#mor might go straight for nesta cause she hates her

[illyrianbitch]

POLL TIME 🫶🏻

ok y’all the chaos must continue…

and again i wanna know why, always so curious about y’all’s votes cause there are so many aspects to the games

[sarah-bae-maas]

Gwyn wants to explore, and Azriel needs a friend - a Gwynriel fic - Part 2

A fic where Gwyn strikes a deal with Azriel, but neither are ready to deal with the consequences. 

This is a long finale, so buckle up and get ready. Also, the formatting will most definitely be better on Ao3. In my experience, tumblr struggles with anything over 20k words, and this well and truely goes over that. Happy reading!

Part 1 Masterlist Ao3

***

PART 2

The days blurred together for him. He stood there well after she had gone. Long enough that Cassian came to find him, leading him back into the House. Azriel knew Cassian was talking, expressing concern to him, but every time he tried to open his mouth no words came out. Nesta saw him, fear in her eyes, and she rushed away to find Gwyn.

Rhys came at some point, but Azriel ignored him. He didn’t blame Rhys for what had happened between him and Gwyn, but there was a traitorous part of him that couldn’t help but see the look of utter disgust on Rhys’ face when he saw first-hand how much Azriel wanted her and whispered even your brother knows you shouldn’t have her.

Everything was monotonous after that in a way he never could have anticipated. The only time he ever truly felt anything was when he saw Gwyn during training, but she avoided him and he respected her wishes. She must hate him, surely, for rejecting her so callously. Especially when they were so close to sleeping together.

Azriel would happily never touch a woman again if it meant they could just go back to how they were before. The casual kisses, the spooning in bed, the waking up to her teal eyes piercing right through him.

“You have a letter,” Cassian said one day, thwacking the letter onto the table in front of him. “Picked it up in Illyria.”

There was only one person who sent him letters from Illyria, and he eagerly opened the paper to see what was written.

Dear Azriel,

It has been too long, and I miss you dearly. I’ve arranged to come to Velaris to see you for a week next month.

All the love I’ve ever had,

Your mother.

***

“I can only masturbate so much, Emerie!”

“Well then don’t.” She smirked. “Find someone pretty to do it for you. Might I suggest Azriel?”

Both Nesta and Gwyn threw their pillows at her head. “That’s over. Destroyed. Dead. And! Might I add! I’m still very horny!”

They all burst out laughing, which only intensified when Emerie rolled off the bed.

“Oh no, your wine!” Gwyn gasped through her giggles. “It’s okay, I have plenty to share.”

Nesta yoinked the bottle from Gwyn’s hand before she had a chance to drink it straight. Either that or pour it into Emerie’s mouth. Gwyn crawled over to her sister, draping herself across Nesta’s lap.

“You’re such a good friend. You’d never let me get too drunk.”

“You’re far past drunk. Luckily for you, I am sober and able to help you through such a time.”

“I’m okay!” Emerie jumped up with her hands in the air. She leaped back onto the bed and joined Gwyn in Nesta’s lap. “Do you want to borrow Mor? She’s very good at getting rid of the horny.” She wiggled her fingers in Gwyn’s face and spread her wings so that they wrapped around Gwyn and Nesta, her legs hanging off the side of Nesta and Cassian’s bed.

“Pimping out Morrigan is probably not a good idea,” Nesta scolded.

“No, not like that!” Emerie pouted. “She is very good though. She does this thing with her tongue that is,” she kissed her fingers like a chef, “amazing.”

Gwyn loved that Emerie was so happy. Approximately a month after the end of her and Azriel, Emerie had sat down her and Nesta and told them she was in love with Mor. Gwyn was elated, and Nesta tried her best to be. It was harder for her. She had such a bitter past with Mor, and Gwyn worried for a moment that Emerie and Mor being together might cause a schism in their group. But to her relief, there was nothing Nesta wouldn’t do for Emerie, and she banished any ghosts between her and Mor. The two were nearly even friends, and it made Cassian’s life easier.

Not that there was any question between who he would choose between. His mate would always win those battles.

Gwyn was also jealous. Not of Mor, but of what Emerie had with Mor. She dreamt of that kind of reciprocated love, of the unrelenting devotion that Mor showed to Emerie.

Gwyn sighed. “Azriel let me sit on his face whenever I wanted. He used to gobble me right up.”

A new round of laughter burst from the group, and Gwyn was happy that she could share this secretive part of her life with them. It had taken her weeks to sit them down and tell them what happened. Or, more accurately, they were so worried about her that they stole her away from the library and begged to know why she was so sad. Nesta had tried in those initial days, but she just waved her off and begged not to ask. Besides, Nesta didn’t need Gwyn to tell her what had happened for her to know. Nesta went from blabbering about them all raising their babies together to watching Gwyn fall apart, Azriel nowhere to be seen.

It had lasted less than two months, yet he felt as much a part of her as her freckles, her hands, her smile.

“Okay okay, I think that’s enough. Bed time for us.” Nesta ushered them off her lap and put their pillows back at the head of the bed. Nesta helped a stumbling Emerie to the bathroom, and Gwyn wiggled into her usual place to wait for her sister to return. Her eyes were already starting to droop, and by the time Nesta and Emerie climbed into bed, she was half-asleep.

Nesta was in the middle, and both Emerie and Gwyn snuggled in close to her. Nesta stroked their hair, willing them to sleep, and Gwyn dozed off with the dream of Nesta and Catrin morphing together.

***

“I just wanted to say goodnight, Sweetheart.”

Gwyn stirred awake, a headache starting to throb. Cassian’s voice woke her, but it was still dark enough that it surely was the middle of the night. He must have been returning from the job Rhys had sent him and Azriel on.

“Goodnight, my love,” Nesta whispered, her voice dripping with unbridled affection.

Half-awake, half-drunk Gwyn was annoyed at the intrusion to their sleep over, and burrowed further into the blankets, her grip on Nesta tightening. She could hear the quiet snore of Emerie from the other side of Nesta, the sound oddly comforting.

“Do they always sleep like that?”

She stiffened at the voice of Azriel. They had barely spoken since their timely demise, and she was still drunk enough to get angry instead of sad at his presence.

“Yes, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Nesta’s arm was around her as Gwyn squished herself into Nesta’s side.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Cassian murmured.

“Don’t do that,” Azriel hissed.

Gwyn was tempted to open her eyes and see what was happening, but she didn’t want to interrupt the moment. She heard feet shuffling, and Azriel’s voice sounder closer when he spoke again.

“Don’t lean over Gwyn like that. You’ll scare her if she wakes up and sees some male standing over her.”

A pause in the room. Gwyn felt Nesta press a kiss to the top of her head.

“You’re right. Sorry. Goodnight, Nes.”

“Night Cas. Night Az.”

***

Gwyn left choir practise with her heart feeling heavy. Usually, singing would uplift her more than anything else, but as of late she struggled to do anything but drag her feet from one task to the next.

Nesta was at her side as much as possible and it made Gwyn feel awfully guilty. Gwyn didn’t eat dinner very often at the House anymore in an effort to make Azriel feel comfortable. She knew that they had told each other they were friends, best friends even, but she didn’t want him to feel like she was forcing her presence on him.

She also had not been sleeping well, at all, but she brushed the memories of her dreams aside before they overtook her.

“Gwyn!”

Speaking of Nesta, Gwyn turned to see her friend waving at her from across the library, a cart full of books at her side. Gwyn didn’t realise Nesta was working this evening and went over to help her put the books away.

“How was practise?” she asked.

“It was nice. Lunathina gave out the solos for our next performance. I didn’t get one. She said that my attitude wasn’t right.”

“Oh Gwyn, I’m sorry. I know you really wanted one.”

“Eh, it doesn’t matter. There’s always next time.” Gwyn shrugged and got to work, prearranging the books in the cart and putting them into alphabetical order so that Nesta could put them away as groups.

“I was thinking maybe you would like to come to the House tonight. It misses you.”

That put a small smile on her face. “How do you know?”

“It still sets out a meal for you or gives us an extra drink like you’ll appear to have it. It’s been sad, Azriel banished it from his room so it wants to give everyone else a bit of extra love.”

Gwyn raised a brow. “What do you mean, Azriel banished the House from his room?”

“It’s something we do sometimes, just ask it to leave for a little while so we can have some privacy, and then it’ll come back in the morning to make sure the fires are lit and our rooms are clean. Never for long though, and it’s been weeks for Azriel. Before you ask why, I genuinely don’t know.”

Gwyn bit her lip, contemplating Nesta’s words. She couldn’t help the worry she felt for Azriel, even if it was over something as silly as not having an omnipresent being clean his room for him.  “I only ever see him at training, and we don’t speak. Is he okay?”

Nesta had her back to Gwyn as she put more books on the shelf. “Honestly? I have no idea. Azriel can hide his emotions better than anyone else I know. Cassian is concerned, though. He said it reminds him of how he used to act whenever Mor would sleep with other men to drive him away. But even then he said that usually this mood would only last for a few days before he stopped, and now it’s been over a month.”

Gwyn and Azriel had spoken extensively on his history with Mor – how Azriel had loved her for so long, and it wasn’t until after the war with Hybern that he finally felt like could move on – and now it was evident why she could never love him back. Mor being with Emerie explained something Gwyn could never understand, which is how Mor could possibly not return his love. She understood now that Mor could never hold those romantic feelings for a male, nor spend physical time with Azriel without breaking his fragile heart. It was an awful situation that lasted far longer than it needed to.

Gwyn secretly thought that perhaps Azriel knew deep down Mor would never love him, and that was why he held on so tightly to the idea of her. Maybe, subconsciously, he vied for females he knew ultimately he couldn’t have as a way of protecting himself from having something real – something that could hurt.

Or maybe Gwyn thought that to excuse how she wasn’t enough to make him love her.

“And he hasn’t talked about his feelings to anyone? Not even Cas?”

“Cassian said that Azriel has never really been the one to talk about how he’s feeling. He and Rhys have struggled with it their entire lives. It’s like Az just shuts down and then – wait, oh, Gwyn, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t be talking about Az so much.”

Gwyn wanted to hug her for being so considerate. Then hit her over the head for not having better intel on Azriel.

“It’s fine, really.” Gwyn considered Nesta’s words. Gwyn had told Azriel that they were friends, and she felt like an awfully neglectful friend right now. Because the thing was, Gwyn never struggled to get Az to speak about how he was feeling. They were unbelievably honest with each other, and she didn’t think about how her absence might feel if he had no one else to share himself with.

He had trusted her with his heart, and she’d left it on the floor when she’d walked away from him all those nights ago.

“I’ll come to dinner, Nesta.”

***

Azriel flew back to Velaris, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face as he soared through the skies. It was the only time he ever felt at peace. Once, he would say that the sky and his bed were his only refuges, but he had thoroughly managed to taint one of those spaces with his own inferiority and weaknesses.

He had a report to give to Rhys, and he planned on roaming the skies again for a while. He didn’t want to go out for dinner, but he also didn’t want to eat sitting across from Nesta and Cassian as they studied and pitied him.

He let himself into their mansion, following the playful shrieks of Nyx to find his High Lord and Lady. Rhys and Nyx were in Nyx’s designated play room, and Rhys was lying on his back holding Nyx in the air, the baby flapping his little wings and pretending to fly. Feyre was nowhere to be seen, and his shadows informed him that she was napping after Nyx had a bad night’s sleep.

“Look who it is!” Rhys cooed at Nyx. “It’s crabby Uncle Az here to grace us with his presence.” Rhys turned Nyx in Azriel’s direction, and Azriel had to admit, some of the heaviness he’d been feeling dissipated at the sight of Nyx grinning at him. At least someone was happy to see him.

Azriel threw the report haphazardly on a desk and picked Nyx right out of Rhys’ grasp, bringing the boy to his chest. He was a real chuncker, and Azriel would be surprised if he didn’t start walking within a few weeks. Nyx’s little hands grabbed at Azriel’s nose, giggling furiously as he tried to steal it right off Azriel’s face.

“You know, it’s rather rude to steal someone’s child,” Rhys said.

“You’ll live.”

Azriel pressed a quick kiss to Nyx’s forehead and handed him back, feeling surprisingly longing as he looked at Rhys with his child.

He turned to leave, but Rhys’ voice stopped him. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Azriel didn’t turn to look at his brother but did stop walking. “I’ve been busy.”

“Not so busy that you haven’t had time to come see us for weeks. Do you want to stay? Feyre misses you.”

“Feyre has a family to keep her occupied.” Azriel turned the knob to the door, and he felt an invisible hand clutch his ankle before he could take another step.

“I thought maybe you would like to talk about things.”

Azriel’s shadows flared around him at the implications. Where they were once silent, they know constantly buzzed with information on her.

She’s barely sleeping. She works from sun up to sun down, and if she’s not in the library she’s training. She only sings if she’s in choir practise, no longer humming as she walks. She only eats one meal a day-

Azriel had to consciously push the information away any time his shadows tried to swarm him with it. He didn’t want to know how much he’d done the one thing he swore he never would – hurt her.

The only thing that stopped him from running to her and begging on his knees for her to give him another chance was the knowledge that, with time, she would heal. And she would give her love to someone far more deserving, someone far better than him.

Fuck. He’d hurt her. He’d hurt her so badly and he fucking hated himself for it.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, but I’m leaving. Nesta and Cassian are expecting me.” The lie came easily.

“Az,” Rhys’ voice was strained, “please stay.”

“Goodbye.”

“I saw how you looked at her at the restaurant. I know you love-”

“Shut up, Rhys,” Azriel snapped. He regretted it the moment he saw how wide Nyx’s eyes went at the sudden loud noise, and his chest filled with pain as the babe’s lower lip jutted out and his mouth started to crinkle the way it would before a cry.

“Nyx, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so loud.” He looked at Rhys for permission to take Nyx from his arms, grateful when his brother nodded and handed him over.

Nyx was cooing within no time, and Azriel scolded himself for acting in such a way in front of the baby. He cradled Nyx to his chest, and not for the first time, he was nearly overtaken by the envy he had for his brothers. Rhys had a whole family, a mate and child, and he didn’t need anyone else. Cassian had Nesta, and Azriel doubted it would be long before they too split away to make a real family. Even Mor was now with Emerie, and had confided in him that she thought they were mates, she was just waiting for it all to click into place.

The perfect circle that was Azriel’s family was being cut into perfect slices, and soon, he would be on his own.

“I’m sorry I yelled, Nyx,” Azriel said again, hoping the little boy could understand his remorse. He didn’t know if it was a good sign, but Nyx closed his little eyes and started to doze, his fist bunched in Azriel’s flying leathers.

“Azriel.” Rhys came and put a hand on his shoulder, and Azriel had to make a conscious effort not to shake it off. “I said some stuff about Gwyn that I never would have if I had known. I didn’t realise that she was acting different because she was with you, and I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

“You didn’t believe me when I told you to let it go. I know you opened a formal investigation about her behind my back.”

“How did you-”

“Which you did after she came to that restaurant with us. Let’s not pretend that if it hadn’t come up empty you wouldn’t be gloating about being right.” Azriel carefully handed Nyx back, the baby stretching his arms up at the disturbance but staying asleep.

“I had a duty to fulfil, Azriel. Good reasons to check. Now I know there’s no threat, and we can all move on.”

Azriel sighed, pinching his nose. “You can move on. I can clean up the messes you left behind to make sure she never knows about this.”

Azriel later pondered Rhys’ words, wondering how and when the bond with his brother had become less familial and more hierarchical. When he finally flew into the House of Wind, he could hear the gentle voice of Gwyn as she ate with Nesta and Cassian, and Az felt an overwhelming sense of relief that she was back in the House. Not wanting to disturb them, he went to his room, burying himself in his bedding.

***

Azriel waited patiently at the House of Wind, knowing Cassian would arrive with his mother soon. Usually, they would have stayed in the townhouse, but Azriel was feeling petty enough that he didn’t want to reside in something owned by Rhys, nor ask him if he could use it.

Not that that stopped his brother from invading the kitchen. He was stoically standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his usual prim High Lord outfit matching Feyre’s. She was talking with Nesta and Mor, Nyx crawling around their skirts. Even Emerie was here.

One person was notably missing. The one person Azriel truly wanted here.

He heard the familiar sounds of Cassian’s wings beating and a twinkled laughter that could only belong to one. Some of the tension eased in him at the sound, and for the first time in a while, he looked forward to the coming days.

His mother was proper as she walked in, her back straight and shoulders back. She still wore the standard uniform of a maid. It was not the same one he’d grown up seeing her wear. No, she had not donned the dress of his father since Rhys had become High Lord.

Azriel had invited her many times to come live in Velaris, but after constant declines, he learned to stop asking.

Her face became radiant when she saw him and she rushed to his side. She was nearly as tall as him, and she always used it to her advantage to baby him. He happily welcomed it, hugging her tightly as she peppered kisses to his face like he was a toddler.

“Oh baby boy, I missed you.”

Az scrunched his nose, leaning away to inspect her. She looked healthy. She looked happy. That was enough.

Her assessment of him was not so glowing. As she looked over his sunken face and glaring shadows, concern laced itself into her joy. “Have you been eating?” she asked, ever motherly.

“Yes.”

“And sleeping?”

“Yes.”

She turned to Rhys and Cassian. “Is that true?”

Rhys answered yes the same time Cassian said no, and Azriel slid that into his mental notes for later so that he could reprimand Cassian for worrying his mother.

Before his mother could say anything else, he spread his arms to present her to the room. “Mother, I would like to introduce you to High Lady Feyre.”

Feyre stepped forward, excitement glittering all over her. Feyre was eager to meet his mother, wanting to have any shred of past that the Illyrian males she called her family could offer. And after all, she was the only one of their mothers who was still alive.

Azriel’s mother approached her, taking Feyre’s hands in hers. “Hello, sweet one. It is lovely to meet you.”

“And you.” Feyre squeezed her hands back before turning to Nesta and Emerie. “This is my sister Nesta and our friend Emerie-”

“The first females in the Bloodrite, and one of the few winners. How could I not know who you are?” Azriel’s mother beamed at them, and Nesta stepped forward to shake her hand. Azriel thought it rather endearing. Nesta wasn’t the biggest fan of touching unless it was with those whom she loved, and another small part of him eased to see his dear friend making an effort with his mother.

“Welcome to our home,” Nesta said. “Cassian, Azriel and I hope you find it to your liking.”

“In all my years I’ve never made it up to the foreboding mansion of the mountains. I’m excited to see the place that Rhys’ mother spoke so fondly of.” She turned and opened her arms to Cassian and Rhys, the former enthusiastically throwing himself into her arms. If there was one thing you could always count on Cassian for, it was unparalleled affection. Azriel’s mother laughed lightly at his antics. Cassian was acting like he hadn’t just flown her all the way here from Illyria.

Rhys eased her away from Cassian, giving her a hug of his own. Azriel could hear his mother speaking, “You have made yourself such a beautiful family my dear, congratulations,” but chose to instead turn away and approach Feyre, who had picked up Nyx in the anticipation of shoving him into Azriel’s mother’s arms.

Mor greeted her next, and Azriel ignored their conversation in lieu of brushing non-existent dust off the surfaces in the House. Mor and his mother speaking always made him feel unnerved, like it was two untouchable parts of his life colliding together. There was the childhood part of him – the dark rooms and the pain and the dehumanisation – and then there was the version of himself that he became after his mother made the ultimate sacrifice in sending him away – the cursed warrior with scarred hands but, above all else, power.

“Would you like a tour of the House?” Nesta offered, Cassian walking to her side and putting an arm around her waist. He looked so damn proud of being able to show off his mate that it made Azriel want to dig a very big hole and hide in it, but in the name of his love for them both, he refrained from it.

Feyre had finally squirreled Nyx into his mother’s hands, and she was bumping him up and down to make him laugh.

“Aren’t we waiting?” she asked.

“Waiting for what?” Rhys tilted his head and narrowed his eyes curiously.

“Waiting for Gwyneth.”

The room went silent, and Azriel hated how all their eyes turned to him. Of course they knew of everything. Cassian, Nesta and Emerie unsurprisingly, not that he would have expected nor wanted anything else, but how could he expect Emerie not to tell Mor now that they were lovers? How could he expect Feyre and Rhys not to whisper amongst themselves at his failures?

“I didn’t know you knew of Gwyn,” Emerie said, her smile welcoming but her eyes wary at the mention of her sister.

“Of course, she won the Bloodrite alongside you.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Emerie tapped her head in embarrassment.

“And Azriel talks about her quite frequently.”

“Really?” Rhys practically squeaked from behind them. The sound of a thwack sounded throughout the room. Feyre stood innocently next to Rhys smiling while he rubbed his back.

“Yes.” Azriel’s mother turned to Emerie. “Azriel writes to me every few weeks. He told me of the training you do here with the females. The Valkyrie were the mightiest of warriors, it’s good to see their memory being upheld.” She moved over to Az and pinched his cheek. The hole looked more and more enticing with every minute passed. “The amount he talks about her, you should have seen her cut the ribbon, she was the first to come train, she’s the bravest warrior I have, it’s very clear he has a bias in his students. She must be your favourite, right Azriel?”

Azriel’s face was red at her words. His favourite student, ha! That was one way to put it.

“I’ve been so excited to meet the young lady, will she be here soon?”

Nesta, who Azriel owed his life to in this moment, answered for him. “Gwyn works in the library, mostly as a research assistant. She’s a very hard worker, and unfortunately won’t be able to make it. Perhaps you could come see us train tomorrow.”

“Won’t she be joining us for dinner?”

“Gwyn prefers to stay in the library or House,” Emerie answered. “As we’ll be going into the city, Gwyn will stay here.”

Azriel’s mother looked disappointed at the news, and he tried to remember all the times he had mentioned Gwyn in his letters since he’d met her. Surely it wasn’t that much. The look on his mother’s face though had him doubting himself, and he made another note to himself not to mention her from this day forward.

Suddenly she clapped, any disappointed erasing from her. “I have an idea, let’s just go to her! We can go find her in the library.”

Bombarding Gwyn with his mother in the library? No, absolutely not.

“That’s not possible I’m afraid. Males can’t just enter the library, there’s steps that need to be followed if we want to go in there. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow, mother.” Azriel would have Nesta warn Gwyn tonight.

“Then I’ll go with Nesta while you ready yourself for dinner. You need to take a shower, dear. And some fresh clothes would do you some good.” She patted him on the head as though she hadn’t just implied that he smelt.

Azriel looked to Nesta, willing them to have their first telepathic moment. Before either of them had the chance to say something, Rhys piqued up from behind them.

“That sounds like a lovely idea.”

***

Gwyn willed herself to remember that she liked reading, but by the Cauldron the historical texts in front of her were boring to the point where her eye lids felt heavy. She was slumped over a desk, her head resting in her hand, and her yawns overtook her whole body. Maybe she went a little too hard in training this morning. But she’d heard some of the women whispering about Azriel’s glorious physique, and she’d had to pummel the shit out of a multitude of things to get the picture of Azriel with other females out of her head. She knew nothing would ever happen between him and anyone she knew, but she had to brace herself for the inevitability that he would move on, if he hadn’t already.

“Is that her?”

“Yes.”

The sound of Nesta’s voice revived her, and she blinked heavily as she turned to look for her.

She was not expecting to see Nesta standing next to an Illyrian female she had never seen before.

She had dark hair and amber eyes, a startingly familiar shade, and carried her wings in the same distinct way Emerie did. They’d been clipped then. She was much taller than Gwyn. She was wearing a tan uniform, and Gwyn could see a hint of scars lacing up her wrist and collar. Under her gaze, the female adjusted her clothes, hiding the ghosts of old injuries from Gwyn.

She must be a new recruit. Gwyn remembered how scared she was when she first came to the library, how isolated and despaired she felt. It had taken many warm welcomes and friendly faces for her to adjust, and she hoped she could be that for this Illyrian.

Taking inspiration from Catrin, Nesta and Emerie, she put the brightest, most loving smile she could manage, trying to exude acceptance.

“Hello there,” she said. She stood up, walking over to Nesta and their new friend. “I’m Gwyn, it’s lovely to meet you.”

The woman said her name in a flurry, rushing forward to Gwyn. Gwyn squashed her exclaim when the new woman pulled her into her arms, hugging her tightly. Gwyn, somewhat shocked that a new resident of the library would so immediately want another’s touch, hugged her back, subtly trying to spit out the hair that had made it into her mouth at the sudden movement.

“You are exactly as I pictured,” she said, her eyes alight as she stepped back and looked Gwyn up and down.

“As you pictured…?”

“Yes, yes. After you won the Bloodrite, many Lords tried to keep secret what had happened. But something like that cannot be swept under the rug. There are stories of you three all through the camps. We would tell them in the kitchen, whisper them in empty hallways, any way someone could spread the word that three females, all of different decent, had won the Bloodrite.”

Gwyn didn’t know how to respond to the knowledge of her new-found infamy.

“You should come to dinner tonight, I would love to hear the story from you three ladies first-hand. My baby boy gave me some of the details but bless his heart he isn’t much of a storyteller.”

“You have a son?” An Illyrian son at that. Had he been in the Bloodrite? Had Gwyn faced him without even knowing? And this woman had left him to be here? Gwyn was horrified at what that meant, what awful event must have befallen her for her to need to leave her life and family to reside in the library.

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Gwyn,” Nesta thankfully interrupted, “her son is Azriel.”

Gwyn stopped dead. “As in my- as in Azriel, Azriel? Azriel who you live with Azriel?” She’d nearly said my Azriel, but that was as inappropriate as it was inaccurate. Azriel wasn’t her anything. Barely even her friend these days.

“I feel like I already know you,” Azriel’s mother said as though this wasn’t a huge revelation. “He speaks incredibly highly of you.”

Gwyn tried to keep the look of utter shock off her face; she wasn’t sure how successful she was. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t recognise you, but I’ve heard so much about you too. Azriel and I used to joke that you and my mother would be the greatest of friends.”

“Well, where is she? I would like to make another friend.”

“Oh, she died. Sorry, I now realise that I made it sound like she was still alive-”

“My dear, you never need to apologise to me.” The look she gave Gwyn was motherhood embodied, and it was every expression Gwyn had seen on her own’s mother’s face time and time again.  

“I was hoping you would consider coming to dinner with us tonight. It is of my understanding that you don’t like Velaris very much.”

Gwyn’s breath shuddered, the familiar anxiety at the suggestion of going into the city started to beat through her veins. “It’s not that, I love Velaris. I just – I just, it’s just that.” Nesta looked like she might step in, so Gwyn steeled herself. “Will Azriel be there?” They mightn’t be… whatever the hell they were, but she could do this if he was there.

But what if he didn’t want her there? He might not know his mother was here asking her. What if Gwyn went into the city and needed him and he wouldn’t help her? Ugh, but that was stupid. Of course he would help her. There was not a single part of him that would hesitate if she needed him. But she also didn’t want to take his time away from him. His mother was here after all, and she knew how seldom he saw her.

Azriel’s mother put her fingertips on Gwyn’s temples. “Lots of thoughts going on up here.”

Gwyn nodded.

“I understand your hesitance. There are still places I avoid, even after hundreds of years.”

Gwyn didn’t need to ask why. Azriel had gone into painful detail about his past, and she revered the strength his mother had in the sacrifices she’d made for him, for her endless love for the son she could have dismissed.

“My son will be there. It’s my understanding that the entirety of the group he has for himself will be, including your Nesta and Emerie. But I understand if it’s not the right time.”

Gwyn swallowed hard. “What time should I meet you all at the House?”

***

Azriel knew that the first day or two of his mother’s visit he’d have to share her around, not that he minded. He also knew that, like everyone, she’d gravitate towards Nyx. So, he watched from the sidelines with Cassian as his mother asked Feyre and Rhys every question under the sun. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask her about meeting Gwyn, and Nesta hadn’t returned from the library with his mother, so he couldn’t interrogate her either.  

When his shadows finally informed him Nesta was coming back, they conveniently left out the part where Gwyn was with her.

So they were back to playing that game with him.

He lost his ability to breathe when he saw her. She looked the same as she always did – beautiful. Half her hair was braided away from her face, the rest falling down her back. It was the first time he’d seen her outside of training since he’d crushed them.

It took everything in him not to run to her. When he looked into her eyes, he knew she was having the same struggle.

“Gwyn, I’m glad you could make it,” his mother said, approaching her. She patted Gwyn on the arm before addressing the room. “Are we ready to go?”

A chorus of yeses and curious glances followed her question, the latter aimed at Gwyn. She shrugged her shoulders at Emerie and avoided looking at Rhys and Feyre. She must be under the impression that they didn’t like her. Mental note number three, confront them both so that Gwyn doesn’t think she’s not welcome.

“Azriel, be a gentleman and offer to fly with Gwyn,” his mother chastised, moving over to Rhys so they could fly together. Feyre would be taking Nyx, Cassian with Nesta and Emerie, and Mor planned on just jumping off the side of the building until she could winnow – a technique that always made him roll his eyes.

Azriel approached Gwyn. His heart felt like it was full of fireflies and sweat started to coat his hands. Send him to war and he was as steady as a mountain, send him to Gwyn and he was the fitful sea in a storm.

His family departed around them, and soon they were left standing alone. Azriel had no doubt they’d done it intentionally, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful or not.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hey.” He stepped towards her slowly, trying to calm his heartbeat as he did.

“I – I don’t have to come, if it makes you uncomfortable,” she whispered.

“What? No. No, you could never – Gwyn, I would never feel uncomfortable around you.”

She nodded.

“Gwyn-” he said at the same time she said “Az.”

They both laughed lightly. “You first,” she said.

“I’m surprised you’re coming tonight. I hope my mother didn’t pressure you.”

“No, not at all. She just made a rather compelling case.”

“What case would that be?”

“She said you’d be here.” Gwyn swallowed hard.

Azriel nodded, understanding. He might not understand the nuance of how Gwyn was feeling if not for the fact that they had faced this same predicament before. The feeling that settled in his chest knowing that she trusted him so implicitly to go into the city not once, but twice, had him bowing his head before her.

How badly he wanted to touch her – stroke the soft skin on her arms, settle a hand on her back, twine his fingers in her hair.

If he flew her into the city, how could be ever let her go?

She closed the distance between them, her hands tentatively landing on his shoulders. Soon, they would wrap around his neck as he held her like a bride, flying them through the city. But before that, he needed to know he could endure just this touch without breaking apart and begging for her forgiveness.

She came closer, her arms wrapping around him and her body pressing into his. She could surely hear his rapid heartbeat.

“Azriel.”

“Yes, Gywneth?”

“It might be a little hard to fly with me if you don’t touch me.” She tilted her head back to look into his eyes, and he was pained when he saw the hurt there. “Is this too much?” She stepped back from him, but he matched every step, keeping them only inches away from each other.

“It is not too much,” he assured her, voice deep.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

He couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped him. He cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head towards him. Her eyes met his, and the temptation to kiss her was nearly too much. Instead, he said, “You are my best friend, Gwyneth Berdara. My favourite person. It is not, nor will it ever be, an obligation to spend time with you.”

She sighed softly, and laid her hands over his, linking her fingers. “I’ve missed being friends.”

“Me too.” I’ve missed you, is what he wanted to really say, but that felt like too much pressure to put on her. As much as it pained him to spend even a single second away from her, he knew she made the right decision when telling him they could not just happen once. Azriel would have spent his whole life dedicating himself to her, but it would have been a disservice to her. There was so much in this world that she hadn’t seen, and whoever the person was that would complete her, be her equal, her happiness, was not him. For they were not the same; he could never be as wholly good as her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and this time he did not flinch from the touch. Handling her carefully, he put one hand around her waist while the other picked up her legs. Holding her the way Cassian had held Nesta the day of their wedding ceremony when he’d marched her across the threshold, Azriel spread his wings and flew.

***

A truce had been called, and Gwyn was glad for it.

In Azriel’s arms, everything just seemed so right. She also decided to acquiesce to her trust in him; if Azriel said that she neither made him uncomfortable nor was an obligation, she would believe him. Even if it was just so she could be closer to him.

The way she missed him was unlike any way she had felt before. Like the way she could acknowledge her love for people were different although equal, like the way she loved Emerie and Nesta was different to the way she loved Cassian, which was different to the way she loved her mother, the way she missed Azriel was a feeling she had yet to experience.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what this meant. She had after all read over a hundred romance novels just this year.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Az said, his grip on her tightening.

“I’m just enjoying the view.” She rested her head on his shoulder, the sun set bathing them in a warm, orange light.

“Me too.” But he was looking at her.

***

The restaurant they were in reminded Gwyn of the dining hall her and Catrin frequented at Sangravah’s temple. It was huge, the ceilings high and echo-y, the floor a deep brown with matching wooden tables. Whatever this building was when it had originally been erected, it wasn’t as a restaurant. Towards the back, there was live music playing while people danced, but towards the front of the restaurant, where they were seated, it was nice background noise instead of blaring.

Gwyn sat next to Nesta and Azriel and across from Feyre and Rhys. Gwyn silently wished she’d been closer to Emerie instead of the High Lord and High Lady. She didn’t know why, but they did not seem to like her very much anymore. Was it possible they’d learnt of her deal with Azriel, and their odd looks and side glances were their silent disapproval?

She ignored them by gorging herself on food and chatting with Azriel’s mother. She sat at the head of the table, Azriel was on the end, and was a fascinating person. Sometimes Gwyn forgot that the majority of people at this table were pushing it to their sixth century, and hearing Azriel’s mother speak of her life was enrapturing. Azriel and Rhys occasionally butted in, and poor Az had to endure Gwyn practically sitting in his lap as she leaned over him to better hear his mother. His hand on her lower back to steady her showed her that he didn’t mind, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t taking advantage. She wanted to be close to him.

When the food had been demolished and many stories told, they started taking fruitive looks at the fae dancing to the live music. Feyre and Rhys were the first to go, closely followed by Azriel’s mother, who decided that the giggling Nyx would be the perfect dance partner. Nesta kept sneaking glances at Gwyn, who eventually shooed her away to go dance with her mate.

Then it was just Az, Mor, Emerie and Gwyn, so they shuffled to be closer together. Mor and Emerie’s hands were entwined, and it brought a smile to Gwyn’s face. She had heard many things since they’d announced their love for one another but had yet to see it in action. She was glad to see how content Mor looked, no hesitation to be seen. Good. It was what Emerie deserved.

It also explained the weird looks she used to get from Morrigan, which were now simply hilarious when they used to be unsettling. Mor was jealous of all things, but the thought of Gwyn and Emerie being anything other than sisters was preposterous.

“Why are you squirming like that?” Mor drawled to Azriel, who had been shifting in his seat for the last twenty minutes.

He didn’t answer, just stared at her.

“You okay?” Gwyn asked, resting a hand on his knee.

“Yes.” He paused. “I need to use the bathroom. Will you be okay here?”

Oh Mother, she had nearly forgotten how sweet he was. But it was clear he’d been sitting in discomfort so that he didn’t have to leave her. Gwyn didn’t know if she could bare losing him, not when she’d only just gotten him back.

