, if the ‘her’ in ‘her hands’ she’s talking about is Alecto, it could be the saltwater of the tomb?

so far the first thing thats struck me is just how sweet the relationship between Nona and Camilla is 

‘A beaker of violently orange liquid, radioactively orange even in the dark’ what the fuck kinda eggs are these guys eating

and Nona has black hair! very long black hair which grows fast, which very much suggests that this is Harrow’s body, given what Ianthe did to her hair last book. this also pretty much rules out another initial theory i had for Nona, which was that she might have been in Gideon’s body, since we know that was picked up by the BoE last book

and another point for being some kind of amnesiac Harrow - Nona appears to have a lot of issues with eating 

Okay … so Camilla and Pal are sharing Camilla’s body, kind of a reverse of Gideon-in-Harrow last book, but not quite given that they somehow seem to have swapped each-others eye colours. it’s not just that they’re sharing a body, since Gid & Harrow explicitly retained their own eye colours, but some kind of other situation

hmm Nona seems relatively upbeat, but there’s a lot of conversation about militia links and black market goods, life wherever they are doesn’t seem all that great tbh

and they’re hiding something about the overall situation they’re in from Nona, and its very unclear whose side they’re on. given the end of the last book, the fact they seem to be in some kind of hiding on a non-House planet, I doubt they’re fully with the Emperor/Nine Houses. but then they definitely don’t seem to be onboard with, and have a very uneasy relationship with, the Blood of Eden, especially given the whole kinda-Lyctorhood situation they’ve got going on. 

and there’s an awful lot going on here. they keep mentioning a search and recovery mission, which begs the question for what exactly are they looking for. it can’t be the Tomb or anything because its pretty well known where THAT is. and Pal and Pyrrha have very different philosophies on whatever’s happening - Pal seems to want to help some kind of situation with people trapped in barracks, while Pyrrha thinks its not worth it. and on top of all of that BoE is not quite one cohesive group as it was described in HtN, there’s some kind of inter-organisational conflict going on. 

‘I know how to farm … I can teach you and Nona’ rip G1deon who never got to live his Stardew Valley dreams. Locked Tomb: the Farming Simulator when?

also it is interesting that even G1deon, seemingly the most loyal of the Emperor’s lyctors (or at least the only one seemingly not actively trying to kill him) still had a backup plan and wanted to run away to just lead some kind of a normal life

and they need masks of some kind? and Nona’s immune - more points for her being Harrow, or at least in Harrow’s body, Nona’s body clearly works like a Lyctors 

oh shit there’s a mysterious blue light in the sky that’s ‘periscoping’? It could be some kind of surveillance but i think its far more likely to be the seventh Resurrection Beast, which is there for … some reason? Lotta questions raised just in this one chapter

[morbid-dreamzz]

I need to know everything about Mel and her tall daughter and their relationship with X btw :3c

OK First of all I would like to apologize for taking so long to answer (as usual) '^_^ I haven't written any of this before so it's messy yada yada y'know the drill.

I have a bunch of ideas, but I haven't organized them. There's a lot of "holes" to fill here and there!! There's so SO much to digest here

It's long ASF so you're probably gonna get bored soon. You've been warned...

The timeline where Xenia comes from is split into **2-3 endings (?) (I can't make up my mind) her personality varies depending on whatever happens in each one of them. I will try to describe what I have thought on the main one aha--

Let me make clear one thing first, she has 3 sisters 🌜

-Xion

-Celeste (Celes for short)

-Ianthe

But in most, she starts off as a calm yet insecure girl who aspires to improve herself (much like her mother, she has trouble socializing). She had pretty much a normal life along with her 3, no maverick bullshit or anything!! Everything was going pretty well.

Oh, but remember when I said that things would still go wrong?

At some point the 4 little shits get tracked down by some sort of illegal reploid laboratory (which is controlled by yet another character I haven't mentioned, Enyo) who was interested on them due to having X's DNA and get captured shortly after, except for Xion who managed to scape (not without getting badly injured in the process and losing part of her memory, but that's technically ANOTHER story???)

Back to the other 3, they were locked inside a lab along with a bunch of other reploids to be experimented on and/or thoroughly investigated.

After being locked in for several weeks they get out together. They have no fucking idea where they are and they have no one to ask for help.

The story is basically about the three girls trying to survive in the streets of a shady town and unintentionally getting in trouble.

Xenia is pretty much the leader of the group, she legit was forced to grow up (? Celes is the intelligent one and Ianthe provides moral support (she's the youngest! She's just a little girl, she's trying her best)

I know this ask ain't about her lemme tell ya, she's an absolute sunshine compared to everyone (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Uh... More like, she was. She got shot until she died the same guys who captured them earlier, like I said they are from an ILLEGAL organization so they tried to kill them all in order to avoid getting shut, but only Ianthe was successfully murdered.

**In all endings, the 2 remaining girls get to reunite with their parents- as for Xion... Like I said, that's another story 😭 I can make a post about her sometime, but she's alive. For now.

Once they were old enough to stand up for themselves, each one took different paths; Celes works as a navigator and Xenia, still consumed by an overwhelming feeling of guilt over not being able to save her other 2 sisters, decided to work as a... (Un)profesional hunter. She would have chosen something more legal, but the truth is that she doesn't consider the law and its punishments effective enough. Overall, she's calm but when it comes to crime and its perpetrators she won't show any mercy.

Now for the relationships part;;

All of them had a pretty good bond!! The girls weren't really troublesome, X and Mel have always been worried about them (maybe they're a little bit overprotective but ssshhh) UNTIL they got older. Celes was able to recover a little bit more easily and maintain contact with her parents (she's more composed and mature, despite being younger than her sis) Xenia is still going through that process, but she tries really REALLY hard to hide it; even though she really loves them she kind of ended up isolating herself in GENERAL and unintentionally became slightly more distant.

But as I said, that doesn't mean she doesn't like her family any less! If you hurt them, you're literally gonna get your ass beat in mere seconds

X and Mel still have an immense fondness for her but I'd be lying if I said they weren't slightly disappointed in her somewhat violent methods to resolve things.

Btw, I saw your reblog and the tags you added, Xenia herself took the decision to upgrade herself to be absurdly taller!!! She did it because it makes her look cooler makes her slightly more intimidating.

...Unconsciously, she has associated tallness with fear, since her captor (Enyo) was characterized for being tall as well (around 190-205cm, I don't remember lmao)

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

this is sooo good!

and to add:

its actually quite interesting the way the story decides who or what decides the burden of responsibility. because with ianthe - we have this woman whose classified as this sexual deviant who will forsake strategy for her untamed sexual desires; this is the case for amarantha as well. there's this idea that 'she just can't control herself' the point where she would abandon a solid plan for something as petty as feyre stealing a key, or her empty desire for lucien. or amarantha being a general - and yet giving feyre alllllll of the keys of freedom bc of jealousy.

this is juxtaposed against the males whose innate uncontrollable sexual desire, aggression, and violence is hailed as not only socially normal, but actually biologically ingrained into them. rhys and cass often ogle feyre and nesta, make advances toward them, or crude comments toward - and the underlying understanding is that secretly these women need these men. there's the factor of scent and hormones - so even when the women verbally rescind their consent, the men know they women 'want it.' or even the dynamic with mor and az, where his behavior toward her (yeah- its retcon, but we're working with it) is not really elaborated by his peers. and even with the retcon - az makes mor so uncomfortable that she forces herself to have sex and feels miserable about it. and there's no comment about it - there's no discussion being started about az and his lack of boundaries. or how rhys sees this and allows it - yet it isn't a statement about rhys and his leadership; it doesn't say anything about az. and its supposed to.

and im saying all of this to say there's such a weird dynamic with ianthe - where her sexual desire is treated as villainous and deviant. and not only that - her sexual control is made an external problem. its not about her lack of control but tamlin's villany. so - even in this case - ianthe isn't even allowed to be a bad character, because she's less a representation of herself, but more a representation of tamlin -- a male. yet az and cassian - and their repeat obsession with these women. like rhys verbally acknowledges nesta wants nothing to do with cass - and still resorts to locking her in the house with him. and yet when cassian consistently ignores this request and pursues her anyway - it sayings nothing about rhys, like ianthe. rhys doesn't put his foot down and say 'cass you're pushing it' - and the one time he does (with az and elain) its bc of the political fall out. not bc az jumped from stalking mor and making her uncomfortable to elain. there's no discussion, no thought behind how az's advances have mentally and physically affected morrigan.

i feel like this is a word dump lolol but the point is (1) the misogyny is making a character like ianthe is astounding. she is both only a representation of a man, and her sexuality is vilified while praised in the men. its the fact that the men can do the same thing - but the discussion is completely different. sexual persistence is okay with rhys and cass but evil with ianthe. (2) she's and all of the women villains in allllllll of sjm books are always villified as jealous, petty, and sexually deviant. which is very...interesting and ofc misogynistic.

something something ianthe and mor

[breeeliss]

#LockedTombtober Day 2: Agony

//

day 2: agony

griddlehark, harryanthe, & maybe some weird one-sided kiriona x ianthe

// 

“ugh, please tell me you aren’t sulking in here, otherwise i'm leaving.” 

kiriona’s knuckles press a little too hard into her tin of sword polish. “no one invited you, ass munch.” 

ianthe, kiriona learns quickly, can’t stand to be alone for more than four fucking seconds. she forces herself to look busy and unbothered, but kiriona hears her whimpering in bed at night and noted how quickly she asked kiriona for a sparring partner to “fill the time while god mourned his geriatric orgies.” 

it makes sense. coronabeth is galaxies away, and harrow isn’t around any longer to serve as a science experiment for ianthe to poke and prod at. kiriona normally doesn’t mind humoring her -- it does get quiet and lonely around here -- but not today. today is an open sore that kiriona wants to gnaw at in peace. 

but of course ianthe either can never pick up on those subtleties in others or just chooses to be a bitch and ignore them. probably the second one. “well. someone forgot to masturbate this morning. i just wanted to say hi.” 

“hi. now go away.” 

kiriona picks up more polish to slide across her sword while ianthe’s pokes her nose over kiriona’s shoulder. “huh. the old two hander. swore you’d thrown the thing away.” 

“i’m not gonna keep on any muscle waving around a toothpick with you every other day,” she explains. “besides, it’s too nice to let rust.” 

“how interesting,” ianthe smirks cruelly, “seeing as how you’ve displayed no inclination towards its upkeep before now. which means you are sulking.” 

“eat my ass.” 

“you won’t let me, and i asked rather nicely the day before.” 

kiriona fights away at smile, always a sucker for a good ass joke. “did this work on harrow? or your sister for that matter?” 

ianthe scoffed. “your incest jokes aren’t funny. and harry...” she sighs softly. “harry’s not like you. she’s like marble -- it takes a while to chip away at her before anything of note comes to the surface. but, no need to tell you that, you likely know that agony better than i do.” 

kiriona’s hand fumbles over a knick in the blade -- an old one, one she didn’t put there, one that probably came from mishandling a sword too big for it’s wielder -- and finally takes the chance to look up and stare at eyes that didn’t match their face. “you’re projecting because you’re still horny for her, which fine. creepy chicks attract other creepy chicks. congratulations. that’s not why i did anything for her.” 

“see you say that.” ianthe lays her chin on kiriona’s shoulder and slides a pale finger along the newly sharpened edge of the two hander. “but i know you better now. you’re a liar and a massive simp. it’s a little embarrassing.” 

kiriona grabs ianthe’s chin and shoves it back. ianthe has the audacity to groan at the feeling. “get. out. i'm not fucking kidding.” 

“geez, alright,” ianthe laughs, nipping at kiriona’s thumb before slinking backwards into the shadows of the doorway. “you absolutely are sulking and you’re unbearable when you are. no thank you.” 

“complain to dad about it,” kiriona mutters, sunglasses still pressed tightly to her face, lights in the room low, methodical movements of her polishing the only thing keeping her heart rate steady. 

ianthe rolls her eyes as she flings the door open. “like father like daughter. what a boring little pair you are.” she lingers by the doorway and leaves kiriona with one last cruel little jab before she disappears into the curling, sanitized halls of their empty ship. 

“oh dear. i plain forgot. it’s harry’s birthday today, isn’t it?” 

[saltcherry]

so... the whole thing about Lyctorhood is that the soul of the cavalier is preserved and trapped in the body of the Lyctor, right? Thereby preventing the ghost from entering the River and (probably) from “crossing” the River or going to “the River beyond” (Abigail’s term iirc). It remains forcibly anchored to the Lyctor, as a “battery” or “furnace” for their power. This battery is somehow good for up to and beyond 10,000 years--the OG Lyctors still have unlimited power, which is inexhaustible thanergy as Harrow perceives it. I believe Tumblr user mayasaura (sorry if I’m attributing wrong) said that perhaps this impossible power comes from the “friction” of the ghost of the cavalier being prevented from entering the River--the soul being, uh, the waterwheel turned in the River. We know that thanergy fades over time. Augustine and Mercy confront John about it at the end of HtN--they’ve figured out that he has Lyctoral power (or at least they think they have). But somehow, the thanergy of the consumed soul never fades.

But I’m sort of unconvinced that “perfect Lyctorhood,” the cavalier preserving process Mercy and Augustine assume exists, is truly going to be presented as a goal for the characters.

Pyrrha tells Gideon that she and Gideon the First “compartmentalized from the Eightfold Word.” Gideon the First doesn’t seem to suffer from any of the same problems as Harrow, having normal Lyctoral powers, but when he goes “under,” Pyrrha wakes up--sometimes. Harrow can’t access the automatic processes that Gideon (Nav) as her consumed cavalier would give her--reflexes and fighting when she’s in the River mentally, healing, etc., but she does have unlimited thanergy to use consciously, like the other Lyctors.

Ianthe also has trouble accessing Babs’ fighting skills, but this is due to her rejection of her mended arm, physically. Once that’s resolved, she stops “fighting” Babs. Her struggles suggest, to me, that she also hasn’t “apprehended” the process completely correctly, that Babs is not “integrated” fully. This is shown repeatedly with the descriptions of her eyes as mismatched and often still purple.

Ianthe and Gideon the First can access their automatic Lyctor powers and the only difference we actually know between them and Harrow is that they remember the true nature of their cavaliers. But even Gideon the First’s remembrance/knowledge doesn’t destroy Pyrrha--they still compartmentalize. 

My guess is that the ghosts of the other cavaliers (at this point just Babs and maybe Alfred if Augustine is alive in Hell) are actually not totally inaccessible/destroyed--that the compartmentalization is happening perhaps every time. The real question is whether they can be pulled back like Gideon Nav and Pyrrha were. After all, we don’t know what the steps that Ianthe describes in GtN really mean: analyze, preserve, connect, etc. If part of it is missed/muddled, the cavalier’s soul doesn’t fully settle into its new home inside the Lyctor?

My other guess is that it is somehow extremely problematic to work in this true Lyctor framework--I mean, if Gideon’s body were alive, how would Harrow survive being in the River, except by being physically guarded by her? Gideon’s soul would be in Gideon, not waiting to puppet Harrow! How would this perfect Lyctor actually access unlimited thanergy without a tethered soul that wants to return to its body/enter the River? The power seems to require the death of the cavalier, in order to use the soul as fuel--otherwise what is the idea? A body swap? Power sharing? A guarantee against death by soul sharing? Doesn’t sound like the unlimited power of a Lyctor! The process we know--analyze, preserve, link physically by eating, consume--is violent and would presumably be violent and terrible to do to a living person as well as a murdered soul.

(As many have pointed out, the necromancer/cavalier power dynamic is designed socially to get the cav to surrender wholly to the necro as a matter of duty, to act as proxy for the necromancer physically, to preserve the necromancer’s life and power. A process rendering both immortal would undermine this setup and, sorry, undermine physics and the way magic is constructed in the universe. A solution to the social power problem and the magical power problem won’t arise out of the system that has the problems)

(It being a solution also works contrary to the messaging/hints set up about the fundamental evil of necromancy--power that derives from dealing death and exploiting the dead (as well as the living--but that’s empire as a thing, not a magic system). Whether BOE’s perspective of it as totally evil is a bit of a straw man, the actual science itself is grim and gory as depicted in the books.)

I don’t know whether this will affect a “happy” ending because I have no clue where these are going and I don’t really want to predict the end, I am just very doubtful that this is a solution to Gideon and Harrow’s problem, or Cam and Pal’s, on its own. Especially in a story that’s all about Resurrection.

