#lucien deserves to be with people who like him and want to be around him

[copypastus]

@lucienweekofficial Day 5 - Family

I wanted to do different families Lucien had over the years. So we have: 1. Baby Lucien with his mom 2. Lucien with Jesminda 3. Lucien with Tamlin 4. Lucien with his Band of Exiles

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner - Azriel (5)

AHHHHH this is the final part and let me tell you I'm SAD. It was so hard to write the ending you all deserve after all this love, so I tried my best. Let me know what you think! Also, you deserve A LOT, so I made it long hehehe. Don't worry, a request about the RATH universe is coming soon! If you want one too, drop it in my inbox!

(1), (2), (3), (4)

Plot: The story of how Azriel fixed what was broken, and how you forgave him.

Warnings: this is sad, but has a happy ending! Also, mental health issues.

No one expected the sidra to froze that year, and against everyone expectation, one day Velaris had woken up to see the riven covered by a silver layer. Children had missed school to skate in the solid surface, parents watching carefully from the edge. Some couples were skating too, holding hands and giggling endlessly.

You had been watching the new scene unfold all morning. And while you usually loved snow and ice as much as any child in town, you were starting to get a little sick of all the noise.

It wasn’t your new employee situation, who had been staring at the river all morning. She had already finished her duties, but always the polite and nice girl, Elain Archeron was keeping you company.

When you spotted for the third time the familiar red-head through the glass and she didn’t say anything, just sighed, you decided you had enough.

“You should tell him to get in before he freezes to death” you commented, still busy with measuring the ingredients.

“Oh, no” Elain blushed and looked away from the window. “No. He’s just… He can wait”

“He can, but doesn’t have to. You and Lucien should head out, rent ice skates and have a fun day. You already finished here” you smiled kindly at her, and before she could reply, you added. “I’m fine, I don’t even like cold weather. And I still need to finish this, which you can’t help me with. So, go”

Elain stared at you with uncertainty, and you tried to look as convinced as possible. Would you have liked her to stay? After all, she was one of the few people you socialized with these days. She had turned in when you opened the bakery again, right after you posted the sign about looking for a new partner.

And even if you had had your doubts when you discovered she was Feyre’s sister and Azriel’s friend, you considered her your own friend.

So, yeah, you would have liked her to stay. Because you were still awfully sad all the time, and her company was one of the few things that made your day better. But you being sad didn’t excuse her missing a wonderful day with her mate.

“It’s not closing time yet” her eyes danced between the glass and you. “He was supposed to wait for me at the house”

“Guess he’s too eager to see you. He’s been dancing around the bakery for a good hour” you chuckled. “Elain, I mean it. Go. Have fun. I’ll see you on Monday”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like it will unfreeze”

“And I promise I don’t mind at all. So, go, have fun and tell me about it on Monday” you gripped her hand softly over the counter, nodding to the waiting mal outside. “Come on, go”

Lucien was once more outside the bakery, the only visible part of him his red hair. He was covered in thick layers, but still managed to smile when Elain kissed your cheek and took her coat on the way out.

You didn’t have it in you to watch them be affectionate with each other, so you looked down at your task and decided it would be the last of the day.

It was hard watching all those couples walking hand in hand and remembering the feel of his warm, scarred hand in yours. To hear a man laughing and remember the unexpected laughs you dragged out of him sometimes. Even looking at the river was painful, because you could almost see the ghost of Azriel and you learning how to skate in a frozen lake in the Illyrian mountains a few years ago.

You had seen Azriel around a few times now, walking through your bakery and waving at you through the glass. Two times he had been waiting at the door when it was late at night, silently walking you home from afar without talking. Almost two months had passed by and your feelings were still as messed up as before.

Though you didn’t cry as much as before, and you were starting to get better, you still wondered.

If Azriel getting help would mean your relationship would be fixed, or if it was broken permanently. Deep in your thoughts, and used as you were to Azriel’s shadows, you didn’t notice how they tugged on your apron until the door sounded again.

Elain’s name didn’t leave your lips, because as soon as the door opened, you lost your breath.  As if you had summoned him, Azriel walked through the door, beautiful as ever. He wasn’t in his usual training leather, but winter clothes that fit him as a glove. Instantly, you noticed he had lost weight. His shoulders were slumped and his body didn’t carry the usual grace of an Illyrian warrior.

“Hi”

His scarred hands, that had held you so many times and slaughtered so many enemies, were tucked in his coat’s pockets. You could feel the nervousness through the bond, the hesitance. Too stunned to answer, you only stared at him.

You had known that, eventually, he would talk to you. That you would have to do more than just wave at each other through the glass and stay silent when he sent you details through Elain. But still, you hadn’t expected it.

Unable to move, you only blinked.

“I saw Elain and Lucien heading out” he added, not looking away from you. “It’s a nice day outside”

Azriel hadn’t finished before one of his new shadows scaped his control, sneaking around the counter. The familiar ones, that had been by your side since he left, danced around the new intrusion. It lifted your apron, and crawled up your neck.

The cool feeling was the last of your worries, because no matter how much you willed yourself to say something, you couldn’t even tear your eyes from him.

The bond flickered between the two of you, once more. Knowing that it was one-sided, that he didn’t wear it like you did, made break your trance.

“She’s finished for the day” you explained, sounding way more confident that what you felt.

“It’s a nice day, yeah” he repeated, not giving you time to feel awkward before he continued “I thought that maybe you wanted to take a walk with me. It’s cold, but we could… get coffee. Or chocolate, if you want”

Azriel gave you a half, broken smile. Hearing his voice again made you take ten steps backward.

“I have things to do”

You looked down to your current task, which could be easily discarded. You had left much important things half-done because of him, and you would have done it normally without a second thoughts. But no matter how heartful the conversation at your door had been, you just knew you weren’t ready to have a conversation without getting angry.

You knew you weren’t ready to forgive him.

His new shadow gripped your wrist tightly before disappearing, and you heard Azriel’s doubt. He wanted to say something else, and you wanted too. Still, you fell back to your measuring and ignored the way your vision blurred, how your knees became weak again.

Maybe going back to your duties was the only way not to break down again.

The silence continued for a long minute. You couldn’t not feel his presence, the way his scent filled the bakery and made your stomach turn. Your heart recognized what you needed, what you wanted, and threatened to jump out of your chest.

Before you could regret your words, Azriel opened the door again.

“You’re forgetting the yeast” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When you looked up again, he only smiled. You opened your mouth to tell him to wait, maybe to fuck off and never come again. You didn’t have time, because Azriel closed the door behind him and he was gone.

The first tear fell against the unformed dough, followed by many more. You wouldn’t be finishing the blueberry cake that afternoon, you realized, as you crunched behind the counter and cried.

-

There was a storm coming, and everyone in Velaris had had the same idea – run to the market, buy everything they needed for a few days, and crowd themselves at home with their loved ones. You were trying to follow the first part of the plan, not having anyone to go home anymore. And if that wasn’t enough reason to drag you down, the crowd was getting intense.

Velaris’ market was a beautiful place, full of shops and nice vendors. But that day, the space felt too small.

You already had a few bags with you, yet there were a few more to go. Wanting to finish as soon as possible, you had ignored the rational part of your brain and had gotten in the middle of the crowd. You had only managed to buy milk and pasta, and still had a long way to go.

After Azriel’s brief appearance, your life had been messier than before. He had come by the bakery at least five times more, always offering you some kind of plan you rejected. Going to the park, for a flight or to a coffee shop. Taking walks, watching the sunset or training together.

You lived now half-prepared to see him walking through your door again, and not having the heart to tell him no. You weren’t sure if that thought frightened or comforted you.

In your haste, you had almost forgotten to buy provisions for the storm, and had found yourself on the worst day to do them. Crowded, loud and suffocating, that was how you would describe the market at that moment.

The fact that most people ran with their children and family wasn’t helpful at all.

Most of the times, it was Azriel who did the last-minute shopping for you. He knew you didn’t like crowds, loud places, that you did best in your bakery where only five people were allowed at a time.

Another shove broke you down from your daydreaming, and you looked back to see a pregnant woman staring with her eyebrows furrowed.

“The line is moving” she spatted, pointing to the small space ahead of you. “If you don’t move with it, you should step out”

“Oh, no” you chuckled softly. You picked up the bags on the ground and took the two small steps that you were supposed to. “Sorry, I just thought I could take a little bit more space. It’s crowded here”

“I don’t mind crowds, so if you want to step back, let me get first. I’m in a hurry”

“Me too” you gave her a polite smile, mindful of her state.

The short distance that separated you from the customer on the front was certainly not enough, and she knew it. Still, she looked at you with disapproval. There were only five more people to go until it was your turn, you could buy your snacks and run to the next stall.

You thought you could ignore the glare at the back of your neck, and you did for a few minutes. Without meaning to, you thought how everything with Azriel was easier. Not only people wouldn’t dare to talk to him like that, but also, he assured you a good meter of distance between you two and the rest of the world with his wings.

The snacks on your hands almost fell when, not even two seconds after the man took three steps forward, you were shoved again.

That time, when you looked back, the woman was accompanied by her mate. His wings covered her from the people behind them.

“You should really step out of the line” she repeated. “You might have all the time in the word, but we are in a hurry”

“Me too. You can’t expect me to be glued to that man” you tried to explain, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He just moved”

“And you didn’t, which proves my point. Besides, it’s obvious you only have a few things. We have more”

“Which should be enough reason to let me go first, not only because I was here before you” you shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable when the male huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s you who shouldn’t have come here today if you can’t wait in a line”

You weren’t a threat for the woman, and you were trying really hard to be polite and prove your point. Besides, being pregnant wasn’t an easy task, and you could tell she was far along. Maybe you should have let her pass, or maybe told her to fuck off.

But before you could argue further, something clicked in the male’s eyes, wide with recognition.

And you would have preferred for him to go full berserk mode on you. Because you recognized that look, you had been receiving them for a while now.

The male elbowed the woman’s side softly, pointing with his chin towards you. You didn’t have time to turn back and avoid the conversation, because he spoke.

“You’re the shadowsinger’s mate” he announced, loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Oh” the woman finally connected the dots and lunged forward to grab your arm so tight you couldn’t shake her off. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry” you pushed your arm back, trying to let go.

While the woman apologized, you couldn’t help but listen to the whispers. The same ones you had heard in your bakery and through the streets. Some of them thrown in your face by rude or nosy customers that didn’t understand the concept of privacy, others by bystanders.

At the end, it was the woman who said it out loud, confirming what everyone in the small circle that had formed at the cue was wondering about. She finally let go of your arm and crossed hers in front of her body.

The look of pity wasn’t as bad as the confirmation.

“He rejected you, right?” it wasn’t a question, not when you didn’t answer and she continued. “We heard you’ve been mated for almost a century and he doesn’t want the bond. Is that true?”

It wasn’t true, but you didn’t have the heart to correct her. Instead, you turned around and used your wing-less privileges to sneak through the crowd. You kept your head down, as if that could stop you from hearing the comments or feeling the stares.

People had come up with an alternative version where Azriel and you had been mated for decades, for centuries. Where you had cheated on him or he had changed you for someone else. You had even heard that he had bonded with another person and had kicked you out of the house, and that you had been the one rejecting the bond.

Each version was farthest from the truth than the last one, but they all hurt the same. The crowd didn’t seem to get thinner no matter how deep you got in the market. Once the people who had heard the conversation were left behind, new people crowded you, worried about the girl panicking and running through the middle of the market.

There were a few occasions where you thought you would fall, where you tripped and almost embarrassed yourself farther. You had almost made it to the back entrance of the market when you finally realized you were tripping no more. There was no longer a crowd around you, nor whispers or hands reaching your way.

It took you another few steps to fully stop and assess the situation. When you looked back to see where the crowd was, you were met with a broad chest inches away from you. Through tearful eyes, you recognized Azriel’s wings tucking you away from people, his mere presence pushing them away.

You met his hazel eyes, full of worry and regret. His hair was longer, covering his brow, but you found comfort in his crooked nose, in his freckles, that you knew so well.

You noticed in his hands your bags that had been left in the stall, a new one with the snacks you were about to buy.

“What – what are you doing here?” you choked out, too grateful for the sudden moment of peace to wonder about anything else.

“I felt you through the bond, a few hours ago. Anxious and…” he stopped himself, his eyes scanning every tear that marked your cheeks. “I was just getting here when it got worse. I heard most of it. I’m –”

“Don’t say you’re sorry” you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault”

Out of the many things that were indeed his fault, people not minding their own business wasn’t his. You were used to him blaming himself for everything, from wars in other courts to people fighting in the street. The response came naturally.

Your nose was cold and runny, your hands frozen in your pockets, and your feet hurt. Besides all of that, you felt all wrong. Because you enjoyed his presence, because what they said, and because you couldn’t help but calm down when he was close.

Azriel didn’t say anything when you took the bags from his hands, thanking him quietly. He didn’t say anything as more people walked away from him, either because of his wings or because they recognized him.

“You don’t like last minute shopping”

It was a pointless observation, but it was better than to comment on how afraid he had been when, just outside the market, he felt the bond snap with urgence. His shadows knew where you were, and that you needed him, but even he had trouble running through crowds. Azriel also couldn’t talk about how mad he had been at everyone in that stall, how his new shadows had turned off every light and almost chocked them to death.

Azriel wanted to say that you were probably cold because you didn’t like your own coats, and most of the times wore one of his. He wanted to hug you, too, to feel you between his arms after what felt like an eternity and promise you that it would end well.

But he couldn’t say anything more than the obvious.

“I had to” you answered.

With a furious fist, frustrated at life, at him and at you, you brushed the tears off your cheeks. You could tell that he wanted to keep talking, and you did too. Since your last encounter, you had come up with more conversations you should have.

You stared at each other for what seemed forever. There were details that you had almost forgotten in your sorrow – like his long lashes, that you teased him about. Or the freckle that snuck up to the corner of his left eye. The way his mouth rose higher from the right, and the small scar on his ear from where Cassian dared him to wear an earring.