“I’ll be fine.” She added a smile to assure him, and he nodded. He scanned the area around them, and once deeming them safe, headed towards the back of the restaurant, closer to the music and amenities.

When Azriel had ducked into one of the rooms, Gwyn turned back to her friends, wanting to interrogate them on all things love-related. Before she had a chance, Mor grabbed them each by the hand, a wild smile on her face.

“Let’s dance.”

Emerie shook her head. “We’re not leaving Gwyn alone.”

“No, all three of us.”

Emerie raised a brow and said in a hushed voice, “We talked about this-”

“No, no, not like that,” Mor laughed. “A friendly dance. I want to move my body.” The eyes Mor gave Emerie gave Gwyn quite the hint on how Mor intended to move her body, hopefully not until they were in their own home and bed.

Emerie bit back a smile, turning to Gwyn. “Would you like to dance with us?”

Oddly enough, Gwyn’s answer was yes. She wanted to feel as free as Morrigan did.

Mor led them to the dance floor, where they held hands in a circle and just twirled. Nesta and Cassian, neither of whom had drunk that night, cheered them on. Mor definitely had her fair share though, her hair loose and mind unencumbered with worry. Gwyn envied that, hoping she could one day be the same. Whatever Mor was doing, she wanted in.

They had only been there a minute when they were approached by a stranger. He was the tall, dark and handsome type that Gwyn had become used to reading about in her novels, and although she could see the eyes of many males and females staring at him in unabashed desire, she found him… lacking. Perhaps she applied mediocrity to him because, to put it plainly, he did not compare to what she’d already had.

“Ladies.” He nodded to them, a smirk on his pretty face. He looked at their hands. “How would you like to dance?”

Gwyn couldn’t help her cackle. “Sorry, they’re not interested.” She tried to humble herself, but the thought of a male getting between Emerie and Mor – that was not happening, and it amused her endlessly.

“I wasn’t asking them.” He was focused on just her now.

Oh.

It made her feel…

How did she feel? Were the pricks in her stomach uneasiness or anticipation? She wasn’t attracted to him, that she knew for sure, but did she not just wish to be more like Morrigan? She knew what Mor would do – she would push her own boundaries.

Emerie opened her mouth to dismiss him, but Gwyn interrupted her.

“Okay.”

Emerie blanched in shock, and subtly moved to her side, throwing an arm around her shoulders seemingly haphazardly before whispering in her ear.

“What are you doing?”

Gwyn pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m trying to be like everyone else.”

Catrin would have danced with him. Catrin spread her love like it was the snow in winter, she would have danced with anybody.  

Gwyn took his outstretched hand, noticing the looks Cassian and Nesta gave her. Nesta stepped forward to intervene, stopped only by Cassian’s hand on her forearm.

“What is your name?” she asked the male as they stepped to the side. She dropped his hand, facing him. She wouldn’t touch him, and he wasn’t allowed to touch her yet either, but swaying in the general vicinity of one another counted as dancing, did it not?

Her hands were behind her back, her back straight. The message was clear: no touching.

“Elvin. Yours?”

“Nes.”

She didn’t even know why she lied, it just felt like too much to have this man in front of her and know her name. She wasn’t ready to reveal the parts of her identity that actually mattered. To him, she was just going to be a girl that danced.

He took a step forward. She took a step back.

“Is this how you dance with everyone?” he asked.

“Just those I don’t know,” she answered. Her breathing was becoming laboured, and this time she knew why. It was trepidation. She calmed herself the way any Valkyrie would, and persevered.

“We could know each other. You just have to come a bit closer.”

She let him inch closer but did not let their bodies touch. She guessed he was kind of attractive, not a bad place to start. She was surrounded by people that would go to combat for her in a second if needed, and she was more than able to fend for herself thanks her daily training. Azriel was just one shout away. She would be safe here.

Bracing herself, she raised her hands and let them fall on his shoulders. His smirk turned to a more genuine smile, and he thankfully kept his hands at his side as they swayed.

“Velaris isn’t a very big city, and I can’t say I’ve seen you before,” he said.

“I grew up in Sangravah,” Gwyn told him. After a moment of pause, she continued. “You may put your hands atop mine.” An odd dancing position, but one she was some-what okay with.

His eyes softened at her words. “I see.” He laid his hands atop hers, putting his arms into an odd angle. She tried not to laugh at how silly it was, but she was grateful he wasn’t pushing her.

The music was nice, but the back of her head burned from the intense looks she was getting from her sisters. It made her grin, knowing they were trying not to pounce.

It was not them she should have been taking note of.

She saw the door open first, Azriel finally coming out of the bathroom. He looked to the table, his brows furrowing, before quickly scanning the crowd and spotting her with Elvin. She couldn’t place the look on his face, but she did see Rhys step towards him, who Azriel shoved aside.

The shadows enveloped her first, then his wings as Azriel descended upon them. He didn’t even need to speak, his powerful body doing it all for him. He stepped between her and Elvin, his shadows wrapping around her ankles and waist.

“You’re done here,” he hissed at Elvin before turning away from him, his wings bristling with the promise of violence.

Elvin’s eyes widened in fear, and he backed off with him hands up, muttering apologies to the Shadowsinger.

Gwyn could have sworn the music stopped. That everyone was looking at her and judging her, but when Azriel swept her into his grasp she realised they hadn’t made a scene at all. Azriel had kept them hidden in his shadows.

“If you wanted to dance,” he rasped, “you should have asked me.” His lips were brushing against her ear, and the feeling made her arch into his chest.

“And you should know I can handle myself. I’m not the same female you met all those years ago. You should know that better than anyone.”

His hands slid around her waist, pulling her tighter against him. Still bathed in his shadows, she let her head fall back in bliss at the feeling.

“I know you are more than capable, Gwyneth Berdara. But I am not capable of seeing you with another male’s hands on you.”

She fisted the front of his shirt. This was all too familiar. His hands, her heartbeat, the pulse she felt between her legs. Mere hours since their first conversation after ending things and she could already feel the slickness between her thighs at his touch.

Instead of feeling satisfied with the feeling, it ignited an anger in her. Who was he to cause a scene? Who was he to say he couldn’t bear to see her with other males?

She shoved him off her, glad when he stumbled a few steps. The general patrons of the dance floor might not have noticed their skirmish, but Gwyn hated how the eyes of everyone she knew had landed on them.

Behind the band, she noticed an exit door. Stiffening in resolve, she grabbed Azriel by one of the loops of his belt and hauled him with her until they were in an alley behind the restaurant. She slammed the door behind them, glad that they were outside instead of in some supply closet.

The wind was intense in the tunnel, its coldness tearing through her and making her hair whip around her face. It barely concealed her fury.

“You can’t do that,” she spat at him.

“Do what?” he raised his hands in surrender.

“Today was the first time we’ve spoken in over a month because I told you that I had feelings for you. Which you don’t return, and that’s fine, and I never expected that, never dreamed that I would have your affections, but fucking hell Azriel do you know what it does to me, to my body, when you talk to me like that?”

His gaze darkened, and she saw his tongue flick over his bottom lip. “What does it do, Gwyn?”

“You know what it does,” she bit out, her hands shaking. She turned her back to him, facing the wall of a multi-storey building. She hoped its occupants wouldn’t hear their row.

The sudden warmness of his body alerted her to his presence. “I am your friend, Gwyn.”

“Apparently.”

“Gwyn.” He ran a single finger down her back, and the small touch had no right feeling as good as it did. “You’re my best friend.”

“As I’ve heard.”

“I would do anything for you.” His hands were on her waist, and then her back was to his chest. His lips pressed against her neck, the sudden touch making her gasp. “Anything.”

***

Her body had been on his all night. The way she so casually draped herself across him had him near feral with his desire for her. For decorum’s sake, he’d kept it together. Mostly. It was hard to hide his raging desire when a certain part of him wouldn’t behave. When he’d excused himself to discreetly deal with the erection that just wouldn’t budge – and by deal, he meant quickly stroke himself to completion so he could feel an ounce of relief – he never expected to come out of the bathroom and see that.

Gwyn. A male. His hands touching her precious skin.

Azriel did not like losing control. But seeing her like that? It was his worst fears come to fruition. She wasn’t getting it from him, so she was turning to someone else, and it made jealously rip through him.

“Anything,” he rasped. “Any way you want. Anywhere you want.” He pressed another kiss to her neck, letting his teeth lightly graze her skin. It had the intended effect, a small moan escaping her. Yes, his Gwyn liked to bite.

“Cauldron, you are so insufferable.” She turned and grabbed him by his shirt, spinning him and slamming his back into the wall behind them. He opened his mouth to apologise, but was silenced when she pressed her lips to his.

He wasted no time in reciprocating, a deep moan escaping him as her tongue dipped into his mouth. She pressed herself into him, her hands wrapping around his neck, reverently kissing him.

His hands slid down her back, grasping the ass he’d dreamt about endlessly over the past month when he’d desperately pleasured himself to the thought of her. He hitched one of her legs up, angling her so that he could press his length into her. It elicited a moan from her, and she gently grinded her hips forward to rub her core against him. All her weight rested on him, and he wanted her closer: now.

He picked her up by the back of her thighs, wrapping her legs around him. He spun them so he could press her into the wall, her body held up by the pressure of him. He did not break the kiss once, just hitched her higher so that they were eye to eye.

She whispered his name like a strangled prayer, and it made him break away to start kissing down her neck, focusing on the spots he knew were extra sensitive.

“Az, Az, please, I need more.”

He moved his hips against hers. The only thing stopping his dick from rubbing against her clit was the clothes between them, and he knew this was one of her favourite ways to get off. Before, when they still only touched themselves, she would sometimes just gyrate against him until she came, loving the friction and time it took for her orgasm to climb. He lived for the moments when she would bite her lip and eyes would glaze over.

“What do you want?”

The glaze was starting in her eyes now, and Azriel knew it wouldn’t take much to make her come. He wondered how much she had since they’d ended, if her hand had dipped between her thighs at the thought of him or one of her filthy books.

She peered around the alley, making sure there was no one to see them. Azriel was confident they wouldn’t be caught, his shadows would alert him to anyone coming too close, but he thought that maybe she liked the risk of getting caught. Afterall, she had once jerked him off in the middle of a bar.

“How much can we do without getting caught?” she asked.

Azriel grinned. “Hold onto my shoulders.”

He walked them a few paces to the right where there was a windowsill at his shoulder height. With no effort at all, he lifted her up until she was seated on its edge. Her hands moved from his body to brace herself against the sill, and her chest heaved as she looked down at him.

“What are you doing?” she breathed.

“I didn’t get dessert after dinner, and I’m craving something sweet.”

He lifted her dress up, ducking under it. Encased by its warmth, he pressed a mouth to her inner thigh to encourage her to spread her legs. She eagerly did, and he wasted no time in pushing aside her panties and swiping his tongue up her centre.

He wished he could have seen her as he flicked his tongue in the places he knew she loved. He could picture her though, arms on the side of the window frame and head moving back and forward as she arched her neck back in pleasure while also wanting to watch him please her. She put her feet on his shoulders and spread her knees, and he growled at the access it gave him.

“I hope no one’s home,” he teased her.

“Let them watch. Let them see what you do to me,” she groaned.

Azriel was right, she was already on the precipice before he’d even touched her, and he had her coming twice before peppering kisses to her thighs and letting her down from the ledge. She wrapped herself up in him immediately, their kisses hot and wet as she undoubtedly tasted herself on him.

“Azriel,” she said, her voice low and full of promise.

He hummed against her, moving his lips back to her neck.

“Azriel,” she said again, his hands moving back to her ass.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me. Right now.”

That stopped him in his tracks. “Huh?” He stopped kissing her, brushing the hair off her forehead as he looked her in the eyes.

She lowered them, a mischievous grin on her face. “You heard me,” she whispered. “Fuck me. Here. I’m sick of not knowing how you’d feel inside me.”

He seriously considered it. Just fucking her against the wall and releasing into her, his name nothing but a scream on her lips. Even in an alley he could make her feel good, make it worth her while.

“No,” he said without hesitation. “The first time I fuck you is not going to be in some random street.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, her kiss-swollen lips parting at his words. “First time? Does that mean you want there to be a second time?”

Yes, fuck yes more than anything, now, again, and forever I want to be with you, he thought, but he didn’t say the words aloud. Because his conundrum from before was still an issue. If he let himself have her, it would only lead to their fiery demise when she realises how being with him like that would be to sully herself.

A small part of him thought that she was able to make these decisions for herself, and if he’s what she wanted he should oblige her, but he quashed the irrational thought.

And just like before, his silence, his hesitancy, was all the answer she needed.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her face falling. She shoved herself away from him, covering her face with her hands. The pain that shook her was unabashed and powerful, and he wanted to beg for her forgiveness – for the pain he was causing her now, and the pain he’d surely cause her in the future.

Her shoulders quaked with the force of the sob that wracked her, but any subsequent cries she swallowed.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Az,” she shuddered. “Fuck, why do I keep doing this to myself?”

“Gwyneth…”

“Don’t. Just… don’t, Azriel.”

She walked away from him, taking the door back inside and never once looking back.

***

That night, she woke up with a scream, the nightmares that had been haunting her for weeks now in full force. She grabbed a robe and ran, wishing she could go to Azriel, but going somewhere else instead.

***

Azriel tried to be present for his mother over the coming days, but his thoughts were clouded with Gwyn. She didn’t come to training. She didn’t leave the library. He knew she was alive and safe, his shadows informed him of her happenings constantly, and his mother would often leave his side to visit her. She was quite taken with Gwyn, liking her the way Azriel had dreamed she would.

Nesta and Cassian had tried to speak with him, Nesta especially seemed worried, but he brushed them off. If Gwyn hadn’t told them, he would respect her wish for privacy.

He distracted himself as best as he could. He took his mother to his favourite places throughout Velaris, and even some of the small towns throughout the Night Court that he had always found charming. They were sometimes joined by others, but mostly his family let him have his mother to himself. They somehow talked nearly every minute without ever actually talking about anything, and anytime his mother tried to bring up Gwyn, he promptly changed the subject.

She particularly liked a small beach down that only had a population of just under a thousand, and Azriel thought maybe if she didn’t want Velaris, he could find her a place like this. Out in the countryside, the fae were far more diverse, not held to the strict no-one-in-no-one-out policy that Velaris had been under for hundreds of years. It meant you would see all types of folk, like the nymphs that Gwyn hailed from, instead of just stuffy high-fae.

Then it was her last day, and despite knowing better, he asked her what he knew she’d say no to.

“Would you like to stay? No one is living in the townhouse anymore, and I know Rhys would be thrilled if you were there. You would be so close to us, and you could go to more of the sessions in Feyre’s studio, I know how much you’ve enjoyed them. You can steal Nyx whenever you want to, and Cassian will probably have babies soon, and just imagine how rambunctious they would be.”

She just shook her head, pulling him into a loving embrace.

Rhys had asked to be the one to take her back to Illyria, and Azriel was fine with that arrangement. Rhys knew Azriel didn’t like returning to Illyria. It was worse when it was because of his mother. When he left, he felt like he was abandoning her, and it brought up things from his childhood that he’d rather not remember.

Azriel met them at Rhys and Feyre’s mansion at dusk, and Rhys flew away with her soon after. He could have winnowed, but Azriel’s mother liked the feeling of flying too much.  

Azriel spread his wings to leave too, but he was stopped by Feyre’s hand tugging on his arm. “Want to come inside?” she asked, her eyes hopeful.

Azriel remembered his resolve to speak to Feyre and Rhys about making Gwyn uncomfortable. Perhaps this was a good time, then he didn’t have to speak to Rhys, but all the information would be conveyed to him anyway.

Azriel nodded, and followed Feyre inside, a freshly toddling Nyx walking – or more accurately stumbling – in front of them.

“He’ll be flying in no time,” Azriel chuckled lightly, enjoying watching his nephew plod around.

“Don’t remind me, he’s hard to keep up with as it is,” Feyre laughed, guiding Nyx into one of the many lounge rooms. Once he was happy playing with some toys, gurgling away in words Azriel couldn’t understand but always responded to with the appropriate coos.

“Take a seat, I’ll get us some tea.”

“That won’t be necessary, I won’t be here for long.”

Her face fell ever so slightly. “You won’t be?”

“No, I just want to talk.” He paced around the room. “I would like it if you and Rhys had more subtlety in your feelings for Gwyn. She knows you don’t like her, and it’s making her uncomfortable. It’s not fair that just because we-” he broke himself off, shaking his head to try and regain his thoughts. “It’s not fair that she’s made to feel like that in her own space, with the only family she has.”

“Did she say that?” Feyre asked, voice barely above a murmur.

“No, she didn’t need to. I can tell.”

“Azriel, I do like Gwyn. We both do. I think she’s great.”

Azriel raised a brow at her, his expression asking the question for him.

“I’m being serious, Az. I know there was a time when Rhys suspected her of some things, but we were just being careful.”

“But I told you she wasn’t a threat. If you trust my judgement so little, then what is the point of me being here? What’s my purpose in this family?”

“We do trust you, and your purpose has nothing to do with your spy work. You’re a part of this family because we love you, not because you’re useful to have around.”

He knew her words were earnest, and he didn’t doubt the love between them all. But there was no denying that Azriel was starting to lose his place here. Everyone was always so fucking happy with their families and mates and lovers, and the only time he’d felt like that was with Gwyn. But he didn’t deserve her, and if he hadn’t already ruined what was between them he certainly had now.

Feyre was clutching her hands in front of her heart, waiting for Azriel to reply. He clenched his jaw, approaching the door.

“I hope you’ll take my words into consideration. Goodbye, Feyre.”

***

Gwyn was content with the quietness, glad to be alone for once. The library was silent in the late hours, the rare acolyte still wandering around but most sane enough to have retired to their quarters.  

Gwyn just wanted to shut her brain off. She didn’t want to think about her growing feelings for Azriel, or how she yearned to be at his side, in his bed, to taste the lips they had chastely touched together. She couldn’t think of this thing because if she did she would think of what came next. Either she foolishly declared her love for him or she walked away before the realisation that this wasn’t real hit her again.

“Gwyn?”

She jumped at the sound of her name and turned in her chair to see Azriel’s mother looking at her.

“I thought you’d gone home,” she said in greeting.

“I wanted to talk to you one last time and convinced Rhys to bring me here. Although I suspect we’ll see each other many times over the coming years.” She pulled a chair to sit next to Gwyn, placing her hands over Gwyn’s as she sat.

“I want to tell you a story,” she said once settled. “I don’t usually interfere with affairs that aren’t my own, but there’s things you should know before I go.”

Gwyn nodded, listening intently.

“I have always loved my son to the best of my ability. He is my heart, the reason I live, but he has always doubted if he was someone that could be loved, let alone a male that deserved it. The way he was treated as a child, bound and tortured, broke the part of him that accepts the love he deserves. It didn’t matter how much Rhys and Cassian adored him, or how much Rhys’ mother thought of him as her own, so many things had happened to him that he was never able to see through it.” She paused, her face hard as she recalled the memories. “It was not until Rhys was appointed High Lord and he took me from where I was that I had any contact with my son after letting him go. I didn’t know how to read or write yet, and I had accepted my fate in his Lord father’s household. But that – that’s irrelevant. My Azriel will fight till his death for the ones he loves, but he will never fight for himself. Gwyn, you must persevere with him. The way he is with you? It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen him so open, and unguarded, and,” she took a deep breathe, her lips barely moving up in a smile, “happy. And that’s all I want for him.”

What she was saying made sense. Azriel was the most loving person she’d ever met, as infuriating as he sometimes was, but she could see the ways in which he rejected that love for himself. She saw it whenever Cassian kissed Nesta, and Azriel got distant. She saw it when he looked longingly as Nyx and Feyre, as if he wanted those things for his own but didn’t think he could ever have them.

And by the Cauldron she loved him.

This selfless, loving, enraging man was the one she loved most in this world. There was just one problem. It wasn’t the lack of his self-esteem keeping him from her. It was that he did not love her back.

Gwyn covered her face with her hands, pushing her palms in to her eyes to stop her own tears. “I will never be enough for him.” Her voice cracked.

“Why?” Azriel’s mother pleaded.

“Because I am broken.” Gwyn became overcome with the emotion she’d tried to hideaway. The past two months, her heart breaking every time she thought of Azriel, the constant dreams of Catrin. “I am an awful person, and I do not deserve him. I am callous. I don’t think things through. My sister was the better of us and after she died I replaced her with Nesta and Emerie like she meant nothing.” Gwyn clutched a hand to her chest, a searing pain slashing through her. “My sister is dead. And I lived, and every day I have done things that would let her down.”

“Your sister may have departed us, but her soul, her love for you is alive. You will feel her in the wind, smell her in the flowers during spring.” She touched Gwyn’s temple. “She is alive in here.”

Gwyn furiously wiped at her tears, hating that she was so emotional in front of someone she’d only known a handful of days.

“Why do you hide your tears from me?” she asked.

“Because all I do is cry; I hate it. I need to be stronger.”

“Oh, young one, crying is not a weakness. You are in pain, and that pain deserves to be acknowledged.”

Gwyn let her tears fall, accepting the embrace of Azriel’s mother like she was her own.

The talk they had after that was one Gwyn needed to hear – from a female who’s past was so like her own. Gwyn was whole. Gwyn was capable of great things, and if those things took time, then so be it. The shame Gwyn had felt veiled in since the attack on Sangravah lifted ever so slightly, and the ache in her heart eased enough that she could breathe normally again.

Gwyn had been letting things in her fester until the ache consumed her, whether it be in how she perceived herself or the night-terrors that had her in a steel grip. She needed this talk, a person to prompt her to confront of her past. If she wanted to heal, she needed to acknowledge that she needed to. Starting now, Gwyn would try. And starting soon, maybe Azriel could see that. See her for who she was, and love her for who she was, cracks and breaks and all.

***

“Gwyn asked me a question today. I don’t know the answer, but you might.” Mor was sitting with him while she waited for Emerie to bathe after training. It was the first time they’d been alone together in a while, and Azriel was pleasantly surprised at how companionable it was. They’d never had the talk about his feelings, by the Cauldron he did not want to, and his feelings for her had long since faded.

“Is she okay?” Azriel focused on Mor, abandoning the knitting needles his mother had given him. She’d thought the hobby would be good for him, and he was attempting to make a beanie for Nyx. So far, he’d managed to make some tangled yarn.

“She’s fine. She asked me if I knew where her sister was buried.”

He startled. “Why was she asking?”

“I have no idea. Do you know? I told her I’d look into it.”

After the temple had been raided and they’d taken note of the dead, they’d mostly left burial decisions to the villagers. As far as Azriel knew, most had been buried in the graveyard next to the destroyed temple, with the hope that they would one day re-build what was lost. However, Gwyn had mentioned her mother being buried near the coast after her passing, so perhaps Catrin had been laid to rest there.

Whatever the answer, Azriel would find out. He told Mor as much, and she thanked him. They waited together in silence, the beanie back in his hands and as shitty as ever, when Rhys decided to invade their personal space.

Azriel took that as his cue to leave. The House of Wind wasn’t big enough to fit Rhysand’s ego and Azriel’s bad mood at the same time.

Rhys had tried to summon him eight times in the fortnight since he’d spoken to Feyre, and he’d ignored him. If it was important, he could haul his ass up to the House of Wind or get Cassian.  

“Hey Rhys,” Mor said, her eyes following Azriel as he got up from his seat.

“C’mon, Az. Stay, I need to talk to you.”

Azriel recognised the familiar look on Rhys and Mor’s faces that said they were talking amongst their minds, and with a prompt goodbye and a kiss to both their cheeks, Mor scrambled off to find Emerie.

Great. The three of them had plans in the city and now he’d have to wait for them to stop railing each other before they could go.

Azriel pinched his nose, not excited for the onslaught that was to come.

“How have you been?” Rhys asked, the question unexpected.

“Fine,” Azriel answered curtly.

“I know you’re lying.”

“Using your daemati abilities on me without asking, that’s new.”

“No, I’ve just known you the entirety of our lives, and I worry about you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can’t help it. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“Maybe I just haven’t been the same around you, High Lord.”

Rhys’ eyes shone, with anger or sadness Azriel didn’t know. What he did know was that the last thing he wanted to do was have a heart to heart chat.

“You think I don’t know what’s been going on? Cassian is worried out of his fucking mind. Nesta, bloody Nestacame to me because she didn’t know how to help you.”

“Leave it be, Rhys.”

“No. I won’t. Because you’re my brother and I can’t stand to see you like this.”

Azriel turned his back to Rhys counted to ten in his head, trying to calm his thoughts. When he had composed himself to talk to Rhys without shouting, he turned to his brother. “When Feyre came to the Night Court, you ordered us to not talk to her about the awful shit she was going through, saying she needed to heal on her own. We left Nesta alone for months and months while she tried to deal with her crap, because you and Feyre said she needed time. Can I not have that same allowance? A few weeks to figure my shit out?”

“Sort out what exactly? Whatever happened between you and Gwyn?”

“Don’t say her name.”

“I’ll say whatever I damn want if it means you confront whatever demons you’re battling. Just admit you love her and go get your girl, Az. I don’t understand why you aren’t together when you both are so obviously obsessed with each other. You were fucking happy, Az. The happiest I’ve ever seen you. And I wish I had known it was because of her. I wouldn’t have said, or even thought, half the stuff I did if I had known.”

Azriel flashed back to the night Gwyn had braved the stairs and walked through the city to get to him. To embracing her in the street with not a care in the world. To the look on Rhys’ faced that spoke of nothing but disapproval. In that moment, Rhys had confirmed everything Azriel had ever thought about himself.

Even though Rhys suspected Gwyn of treason, he still did not think Azriel was good enough for her.

Azriel was hit with the exhaustion he’d been fighting off for days – weeks – months – and collapsed back into his chair. He was too tired for this conversation. Then again, he couldn’t picture a day where he was well rested enough to deal with this.

“The reason I’m not with Gwyn isn’t because I don’t want to be,” Azriel said slowly.

“I didn’t investigate Gwyn because I truly thought she was working against us. You were right. I had dropped it until I saw you together.”

Azriel leant his head back, staring at the white ceiling. “Why?”

“If you loved her, I had to be sure she wouldn’t do something to jeopardise you. Watching you get your heart broken again was not something I could do. So, I was selfish. I wanted to make sure she was who you thought she was.”

Azriel’s eyes burned. “I don’t understand. I saw how much you disapproved.”

“I wasn’t against the idea of you. I was confused. I didn’t understand when it all happened between you, and I still don’t, and I didn’t understand why you didn’t just tell me that everything I was suspicious of was just because you two were seeing each other. When did we start keeping secrets like that?”

Azriel didn’t want to acknowledge the words. Half of his reasoning behind his decision to leave her be was because he had wholeheartedly believed that not even his own family thought he was good enough for her.

This only proved how broken he was.

“I don’t fit here anymore,” he told Rhys, finally looking him in the eye.

His brother’s face was as open as a book – pain, remorse. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve all made a real family. Irrevocably connected to one another. You have Feyre, and Nyx, and Cassian has Nesta. Mor has Emerie. I can’t see myself here anymore. I’m always on the outside. I can’t relate to you. If I wasn’t here, would anything really change? Am I even needed anymore?”

And as Azriel said the words, he knew the truth behind them. The tipping point may have been Gwyn, but his despair had been growing long before that, its only reprieve the moments he was at her side.

Rhys stormed across the room, grabbing Azriel by the arm and hauling him up.

Rhys did something Azriel hadn’t expected.

Rhys hugged him – the kind of hug you’d give after winning a battle, the kind of hug you’d give after being separated for years, the kind of hug you only give to those dearest to you. The exact kind of hug Rhys had given him after the war five hundred years ago when they’d been kept apart by Rhys’ father, never knowing if the other was truly okay and praying to the Mother that they were all alive. Azriel wrapped his arms around his brother in return, the two Illyrian males holding onto each other for dear life.

“You’re my brother, how could you ever think that I could live without you?”

Azriel felt Rhys’ tears on his shoulder, summoning some of his own.

“There may be no blood between us, brother, but I choose you as my family, and I will always choose you. You are worthy. You are deserving. And I love you.”

Azriel wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Long enough for Mor and Emerie to sneak out. Long enough for the House to light up as the sun set. Long enough for Cassian to find them and shove them apart so he could join in.

Three brothers in every way that mattered, Azriel had just let himself forget.

***

Gwyn had a package. Never, ever, had she received a package before. In Sangravah, if anyone wanted to tell her something they’d just come find her, there was no need to send it in the mail.

Nesta had brought it to her, saying it had been sent to the House. They were both trepidus at first, until they realised the sender had been Azriel’s mother. Gwyn took it to her room to open it in private. There was a loose letter atop a bunch of tightly packed envelopes, and Gwyn opened it to scan what Azriel’s mother had said.

Gwyn,

I wanted to show you these, so there was no doubt in your mind of the sincerity of the words I told you before I left.

Please, be gentle with Azriel’s heart. He hasn’t written me since I left, and I don’t think he’s sleeping.

All my love.

The envelopes below were dated from around the time Nesta and Gwyn became friends to just before Gwyn and Azriel had ended things, and Gwyn opened the first to see that Azriel’s mother had highlighted certain sections for her to read. She scanned her eyes over them, barely taking them in before frantically opening the next letters to see if they were the same.

Azriel’s mother had noted every section of his letters that spoke about Gwyn. Gwyn wondered if reading his words was a violation of his privacy, and if she should thank his mother for her generosity, but send them back without reading them.

And then Gwyn remembered how nosey she was, and that Az’s mother wanted her to read this, and went back to the beginning.

It started simple, Az talking about how someone had finally joined Nesta in her training, a girl Azriel knew from the war against Hybern. Knew of, he’d corrected himself, it wasn’t fair to say you knew someone just because you’d been there on the worst day of their life.

When she’d cut the ribbon, and how proud he was. When he found her training on solstice and how he’d given her the necklace meant for someone else. The memory made Gwyn laugh just thinking about it. Oh Az, he was a great gift giver but he’d really bungled that one. He went into their private training sessions, when she started having nightly dinners with him, Cassian and Nesta, and the absolute crushing fear he’d felt when they discovered she’d been taken for the Bloodrite. He talked about how she’d won, and how he was floored by her, and the words made Gwyn’s heart flood with love.

There was so much. With every letter, she became a more prominent character in the tales he would regale for his mother. It was no wonder she had so eagerly wanted to meet Gwyn, Gwyn was at the centre of everything Azriel had said before they’d even started their arrangement. And then the dates from after they’d gotten together could have been written by another male. His happiness exuded through the pages, no hint of the darkness that was synonymous with Azriel.

It read like a romance novel, and if Gwyn hadn’t been the one living this mess, she would have thought there was no other way Azriel could possibly feel about her.

Which either made her incredibly dense, or there was something going on that she didn’t understand.

Ruminating on the thoughts, she repacked the letters and quickly hid them in her room so that none of the other acolytes accidentally stumbled upon them. She then wondered if she could get away with taking a few hours away from the library. She did work through the morning, and she was miles ahead of where she would’ve been if she’d been going to training, so she decided to risk it and run to the House of Wind. If she missed anything important, she’d just work through the night again.

Sneaking into the House was easy, she did it all the time. She crept along the hallway and heard the light voices of Mor and Azriel in one of the many common rooms. Avoiding that route, she would talk to Az, just not yet, she took a roundabout way until she was in the House’s library.

Nesta could often be found here in the late afternoon, and Gwyn was praying that since she hadn’t seen Nesta working today, she was doing something here. The room was empty, and with a grunt of frustration Gwyn went to Nesta’s bedroom, hoping maybe she’d be there.

She was relieved to find not only Nesta, but also Emerie. Nesta was sitting with her back to the bathroom door, a forgotten book open in her lap, Emerie’s voice echoing through with the sound of splashing punctuating her words.

“Hello!” Gwyn greeted, her voice awkwardly loud.

Nesta grinned as she looked up at Gwyn, and Emerie yelled a greeting in return, the sound of water thrashing loudly. Emerie appeared in an instant, a fluffy red towel wrapped around her.

“I was just about to come find you. I’m heading into the city soon with Mor, but I wanted to know if you wanted to have dinner with us tonight. We could bring anything you want back from Velaris and come to you in the library, if you’d like.”

Gwyn walked to Emerie, wrapping her arms around her wet friend. “Thank you, but I think I’ll be occupied.”

Emerie hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pretending to glare at Nesta. “Gwyn would have sat with me in the bathroom,” she joked.

“I was attempting to preserve propriety,” Nesta said.

“You’ve guarded me on the side of a mountain while I’ve taken a shit. I really don’t care if you see me naked.”

Gwyn laughed, squeezing Emerie once more before letting her go. “How was training this morning?”

“It went well, but we miss having you there.” Emerie patted her cheek before walking back into the bathroom.

Nesta got to her feet, ushering Gwyn further into the room. “It’s been weird without you, I don’t like it. Will you come back soon?”

Gwyn nodded, then voiced herself when she remembered Emerie wouldn’t be able to hear her. “I think so. I actually came to talk to you about that, if you have the time.”

“Of course we have the time,” Emerie called. “But first…”

She walked out of the room, stark naked holding up two sets of lingerie on hangers. Nesta sighed, and Gwyn snickered.

“Which one do you think Mor would enjoy more? She likes me in red, but the white looks nice with my skin tone. It’s also crotchless.”

“You two have gotten too comfortable in my home.” Despite her words, Nesta looked thoughtfully over the outfits. “I like the white.”

“Me too,” Gwyn added.

Emerie hummed in agreement, going back into the bathroom and not returning until she was fully dressed in a nice off the shoulder shirt and pants.

“It’s no surprise Morrigan was jealous of us when you first started dating. At that point we’d likely seen you naked more than she had.” Gwyn sat on the end of Nesta’s bed.

“Ah yes, but I can assure you what we do when she sees me naked is very different.”

“For your sake, I would hope so. If I had all that naked Cassian and none of the benefits, I would still be a very bitter woman.”

They all laughed together, Emerie sitting in front of Nesta’s full length mirror to do her hair. Gwyn thought it was quite sweet to see Emerie dress up for Mor, it was a side of Emerie she’d never seen before.

“Onto more pressing issues, what plans do you have today, Gwyn?” Emerie asked.

Gwyn opened her mouth to ask them the question she’d come armed with, but she was interrupted by the cheery voice of Mor as she flounced into the room.

She waved at Gwyn and Nesta before plopping herself behind Emerie and wrapping her arms around her waist. She kissed the back of her neck, whispering something in Emerie’s ear that made her nod.

Gwyn didn’t want to interrupt them, so she stayed quiet, her hands in her lap as she looked at them. She felt jealous at their ease – how easy it seemed for them to be together.

“I’ll meet you in the library when you’re done getting ready,” Mor said loudly enough for them all to hear. As quickly as she came in, she left in a flurry. Emerie seemed unfazed – perhaps this was how Mor always was.  

“Gwyn, you were saying?” Emerie asked, making eye contact with her through the reflection in the mirror.

“I have two sentences for you both. And I want your opinion on what resonates more.”