Addenda:

I have seen other posts (sorry, don't recall which, was when I was lurking on here) pointing out that Mercy’s dustcloud eyes are described as constantly stormy, in motion, with so many colors that they could conceivably be a blend of two peoples’ eyes. Augustine’s eyes are also, in my humble opinion, up for debate--simply because his cavalier was his brother, and could have already had the same color eyes. We know that Harrow and Ortus have the same eye color (Drearburh black) and that she assumes the switch has occurred (some point where she looks into a mirror in HtN, don’t have book with me at this second). We don’t know how “perfectly” their (Mercy and Augustine) Lyctor processes went--especially since they went first and under “scrambling pressure.” G1deon and Cytherea have the incongruous, flipped eyes of their cavaliers, but we can’t say for sure about M and A.

Cam and Pal switch eye colors depending on who’s driving Cam’s body--they are 2 souls sharing 1 body. This is not what is really happening with Gideon 1/Pyrrha or Gideon Nav/Harrow. Gideon Nav is “stuck” behind Harrow’s eyes (literally behind aha) but only emerges when Harrow is murdered and her soul is disconnected from the River bubble (she dies? at least her soul is separate from her body). Gideon 1/Pyrrha have switched back and forth, but once G1deon is dead, Pyrrha alone is in the driver’s seat. They didn’t seem to control when this happens like Cam and Pal do--and Cam and Pal seem to experience some time limit with the switching. Two souls can’t be conscious in the same body at once, not without a single, ruling consciousness/soul driving them-- a la Teacher, or arguably Harrow.

We don’t know if John is a perfect Lyctor--he’s switched eyes with Alecto but this happened, we know, before the Resurrection, bc Mercy and Augustine never saw him with his original eyes. We also know that Alecto isn’t a normal human: if she’s a RB, then maybe it makes sense that she survived, maybe partially, the Lyctor process; perhaps this is why she’s so uncontrolled/inhuman--because her soul is somehow tethered to John and not “with” her in a normal way (besides the possibility of her not having a single, human soul of course). But John’s power doesn’t seem to be Lyctor power--it’s power over time (lots of posts point this out, I can’t find them now). 

In the NtN excerpt, Pyrrha retains the Lyctoral healing, even though Gideon the First is dead and she is simply her soul in his body. What is going on? the Lyctor system should be kaput. likewise, Cam and Pal--they don’t need the sun protection either, but they are not Lyctors either. Perhaps immortality does derive from shifting the soul around--or blending souls--or something else--we just don't have the info.

[spushii]

LITERALLY SO GLAD THAT THE FEELING INSANE OVER THIS SERIES IS MUTUAL FR ITS BEEN ABSOLUTELY TEARING ME APART id love to hear your thoughts!!!! *_* I have been itching to read more posts about it but also trying to avoid spoilers rbdbdbjf

I just started nona yesterday, I finished harrow few days ago but god that one fucked with me good I needed a bit to just let everything that happened sink in. like ITS SO GOOD it’s so much darker than the first book and I still don’t have the words to express how much I genuinely enjoyed the second one it’s literally so fucking great. I was almost tempted to reread harrow after I finished it but I wanted to read all three before any rereads lol but the attachment I have to these characters is insane I just fucking cling to them so badly I am so unwell. love gideon, my best friend gideon I miss her sm…

SQUEEEEEEEEEE IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKED HARROW!!! its such a phenomenal book its so. um. Harrowing. lol. im going to have a really hard time articulating just all of the Shit That I Think About with this book series because there really really is so much.

getting right into the meat of my thoughts i guess. i really love how Gideon's bit with Ianthe at the end of HtN recontextualizes the bit of the pool scene where Harrow talks about the first time she saw The Body. where it really does feel like in that moment Gideon simultaneously realized that she was in love with Harrowhark and that Harrow would never feel the same. And i think it allows you to glean some of the genuinely a little bit selfish motivation behind Gideon's suicide. There were a lot of things that motivated Gideon to kill herself so Harrow and Camilla could live, but i think a significant portion of it was her not wanting to live a life indebted to Harrow in a way she would never be content with (Connecting mostly to Harrow asking her to return to the ninth house and care for it ((and by extension, The Body)) in her stead, in the event of her death), which is to say in the grand scheme of things, the choice between Living for Harrow and Dying for Harrow was a very easy one to make for Gideon Nav.

I dont have as much analysis for this but god i think all the fucking time. About Gideon the First attacking Harrow in the bathroom. and the subsequent Everything. It's just so fucking. Bleak. Reading it is physically exhausting. It's so. oh my god. I don't even know what to say. Fucking "Harrow, do something normal." I'm Going To Kill Myself. Im Going To Kill John Gaius. The fact that she KILLS him and it doesnt even KEEP. THE FUCKING. THIS. HARROWWWWW

HARROWHARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL IN MY LIFE AFTER IVE READ THIS

I do love John. as much as i hate him i love him as well. He's such a fucking coward. such a worthless piece of shit. such a suffocatingly interesting character. I love when Harrow tries to ask him about Alecto and he goes on about fucking "You'd make a hell of a daughter, Harrowhark. I sometimes indulge in the wish that you'd been mine." LITERALLY FUCKING WHAT. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOTU WHERE AM I.what if you had a crush on a girl but you had an even bigger crush on her dad's dead ex-girlfriend and then her dad told you that he wished you were his daughter. i feel so fucking abnormal

EDITING THIS POST BECAUSE I FORGOT I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT WAKE. WHAT THE FUCK RIGHT???????????????? god i think forever about how much Gideon Nav loved her mother. how much she clung to the belief that she was loved. Has Gideon Nav ever been knowingly loved by anyone, in her life? Maybe Aiglemene loved her, in a way. But Gideon wouldn't have known that until it was far too late to treasure it. Harrow certainly loves her, but Gideon can't believe that. Not with The Body in the way. Not with Harrow, to Gideon, seeming so disgusted with her final act of devotion that she destroyed her own mind to be rid of the knowledge of it. Magnus treated her kindly, but kind is a far cry from love. But she loved her mother. Held the belief so desperately-yet-gently close to her chest, that her mother loved her too. Loved her enough to come crashing and burning through the Ninth planet's atmosphere and dying herself on the way down. Loved her enough to protect her life at the expense of her own. Imagine, then, for Gideon to learn that she was a tool. A key. Her destiny in life was to die within the first days of her birth; a blood sacrifice, as her mother willed it. Her mother hadn't brought her to the Ninth House in an attempt to save her, she'd brought her there on her way to kill her. Its So. God. Fuck this fucking book. Has Gideon ever been loved? Every truly been loved by anyone in this world? If she has, she doesn't know it.

[elriell]

Well I might disagree but I never mind hearing other peoples thoughts, this is fascinating to me actually... So lets dive in to it, i have lots of Elain thoughts as I am sure you know ☺

I definitely think her POV will indeed clear a lot up and give us a better idea, because what we have to take in to account much like with Nesta, our only view for so long was through Feyre’s mind who is quite biased and as we know not always the most reliable perspective. 

It was unfortunate that the few Nes/El scenes we got were tainted by Nestas rightful anger, but I especially think the “Fuck you” scene between them is such a normal sibling dynamic we never saw through Feyre previously.

Listen, I don’t disagree that she could frustrate some people, I cannot think of a single ACOTAR character that hasn’t frustrated me at some point... I think the bigger issue is people use her kindness as a weapon against her, and do not give her any space to evolve.

This time last year when people were backing Nesta (me included) and we took to time to understand that despite her sharp tong and razor sharp looks she had so much to uncover as we saw in ACOSF. What bothers me is that people do not seem to extend this same leeway because she is not you “typical-sassy-bad-girl”... not every character has to be that way to be interesting or strong. 

There is nothing bland about being kind... I think a few people on this site could learn a thing or two about that to be frank.

Anyways I am veering sorry, so to answer your questions, I think that is a very simplified view of the situation, and though I agree you might be right about if she spoke to him they could just resolve it, that simply isn’t realistic when emotions are so high and trauma is being dealt with. I will also link a phenomenal post about her trauma and its correlation over all. 

If it were that simple Nessian would not have been 24/7 angst for years. If they had just communicated in general they would have had a much simpler journey, but that is not always life... When you have your plate full.

She also might be feeling a certain sense of duty to not disrupting the ties between them all and that can only be further seen in that POV when Rhys prioritises just that.

As a reader we know Lucien, we understand him and the situations with Ianthe like you said, and just generally he is a good male, but she doesn’t. 

She does not know him all that well to make those kind of big judgement calls, especially being surrounded by quite possessive mates as it were, though for them it is reciprocated that is her experience thus far, so for her to be potentially weary is normal in my opinion... 

And to be honest I think they will simply have a talk and work shit out, but it was not going to happen in previous books, that simply wouldn’t make any sense, us watching her make a crucial choice through Nesta/Feyre’s eyes rather than on her own journey and book. Of course it hasn’t happened yet...

Also the way Feysand was pushing Nessian together despite Nesta’s protest I can’t quite blame her for not feeling super comfortable. She is being clear enough with how she feels in all her scenes with him and yet they continue to invite him to family holidays and force their proximity.

I think of course for a period Elain was her own obstacle but ACOSF started laying the groundwork for her rising...

She definitely put her foot down in ACOSF wouldn’t you say? Do you not think she asserted her own autonomy?

I think she has certainly been overcoming her past and dealing with it in a constructive way, she is helping other, finding friends and being happy. She has made major leaps from say ACOWAR.

Elain has never been weak, she has always been rather quiet and wise, but she has never shied away from things when eventually push came to shove. 

I still think she has a ways to go breaking the mould her family put her in but I have no doubt she will because it has already begun. And I for one look forward to it, and giving her the patience to grow as I have for past ACOTAR characters.

I feel like I got a lil sidetracked at time lol but I hope that made sense!

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire and Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

note; i’m so sorry this is late !! june is one of the worst months mentally for me and i didn’t even realize it was saturday lmao. but this is a fluff chapter so hope that makes up for it !!

Things were going about as well as they ever did in the Spring Court. Lyriel had not stopped training with his guards and sentries. She had been out there every single morning for the past two weeks. She was better than he had expected her to be. Perhaps her collection of blades was not just for show.

        Feyre was still suspicious of the woman but had said nothing more. It was in her eyes whenever Lyriel slipped silently into a room. Tamlin had told her again and again that it was nothing to be concerned about. Yet, Feyre seemed more withdrawn than usual.         

        He had assumed it was just nerves because of the wedding. He had tried to take away anything that would stress her. He had tried to do what he could to protect her. She had done so much for him. It was his turn to be the provider, the protector. He just hoped he was doing the right thing.

        "We're expecting a large turnout," Ianthe said excitedly over dinner that night. 

        He was the only one who noticed Lyriel's grip tightened on her fork. 

        "I should expect so. This will be the first thing we've had to truly celebrate in a very long time," he sipped his wine, his gaze falling to Feyre. She shifted in her seat once, her fork laid beside her plate.

        He knew that something was wrong with her. Something that he needed to figure out but ... He was afraid. Afraid that she would say she no longer wanted this. She no longer wanted him.

        What if she didn't love him anymore? What if she had only thought that she had loved him? Why hadn't she told him any of this? He felt as though he was trapped behind an iron door, its frame built in the ash wood that kept his magic from being of any use. Yet, he said nothing. He just kept building walls around the two of them. Around her. He would protect her against anything in this world.

        Even if it killed him, he would do anything in the world for Feyre.

        "The wedding is going to be the talk of the Spring Court for centuries. Feyre has made exceptional choices." The way she said it made Tamlin wonder if Feyre really had made any of the decisions. He liked to think that she had. That she'd been inspired by anything.

        He didn't like seeing her so at odds. He didn't like watching her lose herself to the demons that plagued her mind. But he didn't know how to help. He was trying to make things seem normal but he thought it was making things worse. It was too confusing. Too much and not enough.

        "I would expect nothing less," he could feel his claws trying to poke out. His excitement radiating through him and bringing the beast forward. He shoved it down. He would not be reminded of that side of him. Not now.

        Tamlin looked at Feyre, watching her as she stared down at her plate. Did she want this wedding? Did he?

        The thought almost made him choke. Of course, he wanted to marry Feyre. It was all that he had ever wanted. She meant more to him than anyone else ever would. There was nothing to suggest wanting anyone else. If one ignored the bond that was between himself and Lyriel. He needed to send her away. It was getting too challenging to separate the bond from his actual thoughts, his desires.

        But seeing her go was one of the few things he found himself dreading. They had met on accident. What if they never crossed paths again?

        She would be out there, somewhere. She'd fall in love with someone else. She'd be happy without him. But did he want that? Did he want Lyriel to be on her own? No. He didn't. He hated the fact that he didn't. Feyre was supposed to be the one he cared for. Lyriel was just supposed to be a means to an end. A stronger connection to the Winter Court. That was all she could ever be to him. 

        He just wondered if that was for the best. Or just selfish bargaining with fate. Surely the Mother wouldn't continue testing him this way.

        Fate seemed to hate Tamlin Rosehall. He'd nearly killed his mother during his birth, had been the third brother and yet somehow managed to become the High Lord, then he'd been cursed for not wanting to be a tyrant's plaything. He truly did not see how fate was kind to anyone. Maybe he had just drawn the short stick in life. Or the Mother had been testing him. Growth from adversity and all of that bullshit that the priestesses always talked about.

        "If My Lord will excuse me," Lyriel's smooth voice pulled him from his thoughts. He could see a tense look behind her eye, her body poised to strike. He wondered who her target would have been. "But I must finish a letter for my general. Thank you for dinner."

        She did not wait for him to excuse her, nor did she bow to him. Lyriel slipped from the room as silent as a wraith. Ianthe's eyes tracking her every movement.

        Feyre did not wait long to excuse herself. Tamlin wanted to ask her to stay, but knew that he would be pushing it. Let her have the time she needed. He was trying to do what he thought was best. But none of it seemed to actually help her.

        The dining room felt smaller when it was just himself, Ianthe, and Lucien. For some reason, there was a tension in the room. He knew that Ianthe had eyes for Lucien but he did not think it was that important. He should have. Just based on how Lucien seemed to be avoiding looking at her.

        "That Lie woman ... She's imprudent," Ianthe stated as she picked up her glass of wine. She took a sip, a droplet of red dripping from her lips, before speaking once more. "She doesn't show you or our court the necessary respect. Surely Kallias wouldn't approve of her behavior."

        "What are you suggesting?" Tamlin questioned, ignoring the pounding in his chest. He knew Ianthe was smart. He knew she could put together secrets, but he didn't think she'd ever figure this out. Cauldron help him if she did.

        He knew that Ianthe would never turn against him. But what would she do if she found out he wasn't following the path the Mother had set for him? Surely she would be livid.

        "Punishment of course," Ianthe smiled at him. "Nothing too severe of course, that isn't our decision. But at least banishment. A year or two at least. Maybe longer if you feel like it's wise."

        "We can't risk Kallias seeing it as an insult," Lucien spoke up, a scowl marring the handsome features of his face.

        "We'll send word explaining the situation," Ianthe seemed almost giddy. "We explain that we won't take this as an affront to the Spring Court or to the Cursebreaker. Kallias will know that we still want friendship."

        Tamlin said nothing, staring at the plate that sat in front of him. Was this what they needed to do? Would he sell out Lyriel just to keep Ianthe happy? He didn't know what to do. If he kept Lyriel around, it could mean being found out. But sending her away? It felt like he was ripping something out of himself.

        "Lucien," he said after a moment. "What do you think?"

        "Lyriel has gone against a majority of what you've said," he had always been truthful with Tamlin. It was one of the reasons why he had become a brother to the man. "But I don't think she does it to insult you. She's a soldier, she isn't one for court life. It's obvious in the way she holds herself. Punishing her for that might just show the other Courts that the suspicions they hold of us are accurate."

        "Yes," Ianthe sighed as she looked at Lucien, daggers in her eyes. "But even a soldier should know to respect her betters. She has shown Tamlin nothing but disrespect. Not to mention the other members of this court."

        What had Lyriel said to Ianthe? It had to have been something intense. Or it could have just been some simple snide remark. He did not know Lyriel well, but he knew that she had a tongue on her. One that he sometimes debated asking her to still. If he didn't know she would verbally attack him for it, he would have.

        Tamlin gently ran his fingertips up and down the wooden arms of his chair. Small designs being drawn by the forefingers, followed by straight lines with his pinkies. What was he to do about Lyriel Chaeren? The question had haunted him since the moment they met. She was rash, she didn't have any notion of respect. Although he was certain that was because they were mates. Not because she was actually disrespectful.

