#judge suriel

[the--grin--reaper]

This has no right to be so cool and hot at the same time

[olenvasynyt]

“It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without their homes of their own as well.”

I really need to talk about this, and the fight Feyre and Lucien have in ACOFAS in general because Feyre is so wildly frustrating during this whole conversation, and I want to delve into it line by line.

So this is when Lucien arrives for the Winter Solstice.  Elain has left the room and the argument him and Feyre have begins with Feyre saying he should live in Velaris.

Chapter 18 of ACOFAS: “‘You could come live here, is all I’m saying,’ I pushed.  ‘Truly live here, stay in Velaris for longer than a few days at a time.  We could get you nicer quarters—‘ Lucien got to his feet.  ‘I don’t need your charity.’”

First issue that isn’t a huge deal but “nicer quarters”?  Not a home, just quarters, an allowance, a charity, as Lucien says here?

And it just keeps going downhill, because when he explains that he is getting along with Vassa and Jurian just fine, she is almost taken aback and shows a bit of jealousy.  Her biases are really starting to show as well as her lack of self-awareness.

I rose as well.  ‘But Jurian and Vassa’s is fine?’ ‘You’d be surprised to see how well the three of us get along.’ Friends, I realized.  They had somehow become his friends.  ‘So you would rather stay with them?’ ‘I’m not staying with them.  The manor is ours.’” ‘Interesting.’ His golden eye whirred.  ‘What is.’ Not feeling very festive at all, I said sharply, ‘That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae.  If you ask me—' ‘I’m not.’ ‘It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without their homes of their own as well.’”

She lashes out and basically says that the Night Court isn’t Lucien’s home.  

This part is so awful to me for multiple reasons. Now, there is the critique of Lucien having prejudices towards humans in ACOTAR.  That is probably the only critique I will accept, he was an ass in the first book; the way he talked about humans negatively impacted Feyre.  And this could be applied to Eyre’s side of this argument, Feyre could be like “huh you’re friends with humans now, that’s interesting.  You always shat on humans before.”

But I do not think this can be applied to this argument because 1. Feyre, after her change to High Fae, is more comfortable with Fae than with humans, we can see this in ACOMAF, she does not like eating human food, she is hyperaware of all of the differences between being fae and being human.

and 2. Feyre and Lucien have had a conversation about the human war in ACOWAR.  Lucien said he would have fought for the humans if he was alive during the War:

Chapter 3 of ACOWAR: “‘If you’d been alive for the War, would you have fought on their side?  Or fought for the humans?’ ‘I would have been a part of the human-Fae alliance.’ ‘Even if your father wasn’t?’ ‘Especially if my father wasn’t.’”

Maybe he has had some prejudices against humans before but he does explain he would fight for their freedom, he talks about how he disliked their alliance with Hybern.  I always viewed his comments on humans in the first book as him directing his anger and frustration with Feyre and not his idea of humans in general.  He did not like Feyre for killing Andras and he had very little hope when it came to the curse. And after Lucien sends Feyre to capture the Suriel and almost gets her killed, he feels guilty and is also like “Feyre…I thought you would be more mad at me for this” and she is like “nah I get it, I killed your friend.”

Chapter 18 of ACOTAR: “‘You can’t possibly forgive me that easily for sending you into danger.’ ‘No.  And part of me would like nothing more than to wallop you for your lack of warning about the Suriel.  But I understand: I am a human who killed your friend, who now lives in your house, and you have to deal with me.  I understand.’"

People shit on Lucien for that moment but this was when he finally realized who Feyre actually is.  He realizes his mistake in judging Feyre and apologizes.  And this is when their friendship starts to truly develop.  

"‘Tam told me that your first shot was to save the Suriel’s life.  Not your own.’ ‘It seemed like the right thing to do.’ The look he gave me was more contemplative than any he’d give me before.  ‘I know far too many High Fae and lesser faeries who wouldn’t have seen it that way—or bothered.’”

And 3. also he met Vassa, Jurian and Feyre’s father and other humans during his mission to find Vassa and an army.

So him having past prejudices towards humans should not and is not Feyre’s issue with him being friends with Vassa and Jurian.    Feyre does not bring that up to him or imply it in her inner dialogue.  It seems like her issue is Lucien found friends outside of the Night Court.

“Friends, I realized.  They had somehow become his friends.  ‘So you would rather stay with them?’”

She almost sounds like she is jealous or confused.  “You would rather stay with them and not with me and the IC?”  It’s almost like she’s thinking “why don’t you love the IC and the Night Court as much as I do?” which is so ironic to me and lacking any self-awareness! You should know why he doesn’t like going to the NC, Feyre. He explains it after this moment in the conversation. 

And I will get to that point later, I want to go in order because Feyre just keeps going downhill:

After Feyre implies that Lucien doesn’t have a home, Lucien then makes a boundary.  

“Lucien stared at me, long and hard.  ‘Happy Solstice to you, Feyre.’”

He is saying, “I am done with this conversation, I do not want to talk to you anymore, I am leaving.”  

“He turned toward the foyer, but I grabbed his arm to halt him.  The corded muscle of his forearm shirted beneath the fine silk of the sapphire jacket, but he made no move to shake me off.  ‘I didn’t mean that.  You have a home here.  If you want it.’”

And Feyre does try to apologize and correct herself because she knows she was wrong for basically implying he doesn’t have a home but she is cutting over this line Lucien drew.  You can tell Lucien does not like it when she grabs him and forces him to stop leaving.

He does not want to talk to her about this, and for good reason because when he is like “alright I will continue this conversation” and begins to explain to her the Band of Exiles, she interrupts him, dismisses him, makes fun of him.  

“Lucien studied the sitting room, the foyer beyond and the dining room on its other side.  ‘The Band of Exiles.’ ‘The what?’ ‘That’s what we call ourselves.  The Band of Exiles.’ ‘You have a name for yourselves.’  I fought my incredulous tone. He nodded.  ‘Jurian isn’t an exile.’ Vassa, yes.  Lucien, two times over now. ‘He can call himself whatever he likes.’ But I asked, ‘and what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do?  Host events?  Organize party planning committees?’”

Frustration 1 with her saying, “what is the band of exiles planning to do?  Organize party planning committees?” Two pages ago there was a whole conversation and inner dialogue about how there has been no governing in the southern human lands and that Vassa and Jurian have a vision for the future and want to change, they are planning to actually do something for the humans and the land you used to live in as a human.

“[Vassa and Jurian] both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian.  Left ungoverned for so long.  Far too long. “‘Mercifully, their vision for the future of the human territories is mostly aligned.’”

and frustration 2. He was trying to explain to you his genuine feelings and struggles!

“I made friends who have something in common with me, who appreciate me,” and she interrupts him and she makes fun of him for it!  It sucks!

The Band of Exiles is a stupid name, I love Lucien but I do cringe whenever I hear that name.  And they have always had this back-and-forth banter and crude jokes with each other, but this is a terrible moment to joke around because Lucien is trying to explain his feelings and his reasons, but she’s just being dismissive.

Also another point: her looking down at him for having a group name.  She also has a group name with her friends.  The Court of Dreams, the Inner Circle.  And those aren’t any less cheesy, y'all, I’m sorry, I said it. 🤷‍♀️

Another thing that is so goddamn frustrating to me is he is like “these are all the reasons why I don’t like being in the Night Court.”  1. He can’t stand to be in the same room as Elain, he is upset that she is avoiding him.  2. He doesn’t like getting charity from her and Rhys.  And 3. he also hates how Feyre and Rhys ruined his chance of going back to the Spring Court because of the way she used him to get revenge, and the way Rhys acted with Tamlin when he visits.

“‘I don’t have anywhere else to go.  You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring.  Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house.  Everyone either believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit.’  ‘I can’t stand to be in the same room as [Elain] for more than two minutes.  I can’t stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back…' ‘…Tamlin sent it to our manor yesterday.  My clothes.  My belongings.  All of it.’”