Emerie turned to fully face her, abandoning her hair. Nesta came to her side, putting her hands over Gwyn’s and interlocking their fingers.

“Why are you both looking at me like that?” Gwyn gave them both the side-eye.

Emerie came to her other side, putting an arm around her shoulders. “We’re just – we’ve been – it’s just hard to see you sad all the time. We were hoping you would come talk to us about it, but we wanted to give you space.”

“We didn’t want you to feel pressured to talk,” Nesta added. “Sometimes that makes things harder.”

“Oh,” Gwyn exhaled. She pressed a hearty kiss to both their cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You’re hurting,” Emerie said.

“And we want to be here for you,” Nesta finished.

“Then, you can help me with my conundrum.” Gwyn jumped to her feet and turned to them, clapping her hands together, ready to present.

Emerie and Nesta leant forward, listening intently.

“Sentence one, Azriel and I aren’t together because he doesn’t love me. Two, Azriel and I aren’t together because he thinks he doesn’t deserve my love. I know what I’m starting to think, but what about you.”

Nesta and Emerie shared a look, and then said synchronously, “Number two.”  

“And why do we think that?” Gwyn asked.

“Because he’s obviously heartbroken, and the way he reacted when he saw you dancing with Elvin wasn’t the reaction of a male who only feels friendship.”

“Thank you, Emerie. Nesta?”

“I concur. I want you both to be happy, and I think you would be together. Normally, I wouldn’t like the idea of my sister’s happiness being contingent on the feelings of another, but, and correct me if I’m wrong, this sadness wouldn’t be a problem if you and Azriel were together.”

“I think he loves me, at least a little bit,” Gwyn confessed. “I didn’t for a long time, but there’s been some things,” Azriel’s letters in which he said everything about her except the word love, “that have come to light, and I want to try and make this work. And I have a plan.”

***

Gwyn was in his room.

Azriel had roamed the skies for hours after his conversation with Rhys. Rhys had gone into explicit detail with him and Cassian about the investigation of Gwyn – how and why he did it. How: a female he’d hired from a trustworthy guild who had consented to Rhys erasing her memories of all that she found in the library as soon as she was done. Why: because he needed to know what Azriel wasn’t falling for a woman who would betray him.

There was a lot of loose ends to tie up. Rhys admitted he regretted the way he went about it, but that he thought the end result was worth it. He had no doubt in his mind that Gwyn deserved the praise of Azriel and Nesta, and even more.

It did leave Azriel with a bigger task than he’d wanted, making sure Gwyn never found out about any of this. While flying, he replayed everything he had to do to ensure that Gwyn would remain feeling safe in that library. He’d had to contact dozens of the acolytes, none of whom should ever have been forced to speak to someone in the first place, let alone follow up with him. He’d made excuses upon excuses as to why a female fae Rhys had hired came in the library and asked so many questions, and he wanted to kick his brother’s ass when he realised many of them were wary of the newcomer. Clotho especially wrote her displeasure, although she agreed with Rhys in saying it needed to be done. She couldn’t take any chances after Hybern attacked the library all those years ago. Azriel placated her fears, reminding her of her adoration for Gwyn, and then he left, finally ready to collapse into bed. Clotho conceded that she wasn’t worried about a threat like Rhys, more concerned of a threat to Gwyn. She’d looked at him then in her all-knowing way, and Azriel suspected her calmed fears had nothing to do with Rhys deigning Gwyn innocent.

And then there she was. In his room. On his bed. Sleeping. She was in her uniform atop the blanket, but her head rested on his pillow as she slept on her side.

His bed still held the faint smell of Gwyn. Azriel buried himself in it every night just to feel like he was close to her. But over time, it was fading, and Azriel didn’t know what he was going to do with himself once it was completely gone.

The sound of his door closing was enough to wake her. She sat up with a groggy look on her face, a little bit of drool on her chin. She rubbed at her eyes with one of her hands, the other supporting her body.

He approached the bed slowly, not wanting to move to fast after she just woke up lest he scare her. “Gwyneth, is everything okay?”

He knelt next to her on the floor.

“Hmm?”

“Gwyn.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He could feel his pulse start to rise, and he thought of every possible scenario as she shook herself out of a dreamy daze. Was she hurt? Scared? Had something happened and she needed his help? He didn’t want to overwhelm her with questions, but his body was tense with anticipation.

“Gwyn.” His voice was harder, more serious. “What are you doing here?”

Her face fell at his words, and she looked away from him. “I was waiting for you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” She pushed herself off the bed and paced to the other side of his room. He remained on the floor, realising how his tone must have come across.

Five seconds into their first conversation in weeks and he’d already made her believe he didn’t want her to be there.

She fiddled with her fingers, her classic sign of nervousness, and refused to look him in the eye.

“You’re welcome anytime, Gwyn, I just need to know that you’re okay-”

“I got a letter from your mother today.”

“I’m not surprised,” he chuckled. “She likes you.”

“She’s worried about you. She said she doesn’t think you’re sleeping, and that you haven’t written to her since she left.”

Az smiled ruefully. “I’ve never been a good sleeper.” Az knew it would be his mother to say such things, her mouth had always been too big when it came to those she loved. But the last thing Az needed was for Gwyn to spend one minute of her precious time worrying over someone like him.

“I disagree. I often observed you sleeping quite deeply.”

Azriel finally got to his feet, satisfied that Gwyn wasn’t in danger. “I believe I slept so well because I had spent so much of my energy,” he told her, not missing the blush on her cheeks as he said the words.

“Okay, well, even if you are not sleeping, are you okay?”

He didn’t know how to answer that question. He was as fine as he ever was, except that he could only see her when once he would have just seen the kitchen they cooked in together, the bathroom where they bathed together, the library where she would read her favourite dirty books to him before he inevitably went to his knees for her. He was fine except every moment of his existence was plagued with how he’d lost her, and hurt her, and how there was nothing he could do about it unless he wanted to risk eventually being overcome with his darkness.

“Yeah, I’m doing okay.”

She knew he wasn’t, she didn’t even have to say it aloud.

“I’m… I’m not doing okay,” she confessed, the words piercing his chest.

He had been waiting for this. For her to tell him that he had ruined her, that he was the biggest mistake she had ever made and she rued the day they first kissed and everything that had become of them since.

“I’m conflicted, because I don’t regret a single second of the time I’ve had with you, but I also hate what we’ve become.” She approached him gingerly. “I miss you, Az. Every second of every day, I miss you.”

He swallowed hard, his wings shuddering at her words.

“It’s more than that though. I don’t feel secure anymore, like I’ve lost some vital part of myself. It’s not that I don’t feel safe, it’s just that I don’t feel,” she grappled with the words, “I don’t feel settled. And after speaking with Emerie and Nesta, part of me thinks that maybe you feel the same? That maybe we said we were best friends and then acted like strangers?”

She placed her hands on his chest, and he trapped them there. She scrutinised his face, the shadows beneath his eyes evident.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” she deadpanned.

“No, not really.”

She glanced at the bed behind him. “Do you want me to sleep here tonight?”

He tilted his head in confusion.  

“Not – not like that.” She took her hands back and guided him to the bed. Her jaw was set as she ordered him to take his clothes off, finding him some pyjamas to change into while he did.

“Another confession I should make. I’ve been having nightmares about Catrin. Sometimes the only way I can sleep is if I have a friend with me. I should be paying Cassian reparations for the number of times I’ve come here in the middle of the night and he’s had to leave his bed so that I can sleep in it with Nesta. But sometimes you need to have that bed, Az. You need a bed, and a friend, and if you want, I can do that for you.”

He didn’t know what to say, as always cowed the generosity of the female before him. The idea of her with him, not for anything other than rest, made his chest ache with wanting. Had he not pictured her here every night since their last? Had he not banished the House from his room so that he could try and preserve every part of her that she’d left behind?

He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted her right now, in his bed, in his arms, doing for him what no one else could.

Azriel nodded at Gwyn, no trusting himself to say anything aloud. If he did, he would beg her to stay: for tonight, forever.

She smiled at him and started to strip his bed. An ounce of shame entered him at how truly filthy his room was, but he didn’t really care, not when she would never judge him, not when he was just trying to preserve the essence of her.

When the sheets were clean and blankets and pillows fluffed, she grabbed his hand and led him to the bed. He undressed until he was in his underwear and slid into the blankets. Expecting her to follow him immediately after, he was surprised when she started to rifle in his closet, pulling out the largest shirt he owned.

He tried not to watch her, but with her back to him, he was enthralled by her dress falling to the ground, all but her panties following suit. His shirt fell to her mid-thigh, and the slits in the back for his wings meant with each of her movements a slice of her back could be seen.

When she finally approached him, it was like the time, his life, without her had never happened. He opened his arms and she slid into them, snaking her legs through his and drawing him to her chest. He was practically atop her when she started humming a song they had once sung in harmony.

And for the first time in too long, he slept with no ghosts haunting him.

***

Azriel slept for twelve fucking hours. No dreams. No rude awakenings. Just pure, deep sleep.

He awoke facing Gwyn, his arms around her and her face tucked into his neck. Her head was on his pillow and her legs still wrapped around his, and by the looks of it, she had slept just as peacefully as him.

He shifted his body, trying to get up without waking her, but she grumbled in her sleep and pulled him closer. He knew he needed to get up, training with the females from the library began in half an hour, but how could he possibly when she was snuggled so contently into him?

“Gwyn,” he whispered, hesitant to wake her so that he didn’t have to let her go.

She smacked her lips and continued to snuggle, one of her hands starting to rub up and down his back as if to sooth him.

“Gwyn.”

“Shhhh. Just go back to sleep,” she muttered, the words barely discernible.

“I have to go train.”

She opened her eyes blearily, blinking sleep from them. She stretched her hands above her head and arched her back, making his shirt ride up to just below her underwear. He averted his gaze, trying to stay focused on her face.

“How long do you have?”

“Twenty-five minutes.”

“Okay, that’s enough time.” She sat up, smiling down at him. She smelt like she always did – like summer’s rain and freshly printed books.

“Enough time for what?” He tried not to look too reverent as he observed her, but he knew he was failing. With her hair lying in whisps around her face and her teal eyes brighter than a syphon, it was impossible to not want to bow before her.

“I wanted to tell you that I’ve seen Nesta and Emerie naked.”

“I – what?”

“I have. Lots of times. And I’m sure you’ve seen Cassian and Rhys naked. Nesta said at solstice you even all sit in a sauna in nothing but your skin for hours.”

“Yes, that’s true...”

“Here’s the thing, Azriel.” She pushed him onto his back, swinging a leg over his hips and straddling him. His dick was instantly alert, and he bit his lip to stop himself from growling at the way she looked atop him. “I see my friends naked. You see your friends naked. So, it only stands to reason that it’s perfectly normal for us to have seen every inch of each other’s skin, especially considering we’re best friends. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice strangled. “But I haven’t done the naked things I do with you with Cassian or Rhys.”

“Shame. That would be fun to imagine.” She laughed and hopped off him, bundling her dress up in her arms and walking towards the bathroom. “Azriel, this is to say that henceforth, there will be no awkwardness between us. No regrets. No holding back. We’re friends, and if, as friends, we slip and see each other in the nude, who cares?”

He was trying not to hyperventilate. She wasn’t mad at him anymore? There was no bitterness in her expression, just playfulness, and it reminded him so strongly of before that seeing her leaning against his bathroom door should have essentially been a flashback.

More than anything, he believed the truth in her words because he wanted to. He wanted the ease they once had to return, and he also couldn’t fault her logic.

“Friends?”

“Best friends,” he agreed.

***

Step one of the plan: friendship. An honest to the Cauldron, Mother above approved friendship.

Check.

Gwyn was confident with her Emerie and Nesta approved plan, and excited to see how her and Az might change as time went by. She didn’t care if it took weeks, months, or even years, for him to feel confident in their relationship, he needed to be more confident in himself – which is exactly the sentiment that his mother had passed on to Gwyn about herself.

She also realised that she had to do her own healing if she was going to be with him. No more thinking she was broken or unlovable. She was Gwyn, warrior extraordinaire, twin to Catrin, heart sister to Emerie and Nesta. A person not worthy of love would not have such fine people who cared for her.

There was something she needed to do to achieve her own goal.

It was a few days after she had bombarded Azriel in his room. It was at that moment that she knew, truly, that more than a lover, Az needed a friend, and that what she was doing was the right thing.

Because she was in love him.

She wouldn’t tell him, not yet, it would just make him run further away.

He was watching her make them breakfast, eyes following her every move. She was making (not very successfully) blueberry and banana pancakes.

“I can help,” he said for the fiftieth time.

Gwyn held up the pan, which definitely did not contain burnt pancakes. “No need. Now sit down and prepare for the best breakfast of your life.”

She had not stayed with him last night, but she had the two before that. She had also gone back to training. She felt silly that she had ever stopped going, especially because of problems with a male of all things, but the distance was at the very least clarifying.

She looked at Azriel and sighed. Maybe it was hard to bake because he was sitting at the island in nothing but loose pants, his chiselled chest on full display.

He did not heed her command, getting up and coming to inspect her batter. He dipped a finger in and tasted it, moaning when it met his tongue. “Let’s just eat it raw,” he suggested.

“Do you like it raw? I do.” She dipped her own finger in, sucking on her finger just a second longer than she needed to.

It had the intended effect. He blushed from his cheeks to his chest. “Have you been talking to Rhys or Feyre?” He narrowed his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, should I be?”

He shook his head. His finger lingered near the batter, but she swatted it away. “If you keep eating it there won’t be any left for the actual pancakes.”

“I don’t think we’ll get a chance to eat them anyway.”

“Well, in that case.” She smiled demurely before dumping the contents of the bowl down his chest.

“Oh, you’re going to regret that.”

She laughed in delight as he pulled her into his chest, smearing the batter all over her.

***

“Up that road is Feyre’s studio, do you want to go?”

“Yes, and no. Maybe later? I want to see more of the city before the sun sets.”

Gwyn was holding onto his arm tightly as they ventured through Velaris. It was her first time in the city during the day, and Azriel was still in disbelief that she’d asked him to give her a tour of the city. She said she was trying to push her own boundaries, again, and that she did not want to do it alone. Of course he took the opportunity to be alone with her.

As he had the last week.

He did not know why, but things had been different since the day he’d settled things with Rhys and she had come into his room. She was with him the way she was before, before he’d hurt her, before everything tore to shreds between them. As perplexed as he was, he was not going to complain.

He led her through the streets, taking their time. Gwyn stopped at every store front, peeking in through the windows but rarely entering. It wasn’t until she stopped them in front of a familiar jewellery store that he innocuously tried to steer her away.

“Some of those pieces on display are beautiful,” she said, her nose nearly touching the window as she peered at the display. “Can we go in?”

He didn’t want to deny her, but why here? It was the source of one of his greatest embarrassments.

She must have noticed the heat on his cheeks.

“Oh no. This is where you got that necklace, isn’t it?”

He looked pained. Gwyn burst out laughing at his expression, pulling at his arm to leave the establishment.

“I would rather not relive that memory,” he told her.

“One day you’ll find it as funny as I do, and besides, it was the nicest thing I’d ever owned until, you know, it was taken back and thrown off the side of a mountain.”  

“I went to look for it you know, so that you could keep it.”

She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked, and he moved his arm around her to tuck her into his side. They must have looked mighty romantic as they walked through Velaris, but he didn’t care who saw. Let the people know that Gwyn was with him, that she cared for him enough to entrust him with her safety.

“Just promise any future gifts you get me haven’t been vetoed by other females first and we’ll be fine.”

***

Gwyn sat in Feyre’s studio watching Nyx while she painted. Azriel sat in the corner looking over positively titillating trade negotiation forms – at least he was able to work near her. He hated the times over the past few weeks that he’d have to leave Velaris to fulfil whatever tasks Feyre or Rhys gave to him. Although, it did feel nice every time they were reunited. She held him extra tight when they slept, even though they had yet to touch in any other way.

Not that he wanted to – no, yes, of course he wanted to. He just didn’t want to take advantage of her because he knew she was open to the idea. He chuckled to himself over her naked analogy, and he would be lying if the image of her naked with Nesta and Emerie hadn’t accidentally popped into his head at the time.

“I used to run activities with the children at the temple.” He heard Gwyn saying to Feyre.

“Like what?”

Azriel was glad to see them talking. He may have reconciled with Rhys, but there was still a part of him that couldn’t help but worry that Gwyn would feel excluded by them.

“I helped with the choir and Catrin did dance classes for toddlers, although dancing is a generous description of what they did. It was adorable watching all those tots follow her around.”

Azriel put the documents down, narrowing in on their conversation. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that he knew everything about Gwyn, not at all, but he would bet his knowledge rivalled even Nesta’s. But this was new. Gwyn, in most of the stories she told about the temple, focused on the shenanigans of her and Catrin.

“It was nice, being around them. Children are a nice reminder of the innocence that remains, even after bad things. That was, of course, before… everything, but the sentiment still stands.”

Feyre looked over Gwyn thoughtfully, the former not noticing as Nyx brought Gwyn an abandoned brush, babbling as he showed it off to her. Gywn looked at it in wonder, and Nyx took that as a sign to plonk himself down in her lap.

“You should come to my classes,” Feyre said.

Gwyn’s mouth made a pretty little surprised ‘o.’ “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think I’m ready to put myself out there like that just yet. I’m happy with what I have.”

“Not the ones with the adults, those are more for drinking wine and gossiping. I think you should help me with the children.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’d gain as much from them as they would from you. These kids have been hurt, and lost things, but every day they prove how incredibly resilient they are. They remind me of you.”

Gywn looked down at Nyx. Azriel could practically see the wheels of her mind turning as she pondered Feyre’s words. “Can I think about it?”

“Sure, take all the time you need. We’ll always be here.”

Gwyn nodded, absentmindedly smoothing down Nyx’s dark hair.

The bell on the studio door dinged, but Az wasn’t worried. His shadows had warned him of Nesta’s impending arrival a while ago.

“Feyre? Gwyn?”

“Up here!” Feyre called back.

Nesta’s footsteps pounded as she came up the stairs, but she didn’t come into the room any further than a few steps.

“Gwyn, Emerie and I are going for a walk through the city, want to join us?”

Azriel was curious as to what Gwyn would say. She had yet to venture into the city, or anywhere other than the House or the library, without him at her side. And the cutting glance Nesta gave him as she asked the question informed him he was not welcome on this particular adventure.

“Okay,” Gwyn said suspiciously quickly. She got up, manoeuvring Nyx so he was standing in front of her. “Go to Az! Good boy!”

Azriel grinned as his nephew walked over to him with a slobbery smile on his face. Azriel enveloped him up, the documents he was meant to be reading long forgotten as he looked into the eyes of Nyx. Hopefully Nesta and Cassian would have a baby soon too, and then he would get to live with one. Which, if he had Gwyn, Nesta and Cassian would most certainly let him do.

Gwyn waved goodbye to them and hurried off with Nesta. Azriel wondered if Cassian had any idea what they were up to.

He sat in content silence with Feyre while Nyx made non-sensical noises. He still had his paint brush and was using it over the tattoos he could see on Azriel’s arms.

“So, are you two…” Feyre waved her hand around.

Azriel snorted, peppering a kiss to Nyx’s head. “No, we aren’t together.”

“Really? You could have fooled me.”

Feyre put down the brush she was holding. Setting her painting aside, she walked over to him in ridiculous, paint covered overalls. Even her hair had paint in it, even though she’d tied it out of the way. She sat at his feet, crossing her legs and using his legs as a backrest, not looking at him.

“Az?”

“Yes, Feyre.”

“That’s fucking stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

Feyre slid a hand around his calf, anchoring them together. “If you love her, you should be with her. I can’t see a single reason as to why you two are apart when you make each other so happy, and so glaringly love one another.”

Azriel burned at the words. Even if they were true, even if that’s how he felt, he didn’t feel like going into all the reasons with Feyre why being with Gwyn wasn’t the grand idea she thought it was.

Gwyn, effervescent light that she was, was not one he could taint with his darkness. What would happen if he let himself love her, fall so deeply into her in a way he never had with another, just for it to end in disaster? It would be torture for her, and it would about near kill him. It was better to not run the risk – it was better to wait, make her happy, until the right person came along. And when they did, when she found them and wanted them, he could step aside willingly to ensure that she was happy.

“Az, you shouldn’t think like that.”

His gaze snapped to her, but she hurried to defend herself.

“I didn’t want to hear you, you projected until I did.” She hurried to stand up, facing him with her hands on her hips and determination on her face. “Azriel, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer honestly.”

Azriel sighed. “Okay.”

“Do you think Gwyn is an idiot?”

“What? No.”

“Do you think she immature?”

“No.”

“Incapable?”

“No.”

“Unable to make decisions for herself?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you think she made a mistake in befriending Nesta?”

“I – why would you even ask that?”

Feyre crossed her arms. “She believed in Nesta before anyone else did, even Cassian. She saw Nesta for who she really was before I did, she gave my own sister the grace that she needed when no one else thought to.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

“Azriel, do you really think so little of Gwyn that you don’t believe she can make her own choices when it comes to someone she loves? Do you think so little of her intelligence and esteem that you presume she would be with you for any other reason than she thought you were the one for her?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“No, it’s not. You say that you’ll be here for her until she finds the one she wants, but you’re it. Fuck, with every ounce of her being all she does is radiate her love for you. You want to step aside so she can be happy? You are her happiness, you buffoon. And the way you feel is the same way Rhys felt when he met me, and Nesta felt when for years she rejected what was between her and Cassian. If you truly believe in her intelligence than you have to acknowledge that if she wants you, it’s because you are just as worthy as everyone else she chooses to love. Nesta is a better for knowing Gwyn. Gwyn is the family Emerie always needed. And in a heartbeat she would give herself to you. Because you deserve all the love this world can offer you.”

“It’s not the same,” he mumbled.

“It is the same! Now say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you love her. Acknowledge it. Ruminate in it. Then do something about it.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Say it.”

“Feyre.”

“Say it!”

“No.”

“Fucking say it!” She smacked him over the head.

“Fine! I love her. I love her so fucking much it hurts, okay? I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I thought I was capable of loving.” Azriel stood, placing Nyx down next to Feyre so that he could pace the room. “I don’t know when I started loving her, but I also can’t remember a time when I didn’t. Fuck, she is everything. She is the sun, Feyre. My life starts with her dawn and ends with her setting. I can’t live without her, but I can’t risk eclipsing her.”

Feyre strode to him, grasping him by the shoulders and shaking him. “The sun is still there even during an eclipse, Azriel. Give her the choice, let yourself be happy.” Her hands were hard, but her voice was gentle.

“Repeat after me. I deserve happiness.”

Az rolled his eyes but obliged. “I deserve happiness.”

“I deserve love.”

“I deserve love.”

“I am worthy of a good life.”

“I am worthy of a good life.”

“I’m going to be with Gwyn.”

“I’m going to be with Gwyn.” He felt the air rush out of him from the words, felt them settle within him. He swallowed hard, visions of the life they could have together rushing through his mind. From the smirk on Feyre’s face, he knew he was projecting again, but he didn’t care.

Gwyn being next to him every morning. Kissing her freely. Walking the streets of Velaris together. Seeing the joy on his mother’s face when he tells her he found the one. Her moving in, permanently. A wedding. A life. Children with his wings and her hair. Happiness.

He saw it all. He felt it all.

And when she was ready, he would have it all.

***

“Gwyn?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Gwyn.”

“Yes, Az.”

“I found Catrin.”

A pause the length of three of her heartbeats.

“Will you take me to her?”

“Yes.”

***

It had been years since Gwyn had been here. Had tasted the air, felt the ever-present breeze on her face. Somehow, everything was the exact same and yet completely different from the place she had once called home.

The temple had been re-built, but it was no longer available to the public. It instead was a private residence to anyone who had decided to stay after its desolation. Gwyn could have gone in if she wanted, visited the people she’d been raised with and reconvene with those she was familiar with, but even if the building no longer held the scars of Hybern’s attack, she still did. Despite her many positive memories there, ones she would cherish until the end of her days, she felt no desire to step foot in the temple ever again.

And it did not make her weak. It did not mean she wasn’t capable of greatness.

Catrin had been buried in the temple’s graveyard in a section dedicated to those who died in the attack, and whose bodies weren’t claimed. It gave Gwyn a knot in her throat to know she wasn’t here for Catrin afterwards, to find her a place where she could rest. If it had been up to Gwyn, she would have buried Catrin with her mother, or cremated her so they could stay together.

Her eyes burned, and she had to remind herself that Catrin’s violent end would not have stopped her sister from loving Sangravah, from wanting to be here.

Her and Azriel stood alone at her headstone. It read nothing but her name, and there was no one around to disturb them. The air was crisp, colder than Gwyn thought it would be this time of year, and already weeds and dandelions had spread throughout the area. There was no one to maintain the space anymore, and it showed.

“Do you want me to stay?” Azriel asked her, his warm hand holding hers.

“No,” she whispered. “I just want a moment alone with my sister.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead, giving her hand one last squeeze before stepping away. Gwyn knew he wouldn’t go far.

When he was no longer in sight, she sat down in front of Catrin’s headstone. She ran her fingers down the rough, grey stone, and chuckled when she realised how much Catrin would have despised how basic it was.

Could you not have found me something more opulent, Gwynie? As extravagant as I? she would have said.

“I’ll get you something better, don’t you worry.” Gwyn closed rested her forehead on the grass, imagining Catrin was next to her. When she opened her eyes, she could see her sister there, the familiar smile, the bright eyes, even her webbed hands, sitting across from her where the headstone would be.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit.”

Catrin remained silent.

“I miss you, so much. I – I wish you were here. I don’t think things would be so hard if you were here.”

Catrin blinked, a small smile on her face.

“Do you remember how much we wanted to travel when we were younger? You made those maps for us of all the routes we’d take, all the places we’d visit together. I don’t have those maps anymore, but sometimes, at night, I’ll try and recreate them. But I can’t remember the details.”

Gwyn released a shuddering breath. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to say them.

“I try my best to remember you how you were. I feel so guilty when the only image I can conjure of you-” head separate from her body, a pool of blood larger than any she’d ever seen, Catrin’s lifeless eyes and fearful expression forever imprinted on her face, “-is the one from the end. I didn’t think we’d ever have an end. I thought it would be us, forever, from the moment we were born until we left, together.”

Gwyn saw their life like she was watching strangers perform it – two girls running around the temple, their mother never able to slow them down. The way they clung to each other like twins always do. The dancing, Catrin’s awful singing, the first time Catrin came home with a crush, Gwyn’s first kiss, the secrets they confided with just one another and the memories that were irreplaceable had all happened within eyesight of Catrin’s final resting place. She told Catrin these stories, wanting her sister to know that she hadn’t forgotten, that she would never forget, the life they’d had together. Entwined since conception – this was the only thing that could have separated them.

Gwyn stared at Catrin, the tears pooling in her eyes threatening to spill over. She didn’t want to contain them. She deserved to grieve all that she had lost, it didn’t make her any lesser.

“I’m sorry that I left you alone,” she sobbed, clutching a hand to her heart. “I’m sorry that you’ve been here so long. I wish you could be with me, you’d love what we’d have. A house in the sky and a whole family that we chose for ourselves. We’d be free, Catrin. You would have loved it.”

The tears flowed freely as she told Catrin of all her life had become. Of Nesta and Emerie, of the Valkyrie, how she found the male she’d spend the rest of her life with. She told her sister everything that had happened to her from the moment she’d died until now, as though they were just catching up.

Gwyn was immortal, and she had to come to terms with the fact that she’d live the vast majority of her live without her twin at her side. And with that, Gwyn knew she couldn’t waste a second with those she loved. No more hiding from the city. No more turning down invitations from Emerie or Nesta. No more waiting idly by when Azriel was right there, just standing there existing while she loved him. Gwyn would live her life to the absolute fullest in honour of Catrin, and she would have no regrets in doing so.

She closed her eyes again, uttering her final words of the day and the ones she knew would hurt the most. “I love you, Catrin. I miss you more every day. I’ll never stop thinking about you, about what I life would have been like.  But I have to say goodbye.”

She opened her eyes.

And Catrin was gone.

***

Azriel watched Gwyn talk to her sister’s grave from a safe distance. Gwyn spoke to her for what felt like hours until she laid down, gazing up at the sky. He didn’t interrupt her, not wanting to spoil this moment between her and Catrin. Eventually, she sat up, running her fingers over the words Catrin Berdara. When she stood, he finally approached her.

Her eyes were red and face blotchy, and she shivered from either the cold or her grief. He wasted no time in enveloping her in his arms, wrapping his wings around her to block out the outside world.

“Is there anything I can do?” He ran a hand up and down her back, trying to warm her.

She shook her head. “Catrin and I had quite the discussion.”

He kissed the top of her auburn head.

“We decided I should tell you something.”

“Yes?” his voice filled with curiosity over what Gwyn might have concluded after seeing her sister’s grave.

“I’m ready, Az.”

“To go home?”

“No. I’m ready to love you if you’ll let me. I know it might take some time, but Az? As far as I see it, we’re inevitable, and I’m willing to wait as long as you need if it means we’re together.”

His eyes bulged, mouth going slack. Around anyone else, he would never dare show emotion in a vulnerable time, but with her he didn’t want to hide anything.

She was ready to love him?

“I don’t understand-”

“Azriel, you are the most extraordinary person I have ever met. I see you, every part of you, and there is not a single facet that I don’t love. I love your eyes, that see me for who I truly am. I love your hands, that make me feel worthy of happiness. I love your shadows, who feel like a friend. I love your sharp, intelligent, beautiful mind. I love you.”

He couldn’t breathe. This is what he had wished to hear in his wildest dreams, every thought he’d had about her, this fierce, wickedly beautiful fae, reciprocated. He could hear his hammering pulse, feel his blood rush through him, and if they weren’t in a bloody graveyard, he would take her right here like she had asked him to do in that alley.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, her thumbs caressing him gently. “I love you, Azriel.”

“Once more.”

“Forevermore, Azriel, I love you.”

It started to rain, the small drops igniting on his skin, every single one of his nerve endings on high alert as he looked his future, his glorious, exuberant, happy future in the eyes. “I love you, too, Gwyneth Berdara.”

Her smile was earth shattering, and her lips on his was apocalyptic. As she kissed him, everything else faded from his view. The temple melted away, the grass and trees and landscape fizzled out until there was nothing but her and the sky. There was no history between them, no other had ever touched their bodies, they were just two beings perfectly made for one another.

She was his home.

***

He winnowed them as close to the House as possible, flying them the rest of the way. He never let go of her, and Gwyn would have rebelled if he had even tried.

This was it. This was their end and beginning. Their before was officially over, and they were propelled into the now. Now their life began, now they could be together.

Gwyn didn’t take notice as to whether anyone else was in the House, her focus solely on Azriel. The way his hair moved as he rushed to his room, the molten look in his eyes and the focus on his face as he near ran to his room, his arms never wavering in their strength. When he did have to stop kissing her, she took the opportunity to press her lips to whatever skin she could find. The cheek, neck, that one little spot behind his ear that he loved.

He slammed his door behind them before pressing her into it, her legs wrapped around his hips and his hands under her thighs.

“I love you,” she moaned.

“I love you I love you I love you,” he whispered to her, his hand sneaking up her dress. “Then, now, always and forever. I love you, Gwyn.”  

“Azriel, I – I need-”

“Tell me what you want, anything I have is yours.”

Her breath shuddered. “I want to taste you. I need my mouth on you.”

He nodded, bringing them to the bed. Just like that very first night, he held her in his lap, his arms around her and supporting her body. She pushed him back, forcing him to lie down so she could be atop him. She never broke their kiss, never stopped her hands from roaming over his body. His hands, his beautiful hands, cupped her ass firmly, keeping her steady. As much as she loved this feeling, she wanted more of him.

She leant back so she could pull her dress over her head. She was wearing a coat, at some point, and had dumped it, at another unknown point. She had also kicked her shoes off, and Cauldron knew what part of the House they were scattered in. She was left in a bra and panties, a basic white pair that should have held no appeal at all, and yet he looked at her with such adoration that she nearly came just from his gaze.

Once again, she caught his lips in hers, sweeping her tongue into his mouth. His moan reverberated through her body, and she shimmied down until she was on her knees and faced with the button on his pants.

His arousal was clear, and she could feel how wet she was just from the knowledge that she did that to him – that he wanted her that much.

Azriel shifted, just to pull his shirt over his head, exposing his glorious chest to her. She wanted to trace each line of his tattoos with her tongue, but that could wait. Right now, she needed to taste him. She popped open the button, manoeuvring his cock so it was free. She could never fit the whole thing in her mouth as much as she tried, but that’s why she had been blessed with hands.

She pressed a gentle kiss to the head, Azriel’s hands tangling themselves in her hair and pulling just enough so that she knew how this affected him. One lick, from the base to the head, her tongue dragging across the sensitive skin, had him whispering her name reverently.

She engulfed him in her mouth, sucking and licking in a way she knew would make him feral for her, her hand wrapping around the rest of him, following the pattern she had made for herself. She left no part of him untouched, working to make him unravel before her.

His deep moans signalled how close he was, and it only spurred her to take him further, her eyes watering as he hit the back of her throat. She loved it, loved him, and she couldn’t wait to be consumed by him.

“I’m – I’m nearly there,” he warned her.

She sucked harder, her hands working the rest of him, leaving no inch of his cock untouched.

His whole body shook with release as he threw his head back, practically yelling her name. She swallowed every ounce he offered her before leaning back.

He pulled her up so she was lying atop him, his mouth capturing hers in a furious kiss. Usually, she could lie like this for hours, satisfied with his tongue lightly stroking hers, but she’d waited so long to have him, and she couldn’t bear to live another minute without knowing how he felt inside her.

“Az?”

“Gwyneth.”

“Now, please.”

He chuckled lightly. “My love, you’ll have to wait a few minutes after a performance like that. But I have an idea on how we can fill the time.”

He repositioned them. In her haste to taste him, they were still perched on the edge of his bed. He led them to the middle, pulling off his pants so he was fully naked before her. She could already see the beginnings of his next erection, but she would let him fill their time anyway. Anything he wanted he could have. All that she was, and would ever be, would always belong to him.

He rolled them so she was on top of him again, but instead of kissing her like he had before, he dragged her thighs up so she was straddling his abdomen.

“Keep coming,” he urged, his smile sly, his hands still pulling her forward.

Once she realised what he was doing, she was more than a willing participant. She moved so that her thighs were either side of his head, his mouth in line with her dripping core.

“Do you care about these?” He pulled on her underwear, letting it snap back into place.

“Not particularly.”

“Good.” He ripped them off her, flinging them to the side.

She gasped at the action, the possessiveness such a small movement implied, and it made her clit throb. Everything he did made her want to roll her hips in ecstasy, and as she held herself above him she wondered if his bedframe was sturdy enough for what they had in store for each other.

“Sit,” he ordered. “I don’t understand why you always try to hover.”

“I don’t want to suffocate you,” she laughed.

“Hmm, but at least I would die a very, very happy male.”

