#looks its dead eyed fae

[deadeyedfae]

Been a while since I felt like hot shit, so here's two selfies ^^

[ladyloveandjustice]

My Favorite Books I Read in 2024

I read a ton of good novels last year- 32 in all (and uh, 82 manga/graphic novels, but we’ll examine that in another post). Here’s a link to my Goodreads year in books (the manga is at the beginning, the novels start with Red, White & Royal Blue) and my storygraph wrap up.  

I got to have fun reading some classics like The Odyssey and The Wizard of Oz, but I also read a lot of notable newer books! Let's take a look!

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

The story follows Silas, a trans guy in an alternate 1883 where violet-eyed people have the power to talk to spirits. If someone is perceived as a man by society, this power is treated as useful. But for anyone society perceives as a woman, it's a different story. There's this idea that the power to speak to the dead causes women to "go mad". Silas is diagnosed with this "sickness" and gets thrown in a horrible sanatorium that forces patients to become obedient wives. But this school has some dark things going on under the surface, and Silas might not even make it out of this alive...

This is a horror that keeps you on the edge of your seat the whole way though. The setting is vivid and creative, the characters who suffer under the weight of oppression are varied and complex, and the protagonist is easy to root for. It's very spooky, pretty relentless, pretty gory and pretty twisty. It's very hard to figure out who you can actually trust! It's also a fascinating exploration of transphobia and misogyny. It obviously draws on real things women and trans people struggled with in the 1800s (accusations of having "hysteria" and other "illnesses" just for existing) but also talks about ableism too, as the main character is autistic. It really makes you consider how terrifying and isolating it would be to live in a time with so few resources and such limited knowledge, but of course, this still persists in a lot of places today.

 It's not all horror though, there is some catharsis and nice moments of Silas finding solace and support in other trans people and it leads to some really touching scenes and relationships. There's also satisfaction in seeing marginalized people banding together and doing all they can to fight back.

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopedia of Faeries and Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands by Heather Fawcett

This fantasy series follows Emily, a professor and dedicated researcher of the mysterious and often dangerous fae. Emily is out to make an encyclopedia of fae lore, and she has no interest in socializing with others when there's faeries to find. Unfortunately for her, her scholarly rival, Wendell, show up and decides to be all insufferably social and charming and interested in her. He might secretly be a faerie though, and Emily is interested in that, so, ugh, maybe she has to put up with him.

 These books are a ton of fun. It's a cozy adventure the creatively draws on some cool fae lore. It's biggest charm is our protagonist, who is wonderfully grumpy and stubborn and clever and only wants to bury herself in researching this thing she likes She's the kind of person who puts footnotes in their own journal, and it's delightful.

Even when she starts catching feelings for Wendell, her research is always her number one priority. And Wendell, who is very obviously smitten with her the second he appears, is okay with that! In fact, her stubbornness and fearless, unshakeable commitment to her research is pretty much exactly why Wendell is so down bad for her, which makes him a really relatable love interest. He's obnoxious in a genuinely charming way and the teasing banter between Wendell and Emily is very entertaining.

Lonely Castle in the Mirror by Mizuki Tsujimura

Kokoro has been unable to go outside her house ever since she dropped out of school due to horrible bullying. One day, her mirror glows, and she enters it to find herself in a castle with six other students. A little girl in a wolf mask tells all of them that there's a room in the castle that can grant one single wish, but only for one person, so whoever finds the room first gets the wish. They'll have an opportunity to hang out in the castle every day until the deadline, after which the castle will disappear. But as the kids get to know each other, things get more complicated.

This is such a lovely, healing story I'm glad I finally got around to reading it. While the story goes into the causes behind the epidemic of hikikomori and futoku in Japanese students, it's also a universally relatable story about the ways bullying, grief and trauma can affect a child and lead to severe anxiety. Kokoro's slow journey of recovery is touching and feels realistic, despite the fantastical elements. The book shows how brave and hard it is to take these small steps, and how Kokoro struggles to even talk about what happened. The focus of the book is the connections the kids make with each other. It explores the secrets they carry, how they accidentally hurt each other, but also how they ultimately are able to empathize with and support each other. Each character is interesting and achingly human in their own right. The whimsical fairy tale elements of the story complement the themes well, and the book delivers some really solid plot twists that serve to make its themes stronger too.

One thing to warn for is we learn that a fourteen year old girl has entered a relationship with a man in his 20s. This isn't shown to be healthy or good for her though, and the reason she does this is heartbreaking. There's also some (non graphic) attempted SA. With that in mind, this is just a really cool tale, and I full recommend it!

First Light by Liz Kerin

This is the second part of a duology that began with Night’s Edge, which I recommended last year, and honestly, this book is even better than the first one, which was already pretty great. The book continues to use vampirism to explore the cycle of abuse effectively. This time, Mia is seeking vengeance on her mother's abusive ex-boyfriend, who was responsible for turning her Mom into a vampire. But when she finds the ex-boyfriend and infiltrates his little cult (with her kinda-girlfriend, who actually genuinely wants to join), she gets manipulated by him the way her mother did, her trauma and past making it easy to fall into a cycle that's familiar. She starts to understand her mother, and vampires in general, more than she ever thought she would. It's just a really interesting take on vampires, and this one actually addressed some of the thing I thought were a little iffy in the first book. It's dark, but there's also a lot of catharsis.

I think these books are easily among the top of my list of favorite vampire media. Content warning for abuse, and the vampire bites having a hint of a metaphor for sexual violence like they often do.

Bright Young Women by Jessica Knoll

 Bright Young Women follows a young woman in the aftermath of a serial killer breaking into her sorority and killing several of her friends. The media and police are all too willing to question her testimony and distort the details to fit their narrative. Another woman suspects her girlfriend was murdered by the same killer, and they team up to find the truth.

Bright Young Women is a page-turner, and I honestly didn't realize it was so heavily based on the Ted Bundy murders until I read the reviews, because I didn't know much about him (or most real life serial killers, a fact which I am very okay with). But the book is here to dunk on Ted Bundy and the ways his "intelligence and charisma" were greatly exaggerated by the media and even the judge at his actual trial, rage about the ways the victims stories are erased in favor of the killers who are glamorized and fawned over, point out the ways the police constantly fail victims, and to set the record straight to those who idolize serial killers.

The story centers the survivors and victims, talking about their lives and triumphs and the goals they were working toward and what could have been. It's depressing, but it also shines the light on the bravery of the women whose testimonies got the killer convicted even when the rest of the world was dismissive of them.

This book is a really tough read, and obviously there's a huge content warning for sexual violence, the graphic aftermath of horrific deaths...the method of one rape and murder actually really disturbed me (mentioned in the aftermath, the book never shows the actual acts), it was so gross and horrible (and unfortunately, happened in real life). Read with caution. But it's a book that will definitely stick with me for a while.

The Rise of Kyoshi and the Shadow of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee

I never got around to the Kyoshi novels because there's been a lot of mediocre Avatar the Last Airbender spin-off media...but I should not have hesitated, because these were actually really good. They follow the life of Kyoshi, the famously badass Earth Kingdom Avatar, and shows how she became how she is.

Yee does a great job capturing the world of Avatar, while also expanding on it in interesting ways. I really liked a lot of the little details that deepened the world--for instance, it's mentioned that Firebenders shave their heads when they lose an Agni Kai because of the disgrace, which gives context to Zuko's initial hairstyle and actually makes the fact he actively kept his hair from growing back for three years extremely sad, since it implies he thought he would only be worthy of that once his father approved of him again. It was something I think Yee definitely came up with himself, but it made a lot of sense with the show in a way that felt natural.

The novels were definitely darker than the show, but not in a Netflix Avatar let's-watch-a-bunch-of-people-we-don't-care-about-burn-to-death way, but in a way that felt natural to Kyoshi's circumstances. I found I usually did care a lot when a character died because they were often likeable. I found the death of one character in particular near the end of book one genuinely heartbreaking.

The books did a good job explaining why Kyoshi became more severe later on, and in how she wrestles with how far she can go with her role as the Avatar, what justice is, and whether killing people solves anything. The second book was not quite as good as the first, with its decision to switch out the cast of the characters for entirely new people and just being more meandering in general, but it was still a good read. I definitely rec if you're an Avatar fan, odds are you'll really enjoy them!

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White

In the country of Concordia, each province has one heir who has a "Blessing"--basically a unique magic power. Ganymedes (a.k.a Dee)'s dad cheated on his wife a bunch, and one of the children from those affairs must have inherited the Blessing rather than Dee. To keep this a secret, Dee's dad makes him pretend to have a Blessing. Now Dee has to go on a voyage with the other Blessed and, sick of the charade, he's decided he's going to make them all hate him so he gets kicked out of the group. But that plan is extremely interrupted when his shipmates start getting murdered one by one.

Voyage of Damned is just a really good time. A queer murder mystery romp with a ton of suspicious and varied characters vying for power, a fun lead with a distinctive voice, tragic romance, cute friendships, and even some touching exploration of prejudice, suicidal ideation and self loathing. It was just extremely readable and I was entertained the whole way though, but it also made me feel things sometimes. It also delivered a ton of solid plot twists, including a big and satisfying one that made me want to go back and read through a bunch of scenes knowing the truth (and I did).

Dee and his distinctive glib narration probably won't be for everyone but I liked him and vibed with him. He goes through a lot, including finding out his boyfriend he'd been separated from for five years is now engaged to a girl and acting super cold to him. The tension between Dee and Ravi and how it affects all his relationships is a real emotional hook, and his banter and dynamics with the people he likes (or even some people he doesn't) are generally fun to read. If all I've said sounds cool to you, give it a try, you might like it!

Bonus Rec: Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell

Shesheshen is a blob monster who dines on the humans (mostly those who try to kill her). She can look human with some effort, and go into town to feed sometimes. But the she falls in love with a kind woman named Homily. This clearly means she needs to do the proper romantic thing and lay some eggs in Homily so their little monster kids can be born by devouring Homily for the inside out. Wait, humans aren't into that? That's awkward. And despite her biological impulse she doesn't really want Homily to die? Even more awkward. Oh, and Homily's family are monster hunters and it turns out that was Homily's brother Shesheshen ate a while back? Super mega awkward. What's a monster to do...

 I'm a lover of actually monstrous monster women, so I was hyped for this one, especially with the great cover by @jmfenner91! While it disappointed me in some areas, it was still fun and heartwarming enough I'd recommend it.

Our monster lady is a great character, and her unique point of view where she's nonchalant, cynical and often hilariously baffled by humans is a joy to read. Her personality, her super gross biology, and how she sees the world...she's so charming and her romance with Homily is very cute. I also really like that the book focused on healing from abuse and finding a way to move forward with each other's support. I also liked the romantic climax, and the discussion of finding kissing weird, because that made me feel seen.

There were quite a few things that kept it from being a five star review in my heart though--Sheshesen is completely disconnected from people, has just spent her life alone in her cave, but she knows what an abuser is and exactly how abusive people operate in a weirdly modern way. Abusers are also only portrayed one way: openly cruel and evil with zero sympathetic qualities to every single person they interact with. There is no cycle of abuse with these people, they never act nice to to draw their victims back in, we don't see more subtle, manipulative emotional abuse, almost no claims of caring about people. Obviously cartoonishly abusive rich people exist in real life, and I don't necessarily need abusers to be humanized. Still...it just felt like the nuance of most real life abuse was being ignored. And because these people were so one dimensional, it was pretty tedious to spend SO much time with them.

Still, the book was very monstrously sweet, and it was overall a good read. I wish it could have been a little more, but what we got was pretty nice.

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

Omg I saw that you were taking requests- how do you feel about me requesting yandere platonic Malice Link but specifically Fae!Hyrule. I imagine it would take place or at least their first encounter would be in a forest. Since it’s Malice!Link there would probably be at least some hostility at first with the reader walking a tight rope of emotions. But it basically evolves from that to subtle manipulation not even realizing it’s gone from 0-100 with hostility turned into possessiveness.

Order up!

Love this request so much oh my gods!! Hope you enjoy it~

Tw: Yandere, mentioned murder

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

The forests here were quiet— and dead. It’s the best way to explain it, but to some extent one would inevitably lead you to assume another. The forest was hauntingly absent of the chitter from its animals and the wind was dead from the sky— it naturally leads one to assume that there is no life within the woods. It would’ve turned most away from making their way through the thorn bushels and further into the forest itself. Or, rather, it should’ve turned you away, you should’ve known better. Bad things happen to the people that go into these woods. But alas, the sun was high and the morning was fresh and some old maidens tale about silly fairies wasn’t going to keep you from some wild berry pie.

There was someone new in his woods. Hyrule had really thought people had learned their lessons by now. Usually the glowing red pools of malice and gloom would steer them off course far enough to walk right back into their own village. The sharp-toothed mouths in the trees drive fear into the heart of any hunter and the sensation of the yellowed eyes watching make any animal prey. And yet, the new animal sauntered through his woods, basket looped around their elbow. Their blood was untainted, it rushed through them beat by beat, the sound filling his ears. They drove his senses haywire, leaving behind a trail that he felt compelled to follow.

The bushes were full of freshly ripened berries, their skins a vibrant glossy mauve. Your basket was filled when you turned to see a person, standing wide eyed behind you. He looked pale, cheeks slightly sunken, light brown hair tousled and with a stare so intent, you felt as if you should’ve expected him to have said something. And yet he stared with unblinking hazel-blue eyes, a single fang pushing over his lip.

“Are you alright?” You could’ve smacked yourself right then. Sneaking into a supposedly haunted forest and seeing a man stare at you, and your first words are ‘are you alright’?

“No” He clutches his sides slowly, sharp nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. With no other real idea of what to do, you hold out your basket of berries —which also included some honey to preserve a few of the berries in— to which he looks inside cautiously. You get a closer look at him and see the freckles dotting his cheeks and the fact he looks dangerously thin. Your eyes catch on a violently red looking scar lining his chest, but when you shift to get a closer look, he darts back. You open your mouth to say something, and yet he’s already back within the woods.

He hated himself. Hyrule doesn’t really recall if he did before, but he most certainly does now. As it turned out, the new person prancing through his forest was not a hunter like the hundreds of others since. You did not come with iron chains and steel blades with the hopes of his death bringing honor to your name. No. You were the closest thing to acceptance he’s had in a long while. Maybe you were a fool. Maybe you were meant to s- He wasn’t meant to be saved. He cut the thought short. He was cursed now, baneful hatred blotting out his mind until he’s not sure what’s him and what’s it. He’d slaughtered the many men that came through his lands like they were no more than mice or minish. It was easy. And yet, as your hand shifted slightly while holding a basket, he bolted like he was the mouse —prey hiding from their death. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t supposed to crave to be liked. He was supposed to be hated— to be feared. It’s what kept him alive for so long. It makes no rhyme nor reason that you’d care for a cursed creature such as himself. Even if the malice didn’t rip at his skin to make scars and it didn’t taint what was once good and kind into gloomy and miserable, He still couldn’t be loved by you. He was fae. His kind was supposed to trick foolish humans and toy away with their lives. He was supposed to bend his words so you’d agree to a promise sealing your fate to some comical story book ending where he gains the upper hand. And yet, he found himself mulling over the curiosities in your eyes, the purse of your lips, the thump of your heart. All things that —down to his very anatomy— he was supposed to hate. And yet he could not bring himself to. Whatever fleshy scraps were left of his heart were reaching through the cracks in his ribs toward you. He hated it. He hated the way his heart raced when hearing your familiar father-light steps. He hated the way he bore a sharp toothy grin upon seeing your return. Those teeth were meant to cut and kill, not simply be means to an expression. He hated that the honey you left him, infused with wild berries, was so sweet. He hated it was an appeasing offering to him. Maybe to some sense you were a hunter. And what an odd hunter you were to aim for his heart in such a manner.

And yet you persisted. Weekly or so you made a good habit to leave some food for the frail man you saw. You’re not sure why exactly you felt inclined to do so. Guilt, perhaps, he looked rather shaken by you shifting slightly, the last you could do was provide him with some good meals. There wasn’t any good food aside from the plants in the forest anyway, and that wouldn’t keep someone as frail as him alive. You saw more of him. It was slow, a hand taking the food a few minutes after you set it down, a cautious look shared before he scurried away. He’d come out of whatever tree or bush he’d been hiding in before claiming whatever prize you got. And eventually he’d even sit with you as he ate. You were slow, always keeping the same distance and dropping off the food at the same bush you met him. You learned the reason why the old wives of your village told you to stay away from the forest for what may be within. There was evil within the marred roots of every sickly tree and the man in front of you, while not really a man, was sick. And yet like any sick thing the world told you to ignore, he proved he was worth saving. He gathered his own little silly silver gifts to give and kept you safe while you foraged through the night. When you ran out of ear space for the little hoops he gave you rings, all in your size and he didn’t question why you came running, clothes in hand with a mob behind you. Instead he protected you, cradling your shaking body.

His eyes, glinting yellow, bore into the crowd which chased his love right to him. It was quite a strain, he’d admit. First whispering to the weavers, spinning stories of how you’d betrayed your better judgment and was lured into the woods. To them you were cursed just as he was, and so, you were exiled to much the same fate. But you needn’t worry, you mustn’t. He knows which herbs and incantations lessen the malice’s bite. You’ll be safe here with him. Maybe not happy for a while, but it’s not like you have another option aside from him. With rings on your finger and matching curse bound in blood, he dragged you to the little den he’d prepared for him and his spouse. Not quite the storybook ending.

[jon-snows-man-bun]

By Turns

Chapter Seven

The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.

Masterlist

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: Chapter contains graphic violence and dubious consent. I was rereading portions of the book to understand where the knowledge of Velaris stands now, and it's not really clear. Rhys reveals its existance to the mortal queens, Hybern finds it, Eris and Keir know about it (after Keir's knowledge is presumably wiped by Rhysand under Amarantha?) but it's not obvious whether the rest of Prythian know about it.

This is also kind of fucked up because it was allegedly a haven for refugees through the ages, but how does that work if all of the traders are essentially under a bargain not to reveal its existence as per the books? How do the refugees find it? What's going on with that? It's also mentioned that the Night Court straight up executes anyone who crosses their border.

I've consolidated the bits SJM has given us and decided that the High Lords certainly know it exists now, other people are starting to find out through gossip and word of mouth, but it's still 'hidden' and can't be found unless Rhys lets you in.

It was during an otherwise uneventful court evening that the two lesser fae were brought in.

Courtiers were mingling loosely, gathered in the throne room under the pretence of petitions for Lord Keir. It was informal; Aisling had been listening to a lady play a lyre and sing an old ballad in which a warrior could only save the life of his lover with his life's blood. Others were clustered in groups, gossiping or drinking.

"The High Lord's child is surely dead," she heard a male insist behind her. "It hasn't been seen. It surely died in labour."

"Just as we haven't seen it doesn't mean a thing. If it were dead he would have gone mad," another mused.

"He's already mad!"

The idle talk and music ceased as the soldiers entered, one in front and one behind the strangers so they couldn't be seen at first. As they passed through the crowd she heard murmurs and gasps, and then she saw why when she caught a glimpse of horns and heard the clop of hooves.