And Feyre acknowledges this.  But she doesn’t feel guilty despite seeing how upset it made Lucien, how it so negatively impacted him.

“‘But the blame for that behavior was not on Tamlin’s shoulders alone.  I’d created that rift.  Ripped it apart with my own two hands. I didn’t quite feel guilty enough to warrant apologizing for it.  Not yet.  Possibly not ever.”

She can still hold resentment towards Tamlin but why can’t she apologize for how it affects Lucien?  I really dislike Feyre and Rhys because of this, and regardless of this making them look inconsiderate and thoughtless, I think this makes her and Rhys look like bad rulers.  Lucien is like, "this affected me negatively, but it’s also going to affect you.  And probably Prythian.  This was a bad call on your part."

“‘Why?’ ‘Perhaps it had something to do with your mate’s visit the other day.’ ‘Rhys didn’t involve you in that.’ ‘He might as well have…your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male.’ ‘I can’t say I’m particularly sorry that he did.’ ‘You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled.  Tread carefully.’ “I didn’t want to think about it, consider it, today.  Any day.”

Feyre just dismisses it.  She does not want to consider what Lucien is saying.  

The one thing I will sort of applaud Feyre for is when she tells Elain that Lucien is a good male after he leaves.

“‘He brought you a present.’ ‘And that entitles him to my time, my affections?’ ‘No.  But he is a good male.’  Despite our harsh words.  Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit.  ‘He cares for you.’”

However, she is lashing out at Elain because she’s frustrated with the conversation she just had and is upset that she was in the wrong.  

“I know I wasn’t truly angry with her, not angry at anyone but myself, but I said, ‘You couldn’t say a single word to him?  A pleasant greeting?’”

Feyre is misdirecting because she does not want to think about her mistakes.

I have some issues with Elain, it’s very true that she doesn’t owe anything to Lucien just because she’s his mate, I think it would be better for her to stop avoiding Lucien and actually say her feelings.  But I’m talking about Feyre in this video, I can make a Lucien and Elain video later.

I don’t know, Feyre has really gone downhill for me after ACOWAR.  You can still like her but I know I’m not the only one who dislikes her now and Feyre’s mistakes and biases and the way she hurts people cannot be ignored.  

Idk what else to say besides Lucien. Deserves. Better.

[rosanna-writer]

Out of the Woods (1/3)

An AU that diverges from canon after Rhysand leaves a head spiked in the garden. Aware of the unsnapped mating bond and unwilling to get between another High Lord and his mate, Tamlin hands Feyre over to Rhysand. Panicked, shocked, and desperate, Rhys scrambles to gain Feyre’s trust, find her a hiding place, and cover his tracks before returning Under the Mountain. And then learns the hard way that Feyre Archeron can never leave well enough alone.

A huge thank you to @amnevitahwritesstuff for the beta read and encouragement, and to @thesistersarcheron for dropping a casual "huh I wonder what would have happened if Tamlin knew Feyre was Rhys's mate the whole time?" in my comments section like a year ago. And a happy @officialfeysandweek to everyone!

Some text is lifted directly from both A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Mist and Fury, and just a note that I've chosen not to use warnings for this fic.

Read the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the cut.

We'd been speaking of the blight, and Tamlin shot to his feet so quickly that for a moment, I thought I might have summoned it. His claws gleamed in the midday light as he snarled at the open doorway, canines elongating.

The house, usually so full of busy footsteps and servants chattering and so much life had gone silent.

The way the forest did when a raptor passed overhead.

And like a field mouse, I wanted to scurry under the table and tremble until it was safe to emerge. Or just start running and hope for the best. Lucien swore and drew his sword.

“Stand down,” Tamlin growled, all command. The voice of the High Lord. “He’s here to collect what’s his, and we will not stop him.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lucien hissed. “We’re not really going to—”

“No one will ally with us if we try to stop him. You know the laws.”

Lucien sheathed his sword, even as the baldric of long, serrated blades appeared from thin air across Tamlin’s chest. I snatched one of the knives from the table, and neither one of them made any attempt to stop me.

Perhaps because a measly steak knife would do no good against whoever was coming. Someone awful enough to frighten them, even as Tamlin slouched in his seat and picked at his nails in a vain attempt at looking unaffected.

They hadn’t been like this with the Attor. Or the naga or the Suriel or the Bogge. My grip tightened around the knife.

Footsteps sounded from the hall. Even, strolling, casual.

Tamlin continued cleaning his nails, and Lucien sat down, tension radiating off his body. He’d curled his hands into fists and bent his knees like he was ready to fight or flee a moment’s notice.

The footsteps grew louder—the scuff of boots on marble tiles.

And then he appeared.

No mask. He, like the Attor, belonged to something else. Some one else.

And worse…I’d met him before. He’d saved me from those three faeries on Fire Night.

With steps that were too graceful, too feline, he approached the dining table and stopped a few yards from the High Lord. He was exactly as I remembered him, with his fine, rich clothing cloaked in tendrils of night: an ebony tunic brocaded with gold and silver, dark pants, and black boots that went to his knees. I’d never dared to paint him—and now knew I would never have the nerve to.

He stopped in the doorway and stared and stared at me. For a moment, I could’ve sworn pure shock flashed across his features, but the look he leveled at me was pure predator. As if I were nothing more than prey to him.

“I remember you. It seems you ignored my warning to stay out of trouble,” he purred, like a cat playing with its dinner. He turned to Tamlin. “Who’s your guest?”

“Feyre Archeron,” Tamlin said. He said my name with a heavy finality, like a judge delivering a death sentence.

“Did you really just give that— that bastard her name? Lucien cried.

“Names have power. It’s Rhysand’s right,” Tamlin said.

I braced myself for an attack—slashing talons, snarling and growling. But Rhysand just laughed—a lover’s laugh, low and soft and intimate. A shiver skittered down my spine.

“A bastard? Is that really something you ought to call a High Lord of Prythian?” he said.

My heart stopped dead. This High Lord, with darkness rippling from him and violet eyes that burned like stars, could only belong to one place.

The High Lord of the Night Court had come to Spring.

With the hand that wasn’t holding the knife, I gripped the table as my knees threatened to buckle under me. Rhysand’s eyes slid to me, and his perfectly shaped lips twitched for just a moment.

But Lucien was undeterred. “This isn’t the Night Court—you have no power here. So scurry back to Amarantha’s bed where you belong.”

“Enough. If you can’t behave yourself, leave us, Lucien,” Tamlin said.

Lucien moved slowly, as if he were fighting the High Lord every step of the way. I’d never seen such anger smoldering in his expression. Rage and, if I wasn’t mistaken, a hint of betrayal.

But he obeyed. And cast one last apologetic look at me before the dining room door shut behind him. Something told me I’d just lost my only ally.

I tried not to tremble at the thought.

Tamlin turned back to Rhysand. “My apologies, High Lord. The Spring Court wants no quarrel with Night, and we won’t keep you from taking what’s rightfully yours.”

“She’ll be pleased to see the brutal war-band leader finally learned his manners. And just in time for you to join the rest of us.”

“I’m obeying the old laws, nothing more and nothing less,” Tamlin said tightly.

“Now?” Rhysand said, arching elegant, groomed brow. “They’ve been dead for centuries. I don’t see what would cause a change of that stone heart of yours after all this time.”

“What are you talking about? I burned them when— Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you?” Tamlin barked a humorless laugh, the harshest sound I’d ever heard him make.

Rhysand’s face became a mask of calm fury—terrible, fearsome, and heartbreakingly beautiful—as he stalked towards the High Lord of Spring. Tamlin raised his claws but made no other move to attack. I nearly ducked under the table to shield myself from whatever was coming, but I didn’t dare so much as breathe.

“Explain yourself.”