Only his face was enchanting enough to help you forget about the day, about the weight of your chest. It was the first closing call from the market, that sounded through the public speakers, that broke you away.

“I should go”

“I should go”

You talked at the same time, and you smiled softly when you pointed to different directions. You didn’t miss how his eyes fell to your mouth, how his own lifted up too.

“I could walk you back” he offered, not tearing his eyes away from your mouth. “If you let me”

You didn’t answer immediately. Those last words, that he had repeated so often lately, almost had you saying yes. You could almost imagine how it would go – him walking by your side, one of his wings behind your back. His elbow brushing yours, and his gaze fixed on you.

Your smile dropped when you remembered the times you had walked just like that, tucked together. The times you had waked by yourself through Velaris with his imprint on you, and the times he had left without a trace of your presence.

Azriel knew the answer before you said it, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Sorry”

That time, you decided to turn away before he could. Taking the back exit was a poor choice, knowing it was farther from your house than the main one, but you couldn’t picture yourself walking through the market without Azriel keeping the crowds a step away.

So you turned around, gripped your bags tight and didn’t tear your eyes from the ground during the whole way back.

-

It wasn’t Azriel who found you the time everything changed, but you.

The cold and winter were over, the streets were clean and the sun was out. It was a perfect day to spend outside, and Elain seemed fixed in throwing you out of your own shop. She claimed that the bags under your eyes were as dark as the night, and that your skin was so pale that she couldn’t tell the flour stains apart from it.

“Just for the record, you’re kicking the owner of the bakery out of the bakery” you stated, looking at her once more from the door. “You do realize that shouldn’t happen, right?”

“I’m helping a friend come out of her ghost-like season” she replied, still decorating muffins. “And you do realize that most shops close on Sunday’s, right?”

“Certainly not a bakery” you looked to the empty fountain at her right. “If we do it together, we will – “

“If you touch one single item of this bakery, I’m banning you from the kitchen for a month”

You doubted she meant it, she could. But still, you sighed and turned around to open the door. You weren’t an extrovert, certainly not an outsider. Since you were a child, you liked your kitchen, your house, and your space. And none of those things were outside the door.

But you actually feared what the fae you left behind would do if you turned back. Elain had already hidden your apron so you couldn’t put it on, and had threatened to mismatch the soy milk with normal one.

Giving her a last, tight smile through the glass, you walked towards the center of Velaris.

Not many people were outside that soon on a Sunday morning, but you were glad for her insistence the moment the sun kissed your face. The cold weather was disappearing and you could feel warmth across your cheeks. It was still cold, and it would be for at least another week, but the change in the weather promised a happy spring.

You walked aimlessly around Velaris, stopping to watch the Sidra move every now and then. Your feet carried you through unfamiliar streets, all of them filled with colors and smells. The longer you walked, the healthier you felt. Each step felt like a weight lifted from your chest, and you even smiled to a few usuals you found in the streets.

The main square peeked through the streets. It wasn’t your usual destination, too crowded and not as pretty as other parts of the town. But you still walked through it, feeling at ease and happy.

It had happened before, usually the days before you started your cycle, and you should have known the feeling of ease had nothing to do with the weather or the walk. It had happened and it happened again, just as you rounded a corner to walk in the square.

If, by any chance, Azriel hadn’t noticed you coming, the shadows that tugged him away from where he was standing would have made it obvious.

His eyes widened when he saw you, and you felt that peaceful feeling making its home for the day. There was no sorrow, no sadness, and none of the usual feelings that lately you felt when it came to him.

You cursed yourself stupid when you realized that you cycle was coming, and that every year you were in a mood until Azriel showed up, your hormones demanding your mate.

“Y/N”

Your name fell from your mouth and just by hearing it you noticed something different. It was new, and at the same time, you thought you recognized it somehow. You looked to his empty hands, to the syphons on his shoulders and chest and truth-teller on his side.

It looked like you had interrupted something important to him. But instead of running away from him like the last two times, you took a step closer.

“Are you going on a mission?” you pointed with your chin to his leather, eyes stopping at his chest. There was that thing, that you couldn’t name.

“Just came back. I was…”

Azriel looked to the building he just exited and for a moment, in silence. You had met a bunch of times since the incident in the market, and you had started having longer conversations. About the weather, about your bakery, and even about his family, who you finally knew officially.

Certainly, your relationship had improved, although it wasn’t just fixed yet. When he didn’t answer, you were reminded of all the times he had kept things to himself, either out of fear or doubt.

He seemed to doubt between telling you and keeping it to himself. Any other time, you knew, he would have kept it to himself. He had done it, in the past – when you asked him about his job, or tried to understand his past. Many times where he had evaded the truth or his emotions.

Your mood, that had been in a rush since you left the bakery, fell a little at his silence. He looked torn and you were ready to leave, before he answered.

“This is Madja’s house. I meet her here so we can talk, usually during the week” he looked back at you, watching the surprise of his statement. “But something happened and I needed to talk to her”

“What happened?”

Azriel’s lips were pressed tight, debating on whether he should tell you or not. He wouldn’t have doubted about it a year ago – he wouldn’t tell you, because in his eyes, it would only hurt you more than he already had. But he had learnt new things, and had realized that a relationship was built on trust. And that his fears, his perception of the reality, had broken yours.

He had cut the mission short when he had noticed, though he wasn’t sure he had ever done something like that. Azriel didn’t know what had triggered it, why it happened in the Winter court and not anytime sooner.

Madja, of course, had had an answer ready – an answer that had left him staring at her door for long twenty minutes before you appeared.

“Kallias should have sent something to Rhysand, but he didn’t” he started, not sure why he was traveling so far from the event. “So I went to check. Turns out someone must have taken it and, well, I tried to…”

He trailed off before he could finish, aware of your confusion. You never talked about what he did for Rhysand, in any court. No matter how big or small was the assignment, he didn’t tell you about it.

But that wasn’t what your confusion was about, at least not all of it. You couldn’t possibly notice because you had given it for granted since the beginning, but Azriel did notice. He noticed the change as soon as it happened, and babbled when he explained to Rhysand what he should have been feeling for years.

Had explained to Madja moments ago, who had given him a knowing smile and a proud nod.

“I accepted the bond” he confessed, continuing before you could say anything else. “I don’t know how, or why, but I was there and suddenly I was hit with – with this in my chest, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t happen sooner”

“You accepted the bond” you repeated, looking between his chest and face.

“I don’t know how, or why now. I was, thinking… And it hit me” Azriel smiled sadly, not saying what his thoughts were about – what they had been about since that night. “I didn’t want to tell you, because, this is, you don’t have to do anything now. Me accepting the bond doesn’t change what I did”

Azriel hadn’t meant to tell you, neither to be so vague and ridiculously nervous about it.

It had been a surprise when, in the middle of a conversation, he felt it. He had been thinking about you, because there were flowers and they were pretty against the cold weather, and to him, you were the prettiest thing the Cauldron had made. One moment Kallias had been going through the last movements of the package and the next the high lord was looking at him with raised brows.

Congratulating him for something that should have happened six years ago.

“It’s not that I didn’t want the bond before, Y/N” he continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise you, I didn’t know how to accept it. I didn’t know that I deserved it”

Azriel had thought, and he still wanted to, that you so pretty that you were meant for someone else. That it was borrowed time, that he didn’t deserve the bond just as he didn’t deserve you. With Madja and Rhys, they had had deep conversations about his mental health, about his version of life where he lived through a glass of pain and rejection.

As he stared at your surprised form, he tried not to let hope leak into his heart. He knew it didn’t fix what was broken, but he hoped it was the first step of a long recovery to win you back.

Only if you could confirm or deny, instead of stare at him.

“Say something” Azriel finally broke, almost begged. “Whatever you want. Just say something”

And you wanted to, because wasn’t that what you had wanted? You had fooled yourself lately thinking about may what ifs. What if he had accepted the bond in the bagging, what if he had told you that he wasn’t fine, that he was broken and needed help.

What if you had helped him and not rushed things when he wasn’t ready. Now, it felt like the Cauldron was giving you that opportunity, only that you didn’t know how to react.

You finally looked away from him and decided to give an experimental tug on the bond, to see if anything had changed.

It had.

“Az”

It was a chuckle, maybe the beginning of a cry. It was anger but also relief because what came back from that tug wasn’t what you usually felt. It was stronger, solid, as if there was a physical string between your bodies that kept you linked.

Usually, it was just an intense feeling that was enough for you. But now that you felt him tugging back, felt him loving you, you couldn’t hold back another laugh. He shoved down through it everything he felt – adoration, love, joy. Many fears that had you stumbling towards him, and pain.

So much pain that your smile dropped. His dropped too, and you felt the bond getting fainter.

“That’s another reason. I didn’t want you to feel… that” Azriel retreated the bond farther. “I have so many fears and pains here that I couldn’t even imagine sharing them with you. And that – “

“You don’t have to feel ashamed” you cut him off, your voice hoarse. “I love you the same”

Words were unnecessary when you hugged his middle and buried yourself in his chest. He curled around you, like he had done so many times.

The channel snapped open again, and you just closed your eyes tightly. It was an endless source of emotions, and it broke you that most of them were bad. There was rejection, from so many people that it felt like an angry, black bull coming your way. Sadness that felt overwhelming and never ending, always coming in waves when Azriel didn’t expect it.

You also felt disgust, and you only held him tighter when you discovered it was self-disgust. Not only at the things that he had done, but also at what had been done to him. The scars on his hands, the shadows around him. He had hated himself for so long he had forgotten how to love.

But then, at the bottom, there was something bright, and that part you realized it was only dedicated to you. There was his family too, but it wasn’t as intense as his love for you. Everything that he lacked during his life, that he yearned for, was tucked where it mattered the most.

“I love you” he whispered against your head, softly. “I love you”

You didn’t answer, just raised your head until you could brush your lips against him. Later, you would have time to blame the cycle, which you wouldn’t get for another two months, or the emotions of the moment. But you knew it was just what you needed, what you both deserved, when you felt him kissing back.

At the beginning, it was just his lips against yours, and it was enough. Your noses brushed each other, you got on your tiptoes and his wing cocooned both of you. His hands only pressed you tighter against his body when you moved your lips against his, brushing the edge of your tongue against his bottom one.

Azriel could barely keep himself straight when you silently asked for permission to open his mouth, which he happily obliged.  

From that moment, it was crashing. The kiss was only a physical proof of your feelings traveling through the mated bond, so wild and intense you couldn’t tell which one was his or yours.

“I’m sorry, darling” he whispered against your lips, giving you no time to reply. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for being a coward. I’m sorry”

“I forgive you. We don’t keep secrets anymore” you managed to say between kisses.

“Never” Azriel answered while leaving kisses on your cheeks and nose.”

“And we’ll talk about our emotions, and feelings. You’ll tell me about your life when I ask”

“Always”

“You won’t close off to me” you pulled his head away and made him look at you.

While you held his face between your hands, Azriel smiled. It was a different smile from the previous ones, from the ones you had seen so far. It was carefree, loving, and yours.

Your thumb brushed the corner of his eye, his upper cheek, the border of his nose.

“I’m here, Azriel. Always. So you don’t have to hide anything from me, or to be ashamed or afraid. I’m here” you closed the distance once more, controlling the kiss by holding onto his face. “Right around the corner”

“Right around the corner” he repeated, dipping his head and sealing all his promises with another kiss.

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[acourtofthought]

Just in case people are confused why Eluciens don't feel Jurian is the reason Elucien shouldn't end up together and why we'd have no issues with her interacting with him -

Jurian looked right to Mor, whose mouth was a tight line. “You were my friend,” he said, voice straining. “We fought back-to-back during some battles. And yet you believed me at first sight—believed that I’d ever let them turn me.”

“And I was glad to do it,” Jurian snarled. “I was glad to do it, if it bought us an edge in that war. I didn’t care what it did to me, what it broke in me. If it meant we could be free. And I have had five hundred years to think about it. While being held prisoner by my enemy. Five hundred years, Mor.” The way he said her name, so familiar and knowing—

“You played the villain convincingly enough, Jurian,” Rhys purred. Jurian snapped his face toward Rhys. “You should have looked. I expected you to look into my mind, to see the truth. Why didn’t you?”

“You mean to imply,” Mor pushed, “that you’ve been working to help us during this?”. “Where better to plot your enemy’s demise, to learn their weaknesses, than at their side?”

I said to Jurian, “You don’t want to kill Miryam and Drakon.” There was stark honesty in Jurian’s eyes as he shook his head once. “No,” he said roughly. “I want to beg their forgiveness.”. I looked to Mor. But tears lined her eyes, and she blinked them furiously away.

Jurian was not my enemy. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Even as Rhys and I both looked. I didn’t linger for long. The pain and guilt and rage, what he had seen and endured … But Jurian spoke true. Laid himself bare to us.

Jurian leaned in as if he’d kiss me, and brought his mouth to my ear. “Were you smart enough to kill her before you took her skin?” My hands tightened on his jacket. “She got what she deserved.” I could feel Jurian’s smile against my ear. “She’s in his tent. Chained with steel and a little spell from his favorite book.” Shit. Shit. Perhaps I should have gotten Helion, who could break almost any— Jurian caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Come to my tent with me, Ianthe. Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.” (Jurian helping Feyre find Elain after she was taken by the Cauldron)

“Jurian …” Lucien blew out a breath, scanning the carved wood ceiling above. “Thank the Cauldron for him. I never thought I’d say that, but it’s true.” He ran a hand through his silken red hair. “He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.”

“How’s the Spring Court?” Nesta asked. The fire crackled merrily to her right, and she let the sound ripple through and past her. Acknowledged the crack and what it did to her, and released it. Even as she concentrated on the male she’d addressed. Lucien’s jaw tightened. “How you’d expect.” Tension rippled through the room, confirmation that Tamlin had heard the news of Feyre’s pregnancy. From Lucien’s grim face, she knew he hadn’t reacted well. Nesta said, “And Jurian and Vassa?”

We've got canon confirmation that Jurian is actually a good guy, that he was willing to suffer so long as it saved the rest, that Rhys and Feyre looked into his mind to confirm this, that he's been a friend to Lucien, that he was Mor's friend.