        An ocean of unease rolled in his gut as he thought over his options. Keep Lyriel there. Keep her trapped in a home that she didn't want, make her watch as he loved another woman without ever giving her a second thought. Or let her go. Banish her from the Spring Court and never see her again. Let her fade into the background, a distant heart-breaking memory. He could let her be the woman she wanted to be. He could let her find someone who would love that frozen fire that burned inside of her. 

        The thought of her loving anyone else killed him.

        The thought of her suffering in silence killed him.

        Tamlin knew that he could not make a decision that did not hurt either of them. He couldn't fathom letting Feyre go. He couldn't think about running his Court into the ground. Although it seemed that was all he was good at doing. How would the Spring Court handle any of this? He didn't know. He didn't possibly know how they could weather a broken High Lord.

        So far they had managed. But managing was not thriving. He wanted the Spring Court to thrive.

        Feyre was the only way they would ever thrive.

        "The wedding is in two weeks," he spoke slowly, the image of the in-control High Lord that they all wanted. "After the wedding, I'll take care of Lyriel. Banishment ... It'll send a message that the Spring Court is not to be ridiculed." It would also tell her that he couldn't pick her. No matter what they both felt.

        Thunder boomed, the sound reverberating around the manor. To Tamlin, it had always been a lullaby. One that he had grown up knowing all the words to. The thunderstorms in the Spring Court had always seemed to sing to him. The chaos that raged outside matched the chaos that raged inside of him. It felt as though the Mother was finally seeing him. Seeing him and giving him some sort of message.

        It had never been one he had worked out.

        Tamlin had not gone to Feyre's room that night. He had not wanted to after coming to the decision of what to do with Lyriel. He hadn't wanted to see anyone. Holing himself up in his personal bedroom with paperwork and correspondence was a good excuse. As good as any, really.

        It seemed that all he did anymore was listen to lord's bitch about his taxes and tell the other High Lords how the Spring Court was fairing. He didn't know if he could handle it for much longer. But he did. Because he had to. If he didn't, it would all fall on Lucien's shoulders. What use was he then? 

        He felt something through the bond. A strong sense of urgency, a sense of fear. The beast inside of him wanted to run to her, to wrap his arms around her and protect her. But he didn't. He just stayed as he was, gripping his pen so tightly it felt as though it would burst.

        He did not have to come to her.

        The door opened and she slipped inside. Trembling as though she had been soaked to the bone. She didn't appear wet. She appeared fine. Just ... Terrified.

        "What are you doing here?" He growled out, fighting with the urge to protect her and the want to protect his own space. He didn't know what the balance was. Didn't know who to be for her. For anyone really.

        "I'll leave as soon as it's over," she snapped at him.

        The bite in her voice made him recoil. Maybe she was disrespectful as Ianthe had said. Or maybe she was just a girl who was scared. Considering how he hadn't seen her anything other than collected and arrogant, he doubted she knew what fear was. 

        "Lyriel," he sounded tired as he looked at her. "That doesn't explain why you're here."

        She didn't answer, her back turned to him as she sat on the edge of his bed. It should have made him mad to see her sitting there. But it didn't. He was too tired to be mad. Too curious as to why she had shown up in his room. 

        "Lyriel," the way her name left his lips was softer than it had ever been. He couldn't hide his concern for her. Even if he wished to.

        "I ... I just," Lyriel's arms shook as she slid her boots off. "Don't repeat this ever." She turned to glare at him, but it was halfhearted. The fire was not blazing. She looked more like a girl than a soldier.

        "I won't." Tamlin knew at that moment that he would keep this conversation between them. "Just ... Tell me what's going on."

        Lyriel cleared her throat, moving to lay in his bed. He had not told her she could. Yet, he found that he was too concerned to care. "I feel safer when I'm around you."

        No one had ever told him that. He often felt as though he scared people away. He thought they ran from him. No one had ever run towards him. His stomach churned. He wished she would have said anything else. How could he stand to push her away when she was the first person who had ever needed him?

        This whole thing was becoming a complicated mess.

        He needed to tell her to leave. To tell her to get the hell out and never come back. 

        But how could he? She was curled into a ball, making herself so small that she may have disappeared. He didn't ignore how she buried her face in the pillow he used. Nor how she was shivering. 

        Something within him broke at the sight. 

        Tamlin slowly stood, making his way over to the bed. He sat down beside her, resisting the urge to rest his hand on her shoulder. He stared at the wall behind her. Keeping his thoughts on something other than the woman who he wanted to wrap in his embrace.

        "What's going on, Lye," he felt somewhat odd calling her by the nickname. However, it felt as though this was the moment to comfort her. To tell her things were going to be alright. Even if he could not make things better. "I've never seen you like this before."

        Lyriel kept her back to him, staring at the same wall he was. "We don't need to talk."

        Something within him felt as though it was falling from a great height. He didn't know why she was pushing him away while she ran to him. Was he that despicable? Was he someone that she wanted to just shove as far away as she possibly could? He didn't know. He didn't want to know either.

        "I think we do," he told her, still not daring to touch her. "Something's upset you."

        A loud clap of thunder shook the windows, Lyriel ducked her head under the blankets. He could hear her voice but he could not make out the words she spoke. 

        Tentatively, he reached out through the bond. He would not touch her physically but he would use the bond to his advantage. He sent feelings of comfort and peace, wrapping her in whatever protection that he possibly could. Yet, he knew this would not be enough. She could feel comforted but if she was anticipating every crash, every bang she would more than likely continue to feel anxious.

        "You know you shouldn't be here, right?" Tamlin regretted the words the second they left his mouth. No one had ever said that he knew how to speak with people. Lyriel would be no exception.

        "I said we didn't have to talk," he heard her voice from under the blanket. At least she was speaking to him.

        "You're in my room, Lyriel." Tamlin sighed. "I'll decide if we talk or not."

        "I already told you the truth. What more do you want from me?" She peeked out from under the blanket. He had to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat.

        "I just want to know where your heads at." He admitted, fighting the urge to run his fingers through her hair. To pull her into his lap and hold her until the storm passed. She wasn't Feyre. She wasn't the one he was supposed to hold. Hell, he didn't even do that with Feyre. She didn't need him to.

        Lyriel didn't seem to need him at all most of the time. She was ice. Unmoving and unchallenged. More a glacier than a woman. But as the lightning illuminated her face, he saw her for what she was. A woman who had been forced to grow up too fast. There was a hint of childish fear deep within the depths of her frozen eyes. Her left eyebrow twitched slightly. He noticed there was a new cut in it, probably from training that morning.

        There were bags under her eyes, darker than anything he'd ever seen on a High Fae. Had she been sleeping? Had she taken care of herself? Or was she just that miserable in the Spring Court? He'd caused this. He knew that he had.

        "My head is perfectly fine," it did not sound like the truth. "I just have an issue with storms."

        "What's the issue?" Tamlin wanted to ask if she had been sleeping. If she'd been eating enough. All the same questions he knew he should ask Feyre. All the questions he had been avoiding answering when anyone asked him.

        "I don't like them." It was a guarded answer. There was something more there. But Tamlin did not want to press. Not when she was holding herself so tightly, not when his blankets were wrapped around her like a shield. Besides, soon enough he would not be the one worrying about Lyriel Chaeren.

        He knew that he needed to get her as far from the Spring Court as possible. He knew that she deserved to find someone who would love her as he loved Feyre. Yet, the idea of her being away from him made him want to vomit. The thought of another person wrapping their arms around her and protecting her when the winds raged and thunder rattled made him see red. He needed her. He needed her to need him. Yet, he couldn't have her. It was unfair to both of them to keep her around.

        Mother above he never wanted to let her go.

        "You'll find the Spring Court gets them quite often," it was true enough. Tamlin knew he would tear apart his own Court brick by brick if it meant keeping the storms away. If it meant keeping Lyriel safe. "But they don't last long."

        "If you're determined to have a discussion, can we please talk about something else?" Her twitching eyebrow rose just slightly. The sight nearly comical. 

        "What do you want to talk about?"

        "Anything," Lyriel's voice was strong despite the shaking of her body. "Why haven't you punished me for training?"

        "I'm more afraid of what you'll do if I keep you from it," Tamlin admitted with a slight nod of his head. "I saw that look in your eyes when you came into my office and I ... I didn't want to be the reason it was gone."

        When the morning came, he would regret the words. Until then, she needed him. Maybe he needed her. He could allow himself to speak the truth to her. For one night. While she was scared, defenseless, he would be honest. 

        "No one's going to break me," she sounded determined. "Not even you."

        It wasn't said out of hate. He knew she meant that he could choose Feyre. That he was free to choose who he loved, who he gave his heart to. She wouldn't let his decision be the end of her. He didn't know how much he needed that knowledge.

        Tamlin slowly took her hand. It was wrapped in the blanket and hard to grasp, but he still took it. Her hand was cold, even though the blankets. Ice ran in her veins while the first blooms of spring ran in his. The Mother had played a cruel joke.

        The two fell into an easy silence, Tamlin continuing to send comfort through the bond. Her hand slowly warming while he held it. His own roaring mind quieted as she held onto him. He felt as though he could finally breathe again. As if some heavy weight had left him.

        "Tam," her voice was soft, muffled with the early onset of sleep. "Will you stay with me?" 

        His heart seemed to slow as he heard her question. He knew what his answer should be. That he would go to Feyre and spend the rest of the night with her. That Lyriel would be leaving after the wedding so him staying did not matter. But he knew the truth. He had always known.

        "Always." 

        As Lyriel drifted into an easy sleep, Tamlin came to a realization. It didn't matter who wanted her gone. It didn't matter how he felt about her or Feyre. Lyriel Chaeren was there to stay. Even if he could not give her the life she deserved, he could not throw her to the side. 

        Tamlin Rosehall was a selfish bastard.

[goattypegirl]

Harrow the Ninth Live Read: Chapter 6-11

Con: It’s been a while

Pro: We finished part 1!

Con: this post is hella long now.

Chapter 6

Eighth House icon. Oh no. Gotta say, not a fan of the characters from the Eight House in Gideon the Ninth, whose names I now forget. There was Big Dude and Mayonnaise Twink. 

OH OK WE’RE STARTING OFF WITH SOME LOCKED IN SYNDROME SHIT. 

So, panicked person wheeling Harrow is given the title “Sacred Hand.” I vaguely recall seeing that before; is that a title given to Lyctors? Is this one of the OG Lyctors finally making an appearance? Wheeling the frozen Harrow to the Emperor to “unfuck accordingly?” Well, maybe not. Presumably another Lyctor would be able to “unfuck accordingly” themselves.

Oh disregard it is a Lyctor! And if we go back to the Dramatis Personae, this should be... Mercymorn! Originally of the Eighth House! She seems nice.

“It was his order that she not be touched.” Did the Emperor do this? But hwhy?

Calling Harrow and Ianthe babies is kind of hilarious. Aaaand Mercymorn just knocked this random person unconscious. OH wait is this the person the Emperor said to make static-y noises at? Survey says... maybe? They were called the Saint of Joy, which seems a unique title?

The whole description of the Lyctor and the way she visually dissects Harrow is so poetic, but something else catches my eye here. Harrow says her eyes did not have such a startling transition, which helps confirm my theory that Harrow is suppressing or undid the Lyctor process.

Also using the power of Cringe, Harrow partially(?) undoes the paralysis spell done to her. “An emotion was playing out over her face that was- not unfamiliar to you- but nonsensical; you discarded it.” Eh? What emotion could this be referring to? Confusion over what Harrow did? Awe? Fear? All of the above?

OH okay before I forget, Harrow formed a bone hook inside of her to do that, and she made that bone sheath to hold on to the sword, so maybe her necromancy isn’t being suppressed? Well, maybe. That feels more... internal? Like she hasn’t grown any full ass skeletons from bone dust yet.

...Why is Harrow afraid of telling Mercymorn her actual age? Why is the Body telling her to lie? Why fifteen??

Relief? That’s what flashed across Mercymorn’s face? Oh, duh, because Harrow did that and didn’t immediately die. Duh. Also she straight up said “hiss”? That is weird. Also, thinking back, it is weird there wasn’t an age requirement in the Lyctor trials. Also Mercymorn took Ianthe too???

“You’re not as pretty as Anastasia.” Anastasia being the member of the Ninth House listed with the Lyctors, but not as one of the Saints. Doing this liveread has its advantages, namely that I can remember shit that happened earlier! 

OH WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. “AS Anastasia,” not “As Anastasia was.” Implying Anastasia’s still alive? Matches her name not being struck through in the Dramatis Personae, and Mercymorn said there were 3 OG Lyctors now. Which matches with Anastasia not having that line about being a Saint! I’ve connected the two dots!

Okay there’s a lot going on here. Why is this normal necromancer so fascinating to Ianthe and Harrow? What she’s doing is pretty dope to be fair. Mercymorn called Ianthe 12... which... huh. More on that in a second. First, I need to google what the fuck an animaphiliac is... probably in an incognito window. Oh, okay, it’s just a style of necromancy in this universe okay thank God. Mercymorn also said Ianthe wasn’t as attractive as Cyrus... which is weird... And it reminds Ianthe of being with Mummy... I assume she means her mother, comparing her to Coronabeth? Oof.

So, back to the lowballing age thing. Mercymorn assumes Ianthe is 12, probably  because she’s super old and has forgotten how mortals age. Harrow seems to have subconsciously picked up on this, which is why she lied about her age. I’m still in the camp of the Body being non-supernatural in origin. Yes, she has Gideon’s eyes, BUT, she spoke in the voice of Harrow’s mother and Aiglamene. SO, my theory is that the Body is a product of the trauma Harrow’s gone through, that’s kind of externalizing Harrow’s inner thought process. Like I said earlier, I’ve read Twig, and this is reminiscent of that.

OH hey we’re headed to the frontline apparently? Because 3 warships got shot down suddenly? Which begs the question I’ve had in the back of my mind since first picking up this series, who the fuck are they fighting??? Probably not Ressurection Beasts, given what we know about them. Other humans, probably? Dominicus (probably) isn’t Earth or humanity’s home planet. 

Okay, hold up. The Emperor is trying to get to the frontline now, Mercymorn wants him to return to “the Mithraeum”, which is presumably the capital of the Empire outside of the Dominicus system? Also, Emperor’s been on the ship for 80 years, and been away from the Mithraeum for 100... Once again, the math’s not adding up...

Okay, so God hugs Mercymorn, she freezes, he confirms that he is leaving, and that he knows exactly who shot down 3 warships???

Okay cool we’re not headed to the fronline, we’re headed to the Mithraeum, whatever the fuck that is.

Ohhh and the Cohort necromancer girl died, or committed suicide? And the Emperor brought her back? ...There’s a story there.

Ohhhh Mom and Dad are fighting.

OKAY ONCE AGAIN A LOT TO UNPACK HERE BUT THE MITHRAEUM CAN ONLY BE REACHED BY ONE MEANS???? AND IT MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING A LYCTOR???

...Hey. So. Here’s something. In the description of Mercy’s sword, it says it has a white knob at the end of, and I quote “-you didn’t know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though.” There’s a disconnect there, between Harrow’s knowledge, and the narrator’s knowledge. This has happened a few other times, like just a few pages ago, Harrow says a room is used for bodily functions, but the narrator jumps in and says no one in the universe would call it that, it’s a toilet. And this is going to sound kind of batshit, but like 6 years ago i was in to Undertale, and there was a popular theory that the narrator in that game was a separate character from the PC and... a lot of the points used in that theory kinda ring true here... even the use of second person narration...

So the narrator is a separate character from Harrow? Now, whether this narrator exists in-universe, or if this is a really cool stylistic choice, is another story. Right now I’m leaning towards... I don’t know. Well, hm. If the Body is a kind of externalization of Harrow’s inner thought process, maybe the narrator is an internalization? 

That makes no sense.

Something to keep in mind.

Anyway, the shuttle detaches. There’s a sort of irony, in God being tired of people martyring themselves for him, but giving a speech saying “hey if you die in my service I love you.”

OKAY I think we’re about to go faster than light using necromancy? This should be good. OH OKAY WE’RE TAKING A SHORTCUT THROUGH HELL. COOL.

...so what was their original method of faster than light travel that turned out to be unusable? did it have to do with neutrinos in italy?

okay I love Mercy and the Emperor’s dialogue here. Again, objectively, I’m sure they’re bad people who have committed several warcrimes... but the way they bicker is just hilarious.

I’m googling hyperpotamus, and i’m only getting other Harrow the Ninth livereads, so it appears to be a term made for the book. But I have a terrible feeling it’s a pun on hippopotamus.

There are so many quotes here that I absolutely love, including “said the Lord of the Nine Houses, who apparently existed within a complex power dynamic.”  and “The magma metaphor falls apart from here.” 