They were Urisks, she realised as the passed her by, but Aisling had never seen this race of fae in the flesh before. Other than pairs of horns nestled in their ruddy brown hair - one's curling like a ram, the other's small and pointed - the two males looked High Fae above the waist, but their legs were those of goats. They were wild-eyed and distressed, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder as if they could make themselves as small as possible.

Aisling always forgot that there was an enormous variety of fae in Prythian, more than she had read about, more than she could imagine. Most lesser fae in the City were confined to the lower levels and the mines. She had only seen the coblynau that mined the diamonds a handful of times, and been permitted to speak to the troll overseer of the Mine of the Moon even less. He had called her Sidhe which may well have been a slur for all she knew. The troll could also write; it was his hand that penned the production reports she read. Her knowledge ran that far and no further.

But there weren’t any lesser fae in Night with the sort of animal features the Urisks had. Aisling couldn’t stop staring at where their goat legs bent backwards into hocks, tapering into their trousers.

“We’ve found a fine pair of goats,” the Darkbringer had said, which made several courtiers titter. One of the Urisks flinched.

The borders of the Night Court were enchanted, and it was well known that the lives of all who crossed were forfeit. Some were executed before the gentry in the throne room; Aisling imagined more were cut down in the forests and mountains along the border. Perhaps it was sport for the Darkbringers lucky enough to patrol the borders.

There had been more and more appearing since the High Lord had revealed the existence of Velaris. The lord steward normally executed them, but lately he had been maiming them before sending them on their way. A message to the High Lord, maybe, or a reminder for all those who dwelt in the city of Velaris: you trod on us on your way to freedom, but it cost you something. Or perhaps just done from jealousy and spite, that others could have what he could not. Aisling didn't care to speculate - the idea of Velaris still soured her.

Was maiming them and sending them on better or worse than the old way, where they mounted branded heads along the gates and borders? She didn’t know. Cruelty was a game that turned morality and reason inside out, asked impossible choices. If the Night gentry could come and go as they pleased, would they still be so vicious? More likely than not, Aisling decided as the intrigued court drew closer to the dais, but at least they would have one less cause.

“And where are these goats from?” Keir drawled, a veneer of icy amusement on his pale face.

“Spring,” one said, finally. His voice quavered, but he had his head raised.

“A long way from home. What brings you here?” The steward enquired, feigning at having a conversation with them, drawing out the pretence of civility.

“Spring is in ruins,” the Urisk said, now casting his eyes down. His shoulders hunched. Aisling wondered if he had a tail. “Autumn reaves the borders. No law to be found there. Too dangerous to stay, so we left.”

“A long way to travel to seek safety. Do not lie to me,” Lord Keir warned from the dais. His silver circlet glinted under the light, eyes cold and dark as his patience ran thin, obviously bored of pretending this was anything but an interrogation. “Even by omission. You’ve trespassed through our borders. Telling the truth is part of the price of continuing on your journey. Where were you going?”

The two Urisks shifted nervously, glancing between themselves; she could see that the quiet one's hands were trembling as he folded them across himself.

“We go to Velaris,” the quiet one finally admitted reluctantly, curved horns catching the grey light. “Some say th-they welcome lower fae there.”

“Are we not welcoming here?” Lord Keir asked with a little smile. The court tittered around her; she heard someone giggle behind their hand. The Urisks didn’t answer, shifting anxiously from hoof to hoof. One kept glancing over his shoulder at the crowd around them.

“Allow me to welcome you fully to Night, then. Please, if you will be one of us, honour us with a dance in our custom," Keir said when they didn't answer, smiling with too many teeth to be friendly. His eyes glittered with malice.

Another murmur zipped through the court, which drew ever closer. This game - Aisling had played it as a child with others, hitting each-other with a leather strop when you fell out of time as the dance grew faster. She still remembered the sharp sting of rawhide as it whipped across the back of her knees and bit at her ankles. But to beat and slap at each other was child’s play; this would go hard for the Urisks.

“And then we can go?” One asked and someone giggled in the crowd again, like a silver bell in the distance.

“Yes, so long as you finish the dance. But step sprightly; mis-steps are costly here,” Keir warned. At that, their faces plummeted; the quiet one started as if to run for the door but his companion grabbed him.

“Lady Aisling,” Keir called. Her own stomach dropped as surely as theirs had and a hard stone formed in her chest as the faces of the court turned to look at her, a hundred pale judges. “You’ve enjoyed dancing of late. Come partner our guests.”

Maeve. Aisling gritted her teeth at the thought of her maidservant selling her secrets to Keir. It was Maeve who brought Eris to her, Maeve who knew of their meeting. Why else would Keir shame her this way? It was almost certainly punishment for daring to slip through the net of his control, even in a small way.

If Maeve were not her mother’s only companion Aisling would have accused her of some small crime or other to have her removed from her household. It would have been suitable punishment for the chastisement Aisling was about to experience before the court.

All she could do was forward obediently. Let them mock her. There would be a new scandal to titter over next week.

The throne room was deathly silent as she approached. She caught Niamh’s eye, who quickly looked away; Padraig stared at her as if she were nothing. Aisling expected it and would deliver the same, if it had been them. It still chilled her.

The energy in the room stretched taut as a tightrope, anticipating. The Urisks were pale, eyes wide in panic as Aisling took her place opposite the quiet one with the pointed horns. She forced herself to look into his eyes, the white of them visible all the way around; his hand trembled in hers, so slightly only she could see it.

She could say nothing to comfort him, not even with her eyes. All of the court watched, dark energy crackling through them like lightning. They were Unseelie; they wanted blood and if Aisling was unwise enough to get in the path, her blood would certainly sate them too.

“Begin,” Lord Keir commanded, and the music started.

Aisling leapt into the jaunty reel, bare feet moving nimbly in time with the other fae; her stomach twisting in anxiety as the Urisk struggled to keep up. They were lesser fae, not of the gentry. They likely hadn’t spent a fraction of the time the High Fae had learning and perfecting dances and had little of their grace.

The fae knew it was coming. The court drew closer, likely without realising; the Urisks’ breathing was ragged as they made it through the first passage, but then -

Aisling kept her face blank as the hoof came down hard on her bare foot. Her skirts were long and with no wince of pain, none watching could tell the error her partner had made. But she could only buy him so long, and when he turned the wrong way in the corner and her opposite’s hand was left empty as she crossed, the music stopped abruptly. He said nothing but his eyes were rolling in terror as Thanatos calmly, casually, without any fanfare stepped forward and cut the Urisk’s hand off.

Blood spattered across the floor noisily, the male shrieking as he clutched his wrist. Aisling forced herself to watch dispassionately, stepping through the door in her mind as the Urisk moaned in pain. She was in a different room, watching through someone else’s eyes, through a screen of glass. She let the images skim past her like a breeze, finding no root in her mind.

Blood pooled on the marble floor and had caught her across the bodice of her dress. His wrist was cauterised quickly with a torch, which Aisling watched without seeing. Someone would notice if she flinched or looked away. She breathed through her mouth carefully, the air heavy with the stench of blood and burnt flesh. Do not gag, she reminded herself and swallowed slowly to keep it down. This close she could see the flesh bubble at the edge of his new stump. For a long moment, the only sound was Thanatos’ heavy steps back to the dias, punctuated by soft whimpering.

“Begin again,” Keir ordered.

Aisling stood into her set, dancing through the fog of a dream. The blood was cooling on her bare feet as she stepped through it. Other couples had begun dancing as well, the frenetic mania of bloodshed curling through the room, whipping them on. They turned and twined about the floor, faster and faster, and it was only after the pair of lesser fae lost another hand and a foot between them that the song ended. They were staggering, faces pale and shocked; blood seeped through their trouser legs and covered their shirts as if they had been dipped. Aisling suspected she was no better; her neck itched terribly, hot with shame and nausea. The one without the foot supported the other, his arm about his shoulders.

“I suppose you are well-versed in our customs and I should let you pass our borders now,” Keir drawled while one trembled violently, swaying. Several of the court hissed, a male laughed, rough as stone tumbling together. “We bid you safe travels to Velaris. And when you get there, please give the High Lord our regards and let him know of our hospitality.”

“Thank you Lord. Thank you. Thank you,” one whispered, bowing as best he could, scrambling backwards after the soldier escorting them away. The other was too gone, leaning heavily across his companion, mute in shock. They were ghostly pale and grey beneath their sunny skin now, all whisper of Spring bled from them.

After that diversion court lasted not much longer; Aisling knew well enough to wait by the dais like a dog to be dismissed lest Lord Keir have some more chastisement to heap upon her. When the throne room was empty save the three of them, Keir finally turned his attention back to her.

"You should take your handmaiden's tongue for selling your secrets," he told her. Lord Thanatos said nothing, but the way he watched her made her hair stand on end. If she looked at him she would panic, so she looked at her bloodied bare feet instead.

“Go,” he bid her, boredly. She curtsied, nearly sagging in relief at slipping out of his view once more. To be alone with him was more dangerous than being in front of the court.

She walked in a daze, wading through the deep water of her own mind as she slipped through an archway and down a set of servant's stairs. Aisling followed the smaller service corridor, needing time and privacy to collect herself; she didn’t wish to be watched as an animal in a menagerie through the busier main passages. Everything felt surreal and menacing, and everywhere she looked she saw the hand as it separated from the wrist.

This way was narrower, used by servants and for clandestine comings and goings. The ceiling was lower here, held up by more carved columns. These provided a useful support for her as she took moments to press her hands into them when she felt adrift and dizzy. The walls were smooth - no gilding, no faelights, only coal braziers. It was a long passage that would eventually spit her out at the top of the level used by palace staff which contained the kitchens and laundry. None would bother her, but they would certainly tell their masters and mistresses that they saw her shuffling listlessly, barefoot and covered in blood.

She was thinking of this in a detached way, paying little attention to anything other than the floor. It was only when long fingers wrapped around her arm that she jolted, ripping back in fright to see -

Amber eyes, alight with arrogance. A disdainful smirk of amusement. The planes of his face, the elegant cheekbones, the hair so brilliantly red it was glowing.

“Lord Vanserra,” Aisling said, and her voice sounded very far away. She tried to curtsy but her legs trembled and her knees seemed wooden.

“Aisling,” Eris said, eyes narrowing as he regarded her, hand still wrapped around her arm. “You are well?”

“Yes, very well,” she answered softly, pressing herself back into the wall. She could feel his magic crackling off him, as it always did; he was rich with the power of his blood and the promise of what would be his one day. Her chest ached at his closeness, at the way his broad shoulders were caging her in, trapping her against the stone wall of the hallway. When had he stepped closer to her? His eyes ran over her, reading her like a map. Checking that the blood was not hers, she realised belatedly, face growing hot.

“Is this some new Night fashion, then?” He asked with a cruel, small smile, tracing her bloodied collarbone with one long finger. She had seen such smiles all her life; it was to let her know that though they were both laughing, the joke was on her. It reminded her of Lord Thanatos’ as his blade flashed silver and her throat ached from keeping herself contained.

“There was a matter of Court business,” she could only manage to whisper hoarsely, skin aflame where he ran his finger along her shoulder. His touch burned. He was his father’s heir and entirely fire, destructive and ruthless, here to consume her whole. The ache in her chest grew stronger, ready to cave in. Blood flaked off of her dress as she sucked in a breath.

“It suits you very well,” he murmured, amber eyes glinting in the dim light. She could not read his face and felt too raw to keep her own expression checked. Her tongue was caught in her mouth, throat still shredded as she worked to swallow. Her eyes kept dragging to the long line of his pale throat, bathed in the orange light of the braziers. The way it worked as he swallowed.

“I fear…” Aisling whispered, struggling to come up with something, some plausible or clever thing to say. “I must be rude and take my leave. Please excuse me, lord.”

“No,” he said, arrogantly. Aisling could have screamed in frustration, in fear, in something she couldn’t name. She closed her eyes instead and felt a tear trickle down her cheek unexpectedly - when had she started crying? She did not move to wipe it away lest he notice, but his eyes tracked it regardless. He seemed to notice everything about her. With one thumb he gently swept it away, a gesture so tender that it made another tear join the first. His thumb was smeared with blood from touching her.

I am weeping blood, she thought stupidly for a panicked moment before she remembered and wondered how bloodied her face was. She could barely breathe. Eris took up all space and air. He was too alive to be here in the dark with her, a force too strong to be contained by stone. Magic hummed between them and she could taste it mixed with blood.

“I do not excuse you,” he murmured again, those uncanny eyes running over her face. She felt exposed and raw and vulnerable, and it was only the knowledge that she could never hope to move him that kept her from shoving past him to flee. The thought that she was trapped twice over made her delirious, made her huff out a broken laugh like a puff of air. He assimilated to our ways quickly, she thought wildly as his eyes narrowed again at her, at her sad little laugh.

“I’ve another gift for you,” Eris said lowly, voice like smooth silk. It carressed her and she shivered.

“I do not want it,” Aisling whispered. The tears fell faster, trailing down to her jaw now. She brushed at them nervously. “You have made me into a target. Lord Keir made it plain.”

“Consider it a gift from you to me, then,” Eris said, catching the hand that brushed at her jaw in one of his own.

He dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers. Aisling flinched back, startled, but she was against the wall and had nowhere to go. He followed regardless, pressing her more firmly into the smooth stone, as the heat of his mouth seared into her. He tasted like cinnamon, smoke, and something wild underneath that; his tongue swept along hers and somehow her hands found his shoulders and one of his hands was in her bloody hair, the other gripping her waist. All she could see was the crimson brush of his hair as he pulled back, releasing her mouth; immediately Aisling craved the heat and warmth of him again. Desire gripped her as suddenly and ruthlessly as a vice and she felt dizzy and disoriented. He studied her, pupils widening, turning the amber of his eyes into something smoky and dark, then his mouth was on hers again.

Aisling made some noise, a whimper or a moan, something pulled from her unconsciously by him. Eris groaned in response, pressing more firmly against her, the hot iron of his lean, muscled chest against hers - even through the fabric of their clothes he boiled -

Eris released her lips from his once more, their breath co-mingling.

“You witch,” he accused her softly, amber eyes boring into hers. “Have you worked some enchantment on me?”

“I have not, my lord,” was all she could think to say, stupidly. She felt drunk and light, as if his grip on her hair and hand skimming along her waist was the only thing keeping her upright. She felt as if she could float away into air; perhaps he had turned her into a wisp of smoke, burned and charred away into nothing. She could vanish with the wind.

“Liar,” he accused without malice, pressing his nose against her hair and inhaling. He groaned softly again, some noise from deep within his chest. “Your magic is strong, I can taste it.”

“Not strong enough,” she said desperately, eyes falling shut. She could feel another tear arc down her jaw - had she been crying this whole time? Her cheeks were wet and cold as he moved his head away from hers, studying her like a painting.

“It is,” he said, voice a harsh . “You wanted power over yourself. You could have it. Make the choice and step forward to take it. You need not stand at the edge of the dance and wait for permission to join.”

“An ill-timed metaphor,” was all she could say as nausea opened in her once more, suddenly brought back to where she was and the feel of dried blood sticking between her toes. His hands were so warm on her, his touch firm but not enough to hurt.

“But it stands,” Eris said. “The music is already playing. You need only move your feet.”

“If I make a misstep, my life is forfeit,” Aisling whispered, admitting the truth aloud. The terror of doing so was stark but it was as if her head was in fog. He was so unbalancing, the way he needled and pursued her. Eris was cut-throat, a cruel monster who had dumped the naked, bleeding body of his betrothed at the border of his Court rather than embarrass himself. He was vicious and scheming and stroking her waist tenderly, as if his hands had never dealt violence. Blood was smeared across them both now, pressed in speckles into the front of his fine jacket. His fingers smoothed a gentle rhythm into her waist, absurdly reassuring given the circumstance in which he held her. Aisling realised she was leaning into it, unsure when his touch had turned soothing. She thought she saw softness in his face but then it was gone, a trick of the dim light.

“Yet if you stand still, your life will be forfeit regardless,” Eris replied, suddenly arrogant and dismissive once more. He squeezed her waist lightly, teasing her. “Wed to some dark lordling. Would you like that? To be a broodmare while he plunders your inheritance and beats you for the privilege to do so?”

He stepped back from her, releasing her entirely. Aisling felt dizzied by the change in his mood, by the change in her own as anger swept in. The familiar taste of humiliation was a bitter wine to swallow as she tossed her hair back and tried to regain herself from the chaos of the last hour. He was such an absurd mix of savagery and softness - the way he brushed away her tears, the way he belittled her - her thoughts ran in circles so she clung to the clarity of anger.

Eris frowned as he watched her.

“You should go make yourself decent,” he ordered and the weight of command bore down on her. Another look from him and the blood was gone from them both though she could feel the tackiness of it still. “Do not let them see you like this.”

He lingered for a moment, studying her, then took his leave without another word. The tears continued to come silently for a few minutes longer. Aisling felt wrung out, reminded that he was a male who frightened her in his intensity and entitlement, who came and went from her world as he pleased with no regard to her, that he was dangerous and ruthless no matter how handsome she found him.

But he touched you so gently a traitorous part of her mind said, which Aisling squashed furiously. She doubted he would hold her so gently and kindly before Lord Keir or the entirety of the court. And he had dropped his hands from her like she disgusted him and swept away without a backwards glance.

She did as he bade her in the end, and stopped crying enough to continue through the dark halls. Head high, shoulders back, lest someone see.

[capitalpunishments]

So we talked Rooks, but I am curious - do you have any Wardens, Hawkes, or Inquisitors close to your heart as well?

OH BOY DO I <- sleeper agent code activation

(this got so long so ill put it below a readmore jfshdidb)

i have a couple wardens but my most notables are

1. ISANAMI SURANA

isanami is one of my oldest dragon age characters and probably my favorite. hes a circle mage elf gone rogue, a blood mage by trade and a spellsword by circumstance. he learned quickly that while staves are handy for casting… theyre not all that practical during a swarm of darkspawn. i really missed that in da2 and inquisition, that mage classes couldnt use warrior/rogue weapons, so isanamis always been special in that hes used a zweihander before it was “cool”… fun fact! he was a woman originally, before i lost intrest in DA and forgot ab him - when i rediscovered the old ref sheets for the character, i hit him with The Transgenderification Beam and now hes a twink… smh.

also heres isanami before his redesign -> after his redesign. these two pics were drawn about 5 years apart so thats why theres such a massive glow up LMFAO. one thing i wanted to keep was that red hair + pale skin/sunken in eyes + visible scarring!