So you'll understand why that all holds a bit more weight for us regarding Jurian’s true character over what anti's like to cling to, crass statements made while he was pretending to be the bad guy while Hybern and / or his lackeys were present.

Sarah has clearly moved the story forward showing Jurian in an extremely positive light. SHE is the one who wrote him making the joke (because it made more sense than Jurian telling Lucien Elain would be fine in the NC since they were his friends and he knew they'd keep her safe) then SHE is the one who revealed him as the good guy playing double agent. All we're doing is understanding what she wrote.

Elain would be lucky to have a war hero as her friend.

[daycourtofficial]

Hello, I'd like to order a pumpkin spice + caramel latte with a cookie, please 🙏💕

I also included Atlas in this because I found this deep in my drafts and okay I keep saying it but this one got me 😭😭😭 I have outdone myself a bit with this one

Last chance to order a coffee for gingerfucker week 🔫

“We could cancel.”

She ignored him, her focus on holding Atlas’s kicking legs to put him in his pants. Eris huffed, holding down Atlas’s arms to help calm his son’s squirming.

“Do they really deserve to see him?”

She finished pulling the tiny pants up before turning to Eris, an annoyed look on her face at his words.

“Fostering a relationship between yourself and the people of Autumn means giving them things.”

“Yes, but they know his name, surely that’s enough.”

His mate gazed at him, arms crossed across her chest. The red gown she wore made her look resplendent. Red velvet, off the shoulder sleeves. She was pushing boundaries for Autumnal nobility; ladies were expected to be modest - covered shoulders, covered legs, loose fabrics.

She, however, had slowly been showing more and more skin over the years, setting trends throughout the court. In a quick three years, female’s fashion had changed drastically, a quality tailor or seamstress in high demand.

Her tanned skin looked so warm beneath the red fabric, as if the falling leaves couldn’t resist kissing her skin before they fell.

She wore a string of black pearls, a rarity found only on a short stretch of coastline in the Night Court. She was quick to exchange her normal blues and blacks for varying shades of red, green, orange, and brown. But she could never shake a black accessory somewhere, a tiny homage to her home court, to her family miles away.

“They need to see him, Eris.”

“The last time anyone not apart of our family or staff saw him was against our will.”

“It will be okay. We will show him off from one of the balconies.”

She fixed the tiny bonnet on Atlas’s head, the babe pulling it askew immediately. His chubby fingers wrapped around the ribbon, holding tightly.

“They haven’t seen a High Lord’s babe in a long time. The last one was Lucien - don’t the people deserve a new young heir to adore?”

“The people of Autumn never adored Lucien. He looked weird.”

She gave her mate a look, shaking her head as she looked at Atlas. “Daddy’s so silly.”

“No one has ever called me silly.”

She shook her head, her voice taking on an affectionate tone, not looking away from their son. “Not to his face they don’t.”

The murmuring of a crowd outside caused both of them to look, Atlas taking the opportunity to reach for his mother’s shiny necklace. He tugged lightly, as if controlled by a dragon desperate for the jewels.

She gently wrapped around his hand before he could hurt her. “No, Atlas. That would hurt.”

He looked up, nodding as if he understood her words.

“Eris, they’re growing restless.” She had redirected her attention to him, the playful tone gone, replaced by exasperation.

“Let them.”

“You are very unhelpful.”

“Haven’t my new policies as High Lord been enough to earn their favor? Crops have never grown so well, I’ve lowered taxation rates, worked for fair trading rates between us and neighboring courts. What more do they want?” He couldn’t help the exasperation in his tone, the past few years both incredibly successful but exhausting.

“They want you, Eris.”

“They have never wanted me.”

“They have never wanted the you they thought they knew. They have never wanted a second Beron. But you’re not Beron. You’re different.”

Eris sighed through his nose, looking at Atlas. He hated being on the wrong end of his mate’s stubbornness.

“What if showing them Atlas just gives them a better look before they can take him away? We can wait until he’s older.” Her free hand reached out, brushing through Eris’s hair with a softness he never quite got used to.

“Atlas deserves to be loved by more than us. We can’t lock him away from a court he may one day rule.”

“But I want to.” It was Atlas who reached out, grabbing his dad’s nose and holding onto it. Eris leaned into the touch, his forehead meeting his son’s.

“I know. But he is going to be so loved. And no one will take him away from us.”

Eris had never heard such loud cheering, such audible happiness until the crowd caught sight of his son. It was a sound he would hear two more times, the presentation of his children making him feel closer to the people of Autumn than other act as High Lord.

Most of them could not relate to the power he held, the title given to him by the land, the decisions he made daily having far larger consequences than most could fathom. But they could relate to the title he preferred more than any other: father.

[aphroditelovesu]

I would cry for something for a Yan! Lucien Vanserra 🥺💖

"I will love you until the day my existence fades away." — Lucien Vanserra.

❝ 🦊 — lady l: oh, how I miss Lucien, especially the one from the first book 😔 he deserves more, much more! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes!

❝tw: obsessive behavior, possessiveness, protectiveness, implied death and toxic relationships (?).

❝🦊pairing: yandere!lucien vanserra x gender neutral!reader.

Lucien Vanserra is a devoted, loving and caring male. He has lost so much and suffered so much in his life that all he wants, all he must do, is make sure his loved one is happy and safe. That is all that matters to him and Lucien will make sure his wishes are fulfilled.

He knows that his darkest thoughts are wrong and Lucien tries to fight them at any cost. His greatest fear is hurting you and he will never forgive himself if he hurts you or harms you in any way. He loves you deeply, so much so that the mere thought of hurting you makes him desperate.

Lucien idolizes his darling, puts you on a pedestal and will do anything for you. Ask him for anything and he will do it without question. He wants to please you above all else and will have no fear or qualms about going "too far" in his constant quest for your approval. He wants you to love him, to be as devoted to him as he is to you.

His obsession manifests itself in such a subtle way that you will hardly notice that there is anything wrong with the way he acts. Lucien is good at disguising his feelings and he will only make you feel what he wants you to feel: security and love. He will never let you feel fear or any kind of negative feelings towards him. Lucien cannot let that happen and he will not.

He is a master at hiding his own emotions conducting his interactions in such a way that you only notice the sweetness and dedication he exudes, having lived under the violent control of his "father" and brothers. Even when obsession takes over, Lucien manages to mask any signs of possessiveness with genuine affection, ensuring that you never see the dark side of his love. He controls his actions with precision, always maintaining a facade of perfection so that you never have reason to suspect his intentions.

Lucien's manipulation is more subtle and you will hardly notice it. His smiles, the way his eyes follow you all the time and how words with ulterior motives come out of his lips are very strong clues but again, Lucien will not let you realize how sick for you he is, how desperate. At least, for now.

Lucien is a fae male and as such, he has a high level of possessiveness over his darling. He is not the controlling type, he will never try to restrict you in any way, not when he knows very well how that could end. You will have complete freedom, of course, as long as you never risk your life, Lucien will leave you free to do whatever you wish.

Although he will never act in a way that could hurt you, Lucien is still very possessive and does not like the idea of ​​other males around you, especially if he does not trust them. He will growl, show his teeth and make his disdain clear, his words sarcastic but full of venom and, if it is really necessary, Lucien will drive them away from you permanently.

Having lost so much and suffered at the hands of people who should love him, Lucien is somewhat paranoid and protective of you, but he will always be careful not to overstep your bounds. Lucien is protective to the extent that he can control it, never forcing himself into your life and always respecting your space, even if it destroys him inside. You are more important to him than the obsession that increasingly consumes him.

You are the light that guides him in the darkness, especially after the traumatic events of Under the Mountain. You keep him going, an extra motivation to fight and stay strong. Lucien almost sees you as a kind of deity, always worshiping and adoring you wherever you go. There is nothing this male wouldn't do for you. He will love you, and be devoted and loyal to you completely.

Lucien will spoil you with anything you desire. One of his love languages ​​is to give you things he knows you will like. Absolutely anything you desire, anything you want to ask for, is yours. Just ask and you shall have it. Lucien will feel useful when he can provide for you and he loves the smile you give him when you receive something you like, so ask for it.

Lucien Vanserra is, above all, a man who strives to be worthy of the love he receives. He wants to be the fortress that protects you, the safe haven where his darling can rest in peace, without fear. And it is this devotion that guides him, that gives meaning to everything he does, even if some of these things are monstrous. He knows that true love requires sacrifices, and for him, there is no sacrifice too great if it means your happiness and safety.

[fortunatelyannoyingcrown]

Just went down the Reddit rabbit hole, and found this sub aside from the main acotar sub- non toxic Acotar? Lmao, I think I just found out what the "non toxic" refers to- it is just a community for Feyre/Rhysand Stans to sit in their little echo chamber and spout misinforming crap about Tamlin/Nesta and Lucien sometimes....

Anyways, there was a post someone put up about what it "would take for Feyre and Tamlin to be Cordial"....

And some of these stupid and biased responses honestly had my blood boiling .I have ss a few here and I'll give my response to each comment as I go...

Oh sincere apology, you say?The one at the end of ACOMAF was not enough?What do y'all Feyrug bitches want him to do?Fall on his knees before her? Frankly, I wish he didn't apologize at all, or save her miserable life.She owes him way way more than he does her so just sftu. And also, look at your own faves' sin list?She can't just be demanding or even expecting apologies when she has done even worse to ruin his life and his court and his legacy, can she?.When Feyrug gives her apology, we'll think about Tamlin extending the same.

Imagine belittling what a depressed suicidal human being is going through, and making it his fault.No sweetie, your fave is a big part of the reason he is the way he is, she destroyed his life for no good reason.But yeah, taking accountability is something Feyrug has never really been good at.

"Feyre might come around"- who TF even is she? That war criminal needs to sit down with herself for a bit, and look at all the peoples' lives she has actively destroyed.So yes, Feyrug Stan you too can stfu and actually understand that your fave has done worse shit to Tamlin that she needs to own up to and apologize for...

And then there's another loser

Like honestly the way there people prop Feyrug on a pedestal when she doesn't even deserve it, like Jesus Christ, I hope Tamlin doesnt even get a POV, if SJM is going to pander to this bitch ass fandom, and have him apologize to her.I would rather he even die than that. Because if he dies, he can die with his self respect intact, instead of bowing before that monstrous bitch and her POS husband.

But unless Feyrug apologizes for all the pain she has caused him, very knowingly in fact, and acknowledges that she has been a POS, I don't want her within a ten foot distance from Tamlin

Like bitch, stay TF away from him Go back to Rhysie poop, your favourite rapist husband, but don't you dare expect an apology from him

If it ever happens, I will throw that copy of the book against the wall.I won't leave Feysand/ Feysand stans alone after that...

Have to get off my soap box now...

[lifeisabiscuit]

It will never not bother me how people are like Elain doesn't owe Lucien anything, she doesn't want him, he should take a hint, leave her alone and stop stalking her (even though he moved to the human lands and only comes when requested and doesnt even see her everytime hes there or at solstice where he kindly brings gifts for her and Feyre and she barely acknowledges it. Like, no girl the gifts don't make him entitled to your affections but aren't you supposed to be the kind sister? He hasn't done anything wrong). Even in canon, Feyre barely tries to meddle in their relationship (or lack thereof) and even questions why not give Elain and Azriel a bond instead. They never clear up that he was not the reason they were taken (and neither was Tamlin but of course they would let them keep blaming him instead of taking responsibility for their part), they just dangle her in front of him to make him compliant and keep doing things for them (sounds a lot like what they did to his brother with Nesta).

But then, when Nesta clearly makes it known she wants nothing to do with Cassian (like Elain has about Lucien), they let him follow her around and lock her in a house with him. Don't even get me started on the bonus chapter where he cornered a human woman and asked about her virginity. No matter what Nesta wanted, Cassian wanted Nesta so they had to be together, ignoring every thing she's said and every sign she's made that she wanted him to leave her alone. No, let's lock them up together instead and force proximity. I don't care if deep deep down she wanted him too, she told him to leave her alone. He found glee in locking her up with him where she could not go anywhere without him. And so many people think this is romantic and goals? They think Nesta deserved to have her wants ignored because Cassian wanted her.

I don't believe the problem was that Nesta was sleeping around, but because she wasn't sleeping with Cassian and he was throwing a pity party. Because as soon as she started sleeping with him even though that was another of her vices, all of a sudden no one had an issue with it.

Like, it seems like just another way to punish Lucien for 'not helping Feyre' against a high lord (something everyone excuses Cassian from because Rhys is his high lord) and punish Nesta for being a child "letting" her sister hunt (even though Feyre made her mom a promise and was never going to listen to Nesta whether she told her not to anyways).

Cassian didn't even really want Nesta more than physically, they had to break her to make her more what he wanted and then he never even said he loved her. He wanted a mate, Nesta wanted Cassian. And the thing is, I don't even have a preferred Elain ship, I just want Lucien to stop being toyed with. But I don't think Lucien even wants a mate, so I could see him actually falling for Elain for who she is, not just her beauty. If anyone would give him a chance. Like, even if she still wants to break the bond, at least talk to him.

I dunno, The double standard between how people treat the sisters is annoying.

[anarchiii]

Twin Flames-1 —ACOTAR x TOG AU

Part One | Warnings: angst? | Witch!Reader x Eris Vanserra

Summary; Y/N had been born from a great darkness, and yet her soul burned brighter than any Firewielder. She didn’t care for someone who would try smother those flames, she wanted someone that would set them alight. . .

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Disclaimer; a fair amount of spoilers, people!!

Happy @erisweekofficial ,everyone!! ❤️

Eris’s POV

The Heir had never been one to look up to the stars and wish like some, but he’d always wanted things to turn out better, he wasn’t stupid enough to let hope fester in his heart, Beron had made sure of it, and his mother. . . She wasn’t around enough to affect anything. Locked up in her rooms for the foreseeable future.

He’d always silently hated that Lucien had gotten his happy ending—then again, he deserved it, his brother had always been the best one, so empathetic and patient, nothing like himself, though he couldn’t help it, not when Lucien came over with his lovely mate, going on about how happy he was, he couldn’t help the jealousy that arose within him. Turning him into a lonely and pathetic creature. Forced to watch everyone prosper while he wasted away, and he had no one to blame but himself.

