#murdering elain and mor

[donnadiddadog]

smiling through it all pt 1

Summary: Nick is a member of the Inner Circle, a political advisor to Rhys, and deeply in love with Azriel (who may or may not be in love with him too). Everyone is at the River House having a wonderful family dinner except Mor and Elain are too drunk and decide that they want to know about the sex life of Azriel. Nick is not a fan of that.

Word Count: 1.8K ish

Warnings: None really. Light cursing, light sex convo. Also mentions murder and slight violence.

a/n: OC’s name is Nick and he was first Nesta’s friend and then got introduced to the remainder of the Inner Circle who quickly took him in he becomes a part of their family all while Azriel and he have a situationship going on but both are too scared to do anything about it. ITS GAY AS FUCK. (totally not me projecting my own desires)

30th Jan 2025, Writing 5

Nicholas

All Nick can say is that he wants to kick Mor’s ass in ways that wouldn't be legal. In ways that shouldn't be legal. Because he was angry. He was mad. Not jealous.

He knew he shouldn't be but his patience had given up right about 30 minutes ago and he was running on fumes, alcohol and just stuffing his face with food so that he didn't speak anything. But he did want to stuff his fist in Mor’s face.

“So, Azriel, tell us do you really use your shadows during your nighttime festivities?”, Mor asked again, repeating her question that Azriel dodged ten minutes ago. No shame. Nick sucked on his teeth trying to remain calm and not do or say anything that he would regret. This was his family he was talking about mutilating. A few more jokes or questions about Azriel and how he liked to tie his women came up. Then a few more about the men he liked. His type and everything.

Nick just had to keep fighting the bile down. He didnt know why he was reacting this way, this wasn't a big deal - the Inner Circle was known to have conversations with sex being the main focus, many times throughout the month. Sometimes even throughout the day. So why was he acting this way? With this rage in him that threatened to spill out. They just wouldn't stop asking Azriel questions about if he liked to have his wings played with or what kinks he had.

It is rage only. Nothing else I am sure. This is not jealousy or anything else.

Nesta was sitting beside Nick and was laughing at everything going on. Nick turned to her to try and get her attention, to get this nonsense to stop and have some other, any other conversation. But all she said was that this is not doing anyone any harm, and that this doesn't affect Nick whatsoever unless he had feelings for a certain someone. Nick instantly stopped her, telling her that he could never date someone like Azriel and that he was a close friend to you. Nesta shrugged her shoulders and started joking with Mor again. She’s on the list too.

And then Elain decided that she wanted to die today. “So, Azriel, if wing size really decides the size of what is in your pants, and you have the biggest wing span - tell us, how big are you really?”, everyone was laughing and giggling and they started howling when Elain held her hands up to try and estimate how big Azriel was. How big his dick was. That’s what they were trying to do.

But Azriel wouldn't fall for it, Nick was certain about this. He would just again snicker, look down or look at him with embrassement and nod his head sideways. The way he always did when he was forced to be in situations he didn't like. A slight smile indicated to Nick that he wasn't extremely uncomfortable and in need of saving. But he looked so beautiful. Sitting in front of you, so handsome. Entertaining their stupid jokes and comments with grace and simplicity. And he wasn't doing much, frankly nothing at all but that was enough for Nick. It was enough for his heart to flutter, for a warmth in his chest that spread across his body till his fingertips. He couldn't look at Azriel without Nick’s mind flooding with a thousand questions - thinking about how he wakes up in the morning, about how he yawns, or how he makes his breakfast, how does he wear his clothes, how does he start flying, how does it feel to have him close to you that there is no space for air.

I am not in love with Azriel. This is not jealousy. He kept repeating that to himself. HIs little mantra that didn't seem to work. No, it didn't work at all.

Elain wanted an answer and all the girls kept howling at him, chanting his name. Azriel silently pushed Elain’s hands a bit further, looked at it closely and then nodded his head, going back to eating his food. There was a moment of silence before everyone burst out in complete laughter and awe. Rhys was saving his male pride by arguing to Feyre that he was pretty similar to that size and Cassian was reminding Nesta about how his tongue was what she fell for, or some nonsense. And all I could do was look down at my plate, my fork in my hand now glistening white because of the pressure with which I was holding it. Azriel really just did that? He really just touched Elain’s hands and that too, to show her and everyone else the size of his dick. He just touched her.

And Nick knew, now, without question, that what he was feeling was not friendly worry or concern. This was jealousy, it’s green face had shown itself. And he couldn't stop the thoughts of how pretty Elain was, and how much more prettier she would be with the fork in the side of her neck, with the mashed potatoes dripping down her neck as her blood sprayed everywhere. And it wouldn't be all that he would do, now he would do more…

“Pay attention, Nick. Where are you drifting off to? This is Azriel we are talking about. You gotta respect the biggest at the table.”, Elain nudged her elbow into his side, interrupting his thoughts as what she said sunk its jealous, vitriolic teeth into his mind. And he couldn't control myself any further. He knew that what he thought was going to become reality if he didn't leave this damn house in the next two minutes.

Standing up, Nick announced that he had to leave for his apartment, to pack since he had to go to the Hewn City and that he had no time to waste.

“Wait what? You never mentioned this before? Rhys, why are you sending him to the Hewn City?”, Azriel asked, confused. He had planned out a few evening outings which would be ruined if Nick were to leave and he wanted to spend them - he put in effort for them. And more importantly, Nick tells him everything - he would have known if there was a trip.

Rhys looked confused as he rummaged through his memories, “I never assigned Nick to go to the Hewn City though? Why are you going to the Hewn City, Nick? There’s no need to - stay!”

Knowing that I was about to be caught in my lie, and knowing that damn well, Cassian would grab my arm and make me sit down, “I have to go because I need to verify with a few Ministers and advisors regarding a few provisions in the treaty. And I have to go because it is essential and they need me. So thank you for the wonderful dinner, I have to leave. Bye.”

I left the table, not caring to put my chair away, as Azriel tried getting up to stop me or at least talk to me. I sprinted to the coat rack, grabbing my winter coat and before putting it on, winnowed out into the snow packed roads of Velaris to race back home and let the tears fall.

He touched Elain’s hands to show them his size. He entertained their games and just didnt stop them.

He touched Elain’s hands to show them his size. He entertained their games.

He touched Elain’s hands to show them his size.

He touched Elain’s hands.

He touched Elain.

He touched someone.

And it wasn't me.

Azriel

“I don’t know what I did! Did he seem pissed off or sad? I was just playing with the girls”, Azriel threw his hands over his face as he groaned out loud, his brother finding too much joy in his situation.

“Well, yeah he got mad obviously? You were so proud of your own length and made a snide remark. Now that isn't a lot for a normal person or a friend to get angry over. But..well.”, Cassian spoke, trying to hide his laughter and bait Azriel into asking about it.

And he did. “What do you mean ‘but’? Nick is my friend?”, Azriel questioned. It was Rhys’ turn to interrogate, “A friend doesn't react in that way, brother. If he was really your friend, he would have been like how Elain was - calm, collected, laughing. He was fuming so hard, I was concerned that he may actually launch himself at Mor.”

“Yeah, I was preparing to grab her out of the way should he jump.”, Cassian bellowed, recounting how angry Nick was, how red he had gotten. Very red for a person who said that he was certain that he couldn't blush. “But really, we should have saved Elain. Oh god, was she about to die today? Come to think of it, I dont think Elain knows that Death was sitting right next to her today.”

“Okay look, Nick and I are friends thats all it is.”, Azriel tried defending himself. His shadows circled around his ears, whispering statements to the contrary of what he was saying out loud - insisting that their master was hiding the truth.

“Then why are you freaking out so much? If he’s just a friend, let it go. You have not addressed so many other things with your other friends over the years - this isn't much. You didn't even do anything to him, technically. You were making a joke with a fellow member of the Inner Circle, thats all.”, Rhys spoke, not even looking up at him, from behind the desk as he took a swing of his alcohol and looked over the paperwork that had to be signed before day-after’s signing ceremony with the Winter Court on a new agreement.

“I KNOW. But I just feel so…icky. Like I have to clarify it, explain it, that I was just playing along with the girls because I was bored and I thought he would find it funny”

“Well, you were wrong about that. And really? The polished Shadowsinger using the word icky? Oh, your lover being angry at you really has your bones ratting!”, Cassian joked, and Azriel punched him on his arm. It was not funny and it shouldn't be this funny to either one of them. His brothers were utterly useless.

Azriel groaned out once again, loudly slapping his forehead and walking out of Rhys’ office back to his bedroom, trying to figure out what to do about this situation. It was slightly giving him a headache. He may have to finally use Elain’s Solistice gift.

He was so annoyed that Nick was jealous or angry at him or at whoever. But he couldn't deny it - the slight smile that appeared on his lips as he thought about how Nick was jealous over him, over Azriel Shadowsinger.

But maybe Azriel should figure out why it was annoying him this bad that Nick was mad at him. He didn't care about him in that way.

He didnt.

Right?

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

Husband!Azriel x Reader Headcanons

A/N - Warnings include mention of war, major character death, suggestions of murder, guilt, and grief/mourning

Nobody knows, not even Rhys or Cassian

Everyone mistakes his interest in Mor for love

No, truth is that Mor is the only thing Azriel has left to remind him of his spouse and mate, of you

He lost your shared home, your things

All he has left is a small grave marker and Mor, a female who doesn't even know of his deep connections to you

He had done everything he could to keep you hidden away from the cruelty of the Illyrians, to save you from a sad fate like his mother's

But how could he even keep such a secret from the High Lord of the Night Court, someone with such power. He was only a Shadowsinger, protecting his spouse

The disgusting bastard didn't keep his promise

What was Azriel to do when he found you, dying

What was he supposed to do when the mating bond snapped moments before you passed

What was he supposed to do when he felt such a swell in his chest and then nothing at all...emptiness and anger

Even his shadows lose the joy they once had

Have people ever considered he has no mate because he already has had a mate?!

Why does Rhys get his mate?!

Why does Cassian get his?!

WHY DO THEY GET EACH OTHER AND HE'S LEFT STANDING IN THE GODSDAMN CORNER BARELY ABLE TO REMEMBER THE FEEL OF YOUR BODY?!

He still feels guilty

Maybe by saving Elain, he can feel less guilty about not saving you

It doesn't help, only reminds him of how he failed to save you

He visits your burial place often, making excuses to return to the Night Court late after a mission

You told him you always wanted to travel so he makes sure to bring you things, tells you about them, sings about them

He used to do that a lot before; he used to dance a lot more before too

Maybe when death finally takes him he'll feel at peace again–until then he's forced to live in the silence of his loss, with only his shadows for company

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 10

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Eira has a shiny new spine, Azriel threatens to murder and the shadows keep torturing Elaine's floral arrangements and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

“And if something happens…”

“We do know how to contact you,” Mor drawled drily from her seat on the couch. “Velaris will still be standing when you return, High Lord,” she told Rhys sarcastically. Az bit back a smile while Amren huffed.

"And you're alright with taking care of Nyx?" Feyre checked carefully. It was already dangerous enough for the High Lord, the High Lady, the General and the Spymaster to be out of the Night Court at the same time. There was no need to add the Heir to the Night Court to it as well.

Mor rolled her eyes. "He'll be alive and happy when you return," she promised Feyre.

Rhys sighed as he watched Feyre fuss over Nyx, who was sitting on the ground beside her, playing with what looked like a stuffed toy of some sort. A bat, now that he was looking at it with more interest. 

He wondered where exactly he had gotten that from for a moment. 

"He’ll be in good hands, love," Rhys assured Feyre, walking over to place his hands on her shoulders.

"And don't give her too much milk!" Azriel heard his mate exclaim, fussing about the little kitten that followed behind Eira everywhere. Snow, or Snowflake, as Eira had christened her, would stay with Cerridwen and Nuala...and Eira was fussy about it. Had been for days. 

Azriel had more than once been jealous of a damn cat because it got all of Eira’s attention. And then he looked at Eira smiling at her, at playing with her with a ribbon, at how she coaxed her to eat little pieces of chicken from her hands, and scratched her underneath her chin, all of this with that expression on her face that told him that she was incandescently happy and he wasn’t jealous anymore. Eira loved her. How could he be jealous of that?

Eira appeared just a moment later, Snow still wrapped in her arms. She was clad in a green coat over a cream dress…if one could call it a coat? Azriel had absolutely no clue about fashion but it was a weird coat. It only had three-quarter-length sleeves and the neckline was open, with a shawl collar that bared her clavicle...and right there rested a necklace featuring fat emeralds that he knew the shadows had given her.

His shadows twined around her, whispering their approval for how pretty she looked, and he couldn’t disagree. 

Eira was… She was stunning. She always was, of course. But that simple - yet still lovely - dress, the necklace, and her hair that was pinned up carefully with combs in it...Perfect.

He took her in, the slender, elegant lines of her figure in the dress, the dark gold strands of her hair in the elaborate braided hairstyle that revealed her lovely neck, and those blue-grey eyes that met his as a blush stained her cheeks.

She was beautiful.

"Where did you get that necklace from?" Amren suddenly demanded, staring at the necklace resting around Eira's throat with hungry eyes that made not only Azriel's brows raise.

Eira froze, and her fingers moved up to the emeralds that sat against her skin.

"The...?" she stumbled over her words a little bit, her glance shifting nervously between him, Amren, and Mor and Feyre, who had both also turned to look. "I...the Shadows got it for me," she said quietly, her cheeks darkening further.

What is this about? he demanded from the shadows, which seemed to nearly preen with something.

The Tiny Ancient One wanted it. We bought it first, they answered drily. Petty. So Petty.

He had to bite his lip to avoid snickering.

Of course, the Shadows had stolen something Amren had wanted from right under her nose. Of course, they had.

She still hasn’t apologised to her, the shadows sniped. It’s her own fault.

True. Amren was back in the city because Rhys would prefer his second and third to be there, but that came with strict instructions. Azriel wasn’t quite sure what exactly had been said, but the shadows had promised him that The High Lord had been more than clear with Amren. 

A little mrrrrp from Snowflake in her arms brought attention down to the kitten, and Azriel reached out to fondly stroke the little ball of fluff. Eira giggled as Snowflake leaned into his touch, pressing her face against his fingers and continuing to purr.

"She likes you," Eira said with a little smile, watching the little cat with fondness.

"I think the feeling is mutual," Az murmured quietly, as he gently scratched Snowflake's head, and she just continued to press against his hands for more. Another mrrrp escaped the little cat, and Eira giggled a little.

"There we are!" Cassian exclaimed at that moment, Nesta trailed behind him. "I hope Helion still knows how to throw a party!"

"Or how to host one at least," Azriel grumbled under his breath, as he withdrew his hand from Snowflake's head. Rhys chuckled at the comment, as Feyre rolled her eyes.

Eira next to him stayed quiet, and he could see the nervousness in every line of her body. He offered her his arm and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, as she placed Snow on the ground.

"It will be alright," he promised her. It would be alright. It was only a wedding. Even if that meant facing Elain and he knew how nervous Eira was about that…He wasn’t nervous. He had promised himself an iron-clad grip on his temper. It would not flare. He would not actually kill Elain. Regardless of if he thought she deserved it for what she had done to them. “I’ll be there,” he added after a moment.  He wasn’t going to leave her to face her demons alone. Not when she had grown even paler at the thought of facing Elain. Her fingers were gripping his arm almost like a vice.

"Everybody ready?" Rhys asked. "We'll winnow into the Courtyard of Sunray Palace."

A chorus of confirmations met his question, as Azriel placed a little kiss against his mate’s head, while her fingers in the crook of his elbow remained as tight as iron.

“Ready as we’ll ever be, I guess...” Cassian muttered, and Azriel silently agreed.

The shadows wrapped around them, and Azriel took a moment to make sure Eira was wrapped in them as well before they vanished from the River House. And rematerialised in the Day Court.

His first thought was...it was bright.

Very bright.

The brilliant sun was shining overhead, and the courtyard they appeared in was large and lovely, if a bit...showy. Similar to the House of Wind, The Sunray Palace was carved into the stone of a Mountain, that was covered in lush grass. He looked up to see a group of Pegasi fly up to their home in the highest tower.

He turned his head to check on Eira, catching her pale face and the nervous gulp as she took the Palace in, and his worry spiked. She was shaking like a leaf, and her knuckles were white where she clutched his elbow.