Wrapping his hands around the tops of her thighs, he yanked her hips down. She stuttered at the sudden contact, a strangled gasp escaping her as he licked up her wet centre, his moan making her clench her thighs together.

She felt like she was being devoured, he always knew exactly which points to hit and with the perfect pressure, and within moments she was grinding down on his face, pressing her own into the wall as her body contorted from the pleasure.

“Fuck, Az, don’t stop,” she moaned, loud enough that she hoped Cassian and Nesta weren’t home, knowing surely they would hear her screams.

He heeded her words, worshipping her with his tongue, every stroke a way for them to make up for lost time. She pressed her face into the cool wall and braced her hands on his bedframe, the feeling of his mouth on her almost too much to bear. She could feel her orgasm welling inside her, pressure clanging through her body as the intense feeling built. She could barely breathe as she climaxed, his tongue flicking and licking her clit until she was shaking above him, moaning his name like it was the only word she knew.

She collapsed next to him when he was done, tucking herself into his side. She was covered with sweat, and barely noticed when he, with just one hand, undid the clasp on her bra and slid it off her body.

He pressed kisses to her forehead, cheek, neck, before burying his head in her chest and taking a nipple in his mouth.

“Azriel,” she whispered, smoothing back his hair.

He hummed in response, gently biting on her left nipple. It made her arch her back in response, and she only saw it fitting to caress the one spot on his wing that she knew drove him crazy.

“What do you want?” he murmured to her.

“You know what I want.”

“Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”

She tilted his chin up with her thumb so he was looking at her. His face was serene, the storms in his eyes finally calm, his lips parted slightly.

It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, and a smile overcame her when she realised that this, that he, was what she would be seeing for the rest of her life. No more restlessness or yearning, no more envy or pain, she had what people spent an existence trying to find.

“I… I want everything, Azriel. I want today, I want a lifetime.”

“Stay here, live here.” He lifted himself over her, pressing their bodies together and leaning on his forearms so his entire body weight wasn’t on her. “I’ve wasted so much time, let’s not waste anymore.”

“Az-”

“Gwyn, I-” he cleared his throat, his eyes shining. “Before we continue, take that last step, I need you to know how sorry I am. The way I’ve hurt you and the way I’ve driven you away are things I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

“Azriel,” she said softly, wrapping her legs around him.

“I promise you, never again. I’m all in. You’re the one, Gwyn. You’re the love I never thought I’d have, the love I didn’t think was real until Rhys and Cassian found it. I swear my devotion will be unending, and by the Cauldron, you will be happy with me Gwyn. I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. I am so, so sorry that it took me so long to realise.”

She rested her forehead on his, closing her eyes. “I love you.”

“I think – I think for someone like you to love me, that I must be a better person than I thought I was.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll tell Clotho that I won’t be living in the library anymore.”

A single tear fell from Azriel, falling onto Gwyn’s cheek. He kissed it away, pressing them closer together. She could feel his length pressing into her stomach, and one hip movement from her would have him sliding over the still sensitive bundle of nerves he’d just marked as his own, but she didn’t want to interrupt this moment.

She bumped her nose to his, and he returned it with a kiss. “You’ll live here with me?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything,” he promised.

“Do you know the room, two floors down, that overlooks Velaris? With walls of windows?”

Azriel had once explained to her that during the House’s conception, it was a dignitary’s suite. It was nearly self-sufficient on its own, only lacking a kitchen. It was where Rhys had taken Feyre after he’d first taken her from the Spring Court.

“I want us to live there. I love that we began here, in this room, but we need something bigger, that we can fit a family in.”

“A family?”

She nodded, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “In the future. Distant future. Is that something you want?”

The way he looked at her took her breath away – like she was who strung the cords of the earth together, like she set the sun and hung the stars. He looked at her like they were immortal but she was infinity.

“That is something I want. I want everything with you.”

“I’ll talk to Nesta, we’ll have it all arranged.”

“You don’t need to talk to her. We have a sentient House, we could move now if we wanted. She’ll say yes, I have no doubt-”

She interrupted him by finally lifting her hips, moving herself against him, telling him without words what she needed, what it was time for. They need not talk any longer, any specifics could be figured out another day. Right now was just for the two of them.

He kissed her again, the all-consuming, all-encompassing kind that left her hot and breathless.

He didn’t break their eye contact as he moved his hand between them to angle himself into her.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded, caressing his face with her hands. She once expected to feel nervous or scared for a moment like this, but all she felt was love and joy. She felt safe. There was not a single inch of her that wasn’t ready for him.

He whispered a warning that made her laugh lightly, “I’m bigger than most, we’ll have to go slow,” but she wasn’t worried. Her body was made for his. And, when the timing was right, she would show him exactly how far that sentiment stretched. After all, the wraith in her meant her flexibility was unparalleled, and she was excited for him to take full advantage.

She squirmed slightly as he pushed himself into her. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, it was just starkly new. Azriel and her had dabbled many a times in self-pleasure, and there had been circumstances where instruments were used to increase hers, but it was different now. It wasn’t just some object. It was the male she loved, moving their bodies together to bring them both to the edge.

There was also the fact that her, Nesta and Emerie had snuck away to a very scandalous store and bought items that Gwyn used nightly not just to relieve herself, but to prepare for the sheer size of him. Two birds one stone.

“You okay?”

“Deeper, Az.”

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck yes.”

Every inch of him set her alight, the fullness making her feel a sense of completeness. He kissed her as he thrusted further, and when he was in to the hilt, she sighed happily. She took a second to adjust herself, adoring the way she felt around him. She ran her hands down his back, feathering across his wings before landing on his glorious ass. She squeezed, urging him to move.

“You’re ready?”

In response, she moved her hips to his, making him move ever so slightly. The way he moaned was better than any symphony Gwyn had ever heard.

And then he moved. And by the Cauldron, did he move.

Azriel was a humble man, and he had not exaggerated his size. Every movement had her stretching deliciously, his body so close to hers and angled just right so that his pelvis dragged across her clit with each thrust.

As he thrusted, her words nothing but pleasured, indiscernible syllables, his shadows danced around them, twining in and out of the crevices between their bodies, growing in size. Soon, they filled the room, vibrating as they responded to the energy Az and Gwyn were creating, and it was as though they were the only ones to exist. It was like making love in the night sky, unencumbered by the threat of gravity. Gwyn loved his shadows. They had always drawn her in, been a personable extension of him, and how could she not love any part of Azriel?

With every thrust, she felt a pressure unlike anything else growing in her. He kept hitting this one spot so perfectly that with each movement of his hips she would cry out. He kept mumbling her name, like she was undoing him each time her hips met his.

“Fuck, I love you,” he managed to cry, the words barely more than a grunt.

She responded only with a groan, her hands running down his back, her nails leaving red paths in their wake.

The pressure inside her grew, but it went beyond where they connected. It was like each of her cells were threads, reaching out and binding to themselves to him. Her heart, already so full, felt like it was about to implode. It was like she could feel him, feel his soul, tying itself to her irrevocably.

Her impending orgasm would probably be the best of her fucking life if this were anything to go by.

Her hands moved up his back until they landed on either side of his face. Whenever her eyes weren’t fluttering back uncontrollably from the pleasure, they were looking into his. She caressed his cheeks, breathing him in.

“You’re so beautiful,” she told him. “Your hands.” She reached for where they rested above her head, supporting Azriel’s weight. She intertwined their fingers before kissing him again. “They’re my favourite part of you.”

“That’s your favourite part?” He punctuated his words with another thrust, and she was close, so so so close, and she knew he was too.

“Second favourite part,” she choked.

She was whimpering his name at this point, drunk on the endorphins spiralling through her body. That feeling was climbing to a near unbearable point.

And then it hit her.

As she fell over that edge, tumbling into an abyss she didn’t know possible, Azriel falling alongside her, her name a prayer on his lips, it hit her.

As he looked at her, his eyes widening as those threads linked evermore, she knew he felt it too, that he knew the truth as irrefutably as she did.

Azriel’s shadows exploded around them. His windows shattered, blown away by the force of what Azriel was feeling. The bed shook, splintering beneath them, paintings fell from the walls, and Azriel wrapped her into his arms as he released into her.

“Azriel-”

“You’re my mate,” he gasped.

“You’re my mate,” she confirmed, unable to help the tears that fell from her eyes. This feeling, this knowing, was overwhelming.

This was it. Their lives started now.  

***

A/N: Following this at some point will be a fluffy epilogue! 

[mardereads19]

A Comparrison between Az’s Chapter and Cassian’s Chapters in Acofas

Today I found myself inspired by @thereaderspeaks ‘s post and what I had to add about it, to write this long-ass post comparing Az’s chapter in Acosf to Cassian’s three chapters in Acofas.

@rhyssescups does an amazing job in this post (and @psychee92 in this one) of comparing Az’s chapter to Cassian’s POV in Wings and Embers. I’ll also attach @psychee92 ‘s comparison of both batboys’ attitudes after their respective solstices. But I’m going to concentrate on Az’s POV and Acofas rather than Wings and Embers.

There are a LOT of things in common, so when you add the posts linked above to this one, you’ll see how Azriel’s emotions and his interaction with Gwyn mirror those of Cassian. Everyday I find more peace of mind regarding Elriel.

Before I begin, I want to clarify that Emerie is not in Wings and Embers, but on Cassian’s perspective in Acofas. I had seen many people on Tumblr and on Twitter saying (by mistake) that she’s in W&E, so I wanted to point that out. It is Mor who is mentioned in W&E. How Cassian does not want to tell her about Nesta, etc. For more on that, check out the links I attached above.

There are many elements that Cassian and Azriel share in their chapters and I decided to divide them into categories. I’ll support them with quotes so that we have the receipts. With that said…

Let’s get started!

1. Distance

In both instances there was something that separated the couples and caused distance. 

In Cassian’s case it was post-war-Nesta and even Cassian himself (it was pride that kept him ignoring her all through the party until he couldn’t take it anymore and ran after her, simple as that): 

In Azriel’s case it was his understanding of what he feels for Elain and the fact that she has a mate. But also, let’s add Rhys’s order as a new element that will cause distance.

2. Emotions

Cassian did not allow himself to think about Nesta because of the feelings that stirred up in him.

Anger, passion, confusion.

And Azriel… 

Well, well, well... What do we have here? 

Anger, passion, confusion. 

He was ready to spar it out of his system, too, like Cassian.

3. Something the batboys associate with their mate Archeron sister

I noticed that in both cases, Cass and Az had given their girls something that they associated with them, be it material or other.

For example, Cassian’s was names for Nesta’s poses.

He saw Nesta stand in any particular way and if it was something she repeated he gave that pose a name. It is something he associates with her.

In Azriel’s case, we know he gives Elain a rose necklace. 

Roses signify Elain because of what she does: gardening; But also, it could simply represent them. Their way of spending time together (here’s a post of different refences of Elriel in the garden by @silver-flames​) and their relationship that has been slowly blooming in secret, like how that charm shines with colors when it’s in the light, but looks ordinary in the dark.

4. The batboys hurting the sisters

In both POVs the Illyrians hurt the Archerons. 

Cassian does it out of anger. Because Nesta kept rejecting him. Instead of holding his tongue, like any mature person should, he tells her something that destroys her (we know by her reaction).

See how her eyes go empty? 

Well, in his chapter, Azriel hurts Elain, too, though it pains him as much as it pains her because he did not do it intentionally. 

5. The sisters rejecting/returning the gifts

Nesta rejects Cassian’s gift, though I wouldn’t have taken it either after what he told her. This quote comes from before his insult, but my point is that she left without taking the gift.

Also, notice how Cassian hadn’t wanted to give Nesta her present in front of the others, something that Azriel does, too, though for different reasons. Cassian had feared rejection and had been waiting for her to approach him.

Azriel had not given Elain her present because Lucien, her mate, was there.

And of course, Elain returns her gift after Azriel left her standing in the hall with the words “this was a mistake.” I wouldn’t have stayed with that necklace either, not when it reminded me of that moment.

6. Regifting/Comparing

Something particular that happens in both characters’ PoV is the regifting of the objects the batboys used to relate to their girls. I do not think they are necessarily wrong, just that it happens.

Cassian uses the name of one of Nesta’s poses to describe Emerie.

He also compares her way of speaking and the look in her eyes to that of Nesta.

Azriel regifts the necklace that represents Elain to Gwyn (though he doesn’t give it to her personally, just hands it to Clotho for her to do it), and describes her with the same quote he used on the necklace (Elriel). 

I have my own theory on why the thought of her smile makes him smile. Soon I will explain.

7. Getting rid of the gifts (decisions made in haste)

Cassian being all impulsive and throwing the very expensive and extremely unique gift to the Sidra:

Gotta love our hotheaded overgrown bat. (My baby!! <3)

Then, we have Az making the dumb decision of regifting the present because somehow he couldn’t get rid of it (symbolism but not the post for it).

He was in a bad place when he made the decision, and even Clotho points out that his eyes are sad. 

The quote in purple is important to note. The theory about Clotho not giving Gwyn the necklace? That line is good for it. The fact that he told Clotho to give the necklace to anyone as long as he didn’t have it and the sadness she gleaned in his eyes is enough for her to know there is more to it than what he tells her.  

I also want to point out that we know for a fact that Cassian regretted getting rid of the present and that he knows he had been foolish that night. So, considering how parallel to each other these chapters are, I’m sure that Azriel will, too.

8. Distraction/Consolation (Aftermath)

I think it is important to highlight how Cassian got to the Townhouse late and was followed by a worried Mor, who most likely consoled him after his disastrous evening with Nesta...

...and compare it to how Azriel had needed to release unspent energy and was successfully distracted from his bad juju by the short lesson he gave to Gwyn:

He straight up says he’s thankful for the distraction. That was what the whole convo had been for him -in a good sense. 

It also aligns super well with @silverlinedeyes​ ‘s theory of Gwyn being a lightsinger in how they appear to people when they are lost. Gwyn was there when Azriel needed someone (even just to distract him), be it coincidence or not, and that cannot be ignored. 

If Gwyn does take on a role in Acotar 5, I think it will have a lot to do with being his friend and confidant (and trainee), someone who will help him figure out what to do about his situation, just like how she unknowingly helped him on solstice.

9. Empathy towards the Valkyries

Another parallel that I found in the chapter is how Cassian felt empathy for Emerie’s situation upon looking at her...

...and how Azriel’s interaction with Gwyn brought about the same reaction:

This is what I was talking about earlier. Notice how he sees her pain and grief and prefers when she’s happy to when she’s sad? Who wouldn’t want that? That is the same mentality I apply to his smile at the thought of her smiling. That he is glad that something would make her happy after what she has been through. Especially after remembering her past (within the last three pages). 

10. Emerie and Gwyn’s attitudes

This was super curious for me! Look at how both girls say goodbye to the batboys:

Emerie being a whole independent female, and Gwyn… 

All business. 

Literally got the same energy from them. 

Gwyn finished the convo and continued her practice like the badass warrior that she is. There was no demure glance or cloy blush anywhere. The interaction was not romantic, purely platonic. Just like Emerie’s with Cassian.

11. This interesting parallel:

These two moments that are almost identical:

Cassian tells Emerie to give the Illyrians the clothes he just bought and to tell them it was the High Lord’s gift. He does it because he knows the Illyrians would not accept them if they knew they came from Cassian.

Azriel:

Another one (DJ khaled voice). 

“Just tell her it was a gift from Rhys.” 

Why does he do that? Because it wasn’t romantic and if Gwyn had known she’d have brought it up in conversation. He just wanted to be rid of it, so he gave it to her, perhaps as a way of thanking her for the distraction yesterday, but nothing more. 

“If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them.” He didn’t care who’d have it as long as it wasn’t him. 

Conclusion: 

(Wings and Embers + Acofas) Cassian = Acosf bonus chapter Azriel

That’s the real formula bestie SJM used and the receipts are here. 

Azriel mirrors Cassian in emotions, actions and interactions. 

Remember how Nesta Antis began shipping Cass with Emerie after their interaction in Acofas simply because they hated Nesta? Their scene had zero romantic energy, but Nesta Antis still did it. 

Well, history repeats itself with Elain.

Regarding Gwyn: So far, I see no build-up to something more than a friendship. Like we explored, Az’s scene with her was similar to Cassian’s with Emerie. The differences lie in that Gwyn is more energetic than Emerie and that Az’s shadows reacted to her power (she has powers, read about it in the lighsinger theory). 

There is literally nothing more I can add. 

Peace out.

[hlizr50]

You Belong with Me

Azriel and his brothers are high-power executives, and while the Valkyrie ladies always attend the fancy dinners and events, Gwyn is NOT wealthy and is the only one who isn't attached to someone who is. When Gwyn volunteers to take Azriel to the cabin early to prep for their big family/friends vacation, they have a conversation about how she might have to cut back. Add in banter and hours of Gwyn unabashedly belting Taylor Swift, and Az realizes that not having her around is just not an option.

Guys... I've never cared for AU, never been big into song lyrics. But my soul just needed this to be a thing. So here it is.

Read on AO3

“You sure this thing is gonna get us there?” Azriel’s smug grin only earned an eyeroll from the redhead on the other side of the car, opening the driver’s side door.

“Just put your shit in the trunk and get in the car,” she huffed across the weathered blue of the roof. He chuckled, slinging his suitcase into the trunk as the door slammed – maybe with a little extra force. He loved poking at her, and he knew she would dish it right back. After closing the trunk he returned to the open door on the passenger’s side and lowered himself into the well-worn leather seat. “You know not all of us are fortunate enough to be high-level executives at multi-million dollar companies. But rest assured that this historical document restoration expert and her 16-year-old Toyota with 154000 miles are going to get you to the cabin safe and sound. Because you insisted on getting there a day early to make sure everything is secure.” Gwyn deepened her voice, giving him her best Azriel impersonation. And maybe he was being a bit… overzealous. But he had always been the most keenly aware, the most protective. He may have been CFO, but he was also deeply involved in security – both from the standpoint of the organization and of it’s employees. And his family.

He simply smirked, “If you say so.”

“You’re insufferable,” she groaned, turning the key. The car rumbled to life, and Azriel had to admit that he was impressed with how quiet it still seemed to run. He was sure Gwyn was a stickler about maintenance. “Just for that, you are sentenced to three hours of me serenading you with the best songs Taylor Swift has to offer.”

“Oh, Gods, anything but Taylor Swift.” Azriel grimaced, hiding the secret joy he rarely let her see. He loved it when she sang. Her voice was lovely, of course, but what hit him harder was how she seemed to radiate joy when she did it.

Gwyneth Berdara wasn’t quiet and shy like he tended to be – not by a long shot. She was irreverent and blunt and bold. But he could see the shadows that hid just behind the shimmer in her eyes – he could tell there were demons there. Her sister had been murdered four years before, in the apartment they both had shared, and it had wounded her deeply. Nesta had mentioned that there was more to the story, but that it was only Gwyn’s to tell. So, yes, she definitely had darkness that followed her, but she kept it well hidden. He’d learned, as they had become friends, that she often grew anxious in large crowds or chaotic environments. She didn’t feel safe, and that had always bothered him. Regardless of how many people were around or how crazy it was, her friends were there with her. He was there. Whatever it was that kept her so on edge, he imagined that the lingering sadness in that deep ocean gaze and the faraway wistful look that sometimes passed over her features were a part of it.

But when she sang she was a beacon of light, with the brightest smile and rosy, freckle-flecked cheeks.

“Don’t you dare disrespect the goddess T. Swift,” she glowered, and as they pulled onto the highway he lost himself in the lilting notes of her car concert.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been driving – at least seven works of the goddess T. Swift – when he reached for the volume knob on the console and turned it down.

“Are you coming to the charity gala in a couple weeks?” Azriel looked over at her, noting the light stain of pink gracing her cheeks. She kept her eyes on the road.

“Oh… No.” Gwyn glanced over at him and gave a tight smile, causing him to purse his lips.

“Why not?”

“Az,” she chided, throwing him a stern look. “It’s too expensive. I can’t afford a seat and a dress. Hell, I probably can’t even afford one or the other.” He stayed silent, mulling over the understanding that money wasn’t something he ever had to worry about, and how he could make that not a problem for her. “Besides, you know how I am with crowds like that. I’d probably just have an attack and ruin everyone’s night.” She tried to laugh it off, and that troubled Azriel even more. Because she had seemed disappointed just then when she said she wasn’t going.

“Do you want to go, Gwyn?” He prodded. I want you to go. She sighed, adjusting herself in her seat to straighten her back.

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s really not possible for me.” She shrugged, as if that was it.

But that wasn’t it. Everyone was going to be there. She should be there, too. She should be there, with him.

“You know we would help –“

“I know, Az. But I’m not asking you, or Rhys. I’m not asking anyone. I can’t keep depending on everyone else just to go to events and dinners and whatever else.” She sucked in a breath. “I just… I don’t live the same life that the rest of you do. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just how it is.”

“Gwyn, you know nobody cares about that.” Azriel frowned. “I understand that my family is… fortunate. Privileged. But you and Nesta and Emerie are a part of us.”

“It’s not the same, Azriel.” Azriel. The full name. This was more serious than he realized. “Nesta is with Cassian and Emerie is with Mor. It makes sense that maybe they’re taken care of. I’m just… a friend. A friend who is poor.” He opened his mouth to argue but she beat him to it. “And it’s not just about covering food… you go to places with dress codes and too many forks for dinner, and with the company’s increasing success the three of you are only growing more popular and more press-worthy. Especially you.”

“Me?” Azriel swallowed, brows furrowed. “Why especially me?”

Gwyn cast him a pointed look, eyes dark and serious. “You’re the last single brother, Az. You are eligible bachelor number one. All the single ladies in the metropolitan area, if not further out, will be pining for you. If they’re not already.”

Eligible bachelor number one. He rolled his eyes. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Oh Az. Sweet, precious, innocent Az. Have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous. You’re wealthy, successful, and absolutely beautiful.” Azriel raised a brow and gave her a sideways glance, but she was so stubbornly keeping her eyes trained ahead. It was responsible, of course. She was driving. But not even a peek meant that she was intentionally avoiding looking over at him. The corners of his mouth turned downward, not quite understanding how this conversation had gone the way it had.

“Is that so? Please, tell me more,” he snickered. If there was anything that he knew, it was how to draw her back with teasing. She wouldn’t back down from a challenge, and Gwyneth Berdara was ruthless when it came to having the last word. The corner of her mouth twitched, and he knew she was doing her best not to smile.

“I hate you so much,” she huffed.

“Now, I don’t think that’s even remotely true.” He reached out to pinch the apple of her cheek, but she slapped his hand away, sending a glower that only made him laugh.

“The single ladies can have you. Maybe you’ll find someone else to annoy.”

“Aw, Gwynnie. You know nobody could ever replace you.” And even though it was in jest, it was also… true. “And what would you do without me?”

“Get some peace and quiet for once?” And when the redhead turned with that scrunched freckled nose and her tongue stuck out at him Azriel was relieved to have the playful girl – his best friend – wearing a smile again. “Now shut it or sing along, you have not been punished with nearly enough of our lady Taylor Swift.”

And so the ride continued, but Azriel chewed on his lower lip, contemplating everything Gwyn had said. She was fiercely independent, so he could understand how she might not want to accept what she might perceive as charity, or worse, pity. But the idea of her just not being there… it made something inside of him feel hollow. He reached out and turned down the volume again.

“Why wouldn’t you say anything? About where we’re going to dinner? Or about not being comfortable at big events?” He didn’t even try to hide that he was staring at her, trying to pinpoint any reaction she may have. Once again pink stained her cheeks.

“Az, it’s not like you guys are going to stop going to fancy restaurants so you can come to Wendy’s with me. I don’t want to take away from anyone’s fun.” Fucking ridiculous.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe we would have less fun without you there?” Azriel tried to keep his tone light, but his temper was flaring. He wasn’t sure why, but it bothered him that she would think she could just… not be there and they would all just go on like it didn’t matter.

“Of course I did,” Gwyn shrugged nonchalantly and threw him a wink. “I know it will be hard but I’m sure you’ll manage somehow. Besides, I don’t plan on just disappearing. I just… need to be more thoughtful about what I’m doing. I’ll just be around… less.” She turned the volume back up and jumped straight into the lyrics, not giving him the opportunity to tell her how preposterous she sounded.

Azriel leaned back in his seat, losing himself in thought with Gwyn’s lovely voice still soothing him in the background. He didn’t know how long he’d been brooding when the volume increased dramatically, blaring through the interior. Looking over he found her tapping on the steering wheel and swaying to the beat of her majesty Taylor Swift. Her eyes were shining, her smile was brilliant, and she sang like she didn’t have a care in the world.

You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset

She’s going off about something that you said

‘Cause she doesn’t get your humor like I do

I’m in my room, it’s a typical Tuesday night

I’m listening to the kind of music she doesn’t like

And she’ll never know your story like I do

But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

You belong with me

Walkin’ the streets with you and your worn-out jeans

I can’t help thinking this is how it ought to be

Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself

Hey, isn’t this easy?

And you’ve got a smile that could light up this whole town

I haven’t seen it in awhile since she brought you down

You say you’re fine, I know you better than that

Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

Azriel felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was seeing Gwyn for the first time. Unbridled joy, laughter when she turned to him when she was singing, dancing in the driver’s seat like a passenger’s worst nightmare.

And he couldn’t help but listen to the words, too. Surely that part was coincidence, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was speaking to him… something was speaking to him.

He grinned as she shimmied her shoulders and rocked her head from side to side, wisps of copper flying away from her ponytail.

Oh, I remember you drivin’ to my house in the middle of the night

I’m the one who makes you laugh even though you’re ‘bout to cry

I know your favorite songs and you tell me ‘bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong, think I know it’s with me

Can’t you see that I’m the one that understands you

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time, how could you not know baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

You belong with me

Have you ever thought just maybe

You belong with me

You belong with me

“Gosh I think I went too hard on that one. I’m out of breath!” she laughed, and she glanced toward Azriel in the passenger seat. “Have you had enough yet, Az?”

“Never,” he murmured, and her breath caught. She turned her focus back to the road, but kept stealing looks back at him. She seemed unsure of how to respond, but he was also lost in his own head.

He didn’t want to be the eligible bachelor. He didn’t want to annoy anyone else. He knew that he had cared for Gwyn as more than a friend for a long time – Nesta and Cassian had always encouraged him to do something about it. Nesta in particular had assured him that Gwyn felt the same way. But no matter how much Azriel had flirted she never seemed to acknowledge it, never seemed inclined to do something about it. They bantered and challenged and laughed, but never more.

But Nesta continued to be insistent. She told Azriel that there were some things about Gwyn that might keep her from acting upon her affection for him, and maybe he should make the first move. He never had, of course, for fear of rejection and fear of ruining the relationship that they had.

But now suddenly he was looking at a future where she wasn’t always there. He didn’t like the thought of that. He would go to Wendy’s for dinner instead of whatever black-tie restaurant had their reservation. But, furthermore, he would take care of her, like Cassian took care of Nesta. He wouldn’t go to events without her, and he would make sure that she was comfortable and safe while she was there. Because he would keep her close. He would always keep her close.

By the time Gwyn was pulling the car onto the driveway leading to the cabin she was only singing quietly to herself and letting him sit in his own silent thought. And as soon as she parked and turned off the car he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Without a word he ripped off the seatbelt and burst out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He was already crossing across the front when Gwyn popped out.

“What the hell, Az? The car is 16 years old you can’t just slam doors like that –“

Azriel grabbed the back of her neck and crushed his lips to hers. Gods, they were perfect – warm and lush. She inhaled shakily against his mouth and he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. He swept his lips across hers once again before pulling away only slightly, resting his forehead against her own. They were both breathing hard, and her expression nearly sent him to his knees. Gwyn’s teal eyes were wide, shining with surprise and confusion. Her lips were swollen and her freckled cheeks stained crimson. Azriel wasn’t going to give himself enough time to question this, though.

“You’re coming to the gala,” he insisted, gaze flitting wildly between her lips and her eyes before drowning in the ocean pools. “I’m buying your ticket. On our way home after this weekend we’ll go shopping for a dress. And no matter what you wear you will be the most exquisite thing there.”

Gwyn looked up at him, chest still heaving and eyes still wide, and nodded.

“And you’re coming to every dinner and event and anything else after that. Because, no matter what you might think, I don’t want to be there if you’re not there.”

“Az –“

“And when you’re there, you won’t think about money or crowds. Because I’ll be there. I’m going to take care of you and make sure you’re safe. Because I don’t just want you to be there with all of us. I want you to be there with me. Okay, Gwyn?” His eyes bore into hers, willing her to understand, to see what was in his heart.

“Okay,” she nodded. Her breaths had quieted, her eyes were warm, and there was a ghost of a smile there. And Azriel dared to hope that Nesta had been right, and all he’d needed was to take the leap.

“Can I kiss you again, Gwyn?” he asked.

“Please,” she giggled at him, smile widening. He leaned in, this time with much more restraint and care, slanting his lips over her soft ones and gently moving against them. When he pulled away his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin, which grew impossibly bigger when he saw her blushing.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he laughed, still not believing that he had done all that, and that it had… worked?

“I… I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.” Gwyn sighed and then dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. “So… so just to be clear. You want me… to be…?” Azriel chuckled and ran his hands down her arms and then tangling their fingers together.

“I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to aggravate any other single ladies. I don’t want to be an eligible bachelor. I just want you. We can go to fancy dinners or charity events or the finest fast food restaurants in the metropolitan area.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and then kissed her cheek. “Will you?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Of course, Az.” He bent his head and kissed her again. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was like he was making up for lost time.

“As her holy highness Taylor Swift said, you belong with me,” Azriel grinned devilishly. “I can’t help but be suspicious that you planned that… planned to make me fall for your beautiful voice and how adorable you are.” Gwyn tilted her head back and laughed, nearly a cackle full of amusement and contentment.

“I did not plan it, but I’m not going to complain about how it turned out.”

[vidalinav]

Dance Like Your Falling In Love

Summary: One shot; Cassian doesn’t know how to dance, everyone tries to teach him but he’s hopeless.

I implore you to listen to The Dance from Martin Phipps, one of the best scores I’ve ever heard from BBC’s War and Peace. Please Please listen as you read. Youtube, Spotify. Whatever, This whole fic is based off of that score.

Masterlist

~

“You have faced beings larger than you, more powerful, more dangerous, and yet you’re telling me that you’re afraid to dance,” Rhys offered skeptically.

“I am not afraid…” Cassian grumbled. “I just don’t see why I have to do it.”

It, being the dreaded waltz that they were now discussing as being “necessary” for future political endeavors. Bull. Shit.

Feyre leaned her head back against the settee where Rhys was shuffling through papers. “The next meeting we have with the high lords will be at a ball.”

“And not just the high lords will be there,” Azriel chimed in, “the leaders from the continent as well.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “So what? We have to show off our table manners to get them to sign a treaty?”

“Whatever it takes Cassian,” Mor sang from where she lounged on the couch.

“I’ve hired Anna Pavlova to come tomorrow to…” Rhys gave him a pointed glance, “brush up on our skills so to speak.”

Cassian’s look of disgust must have said enough, because Amren snickered at her position at the coffee table where she was completing a puzzle in the middle of their strategy meeting.

“That old hag,” Cassian complained.

Amren huffed a laugh, “Our skills,” she said mockingly, looking to Cassian. He tried not to take offense to that.

Cassian crossed his arms, sitting back as if he were a child who’d just learned he was getting extra lessons as opposed to dinner time and an hour of play. This was unfair.

“Remember to dress nice,” Azriel grinned.

Rhys looked to him with a teasing glint in his eyes, “You know how Madam Pavlova can get.”

~

Cassian did know how the Madam could get, so he chose to wear pressed slacks, in which he only owned one pair and a nice dress shirt that Cassian hoped was clean. He had found it in the back of his closet, and after asking Nuala for an iron he’d almost burned off the sleeve.

He wished he’d burned off the sleeve. Maybe then he could get out of this ridiculous lesson like he was twelve again. But no, knowing Rhys, he’d probably have a whole suit for him. Cauldron forbid, it would have probably been sky blue with frills.

That bastard.

He twisted the tie around his neck, and after several minutes of twisting and knotting and twisting some more, Cassian yanked it off and threw it on the ground, stomping on it as he let out his frustrations.

When he was younger, Madam Pavlova would pick and prod at his tie, saying, in that thick accent of hers, that it needed to be tied tighter so the neck will have no room but to remain straight and tall. He’d nearly tore it to pieces every night after their classes had finished.

It was their mother’s idea to put them in lessons and Rhys hadn’t minded so much, the bastard he was, and the Madam had praised Azriel as almost every tutor and trainer did. Cassian though, she’d complain about. He wasn’t doing enough, he was goofing off, he glued her bag to the stage… the last one still made him laugh on occasion. Point being, Madam Pavlova hated him, but mostly because try as he might, Cassian could not dance.

So, Cassian walked with a certain amount of apprehension through the gardens where this “brush up” would take place. An impressive array of flowers were around the square, most noticeably the incredible rose bushes that were tall and in full bloom surrounding the paved open space.

True to his High Lord’s excessiveness, there was practically an orchestra by the square, tuning their instruments and strumming lightly. Practicing for the event of the season, Cassian thought sardonically.  

As soon as he noticed the female, her gait tall and thin, Cassian shirked back, wanting to turn away. Madam Pavlova had not changed… and Cassian didn’t know what to do with that information. She was no closer to death and something about that made him snap at his luck.

She raised a brow at him as he entered, calling him forward in attention.

“Let me look at you.”

The others were already gathered, including Varian who’d stayed with Amren in the past week, and Nesta and Elain. The former he tried not to glance at, not even a little.

“Yeah Cassian, spin for us,” Rhys teased.  

Cassian flipped him off. At the displeased look from the Madam, Cassian lowered his hand slowly, grumbling to himself.

“You have grown since last I’ve seen you. Though I see, your clothes are still wrinkled and you can’t keep a tie.”

“You haven’t changed either, Madam. I see your still a bi—”

“Best we get started soon, I think,” Azriel interrupted.

The Madam smiled sweetly at Azriel. “Yes. Yes, my dear. The sooner we start, the better the dancers you become.”

She looked at them all, pursing her lips, her fingers pointing at each one of them. At last, she snapped.

“There is not enough partners!” the Madam raised, her voice going deep with displeasure.

The others looked at each other, perhaps deciding silently who would sit this one out, but it was Nesta who claimed the decision. She didn’t even acknowledge the Madam as she left the line of them, going to sit on a bench. He watched as she opened a book that she pulled out of her skirt and began reading as if that what she was planning to do all along.

Nesta promptly ignored them and she looked every bit the part of a painting. Picturesque boredom, Cassian would call it. Madam Pavlova looked to her and sniffed at the lack of manners, but Cassian snickered. It was perhaps the only entertainment he’d get today.

Leave it to Nesta to get under the old bat’s nerves. He almost felt proud.

The Madam knocked her cane next to his feet in attention, and when he looked away from Nesta, the Madam was standing in front of him a look of disdain on her face. Cassian tried not to feel twelve again, shrinking where he stood.