It was true that the hateful and evil mask he put on was a mask, but, over time he had became the very thing everyone believed him to be, it was pitiful, he’d read so many stories of people that had suffered so greatly but had overcame their hardships and survived, becoming better people than they ever could’ve imagined, and yet, even as a child, Eris knew that would not be him. He would never know love and respect. No, that was not what he was here for.

Instead he helped people in his own wrong way and saw to it that they were better, going behind his High Lord’s back and helping their enemies, and after all that. He’d barely gotten a thank you. He couldn’t blame them, though, not at all, the Night Court especially, they knew him to be the male that’d stripped The Morrigan down and left her to die in his own lands, a nail imbedded in her stomach, the male that had tried stealing their High Lady’s sister away, to be a wife for no more than breeding and owning. When they didn’t realise he just wanted someone to love. That was all he’d ever wanted, all he’d ever let himself want for.

But his story was not one that ended in a happy ending, no, he was the beast the knight would slay to save the fair maiden, no more than a hurdle to overcome, a monster with a terrible fire that burned in his blood, burned his very soul. . .

-

Y/N’s POV

She couldn’t stop the shuddering of her breath as she took in the now empty battlefield bathed in the blood of enemies and allies alike, she would never get used to it, the fighting, the bloodshed, the hate, Y/N was born for battle and yet it terrified her, she had no idea how Aelin Galathynius did it. How she fought like an absolute warrior and smiled a minute later. Perhaps she would never know, the Queen had always unnerved her, she was a mystery never to be solved, though, that didn’t mean she didn’t respect her, no, when the young woman came off the field, she only bowed, she was not her Queen but that did not mean she wouldn’t fight for her. Hell. This entire army was brought together because of her. The world could finally breathe because of her.

A strong hand clasped her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts and bringing her back to the world, the sun was blaring, melting all the snow and making small waterfalls form from the cliffs of the Staghorns, she turned around to find her Wingleader staring at her, Manon’s black and gold eyes shining with poorly hidden despair, she couldn’t blame her, not when her own held the same expression.

She nodded to Manon in thanks, neither of them saying a word, she couldn’t bare to look at Abraxos who lingered behind his rider, Y/N cleared her throat, saying, “I’m going to go for a walk, alone.” She didn’t wait for her response before leaving. Walking down the many stairs of the castle, winding turns and long hallways, she didn’t say anything to Aelin’s court members as she walked past them, non of them seemed to want to talk either. Good.

She was soon out of the great castle and then through the gates and out onto the field, Orynth looming behind her, its stones mockingly clean, it took her a long time to reach Oakwald, she had no Wyvern to carry her anymore, Adries was riding high with the other eleven creatures who hadn’t survived, Abraxos the only one left, if she wasn’t wound up in her own misery then she would’ve felt bad for the beast, but sorrow was seemingly staying for a while.

Stray branches and leaves crunched beneath her boots as she walked through the forest, the trees whispering secrets older than time itself, the wind howling names lost to history, it was a artefact in itself, it was famous for the creatures that dwelled in its lush canopies but no one talked about the sentience the place held, like it was watching your every breath and movement, it was terrifying and yet, oddly comforting.

She spotted no white stags but that wasn’t unusual, the only one she had ever seen had been mere hours ago when Aelin Ashryver Galathynius had entered the battle riding one in golden armour fit for a empress, a goddess.

Surprisingly, the forest was not silent, birds sung their songs and the deer still went about eating leaves, it was peaceful, and nice to know the world hadn’t stopped, everyone and everything moved on eventually, some quicker than others, maybe in a few years she would admire the beauty of Oakwald—she had loved nature so dearly when she was younger, when everything wasn’t so dark,—she wanted to look at the ducks waddling by and smile as they had a swim in a nearby pond, she wanted to look at the flowers already blooming through all the gore and wonder in amazement, she wanted.

She couldn’t help the tears that fell, she had lost so much, how was she supposed to go on without them? She felt that flame inside her flicker and sputter but persevere, something she couldn’t seem to do, her Grandmother had always despised that light, how even when she tried smothering it—it only burned brighter, the old hag was probably smiling in her grave to know what she had wished for so many years was happening, she was breaking, ever so slowly.

The sun was falling, setting the sky into hues of deep orange and yellow, clouds forming and blocking the view, she didn’t go home, though, just kept walking, trying to clear a mind that couldn’t be cleared, soon, mist was shrouding the forest in mystery, tiny droplets of rain fell. Hitting the emerald leaves and falling off them. It was quite serene, actually. Like the entire world was heading to bed. Her as the moon’s only witness.

She felt so small, so insignificant under it’s light, it was a lovely feeling, nocturnal animals ventured out of their dens into the night, the little glow of their eyes the only sign they were there, still, she didn’t go back. What was left for her there? She had no lovers, no family, friends or children, she was alone in a world full of people, alone.

She doubted anyone would miss her, maybe she could run away and start a new life, purge all her past memories. . . It was tempting, very tempting, and— what was that? She spotted something shiny hiding beneath jewel coloured leaves, as Y/N got closer, she realised it was a ring. A simple silver ring. It was oddly pretty, in a way a plain blue sky was pretty, nothing stood out but it still caught her attention, she bent over and picked it up but as she did, she slipped on some moss and went face-first into the ground.

She closed her eyes and groaned at the feeling of her nose screaming out in pain—the scar on her jaw mimicking the feeling, the ring was warm in her hand, like it bore an inner fire, her body felt so heavy that she couldn’t help but lay there, perhaps in the morning she would figure out what to do, nothing would harm her, so there was no reason but to keep to the floor, Y/N did need sleep, so why not get it?

Y/N dreamt, she had the instinct feeling of falling but didn’t stir, she felt herself land on something hard and cold and did all she could to grab on, this may be a dream but she’d be damned if she died in it. A dream.

-

Eris’s POV

One of his hounds barked in the distance and he had enough sense to inspect, the autumn leaves crunched beneath his feet like the crackling of flames, he’d never gotten sick of the eternal autumn, it was his home, no matter what had happened in this place, it was forever be his, in some way, at least.

The dog, Hazel, released another sound, piercing through the silence, setting all the other dogs off, he sighed, shaking his head as he got closer, there was no point telling them to be quiet when they wouldn’t listen, anyway.

Eris walked into the clearing where all his animals gathered, there was nothing, positively nothing of interest or significance, just a plain old spot, though that didn’t stop the smoke hounds as they jumped around and circled a particularly tall tree, this was abnormal for even them, something was off, he caught the faint scent of blood and metal on the wind, but found it led nowhere.

He noticed little scraps of clothing hanging from low branches, the material was similar to that of the Illyrian’s but different in a way, hopefully he wouldn’t find that Shadowsinger or haughty general dead in his forest, not that he wouldn’t be delighted in that, a bird cried out in the distance and he looked up to see it, only, it wasn’t a bird he saw.

No, it was a person, hanging from a branch high up, her bloody blond-silver hair hung limp, a strange red cape covering most of her body, perhaps she was dead, and perhaps that was a good thing.

Yet he couldn’t hide his shock when something fell from her hand, it shined faintly as it fell right into his palm, he did all he could not to hiss in anger as he found it was his ring that he had lost two weeks ago, the one his mother had given him, that little thief.

The End.

Note: so uhh. . . No idea where this is going, no pressure- 😬

-Taglist

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@azrielslittleslut

@shadowsingercassia

[acourtoflight]

big rant incoming <3

being on acotar tiktok comes with dealing with delusional people who are also trying to gaslight you.

the fact that people still believe gwyn is gonna have a book is crazy to me, especially before elain. the fact that people believe sjm is gonna have a man choose is crazy.

let’s address all their arguments one by one, shall we?

1. “elriel is too obvious/cliché”. this makes me laugh because do you even know what you’re reading? romantasy is always cliché. and also, everyone finding their mate and living happily ever after wouldn’t be too obvious or cliché? what stakes would they have? they have no obstacles, that book would be finished in 100 pages unless she made the romance a subplot, which we know won’t happen.

2. “lulu deserves happiness”. okay i’m gonna be real biased here. i don’t care about lucien’s happiness. i don’t care. the only thing i want is for elain to get the man she actually likes, which happens to be azriel. also, if lucien has been through so much so has azriel yet i don’t see all that coddling for him. lucien fans sound like boy obsessed moms and i’m tired of it. you 36! i would loveeee to know what lucien has done to have so many fans.

also, if i entertain the possibility of elucien happening, i will not forgive sjm for making elain “come around” after she repeated non-stop how uncomfortable she is around lucien. she’s not a consolation prize for him, sorry.

another thing. every plot point i have read for an elucien book revolves around lucien, not elain. but then they will turn around and tell you we are the ones who don’t care about elain. that we only want azriel smut. lol first of all, if we only wanted azriel smut we would have no reason to ship him with elain, we could have shipped gwynriel. but we don’t because the smut is not the only thing we want. the only thing we have had for years were the cute/sweet moments, and it’s all we talk about still. so point invalid, once again. next.

3. “azriel only feels lust for elain!”. stop lying. i know you can’t be that stupid. i know you have read the whole series just like me. what kind of man stares at ibuprofen every night for over a year if he’s only looking to get laid? what kind of man questions fate if he only wants to get laid? what kind of man risks dying alone just to rescue her if he’s only looking to get laid? what kind of man goes out of his way to pick a necklace that represents her if he’s only looking to get laid? cry all you want but we all know azriel is a good male and you would rather destroy his character in your head than accept it.

also, if azriel is so bad, why would you ship him with gwyn? she won’t fix him. and the poor girl hasn’t even shown interest in him yet here we are.

4. “elain gave truthteller and the necklace back”. she gave back truthteller because it wasn’t hers, and azriel would need it again because he actually makes use of it. she gave the necklace back because she thought azriel didn’t like her, she thought she had read everything wrong, not because she was the one rejecting him. she gave the necklace back just like nesta didn’t even accept cassian’s gift.

5. “azriel’s shadows don’t like elain”. that’s another big fat lie. i know we all have eyes and have read the same words on paper, let’s not act stupid, okay? shadows swarming him means he’s either mad, uncomfortable, or something is troubling him. so if we know that why would the shadows disappearing be a bad thing? he certainly doesn’t seem worried about it. not to mention those same shadows were like snakes preparing to strike when nesta insulted elain.

6. “feysand and nessian didn’t like each other at first either”. LIE. feyre literally called rhys the most beautiful man she had ever seen and nesta and cassian were attracted to each other from the first moment they met, and we know that because it’s in the actual book! elain and lucien are nothing like that, they have no chemistry for the pov to change all of a sudden, they are uncomfortable around each other because the mate bond basically feels like a curse.

that’s it for now.

[animezinglife]

Maybe it's my age talking, but I do think the Azriel vs. Lucien thing is blown way out of proportion.

There's a difference between attraction and being in love with someone, and another difference still between having a crush and being in love.

TL/DR: I genuinely think the biggest piece people overlook in this Azriel vs. Lucien puzzle is Elain herself and the layers of her internal conflict. Personally, I suspect it's much bigger than them both.

Here's the thing:

Azriel is gorgeous and is basically described as looking like a dark, fallen angel. He went into Hybern's war camp and got her out of there alongside Feyre, took her in his arms and flew her to safety. He's been kind to her, too. He hasn't pushed her to talk and has a quiet, strong presence that I'm sure is quite comforting to her.

There is zero expectation with him--zero pressure that she would even be able to create in her own mind. There's no "mate" term dangling over them and no friends or family breathing down their necks at every turn, acting like they should be supervised for something they didn't do. They're the only two people in their current circle (exempting Mor, though that's a bit different) who are still single. They both are constantly bombarded with this idea of "mates" and being on the outside of what that means.

I don't think it would be a reach at all to call her and Az friends.

It's not odd or confusing to me at all that she would have a crush on him; be attracted to him, want him to kiss her, or even to sleep with him. It seems completely natural.

I would argue that Az has been a gentleman towards her (and I will stand by the fact that internal frustrations are very different than actions, and that something expressed in confidence to your brother is nowhere near the same as acting out of turn), but I also wonder, too, if there's a part of her that makes her think she doesn't want a gentleman right now.

That while she's handled her trauma very differently than Nesta (thank the Cauldron), there's a part of her that's taken that robbing of life to heart and Graysen's whiny bitch comments/rejection to heart. That it's impacted her self-worth to make her think she is something "other" that's beyond saving or isn't worth the kind of fairytale love she always dreamed of for herself.

If I read into it perhaps a bit too much, I think Az is a little off when he assumes Elain doesn't know about the types of things he's done, whether that be atrocities or something more private. She might even see her involvement in killing Hybern to be some dark thing outside her nature she's having difficulty coming to terms with.

I'm not at all saying Az isn't a good guy who's deserving of love too, but I don't think what Elain's looking for with him in that extra chapter has much of anything to do with love. I think she wants a distraction with someone she thinks understands.

I think there's a chance, too, she's overwhelmed by Lucien being in the same house. Overwhelmed by that strong, involuntary pull she feels towards him and that she doesn't know what to make of him at all.

I will say it until I'm blue in the face, but I genuinely think the only barrier--the only real issue--that prevents her from warming to Lucien in the same or a similar way is that heavy, life-altering M-word that got slapped onto them both on arguably the worst day of her life.

He hasn't had the luxury of being around her as part of her family like Az has. Hasn't had the luxury of Elain seeing him fully through her own eyes without the "mate" label being forced into their lives. Yet it doesn't lessen the pull she has towards him, and that combined with everything she's experienced of mates thus far can't exactly be easy to process, especially after a brutal rejection, lost love, and lost future.

She isn't able right now to see the bond as a choice.

She doesn't even get the chance to evolve naturally into seeing it as a choice with the way her family hovers and breathes down her neck. How suddenly the most un-purity culture people in existence magically start caring a great deal about Elain's choices in that regard and insert themselves into chaperone roles like Elain and Lucien are two teenagers who can't control themselves at a junior high dance.