“I hardly believed it myself when Lucien told me he saw the mating bond—a High Lord and a human girl are far from equally matched. The clever magic of his mechanical eye doesn’t lie, but I thought it was a trick nonetheless. You and your mistress, forcing me into a war with the Night Court if I dared attempt to save my lands.”

I’d hoped they’d both forget I was there, but Rhysand turned and stared at me again. Really looked, as if he were searching for answers written in my eyes, my face, my body.

I raised the knife, though I knew he’d kill me long before I could bury it in his chest.

An invisible, talon-tipped hand pressed its way into my mind. I couldn’t move. Against my own volition, my muscles went taut, and the knife dropped from my hand and clattered against the floor.

One swipe of those mental claws and who I was would cease to exist. And I could feel them rooting around in my mind, flipping through my thoughts and memories like the pages of a book. Everything laid bare to him, no matter how private or personal.

I would have vomited if I had enough control over my body to do so.

“Leave, Rhys,” Tamlin said. “You can do this elsewhere.”

It wasn’t—I noted—a plea for Rhysand to release the magic binding me. No, Tamlin hadn’t lifted a finger. Perhaps I meant so little to him that he’d hand me over to appease a monster. Perhaps…he hadn’t cared, after all.

I would have whimpered at the thought if I’d had the freedom to draw breath. But even my heart only beat as Rhysand willed it.

“Tell me who she is,” Rhysand demanded, a slight frantic edge to his voice. The first crack in his cool demeanor.

“Feyre Archeron is your mate.”

The talons in my mind stilled but did not release their hold on me, and Rhysand’s eyes widened in pure shock. Tamlin grinned wolfishly.

Like he’d just delivered devastating news to his worst enemy.

I heard Rhysand’s voice inside my head, far softer and gentler than anything he’d said aloud. If I’d been able to move, the sound would have stopped my trembling.

Has he hurt you at all? You can be honest with me, love.

No. If anything, he’s protected me.

I felt a rush of relief—Rhysand’s relief, not my own. Whether he’d deliberately shared it with me or it had just traveled along some sort of connection between us, I couldn’t say.

Those invisible claws caressed my mind, then pulled out gingerly and vanished. My knees finally gave out, but Rhys moved with inhuman speed and caught me by the shoulders before I could sink all the way to the floor.

He hooked his other arm under my legs, cradling me against his chest. Too overwhelmed to fight, I merely tried not to sob or scream. Rhysand had seen everything—I hadn’t known it was possible to be violated so deeply in my own mind.

And yet, I had the strangest urge to bury my face in the crook of his neck.

“We’re finished here,” Rhysand said coldly. “Needless to say, if you breathe a word about her to Amarantha when we meet again, I’ll reduce your court to ash and skin your pelt for fur-lined mittens.”

He sounded like he’d go to war over me. I could barely understand it—faeries looked down on mortals, and a human girl should have been far below a High Lord’s notice.

But Tamlin had called me Rhysand’s mate. A bond so deep, it made even marriage seem insignificant in comparison, he’d once said. But plenty of husbands considered their wives little more than property—and I had no doubt Rhysand guarded his belongings jealously.

If I was no more than a thing to him, then perhaps I was a valuable one, at least.

“I have no desire to see Feyre harmed, either,” Tamlin said, though he didn’t even get up from his seat. “Take care of her.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “I’ll see you Under the Mountain.”

And with that, he carried me into the void between worlds, like a bride over a threshold.

***

We emerged in a wood. Somewhere I could feel in my bones was older—more aware—than anywhere in the Spring Court. The Night Court, perhaps. But I wondered if we’d left Prythian entirely.

“I’m sorry,” Rhysand said, before I could ask. “Fuck. I am, so so sorry.”

“Put me down. Please,” I said.

I’d almost expected him not to, but he did, moving slowly and bracing an arm behind my shoulders until I was steady on my feet. Then he stepped back and left a healthy distance between us.

His violet eyes had gone wide and wild. Desperate.

And yet…when he spoke again, his tone gentled, as if I were the feral creature that might bolt or lash out at any moment. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I believed him. But nothing else made a lick of sense, and I’d never known a forest as quiet as the one where we stood. No birdsong, no distant breaking branches, no hum of insects. It set my teeth on edge.

“Then what do you want with me?”

“My first priority is keeping you alive. There is quite a lot you don’t understand and very little time to explain. So…may I?”

The invisible talons hovered at the edge of my mind but did not pierce it. Rhysand looked at me expectantly.

The silence between us stretched on and on. But those talons did not encroach any closer. I waited to feel them slashing through the very core of myself, but…they never did.

He was waiting for permission, I realized. It set me at ease just enough to say, “Alright.”

A party, somewhere underground. A throng of fae dripping in finery—jewels, elaborate clothes, displays of wealth and power. The crowd parted, and my eyes landed on a surprisingly plain, redheaded female.

Amarantha. The woman I’d come here to kill tonight.

I gasped, realizing it had been a memory. That he had been the one intent on killing Amarantha.

Gods, hadn’t Lucien said that was the woman whose bed Rhysand warmed?

“It’s a painful memory, but one you need to see,” Rhysand said.

There was a gentle pressure against my palms. Caught up in the vision, I hadn’t realized I’d reached out and clasped his hands, and he’d squeezed back. I didn’t let go; the touch was…grounding.

It was a wonder my hands didn’t shake with rage as I plucked a glass of wine from a try proffered by a passing servant. How unfair—how monstrously unfair—that she sat here tonight in a gown of glittering rubies smiling and surrounded by sycophants, thriving and unpunished after all the lives she’d ended. The human slaves she’d killed, the soldiers she’d tortured in an attempt to break me…they all deserved justice.

I couldn’t wait to see her brain leaking out her nose.

But her mental shields were damned difficult to tunnel through. I slunk to a corner of the room, grateful for once that no one wanted to come make small talk with the High Lord of the Night Court. Breaking her defenses would take all of my mental concentration.

I didn’t bother listening to the speech as a toast. It was probably some utter bullshit about ushering in a new era of peace. No, I just kept digging, desperate for a way in. But to avoid arousing suspicion, I lifted my glass along with everyone else.

I sipped my wine and realized my mistake the second the bitter taste hit my tongue. Poison. The well of power I drew from, a vast sea of magic, began to drain away.

In the last few seconds my power was wholly my own, I wiped memories, flung out shields, and cried desperate mental warnings to my friends to stay away. And then it was done. I’d become her slave.

The memory faded, and when I came back to myself, I realized my nails were digging into Rhysand’s hands. He didn’t seem to notice or mind—his violet eyes bored into mine with single-minded intensity. “She intends to help the King of Hybern tear down the Wall and invade the mortal realm. Now do you realize the danger you’re in?”

I nodded weakly. “She’ll kill my family.”

“It gets worse,” he said, and the next memory sucked me under like a riptide.

Another party, a masquerade this time. I sat at Amarantha’s right side, and the lingering scent of what we’d done together in bed still clung to me. She hadn’t let me bathe—had wanted the smell clinging to me, marking me like a brand.

I might as well have attended the revel with a sign around my neck declaring me her whore. And if it continued to keep my court and my family safe, I’d endure a thousand more humiliations.

But I wasn’t the one she was most interested in that night. Tamlin had been foolish enough to slap her hand away when she’d tried to touch him. He should have known how badly that would enrage her.

“I’d sooner touch a human—sooner marry a human—than ever touch you,” he said, the fool. “Even your own sister preferred Jurian’s company to yours.”

The crowd tittered at that—some in shock, others in excited anticipation of the coming bloodshed. By bringing up Clythia, Tamlin might as well have been digging his own grave.

“You’re lucky I'm in a generous mood,” Amarantha drawled. Dangerous words. “I’ll give you a chance to break the spell that binds your power to me.”

Tamlin, the idiot, spat in her face. She laughed.