...Oh. Okay, serious time. Even at the very start, just post-Resurrection, two of the Lyctors fell to the Resurrection Beasts. Well, one died, and one was “removed from play.” Which sounds horrifying.

So we’re dipping into Hell because you can move fast there. Hell is full of angry ghosts. This explains the ghost ward. Lyctors have hacked the system, and so can kind of survive there. And we learn what happened to Cassiopeia, one of the deceased Lyctors. (Interestingly enough it says she baited physical portions of the Ressurection Beast. Not a beast. Nor is it given a number...)

ALright so entering the River physically sounds fucking horrifying. I’m very glad we only have to do it this once and it definitely won’t come back later in the book nope definitely not.

“and that you felt alone in your head.” ;_;

Chapter 7

Sixth House icon.

There’s not a lot to say here, besides how freaky this is. How much do you want to bet that the faint wail Harrow hears is coming from the coffin with Cyntherea’s body?

JOHN. GOD’S NAME IS JOHN?? #NAME LORE UNLOCKED. IM JUST SO HAPPY I FINALLY HAVE A WAY TO REFER TO HIM WITHOUT STRUGGLING TO SPELL EMPORER EVERY FUCKIN TIME.

Also, Mercymorn knowing his like actual human name further implies some stuff about the timeline of the Ressurection, which I was wondering about previously... but that’s a discussion for later because Harrow’s in Hell!

Not a lot to say here besides 

fuck.

A few things. One. I think they’re going to get out of this okay? And by okay I mean alive? We know Ianthe, the Emperor, and Harrow live up to the point of the Prologue, and I don’t think Mercymorn is going to die already. 

Two. Cassiopeia was from the Sixth House, going by her Cavalier’s last name, which explains the chapter icon.

Three. The lights? The last page or so is very metaphorical, but, at the beginning it says Harrow perceived herself as a “sickly radiance”, and that she perceived the others on the ship as a light as well. She later said she was an “ova cluster of two hundred pinpricks of light.” So I think in this deep part of the River Harrow accidentally sent herself to, souls (maybe?) are displayed as lights. Harrow’s own soul is literally made up of the hundreds of dead House Nine kids, which is. Spooky. But then, at the end, when they jump out of the River, they bring 5 lights with them. So... either something hitched a ride with them, or it has something to do with Harrow suppressing Gideon and the Lyctor ritual. Everyone else on the ship has undergone the Lyctor ritual (or something similar, in John’s case), and they only have 1 light each. At least to Harrow’s eyes. BRUH IDK WHAT”S GOING ON. 

Chapter 8

No further answers here, this is a flashback chapter! So, sheared skull = flashback. And this chapter is going to feature the Fourth House, apparently. Who was Fourth House again? Oh no it was the kids. Oh no. ;_;

So, we are continuing through Harrow’s re-imagination of the events of Canaan House, with her Ortus OC in tow.

Of course Harrow is overwhelmed by normal tea, and of course Harrow thinks dressing up skeletons is stupid. 

AND of course Harrow would have a private prayer wishing doom on anyone that looks at her with any kind of emotion.

Hold up, the Anastasian tomb? Reserved for warriors? And presumably derived from the word Anastasia, the mysterious not-Lyctor of the Ninth House?? 

I can already tell Anastasia is going to become my Pepe Silvia. 

Ohhh this is going to be a lore bomb about the timeline of the Ressurection and I’m going to need to pull out my copy of Gideon the Ninth to see if any of this shit actually happened. 

TEN? TEN NORMAL ASS HUMANS? AND FIVE NECROMANCERS?? BUT THERE WERE SEVEN LYCTORS. THE MATH DOES NOT CHECK OUT.

Okay so I checked and none of this shit actually happened! In fact, Teacher actually said there were 16, 8 necromancers, 8 cavaliers. Where the fuck is Harrow getting 10 from? Who knows! And rather than explicitly saying “hey check out the basement labs to see how to become a Lyctor,” Teacher actually said fuck if I know. Not actually. But still.

Oh of course it’s called the Sleeper!! I had Kill Bill sirens playing in my head when I first read that. 

So,  had a whole ass monologue here, but this is already very long and im sleepy, so to very quickly summarize, the Parahumans series had an entity known as the Sleeper that was intentionally very mysterious and raised a lot of questions amongst fans, and the fact that there’s another entity here known as the Sleeper is flooding me.

So, I’m spooked. Again, this entire conversation did not actually happen. Teacher’s dialogue is precious. “go where I durst not go: because I love my life, and I love noise, also.” and “I do not know the answers to any of these questions, only that, already, you are being too loud.”

So, the rest of the chapter plays out with Ortus complaining to Harrow. Intriguingly, he says that Harrow doesn’t have much of an imagination, when she says there was no one else to choose as her Cavalier... And then one of the skeletons says, “Is this how it happens?” harkening back to Parodos, when the Body says something similar. There’s a lot to unpack here. One, like I said previously, because Ortus, and apparently the entirety of Canaan House, is a product of Harrow’s mind, they can maybe give some insight into Harrow herself. However, the fact that Ortus seems to break character and chastise her for her lack of imagination is... I don’t know.

Okay, theory time. “The Work” alluded to in the letters is not only the suppression of Lyctor-hood, it’s also the erasure of Gideon, and the creation of these false memories. Meaning Lyctor!Harrow somehow crafted them; there was conscious effort behind it. Which means we can totally pick these scenes apart to gain further insight into Harrow! The skeleton and the Body asking if this is what happened, and Ortus breaking character (maybe) are her subconscious breaking through... Maybe that ties into my idea of the narrator being an internalization or compartmentalization of Harrow’s trauma? Hmm...

Chapter 9

Seventh House skull, and not a flashback. I’m guessing this is because we’re going to inter Cyntherea’s body here.

Okay, so time seems to have passed. IDK how much of the River Harrow remembers here. It seems like she recalls it like a bad dream. Ianthe’s here, and they’re in a chapel made of bone. Or at least one absolutely covered in bone. 

Here’s a question. The necromancy Harrow excels at, that’s creating a whole ass skeleton from a single bit of bone. Is she actually creating a new skeleton? Or is she reforming one. Like if she had two teeth from the same skeleton, could she use that to make two new skeletons? In the last chapter the Ressurection was described as not creating anything new... does that apply to all of necromancy, or just what the Emperor did?

Also another side note, Harrow says the stars glow with an unearthly light, which matches what the Emperor said, that they restarted the stars near the Mithraeum with thanergy, so they’re weird now. Except... wasn’t Dominicus restarted the same way? Or is the Dominicus system a hybrid of thanergy and thalergy? I’m getting my energies mixed up.

Anyway yep it’s Cyntherea’s funeral, and Harrow is checking the fuck out.

Okay we have a new Lyctor... and I’m guessing it’s Augustine, since he and Mercymorn are fighting.  

Okay and John’s giving a speech and giving more lore about the pre-Ressurrection and it’s confirmed that this guy is Augustine and-

First gen? Second gen? Sixth installation?? Valancy? ANASTASIA?

bruh im so flooded and this is supposed to be such a reverent moment.

Ohhh this is awkward now that they’re pulling Ianthe and Harrow forward. Okay we get a formal introduction to Mercymorn and Augustine. Augustine trails off before the third... and asks if he, the third surviving Lyctor, knows about the missile strikes...Is the third Lyctor the one leading the people who shot down the warships, which is sounding increasingly like a rebellion rather than a battle against others? Who’s the third again ah fuck it’s ORTUS.

ORTUS is apparently interested in “you-know-what”. Which I don’t know what. Please elaborate. 

ORTUS is here and he’s skeletal. OH AND SO IS RESSURECTION BEAST NUMBER SEVEN.

FUCK.

(bruh what the fuck is a pseudo-Beast)

Okay yep time to fight an eldritch god.

Speaking of which, God’s name is John confirmed.

And Harrow bled from the ear and fell unconscious, hearing the name ORTUS.

Chapter 10

Pog we’re almost done with part 1. Fifth skull, sheared, so it’s flashback time. 

I don’t recognize immediately where we are; apparently this is in the library in Canaan House? Though I don’t remember one from Gideon the Ninth. We see a bit of personality from Ortus, when he complains about Fifth House poetry, which is nice. 

Oh, wait, never mind, that was Magnus speaking. Ortus remains as boring as ever.

Hehehehe dick jokes.

Hey so no fake vow of silence in the false memories of Canaan House! That’s interesting. As is Magnus and Abagail being here, and them being pretty fleshed out characters. As are these cooking instructions from the Lyctors...

HOOOOOOOLD the phone here. The cooking notes mention an M and Nigella... which was the first name of Cassiopeia’s cavalier... How would Harrow know that? The easy explanation is that this is a note that Harrow actually found, and is placing here in her fake memories... The other explanation is that something funky is afoot...

Ooohkay Magnus is asking if this is how it happens now. The simulation is breaking down. AND ABAGAIL CAN TELL THAT HARROW IS A LIVING WAR CRIME. PANIC.

Okay now we’re getting Ortus emotion! He is a grown ass man Harrow. At least, he would be, were he not a figment of Harrow’s imagination.

HEEEEY

WHAT THE FUUUUCK

WE’RE CONTINUING ON THIS DYING EGGS THING

PROBABLY WILL BE RELEVANT LATER.

Okay and the simulation breaks down further when Ortus says “you did have a cavalier with a backbone, I’m not them.” Interestingly enough, it’s hours later Harrow realizes something’s weird... Huh...

Chapter 11

Seventh House skull.

Literally just a paragraph saying Harrow sleepwalked and stabbed Cyntherea’s body.

...She sleep walked... the Sleeper from the fake Canaan House...

[secretlynestaarcheron]

Chapter Five + Six

The Selection AU - acotar 

Sorry it was late, I work in the medical field and a coworker tested positive so I had to in on my usual writing day! I hope everyone is staying safe! 

tagged:  @justgiu12 @blxckbeaks @justabunchoffandoms @swagbookmaster @my-fan-side @heyitsrhysand @acourtofmarauders

Does anyone know why some of the tags don’t work? 

Chapter Five: Nesta

“Isn’t this so interesting?” she asks, moving through the hall with the other girls, flipping through the pages. She had gone to school the longest but hadn’t learned anything about war and history like this book taught. Usually the schools said the same thing every year, that they were lucky the king’s family had saved them and how great of a country they were because of it. 

She felt foolish, as a young girl in the caste four, she did feel lucky and great but now seeing the brink of poverty as a seven she knows the truth. She sees it in the sixes and the fives, she can’t imagine how the eights are feeling, practically forgotten by society. 

Rita chuckles next to her as they make their way to the women’s room. “You know that there is so much more that those books purposefully leave out, right?” Rita says with a mischievous smile. Nesta glances back at her as she moves through the door. They make their way towards the side of the room, taking seats next to each other. 

“What do you mean?” Nesta asks, glancing down at the page number before shutting the book and placing it on her lap. “Are you talking about the rebels?” 

Rita nods, “It's like the palace wants to pretend they don’t exist,” she says. 

Nesta narrows her eyebrows, “I don’t think the rebels let them forget,” Nesta replies, thinking about all the articles and news reports talking about the small to huge attacks on the palace brought on by the rebels. “Houses are burned down, people die, when there is a rebel attack.” 

Rita turns to face her, a new seriousness in her features, “Those are the south rebels, they are out to be heard no matter what,” she explains, “The north is much more quiet and strategic.” 

Nesta glances at her friend, opening her mouth to ask her how she knows so much about all of this but Ianthe cheerful cheering interrupts her thoughts. “Its so good to see you again, ladies! How are your rooms? How was breakfast?” Ianthe calls out standing in the center of the room like she did during their first encounter. 

Nesta glances around the room, counting the girls, they were missing ten. She turns towards Rita, “The girls that stayed behind, they were sent home,” Nesta says. 

Rita glances around the room, Nesta assumes doing her own count, before turning back towards Nesta and whispers, “There's only twenty-five of us left, after the first day.”

Nesta can’t help but feel that her frightened sense of time running out wasn’t because she could be sent home without more than a few words with the prince but something else entirely. 

“I have a special day for you ladies,” Ianthe says, waving her hand as maids come in with trays of tea. “We are going to have our very own tea party. It is very important as queen to be able to host through eloquence and manners.” Nesta swears that Ianthe looks at her at the last part. She realizes that Rita and her are the only ones below a caste four left. 

The maids come around, leaving little trays on the table with everything they could need for a tea party. Nesta realizes that three more girls had joined them at their table looking uneasy and nervous, she guesses that they realized that the others were sent home as well. “I don’t think I’ve been to a tea party so elegant before,” Nesta chimes. 

One of the girls gives her a soft smile, “I’ve been to one when I was younger, I can’t imagine having to plan everything to perfection while also being a gracious host. It seems so overwhelming!” 

Nesta nods in agreement, “I am sure it is, but you’ll have the queen who will teach you everything you need to know,” she says and can not help but add, “As well as Ianthe, who I am sure will be with you every step of the way.” 

The girls chuckle at that and it makes Nesta feel better that they all saw how overbearing Ianthe was. 

The tea party went smoothly as far as she saw, she befriended the girls at her table Alyssa, a four, who was soft spoken and shy. Kamri, a confident and determined three, as well as Sara, a two, who wanted anything but the spotlight. 

Ianthe said final words, how she was proud of them all for their hard work and can’t wait to continue this journey with them, before announcing that they were free to do as they please for the rest of the day. Nesta was glad at the words, she wanted to head back to her room to see if her sisters wrote back. 

She surprised herself with how quick she was to learn the layout of the palace, but it wasn’t that hard when the only places she cared about was the library, her bedroom, and the dining hall. She walks past the library wondering if she should stop by and pick out another book but her excitement for the thought of a letter from her sisters kept her going. 

She walks through her room, she sees her maids Beatrice and Hanna, who look up in excitement at the sight of her. “Lady Nesta, you’ll be so excited,” Hanna says, lifting the envelope. “It came this morning while you were at tea.” 

Nesta smiles taking it from Hanna’s outreached hand. She rips the seal excitedly, sitting down on the small sofa by the fireplace. She scans the letter, Elain spoke about the news in town and how they were all rooting for her. She added that she thought she looked stunning in their mother’s red dress. She sends her thanks for the botany books and flowers. 

Nesta raises an eyebrow at that, Rhysand did not mention that he was going to send flowers along with the book. She finishes Elains letter to read Feyre, who asks question after question. She wants to know how the food is and how the other girls are, if they are treating Nesta nicely. She brings up the book next, wanting to know if they look as beautiful in person as they do in the book. She also adds a thank you to the prince for the paint and wants to know if he's as handsome in person as he is on camera. 

Nesta feels dumbfounded, she was surprised he would send the books but to add extra gifts made her feel bad for every poor thought she had about the royal family. 

“Was it a nice letter?” Beatrice asks. 

Nesta looks up from the letter folding it as she gives a small smile to her maids. “Yes, very much so,” Nesta says, feeling uncomfortable with the sense of homesickness. “I didn’t realize how much I missed them until reading this,” she replies honestly. She couldn’t wait to get home, to be able to hug them and fight with Feyre on her readings. She missed everything about them. 

She found a purpose to be here but before she could work on building a better future for the castes below four, she had to thank the prince for the gifts he had sent her sisters. “I am going to go for a walk, would you mind finding me some paper? I would love to write them back tonight,” Nesta asks, standing up and straightening her gown. 

“Of course,” Beatrice says, “Would you like dinner in your room as well?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Nesta replies, sticking the letter in her pocket and then exiting her room in hopes of stumbling upon the prince which she assumed was impossible. 

She moves down the hallways, wondering if she should stop by the library or if she should ask a maid. She didn’t want to seem too forward or take him away from his own work or perhaps from another girl. She turns down the hall and sees the guard that is normally around him, the one she had run into last night. “Hey!” she calls and he stops short and turns towards her. “Sorry,  I didn’t mean to be abrupt. I was just wondering if you were headed towards the prince.” 

His eyes narrow, “I am not taking you to him nor am I taking anything to him.” He seemed irritated, Nesta assumes that he was stopped by many girls who have also noticed his friendship with the prince. 

“Oh, I am sorry to bother you,” she replies quickly, she was too forward and that was something she should probably work on hiding during her time here. She adapted the trait when she was moved to a world where you had to fight for what you wanted on a daily basis. “I just wanted to send a thank you for the books and gifts he had sent my sisters, I didn’t expect him to do so much for them.” 

He frowns, his eyes softening before he was back to the stone cold guard that she met yesterday. “I’ll let him know, I am sure he will be glad to hear it,” He says with a sharp nod before moving back down the hall.  She calls out a thank you but she doesn’t know if he heard her or just ignored her. 