But she dismissed him, raising her nose and walking back through the line of them.

“To waltz is to dance as one. You and the other must constantly move with each other, anticipating the other’s move,” She stood taller, gesturing with her hands in length. Cassian wanted to laugh at the innuendo of size, but he was not a child. Besides, he doubted she’d appreciate the joke. “This is the space that should be between you and your partner, like magnets attract, you must remain within this space. Pushing, pulling, but always close.”

He could hear the wicked tap of her heels on the concrete. “Now when we begin, gentlemales, I want you to bow, and ladies, I want you to curtsy before and after the dance as properly instructed.”

Cassian watched as Rhys grabbed Feyre’s waist, pulling her forward as she rolled her eyes.

“You do know I don’t know how to waltz, don’t you?” She drawled.

“If I’m leading, Feyre darling, you know how to waltz.”

Feyre scoffed, laughing as she said, “You know, your ego might make us both fall over.”

When Cassian looked in front of him, Mor was grinning at him, taking his hand with confidence. Oh right, he thought to himself, she hadn’t arrived yet when they were first taught this. Well, she was in for a surprise.

He gripped her hand tightly, his back rigid as the music began to play. A cacophony of noise in the background. A melody of strings and woodwinds.

Cassian stepped forward as Mor stepped forward, and in a fit of perfect chaos that only he could cause, they smacked their foreheads together.

“Ouch,” Mor gasped, holding her head in her palms.

“Sorry,” Cassian mumbled, pretending his own head didn’t hurt.

Asking if she needed ice or a bandage, Mor simply rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand once more. Cassian looked to Madam Pavlova and he could see the glare in her eyes. She lifted her chin and Cassian knew it was her way of telling him to get to it.

And he tried…

“By the Mother, Cassian. It’s forward then right.”

Cassian threw up his hands, “It’s not my fault you’re leading. The male is supposed to lead!”

“I wouldn’t have to lead if you were good at dancing!”

“Enough,” the Madam called out, stomping her cane as she eyed them all. “Switch partners.”

Elain went to Rhys, Mor to Azriel, and Feyre, at last, to him. Amren refused to let go of Varian, and he thought she might have latched on to him like a spider monkey if they tried to pull her away.

Feyre smiled up at him, and laughingly curtsied as he remembered to bow. Grabbing his outstretched hand, she titled her head with concern, probably feeling how clammy his hands had gotten.

“Relax Cassian,” Feyre spoke, her brows furrowing. “It’s just like being on the battlefield.”

“How do you mean?” He asked a little too eagerly.

“Well, I’d think you’d agree that there’s a certain level of movement in battle that resembles dancing. A step here, a step there, parry, cross…”

Cassian nodded slowly, his voice sounding out of breath. “Okay. Parry. Cross.”

But when Cassian tried this technique, he only ended up stepping on her toes. He could hear Rhys and Az snickering in the background as he profusely apologized to Feyre.

“Ten silvermarks says he trips her next.”

“Twenty says they both land on the floor.”

Cassian chose to ignore his friends, making a mental reminder to beat them when they trained later in the evening.  

“Okay,” Feyre exhaled, “One step, two step—Ow!”

“Sorry! Sorry!”

He heard the hard tick of the cane abruptly hit the concrete and the deep sigh of disappointment as Madam Pavlova stopped the music. He watched as she covered her eyes with her hands, as if she couldn’t stand to see the shame.

“We will start again,” She announced with that thick accent of hers, “Switch again.”

They began to shift, but Cassian caught Nesta’s gaze. Her book abandoned, sitting at her side and he mentally grumbled that his pain must have been entertaining to her.

Technically Amren was next, but she pushed Elain towards him.

“No chance I’m dancing with him.”

Cassian made a face.

Elain giggled. Flowers were tucked in her hair, and as she curtsied the petals glided in the soft wind. Cassian bowed sheepishly, already regretting being paired with someone as sweet as her. He knew she wouldn’t tell him when he hurt her, and he already felt guilty as the music started.  

“I apologize in advance for stepping on your feet.”

He was right of course, because when the monotonous tune once again stopped abruptly, Elain smiled through the pained expression.

And it was that look that made deep frustration fill his chest. After all this time, after all this practice, he could still not waltz. He had not learned at twelve, he’d not learned at five like Rhys or Mor. No tutors or governesses had taught him how to be adequate. All Cassian had learned as a child was to hit where it hurt and to take anything he could get his hands on.

His mother would’ve been ashamed.

Rhys’s mother—the only mother he knew—would have sat back and sighed. As disappointed as Madam Pavlova. He could almost see it, the look as the Madam had told her that he wasn’t progressing like Rhys and Azriel were. That he wasn’t fit for the life of a socialite or high-class citizen. He was rubbish, bastard trash.  

It will bring you skill in battle and luck in love, she’d said as he did behind the desk, waiting for the classes to be over.

Cassian didn’t feel skilled or lucky, and he clenched his fists, his impatience sounding as loud as that orchestra that played the same tune over and over. He wanted to go over there and shove that flute up the musician’s—

Cassian felt a hand on his shoulder and his gaze landed on hers as he settled his hand on her waist.

Her hair was in that ever-present coronet, but today, it had been tied with a white bow on the back. Cassian could see the ends of the ribbon touch her neck, flapping lightly. His eyes drifted the whole of her. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, the short straps bordered by delicate lace at the shoulders and neckline and all of her looked like the picture of elegance. A beautiful, proper lady.

He was not fit to hold her, not really. Not even if he wanted to, even if he imagined it sometimes—when he allowed himself to dream. Cassian was certain of it as she grasped his hand. It was so much smaller than his, her skin so much softer than the callouses that lined his palms.

Nesta blinked up at him, her long lashes casting shadows along her face. The teal color of her gown brought out the blue in her eyes.

A perfect female indeed.

As the music started, he felt the strongest urge to pull away so she could not see how inadequate he was. Never mind that she’d never see him that way. Cassian did not want her to see him in any way that pointed out his flaws. He’d already shown her too many.

But she took in a breath, her chest rising and falling, and he unconsciously did the same. A calm setting over them like the soft notes of a piano playing.  

“It’s just you…” She said softly, lower than the whisper of notes. He focused on her mouth as she spoke, eager for the words to reach his ears. She moved a step. Cassian lured by her movement, followed. “And me…” She mouthed as she moved another, her grip warm in his palm.

“And the music.”

Cassian didn’t realize they’d been moving as he stared, staying closer to her. As she moved, he moved, as she dipped he followed. If she spun he was there, holding her hand to bring her back to him as if they were in orbit. The earth and the moon in constant rotation, holding each other together as they traveled around the sun.

The music slowed around them, and it was not the same sound as when they began. Perhaps, Cassian had tuned it out altogether in favor of staring into Nesta’s eyes as if she could see all the way to his soul.

She had come to him, come to his rescue when he was panicked and alone, and Cassian once again felt it in his chest—that deep feeling that… Nesta had known him for all his life. Had understood his darkest places, his bitterest fears.

They slowed to a stop, but Cassian didn’t let go until the clapping started. Nesta cringed as she pulled away, clapping slowly as she chose to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t look at the others, but he thought perhaps they’d been watching them for their applause was… teasing and careful.

“Oh!” Cassian gasped. Nesta’s gaze flew to his, but he merely bowed lowly, his hair hanging from his face.

Nesta smiled lightly, a soft, cautious tilt of her lips. Her neck and back were straight as she curtsied, grace in every moment.

She backed away from him, and Cassian tried not to reach for her, tried not to be noticeably discomforted from that lack of closeness. He watched as she picked up her book, and settled back on the bench, her teal gown bright against the red rose bushes.

He refused to look at the others as he turned away, but Cassian looked to Madam Pavlova.

She was nodding slowly in approval.  

~

@allilal @ekaterinakostrova @soitsgorgeous (I forget who to tag. So I just tagged people I know??)

I honestly don’t know where this came from because I wrote it in a hour, which clearly says I’m a liar when I say I cannot write in a timely fashion. 

Umm, I hoped you liked it. It was technically I guess suppose to go in my longer fic, but since ACOSF is coming out soon, I feel like I won’t finish that, so I’m thinking of just posting one shots of things that happen. But Idk. This might have just been a shot in the dark. 

Anyways Happy New Year!!! Nessian makes everything better!

Comment, Reblog, Like for more and happy reading!

[talkfantasytome]

In Defense of Misogyny?

NOPE!

Before I start, I will not be defending misogyny. There is no defense for misogyny. I'm just a bit of a bitch who couldn't resist a controversial title. *shrug*

I saw a conversation recently about how horrible it is that the fandom loves Eris and is quick to hate Mor. I was going to post my response in a reblog, but I realized that, on top of the post ending up very long, I wasn't fully responding to the conversation at hand. I was sharing my own thoughts that only semi-relate.

If you're interested in that convo, you can find it here.

However, I am not going to directly respond to this, because the conversation made good points. And I very much agree, in theory, that we should not be more forgiving of males than females in general.

Instead, I just want to share my own feelings on why it may not be misogyny to like Eris and dislike Mor, and the main questions to ask to understand that.

First and foremost - I would like to state that we can not and should not hold women to a higher standard than men. In this, I hands down agree.

I will also agree that it absolutely can be sexist/misogynistic to love Eris and hate Mor. However, as someone who, while in the throes of ACOSF, was upset with Mor and still liked Eris (or, enjoyed him? I love Eris, but I'm not always 100% sure I truly love him, or the character and the mystery behind him and my own hopes of who he might actually be), I don't consider myself or my reasons to have been sexist.

Also, I would like to point out that I did not end ACOSF still very upset with Mor. My current feelings are that I hope to see more of her to fall back in love with the character, as I did love her, for the most part, especially in ACOMAF. And I totes ship Mor/Emerie.

That being said, I think we have to take a moment to consider a multitude of factors around why one might currently be more forgiving of Eris than Mor, as well as other pieces, that may or may not show this as true misogyny.

1. Why are we mad at Mor?

Personally, for me, yes, I don't love that Mor hasn't said anything to Az, even in the vein of just telling him it's not going to happen. It's not that she must do this, or that Az deserves that, specifically. It's more that it would be the right thing to do. But, I'm not mad at Mor for this, because I understand why she doesn't. Similarly, there is no male character who I'm solely mad at because they kept a secret.

No, what hurt me the most about Mor - and yes, hurt me is the best way to describe it - was her complete disdain and hatred for Nesta. I am, generally speaking, biased toward Nesta, and I do recognize this. But it doesn't change where I came from. She was horrible to Nesta almost from the get go. Sure, she brought Nesta to the Night Court and then, the next time we see them together, Mor is snapping at Nesta. She basically ignores Nesta when Nesta decides to join them for the High Lord's meeting. She causes Cassian to pull his hand away from Nesta during the war - which, admittedly, was a Cass action I'm still waiting for an explanation on, but it still had to do with her. Cassian was doing that for her, which means that he believed him holding Nesta's hand might hurt Mor or something - why? What is it that makes Mor soooo against this compared to everyone else? It's either a selfish reason - i.e. the buffer thing - or it goes back to her just hating Nesta the most. She then basically yells at Nesta for waiting at Cassian's tent when he's injured - for caring for Cassian. And then, in SF, when we first see her she is insulting Nesta to Cassian, and then straight to Nesta's face.

Perhaps it is all about feeling like Nesta brings her friends pain. Perhaps it is a fear of how Nesta could change the inner circle. But, we are never given Mor's full reasons, and even other POVs don't really give us anything to go off of. So all we see is Mor hating Nesta.

We see Mor hating a woman who has just gone through some serious trauma. Multiple traumas, really. And she probably disliked Nesta even as a human, though again we didn't really see them interact, only Mor being shocked at Cassian's declaration to Nesta. Which can't help but make you wonder if that played any part, too.

So, in the end, what made me the most hurt by Mor's actions toward Nesta, and words about Nesta, was the fact that Mor seemed to not care at all about what Nesta was actually dealing with, she only cared that Nesta was being a bitch.

Mor - who has faced her own horrific traumas, yet can't see it in herself to give someone else who has faced trauma the benefit of the doubt. Mor - who was so kind to Feyre, and very forgiving of Feyre basically ignoring her that first time she was in the Night Court, understanding Feyre's trauma. Mor was holding Nesta to a double standard. Basically, my hurt and anger toward Mor stemmed from the same anger that went into that original post - anger at a double standard toward a female who is suffering from trauma. Because Mor, one who often seemed posed as a defender of woman, a representation of how one can heal and grow from trauma, but how that trauma will still always affect them, couldn't find it in herself to even understand that Nesta was dealing with her own trauma, and what she needed was healing and help. Not insults and being thrown into the Hewn City.

Is it not maybe understandable how it would actually be harder to forgive Mor for showing such a double standard? For showing such little care or sympathy toward someone who has faced her own trauma? How saying that Mor should be loved because she has gone through so much might be almost hypocritical, considering who Mor is showing hatred toward?

I do understand how Nesta could hit closer to home. She sees Nesta to be as bad as the people she was raised with. But, honestly, that doesn't make it better. It just reminds me that Mor is actually often blind to the truth when she doesn't want to believe it or face it. She runs from it, she fights it, and while she is in her right to do so, it is not okay to do so by hurting another person, another woman who has also been through more trauma than Mor even realizes.

I don't find that anger, or upset (which is really more how I felt about Mor) to be a form of misogyny, at least not on its own. Because my feelings for other characters, my interpretations of their actions, may be wholly different, and it's not that I'm holding Mor to a higher standard. It's that I hold certain issues above others, and to me, holding people to a double standard is at the top of the list on what will annoy me about someone else the most.

2. Who else are we mad at? Is it only Mor? Or are there others we are also mad at, and for what reasons?

We should also consider who else a person is mad at, if not Eris, to see are they really holding Mor/women to a higher standard.

Using myself, again - the person I came out of ACOSF the most mad with/upset about was, hands down, Rhys. Not Mor. In fact, by the end of the book, I'd lightened a lot toward Mor, because I did see how Mor was changing and adjusting. She saw Nesta healing, and her attitude toward Nesta shifted. And, to be perfectly honest, I am SERIOUSLY HOPING we will see them have a heart-to-heart, get to know each other, get to understand each other, apologize to each other (especially Mor for how she's treated Nesta, and the things she said to her when Nesta was literally depressed and dealing with PTSD - cause those things weren't okay) and come out the other side, if not as friends, than at least as two females who respect each other. Because I think we all, including Mor and Nesta, need that. But, despite that, we did at least see Mor be better with Nesta. It showed Mor's openness to possibly accepting a new truth about Nesta, which I was happy to see.

Now, back to who are we mad at. Like I said, even if we're considering the middle of ACOSF, when I was fully upset with Mor, my feelings toward her never got to where they still are with Rhys - I don't care about his gifts, until he proves to me he actually cares even a little bit about Nesta as her own person and not as Feyre's sister, I will struggle with him. So, again, can we argue that my feelings were misogynistic if, in the end, my greatest anger was actually toward a man?

On top of that, my anger toward Rhys is far more aligned to what I was feeling about Mor. Because, again, it was about his treatment of a character dealing with trauma. If anything, my double standard is toward Rhys. I don't think it's a double standard, because my expectations of Rhys were higher considering his previous actions, and how he supposedly cared about all of his people. Not because he was a man, but because of what we see from him vs. Mor, particularly in ACOWAR. And, also, you know - Rhys did other things that made me super mad. Mor never threatened Nesta's life, for example.

Conversely, any anger I've have toward Eris (and, I'll admit, there's still a bit), entirely surrounds what he did/didn't do 500 years ago. I'll go into more detail on why I may offer my forgiveness in the next section, but in regards to the anger - I don't see these aligned. My anger toward Rhys and Mor revolve mostly around double standards they seem to have and a lack of understanding or caring for someone who is clearly struggling with trauma. Something that, personally, I think they should both be on the side of truly understanding, considering their own experiences. Eris, on the other hand, it's an anger for leaving Mor to die. I'm not saying that this is a "better" thing to do, it's just that the two angers don't align. I'm not holding Mor to a higher standard, because I do not see the two as the same. Thus, their paths toward forgiveness may look very different, because I will be looking for different things in each of them.

3. What is the person now doing? Have they earned forgiveness?

I'm not saying Eris has earned forgiveness. I'm not saying Mor hasn't. That is up for all of us to interpret.

That being said, what we've seen from Mor does not include any signs of regret for her actions. We do not see her actively trying to make things better between her and Nesta, to understand Nesta, or that she has any sorrow for what she said to her. At best, we see Mor polite to Nesta, and maybe willing to get to know her better. The absolute best interaction was at Solstice, when Mor asked if she might be able to join. As I mentioned, I am hopeful for these two - in part cause my head canon is that they could actually be amazing friends, but that's for another day - and I really loved seeing Mor willing and interested to join in, despite it being with Nesta (and kinda Nesta's thing), as well as seeing Nesta being willing and interested to have Mor join, even if it's just solely for the priestesses. But, that is one interaction and, again, doesn't actually show any repentance from Mor for her own actions against Nesta.

I know some people will say "you mean just that one 'mean' thing Mor said?" - yes. Though it wasn't just that one time, was it? Because there have been multiple times Mor has shown a true disdain for Nesta, while also showing a true indifference to the fact that Nesta was struggling. The other best example of this was when Cassian was hurt in the war, and Nesta was waiting outside his tent, clearly terrified. Mor, also upset, by many things, took it almost entirely out on Nesta. She was either blind to Nesta's feelings for Cassian (doubtful), or she simply didn't care, and instead snapped at her, all while Nesta was probably terrified and fearing the worst in her mind.

The two never talked about this either. And we don't know if Mor regrets those things she's done and said, or even just feels bad, and we also don't have a full understanding of her reasons, or even if there are valid reasons. Because she doesn't talk about it - or, at least, we haven't see her talk about it. I truly hope we will get some answers to all of this. But, right now, we don't even really get hints - we simply assume she must have a reason, because she's Mor and she's great and so she must have a reason we can understand and accept. Still, we don't know, and we don't see her even be held accountable for those actions - admittedly, an issue with most of the Inner Circle and the lack of them being held accountable for how they've treated certain people.

Eris, on the other hand, while what he did was truly horrific, has admitted that he really regrets his actions - or inactions. And he has stated that he had his reasons - reasons that cost him. So we know that he has, in fact, paid for what he's done, at least to some extent. And, more so than that, his current actions seem, to me, to prove this. His constant attempts to ally with the Night Court, to try and do the right thing. Yes, when we saw him at the High Lord's meeting, he was wrong to say what he did to Mor. But we also cannot hold that at full face value and be mad at him for that one thing without remaining mad at Rhys for all he's done while wearing his High Lord of the Night Court mask. Again, that would be a double standard. We can be annoyed by it, but if we forgive Rhys for playing a part, we must also forgive Eris. (This statement, of course, is based on my interpretation that Eris is good at heart, but has made a number of mistakes and is essentially forced to be awful due to his place in life.)

However, despite that one thing, everything else we see from Eris, seems repentant. It is, of course, my interpretation of Eris. But considering all the things he's done, the little threads we get that show us he's not the awful monster we were told he is. He has been working to earn forgiveness, and is doing the right things now - just still often wearing that Autumn Court mask. And, if we're going to forgive Rhys for all the monstrous things he's done, because he has shown himself to be better than that, then it's okay to at least consider forgiving Eris.

So, why is it wrong to be willing to forgive someone for something that he has shown he is seeking forgiveness for? But to maybe not be forgiving another for something that she has not sought forgiveness for? Can we forgive someone for something if they don't realize what they did was wrong? In my opinion, no. Yes, people say that the only person you ever really need forgiveness from is yourself. And I don't fully disagree - I think we do need to forgive ourselves. But, again, only once we understand what we did, how and why it was wrong, and when we want forgiveness. Then we forgive ourselves, and at the least can hope that our actions show that we understand this truth, and others may forgive us even if we don't ask blatantly. In the end, though, we do need to ask for forgiveness. It's just a matter of whether we are vocalizing that request, or showing it in our actions.

Summary

Again, I'm not saying that there aren't times where this is a true double standard. Where people just love Eris and hate Mor, and maybe even blame Mor for what went down with Eris (and, if they do, I will fight them on that because Mor is blameless in that situation - idgaf if she slept with Cassian, I will not blame her for wanting out of that marriage).

I am also not trying to convince anyone that they should love Eris, or that they should dislike Mor - especially seeing as I don't fully dislike Mor, I'm just waiting for the best Mor to come back.

I'm only saying that we really can't make assumptions and say that loving Eris and hating Mor automatically means misogyny. Some things hit closer to home than others - as I mentioned as a possible reason why Nesta is such a struggle for Mor. It could very well be solely about what it is they do and don't forgive each person for. And, personally, I think finding out if a person who is angry with Mor was also angry with Rhys during ACOSF is a much better gauge than comparing Mor and Eris.

I don't believe that Mor owes anyone any explanations. Clearly, my own feelings around Mor have really not revolved around what she may or may not be hiding about Eris. Of course I want to know, I'm a nosy reader. But, if she's hiding something for her friends about that, she has her reasons and I'll accept them so long as they don't end up being, like "well, I just wanted you all to hate Eris forever". But, typically, Mor's reasons have to do with her own trauma and fears, and I accept that. It may, at times, be self-centered - but sometimes don't we all need to be a bit self-centered?

However, I think that we need to truly compare the anger, compare the reasons, to understand why some might like one character and dislike another. It is not feminist to automatically support a woman if she is in the wrong. It is not misogynistic to forgive a man and not a woman for two entirely different situations and reasons. We have to remember that feminism is supporting gender equality in every way - workplace, personal lives, laws, etc. Feminism is not supporting female superiority, which is exactly what happens when you compare two people for things that are not comparable, and then state that you must be more forgiving of the female.

After Thoughts on Mor

I am truly hopeful that we will see Mor and Nesta's relationship grow. And I would like to see more of the Mor we met in ACOMAF, tbh. I have felt, as has been observed by others, that Mor's character and journey has been incredibly chaotic and inconsistent. She was the bomb.com in ACOMAF with how she was with Feyre. Then, in ACOWAR, she was a bit moody, she was mean and harsh toward Nesta (and still has explaining to do on some of this and the Cassian stuff), and she just wasn't really who we met in ACOMAF. I don't really remember much about ACOFAS. But, in ACOSF, again, Mor was different. Except, instead of being just moody and harsh toward Nesta when pushed, now she's completely unforgiving and dismissive of Nesta. And, honestly, that wasn't the Mor I was expecting. I would have expected Mor to be one of the first to maybe realize that Nesta was dealing with trauma. I guess that expectation shouldn't have been held considering ACOWAR, but it was different. I still thought Mor might understand, to an extent - might be at least willing to help Nesta heal, or want to see her healed. Instead, we got someone who said Nesta should just be thrown into the Hewn City - to Cassian's face. So, on top of not giving a damn about Nesta at all (the female that saved Cassian's life, full stop), she also didn't show much caring or understanding of Cassian, one of her best friends. Not until after she saw what a comment like that did to him. And yes, Mor may be just dealing with her own trauma, I understand that. It's why I still have a hard time saying I was truly angry with Mor, but more hurt by/upset with her in ACOSF. Because it may be something deeper that caused her to be this way. Or just her own preoccupation with what's going on in her life. But, in the end, it was still targeted at one person, the one person who probably could handle it the least.

That's my long winded way of saying that I have a lot of hope for Mor's character in the future, and that I don't actually hate her. I just hope that we get to understand her better, understand the reasons she's had for what she's done, but I also hope we see her held accountable (and the rest of the IC).

As always, this is just my own personal opinion, and I accept that others' opinions may be different. I promise to respect yours, all I ask is that you respect mine. I'm not opposed to dissenting arguments, just asking for no attacks. :)

[illyrian-lover-flower]

The chosen forest keeper 2

                                       My shadows are demons, but                                                  so is my sunshine

Nothing.

There was nothing that could stopp his heart from racing.

Azriel didn’t know when the last time was, that his heart felt like beating out of his chest.

It was probably five years ago, when he actually wanted to talk with Mor about the thing between them.

Or rather the thing that was not between them.

But it always stayed at wanted to tell her.

He never got the courage to tell her about his feelings, most of the time because he always seemed to seek out the days on wich Mor brought a lover to her bed.

Which lowered his courage to confessing beyond zero.

But now was no choice.

Now was a must.

A must he chose as his torture.

Azriel wouldn’t be in the need to have the seeing ability of the past away seer, to know that if Feyres cries hurt him yesterday - the words of Nesta Archeron would be a greater end to him.

But he chose for himself - that he would be the one to tell her.

Preventing a sibling fight - that ended with both sides crying over their lovely lost sister. 

But he also chose to - so that his brother wouldn’t have to draw the wrath of his mate to him. They just started to, get at least, a little along, but if Cassian would tell her about Elains suicide, then she would not forgive him - even though he was not the one to blame for her death.

The oldest Archeron would not care that his firy brother helped her through the times she was broken. 

The first time, when she was thrown into the Cauldron, she hid her brokeness behind a mask of fire and steel.

The second time, when the father of all three of them died. This time not really hiding her brokness as she chose the easiest ways - sex and alcohol.

Azriel shuddered in the grey sky as he flew closer and closer to Windhaven, remembering himself that Nesta wasn’t the one who chose the easiest way out.

It was Elain.

Elain who seeked out the quietness of death instead of the beaming light of life the fae life could offer. 

A light that could have maybe cured her and all the things she went through - but Elain refused it. 

The words still in his head. 

Probably even for the rest of eternity.

“...she jumped off a cliff near the borders of Velaris.”

Words that could destroy so easily. Words that just made his shadows smile at him and whisper at him the words with a cold satisfaction ‘Your fault!’ ‘You should have taken more care of her!’

But as much as Azriel hated himself, as he always listened to his shadows, like a dog obeying his master. Even though he listened and mostly agreed with them - there was now a burden he wouldn’t take upon his shoulders. 

No, he disagreed with his shadows at one point.

 ‘You should have taken more care of her!’ that thought didn’t hurt so much, since he knew - if he would have taken more care of Elain - he would have probably suffocated her. Just like he always did.

Mor runs away from him because of his suffocaiting feelings. 

Feyre does only see the Spymaster and her flying teacher in him. She sees a friend too, yes, but dosen’t think of him as important enough to at least go out for a drink, let alone sit at night and maybe talk.

 But he realized that he would not even want Feyre sitting by his side, when he thought about his struggles.

Struggles he always only shared with a quiet seer - that seemed to long know what was troubling on his mind, but never pushed him into telling her. 

It was always just her who understood him. 

It was always her that read between the lines of his storys and knew how deep they really ran.

She knew that there was always more to just a story, she always knew when to pay closer attention to his words. But then again - she always payed attention to him.

Attention that was quiet and observing, probably not missing any detail of his behaviour as she watched and listened. 

Maybe the fact that she payed attention to him like no other, was the reason why he was always pulled towards her. 

Maybe that were the reasons why he always seemed to want to be in her surroundings.

Surroundings he didn’t care about that they were the most colorful things he had seen in years. 

But now everything would be tinted black again. 

The flowers she grew would beginn to wither, just as all the memorys about her would wither. 

And with time - his family would forget about the pain she caused.

With time they also would forget her smile.

A smile that was most often cheery and sweet, seemingly wanting to compete with the sun.

But Azriel would never forget. He would never forget how his heart always seemed to flutter when she smiled at him, like he was no monster of shadows and night. 

But of course it turned out this way.

It had to.

He was a monster - that either way suffocated his family with his feelings, feelings that felt too much, or he would drown them - pulling them down with his lurking presence.

But now, now the monster he was, would get a deserved lashing.

The lashing of Nesta Archeron - the one that loved her flower growing sister more than any male in this world could do.

But Azriel wasn’t afraid anymore of talking to her - he knew how her reaction would be. He also knew that he deserved the words she would shout at him. 

So he would gladly take the lashing.

Still it felt weird to stand infront of the rooten door of the small hut, in wich Nesta and Cassian lived -his scarred hand just slightly hovering above the wood.

No animal dared to howl, no bird dared to sing - every being in the forest was still - afraid of the dark storm lurking above everyones heads, twisting in the morning sky.

Or afraid of the storm that was to come, the storm that was Nestas wrath.

He knew he deserved her fury, but would he be able to see the unbendable Archeron sister cry? 

He already saw Feyre crying over Rhys and now her dead sister. Both were memorys which would hunt him for the rest of eternity, but Nesta was a whole other story.

The oldest Archeron was unbendable and did not even shed a tear when their beloved father died. 

But now was different, she would cry - after all her beloved younger sister died - no, she didn’t just die.

Azriel swollowed hard as he finally knocked on the old door, how would he explain to her what her sister did?

The wind howled around him, the forest leaves rustled nervously, as they too, seemed to wait for the oldest Archeron to open up the door.

Even though he seemed to wait for an eternity, it was still too less time to prepare himself for what was to come.

No hour long flight could quiet down the roaring sound of his mind.

No mother would ever prepare him for what was to happen.

But he chose it to happen, he was the one that decided for the sake of everyone -that he would tell her the sad news. 

The news that would break her surly just as much as it did to him.

Sure it broke Feyre too, as well as Cassian and Rhys, even Amren and Mor, but they all would forget about her sooner or later. 

The kindness of her only a dusted memory in the back of their heads.

But not for Nesta and him.

Nesta would never forget her loving nature, that even drew her to her stubborn older sister when everyone turned their heads away from her, ashamed of her and her behaviour. Fed up with the way she talked. Fed up with how she acted. A fire in every aspect of her immortal life, but she was no kind warm light in the dark that led the way through darkness and cold winter days, no, Nesta was an inferno and everyone was afraid to approach that wild, roaring fire.

Everyone but Elain.

Elain visited her while she packed her stuff for Windhaven, even when she was already in the camp Elain asked Azriel many times if he could maybe fly her there since Rhys nor Feyre wanted to winnow her. Once he did - having pity with her as well as her sister.Elain approached her older sister with the same steeled back as the oldest one, as she tried to talk to her.

But as Nesta now opened the creeking door he was not able to stand straight under the waight of the words that were in the need to be spoken, no pity in his words - only pure and utter sadness.

Words that would break the oldest Archeron again.

He felt sorry for his brother that had to watch his mate suffer again like this, but if they would keep it hidden that her beloved sister commited suicide, she would feel broken and betrayed afterwards. 

Hating her family even more than she did now.

Nesta wanted to snarl at him as she looked through the small slit she opened, but moved aside once she saw his sulking figure, but maybe it was the pure sadness in his eyes that made her shoulders sagg and move. 

Sadness that could not even Feyre have drawn on a painting wall, sadness that was deeper than any root could go.

But he had to pull out that root - at the tip of the root the words attatched he would speak.

The little space inside of the hut made him feel cold - there was no memory attatched to the old wooden walls - well at least no good ones. 

He hated himself for only adding a new bad memory to these walls. 

“What do you want?” cut him Nestas steel hard voice out of his thoughts. She crossed her thin arms over her bony chest. The monthly training helped her gain back a little of her waight, but she still looked like a walking skeleton as she stared him down.

Standing proud next to one of the small old armchairs, like a rock in the tides, but he knew that she would need the seat soon.

Maybe he should sit down too?

Azriel still wasn’t sure of how to start this, but he needed to do it somehow - so he gestured for the armchair - taking a deep breath as he did so.

“You might want to sit down.” he told her in a voice he thought would be strong, but instead his words came out shaky - not able to hide the emotions in them -even after his century long training of selfcontrol.

But Nesta didn’t care - she just stared at him with narrowed eyes and a snarled question on her lips.

“What did I do this time that Feyre send one of her pets out?” 

Azriel ignored her insult -he would probably hear way worse ones as the day would age.

He didn’t want to imagine what the stormy female might throw at him.

Would it be just empty insults for him, hollow like his soul or would they break him even more?

Azriel hated to be in the unclear, but he knew for sure -he deserved every word of hers.

Still it pained his heart to see the older Archeron sister pale as he told her only these three little words. Words that already made her go into a little shock and reach out for the back-lean of the red cushioned armchair.

“It’s about Elain.”

Nestas breath came uneven as she tried to calm herself down, she wasn’t here with her in the steps - was she?

She shook her head at that - the thightly brushed back hairbun in the back of her head not moving an inch. Nesta knew that Elain already tried to visit her once, but Nesta refused her attempted try of re-connection and left her and the shadowsinger in the pouring rain.

Nesta knew that Elain took that gesture close to her heart, like she always did, but she would not give up on her -even though her last visit was quiet some time ago.

She wondered, but almost knew, that her naive little sister chose to become the lover of one of these monsters -that they were now too.

So she sounded a bit too harsh as she answered the shadowsinger “I’m not comming to her wedding!” 

Azriel looked puzzled at her and for just a moment, that was gone in the blink of an eye, sadness crossed those dulled hazel eyes of his.

His answer was only mumbled in a cold tone “If only it would have been that.”

He shook his head, the ink black curls of his hair flowing around him like his shadows, and got back to the topic. 

He looked her dead in the storm of her eyes as he asked “How do you want to know?”

Nesta shrugged only, her hand still gripping the lean thightly, “I have always been for the brutal truth.”

The spymaster nodded - almost hesitantly. 

The steeled female would lie, if she said she didn’t wonder why that was the case, but as soon as he started speeking - something inside her wished she would have never wondered.

“Elain is dead.” were the only three words that were needed to crash her world down. 

Now she knew why the Shadowsinger requested of her to sit. She could barely stand straight, her knees giving in to the waight of the world. Her world that just got lighter with one person less on it - but it still felt like as if the doubled waight was layed on her shoulders.

Her shoulders that only had gotten used to carrying the new fae life. 

Everything came crushing down as she watched how the spymaster lowered his head, inspecting the old floor boards insted of looking at her.

Nesta didn’t know if it was out of respect for her lost, lovely sister or if he was just afraid of looking into her eyes.

Eyes that were a cold raging sea, yet overwhelming with hot tears.

Nesta wanted to sit -so,so badly, but as much as her jelly legs wanted to pull out from underneath her, she didn’t give into them.

Stumbling across the small living room instead - only to grab the Shadowsinger by his collar. 

He was odly calm as her watery eyes scanned over his face - seeing the dark circles under his eyes and the touseled hair were evidences that he tried to somehow come to terms with the new situation too.

She knew deep down he was just as sad as she is, but right now she could not think of that. Nesta could barely believe the words he just said, let alone let any rational thought cross her mind.

Nesta knew it wasn’t his fault, but nothing mattered anymore as she dragged him down by his collar. 

Azriel was at eyes hight with her, but yet he felt like as if he was the little boy from so many centurys ago. Laying on the cold stone floor infront of his cell, his brothers bend over him as they watched and laughed at the little boy burning.

He didn’t let his fear show, but he knew he was about to burn.

Nesta would spit her fire at him and burn him with her firy words. Words that would leave burning marks on his soul instead of his skin.

“What do you mean?! What do you mean by dead?!” she hissed at him.

His heart sped up at that, until now he only spoke the words of Elains death, but never let them reach his heart. His heart that slowly started to ripp apart as he started to realize the meaning of those words.