How confusing and contradictory that must be for Elain, who's been condescended and told by her sisters (namely Nesta) that the Fae don't live by human customs when it comes to sex or anything of the like. How the one time she did take that chance with someone she thought she loved it only got thrown back in her face by both Graysen and Nesta?

And what do we know about Lucien? He's devastatingly beautiful. Elegant yet rakish. An intelligent, educated, trained courtier and the son of a high lord. Even Feyre--a happily mated female--can't go five minutes in her internal monologues without noting how attractive and sexy he is even when he's doing absolutely nothing and minding his own business.

She knows he's Feyre's friend. She's heard some of the stories there. So she is aware, then, of at least some of the qualities her sister sees and admires in him despite their current rocky relationship.

Lucien is, in every way, being respectful of Elain's wishes and giving her space even though her rejection hurts him. He's still warring with the guilt of his own lost love in his mind and with a sense of unworthiness. He's been achingly thoughtful towards her; the epitome of a gentleman.

Elain would know that especially with that bond she doesn't fully understand, he's not someone she could simply have a pleasant distraction with. That he's someone who could see through her in every way she wants to hide and that she would never be able to hide in the mere idea that he simply doesn't press her (in the way Az doesn't press her).

Az feels safe right now and someone still attached to her comfort zone. He's a place she can continue to hide without fully facing her present and future and all Prythian is.

She can't hide her pain or suffering from Lucien in the same way. She can't quietly stare out the window into the sunlight without him knowing and feeling exactly what she needs.

She knows--senses--that she won't be able to separate the most vulnerable fragments of herself from her bond with Lucien. Again, a bond she didn't choose, and doesn't currently see that she still has a choice in.

So, she turns away from it in every way she knows how and looks for new ways to do so.

The way people treat Elain when it comes to her love life is so predictably (to her) unlike how Feyre and Nesta have been treated. Elain has always been different from them both, especially when it comes to love and sex. She's more modest and more reserved; has never been the type to fall into bed with some random man or Fae male. She's more guarded; a bit more protective of her own heart.

Maybe, to some extent, there's something she feels she needs to prove to herself. That she can fit within this more sexually liberated Fae world and that she's not some outsider in need of being treated with kid gloves.

Az, in that capacity, is definitely not someone who will. He's also not someone she can't keep her guard up with and can't keep her vulnerability from.

It would not surprise me either if there's a part of her that wants to deter Luicen (thinking back to Mor's tactic of deterring Azriel when she slept with Helion), but more strongly and importantly, to deter and distract herself from the bond. She doesn't want to allow herself to feel anything towards him.

The fact that she does feel a strong pull and, more likely than not, an overwhelming attraction of some kind makes me think it wasn't fully coincidence that she approached Az on Solstice when Lucien was in the same house.

I think she very much wanted to tie someone else to what she's feeling and try to get Lucien, the bond, and that dreaded M-word out of her mind.

Running the risk of sounding crude, Az could probably achieve that at least temporarily.

But it'd come right back. It's always been interesting to me that everyone seems to note that their bond is strong despite nothing having happened between them yet.

Until Elain acknowledges that bond and Lucien one way or another, that internal conflict she's clearly feeling is never going to change for her.

Two things can be true at once: we can fully acknowledge that neither Elain nor Lucien had a choice in the bond snapping between them, and that until they face it, neither one of them are going to have much choice in anything else at all. Not beyond a meaningless tangle in the sheets with someone else.

I think it would've been worse in the long run for Elain to learn that the hard way.

I also genuinely don't think Elain understands that there's nothing wrong with her for being different than her sisters or being different than the Fae norms. That there's nothing wrong with her for struggling to process this or for being overwhelmed.

She's still healing. She still has wounds she hasn't addressed. She's still hiding and seeking distractions while growing restless about wanting more from her life and being frustrated by her sisters' low expectations.

Feyre and Nesta love her, and it's not the protectiveness from love in itself that's wrong.

But they're suffocating her.

Lucien is, in every way, a person who never could. He's something so different and "other" than what she's used to both as a human and as a Fae while also being a bridge between those worlds. He can function in both. He can thrive in both.

He can see, perhaps too clearly, all sides of her whether she likes it or not.

I think she also very much senses he's the type she could fall in love with. The type she'll never be able to fully distract herself from if she lets herself fall or take that leap.

Her heart's still wounded, and she's not ready to risk opening that again right now.

That doesn't mean she won't be later on, and that doing so won't be incredibly worth it.

She will never find herself or open that chance up to herself, though, if she also keeps hiding in only the channels she knows. The barriers--intentional or otherwise--set around her by her sisters.

I do think that's inevitably going to be the difference between them, though: Elain and Lucien are going to face their reality and find healing together and in each other, and in the process, are going to end up falling in love. Real, true, soulful love.

Lucien's love is the kind that will leave her wondering why she ever thought she'd known what love is in the first place, and what they could find in each other is the kind of love they both deserve.

I cannot wait to see Elain facing her fears when she's fully free to do so. I can't wait to see her getting to know Lucien without the IC watching their every move and making her feel like a caged animal. I can't wait to see her find her strength, her love, and the fullest extent of her freedom.

That's not to say that Az would not have many wonderful qualities he could offer her too, but the person she's going to find more of herself than she every thought possible with is Lucien.

Az, in my humble opinion, is likely going to end up with someone else. An actual mate where he'll find his own healing alongside.

[cressidagrey]

Something good and right and real - Chapter 10

Summary:

Azriel had spent centuries believing that he of all people didn't deserve a mate. And if anything, the last three years had just galvinised that particular belief. And then he meets her.

The first time Oriana met Azriel, she thought that he reminded her of a skittish cat. Shy and a little bit broken. Good for him that she absolutely excelled in fixing the things around her.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Discussion of Mental Illness

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

“Anything else I need to be aware of?”  Rhys asked after their weekly meeting at the River House. 

It was Azriel and Rhys and Cassian, a reminder of time long past. Cassian shook his head. 

Which was Azriel’s opening.

“I need a break,” Azriel declared. 

Azriel telling Cassian and Rhys that he had thought of quitting his job and taking up Herbalism as a hobby probably would have resulted in fewer shocked faces. 

He didn’t care. 

The Lakehouse was coming along and he had plans, damnit. And for that, he needed a break. A few days off. Hopefully a week. 

“A break?” Rhys asked, sounding like he had never heard the word. 

“Yes. Cassian and Nesta took a week in the Illyrian steppes a few months ago. I want a break,” Azriel repeated evenly.

“You want a break,” Cassian repeated. “Did something happen?” his brother asked, sounding worried and Azriel just stared at him. 

After the whole Eris Vanserra fiasco from a few weeks ago, Cassian had mostly kept his mouth shut over whatever he thought was going on in Azriel’s romantic life. And Azriel was quite thankful for that. 

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I just need a break.”

“I have known you for 500 years and not once have you told us you need a break ,” Cassian said drily.

“Well, I do ,” Azriel responded sharply.  There had been often when he had needed a break and just kept on working because nobody thought about even offering him one and he wasn’t about to ask for it. But now he was asking, because he needed it and he wasn’t going to let anybody tell him that he couldn’t have it. 

If he hadn’t had a break outside of near-fatal injuries over the last 500 years, he probably earned one, right? 

(Suddenly Azriel realised that he should never mention that to a very specific person, because she would have thoughts about that.)

“I need a break,” he gentled his voice but he still stared down Rhys who just leaned back in his chair, mustering him. 

“So you need a break, Az,” Rhys said, a thread of amusement running through his voice. “When are you thinking of taking said break?” he asked.  

He thought about it for just a second.

“Next week,” Azriel blurted out. Next week. He could do it next week. It was as good a time as any. And the longer he waited, the more nervous he was going to be and…

“As long as no new war breaks out, you can have next week. For your break ,” Rhys said with some amusement. “Do you want the cabin?”

He appreciated the offer but the answer was a resounding no. 

“No, thank you.” He had plans. 

The High Lady, his shadows hissed. 

“Feyre Darling,” Rhys said in greeting as Feyre entered the room, draping herself over her mate’s lap.

“Am I interrupting anything?” She asked, making herself comfortable. He couldn’t help but watch, couldn’t help but yearn to have this for himself…

“Just Az telling us how he needs a break,” Rhysand said with a snort. “I think he’s getting soft,” he teased. 

“A break?” Feyre repeated curiously. “You deserve that,” she said earnestly. “Maybe go somewhere warm!” She suggested. 

“I already know where’ll be,” he promised, and then quickly changed the topic before anybody could suggest that he should go to Day Court and have Lucien and Elain host him. “Feyre, I was wondering…where did you get your table linens from?” He asked and Feyre just stared at him.

“The table linens?” She repeated like she wanted to make sure that she had understood his words correctly. 

“Yes. Table Linens. I need some.” 

“You need table linens?” Cassian repeated, sounding utterly aghast. 

“There’s this small shop at the rainbow called Clare’s. They have loads of different ones. Unless you mean the ones for huge celebrations then it’s in the Palace of Threads and Jewels,” Feyre answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Thank you,” he thanked her easily. 

“Planning on throwing some dinner parties?” Rhys asked drily but Azriel just ignored that.

No, he just needed some table linens. 

“I need to go. I have some table linens to buy,” he said instead

Ask Oriana if she wants lunch in an hour or so, he requested from his shadows. 

And now he was going to buy table linens for their house and maybe when he was already at it, whatever other textiles they needed. Like bedding or curtains…or effing tea towels. 

He had hundreds of years of pay banked because he never even had seen the need to spend it on anything. And now he did. 

He left Clare’s laden with a couple of bags and was surprised to find Cassian leaning against a building wall a few feet away from him, staring at him like he had sprouted horns. 

“Did Rhys put you up to it?” he asked, the tone of his voice icy and Cassian just stared at him.  

“What, no! Why should he do that?” Cassian asked him, sounding incredulous.  

Why did Rhys do anything?

“You tell me,” Azriel gave back. “If it’s not Rhys, then what are you doing here? I doubt you wanted to watch me shop for table linens.”

“You actually bought table linens?” Cassian asked him sounding incredulous. 

“Yes, of course, I bought some. Why do you think I asked Feyre to tell me where to go?” he gave back and then sighed.  “Cassian, do you actually care about that or did you think that me going to find table linens meant that I was going off to find the secret lover you are currently convinced I have for some cauldron-forsaken reasons?”

All the good mood he had had after spending far more money than what was reasonable on a white tablecloth, edged in delicate lace, was gone. 

“For cauldron’s sake Azriel, I am worried about you!” Cassian snapped and Azriel just stared at him. 

“Why?”

“Why?” Cassian parroted. “You don’t talk to me, or anybody, you don’t say anything, you disappear from family dinners and now you suddenly want a break! What’s going on?” Cassian demanded. 

Oh. 

He stayed quiet for a moment. 

It would be fair to tell Cassian. But if he told Cassian, everybody else would know. 

“What’s going on, Az? Come on, you know you can talk to me,” his brother badgered him.

He didn’t want to lie to him. But he also didn’t want to say the truth, because then fear had his heart in an ice-cold grip. 

“I know,” Azriel said quietly.”But right now, I was really just buying table linens.”

Cassian stared at him.

“I am not letting this go,” his brother warned him. A thin smile appeared on Azriel’s face. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he promised. 

He didn’t. 

Still, he was pretty sure that Cassian was going to be the first one who realised that something was going on with Azriel. And now it was just a question of time until he figured out what.

Cassian wasn’t stupid. Azriel would even argue that in matters of the heart, Cassian was the most intelligent of them all.

He finally managed to get rid of him only with the promise of a sparring match the next morning…and the fact that he had a very important lunch to get to.

He was quite sure that Cassian was now going to think that he was going to frequent one of the pleasure halls in the city, even when that still left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was ridiculous because it had nothing to do with the males or females that worked there and everything to do with…that one sentence that had been uttered to him.

Everything has to do with that. 

But there was no pleasure hall in his future because Oriana was waiting for him.

Oriana with her scent of a warm autumn hearth, though today it had oranges added to it.

“New perfume?” he wondered quietly as he snuck up at her in her forge, only daring to do that because she was reading something at her workbench and she leaned into him, book forgotten. 

(If he did it while she was working on something his ears would be ringing with a lecture.)

“Actually yes. Got a new one,” she answered with a grin. “Smells good?” 

He inhaled deeply. It did. But then everything smelled good as long as it was together with Oriana’s scent of warmth and fire, as far as he was concerned. 

“Yes,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he hooked his chin over her shoulder, his hands settling on her hips. 

As long as he could just stay right there…everything was alright in his life.

“I have next week off work,” he said softly, cataloguing every single one of her reactions. If she was hesitant or pulled back or wasn’t ready then he wasn’t going to push this. He could wait. 

He had waited 500 years for her. He could wait even longer. 

But all that happened was Oriana laying away the book she had been paging through and then turning in his arms. 

She leant up and pressed a lingering kiss right to the corner of his mouth. 

“Yes?” she asked, her voice soft. “Does that mean we…” she didn’t end the sentence, because he couldn’t help himself. 

Azriel couldn’t help himself and instead pulled her into another kiss, this one everything but gentle and lingering. 

He didn’t want to…he wanted her to be his. In every damn way Azriel could get away with, he wanted Oriana to be his. To be with him. 

He wanted to kiss her and touch and learn every noise that she made if he did something that she liked. 

Just like now. 

He kissed her, his mouth pressing against hers and he licked deep into her mouth, her whole body seemingly melting against his, her scent growing heavier and filled with desire as he took everything he could, as he plundered her mouth like she kept the riches of the continent there, a hand still curled possessively around her hip, another across her back. 

He let off her as she gasped for breath only to continent to kiss down her neck, all the skin now easily accessible for him. 

Since she had taken off that fucking necklace, he couldn’t help but stare at her throat, free and delicate…and so he kissed down her neck and then across her throat, just letting a ghost of his teeth rasp against her skin. 

The shudder that Oriana gave, the gasp that left her mouth as he touched her…he wanted to bottle it up. 