“I’ll give you seven times seven years before you join the rest of us Under the Mountain, my dear Tamlin. If you want to break the spell before then, you’ll have to find a human girl to marry you. And not just any girl, one with ice in her heart, willing to kill a faerie. Maybe after sending your sentries across the wall like lambs to slaughter, you’ll learn your lesson. Your courtship can only begin after she’s murdered one of your men in an unprovoked attack, killing for hatred alone. Perhaps then, you’ll understand my grief for my sister, and you’ll change your mind.”

This time, as the memory faded, another one pulled me in immediately.

In the dream, I saw a hand. A beautiful, human hand painting flowers on a table. Such a simple thing, but whoever she was, she was living in relative safety if she was painting something entirely ornamental. Something beautiful.

There was still hope.

I tried pushing back an image—the night sky. Stars and the moon. It had been so long since I’d seen an open sky, but the thought of it had kept me going for nearly fifty years. I wasn’t sure the human would receive it, but…I had to try.

“There’s more,” Rhysand said aloud, as the talons in my mind retreated again, “but that’s the gist of it. There isn’t time for me to explain the details right now.”

I just gaped at him as I tried to process all of it. The girl with ice in her heart had been me. But so had the painter from his dreams. His mate.

No wonder Tamlin had thought it was a trick—he’d known I was another male’s mate. Winning me would save his lands…only to earn the ire of the wicked Night Court.

Lucien’s words came back to me. The Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed.

But that was all due to Rhysand’s sacrifices. I didn’t quite understand what it meant to be mates, but I had his loyalty. That might be enough to keep me alive. And I needed to get a warning to my family, a message to flee to the Continent before Amarantha made it below the Wall.

I straightened my spine. “What are you planning?”

“To fake your death. Enough people have seen you that I’m sure word of your existence will get to her eventually. When I go back Under the Mountain, I’ll say you fled for the Wall and were eaten by some creature before you could make it home.”

As sound a strategy as any, I supposed. He’d need evidence if it was going to work. My blood, perhaps. Locks of my hair, torn up clothes with my scent still clinging to them. Anything to fake a struggle.

“I don’t know what happened to the body that belonged to the head you left in the garden,” I said, reaching for the buttons at my collar, “but if you’re in need of a mangled corpse, a faerie bled out in the manor after Amarantha took his wings. Tamlin buried him nearby.”

I slipped off my tunic, leaving me in just my pants and the thin undershirt I wore beneath it. And despite the gruesome turn the conversation had taken, I watched Rhysand’s eyes trail down towards my chest, then very quickly back up to my face.

Pig.

Rhys laughed—a real one, I realized, not the affected one meant to intimidate that I’d heard in the dining room. It might have been the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. “Oh, most definitely. But you didn’t have to think it quite so loudly.”

I tossed the tunic at his face, and he caught it handily. In an elegant movement that spoke to refined manners, he folded it over his arm like a dinner jacket.

“If we’re faking my death, where am I to hide in the meantime?”

“Here, in the forest to the east of the sacred mountain Amarantha claimed as the seat of her court. Neutral territory. In this wood, there is no High Lord, and the law is made by who is strongest, meanest, most cunning. She does not dare touch these creatures or disturb this wood.”

If Amarantha wouldn’t set foot here, I shuddered to think what monsters lurked among these trees. Something far worse than the Bogge or the naga or even the Attor.

So much for thinking Rhysand wouldn’t throw me to the wolves.

“You won’t be entirely without help,” he said, sounding almost…affronted. If he had wings, they would have rustled. But he’d clearly been listening to my thoughts again, so I couldn’t help but scowl.

A tang of magic stung my nose. I shivered at the way the spell skittered along my skin, though there was something oddly familiar about it. Like I knew Rhys’s power.

I glanced down at my arm, which had become a blur of color, like I was made of half-mixed paint. When I tried to focus on a specific part—my fingers, my elbow—my attention merely bounced elsewhere. I’d seen something similar before.

“A glamour?” I guessed.

“The scraps of power at my disposal aren’t enough to completely glamour you, but you’re…camouflaged. Not entirely invisible, but the creatures here will pass you by as long as you don’t draw attention to yourself.”

I’d manage. Out of habit, I moved quietly through the woods anyway, intent on not scaring away any game. I knew how to keep myself hidden.

A pack appeared at my feet, laden with supplies. A small tent, some rope, a flint, a bedroll, a bandana, another set of clothes. The sort of things I would have killed for when I was hunting in the woods.

“There’s no knife—she limited my magic so I’m unable to summon weapons. And I can’t give you food, either. But this should be a start,” he said.

I picked up the pack and slung it over my shoulder. “Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know,” he said, face darkening. “She rarely lets any of us out from Under the Mountain. And give it a wide berth—get too close, and her sentries guarding the entrances will spot you.”

I’d be alone in the woods—besides the more fearsome creatures, it wasn’t all that different from my life below the Wall. And at least this time, there was only one mouth to feed.

“So is this…goodbye?” I said, hating the way my voice wavered.

“For now. If you stay in the forest, you’ll be close enough that I’ll be able to reach your mind. We can speak that way when I’m not…” He trailed off, but his wince and the memories he’d just shown me spoke volumes about whatever duties he carried out in Amarantha’s hellish court.

“And you’ll answer my questions?” There was so much I needed to know.

“I won’t keep secrets from you, especially not after rifling through your mind earlier. I’m sorry for the harm it caused.”

Something told me Rhysand didn’t apologize very often. That he’d bothered, with time running so short…

“Thank you,” I said with a nod. “You should go.”

My jacket was still folded over his arm. He lifted his other hand and started to reach towards me, then dropped it as if he’d thought better of it. His fingers curled into a fist at his side.

“I’ll find you again as soon as I can,” he said. It sounded like a vow.

His violet eyes held mine until he faded completely into mist. It was just me and the moss and gnarled trees and lichen. And somewhere…the unholy creatures that called this place home.

Day after day, I’d survived and kept my family alive by stepping into the trees and putting my feelings aside. Without even a sigh, I set off to find somewhere to camp.

[jazzy-kandra]

1. Ozriel, the Reaper of Worlds;

2. Suriel, the Phoenix

First set of Judge sketches, complete...for now, at least.

[damedechance]

» read on ao3 (1/4) » listen to playlist

Pairing: Feysand

Rating: E (gratuitous smut)

Summary: Feyre Archeron never considered herself to be particularly studious, but that all might have to change when she sets eyes on her new biology professor. Only, he looks strangely familiar. But it's just a coincidence. Isn't it?

read snippet below:

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

intro_to_biology_lec1.pptx

Feyre leaned over and tugged on Lucien’s sleeve. She hissed into his ear, “Who the fuck is that?”

He looked at her, one eyebrow lifted. “Our professor,” he whispered back, voice dripping with condescension.

“No shit,” Feyre said. She let go of his sleeve, and twisted back around in her seat so that she could watch as the professor walked across the stage and back towards the podium, where his bag rested on the floor.

He was their professor, sure, but he definitely wasn’t Professor Suriel. Feyre scrambled for the syllabus she had shoved aside earlier, mind so scrambled that it took her far longer to locate it than it should have. And once she finally did get her hands on it, the pages became crumpled and wrinkled beneath her grip.

She scanned the page, and found the name: Rhysand Sterling, PhD. Associate Professor.

She dropped the paper back down, eyes flicking between the text on the page in front of her and the man on the stage. He was still digging through his bag.

Feyre opened her tablet back up again, and started a blank project.

Beside her, Lucien snorted. “Now you’ll start taking notes?”

Feyre shushed him. “Shut up, I’m trying to pay attention.”

“He isn’t saying anything.” With a final shake of his head, Lucien went back to his laptop, where he had pulled up a window so that he could continue texting Elain while under the guise of taking notes. But who was she to judge? She was doing the same thing.

Instead of jotting down notes, Feyre began to sketch his hands.

The professor muttered from the front of the room, “Hang on, class. It’s here somewhere.”