Azriel swallowed hard, his hands shaking by his sides slightly as he spoke again.

“Nesta, Elain is dead. She had decided to end her life.”

“How did that happen!” yelled Nesta at him, he would have normaly flinched at least a little bit at the sudden change of tone, but he was frozen in place. Registraiting the words barely himself.

“She jumped...” was all he could manage in a whispered voice.

Even though Nestas heart stung a little at the sight of the Shadowsinger -eyes wide as a plate, hands shaking like the leafes outside in the cold autumn breeze, all while his skin looked as white as a wall. She knew he was the last person to be blamed and be angered at, but he was the only one she could let her anger lose at.

Everyone else of their family would not understand her pain like him.

They were both attatched to the fawn, like to no other.

“What do you mean ‘she jumped’!”

“... she jumped off a cliff near the borders of Velaris.” Azriel recited these words for the first time out loud and for the first time - he truly got the meaning of them.

For the first time he got what they ment, for the first time he realized it.

After having repeated them for already hundreds of times in his head, he first got the meaning of them.

She jumped.

Elain jumped.

Into the cold water of the sea.

On the sharp rocks in the tides.

Azriels breath hitched as tears sprung to his eyes. 

Normaly he would have never let that happen. Normaly he would never show any feelings about the situation, but right now -it was just different.

Everything felt too much as he stood so absurdly close to the oldest Archron. The cold and icy iceberg of the three sisters. 

A cold presence that send everyone shivering, but not him. 

Right now it was a pleasent reminder that the world around him was real, a reminder that he existed, but also one that the scenerys that played on his mind  were real. 

Scenerys he would really like to not see.

But it was useless. 

It was useless as he saw Elain how she stepped over the edge. Her gown a light pink cloud that should cushion her fall, but in the end only pulled her closer to the deep grounds beneath the sea, as it got soaked in the water. 

Cold water that seemed to empty itself above his head as Nesta shook him out of his cold thoughts. 

A stormy sea in her eyes a cold greeting. Her voice a hissing snake as she spoke again.

“Why haven’t you done anything?!”

Azriel was quiet - how would he know how to answer her question if he wasn’t aware for himself? 

The spymaster could only shake his head. Nothing but dizzyness found its way into his chest as the oldest Archeron started to chock on her unshed tears. 

It were these sounds that shook him out of whatever trance he was in. 

Making him put a scarred hand on the shaking shoulders of Nesta Archeron.

The one that understood his pain all too well. 

But yet here he was. Still unsure of who he lost and yet so aware of the pain. 

The curses Nesta shouted at him through thick tears and a fist hammering against his heart a constant reminder of reality to him.

That this was no nightmare.

That this was just like his childhood. Only that he slowly started to put up with his childhood. The scars a reminder of darker days, but the people who caused them slowly started to vanish from his mind as he thought about them.

Banishing them in a grave deep, deep in his mind. Away from everything.

But Nestas words would leave his soul wounded for longer than eternity.

Elains death would even hunt him even after his own passing. No sealed grave would put these memorys of her beneath the earth.

Not the prettiest grave would be able to help him heal this time.

Not when a part of his soul died with her. A part that didn’t know who she was.

A part that felt desprate to get to know her more.

A part that jumped with her in the sea and yet was still hurt by Nesta as she continued her thruming against his empty chest.

“Why did you save her from Hybern if you planned to watch her die from the beginning?!”

The little blood Azriel still felt in his veins suddenly went away.

Azriel thought an vanished heart could never hurt, but why was it that he stood here and never felt like as if he had bled more?

________________________________________________________________

“Come on Goldenrod! We almost made it!” cheered Fersia as she motivated her new friend to make the final steps through the thick forest. Already standing at the entrance of her little village as she did so.

Watching how, the in white cloaked figure, started to crawl over an old tree stem clumsyly. “You know instead of cheering you could actually help me!” complained her friend in her sweet, yet annoyed voice, as her cloak got stuck in one of the old branches. 

Fersia wouldn’t had been able to control her laughter as she watched how her little Goldenrod clumsyly stumbeled on the mushy earth next to the stem and started to pull despratly at the white hem that got stuck.

Tumbling from one foot to the other as she tried to find a strong stand - so that she could pull with more force. 

But it only ended with Goldenrod in the mud and a bit of the fabric still caught in the tree.

Fersia started to laugh whole heartedly as she saw how baffled her Goldenrod sat there.

Probably blinking in confusion at the tree stem, since her petite back was turned towards her.

In the end Fersia decided to have for once a good heart and moved to help her. Her old leather boots, that had probably more holes than any old ruin around here , starting to get soaked with the mud her Goldenrod sat in. 

The white color of her cloak surprisingly still white. 

As she reached her sunkissed hand down to grab Goldenrods pale one she couldn’t resist the question after her friend stood. Dusting off dust that wasn’t even there.

“How comes it that your cloak is still white?” 

If Fersia would have seen her face, she was sure her friend looked surprised her way. “Oh? I haven’t told you?” was all she asked in her sweet voice and started to walk towards the village of her tribe. Not even a small brown smear on her white cloak

Liquied honey could turn green from envy at the sound her voice left in her rounded ears. 

But Fersia swollowed that sweet feeling of her voice down and only shook her head.

Goldenrod only turned around and started to walk backwards closer to the huts. The glimps of a happy smile visible under her heavy hood.

“I weaved a spell into the fabric. It protects the cloth from getting dirty and covers up almost my whole scent.”

And indeed as Fersia sniffed the air, she only smelled the pine and the fog of the forest around them. In these strong smells wasn’t even the hint of the lavander smell Goldenrod left wherever she went.

The Illyrian female only rose her eyebrows and tilted her head in respect at the clever female before her and started to run towards Goldenrod.

And before her petite friend knew it-she  threw her arms around her and spun her up in the air. A squeal escaped her pale pink lips as she tried to find a hold on her friend, her delicate pale fingers gripping in slight fear at the shoulder panels of her fighting leathers.

Goldenrod gripped for dear life on them, but got a hold on them and soon started to giggle as her brunet friend spun her round and round. A bright smile on Fersias thin lips as she watched how the wind started to play with Goldenrods hood.

And for the first time in what seemed like ages, did the wind reveal the sweet face of her Goldenrod again. 

Her bright brown eyes sparkling from life as she looked down into Fersias green ones. Both couldn’t contain their laugther as Fersia continued to spin her friend around, watching almost in a trance at how the wind played with Goldenrods hair. Liquied honey all around them as they spun and spun in the forest.

The sun peaking out for the first time in centurys too, to watch how happy Goldenrod was. Making her look, in the brigth sunray that shone down on her laughing form, like as if she were a being of pure light. 

A sunray in the depths of the forest that was covered in dark myths and creaturs since the first milenia. A sunray that would brigthen up all those legends and show the world the real Illyrian woods. 

Fersia knew that her friend would be capable of this, but it would become a great task to acomplish, but she saw and knew of what her Goldenrod was capable of. 

Still the doubt that this task could break her petite friend lingered somewhere in her head. Screaming at her that she shouldn���t have taken Goldenrod away like that and shouldn’t have brought such danger upon her, but all those thoughts somehow quieted down and faded away at the bell like sound that left Goldenrods mouth. 

Fersia only smiled brigther and spun her even more around. 

Her Goldenrod would truly become the light of the forest, after all she managed to creep her light into one of the most fiercest creaturs around here.

But about that Fersia didn’t want to think just now. Right now she just wanted to dance in the sunshine with her Goldenrod.

Not aware of the fact, if Goldenrod was the sunshine or the brigth ray around them, but for now Fersia decided that Goldenrod was the sunshine.

Her hair a curtian of liquied honey around them and her eyes a brigth light leading the century old, cold hearted female out into the world.

________________previous chapter | next chapter___________________

Taglist (please tell me if you want to be tagged):

@tanaquilpriscilla​   @generousfanfan @hail-doodles​ @courtofjurdan​ @classywastelandpirate​ 

[chosenfamily-valkyriequeens]

Personal opinion: Nesta Archeron deserves better

Nesta is definitely closed off and hurt by what had happened to her, and for completely understandable reasons. It angers me that Rhys is so heartless and an a**hole when it comes to Nesta—like Feyre did go through trauma too, some from their childhood (everyone’s trauma is different yes) but y’all didn’t just expect her to be okay the next day, why would Nesta be any different!

Mor as well is bugging me and she is just acting like a straight up b*tch for no reason besides being jealous and petty over Cassian and Nesta’s budding relationship and Feyre’s hurt feelings. Mor more than anyone should understand what Nesta is going through considering the sexual assault. I hope the two of them realize how wrong they’ve been to treat her so cruelly. Personally I’d like it to be a dramatic Nesta is about to die and they’ve found out the truth about her past and that she’s always loved her sisters and they are like “I’m so sorry please forgive me for being an a**hat” but who knows;)

Nesta’s character is so complex, intelligent and dark, she’s my favorite character out of every book I’ve ever read—and I’ve read A LOT of books. She’s so relatable to anyone who’s felt like the mistreated, worthless, unloved, unwanted, charity case of the family or friend group, when no one valued your side of the story to favor a biased version. And everyone goes through this feeling at least once in their life. This attitude towards Nesta becomes a single story mindset that is so toxic, and the “inner circle”—minus Cassian every now and then( haven’t forgotten about the “your sister care for you and I don’t understand why but they do” part)—is falling into it.

They are so protective of Feyre that they aren’t realizing they are ignoring someone who clearly needs help but doesn’t know how to or doesn’t want to ask for help yet. You can’t pressure someone into asking for help, the have to want to be helped before anything can happen.

I’m not sure how I really feel about her being BANISHED to the mountains with Cassian, I really love them together and want them to be endgame. But how they went about deciding her life without her opinion upsets me. Yes she isn’t in the best to be making life decisions alone, but it’s still HER LIFE she should have a say in what’s happening.

When Feyre was brought to the Night Court it took her months to open up to them, longer for her to even fucking smile! She’d been kidnapped and killed and then she was stuck in a toxic relationship and she needed to figure out how to love herself and be okay with her new body first before she started any type of relationship with Rhys and the inner circle. She didn’t just click her fingers and wish away the pain, it took her a long time to cope with what happened.

Nesta should be given the same courtesy. She at a young age was told she was only good for marrying for status and wealth and having children by her mother who never showed her much attention, her father was always gone and lost all their money putting them all in jeopardy. She wanted to believe her father was the knight in shining armor that would fight for them and save them—but he didn’t. She was almost raped and was sexually assaulted by someone she thought cared about her. Was then later dragged out of her bed and was DROWNED&KILLED turing into a thing she had feared her while life. But not before having to watch as her sister was killed right before her eyes and turned as well. You don’t just get over that with a snap of your fingers.

It kills me that people are so upset about Nesta not stepping up and helping as the oldest. SHE WAS A CHILD, yes so was Feyre but don’t forget that Nesta too was a little girl, heartbroken that her family life was destroyed, her mother dead and her father not the hero she thought he would be. Everyone deals with pain different. She was raised to believe her only purpose was to marry and have children, not go out and kill animals in the woods.

Feyre being the youngest daughter was probably not subjected to the lessons Nesta was to become a perfect wife, giving her more time to be kid and play and be a little bit more outgoing—most likely what lead her to be the provider.

(the reading lessons I feel was unfortunate, she forgot overtime for not practicing—not saying that was her fault ether, but I 100% believe that if Nesta had known she couldn’t read she would have taught her. Just think about it, Nesta loves to read, it’s empowering and she would definitely teach her had Feyre asked for it, because no one knew she couldn’t read, they even mention that in the books, Nesta said she would’ve taught her had she known she didn’t know how.)

Nesta wasn’t raised to be like that, so don’t expect her to just wake up and forget the years of programming her mother had drilled into her head. Let’s also not forget Elian is older than Feyre too, they really just brush over her and ignore that she too didn’t help provide for the family ether, yet the inner circle welcomed her with open arms because she’s quite and shy and won’t fight back or lash out for her feelings being hurt.

Nesta also was probably embarrassed that she didn’t know how to help, and didn’t know how to ask. People tend to skip over parts that they don’t like to focus on the parts they only want to see. Nesta went out and cut the wood when Feyre asked, Nesta went into the woods to go get Feyre back, she offered up her story to the high lords for the war, she wanted to learn how to fight so she would be helpful, how to use her powers, but do we hear anyone talking about that in the inner circle? No. And that pisses me off.

When the two Ravens came after them in the library she didn’t want to leave Feyre alone to fight them. She stayed and only went when Feyre told her to go find help. She wanted them to have an advantage in the war so she stayed and fought, made herself a distraction so they could get to the cauldron and keep the king distracted. Cassian was about to die and instead of running like he told her to she picked up his sword and tried to fight and when it failed she covered his body with her own, they wouldn’t die alone, they’d go together.

Her charter traits amaze me because if she were a male character I’m almost 99% certain none of us would be having this conversation about how “he” is a bitch that doesn’t deserve to be happy. If she was a male it would be socially acceptable that he is this way because he had a “troubled past” and he’s “dealing with it” he can drink and fuck whoever because he’s “healing” and that’s what guys do. No one would question it. The allure of the bad boy is so captivating that we ignore that they’ve made mistakes. But the minute you make them a female the are automatically a bitch and deserve to be hated because that’s not how a female should act.

Double standards exist in the books we read as well as the world we live in. It’s easy to forget that because we want to believe that the fantasy we have created is perfect when in reality it’s flawed. Flawed characters make for the best stories because they are the most relatable and REAL.

Nesta is probably the most real and relatable character to ever be created. She’s made mistakes, she’s made up of flaws, she been hurt but continues to go through life with her head held high. She doesn’t give two shits about what people think of her. She runs her life how she wants it. She doesn’t stand for people treating her like crap. She’s quick to say something back to defend herself or deflect it to something else. She’s intelligent and smart. She knew how many ships were needed to save the humans she cares about others.

But she is also flawed. It’s hard for her to feel emotions, to be open and understand other peoples emotions. She’s quick tempered and hot headed, but she’s also caring and passionate about the people she cares about. She would lay down her life if it meant she would save the people she cares about.

At the end of the war she’s hit with the reality that her father actually cared about them and she watched him be KILLED right in front of her, if that doesn’t speak volumes about scaring emotional trauma I don’t know what does.

She also has to come to terms with the fact that shes killed people. Jus because they were bad doesn’t mean that killing them was easy and didn’t effect her. The power burst saved them all but it also ended thousands of lives, regardless of what they did she has to live with the fact that she has ended another persons life. Even the King of Hybern’s death might not be easy for her to deal with. She ripped his head from his body, that would give any sane person nightmares.

She has had less that three months to cope with her new body and magic and is thrown into a war and watches the people around her are dying. That’s probably why she helps out in the medic tent and tends to the wounded, she can’t really fight so she finds something to do to help.

Side note: when she was helping in the medic tents during the war do you all remember the scene when she noticed Cassian’s hand was hurt? She literally took care of him. She might not show emotion often but when she does it speaks volumes. And then Cassian had to go and rip his hand away from her when Mor walked in. That probably made her feel like he was embarrassed to be seen with her. That’s she’s not worth being around if people don’t like her and will judge him if he’s seen with her.

For her PTSD It mentions how every time she lights a fire all she can hear is bones popping and necks snapping—I wouldn’t want to light a fire ether if that’s all I thought about and heard. The bath tub has me reeling. She’s forced herself to get over her fear because she thinks she deserves the pain is causes her. She stopped eating and taking care of herself because she thought she deserved to punish herself.

And the biggest problem I had with the inner circle—Cassain included this time, was solstice. Not one present for her besides Elain(and whatever the hell cassian threw in the damn river!!), and they practically forced her to go and they didn’t even get her anything! What the heck!!! I mean sure she didn’t get them anything, but she’s never celebrated this before how would she know? And it’s not like she had the money ether. Yes it was Feyre’s birthday but she also probably didn’t know what to get her with the bad place they were in at the moment. And there was not one painting of her in the entire house. I would feel uncomfortable and unwanted too if I was her. They don’t like how she chose to deal with her pain and they try to fix her pain, instead of listening to her pain and what SHE needs verses what THEY think she needs.

They only do what they want because they want to sweep it under the rug and move on. Because they don’t want poor fragile Feyre to feel sad. Fuck them honestly. If Nesta’s not ready to deal she’s not ready to deal giver her her damn space and time.

She needs to hit rock bottom before she’s ready to climb back to the surface. And all the the inner circle has had hundreds of years to cope with their pain and know what works for them. Nesta is a 22 year old women. She’s not developed the right ways to cope with death and tragedy yet, she needs to figure out what works best for her and that’s okay, she should be able to learn what works for her, not be forced to try what works for others.

Nesta is Depressed, she’s shown clear signs of PTSD, as well and Anxiety. You don’t just get over those because people are done with your mopping, they take time and sometimes they never go away you just learn how to cope with them when they flare up. You can’t just stuff it into a jar and hope it never comes out. It doesn’t work that way. And the 500+ year old Fae should understand that!!!!

Her drinking and having sex is her way of trying to feel something as well as not feeling anything. Again if she was a male character no one would be having a problem with this. Cassian and the other go out and drink for no reason and no one gets on them about it. Rhys said the day Feyre was going to marry Tamlin he was going to be piss drunk to not feel anything. And can you imagine what he would’ve been like had Feyre actually married Tamlin? He’d be wreak, and probably end up destroying himself because of his broken-heartedness.

Another thing about her going to the camps is, she has extreme PTSD from the war and from her sexual assault with Tomas. And now she being sent into what will probably be another war. A camp where all males do is fight all day—not good for someone who has PTSD about fighting. A place where women are treated like breeders and objects—not good for some who has sexual assault trauma. And they just expect her to be fine?! Noooooo!!!

She is going to struggle and not in the good way that gets her to feel again. She’s going to be pushed beyond her limits in a bad way and this could ultimately be what destroys her. My only hope is that the other females recognize what’s she’s going through and find a positive way to support her. I want her to have her own group of strong empowering and compassionate females and males in her new friend group.

The inner definitely doesn’t deserve to have Nesta in their “happy little circle” as Nesta puts it. She is someone I’d want to be friends with because she’d go to the ends of the earth to help her friends and the inner circle doesn’t understand that she DOES have a heart, she is just scared of it getting hurt and broken because she let herself love someone and be loved by someone, to only end up getting hurt the same way she did by Tomas. Trust is hard to build when it’s been broken time and time again.

Things I want from ACOSF is for Nesta to get better all on her own. To ignore the inner circle—minus Cassian sometimes, I do love their banter and I want to see some fluff and sexual tension/frustration and smut from them, as well as a good heart to heart with some tears on both sides about their pasts. Her to United the camp lords. Befriend Devlon—have a father daughter relationship with the dude, change the way females are treated in the camps. Come into her powers. Have Cassian stand up to his family and defend Nesta(she’s probs had no one EVER stand up for her before). For her to ABSOLUTELY NOT apologize to the inner circle, they should apologize to her only for treating her like crap and holding her last mistakes over her head like a sword waiting to cop her head off if she makes one wrong move . For Nesta to befriend Bryaxis—OMG how awesome that would be!!! Hahahaha. Maybe The Court of Nightmares cameo. Find out who Cassian saw in the prison, as well as WHAT THE BLOODY HELL CASSIAN THREW INTO THE SIDRA ON SOLOIST!!!! And hopefully the Ilyrians will become independent from the Night Court with the help of Nesta as their newQueen—Sarah has called her a queen without a throne, if this doesn’t happen then I quit. And maybe Cassain ruling with her. Oh and of course NESSIAN MATES AS ENDGAME!!!!!!!!

I hope Nesta gets her deserved happy ending, regardless of whether or not the inner circle is involved in her healing and empowerment. She is a Queen, and nothing will stop her from owning her life and getting her happiness like she deserves!<3

Sorry for the rant:)

#nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sarajmaas #cassian #nessian #queennesta

[poetryinthedawn]

Nessian fanbook: Chapter 3

That night in the house was silent. Every so often you’d hear the pop of a cork being released for a bottle, the sound of a fizzy liquid being poured into a glass; and if you didn’t hear that it was okay to assume a glass wasn’t being used.

Mor was in the dinning room staring at the table while a bottle sat between her arms, Amren was sprawled on the sofa in the next room with Varian.  

Rhysand and Feyre sat at the balcony outside their room, over looking Velaris. 

Azriel was currently in his room, and was staring out of his window as if he could see Cassian walking back up the front and in through the entrance. Sprinkles, his black cat circled around his ankles in comfort. 

It was going to be a long, and quiet night.

-

Feyre stared up at sky, it looked as if the sky had been painted a lonely dark blue, the stars had been forgotten. ’Did we make the right decision?’ Feyre asked. The question had been haunting her before Nesta had walked in with Cassian, when Cassian and Nesta had left. Was it fair, to of kicked them out of the only place they might of called home because Nesta was destructive and just waiting to explode? 

‘You wouldn’t leave an un-exploded bomb in your back garden. But you also wouldn’t put it in someone else’s back garden. So what’s left to do? Do you wait for it to finally go off, or do you send someone out there to dismantle it?’ Rhysand responded, he hadn’t answered Feyre’s question, but he had reassured her the tiniest bit that they had done something rather than left Nesta to of dealt with what she was feeling by herself.

‘We should of done more.’ She whispered.

Rhysand only looked at her before whispering back, ‘As much as you might want to, you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. You have to make them want to live, make them want to wake up each morning. Give them an excuse not to give up.’ 

A single tear trailed down Feyres cheeks, sliding down her chin before disappearing. ‘It’s just so... shit.’

Rhysand reached out, and trailed his thumb over her cheek wiping away the remains of her tear, before exhaling and responding ‘I know.

-

Mor tipped the bottle into her mouth, the remants of the alcohol draining down her throat only to leave a horrible burning in her chest. In a single moment she stood up and threw the empty bottle at the wall. The glass shattered into thousands of pieces, before raining onto the floor. She crumbled back onto her chair bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek on her knees. Mor was here, with her family and yet she had never felt so alone. One of her best friends, had left home. For who knows how long, who knew when she would next see him. Mor was filled with this unwanted rage boiling up inside of her but with no where to release it. She was angry at Feyre and Rhysand for sending Cassian to the mountains with Nesta. She was frustrated with Nesta for forcing this hand to be played. But all her anger was turned towards herself. When they had been discussing Nesta, she hadn’t taken Nesta’s side. She just questioned whether it should of been Cassian going with her. She should of fought for Nesta, fought for her to of stayed, said she would of went with Nesta. That was laughable though, they would be at each others throats before they had even left. The truth was, last time it had been Rhysand who wasn’t there, who had left a big hole in the family when he was forced under the mountain. And now it was Cassian and the same fear settled in her stomach.

-

They heard the smashing of a bottle in the room next door, but neither of them stirred from the sofa. They both stayed seated, Varian waited for Amren to say something. They had sat in silence for the past few hours. Varian waited for Amrens thoughts to settle, to let her speak first.

‘She’ll be okay.’ Amren finally said. She was staring straight ahead at the wall opposite them. Amren was like the butterfly affect, if the wings of the butterfly fluttered at the right moment at the right time, a storm would be caused due to that small motion. Only Amren was the storm waiting to happen.

‘You really admired her.’ Varian said, watching Amren. But Amren only let out a small laugh as if denying his statement. But Varian had taken his time learning the ins-and-outs about Amren, he could even tell you what the tiniest muscle movement meant. He knew where to look, and when to look. ‘I’m right though,’ he said softly ‘You admired her.’

‘She was strong. Incredibly strong. Nesta despised the thought of fae and what we are, and when she was forced to become something she truly hates. There is so much potential there, she can achieve and become so much. But she was wasting away, she was letting herself waste away.’

‘And as much as you might of gave up with her,’ Varian said, his voice held strong as Amren flicked her head towards him giving him such a dark look it could make the dead stir, ‘You never gave up hope for her.’

Amren only breathed in deeply, before nodding her head in agreement. Amren was upset to see Nesta and Cassian go, devastated really. But she still believed in Nesta.

-

Azriel had pulled a chair to the window in his room, it over looked the forest, the tips of the trees stretching to the sky, wanting to swing among the clouds and be lit up by the stars. Only tonight the sky was empty, as if someone had drained it of the clouds and the stars and left it to be empty and alone. Sprinkles sat on his laps, and Azriels fingers trailed along the cats spine gently.

‘You might see me a bit more now,’ Azriel said to the cat, ‘I hope you don’t mind.’ The cat curled up in his lap only softly purred, before falling asleep. Azriel stayed at the window all night, after he was sure everyone had gone to bed he stayed there waiting for his best friend to come home.

That night was the longest and loneliest night as they all felt the missing presence of Cassian, and even Nesta.

[crowsvalentine]

Hey! Thank you for blessing us with your Elriel prompts 😍🙏🏼 I'd really love to read about jealous elriel! Might be jealousy over mor/lucien, whatever you like, just some angst combined with elriel fluff 😍

Jealous Elriel is less rare than you think

Az isn’t used to having someone love him back like Elain does so he thinks she’s going to drop him for someone else the moment someone better comes along

Which he thinks every other male is

Better than him

But with Lucien it seems like Az goes on some other level of jealousy 

Unlike stand in a corner and brood like he normally does

He’ll pull Elain close to him

Keeps her distracted as if giving Lucien attention would cause the mating bond to draw her to him instead

She knows what he’s doing but she lets it happen

Because the mating bond is a big deal to them and she may not understand it but she understands when Az wraps his arms around her waist and holds her back against his chest as they talk to their family

There’s one day he’s sitting next to her on the couch

And he’s watching her as Lucien causes her to laugh

Throw her head back and laugh

And he wants to appreciate it so badly but just the fact that it was Lucien making her laugh

Making her happy

He can’t help what he does

Without a word he lifts her

Pulls her onto his lap

Rhys and Cassian smirk at the gesture, their own mates already perched on their laps from the lack of seats in the room 

Az notices Cass whisper something to Nesta and Nesta looks over at Az and smiles

Az rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch

But Elain doesn’t relax into him

She stays sitting up straight as she continues talking to Lucien

Back when they’d became friends Az was happy that they stopped making the room awkward

Now he hates it

His hands move down to her hips

Uses his thumbs to make little circles over her dress

“Elain I think Azriel wants some attention”

He ignores Rhys

Keeps his eyes on Elain 

“He always does but I’m talking to my friend”

oh

oh she’s mad 

His eyes widen

And his hands leave her sides instantly 

She’s never been mad at him for being jealous 

But he’s also never pulled her onto his lap in the middle of a conversation before

She’s still mad when they’re saying their goodnights

Barely holds his hand when he sets to winnow them back home

And she steps away from him the moment they set foot in their cabin

“Elain-”

“No”

Just one word before she sits on one of the kitchen stools

Her arms crossed over her chest, looking out the back door at the dark expanse of their yard

He tries placing his hand on her arm but she nudges him away and he sighs

“I’m sorry”

She still says nothing, but she doesn’t pull away this time when Az moves down to his knees and places his hands on her waist

“Elain-”

“Why do you get jealous?” She still isn’t looking at him when she asks, just keeps her gaze directed at the large glass doors that lead out to her garden

The garden he gifted her far before they were together

“You shouldn’t get jealous” she whispers, “you don’t have to get jealous”

“I know I shouldn’t but-”

She finally looks at him, and she smiles, takes his face her hands  and smiles

“No, you don’t have to get jealous, you have nothing to be jealous of because I’m going to say yes, when you ask me in the garden I’ll say yes”

“You found my ring”

“No, I saw it. Before you even went to your mother to ask for it, I saw the ring, saw you going down on your knee just how Feyre told you men purpose to women, I saw you cry when you thought I was going to say no but I was just distracted because there’s going to be a bee right next to your ear. I saw it, Azriel, I saw everything”

His eyes are wide, taking in what she’s saying

Elain never got jealous and everyone prided her for it

But now he understands why she differs from other females in that sense

Because she’s seen it all

She knows that nothing will ever come out of other females looking at Azriel

And Azriel’s jealousy comes from always thinking the bond will take hold and his Elain will be taken from him

But then Elain continues, continues telling him of the life he’s going to live with her

A long beautiful life

And he kisses her when she’s in the middle of telling him about the couch they’re going to ruin on Azriel’s 600th birthday 

“You don’t have to worry, Az, you have nothing to worry about”

(But like even though he knows he’ll be the one who gets to take Elain home every single night for the rest of his life, it still doesn’t stop him from standing protectively beside her when they go to Rita’s and he sees the way the other males are looking at her)

[senstia]

Nessian Fic post acofas

This is my first fic so please enjoy and no hate please!! Smut and fluff are involved!!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cassian

I’m tired. Tired in my heart and in my bones and for once I can’t muster the strength to joke. Being in the Illyrian mountains with Nesta caused a whole host of trouble, not to mention the fighting, oh did she love to fight, and she loved to shut me out too.

In the beginning it was unbearable, to see her so broken, so empty. It felt like someone was putting a knife in my gut every time I looked at her. But over the months we have been here she has settled, still healing, but there is a new calmness in her I’ve never seen before. Not that she would ever talk to me about any of it, not that she would ever let me in. The steel in her heart runs deep, the fire in her soul burns bright and i’ve yet to get through it. I haven’t tried to touch her, haven’t tried to get close, even though every part of me is yearning for her; mind, body, and soul.

The verbal sparring matches with her are always quite entertaining, it is so fun to bait her, see that fire glow in her eyes when I say the right thing to make her see red. Oh fighting with Nesta can be fun. But sometimes when our breath becomes ragged from yelling at each other so much and we both have to take a breath, I see it flash in her eyes, quick as a lightning strike. The emotion, Feyre’s words flash through my mind,

“I think Nesta feels everything—sees too much; sees and feels it all. And she burns with it. Keeping that wall up helps from being overwhelmed, from caring too greatly.”

I can see the feeling come in waves through her eyes when she’s too tired or angry to hide it. I want to beg her, beg her to let it out. I want her to let that wall down, I want to tell her that she should feel everything, she should care, she should let it burn and let it burn bright. But I never do, and that cold wall snaps back up in her eyes and she walks away, she always walks away from me and I don’t know how much longer I can take it.

But today I am too tired to fight for her to let me in when I can barely keep myself from drowning. Azriel is gone on a mission, Mor is at the Court of Nightmares and Feyre and Rhys are keeping Elain company is Velaris and I don’t want to trouble anyone with my own personal emotional breakdown. Nesta is all I have and she couldn’t care less if I lived or died, at least that’s what she tells me day after day.

Sometimes it haunts my nightmares, that day when she was human, when my mouth was on her neck and her scent was the only thing that mattered, but that was a lifetime ago and neither of us are the same people we were then. War changes people and Nesta is finally coming out of her emptiness. I’m so happy that being in the mountains has helped her. For a while I thought I wouldn’t be able to pull her out of that cold, empty hole she buried herself in. But of course I didn’t pull her out. She did. My- no not my- strong Nesta dragged herself into the light wearing illyrian leathers and fire in her eyes and I knew she was ready to fight for herself again, for her happiness and healing, but I was no part of it, I never would be, and that fact terrifies me more than anything.

Whenever she gets tired of hearing me talk, tired of listening to me try to get some scrap out of emotion out of her she walks away and there’s nothing I can do about it. Once that wall goes up there is nothing to be done to get it down again.

I’m hoping she ignores me completely right now because i’m too tired to fight her and maybe I’ve stopped caring, stopped caring about the fact that she holds my heart in her hands and doesn’t even know it or care to know it, the fact that my heart feels as if it’s going to explode every time she gets close, even if it’s just to scream in my face, maybe I just don’t care, for now at least.

Nesta

My throat is burning and every muscle in my body is sore but my heart is awake. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel empty anymore. My nightmares are still there but they don’t consume me in the way that they used to. I can always feel the power thrumming in my veins but it has slumbered in me recently, like it is finally content.

Being forced to the illyrian mountains made me see red for a long time and Cassian was always there for me to let my anger out. He never faltered, never flinched, insult after insult I would hurl at him and he took it, he took all of it. No male every affected me the way he does, he gets under my skin in a way that terrifies me and coldness and anger is the only defense I have against him. But no matter how cold I am, no matter what I say or what I do, he looks at me with those hazel eyes and he sees me. Right through the mask I wear, to the broken soul underneath. He sees through every word I say and every facial expression I make and it is terrifying.

Vulnerability is something that I do not tolerate and Cassian strips me bare. And when i’m too tired to keep that mask up and he sees the emotion in my eyes, if just for a second, he doesn’t look afraid, he looks at me with hope in those hazel eyes and every time he does my heart almost shatters into a million pieces.

Then there’s other times when we are silently eating or he is in the sparring ring and I am not, when I watch him. The way he moves, the way he looks, the way he talks, I find it fascinating to watch him and I realize that I could watch him forever and I think I would like that very much. But he can never know that because if he knew that somehow over these months I have come to like his company, to trust him and rely on him, maybe even love him if I dared, then he would have the power to shatter me completely and I don’t think that is something I can live with, that sort of vulnerability.

I’m in the mood to fight with him, only because it secretly makes me smile and more and more recently I have found myself craving his company, not that I would ever let him see that. So I walk into where I know he always is at this hour with my back straight, chin high, and ice in my eyes. But something is different when I see him, something is wrong. He is sitting on a couch with his head in his hands and it looks as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. He doesn’t even look up when I walk in and the ice in my eyes melts away into nothing. I’ve never seen him any way but cocky, arrogant and teasing. But right now he looks broken. Something snaps in me. Some instinct deep inside to protect what I care about and damn my own stupid feelings and insecurities. Elain has always been the only one who ever struck that instinct in me, I would ruin myself to keep her safe and there has never been anyone else but Elain, and Feyre too, that I would do that for. But right now, seeing Cassian look so tired, so broken, I know in my bones that I will ruin whoever caused him to feel anything but happiness, no matter the cost. And I realize that maybe I should stop fighting him and start loving him, maybe being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak, maybe it makes you strong. So I walk up to the couch and sit beside him, so close our thighs brush against each other. He doesn’t shift.

Cassian

She’s sitting next to me. That is the only thought in my head right now and every nerve in my body is focusing on the spot where our thighs are touching. My heart is pounding out of my chest and I make no move towards her, not even to lift my head.

“Cassian,” she says in a low voice.

I slowly lift my head towards her and now i’m 100% sure my heart is going to explode because her face is so much closer to me than I expected it to be and our breath is mingling together and her scent is filling my nose and that easily everything that was broken in me is mended.

“Nesta,” I say and my voice is husky.

Please no fighting, please please I can’t do it anymore please Nesta, thats what I want to say to her but I won’t because i’m truly a coward and I can’t stop staring at her face, every inch of her perfect face and i’m trying to memorize everything before she walks away again because she has never been this close before and I don’t want this moment to end and I—

“I hope the pain eases soon,” is what Nesta murmurs.

My heart is shattered and my bones are all on the floor and there is nothing left of me because she took it all, those 6 simple words and she owns me completely. How did she know how did she know how did she know.

“Iloveyounestaarcheron” the words come out of me in a gasp and I can’t believe I just said that out loud.

She looks at me, I mean really looks at me and I think i’ve never been so petrified in my life.