And then he watched as her shoulders went back and her chin went up, her jaw clenched nearly imperceptively. "You look lovely by the way," he whispered in her ear, making her blush. "Green suits you. Though I am partial to blue."

The compliment drew a flush of colour to her cheeks, and her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as a little smile appeared on her face.

“Of course, you would say that,” she shot back, the slight tremble in her voice still there. “You’re biased. And don’t try to distract me.”

He chuckled even as he led them forward, the two of them easily slotting into place between Nesta and Cassian, Nesta throwing her younger sister a look. Azriel could read the worry into it but he shook his head nearly imperceptively. Eira was doing well. Better than he thought she would at any rate.

Eira still looked nervous. Extremely nervous. Her hand still had a death grip on his arm, and she was walking stiffly beside him, and yet...she still had her chin lifted high, her eyes forward. He had to admire the courage she was putting on.

The doors to the Palace suddenly opened, and Helion stepped out, grinning brilliantly. “Well, well, well, you all are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice drawling out the syllables in that typical Day Court fashion.

“Don’t you know it, High Lord,” Cassian replied in his usual easy, charming tone, and Helion chuckled as his gaze travelled over the group with a smirk. Suddenly the smirk faltered as his gaze landed on Eira and the shadows wrapped around her.

His eyes widened, and Azriel didn't know what this was about before Helion continued. "We prepared rooms for you all. Why don't you arrive properly and then we'll have lunch?"

The suggestion was casual, but Azriel still thought that Helion's gaze remained on the way the shadows swirled up her body. It did result in the shadows hissing

"Thank you," Rhys drawled, easily matching the Day Court High Lord's tone. "We'll do that, and we'll see you for lunch."

The High Lord nodded, and retreated back into the Palace, while the group headed in the same direction.

When he glanced at Eira again, her face was paler than before, her hands trembling even more.

"Breathe, love," he whispered to her quietly, his voice soft, hoping it would soothe her a little bit. She gave him a weak nod in response, and he could see her forcing herself to take a shaky breath in. Azriel didn't know entirely what was going through her head, but he had the feeling it was not a happy thought, by any means.

They were shown to their suite of rooms, arranged around a shared living room, and he led her to a marigold yellow sofa. She collapsed like somebody cut the strings holding her up.

He had half a mind to curse, but her paler face, the trembling hands, stopped him. Instead, he carefully lowered himself down onto the sofa beside her, pulling her onto his lap without a second thought, and wrapped her in the shadows around them.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he repeated, as one of his hands stroked gently up and down her back, while the other cupped her cheek.

She leaned against his touch willingly, as another shudder wracked her frame.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whimpered.

His heart wrenched in his chest at the tremble in her voice. "There's nothing wrong with you, love," he assured her quietly. "Nothing at all. You are nervous to face Elain. That's alright."

She sighed softly, but relaxed against him, bedding her head against his shoulder.

"Looking awfully comfy there," Cassian drawled and her cheeks flushed scarlet. She moved to get off his lap but Azriel held her in place gently until she stilled.

He wrapped his arm a little bit tighter around her, keeping her from getting off his lap, as he shot Cassian a quick glare, while the hand rubbing her back continued the slow and gentle motion.

He could almost hear the Shadows whispering their own displeasure at Cassian in the back of his mind. Azriel could hear a sharp smack and he just knew that it must have been Nesta.

He turned his head to send a glare in Cassian's direction, as the Shadows snickered in his mind.

"Sorry, I am sorry, Eira" Cassian hurried to add, as Feyre stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Eira said nothing, just curled tighter against him, resting her temple against his shoulder. 

"We got three bedrooms, not four," Rhys said with a sigh, apparently having surveyed the rooms in the meantime. "They clearly expected Azriel and Eira to share a room.”

Azriel wondered if that was on purpose. If that was Elain’s doing. Her attempt at making Eira uncomfortable. Eira, the one of the sisters that kept the most to human ideals of modesty, that blushed if he as much as kissed her cheek…that only kissed him when they were alone. And even then it were quick pecks against his lips. 

Not that he would ever protest against one of Eira’s kisses. He wanted to hoard each touch of her plush, soft lips against his like a dragon hoarded its treasure. 

But now he could feel Eira's body stiffen in his lap once more, and he glanced down at her. She was very pale again, her fingers trembling where they were wrapped around his jacket. He wanted to smack his head against the nearest wall, or at least something, but he refrained from doing that, and instead just pulled her further against his chest with a quiet huff.

"Their error," Nesta said drily. "Eira and I will share."

The Shadows were practically sulking in his head. 

He shut them up with a growl. 

Even when he wouldn’t have laid a single finger on Eira if they did share a bed, that clearly was a step too far for her. It would have made her uncomfortable. And he wasn’t going to push her. Not ever. 

He had never asked, but there didn’t seem to be any human suitors in her past. Kissing seemed foreign to her, making her nervous and excited, her heartbeat quickening and she stared at him with this expression of wonder on her face. 

"Alright, that works as well," Feyre agreed, and Azriel silently echoed that. 

He could feel how tense Eira still was in his lap, though. Still trembling nervously under his touch. He continued to rub her back slowly, still trying to soothe her. 

“Cassian can share with Azriel,” Nesta declared. 

“Oh come on,” Cassian muttered. 

The Shadows muttered their displeasure as well. 

Azriel rolled his eyes, his fingers still rubbing her back soothingly.

"You're a grown male, Cassian," he said, his voice dry. "I'm sure you'll live."

A huff from the General, and Azriel just rolled his eyes again, his glance down to his mate again.

She still looked quite pale. The hand on her back continued the gentle rubbing. 

"Interesting that it wasn't Elain and Lucien that greeted us," Feyre said drily. "Given that it's their wedding we are supposed to attend."

"Very interesting," Rhys agreed, as Azriel continued to eye Eira in his lap.

She was still tense against him, still pale, still trembling a little bit. Her nervousness and fear were rolling in waves towards him, through the bond.

"Elain will be at the lunch, no doubt," Feyre said, and Rhys just hummed in agreement.

The Shadows continued to whisper angrily in his mind, upset at the way their Mate was feeling.

"Or maybe Elain is terrified of what the shadows will do to her now," Nesta quipped darkly.

Azriel couldn't help but smirk a little bit at that.

He could practically hear the Shadows preen. Cassian let out a bark of laughter, and Feyre tried to hold hers back, while Rhys tried to keep a serious expression.

You'll behave, he told them sternly.

Maybe , they hissed back, though they were still clearly preening over the compliment.

He rolled his eyes and glanced down at Eira again.

I mean it. You will behave. You do not attack her, he reiterated in his head. 

A few displeased mutterings echoed in his head, but they did quiet down. He refrained from rolling his eyes this time, and his glance went back to the female in his lap. She was no longer pale, the tremors and shakes having died down, and while she was still nervous, she now appeared relaxed. At least a little bit.

"Let's get changed for Lunch," Nesta said easily.

"You literally just put on a dress before we arrived here," Cassian said with a snort.

"You don't need to understand females, Cassian," Rhys said easily. "Just deal with it."

Cassian grumbled, as Feyre stifled another laugh and Azriel held in a snicker.

Nesta held out her hand for Eira, who took it and let her sister pull her to her feet, giving him a small smile and his hand a squeeze before they, together with Feyre, disappeared into one bedroom.

He watched her go, a strange feeling of loss creeping up once she was out of his sight.

Azriel was tempted, so tempted to get up and go after her, pull her back onto the sofa, onto his lap, into his arms, but he managed to stop himself from doing so.

He leaned his head back against the back of the sofa, and a long sigh escaped him.

"You're absolutely besotted." His head snapped up to see Rhys staring at him, his violet eyes sparkling with smug amusement. The Shadows immediately hissed in agreement his mind at Rhys' observation.

"Shut up," Azriel just grumbled.

Rhys smirked at him in response, and Cassian just laughed. "Whatever you do tonight, if your shadows start sweetly caressing me like they do to Eira, I'll scream," Cassian muttered.

"That won't happen," Azriel immediately shot back, the words practically hissed through his teeth.

At the same time, the Shadows muttered their own disapproval of that possibility. Only our Mate, they whispered.

Cassian just rolled his eyes.

"Do you think she'll manage?" Cassian asked, growing serious. "She seems awfully...nervous."

A heavy sigh escaped him, as he sat up straighter in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know," he admitted. "She...is very nervous. But she's trying not to be. She's trying to stay brave."

"And you?" Rhys asked quietly. "How are you holding up?"

He took a deep breath, contemplating the question.

He was angry. Furious. Worried about his mate, his heart clenching every time he felt her distress through the bond.

But he had to stay strong. For her. He needed to keep it together.

"I..." he mumbled, his voice faltering. He had to pause for a moment to collect himself. "I'm hanging in there."

Silence followed his admission, and Cassian and Rhys were studying him. He knew his friends could see through his facade, knew that they knew how worried he was. His face must have given all away.

"You have every right to be angry," Rhys said quietly. "I don't know what I would do in your place."

"What I want to do is to take her home," he admitted, his voice quiet and gruff, his eyes fixed on his lap, where he was clenching his hands into fists. "I want to take her home. I don't want her here. I don't want her to face Elain. Hell, I don't even want her to meet Elain at all. I..." He took a shuddering breath. "But she needs this. She needs this closure. I think Eira knows that herself."

Another heavy sigh escaped him, as he lifted his head and met Rhys' eyes.

"I just hate...seeing her so scared. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to feel frightened and scared because of...Elain," he said, bitterness seeping into his voice as he said her name.

"What did she see?" Cassian said suddenly. "Elain had a vision of you and Eira and worked to make sure it wouldn't come to pass. But what did she see?"

"Cass..." Rhys said carefully, but Azriel shook his head. It was alright.

"She saw...She saw Eira and a little girl in a garden. A little girl with her hair and freckles and my wings and eyes. She saw me coming home to them...picking up our daughter and kissing Eira...they saw my hand on her swollen belly...another child in her womb. She saw our children Cassian." There was a heavy pause after Azriel's words.

Cassian just stared at him, wide-eyed and silent, while Rhys' mouth was set into a thin-lipped grave line.

His voice had started shaking a little bit, towards the middle of his story, and he clenched his jaw against the emotions building in his chest.

"That you didn't outright kill her is a fucking miracle," Cassian seethed.

"I damn near came close," Azriel muttered darkly, while anger coursed through his veins.

His jaw was set, his hands were clenching and unclenching almost of their own accord, while the Shadows kept muttering angrily in the back of his mind. They were furious, furious that their Mate was distressed.

"Why did she do it?" Cassian demanded. "Because she is the prettier one? Because if she couldn't have Azriel, Eira shouldn't have him either? Because of jealousy ?!"

"Jealousy and spite," Azriel said darkly. "That's what it comes down to. Jealousy and spite ."

He wanted to break something. Preferably Elain. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze.

He took a shuddering breath to collect himself, as he felt himself slowly losing control of his temper.

But he needed to stay in control. He had to. He wasn't going to explode, not in front of Cassian and Rhys, and certainly not in front of Eira.

"I...hate...her," he bit out, his voice strangled, as his hands clenched and unclenched, even as he tried to keep control over his temper. "I hate her so much. Hell, I want to destroy the very thought of her. I...I want to make sure she can never hurt Eira again. And if it's the last thing I damn well do," he continued, and his voice was venomous. "She. Will. Never. Lay one finger on my mate ever again."

"And I'll make her suffer," he snarled, his voice almost a growl. "By the Mother, I won't just kill her. I'll make her suffer first. For what she did to Eira. For what she did to us. For the thought of that future that she denied me. I will make her pay."

A strangled breath escaped him, his lungs straining with the effort of keeping himself from going on a rampage right then and there.

He closed his eyes, and took a long shuddering breath, as fury continued to course through his veins, while the Shadows hissed and whispered in his mind, their mutterings murderous in nature.

He let out a shuddering breath, as he tried to will his raging temper to abate. He needed to calm down. He needed to, for Eira. She was nervous enough as it was. He couldn't go to her like this. He...He wouldn't do it. He refused to upset her further.

He kept his eyes closed, as he tried to force his emotions to a simmering rage.

Another shuddering breath escaped him, as it took all his strength to calm down. He forced the tension from his body, slowly loosening his clenched jaw. His hands were still clenched into tight fists, but he continued to just breathe deeply, willing his temper to die down.

It felt like an eternity before he finally felt in control of his own emotions again.

He opened his eyes again and met Rhys and Cassian's stares.

Neither of them said anything, silently watching him, and he leaned back against the sofa with a sigh.

"I'm alright," he said and was slightly surprised that his voice was steady, even if he still felt like he was full of rage. "I'm fine. I'm alright," he repeated, and it was more of a reminder to himself than anything else.

"You need to not react like that when you see her," Rhys said quietly, and Azriel couldn't tell if it was a warning or a mere observation.

"I know that," he said between clenched teeth. "I know that, Rhys. But I have every right to be furious. Hell, I have every right to rip her apart."

"You do," Rhys agreed quietly. "But it won't do anyone any favours if you get like this when you see her. You need to keep your temper in check. For Eira ."

***

Eira was staring at her reflection in the mirror, struggling to recognise the person looking back at her. 

Her eyes were wide and anxious, her breathing quick and nervous, and her hands were trembling. A part of her was wondering how she was even managing to stand at the moment, seeing how her legs felt like they were close to giving in underneath her.

But she was also...she was also dressed in a tissue-thin gown out of pleated silk in a lavender colour, cinched in around the waist by an embroidered ribbon she had made. Her hair was pulled back from her face, diamond encrusted haircombs that she had no clue from where these had come from fastened in her hair...( One day she would need to actually get the shadows to stop buying her things. ), a diamond bracelet tightened around her wrist…They had even clipped earrings to her lobes, diamonds as well, dangly and pretty and in the Human Lads would be considered to be too much for a simple luncheon. 

But here in Prythian, the shadows didn’t seem to think twice about it, to wrap her in more diamonds than most people had ever even seen in the same place. 

Once they judged her ready,  a tendril of shadows curled itself back around her wrist, while another picked up the small train of her dress.

"You know, I am kinda jealous. You have a handmaiden wherever you are," Feyre said drily.

Eira let out an embarrassed little laugh, the sound shaky and weak as her heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of her chest.

"They are...very helpful," she admitted, as she gave a small, nervous glance to Feyre.

Nesta finished pinning her own hair into her usual coronet, smoothing the blue-green fabric of her dress. "You do not need to accept her apology," her eldest sister said fiercely. "Remember that, Eira."

She swallowed, the familiar nervous butterflies back in her stomach, and she gave a shaky nod.

Feyre placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, as she gave her a gentle squeeze. It was a little steadying and helped quell some of her anxiousness, even as the nervous tremors continued to wrack through her body.

"I...know," she said quietly.

Right. There went nothing.

She took a few more, long, deep breaths, to calm her nerves.

She was going to be alright. She was going to be just...fine.

You're going to be fine, she repeated to herself as she squared her shoulders.

Azriel was waiting for her as she left the bedroom, in a quiet conversation with Rhys and Cassian. He looked up as soon as he came out, his expression softening.

His eyes widened momentarily as a breath caught in his throat at the sight of her in that dress, and a small smile started spreading across his lips.

"Eira," he said quietly, taking a tentative step towards her. "You...You look beautiful, sweetheart."

She gave a shaky smile, her eyes meeting his as those familiar little butterflies came to life in her belly.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart fluttering at the affectionate endearment.

"Ready?" Rhys asked.

She exhaled, steadying her breathing, willing her trembling body to not shake.

Eira gave a shaky nod, even as the familiar anxiousness threatened to overwhelm her, and she swallowed past the lump forming in her throat.

"Ready," she whispered.

She just needed...She reached out for Azriel's hand before she could help herself, not caring how inappropriate this was. They weren't married, they weren't even engaged and still, she claimed his hand with hers, threading her fingers through his.

The feeling of scarred skin against her home, grounded her, giving her something to hang onto. 

The shadows that kept closer to him than usual, hiding behind the wings he had snapped close to his body, dusted over her arms for just a moment, like they wanted to assure Eira that they were there as well, before returning to their mater, leaving her with a few wrapped around her wrist and another tendril keeping her skirt in place. 

For a brief moment, Azriel looked down at where their fingers were woven together, before lifting his head again and giving her fingers a firm, reassuring squeeze. She felt his warmth through his skin, the steady beat of his pulse, and it was comforting...comforting to know that he was right next to her.