Something touched the corner of her lip, and Feyre flinched, pulling herself away from Lucien. His hand was still outstretched, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

“What are you doing?” she growled.

“You were drooling,” he said simply, shrugging. He put his hand back down.

“I was not,” Feyre returned indignantly.

“I’ve been looking for…” Professor Sterling trailed off. Clearly, he was preoccupied.

“Definitely were,” Lucien said with a grin.

Feyre shoved him. “Ass–”

“You.”

The professor’s voice was sharper, now. Loud, as he projected it across the lecture hall, and Feyre’s eyes immediately shot up to find that her worst fears were true.

That piercing gaze was focused entirely on her.

[lyssq]

Imagine how the other divisions see the Reapers. Like you’re a mid-level Phoenix and Suriel’s pretty nice but she’s a Judge and your boss and she’s not talking to you unless it’s to give orders. Then one day you visit the Grave for whatever reason and find the Reapers all playing monopoly with Ozriel. The girl with the swords just stabbed him because he landed on her property and the one with the scary arm is trying to steal his money while he’s distracted. You turn back around and decide to come back later.

[kingsonne-zedecks]

Elder Whisper Cradlepost

I want to talk about Elder Whisper, because out of almost anything in Cradle I feel like Whisper had the most potential that wasn't met.

Will has talked a bit about his writing process, how he'll leave himself threads that he might not know exactly what he's going to do with, but gives himself the option to pick up later.

(Which, as an aside is a pretty great piece of writing advice. Not all foreshadowing has to be planned out like a massive scheme. Calling back to something you prepared earlier without knowing where it was going to go will read like well thought out foreshadowing all the same)

Now, we know that sometimes this doesn't pan out at all. Like Lindon grabbing those scripted stones from the Transcendent Ruins that Will had a rough idea for but later scrapped because the story went a different direction on. I really feel like Elder Whisper falls into this category, because pretty much everything about Whisper prior to Reaper hints at him being so much more than he ends up being.

In Unsouled he is getting glimpses of fate that reflect the actions of literal Judges of the Abidan. Like, Whisper can see that the Wandering Titan will destroy Sacred Valley, and he can tell that it might happen in a few years or it might happen in 30. The accelerated timeline was a direct result of the interference in fate of both Suriel and Ozriel, and the resulting machinations of Makiel to try to restore fate.

And Whisper could see it.

Now. The Doylist explanation is that Will hadn't nailed down Fate Reading and it's implications yet. But that opens things up to so much more when it comes to the Watsonian explanation. Why was Whisper able to see so much? When we get to the end of Bloodline, Why does Whisper know so much about the Dreadgods? At the beginning of Unsouled Markuth talks about the sins of the founder of the Wei, is he referring to the human's that Whisper taught? Or Whisper himself? How did Whisper keep open the soul space of a Sage for years after his death?

It gets me fired up. One of the popular theories is that Whisper is actually a retired Judge living under a powerful veil, potentially even The Fox. Which is a great theory and explains a lot of his abilities.

My other favorite is drawn from DaoistMystery's Wei Shi Lindon Arelius Sue on ao3, which is fantastic fic and worth reading even though it's unfinished. I've reread it many times and you should too

But DaoistMystery's Whisper is amazing. So much is hinted at and partially revealed. The idea of some consequence of the fight with Li Markuth that resulted in his ascendance. The idea of a soul oath that limited and bound him. Whisper as this former Sage or even Monarch bound down in his power to that of a Gold and then limited further by the suppression field down to Jade.

And then the idea of White Fox Madra having qualities similar to that of Blackflame, in that it has consequences on the mind. Whisper, who had achieved such heights in the Sacred Arts that his illusions could trick reality itself. To the point where even he can't tell the difference between his illusions and himself.

I love it, and I headcanon it hardcore, and I think that canon justifies it more than what canon actually states. Like, Whisper is fully aware of just how far the Sacred Arts go, he's even aware of ascension and some of what goes on in the Heavens, and you mean to tell me that he's just a Gold? No. He's a liar and Will just didn't have time and space to dedicate to the truth about Whisper, as the main plot moved away from him.

[vulpes-fennec]

Happy Day 3 of @sjmromanceweek!!!

Pairings mentioned: Nessian, Gwynlain, Rowaelin

I’m going to leave all the “Dear Suriel” parts a mystery to the readers hehe. You can read the regular text below the cut!

Dearest reader, if you did not have the pleasure of attending Nesta Archeron and Cassian’s mating ceremony last week, I feel sorry for you. But Suriel, I thought you were dead? Rest assured that death is merely the gateway from one realm to the next. 

Under the flower-bedecked temple by the flowing Sidra, Nesta and Cassian exchanged tender vows and offered each other sweet cake. Cynical readers may question the purpose of such extravagance. Is such formality necessary when two people already love each other, when they have already accepted their mating bond? This author posits a different question: why live, if we cannot find causes for celebration? 

But sending well wishes to the happy couple was not my sole reason for attending the mating ceremony. As we all know, there is nothing this author loves more than a scandal. It has become common knowledge that a singular stained glass necklace was offered to Elain Archeron, and then Gwyneth (Gwyn) Berdara last Winter Solstice by an errant Azriel Shadowsinger. I can only hope Mr. Shadowsinger’s future partner does not have the love language of gift-giving! 

Society, like a snarling, salivating hound, has hungered for an explosive resolution to this whole debacle. With both ladies attending the ceremony, has the other shoe finally dropped? 

Not in the way you may presume. For the gentle Kingslayer and the cheerful Valkyrie were spotted giving each other shy glances while walking down the aisle. After the luncheon, Gwyn sidled up to Elain with an innocent request to dance. As the rest of the party grew raucous over copious cups of wine, Elain gave Gwyn a tour of the peaceful River House garden, demurely clasping the priestess’s hand midway.  

Surprised, reader, by this budding romance? Not I. Miss Archeron spoke true of not wanting a male, and perhaps Miss Berdara will find solace in feminine intimacy as she ventures out of the library. 

Thanks to the revocation of Cassian’s Summer Court ban, the happy couple is currently soaking up the sun in a stunning overwater bungalow. Let us pray that the Illyrian general does not destroy yet another Summer Court dwelling with his…honeymoon activities. 

One can only assume that Nesta and Cassian had their hands full, as they did not pay a visit to the Adriata’s annual Turtle Days Festival. A shame! This author is particularly fond of turtles, for they are some of the longest lived creatures in the sea. Wise, yes, but also prone to chit chat like me. After all, life can get incredibly dull without gossip… 

There is nothing like the warm sun and ocean breeze to put one in the mood for love. Summer Court’s most eligible bachelor, Tarquin, was spotted with a pretty female at his side the entire time! 

As schoolgirls tearfully take down the posters of their handsome High Lord, several of them wrestle with the silver lining: perhaps one day, they may have a shot with him. For it appears he does not limit himself to the court ladies when it comes to relationships! Tarquin guided his companion down the art gallery, listened attentively to her input while judging the seafood bisque contest, and tore up the dance floor with quadrille after quadrille. The two looked positively over the moon as they stole away to a secluded beach for an evening swim in the warm summer sea. 

Enjoy the honeymoon phase, young lovers! This mystery lady is certainly a lucky one, for the high lord of summer is working hard to ensure all fae are elevated to equal status in his court. For workaholics everywhere, this is a sign: perhaps finding love is the quickest way to make you all take a break.

Across the worlds, Her Majesty Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius (a mouthful of a name!) and Prince Rowan Whitethorn have retreated to the royal summer estate on a much-delayed honeymoon.

While much of the estate has fallen into disrepair over the years, the remaining locals did their best to fend off looters and even buried the late prince and princess in the estate gardens. 

Queen Aelin is renowned for her love of luxury, but one can imagine that peace and quiet are of higher priority on her honeymoon. The opportunity to retreat from the hubbub of court should not be taken for granted, and I fully expect the couple to make the most of their privacy. 