She decides that that is the best she's going to get and makes her way to the library. She finished the two books she had borrowed the night before and was itching to get more. She wanted to know as much as she could about everything before heading back home. She wanted to be able to tell her sisters all that she learned so they could move their way up the caste system. 

She knew her sisters could be better. Feyre was a beautiful artist that could sell her work for a lot and Elain would be the best scientist. They needed to be able to hold their heads high to be taken seriously, work harder than anyone who was born into a higher caste system to be noticed. 

She had to work hard to get her sisters to be noticed, that was her job as the oldest to protect her sisters from the cruel world around them and she would do what she could to make their lives happy. She enters the library, moving towards the middle of the room where Prince Rhysand had said the index of the library would be. She wanted to borrow books on artists and poets as well as science textbooks. 

She found the large table, touching the tables and feeling the curves of the letters engraved in the map. There were so many books she doubted that the index was kept up to date. She began to read through them, making a mental note of what she wanted to learn about and when. She wondered if they knew how lucky they were to have such a source of knowledge at their fingertips whenever they wanted. 

“I hope I am not interrupting,” she looks over to see Prince Rhysand standing in the aisle to her right. 

She stands up straight, “Not at all,” she replies, “I wanted to thank you for the gifts you sent my sisters, I can’t wait to see what they’ve created when I go home. I am sure Feyre has already painted the canvas she had stored away.” 

He nods, taking a step forward, “And are you enjoying your time here? Enjoying the resources that normally go to waste in this castle?” He asks, glancing around the library. 

“Yes, I’ve enjoyed my time here so far,” she replies. 

“Good, I am glad,” Prince Rhysand says, “I wanted to speak to you about something important, I hope you won’t find it offensive.” 

Nesta raises an eyebrow, she knew her time here would be short but she didn’t expect to go home the second day, especially now that she had so much to lose. She would never step foot in a library of this beauty again. “There’s little in life that I find offensive,” Nesta replies, turning to face him fully, her words were full of truth. While working at a bar she had heard many sneers directed towards her and her character. She learned to build walls. 

“I am not sure if you feel anything towards me,” Prince Rhysand begins. “I am not sure how to say this,” he hums, turning away and running a hand through his hair. This is the first time that she saw a boy in front of her and not the future king of Prythian. He was just a boy and she was just a girl. 

She takes pity on him, she didn’t want him to feel so broken about sending her home when she knew all along that she wouldn’t be queen. “You don’t feel anything for me,” she replies, with a small smile, “I must be honest, I didn’t feel a spark with you either. I enjoyed our conversations, I’ve enjoyed the library, and I have very much enjoyed the food but you have no purpose for me here.” 

“Actually, quite the opposite,” Prince Rhysand begins. “You’re right that I don’t have that gut feeling about you in the sense of marriage, but there’s something about you, Nesta Archeron, that I can’t quite grasp,” He begins, taking a step towards her before they were standing right infront of each other. If he hadn’t just admitted to no feelings for her she would have been nervous that he would try something with her in the dark aisle of the library.  “You’ve shown me the light to what was happening in your caste, I would like your help. I would like to know more about your experiences.” 

Nesta ponders this before asking, “You want me to stay to help you learn more about your country?” 

He looks embarrassed by this. “Yes, in a sense,” he replies quickly, “I am becoming king soon, my father has been teaching me since I was younger, but in all my training and all my meetings not once was it brought up that children were being sent to work to help provide for their families. I need to know this to become the best King I can be for my country.” 

She smiles at that, “Okay,” she replies, feeling the ease of the competition lifted from her shoulders. She would have to go home eventually but right now, he made her job of bringing awareness a lot easier. “I would love to help you.” 

He smiles, “Good, I am glad,” he replies, “I knew there was something special about you. I think you’ll be a good friend through this all. Shall I call upon you tomorrow?” 

She nods, “Tomorrow sounds great,” she retorts, he gives a small wave before moving down the aisle to exit. She couldn’t help the ghost of a smile on her face as she moved down the aisle to find the books she wanted. Her heart is full of a new sense of hope. She would be the change her sisters needed. 

After gathering two books for her sister and a couple of the rebels, after Rita brought them up during tea this morning it made her curious as to what really happens during all the rebel attacks and what started them all. She had her suspicions but she wanted to know if they were true. 

She makes her way out of the library, stumbling when she slams into someone dropping several of the books. “Sorry!” she says quickly glancing up to see the guard as she crouches down to grab the books. “We should really stop meeting like this,” she jokes, as he crouches down to help her, “Or maybe I should just learn not to barge out of doors.” 

He chuckles as he stands up, handing her over the three books she picked up, “Prythian Artists and Rebel Attacks? Just some light reading?” he questions, but she senses he's questioning more than just her reading material. 

She takes the books, sliding it below the stack of sciences books, as she states, “How else am I supposed to learn anything?” she retorts, turning to move down the hallway towards her room. She didn’t want to be questioned for her actions when he probably grew up as a two, she could tell by his judgemental looks that he didn’t approve of a seven being here. 

He quickly catches up to her, moving in pace with her as she turns towards her room. “Is there anything else you would like to question me about?” she asks, holding the books tight to her chest, as she glares over at him. 

“It’s after curfew, I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, so I am escorting you to your room,” he replies with ease. 

Nesta rolls her eyes letting out a “hmph” noise. They walked in silence, just the echoing of their shoes against the marble filling the silence. “Do I at least get to know your name?” she asks, turning to peer at him, it's a shame he was a snob he was quite handsome in a gruff kind of way. 

He looks at her with amusement in his eyes, “Cassian,” he retorts. 

“Cassian,” she repeats, “Interesting name.” 

He looks at her and raises an eyebrow, “Perhaps my mother should have looked in the same baby name book your parents found Nesta in,” he replies. So he was sarcastic, Nesta concluded. 

She stops in front of her door and she thinks that she reads disappointment on his face but it fades so quickly so assumes she made it up. She was still a part of the competition and still property of Prythian Palace if she liked it or not. “Thank you for walking me back,” she replies, even though she’s still sure he thought she was more of a threat to the palace than anything inside was to her. 

“It was my pleasure, Nesta,” he says softly, moving down the hall, “Enjoy your light reading.” 

She chuckles as she opens the door, the smell of the dinner sitting on the table in the middle of the room making her stomach growl. She moved towards the table a new surge of excitement, she got the feeling that this was the beginning of a long story. 

 Chapter Six: Cassian 

Cassian feels bad as he watches the girls say their tearful goodbyes to Rhysand before leaving the dining room. Some girls even seemed angry that they were being sent home, their hands moving wildly as they chatted with the other girls their eyebrows furrowed deep into their brows. 

He turns to Rhysand who looks guilty and defeated, clapping him on the shoulder comfortingly he says, “It’s hard, but you’ll get through it.” 

Rhysand shrugs, “I doubt it’ll get easier and part of me doesn’t want it too,” he retorts, shaking his hand and then running a hand through his hair. “I have meetings but want to spar later?” 

Cassian thinks about the mountain of work on his desk waiting for him to get to it but finds himself nodding. “Just tell me when,” he replies, knowing that his friend needed this more than the King needed him to write a report on every girl. 

Rhysand nods, moving out the room quickly to start the day, as Cassian turns to face the King. The girls had all exited with the Queen so it was just them left in the silent dining hall. “Have you thought more about my proposition? I could really use someone with your abilities,” the King says where he lounges in his chair. 

Cassian wants to roll his eyes at that, the King didn’t make propositions he gave orders and it wasn’t Cassian’s abilities that made him a worthy candidate to become the King's right hand but the secrets he had and the information he already had. It would be easy for him to transition back to the old Cassian, the Cassian that wanted to please, the Cassian that shut off a part of him to do unspeakable things in the name of the King. He wouldn’t become that again. 

Cassian clicked his chin, thinking about how he should properly phrase this. “With everything going on in the palace with the new recruits and the safety of the girls with the rebel attacks I need to be here,” Cassian states, standing tall as he faced the King, who merely glared at him. 

The King smirks, leaning forward on his elbows, pretending to think about what Cassian said. “How are the reports on the girls going?” The King asks, “Since you’re so busy with that I am sure you have found something out.” 

Cassian shifts his jaw, the King was baiting him and Cassian would have to be careful not to be caught. “ Unfortunately, the most of the work I did last night was thrown away when he sent ten of the girls I had already thoroughly checked home,” Cassian explains, “But I would be happy to go finish up the work now.”

“Actually, I have a better idea,” The King states, standing up and walking down the few steps to be level with Cassian. The King was tall but Cassian still had to look down to meet his eyes. Cassian’s frame twice the size of the Kings. Although, Cassian was built for power, the King wield it. “You can give me a list of six guards that you think are worthy enough to go out to the borders to keep the rebels in check.” 

Cassian looks at the King with a mixture of disinterest and annoyance. He couldn’t let the King know it bothered him or else he would have no choice but to do it. “Does Prince Rhysand know about this?” Cassian replies with ease. “You told me I would be taking orders from him now.” 

The King clicks his tongue, peering down at Cassian, but the King had to admit that Cassian had a point. It was all a part of the education of Rhysand in his future role as a King, it was a new development and the King was struggling with the release of power. “Have the list ready,” The King says, “I’ll bring it up with Rhysand in our next meeting. I am sure he will agree with me.” 

Cassian frowns as the King walks by him and out of the room. He felt the rage pulsing through his body, as the words of the King echoed in his head. He wasn’t asking Cassian for worthy candidates but guards that were useless, that wouldn’t be missed, that were weak links. 

Cassian knew that sending such a small group was a suicide mission, he had done it again and again for the King, watching his men take off never to return again. The rebels practically owned the borders, if the King truly wanted to get them in check or disperse the rebels he would send an army equipped with the proper tools not a handful of guards with nothing but a handgun and the shirts on their backs. 

He knew he couldn’t add more names to the long list of guards he had sent to their deaths, he couldn’t tell another family that their son or daughter had died. If the King did get his way Cassian was putting his own name on the list. 

~*~

He spent the rest of the day in the training rooms, watching the new draftees assigned to the palace spar and work on their weaponry. Palace Duty was seen as a plush station, although better than most assignments, it was growing more and more dangerous with the frequent attacks. 

He kept an eye on the guards that would mess around or talk back to their superiors, they would have a lot to learn before being stationed anywhere near the royal family. He had to admit that he was stressing about the added protection needed for the girls, with the announcement of the selection the King had thought it would settle the rebels but it only made them more unpredictable. 

“If you think any harder your face will get stuck like that,” a new voice chirps beside him. He glances down to see Amren, she was practically his second in command. Although barely five foot she could take down any soldier. Cassian was pretty sure she could take him down in one swing but he wasn’t going to test his theory. 

“I appreciate the concern you have for my face, I knew it warmed up on you,” Cassian retorts, putting his attention back on the training guards. “How’s training going?” 

She snorts, shaking her head as she turns to look around the group. “There’s definitely some putting in place needing to be done.” she retorts, “but that’s why I am here, you don’t need to babysit me.” 

He chuckles, leaning against a rack of wooden training swords only used in the first day of training. “I am not checking up on you, you are more than capable of whipping them into shape, Amren,” Cassian retorts, running a hand through his hair. “I just had a lot on my mind and needed to do something else.” 

She raises a quizzical eyebrow, an unspoken understanding between the two of them. Cassian had to fight to get Amren her leadership role and to this day the King still pretends that he can’t hear her when she speaks. WSince the King pretended she wasn’t there the majority of the time he would speak to Cassian about certain things, not even aware that Amren was standing beside them. 

Amren understood the things the King asked of Cassian but did not know the extent it went too and Cassian never wanted her too. He was scared she would bolt, he needed her here more than she needed to be here. Promoting her was the smartest thing he had ever done. 

“Need to spar it out?” Amren asks. 

He shakes his head, laughing at her eagerness as he says, “No, but I appreciate it. I think getting my butt kicked by you right now would worsen my mood.”

“I am here if you ever need it. One of these days I’ll get you to say yes to a spar,” she replies, shoving his arm lightly with her elbow. “Now get out of here, you’re distracting the troops with your focused face.” 

He chuckles, feeling a lot better than he had when he first finished speaking with the King earlier. “I’ll check see you around, Amren, don’t work them too hard,” he retorts moving to the exit. A maid walks by telling him the Rhysand would be out in the training ring outside waiting for him. 

Cassian falters, thinking about all the work on his desk waiting for him, “Okay, thank you for letting know,” he retorts, running a hand through his hair as he turns down the hallway away from his office. It would be good to procrastinate thinking about the King. 

“Hey!” He turns to see one of the girls, Nesta Archeron, moving down the hall towards him. She smiles sheepishly as she says, “I didn’t mean to be abrupt.” She goes on to ask him if he is going to Rhysand. He can’t help but roll his eyes.

“I am not taking you to him or being a messenger for you, he will find you if he wants to talk to you,” He snaps, this was what he was afraid of. Girls on the hunt for the prince, ready to pounce for the crown at any moment. 

He feels bad when he sees her expression, but she covers it up quickly. “I only wanted to send a thank you for the gifts he had sent my sisters,” she explains, which only makes him feel worse for his treatment but he wasn’t about to let her see that. 

“I’ll let him know,” he says with a short nodd, “I am sure he will be happy to hear it.” 

He moves down the hallway away from her and towards Rhysand, looking back as he turns the corner not able to stop the creep of a smile on his face as she yells a thank you after him. He chuckles as he turns back towards his destination chuckling slightly. 

The more he knew about her the more he had hope that he best friend could actually find someone to be with through this whole thing that wasn’t just after the fame. 

~*~

He spent a couple hours sparring with Rhysand in the training grounds. He could tell there was a lot on Rhysand’s mind but didn’t push him to discuss anything, he wondered if the King had a chance to bring up another group going to the borders. He wondered if Rhysand was in favor of the idea. 

He thought about what Amren would say if he signed up to go, she would probably follow along after him complaining about how dumb he was. Would he tell Mor? No, she would stop him somehow, tell the King or Rhysand before he had the chance to go. It was cruel funny to think that everyone knew being sent to the border was a suicide mission but no one would fight the King on it. 

Cassian can’t say much on the topic, it was recent that he finally decided to speak against the King. Cassian kicked his office door shut behind him, sitting down at his desk and pulling one of the last files he had to go through in front of him. He glances up at the top, Nesta Archeron, in his scrawl like handwriting. He flips it open a picture of her falling out first, her hair that was normally braided was loose and wave. Her bright green-blue eyes sparkling bright at the camera as she smiled shyly. 

He saw those eyes bright before, when Rhysand shook her hand or this morning when she looked up to speak to her friend Rita about something she had read. They were bright with excitement and curiosity, he wondered what made them bright that morning. Perhaps the competition itself, or the chance to meet Rhysand and be in the palace. 

He moved her picture to the side beginning to read what he assigned Amren to discover about each of them. She was born in caste four, the oldest of three girls, she excelled in her studies. Amren had reached out to a few of her teachers who were sad to see her leave. Her mother had passed away and a few months after that she was transitioned to a seven. That explains why she’s always in the library, why she’s teaching her sisters. 

He reads on about her father, how he adopted alcoholism after the death of his wife and would be found at any bar open. He stopped showing up to work, began to gamble in underground casinos, brawled until he and his daughters were forced out of their house. 

The thought made him sick, that someone could lose themselves so much. How he could allow himself to be lost when he had three daughters to protect, the oldest only be thirteen. There were peer reviews from many bosses for Nesta. She had worked as seamstress, earning praise from people as high as caste three and two. Her neighbors spoke highly of her. He was still suspicious of her, her father was a known member at an underground casino so he could have connections to the rebels. He continues reading, seeing how highly her town thought of her. Amren even spoke to a few of her customers at a local tavern who praised her. 

He chuckles as one of them mentions how she had to kick two guys out from getting too comfortable with a fellow waitress, he tried to picture her small frame kicking out two large men. He turns the page to read the last review, deciding that she couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the rebel attacks. 

He pauses as he reads the name of the interviewee, Tomas Mandray. 

A chill ran up his spine as he read what Tomas had to say on behalf of Nesta. He spoke highly of her, complimenting her work ethic and appearance. Cassian frowned as the truth of his relationship with Nesta came to light. He never outwardly said it or perhaps Amren was careful with her words but it was instituted that the two of them had a relationship. 

There’s a sharp knock on the door and he looks up as a guard peeks his head in, “Good evening, sir,” the guard says, nodding his head in respect before continuing, “There appears to be a girl unaccounted for.” 