She took a few more, deep breaths, the anxiety continuing to flutter in her stomach, but...

But Azriel was here, she reasoned.

Azriel was right there...right next to her, holding her hand...and she could do this. She could get through this. All she had to do was stay close to him.

They were let to a dining room, with high ceilings, beautifully appointed in white and gold. 

“I swear I told them to put white jasmine and blush roses in here and not yellow carnations and orange lilies!” she heard her sister’s voice before she saw her. 

Seconds later, she got her first glance at her twin sister. Lucien and she made a lovely couple, always had. And Elain did look as utterly beautiful as she always had. Elain had always been extraordinarily lovely, but that hadn't changed in her transformation into a High Fae. Now she was utterly beautiful. 

Even when… with a blink Eira realised how harried-looking Elain was, fiddling with the flowers on the table.  Her heart clenched at the sight of her, mixed with the swirling, anxious emotions in her stomach, and she couldn't help the shuddering breath that escaped her as they walked into the room.

Azriel's hand clenched around hers.

Her eyes snapped to his. His face was a mask of ice. She had never seen him look ...like that before. Never seen...this tightly controlled murderous rage.

The shadow tightened around her wrist. She wasn't sure if it was in warning, but she didn't care anyway.

He was hers. Hers in every bit of this murderous rage. 

They came to a halt, and she felt the way Azriel clenched his jaw as his eyes met with Elain's across the room.

He was furious, she could practically feel the rage simmering under the surface, the only thing keeping him in check was his ironclad control...and the fact that he was holding onto her hand.

She would leave the diplomacy to Feyre and Rhys, the useless pretty words. She didn’t trust herself to say anything that was actually nice. Instead, she tugged Azriel along to find their seats at the table, pasting a smile on her face.

They sat at the table, and Azriel kept a firm hold of her hand, never loosening his grip on her. The shadows kept themselves firmly around her wrist and continued to cling unto her, even as they settled into place at the table.

And a part of her could feel how Azriel was tensed, how he was wound up so tight she was afraid he might snap.

Cassian sat down next to Azriel, with Nesta bracketing Eira's other side, fully ignoring whatever seating arrangement had been put down by the Day Court. 

Eira wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly why Cassian had been put there. In the event of Azriel losing his temper, Cassian may had a chance at subduing him. Though she somehow doubted that would actually work. 

With them right there, and Azriel holding onto her hand, she felt...steady. She felt secure...secure enough to withstand this dreaded luncheon.

Feyre and Rhys sat down next to Helion, Lucien and Elain, and she could feel the tension in the room.

She could sense Elain's gaze on her, sitting directly across from her. , but didn't dare to meet her eyes as the anxiousness roiled in her stomach, even as Azriel's fingers continued to grasp hers, and one of the shadows curled around her wrist, giving a small, reassuring little squeeze.

"It's so nice that you could make it," Elain said, a smile on her face, masking her nervousness. She was glancing at the shadows that were topping up Eira’s water glass, clearly making a pest out of themselves, to put bread on her plate and drag the butter dish closer to her. 

For just one moment Eira wondered if they did that on purpose. Were they trying to scare Elain?

"We wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Feyre said, her voice carefully neutral.

There was a stiffness in the air, palpable enough that it could be cut with a knife, the tension as so thick that one could drown in it, and Eira just sat there, her fingers tightly wrapped around Azriel's hand.

There was a moment of silence, where nobody commented.

And then...her heart hammered against her ribs, her stomach twisting in knots, as those doe-like brown eyes landed directly on her. "You look...good, Eira. Healthy. I hope everything healed well," Elain said sweetly.

Her breath caught in her throat as she fought down the nausea that welled up in her stomach, and she forced a tight smile onto her lips.

"Everything healed up just fine," she said, her voice shaking, only to be steadied by the firm squeeze Azriel gave her hand.

It was the truth. Nothing but a thin white line underneath her left breast. Nobody but her would probably ever see it. 

"And the... lightning ?" Lucien wondered. "I hope your cauldron-given gift didn't give you too much trouble," he quipped, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Elain mentioned that you…defended yourself quite well.”

The nausea that welled up in her throat was nearly immediate. Defended herself. She had defended herself. She had also killed 4 males. 

"Lightning?" The High Lord of Day asked, sounding fascinated. He was looking at her like she was an exceptionally interesting specimen.  

Her stomach roiled, the nausea continuing to grow inside her, as her heart thundered in her chest.

“No,” Eira said, struggling to keep her voice even. “It...It wasn’t too much trouble,” she continued, even as the nausea continued to rise, and she felt like she might retch all over the table.

"She's learning to control it," Rhys said evenly. "She's doing as well as one could expect."

Her heart fluttered at Rhys’ words. He was trying his best to...deflect the attention away from her. Trying to help.

“So she really can generate lightning then?” Helion spoke up, sounding utterly fascinated.

"She can," Rhys confirmed, his voice even. His words were simple, but the tone of them was almost warning, and she could feel Azriel tense even more next to her. And that was enough to pique Helion’s interest.

“Extraordinary,” he said, and he sounded way too fascinated with her wretched blessing.

Her heart skipped a beat, the nausea continuing to grow in her stomach until she feared she might vomit at any moment. Her hand clenched around Azriel's, fingers practically digging into his skin, while the shadows around her wrist squeezed reassuringly. And all the while, she could feel Elain's eyes on her, her stare practically boring into her.

"Do the shadows help control it?" Elain asked hesitantly. Only now, Eira realised that more had come to swarm around her, banding around her midsection and chest, like trailing black ribbons. Their touch was gentle, and soft. 

"No," came Azriel's reply, and his voice was so filled with cold fury that she was amazed he could even get the words out.

He was tense, like a coiled spring, holding onto her hand like a lifeline, while the shadows continued to cling to her, continuing to twine around her wrist in a firm, reassuring grip.

"They like touching Eira because she's Azriel's mate," Cassian said, his voice icy. Her heart stuttered in her chest at Cassian's words.

His blunt, to-the-point declaration of her belonging to Azriel...the words had stunned her, and it seemed they had stunned Elain too if the way that she stiffened was any indicative.

"Ah, yes...we should talk about that," Helion said with a sigh. "Elain?"

The tension in the room immediately ratcheted up even more higher, and Eira could feel it, as a chill settled over the room. She was so tense, she was struggling just to breathe, and her hand was trembling where it was held in Azriel’s ironclad grip.

"I am sorry," Elain said quietly.

Her heart skipped a beat at her twin sister’s words, her stomach twisting in knots, as her eyes flicked towards her. Elain’s voice was soft but sincere, and her brown eyes were wide and vulnerable, and there were tears in her eyes... Tears in her eyes as she spoke.

"I am sorry, Eira," she said again, her voice trembling. “For...for everything.”

And suddenly...suddenly the fear, the nervousness went away, replaced with ice-cold anger. "You are sorry ," she repeated flatly. Sorry .

The anger in her voice was not missed, and she heard Nesta and Feyre inhale sharply. Elain's eyes widened at the tone in her voice...at the anger in Eira’s words, and she gave a small, shaky nod, her chin trembling slightly.

"I am sorry. I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have...I shouldn't have tried to keep you and Azriel away from each other. I was...I shouldn't have done that."

Eira clenched her jaw, the anger still boiling in her blood as she continued to hold her sister’s gaze.

"No," she replied, her voice so flat it was as if it was made of ice. "You shouldn’t have done that," she repeated coldly. "But that's not all you did, Elain," she spat out. "You saw that vision. You know what you did." What she had done. Namely, keep Eira's babies from being born .

Her heart lurched in her chest, and she felt Azriel squeeze her hand tightly as if he knew what had been going through her thoughts.

Her throat was tight, and her breathing was laboured, as she continued to hold her sister’s gaze, her eyes cold and furious as she spoke.

"You did a lot more than keeping me away from Azriel',” she hissed.

And the worst part was, her sister didn’t even try to deny what she had done. Didn’t even try to fight back. All she could do was sit there, looking like a wounded puppy, which only fuelled the anger in Eira’s chest.

“You tried to take everything from me,” she hissed again.

"It all worked out!" Elain defended herself. "You and Azriel seem to be..."

She couldn’t be serious, could she? 

It all worked out?

It all worked out?!?

"It is not all ‘worked out’!" she snapped, her voice cracking as she fought back a frustrated scream bubbling in her chest. "You tried to take everything from me!" she repeated, tears burning at the corners of her eyes. The tears weren't for her. 

The tears were for her babies. 

The anger ratcheted in her chest and she could feel the lightning underneath her skin, begging to be released. Begging for her to let go of her grip on it and let it find its target. Let it find Elain. Let it hit her. 

She clenched her jaw, forcing that feeling down, as she met her sister’s eyes with a cold glare. "You tried to take my children from me," she hissed at Elain. " My children. "

The temperature in the room seemed to drop to below freezing, and she could feel Nesta and Feyre’s gazes on her. She didn’t care though. Her eyes were entirely focused on her twin, and the words had come out in a deadly hiss, the anger steaming out of her in waves.

"You tried to take our babies ," she repeated, her words cracking again as she spoke.

She felt Azriel’s grip on her hand tighten even more, the shadows clinging to her wrist once more, as if trying to both keep her grounded and hold her back.

And it was the only thing keeping her from lunging across the table and grabbing her sister by the throat.

Her skin was itchy, that strange, foreign energy writhing underneath the surface, and she fought to keep it reined in, to keep it from escaping, even as the room went silent, the tension so palpable you could taste it in the air.

It hurt, keeping it restrained, and her heart thudded against her ribs, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps.

Her whole body was tense, and all she wanted was to let the lightning free. To let it roar.

"You are my twin sister, Elain," she said, biting out every word. "We spend 9 months sharing our mother's womb. I trusted you with my life. And you did this to me."

Her sister just sat there, her eyes wide and watery, as if somehow even that had been a shock to her.

"We spent years together," she continued, her words sharp and cold. "I never thought I would need to worry about you betraying me."

Her chest hurt like something was sitting on it, making it hard to breathe, as she continued to hold Elain’s gaze.

Elain’s eyes were wide, watery, and wounded, and she might have been almost sorry that she looked so hurt…if not for the fact that Elain was the one who had caused Eira to be in this position in the first place. Elain was the one who did this to her…hurt her so badly she didn’t know if it’d ever heal.

"I…I…" Elain started, her voice cracking. She looked like she was going to cry, and Eira felt herself waver slightly at the sight of her distraught expression. But then…her mind flashed back to the vision of her daughter , so small and beautiful…and that small, weak flutter of sympathy in her chest died.

"I trusted you," she hissed, her voice thick as she desperately tried to hold back the tears that were burning at the corners of her eyes. "I trusted you and look what you did to me. What you took from me."

Her sister let out a watery gasp, her lower lip quivering, and the tears slid silently down her face. And for a moment, Eira felt her resolve waver…only to remember the image of those two babies. The ones that should have been hers.

Anger flared again at that thought, her heart squeezing in her chest, as her breath hitched.

All the sympathy that she had felt was gone, and all that was left was the all-consuming rage coursing through her veins.

She had every right to be angry, she told herself. She had every right to feel this way.

She was so angry, so incandescent with rage, that her entire body was shaking, and she felt like she needed to just scream. To shout and rage and fight…fighting was all she wanted to do.

She gritted her teeth, her fingers wrapping tightly around Azriel’s hand, as she tried desperately to rein in the storm of emotions warring within her chest.

Azriel’s grip on her hand tightened as if he was sensing how close she was to breaking.

“Eira...” Elain said tremulously. Her sister’s voice was quiet, almost timid, and it was enough to snap something within her.

"Don’t. Don’t speak to me. You are the last person who gets to speak to me right now," she snarled, her voice cold as steel. "I loved you," Eira snapped. "I loved you and you did this to me. And now you want to tell me that everything is alright because it WORKED OUT?!"

Her sister looked like she was going to start sobbing, her lower lip quivering faintly, while her brown eyes were like large, round pools. But Eira was done feeling sorry for her. Done feeling sympathy towards her.

“You don’t get to talk to me about what’s alright or not,” she hissed, fighting the urge to reach forward and throttle her. "I just want to know one thing. Why?" she snapped." WHY? Why did you do it?” she shouted bitterly.

Elain looked like she had absolutely no idea how to answer that. She looked like a lost child, and it took all of Eira’s strength to keep her seat and not lunge across the table to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

She knew her eyes were probably like ice when they met her sister’s, and her glare was hard as steel as she waited for her answer. "Why?" Eira repeated icily.

Her sister’s lower lip was trembling, just as much as her shoulders, as she raised her head to meet Eira’s furious glare.

"I…" Her voice was small and watery, and her eyes were now wide and pleading. "I…I was jealous," Elain whispered.

Eira’s jaw dropped at the words. At the admission, she had just heard. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting her sister to say, but a quiet confession of jealousy hadn’t been it.

Her sister’s chin trembled, her shoulders hunching slightly as she let out another sniffle. She sounded utterly small and looked almost pathetic in that moment as she slowly raised her head to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Of you and Azriel,” Elain admitted, her voice quiet, and trembling. "You...we just...we just got out of the cauldron and this was...one of the first things I saw. You didn't have visions. You weren't going insane. You...you adjusted so much quicker. Not a week later and you were making soup in the kitchen in the House of Wind and...you…were alright."

Alright. 

Eira thought back to these first few days after the cauldron. Thought back to the terror that had clawed under her skin. Thought back to too loud noises and every piece of clothing feeling like sandpaper against her skin. 

She thought back to how she hadn’t been able to sleep. How she had locked herself in the bathing chamber to hysterically break down because she had never wanted it. How she had pulled at her ears, too big, too pointy. How she had wanted to cut them off. How she had wanted to die. How she had thought that throwing herself off the balcony would be a solution . 

"I locked myself into the closet. I hid underneath the bed. I rocked back and forth and back and forth and hummed to myself to stop hearing heartbeats and breathing and birds," Eira spat out. "Yes, I was making soup. For you. Because somebody needed to," Eira said, her voice icy. “I wasn’t alright, Elain. I kept stuffing my ears with cotton wool for the better part of 2 years so I could sleep!”

Her sister looked like she was going to start crying yet again, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and it only fuelled the rage in Eira’s chest. 

“You were jealous of that ? Jealous that I was making soup? That I was taking care of you?” she repeated, her tone hard and cold. “Of the fact that I was trying to make a positive out of a shitty situation. That I was trying to move on with my life? That I tried not to give Feyre another thing to worry about? And you were jealous? Jealous of what ?!" 

Of the breakdowns she had daily? 

Her sister didn’t reply, her shoulders shaking as if she was trying to hold back a sob

“You were jealous of the fact that I was trying not to scream, not to break down crying,” she repeated, her voice now dangerously quiet. “Of the fact that I wasn’t moping around feeling sorry for myself, because somebody needed to make sure that you didn’t starve to death? That I was trying not to give Feyre or anyone any more of my baggage?”

"And that you got Azriel," Elain whispered. "You got...I saw you with him. With a kind man. I saw these children and I was...I wanted that. I wanted what that vision promised you. So I thought that if I..."

Her breath caught in her throat at her sister’s words, her heart twisting in her chest.

It was sick, what she had done. Horrible. And part of her had known that Elain had a crush on Azriel…but Eira had never thought she’d be spiteful enough to try and rip her children away from her just for that.

“So you wanted it," she stated coldly, her eyes like chips of ice. "You wanted what you saw me having. So you tried to take it for yourself.”

Her sister’s shoulders slumped, and she looked small and pathetic as she curled in on herself. That rage and anger were still burning hot inside her, but along with it, there was the slightest flicker of sympathy starting to burn within her again.

And Eira hated it. Hated that part of her that still felt sorry for her, even after what Elain had done. 

"And later? After you and Lucien figured things out?" Why did you continue it?" she snapped.

Her sister’s face screwed up, and she looked like she wanted to burst into tears yet again. Her chin quivered, her entire form trembling. And she looked so small and fragile, that that small flicker of sympathy flared again within her, and Eira found herself hating it.

"I was...I was angry," Elain muttered softly. "I was furious. I thought Azriel and I...there was something growing between us and then he...he called trying to kiss me a mistake."

Her sister’s voice was quiet and sad, and Eira could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Because it was," Azriel said, his voice quiet. "It was a mistake. You had a mate that was literally sleeping upstairs. I never should have laid a single finger on you."