Perhaps revisiting this once-beloved home and forging new memories is the final piece of healing needed for the young queen. This author does affirm Prince Rhoe and Princess Evalin were contentedly watching over the newlyweds from their garden bench. That is, before that pesky dog Fleetfoot decided to charge at me, snapping at my robes! All right, all right. This author will leave the happy family be. 

Dear Suriel, I am thinking of proposing to my girlfriend. Marriages, engagements, most of all love…these are foreign to us Ironteeth witches. So I have been doing my research: I’ll need to procure a diamond ring, take her to an upscale dining establishment, plan a fun sedentary activity for afterwards, say a sappy speech, and get down on one knee. But I am worried she will decline because this may be a long-distance marriage (we have duties to our respective queendoms). Respectfully, Abraxos’s Mom. 

Dear Abraxos’s Mom, I am honored you consider me the expert in marriage proposals. I commend your commitment to researching an unknown area, but I am sure your darling would find more meaning in a personalized proposal over an expensive (and sometimes gaudy) one. I suggest finding a ring that will, most importantly, fit. I also recommend focusing on her favorite dishes, rather than expensive fine-dining. Speeches are not a must before the fateful words “will you marry me,” but if the moment calls for it, opt for genuine words over spouting poetry. Wishing you luck!  

Win a free honeymoon trip to Terrasen National Forest! A three-night stay at the Peregrine Resort, complete with deer park, Kingsflame meadows, Staghorn mountains aerial tramway, spa, and fine dining vouchers for two! 

Erilea residents only. Submit your wedding invitation and the story of how you met your partner to Terrasen Parks Service before Beltane Eve.

[ae-neon]

This Fandom Is Changing For The Better (ft naked Tamlin at the end)

Back when I first started posting anti stuff I got a wave of hate that I thought was pretty normal until other people pointed out it wasn't. That's because instead of just the usual anti IC or anti Feysand stuff I was also being really blunt in my anti Nessian takes.

Back then people used to DM or anon ask me to tell me they didn't always agree but they liked this or that point but didn't wanna say anything cause of stans harassment

Now? They comment and reblog and I see so much more slander it's great.

I'm not saying this is me or this is what I did or something stupid like that. I'm just saying that things are different and it's great.

Once the anti side moves past constantly being on the defensive by pointing out how in canon we're literally just right?! Then we'll be able to have more fun.

Less think pieces and more:

imagine if the Suriel was Mama Archeron???

here's fanart of butt booty naked Tamlin covered in baby oil (I AM BEGGING)

What if Illyrians were centaurs

What if Alis was a Hybernian spy????

Here's Nesta and Amren wizard dueling

(Edit: by fandom I mean the anti side. Idgaf bout what the other side is doing. I don't hate them at all but I'm not crying for reconciliation)

The title was click bait but now you owe me naked Tamlin if you're a fan artist 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also send me you ACOTAR DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT anon takes or DM. I won't judge I just neeeed to know

[climbthemountain2020]

Hope of Spring - Chapter 16

Find also on Ao3 :)

Chapter 15 can be found here!

When Penny woke, she tried to sit up in bed like it was any other morning, and immediately yelped when a twisting pain wound its way through her entire body.

“Jesus!” She fell back to the bed gasping for air. “What the fuck?” The events of the past day came back to her just as Tamlin shot up in the bed beside her. Judging by the deep golden light slanting through the windows, it was early evening. How long had she been asleep?

“Penny–you’re okay?” His voice was hoarse with sleep and emotion. He scrambled to pull her into his arms and she fought the pain to hold him close. She was so sure yesterday she had lost him. So sure she’d seen the light blink out of his eyes–those eyes she loved so much–for the final time. The thought alone sucked all the breath from her lungs and she instinctively reached within to feel for that golden cord, only to find it tight and thrumming gently, but tethered this time. The end of the bond reached all the way to Tamlin, pulled and bright and glowing. Her eyes shot to his.

“You know?”

“I know. Why didn’t you tell me? It snapped when you crested the hill onto the battlefield. I felt every bit of your pain; it nearly ripped me to pieces.” He sucked in a shuddering breath, pressing her to his chest. “It snapped, and I was so scared that I was going to have to watch you die.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.” Penny sobbed, unaware she’d even begun to cry.

“Nothing could pry me away from you, Penny. Nothing.” He pressed kiss after kiss, desperately almost, to the crown of her head. “I love you. I love you so certainly that the bond didn’t even matter to me. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone.” He breathed, pulling her into his lap and breathing deeply at her neck.

She cried, gripping his shirt as though it were all that was keeping her tethered to this realm. “I was so scared it would all be a dream. The suriel told me I’d died, and I was so scared–”

“The suriel? When did you meet a suriel?” Penny laughed wetly.

“In the Night Court; it doesn’t matter. They told me I died in my world. A fire. Then I landed here. When I felt the flames, I thought that this had all been a dream. I thought I would never see you again.” She cried. In pain and exhausted, she sagged against his chest.

He leaned back, pulling her with him, moving his hand in soft strokes along her back. “It’s okay. We’re okay. You almost burnt out, Penny. That’s what you felt. That’s why you’re hurting. You have no magic right now. You’ve been here recovering for three days.”

“Three days? What of the battle? Is everyone okay?” She shot up with another grunt of pain, and he gently pulled her back to him.

“We’re okay. No casualties from the Night Court; mostly they came from Autumn. We lost some of the foot soldiers from the towns…” He added quietly. “They came so quickly. We had no idea. No time.” He looked haunted.

“I had a vision. We came immediately, but it had already begun.”

“If the Night Court hadn’t arrived when it did with reinforcements, Spring would not have made it. You saved many lives, Penny.” She buried her face in his chest, memorizing the smell of him that she’d been scared she’d never scent again. She could feel the tears returning with a vengeance at the thought of losing him.

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?” She whispered against his chest.

“Penny, no.” He pulled a hand through her hair. “But is there a reason you didn’t?” She could tell what he was asking. Did you not want this?

“It only happened just before I left for Night. The bond snapped after that first night together. When you didn’t say anything, I guessed it hadn’t snapped for you. I know how you felt that the bond trapped your mother–ruined her entire life. I just didn’t want you to feel like you were sworn to this. I hoped if it happened organically then you could have the space and privacy to decide what you wanted. I only ever wanted to give you the choice.”

Tamlin’s fingers found her chin, tilting it up gently to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“No piece of information has ever been more wanted by me than this.” He whispered into her mouth. She laughed softly against his shoulder.

“You want this? You want me?” She hated to ask–hated how much she needed to hear the answer.

“Forever,” he confirmed. Her heart leapt with the confirmation. He was hers. She was his. This wasn’t a dream coming to an end. This was a whole life of possibilities ahead. This was the life Feyre had told her she might still have. For the first time, maybe ever, Penny began to allow herself to dream as she closed her eyes and kissed him.

A knock resounded through the big wooden doors of the bedroom. Tamlin growled lowly but shifted out of the bed to answer it. As soon as he opened the doors, Lucien jumped in.

“Penny, you’re up! Everyone has been so worried. I’ll let them know–” He stopped, looking between the two of them, sniffing the air. “Cauldron, it’s about time you two idiots figured it out.”

Tamlin didn’t even try to pull the snarl back this time. “Don’t even look at her, Lucien, I swear on the gods.” Lucien cackled and put his hands up in a pacifying gesture.

“No worries there. I’ll let everyone know you’re awake. Take a deep breath before you come down, Tam.” His laugh resounded as he shut the door to walk back out to the others. Tamlin rubbed the back of his neck.

“That might need some work,” he laughed, embarrassed. “Are you okay to walk?” He helped her up from the bed. Though it still hurt, she insisted. She needed to be moving about. He brought over a tunic and pants that he’d folded on the drawers for her. “I need to go get something, then I will be back to escort you down to see everyone. Wait for me?”