Cassian runs a hand through his hair, his mind moving to the rebel spy or girls sneaking out of their rooms to find the prince. “Which one is it?” he asks, standing up to get ready to track them down. 

The guard looks down at the piece of paper in his hand, “Uh, Nesta Archeron, sir,” he replies. 

Cassian rolls his eyes, of course as soon as he finds something out about her that could connect her to the rebel cause she has to go missing. He just hopes he doesn’t find her anywhere she shouldn’t be, hopes he doesn’t have to see those bright eyes dull. 

He moves past the guard, “I’ll take care of it, go back to your post,” he replies, moving quickly through the halls toward his destination. He reaches it but before he can open the door it swings open slamming into him. He catches her elbow relieved to find her here. 

She drops a few books in the collision and he thinks that they should really stop meeting this way. He bends down to pick up a few of the books, his eyes narrowing as he sees the titles, a book about prythian artists and another about rebel attacks. He makes a comment about her choices, asking if this was considered light reading. 

He hands them to her as she adds them to the pile her arms, he takes in a few more titles one about the ocean and the other a book on botany and insects. He couldn’t quite get a grasp on her, she wasn’t the normal stereotype for a rebel. Perhaps that’s why they chose her, if she was even a rebel. 

He realizes she said something as she moves past him and down the hall. He acts quickly to catch up with her, matching her slow pace compared to his own. He had to cut his strides in half to match hers. “Was there something else you wanted to question me about?” she asks, glaring at him. He took note of how her eyes darkened and her nose crinkled as she tried to be intimidating. 

He chuckles, but when she frowns he cuts himself short. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. “It's after curfew,” he retorts with a slight shrug, “Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” 

She rolls her eyes, turning to face the hall again, pulling his attention away from her face and back to infront of them again. They walk in silence before she asks, “Do I at least get to know your name?” 

He smirks at that, maybe she wasn’t as stubborn as he pegged her, “Cassian,” he replies with ease as he looks down at her in amusement. 

She snorts, “Cassian? Interesting name.” 

He can’t help but bite back a smile, she reminded him of Mor with her sharp tongue and quick wit. He wondered if she could take it as well as she dished it. “Perhaps my mother should have looked in the same baby name book your parents found Nesta in.” 

She laughed at that and he realized that’s the first he heard a noise other than annoyance leave her mouth. “If you must know I was named after my grandmother’s cat, she had two others named Bernard and Gerty. Would you prefer one of those?” she questioned. 

He nodded in approval, she would get along extremely well with Mor. They could bond over picking on him. He stops in front of her door and she turns and says, “Thank you for walking me back.” 

He returns her smile, nodding his head, “It was my pleasure, Nesta,” he says, turning on his heel and beginning to move down the hall. “Enjoy your light reading.” 

He listens to her chuckle before the door clicks and he’s left in the silent hall. He moves swiftly feeling the exhaustion set in. He turns sharply, pausing quickly when he spots a figure standing in front of his office door. The person pushes themselves off the wall and Cassian can see the wicked smile. “I was wondering when you would be back,” Tomas Mandray dreary voice echoes through the hall, 

Cassian stops and crosses her arms, “What do you want, Mandray?” 

Tomas chuckles, “Don’t act so angrily towards me, I thought I would warn my old childhood friend.” 

“Warn me about what?” Cassian spits out but as soon as the words left his mouth there was a large crash of glass being broken and he could smell the fire. “That wasn’t much of a warning.” 

Tomas shrugs, “Shouldn’t have taken your good ole time swooning one of your friends' mistresses. Which one was it? Rita? Perhaps Caroline?” Tomas asks, chuckling to himself. “Oh, it must have been Nesta. You always loved a crazy one.” 

Cassian snarls, “How do you know about them?” He wanted to punch Tomas out cold right then and there but the siren was beginning to blare and he had to make sure the royal family and girls got to safety. 

Tomas laughs as he begins to run down the hall towards the chaos, “I have friends everywhere, Cassian. You better watch out.”

As always - unedited 

[littlemisssquiggles]

A small warmup side project.

Slumber Rose is ready for that Garden of Rose’s pajama party sleepover!

I was originally going to just do my Rose’s PJs at first but then I saw Miki-chan’s page with some outfit designs for her Ianthe and figured I’d try the same. This is only the first three but I have a full page with a couple of looks for my Rose including her Time Skip/ V4 look for Chels’ AU. The rest will be finished and shared accordingly.

In the meantime, I hope you guys like it. I’ve also made this post to share some more info on my Rose. Provide more Rosey Tips on what she’s like and such so keep reading if you’d like to learn more about Rosaline Fox.

SLUMBER ROSE

As previously mentioned; in spite of her Faunus status, Rose’s favourite animal are sheep. She owns a large collection of stuffed sheep plushies that decorated her bed and bedroom including one giant sheep-shaped pillow pet that Rose had owned since she was a little girl.

The name of Rose's sheep pillow pet is Lambchop. 

Rose doesn't sleep without Lambchop; preferring it over a regular pillow since, according to Rose, Lambchop's fluffy fleece is softer than a thousand pillows.

Despite owning it since she was a kit, Rose has taken great care of Lambchop over the years. Lambchop was the first present Rose's beloved father: Robyn Fox gave to her and she's cherished it ever since so the pillow pet has sentimental value. Lambchop is big enough for at least 8 heads to rest on its fluffy fleece; however Rose doesn't just let anyone share Lambchop. Only those she genuinely likes or trusts. 

Lambchop has a secret pouch underneath the fur by its neck that's usually covered by a rose collar. In her younger years back in Mistral, Rose and Oscar would stash snacks inside Lambchop during sleepovers. They did it so that Mama Dorothy and Marion wouldn't be suspicious of their kids eating sweets after bedtime.

Eventually the two friends had to drop this charade after all the left over snacks ultimately attracted ants that got caught in the pillow pet’s fleece. Not only did the Rose and Oscar get in big trouble with their mothers for breaking the rules but till this day, Rose can still remember the intense itching left on her skin after sleeping on a pillow pet full of them. Fortunately Oscar was spared of this itchy torture but as for Rose; she never did this again. This also explain why Rose doesn't allow anyone eating or drinking near Lambchop. She definitely learnt her lesson as a kid.

Other than Lambchop, Rose also has a habit of sleeping with socks. She likes her toes to be nice and warm when resting and thus hates sleeping barefoot.

Rose's favourite childhood bedtime story and fairy tale is titled ‘The Farmer and the Moon’. It was basically an ole Mistralian folklore that told the love story of a heavenly warrior goddess with silver eyes as striking as the moon who fell in love with a mortal farmer after she fell from the sky during a tremendous battle that shook the heavens. The farmer found the Warrior near death near a river on the outskirts of his farmland and quickly rushed her back to his home. When the Warrior finally regained consciousness, the farmer, in relief, asked for her name. However the Warrior said she had no name so the farmer decided to name her ‘Moon’ after her beautiful eyes. The Farmer and the Moon is a favourite tale that Rose shares in common with Oscar.

SUMMER ROSE

During the summer, Rose wears her hair short. Since it's a normal characteristic of foxes to grow out their fur coats in preparation for the winter climate only to shed out all that fur by summer season, this is a similar trait that Rose shares with her animal counterpart as part of her Faunus quirks.

Rose is one of those girls who has no problem growing their hair out. As a matter of fact, Rose's hair generally tends to grow as long as she is tall (and fluffy too)  and as a kid, her hair would practically be trailing on the ground by winter time so her mother: Marion Fox, would often style and braid her hair for that seasonal occasion.

Although Rose generally takes care of her own hair, she often goes to her mother to style her hair for special occasions. It is one of the activities the two bonded over as Rose grew up and it's a mother-daughter tradition they’ve maintained.

So generally by Spring time, Rose cuts her hair shorter as a means of coping with the incoming warmer weather and the fact that most of her ‘winter roots’ tends to 'shed' out by the summer. After Summer, she lets it grow back out so its at its full gorgeous length by winter.

Of all the seasons, Summer is Rose’s favourite despite being a Winter baby.

Rose loves warm weather and it’s one of the things she misses most about Mistral after moving to Solitas.

In the summer heat, while some folks love watermelon, Rose prefers coconuts. Good authentic coconut water straight from the husk is Rose's favourite thing to drink during the summer as well as eating the delicious coconut jelly.

Although not much of a glutton for sweets, Rose does enjoy a good snow cone.

Rose’s birthmark is on her inner left thigh. 

 WINTER ROSE

Rose is a Sagittarius-born and her birthday is December 21st; the day of the winter solstice.

Despite being a Winter-baby, admittedly winter is Rose’s least favourite season purely because Rose isn’t a fan of cold weather. It’s one of the things she dislikes about living in Solitas despite being a citizen for eight years. Thankfully the weather up in Atlas Kingdom isn’t as bad as it was for Rose living down in the Barracks of Mantle for the first few years. She doesn’t mind the cold if it’s good enough to go out and play in the snow. But when it drops to the point of unbearably cold, Rose can’t stand it.

There are only two things that Rose genuinely likes about the Winter season. One is her birthday which falls just four days before Christmas which meant Rose got double the presents each year. Secondly, the cute outfits Rose gets to rock for the Christmas season. Just cause she’s turning into a popsicle doesn’t mean she can’t look cute while doing it, right?

Rose’s favourite designer is Poppy Merlin---a renowned Atlesian designer specialized in producing dust-infused clothing lines inclusive of huntsmen gear catered to the huntsmen that is adaptable to changes in weather.

Rose isn’t much of  a fan of sweets. When she was a kid, she loved sweets but eventually grew out of it; by the time she was a teenager especially after ‘the incident’ with Lambchop. She prefers snacking on salty snacks such as potato chips, vegetable crackers, popcorn, etc.

There is one kind of sweet that Rose will eat and that’s anything made of gelatine. Gummy bears, pudding pops, jello---Rose has a belly for jelly. When she was a kid she would eat jelly snacks a lot and it’s the one sweet she hasn’t outgrown even with the incident.

Rose’s favourite kind of cake is carrot (and she always insists that that’s her birthday cake every year).

Rose prefers frozen yogurt over ice-cream.

Rose is allergic to strawberries.

In case you’re wondering:

Poppy Merlin is a little nod back to an old Pinehead headcanon of mine where Oscar had a fairy godmother kind of character who was an Atlesian fashion designer specialized in dust-infused fabrics. Despite that being a thing one that can do with dust, we haven’t seen anyone else utilize this with dust since Cinder in V2. I know that World of Remnant mentioned that it’s an ancient practice. Nonetheless, if dust is capable of being woven into fabrics then why haven’t the huntsmen made more use of this as part of the world-building of RWBY  How come there aren’t more huntsmen walking around with gear infused with dust that can change to adapt to the weather---like for example, fire dust for colder climates so that the huntsmen wouldn’t need to use their aura to survive the cold since their gear strengthened by dust aids with that. It sucks we don’t have more of this in RWBY. But, that’s why AUs with fanfics and fanart exist, am I right?

@lookyeekiti, @che1sea-xiao-long, @miki-13, @nykamito-x, @cloudburst-paint-water, @beaver-sen What do you guys think? 

Also what are some of your Roses’ quirks? And what would your Roses wear to the beach or during the winter?

 ~LittleMissSquiggles (2019) 

[salvationkitten]

Chapter One

Lucien is chained to the large oak tree with faebane chains. His back against the rough base with arms stretched around the tree with the chains connected at his wrists behind his head. Ianthe stands in front of him lightly running her thin, manicured fingers up and down his arms and torso. She’s gloating about the Great rite night in the cave where Lucien was forced to take her into the cave to complete the ritual.

“I always thought you would be good, but that night was something else.” Ianthe says while slowly buttoning his under shirt. And looking up at his face under her lashes with a small smile on her face.

Lucien growls at her and tries to move out of her wandering hands but is held firm by the chains at his wrists. He considers maybe kicking her but doing that might just make things worse.

Ianthe has now unbuttoned his under shirt and is roaming her hands against the hard planes of his stomach and chest. He admits another aggressive growl, but she only laughs and says

“oh Lucien, such an animal. we’re going to have so much fun”  

Her hands make a b-line for his trouser laces, done with roaming his chest.

“Don’t you fucking dare, let me the fuck go” Lucien says with a low growl lurching in the chains. His flushed with embarrassment and anger.

Ianthe just hums and continues to unlace his trousers, admiring his body as he thrashes and cusses her.

Lucien starts to panic a bit. She’s not really going to do this is she? He thrashes and tries to make it harder for her to unlace his trousers while cursing her to hell. But in doing that her hand is brushing against his cock. He tries to squirm away from her touch, but she keeps going.

“mmmmm lets get these little things out of the way huh and get straight to it” she says with a smirk on her face. Finished unlacing his trousers she pulls his under shorts down in a rush to reveal him and places the elastic just under his balls.

Lucien rips out a loud growl and shivers when the spring air touches his now exposed cock. His panicking even more now and thrashing trying to break the chains, but he knows its futile.

Ianthe lets out a quiet gasp” my my, even better then I remembered” she says admiring his soft uncut, reasonable length cock with a light patch of tame ginger curls, and slightly fuzzy balls. His manhood is only slightly darker than the rest of his body. Ianthe goes to reach down to stroke his cock, but Lucien lashes out with his legs and tries to kick her.

Ianthe jumps back out of the way of his leg and tuts him for trying to kick her.

“now now Lucien there will be none of that or this won’t go so nice for you” Ianthe says with a threat in her voice.

Lucien freezes when he hears her tone of voice, she is not lying she will make this worse for him.

“if you let me go now, I won’t tell anyone, and we can forget about this” Lucien askes

“well that would ruin my fun now wouldn’t it” Ianthe says with a smirk as she reaches for his cock again and Lucien resumes his thrashing and cursing. Ianthe starts to stroke Lucien’s cock from tip to base in slow, firm strokes.

Lucien has stopped moving and is staring at Ianthe stroking his cock in disbelief, this can’t be happening! To Lucien’s absolute horror his cock starts to harden. Her stokes speed up and pre-cum starts to pool at the head.

“Ianthe please stop this, this is madness. STOP” Lucien yells at her but she pays his words not attention. Instead she starts lifting her robe up and with one hand still stroking Lucien she licks the other and starts to stroke herself. Little moans leaving her lips.

She’s not wearing any underthing’s, if fact all she has on is her robe and that becomes evident when she pulls the whole things off and is left naked in front of Lucien.

Lucien goes to kick her again, but she quickly puts a knife from her discarded robe and brings it to his cock.

“try and kick me again and not only will I cut this off, but I’ll keep it and enchanted it so that when I use it for my pleasure you will feel everything.” Ianthe growls.

Lucien gulps loudly and keeps his legs still. This will be more tolerable than the alternative. After that Lucien doesn’t thrash or say a word, instead tries to zone out to forget about what’s coming. But the next moment he is thrown back into the moment when his cock is pushing against something warm and wet.

Ianthe has turned around and is backing on to Lucien’s cock. Bracing her arms on her knees as she engulfs him in her tight heat. Ianthe lets out a stream of gasps and moans and praises of Lucien’s cock as she finds a steady but fast rhythm.

Lucien can’t believe this is happening and that his body is reacting to this. Each drag of her heated walls against the head of his cock is bring him closer to the edge and he hates it. He just wants the ground to swallow him whole and never spit him back out.

Lucien can tell she’s close, as she lifts a hand to swipe furiously at her clit while her bouncing on his cock gets erratic. And the he feels it, the pulsing around his cock, the new flow of liquid gushing out of her and past his cock. She lets out a long drawn out moan. Her legs are shaking but she is still bouncing back on him. And the pressure is building rapidly low in his gut. She is going to keep going until he climaxes inside her.

“come on Lucien spill inside of me” Ianthe increases her speed and even with all his might he can’t hold back, and he climaxes inside of her with a barely contained groan.

She slowly decreases her speed and pulls off looking very pleased with herself. His cum is dripping out of her at a slow pace. Her thighs are wet with clear liquid. She turns to Lucien and says

“that was fun, you’re such a good male. We will defiantly be doing this again.”

Lucien is sagging against the tree staring at nothing in disbelief. His face, neck and chest are flushed. His wrists are red from all the pull and thrashing. His throat sore from the growling and cursing.

Ianthe now with her robe back on and fixing her hair looks to Lucien and says

“come now Lucien it was wonderful no need to sulk, you may as well get use to this because it will be happening a lot more.” She goes to him and unchains his hands, he sags to the ground, hands on his knees. She kisses him on the cheek and walks back to camp with the chains in hand.