Her sister flinched at Azriel's words and hunched even further in on herself, as if she wanted to crawl into a corner.  "Later it was revenge on me, wasn’t it?" Azriel said, ice dripping from his voice. 

Her sister looked as if she couldn't quite meet Azriel's gaze, her eyes lowered onto the table, her body trembling. She nodded. 

And part of the anger that was currently roiling within Eira burned hotter at that. How dare she look so pathetic now, like she was the damn victim and everything that had happened was Eira’s fault?

Eira’s free hand clenched into fists, and she could feel the sparks dancing across her skin, the strange energy writhing beneath the surface. Azriel, noticing this, gripped her hand tighter, his shadows snaking around her wrist again as they tried to rein in those sparks of lightning.

She didn’t want to hurt him. 

That was what made her reign it in. 

She was still boiling with rage, the anger thrumming through her veins like fire, and she desperately tried to calm herself, tried to get a hold of her temper.

She didn’t want to cause any damage, to break anything or hurt anyone, and the part of her that was still rational, still logical, forced her to rein in whatever was itching to get out. She breathed in and out, forcing herself to calm as those sparks danced across her fingers, and those shadows snaked up her arm. A part of her couldn’t help but notice how Elain’s eyes kept darting to the sparks and the shadows, her body tensing every time they appeared, and a small, vindictive part of her couldn’t help but be glad of it.

Her head was throbbing as that rage continued to thrum through her, but she took in another breath, forcing her mind to concentrate on the sensation of Azriel’s hand wrapped around her own. His skin was warm against hers. 

"I hope nobody ever does the same to you," Eira finally said, her voice quiet.

Her sister lifted her gaze, her eyes watery, and she looked as if she’d been slapped. She looked as if she was shocked at her words.

There was another pause, another silence, as the two sisters sat facing each other, and her words hung in the air.

Elain’s chin trembled again, as if she was fighting the urge to burst into tears once more. 

"I think we can all agree that Elain did not handle this...properly," Lucien said carefully.

Lucien’s words broke the silence, and Eira couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation as he spoke. 

"No, she surely didn't," Rhys said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Her sister flinched at Rhys’s words, as if she had been struck, and her shoulders drooped even further than before. 

"I think that's an understatement," Nesta snapped.

Her sister’s eyes widened as if the sound of Nesta’s voice startled her. Elain’s head jerked to look over at her eldest sister, who was scowling at Elain with an almost furious look of disapproval.

Eira almost felt a little bad for her sister at that look in Nesta’s eyes, but that sympathy was quickly squashed as she remembered the pain that her sister had put her through.

Her chest ached, the memory of what she had lost still too fresh and raw, and a part of her knew that it would take a long time for the pain to subside.

And even then, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to forget what Elain did to her, and that knowledge sat like a lead weight in her stomach, making her feel like she was going to be sick.

Elain shrunk back at the look on Nesta’s face, her eyes even wider as she looked over at her eldest sister. And for a moment, just for a moment, it looked as if Nesta was going to reach across the table and smack her sister. The eldest sister’s hands were clenched into fists, and she looked like she was restraining herself, only just managing to rein in her own temper.

A pause. Another silence. Elain sat, looking small and fragile across the table, Lucien’s chair positioned right beside hers with a possessive arm wrapped over the back.

Azriel’s hand was still gripping hers. He was still sitting beside her, the Shadowsinger’s eyes glittering with fury whenever he looked over at her sister. And his fingers were still rubbing gentle circles on her wrist, the shadows still coiled against her skin, and Eira couldn’t tell if he was doing it to comfort her or himself.

"I am going to say this now," Azriel said quietly. " Once . If you ever do anything remotely similar to your sister again, it will not end well. Do you understand me?"

Elain’s chin quivered, and she looked as if she was struggling to keep herself from bursting into tears again.

She swallowed as Azriel’s words, before slowly lifting her head, forcing herself to meet his eyes with her own. “I…” She took in another shuddering breath. “I understand,” she whispered.

[moonfalles]

Elain visiting Vallahan and attending a ball on behalf of the Night Court, with Azriel and Mor as her protection squad. Some fae royals and upper echelons approached Elain to engage her in conversation. They have all heard about her devastating beauty and had been dying to behold her beauty with their own eyes. When Elain curtsied and introduced herself, Azriel noticed where their eyes were glued to.

His wings shifted in agitation, which earned a haughty sneer from one of the fae princes. “And what are you? Her bodyguard?”

“I’m her husband.” He said with a straight face and eyes that promised death.

“I’m her bodyguard.” Mor countered with a delighted smirk on her red lips and murder on her mind.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-One

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Character death and canon typical violence/graphic descriptions.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was the sound and smell that really got to you. The crackle of bones snapping and the stretching of skin and the slick squelch of new flesh as it grew into place. The scent of burning curtains and couch stuffing and meat so thick in the air Emerie could only lean over and vomit into the fireplace. 

Through the smoke and the haze you saw barbs sprout from Vassa’s skin like needles before splitting down the middle to reveal sickly red feathers. Putrid flowers crawling their way through the dirt. 

She fell to the ground, convulsing with pain and anguish as she transformed.  

“VASSA!” Lucien roared. He threw his arm over his face, magic bursting forth in a protective shield around you and Azriel. His russet eyes reflected the flames that licked at his skin and hair, fighting and absorbing the power that flashed throughout the room. 

From the corner of your eye you saw Feyre use her own spark of Autumn’s magic. The flames took on the shape of wolves and threw themselves over Mor, Gwyn, Emerie, and Elain in a protective huddle. 

Vassa’s screams thinned out into one long screech and the beating of her wings sent another wave of heat through the room.

Azriel pressed you further against the ground as she took off, flying so close overhead that the sweat frying your skin evaporated and the tips of Azriel’s hair singed off. 

Cassian swore, drawing out the short sword he always kept on him as he shielded Ione’s body from the worst of the initial blast, wings out and glaring siphon red in the shape of shield.

Vassa sank her claws into his back, latching onto leather armour and ripping him off the old woman. Her wings took up the length of the room, trailing ribbons of blue and scarlet fire as she finally descended on her prize. 

Ione was no stranger to death. She did not fear it as some might have expected her to. She’d seen friends and family ruthlessly murdered. Experienced loss of a kind that the fae could not comprehend with their long lives. Maybe that was the reason she fought so little when Vassa’s talons closed over her arms and lifted her into the air. 

Rhysand roared, night triumphant rumbling over the floors like an earthquake as darkness spilled from his hands.

But he was too late. 

Vassa crashed through the window with Ione in tow. Glass and fragments of the supporting wall crumbled down in a chorus of cries that tore through your spine as shadows swarmed overhead. Reaching, reaching, reaching after the firebird and the woman she carried higher and higher up into the sky. 

Cassian rolled to his feet, leaping after them with a furious beat of his wings that sent shards of glass skittering over the floor and dust flying into your eyes. 

Azriel scrambled to his feet, hauling you up with him. You dragged your nails over his arms, blinking through smoke-filled eyes as you coughed. 

All around you the House was burning. 

“Are you ok?!” He shook you, hands coming up to your face. He was split between two choices — stay with you, or go get Ione. 

“Go. Go! I’m fine,” you rasped, lifting your sleeve up to your nose and mouth as your eyes streamed with tears. Azriel hesitated, hearing your hacking coughs even as you pushed him towards the gaping wound of the House. Cassian continued to shrink into the distance, red light searing past Vassa’s feathers as she desperately dodged his attacks. 

He wouldn’t go for a killing blow. Not when she was carrying such precious cargo. 

“Just go! If Koschei gets his hands on Ione, we’re all dead!” You erupted in another fit of coughs.

Fuck.

“Stay with Lucien,” Azriel said.

“Yes, yes. Now go!” You gave him one final shove.

Azriel swore beneath his breath, turned, and raced towards the window with his wings ready to unfurl before disappearing in a flurry of smoke. 

Misunderstanding — that was what made Shadowsingers so dangerous. Not their silence. Not the tendrils of darkness they commanded, but how little anyone knew of them and where they came from.

Illyrians, by nature, couldn’t winnow. It was one of the simple, unexplainable facts of their world. As immutable as gravity. As intrinsic as the magic that flowed through their land like a bottomless sea. And despite all the rules Azriel had broken, and would break, in his life — all the contradictions he flirted with like it was a game — he was, first and foremost, an Illyrian.

He did not winnow. 

Winnowing was simple.

Winnowing happened when you folded the fabric of the world in half like a piece of paper and stretched that fabric thin enough to pass through. It was instantaneous. One moment you had both feet planted in one place, the next moment in another. 

What Azriel did was wholly different. 

Because when he “winnowed,” he actually went somewhere else first. 

When he was running away from you, he was moving towards an opening only he could see. A black, flickering spot that grew and grew and grew until it swallowed him whole and he felt himself fall into a different realm. 

The sounds of shouting and feet trampling over glass disappeared with a whisper and he dove into the silence, feeling shadows slip over him like water. 

When he’d first shadow-traveled, it had been an accident. He’d been young and desperate to escape the cramped confines of his bed in the Windhaven barracks. He would never miss his time spent in the cellar, but at least there it had been quiet. At least there he could commune with his shadows in private. Accommodations in the Windhaven barracks were a poor imitation of horse stables — tiny bedrooms lined up with just enough space for growing wings and walls that didn’t reach the ceiling. Boys would peer over the walls at him like an animal on display, throwing food and boasting their strong wings while his lay on the floor like crumpled paper. 

To this day he didn’t quite know where he went when he shadow-traveled. All he knew was that in this world of black sand, cracked rock, and perpetual music, beings roamed free that answered to him and only him. Creatures both same and different to the shadows he commanded in Prythian. They crowded around him, welcoming him home and blocking out the background hums of someone’s sweet singing as the light of three moons cast their silvery net over the Shadowsinger.

The plan is working.

Why have you left her behind? 

The firebird is nearing the edges of your borders. 

Your mate is safe. She remains by her brother’s side.

He listened to their reports, gliding through the still air and watching as a familiar light opened up ahead of him. A fourth moon that wasn’t a moon at all, but a light back home. Through the opening he saw a blue sky raked with fire as Vassa turned onto her back, careening through the air like a firework and opening her mouth wide. 

She’s endowed with new powers. Be cautious, Shadowsinger.

Your brother is on your left. 

What had felt like minutes flying through this darkness vanished into nothing. The time he’d spent in this realm never passed on Prythian. To anyone watching him, they’d think he disappeared from the House and reappeared here, hundreds of feet above the earth.

But things were better this way. When he traveled with his shadows, he had time to gather his thoughts and anticipate the fight ahead.

Quick! Get the warlord.

And he had help.

NOW!

Azriel shattered the boundaries of the world in an explosion of shadow, careening into Cassian’s side and knocking him off course just as Vassa spit out a ball of flame. Azriel heard Cassian’s shout in his ear as they tumbled through the air together in a tangle of wings. He felt the heat that had come close to scorching his back.

I am not that little boy. Not anymore. Azriel promised himself

The warlord grasped the harness hidden in the back of Azriel’s armor just between the shoulder blades, using the momentum of their fall to throw him back towards Vassa. 

The Sidra glowed beneath him, the mouth of the river stretching wide as it prepared to feed the sea. Another mile, and the protections surrounding Velaris would fall away. Who knew what would happen to Ione and Vassa then? 

Azriel saw the distance between them narrow. Vassa’s body could only be propped up by so much magic. Feathers continued to strip themselves from her body, curling inwards as they fell like paper left too close to a flame. 

Ione flailed in Vassa’s clutches, iron cane still held tightly in her hand as she twisted and turned at the mercy of Vassa’s frantic flight maneuvers. 

The firebird squawked in panic when she felt the first cold licks of Azriel’s shadows creep up her wings. They hissed and smarted upon first contact with her fiery feathers, before eating away at her magic like ravenous beasts. 

But she also understood hunger. It was hunger that had driven her to take Ione. It was hunger that had forced her to turn. Hunger for the kind of magic that only Koschei could grant her when she was back in his malignant embrace.

To Azriel’s horror, Vassa twisted in the air and flung Ione down with a shriek. 

The old woman’s face twisted in shock, her scream choked by wind as her stomach flew into her throat and the burning pressure in her arms gave way to freefall. 

Azriel didn’t hesitate. He dove down, reaching out with two scarred hands.

For one brief moment they were falling together. 

Ione saw the firebird change direction and aim right at Azriel, slipping into the blindspots of his vision. Ione looked him dead in the eye and gave the faintest nod. 

Azriel tucked his wings in close and veered off course at the last second, rolling with the impact of Vassa’s wing slamming into his side and feeling the burn when his leathers caught fire.

Somewhere in the wind, Cassian roared. 

Vassa caught Ione and fled beyond the borders of Velaris.

And Azriel fell.

And fell. 

And fell.

A comet.

And disappeared into the ocean. 

Feyre stood in the center of the House, hands raised and eyes alight as fires leapt up the walls and swallowed the curtains. With one fell swoosh they vanished, wind rushing in through the battered side of the House and sweeping away the ash and smoke until the air tasted clean again.

She raised a trembling hand and with one decisive snap of her fingers the worst of the damage vanished, leaving behind the skeletal remains of their once lovely living room. 

“Mor.” The High Lady rasped. 

The blonde female stood to attention, cheeks stained grey, and brown eyes flaring with rage. People liked to think she was just a pretty face — a diplomat or a soothing presence. But right now, she was out for blood and she could smell it coming in the air. 

“Go tell Helion and the others. We meet at Thesan’s as planned.” 

Mor nodded and grabbed Emerie’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze as the Illyrian shook off the worst of her sickness. Her stomach, now empty, twisted. Mor kissed Emerie’s dark hair, whispering promises that they’d see each other again soon. Then it was only a matter of folding the universe in half and stepping into Helion’s palace to the sight of two dozen golden warriors. 

Emerie blinked and her wife was gone.

Rhys stood by the staircase with Gwyn, touching the crown of her head and showing her his most treasured prize. Beneath the fabric of her priestess robes, a new bargain tattoo was being written onto the skin of her ribs. Until their parents’ safe return, Gwyn would protect Nyx and Velaria with her life. No force, natural or otherwise, would keep her from her goal, and those that sought to harm her charges would meet their end on her blade. 

In the privacy of her room she donned the armour of the Valkyries and knelt down at the small altar carved into the wall. She touched the smooth white stone at the center and prayed to the Mother for strength and protection and health. She lit a red candle and dripped the wax onto the blade of her sword and polished it clean, reciting her prayers beneath her breath. 

What seeks to break me will fail. I am a protector. I have always been a protector. And that is what I will always be. It is written in my blood and in my bones, but where I was strong in my spirit, I am now strong in my body.

She stood with her sword in her hands.

I am the rock against which the surf crashes.

Tucked away in a cabin in the Illyrian Steppes, Nyx stood in front of his wooden soldier, practice sword clutched in his hand as he danced around the immobile warrior with a crease in his brow identical to Feyre’s. Every so often he would look over his shoulder at the female sitting on the floor, searching her silver eyes for that hint of pride she hid so well. 

Velaria lay in the crook of her arm, soft fingers tangled in the layers of gold and jewels that hung heavy from her slim, straight neck. Her eyes narrowed as she saw beyond the confines of the cabin into Rhysand’s mind. 

It’s happened hasn’t it? She asked knowingly. 

Yes.

And which one will you be sending to the children and I, boy?

Gwyn.

A good choice. I like that one.

Rhysand smiled tightly, feeling that knot in his chest loosen. No matter what happened, his children would be protected. They’d survive. 

As if sensing what the High Lord needed, Amren looked down at the child swaddled in her arms, allowing Rhysand the relief of seeing his children even if he couldn’t be there to hold them himself. 

Nyx, ever the precocious child, stopped his play-fighting and looked towards his aunt. 

He was still young but greatness hovered over his shoulder like a vulture ready to descend upon his innocence the moment he came of age. It frightened Rhysand to no end. 

Please, keep them safe.

Amren’s mind flickered with something like indignation and she clutched Velaria closer to her chest. It wasn’t maternal instinct that drove her, but something else. Something more feral and possessive. 

I have protected you and your family for centuries. I have killed for you and I died for you when I had far more to lose than just this mortal body. Do you truly believe I will fail you now?

No, Amren. No I do not. 