“What did you just say,” she says quietly, coldly.

I cringed to keep from shaking, “I said, I love you Nesta Archeron? Or or I didn’t say that at all... I’m not completely sure,” I laughed nervously.

Im an idiot. I can’t believe i’m here professing my love and stuttering to a girl who obviously couldn’t care less about me, I just ruined everything, everything I’ve ruined—

Her lips are on my throat and she is kissing me slowly, lightly and for a moment there is hope. Her lips move downward and now she is kissing across my collarbone but I don’t want her slow right now so I take her beautiful face is my hands and our lips are crashing together all tongues and teeth and I can’t taste her fast enough, can’t hold her close enough. Her hands are in my hair and my hands are making their way down down to her waist, to that perfect ass and I think i’m dreaming when she shifts so she is sitting on my lap and she starts grinding against me and a moan escapes my mouth and she pulls back and looks at me.

“I.. I love you too Cassian,and I want you, all of you, right.. right now,” she says.

I’m definitely dreaming right now but I don’t care because this is ecstasy and my cock won’t stop twitching beneath her and it’s getting harder by the second and I can feel her arousal against me and I think I might come right now. Her lips find mine again and she is kissing me deeply and fully, meanwhile she is unbuttoning my shirt and ripping it off and her hands are on my bare chest and she is grinding against me and I can’t handle all the things I’m feeling right now.

Nesta

I pull back from him and look at him. At his muscled tan chest and those hazel eyes and i’m not scared anymore and being vulnerable feels right, it feels right with him. So I lift my shirt from me and now i’m naked except for my pants and within half a second one of my breasts is in his mouth and I can’t stop moaning as his soft warm lips tease my nipple and he bites it relentlessly and I want more, more more more. I stand up quickly and slip off my pants and undergarments and he is unbuttoning his and soon we are both naked and i’m back in his lap. His hands move down to my sex and he teases my knot and i want more.

“Please Cas,” I moan.

And he responds by plunging two fingers inside me and it feels oh so good and I grind against his hands as they move and my release is coming fast but he stops, stops and looks at me, a question in his eyes.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly and then his considerable length is inside me and i’ve never felt anything so good and once he’s inside me to the hilt he waits so I can get used to the feel of him but i’m tired of waiting so I ride him, fast and hard.

He is moaning my name over and over and I think i’m screaming his but i’m so lost in the feel of him that I can’t hear a thing. He is moving fast and hard against me too and im building to a climax and so is he.

He screams my name as he spills inside me and I scream his as my release crashes through me too. We slow and my head is against his chest. We are both breathing hard and both coated in sweat but I have never been more content in my life.

“I love you i love you i love you i love you,” he whispers in my ear. We moved to his bed roll 4 hours ago where we made love thrice more times each more amazing than the last.

Now im in his arms with my head against his heart and I can hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat and I know that with him by my side, I don’t have to feel cold and empty anymore, not if I don’t want to. I am home, I am safe, after all this time.

[sarah-bae-maas]

A Court of Hearts and Darkness Chapter Twenty Eight

It’s been over a century since the epic and bloody war against Hybern, but a new, unprecedented horror lies in wait to threaten everything the Inner Circle holds dear.

At a mere 17, it seems that the only one who can save them is the Heir to the Night Court, Feyre and Rhysand’s daughter Eleana, but as a creature so vile promises to kill everyone she loves, she must combat the urge to succumb to the darkness herself. The key to success lies hidden within her mate, the bastard born Kaden, who is as oblivious to the bond as her Court is oblivious to the war on the horizon.

With the help of her cousin and warrior Felix, the son of the famed Nesta and Cassian, they will try to save everything they hold dear, hopefully before the darkness takes them all.

(This fic was written pre-acowar, so please bear in mind there are some small differences but it can still hopefully be enjoyed!)

Link on Ao3 Masterlist

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***

-Chapter 28-

Kaden awoke to Azriel gently nudging his shoulder, his eyes barely having to adjust in the still-dark room. For a moment, he felt confusion – about where he was, what he was doing – but he could never escape reality long. Kaden stood from his place on the floor, his gaze shooting between Thea and Quathryn who were both still asleep. He nodded to himself – it was good that they slept and dreamt if it meant it kept them away from this world for just a little bit. A world darkened, ripped and unable to be fixed.

Azriel patted Kaden’s hair and cocked his head in a sign of asking him to leave the room. Kaden checked the young girls once again, then followed Azriel from the room, shutting the door behind him. When they were done, he would open it again. He knew from experience that once you left the room you could no longer hear any of the noise from within, and he would hate to leave and for the girls to wake up and think they were alone.

“How are you?” Azriel asked.

Kaden ran his hand over his face and through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said, and it was true.

Once Cassian had left with the assurance that Azriel would be home soon and there were enough wards on the house to keep his children safe, Kaden retired to his room. He let Quathryn have the bed, she’d spread herself out like a starfish and was dribbling on his pillow, and Thea was nice and snug in her makeshift crib on top of his pianoforte. He took the floor, finding comfort in the place he knew best.

And for the first time, as he slept that night, he knew what it was like to have an Eleana-calibre night terror. Thankfully, he was quiet, and was honestly astonished at the fact. But when he woke up, he could’ve sworn he was still there, in the mountains, watching in horror as his best friend’s ghost rose from his mutilated body. When he realised what was happening, he reached out to Eleana, desperate for her comfort, but her shield was harder than ever. He needed her now more than he ever had before, and he knew she needed him as well. There were things he needed to tell her – something that he thought he’d found out about them that she needed to know.

He cried into the crook of his own arm until he fell asleep again.

“How are the girls? I checked on Cassian just before I came home, and he said they were here.”

“They’re fine – as good as they can be.”

“Kaden…” Azriel looked hesitant but reigned himself. “We can’t find Laya. Rhys and Feyre are downstairs, and they’re starting to get really worried. I wanted to let you rest, but we need your help.”

“Of course. I want to have her home as much as anyone else.” Kaden shook out his hair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He opened the door right before brushing past Azriel to go downstairs. He met Feyre and Rhys in the hallway, the two pale and shaking with concern. The High Lady whispered her thanks, and you could see the gratitude from the High Lord in his eyes.

He nodded at them and started to walk away, his head higher than it had been in days now that he had a purpose.

“Wait.” From behind Feyre and Rhysand, Morrigan rose from the couches. In his sleep deprived state, he didn’t even notice her. Which caused him immense guilt, as this woman had done so much for him and he had forgotten her.

Kaden turned to look at her, Mor frowning at the sight of the dark bags under his eyes. She approached him with open arms, and he let her embrace him – needing a motherly hug. “Come back soon, okay? I want you home and safe with us.”  

He hugged her back tightly, and with that, he left to find his dark rose.

_____

 Kaden had no idea she had gone so far. No longer in the Night Court, his magic was steering him south for as long as the eye could see. It was no wonder no one had been able to track her, she’d winnowed as far as she could. From the looks of it, it seemed she was going to the Spring Court, which wouldn’t surprise him. She’d confessed to him that whenever the Night Court was too much High Lord Glaslane always welcomed her – had already this year after their disastrous first kiss.

He continued to fly, letting his mind get lost in the feel of the wind in his wings and the sound they made as he rushed to find Eleana. He barely gave any attention to the Courts that he knew were below, just wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of fire from their heaths and the surprising racket he sometimes heard. He knew nothing of the other Courts practises at night – it wouldn’t surprise him if they were awake at this hour.  

As he followed his magic, he saw that his presumptions we correct. Eleana seemed to be in the Spring Court.

He landed in a wooded area, just outside a small town on the boarder of the Autumn Court. He expected his magic to guide him towards the mansion, but it was also totally possible that in an effort to escape her own grief she wanted to avoid anyone she knew.

He tracked her with is magic, only few fae and faeries here awake. They all gave him curious looks, but he didn’t heed them any attention.

Eleana’s trail was a jagged mess, leading him out of the town and through the thick bushland, up a steep slope and left to the boarder. He stood atop the hill he had just climbed. To one side was the Spring Court, the tiny village starting to light up as more and more farmers started their day, and to the other was the Autumn Court. It was a very strange in-between. You could feel the cold winds from the Autumn Court warming as they came into Spring’s land – a phenomenon that wasn’t seen in the solar courts.

Kaden wasn’t totally sure where to go. He could see she clearly had gone into the Autumn Court, but the trail often buzzed back over to Spring, as if she’d been running, winnowing, or flying back and forth all night. It was a weirdly erratic behaviour he hadn’t been expecting at all – as if it wasn’t even Eleana.

He ventured into the Autumn Court, now taking the slopes downward in an effort to find his love. With every step, he ached more for her presence. He also needed to apologize to her for his actions. He just didn’t think straight when it came to Felix – neither of them did.

Eventually, his magic found a more definitive trail again, and as he followed it he felt like he was stepping out of a maze. The last two hours of looking for her had been an inconsistent mess, but he felt better knowing she must be close.

His lights guided him to where he needed to go, very occasionally showing him glimpses of Eleana being in the same place. The visions felt off though, in a way that made him squirm as he flew. It was like rather than looking through clear water, he had to wade his way through thick mud. Flashes of her were enough to keep him going though, regardless if they were what he was accustomed to or not.  

Her trail became farther and fewer between, so he took back to the skies, gliding over the Autumn Court. Smoke obstructed his vision slightly from the faeries beneath lighting fires to keep warm, and he found his eyes watering and squinting.

As he got closer to the Forest House, he started taking note of the smell of the smoke. It did not smell like kindling as one might presume it would, but much stronger and quite sour. The smell was actually putrid and had him gagging. He wondered what could possibly make a stench like that.

And then he heard.

There was screaming and banging as people raced through the tree tunnels, hundreds of people trying to flee the top tiers of the Forest House. In the distance, he could see High Lord Lucien spewing flames at enemies Kaden couldn’t see, and he rushed to his aide. As he got lower in altitude, Kaden’s eyes widened in trembling dread as he saw what was causing the citizens to flee.

No.

Not again.

Not so soon.

There were creatures everywhere, destruction and death following in their wake. The Autumn Court sentries were doing their best to kill them and hold them back so the people could flee, but they had no idea what they were up against. Bodies, thankfully not as many as Kaden expected, were littering the ground, and he felt every loss. Their families were soon to feel the pain he had become so well versed in, and he didn’t wish that upon anybody.

He flew as fast as he could to Lucien’s side, people aiming at him with spears but backing down with a bark from Lucien. He landed at the fox’s side, skidding to a halt just feet from him.

“What the hell is going on?”

“They got here an hour ago and it’s been chaos since,” High Lord Lucien spat through gritted teeth, still taking aim at the crawling creatures snapping at him and his men and women. “Thank the Cauldron we had some warning from Elain. Did you come with Rhys?”

Kaden speared his magic through an oncoming creature, his heart starting to race. “I followed Eleana’s trail here.”

“She’s here somewhere? Shit.”

“Where is Lady Elain? Why isn’t Rhys here yet if you summoned him?”

“Likely because there are at least three other courts that have been hit tonight,” he growled. “I had just gotten a message from Tarquin when my servants started screaming.” A creature yelped as Lucien dealt its death blow. “And my mate is safe, locked where they can’t get to her. I love her more than I love life, and under no circumstances will she die tonight.”

Kaden joined the High Lord at his side, fending away the creatures until the room was clean of them. The soldiers with them immediately went down to join their kin in the forests, hoping to save as many lives as possible. Lucien, with Kaden at his back, ran to the vaults where magic weapons of destruction were held. Constructed by the former High Lord Beron, only the High Lord of the time could access them. With the suddenness of the attack, Lucien hadn’t had a chance to fetch them.

“How the fuck did they get in here?” Lucien hissed to himself, thinking aloud.

Kaden mulled his words over, even if they weren’t intended for him. The answer, after everything he had been through, was painfully obvious. “The tunnels in the mountains.”

Lucien muttered darkly under his breath, surging down stairs. “Find Laya. No one but I can cross this point. And hurry. I’ll send another message to Rhys for help, and let’s just pray they haven’t been hit too.”

Kaden nodded and fled, wanting to find the closest exit so he could fly and look for her from above. Every moment without her was making him panic – it felt like his blood was sticking together, his limbs becoming heavy and slow. He felt full of ick, and knowing that she was out there somewhere was making him frantic and scared. Eleana was so lovely, he wanted her safe. And yet she always found her way into the darkest situations Prythian had to offer.

His search was lengthy. He had to stop constantly to help people, and his magic was wearing thin after a fitful night’s sleep. Her trail was also still as random and sporadic as it had been before, and the only thing stopping him from keeling over and having a panic attack was the bond he could still feel was there – meaning that wherever she was she was alive.

He was stabbing a scabby creature when from above he heard the most glorious sound – wings. He killed his target, looking up to see Illyrians above.

But only forty-nine of them. He knew, because even from here he could tell it was the Elite. At their head was what looked like Felix, but no, it was Cassian.  Kaden went to join their ranks, at the side of his brothers as he should be, but he was stopped by an all-encompassing shield.

“What the f-”

“You didn’t find her then.” High Lady Feyre stepped out from seemingly nothing, head to toe in Illyrian leather and fighting gear.

“She’s in this Court.” It was the best answer he could give her.

The High lady nodded her head, her lips pressed together and a fine line of fury marring her forehead.

“The Night Court-”

“Is fine,” she answered before she could finish. “But the Illyrian legions won’t come, not after the loss of the Bloodrite and the threat to our land. The Elite are here because they are under separate orders and because of their loyalty to Felix.”

“Surely the other Courts will come to our aide.”

High Lady Feyre looked at him despairingly. “Every Court has been hit but ours. I came here because of my allegiance to Lucien. Rhys and Azriel are with Tarquin. The other Courts have been left to fend for themselves.”

Kaden’s mouth opened in shock, and he flounded in front of his High Lady. Lost for words, he stared at her with the danger of the situation pounding in his mind.

If these creatures were capable of amounting an attack on six of the seven Courts simultaneously, then there were far more of them than anyone could have initially predicted. The soil of Prythian would once more run read with the blood of its inhabitants, and the civilian loss would be cataclysmic.

“Eleana-”

“Is powerful enough that hopefully she will be able to take care of herself,” Feyre interrupted again. “But, please, I beg of you, find her. Lead me to her. I will vanquish any foe we face on the way but I need my daughter home. Mor is there protecting Velaris, and I would feel much better knowing Laya is with her.”

Without another word, Kaden sprinted to where he could hopefully find Eleana, but Cauldron knew if he was even going the right way. From what he could tell, she was on the move and had been all day. Either that, or his magic was failing him.

Her path led him back to the centre of the Forest House, and he realised that she must be fighting her way through the creatures to try and get to Lucien – to somewhere safe. It seemed the High Lady made the same presumption, bolting ahead of him as soon as she realised where the path was going. He raced after her – her direction ringing true.

The Forest House was on fire.

Flames were licking at nearly every surface except the highest of turrets, but even that was just bare stone meant as a watch tower. There was no way anyone could take refuge there. There were winged creatures zipping around its roof, but never approaching. The Elite were there, picking them off one by one. Kaden squinted his eyes to focus, and he could see High Lord Lucien’s flame red hair blowing from the wind the creatures were creating and also-

And also a dark mane that could only belong to one.

The High Lady looked at her daughter like a blind man seeing for the first time, a woman seeing the sun after a long winter, a restless child seeing its parent, and she whimpered, “Rhys,” to summon her mate to her side.

Kaden stepped back when suddenly Eleana’s father, smeared with blood, winnowed next to his mate with a thunderous bang. He reached for his mate’s hand and winnowed them to the tower, leaving Kaden in their dust.

He quickly followed them, using what magic he had to winnow after them. He landed on the balls of his feet, immediately pushed back by the wind tunnel they had found themselves wrapped in.  Rhys put up a barrier between them all and the creatures raging outside.

It was like being trapped in a snow globe. What were once glassless windows were now barred by the High Lord’s magic, making the wind and fire swirl around them – a light show that cast them all in hues of red and yellow.

Eleana was facing away from them, overlooking the window with her hands gripping onto its sill. She looked serene, and Kaden wanted to cry from happiness at the sight of her. She had changed since she’d left the House of Wind and was now clad in a deep purple dress with a black train, her hair styled in waves down her back. Gold cuffs encircled her wrists, and a necklace that looked so tight it was constricting was clamped around her delicate neck.  

Kaden didn’t care that it was odd that she still looked so pristine in the middle of all this – if someone could manage it, it was Eleana.

He peeked at her parents, their reactions similar to his. Lucien on the other hand looked on with trepidation, his hand gripping a dagger tightly.

“Eleana,” Feyre sighed. “Butterfly, you’re safe. Thank the Cauldron.” She put one of her hands over her heart, as if trying to contain the overwhelming relief she must have felt.

Eleana stayed silent. Kaden thought maybe she was still overwhelmingly dismayed, but he sensed no sadness from her, not even discomfort. Her hair was shining in the light, its navy set alight by the flames around them. It was growing quite warm in the room, and Kaden felt sweat start to drip down his back.

“Laya, I’m so happy to see you.” Rhys stepped forward, resting his hand on her shoulder. “We have to go home, Butterfly, these horrible creatures are everywhere.”

She reached behind him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I think you have me confused for someone else, High Lord Rhysand.”

She turned, and her violet eyes were flashing gold.  

They all reeled back but Lucien, Rhysand snapping his hand back as though it had been burned.

“Eleana-”

“You needn’t worry, High Lord. She’s still in here. She can see everything. Hear everything. She is just no longer in control.”

Kaden’s throat constricted at the image in front of him. It was Eleana – her smell, her body, her everything – but it was not her at all. There was an inflection to her voice he had never heard, an accent from Mother knows where. The way she stood, her posture, was completely unfamiliar to him. And her eyes… oh Cauldron, those eyes. The deepest gold he had ever seen, it was equally fascinating and sickening.

“Who the hell are you?” Rhys growled. “And where is my daughter?”

The prettiest, most serene smile crossed Eleana’s face. “I told you, she’s still here.” Eleana, no, not Eleana, walked forward, pushing past the High Lord like he was nothing.

Lucien still had his dagger raised, and that’s when Kaden realised that Lucien had seen this woman for what she truly was before they had arrived. What he had learnt from that interaction, Kaden was sure he would know soon.

The woman stopped less than a foot away from him and raised a hand to his scarred face. Frozen by familiarity and fear, he let her push back a single lock of hair that was covering his eyes. “Golden one, so matching to her blue.” Her hand slid down, and the sweat sliding down his body felt like spiders. Swallowing hard, his eyes followed her movements. “You are so precious, so valuable to her – the most important thing.”

She cocked her head to the side, and with a flick of her wrist, they were alone.

High Lord Lucien and Rhys were gone, High Lady Feyre – all whisked away from them due to the power this woman possessed.

A power that was once Eleana’s.

The shield remained – keeping Kaden and Eleana locked in this red world while the rest of existence fell apart.

She leaned forward, pressing Eleana’s chest against him, a hand slowly sliding south. “I meant what I said. She’s here, and she can feel everything.”

Kaden grabbed her wrist before it could find its intended target and flinched away from the woman. “You’re a liar,” he spat. “Where is Eleana? Tell me and I will give you the quick death I’ve granted the other wretched creatures.”

“I am no creature, I am Eleana. She is still here.”

Kaden wanted to punch her – use brute force to make this woman talk. But he could never hurt Eleana, even if it was just the illusion of her. Just the thought of laying a hand on this thing in front of him rendered him incapable.

“There is no way. Not even the strongest of daemati could penetrate her mind unless she wished it.”

“Has the thought ever crossed your mind that maybe she had?”

“No.”

She chuckled to herself, pacing back and forth in front of him.

Kaden was perplexed, and scared, and so very confused but the one thing he did know is that he held no power in this conversation.

“Fae, the most stupid species of them all. You know, I never did like the fae. Not just your kind, but them all. Even the ones who are halted by iron or have all their other forms.”

“You can’t call fae stupid and then claim iron hurts us. Do you know nothing?”

“On the contrary, I know more than you could ever comprehend.” She smiled at him, amused. Like he was a puppet in a show she was controlling. “I could entertain you by telling you stories of wolves and hawks and bitch queens with a world burned in fire – or maybe the story of how my kin learnt to create the most vicious but subservient life from nothing.”

Kaden reeled back once again, her words painting a very vivid picture in his mind. A thing, her, who had learnt to create life from nothing, the creatures, and bend them to its will. He was starting to see this woman in a new light. Before, he had been worried about where his dark rose was, even if all his magic was leading him here screaming here she is, this is what you’ve been looking for. Now, as he stood in front of this woman, he finally knew the answer to the question they had all been asking for a very long time.

“You made the creatures – you control them.”

Her answering smirk was as vicious as the smile of an Impeath, a look he had never seen on his lover’s face.

Now looking at her, at her sophisticated dress and jewels, a memory was served to him. A memory of Eleana and him on a rock, a day held most dear in his heart, when they rejected a present from the forest because it felt so different and foreign. Not a collar at all – but a twin to what she was wearing now.

“And now you’re controlling Eleana’s body – inhabiting it.” It was no longer a shocking realisation. One that has the power to do what this woman had already done likely was also capable of taking Eleana.

She clicked her fingers as she said, “Ding ding ding, right again.”

“But why?” His voice cracked, and his body became ridged as she stepped towards him again.

Her face, previously so cocky, changed into something darker. “Because I am tired. I have travelled between existences, and in every one there is an uproar that has killed legions of my family. I am done. What would a mortal say? I am no longer the sheep, but the wolf.”

“Why do you have Eleana?” Kaden threw up his arms, furiously gesturing to the chaos still raging on outside. “Look at what you’ve done already. Let her go, I beg of you.”

“It’s not Eleana I need – it is her magic. Some of the strongest I’ve ever seen, definitely the strongest from this hole of a place. You can rest assured, I gave her a good deal for it.”

“Eleana would never give herself over to something that has caused the Night Court such pain.”

“She would if it meant the end to the Night Court’s suffering.” She circled around him, her train elegantly following her. “Go home, my golden one. I will not touch you there.” Her smile returned. “That is, unless you want to be touched. Then you are welcome to find me.”

“I am not leaving. Not without Eleana.”

The rising sun glinted off her fangs as she smiled. “Then you will be here a long time.”

With that, she was gone and the encasement around the building followed suit – unleashing the real world on him once again.

 _____

 Eleana imagined this is what it would feel like to be stuck at the end of a bottomless well. Pitch black to all sides, with nothing but ringing voices as the queen who had taken shelter in her body talked to Kaden. Eleana felt like she was crying, but there were no physical tears. Eleana didn’t think there was anything physical about her anymore at all.

She just hoped her sacrifice had been worth the price – that the bargain she had struck that tattooed her ankle would be met.

She hoped that soon the inky blackness around her might also envelope her. Might save her from this awful fate.

She truly could feel everything.

[rufousnmacska]

Cloudberry Jam

Just some nessian after acowar.

Nesta picked listlessly at the food on her plate. Every now and then she took a bite. But it was only to indulge the occasional looks from her sisters. Laughter echoed through the dining room as Mor and Cassian took turns telling a story about Rhys from their childhood.

Nesta had tried to look interested at the beginning. But the first time Cassian took over from Mor, he’d looked to everyone for a reaction to his joke. Everyone but her. He'd ignored her completely. As he'd been doing since they'd survived Hybern. She’d stopped listening then, thinking only of why she'd bothered to come here at all.

The Inner Circle ate many meals together but they'd designated one night a week for a family dinner. She and Elain, having moved into a small townhouse of their own, had been included and were expected to attend. Nesta agreed only because of Elain. Unlike herself, Elain needed to be around people. Despite the horrors of the past months, her sister was beginning to thrive in Velaris. And Nesta would not jeopardize that.

But tonight. She couldn't bare it any longer. This room. The laughing. The joy. As the noise crescendoed, she stood from her chair, setting her napkin next to her plate. Feyre glanced at her and Nesta forced a weak smile, nodding to the corridor that led to the guest washroom. Her sister smiled back, quickly returning to the story. No one else noticed her departure.

Nesta passed the washroom, continuing to the large foyer and the door that opened to the winding stairs leading down to the city. The commotion in the dining room receded and finally, she was outside, breathing a sigh of relief. It was a lovely late summer night and as she descended, she forced herself to stop every now and then and take in the views. The Rainbow was lit up, people jostling through the narrow streets as music lilted through the air. The harbor was full of ships, their bobbing just visible in the moonlight.

And the sky... She'd never seen so many stars. Like brilliant diamonds tossed across the indigo black of night. They were beautiful. And they made her feel so small. So insignificant. Her throat bobbed and she started back down the steps. Nesta did not look skyward again. No need to reinforce the bleak thoughts that always threatened to pull her under.

When she reached the turn to her street, Nesta saw someone waiting on the front steps. Her heart fluttered, until the figure rose. No wings.

Feyre held Nesta's shawl in her hands, a strained smile on her face. "You left this."

She reached for it and walked past Feyre to her door. A part of her wanted to say something. To explain how she couldn't stomach being around so many people. So much happiness and... family. But the pity in Feyre's eyes sent ice coursing through her veins.

Nesta could imagine the thoughts running through her sister’s mind. The questions she probably wanted to ask about Cassian. As if there is anything to ask about. She almost laughed at the thought. But when she spoke, all she could muster was a thank you.

"Next time, please let me know if you're leaving," Feyre said softly. "I could have winnowed you here. And we wouldn't have been worried about you."

A retort flitted through her mind but she bit it back. She didn’t have the energy or the desire to start something. So she just said, "I will."

Nesta turned and went inside, not bothering to tell her sister there would be no next time.

The following weeks went by in a haze. Nesta barely left the house. The few times she did were to visit a book shop just around the corner. Then she’d head home, go straight to her room, and start on the new stack of books.

The dinners had continued as usual but she hadn’t returned. The first time she'd made a flimsy excuse. But after that, she’d stopped. Whenever Azriel came to fly Elain to the House of Wind, whether for dinner or some other gathering, she would try to get Nesta to come along. But a firm no was enough to send her sister on her way.

The sole bright spot was the cloudberry jam.

Very early one day, Elain knocked on her door calling, "I have a surprise for you."

Nesta cringed at the sing song tone of Elain's voice. She loved her sister more than anything, but her hatred of mornings outweighed even that on occasion. Before Nesta could rise, Elain came in carrying a tray. Whatever was on it smelled amazing. She perked up a bit, causing Elain to grin.

"I knew you'd like this," she said. "Fresh muffins and cloudberry jam."

"Fresh jam?” She sat fully upright. “You made it?"

Elain's expression turned sheepish. “Just the muffins I’m afraid. The jam was left on our doorstep. Along with some berries that look like they were picked recently.”

When they'd first been brought to Velaris and the House of Wind, Nesta had been wary of the food. She’d insisted on bland meals, leaving the spicier and more colorful dishes untouched. Cassian had chided her about being a snob.

But then one morning, her oatmeal had arrived with a small bowl of golden jam. It tasted like nothing she'd ever eaten before. Sweet but not overpowering, with the barest hint of tartness. Like honey and sunshine. From Cerridwen she'd learned the berries were hard to come by and had been preserved from the previous year’s harvest. After that, she’d slowly started experimenting with the Night Court food. And the more she tried, the more grateful she was for that first bowl of jam, the catalyst for her expanding palate.

Now, Nesta greedily reached for the tray. The bowl of orange-red berries gleamed in the early morning light. Frowning, she asked, "But who left them Elain?"

As she turned to go, Elain said, "The jar is the same as those Nuala and Cerridwen had in Feyre’s townhouse. I saw them in the pantry when they were teaching me how to bake."

Nesta thanked Elain, a spoonful of berries already in her mouth. Feyre was probably hoping to persuade her to rejoin their dinners. Her little sister was certainly cunning. But even the jewel-toned confection wasn’t enough of a bribe to get Nesta to go back. She was quite satisfied with spending her time reading, quiet and alone.

The day after her third missed dinner, Nesta’s door thudded as someone’s fist pounded against it. She shot up in alarm, dropping her book, and spun to find Amren standing before her. A hand against her pounding heart, Nesta opened her mouth to ask what was going on but Amren spoke first.

“Nice to see you are still alive.”

The scowl on her face was a bit frightening, even with her now commonplace fae eyes. Nesta returned the look and sat back down.

Amren came around to face her. “You’re through with your training then? Hybern is defeated and you think you can sit back and do nothing?“ When Nesta didn’t answer, the tiny fae went on. “Or is this about that overgrown bat? His insecurities are not your problem, girl.”

She stayed silent, her eyes on the book but not really seeing anything. Her anger swelled to a point where she thought smoke might pour from her skin.

“Nesta.”

The tone had softened. And, Amren had never before used her name. Hearing it now, seeing Amren’s worried expression... The fire that had been building within was snuffed out. Nesta sank back into her chair.

“Your enemy is dead and you believe you no longer have a purpose,” Amren said. “Or is it the brutality you witnessed in the war that’s bothering you?” With growing annoyance, she added, “What did Cassian do?”

Nesta gave a humorless laugh and met Amren’s eyes. Her new eyes. So plain compared to the beautifully swirling silver storms she’d had before. “He’s done nothing.“ Amren’s eyebrow raised, as if repeating the question.

“It’s not about him,” she said. It was a partial truth, but far enough from a lie that she felt confident in saying it. Because ultimately, it wasn’t about him.

“Then what?” Amren asked.

Nesta sighed. It almost turned into a sob as she waved her hand and said, “Everyone has forgiven him. Made him out to be a hero. They’ve just gone back to their lives like everything is normal and he never... Never left us. Like he hadn’t abandoned us years ago.”

“Your father.” Amren looked angry at herself for not realizing it sooner.

“I know he came for us in the end. And he brought help. He even apologized. But...” The memories seeped through her mind as she stared out the window. Her father watching as his wife wasted away. Staking their future on a risky investment that ended up ruining them. Years and years of doing absolutely nothing as they starved. Passing on his failings to his eldest daughter, who’d been too angry and afraid to care for her sisters. Her father’s neck snapped by the King of Hybern.

“I watched him die and all I can think about is what that queen from the continent said. He’d been like a father to her. Lucien called him a great man.” She looked at Amren, tears burning her eyes. “How dare he be a father to some stranger after neglecting us for most of our lives.” Her voice was so filled with hate, Nesta almost didn’t recognize it. “What’s wrong with me? They’ve forgiven him. But I can’t. I can’t forget all those years of nothing. All the ways he failed us.”

Amren took hold of Nesta’s wrist, hard. “Only you decide if he’s worthy of your forgiveness. No one else. And from all that I’ve been told of the man, you have every right to withhold it. Death does not redeem him. Your feelings may change with time. Or not. Either way girl, they are yours and no one can shame you for them. Including yourself. Understood?”

Catching a quick silver flash in Amren’s eyes, Nesta nodded. When Amren released her hand and stood, she said, “I have some business to take care of for Rhys, but you will begin training with me again next week. Every morning at my loft. Your powers may have changed without the connection to the cauldron, but that doesn’t mean they are gone. Or diminished.” She leaned close towards Nesta’s face and whispered, “You have no idea what you are capable of.”

Then, before Nesta could say a word, Amren was out the door. The tiny, fierce female had come and gone like a summer thunderstorm, completely upending her life.

Cassian sat at his desk looking through the endless lists of supplies waiting to be restocked. He hated this part of commanding. Sure there were underlings and lower ranked soldiers to handle the details, but he gave the final approvals. He wanted to know everything that happened, he just didn’t need all the paper work that came with it.

Out of nowhere his door burst open and Amren strolled in.

“Shit,” Cassian exclaimed, sliding a long dagger back into its sheath on his leg. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Is blissful ignorance your new life philosophy? Or does it only apply to Nesta?”

Cassian frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Amren huffed a laugh, as if his question answered her own. “In deference to your current outlook, I will ignore the fact that there are feelings between the two of you that need to be addressed.” He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off with a nasty look. “I will ignore the fact that you are Illyrian and, through no fault of your own, have inherited their fragile male ego.”

Cassian stood. He really didn’t have an argument against what she was saying, but damn the cauldron if he was going to let her keep going.

Unflinching as always, Amren stalked forward and pointed a finger in his face. “But I will not ignore the fact that Nesta needs our help.”

“She has her sisters. She has you,” he replied. The words practically dripped with shame. With the admission that he was the last thing she needed.

“Right there is your problem,” Amren said. “If you are her friend, then she does need you.”

He shook his head and sat back down. “You think she’d open up to me?!” He barked an incredulous laugh. “If she won’t talk about her problems to her sisters, why the hell would she speak to me?”

Amren sighed and closed her eyes, clearly frustrated with him. “Just get off your ass and quit pretending she means nothing to you.” She looked at him again, her gaze hard and cold. “She is drowning.”

The words hit hard. As he was sure they were meant to. He’d failed Nesta when she’d been turned into a fae. He’d failed to save her father. And now, he was failing her again.

“You are one of the bravest fighters I’ve ever seen Cassian. But we all have fears. If you don’t fight them, for her, for yourself, you will regret it.”

He sat in silence, processing her words. Her compliment. They had a contentious relationship but he’d always respected her. Knowing she respected him... He felt honored.

Solemnly, Cassian nodded his thanks.

Amren turned and headed for the door. From over her shoulder she sang, “If you tell anyone that I said you were brave, I will give you something new to fear.”

As the door shut, Cassian threw his head back and laughed.

The berries continued to appear on their doorstep early each morning, along with a jar of jam. Nesta had sent Feyre a message thanking her for the daily gift only to learn that she and Rhys had been gone for a while, visiting Tarquin in the Summer Court. Nuala or Cerridwen must be leaving them, she'd thought.

Determined to thank them personally, Nesta dragged herself out of bed earlier and earlier each morning, hoping to catch them. But each time she opened the door, the cloudberries were already there. After the fourth failed attempt, she decided to stay up overnight to be sure she didn’t miss them.

Curled up in a chair reading, Nesta looked at the clock on the mantel. Almost 4 in the morning. Her eyes burned and her lids were growing heavy. Heading to the kitchen for something to drink, she heard a noise outside. She was at the door in an instant and pulled it open.

Only to find Cassian, bent over a basket he’d placed on the step, head up, eyes wide in surprise.

Nesta froze. Then sputtered, "You? You... What are you..."

Cassian rose slowly, unable to meet her gaze. He'd definitely not planned on getting caught. Absently running a hand through his hair, it got tangled in the small bun knotted in the back. He swore and pulled it out, his hair falling loose around his face.

Nesta finally managed to speak. "What are you doing here?" The words did not have as much venom as she'd wanted. In fact, she sounded breathless.

Cassian finally managed to look her in the eyes. "They have a short season. I knew you liked them. So..." He trailed off.

"How? How did you know?"

"When you were still living in the House of Wind." With his still, tense body as a backdrop, his fidgety hands drew her attention.

Nesta realized she’d never seen him like this before. He was nervous. Nothing of the arrogant, swaggering male she was used to.

"That doesn’t answer my question," she said.

His eyes flicked away and back again. When they met hers, and held, her heart skipped a beat. She stared into them, trying to decide if they were brown or green or gray. It was still dark out and she was too far away. Before she could stop herself, she stepped closer.