Penny nodded and watched him go. It wasn’t too terribly hard to maneuver herself into pants and walk to the bathroom to splash some water on her face and try to comb her hair back down into manageable levels. Her burns seemed all but entirely healed with no scarring, just a bit of redness remained on her legs. Drying her face off, she walked back into the room as Tamlin returned with a wrapped package.

“Are you ready?” He offered an arm out to her.

“Off we go,” she returned with a smile.

The two entered the large study, boisterous with laughter and filled with people. Lucien, Rhys, Azriel, Cassian, Nesta, Gwyn, Mor, and Feyre were there, laughing as though an entire battle hadn’t just taken place a few days before. A few people she didn’t know stood by the windows, one with bright red hair and a flaming crown she could only assume was Lucien’s oldest brother, now the High Lord of Autumn, since she’d immolated the previous one. She grimaced. Hopefully they hadn’t been close.

“Penny!” Feyre yelled out and crossed the room to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You scared me senseless. I was so worried for you during the battle. Rhys said you just took off!”

Cassian cackled and interjected “She was off like a shot. By the time we realized, she’d cleared nearly the whole battlefield and misted an entire battalion.” He clapped her hard on the shoulder, and she saw violent approval glittering in Nesta’s eyes beside him.

“I’m so sorry I took off. I could only think about getting to him.” She cut herself off and blushed, looking back at Tamlin.

“We know. Lucien told us.” Rhys stepped forward, eyes sparkling. “Congratulations to you both. I suspected, but didn’t want to pry.” The new Autumn High Lord stepped forward, taking her hand, giving a shallow bow, and kissing it with a great sweeping gesture. Tamlin stiffened, and Penny could feel him taking great pains to hold himself back.

“Penny Briggs. I owe you perhaps the greatest debt. I only wish you’d allowed me to watch.” He turned to Rhys. “Perhaps you could grab that visual and send it to me as an ascension gift.” Penny spoke up.

“Truly, it went so fast, I don’t think there was much to see. And certainly not much left.” The Lord’s eyes widened, and then he cracked a delighted grin that split his freckled face.

“I think that you and I will get along just fine.” He inclined his chin once more and returned to a female by the windows, watching with bright hazel eyes filled with gratitude. She looked tired, her face covered in healing cuts and fading bruises. Penny wondered if the female had been in the battle, too, as Eris wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Rhys slung himself back into a chair. “I think it’s clear Koeschi will not wait now. He won’t be deterred much by the loss of Autumn, either. We need to be ready to withstand an attack at a moment’s notice.” He looked at Penny and Tamlin. “Without her vision, we wouldn’t have made it in time.”

Feyre spoke up. “We need to call a High Lord’s meeting to form a plan for this. We can’t be caught unawares when so much is at stake.” The group nodded. “So, perhaps I can go now, grab Elain, winnow her here quickly to touch you, then take her back. Does that work?”

Penny sighed. “This is not sustainable. Elain is not going to be able to easily travel like this. There must be a better way to maximize these visions without dragging her around Prythian.”

Lucien spoke up from his sofa, a contemplative look on his face. “I have a friend in Day. She’s an inventor. Let me contact her and see what she makes of this, and perhaps we can find a more sustainable solution.” Penny nodded and looked to Feyre.

“Is there perhaps a way to suspend magic? Has that ever been done? Like for your water shifting, you hold it as different objects in your hands and the air, right?” Feyre nodded. “Could we suspend that somehow? Maybe in a dish or vase so that I might just touch the magic instead of dragging Elain here? Clearly, with Beron, I only needed to touch the magic and not him. And it stuck around, even after I touched Tamlin.”

“Lucien can bring that up with her, as well. It surely can’t hurt. We’ll keep moving forward on this and training you in the meantime.” Rhys looked at her with concern. “We can never allow you to get that close to burnout again, Penny. You were very close to dying. Even now, you don’t have your magic back. I can’t feel you at all. You need to take it easy for a few days.” She understood, stepping back to stand next to Tamlin.

After brief goodbyes, everyone began to winnow off, letting them know they would stay in touch about the meeting of High Lords. Tamlin put an arm out to stop Rhys, asking him if he would stay a moment. Penny looked to Tamlin with confusion, but he took a deep breath and gave her an assuring nod. Once it was just the four of them remaining, Tamlin took another steadying breath and stepped forward with the wrapped parcel in his arms.

“First, Feyre, I cannot possibly thank you enough for what you did for me, for Penny. She is everything to me, and you saved our lives. There are no words to tell you how thankful I am for that, or how deeply, truly sorry I am for hurting you. You deserved so much more, and I was not in a position to give that to you. I am so incredibly sorry for the way it was handled and the consequences of my actions. I will endeavor to show you I have changed for the better.” Feyre’s eyes glistened as she held a tattooed hand over her heart. Her chin quivered as she nodded fervently.

“Thank you, Tamlin.” She managed to choke out. “It was not our best selves. I hope we can both move on from here and find a new peace.” He nodded, then turned to Rhys.

“I owe you a much deeper apology. I would beg that you allow me to show you my memories from the last night that you considered yourself a friend of mine.” Rhys looked surprised, but curious. He nodded, cautiously, both of their eyes going blank for a time. Feyre and Penny looked at each other as the two remained silent for a few moments. Then, they noticed Rhys was crying, the tears streaming in twin trails down his face. His eyes refocused as he came back to the present.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He could barely speak.

“I didn’t believe I deserved it. It felt like an excuse. I’ve waited far longer than I should have to give you this last bit of peace. These belong to you.” He handed the parcel over, and as Rhysand opened it, he gave way to full sobs, burying his face into Feyre’s shoulder.

Inside the carefully wrapped fabric laid two sparkling crowns of silver and midnight sapphires–the crowns of Rhys’ sister and mother. Tamlin had kept them safe all these years.

“I am so sorry for how long it took me to make this right.” Tamlin dropped his head. “I hope that we can move forward together. As allies. Maybe one day as friends.”

Rhys moved forward abruptly, embracing Tamlin in a hold so tight both Feyre and Penny’s eyebrows shot up their foreheads. He clapped him on the back so hard that it echoed through the room, and his shoulders told her that Tamlin was crying, too.

Rhys pulled back, nodded stiffly, and wiped his eyes. He turned, holding a hand out for Feyre who looked incredibly confused and concerned. With a last look at Tamlin and Penny, she took his hand and the two winnowed away into the night.

Notes:

If you want to see more of Eris and his wife, there will be another work coming soon after this one just about the two of them. Keep a look out for it, and I'll make sure to link it when this one is done :)

[somerunner]

[Image ID: The character Suriel, The Phoenix from the Cradle series. She is floating in space, with a translucent image of flaming, light blue butterfly wings spreading behind her. She is wearing the standard Abidan armor, smooth eggshell-white armor that covers all but the head. Her right arm's armor is wrapped in thin gray wavy lines.

She has purple eyes and long green hair, and is making a neutral expression as she looks past to the left of the screen. One leg is fully extended while the other is bent, and her arms hang out to either side. At her hip is a long shaft of blue-white steel.

The image of wings is how her Mantle represents itself, a depiction of her authority as the Phoenix and Abidan Judge over healing and restoration. The bar of steel is her Razor, her personal weapon, in its dormant form.

/End ID]

Suriel lurched from the Way into reality in a flash of blue light, floating at the high edge of atmosphere. A planet spread out beneath her like a childhood blanket, blue and green and familiar.

[Successfully arrived in Iteration One-one-zero,] said the ghostly Presence on her shoulder. It had come with the job, because no lone mind could control all the powers at Suriel's disposal. [Local time is +5.2 deviations from standard.] She would lose time here, and communication with Sanctum would be delayed, so her journey would take longer.

But then, that was the point.