But then he realised that he didn’t need to. He would get to have all of it. Every single one as soon as they finally were alone at the Lakehouse and had a whole week of doing nothing but…

“Yes,” he finally managed to get out hoarsely. “We can do that.”

Her eyes were glittering with flames as she looked at him, her lips kiss swollen and she pulled him towards her, pressing another kiss against his lips. 

“We will.” It was a heady promise in these words. 

More than that even. 

A vow. 

“But before we do that…” she trailed off and he groaned, pulling back. He could already imagine what this was about. 

“Sorry, but we’re having dinner with Cyrus and Briony this evening,” she told him, sounding not apologetically in the slightest. 

“You are cruel,” he told her drily. His blood had cooled, his desire banked, and Oriana just snorted. 

“We had an agreement,” she sing-songed. 

They did. 

And if that agreement meant that he needed to make nice with her family that evening, then so be it. 

He had already met Cyrus after all. 

And while Oriana’s brother still mustered him with a mixture of ill-concealed interest and hesitance, his wife, Briony, a high fae with dark brown hair and matching eyes, greeted him with a smile. 

And then he really wasn’t interesting anymore, because three children came barreling down the hallway, Oriana’s youngest nieces and nephew, Sienna, Finley and Rory. 

“Auntie Ori!” 

“If you ever call me that, I’ll kill you,” Oriana hissed at him, dumping her casserole dish in his arms, before she went down to her knees to envelope Finley and Rory into a bear hug.

Somehow the idea of Oriana, with her perfect dresses and pinned-up hair being reduced to Auntie Ori, who sat on the floor with the kids and played with them…somehow that was the most charming version of her he had yet gotten to meet. 

Even better than her with soot all over her after a long time in the forge. 

“Let’s leave them to it, we’ll get them back by the time we serve dinner,” Cyrus said drily. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but the oldest, Sienna, beat him to it. 

“Auntie Ori, who is that?” she asked, staring at him with the same black eyes that Oriana had if they weren’t in flames. 

“That’s Azriel,” Oriana anwered. “He’s my mate.”

“He has wings,” Finley tried to whisper and failed so badly at that that Azriel bit back a smile at it. 

Still, both of her nieces stared at him with some mixture of awe and… something that he couldn’t quite place. 

He was also pretty sure that the assuring smile he tried to put on his face looked more like a grimace than anything else. 

And then Rory, the youngest, just two, came toddling over, tugged at his trouser legs and held up his arms in the universal sign of wanting to be picked up. “Up!” he piped up demandingly.

Right. 

Oriana bit back a smile, silently laughing at him and he just glared at her, before he picked up the little boy. 

He had lifted Nyx plenty of times after all. This couldn’t be that much different. Especially as Rory didn’t have any wings he needed to be careful with. 

Rory happily settled in his arms, sticking his thumb in his mouth and that was that then. 

“Are you going to marry him?” Sienna asked pointedly and Oriana had Finley on her hip, brushing her niece’s hair out of her eyes as she let them into the dining room. 

“He’s my mate. That’s just as good as being my husband,” she answered that question, sidestepping something that he knew was a …sore point of sorts for her. 

He highly doubted that there ever would be a time in her life when she would be ready and willing to get married again. Not after how her first marriage had ended. 

But to be honest…that was fine for Azriel If he got her as his mate…that was all he needed. Maybe one day in the future, he would like her to wear some piece of jewellery that made it obvious that she was his…but she wore his shadows like a bracelet every day. So really, that was all the visible sign of their relationship that he needed. 

Just like now, they were curled over her wrist, tugged between a myriad of bracelets that she wore every day, every single one holding another enchantment, her life’s work and family ties there for everybody who bothered to take a closer look. 

And his shadows were right there between that. 

“Can he talk?” Finley asked at that moment, still mustering him like he was a very interesting puzzle and he bit back a grin at that question. 

“I can,” he promised her, and she squeaked in response, brown skin reddening.

Cyrus seemed struggling to hold back the laughter at the whole interaction a he took Rory from him and settled him at the table. 

“Can you fly?” Finley blurted out next. So it was going to be that kind of evening. 

“I can,” he told her. “I learned that from when I was very young.”

“Is it scary?” Sienna asked him. “Can you fly really high?” 

And like that, it continued. 

Clearly, the most interesting thing about him was his wings. And because he belonged to Auntie Ori, he wasn’t that scary.

The Spymaster of the Night Court was humbled quite quickly by three younglings. 

It was startling as much as it was nice. 

***

She quite liked seeing Azriel with her family. 

He seemed utterly terrified that the kids were going to be terrified of him and somehow that made the whole thing even better. 

Still after an initial hesitation from the older two, they warmed up pretty quickly to him. Though Enya was definitely their aunt because their obsession with Azriel’s wings was as adorable and at least as strong as their aunt’s. 

Still, as adorable as him meeting her family was…the more heartbreaking was meeting his. 

They went to Rosehall on what Azriel had been reassured by Eira, a shadow-wraith that kept his mother company, was a good day. 

Azriel pulled her through his shadows that day. One day she had been in her apartment, by now pretty much empty, because Azriel’s week was starting the next day…and the next she stumbled into the Illyrian steppes, her stomach turning and forcing herself to take a deep breath. 

Azriel caught her weight easily and and let her lean against his chest as she caught her breath.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, concern obvious but she waved him off. 

That had been disconcerting. 

She had thought learning how to winnow was disconcerting, which she had only done by the time she was 150 years old and had a very good grasp on her power levels…but this…

For a moment it had felt like darkness was going to swallow her whole. 

The only thing that had stopped her from screaming in terror had been the fact that she had known that the Darkness was Azriel’s. And she trusted him. 

Still. 

“I thought flying was bad the first time, but this is worse,” she breathed, his shadows worriedly swirling around their feet. 

“Need a moment?” he asked and she nodded, breathing in deeply. No more darkness. The sun was shining.

Another breath, then another. 

She finally managed to step back from him, even when he kept hold of her hand and she finally managed to take in their surroundings. 

There stood a charming little cottage on a hill. If she had thought that the Lakehouse seemed like it belonged in a fairytale, well, then this little cottage belonged in a folk tale. Complete with wreathed iron gates that Azriel pulled her through. She felt the moment the wards he had magically placed around the cottage welcomed her in and made the mental note to make a warding net for this house as well. 

It was Azriel’s mother. Important to him, somebody that he doted on and if that made his life even just a little bit better…then Oriana wanted to do everything in her power to make this easier for him. 

They walked down the path, and in the blink of an eye, a faerie stood in front of them. Oriana felt her heart in her throat as she blinked at the wraith in front of her. 

Shadow wraith the look after, just so passing middle age. 

���Eira,” Azriel greeted her and she smiled at him, her form turning more corporal. He could see that. Half-wraith, Oriana corrected her initial assumption. “How is she?”

“It’s a good day, just like I said,” Eira responded, smiling at him before she turned dark eyes onto Oriana. “Who did you bring with you?”

“Eira, Oriana, my mate,” Azriel responded. “Eira lives here with my mother,” he explained. “She helps take care of her.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Oriana said quietly, offering her hand. The older female took it with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Eira responded. “We don’t have many visitors up here,” she explained. “Has Azriel warned you?” she asked him and Oriana’s eyebrows rose.

“Warned me?” she echoed. 

“About Esmerya,” Eira clarified. “She’s…We don’t know how she is going to react to you,” Eira explained. “There aren’t many new people she has met. The last one has been me, to be honest,” Eira admitted. “She very rarely gets violent, but it has happened,” Eira said quietly. “It’s more like her to shut down completely. In both cases, leaving would be your best bet,” Eira explained. 

Oriana swallowed. 

Azriel had told her that his mother’s mind was fractured, but she hadn’t really thought much about it unless it was to wonder how much utter misery her mate had lived through. 

“If she does, I am there. I am not going to let her hurt you,” Azriel said quietly. 

And then he would spend days if not months feeling horrible for hurting his mother to protect her. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get that bad,” Oriana said.  

“It’s going to be fine,” Azriel muttered, but Oriana wondered who he was telling that to. It probably wasn’t her. 

Eira turned to enter the house and Azriel let go of her hand as they stepped through the front door. It was small but welcoming. 

“Welcome to Rosehall,” Eira said quietly. 

Oriana stood still next to the wraith as she watched Azriel cross the room. 

Suddenly he looked younger than she had ever seen him as he joined a female Illyrian who was sitting at the window, spinning. 

There was no question that she was his mother. Even from feet away, Orian could see the same dark hair, the same proud nose. Hers was streaking with wide and Oriana took in the crippled wings that hung down her back. 

She couldn’t help but swallow, feeling nauseous. She had seen Azriel’s wings when they folded out to their massive size and she had heard of the Illyiran’s custom of “clipping” their female's wings but she had never…

She had never seen the result of it. 

“Ma? It’s me, Azriel,” Azriel said quietly, kneeling on the stone floor at his mother’s side. 

His head turned to him. No word was said. 

Oriana watched as a gnarled hand reached out for Azriel, cupping his cheek. 

“It’s me, Ma,” he assured her as she traced over his face, seemingly taking it all in. “Are you feeling alright?”

“It breaks your heart, every damn time,” Eira said softly and Oriana concentrated on the other female because she was quite sure otherwise she would have started crying. “He loves her so much and she…she loves him, I am sure she does, but she’s so far gone that…I don’t think she even knows who he is half the time,” Eira said softly. Oriana stole another glance at Azriel and his mother, at his soft talking to her, his tone of voice even. 

She didn’t react to anything he said. 

“What does she do most of the time?” Oriana asked quietly. 

“She tends to her garden…she spins… sometimes she cooks,” Eira recounts. “It’s a nice life here…there is a village not far away from here, but we learnt quickly that she is the happiest if she just stays here. So I go down to the village to get anything we need…I keep her company, but I have no idea how much she actually understands what is going on around her,” Eira said with a shake of her head. 

“It’s horrible. All we can do is make her comfortable and keep her a prisoner in this house and her garden because putting her anywhere else is just…she’s just terrified. He feels horrible about it, even when it’s all anybody could do and more than most sons would do,” Eira continued. “He tried to find somebody that could help her, but…I think her mind is so fractured that it’s impossible.”

It was horrible. For Esmerya, even when maybe she didn’t even realise what was going on…Oriana half hoped she didn’t. Maybe she was able to be content, even with a mind that was fractured into a million shards. And for Azriel to try to keep her safe and comfortable and content and like that kept her a prisoner here in Rosehall, because what else was he supposed to do? 

“You know, sometimes…If she cooks, all she makes is Illyrian flatbreads,” Eira said with a soft laugh. “She made a whole stack of them when I told her that he was coming.”

So maybe something…something was still there. 

“Ma, there is somebody I want you to meet. Is that alright?” Azriel said at that moment and Oriana waited for Esmeray to say something. 

She didn’t. 

“Oriana?” Azriel called softly. She took that as her cue to slowly cross the room, to step next to Azriel, who was still kneeling on the floor and hunker down next to him. 

“Ma, I would like you to meet Oriana. My Mate.”

Oriana wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

Azriel’s mother mustered her for a moment. Azriel had her eyes. The same hazel, speckled with green and gold. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Esmeray,” she offered quietly, not offering her hand because Azrie had waited until his mother reached out to touch him. 

Dark eyes still stared at her. Oriana held her gaze, unflinching. 

And then suddenly, his mother stood up from her chair and hobbled away. 

Oh. 

“That went well,” Azriel said, exhaling deeply. 

Oriana took his word for that.

She wasn’t quite sure what else she was supposed to say. 

“He’s right,” Eira said quietly, having watched the whole scene from the doorframe. “It did go well. She’ll be in the kitchen cooking. If you want to…” she trailed off. 

“Your choice,” Azriel said softly. “I know that she can be…disconcerting.”

That wasn’t the word Oriana would have chosen. 

She gained her feet, brushing folds from the light blue dress she wore and made her way to the kitchen, making sure to make noise while she did that. Azriel followed along, taking a seat at a small table underneath a window overlooking the garden. 

It was a beautiful work of art, that garden, filled with the Roses that gave Rosehall its name. 

Still, Oriana stayed standing up, watching Azriel’s other in the kitchen making…what she was quite sure was Illyrian Flatbreads. 

“I grew up in the mountains,” she said, most of her attention on Esmeray as she leaned against the counter next to her. She was making dough, flour and milk and butter and salt. “We have something similar there. Though we tend to wrap it around sticks and bake it over the fire,” Oriana recounted. “My mother is Tartera. My father was a High Fae of the autumn court.”

The last thing she had expected was for one bony hand to wrap around her wrist as she said the last words. 

She could feel more than hear Azriel moving. She pushed against the bond that was curling itself in her chest. 

Stop. Give her a moment. 

She didn’t try to get out of Azriel’s mother’s hold. She just held her breath. 

It wasn’t a painful grasp. Not even when Esmeray tugged at her wrist until she followed along. 

She let her go, divided the dough into two and put one in front of Oriana. 

“You want me to knead the dough?” she asked, not getting an answer. 

For lack of a better idea, she copied the movements of the older female. 

Clearly, it was what she had wanted. 

So Oriana continued talking. “I have 5 siblings, 3 brothers and 2 sisters. I am the youngest. I used to work as an enchantress. Nowadays I am mostly a goldsmith…”

And on and one she went as the dough went together and was placed in the oven, Oriana concentrated on the tightly banked fire underneath and let it flare up just slightly…as she pulled it out, not even bothering with gloves because it wouldn’t do anything to her anyway. 

They sat at that crickety old table and ate Illyrian flatbreads that were dunked in something with the consistency of a thick stew. 

“I met your son at the market one day. The mating bond snapped in place for both of us immediately,” she said as she cleaned her plate. “I want you to know that I love Azriel.”

She couldn’t help his mother, couldn’t help her with regaining her sense of being or the pain that she must have gone through for this to be the result…but she could…at least do this. 

Her mouth wrapped around the words that she had heard hundreds of times. 

“I’ll love him in this life and beyond. I will not try to change him in any way. I will respect him and his beliefs, his people and his ways as much as I’ll respect myself,” she vowed. “I’ll protect him to the best of my abilities. His fights are my own, his enemies are mine. I’ll lay down my life to protect his. And I’ll cherish him every day.” 