You raced up the steps after Lucien, smoke settling into your lungs as you wheezed and tried keeping up with his long, frantic strides. Vassa’s bloody footprints and a trail of burnt blue-orange feathers marked her descent. 

“JURIAN!” 

Lucien called his friend’s name the whole way up, praying to the gods that he’d hear a response. The air cleared the higher you went through the House until finally you stood at the base of the attic steps. 

The door stared down from above. Neatly closed. Unassuming. Vassa had shut it calmly before walking down. Or maybe she just couldn’t bear to look at the scene she’d left behind. 

Lucien burst through the silent, unblinking door and stopped dead in his tracks.

The first thing you saw from around his shoulder was the mangled remnants of the birdcage. Its side had been ripped open like ribs, cushion stuffing and blanket fragments spewing out. Claw marks decorated the walls and you detected the cling of iron in the air through your burning nostrils.

“Lucien?” Your voice shook.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move past the edges of the room. 

When you went to move around his frame, he gripped your arm and covered the way. 

Jurian’s body lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling in a neat circle around him like he’d been blotted out with a red pen. His right arm was in tatters and three long gashes split him from the temple to his hip. His pearly white winked cruelly. The hazy afternoon sun settled on the dust in the air. 

He must have gotten too close to Vassa not realizing that she was too far gone for even him to help. Maybe she’d done it intentionally as a means of escape, thinking that Jurian was her jailor. But maybe it had all been an accident. The wrong turn of her talons as the pain of her transformation took over. 

The method did not matter. Nor did the reason. 

Because Jurian was dead. 

Lucien crumbled to his knees, sinking into the carpet and feeling nothing and you…

It took everything within you not to scream. You pressed down on the feeling. Down. Down. Down. Burying it deep beneath layers of willpower and practice. 

You walked over to the windows, feeling hatred at the sun for shining down with its yellow light, and ripped the curtains off their rings with a metallic clang. 

Jurian looked up at the ceiling with glistening eyes. Somehow, even in death, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face — proud, mischievous, and a little wild. A sign of the charismatic general he’d been by Vassa’s side and long before then. You covered that smile carefully, ignoring the squelch of your shoes when you stepped into the circle of blood. 

Something in Lucien cracked open when the curtain fell into place.

He finally screamed. Hands and knees braced on the floor. Face twisted in pain. 

You clapped your hands over your ears, tears streaming down your cheeks as you willed the sound to stop. 

“Lucien—” Elain skidded to halt at the doorway, the mass of pink fabric around her waist swishing once then falling still. She looked at the outline of Jurian. She looked at you. Then she fell to her knees, pulling Lucien’s body into her lap and whispering his name. The initial silence stretching across the bond had terrified her. Hearing him scream and the heartbreak that followed after had sent her running. 

Lucien collapsed against her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the flesh of her stomach. She cradled his head in one arm, the other splayed over his back as he wept.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped through her own tears. “I’m so so sorry, Lucien.”

He cried. 

And cried. 

And cried. 

You and Elain heard the shouting from downstairs as a collection of Cassian’s most trusted Valkyries and Illyrian warriors assembled on the lawn. Emerie stood among them, her seconds helping to tie the leather straps of her armour into place as she barked orders left and right. 

Elain looked towards you. The fight to come left no time for grief. Not even Lucien was exempt from that. 

You moved in front of your brother, blocking the sight of the curtains on the floor.

“Lucien,” you begged. Your brother’s bloodshot eye looked at you from the crook of Elain’s arm. “We need to get ready. We need to go.” 

“I can’t… I can’t just leave him. I can’t leave him to rot in this room. I can’t—” 

“I’ll take care of him,” Elain promised. She looked down at her mate. “You can trust me with him, Lucien.” 

He said nothing, but together you and Elain helped him up to his feet, and Elain — beautiful, lovely Elain — stood on the tips of her feet to kiss her mate’s tear-stained cheek. She tasted the salt on her tongue and felt the burning of unshed tears in her own eyes. 

“I’ll bury him somewhere calm in a bed of marigold and poppy.” Fiery, resilient flowers to remind Jurian of the woman he had loved. “And when you and Vassa return we will have a proper goodbye. I promise.”

He took a deep, trembling breath and whispered, “Thank you, Elain.” 

You let him lean against you, let him bury his face in your hair to escape the smell of blood and death, and walked with him downstairs. 

After you and Lucien were gone and Elain stood alone in the presence of the dead, she rolled up her pale pink sleeves, tied off the length of her dress and prepared for a new garden. 

Azriel was soaking wet and aching as he flew up to the House of Wind. Salt stripped his hair of moisture and the strands dried hard and tacky against his scalp. 

“Did you need to make such a dramatic exit?” Cassian snapped when they landed on the balcony. “I thought she’d killed you.”

Azriel moved through the House without even looking, charred leather flaking off his shoulders and floating to the ground as he walked. His wings were sore and tender from the heat, along with his ribs and shoulder from when Vassa had first barreled into him and then when he’d landed in the Sidra. 

“We needed to make it look real, remember?” Azriel answered smoothly.

It had always been part of the plan to let Vassa take Ione if she attempted it, but they couldn’t let her go without a fight or Koschei would find it suspicious. Even so, Azriel hated to admit that he’d been distracted thinking about you. If he’d been any slower today he might have lost his wings. 

“Well you did your job too well.” Cassian growled. 

Azriel dipped into his room, quickly stripping out of his clothes and donning new leathers before he and Cassian set off once again deep into the mountain.

They stopped in front of a grey wood door, and Azriel knocked twice. Paused. Knocked thrice. Paused. Then knocked twelve times. 

Ione — the real Ione — opened the door.

Feyre had inherited many gifts from the seven High Lords of Prythian — her healing touch, her water wolves, her mastery over flame and light and dark. But one of her least used gifts had been glamouring people from her Court… until now.

It had taken her half a dozen portraits to familiarize herself with every subtle valley and curve of Ione’s face, and double the number of attempts before she’d successfully woven Nesta’s features into a perfect copy. You’d swooped in for the final steps, using your knowledge and magic to dampen Nesta’s magical signature until even Cassian couldn’t tell when it was Nesta or Ione standing in front of him without relying on the mating bond.

“Has it happened?” The old woman asked gravely, pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders.

Azriel nodded. “Vassa took the bait.” 

As they spoke, the mortal queen was carrying a disguised Nesta to the Continent where she’d be a hidden weapon in enemy territory. Koschei wouldn’t even know he’d been delivered the wrong prize. 

At least that was the hope.

They brought Ione down to the House, and Azriel forced the woman into a brisk walk, weaving through the small collection of fae in search of you. You stood by Feyre and Rhysand close to the river, one arm kept tight around Lucien’s and a new satchel slung over your back. You kept glancing over at your brother, watching as he did what he could to compose himself. 

“Y/n.” 

One small word spoken from his lips and your eyes were latching onto him. There was a question in his eyes as he looked first at your pale face, and then at Lucien. The trembling of your hands and the shake of your head was all he needed. 

Jurian was gone. 

Azriel swallowed, stopping in front of the male he’d once hated so unfairly and feeling shame. “Lucien, I’m so—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll rip your tongue out,” Lucien seethed, his eyes flat and hard as stone. The despair had given away to fury before Jurian’s body was even cold and suddenly Lucien was itching to be on the Continent. To feel Koschei’s blood on his hands. 

It wasn’t too late to save Vassa. It wasn’t too late to get his friend back. 

“You can feel pity for me when this is over.” 

There were only a dozen fae crowded around Feyre and Rhysand, but you could feel every wave of power that rippled off their skin, the electricity they shot into the air as they bounced on the pads of their feet and loosened their muscles. 

You found yourself pressed between Azriel and Lucien, the Shadowsinger’s hand balanced on the small of your back. Ione stood in front of you, your hand laid protectively on her shoulder, and a Valkyrie stood behind. She had her corn yellow hair braided around her head in a crown of gold, and stretching out from the slits in her armor fluttered the black and orange wings of a butterfly.

“Techaria,” she introduced herself with a smile and a handshake. “I’ve been assigned to you and Ione.” 

Techaria never left your side, standing firmly at your back after Rhysand winnowed you all to the Dawn Court and the crowd swelled to nearly a hundred. 

You were miles away from the Dawn Palace — the ocean at your front and a sea of frost-tinged grasses at your back. The air buzzed with excitement and dread and no small amount of bloodlust. 

You caught glimpses of the shimmering High Lord of Dawn and the hawk-winged peregryn soldier who held his hand as he dispensed final healing touches. He would not be among the seven High Lords and High Ladies leaving for the Continent. 

The High Lord and High Lady of Winter stood glistening like a pair of crystalline figures beside one of the coast’s watchtowers. White-haired warriors of frost and starshine bobbed around like snowfall and you struggled not to tremble in the presence of the three armored polar bears among their ranks. Eris’s males were similarly easy to spot with their burnished copper armour and their battle hounds hovering at their shoulders. Azriel stepped in between you and one of the beasts, froth pouring from between razor sharp teeth as it growled in your direction for staring too long.

A Summer soldier shoved past, earning himself a glower from Techaria and Azriel as he grabbed another female and drew her into one last passionate kiss. The seashell necklaces they wore clattered as they met, evidence of the dozens of battles they’d survived together. 

It wasn’t an uncommon sight as the crowd quickly split apart at the orders of their High Lords and High Ladies, coalescing into pre-determined divisions that sometimes asked mated pairs to separate. In foreign territory against a mysterious god, communications through their bonds would be indispensable. 

You saw an Autumn Court male — one of the High Lord’s brothers by the name of Castor — break away from his group. He ran towards a willowy Spring nymph two divisions over and slipped a ring into their pocket. 

Their blue eyes blew open in surprise, cries of protest smothered by a firm kiss before he whispered, “I have my High Lord’s blessing. When this is over, I’ll propose to you properly, but you’ll keep this safe in the meantime, won’t you?” 

The nymph sputtered, then nodded when words failed them. Just as quickly as he had come, Castor sprinted back to his men and his division disappeared before your eyes. They were the first to winnow to the Continent.

Lucien folded you into a back-breaking hug. “Stay safe.” Your brother commanded. You heard the tightness in his voice. He’d be staying with Feyre and Rhysand to lead one of the main charges alongside Eris and Tarquin. “I can’t lose you as well.”  

“I’ll come back so long as you do.” 

You squeezed him hard enough to crack ribs, but Lucien wished it had lasted longer. He dove into the parting wave of bodies and vanished. 

You felt your throat tighten as you turned to face the goodbye you’d been dreading the most. 

“Az, I—” 

He silenced you with a kiss, sliding his tongue over your lips for one last taste. He didn’t want to say goodbye. He refused to accept the possibility that you wouldn’t return to each other.

He pulled away so quickly your head spun. 

“I’ll be with the second division,” he breathed out, “Near the southwest corner, not even a mile away from you.” The map flashed in your mind with all its little figurines spread out like a chess game. “Remember what we talked about?” 

If things go wrong, find me so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.

You nodded fervently. 

Someone in the crowd was calling his name. Maybe Cassian? You couldn’t pay attention to anything other than the hazel eyes burning into you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but suddenly his brother was there grabbing his arm and hauling him away towards the second division. Red and blue siphons flashed in the grey light and then the pair were gone. 

The crowd thinned as more groups began winnowing away to the Continent. One second there. The next second, gone.

“We need to go, my Lady,” Techaria said gently, but firmly. She’d given you both your privacy and a few precious seconds, but that time was over now. 

You nodded, not able to look away from the empty space Azriel had occupied. 

“He’ll be fine, girl,” Ione said, taking Techaria’s hand. She wore thin, chainmail armour enchanted to feel weightless and a glamoured veil over her features. You caught glimpses of her true face out of the corner of your eyes, but direct eye contact and her face blurred and warped into something unnatural. 

“I know,” you whispered. 

Your stomach dropped when you realized you never did say goodbye to Azriel.

You felt Techaria’s calloused palm slide into yours and then you were gone.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Yeah guys, RIP Jurian. As I said in a previous post, one of my qualms with SJM is that she doesn't let characters stay dead. I want y'all to know, Jurian is gone. Sorry............ he wasn't even in the story for very long and didn't do much but I'm going to miss him.

[ellievickstar]

Sinner's Sacrifice

A/N: Here's part 2 of Bloodied Bonds , i'm going for alliteration in the title hahah. it's a lot shorter than the first part i wish i made it longer but i feel like i was stretching it out i know i know it sucks to wait for parts i really wanted it to only be two parts long but i really had a "my story has it's own ideas" moment T^T. I'm so so sorry towards anyone who thought this would be the last part I can assure you I thought that too. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: As Azriel struggles to navigate a situation where he could lose you no matter what he chooses, take a look into his own heart.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel had lost count of how many hours it had been since he had threatened to eventually murder Elain.

And he was losing damned mind.

Every single day he had sat in the chair beside your sleeping form….you were breathing, which was an improvement from the heaving and choking in your sleep that alarmed Madja enough to order the inner circle to start taking turns watching over you. Madja believed that your condition improved because he was finally turning away from Elain, but that was what the bond sensed. Without your mind, your own belief to ensure your heart, your condition was bound to deteriorate again.

And yet you could not wake up so he could explain.

So he could apologise.

So he could beg for your forgiveness.

Everyday without making the decision to let Madja just remove the roots of the flowers seemed like a gamble, but after what had been discovered, what Cassian had caught Elain doing, the entire inner circle was not sure if it would be better to let your relationship go, or let you go.

Both scenarios, Azriel would lose.

In both situations, Azriel would lose you forever and a part of him felt like maybe he deserved it. If you ever woke up, ever wanted revenge to make him feel guilty for what had been done, regardless the fact that it had been out of his control, you would have gotten it in spades when he realised that his ignorance, his belief that he could help just one more person, his blindness to the Elain’s darkness, had caused him a situation that would cost him no matter what he did.

And in that, all he could do daily was hold your hand, and weep.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Go shower Azriel. It’s been three days,” Cassian said softly. The shadowsinger merely moved his head to gaze at his friend who leaned against the door frame. Not out of habit but because he genuinely needed the support. Azriel saw the eyebags under Cassian’s eyes, his tired exhausted expression not far from the one Azriel wore.

When Azriel simply shook his head, bringing his gaze back to his mate, not wanting to move another muscle, Cassian groaned.

“Azriel she won’t die within the time it takes you to take a quick bath, please, you need it,” However, Azriel once again did not move, this time not even deigning Cassian a response. The latter simply sighed before making his way towards Rhys’s office, pushing the door open to see Rhysand surrounded by various books, piles of them in the corner, some of them discarded with pages torn out.

“Rhys…?” Cassian knocked on the slightly ajar door.

Violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and Rhys simply let out a breath before standing, checking the time by glancing at the window behind him, “Ah…it’s dark….I did not notice,” He simply stated awkwardly, moving to gather up some of the books from his desk, no doubt to bring it with him to his and Feyre’s room to further study until the waking hours of the next morning.

It broke Cassian’s heart to see his brothers in such a state.

Broke his own heart to see you lying there completely unconscious, every few days needing Madja to extract flowers from your throat.

The women of the house had isolated themselves to their own rooms. Mor came to your room every few hours to check on you however she stayed in her room surrounded by a similar book pile as Rhys, trying to consult her own oracles of truth to see if they had any answers. Amren had gone over to the summer court with Varian to see if they had any records that the Night Court did not, Nesta looked through the libraries with the priestesses, passing anything she found that may be useful to Feyre who scanned through them.

All this and nothing.

They had come up short.

Contacting Thesan, Helion, even Tamlin to see if there was any connections of the disease to the spring court, had come to nothing. No answers. No solutions.

Finally, as Cassian rounded the corner of the house he entered the room they had been keeping Elain in. There she was chained to the ground staring at the wall. For a moment Cassian would have felt bad for how hollow she looked, however his guilt was quickly swallowed by the anger he felt for what she had done to cause your current state.

“I see how you can help her…” Elain suddenly said, her eyes flitting to Cassian, “When minds connect, when you travel through souls,” She hummed before continuing to fiddle with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks were sunken in and hollow, her eyes now held a sharp and piercing stare instead of the soft glint. For once, Elain Archeron’s true colours were on full display.

At her words however, Cassian froze, his tone dropping to a dangerous timbre, “Do you know how to save Y/N,” Elain hummed, “I’ll tell you….for a price.”

“Do you really think that you are in a position to bargain?”