2. CILLIAN COUSLAND

pronounced KILL-ee-ann. cillian was my humble cousland who i was like ^^ ok you go through the horrors now. i made him conscript loghain, exile alistair, put himself on the throne with anora, AND he completed the dark ritual with morrigan himself so that he could kill the archdemon. he was like :) surely this is okay! im helping fereldan! dw about it! if i could tweak anything ab origins tho id probably make him conscript loghain and then put alistair on the throne tho… i feel like that couldve been an AWESOME worldstate. cillian originally was gonna be my goody two shoes guy but i started picking crazay choices for him and it just Snowballed From There.

as for hawkes��

1. MAIDA MARIAN HAWKE

maida my BELOVED. shes such an interesting character - shes red/purple on dialogue, which leads to this very brusque and aggressive nature that few get past. she and carver used to butt heads a lot as kids, but now she misses him more than anything </3 shes a rogue whos absolute ass at anything other than “cut you up like a kebab” and “punch you in the face” LMFAO. she doesnt respect nor care for the arishok past “youre a true fighter and thats commendable” and despite being a chantry die hard shes violently pro mage rights. its a weird conundrum and her/anders Get Into It often about how exactly to bring about revolution, pros and cons of violence, and what exactly it means to be pro-mage liberation. shes a very contradictory person and has her moments of contriteness but overall shes a massive sweetpea. also she looks just like her father and got her sister killed by meredith + carvers dead + leandra blames her for it all so shes just this bucket of angst most of the time

as for her design shes very warm toned, coppery and deep. i love that fuckass tony ponytail + bob haircut so that was what i based her entire face around

2. DANDELION “DANDY” HAWKE

ohhh dandy. dandy has always been on the backburner (sorry dandy) because its so hard to find inspiration for them. theyre like some sort of fae freak, bug eyed and Eerie. dandy is a mage and a bad one at that, willing to use ANY means necessary to come out on top. dandy killed anders, gave up isabella, and sent carver off to the grey wardens easy as pie - thats not to say that they dont regret it. dandys one of those characters where they dont mean to do bad things, they just dont want to die and hate being under pressure. theyre a part of my “bad timeline” which has cillian, dandy, yanna, and shea :)

and inquisitors…

1. VELARA LAVELLAN

NUMERO UNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY QUEEN OF QUEENS MY ANGEL OF ANGELSSSSS ahem. ok im normal. she romanced solas and i used to make CRAZY animatics of her on flipaclip as a kid. literally was obsessed with the SPOT THE WHITE ELF 🧝‍♀️ <- thats her for FOREVER. shes a mage and first to the keeper, her voice sounds kind of nasally but hoarse, and shes just very awkward and plain. her favorite companions are cole and dorian, and the iron bull in a close third, and i feel like that sums up her personality well! she fucking HATES cullen though - truly and fully hates that guy with all her heart. he said he was a circle templar and she immediately was like KILL YOURSELF NOW!!!!!!!

her design hasnt changed much over the years but one thing ive always given her is buck teeth + long brown hair + mythals vallaslin (which was an insane choice considering the Implications in veilguard)

2. YANNA TREVELYAN

ok need i say more than these pictures. these are old old old art but yanna was one of the first DA characters i ever made so its okay. she killed her brother to take his place at the Big Meet whatever its called where divine justinia gets Exploded. she went to romance cullen but broke it off when he started getting a little too “mages dont deserve human rights”. she hates darkspawn and deepstalkers equally. ger favorite colour is blue. her bff wouldve been alistair if he hadnt gotten stuck in kirkwall. she has a weird situationship with josephine and loghain (when he shows up). she punched solas. arguably shes one of my favorite ocs ever just for that last one. she fucking hates the chantry and everything it stands for and would rather disband the inquisition entirely rather than give it up to the chantry itself.

how about you? any wardens, hawkes, or inquisitors dear and near to you? :)

[velidewrites]

Two years ago, Feyre Archeron pointed her arrow to a wolf’s golden eye, her fate ready to be sealed forever. You might be guessing what happened next—a mythical creature called in an ancient treaty, stealing Feyre to a land far more magical than she anticipated? Perhaps she fell for him, too—perhaps she saved his kind with nothing but love in her human heart.

You could not be more wrong.

What you haven’t guessed is that Feyre was not alone that night—an old friend’s helpful hand pulled her out of the forest seconds before the arrow slashed through the frosty wind. The Cursebreaker was never born.

And now the world must face the consequences.

Pairing: Feyre x Rhysand

Tags: ACOTAR rewrite, What-If, Human!Feyre, Espionage, Enemies to Reluctant Allies to Lovers

My humble offering for @officialfeysandweek2023.

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Chapter 1

There was no doubt left in Feyre’s mind that the beast staring back at her was Fae.

She hadn’t hunted enough wolves in her life to consider herself an expert, but if its sheer size wasn’t telling enough, its golden eyes betrayed its true nature. Their shade resembled the few old coins she’d stowed underneath her bedroom floor—tarnished, as though they’d been kept in the darkness far too long to cast their usual soft gleam. Regular wolves never had those eyes—not on this side of the Wall, anyway—they didn’t scan their surroundings with such…awareness.

Feyre drew a slow, slow breath, though the sound was still shaky enough to form small puffs of frost that threatened to reveal her presence. As far as she was aware, the wolf had no idea it was being watched from behind the bushes—if it did, Feyre would have surely already been dead. She was safe—for now.

She eyed the long, sharp talons stretching from beneath its heavy paws, her mind helpfully supplying a rather graphic image of her blood staining them red as they slashed her neck. They could probably cut through her skin like butter, tearing the muscles beneath into shreds with ease. Feyre had never seen claws like that on a wolf before—yet another indication of the power thrumming with every step, the true danger hiding behind that cautious, golden stare.

If she were smart, she would have turned away and ran the moment she could no longer hear the beast’s heavy pants on the wintry air. Right now, though, Feyre was too desperate to be smart—she’d left all reason back in her cottage, far too cold and ruined to house a clear, collected mind.

An ash arrow should do it, Feyre figured. There was absolutely no chance any of the standard arrows she kept in her patchwork quiver could pierce the wolf’s thick pelt, let alone lodge itself deep in its flesh enough for her to stop worrying about her own life. No, an ash arrow was her only shot—some strange, divine luck must have compelled her to use the last of her silver marks to purchase it on the market earlier today. The look the merchant had given her was skeptical to say the least, his eyes settling on her thin, bony form and no doubt wondering what on earth she could possibly do with a weapon of such strength. Feyre had stopped caring about the townsfolk’s opinion of her long ago—it seemed only fair when they didn’t exactly care for her or her family, either.

With that thought in mind, Feyre reached back, careful not to make any sound as her fingers wrapped around the arrow. The craftsmanship was nothing short of exquisite, with its weight balancing perfectly in her hand and the gentle wind sliding perfectly off the polished wood. An arrow of such quality would last her weeks, if not months—if, of course, Feyre managed to last through the night herself.

She hooked two slender fingers around the bowstring, her gaze already settled on her aim where the arrow would find its home. The wolf blinked, as though its large eye was already tingling in anticipation for the shot. For a brief, horrifying second, Feyre wondered if it had somehow sensed her presence the moment her own eyes narrowed on the target.

And then, the wolf stopped.

It was an unnatural kind of stillness—the kind impossible to achieve for anyone but the monsters beyond the Wall. Even the air itself seemed to freeze around it, as though not brave enough to flow until the wolf willed it. Feyre’s heart turned into stone in her chest, so heavy she could’ve sworn it fell to the very pit of her stomach. Her jaw trembled slightly, and her hand tightened around her worn-out bow, splinters painfully digging into her palm as she adjusted her grip. 

She made herself take another breath, flat and trembling as it was, and her eyes fluttered shut—a routine she went through every time she was about to take a life. Feyre counted one second, then two, then three, before her body settled into the familiar stance at last. She was fine, she told herself silently—she simply had to release the ash arrow, and it would all be over sooner than it had begun.

When she opened her eyes again, the wolf was staring right back.

I see you, those golden eyes told her, yet no challenge flashed in the beast’s gaze as it levelled directly on her—no anger or alarm, either. Feyre decided that made things a whole lot worse.

Why was it so calm? Still unmoving, as though its claws seeped root beneath the frozen ground, the wolf simply waited , watching her intently, those loud, raspy pants still heavy in the air.

Perhaps it was old—or sick. Perhaps it had been waiting for a hunter all night, hoping for some kind of…absolution from its pain. Feyre dared a split second to scan its ridiculously large body again—but found no signs of age or injury etched into the wolf’s powerful form. If anything, it seemed to be in its prime condition, its very height of life, muscles rippling with every deep intake of breath, nostrils flaring as though still revelling in all the scents the winter forest had to offer.

Up until today, Feyre had never seen a faerie in her life—but not even the most placid of those beastly creatures could make her blind to the real danged they posed. She didn’t care, she decided, if the wolf-like monster was old, or sick, or whatever earthly displeasures its kind suffered from—it was trespassing, and it was hardly welcome in her lands. Her family’s lands. Its pelt, on the other hand, its flesh—that, Feyre would gladly accept.

The wolf must have seen the decision in her eyes—in the way those small clouds of frost stopped escaping her lips as she held her breath, ready to release it with her shot—because its own expression shifted to one so humane Feyre almost hesitated. She could have sworn an emotion—an actual sadness —filled its stare before it was quickly blinked away, replaced by nothing but gentle, quiet…peace.

Maybe after she killed it, Feyre would find her own peace as well. Even if it was only for two, three weeks—that’s how long she estimated the wolf would last her and her family. For the next half a month, they would survive. Her promise would be kept.

She could almost hear her mother’s voice urging her in her head. Get on with it, then .

Feyre looked upon the wolf one last time.

But then, the leaves behind her rustled.

She whipped back so quickly she heard a bone in her knee snap with the movement. The wolf must’ve had company—she’d been foolish to not even consider that. Faerie or not, wolves always travelled in packs—and this one’s companion had finally joined the small clearing to finish the job. It must have been why the golden wolf had been so calm—why it’d appeared so unfazed by the ash arrow pointed at its eye.

“Feyre!”

She was going to be sick. Were faerie wolves able to talk now? How had they come to learn her name? Her bow shook in her hand, still wrapped tightly around it while the other hung over the small dagger strapped to her belt. She would beg it—would plead for her life to be spared the moment the second wolf came into view. For her sisters’ lives, since one couldn’t exist without the others.

“Feyre?” the voice came again, clearer—and closer—this time.

Feyre stilled. No .

Perhaps she’d already died and this was where the old gods had sent her—bound to that forest forever, some cruel punishment for thinking she could outsmart the beasts they created. Still, she had to make sure.

“Isaac?” she called out, her own voice choked by disbelief.

The bushes rustled again—and the tall, slim figure of Isaac Hale came into view.

Feyre’s bow hung at her side, the breath she’d been holding finally released shakily as she took him in.

She hadn’t seen him in a few days—not since the barn, where he’d told her of his father’s plans to marry him off, where he’d held her amongst the hay and pulled its stiff strands out of her hair. Truthfully, Feyre hadn’t thought she would see him again, especially when she’d explicitly asked him not to seek her out. It’s better this way, she’d told him then. For the both of us.

I don’t want it, Feyre, he’d whispered.

She’d smiled sadly. Yes, you do .

She had thought that was it.

A pair of brown eyes confirmed his presence, barely visible in the growing darkness of the night, yet she could still make out the flicker of fear as they settled on her. It was then that she realised Isaac had good reason to be afraid—they both did, really—and she slowly turned back, fully expecting a set of sharp, blood-stained teeth to be the last thing she’d ever see.

The wolf was gone.

“Feyre, have you lost your mind? ” Isaac asked behind her, the pitch of his tone rising rapidly with concern. “How did you even make it this far?”

Feyre only stared at the clearing. Not even the prints of its heavy paws remained, the sheet of snow plush and gleaming softly under the fading starlight.

“Feyre?” another question—a hand on her shoulder. “Are you…okay?”

“There was a wolf,” she said absently. “The largest wolf I’ve ever seen.”

Silence pulsed between them. Then, “There are no wolves in this forest, Feyre.”

She swallowed. Hard.

“Why are you here, Isaac?” Feyre asked, turning to face him again. If the creature had indeed been a product of her hunger-stricken mind, then she’d worry about it later. She and Isaac had an agreement—and yet here he stood, his steady hand on her shoulder and his features twisted in worry.

“Your sisters told me you went out to hunt.”

Feyre almost stumbled back. “You went to see my sisters?”

Isaac shook his head, brown curls falling over his forehead. “I went to see you .”

“Why?”

His jaw clenched slightly. “You know why.”

She did. Still, “I want to hear you say it.”

Another gloved hand closed around her bow, and she let go of it, too entranced by the intensity of his stare to focus on anything else. Isaac silently hung the weapon over his back before sliding the gloves off and dropping them in Feyre’s own hands. The feel of the soft fabric was almost painful, the wool like a thousand needles pricking her frozen skin. She didn’t dare so much as look at them until he said, “We share a darkness, you and I. I’ve always known it,” he added, a shadow of a smile passing over his face. “And I’ve always known that without each other, we’d eventually get lost in it. Just as you are now.” He gestured over the forest, over the countless snow-capped trees, shielding her village far from view, blocking her way anywhere but forward—towards the Wall, as though determined to witness her demise.

Isaac seemed determined to show her the way back home.

Her knees threatened to give out. “I had no choice,” Feyre said weakly. “This was the only way.”

“Let me help you,” Isaac pleaded. “Let me do what I can—for you and your family. It will not be much, but—I will make sure it’s enough.”

Feyre shook her head as if on instinct. “That is not your responsibility.”

“It isn’t yours, either. It shouldn’t be.” He took her hands in his, closing her fingers around the woolen gloves. “Feyre. Surviving isn’t worth it if you have to do it alone.”

That’s what she was, wasn’t it? What she always had been—no ash arrows, no wolves would ever change that. But she could— Feyre could. If she only dared.

“My family?” she asked Isaac breathlessly.

“Already in the bakery,” he answered. Feyre nearly sunk to her knees.

“I can’t imagine your father is all too happy about that,” she managed.

Isaac’s brows furrowed, that shadow now twisting his expresison into that of determination. “No. He wasn’t happy when I told him my engagement was off, either.”

Feyre’s eyes widened. “Isaac—”

His hands squeezed her own, warmth seeping into her skin at last. “Together, Feyre.”

Together , she thought. What a strange word .

Still, Feyre nodded. And then, hand in hand, they walked away from the forest—far away from the Wall, never to get close to it again.

Neither of them noticed a pair of golden eyes watching them from beyond its veil.

***

The transformations had always been painful, but he’d learned to endure them over the passing years. Eventually, the loud stretching of bones and shredding of skin became a routine of sorts—not particularly a welcome one, but necessary nonetheless. For his High Lord, he’d been willing to withstand it. To go through it, over and over again, until there were no more bones, no more skin on him to shred.

Changing back was a mercy from his Lord, and even still, he never looked forward to it. Somehow, returning to the form he’d been born with felt even more excruciating than the beast he’d been forced to become. There was always the terrible thought in the back of his mind that perhaps he was destined to be the wolf—that without it, there was no purpose to his existence, no future for him to plan for. It filled him with enough dread that he stifled it every time it managed to weasel its way back into his heart.

He never complained, though. Not once. The pain, the dread—they were all worth it if they meant the others would have a chance. He would be part of the future even if he never got to live it—that was the one consolation his mind would offer him in times of doubt.

Except that none of it mattered anymore. Tonight, he had failed—and there would not be another chance.

Their time was up.

When he kneeled before his High Lord, he could not keep his body from shaking, still half-covered in the frost-clad fur, claws still peering through his bloodied skin. That same blood was now dripping onto the marble floor, black-and-white patterns melting into one shade of grey right before his very eyes. Of uncertainty.

What would become of them now?

“Forgive me,” he managed hoarsely, his voice still carrying the deep growl of the beast. “Forgive me, High Lord.”

A flash of red—auburn like the Autumn leaves—sweeping over his shoulders as someone took him into their arms. 

“It’s not your fault,” the man whispered. “You know it isn’t.”

He could only shake his head. “I was so close—”

“Her terms were not fulfilled,” another voice, low and strained, sounded from above them. “There was nothing you could have done.”

His friend pulled back to look up at their High Lord. “Not even the Mother can save us now.”

His features darkened—even the golden mask resting atop his nose lost its gleam, the Spring sunlight fading along with it. “No,” the High Lord said. “No, she can’t.”

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @popjunkie42-blog @augustinerose @toporecall @autumndreaming7 @melting-houses-of-gold @belabellissima @itsthedoodle

[1dont-really-know]

Girl!!!! Tell me more about the bad timeline of Malva?

Hi hi!! I apologize for taking so long to answer this. I haven't had the time to tag all the bad timeline posts I made :(

Anyway, in the bad timeline, we're finished with the past arc, and now we're moving on to a pre-NRC era. I'd say abouuuut 10 ish years before the events of twst. Malva's been dead for at least 150 years at this point.

I have a relatively low angst wip as an intro to this timeskip and I'll share a snippet of it under the read more. One thing I'll say is that this is Malva's cryptid era

“… a child?”

Silver all but jolts at the sudden voice. He turns to face the stranger, alertness and caution in his stance as he eyed them warily. Father had taught him how to tell when an enemy was sneaking up on him just yesterday, and here he was getting ambushed by someone.

The stranger is a woman, he soon realized. A tall woman with short black hair and horns on top of her head. Horns like Malleus's. Horns that shouldn't be on anyone that's alive except Malleus and Queen Maleficia. Still, the woman stood there, as real as anything could be, even with the beginnings of a headache building in Silver’s temples.

The woman furrows her brows, lowering them until they disappear behind the wilted flowers that wrap around her head, hiding her eyes. There are flowers on her hair as well. Small, pinkish ones that are darker near the center. Those were the only flowers that hadn't wilted yet. She was wearing a dark blue uniform, not unlike the ones that healers wear in the history books Father showed Silver. And behind her… behind her is a tail covered in black scales, the underbelly of it has a dark purple color.

“What are you doing here, little one?” The woman asks, kneeling down until they're at the same height– or, well, they would be the same height had it not been for her horns. Her voice is gentle when she talks to him. Motherly, almost. “Are you lost? Where are your parents?”

Silver was hesitant to respond. After all, speaking to strangers was never going to be a good idea, but seeing as he's lost in the forest with no idea which way was home, he doesn't think he really has a choice. “I don't know where I am,” he finally says, thankful for the raindrops hiding his tears, “I'm not my father's son. I don't know where he is either and I don't know if he'll be coming to get me.”

The woman hums understandingly, then straightens back up again and turns to one of Silver’s bird friends. He notices that her skirt didn't get dirty, even after kneeling down on the muddy ground.

Silver notices two other things: first, the woman was undoubtedly fae, as seen by the pointedness of her ears. The bitterness of the thought of his own ears, curved and unchangeably human, rears its ugly head again. But that wasn't the thing that caught his attention the most. No, it was the second thing.

Second, the woman had a dangly jewelry piece on one of her horns, made of a deep blue gemstone and speckled with bits of purple.

It looked like the jewelry piece Silver saw on a painting of the late Second Princess.

[complete-in-ix]

Pretty Flower, Sharp Thorns

Rated: G Warning(s): Implied death

Description: Minhyuk is just an ordinary human, his boyfriend Sanha is a very extraordinary fae. With things being the way they are between humans and faeries, Minhyuk has to take certain precautions to make sure Sanha is someone he can trust. But one day, Sanha suggests a date in Faequelt, the faery world. It's a risky move, seeing as Minhyuk doesn't yet have Sanha's blessing and Sanha doesn't yet have Minhyuk's name. It could be dangerous. Then again, Minhyuk has never been able to resist Sanha.