Esmeray made no appearance of even having heard Oriana. 

But Azriel had. Azriel wrapped her hand in his under the table, so tightly that it hurt. Azriel’s side of the bond bloomed with love, bright and warm. 

Azriel said nothing, but his adoration and love poured all over her. 

They stayed a little longer before finally they bid their goodbyes. 

Azriel’s face betrayed his surprise when his mother followed them to the door. “You’ll see us off?” He asked. 

She didn’t react but still followed along. 

They stepped outside the door, and Oriana watched her breathe in the early summer air…watched her smile as she touched one of the roses. For one moment it seemed like she came alive. 

She turned back around and held one of the Roses that grew along the house between her fingers. 

She held it out to Oriana. 

Bright Blue. Beautiful.

“Oh. Thank you,” Oriana said hesitantly as she took the flower. 

For a moment Esmerey smiled at her. Then she turned and walked back inside the house, humming off-key. 

Azriel stared at the flower in her hand, holding out his hand for her to take. 

She took it. 

It was no less disconcerting the second time, even when they resurfaced in the living room of the Lakehouse. 

Azriel held her up, pressed against his chest. 

“She has never given anybody one of her roses, you know? Not even me,” Azriel said with some amusement colouring his voice. “Who knows what is going on in her mind, but she likes you.”

She had no idea what to do with that. 

She felt the shudder running through Azriel and pulled back to find him staring at her, his hazel eyes seemingly so very green in the light of the setting sun falling through the window. 

“Did you mean what you said?” he asked her quietly. 

“What?” Oriana asked. What did he mean?  

“You said you love me,” Azriel said quietly. 

Her expression softened.  “Of course, I love you. You really think I would agree to mate with you if I didn’t?”

But as she saw his face,e she realised that he did. 

She wondered how often she would need to repeat these words until he believed them. 

“I love you,” she said once again. 

He stepped back and she let her hands fall because this…this hurt. Her fingers tightened over the rose as she carefully laid it on a side table as Azriel disappeared into the kitchen. 

She… she shouldn’t have said it. Cauldron only knew what Azriel was…

The sound of something banging something in the kitchen made her brows furrow and Azriel came back into view, a ceramic bowl with him. 

He crossed the room with quick steps like he was on a mission for something and then…

He dropped to his knees before her. 

“Azriel. What are you doing?” she breathed. What was this…

He put down the bowl between them, filled with blueberries that she had bought at the market.

“Be nice, please,” he muttered under his breath. 

Suddenly she had an idea what this was about. 

Her people offered jewellery. When her sister had been proposing marriage to Toron, she had offered him a ring. 

But Azriel wasn’t Tartera. 

Azriel was an Illyrian, even if he hated most of their violent traditions. 

And like that…like that, he offered her the knife that always was kept in a sheath on his thigh. 

He had other knives. More daggers than she could count. There were at least 3 always within easy reach for them. And he had kept one stashed away under his pillow whenever he had stayed the night. 

He had bought her knives. 

But he had never, never, not once…not once offered this knife to her. 

And now he held it out to her, on two flat hands. 

“You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone.” These were ancient words. She could hear that in every single syllable. “I give you my body, that we might be one. I give you my spirit, until our life is done.”

She could feel the bond flaring to life between them, that lovely golden thing that tied him to her and her to him. 

She was sure that there was a traditional answer to these traditional words. 

But she didn’t know it. 

So instead, she reached for the knife with her right hand, wrapping her fingers around the obsidian hilt, and for the bowl of blueberries with the other. 

She picked one up. 

Lifted it to his mouth. 

“I love you. I protect you. I cherish you.”

[samfucker]

more darlin hcs..... evil laugh

tw for mention of death and drugs

im gonna give u guys the family names cus itll get confusing w the siblings i think.

their oldest brother is called lucien, then its their sister camilla, then julius (darlin) then their little brother kenji (kenny) and then the youngest, aisha.

IM SORRY IF ITS CONFUSING!!!!

their dad is called ronan and their mom is called kalliyan

ronan was a vet! he lost his leg in an explosion and wears a prosthetic which julius helped him take off and put it on. he also would take his dad to the store in his wheelchair and stuff

julius used to also get into arguments w racist strangers who would insult his parents when they didn't even know enough english to understand what was going on.

despite his parents' abuse and neglect, julius loved them he saught out their approval a lot. he wanted to make them proud and happy even if it seemed impossible. he hated himself for it and tried to stop, but he always felt ashamed and guilty when his parents would be disappointed in him. he wished he didn't care like lucien and camilla.

he used to have a little brother who was aisha's twin, but he passed away from cancer when he and aisha were very young, around 4 years old. julius was 14 and he didn't get a chance to properly until he was nearing his adult years because of how much responsibilities he had

he blamed himself for a long time. he did everything he could to give his younger siblings a good life despite their parents and he felt very useless, like he should have been able to stop it even though he was literally unable to. he cried for hours when the family dog accidentally ruined one of his little brother's stuffed animals

one of his first tattoos was one for his little brother

julius was sent to an empowered tti (troubled teen industry)

he tries to come off as very cold and aloof, but he feels things deep

his dad pushed toxic masculinity onto him and his brothers, so he was convinced he was unable to cry until being with sam

rather than letting himself feel sadness, he often let it turn into anger. it was something he was more familiar with, something that felt more manly, which is why he was so reckless

he also threw himself into dangerous situations because he cared very little for himself. he felt like he deserved the consequences because he hurts people with his anger. it was like revenge to himself for hurting people he cares about

he had unhealthy coping mechanisms, often turning to drugs whenever things became too much. he used drugs more while dating quinn. (he went to rehab in washington)

julius never really got much sleep. as a teenager, he'd either be dealing with his parents during the night or working night shifts. when it'd be neither, he'd be woken by kenji because he often got night terrors. after breaking up with quinn, he slept even less. he felt extremely guilty for his unempowered friend, trevor, being attacked by quinn. he'd have nightmares and sleepless nights filled with guilt and regret. the first time he slept a full proper night was in the cuddles and confessions audio with sam.

the first time he was healed by marie, she was so gentle and talked to him softly, like a mother should, and it was something he had been longing for from his mother for so long that he cried when he got home

ON A MORE LIGHTER NOTE...

julius used to have a crush on milo. they like pretty boys with accents, its a given

julius had more muscle than quinn. quinn was just a vampire, so he was stronger

idk if this belongs in the angst section but he used to wear one of his dad's vet hats a lot. it's still in his closet somewhere

he and his siblings would have arguments over stupid shit then forgive each other in 5 seconds. like yelling at each other than a minute later julius is like hey do you wanna go to this restaurant with me lol...

when sam zipped away from him in their very first audio, julius was sooo giddy cus he loved sam's accent

HE LOVES LIZARDS!!!! he used to go around and look for them. one of his first times at david's house as a teen there was a tiny lizard on the wall nd he just picked it up and was just like "...lizard."

hes just an awkward little loser i lvoe him.

FNAF PHASE! CREEPYPASTA PHASE! NIGHTCORE PHASE!

he has a shirt that says "blowjobs are real jobs" and he wears it unironically

one of his first roommates ever had a whole room for her big ass iguana. to this day, julius is bitter that he never got to pet it

he need glasses but he never wears them outside. he's walked past the pack and the mates multiple times without even knowing, especially cause he goes into his own little world when he walks

one time he walked past lovely with his headphones on and he couldn't tell it was them. all he thought was "dude why is this stranger staring me down??"

he calls sam his bitch sometimes cause he thinks its so funny. sam stares at him with a deadpan expression

he has a metal plate in his eye socket that he needed to get when he was a baby. he sticks magnets to his face when he's bored but it gives him really bad headaches in the cold

loves side-eyeing

will talk about his trauma casually.

"that actually reminds me of the time my mom tried to shoot my dad! haha, oh that was so crazy. the cops came. :)"

also, leather jacket luvr

he has a motorcycle

tongue piercing (sam loves it)

[acotar-taylorsversion]

Another Little Rant

I'm sorry, but not everyone wants Lucien.

Not his court. Not his brothers. Not Tamlin. Not his mate.

Rhys only puts up with him for the sake of an alliance. And I think Feyre only keeps him around because of the friendship they once had. Azriel hates him and I don't think Cassian, Mor, and Amren care enough to about him to really say anything.

This is why he's finding his own place and home with the Band of Exiles. Hence the name.

Now, don't go thinking I hate Lucien. I can hear y'all now thinking I'm the worst person because I don't put him on a pedestal. I don't particularly care for him. I only see him being beneficial to Vassa's story, because I do think the small moments between them are cute and they might actually mean something. I'm convinced that this is one of the very few reasons why she has kept him around this long. I never found Lucien as this exciting, funny character. I almost put down acotar when it first came out because I found Tamlin boring and Lucien annoying and I was convinced Feyre was either gonna end up with the boring one or the annoying one (but then Rhys came along 🥰). The only thing that got me through the beginning of acomaf was because I could smell feysand from a mile away. And don't even get me started on the end of that book.

I don't see the appeal in elucien at all. I'm convinced the only reason people support that ship is because of the fact that they are mates and they have this unusual obsession with Lucien. Don't know why, honestly. I don't know how people can read where Elain literally loses her newfound boldness, shrinks into herself, and literally hides in the kitchen refusing to pour water in a cup to make him tea and think "omg I can't wait for them to fall in love 😍." Like, if Sarah makes them endgame then I will be convinced that she forgot about every other acotar book she has written. And don't say "well if you don't want to read about fated mates, don't read acotar." She's talking about rejecting the bond and exploring what happens after and who's the only other couple who hasn't accepted their bond yet? Yeah, that's right, Elain and Lucien. I can only assume it's gonna be them who reject the bond. And yes, that would mean Lucien not having his mate. But, you know what, he's a grown ass man and he's not the baby everyone treats him to be. "Poor baby Lucien, he'll be so heartbroken." "He deserves his mate, he deserves to be happy."

Like what about Elain? Eluciens don't care about Elain at all and nothing will ever convince me that they do. She has found her place in the Night Court with her sisters, and her new friends. She is happy there. She is finally accepting her new life now, and she's doing all of that without Lucien.

Sorry for the rant, y'all. I don't care if no one likes this or comments on this or anything. this is my blog and it is my safe place to express how I feel at certain moments.

And, please if you disagree with me, then by all means let me know. I'm open to any and all discussions.

[acourtofthought]

What I think are the possible hints in SF for Elucien's plot in the next book (🤞for them being next):

He raised his fist to the door, but the wooden slab pulled away before he could touch it. Lucien’s scarred, handsome face appeared, his golden eye whirring. “I thought I sensed someone else arriving.”

“Easy,” Lucien said. Cassian snarled. “Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

Lucien had been there, Cassian recalled. Had gone with Nesta’s father to the lake where Vassa was held captive.

Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.

Eris’s face filled with cool amusement. “I wanted to feel out Vassa and Jurian.” He didn’t mention his brother, oddly enough.

“And because I do not believe your High Lord would wish me to go to other territories and ask them to help with Briallyn and Koschei. To help them remember that all it might take to secure Briallyn’s alliance would be to hand over a certain Archeron sister. Don’t be stupid enough to believe my father hasn’t thought of that, too.”

My father would go straight to Briallyn—and Koschei, I suppose—and then go to the other discontent territories, and you would be wiped off the proverbial map. Perhaps literally, since the Night Court would be divvied up between the other territories if Rhysand and Feyre die without an heir.” (I think the "die without an heir" would be in regards to Helion in the Day Court.... A possible reason for the unknown problems mentioned there since it doesn't seem they're aware of Lucien).

Rhys asked solemnly, “Why does your father want to start a war so badly?” “Why does anyone go to war?” “Why does Vallahan not sign the treaty? The borders of this new world have not yet been set.” “Beron doesn’t have the military strength to control the Autumn Court and a territory on the continent,” Cassian countered. Eris’s fingers closed around the petals. “Who says he wants land on the continent?” He surveyed the orchard—as if to make a point.

“They say a beast prowls these lands now. A beast with keen green eyes and golden fur. Some people think the beast has forgotten his other shape, so long has he spent in his monstrous form. And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability. Even his manor has fallen into disrepair, half-eaten by thorns, though rumors fly that he himself destroyed it.” “Enough with the double-talk,” Cassian said. “Tamlin’s staying in his beast form and is finally getting the punishment he deserves. So what?” Eris and Rhys held each other’s gaze. Eris said, “You’ve been trying to bring Tamlin back for a while. But he isn’t getting better, is he?”

Find a way to deal with Briallyn, find out what she wants and why. Discover whether Koschei is indeed involved. At best, we’ll stop them all. At worst, we’ll have proof to justify any conflict and hopefully win allies to our side, avoiding the bloodshed that would carve up these lands once more. My father would think twice before standing against an army of superior strength and size.”

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring,

Elain, surprisingly, held her ground.

Elain stiffened, but refused to balk from whatever she beheld in Nesta’s gaze. “You think I’m to blame for his death?” Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people.

When Rhys spoke like that, it was more of a command than a question. Elain waved a hand in dismissal before flinging open the veranda doors and striding into the open air.

“What Vassa suspected is true. The death-lord Koschei has been whispering in Briallyn’s ear. He remains trapped at his lake, but his words carry on the wind to her. He is ancient, his depth of knowledge fathomless. He pointed Briallyn toward the Dread Trove—not for her sake, but for his own ends. He wishes to use it to free himself from his lake.

“So we track down the Dread Trove—how?” Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.”

Elain remained in the doorway, her face pale but her expression harder than Nesta had ever seen it. “You do not decide what I can and cannot do, Nesta.” / Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to … reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.” / “Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.” / Elain cut in sharply, “I am not a child to be fought over.” / “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.” / But Elain turned on her heel. “Find me when you wish to begin.”

“Elain showed some teeth," I observed. “I wasn't expecting that.” Or what she'd said about her lingering trauma. I'd meant what I'd discussed with Nesta—how many times had I focused solely on my terror during Elain's suffering?