“She’s running out of time isn’t she?”

Cassian bit down on his tongue, hard. Storming out of the room he slammed the door shut, letting out a pained and frustrated roar.

Elain knew. Or at least there was a possibility that she knew. However, her calm demeanour and unflinching attitude showed Cassian no signs of lies. She knew how to save you but she wanted something out of it.

With a silent prayer, Cassian swore to himself he’d find the way to save you even if he had to pry it out of the memories in Elain’s dead body.

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“So she knows how to save my sister,” Rhys confirmed, Cassian nodded, “That’s what she claims. If she’s lying then she’s damned good at it, however she’s suggesting a bargain, I didn’t pry into the details she was thinking of.”

Not without Rhysand himself present.

Not without Azriel.

The three brothers looked at each other, Azriel’s hand was holding yours, had been holding yours since Rhysand and Cassian had come into the room saying that they had something to discuss.

“We should ask her what she wants,” Azriel muttered softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from not using it for a while.

“And if she asks for your hand?” Cassian challenged, “Then we’ll find a way to break the bargain like how Feyre and Rhysand did, but for now our focus is to save her.”

It was then Rhysand recognised his brother for once after all this time, the shadow singer who would do anything to keep you safe, the self-sacrificing spy master who would sacrifice himself, his choices just to save you.

“Let’s go then,” Rhysand concluded, standing from his stool, Cassian pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and Azriel graced the back of your hand with a soft kiss before standing, casting you one last glance before following his brothers out. Nesta replaced Azriel’s position on the stool, promising the shadow singer to keep watch of you until he returned.

Following his brothers down the hallway, Azriel’s mind flooded with memories of sneaking down these halls to get away with you, memories of coming home and seeing you in the hallway, collapsing into your loving arms. Thoughts of your love and you consumed him and he shuddered under the weight of his own grief.

He could not lose you.

He would not lose you.

And so as Azriel stepped into the room of Elain’s captivity, levelling her with a glare, inside Azriel knew that he would sacrifice anything just to hold you.

Part 3 is here!!

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A/N: please reply if you want to be tagged in part 3 people tagged in part 2 will not be tagged again in part 3 unless they ask in replies. Thank you <3

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl @helloworlditsmesblo (please ask if you want to be added to AZRIEL'S taglist - this is NOT the same as part 3 taglist)

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand's Sister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your heart was twisting in your chest, a sick feeling curling in the pit of your stomach, as you hurried down the dimly lit hallways of the River House. You held a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break loose and the bile that stung the back of your throat. You could do it, you could hold it in. At least until you got back to your room. And then you’d be free to cry and cry and cry as much as you wanted to.

You had spent years trying to bury your feelings for the shadowsinger. What had started out as a harmless crush on your older brother’s friend when you were just a girl had blossomed into true, real feelings since you had come of age. But despite your best efforts, Azriel still never seemed to notice you. Not like that anyways. 

Him and Cassian had adored you the moment you had entered their life as just a babe and the sister of their best friend. You had been born during a time of peace, decades after the war. The three of them had been nearing two-hundred. They had watched you grow into the female you were today. Had been there through your toughest years after watching your mother brutally murdered in front of you at the age of thirteen, barely saved before your own life was taken.

It was a good thing Rhys had become High Lord before the time you reached eighteen or your father would’ve had you married off, no doubt for some political alliance. You had hoped your brother would’ve given you a role in his court once you were of age but after almost losing you, he had become increasingly protective. 

So instead of being sent on missions, or used as an emissary, you spent most of your time volunteering in Velaris—helping to build the sanctuary into what it was today. You had eventually stopped arguing with your brother to loosen up his hold on you when he had broken down crying in front of you simply at the thought of you never returning if he was to send you out in the world. 

And how could you complain when Velaris had been your cage? So you learned to play your role, for him, for your brother. The pretty little sister of the High Lord. Never known for anything but your beauty. The beauty that had males sending your father marriage propositions since the age of ten. 

But there had only ever been one person you wished would see you that way. And he never had. You had to watch him pine after your own cousin for centuries. Never once looking your way. You feared he’d only ever see you as that little girl—the one who used to climb all over them at the cabin, the one who had the three males wrapped around her finger since she had been born. 

Only ever just a girl in his eyes. 

And you had made peace with that, as much as it hurt to be looked over by the one person you wanted the most. It still bothered you to watch his eyes track Mor all the time, to stare at her in a way he would never look at  you. You had made peace with that…until tonight.

You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you hadn’t seen the shift in him when he started looking after the middle Archeron sister. You had once believed he only had eyes for Mor, and it had brought you some solace in knowing that might be the only reason he had never looked your way. 

But then Elain showed up and those affections shifted from Mor to her. Suddenly he was always with her, spending hours in the gardens with Elain. Staring at her the way he would stare at Mor. Your heart had started crumbling all over again with the realization that he could move on from Mor, could fall for someone other than her—and it hadn’t been you. 

You had left your bed chambers tonight to fetch a glass of water from the kitchens but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you would’ve walked in on. You had smelt them before you opened the doors. Azriel’s cedar and night-chilled mist and Elain’s sweet jasmine and honey. 

You should’ve left then but something had compelled you to open the kitchen doors just a hair. 

And there they were. Elain seated on the counter, Azriel between her legs. Her skirt has been pushed up to her thighs, his hands tangled in her hair, as they kissed like two starved animals. 

You were lucky you had spent years learning how to keep a strong mask like your brother, for it allowed you to slip away without them ever noticing you. 

You finally made it to your room, shutting the door and locking it behind you. You were grateful for the sound wards you had put up because the minute you stepped over that threshold you collapsed into a heap on the floor as heart-wrenching sobs erupted from your lips.

It felt like you had been stabbed in the heart with a million knives, like someone had gutted you and twisted your insides. It hurt so much to think that Azriel would never want you the way you wanted him. He didn’t want you. He didn’t crave your presence the way you did his. He didn’t want to touch you the way you wanted to touch him. He just didn’t want you. 

And he never would.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Send me somewhere,” you said, pressing your palms onto your brother’s desk as you stared at him right in the eyes—the eyes you shared. “Anywhere, I don’t care. Just send me somewhere.”

Rhys frowned, his eyebrows pinching together. “What has gotten into you? Did something happen?”

You let out a sigh, collapsing in one of the armchairs. You couldn’t tell him the real reason you wanted to leave. It was embarrassing. “Nothing happened. I’m just…tired of being cooped up here. Please, Rhys. It doesn’t even have to be far—just please.”

“Where is this coming from, y/n? You haven’t asked this in years. I thought you were happy here.”

“I am happy here. But I want to see the world, Rhys. And we’re finally in a time of peace. So let me, please.”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed, taking in your appearance. The slightly swollen eyes, the dark circles, the haphazard way you had braided your hair this morning. “Did…did someone hurt you? Did someone do something to you?”

“What? No!” A lie of course. But what could you say? Azriel had hurt you but it wasn’t like it was his fault. It wasn’t like he owed you anything.

“You know you can always talk to me about anything. Right, dove?” The use of his nickname for you nearly caused the tears you were fighting back to escape. 

“Of course, Rhys. But I promise you. No one did anything to me. Please. The war is finally over and I think I’ve spent enough of my life here. I want to see what the rest of the world has to offer.”

Rhys’s head fell in his hands. “I-I don’t think I can let you go, dove. I’m sorry but I can’t bear it…I can’t bear not having you here where I can protect you.” 

“It’s not fair!” You shouted, standing up. “I’m not a child anymore—I’m nearly three hundred years old for Gods sake! I’m suffocating here, Rhysie. Please.”

“Rhys,” Feyre said softly, placing a tattooed hand on her mate’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is time you let y/n make her own choices. You promised me you’d always give me a choice—would always let me decide what to do with my life. Why can’t that apply to your sister?”

You shot her a grateful look, hoping she would make him see reason. Rhys stayed silent and you knew he had been struck by her words. “I can go to Mor, on the continent. Then you don’t have to worry about me being alone. I can help her try to form alliances there.”

Still he said nothing but judging by Feyre’s narrowed eyes, you could tell they were having an argument mentally. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, wishing that he would listen to his mate about this. If anyone could talk Rhys into something, it was her. 

It felt like an eternity went by before your brother finally looked up at you. His eyes were full of sadness and guilt and you knew in that moment, you had won.

“Fine, fine. But you will go to Mor in Vallahan and stay with her the whole time. You will listen to her at all times and never go anywhere alone. And you will write me twice a week,” Rhys growled. “And I swear, y/n, if you even miss one letter, I will come get you myself. Those are my rules—take it or leave it.” 

A genuine smile bloomed on your face as you jumped to your feet and ran around the desk to embrace your brother in your arms. “Thank you, Rhys! Thank you! I promise I’ll do as you say. I promise.”

He held you tightly as if he never wanted to let go and you peered at Feyre from over his shoulders to mouth her a small ‘thank you’.

This was it. You’d finally be able to leave this city after three hundred years. Finally see the world! And most importantly: be far, far away from the shadowsinger that had won your heart but fallen for another. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Three months went by in the blink of an eye. You had spent the entire time traveling with Mor from Vallahan to Montesere, where you two had just settled down when Rhys had contacted you both, asking for your return home. Apparently he had big news to share but he wanted to do it in person. So now you were packing up your things, getting ready to return back to Velaris for the first time since you had left.

It had been annoying how much you thought of Azriel still. But it was getting easier to ignore the longer you were away. You hoped those feelings would eventually disappear entirely—but every time you thought of moving on, something in your chest would ache and ache. 

That didn’t mean you hadn’t taken lovers in your time here. It had always been hard to find males to mess around with in Velaris considering they all knew who your brother was. The last thing they wanted was for Rhys to come looking for them after sleeping with you. So you’d only taken a few lovers here and there throughout the years.

But on the continent, no one knew who you were. Had no idea that you were the younger sister of one of Prythian’s High Lords. And Mor had been sure to teach you all the ways to have someone wrapped around your finger. You had never felt so confident in yourself as you did now. Finally becoming the female you wanted to be without your brother or the two other bats watching you over your shoulder. It was exhilarating.

But the thought of returning home had dampened some of your newfound joy. You were worried about slipping into your old role—being that sweet, pretty, little accessory they all expected you to be. 

You wouldn’t allow that. You couldn’t. Not after having a taste of what it could be like if you became the female you always dreamed you’d be. Someone who knew she was desired for more than just her looks. Someone interesting. Someone smart and witty. Someone brave. You tried to ignore the part of you that hoped Azriel might see those things in you now.

“Are you ready to go, y/n?” Mor asked, leaning against the doorframe of your room. 

You took one last look at yourself in the floor length mirror. You were wearing a dress that was typical of what they wore here in Montesere. If you could even call it a dress. It was white, the bodice dipping into a v-shape and clinging to your body with gold embellishments and blue gems decorating it. It had long sleeves that connected to a hood, stitched in glimmering gold. It cut off right under your breasts, exposing your toned stomach until just slightly passed your belly button. 

The skirt was held up by two thin gold straps that criss-crossed over the sides of your hips to connect it to the top part of the dress. The skirt itself traveled to the floor and had two long slits on either side to show off your legs. The white color complimented your tanned skin and the kohl you had lined your eyes with made the violet color of your eyes glimmer even brighter. 

You had left your hair down in soft curls, only pinning back two strands on either side of your face with some gold pins. More than happy with the way you looked, you turned back to Mor with a grin. 

“I’m ready to go home.” 

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Eleven

Summary - Azriel grapples with the weight of his guilt whilst you receive a visitor, and in Autumn, a meeting changes the entire trajectory of your fate.

Warnings - trauma, ptsd, betrayal, morally grey antics, friendship fluff, depression, thoughts of death, some hope (finally!)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

There was a little nagging voice in his head, perhaps the shadow that adored you the most, telling him that he had allowed it to go too far.

Azriel lay atop the cream comforter of the bedspread that belonged to the woman he truly thought he would spend the rest of his life with if her brother would allow it. The pillows still held the faint smell of her, currents of the most intoxicating scent he had ever encountered flowing through him with every medial turn of the head.

He couldn't be there when Rhys took you, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from unsheathing the murderous tool that you often likened to a toothpick to get a rise out of him.

The bargain tattoo strained and withered around his bicep, contracting the muscle and making him regret every single choice he had made that got him to where he was. Laying on your bed, ready to tear the pillows apart just so he could hold the feathers drenched in the scent of you.

Nesta had left to follow you into a world of the unknown because of her unwavering loyalty to you, so had Elain and Lucien; Cassian was a mere shell of his former glory, Mor rarely spoke to anyone and often locked herself away with Amren, and Feyre, well, Azriel hadn't seen Feyre in a couple of weeks, nor Nyx.

Feyre had moved herself and Nyx to the House of Wind to escape Rhys, to put some space between them just in case one of them did something they would most probably regret. The night Rhys had taken you to The Prison was the night he permanently moved back into the River House, Feyre couldn't allow Nyx to grow up with the example of hatred that ran through his fathers veins.

The Prison.

Azriel could almost picture it. The cell lined with onyx stone to contain you, he could almost smell your fear and sadness, he could almost hear your heart cleaving into a thousand pieces. The Prison was a horrid place made for horrid creatures, and you certainly were not one of them. It was all his fault, he shouldn't have told Rhys that he witnessed Tamlin and Helion enter the Autumn Court, but if he hid it and Rhys found out then his entire façade would be blown and you would never get the chance to be free.

Scratches lined the palms and backs of his hands, some fully healed and others freshly scabbed over from his incessant self-mutilation brought on by his guilt. Azriel could only imagine how broken you were, that awful hum that you sang into the night still haunted his nightmares to the point where he refused to sleep, he refused to find comfort when you were on the verge of giving up entirely.

It was odd, how Autumn had moulded itself into your bones, your scent now tinged with hints of pine and mulled wine, of warm rain on the sun-kissed grass. It made him wonder how blind Rhys truly was if he couldn't tell that his sister had found her mate, and that that mate was none other than Eris Vanserra. It was obvious, the longing glances beyond the window, the void lingering in your eyes, the way your hand would occasionally drift over your heart like something was pulling at it.

The continent was safe from war thanks to your sacrifice, but you hadn't done it for the continent, you had done it for your family. A family that no longer had a place for him.

Azriel had told himself that it was fine, he couldn't blame you for hating him if you did, he deserved it, but that wouldn't stop him from doing what he needed to do.

It was silly of Nesta to believe that he hadn't seen what she had seen that day Under The Mountain, he had allowed her to think that she had found the book when they had split up, knowing that she would smuggle the tome back into Velaris and hide it. That evil was better hidden by her than it ever would be by him. Though, Azriel didn't account for Nesta hiding it so well; he had practically turned her room upside down looking for it to no avail. All he had found were a few of her raunchy novels that she usually never let out of her sight, but she had left them all behind when she had left the Night Court to join your side.

Azriel wished he had done the same, maybe things would have been different between the two of you if he had.

But you needed someone on the inside, even if it did feel like all of the odds were against you.

Rhys was stupid enough to believe it much to Azriel's pallid joy, the High Lord had no one to turn to, the rest of his Inner Circle had labelled his actions as monstrous to his face and refused to aid him further. Azriel was all he had left, and he was clinging to the Shadowsinger like the last patch of snow to the earth just before the Spring sun inhaled it.

It was too risky to tell you, everything you felt had to be real, Rhys' attention was solely on you and your behaviour and if that changed even a little bit then you would not survive his wrath, not when you had no power to protect yourself with.

Whisperings behind closed doors told Azriel what he already knew, that his family was frantically hatching a plan to get you out of Velaris and back into the safety of the Autumn Court. No matter the cost. And, in his own way, Azriel would make sure that they succeeded.

Maniacal laughter haunted what little sleep the island had tried to gift to you.

That along with the faint dripping of rain was all you could hear, the inner voice that usually caressed your mind had left long ago, and you weren't sure if it would ever return. The prisoners were relishing in the demise of the Princess of Velaris, cooing and taunting you every moment they could, and when one would fall to slumber, another one would take its place.

How you hadn't gone mad yet was beyond you.

It was you who had locked many off the vile residents of the putrid place away, and now you were one of them. Straining against the stone, you pushed yourself upright, your back hitting the glacial wall of the cell you had no choice but to call home; you shivered at the contact and attempted to wrap your thinned fingers around the blanket to contain some warmth within your decaying body, but it was pointless.