(Read on Ao3)

Minhyuk likes to think of himself as a fairly normal person. Dark brown hair that isn't too long or too short, unassuming dark eyes that are often turned to the ground, a short stature that would make him easy to lose in the crowded streets of London. He'd guess he's a lot more muscular than most people assume, toned from his hobby of dancing, but that's probably the only thing that stands out about him.

Then again, normal people don't tend to be able to see things like faeries or other supernatural creatures like he can. It's not as much of an adventure as the children's books he grew up on make it out to be, which he's grateful for. All he wants to do with the Fae is to be with his beloved Sanha, a young soon-to-be noble among the Spring Court. 

Sanha is everything Minhyuk isn't; tall, bright-eyed, outgoing, optimistic, and just a little naive. Even their appearances are wildly different; Sanha with his shining silver eyes, soft lavender hair, and almost feminine features. He seems almost delicate compared to Minhyuk who looks a little more than rough in comparison. Honestly, Minhyuk doesn't know what Sanha sees in him to make him stay, but he'll be damned if he says he isn't grateful.

One day when Minhyuk is visiting Sanha by the edge of the woods, the faery makes a suggestion that takes him by surprise.

"My flower, won't you come to Faequelt with me? Just this once? I do love you so, but coming here to see you this early in the season is draining me."

Indeed, winter has yet to release its hold on the land; Minhyuk isn't sure how Sanha even got here without alerting the malicious Winter Court. As much as he wishes he could say yes, he is still suspicious. Sanha is still a faery after all and could be trying to trick Minhyuk for the purpose of killing or enslaving him. The thought of it breaks his heart, but he has to stay vigilant. He may be in love with Sanha, but he still doesn't know if he can truly trust him.

Sensing Minhyuk's hesitation, Sanha pouts, his eyes sparkling as he gives Minhyuk those puppy eyes that he's never been able to resist. 

"Please? You know I love you, I'll keep you safe." Sanha pleads; and like a fool, Minhyuk relents.

Faequelt is like nothing Minhyuk has ever seen before. A forest bursting with color and life even in the dead of winter, the flowers themselves seem to sing. Some of them actually do, echoing Sanha's angelic voice in a hypnotic choir of voices like crystals. Sanha takes Minhyuk in his arms, swinging him around in a slow dance through the trees, and he is so mesmerized that he fails to notice as the colors begin to fade away and the music slows to a stop. Sanha smiles at him, and Minhyuk's world goes spinning out of focus. Strange, it looked like Sanha had grown fangs for a split second there. No matter, he is still breathtakingly beautiful- literally this time, it would seem. Minhyuk frowns as black spots begin to swim in his vision. He wants to keep losing himself in those bright silver eyes. So, so pretty. He faintly registers that they've stopped dancing, but his head is still spinning as if he's been out of breath and dancing for hours. Sanha must be more energetic than he thought. The faery holds out a hand to him, which he gratefully takes. 

"My poor flower, you must be exhausted. I can help, if only you give me your name," Sanha says. His name? What would Sanha need Minhyuk's name for? Oh, right. He doesn't even know it. Names have power here, that's why Minhyuk told Sanha to call him Rocky when they first met. Sanha had never listened, but he didn't mind. He has never been able to resist Sanha anyway, so he could do whatever he pleases.

"My name... My name is Minhyuk." He murmurs, trying to blink away the sparkling light around his and Sanha's joined hands. 

"What a beautiful name. It's just like you. I'll cherish it forever," Sanha says, and Minhyuk's knees give out on him. Hearing such an ethereal being such as Sanha call him beautiful is a wonderful feeling; like he's floating on air.

"Sleep now, my Minhyuk. You need not to wake again." Sanha whispers, his lips brushing against Minhyuk's ear as he collapses against his chest. Minhyuk obeys, his eyes fluttering shut without protest. 

He's never been able to resist Sanha, after all. 

[deannadoeswriting]

"You scored a perfect zero."

I was never sure what I expected out of the afterlife but it sure hadn't been the empty, eerily silent lobby of a 24hr McDonald's. Nor had I expected my fate would be handed to me by a talking dog. "What does that mean?"

What kind of dog even is this? Every time I thought I had a fix on the nature of this creature, I'd blink and lose it again.

"It means you were kind of a bastard but you were exactly kind enough. I've never seen it before. Not even an eight of a percentage one way or the other. I did the math myself. Twice."

I wasn't sure i trusted the math skills of an ineffable mutt, but what did i know. I did have bit of a nasty side. Guess i never quite manage to exceed my own nastiness with kindness, despite my efforts. "And?"

"And Steve didn't account for this possibility when he was writing the protocols. I can't send you to paradise or damn you for eternity." The dog huffed wearily and I got the impression I was the difficult customer coming in 5 minutes before closing.

Not like I chose to be here, pooch. "So I'm stuck here?"

The dog laughed. "No."

"No?"

"No. You'll upset the custodians."

"What custodians?"

"Pray you never find out," the dog said, a shiver running cartoonishly up its spine.

"So, what then?"

"Don't know. Gotta call Steve." The dog hopped down from its seat. "If you see the hat man outside, don't let him in. He's on probation." The creature trotted off into the kitchens, presumably to make a phone call.

"What the fuck does probation mean here?" I muttered.

I played with an errant straw wrapper - noting the otherwise complete dearth of evidence to suggest food ever happened here - and waited for my- what even to call it? It's not my dog. Really it was not even a dog at all. Some kind of otherworldly case manager?

My eyes wandered to the pitch black outside. No stars; no city. No light whatsoever. Pretty unsettling, honestly.

What was taking that dog so long, anyway?

I got up to stretch my legs and wandered over to the PlayPlace, trying the doors. Locked.

I meandered over to the counter and grabbed a cup from the dispensers near the register. The drink machine hummed diligently as I bent down to get a closer look at my options. New Coke. Pepsi. Old Coke. Ichor Punch. Grimmace. Grey Powerade. I tested the Ichor Punch; a viscous, black sludge plorp!-ed into the tray below.

Thst didn't look... safe. But I was already dead. But maybe the soda machine has fae rules? But I am already dead. My internal journey completed, curiousity got the best of my and I dipped a finger into the ichor, bringing it to my lips with determination. As my mouth closed around the dubious non-newtonian fluid something outside slapped the window beside me. I about jumped out of my skin at the same time that a vile sensation washed over my tongue. If I was an ichor sommelier I might describs it as having notes of malort, lime, and cream soda with the texture of chocolate pudding.

I side-eyed the window as I clung desperately to the counter in front of me, suppressing the urge to hurl. Outside stood the hat man. I'd never seen The Hat Man, but a friend of mine had told me enough to know that whatever this shadowy mass of vaguely human shapes was, it couldn't be the Hat Man because that was definitely some kind of baseball cap or trucker hat on his head. Also he was the only other entity the dog had bothered to mention so...

"Hey.... uhh... Dog? That hat guy's... out here."

I straightened as the effects of the ichor subsided and filled my cup with Pepsi, my curiosity thoroughly killed by this point. Pepsi may be the inferior sodey pop, but my palate needed cleansed, badly.

The figure outside pointed emphatically to the drink machine and pantomimed drinking.

"You want a drink?"

He nodded.

I looked around. Dog was still not around. What could it hurt? I thought as I grabbed another cup. The next few monutes were filled with the fun game of trying to figure or what he wanted in his cup. Ended up being half and half Old Coke and Ichor Punch with a splash of Grimmace. I put a lid on and stuck a straw in the sink before approaching the door to pass it outside to the hat dude.

I expected the door to be locked, but instead it swung wide open at the merest suggestion of a touch. One moment the hat guy was outside the window, the next he was standing in front of me.

Oh. You're tall, I thought. Dumbly I held out the beverage. He took it and then moved as if to come inside. "Hey man, normally I'm all for disrespecting authority and shit, but I'm kind of on thin ice here and I'd really appreciate if you could wait until after they decide where they're sending me before I let you in? I'm really not looking to spend eternity surrounded by conservative politicians."

The hat man nodded amiably and took a step backward and then another, never taking his gaze off me as he faded into the void. I stared at where he'd just been standing for a long minute.

"Shut the door! You're going to let that asshole in here!" The dog barked somewhere behind me. Seeing the cup in my hand as I obeyed and turned to rejion her at our table, she asked, "Did you pay for that drink?"

"Yes...?"

"No you didn't. You don't have any money. "

"So, uh, what's the verdict?"

"We're sending you back."

"No."

"No?"

"Absolutely not. I do not consent."

"Do you know how many kids your age come through here begging for a second chance?"

"Do you know how much it sucks to be alive in modern society. Can't I be reincarnated as a golden retriever or something?"

"...Steve didn't say anything about reincarnation. Hold on."

Dog hopped down from her seat and disappeared into the back again.

Minutes passed as I nursed my Pepsi impatiently. I glanced outside just in time to see the hat man fade from view. Was he watching me? Was he... did he look different? More solid around the edges.

As the minutes stretched into an interminable nightmarevof boredom, Ibgot up to refill my drink. I pondered the unlocked door. If I walked out, would my consciousness cease to be? Or would I become like that guy out there? Would Dog force me to come back or would I be disallowed re-entry?

As I stared at the door, pensively sipping my New Coke, a figure manifested before me. The hat man again. I nearly dropped my cup at the sight of him. Where he'd been all fuzzy black shapes and the suggestion of features before, he was now a fleshed out vision of a man and that man was wearing a slutty little crop top to show off his unexpectedly toned physic. My eyes followed the flow of the artwork before me, passing - 10? A 10-pack? Ridiculous! Below the hills of overcompensation, my eyes found themselves following a happy trail which ended abruptly with his scandalously low-cut leather pants suggesting that his abs weren't the only part of him the was overcompensating.

He lifted a too-long finger to his lips with a smirk and stepped back into the darkness once more.

A second later. "Okay, so Ste- what are you doing?"

I sputtered in embarrassment, feeling my face flush, as I turned towards Dog. "I- uh- N-nothing uhh just getting a drink!"

"Oh, well, okay. So, good news bad news-" Dog's words became background noise as I noticed movement in one of the windows behind her. There he was again. Dancing seductively to a silent beat that just happened - I think - to sync up with the pounding of my pulse in my inner ear. "Hey, are you alright? You're sweating a lot. Did you drink the Ichor? I told Steve to take it out of the machine but he's too stubborn."

"Y-yeah, no, I'm fine. I think I might have gotten Old Coke by mistake?" I laughed nervously. "Sorry. You were saying" despite myself I could not take my eyes off the strip tease occurring outside.

"What are you looking at?" Dog asked. Seeing her start to turn I dashed my drink upon the floor and begsn apologizing profusely.

"No worries, no worries. I'll get a towel."

As soon as Dog had her back turned to me, I motioned at the hat to cut it the fuck out. He grinned impishly in response before disappearing back into the shadows.

Thoroughly flustered, I stormed over to the door by the drink machine and slipped outside, making sure to stay within the halo of light cast by the interior of the McDonald's. "You're going to wreck my chances of being reincarnated as a fat, happy house pet, you jerk!" I called into the void.

"Am I?" A spear of desire shot down my spine as I felt his soft lips brush my ear and his breathe tickled my neck as he appeared behind me.

I spun around and found myself looking up into a face carved right out of my teenage fantasies. He was standing so close. "Probably," I said, the word falling from my lips with no real meaning behind it. A long moment passed while I stared up into those intense, dark eyes. "I'm going back inside before Dog see-"

As I moved to push past him and let myself back in, he caught me and pushed me up against the wall, blocking off my exit with an arm. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at him, now towering over me. I was losing whatever will I still had to go inside by the second as his face drew nearer to mine, the light from inside glinting off his almost predatory, fanged smile. He paused a hair's breadth from my lips and I all but writhed under his attention. Before I could stop myself, I closed the distance between us, my hands reaching up to grab his shirt and tangle in his silky, dark hair almost of their own volition.

After a long, desperate moment, I pulled away. "What do you want from me?" I asked, out of breath.

"Whatever you're willing to give me," he murmured, planting one last, tender kiss on my lips before stepping back.

I struggled to find any words that could escape my frazzled mind. After a moment he tilted his head towards the interior of the building and wordlessly faded into the shadows again, leaving me flushed and wating.

I yelped in surprise as the door swung open beside me. "There you are! It's not safe out here, you know. Can't say I blame you - that Old Coke's really not agreeing with you, huh?"

I shook my head and followed Dog back inside. She instructed me to take a seat while she cleaned up the spilled soda with her paws. For some reason i found myself unable to look directly at her while she did this.

"All better!" Dog chuffed as she finished. She hopped up into her seat and fixed me with her gaze. Whatever kind of dog she was supposed to be, it was the kind with humaney eyes. "Now, as I was saying before all that, Steve said we can't do a reincarnation unless you want to be reborn as a new person. So, either you go back to your old life or you go through growing up all over again. Either way you'll have no memory of this place."

I stared for a long moment at the black expanse outside. This was not what I wanted. Earth sucked. Getting hit by a lifted pickup in broad daylight had sucked. My dog died last year and that sucked more than anything had ever sucked before. Sucked even more goingbit alone because I was too busy putting my nose to the grindstone in the name of survival to spare time for friends and family. Or hot, intense, supernatural men... "What's the deal with the hat guy, anyway?"

"Guy came through a couple decades ago, bound for hell. Didn't take the news well and bolted for the door." If dogs could shrug, Dog did now. "He got beyond the light before I could stop him and became one with the void. Steve said he can come back in another century or so but it'll be straight to hell if he does."

"I see..." My voice trailed off.

"Anyway, that's enough about that. We're almost out of time. Have you made your decision?"

"Just out of curiosity, if someone like me went out there, what would happen?"

"No, seriously, I need you to pick, " Dog said, tone serious. "Back to your old body or freshly born. You're choice. Up to you. What's it gonna be?"

"I don't feel so good," I lied. "I'm going to grab a drink of water real quick."

"Ok. Don't take your time! You have to choose!"

I saw him outside again as I approached the door. He looked pitiful and lonely, despite his efforts to hide it. Not that it mattered; my mind was already made up and I was not going back to earth. The door was already closing behind me by the time I heard Dog verbally process the fact that the fountain machine didn't even have water.

The hat guy offered me a hand as I stepped down out of the light and into the shadows. As the darkness consumed us and Dog barked powerlessly into the void, I felt the warmth of this man's giant hand in my own as he led me further from the light. Maybe later, I'd experience a different kind of warmth from him.

In the afterlife, people will be measured by how good or evil they are in their lifetime. You scored a perfect zero, without a single decimal points. According to the regulations, it’s illegal to send you to heaven or hell so nobody knows what to do now.

[lovelively]

🐉Fears of a Prince🐉

Why hello there! My lazy being has decided that after all this time, after receiving a couple of very encouraging comments by a lovely person, I should probably upload one of the things I have had in mind for quite some time...

If ur interested, go ahead! Here's the prescription love, please take your reverse comfort pills with care. Now on your merry way you go. If you have any questions or concerns please request an alteration or a prompt. Thank you very much for choosing the Lively pharmacy. Hopefully I'll see you soon ♡

Pairing: Malleus x Yuu

Genre: Reverse comfort / Angst

Tw: PTSD, description of gore, blood and war, sad boi malleus

Summary: it's the middle of the night. Your having a peaceful slumber, until a panicked night creature comes knocking at your front door...

Story under the cut

It's a normal night at Night Raven College. The lights are out in every Dorm. The only thing reflecting off of the beautiful ornaments of the Ramshackle Dorm is the full moon shining in the black night sky. Yuu was sleeping soundly in their bed. Tucked in nicely and dreaming of their boyfriend: Crown prince Malleus Draconia, of the Valley of Thorns. To them he was perfect. Always so calm and collected around others but letting loose with them. Laughing, giggling and pranking was always apartof the couples scedule when they were alone. As few of a time as that may happen, with Malleus almost always being followed by at least one of his friends/watch dogs. Not to mention how handsome the fae prince was, his strong body, the sharp jawline, his hair falling into place perfectly everytime, his green eyes glowing brighter everytime he lays them upon your smaller frame. Perfect. That was all your sleeping mind was able to produce in your dreams. I mean, how could you not dream of someone as perfect as him? He is flawless!! Or so you thought...

Time: 2:37 am

A knock. Wait, a knock? Who would be knocking at your Dorm at such an ungodly hour? Hmmm. Mabye it was just your imagination. Its probably best if you just fall asleep again...

Another, much louder series of knocks. Ok, mabye it wasn't your imagination last time. This time, it definitely isn't. Getting out of bed you quickly put on your robe and head over to the stairs. As you decent from the stairs you hear another series of knocks, this time you can hear the desperation, even panic in the knocks. What was going on. Was somebody hurt? What could put a NRC student into such a state of pure desperation as to knock on your front door as rapidly as they do? As you arrive at the door you swing it open quickly, only to reveal a scared and (as usual) sleepdeprived Silver. "What happened? Is everything alright? Silver?" You asked with a worried expression as you eyed the breathless boy infront of you up and down, looking for injuries. "Yuu" Silver takes a deep breath "it-its Malleus... h-he-he's having a panic attack. Its horrible! The entire Dorm is shaking and a thunderstorm is raging outside. The wind is so strong, It's almost a tornado!" Upon hearing this you fell into a state of shock. Malleus? Panic attack? Snapping out of your trance you looked Silver dead in the eye and decided that you would have him find Lilia, who you assumed was not present seeing as he had come to you for help, whilst you would try to calm your beloved down. With this plan in mind you grabbed Silvers wrist and dragged him towards the Daisomnia Dorm, telling him what you had in mind on the way. Once you arrived at the Dorm you said you goodbyes and goodlucks to one another. And with that the human boy had left you in front of the shaking Dorm, surrounded by storm clouds, looking as if it was a scene right out of a horror movie. And you were the idiot main character, now making your way into the haunted house...

Once you made it inside, you went straight for Malleus's room, ignoring the screams of fear making their ways out of the other Dorm members throats. Ignoring Sebeks pleads to let him come with you, that he had sworn to protect the prince, even if that meant he had to protect Malleus from himself. Yet you left sebek standing outside of your boyfriends bedchamber. Once you had entered the room you immediately layed eyes on the weeping creature in the far left corner of the room, rocking itself back and forth, grabbing at its hair and horns, pulling at the body parts. Secretly hoping that nobody would see it in this state...

Yet here you were, standing right in front of the door, looking down at the broken man that you once knew as your perfect boyfriend with the most pityfull expression your face ever held. Slowly you made your way towards the 'young' prince as to not scare him. Once you stood before him you kneeled down, putting your hand atop his, entangled in his hair. The sudden skinship startled him, forcing him to look up at you. But the person looking up at you wasn't Malleus Draconia, it was someone else. Sure he still looked the same, except the tears rolling down his pale cheeks and his reddened, puffy eyes along with his stuffed nose, yet the look in his eyes told you that his mind wasn't at NRC right now, nor was it in the Valley of Thorns. It was far, far away from the peace and quiet that you had here, even with all of the overblots happening at the moment, the place that this man's mind was in, was far worse, far more dangerous and was flooded with the blood of innocent men, far more blood than the grounds Night Raven College will ever see...