Unsouled (Cradle Book 1), Will Wight

Cradle Inktober Day 3: Path : Suriel

[the--grin--reaper]

She got them elf ears

[strangecreationchaos]

i really don't understand this concept of people explaining gwyn will FIX azriel! what is there to be fixed in that man?? gwyn helped nesta because she found her in a similar state like her's. she helped her because she was her friend! and also because she found someone to share her traumas with as well!! now why she has to fix azriel? stop using female characters as an object to fix a man! she has her own life, her own trauma to deal with! again azriel is thinking, losing his mind for an another woman! and that is elain! he is bothered by elucien mating bond! not because of gwynriel mating bond that doesn't even exist! because as per Sarah's dictionary we all know how fae males behaves when their mate is in danger! so stop claiming a mating bond between them while all azriel think of is elain! and no it is not gwyn's or elain's duty to fix azriel!!! stop having this ridiculous mindset!

and besides stop judging elain in her ability to give birth to a child! because have of the gwynriel are doing so to validate their ship! azriel doesn't consider gwyn as a friend and gwyn is learning to feel comfortable while standing next to him!! she was so uncomfortable with his presence in the first day! she is learning to accept him as a mentor! stop romanticizing it!

besides stop giving this stupid take that gwyn is strong and elain is not! elain is the one who is helping all of them since the beginning of acowar! she warned them about the queen, and the hybern soldiers! , she helped them with vassa ,her power and that helped them alot during the war, she is the one who tracked the suriel! and most importantly she is the one who stabbed the king of hybern! physical strength is not the only kind of strength! and sarah already gave us elide and yrene to prove that! it's one's determination! and elain has it a lot! she volunteered to help them finding the troves ,she went to court of nightmare with her own choice ! just because nesta taunted her saying to tends to her garden ! stop using that one statement to validate that elain is useless while you don't even know anything about her! at all!!! she was having visions after visions in acowar..yet she is laughing with her family , helping people around velaris all while dealing with her own trauma! stop underestimating her and stop using gwyn as a fixer! these women have their own lives!!

[somerunner]

Adding this one too -- I don't know, I just love how titles can really change my perception of a song. And, if they're in soundtracks or overall albums, how that changes my perception as well.

Furi is about a prison keeping in a living weapon (the main character). The guards are making the sacrifice to stay within the prison and be cut off from society. They are also forcing the weapon to stay inside, which is inhumane. But he is so dangerous that it is, at least according to them, a necessary action.

Anyway, that gives all of Furi's songs an undercurrent of loneliness, determination, and above all regret. It's a story of the best option among so many bad ones.

With all that in mind, I was listening to this song and thought it'd be a great track for an AMV about the Abidan. While it could be about their use of Ozriel as a living weapon and his resentment, and the ensuing conflicts, I think of it as something for the plot after he's left (i.e. during the main events of Cradle). It'd focus on Suriel, remembering "what we fight for" and harboring resentment for Ozriel and Makiel both (i.e. all of the Judges). And then after each drop would be a battle with the Vroshir.

Tossing another one in the Cradle music videos ideas folder: Ziel vs the Storm Sage.

So, in the game Furi, the main character is an extremely powerful swordsman, tortured awake by electric shock. He then kills his torturer. Then he faces and kills his remaining guards. On my run today I was listening to Furi and Carpenter Brut’s music among other things, and the second song here came up. I thought this would make a perfect music video animation of Ziel, an extremely powerful warrior, fighting the brutal Sage of Calling Storms, who once tortured him with lightning.

[kingsonne-zedecks]

Cradlepost

So Ive been thinking thoughts about Fate and Ego lately. Well I've been thinking thoughts about Fate ever since Makiel had his first full scene.

It honestly seems that the ability to read Fate, nearly without fail, accompanies an overinflated ego. Suriel and the Oracle Sage are really the only people with any degree of talent at reading fate that couldn't be considered massive assholes.

I think about the nature of the Mantle of Makiel and what an individual must do to embody the literaly universal concept of being in everyone's business and deciding what happens.

Like, we know that Icons and nearly certainly Mantles have an effect on the mindset of the person who holds them. I don't think its literally possible for a person to be Makiel without facing their own form of corruption.

The first executor program failed because by cutting the executors loose from the Eldari Pact, and, by extension Fate, freaked the hell out of the Judges, particularly Makiel, because they were so reliant on their ability to read fate that they couldn't handle having a blind spot.

But they also couldn't deal with it in a healthy way, they just cast the executors free and then proceeded to put them under ever tightening scrutiny and control rather than support.

We know Makiel turned down Ozriel's suggestion of a Reaper Division time and time again not because it was a bad idea, but because he couldn't prove it would work by viewing fate and Makiel could not except anything else. The only one allowed to make decisions outside of Fate is Makiel, and he didn't like Oz and that was enough.

We also know that despite Fate Reading being inexact and flawed, most people don't treat it that way. Its something Lindon is warned of when he learns how to do it and he is still caught off guard every time it happens, the same way every Monarch is.

My biggest point is that the flaw is known. Oz failed to predict or account for the possibility of Makiel creating an imitation Scythe because he felt it was a low probability in Fate and he had contempt for Makiel. Despite centuries of Makiel wanting to get rid of Oz and just have the Scythe for himself. Despite the obvious idea that if Makiel was to do such a thing, he would attempt to hide it in fate such that it looked impossibly unlikely.

Makiel himself couldn't read the possible outcome of the fight between Suriel, Oz, and The Mad King, because he was too biased against Oz, he was running off of incomplete information regarding how Eithan had changed because he just didn't think he could. Because of a personal grudge.

Anyway. I don't really have a conclusion other than fuck Makiel and reading Fate is a trap, especially the better you are at it.

[zinniax]

What I need in the next book(s)

On Tamlins self discovery and self care for Lucien and Elain to be at spring court. fixing it up together plus you know the flowers and gardens which elain would love (even nesta said it) and they fall in love in domesticated mated bliss

Helion and lucien to know their father/ son plus how happy will helion be to find out his heir with the woman he loves is also handsome (noted by almost everyone) and mated to the curse breakers sisters like cmon!!

Tamlin to find happiness which I think is away from spring court (maybe he should take mors place)

Mor and Emerie!! Mor wants to learn some Valkyrie moves (emerie can show her) plus she’s Illyrian like in a a way full circle moment first person she sleeps with is Illyrian only to be possibly mated to one. Plus they both have a history with abusive fathers which could lead to furthering the bond

Rhys getting to know Nesta and not think automatically the worse of her. And I don’t mean just bc she saved not only HIS life but his CHILD AND FUTURE CHILDREN and MATE life but an authentic try on his part. (Even cassian doesn’t need to be motivation) Nesta thinks of him as her brother I need him to give the same energy back to her

More Azriel and Nesta!! They see eachother for who they are, and most importantly they don’t judge eachother. They have a secretly beautiful friendship-that’s needs to be explored more. And I could just picture him being all shy about Gwyn and him trying to find the courage to ask her or ask nesta abt her and she’s like I got you.

Uncle/ daddy cassian!! I need cassian/nesta to be a twin parents I will accept nothing less!! And to see cassian be a total girl dad❤️ or him and nesta have one boy and one girl- the boy is Nesta twin and the girl is Cassians twin!! And of course uncle cassian it was obvious from the beginning az and him loved nyx since ferye was pregnant now I need to see him coming over to river house and “kidnapping” nyx to bond with him. And possibly even seeing nesta seeing how good he is with their nephew and think I wanna make this man/male a dad..

Somehow for suriel to come back! Like cmon how many “deaths” have happen and why did SJM have to make feyre only friend outside of family die??? I miss my favorite messy bitch

The sisters to repair their realtionship yes walking to visit their fathers grave a good start but I need more

I need to know Eris story and the story with him and Mor we have waited years for this story, I need the full one!!

Last but not least to have Lady Death, Queen of Queens, Witch, Nes, to have a beautiful bad bitch Valkyrie storyline. She could rule the world and is the most powerful being(more powerful then rhys and feyre) and has a relationship/connection with THE Mother like cmon!! Her and cassian need to be the war mate power duo