The altar taunted you, the rare stripes of moonlight pouring upon it like it was some holy artifact that you should be worshipping. A part of you had to admire Rhys' gall attempt to break you, forcing you to dwell in the same room as a thing that had ruined your life, that had stripped you of a fundamental aspect of your humanity. Looking at the glistening stone altar, you struggled to remember why people had been so afraid of you, you struggled to remember the mother tongue of your fury on the battlefield and the sultry wit that would fill the halls.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you let out a defeated sob, the pain throbbing at your limbs, threatening to allow the foundations to consume you if you didn't move. The queen within you had dimmed, leaving the weakest part of you on show for the continent to see, not that anyone would ever come for you there.

Poor little fawn. The cutest thing we have ever seen. Such a shame, to be a monster.

The little fawn is trapped. The little fawn will die here.

No one will come for her.

Raising you gaze to the ceiling, you allowed the tears to fall. If you were going to die then it would be worth it, to protect those who had risked everything to stand by your side, to protect those who had showed you love in the face of uncertainty and evil. Resting your head against the wall, you felt yourself succumbing to the words that had been chanted to you through the nights, your heart clenching at the little name that had always given you butterflies.

Fawn.

Your mind drifted, and you could almost see him. In your visions, Eris was happy, strolling through the forests with Willow in tow weaving between his legs and sunlight illuminating that gods-crafted face. You wondered if he had heard your song, if it had reached the depths of Autumn to tell him that you were still alive. Had Gwyn done as you asked? Did Eris know anything about your torture?

Before you could even think of a scenario that could bring you some hope, a quiet scuffle of feet sounded at the mouth of the hallway where your chamber lay. The sound was followed by a sweep of fabric against the floor, and your interest was captured by it. You shakily rose to your feet, leveraging your withering weight against the stone until you could find your footing. Firelight flickered, growing brighter with each passing moment, and you waited before the enchanted barred gate for the owner to make themselves known.

The silhouette was Rhys', that was undeniable, but as you watched him, you saw him shrink a few inches, you saw his usually short tamed hair grow and pour over his shoulders, and you watched as his entire body morphed into another entirely. The firelight from the torch illuminated her face, revealing ethereal beauty and the pale blue-grey eyes that you had always admired, "Feyre," you weren't sure if she heard the utter of her name from the broken cracks in your voice.

You sank to your knees in front of her and she followed suit, placing the torch against the wall and crawling to the bars of the cell, her bottom lip wobbling as she took in the sight of you. Matted hair, ashen skin streaked with tears, weary eyes with no fire or spark, chapped and bloodied lips, "I'm so sorry, y/n. I'm so sorry," her fingers reached through the bars, the pads of them massaging warmth into your cheeks, "We're trying, alright? We're trying to find a way to get you out of here."

"He'll kill you," hatred flickered in her eyes but it wasn't something she hadn't thought of already, "Feyre, you can't."

Feyre's nostrils flared, water pooled at her bottom lids and you leant into her palm, it being the first innocently warm thing you had felt, "None of us deserve you, y/n. We have all been complicit in this one way or another. and I am not the only one who can't stand to watch this anymore," sensing your wavering life, Feyre added, "You have to hold on. Your family is waiting for you. Nesta and Elain are waiting for you. Eris is waiting for you."

"You have faced things no one ever should, and it makes me sick to know that your family has done this, that we have done this to you. Even if it's the last thing I do, I will get you out of this, y/n. We all will. I need you to hold on for a little longer, alright?"

The stone collar growled in retaliation, burning into your flesh for entertaining the words and you visibly winced, "I don't think that I can."

"You must," Feyre's words exuded those of a High Lady, though she would never pull rank on you, she grasped your face in her hands and removed the matted hair from your face, "Gwyn has sent word, we are orchestrating a High Lord's meeting, then, you will be free. You have to hold on, otherwise it'll have all been for nothing and you are too strong for that. If you are going to die then it'll be when you're old surrounded by everyone who has ever loved you, not in this gods forsaken prison. Do you hear me?"

Feyre was holding back her tears, she had never seen anyone so broken, so close to allowing the darkness to swallow them whole to escape the torment they had faced. The resentment she held toward Rhys was palpable, it was rife within the creases on her forehead and in the deep hued bags beneath her eyes.

"How is Nyx?" You had often thought of the babe, if he even remembered who you were, if he missed you at all, if he had any idea what was going on around him.

Feyre smiled sadly, her fingers caressing your rough skin, "He misses his aunt, very much."

"He does?"

Feyre hummed in confirmation, her head tilted to the side, eyes peering down at your hunched over form like she had just found a wounded doe in a clearing, writhing in a bed of autumn leaves, "I have to go, before this place realises that I'm not Rhys and alerts him," her hand withdrew from your face and a whimper fell from your lips at the sudden cold that coiled around you, "I'll come back, I don't know when but I will, I promise," a dark spot pooled at Feyre's right, looming in the corner of the opening, it wasn't prominent enough for Feyre to notice it, but you were attuned to the darkness, you'd notice an anomaly anywhere.

The High Lady rose to her feet, clasping the torch between her trembling fingers and tightening her cloak around her frame. All you could do was stare up at her, "Remember, remember that you were born to make the world shake at your fingertips. Don't let him ruin you."

And with that, Feyre turned away, leaving you slumped against the confinements of the gates, morphing back into the image of her husband once she was far away enough that it wouldn't scare you.

Feyre had contorted into Rhys, just like she had Tarquin before the war, even her scent morphed into his. The footsteps fell heavy against the stone, the firelight reflecting off of the dampened walls as she stalked through the prison, winding through the halls and finding herself being grateful for the lack of chortles sent her way by the prisoners, but also finding herself yearning to return to you.

A cool breeze drifted through the hall, telling Feyre that the entrance was only around the corner, and soon she'd be back at the House of Wind with her little Nyx working with her family on the plan to free you. Though, as soon as she turned the corner, she halted, she straightened her posture and felt dread settle into her chest at the flash of blue that greeted her.

Azriel stood before her, no doubt seeing right through the body she wore, his fists and jaw were clenched and his eyes burned into her, "I have to that admit that I'm impressed, Feyre. Impersonating Rhys to sneak into this place to see her." The darkness curled around him as it always had and would, his siphons were glowering in the slick corridor, bouncing off the glistening walls wet by the most recent downpour.

Shifting to her original form, Feyre became comfortable with the possibility of hurting Azriel, after the hand he had dealt in your suffering, "I did it with Tarquin, it was easy," Feyre's fists clenched, the hem of her cloak drowning in the puddle behind her, "Are you going to lock me up as well, Az?"

Azriel stepped forward into the scope of the firelight, his eyes softened and shoulders lax, "No. I was coming to see her as well."

"You have no right," Feyre spat, her stance shifting as a blockade to prevent him from delving further, "You're the reason why she's here."

"I know that," Azriel admitted, knowing that nothing he could say could change that fact, "Do you think that I wanted to? Feyre, Rhys has lost his mind, someone needed to be on the inside, to be trusted enough to know what he has planned. None of you would be able to do it, so I had to, and I couldn't tell a soul of it, not if I wanted her to get out of this court alive."

"What are you talking about?"

Azriel ran a hand over his face in frustration and sighed, "Who do you think tipped Gwyn off to go into the River House?"

Feyre stuttered before the realisation hit her, "It was you. You've been playing double agent this entire time."

"I promised her that I would always look out for her, that I would protect her," he felt the bargain tattoo purr in reply, "If I had truly hurt y/n then I'd be dead, from my own guilt or from the consequence of breaking the bargain," his gaze flickered behind Feyre, like he was expecting you to round the corner, "I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I've aided, and I don't expect you or her to either. Gwyn will deliver the message to Eris and Nesta, they're meeting with Tamlin and Helion to tell them of what has happened here, one of them will call a High Lord's meeting. That's our chance to set her free. Tell the others to prepare themselves, it isn't going to be easy."

None of it was going to be easy, to defy the High Lord of the Night Court was an act of treason, they could all be wiped from the earth for it but it was a reality that they would all welcome if it meant that you had a real chance to live. Not just survive, but live a life that deserved you.

Azriel took a step forward, "Feyre," he coaxed his High Lady from her thoughts, "I need you to do this, for her, for all of us."

"I will," her voice lingered, "But you can't see her, she'll crumble if she sees you. You've broken her heart and thus her sanity, her mind will shatter if she sees you and we need her to hang on."

Everything within him was telling him to ignore her, even his shadows were screaming at the notion of not being able to be near you, they had always yearned for you, sought you out at every moment. Their entire spirit had dulled since the night you had left, like they were the first to know that you had denounced your place and title, they had curled down his spine and shuddered at the loss, and only became frantic the moment you had been dragged back into Velaris wearing those awful collars.

Azriel inhaled deeply, staring ahead at the pitch black hallway before resting his gaze on Feyre and offering his arm, "Let's get you out of here, we both have work to do."

Tamlin had always found a certain solace when visiting the Autumn Court, there was something about it that comforted him; he always thought it was the way the sun would kiss the browning leaves that had fell upon the grass, or that unique warmth spreading across the land like a blanket and weaving between the trees, breathing life into everything that it touched.

The High Lord of Spring had been surprised when he had received the note from Lucien, a twin to the one sent for Helion, but as soon as he saw the mention of you, Tamlin instantly agreed to the request to descend upon the Autumn Court. Though, what surprised him more was that he had been invited to the private residence of Fir Manor for the meeting, which meant that the matter was too important to speak of in a fortress of deceptive ears.

Fir Manor was a truly beautiful estate, towering oak beams encased by vines and delicate flowers, pale brickwork and a thatched but sturdy roof, large windows that oozed comfort, and gardens littered with fountains and the faint chipper of birds as they soared from branch to branch. Stones clashed beneath his feet, the sound alerting the inhabitants of the home to his presence; he wasn't exactly late, but by the faint scent of musk and petrichor Tamlin knew that Helion was already in the confinements of the manor.

The door opened as Tamlin stepped onto the porch, drinking in the wicker chairs facing outward to the pond, a blanket draped across the back that told him that it was someone's favourite spot. Nesta appeared before him, she seemed unphased by his presence, but her eyes were thankful and full of relief, "Tamlin," she greeted in monotone, she wouldn't forget what he had done to Feyre, but if he could help you then she could certainly forgive him for it.

"Nesta," Tamlin greeted with equal tone, wary of Lady Death in all of her glory. Nesta was poised, her shoulders straightened as she observed him; she stepped to the side so that he may be able enter, and he angled past her.

The interior was just as charming as the exterior, a log fire burned at the centre of the far wall, exposed wooden beams loomed overhead that connected to the coffee hued walls littered with golden embellishments; the seating area was rooted in place, large feather cushions sat atop plush red wine seating, and an array of artworks kissed the walls.

A faint scent clung to the air, one that Tamlin immediately recognised as yours, but it was a whisper on the atmosphere, like the home was clutching onto it, trying to inhale it into its bones so that an aspect of you might live with it for eternity. "Tamlin. Thank you for coming," Eris spoke from by the fire.

Noting his dishevelled appearance, Tamlin frowned, speckles of mud splayed up his riding boots, no doubt from a hasty morning ride through the forest. Eris' hair was messy and eyes weary and full of worry, the amber whisky hue dimming with every wrenching thought that shook through his mind.

Something was very off about the High Lord, and Tamlin couldn't quite put it together. He took the seat beside Helion, greeting him with the same pallid politeness before moving his gaze over to Lucien who nodded stiffly in his direction.

Tamlin returned the action and then allowed his eyes to wander about the room, noting all of its inhabitants, and then finding himself thinking of you and the intoxicating scent he often thought of. It was no secret that Tamlin held some form of affection toward you, he, like Eris, had grown up around you, seeing you grow and flourish into the impressive woman that you had become.

"Where is y/n? The note mentioned her, I thought she'd be here."

Eris visibly tensed at the question, squeezing his eyes shut and sighing before crossing the small space between the fire and the closest armchair and finding comfort within it, "Rhys has her."

The High Lord of Day frowned and moved from his lax position on the seat, leaning forward and examining the ire within the Autumn male, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Much like Tamlin did, Helion also thought very fondly of you, he enjoyed the wit and sass that radiated from you as well as the way you carried yourself, dangerously sultry yet elegant. Helion had asked Rhys for your hand multiple times, believing that you would make the finest High Lady, and his patience wavering each time he was shot down. Though, that didn't halt Helion from seeking you out at every dinner party or ball, he enjoyed your company greatly, as much as he enjoyed that beautifully knowledgeable mind you kept under lock and key.

"The day of your birthday, y/n found out that Rhys had sought to lock her away in Velaris for her entire life simply because she was more powerful than him, because her power threatened his position. Rhys used her to do his bidding, to be the terrifying monster of Velaris, he used her to threaten his enemies, but she was never able to leave the court without supervision. Rhys made y/n into a prisoner and she didn't even realise it," Eris recounted the knowledge as well as the pain in your face the moment you had figured out what he had done, "That night, y/n denounced her home and title and joined me here, Nesta, Elain and Lucien followed soon after."

"Rhys found her at the boarder to Winter whilst she was exploring, didn't realise how far she had strayed," Eris shook his head softly and inhaled deeply before he continued on, "He threatened us, he told her that he would kill us all if she didn't return, using the eons old Night Court tradition that an unmated female was the property of her family until they decided who to bestow her hand to."

Eris dragged his thumb over his bottom lip, trying to remember the way yours melted into his and the way they tasted on his tongue. It was difficult to ignore the bond that had opened within him, every inch of his essence was begging him to infiltrate the Night Court and save you, but his mind knew how dangerous that would be; if Rhys even caught one whiff of him then he would commit any manner of gut-wrenching acts upon you.

"And she's there now?" Helion enquired, the gold of his headpiece reflecting in the sunlight, scattering a glow across the ceiling, "Do we know if she is alive?"

The mere thought of you six feet underground made fury blaze within him, it was clear by how his entire body clenched, "We believe that she is, but we have no way of knowing," Nesta spoke for him from her seat to his side, "Rhys would have punished her for defecting, how, we don't know but we do know that he wouldn't have allowed her to continue on with her old life there. All of our contacts in the Night Court have been silent, there have been little to no whisperings of her, the only thing they know is that she has been said to be sick and is on strict orders to rest."

A blatant lie.

Throughout the entire display of information, Tamlin couldn't keep his eyes off of Eris, noting the way he shuffled in his seat and how his fingers would occasionally drift over his chest. Not needing to listen to Nesta for another moment longer, Tamlin cut through her words, "If you want our help then you will tell us the truth."

Eris' orbs burned, sticking to Tamlin with anguish before moving to Nesta, Eris nodded curtly and only once, a silent permission to divulge whatever it was that they were hiding. Nesta sighed, "There is a demon living within y/n. Amarantha placed it there the night she stole her wings Under The Mountain, she wanted to use y/n as a host, and if not y/n then the first child she could produce," Helion inhaled sharply, not expecting anything of the sort to ever be spoken in his lifetime. "That's not all," her voice drifted off but she didn't look to Eris, it was important that Tamlin and Helion knew everything, "Rhys also removed memories from both Eris and y/n, of the time they spent together throughout the years, of the love they shared."

A secret love that no one should have known of, but someone had sold you both out.

Helion's eyes drifted closed as he attempted to process the information. There was a demon living inside of the woman he admired. Rhys had taken you as a prisoner. Rhys had removed all memories of you and Eris from one another's minds. You and Eris loved one another. "You're her mate, aren't you?"

A gruff hum filled the void, "Yes. We are also Carranam."

Tamlin had heard of it, once, which told him that such a thing was a rarity, "Carranam," the word rolled off of his tongue, and he knew from the way Helion tensed beside him that he too knew what it meant. A bond that ran deeper than a mating bond, a bond that made the mating bond seem pale in comparison, "Rhys took your memories from one another so that her power couldn't be amplified by you, and then confined her to the Night Court so that she would never find out. A prisoner in her own home."

It was barbaric. To steal your chance of love away from you and confine you to your home court, and then have the gall to spread word of your monstrosity across the continent.

"I can't feel her," Eris strained, doing his best not to choke on the pain of the void dwelling within his soul, "He's done something to her, I know it."

Before them sat a male completely wracked by guilt and worry, who was clearly struggling to sleep, whose entire court was mourning the loss of you. Lucien was right, they couldn't sit by and allow history to paint this image of your demise.