Terrified was probably the most accurate word you could find for the look in you lovers eyes. Terrified of the things he had seen, Terrified of the things he might see in the future, Terrified of anything and everything. At this very moment, Malleus Draconia was in his weakest, most vulnerable state. Some would have taken advantage of this situation, the Crown Prince, on the floor, defenseless because of his emotional state, right at their mercy. But not you. You could never do something as cruesome as that to him, never. You heart wouldn't allow it. So, instead of gaining blackmail material, robbing him or assassinating the fae prince you hugged him. As simple as that. You didn't ask questions you didn't tell him to stop crying. You just assured him that it would be ok, that HE would be ok. So you just held him in the safe space that were your arms. As close to your chest as you could, hoping that hearing your slow heartbeat would help him calm down, at least a little bit. And it did. After another 10 minutes of him clutching your robe and crying into your shirt he had calmed down enough to form correct sentences again. But when you asked what happened you heard an answer that made your heart drop all the way to the very core of the world. "I had a nightmare" Malleus stated with a shakey, quiet and raspy voice " I was back. Back on the battle field. Back with all of these dead bodies loosing their lifes to save the life of my younger sister. All of those innocent men, lying on enemy territory, gutted, bloody, completely messed up. All of these men, who will never be able to see their wife and children again. All of those men that never had a proper burial because of those Bastards from Arendelle (pls dont hate me for this, I didn't know what else to pick). Only because their stupid king believed that he is the only one which is deserving of Mallania's hand in Marriage! (psst! Mallania is Malleus's younger sister) Abducting her like that! The things I had to see because of that son of a bitch! The things my poor innocent sister had to see..." and with that he broke down again. Hot tears streaming down his fair skin dropping on his lap once they reached his jaw. You were shocked. Not because you couldn't handle the situation, but because you would have never guessed that Malleus had gone through so much already, having to save his little sister from a Narcissistic King, watching innocent men and friends die... not only was that a lot to take in, but also a lot for one person to handle! How was he able to bottle that memory up for so long? All of that didn't matter when Lilia barged into the room. "Yuu? What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous to be around him when he is like this. His emotions have taken over, he's not controlling his magic right now, his emotions are. You should leave, NOW!" Lilia demanded of you, but you couldn't. You couldn't leave Malleus, not like this. Not only because you didn't dare leave him alone like this, but also because the fae prince had a firm grasp at your wrist, not willing to let you go, not now, not yet. He needed you and you knew that. Seeing the way you two looked at each other Lilia knew instantly what was going on. So he agreed to let you stay. "What you are about to witness isn't for the light hearted" the Vampire stated "I will now lock away Malleus's memory's of the war again, leaving them to only faintly stay in his mind. For that I have to replay them in the open, which means you will see all of these horrid pictures Malleus has been tortured with for thousands of years now. Do you understand? You can still Back out if you want to..." But you shook your head. "I can handle it" you replied, confident that you could, infact, handle Malleus's past. Let me cut this short. You couldn't. You started weeping 2 minutes into the first memory. The things this man had seen were unbelievable.

Men and women, gutted like fish (Oclavinelle Members looking real scared rn). Their insides all over the battlefield. A liver there, a loung hanging out of the body of a woman. Blood as far as one could see. And Malleus, your Malleus in the midst of it. Covered in blood, mostly that of others. Gashes, scars already forming, blood running down his usually oh so gentle features, now putting up a face of rage, disgust, bloodlust. His eyes showed that he would make his enemy pay, that he would spill three times as much of enemy blood as they had spilled of his kind.

Snapping out of your trance your eyes fell upon a very concerned Malleus. "My darling, are you alright? You looked as if you would cry..." The fae prince proclaimed with a worried expression on his handsome face. "Oh, don't worry. I'm ok. How are you? Is everything alright?" Malleus looked at the floor. Shame rose in the usually so calm and collected prince.He had let his lover see him in his most vulnerable state, they had seen him cry and worst of all they had seen the things he was capable of. The thunderstorm, created by his negative emotion, the war. Oh god, the war... His innocent Rose had seen him kill, torture, frolocking in the sight of his enemies fall and their blood tickling down his body. What do they think of him now. Can an Angel like Yuu even love a Monster like him...

....aaaand this is where I'm gonna end it! Let me know if you want a part two! I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much. Alright loves. This is where your prescription ends. Mabye you can get a new one? Who knows... but this is all the Angst pills you'll get for now.

Love, Lively♡

[iamacrazybagel]

What if I Told You Fairy Tales Were Real? - Chapter 5: Grow a Pair

"So where exactly did your mother go?"

You sat across from Raphael, holding a cup of warm tea. He had brewed some for the both of you after you said you were parched. Despite this tower only being so large, there were still nooks and crannies you hadn't explored. There was a firebrick stove and a functioning sink just past the bed. There was a wall that separated the kitchen nook from the living space. You assumed that was why you hadn't seen it before. This place was actually quite cozy. Though you didn't fancy the idea of being confined to it for twenty years like Raphael.

The tea he had brewed was very refreshing. You hadn't had anything to eat or drink since you left the dwarves' house. The warm liquid felt comforting against your throat. Raphael had promised to make you his specialty - Hazelnut Soup. He said it was perfect for any cold or flu, and it worked wonders to rid your body of its stress. You had never heard of such a concoction before, but you were excited to try it.

"She said she was going out to find a birthday present."

You brought to glass to your lips and hummed as you gulped a large swig of tea. You didn't know how, but Raphael had managed to make Heaven in a glass. The honey brought a touch of sweetness while the lemon brought a fruity taste to it. It was divine.

"A birthday present? For whom?" You tilted your head slightly, perplexed. Considering how she was raising Raphael to absolutely despise humanity, you wouldn't fathom she would have friends herself. She most likely had been betrayed or abused in the past. You didn't want to assume as much, you didn't know the woman. But you wagered that there was a reason for her keeping Raphael up here, alone. If she was this dead-set on antagonizing her own species, there had to be some sort of trauma there, right?

Raphael cleared his throat as he set his glass down. "Oh, for me."

He appeared a bit bashful at his words. You weren't entirely sure what that meant. Was he embarrassed that it was his birthday? Was he embarrassed by admitting so? You would have to spend this time alone with him to understand how he worked.

You had sent Fae on her way hours ago. You knew she didn't intend on backing out. She didn't know where the satchel was, and if she attempted to hurt you or Raphael, she'd never know. She was stuck, and it was almost laughable. However she was serious. She was a no-nonsense gal, and you could respect that about her. She got to the point and did what she had to do. You still wondered what her intentions with the crown were. Though you knew you weren't nearly as close enough to ask her such a question. Besides, if you had, she most likely would've just spat on you again. She would not give you the answer you wanted. It was really none of your concern what she intended to do with the crown. It didn't interfere with your plans, so it wasn't a priority. Though you were curious.

"When's your birthday?" you asked as you took another sip from your cup. You'd probably kill someone over this tea. You refused to let it go. Perhaps it was just the fact that you hadn't had a drop of water in over two days, but you felt like this tea was the answer to all of life's problems. You eyed Raphael as you rose from his seat. Had he finished his glass?

"In just a few days. I'll be turning twenty one."

You hummed as he took his glass and disappeared behind you. He would be twenty one. He looked a bit young to be twenty one. You noticed his hair trailing along the floor. Your lips tugged in a grimace. How was his hair so long? Wasn't it a pain to maintain? How did he keep it so clean and healthy? It was so long you couldn't find the end! Didn't it get dirty just being on the floor like that? Did it ever get caught in between furniture? You had so many questions. There were so many mysteries of this world. You wondered if at one point you had any of these abilities. The concept of magic and spells was so foreign to you, but why? It didn't make sense. Why did magic exist? Did you have any? Where were you from? Did your family have magic? Who lived in that cottage? You decided to not dwell on it further, it wasn't doing your head any favors.

"Are you ready for some soup?" you heard from the kitchen area. You called back with a yes and sat your drink onto the table next to you. You brushed past some loose hairs and noted you still needed a shower. You wondered where Raphael washed up. Surely there was a bathroom somewhere. You weren't sure how many other crevices there were to explore, but a washroom had to be in one of them.

"Hey, uh...Raphael?" You shifted up from your seat and made for the kitchen. He called back to you. Your eyes trailed along the small space as you stepped in. A small overhead light shined atop Raphael who was filling some water in a pot. A shelf adorned the wall to the left and was stuffed with canned goods, bags of food and perishables. The floor was a bit dirty and a few dishes were placed in the sink  along the counter. The space was a bit smothering, but Raphael seemed to fit in quite nicely. He looked to you quizzically. You cleared your throat.

"Where's the washroom? I'd like to wash this grime off of me before we eat."

He hummed and pointed just past you. There was an entrance to a small room past some draped purple curtains. It was pitch black inside the small space. You gave a nod and walked over to the entrance. You felt a bit exposed only having a curtain separating you and the male. The kitchen faced direction adjacent to the washroom. One swift breeze and Raphael could possibly peek in on you. You knew he wouldn't do so though. He was a golden boy through and through. He was scared of his own mother. He wouldn't dare to sneak a peek at you.

You pulled back the thick curtain and pulled the overhead lamp on. How was there electricity in this tower? The dwarves hadn't even had such a luxury. Perhaps it was solar power? Perhaps it was mechanically driven? Whatever the case, you were grateful for the brightness. You could now see a sink directly across from you, a large mirror above it. A decent sized, framed hole lied on the floor off to the left. You assumed that was the toilet. To the right was the shining star of this room - the shower. A small, thin curtail framed its entrance. You wasted no time in pulling it back and turning the water on.

You peeled away your garments and took a look at your body in the mirror. You eyed the spot on your chest where that old hag had torn through you, gliding your hand across the flawless patch of skin. It felt...normal. It felt like nothing had happened. You felt no pain when pushing onto the skin. But the memory would never fade.

Your skin was dirty. Some bits of dried blood still stuck onto your frame and dirt was caked into your many crevices. You also weren't visually appealing. Your body was worn out and though you had some meat on you, it was showing that you hadn't been eating well. You grimaced at the sight. You ran a hand through your hair, noting its oily and dry state. You were ready to be clean. Just feeling the warmth of the steaming water sent chills along your skin.

You sighed as you stepped into the line of beaming water. The rushing liquid felt so soothing against your body. You stood there for a solid minute, basking in the enthralling heat. You ran your hands through your hair, allowing the water to embed itself into your scalp. It was pure bliss.

You allowed your body to instantly relax and let your thoughts drift as you washed yourself. You would regain your memories, you had to. You were on this journey to find yourself, and you weren't going to let all of this set you back. You were sure Fae would return with information on the dwarves and Nival. Nival hadn't found you yet. That was promising in and of itself. You had to see the positive side to all of this.

Fae would return and she would take you to Corona.

You intended on setting out for Corona since it was the nearest civilization and she seemed well versed in its navigation. You weren't sure if you would find any answers there, but you had to try.

You'd be sad leaving Raphael. He had been quite generous and kind. You sincerely wished the best for him. He needed to grow away from his mother. She seemed controlling and manipulative. It really wasn't your business, but you hated leaving someone in a rough position. Why else would you send Fae out to check on the dwarves? Raphael was no different.

You rinsed the soap from your body and let the warm water beat down on you for a few more minutes. You really didn't want to leave this heavenly sauna. But you needed to get some food in your system. You swiftly turned the water off and stepped out of the shower and took the hanging towel to dry yourself with. You felt so clean. You almost felt as if you were glowing. Your face felt smooth and fresh. Your hair, damp with water was now soft and ran smoothly through your fingers. You breathed a sigh of relief.

After drying yourself off you pulled your clothes back on. They weren't dirtied so reusing them was alright. Aside from that, they weren't yours. Raphael couldn't just spare all of his prized possessions he had spent precious time on to clothe you.

You did a once-over in the mirror and finally felt satisfied with your reflection.

You pushed past the hefty curtain and made your appearance known to the man in the kitchen. "Thanks for letting me shower. I feel so much better," you said as you walked into the nook. Raphael glanced your way and a look of surprise crossed his face. You furrowed your brows at his shock.

"You look different from before! I suppose it's the shine in your skin, but you look...better."

You weren't sure how to take that statement. Was he attempting to compliment you? If he was he needed to improve on his social skills. That could've been taken as a direct hit to your image.

"Um...thanks." You decided to cut it short and instead asked about the soup. By now the scent of nutmeg and salt had wafted through the air. It smelled divine. Your stomach growled. Raphael let out a chuckle.

"The soup's almost finished," he said as he went to stir the concoction in the metal pot. You peered inside and found a mesh of boiled hazelnuts, parsley and chicken broth. You couldn't wait to eat.

"I'll go and sit down then."

You pulled away from the steaming stove top and backed out of the kitchen area. This tower really was amazing. It had everything you needed to live - running water, electricity, plumbing, the works! Though the upper part of the house was so clean and maintained, it made you wonder about the staircase below. There was no light and it was filth ridden. It didn't smell particularly pleasant either. It was as if Raphael nor his mother ever went down there. You knew Raphael never left his room, however his mom often left the tower. You wondered why she left the bottom half in such disarray.

You made your way back to your seat and fell back into the plush love seat. You felt so much better after getting a shower. And now that you were about to eat, you felt like a spoiled child having a good day. You really did appreciate Raphael's kindness. You wished there was something you could offer in return. However all you had was your person. You, unlike a certain brunette, had come here without any treasures to speak of. You thought about those "floating lights" he spoke of, but he couldn't leave the tower - or wouldn't. You couldn't take him to see them.

You thought about Raphael and his mother. You weren't sure what to make of her. You understood her intentions - maybe. Parents just want to protect their children. And the way she depicted people was awful. Perhaps it had something to do with Raphael's dad. Raphael had never spoken of his father, but he had to have one. Perhaps his mother's insecurities were tied to his father somehow? But of course that was only speculation. It could be something else entirely, you couldn't judge a woman nor a man when you had yet to meet them.

You were brought from your stupor when Raphael came from the kitchen and placed a bowl of steaming soup in front of you. It smelled so good you had a thought to guzzle it down then and there. You thanked him and took the handle of the bowl, blowing gently onto the steaming liquid.

Raphael sat across from you with his bowl in his hand. You took your first bite.

"I might need to marry you now," you chuckled as you slurped another spoonful of soup. It tasted oddly sweet, and the nutty flavor mixed well with the spices. The soup was a pale color and almost resembled porridge. It teetered between being a broth-like soup and a thick puree. Either way, it was good.

Raphael nearly choked on his mouthful of food. He hastily sat his bowl down on the table beside him and wiped his mouth. He cleared his throat. "U-um, don't say that. It's just soup..." He looked away.

You let out a snort in good jest. "It's called a joke! Live a little!" And you went back to slurping your beautiful sludge. A moment of silence passed. Raphael kept his gaze trained onto the floor in thought. He held a frustrated, pensive expression. You guzzled down the remaining soup - yes, the entire bowl - and took a swig of your tea. Your eyes stayed glued to his form.

"What's bothering you?" you inquired. You sat your cup back down and cleared your throat. Raphael bit the inside of his cheek. His sudden character shift perplexed you. He was quite jovial just a moment ago, why so glum now?

"How do you...how do you socialize with people so fluidly? You poke fun at my stiff wording, however..."

He lowered his voice to a mumble. You leaned further into your seat and let out a small sigh. You probably shouldn't have made fun of him. You should've known he wouldn't take it lightly. Though you meant it in good fun, Raphael was a different character. He had been isolated from people for so long he didn't know when one was only kidding around. This would be a long next few days.

"However you're in this tower and can't talk to anyone. I get it," you finished for him, offering a smile. You noticed his shoulders relax at your words. You noticed the small, green chameleon jump down from his perch above the two of you and onto Raphael's shoulder. It tilted its head and then looked at you. You didn't speak chameleon, however you felt as if he didn't take kindly to your presence in his home.

"If only you were allowed outside," you spoke, "you'd be able to see these amazing things, go to all these great places, meet great people..." At your words he shook his head. "Mother does not allow me to leave." You rolled your eyes. It was always, "Mother," this or, "Mother," that. Did he intend on being a bum his whole life? Was his mom encouraging him to be a bum?

"Listen, I don't know your mom. But I can say without a shadow of a doubt that you need to experience pain to get stronger. She's limiting you and doing you a great disservice by keeping you locked up in here." You needed to lay it on him. He needed to know. He needed to know that there is life outside of his home.

He kept silent. You took that as your cue to continue.

"I'm not trying to disrespect your mother, don't get me wrong. But you need to see something other than these walls at some point in your life. Home is definitely where the heart is," you explained, "but you never learn to appreciate the things given to you if you don't venture out and get your hands a little dirty. You don't learn important life lessons." You observed his features. His eyes were down-turned and a frown etched its way into his face. He was probably offended by what you said, but you meant no harm. You were only trying to enlighten him.

"What about you?"

You tilted your head. What did he mean? His voice was hesitant, almost inaudible. You leaned forward. "Hm?"

Raphael glanced up at you. "I mean...your home. You said home is where the heart is...but where is your home? I feel as if- well, you can never be happy without a place to call home." You hummed in understanding. He was asking about where you came from. He was saying that he was content living in this tower. He was telling you that adventure and travelling wasn't everything, that you could find happiness in the place you go back to everyday. Though you wouldn't lie in saying that his question bothered you. You didn't know where you came from. That was why you were travelling in the first place - to find your home.

"Well...I suppose I don't have one. Not yet at least."

Raphael gave you a perplexed gaze, almost apologetic. You dismissed it. "I mean...I told you before that I was staying with some friends. Really..." You released a deep breath. It seemed at every chance the universe got it wanted to remind you of the short life you had lived in the past few weeks.

"They kind of took me in because I didn't have a place to go. I don't know where my home is. But I'd rather not go any further than that." You were tired, you didn't have the energy to continue this conversation.

"Oh," Raphael let out. He seemed unsure of what to say. "Just...I would rather forget all of that," you finished. You gave a thin smile and grabbed your tea to take another sip. Raphael watched as you did so.

"I wonder...you didn't know who the cottage belonged to?" Raphael inquired. You shook your head. Raphael pursed his lips in thought. "That's quite vexing. I'm so very sorry. And you don't remember where you're from?" Once more you shook your head, your patience wearing thin.

"Mother always told me about these goblins that kidnapped people and locked them away forever. I didn't believe her of course. Goblins don't exist. But it makes me wonder..." He went back to pondering.

"Your friends...where do they live?"

You sighed. "Listen," you started, standing up, "I already said I don't want to talk about it. Can you please respect that? I've finally gotten my head clear and I'd rather not pass out from stress again." You ran a hand through your hair, your damp hair, the hair that was finally clean. It soothed your tempering nerves.