Lucien sits there for what feels like forever but was only a couple of minutes staring at he ground thinking what just happened? Did Ianthe just rape me? Then he seems to process what her last word to him were. It will be happening a lot more.Then he starts to panic. His breathing turns shallow and he starts gasping for breath. His vision is going blurry. Through he blurred vision he sees the knife Ianthe left behind and grabs it. He lightly runs the blade across his left forearm and watches the blood rise from the thin cut his just made.

While watching the blood rise to the broken skin his breathing returns to normal and his vison as well. He sighs and drops the knife and leans back against the tree. He hasn’t done that in a while.

He looks down and blushing furiously and tucks himself back into his trousers and laces them up. He wipes the blood from his arm and buttons up his shirt. He sits there for a couple more minutes thinking about what his going to do.

He can’t tell anyone, they won’t believe him. Feyre might but she couldn’t do anything about it. He can’t tell Tamlin he won’t believe him and will get angry at his accusations.

He can’t do anything to stop this. She has more power and status then him. He can’t stop her.

He gets up and walks slowly back to the camp feeling numb. once back at camp he goes straight to his tent avoiding all stares. He goes in and just sits there and works on shoving the memory away. Forgetting the last hour or two didn’t happen.

Lucien then lays down on his side staring and thinking nothing. He didn’t hear Tamlin yelling hours later until it was too late and tamlin had come crashing into Lucien’s tent and grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out.

[blackthornings]

dreamland | spring court feysand fanfic

Plot line: Feyre, stuck at the Spring Court after what those bastards did to her at Hybern, is subject to both dreams and nightmares that are more than what they seem, taking up both daytime and night; Tamlin just thinks she's scared of going back to the Night Court but Lucien can tell that there's something more to them. - The world was misty, full of shadow and the scent of jasmine filled my nostrils, floating into my lungs, making the ache in my head recede. My vision was blurred with starlight and in the background I could hear the gentle whisper of rain. A heartbeat passed, thudding like the footsteps I could now hear. Feyre, it said. It repeated itself. Feyre, it whispered, the tendrils of it clinging to my existence. Heartbeats and rain and misty stars. The ground solidified beneath my feet, but still glimmering in such a way that I knew this was one of my dreams; if I were asleep or awake, it didn't matter. The vision would unfold itself. As my feet embraced the earth, my vision sharpened and I smiled at Azriel in front of me, his wings shrouded in shadow. He nodded. He knew I didn't have much time, so I began spouting information. "Hybern's seeking more allies. He wants Tamlin's court to search out more, starting with the seasonal courts-" I saw his eyes widen, drinking in every word I uttered, "- and then, if he can get his talons," I smirked, "entrenched thoroughly enough, he wants to try and sway the Solar courts, barring Night. He thinks Ianthe will help." I sighed, my breath coming out in little puffs. Azriel grimaced. "Thanks, Feyre. We appreciate it." His eyes focused on my face, on the misery knew was steeped in my eyes, the hollowness in the curve of my cheekbones, the unspoken words in the shadows by my mouth. "He misses you more and more every day. He'll appear to you as soon as he can," Az murmured, pain in every syllable. "Tell that prick I love him, won't you?" "I think he knows, High Lady." "Worth the pain of pretending otherwise to this cursed court." Anger gathered in my fists. "We - your true court - know the reality. And that's all that matters." I'd never heard him so sincere and honest. It helped to cleave my heart in two. I could feel the slippery dream-realm start to shimmer and fade. I gave him a weak smile. "See you soon, Shadowsinger." The world began to thin and thin and thin - "Likewise, High Lady." Flickering starlight and shadowy trees and the disorientation of our connection slipping - I blinked. Yellow, springtime light filtered down on me; birds chirped outside. I was at the dining table with Lucien and Tamlin, the latter looking at me with concern weaved into his gaze. "Did I have another nightmare?" I whispered. Pretending to be weak and frightened while looking into those abhorrent emerald orbs took every ounce of self control I had. Tamlin nodded tersely. He continued look at me even as I shifted my gaze to the half-eaten plate in front of me. "Just for a minute," Lucien said, his gaze narrowing, the fox-like aura he gave off strengthening as he observed my face. Carefully. Too carefully. I would need to be more careful next time I got in contact with the Court of Dreams (through dreams; the simplicity astonished me. Rhys didn't even need to send notes or talk down the bond. The name of our court wasn't just symbolic.) "I hate it when that happens," Tamlin snapped. "It reminds me of losing you. When you go, you can't hear me, and I'm reminded of how far I will go to protect you, to keep you safe." He shuddered, and I did my best to look pitifully grateful. As if I needed protecting. "I can never thank you enough for saving me," I replied, once again pushing down my disgust and I reached over to hold his hand. "Where, exactly, does your mind go when you stare into the abyss of time and space and I can't even bring you back by yelling insults at you?" Lucien asked. A careful question, edged with just the right amount of feeble humour to try and make me less suspicious. "I have... flashbacks," I shuddered. My court and I had decided exactly how I was to portray them, and balanced my words, though when I'd been instructed to present them all as heartless beasts, their faces had all gone grim. Except for Cassian, who had chided in with, "Tell them that the Commander is super good-looking!" It had almost made me laugh. Almost. But the strain on my heart and mind was too strong for me to properly laugh. But Lucien didn't look like he bought it, even as Tamlin's spine straightened even more. By the Cauldron, did this man ever relax when he wasn't drunk? I was starting to think he'd turn into a steel rod. "What flashback did you have just now?" Lucien countered. "A mild one. Not from his court... those were the worst," I mumbled, sucking on my teeth. I'd told them all about the atmosphere in the Court of Nightmares. "It was about the room he kept me in. It was so dark and strange and it reminded me of how it felt to be so alone, so far from home-" "Enough." Tamlin's voice rang out, edged with the marks of his splintered ego and temper. "I was interested in what Feyre had to say," Lucien said, eyes gleaming. He wasn't impressed by my acting, I could tell. "I don't feel so good... I'm going to my room to lie down," I lied, setting down my fork delicately. But as I rose and left the room, I gave Lucien a conspiratorial wink over Tamlin's shoulder. There. Let him interrogate me and risk exposing me to Tamlin. He'd lose Elain. His eyes burned into mine, the only part of his gaunt face that betrayed a hint of the knowledge and glittering anger. I practically sauntered through the rooms until I saw Ianthe's slim figure making its way to my room, a few feet ahead of me. My gut coiled in anger, and the spring lilac-and-cedar scent lacing the air felt like poison. I considered slamming her to the ground with my powers right there, gouging her with talons like the ones that that I suspected Tamlin had used to rip through her underclothes when they'd slept together on Calanmai. Her swaying waterfall of golden hair shimmered as she turned towards me, a smile on her lips, as I forced myself to look weak and needy. Cauldron, how I hated her face. "Feyre," she breathed, "how lovely to see you. But are you feeling unwell?" I shifted on my feet, every fibre of me playing the part of the hurt, sick girl plagued by nightmares. I decided to play this to my advantage. The bitch would pay. "I just..." I forced my eyes to go vacant and tortured. "I can't stop thinking about my sisters. Dunked into that Cauldron. It was the worst moment of my life," I whimpered. I made myself stumble, braced my hand on the wall, and when she came to help me up, I faked another fall, effectively jabbing my elbow into her side. "I'm so sorry!" I cried. "I just can't stop seeing them. Their lives ruined. Because of me." Something dark flashed in Ianthe's eyes, only for a second. I hoped she bought my acting. "At least you can live with them forever. You don't have to worry about them dying," she crooned. "Once we get them back from that awful Rhysand." I nodded, forcing my expression into a pained one as she gave more and more excuses, explaining them in simple terms like I wasn't possible of comprehending normal language. It drove me insane. But I pretended to be grateful for her gross intervention. Once safely in my chambers, I lay down, waiting for sleep to take me. It didn't need to. The shadows were different this time as they wrapped around my mind. Star-flecked night teased at the edge of my consciousness, pulling me up, up, up, as if I were trapped miles beneath the ground and was shooting up through dirt. I landed feet first on the ground, guided by the smell of citrus and seawater and drawn to those unearthly violet eyes. I ran forward to embrace Rhys, his scent enveloping me. But we couldn't stay like that for long, and he held me back, and I took him in; the starlight flickering in his gaze, playing along the elegant planes of his face. How I longed to hold him in reality and not just in the shadowy realms of dreams! "I missed you," he said quietly. We hadn't been able to talk for almost a week; the others had had to fill in since he was so busy overlooking everything with war looming. "I missed you more, prick." I gave him the ghost of a grin. "Not possible," he said, the hint of a smirk playing about his lips. Around us, stars wheeled and clouds shifted, tinted in purple and blurred at the edges. Vines grew beneath my feet and stones lay around us, bathed as everything was in a strange, glassy sort of starlight. The moon hung low, as if guarding us, and what seemed to be temple ruins were laid sprawling and beautifully destroyed beneath our feet. A land between space and time and realms, where lovers and friends could meet in between dreams, reaching across the void. A land forgotten. And an extremely convenient one. But it didn't matter how beautifully the guardian-moon shone, or how artfully the vines twisted beneath the crumbling stone and sea-dragon mosaics. My eyes were on Rhys as we talked, about battle plans and strategies. This- this was what I needed, time with him, wrapped in his arms even as we sat on crumbling ruins discussing war. It felt so right to be near him, to be lost in his scent and the way he moved, and it split my heart down its seam that we couldn't stay for long. "I elbowed Ianthe today," I grinned at him. His eyebrows flicked up. "What did she do?" I stifled a laugh. "She had to act like I was a lost, lonely child and gave me a speech on how watching my sisters tortured while I couldn't do anything to save them was the best thing that ever happened to me." He snorted, but something cold and angry and vicious crept into his eyes. "I want to say that I'll be the one to kill her, but honestly, she's pissed off too many people and done too many awful things for me to have the sole claim on her life. Although I'm sure you'll do the job fine." Before I could relish in the thought of a very dead Ianthe, shadows gathered to his right, and Mor's entrancing face fell into focus. She looked haggard and run down, but she still held her head high; when the dark rings under her eyes deepened, so would her determination. "High Lady and High Lord," she bowed, then laughed. I went to embrace her. "You look so tired," I whispered. She shook her blonde curls (such a nice shade of blonde compared to Ianthe's or Tamlin's!) and sighed. "The Court of Nightmares is expecting us in an hour," she said, rolling her eyes. Rhys gave me an apologetic glance and ran his hands through that sleek ebony hair. He rose and bent over to kiss me, then murmured, "Till next time, Feyre darling." "Likewise, prick," I smiled. "Tell them others I miss them just as much," I said, to both of them this time. But a dull roaring was already in my ears as the dream world slipped away, and I was being dragged down under, the heady scents of night-blooming flowers replaced by the overpowering smell of lilac- My eyes snapped open. I sat up, a sad smile on my lips, and froze as I saw Lucien. Standing by my door. Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, an angry, unfocused look in his face, fire practically crawling as he turned his gaze to me. --- My first ever fanfic! I will be super grateful if anyone even reads this. It's currently 1am but this was too much fun to write :) I might do this more often in the future. (Also, I might leave out Ianthe in the next one. I hate her with such a passion and it's affecting my writing.)

[illyriantremors]

Beneath the Stars Chapter 9

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII VIII

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Rhys and Morrigan help Feyre work through her emotions after the big breakup with Tamlin and are basically the best friends ever.

Chapter 9

Instantly, I was mortified. And Rhys knew it.

“What - Feyre darling,” he said. It was the first time he’d called me that without an ounce of teasing on his lips. He sounded heartbroken.

His arms spread apart, I think in surprise, but when I stepped forward across the threshold, his fingers found mine somehow and then I was sobbing hysterically into his chest.

He ran a hand up and down my back in long, soothing strokes while the other held me, keeping me standing and grounded. “Shh,” he cooed into my hair. I inhaled deeply at his chest and latched on to the faint scent of citrus on his shirt, like oranges in the summertime.

“What’s going on - oh, Feyre!”

I pulled back from Rhys finding it terribly difficult to let go of the touch now that I’d found someone to hold onto and found Morrigan on the landing to the stairs watching us. I looked at Rhys.

He lifted his eyebrows in silent question: Me or her? He seemed okay with either.

Still a little uneasy with Tamlin in the back of my mind despite the fact that I was a sobbing mess in Rhys’s arms regardless, I turned toward Mor. “Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

Rhys stepped away as I made to follow his cousin up the stairs, but before I left, I stumbled over my feet trying to convey a sense of gratitude I didn’t have the words to express. He reached for me, wiped away the tears stuck to my cheeks, and simply whispered, “Go.” The brief contact of his fingertips against my skin was a balm over my wounds.

Mor pulled me into her room. I shouldn’t have been surprised by how bright it was. The walls were a soft cream color and her bed was covered in an assortment of crimson pillows that rested on one of those big, fluffy white comforters. In the daytime with the sunlight streaming through the windows, the room would likely sparkle.

“Feyre, what happened?”

Mor sat me squarely on the edge of her bed. She grabbed my hand, but otherwise did not move to touch me and she sat far enough to the side to give me the space to breathe.

But breathing was tricky. I was still shaking like crazy. The second I’d gotten out of Tamlin’s line of sight, I had crumbled completely.

“He-he - Tamlin, he…” I choked on the words and Mor’s eyes went stone cold with venom, a cobra ready to strike.

“Did he hit you?”

“No! He never - he would never-”

“Feyre, Feyre - relax. Relax! You’re free. You’re okay. Whatever Tamlin did, it’s over now.”

She ran her fingers through the hairs falling around my face. Her nails were long and well manicured. They felt oddly pleasant scratching against my scalp.

I focused on her hand holding mine and closed my eyes. One breath at a time.

“He’s sleeping with her.”

“Who?”

“Ianthe. She’s his Newspaper editor. I think they’ve been together all summer.”

“Bastard prick,” Mor huffed. “Snuffing you out like that. It’s shameful. You deserve so much better than him.”

I opened my eyes. Mor looked genuinely aggrieved for me as she held my gaze, her nose pinched and her lips tight, as though Tamlin had betrayed her by betraying me. It was silly to me to think that I had never really understood what friendship was before, but there I was sitting on Mor’s bed while she explained.

I broke into a fresh wave of sobs as the realization hit.

And I told her everything. I broke down all of the personal details I hid from the world about my parents, my sisters, and Tamlin until I was nothing more than a heap of different bodily fluids leaving stains all over her bed.

And when I was finished with that, I told her all of the most disgusting parts of myself - the parts I hated and strove to keep secret not just from them, but from me as well. Every ounce of pain and anxiety I had ever felt watching my family disintegrate into screams and booze while my boyfriend - ex-boyfriend now - stood idly by and all but blamed me for even his own problems, came gushing out of me.

Most of all, I told her how much I hated myself for falling for it - all of it. For allowing him to manipulate me like this, for both wanting and rejecting my family when they loved me and hated me at the same time, and for allowing myself to believe that this was normal. It still felt normal. I was so fucked up at this point that I had it all backwards and didn’t know the difference.

I didn’t stop a single word. I had blinders on and I was too numb to care anymore as I ambled on.

Mor never interrupted once. Not a single time. She kept hold of my palm in her hand and continued stroking back my hair with her other just listening and nodding every time I made a new confession.

By the end of it, I felt relieved. Free - she had said.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Mor asked. I nodded. “I think you are a very, very brave - very strong woman.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do! This was important, what you said tonight. Have you ever talked about this with someone before?”

“Never. No one has ever really understood. I thought…” I bit back the words, but I knew I had to say them. I had to cleanse. “I thought that if I ever admitted the truth, people would just say I was crazy for wanting to fight for my dad or stay with Tamlin even when he made me feel miserable. And then I thought they would just pity me and let it go. Conversations never seem to stick for very long when people aren’t interested in what you have to say.”

“You need better friends, Feyre.” Mor’s head turned on its side heartbroken for me, but her look was anything but pity. Far from it in fact. “There is no shame in saying how you feel. You feel things for a reason and even the bad things are there to serve a purpose. What you have to figure out how to do is not let the bad feelings overturn the good or stop you from validating them.”

“Do you… Rhys mentioned your parents were, well…”

Mor snorted. “My parents are a joke who took one look at my cheer uniform and eyeliner and said it wasn’t going to get me anywhere in life so they gave me a new uniform to wear, one my cheer uniform was too ‘slutty’ to cover up, never minding the fact that my report card was damn near perfect and that college wasn’t what they were after for me anyway. I don’t know what your family is like, Feyre, and I can’t even pretend to understand how dating someone like Tamlin feels. But I do know that other people’s expectations for you are bullshit in the grand scheme of things. At the end of the day, you go after what you love so long as it makes you the ‘you’ you want to be, yeah?”