Elain and I had grown closer since the war with Hybern had ended. True, I might never go out drinking with her the way I did with Mor, sometimes Amren, but ... well, with a baby coming, I couldn't drink, anyway. And while I might never run to Elain first with problems or for advice, we had a peaceful, amicable understanding. I found her to be a pleasant companion. I wondered if she'd resent that judgment. I certainly would.

“No.” I chewed on my bottom lip. Rhys's gaze tracked the movement. “I mean, she's been brave when she had to be, but she's never been confrontational.” "Maybe she was never given the chance to be that way." I whipped my head toward him. “You think I stifle her?” Rhys held up his hands. “Not you alone.” He surveyed the study as he thought. “But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she'd disappoint you all.” He sighed toward the ceiling. “With time and safety, perhaps we'll see a different side of her emerge.”

I glowered at Rhys. “You think Elain's boring? “I think she's kind, and I'll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven't yet seen all she has to offer.” A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Don't forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one's hands dirty along the way." “And torn up by thorns," I mused, recalling a morning this past summer when Elain had come into the house, her right palm bleeding from several gashes thanks to a stubborn rosebush that had pierced her gloves. The thorns had broken off in her skin, leaving sharp splinters that I’d had to pull free. I didn’t dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all.

I sighed, absently rubbing my still-flat stomach. “Let's focus on helping one sister before we start on the other.”

"We need a strong ally. We need the Spring Court’s forces.”

We need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

The winged horses were rare—so rare that it was said Helion’s seven breeding pairs of flying horses were the only ones left. Lore held that there had once been far more of them before recorded history, and that most had just vanished, as if they’d been devoured by the sky itself. Their population had dwindled further in the last thousand years, for reasons no one could explain. This hadn’t been helped by Amarantha, who had butchered three dozen of Helion’s pegasuses in addition to burning so many of his libraries. The seven pegasus pairs that remained had survived thanks to being set free before Amarantha’s cronies could reach their pens in the highest tower of Helion’s palace. Helion’s most beloved pair—this black stallion, Meallan, and his mate—hadn’t produced offspring in three hundred years, and that last foal hadn’t made it out of weaning before he’d succumbed to an illness no healer could remedy. According to legend, the pegasuses had come from the island the Prison sat upon—had once fed in fair meadows that had long given way to moss and mist. Perhaps that was part of the decline: their homeland had vanished, and whatever had sustained them there was no longer.

Helion whirled to Nesta, all sensuality vanished. “You truly wore this and lived?” It wasn’t a question meant to be answered. “Cover it again, please. I can’t stand it.” Rhys tucked in his wings. “It affects you that much?” “Doesn’t it rake its cold claws down your senses?” Helion asked. “Not as much as all that,” Feyre said. “We can sense its power, but it didn’t bother any of us so seriously.” Helion shuddered, and Nesta threw the cloth over the Mask. As if the cloth somehow blinded it to their presence. “Perhaps an ancestor of mine once used it, and the warning of its cost is imprinted upon my blood.”

In the taut silence, Helion nodded to the bright hall beyond the room. “I would like to remove myself from the Mask’s odious presence, and perhaps enjoy your palace, Rhysand. It’s been a long while since I was in a place of such quiet. If you’ll allow it, I’ll stay here for an hour or two.” “Something bothering you at home?” Rhys inquired, falling into step beside the High Lord.

“I will not be High King. I will not consider it, not today and not in a century.” / “Very well then, Rhysand.” Amren also turned from the desk and the blades Rhys’s magic now sheathed and set upon the surface. “But know that the Cauldron’s benevolence will be extended to you only for so long before it is offered to another.”

Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green—the light, vibrant green of new grass—so many birds singing and such warm, buttery sunshine. Nesta felt like a storm cloud standing amid it all. But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her.

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer.

Elain in black was ridiculous. Yes, she was beautiful, but the color of her long-sleeved, modest gown leeched the brightness from her face. It wore her, rather than the other way around. And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her. But she hadn’t hesitated to come. When Feyre had offered to let her remain home, Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed. So Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl. He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her.

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet, her hair half-up and curling down to her waist. She glowed with good health.

“How’s the Spring Court?” Nesta asked. Lucien’s jaw tightened. “How you’d expect.” Tension rippled through the room, confirmation that Tamlin had heard the news of Feyre’s pregnancy. From Lucien’s grim face, she knew he hadn’t reacted well.

She had a vague sense of Cassian and Mor and Azriel nearby, of Feyre and Rhys and Lucien, of Elain and Varian and Helion.

But you really think we shouldn’t go up to that damned castle and peek inside?” “I told you: their castle is too heavily warded, and full of magical traps that would trip up even Helion.

Koschei said, “Tell my Vassa I’m waiting.” His shadows swirled.

Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien’s lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn’t he do?

“You’re not the person I want to explain myself to.” “I doubt Mor will want to listen.” “Maybe not.” Eris shifted on his feet, and grimaced again. “But you and yours have more important things to think about than ancient history. My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he’s not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him, too. I hope that whatever Morrigan is doing in Vallahan will counteract the damage my father will unleash.”

Nesta held love in her own heart as she pulled the small, carved rose from her pocket and set it upon the gravestone. A permanent marker of the beauty and good he’d tried to bring into the world.

[enigmaticexplorer]

Fake Mating Bonds: The Similarity Between Rowan/Lyria and Elain/Lucien

This post was inspired by @violetasteracademic who pointed out the similarity when discussing fake mating bonds between Azriel's ACOSF bonus chapter and Empire of Storms. You can read it here!

I've decided to take her breakdown a step further and 1) compare Rowan and Lucien, and how they regard Lyria and Elain, and 2) rely on these canon scenes to suggest that the mating bond between Elain and Lucien is fake. None of this is novel. It's been around for years, and most people who've engaged in the fandom probably know all of this. But I like having page numbers to reference, so I thought this would be helpful.

This post contains spoilers for TOG, ACOTAR, and HOFAS.

(KOA: Chapter 5 - pages 62-63)

She’d [Maeve] gone into his head to trick him into thinking Lyria was his mate, had fooled the very instincts that made him a Fae male…. Why Lyria had been so frightened of him for those initial months, why it had been so damn hard to court her, even with that mating bond, its truth unknown to Lyria as well. She was gentle, and quiet, and kind. A different sort of strength, yes, but not what he might have chosen for himself.

(ACOWAR: Chapter 24 - page 249)

Touch her, smell her, taste her— The instincts were a running river… But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda. Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’s been born into…. She had chosen him. Elain had been…thrown at him.

What Rowan and Lucien Think About Their "Mates'" Personalities

To start, let's look at how Rowan and Lucien think about Lyria and Elain, respectively.

Rowan describes Lyria as gentle, quiet, and kind—all three are attributes he respects. And yet he admits that they're not characteristics of a mate he would have chosen for himself. He knew that Lyria's personality wasn't his preference, and it's even implied (refer to the last line from the section above) that he questioned why Lyria was his mate.

Similarly, Lucien describes Jesminda as laughter, mischief, wild, and free. He claims that Jesminda had chosen him—regardless of station—but Elain had been thrown at him. Through this comparison between Jesminda and Elain, it's implied that 1) Elain does not have the personality traits Lucien admired in Jesminda—personality traits he would have liked his mate (his true love) to possess, and, therefore, 2) Lucien doesn't see Elain as a mate he would have chosen for himself.

Both Rowan and Lucien make it clear that their "mates" had/have unusual personality traits—traits that oppose their preferences. [Note: Lyria and Elain's traits/personalities (being quiet, kind, gentle) are not depicted as bad traits. They're simply not the traits these males prefer in a partner.]

Lyria and Elain's Reactions to Their "Mating" Bonds

Now that we've established similarities between Rowan and Lucien's thinking about Lyria and Elain, respectively, let's look at how both female characters react to the bond.

Rowan tells us that Lyria was afraid of him, initially. And while Rowan admits to eventually coming to love her (same chapter, bottom of page 62), Lyria's fear—due to the unnatural state of their bond—made their courtship difficult. The text implies that 1) she avoided Rowan and 2) only once he proved himself a decent male—and because of the tug of the bond—did she give into him.

Similarly, Elain remains disinterested with Lucien. I don't think it's implied that she's afraid of him, like Lyria was of Rowan, however, she is uncomfortable around Lucien. She avoids him, and she only interacts with him when her family forces her to. And her interactions are polite, nothing more. Their "courtship" is difficult and problematic with Elain not wanting to entertain Lucien's attention/forced affections, and Lucien being uninspired to truly pursue her. [An aside: I don’t think that Lucien deserves applause for giving Elain space. A male not forcing himself on a woman is not admirable—it’s the bare minimum of human existence (in this case Fae existence).]

It seems that both Lyria and Elain had/have an instinctive knowledge that something was/is wrong with their bond—both females avoided/avoid their "mates" unless forced to see him. An unusual characteristic considering that we're told a mating bond overpowers your base instincts and should have compelled them to at least show some interest in Rowan/Lucien.

Males Portraying Mate-Like Behaviors with Their Fake Mates

I've seen a few posts circling about how Lucien feels so strongly for Elain and because he portrays mate-like behaviors towards her, that means they're end game.

In the KOA passage, we learn that Rowan felt mate-like tendencies for Lyria. He claims the mating bond that Maeve constructed "had fooled the very instincts that made him a Fae male." The very instincts.

We also see these mate-like behaviors described earlier in the series.

(HOF: Chapter 35 - pages 303-304)

"When you lose a mate, you don't..." A shake of the head. "I lost all sense of self, of time and place..." "For ten years, I did nothing. I vanished. I went mad. Beyond mad. I felt nothing at all. I just...left. I wandered the world, in and out of my forms, hardly marking the seasons, eating only when my hawk told me it needed to feed or it would die. I would have let myself die--except I...couldn't bring myself..." "I had nothing. No one. At that point, I hoped serving her [Maeve] might get me killed, and then I could see Lyria again."

Even though Lyria wasn't his real mate, Rowan still felt that pull to her. He believed—thanks to his fae male instincts—that she was his mate, and when she died, he spent ten years mourning her. Ten years barely eating. Ten years spending most of his time in hawk form. And he took the blood oath to Maeve with the hope that he would die and reunite with Lyria.

Remember: Lyria wasn't Rowan's real mate. And yet he still displayed all of those mate feelings and behaviors. So much so he nearly died because of his grief.

Similarly, we see Lucien display the same feelings/thoughts for Elain—hence his internal monologue in ACOWAR to touch her, taste her, claim her. However, as we've learned from Rowan's experience, male's portraying mate-like behaviors and feelings is not confined to real mate bonds. These instincts can be—and have been—bastardized and abused to create fake bonds.

So, even though Lucien displays some mate-like feelings/behaviors for Elain, it doesn't mean that Elain and Lucien are real mates. Even then, his willingness to stay away from her and give her space (again, I will not applaud him for not forcing himself on Elain), is at odds with how a mated male acts around and towards his mate. Compare Lucien to Rowan—Rowan couldn't stay away from Lyria and he actively pursued her, even though she wasn't his real mate.

Based on these comparisons, we can safely theorize—and assume—that a fake mating bond exists between Elain and Lucien. Elain does not act like a mated female (I will not judge Elain for wanting to kiss Azriel, and I will always support female characters choosing their own love), and even though Lucien shows some mate-like tendencies, his willingness and ability to avoid Elain, and compare her to Jesminda, is unusual for a mated male.

The real question is: Who or What created the fake mating bond between Elain and Lucien?

I'm inclined to believe it was the Cauldron. From what we learned in HOFAS, the Cauldron was "warped" by the Asteri.

(HOFAS: Chapter 19 - pages 195-196)

...the Daglan captured it [the Cauldron] and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction.

The Cauldron is not a benevolent or good Thing. It causes both creation but also destruction. And it's not farfetched to theorize that the Cauldron—like Maeve—created the bond between Elain and Lucien. However, there's not enough canonical evidence to truly suggest that it was the Cauldron that created their bond.

That being said, canon has made it clear that 1) a fake mating bond can exist, and 2) mate-like tendencies are not definitive of a real mating bond.

[achaotichuman]

Y'all, I have a question. Is it stated literally anywhere in the books as to why Lucien is the Lady of Autumn's favorite son?

We know he's the child she always wanted to have with her lover, but is that really it? I know there may be something about him being the kindest, but surely if the Lady of Autumn had been only showing such deep love, affection and blatant favoritism towards Lucien, then obviously he is going to be the kindest, and obviously his other brothers are going to be bitter and jealous. Afterall no one is born bitter, and no one is born kind either.

If anything, it just looks like the Lady of Autumn uses Lucien as her vision of what her life could have turned out to be, in a similar manner to how some parents live vicariously through their children.

I know it's not entirely the Lady of Autumn's fault, this is her coping mechanism for being in such an abusive household. But it would definitely contribute to the emotional neglect of Lucien's other brothers.

Also, another thing I just thought of, is it not possible that Lucien is not Helion's only son out of the seven brothers? Afterall, the Lady of Autumn had been having an affair with Helion all throughout her son's lives, so it's not unlikely that Lucien isn't the only Heir of Day, but that's just a random theory I thought of.

Really, is there anything in the books that says or implies another reason as to why the Lady of Autumn favors Lucien? Because I don't think there is. Which, if Lucien being the Lady of Autumn's favorite was a determining factor in him not being corrupted by Beron's abuse, suddenly the other brothers don't look nearly as irredeemably evil as we were led to believe.

I think this all revolves around the idea that you have to be born from a good person to be a good person. We see that a lot in Sjm's books, where someone is just naturally good/evil because of their heritage. And people born from bad people have to 'redeem' or otherwise pay in some way just because of who they came from. Or what they had to do to survive living in an abusive household.

Could just be poor writing, but I need to know other opinions on this. Why does Lucien deserve to be the favorite, and therefore the only inherently 'good brother'? Just because he was born from Helion?

Obviously, this is centering around them all as children, or when they were young, Lucien as he is in the present only deserves all the nice things. But I think it's a character point that needs to be focused on, especially if Lucien being the LOA's favorite gained him favor within the Court, or otherwise special treatment, even just emotionally, that his brother's never got.