Raphael dipped his head down and pouted. He was entirely too sensitive. You decided to ignore him for the time being and walked away. You were tired after eating and figured you deserved to take a nap. Raphael had said earlier he would be painting after you both ate, so he would fair just fine without you. You didn't mean to sound snippy, but really. He aggravated you terribly. His voice itself was draining. You felt bad for him, but there was only so much you could take.

"I'm gonna take a nap. Thanks for the meal."

"Oh, she's back, " Raphael commented as he poked his head out the window. His small companion sat atop his shoulder surveying the land with him. Pascal seemed hostile towards you. You weren't sure why. Perhaps he viewed you as an intruder? Or could he be jealous that Raphael's attention was being shared with you? Whatever it was, you had no intention of befriending a small reptile such as himself.

Raphael turned to you. You were standing near his mural he had been working on for so long. It was breathtaking. He had said the bright lights were those things he saw every year on his birthday. Though he held no desire to venture out, there was his figure sitting atop a hill watching them fly above. You wondered if you'd see the lights when you went to Corona.

You walked over to the window and saw Fae running up to the tower. She looked to be in one piece. "Huh, I'm impressed," you commented. You didn't entirely expect her to make it - and just in a day at that. She really was skilled in the arts of stealth.

She came up to the tower and heaved a few heavy breaths. "Give me a minute," she called up to you both. She leaned against the side of the tower to rest. "Stupid guards nearly found me!" she growled. You let out a chuckle at her frustration. Did she not see the small door just around the corner? You remembered when she first came here she used her knives to climb the tower. You sighed.

"Use the door-"

You were cut off by Raphael lugging his heavy locks over the edge of the window. You stepped aside as he flipped it over and out. You stared on in confusion as he fed his hair out the window. "Raphael? What- what are you doing?" He tied his hair on the overhead pole and gave it a firm tug. He looked to you and tilted his head. "What do you mean? I let my hair down for her to climb up." You blinked.

"Why...?" You looked from him to his hair. "There's a perfectly good staircase right over there." You pointed at the trap door sitting in the corner of the room. Raphael smiled at your words.

"(Y/n), that's where all the waste goes. We never go down there."

You paused. Just below you...all the waste from up here went down there? And you walked straight through it? You felt nauseous. You knew it didn't smell particularly pleasant down there but...

"But then..." You couldn't even form a proper sentence. Keeping that just below your house? What on earth?

"Don't worry, it gets flowed out by the water from the sinks and drains. It travels all the way out to the stream." He let out a chuckle as if you were being childish.You decided not to press any further. This day was off to a funky start.

"Nice hair, Blondie."

Fae stepped over the ledge of the window and hopped inside. She heaved as she sat down against the wall. You hurried into the kitchen and retrieved some tea from yesterday. You were going to need her to talk.

"Here," you said as you ventured back with the glass. She swiped it from you and guzzled up down. "Just how long have you been running?"

She wiped her mouth and sat the cup down, peering up at you, an incredulous look in her eyes. "Hours. But I wouldn't have been if I wasn't looking for some pesky little dwarves!" She crossed her arms and huffed.

"And? What did you find out?"

You really didn't care about her attitude. You weren't here to be buddies with a crook. What mattered was that you got what you needed.

"Tch...I couldn't find them. No one was home. Not even pretty boy." You pursed your lips. That wasn't the answer you were hoping for. Though she did say that Nival wasn't even there. So perhaps there was a chance that the dwarves had escaped?

"Anything else you can tell me?" you pressed. She gave a roll of her eyes. She really didn't like you, but you could live with that.

"Not really. Just that there was food cooking on the stove and clothes were on the line. So I figured they were still there. Don't know where they ran off to and don't care." You hummed. That was odd. Where could they have gone? Where could Nival have gone? Was he still looking for you? But the dwarves...they were still there? What a perplexing predicament.

You looked over to Raphael who was roping his hair back into the tower. This entire day was odd. From Raphael's weird disposal system, his hair climbing, to the dwarves' bewildering pseudo disappearance. You were glad you would be heading out soon.

You rubbed your temples and thought for a moment. Fae needed to rest and eat. She wouldn't be of any use starved and sleep deprived.

"Alright. I'll make a deal with you," you offered to the brunette. She furrowed her brows at you. "What? I thought you said-"

"Yes, I know. However," you cut her off, "I need to get to Corona. Like you I might have someone tailing me. So here's my proposition. You rest and recharge, and tomorrow we hit Corona." You waited. She was staring at you.

"You're stupid," she commented. She rose form her spot on the floor and leaned back to stretch. A smirk adorned her face.

"How about I take my satchel and I get out of your hair now?"

You giggled. She wanted out so badly. But you couldn't let her go just yet. Call you a villain, but you were going to use her. She signed up to be your guinea pig the moment she crossed over the window. "You're quite the jester. I'm even offering you a full night to rest and get some food, maybe even a nice, warm shower. And you'd rather be on the run, starving, cold, and tired. I'll never understand you."

You turned and started pacing. "Well, Raphael. What should we do with the bag? Our friend here seems to not want it back..." You gave a mock pout as you ran your thumb across your lip. Raphael rubbed the back of his neck.

"Hmm, I wonder what we'll do with that precious crown inside. Gosh, it was beautiful. I bet someone would pay a pretty penny for that." You hummed as you droned on. Out of your peripheral you could see Fae scowling at you. You smirked.

"Hey! A deal's a deal! That's mine, you can't just keep it!"

"But I can," you countered enthusiastically. "You stole that crown. I have the obligation to return it and turn you over to the authorities." She grew quiet. She knew what you were getting at.

"However, I'd be willing to turn a blind eye if you help me one last time." You turned to face her. You watched as she contemplated her options. She could either leave without her crown and risk you turning her in, or she could stay and rest, and take you to the city tomorrow. "I promise, you'd be free as soon as we hit Corona."

She eyed you suspiciously. "How do I know you're not lying? That you're not going to turn on your word and bring me in?" You feigned hurt and gave a small pout.

"I would never! I may be a bit obnoxious, but I promise you I never go against on my own word."

She gave a slow nod of her head. "Uh-huh...and I should trust you why? It takes two days to get to Corona by foot. That's two days with me being stuck with you." She eyed you up and down as if you were a parasite. You thought she was a hypocrite.

"Well, you're the crook here. Why should I trust you?" She paused at your words. Heaving a sigh she seemingly relaxed. "You're not as stupid as I thought you to be. Looks like we'll have an interesting journey ahead of us." You felt your face glow at her words. You knew she would come around. She really had no choice. But she seemed just as scared of you as Raphael was of his own shadow. You had to show her there was nothing to fear, lest she turn on you and leave you in the woods. That would be most undesirable.

"Alright then. Get some rest, you've earned it."

Fae rolled her eyes once more at you and made her way past you. "Just tell me where the bathroom is so I can get this filth off of me." You pointed at the curtains draped over the furthest-most wall. She groaned. "You couldn't upgrade to a door?" She turned to Raphael, glaring. "You better not get any bright ideas, kid."

Raphael looked to you, worried. "Ideas? What did I..." He seemed confused and hurt. You placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. She's just being rude." He looked to the floor, his cheeks dusted pink. You shot a warning look to the female in front of you. She appeared to be even more confused than Raphael. "Is he...? Does he not understand...?" You shook your head, silently telling her to dismiss it.

"Alright then. It's going to be an interesting night."

She turned and headed for the restroom.

You tugged on Raphael's hair to ensure it would stay in place. It was odd gripping onto someone's hair to climb down a tower. Just another thing to mark off your bucket list, you supposed. Raphael didn't seem bothered by the pulling. The knot on the pole probably prevented from you actually tugging on his scalp which calmed you immensely.

"Alright, I'm heading down!" you called down the the brunette. She watched as you stepped over the ledge. The tower was a lot taller than you wagered. Your heart was unsteady.

You drew a deep breath and decided it was now or never.

You slipped down the hair and found your way to the ground effortlessly. You wouldn't lie in saying it was a fun experience. You never thought you'd enjoy sliding down someone's hair.

 That thought in itself made you feel weird.

You fastened the satchel around your waist and dusted yourself off. "Alright, let's head out," you said to the antsy female. She started walking away as you finished dusting your pants off. "Bye, Raphael!" you called back to the blonde. However you didn't see him. You hummed in confusion.

Then he suddenly burst from the window, gliding down his own hair. Your eyes widened. What was he doing? Didn't he say he wasn't allowed to leave the tower? What on earth was he thinking? "Raphael! No!"

You made to catch him but you were only flattened by his impeding figure. You hacked as the sudden pressure on your chest knocked the wind from your lungs. Raphael groaned at the impact, scrambling up to his feet as he looked down at you. His face turned beet red.

"S-sorry! I-um...I-I!"

You stared at him awe-struck. Shaking your head you looked around you at the greenery. "Raphael, you're outside." He hesitantly nodded his head.

"Why are you outside?" He looked away. You stood to your feet. You looked back and saw that Fae had paused, a frustrated look crossing her face. You blinked and looked back to the blonde.

He attempted to unhinge his hair, managing to pull the lengthy bundle from the pole. You gazed at the long tresses falling to the ground. There was no way he could get back in now!

"Raphael! What are you doing?!" You shouted. He flinched at your sudden shift in tone. He took a step back. "I-I...I just wanted to experience the outside world! I know I'm not supposed to leave, but Mother's not here. She wouldn't know. I'll be safe as long as I stick with you and Fae! The lights, I want to see the lights!" His face was a blistering red and tears pooled in the ducts of his eyes. You couldn't keep up. He continued rambling on and on.

"I'll never be able to see them ever again! Mother won't take me and it's been my dream to ever since I was little! Please, (Y/n)! You're my first ever friend and I don't want to say goodbye just yet, just let me come with you to Corona!" He fell to his knees and entered a beggar's position. You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. He was so vexing.

"This isn't what I meant when I said you needed to get some fresh air. I'll be leaving when we get to Corona. Who will bring you back home? Fae plans on ditching me as soon as she gets her grubby little hands on this crown. And what about your mother?" There were entirely too many flaws for this plan to work. It would've been fine with you and Fae going. But throwing Raphael into the mix would bring unnecessary trouble.

Raphael stood up and faced the tower. He seemed very disheartened in your denial to accompany you to Corona. It wasn't that you didn't want him to go, but the timing wasn't the best. You had plans of your own and you couldn't babysit him.

Raphael bit the inside of his cheek. He dragged his feet against the grass. You sighed. He didn't even have shoes. He was ill-prepared to venture outside. This wouldn't work.

Raphael's eyes slowly widened as he glided his feet across the tufts of grass. His eyes sparkled and the frown that had adorned his face just seconds ago was now replaced with a pleasant smile. He was certainly odd.

"Wow..."

His face was glowing at the feel of the grass between his toes. You had never thought about what it would feel like touching grass for the first time. It was probably an earth shattering experience for him.

"Raphael, I know you want to explore. But this really isn't the time." You frowned at his immediately displeasure. You hated crushing his hopes and dreams, especially when you were the one to give them to him.

Raphael shifted in his spot, thoughtful. He mumbled a few words before looking up to you. You could see the hesitation in his eyes.

"If..." he started, but couldn't find the right words to continue. You folded your arms and waited.

"If...if you won't...let me go then...I'll - I...I'll run away on my own!"

You heard a groan from behind you, turning to see a keeling Fae. "For f*ck's sake! How immature are you?! Are you nine?!" You shot her a glare, to which she flipped you off. She was p*ssed. You couldn't lie, you were too. Raphael was being very childish. You couldn't risk him running away on his own, but would he really?

"Raphael, I'm going to give you one chance to take that back." You sounded like a scolding mother berating her child. You didn't like it.

Raphael kept silent. You raised an eyebrow at him. "You refuse to take it back? So you really do plan on running off on your own, getting lost, hungry and scared, just to do what? Prove a point? Make us feel bad?" Raphael pouted. You understood where he was coming from, but he needed to be realistic. Running away wouldn't solve anything.

"Please..." he begged. You sighed and scratched the top of your head in frustration. It was quiet for a few moments.

"..."

"Fine," you finally caved. "You can go. But," you said, pointing your finger at him, "you are not to be in the way at all! And you gotta find your own way back home, still want to go?" He frantically nodded his head. You slapped yourself in the face. This was hopeless. Well, you already agreed. There was no turning back now. He knew he was responsible for himself.

"Hey! Wait a minute, I didn't sign up for this!" You turned back to Fae who was fuming. You waved her off. "Don't worry about it. He won't be in your way. Do you want this or not?" You flashed the small bag in your hand and she scowled.

"Just- hurry up. I want this day to be over with already." And she started walking again. You shot Raphael a glance before taking off after her. This would certainly be an interesting trip.

You yawned as you pushed one foot in front of the other. You all had been walking for hours and the sun was beginning to set. Raphael hadn't shut up about his mom since you left the tower. Any chance he got he droned about how it was a mistake to leave and how he was such a troublemaker for disobeying his mom. At some point you got fed up with his whining and yelled at him. Now he trailed behind you, sulking. But you were so tired you didn't really care, as terrible as it sounded.

You had made small talk with the bandit that now stalked ahead. She was actually good at conversation when in a good mood. It only took roughly four hours for her to say anything though. Despite her hostile exterior, you could see that she wasn't all that bad underneath. Making this discovery made you wonder why she was a bandit in the first place. But again, you didn't push.

"Let's set up camp. We won't be able to see in just a few minutes," you said. Your body was aching from the long heist and you didn't want to risk anything. Though Raphael had healed you, you weren't sure if your body could go into remission.

"Ha, I guess you're right. Fine. Hand me the sheets."

You unfastened the bundles from your backpack and tossed them over to Fae. There were four large sheets. Originally two of them were supposed to work as tents for you and Fae with the other two being used as blankets. Now three had to be used as tents, but that only left one blanket...

Before you could ask who would get the blanket Fae tore the extra sheet into three equal parts. Well, you supposed that would work. She tossed one back to you and the other to a silent Raphael.

In just a few minutes she had all three tents up and tied to various trees. She was amazing. It wasn't even nightfall by the time you were nestling inside.

"Alright, we'll get up as soon as dawn hits," Fae chimed in as you crawled into the small space. You gave a thumbs up and went to pull out your small blanket. Raphael had slipped inside his tent without a single word. He was acting entirely way too immature.

"Goodnight," you called out as you laid down and pulled the cover over your body. You didn't receive a response as the sun finally slipped from the horizon. You shrugged your shoulders and turned onto your side, closing your eyes and letting sleep overtake you.

You felt your body go rigid. Your arms felt stiff and your legs heavy. It was as if you had lost complete control over yourself. You felt your heartbeat quicken. You went to yell but found that your lips felt almost detached from your body. Try as you may you couldn't find the words to cry out for help. No sound came from you as you laid there in pure agony. Was this what sleep paralysis felt like?

You couldn't see. You knew your eyes were open, but much like your lips your eyes felt almost unscrewed from your head. You were awake. You had to cry out for someone. Who was there? Was anyone there?

The only sense you had was your hearing. And your ears were pounding so terribly you wanted to pull them off. You felt suffocated. You felt like you were drowning. What was going on? Why couldn't you see? This wasn't a nice feeling at all. You wanted out. You wanted to pull the blanket off of you and run. But you couldn't. You felt heavy.

Through your ears rang a scratchy, static-like noise. It was a high-pitched squeal that faded off into a dull static. It was painful to listen to. If you could see, you'd probably see blood dripping from your ears. It was an excruciating pain to hear this squealing noise. It would rise and fall, and repeat. That was all you could hear - rise, fall, repeat.

Then you heard voices. Had someone come to save you? You desperately wanted to cry out to whoever was out there. You needed them to see you.

"Look at that," one blurred voice choked out. It sounded like it was being muffled by water almost. You could hardly understand them for the incessant static and squealing going on.

Look at what? You wanted to see. What were they talking about?

Other voices blurred in, however you couldn't tune in on them. You felt your body grow weak and you faded away. There was a moment of pure silence before you completely blacked out.

You sat up with a jolt. Your face was dripping in sweat and your heart was racing. A hand reached out to you and you pulled away, looking to see Fae staring at you. You breathed heavily.

"Whoa. Don't shoot!"

She put her hands up defensively. You looked down at your lap and clutched your head. That was so strange. That dream was terrifying. You could still hear the static buzzing off in your head. It paranoid you.

"It was only a dream. You were getting so worked up I decided to come and check on you." You kept silent. That dream was so odd. It had felt like you were in your tent, sleeping the night away. It had felt just like you were sleeping in your tent, but with this horrible noise buzzing in your ear and a terrible sense of dread seeping into your system. Perhaps it was symbolic of something? Maybe stress? You really hadn't had the time to process your emotions. Perhaps that was it.

"I'm alright. I appreciate it. Sorry to be a bother."

You pulled the thin sheet from over you and pulled some loose strands of hair back from in front of your face. Fae inched her way out of your tent and held out her hand. You blinked, taking her hand and hoisting yourself up and out of the small tent. Fae stretched her limbs and yawned.

"We gotta get going. Sun's up." You looked around and saw that the other two tents were already down. Raphael stood a bit away from the both of you with his sheets in his hands. Was he still upset about yesterday?

You huffed and took your torn sheet from inside the tent, bunching it up into a roll. Fae helped you take down your tent and you stuffed them both into your backpack. "Alright, let's head out," you said, ready to embark on the rest of your journey.

You beckoned Raphael to follow you and you noted how he kept a bit of distance between you and him. It was too early for this. You jogged up towards Fae to see what was going on with her.

"Hey, thanks for getting me up." You gave a thin smile and looked ahead. You shifted your bag onto your shoulders and noted the weight of the satchel still on your person. Fae hadn't snatched it during the night nor when she had woken you up. Perhaps she really wasn't all that bad.

"What else was I supposed to do? Leave you there?"

She flipped some wavy bangs from her face and sighed. You hummed. "Well, yeah. You could have. But you didn't. I was having a pretty bad dream and you woke me up, so I just wanted to say thank you."

It was silent then. You only heard the buzzing of the morning cicadas and the chirping of the birds. The sun shined beautifully through the trees and made for a gorgeous view. Tall pines surrounded the three of you. It would be easy to get lost if you didn't know where you were going.

"We're almost there. Just a few miles up ahead and we'll be able to see the gates."

You nodded your head at Fae's words. You were very fortunate to have a guide such as she.

You really were curious about Fae's past. Why did she become a criminal? Where was she from? You wanted to know more. She didn't spark you as the hardened, edgy bandit that was explicitly evil. She had a life. And you wanted to know what that life was like.

"You're thinking," she commented. You locked eyes with the female and found her tired expression amusing. "You might as well tell me what's on your mind. We'll be here a while." You smiled. She did have an empathetic side.

"Well, I was just wondering about you and your story. You don't have to tell me of course, but I was wondering how such a proud woman could fall so low as to become a criminal?" You felt as if she may take that out of proportion. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, she seemed uncomfortable, almost like she was retreating into her shell.

"Huh, I guess that's a fair question. Tell me your story first. Then maybe I'll share mine."