Slowly, I nodded my head. Somewhere in the middle of her speech, my tears had dried up. “You’re right,” I said and a small gasp that was almost a giggle of relief and happiness came out.

“Of course I’m right!” she said, her vibrant energy coming back. “There are more important things to figure out than constantly worrying over the entirety of your life. Those problems will always be there, but the problems of here and now won’t so we should deal with those first. One step at a time. Now based on that, tell me what you want.”

“What I want?”

“Yeah.” She jumped up and her blond hair bounced wildly around her from the swing in her step. “Would you rather a cookie dough or an ice cream? Or are you more of a cake and brownies kind of girl? We could do cheesecake, but we’d have to actually leave the house for that since I won’t settle for anything less than Cheesecake Factory, but I had just put on my sweats when you came to the door and - hey, aren’t you coming?”

She held the door open waiting for me. I was on my toes when the reality of what I’d done - leaving home, dad, Tamlin and the party - hit me and I stopped short.

“Oh my gosh, Mor. It’s like the middle of the night!”

“Well I’m sure it’s five o’clock somewhere, but honestly, do you really need an excuse to eat cookie dough ever?”

“No, not the cookie dough. I mean, it’s late! And I just barged right in here and we have school in the morning and I sort of ran out on my dad and-”

“Feyre, stop.” Mor grabbed me by the shoulders and smiled so kindly. Neither of my sisters had ever been so forgiving. “It’s okay. I think my grades will survive one night of frivolity. And besides, I’ve been in the need for a good sleepover for quite sometime. Rhys is my cousin and that makes him a lot less fun to stay up and paint nails with.”

“I can’t - I can’t just stay the night,” I said, but in my head the idea sounded more than wonderful. “What about school?”

She shrugged and I wondered if there was anything under the sun that troubled this girl, this girl who had run from the darkness in her life and made a new home for herself, one that was full and free and accepting. I wondered if I could ever do anything even remotely close, but talking with her, I certainly felt like I could.

“School, schmool. You can borrow some of my clothes if you don’t feel like wearing yours again tomorrow. And we can drive by your place in the morning and get your books. You work tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“We’ll make it work.”

She waited for my answer and I decided then and there that I was done. I was done playing games, done starving myself of friendship and happiness. For once I was going to give in.

“Just let me call my dad really quick and then you can ply me with all the cookie dough you want.”

Mor squeed and it was a miracle she didn’t take flight.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Take your time.”

Dad wasn’t upset I hadn’t come home yet. I don’t think he even realized what had happened with Nesta and Elain the day before or that something had been wrong when I’d come home from school earlier that day.

I reassured him I would be fine without stopping home for things, but he honestly didn’t need much convincing. The shock easily read in his voice as we spoke that I was staying the night with someone was just another testimonial to the fact that I didn’t know what friends were. He agreed easily.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Mor waited for me - alone.

“Where’s Rhys?”

“In his room,” she said as she dug through the fridge looking for ingredients and sugary prizes to be consumed. “He shooed himself away once I told him you were fine. I think he just doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s in your way.” Nothing could have been further from the truth. Rhys was the furthest thing from in the way.

I didn’t say anything causing Mor to look up at me over the fridge door with a little grin on her lips. “Down the hall. Third door on the left.”

She disappeared back into the bowels of the fridge before I could argue.

Hesitantly and feeling rather foolish, I knocked lightly on the door. Footsteps shuffled behind it, but they sounded somewhat distant as if coming up. Rhys opened the door soon after and stood not in a bedroom, but on a step of stairs that led down and out of sight.

“You live in the basement?” I blurted out.

“It is not a basement,” he protested.

“What is it then?”

“It’s a fully refurbished bonus room. Basements don’t exist in California.”

“Neither do attics and yet, here we are, one of us in each.”

Rhys crossed his arms and fell into a casual lean against the door frame. “Someone’s feeling better. My cousin was helpful, I hope?”

“Most helpful. Thank you, for just, well...”

“I know.” He relaxed and his eyes drooped into a sleepy sort of peace. He reached up and held my face so he could run his thumbs over my cheeks where phantom tears might still have been lurking. “You’re welcome.”

My breathing hitched at the twinkle in Rhys’s eyes. He was inexplicably kind. They both were. “I think Mor is making cookies.”

“Chocolate chip, I’d wager.” He held out his arm and I took it, letting him lead me towards a new start. “Shall we?”

“Yes please.”

xx

[deviantstormtrooper]

Music part nine

https://ravenshadowrose.tumblr.com/post/170468957625/music-part-eight Previous part.

The song mentioned in this chapter is Kiss Me Goodbye by Angela Aki. It was featured in Final Fantasy XII

Almost a week had passed since Kylo had been injured at Snoke's hand, his body was well on its way to being fully healed. Ianthe had checked him over several times and was pleased to see his injuries were nowhere near as bad. The bruises were starting to fade and his skin beginning to return to its normal shade. She had talked to Kylo about getting some rest to ensure that he healed thoroughly. She was pleased that he had taken her advice and hoped he would continue to do so after he had healed.

Ianthe was worried about Kylo, Snoke was not above harming him if he was not happy with him. She wondered why Kylo stayed when Snoke had done so much to hurt him. He was powerful in his own right, why did he need Snoke? She hoped that Kylo would find the courage to get away from Snoke before he attacked him again. It worried her that Snoke might kill Kylo if he was really not pleased with him.

She had found out from Kylo that Snoke had returned to the Supremacy after his last visit to Starkiller Base to train Kylo. He had also told her that he gave him time to heal after every encounter, Snoke preferred him whole when he trained him. It sent shivers down her spine, it was as though Snoke was trying to break Kylo, to turn him into his mindless puppet. She wondered how much more Kylo would be able to take of Snoke's training and punishments before he broke under the strain. What would Snoke have Kylo do next to try and break him down?

She shook her head to remove the thoughts of Snoke breaking Kylo from her mind, she hoped it would not come to that. She focused on untying the sash of the robe she had put on after being in the refresher. She put on some warm clothing, it was always cold in the base. She followed it up with some warm socks and tied the robe back around her body. She was thankful that she had a full rest cycle before she had to be back at work in the medical bay.

A lot of her thoughts centred around Kylo lately, she found herself thinking about him at random moments during the day. He knew about her past and how her father had mistreated her, yet he had not judged her for it. He had simply held her as she cried and comforted her. She had heard so many rumours of Kylo having a temper and lashing out at anyone that got in his way. He had treated her with respect from the time she had first played for him until she had treated his wounds. She wasn't sure what to think or feel about him.

Ianthe sighed, she remembered his lips brushing against her forehead as he told her she wasn't alone. She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have his lips brushing against hers. She had pushed down that feeling, the last thing she wanted was for him to see it in her thoughts. If he knew about the feelings she was experiencing then he might push her away. She was sure that Kylo had more important things on his mind than something she might feel for him. She sighed again, she had to pull herself together. She was acting like a youngling with a crush, something she felt that she was way too old to be doing.

Ianthe began to dry her hair with the towel to distract herself from thinking about Kylo. If she was doing something then she might not think about him as much. A sigh escaped her lips, Kylo was still on her mind, she tried to shake her head to clear it of all thoughts of him. She tried not to think about how his dark eyes saw into her very soul, or how beautiful they were. She also tried hard not to think about he had held her close and stroked her hair. She tried not to remember how safe she had felt in his arms, or how right it had felt for her to be there. She stubbornly shook her head one more time and tried to concentrate on drying her hair. The idea of being in love scared her, loving someone just felt like an invitation for more pain in her life.

Kylo sat on the edge of the bed in his quarters, he was thinking about Ianthe, no matter how much he tried not to do so. He remembered her warm hands on his body as she looked after him. He remembered how she held him as he cried, soothing his pain away with comforting touches. She had looked after him when she did not have to. She had not ridiculed him for crying, she had just held him close to her.

He sighed to himself, she had been through so much as a child. He knew from her thoughts that she had shied away from love ever since. Her father was the cause of it, he knew it. He was supposed to have loved her and he had treated her badly. He knew Ianthe was afraid to fall in love in case she got hurt again. He wished he could show her that love was not all bad.

His mother and father might have not had much time for him, but they had loved each other. He had always seen it in how they looked at each other, like they would never love another. He wondered if Ianthe would look at him like that, he wanted her to, even if it terrified him. He had never been in love, yet, he could not stop thinking about Ianthe.

She had cuddled into his arms when he had put them around her, his hand stroking her hair. If she could have seen into his mind at that moment, she would have known how scared he had been. He had been afraid of messing up, of doing the wrong thing. It had felt right for her to be in his arms, holding her against his bare chest. Her body felt as though it fit against his, as though she was his missing piece.

Kylo sighed again, he saw her every time he closed his eyes. He remembered how she looked when she played her violin, the serene expression that was always on her face. The smile that reached her eyes when she was happy. Her unusual eyes, blue with flecks of green surrounding the pupil. His lips brushing against her forehead as he told her she was not alone. He wondered what it would be like to brush his lips against hers, to kiss her.

He was afraid, if Snoke found out how he felt, he could hurt her. He might use her to get to him, to make him do anything. Kylo clenched his fist, he would not let Snoke hurt her, he would kill him if he had to. He would find a way to overcome it all, he would do it for her, even if Snoke killed him. He would protect Ianthe, no matter what the cost. He picked up his helmet, he had to see Ianthe, he had something he wanted to give to her.

A knock on the door made Ianthe jump, she hoped there was not an emergency that required her immediate attendance. She went to the door and almost started in surprise when she saw Kylo stood there. He removed his helmet as she opened the door and his lips twitched into a nervous smile. He had not been to her quarters since he stayed the night after he had been injured.

“Kylo, is everything all right?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course you can.”

Ianthe stepped back and she closed the door as Kylo entered her quarters. He heard music playing low in the background, he could just about make out the words. He recognised it as an old song his mother used to play whenever she missed his father. He wondered if she missed him, if she played the song for him instead of his father. He shook his head to disperse the memories that started flooding themselves into his mind, he missed her a lot sometimes.

“Are you all right?”

Ianthe's voice broke Kylo from his thoughts and he turned to face her.

“I'm fine.”

“I thought something might be wrong and that is why you are here.”

“No, that's not why I am here.”

Kylo had noticed that Ianthe's hair was damp, she must have been in the refresher. Her hair curled up when it was damp, he liked it. He noticed her blush as his eyes travelled over her face, he liked that too, it looked good on her. He moved his eyes back up to hers and he tried to swallow his nerves, what if she did not like his gift to her?

“So, why are you here?”

“I need to give you something, for helping me when I needed it.”

“You don't have to do that, really, helping people is what I do.”

“I know, but I want to.”

Ianthe caught the look on Kylo's face, he was nervous about giving her whatever he had got for her. She stood in front of him, looking up at him as he was a lot taller than her. His eyes showed just how nervous he was, he couldn't look at her. Ianthe placed her hand on Kylo's arm and he turned his head just enough to meet her eyes.

Kylo pushed down his nerves and he held out the silver chain to Ianthe, she carefully closed her hand around it and held it gently. He watched her as her fingers ran down the chain and over the blue crystal that resided in the little cage at the end of it.

“It's beautiful,” she whispered reverently.

“It's a kyber crystal, the one that made my first lightsaber.”

“Kylo, are you sure you want to give it to me? It must mean a lot to you as it was your very first crystal.”

“It does, I want you to have it, please keep it.”

Ianthe heard the pleading in Kylo's voice, there was something in the way he spoke, he wanted her to look after the crystal for him.

“Okay, I will keep it. I will look after it and keep it safe.”

The relief in Kylo's eyes was clear for Ianthe to see. She vowed to keep Kylo's kyber crystal safe in case there was ever a time he wanted it back. She held out the chain to him and he just stared at her, unsure of what she wanted.

“Put it on for me.”

Kylo watched as Ianthe turned around, she was waiting for him to put the necklace on her. She moved her hair to one side, giving him access to her neck. He fiddled with the clasp, his hands shaking slightly. He eventually got it undone and put the necklace on, his fingers brushing Ianthe's skin as he fastened the clasp once more.

Ianthe closed her eyes as Kylo's fingers brushed over her skin, they lingered for a few seconds longer and he moved them away. Her heart had skipped a few beats with him being so close to her. She felt the warmth coming from his body as he stood behind her, She wanted to turn and face Kylo, but she was nervous about doing so.

Kylo sensed how Ianthe felt about him being so close to her, she was nervous. He was relieved that she was not afraid of him, it felt good. She turned around a few seconds later, her eyes briefly locking onto his for a moment. He held her gaze and let it fall to his kyber crystal hanging around her neck. He had given it to her so she would keep it safe. The crystal was a part of himself that he had tried to bury until Ianthe had come into his life.

He was lost in thought until he felt Ianthe move closer to him and her lips brush gently against his cheek. His hand immediately went to where she had kissed him, it was warm to the touch. Kylo stared at Ianthe, nobody had ever done that to him before. She moved closer to him once more and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting against his chest. He slowly closed his arms around her and rested his head against hers.

Ianthe closed her eyes as Kylo held her against him, she felt comfortable and happy. She had found the courage to kiss him on the cheek and she was happy that she had. He had just given her something that obviously meant a lot to him. Did that mean she meant a lot to him too? She listened to his heart, it was beating quickly, she wondered if he was nervous. She tilted her head slightly and realised that Kylo was looking down at her. Her eyes met his and she smiled at him.

Kylo felt his heart beat quicker as Ianthe looked into his eyes, he was unable to look away from her. He lifted his hand and brushed back a stray curl that had fell over her face. He heard her sigh happily as his fingers gently caressed her skin. Kylo bit his lip and, before he could talk himself out of it, pressed a chaste kiss to Ianthe's lips.

He heard the gasp of surprise Ianthe made at the touch of his lips on hers. He pulled away, thinking that he might have misread how she was feeling. Kylo felt his face start to burn with embarrassment. He felt he would never get over it if she did not feel the same. He unwound himself from her arms and put some distance between them. He felt better as he neared the door, he had a way of escaping should he need it.

Ianthe had been stunned that Kylo had made a move towards her, it was not an unwelcome move though. She slowly walked towards him so as not to make him back further away from her.

“Kylo,” she said softly.

He did not answer her, but she knew he was listening.

“It's okay, I'm not upset or mad at you.”

He still didn't answer, merely looked at the floor to hide his blush. She put her hand on his arm and lightly stroked it.

“Kylo, please look at me.”

He slowly lifted his head, his eyes begging her not to reject him.

“Come with me.”

She took his hand and led him to the couch in the corner of the room. She sat next to him and she linked her fingers with his. She used her free hand to carefully run a finger down his cheek. Kylo closed his eyes as her fingers explored the contours of his face. She watched him intently as he relaxed into her touch.

“Ianthe,” she heard him whisper quietly.

The way he had just said her name sent shivers down Ianthe's spine, she moved closer to him until they were just inches apart. She felt his breath on her lips as she closed the gap between them and touched her lips to his. She kept the kiss gentle and slow until Kylo responded, his lips moving against hers. She moved her hands up his arms until they settled at the back of his neck, her fingers almost touching his black curls.

Kylo wrapped his arms around Ianthe's waist as he kissed her. He felt her fingers run into his hair and tangle in his curls. He slowly moved away from the kiss and looked into Ianthe's eyes, she smiled at him and he found himself smiling back. He held her close to him, breathing in her scent and remembering how her lips felt on his.

Ianthe found herself growing sleepy as Kylo held her, his fingers trailing through her damp hair. A yawn escaped her as the movement of his fingers relaxed her. She moved closer to his warmth and rested her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, being in Kylo's arms felt so right. His fingers gently caressed the skin of her face and down to her neck. She was happy to be with him.

“You should sleep,” she heard him say quietly.

He slowly stood up and offered her his hand, she slipped her hand into his and let him walk her towards the bed. He pulled back the covers for her and she climbed into her bed. She looked up at Kylo as he stood by her bed. She bit lip slightly, could she ask him to stay with her? She took a few breaths and then she decided to ask him.

“Kylo?”

“Yes.”

“Will you stay, please?”

Kylo was stunned, she had asked him to stay with her, in her bed. He nodded his agreement and started removing his robes until he was just left in his trousers. He slowly crept into her bed and lay on his back. He felt her move and cuddle up to him, her arm resting at his waist. He closed his arms around her and brushed his hand over her hair. She cuddled closer into him, he noted the small smile that graced her lips. She yawned again and he kissed her forehead.

“Goodnight, Ianthe.”

“Goodnight Kylo,” she whispered.

He watched her as her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing relaxed. He watched her as she fell asleep in his arms. He closed his eyes, he was right where he was supposed to be.