"Where did you get them?" she asked. She almost winced at the sound of her voice. Why the hell couldn't she catch her breath?

Cassian grinned, the nerves suddenly gone. "They grow in the tundra, near the Illyrian Steppes. Most people think it's desolate and not worth the trouble to go there. But it's actually quite beautiful."

There was something about the way he was looking at her that made Nesta wonder if he was talking about that place or her.

He bowed his head towards her, and with a low, gravely voice said. "I could show you.”

"I... I can't," she said. "I'm busy today." At the hint of a frown on his face, Nesta hurriedly added, "I'm meeting Amren. To learn more about my magic. Learn how it’s changed. Training."

Shut up, she told herself, flustered and wondering why it was any of his business. Though, he hadn’t even asked.

Confused by her own reaction, and the way he was looking at her, she just stood there, mouth open, no words coming out. The smirk that spread slowly across his face brought her anger to the surface. But before Nesta unleashed it upon him, she was struck by how much she'd missed seeing that smirk. It had been... how long? Weeks since she’d even seen him? Longer since he'd dared to look at her. And that brought her confusion back.

"Why are you here?" Finally, her voice matched her sentiment. She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms for good measure.

Cassian only said, "Tomorrow morning. 5 AM. Dress warm." The next second, he was in the sky.

Nesta blinked, stunned by all of the emotions roiling through her. Dammit, she thought as she grabbed the basket and slammed the door. Now I'll never get to sleep.

What the hell was he doing?

Cassian tied his hair back and then took it out. Tied it again.

And why the hell was he so nervous? This was idiotic. She probably wouldn’t even come outside to meet him.

And why should she with the way I’ve treated her, he thought.

He’d avoided her since the battle with Hybern. Since he’d admitted his feelings for her. When he’d expected to die. When he’d wanted to die. How many times was he going to let her down? The already too-long list had grown rapidly with each day that he ignored what had happened.

And that first time she’d left dinner without telling anyone... Despite Rhys and Amren’s reassurances, Feyre and Elain had nearly panicked, afraid the cauldron had somehow taken Nesta or lured her away. But when Feyre returned saying Nesta had simply left and walked home... He knew then how deeply she was hurting. Which only reinforced his opinion that he should stay away.

Even with his concern and ever growing desire to see her, Cassian had stayed away, thinking she could get on with her life more easily if he was not directly in it. But then he’d overheard Elain telling Feyre what was happening. Nesta hardly left her room, barely ate. Any time Elain suggested going to the theater or strolling through the Rainbow, Nesta would give her the same reply. “I’m perfectly happy right here.” Nesta might be comfortable in solitude, but Cassian knew it was a bullshit excuse.

That’s when he’d begun leaving the basket each morning. Something he hadn’t shared with Amren when she’d come to kick his ass. But still, he couldn’t bring himself to confront Nesta. Getting caught in the act though... that had accomplished what Amren’s pep talk could not.

He landed in front of her door a half hour early. There were no lights visible and he wondered if he should wait or just leave. She was probably still in bed. As he turned to sit on the stoop, the door opened.

Cassian spun around to find Nesta, dressed in Illyrian leathers. He tried to keep his breathing steady. Hell, she could probably see his heart thumping in his chest. He felt overwhelmed, as if he’d been stunned. Not just because of the way the leathers emphasized the curves and lines of her body. But also because they were something of his people. Like Rhys and Az, he hated many of the backwards aspects of their Illyrian culture. But, it was still his, still a part of him. And seeing her in them sparked a tiny hope that if she deemed them worthy to wear, perhaps she might see him as worthy too. He didn’t know where this hope came from, but he couldn’t bring himself to stamp it out.

“Will this be warm enough?” She ran her hands down her sides, her expression uncertain.

“You’re perfect.” The words just slipped out. Her eyes widened and before she could say anything, he extended his hand. “Shall we?” She examined him, as if deciding whether or not to go through with it. He dipped his head and gave her some incentive. “This is probably the last day to pick them.”

Nesta did not give him the smile he’d been hoping for, but she took his hand. When he lifted her up and she placed her arms around his neck, he felt how at ease she was. Nothing of the sneering ice princess from the first time they’d met. As he took off into the sky, he let loose the breath he’d been holding and headed northeast towards the steppes.

They flew into the dawn. Clouds hovering low in the sky reflected the rays of light peeking above the horizon. All too quickly, the bright pinks and purples of the rising sun overtook the deep, dark blue of night.

Cassian kept an eye on Nesta as he flew. She was in awe of the morning scenery. Knowing he’d played a small role in bringing that expression to her face brought a smile to his own.

They were silent for much of the time. As they soared over the steppes, he pointed down to a large herd of tundra elk. When he saw her curious reaction, Cassian flew lower so she could see them better.

“Great herds travel between the mountains and the tundra each year. They eat the moss and lichen to survive.”

“Are they hunted?” Nesta asked. She twisted in his arms to watch them pour across a small river.

“Yes,” he answered, then added, “but not with magic. Illyrians hunt them with the bow. There are other kinds of fae who live in this region. They keep small herds for the meat and hides. And milk.” Her head snapped up to see if he was joking. Cassian laughed and said, “The cheese is quite good. There’s a vendor who sells it at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, still unsure if he was being serious. He winked at her. Then, his voice all exaggerated bravado, said, "I make a sinfully delicious cloudberry cheesecake.”

Nesta stared at him and then burst out laughing.

Cassian grinned, thinking her laugh was more beautiful than any music Velaris had to offer.

When Cassian landed and set her down atop the spongy vegetation, Nesta held on to his arm for a few steadying seconds. She was stiff and sore after the long, chilly flight. With a snap of magic, Cassian held two baskets. Giving one to Nesta, he gestured for her to follow a worn path through the expanse of green. Orange and yellow-gold fruits were sprinkled across the surface of the low lying bushes like gemstones. An unripe red berry poked out here and there. 

“You made this path,” she said.

“I picked my way in,” he replied. "Cloudberries are a delicacy. It would be sacrilege to step on them. I don’t think anyone outside of the herders knows about this patch. I ask their permission every year.” He knelt and extended his arm as far as he could reach, pulled it back and deposited a handful of berries into the basket.

Nesta stopped as everything came together in her mind. That first appearance of the jam in the House of Wind. The jars in Rhys and Feyre’s pantry. The jars on her doorstep. “You make the jam.”

Cassian looked up at her and shrugged. “For a few weeks in late summer the camp cooks would trade with groups of herders to get the berries. Those were the only times growing up that we had anything other than gruel for breakfast.” Returning to the bushes, he said, “As the high lord’s son, Rhys could have them year round as jam. When his mother saw how much I loved them, she taught me how to make it.”

Rising, he laughed. “I thought it was ridiculous at the time. When the hell would a bastard Illyrian grunt have time to make jam? But she’d insisted. She said learning to cook was a survival skill every warrior should have. She’d dragged Rhys into the lessons too. But it went in one ear and out the other with him.” He continued down the path to a section that was still untouched. “By the time Az came, I was helping her with every dinner.”

Nesta watched him, marveled by his... everything. By him. By what he’d been secretly doing for her all this time. She thought about what he’d said to her when they were on that battlefield. She’d assumed his avoidance of her afterwards was because he had regretted his words. Had felt guilty for speaking them in the heat of battle without actually meaning them.

But his story about the jam reminded Nesta that parts of his upbringing roughly mirrored her own. The details of their abandonment and the ways they’d reacted were different. But the fact remained that both she and Cassian were products of unpleasant childhoods. And both were drowning in the shame they felt as a result. He still considered himself nothing more than a bastard Illyrian grunt. And she was a hateful failure of a sister.

“Let’s see who has the most,” he said, suddenly standing beside her. Cassian frowned down at her empty basket. “Uh... Did I fail to mention that berry picking is a competitive sport?” 

Nesta only gazed up at him.

“Nesta?” The playful expression disappeared from his face.

“Did you ever know your father?”

Cassian didn’t flinch at her question, but his brows furrowed, wondering where it had come from. “No. I searched but was never able to find out who he was.” His hand brushed hers. “Why are you asking?”

She turned to look towards the distant mountains. “I knew mine. Or, I thought I did. Apparently he reserved most of his fatherly behavior for people other than his own daughters. Well,” she faced him again. “He always favored Elain, but I didn’t mind that. She deserved his favor.”

“You deserved it too,” he said softly, hoping his words wouldn’t push her into silence.

“No,” she said matter-of-factly. “I never hid my disdain for him. I never felt guilty for it.” Nesta clenched her jaw and swallowed. “And I know I should now. After... after what he did. But...” She trailed off, dipping her head to wipe away a tear that was about to fall.

Cassian recalled her father’s death. How he’d professed his love for Nesta and had not wanted her to beg Hybern for his life. He remembered Lucien’s tale about how the man had helped the cursed, human queen and gathered a fleet of soldiers to save his daughters. He wondered now if Nesta was fully aware of all her father had done to get back to her and her sisters.

“It took me a long, long time before I wanted to know who my father was,” he said. “And even then, a big part of me hated him. Part of me still does.” He took a deep breath and said, “But, maybe if I had known something about him, been able to talk to people who knew him... Maybe it would be easier for me to feel worthy of my family now.” She was staring at him again, her storm gray eyes wide and shining. “Maybe I would feel worthy of you. And would not have left you to deal with this grief on your own.

“It’s ok if you don’t forgive your father Nesta. He had a lot to make up for. But you may want to consider talking to Lucien about him sometime. I don’t know if it would change your opinion of the man. But it might give you closure.”

He ran a finger down her cheek and brushed her hair behind an ear. “Whatever you decide to do or not do, know that you will not have to face it alone.”

Nesta sniffed and wiped her nose with her hand. He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and gave it to her. With a small laugh she asked, “What else is hidden in there?” The instant the words left her mouth she cringed.

Cassian bit his lip, but he couldn’t stop the smile that broke across his face. “We should head back. Soon it will be too hot out here for these clothes.”

Nesta glared at him. He raised a hand in defense. “I only mean the leathers are good protection for flying in the early morning but not for the full sun of day.”

Reaching across him into his basket, she took a handful of cloudberries and ate them.

“No. That is not ok,” Cassian said. “You didn’t even pick any. And you want to eat them all before we get home?”

A corner of her lips curved. Quick as a rabbit she grabbed another handful and had them in her mouth before he knew what had happened.

“Dammit Nesta! There won’t be any left.” He swung the basket around so it was behind his back.

But she must have kept one. With a sensual smile that sent heat rushing through him, she rolled the berry slowly between her fingers. They held each others gaze as she brought it up, inches from his mouth. Cassian’s heart thrummed and for a split second, he wondered if she knew what she was doing. What this innocent teasing could mean under different circumstances. As his lips opened to take the offering, she popped the cloudberry into her mouth and walked away.

By the cauldron... Cassian closed his eyes and took an extremely long, deep breath. This woman would be the end of him. And there wasn’t a damn thing he was going to do to stop her.

Cassian magicked the baskets away and approached to take her in his arms for the flight home. But Nesta stopped him with a hand on his chest and looked up into his hazel eyes. They actually looked a little blue. The color was drawn out and accentuated by the bright sky framing his face.

“You are more than worthy Cassian. For your family. And for me.”

He stared at her for a moment then dipped his forehead to rest on hers. With a gentleness Nesta was no longer surprised by, he drew back and lifted her chin. His lips were full and soft as they met hers. She fell easily into the kiss, into him. When his tongue unexpectedly flicked out across her lips, she pulled away in shock. A pleasant, thrilling kind of shock that left her body buzzing.

Cassian smiled and said, “Mmmmm. You taste like cloudberries.” He scooped her into his arms and held her tightly against him. “Did you know that I make an exquisite cloudberry cheesecake?”

Laughing, she said, “I’ve heard some unreliable rumors. I’ll believe it when I taste it.”

That cocky smirk reappeared and Nesta had to admit to herself that she kind of liked it. Liked the brightness in his eyes that accompanied it. And the devilish twist of his mouth. Aspects that she’d noticed were reserved for when he flashed it at her, and her alone.

“Luckily for you I have some waiting for us at home.”

Nesta kissed his cheek and said, “I am very lucky.”

(Head canon that Cassian is an awesome cook and whenever someone is sad or sick or stressed out, he makes their favorite food. He takes berry picking very, VERY seriously. He got in trouble once as a boy for sneaking out of camp to find a cloudberry patch. That prompted Rhys’s mom to teach him how to cook. Rhys was pissed at him for a while because of the extra lessons. He keeps his jam-making skills secret outside of the inner circle. All of Velaris would be hounding him for it if they knew. But the inner circle houses are all stocked. When he slipped that first bowl of jam onto Nesta’s breakfast tray at the House of Wind and found out she LOVED it... That was it. He was hers. And when they accepted the mating bond, they simultaneously offered each other a spoonful of jam to seal the deal.)

[illyrian-of-themyscira]

A Court of Lost Things 12

 Ok guys this chapter will hurt you.  I am so sorry, just preparing you now.  One more chapter left! I might post my special edition ending my editor had me write.  I will have a new fanfic coming up soon! This one will be about a female illyrian name Carina. Thank you guys so much for the love and support! I am so happy to practice my writing here! So stay tuned! I hope to keep doing these fanfics!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

        The tension between my dad and Calev had me gritting my teeth, especially when he forced Calev to sleep in the house of wind while I slept in the townhouse.  When I awoke the next morning to having no other body next to me made me want to punch someone.  I stalked down to the dining room where I hear the typical chatter and laughter and when I rounded the corner, I saw my mom and dad, Mor, Uncle Azriel, Aunt Elain, Uncle Cassian, and Aunt Nesta gathered around the table.  I felt a lot like Aunt Nesta as I stormed into my typical spot and sat down. Noting that Zarena and Alistair was absent made me want to clap my hands, hoping she finally got him in her bed.  I pouted my lips as I tore into a muffin and the room had gone silent as I brooded.

        “Sooo…did you have a good first night back?”  Mor asked me.  My sharp eyes found hers and she sipped her wine, avoiding eye contact.

        “Can’t you see she is a little pent up?  She didn’t get her release last night.” Uncle Cassian grins.  My dad snarls at him in such a manner that we all lean away from them.  Cassian���s eyes meet mine as he says, “I hear he saw your tattoos.  Did you let hi-” My dad launched himself at Uncle Cassian as my mom shouted at them. I jolt as I felt hands on my shoulders.

        “Go.  Before they start thinking straight.” Aunt Nesta whispers in my ear.  I look back at her and she winked at me as I grin.  Winnowing away, I appear at the edge of the house of wind before flapping my wings and landing on the terrace. But something doesn’t feel right as I walked into the place.

        “Calev?”  

Not a sound as I walk into the house.  My hands tremble as I try to reach through the bond only to find he isn’t responding to my pleas.  As I get to the dining room, I find a blonde woman reclining at the head of the table with her feet up on the mahogany.  Hybern’s widow.  My Illyrian blades were instantly in my hands as I approached the female.  “Where is my mate?”  She only twitches her lips as she snaps her fingers.  There stands a disgusting creature with wings like my own but they are attached to reptilian-like faerie.  His clawed hands grip Calev’s throat as my eyes go wide.  I can’t move as his wide eyes meet mine.  The female stands and stalks toward me.  Her hands drag along my shoulders as she whispers in my ear.

        “I was planning on taking you away from your parents but then you came back.  So what was I to do?  Take away your mate, then leaving you a quivering mess.”  Her hands wrap around mine as I grip my blades.  “Let go.”  I do.  She chuckles and presses a kiss to my neck.  I quiver at her touch as Calev struggles against his captor.

        “Let him go.” I say in a low voice.  She only laughs before walking around me toward Calev.  “Don’t.” I say.  She pauses and looks back at me.

        “What will you do to spare him?”

        “Anything.” my voice cracks.  She grins and then taps my wing, causing me to wince.

        “How about those beautiful wings?”  Every nerve in my freezes and screams at me to say no.  My eyes move to Calev, who is straining to get to me.

        “Take them, just leave Calev alone.”

        “No!”  Calev’s screams echoes throughout the house.  The female snaps her fingers and two more of those reptile creatures appear.  One grabs me by the hair and the other holds my shoulders as it knocks me to the floor.  Another creature comes to hold Calev still as I feel a blade press against my left wing.  Tears slide down my face as I look at the marble floor.  I can’t look at my mate as I feel the blade start to cut.  That’s when the screams tear out of my throat. She doesn’t make it fast as she's cutting my wing off.  I couldn’t breathe, if the monsters weren’t holding me I would have fallen.  My mouth opens in an ‘O’ as the ability to scream falls away from me.

        “Seren!”  Calev’s screams fill my head and I feel warmth touch my body and I look up to see Calev lit up but the monster seemed to be immune to his fire.  A fierce hurricane wind filled the house.

        “Knock him out!”  The warmth and wind falls away as a thump hits the ground.  I try to scream but I am so curled in on myself that I can’t get out a sound.  Another thump and my left wing fell to the ground.  As she starts to saw into the right, I pass out into the deep blackness that held a reprieve from the fiery pain.

        My eyes open slowly as I find myself alone in a pool of my own blood.  A whimper escapes me as I try to move only to find a large weight was gone from my back.  I reached over my shoulder for my wing.  It wasn’t there.  A loud keening noise comes from my throat.  Followed by a scream that echoes through Velaris.  I curl in on myself as I scream and rock on the ground.  Two pair of footsteps coming running toward me.  Tilting my chin up, I see a male and female through my tears coming tearing towards me.  The female stops and lets out a cry.  

        “Seren, oh no.” Zarena cries out.  Alistair reaches me first and puts his arms around me.  Then Zarena joins us and wraps her arms around me as well.  We all sit there in my blood for a long while before their scent hits me.

        “You mated.” my voice is hoarse from screaming.  Alistair just nods with tears streaming down his cheeks.  I can’t care enough to ask about anything as I collapse against them.  Eventually Alistair pulls away from me.

        “I will go get your parents from the illyrian camps.  Zarena, take Seren to the healer’s.”  Zarena holds onto me as she murmurs soft things into my ear to keep me calm as I start to shake.

        “Calev?”

        “Call to him.” Zarena says before winnowing us to the healers.

        Calev

      Where are you?  His voice is loud in my head.  I pictured the healer’s place.  But I couldn’t hold the connection for much longer as the numbness spread and Zarena helps me into the first cot she sees.  My eyes close as soon as I hit the pillow.

written by me (Don’t hate me)

edited by the wonderful @crazy-fangirl16 (thank you for putting up with me) also has a cameo in here and possibly in the next fanfic with her mate 

[propshophannah]

Do you have any theories on how Nesta will react to the NOT-A-LOVE-TRIANGLE-LOVE-TRIANGLE? Like, Mor and Cassian's history/etc.? Also, do you have any theories on how Azriel and Mor will react to her and Cassian's feelings for her? I mean we saw a little of Mor's reaction when Cassian crossed the room towards Nesta, but do you have thoughts beyond that moment?

DO I?! I have a so many thoughts on this.

I’m gonna focus on the most interesting part of this whole thing, which is the fact that Cassian is aware that be plays buffer to Mor and Azriel. That’s why he didn’t want to tell Mor about Nesta in the extra chapter. And all through ACOMAF we see how Cassian plays the buffer, right?

A few examples:

The first Inner Circle dinner, Mor sit’s at the end of the table and tells Feyre to sit next to her. Cassian comes over and takes the next closest seat to Mor, which is the one directly across from her.

Cassian sits in Rhys’s house with his arm over the back of the couch and Mor sits down so that it’s almost like his arm is behind her. It’s just super casual thought and 100% friend-zone shit between them.

When Mor asks the group if they want to go to Rita’s, Azriel is game. Mor then gets Cassian on board and they link arms as if they’re two of the bestest best friends ever.

Stuff like that.

WELL. Enter Nesta Archeron and we have our reason why Cassian did not want to tell Mor about her. Because NOW Cassian can’t be that buffer between Mor and Azriel. He can’t be the excuse Mor uses to always keep Azriel at arms length. Because if Nesta were to see Mor sitting under Cassian’s arm on the couch (taking the seat next to her/linking arms with her to walk to Rita’s), she would read that as them having a more than “just friends” relationship. And neither of them want to do that. Well, we know Cassian would NOT want to do that because he wouldn’t want Nesta to take it the wrong way.

What will be interesting is to see how far Mor lets the buffer go. If she can stop cold turkey and finally have the talk with Azriel (that we assume they’ve never had), or if she somehow gets someone else to buffer her and Azriel (of she still wants to keep that up). Because we at least know that Azriel and Elain will be good friends (Feyre told us twice), I’ll be curious to see, if Mor doesn’t somehow position Elain (and or Nesta) as her new buffers. Again, IF she wants to continue to keep Azriel at arms length. We don’t know. And the moment she dropped the knife in Hybern and ran over to Azriel with fear and “something else” in her eyes, could be what her behavior hinges on.

Nesta doesn’t do fake people. I think her trauma will play into how she acts around the Inner Circle, but I think if she gets a whiff that Mor’s “chipper” attitude is a mask for her pain, or she feels Mor is deliberately ignoring Azriel instead of being straight with him about her feelings, or she see’s how the rest of the group doesn’t communicate and tends to wash stuff under the rug—she won’t be able to keep her mouth shut. BUT, it’s possible that she could confide her feelings to, say, Amren, and Amren would be like, “Don’t bring it up. It will end in bloodshed.” And Nesta would take that advice to heart, and choose to be very VERY tactical about how and when she broaches the subject.

I honestly think she is not the type to bring up other people’s business unless it suits her needs, and I hope that if/when Rhys gets shitty with her, she just lets him have it. Let’s them all have it. Because Cassian is not going to stand by and let Rhys blame her for what happened to the sisters. We forget Rhys grew up with privilege, Cassian did not. Azriel did not either. And I think Amren might not deign to pick a side, which could leave Rhys on an island of his own. And that could cause a rift between Rhys and his brother’s or at least with Cassian. But I also think Nesta is smart enough to keep Cassian out of it. And by that I men, he comes to her defense and she makes it clear she doesn’t need his help. And I think she would do that because she doesn’t want to tear up a family like her’s was torn up. And because if Cassian can’t use his wings, she wouldn’t want him to lose a vital support team just for her. She would put his needs first. But it would 100% look like she is being a heartless, vicious bitch. (And for that reason, I feel like Rhys and Nesta will eventually get along.)

And I have NO idea how I think Nesta will react to the true story of Mor and Cassian’s history. I think Cassian will give up those details to her because she’ll pick up on it regardless. Someone is going to have to tell her. And depending on the truth of that story and if Mor’s “chipper” attitude is a result of what happened to her…then I could see Nesta and Mor butting heads because Nesta hates fake people, or Nesta and Mor could find common ground in how they chose to take back their lives and not let the actions of a patriarchal society/men/bad fathers rule them.

And as far as Azriel’s reaction, I think he was just as reliant on Cassian playing the buffer as Mor was. Mor was just very obvious about it. Azriel kinda came off as a passive participant, but I think he was just as active in perpetuating it as the other two. Because he could have very easily been more direct with Mor, and maybe in the past he has been and it didn’t go how he wanted it to. So I got the impression that Azriel was scared of Mor giving him an answer that we might not want to hear, so he is always game to see her, but he relies on Cassian to keep his feelings/dignity intact.

But without Cassian, Mor and Azriel are going to find themselves with a lot more opportunities to bring up the weird atmosphere between them. And how that plays out will be interesting because we don’t know that they haven’t ever talked about it. We don’t know if it truly is JUST Azriel who can’t see himself as anything but a bastard-born nobody, or if that’s just the side of the story Mor knows about. We don’t know if it’s truly all just Mor’s not wanting to come between Rhys and his brothers that keeps them apart. And we don’t know how Azriel finding Mor nearly dead in the Autumn Court has effected both of them and how they’re able to see one another. We also don’t know what this icy rage in Azriel is that Rhys told us about and how that could be playing into why he acts the way he act toward Mor.

There are a lot of variables. So it’s hard to say what will happen. But this is a brief stab at a few ways I think this could all go down.

[kiminicricket]

Prank War - Inner Circle Fic

Many thanks to @dreamersruletheworld for this prompt! I had so much fun writing this, and I hope that y’all enjoy as well! xx

It had been a long day. Feyre trudged up the stairs. As much as she knew that the court of nightmares had a specific function in their world, days spent there were always especially draining. She was looking forward to a nice long soak in the tub and then falling into bed, sleeping as much as she could until Rhys got back from the mainland in the morning.

The bath was long and luxurious, and though she missed Rhys, she was almost thankful for the opportunity to fall straight to sleep afterwards. She slipped under the blankets to find she could only get her feet about halfway down the bed.

“What the?” she pushed harder, and twisted, trying to see what was going on, but as she lifted the blanket, she lost her balance, and fell off the bed. She thought she heard Cassian’s restrained laughter through the door as she rose, pulling the blankets back. The bastard had short-sheeted the bed!

“DAMMIT CASSIAN YOU ARE SO DEAD TOMORROW!” she called, too exhausted to retaliate tonight. His laughter only grew before fading down the hall as she stripped the bed with fast, jerky movements, quickly re-making it so she could go to sleep. As she lay there, eyes closed, waiting to fall asleep, she thought of a few dozen ways she could pay him back.

Rhys arrived while the inner circle was having breakfast the next morning. Feyre jumped up to meet him, wrapping her arms around him and greeting him with a sweet kiss.

“I missed you!”

“I missed you too!”

“How did you sleep last night?” Rhys asked, concerned. He hadn’t felt any nightmares down the bond, but she was getting very good at shielding when he was away on business.

Cassian guffawed.

“Yes, how did you sleep last night Feyre?” he said her name in a sing song way, and her eyes narrowed. Rhys tensed, his arm tightening protectively around her as she turned.

Don’t worry, harmless prank. Feyre let him see through her memories Cassian’s prank. Rhys nodded and relaxed his arm a bit, but didn’t release her as she faced him.

“You know, Cassian, I’ve heard it said that you should never start something you are not prepared to finish.”

Cassian scoffed and took a bite out of a muffin. Feyre also returned to her breakfast, content to let him believe her incapable of pranking. It would just make the payback all the more sweet.

“Good night Cassian!” Feyre called sweetly that evening, drawing his attention momentarily as she discreetly sent her ice magic shooting towards his bed.

Cassian frowned in confusion. “Uh, goodnight Feyre,” He inclined his head respectfully before retreating into his room. Feyre hovered near the door and listened to the sounds of him getting ready for bed. Mother, he was taking a long time about it! Finally, she grinned as she heard him sigh and flop onto his frozen-solid mattress.

“HEY!”

Feyre started snickering, sending another shot of her ice magic under the door, chilling the room.

“NO FAIR! MAGIC IS CHEATING!”

Feyre couldn’t hold back her laugh as she skipped back down the hall to her own quarters, crawling into bed where Rhys already lay.

“I take it that went well?”

Feyre nodded happily, cuddling up to him as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her nose.

“This won’t be the end of it you know.”

“I know.”

“Cassian won’t give up easily.” Rhys warned

“Neither will I”

“Well this is going to be interesting.”

It had been a few days and Feyre was starting to relax. Cassian hadn’t pulled any more pranks, but she tried to keep her wits about her. He was likely waiting until she dropped her guard before he pulled his next one. She was trying to come up with ideas that she could retaliate with. Without magic if possible. She did like to play fair after all, and Cassian didn’t have the same kind of magic she did. She was contemplating this while painting in her room when she heard Rhys curse from the washroom. A pause and he cursed again, and then water was running and he came out, stripped bare and dripping, a dark look on his face.

“Rhys? What is it?”

“Cassian,” Rhys growled. He ripped his towel off the hook and retreated back into the washroom. Curious, Feyre followed him, and saw a yellow puddle suspended in plastic on the toilet, splashes of yellow everywhere and a rather wet pile of the clothes that Rhys had been wearing on the floor. Her eyes widened and she barely bit back a giggle as she realised Rhys had caught Cassian’s next prank. He glowered at her and her restraint broke, and she was laughing. Rhys’s grumpy look lasted a moment longer before he was laughing with her. He shook his head and cleaned up the mess with a wave of his hand. He glanced sideways at Feyre.

“It seems I now have a personal stake in this war, and I’m going to need your help with something.”

Feyre perked up because as much as she had been trying, she had been coming up with a blank as to how to retaliate.

“I’m listening.”

“Did you get it?”

Feyre nodded, passing the small vial to her mate, grinning as she did so. Rhys’s eyes lit up and he quickly slipped it into his pocket. He disappeared a moment later and Feyre tried to look nonchalant as Cassian entered the lunch room, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Did you find my surprise?”

Feyre smirked. “Yeah, but someone beat me to it.”

Her grin widened as Cassian’s face went slightly paler, his eyebrows shooting up and his grin dipping a bit. “Oh.”

Feyre waved away his concern, “Don’t worry, he only splashed all his nice new clothes and half the bathroom.”

A grin started on Cassian’s face.

“Oh man, I wish I could have seen it!”

“It was pretty funny!” Feyre said, “Though now you’ve made an enemy out of both of us.” She warned.

The grin was wide and confident now, “Bring it on my Lady!”

“Ooooh, you’re going to wish you hadn’t said that!”

“Are you kidding me?!” Cassian’s voice could be heard down the hall. Feyre’s eyes snapped to Rhys’s and they grinned. Quickly schooling their features, they went to see the outcome of their prank.

Cassian stood in the laundry, holding up a pink shirt.

Feyre frowned. “What’s wrong Cassian?” she tilted her head innocently.

Cassian leaned into the washbasin and pulled out another shirt – also pink. Feyre bit her lip to keep her smile from blooming. Rhys behind her coughed and she knew he was struggling to hold in his mirth also. Cassian threw the pink garments on the floor, rummaging through the rest of the clothes. Everything had a pink tinge. He looked up at his high lord and lady at first glowering, but soon relaxing into a smile.

“You’ve just provided me with an ally!” he eventually said, his face triumphant.

“What?”

Cassian grinned, gesturing to the basket of dripping clothes. “Half of this load was Azriel’s!”

He trotted off to convince his brother to help him plan the next attack. Feyre looked up at Rhys.

“Maybe we could get Mor to join our side?”

Rhys thought about it for a moment, then shook his head, “If anything, she will team up with Az. Maybe you could speak to Amren?”

“Don’t even think about it.” The voice startled both of them and they whirled to see Amren standing in the doorway, eyebrow raised disdainfully.

“Not even an idea for what to do next?” Feyre asked hopefully. Amren sighed, shaking her head before disappearing without a word. Feyre frowned.

“OK, so it’s just us then, what do you think they are going to do next?”

A life-size painting of the Naga appeared in the hallway the next evening, causing Rhys to pause momentarily, Feyre to flinch, and a few hours later, Mor to scream bloody murder. She showed up at their room the next morning, after Rhys had left, with a conspiratory grin.

“I have an idea,” she said.

Feyre listened eagerly, until Mor had explained her plan.

“Rhys too?” she frowned.

Mor nodded, “If he had taken that stupid picture down after you two saw it, I wouldn’t have seen it, and wouldn’t have had a heart attack. Did he even flinch when he saw it?”

“No. I did though.”

“You’re not used to them yet. You might get there, or you might be like me, and hate them forever.” Mor shivered. “Rhys deserves punishment same as Cassian, and Azriel.”

Feyre thought for a moment before agreeing. This was going to be good.

The girls spent the next few hours in the kitchen, readying what they needed to, talking laughing, and generally having a great time.

“It’s a good thing Nesta is visiting Elain this week,”

“oh, I don’t know, she could have made things even more interesting!” “Or the house could have ended up a pile of rubble.”

“You’re being a bit dramatic.”

“you didn’t grow up with her!”

“You should have seen your face!”

“Oh, when Mor screamed at that Naga picture, I swear the patrons at Rita’s heard her!”

“Oh yeah? How are you liking wearing pink socks my love?”

Azriel grumbled and they all laughed. As far as dinners went, this was one of the livelier ones in recent history. Feyre loved the camaraderie, and spirit of fun that had surrounded the inner circle this last week.

“What’s wrong with pink?”

They all jumped to see Amren, an arm full of cushions standing in the doorway.

“Amren, where have you been?” Rhys asked.

She gestured to the cushions. “I thought you might like these. I’ll drop them in your lounge room and then I’m off.”

“Thank you Amren, are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

Amren smiled gracefully, “Unfortunately there are things that require my attention tonight.”

She disappeared into the lounge room and Mor, who had ducked out while Amren was speaking, re-entered with desert – caramel apples.

Cassian’s eyes widened appreciatively and Azriel leaned forward eagerly. Even Rhys smiled.

“I haven’t had one of these in years!”

“I know!” Mor handed one to Feyre and grabbed one for herself before passing the platter around. Everyone eagerly grabbed one. Mor raised her caramel apple.

“To us! Specifically to Feyre and myself, who are the victors in this prank war.”

“Pfft”

“You wish!”

“I thought we were in this together?”

“Ahem!” Feyre interrupted. “To my dearest friends and family, whom I could not imagine life without. To the fun we’ve had this week, and the chaos we have wreaked. May the loser not be sore.”

“Hear hear!” they all clinked the sticky apples together before taking a bite as one – well, except for Feyre and Mor, who watched with growing glee as their boys took large bites, only to spit them straight back out, revealing the raw onions that had been covered with the sticky caramel.

Mor had thrown her head back and was howling with laughter, Cassian was sputtering. Azriel had calmly swallowed the onion, then gotten up to get himself a drink. Rhys gagged, threw a look of betrayal at Feyre, then gagged again. Feyre was laughing almost as hysterically as Mor.

“Your… faces!” she got out between peals of laughter.

“Low blow guys! You know how much we like candy apples!” Cassian said “I’m never eating one of those again!” Azriel poked the offending desert.

Rhys shook his head, “I can’t believe you desecrated the Candy apple.”

Mor and Feyre could not respond for laughter. In fact, they were still laughing when they all made their way into the lounge room for coffee and maybe a few board games.

“Those new pillows look good!” Feyre noted.

“Amren has impeccable taste!”

murmurs of agreement from everyone in the room before everyone settled into their evening pursuits. Mor and Azriel settled into a chess game that had been going on for at least three weeks, Cassian started drafting new training programs for the Illyrian training camps, Feyre surveyed the bookshelves, and Rhys sat in his armchair, complete with new cushions, and started browsing some of the paperwork he would need to finalise by tomorrow. A calm settled over the group.

The peace was disturbed a few minutes later by a decidedly un-manly shriek from Rhys as he jumped out of the chair, snatching everyone’s attention as he turned to face it.

“What’s wrong?”

“The chair – it moved! It- it- it grabbed me!”

Feyre’s eyebrow went up, she could feel he was telling the truth, but she still had trouble believing it.

“The… chair? Your armchair… grabbed you?” she clarified.

“Yes!” Rhys narrowed his eyes and surveyed the group suspiciously. “Ok, who pulled this one?”

A snicker sounded from the chair and everyone turned in amazement as the cushions on the chair stood up, the arms lifting, to pull down the blanket that had rested along the top, revealing Amren’s face. She grinned wide before winking.

“Gotcha.”