You found her request fair and just. An eye for an eye, they say. It seemed she wanted to trust you a bit more. You had no problem with that.

"Mine is actually quite anticlimactic. I'm an amnesiac that just woke up in a mysterious house a few weeks ago and I'm on the hunt for answers. Pretty standard plot." You chuckled at your own words. Fae seemed to get a kick out of it too.

"That certainly is peculiar. So like, you don't know anything? I wonder what it would be like to just forget my entire life..." She drifted off into thought. You appreciated that she wasn't bombarding you with questions. She appeared to have a head on her shoulders. She was, as you had previously stated, a no-nonsense kind of gal. She probably did find it odd that you had such an outlandish backstory, but seeing as she wasn't surprised, she had probably gone through some crap too.

"Yeah, it's pretty crazy..."

"Well," she started, "I wasn't always a crook. Surprise, surprise." She smirked. You assumed as much.

"My name isn't even Fae Ryder." She looked to you, gauging your response. You encouraged her to continue. She was using an alias. It would be be stupid of her to use her true name anyway.

"My real name is Robyn Bernadine Carla Fae Fischers. Fae is a my primary name that most call me by, though my first name is Robyn." You thought about that for a moment. You understood that some cultures used many names to give their children honorable titles or beautiful names. It was just odd for someone like you who only had a first, middle and last name. Her name was certainly interesting.

"So can I call you Robyn then?"

She only shrugged her shoulders. "I don't care. Do as you please. No one's called me that since I was a little tyke." She chuckled.

"Alright, Robyn, what turned you to the dark side?" you inquired. You were glad she trusted you enough to finally talk. You didn't expect such a change from her but she probably enjoyed the company of someone else who was a no-nonsense kind of person. You prided yourself on being the middle man.

"Well..." She trailed off. It seemed she wasn't sure where to begin. You put a hand on her shoulder. She looked to you confusedly. "Only tell me what you want to tell me. I'm not here to judge."

She seemed relieved at that. You really were only curious. She wasn't being forced to talk. You only figured you might as well get to know each other if you've got a few hours till your destination.

"Hm, alright then. I was born to a family of fishermen. I was one of five children and was always the trouble maker." You smiled at the thought of Robyn sitting on a boom dock, holding a fishing pole, tying some bait on her hook. She definitely didn't fit that title. If you had to take a gander at what she wanted to be, you'd probably guess at a lawyer. You weren't completely sure why you thought that, however she had her wits about her and she never backed down from a fight. She could probably argue a case very well if you'd let her.

"I decided I wanted to run away when I was sixteen. I couldn't stand the stuffy house or the smell of fish. Gosh, I hate fish." She pulled a face at the memories. You couldn't deny that that was hilariously contrary. Her family fished all day but she couldn't even stand the smell.

"I was a stupid teenager back then and I didn't know what I was doing."

You heard the somber tone in her voice. Did she have qualms about leaving home? Or had she gotten into even more trouble? Whatever the case was, it led to her being what she was now.

She looked down at her shoes as they kicked up loose dirt. You noticed her jaw quivering slightly. Something had happened. She swallowed hard before continuing.

"And...I met the Stabbington brothers."

Ah, so she met some other misfits like her. Seeing as she was uncomfortable just talking about them, they must have been awful. You wondered who they were. But you weren't curious enough to lead Robyn into an onslaught of questions.

It's alright," you said. "We don't have to talk about it anymore. Thanks for sharing that with me." You concluded the subject and fell into silence. You were right in assuming there was baggage tied to her. There often is in cases such as hers. It was sad to think that someone could have been so cruel to them in the past that they felt that they were unlovable or that they had to resort to violence to obtain their goals. It was truly sad.

You noted that you had been walking for a while. Up ahead there was a clearing past some trees and you could see the blue sky looking down at you. There were people passing to and fro, some in carts, some on foot. You turned to Fae. "Hey, is that Corona?" You pointed at the tons of people walking along a cobblestone path. You could only make out a bridge and the rocky road from your vantage point.

Fae hummed. "Yeah, looks like. Let's hurry before the guards start patrolling - if they haven't already." You gave a curt nod and picked up your pace. Behind you Raphael struggled to lug his thousands of locks of hair as he attempted to keep up. You had told him he was responsible for himself, and that meant his hair too. He should've thought about how he would drag such a mess of hair miles into the woods. And he still didn't have any shoes.

You decided not to dwell on the matter. You were finally nearing Corona. You would be able to start over now. You couldn't risk going back for the dwarves, but knowing that they were still alive was enough to put your mind at ease. You had to mark your own journey. You needed to find answers. You weren't sure what all lied ahead in your path, but you couldn't be scared now. The storm had passed. You were okay now.

"Alright, let's go."

[bloodycassian]

COLD NIGHTS - Cassian x Azriel x Reader - Prompt: 

hi i love your work so much!!! I was thinking a cassian x azriel x reader (i just love them sm, why have one when you can have two ) where the reader is sister of a high lord maybe day or winter court, and reader goes missing (kinda angsty) and her brother (a high lord) panics and goes to the night court for help (bc if her two bat boys can’t find her who will)  and az and cassian go full on panic mode and search for the reader, i was also thinking a fluffy cute ending where reader is just cuddling with azriel and cassian while her wounds heal take as much time as you need to write this, don’t pressure yourself. Take care lovely

Kallis would never forget the screams. The terror and panic that rushed through him when he realised that you were gone.  He sent half the city to search for you. He called upon Helion to inspect the magic. He was frantic in finding you. But it was like you had just disappeared out of nowhere. No sign of struggle, not a drop of blood spilled. The offender was sloppy in their ways, but their magic was strong. Helion could sense it.  They had a deathwish from Kallis himself if he ever found them. +  The first thing you saw were your cracked and bloody hands. They were split open from the dry cold wind. Sea air drifted into the cave. The cold brutal howling outside mixed with the roar of waves breaking confirmed your nightmares. Cape Tragedy. 

The islands off the coast of winter were known for their unforgiving nature to ships. Hence their name, Cape Tragedy. Also known as the Tragic coast, no stories were ever heard of any survivors of those crashes. If they had managed to survive the churning water, then the false salvation of the islands would kill them. It happened often enough that there were lighthouses set atop many of the bigger islands for ships to avoid on stormy days.

You coughed from the dry air, earning a pair of yellow eyes to dart to you. One of the three lesser fae males noticed you were awake and clapped. "She wakes! We've been waiting for you, sweetheart." His green skin was pale in the overcast light streaming in from the mouth of the cave. Snow Bear pelts lay all around. A disgrace in your culture. No citizen of Winter court would do such a thing. You looked to the walls to find weapons, and strange markings along the stone. Sailors from far away lands. 

Not even sailors. Pirates. A chill ran through you.  

"We're going to get your weight in gold, pretty one." The scaled male curled a piece of your hair behind you ear. Your stomach turned, and you tried to scoot away. "My brother will kill you first. And he'll take a long time doing it." You promised, trying to make your voice sound strong. Terror had you by it's grip though, and it was hard to do anything other than panic

. "Your brother? The pretty one that shears the Elk?" The green one asked. You laughed, and then were hissing in pain when the scaled male yanked on your hair. "What's so funny?" 

"You think my brother is an elk herder?" You spat "You must be dumber than you look." The males glanced between each other, then to the one who hadn't said anything yet.

"Who ye think you are then?" The male holding your hair stammered, trying to keep his panic under wraps. 

"Kallis' sister." You said with deadly calm. "And the high lord does not negotiate." 

"If you're so noble why you got such a mouth on ye?" The third male finally spoke.

They laughed.

"Maybe we will see just how much of a mouth-" He started again. He didnt have a chance to finish his disgusting words. You kicked, bending an ice spear straight up from the rocky ice floor and through the third male's body. Then the beating from the other two came. 

They bound your wrists and ankles in rope and tar. Their hands shook when they did it. It gave you a small bit of satisfaction. The potion they gave you to knock you out was just barely strong enough. You fought it as best you could, but it won. You could only hear the faint sounds of arguing then a crash of glass, then the cold winds whipping around you. And when you woke, your body ached.  The cold bit into your limbs. Your fingers were pale. Far too pale to be healthy. You knew frostbite when you saw it. Your body refused to move under your own power. Your blood was frozen to the icy ground. They had used a potion and transported you to a peninsula, and you could only faintly hear the ocean below. You could feel the potion wearing off, but you knew you weren't healing. Not yet. You reached down into your own mind, picking up the fading tendrils of power. Of your bond to the two you knew could save you. And you pulled as hard as you could manage.  --- "Fuck." The roaring thought shook Cassian awake. Bleary eyed, he glanced about the room as if there was someone actually shouting at him.  Then he felt it. The weak tug that had been silent for so long. And he knew it was nothing good. Frenzied, he met Azriel at the dining area. Where they spent the rest of the night planning, deducing a probable reason for you to be calling so weakly. They sent their worries to Rhys, but they were shooed away. "I'm researching. Meet me in the library at dawn." The two males tried to comfort each other. But the worry pulsating through the bond was too much to focus on. So they waited. Kallis appeared that morning. He spat his story and begged for help, practically in tears as he spoke to the three Illyrians. Cassian and Az knew something was wrong the moment you were attacked. Court laws forbade them interfering on Winter Court territory though.  As soon as the approval was given, the brothers winnowed to the border of Winter and started flying. + You were coming to terms that you would die in the cold. You had imagined death differently. Battle was the primary way you thought you'd die. Or at the end of a High Lord's magic for being too much of an advisor. Smiling at the memory of putting Tamlin in his place, you gave another tug down the bonds to your mates. And like a snap, they both tugged back. Almost in unison. It was hard to tell. You closed your eyes, listening to the soft waves below. They lulled you into a cold sleep yet again.  + Despite the cold, the Illyrians flew as fast as they could. They could sense your light fading, and chased it for mile after mile. Their wings cut through the harsh winter winds, fueled by rage and desperation. Then they spotted the dark figure frozen to the snow below. Cassian landed first, a few feet away. The ice cracked beneath him. "Get us out of here." He growled to Azriel.  "We need to make sure she's okay before we move."  Cassian growled, but didn't protest. Azriel understood. He felt the anguish and frustration through the shared bond. Az's hands pressed gently to your neck, checking your pulse. He swore. "Baby, we need you to wake up for us. We're here. We got you." Cassian put a hand to your cheek and fought back the tears that threatened.  You groaned in response. They both sighed in relief, their breath making clouds in front of them. "I'm stuck..." You managed through your stiff jaw.  Cassian stroked a thumb over your cheek. "Stuck? Honey you're-"  "Cas..." Azriel nodded to your side, to the ice that crept its way up your damp clothes. Azriel could have taken a very very long time torturing the beasts that did this to his mate. The rage coiled in his gut at the sight of your injuries. The only reason you hadn't bled out was the blood and water mix turning your wounds to ice.  Cassian pulled at the ice web that encapsulated you. Under the heat of his rage it broke, and broke and broke. Azriel placed small patches of his shield over your frostbitten fingers. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just stay still." Azriel smoothed back your hair, and darkness swirled over you. The change from the harsh overcast light of Winter court to the soft sun of Night court was jarring.  Madja put her hands on you and you were asleep in an instant. Her warm hands were a blessing from the Mother.  +  "She's lucky she has that Winter blood in her or she'd be dead." Madja wiped her hands off and handed both the Illyrians a small vial. "That is the scrap from a poisoned sword that broke off in her shoulder. I got all the pieces out, but the poison lingers. It may heal slowly, but it should get better."  Anguish burned both of their stomachs. Azriel's throat tightened and he looked away, but gripped the vial tightly. Cassian stared at it, his eyes murderous. Madja left without another word. "She was almost killed. And we couldn't do anything." Cassians' voice was low, with violence dripping from it. "We need her here. In Velaris where we can... watch her." He didn't know what he was saying, but the instinct to protect was overriding every other logical thought he had. Anger burned and burned in his stomach, swallowing him with rage. He could feel Az mirroring the same feeling, but with a cold deadliness that begged to simmer out of him.  "You know she wont go for that. She loves her home too much. Her brother." Azriel whispered back. "We're her mates. She should be with us." Cassian was looking for a fight. All the tension and anger of the day had to be worked out. Azriel felt it too. His shadows ran anxiously through the room.

The wind outside howled. It shifted the dark clouds that covered the moon. It seemed to be a cold day in all of Prythian. A cold day in your mates hearts to the pirates that had taken you. They spoke their rage mind to mind, imagining the ways to torture the bastards. 

How to find them would be the first priority. Azriel kept circling back to that part. + The healer cleared his throat at the door. "She's asking for you." He nodded to Rhys' brothers. They left Rhys behind in unison, walking in perfect step with each other. Their minds hummed together over that bond they shared with you. "Protect protect protect." They both seemed to demand.  Azriel knocked softly, his heart flipping when he heard your voice again. "Get in here." You demanded, giving them a broad smile when they practically shoved each other out of the way. 

"Come keep me warm." You weakly folded the blanket back, exposing some of the bruising on your skin. 

They complied with enthusiasm. Azriel's hands were cold at first, but they got better when he reached around you to hold Cassian closer. They worked in tandem to keep you covered, making sure that you weren't too crowded or too warm. Azriel summoned his cool shadows when you got too warm and had to kick the blankets off. Cassian's warm breath would keep you warm when they became too much. You traced Azriel's cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw while falling alseep. Cassian's muscled forearms hugging you from behind were like a heavy pillow. 

"Rest now, we can have more fun later." Az winked, making your stomach flutter. Cassian groaned and pulled you further to his lap. You tried not to think of the hardness that pressed to you now.  "Goodnight." The shadowsinger kissed your forehead and like a light, you were out. Finally resting peacefully wrapped between your two mates and their warm bond you all shared. 

[shizukateal]

OOT/MM: Not entirely appealing to me but indubitably iconic and with a lot of personality. Very slay tbh. A kinda creepy but properly mischeviously sexy fae. 8.5/10

Wind Waker: Suitably creepy and with some interesting gimmicks, but still a bit bland for my taste. 7/10

Twilight Princess: No amount of wings and ethereal light can overcome her dead-eyed fish stare, her bland wet hair, her sickly complexion, her uninspired look. I feel like I'm being sold anorexia. I feel like I am being marketed like a dude who's only concern for Zelda as a character is whether he can win an argument online about how she's hotter than Princess Peach. 2/10

BOTW/TOTK: Fucking FINALLY. The real look of a fae boon granter. Takes the cuntserving strengths of the oot design and takes them in an adjacent direction that's simultaneously related but also its own great thing. The glitz. The glamour~. 10/10

Minish Cap: Much more in line with my usual sensibilities and honestly very pretty, but also a lot more bland comparatively and without a distinct personality. 8/10

ALTTP: ...Blandest marketable plushie ever. I mean, I'll take it before the anorexia, though. 4/10

[marlynnofmany]

Freed

When Joey went out at night with wire cutters, he was what his grandpa called “looking for trouble.” He didn’t expect the kind he found.

He’d seen animals caught in barbed wire before, usually dead. He’d found trash and shoes and even a drunk hobo once. But never a whatever this was. Elf?

The figure stared back at him with eyes of solid black, frozen in place like a wild thing that hoped the scary human would leave it alone. But wild things didn’t wear clothes or look like a Star Trek extra that was just a touch too pretty to be real. Almost human. Eyes too wide, chin too sharp, ears that belonged on the cover of a book with dragons in the background.

One boot was caught in a tangle of wire that wouldn’t come loose by tugging alone. Joey didn’t see any blood yet, but if the pose was anything to go by, this poor whatever didn’t want to touch the wire with bare hands.

Cold steel, Joey remembered suddenly. That’s a thing, right? Elves can’t touch cold steel. Or is that fairies? Or are those the same thing?

The creature leapt suddenly, a mad lunge for freedom that just rattled the fence and ended in a painful thump against the ground.

“Do you need help?” Joey asked. A stupid question, but oh well. He pulled out the wire cutters. “Here, hold still.”

The elf tried to scramble away from him as he approached, so he settled for cutting the wire farther up. That strand released, but there were two tangled together, and another jump made the loose wire flail about dangerously.

“Careful!” Joey said, covering his face. “I said hold still! You’re as bad as the cat when it got stuck in the blinds!”

The faerie watched him, breathing hard. It gave no sign of understanding his words. Joey moved slowly. He pointed at the wire he was going to cut, then snipped it.

The pointy-eared person didn’t jump away this time, though the wire tight around its boot was separated from the fence now.

Joey eyed the boot. “Are you gonna let me get that off? I don’t want to get barbed wire to the face if you thrash about.”

Very slowly, the leg straightened and the boot inched closer to him. Those dark eyes were wider than ever before.

Joey moved as carefully as he know how to. There wasn’t much light here, and the strands were twisted evilly. He was amazed that the boot didn’t seem to be cut through. Maybe it was magic. Joey doubted the elf would tell him if he asked.

Finally, with one more snip, he gingerly removed the last bit of wire. Sat back and tossed it aside with a deep breath of relief. He hadn’t gotten cut. Neither had the elf. Whew.

Joey looked up into dark eyes that were much closer than before. It was his turn to freeze.

=Thank you,= said a voice from between his ears. One long finger pressed against his forehead. =You have my blessing.=

Joey’s vision lit up with sparkles like he’d rubbed his eyes too hard, which he immediately proceeded to do.

When he blinked his eyes clear, the elf was gone. Only mangled wire remained.

That, and a fae blessing that would make his life very interesting in the years to come.

Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial​ for the prompt! 

[monster-bait]

Hi, I see lots of people asking about stories of yours that you've taken down for publishing and it made me wonder. Do you have a place where people can read synopsis (plural??) of upcoming books/books that have been taken down? I saw the teaser for Sweet Berries at the end of your Farm book, but I don't know the one coming in 2022 I don't think and I wanna get hyped! (Have read Sweet Berries stories, but the book is gonna be bomb)

I don't have a synopsis landing page, but my website is about to get an overhaul, so that might be changing!

In the meantime, here's the tentative order of things:

Parties, GW book 2- Several months after a weekend girls' trip, suburban elves Lurielle, Ris, and Silva are still affected by their experiences at the resort and the orcs they met there.

Lurielle discovers that being in a multi-species relationship has its challenges: meeting Khash's family, introducing him to hers, and facing the harsh realities that lie ahead if they stay together. A lifetime together or a lifetime apart - she must decide if she can bear the heartache the future holds.

When Ris returns to the resort on a whim, an unexpected encounter with a slightly familiar face upends this elf's desire to be a free as the wind. Ainsley is simultaneously everything and nothing that she's looking for - smart and sexy and completely unattached . . . but how long can they "keep things casual?"

Silva struggles to juggle the expectations of her family and seeing Tate in secret until she becomes tangled in her web of lies, necessitating a choice - following the carefully mapped life of privilege her family has planned for her in their Elvish community . . . or throwing it all away to follow her heart, for a man with his own heart full of secrets.

Parties is a multi-POV story, following all three girls through a succession of soirees, each one winding their separate story lines - and the work friends - tighter together.

Sweet Berries - Grace has a job she loves, a community she adores, and plenty of friends . . . but her lack of bedroom action has left this event planner too horny to think. When one ill-advised night at the bar leads to her giving an exhibitionistic show to an unknown presence outside her bedroom window, she thinks she’d hit a new low. When her voyeur turns out to be a nebbishly charming mothman, Grace needs to decide if she can trust her body — and her heart — with this garnet-eyed stranger before he flys out of her life for good.

Sweet Berries is a monster/human romance novella featuring high heat and a lot of heart, with a guaranteed HEA. It is the second book in the Cambric Creek Romance series, and can be read as a standalone. CWs: human/nonhuman romance, nonhuman anatomy, size difference, exhibitionism

Pride - Don’t ever go into the forest alone, gorza, there are strangers there who will take you away.

She had grown up in the shadow of the forest, with the story of the boy who’d disappeared into its black confines having been passed down in her clan for generations. She never imagined the story’s subject might be real.

Nineteen, rebellious, and queer; trapped in a marriage she never wanted, Elshona wishes that she too could disappear from her life, never to be seen again. When she meets a sharp-toothed stranger in a pub, whose past bears more than just a passing resemblance to the tale she’s known all her life, she does the one thing she was taught not to do: follows him into the night, out the door and away from her family and all she knows, all the way across the sea.

Pride is a Girls Weekend side-story about Tate and Elshona: how they meet, their shared connection, and the pain of not being accepted and leaving home behind. It's a story of queer acceptance, chosen family, and the ties that bind us, for better or worse. CW: ALL the emotions

Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic - Returning to Cambric Creek is the last thing Lowell Hemming wants to do, but when his career as a photographer is put on hold, he’s not left with much of a choice. Suffocating under the weight of the Hemming family name and the confines of his small hometown, the monthly full moon is the only time he doesn’t feel trapped. When an intriguing flyer requesting healthy male werewolves catches his eye, he finds himself calling Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic, signing up as a donor for their catalog.

From the outside, recently divorced Moriah has everything - except the one thing she wants: a child of her own. Desperation pushes her to contact a very unconventional clinic with an unparalleled success rate . . . all she needs to do is align her reproductive cycle to the full moon and pick a werewolf from a catalog with whom to mate.

Moon Blooded Breeding Clinic will feature a high heat slow burn that examines real-world issues through the unique lens of Cambric Creek. CW: knotting, breeding, werewolf/human relationship.

Changes, GW book 3 - hahahaha, nope. Not yet!

Wheel of the Year - Ousted from her coven, hurting for clients, and struggling to keep her aging family home, socially awkward witch Ladybug is at the end of her rope. When she rents the attic bedroom to a silent, unsmiling drider, she thinks her life might be on the right track to improve; when she lets him into her bed, it will never be the same.

Wheel of the Year is a series of short vignettes, centered around the witch's sabbaths. CW: arachnophobia, spider anatomy, biological aphrodisiac, HUGE size difference, non-human/human romance.

Beneath the Linden Trees 1 - In a time of war and kings, the orcs of clan Duh’lar have secured the mountains for their own, and if adopting the customs of men is the only way to keep it, they will do what they must. Peace and prosperity follow, but when war comes to the Easterlands, the Lord of Linden Hall must decide if the orcs will honor their treaties.

Beneath the Linden Trees follows tree orcs and the women they love, and how the decisions of one affects the lives of the others:

Aurelie is a well-bred human Lady from the Easterlands, promised in marriage to the youngest son of the orc lord, sent away from her father's keep to her new home at Linden Hall. To her shock, her betrothed is warm and kind, well-spoken and indulgent . . . but after several weeks in residence in her new home, she has still not laid eyes on Tilianus, the orc she is to marry.

Lisette and Gelgrah, a witch destined for the stake and the orc who rescues her, have built their home at the base of the mountain, far from Linden Hall. When war comes to the mountains, Lisette realizes their little family is at risk of being torn apart.

Eh'lazar is an acolyte at the temple of the moon, learning the ancients arts from the high priestess, Eonar, before he is cast out for dabbling in darker magics. Hardening his heart, he cultivates a reputation as a powerful necromancer, capable of raising an army of the dead . . . but when war comes to the mountains, he must choose between cementing his power and the elf he once loved.

Beneath the Linden Trees will be a three-part series (for now) that should be read as a series. CW: typical period-era violence, human/non-human romance, size differences

Rosemary & Time - She had always known the way through the wood, until the day the wood changed.

When Thorn follows a light into the forest, the world she thought she knew falls away. Memories and lives already lived shift and dance in her head, obliterating reality and leaving her at the mercy of the fae to whom she is forever bound. Jack of the lanterns is the last person she ought to trust, but as she is thrust into the world of the high courts, he is all she has.

Surviving the treacherous Court of Autumn's capricious Queen and her deadly consort are only the start of Thorn's journey through the wood, and she must decide if she is willing to play their game forever . . . or free herself from her captor, the man she has loved for several lifetimes.

Rosemary & Time is a topsy-turvy journey through the world of the fae, where magic and memory weave a confusing tapestry, and where nothing is ever what it seems. It is a standalone story, but is connected to Girls Weekend, and recommended for the richest reading if both worlds. CW: it's the fae, baby. All the content warnings.

Reunions, GW book 4 - I promised happy endings for all my babies, and after a lot of suffering, this is the book in which they finally get it.

That's what I have planned for now!

[offtorivendell]

The Significance of Elain and a Cup of Tea 🍵

Please do not share this post without credit.

Disclaimer: these are my own interpretations, and obviously not canon - though I do think that the text supports Elain and Azriel ending up together. I'm sure I'm not the first to see this connection, but I had fun writing it, so... here you go.

It's another long one, sorry. Again, maybe go and make yourself a cuppa first.

In stories that involve Seers, they often read tea leaves, using the patterns they leave at the bottom of a tea cup to predict the future.

Elain, a Seer Made by the Cauldron, seems to have an interesting relationship with tea - it symbolises her/her life, and her reactions to her surroundings while she's written with a cup of tea appear to predict her own future.

The tea predicted Elain being Made

Elain lifted her teacup. “Whatever the reason, Feyre, we are happy to see you. Alive. We thought you were—” I pulled my hood back before she could go on. Elain’s teacup rattled in its saucer as she noticed my ears. My longer, slender hands—the face that was undeniably Fae. “I was dead,” I said roughly. “I was dead, and then I was reborn—remade.” Elain set her shivering teacup onto the low-lying table between us. Amber liquid splashed over the side, pooling in the saucer.

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 23

When Feyre, together with Rhys, Azriel and Cassian, visited her family's estate in the human lands, Elain (and Nesta) discovered that Feyre had been Made into a high fae after she died at Amarantha's hands. They are grateful that she's alive - they'd understandably thought otherwise, but rattled by her transformation.

More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown.

Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live— Elain sucked in a breath...

Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair.

Elain was still shivering on the wet stones...

From however Elain had been Made… Nesta was different.

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 65

Later on in ACOMAF, after it is revealed that Elain and Nesta were kidnapped by the King of Hybern, Elain is lifted into the Cauldron by the Hybern soldiers, then washed over the edge a Made being, left shivering on the stone floor; in her relief that Elain was alive, Feyre noticed her newly pointed ears - a direct call back to Elain's reaction to seeing Feyre for the first time since she was Made. Feyre was shocked, this time around, and Elain was shivering on the stone ground, as opposed to her tea cup on the low-lying table.

The tea predicted Elain's failed engagement to Graysen

Nesta looked to Elain, still silent and wide-eyed. The tea she’d prepared—the finest, most exotic tea money could buy—sat undisturbed on the table. Elain thumbed the iron ring on her finger. “It is your choice,” Nesta said with unusual gentleness. For her, Nesta would go to Prythian. Elain swallowed, a doe caught in a snare. “I—I can’t. I …”

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 57

Elain, raised to be a fine lady, the prettiest (most exotic) of the Archeron sisters, will eventually lose the life for which she was "prepared," and is left "undisturbed on the table," i.e. Graysen, represented here by the iron engagement ring that he gave to Elain, refused to marry her after she was Made against her will. The ring is also important in that Elain spends a lot of her time in ACOWAR touching it, while she mourned what she lost with Graysen.

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

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 24

Here Elain predicted, heartbreakingly, that Graysen would refuse to See her again - that her being Made fae would prevent him from not just loving her, but identifying with her. There are a couple of great analyses out there that discuss whether and why Elain truly loved Graysen, but what we cannot deny is that they shared a goal, and that goal gave her purpose.

All of that aside, I think we can all agree - his loss!

The tea predicted that there was nothing wrong with Elain

Nesta, sharp-eyed in the corner, had kept quiet. After a long minute, Madja asked us to join her in fetching Elain a cup of tea—with a pointed glance to the door. We both took the invitation and left our sister in her sunlit room.

“What do you mean, nothing is wrong with her?” Nesta hissed under her breath as the ancient female braced a hand on the stair railing to help herself down. I kept beside the healer, a hand in easy reach of her elbow, should she need it.

“What I mean,” Madja said at last, sizing up Nesta, then me, “is that I can find nothing wrong with her. Her body is fine—too thin and in need of more food and fresh air, but nothing amiss. And as for her mind … I cannot enter it.”

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 28

Madja, the Night Court's chief healer, informed Feyre and Nesta that there is nothing she can find wrong with Elain, other than a lack of food, which she is still refusing at this time. Nesta's words, to me, symbolised the concern that the IC and Lucien have for Elain - they're not 100% sure that she came out of the Cauldron with a sound mind - but Madja reiterated her point: there is nothing medically wrong with Elain, and she cannot enter her mind.

Is it because Madja is not a daemati, or something else entirely?

The tea appears to predict a failed relationship - and potentially a false bond - with Lucien

She’d [Jesminda] seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been… thrown at him. He glanced toward the tea service spread on a low-lying table nearby.

Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta’s vacated one.

For a long moment, Elain’s face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. “Lucien,” she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth.

But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.”

She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male’s bride. A mortal man’s wife. Or she would have been.

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 24

The only time we've had Lucien’s POV (so far) in this series is significant, in that he almost immediately compared Elain to Jesminda, his late first love, and he mused that, while Jesminda had chosen him, had loved him without hesitation, Elain had been thrown at him - very romantic - and she certainly goes on to hesitate in any interactions she has with him. It follows, then, that Elain might not choose Lucien.

Additionally, Lucien forcing his hands to remain steady while pouring the tea, then clenching the tea cup (read: dealing with Elain), could be read as symbolic of the bond between them restricting them both. Lucien then went on to call Elain "another male's bride," which is (potentially, of course) Very Important.

Who might that other male be? We have our suspicions. 🦇

When discussing Elain's health, Madja said the following:

The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.” “How.” The word was barely more than a barked command. I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 28

The beginning of chapter 29 in ACOWAR had Feyre experiencing "the most uncomfortable thirty minutes" that she could recall; Elain and Lucien were having tea, so that he could attempt to sense if "anything was amiss" - as Madja had instructed.

Lucien and Elain sat in stilted silence by the dim fireplace, an untouched tea service between them. I didn’t dare ask if he was trying to get into her head, or if he was feeling a bond similar to that black adamant bridge between Rhys’s mind and my own. If a normal mating bond felt wholly different.

A teacup rattled and rasped against a saucer, and Mor and I glanced over. Elain had picked up the teacup, and now sipped from it without so much as looking toward him. In the dining room across the hall, I knew Nesta was craning her neck to look.

*

The sound [Amren in the other room] seemed to startle Elain, who swiftly set down her teacup. She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” Mor put a hand on my knee to keep me from rising, too. “It—it was a tug. On the bond.”

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

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us.

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 29

The words that signify what is between Lucien and Elain here seem quite telling - stilted, dim, untouched - a call back to the "undisturbed" tea service that Elain laid out for their meeting with the queens, which foreshadowed the end of her relationship with Graysen.

The stilted silence and dim fireplace suggest that there is no communication down their "bond," and that they lack the fire of other truly mated couples. More specifically, they could be referring to Feyre/Rhys (bond communication) and Nesta/Cassian (fire between them). Will touch play an important role in Elain's eventual romance?

Elain sipped her tea - read: will live her life - without looking to Lucien at all, while Nesta, Feyre and Mor all watched her/them. Feyre took a moment to wonder if a "normal mating bond" felt different to what she shares with Rhys, not knowing that what Elain and Lucien have may not be normal at all.

Not long after this, Lucien attemped to reach Elain down the "thread" (singular) of their bond and startled her; Elain quickly stood up, then shared that her bond felt strange - almost as if she was answering Feyre's thought. A "normal" mating bond should not feel "strange." What is wrong with the bond between Lucien and Elain? He was unable to sense anything, as Madja said a true mate would, and a little later on, Azriel figured out that Elain was a Seer.

I found my sister in the kitchen, watching the kettle scream. “He’s not staying for tea,” I said. No sign of Nuala or Cerridwen. Elain simply removed the kettle from the heat.

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

Elain only stared at the steaming kettle as she set it on the stone counter.

“He brought you a present.”

Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.”

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.” She wanted a human man.

- Feyre, ACOFAS, chapter 18

I felt like this passage is partly prediction, and partly a way for SJM to let us into Elain's head; for Elain to speak her truths. A couple of lines did stand out to me, though:

I read Elain "watching the kettle scream" as synonymous with what must have been going on in her head at the time. Scream is an odd choice of word, as most would describe a kettle as whistling. As an aside, there is an interesting parallel that exists with Azriel, in his bonus chapter of ACOSF, where being with Elain makes the noise in his head quiet down.

Elain staring at the steaming kettle seemed to indicate that she might be evaluating her life - could the steam be a metaphor for the mist she will have to See through to find the fourth Dread Trove item? Lucien "not staying for tea" (read: Elain's life) sounded like confirmation (to me, of course) that they will not pursue a romantic relationship together.

Elain’s declaration that Lucien doesn't know her, and that he cannot buy her time or affection with gifts is *chef's kiss* good, though please don't read this as anti Lucien - it's more anti Feyre's poor choice of words.

I have discussed '"I don't want a mate. I don’t want a male.” She wanted a human man.' here, in depth, but a quick summary is that I think Elain wants someone to See all of her, including her humanity, and that her humanity will probably be helpful with her future love interest.

The tea appears to predict Elain's eventual relationship with Azriel, and maybe even a mating bond

She looked away [from Lucien]—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. “When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. “No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.” A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. “He did. He saw me. He will not now.”

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 24

Firstly, and so significantly, Elain looked away from Lucien, and towards the windows, instead. We know that, earlier in that scene, Elain was talking to Feyre about being able to see the sea from where she sat, but I think that when Elain is mentioned as being around tea, her words tend to take on a deeper meaning - I interpreted this as Elain removing herself from the conversation she'd been having with Lucien. The next words out of her mouth, then - that "In my sleep, I hear your heart beating through the stone," appear to be spoken not to Lucien, but someone else.

Who do we know who always seems to be looking out windows to the garden, in search of Elain? Who could potentially be flying over Velaris, to or from the House of Wind? It looks like our flower grower might have started the trend!

Who sleeps at the House of Wind, where Elain and Nesta also stay? Aside from Lucien as a guest, there are two longterm residents. One of them is mated to Nesta, while the other one displays some strikingly familiar behaviour towards the middle Archeron sister.

Secondly, the tea burnt Lucien's mouth, then he thought to himself that there's a good chance Elain might not have been addressing him, may have intended to say that to someone else.

Lucien himself told us what was happening, which brings us to:

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. “Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” “I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

- Feyre and Rhys, ACOWAR, chapter 24

In direct contrast to the tea that Elain and Lucien shared - stilted silence, dim fireplace, untouched tea service (i.e. their bond) - Elain and Azriel sit comfortably - we can assume, due to the lack of negative adjectives - in the sun, a cup of tea (read, once more: her life) "before her." The wrought iron table could potentially be symbolic; that Elain will be hammered into shape by the events of her life, ultimately becoming strong.

Elain is, however, "silent," which may have been indicating that she will spend some time not voicing her own wishes/being passive in her life - we have seen this throughout ACOWAR and ACOFAS, until ACOSF, where she finally started to speak up. It might also mean something else, which I mention further down.

Azriel is even sunning his wings. If you haven't seen it, this is how birds sun their wings - and they look hilariously comfy as they do.

Image source. Can someone please draw the Rhys/Cass/Az version of this?!

The pose makes them vulnerable; we know exactly how sensitive and possessive Illyrians are about their wings, and how private Azriel is in general, but he trusted Elain enough to expose himself (figuratively - and also, sort of literally) right from the start, just as Elain trusted his reactions at the first "family dinner," back in ACOMAF.

I discussed the relevance of how Elain, the sun, lays bare Azriel's shadows in this post, but the mutual trust and comfort here is, in my opinion, more evidence that Elain and Az share some sort of bond, be that mate or other, that makes him feel innately secure around her. Outside the Night Court, Rhys only ever showed his wings to Feyre, and while Azriel's wings can't be summoned at will like Rhys' can, the same principle stands - protect at all costs, so the parallel is there.

I also think Az may have been showing off his wings - just a wee bit. This is when Feyre uttered her iconic - and maybe prophetic - line, "Why not make them mates?" Feyre, who had thought from the start that Elain and Azriel would make a handsome pair. This is yet another parallel to a canonically mated pair, as we saw Cassian (not so) subtly showing off his wings to Nesta in chapter 29 of ACOWAR.

Oh, and Azriel knew Feyre was watching. So did Cassian. Perhaps they didn't care?

I know Elain x Azriel is not the most popular ship for either of them, but the evidence, to me, has been here all along - not just for a chosen relationship, but also a potential bond. Of course, this shouldn't stop people from shipping who they want. 🖤

The tea predicts that Feyre will become too overprotective of Elain

Rhys smiled at me over his shoulder. Enjoy your tea, you overbearing chaperone.

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 29

"You think I stifle her?"

- Feyre (in response to Rhys), ACOSF, Feyre's bonus chapter

No matter who you ship, the one thing that almost everyone can agree on is that ACOSF demonstrated that Elain is frustrated with being stifled, protected, and not seen; she wants to grow, to come into her own and to have her help be both welcomed and valued.

Unresolved/potential predictions

The following are just bits of text that jumped out at me, that could hint at future events (or could end up being nothing, of course).

Elain thumbed the iron ring on her finger. “It is your choice,” Nesta said with unusual gentleness.

- Feyre, ACOMAF, chapter 57

A hint that Elain's story will be revolve around her making her own choices, both in terms of her love interest and role within the Night Court.

"And as for her mind… I cannot enter it.”

Elain apparently has an impenetrable mind - will this be important when she deals with Koschei, the queens and other future enemies? Is she an anti-daemati?

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 28

But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.”

- Lucien, ACOWAR, chapter 24

Future foreshadowing?! I really, really hope not.

Slow blinkers tend to have quick reflexes, let's hope that this is suggesting Elain will be quick on her feet.

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports...

- Feyre, ACOWAR, chapter 24

Will Elain become involved with Azriel's spy service, or work with him in some capacity? Spies must be able to stay silent, to keep secrets - and we know from ACOSF that Elain is more than adept at secret keeping.