"You're right," a genteel voice drifted from the doorway, the pop of red hair had Nesta rising from her seat almost immediately. The woman removed her hood, her red braid sweeping over her shoulders and blue eyes frantic, "I'm sorry that I couldn't send word, I couldn't trust anyone else with this information."

Nesta crossed the room, "Gwyn, what are you doing here?"

Gwyn was as pallid as a bedsheet drifting in the summer breeze, exhaustion fell from her, "Y/N sent me, and I brought you this," Gwyn presented a book from under her cloak, not just any book, it was the tome Amarantha had written that depicted every single thing that she knew of you, "I came as soon as I could."

"Y/N sent you?"

The woman nodded toward Eris, her lips curling downward, "She did. She asked me to deliver a message," her bottom lip wobbled slightly, "She asked me to tell you that she loves you, all of you," she emphasised, her sight flickering to Elain and Lucien, "She asked me to tell you that no matter what happens to her that there is no place you could go where she wouldn't be with you."

The final words of a woman losing the fight.

No.

Eris stood, "Where is she?"

The tone of his voice made the temperature of the manor rise, and the walls vibrated with it, "Rhys, what he's done - I can't serve anyone like that. I refuse."

Nesta grasped her friends forearms, willing her to focus, "I need you tell us where she is, and what has happened to her, Gwyn. Now."

"Rhys hired someone to manufacture some kind of collars, they've melted into her skin, they've drained her of all of her power and life, she's completely defenceless now. Cassian is trying to help her, so are Mor and Amren, they all know that he's gone mad. I don't think that she can hold on for much longer," Gwyn blinked hard, washing away the images of your thinning body and grey skin from her mind, "Rhys has moved her to the prison, Azriel told him that he saw Tamlin and Helion enter the Autumn Court and he moved her there as punishment."

Nesta dropped Gwyn's arms and stumbled backward, the dread and terror pooling into her gut at the image of you shivering in a cell. Alone and believing that no one was coming for you.

Eris reached into that bond, tugging at it harder and allowed part of himself to travel with it, almost whimpering when it was met by a wall of agony and darkness, pinging back to him like an injured animal searching for comfort.

"Call the meeting," Silence followed Nesta's dangerously low voice, and it only irked her fury more, "Call the fucking meeting," Nesta turned to Helion who had taken the book from Gwyn, he was flitting through the pages, his eyes pouring over every word and rune etched upon the pages. "If you care about her at all, you will do it. If you don't then I will destroy you, Helion. She'll die in there."

It had to be Helion. Rhys would find disrespecting Tamlin too joyous, but he wouldn't dare to show the same disrespect to Helion, not if he wanted their courts to continue their alliance, not if he wanted to avoid an all out war.

Helion's gaze lifted from the tome, his heart rumbling with what lined the pages, "Consider it done," he rose from his seat, his white tunic pooling at his sandalled ankles, "I'm taking this, I think there may be a code in this book which will help us free her of that demon."

The High Lord of Spring also stood, anger coursing through his veins at the revelation that one of the few people who ever truly saw him was locked away and suffering in one of the most inhumane places on the continent. It didn't matter to Tamlin that your mate was Eris, despite the tinge of jealousy that swarmed him that Eris was the one who able to call you his, all that mattered to Tamlin was that you were free and healthy, that you had the choice to be whatever you wanted to be. "It may take a couple of days, please try to be patient. I know that it's a ridiculous ask but we all need to prepare, and give the other High Lords time to respond to the request. We'll need all of them."

Approaching Eris, Tamlin rested a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry that this has happened to you," his words were solemn but he was being truthful, "We will return her to you, and we will do everything that we can to free her from the demon inside of her. I promise you."

Wasting no time, Helion muttered a short farewell, clutching the tome to his chest and winnowing from sight, hurrying to send the request to the High Lords of the continent to ascend upon the Day Court Palace as a matter of urgency.

Moments later, Tamlin also said his goodbyes, strolling from the hearth of the manor toward the boarder where Spring met Autumn, doing his best not to listen to the gut wrenching roar that erupted from Eris the moment he stepped beyond the treeline.

Author's Note

Breaking my own heart right now 🥺

Also very sorry for the delay, haven’t been very well recently so just been trying to recover 🫶🏻

Taglist

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[nikethestatue]

Elriel's Bond

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten.

I twisted—only to have the king’s guards grab me from behind. Rhys was instantly there, but Azriel shouted, back arching as the king’s poison worked its way in.

So I just saw this and as I read it, I jumped up and needed to run here to type this our.

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten.

The 'prettier one' is Elain. But who shouts, when she is being taken away and possibly murdered? Azriel.

And who's 'forgotten'? Mor.

The scene is centered around those 3 people, with Feyre observing it.

(Afterwards, she specifically observes Cassian and his reaction to Nesta being thrown in, pairing off those two in her mind).

However, in this scene, we have Elain, we have Azriel and we have Mor--Mor, who is viewed as the biggest obstacle to Elriel, because of Azriel's supposed feelings for her.

Let's recall another scene, where another person was shot with Faeabane: as Feyre tends to the severely wounded Rhysand (whom she found because she was driven insane by her bond, urging her to go after him and putting her into a frenzy), she starts speaking about her sisters. And what does she say? "And I think Elain would like it too. Only she would cling to Azriel for some peace and quiet."

And then she thinks in her head:  I smiled at the though- at how handsome they would be together. If the warrior ever stopped loving Mor." 

Let's jump back to the Hybern scene again:

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten.

Azriel, who is shot with Faebane, screams when Elain is put into the Cauldron. Mor already forgotten--is this the most glaring way of SJM hinting at the monumental change that's occurred with Azriel and his feelings towards Mor?

Let's read the whole sentence, without Feyre's part in there:

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, Mor already forgotten. But Azriel shouted, back arching as the king’s poison worked its way in.

The King says put Elain into the Cauldron and what's interesting is that the poison of Faebane is called 'the king's poison'.

What if at that point, Azriel shouted because he felt the severing of his bond to Elain? Or out of FEAR that the bond would be nullified or damaged or broken?

'The king's poison' was coursing through Azriel, but the king also threw Elain into the Cauldron--and faebane is a substance that neutralizes and suppresses Fae powers.

Could Azriel's cry be about the muting of his bond with Elain?

Just like with his other two brothers, who all fell in love with human women and were mated to human women, Azriel could've felt the pull of the bond with Elain even when she was human. However, when she was being Made, her was also shot full of Faebane (unlike Cassian for example, who was simply gravely wounded while Nesta was being made).

Could that have contributed to Azriel 'losing' the sensation of the bond to Elain and the Cauldron opportunistically crafting a weaker bond for Elain with Lucien? A bond that was thrown at Lucien (his words) the moment Elain emerged from the Cauldron.

The bond snapped for Lucien, but it did not snap for Elain. Elain's continued indifference towards Lucien could potentially be explained by the fact that she is already bound to Azriel (even if she doesn't know it) and therefore, she simply cannot feel anything for Lucien. Her heart, her soul, and her mind are already occupied by someone else. Lucien doesn't belong.

So, in conclusion, in two sentences, SJM showed us a few glaringly important things: (Interestingly) Elain's beauty outshines them all (which I think will come in handy later). Mor is forgotten. The King's poison is inside Azriel, and on the king's orders Elain is tossed into the Cauldron. Azriel cries out as he watches it, as the poison works itself in, (potentially damaging their bond).

The plot thickens.

[silverflameataraxia]

I hate when I see Nesta stans apologizing for Nesta's behavior by saying she had no right to be mean.

Respectfully, Feyre had no right to murder innocents, destroy an entire court on the cusp of war, benefit the enemy, displace innocent Spring Court citizens from their land, use Lucien to make Tamlin jealous, torture Ianthe, harm innocents, shape-shift into Illyrian form, have sex in a war tent while her soldiers are dying outside, have sex in the sky above Velaris, buy her fifth mansion while the citizens in her city are struggling after the war, destroy Nesta's apartment building and displace all those innocent citizens, and lock Nesta up in the HoW.

Rhysand had no right to beat up Cassian for sleeping with Mor, force Feyre to wear clothes she wasn't comfortable in, drug and sexually assault Feyre, twist a bone in Feyre's arm until she agreed to his bargain, harass Tamlin, get off on the image of his son, have sex in a war tent while his soldiers die outside, have sex in the sky above Velaris, buy his fifth mansion while the citizens in his city are struggling after the war, destroy Nesta's apartment building and displace all those innocent citizens, lock Nesta up in the HoW, frequently threaten to kill Nesta, and withhold the truth about Feyre's pregnancy.

Cassian had no right to slaughter an entire village, get into a fight that destroyed an entire building, sleep with Mor when he knew Az had feelings for her, beat up Az and make fun of him, insult and belittle Nesta, disrespect Nesta's boundaries, harass and stalk Nesta, verbally abuse Nesta, lock Nesta up in the HoW, take her on a punishment hike, and hide the truth of Feyre's pregnancy from her.

Mor had no right to use Cassian for sex without telling him the consequences of those actions, directly lie or withhold the truth about what happened with Eris, fling herself over Cassian for 500 years, and get all handsy with Nesta's dress right after Nesta had been violated.

Az had no right to torture his brothers, pine after Mor for 500 years, withhold the truth of Feyre's pregnancy from her, be complicit in Nesta's punishment hike, feel entitled to Elain since he's the third brother and she's the third sister, and threaten to kill Lucien or say Elain's not interested in him when Az doesn't know her thoughts on the matter.

Amren had no right to verbally abuse Cassian, Az, and Nesta; to use racial slurs when talking about Az and Cass; to insult Nesta; to talk about using and manipulating Nesta; to lock Nesta up in the HoW; and to withhold the dangers of Feyre's pregnancy from her.

If people can stan the members of the IC, despite how horrid some of them are, then we can stan Nesta. She's flawed, but she's still one of the least problematic characters in this entire series. She challenges the IC, she puts them in their place, and she doesn't let then control her, and I'll stan that any day.

[aurenturley]

An anonymous send this message to someone and i needed to share.

Majority of the people in the fandom excuse what rhysand, feyre, and cassian do because they have trauma. People excuse rhysand sexually abusing feyre under the utm cause its what he "had" to do. Forcing someone to wear revealing clothing is sa. Forcing someone to dance suggestively on you is sa. Forcibly kissing someone, while they are trying to push you off, is sa. Guess, what he didn't have to do those things. Feyre destroying a whole court to get back at, leaving tens of thousands as refugees and contributing to the summer court being attacked, is excused. Cassian destroying a whole village to get back at the men who hurt his mother and also leaving refugees is excused. Twinies for real.

People still want to know what happens and see nesta. A lot of them also have others characters they like.

Nesta holds it against elain that she didn't do the same her even though nesta was there for elain. It's more a nuanced situation.

Nesta was nasty to cassian because cassian has ALWAYS been nasty to Nesta from the get go. Cassian doesn't respect her boundaries, thoughts, feelings, or opinions. He continues to say that's bullshit whenever Nesta says something he doesn't like. He continued to follow her home when she told him multiple times to leave her alone. He brought her father, who she witnessed murdered, just because she wasn't eating. Says he doesn't understand how her sisters love her just because she wants to be left alone. He yells at her in public because she doesn't want to do the whole mate thing even though she was one human and still hates the fae which is valid given the fact the fae oppresses the humans. Cassian doesn't accept that she doesn't want him when he continues to not leave her alone. He is supposed to be her mate but for some reason, he doesn't act like one. Allowing people around him to degrade and threaten nesta is not mate behavior.

People don't just hate rhysand for how he treats nesta. Its what he did to feyre utm, how he treats mor, how he doesn't do anything for those that are suffering in hewn city or illyria, and how he is written (badly. Not everything he does needs to be excused or justified). In regards to nesta, people hate rhysand for how he treats Nesta because he continues to disregard Feyre's feelings. Of wanting to have a relationship with her sister and telling him to stay out of it. Rhysand contributes to nesta not wanting to be around feyre which makes feyre sad but he, nor the ic, realize that and just blame nesta in reality, they play a big part.

That was not an intervention. Degrading someone, threatening them, judging their coping mechanisms is not an intervention. Forcing someone to leave in a place where they can't leave is abuse. We learned that with tamlin. Controlling how someone spends their days is abuse. Nesta wasn't struggling with addiction with her not having withdrawals.

[b0xerdancer-writes]

It Wasn't Supposed To Happen Like This Part 6

Eris x Rhy's Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris used to be attached at the hip to Rhysand’s younger sister. Now that he has taken over as High Lord of the Autumn Court, his father’s old high table have been pressuring him to take a wife, he comes up with the brilliant lie that he's already courting someone and has been for several years now. Eris asks Rhysand’s little sister, the best way to get away with it and make it believable, to fake court her.

Warnings: Elain and Mor slander, cussing 18+, some nsfw lean but no sex scenes yet, alcohol, parental abuse, death, murder, arguing. Not proofread.

Trope/Prompt: Fake Dating

Word Count: 4,644

Notes: Let the ball begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later I awoke to a soft knock on my bedroom door. I had been sleeping soundly with the small hound curled into my side, however the small knock was enough to wake her up. I had named her Brandy like the drink my mate was so fond of, she stretched and licked my face to wake me further just as the door squeaked open. Lucien laughed as I groaned and picked Brandy up off of me.

Wait…

Lucien?

Lucien!

Lucien had been out in Autumn Court helping Eris with preparations for the festival for about a week and a half now. His return was a surprise to me and I shot up from the comfy spot I had created.

“Lucien! What the fuck? When did you get back? You arse! You could have told me you’d be back today, I would have had breakfast made!” I growled at him, had he not had Brandy tucked into his arms I would have chucked a pillow at his face.

He laughed back at me and smiled brightly, his hair pulled up in a messy bun and dressed in  a cream colored sweater, some comfy loose flowy  pants that poofed around his knees from his riding boots, a small tabard for the dagger i had gifted him the first birthday he had that I had seen him since he had escaped to the Spring court. He smiled brightly and looked around my room where gift bag upon gift bag was piled up. 

“We finished preparations a day earlier so Eris sent me back here to make sure everything was good and you were ready for tomorrow, He just got his suit last week and didn't need to get it altered by the way. I see he got a bit carried away with his little gifts.” He scratched brandy behind her floppy little ears and let out a small chuckle as she whined whenever he stopped.

“Honestly these are all from throughout the week you've been gone. I just haven't had a chance to go through all of them yet. I mean do we have anything to do today? You could help me, Luc!” I tilted my head at him and he sat Brandy on the floor.

“Well then let's get to it we have a lot to go through, I’ll go get us some coffee and some breakfast sweets from that bakery you like down the road, while you get dressed and ready for the day.” He dismissed himself from the room and I could hear the click of his boots on the floor as he made his way back to the front of the house. 

“Hey Luc? Can you take Brandy on her morning walk since you're going out?” I yelled down after him and Brandy barked excitedly. 

“Yep! I got you sister!” He whistled for Brandy who raced out of the room after the ginger male. 

I heard the jingle of him clipping her leash followed by the click of the door shut. I forced myself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up for the lazy day, I moved my hair from my face and slipped into my closet. Once I had changed into some comfy clothes I sat criss-cross on the floor and began  digging into one of the bags, the dress I would be wearing tomorrow was neatly hung on my closet door and was a looming reminder of what tomorrow could mean for me and Eris. Lucien returned just as I was beginning to sink into my own thoughts, Brandy was the first to greet me as she climbed her way into my lap.  Lucien sat our two cups of coffee on my vanity table and joined me criss-cross on the floor.

The three of us went through bag after bag of gifts, Brandy helping the best she could by being our clean-up team: Her job? To tear up every loose scrap of tissue or wrapping paper that didn't stay in the distinct pile me and Lucien had created. The gifts were unpredictable, the variety too large to guess, still Lucien and I tried our best. So far it had ranged everything from a bottle of wine and nice glasses to drink from and small pieces of jewelry to toys for Brandy, decor pieces to make the small apartment more obviously themed like the Autumn Court, and some very obviously expensive pieces like the last bag I had just opened. Wrapped in shimmery copper paper and tied with a dark green bow, the box was light and Lucien hummed loudly.

“What do you think it is?” He chirped

“Hmmmm, my guess is going to be something for the dance tomorrow, it's the newest present that just came in yesterday.” I hummed back in response.

Pulling the large bow, it untied itself effortlessly, I removed the lid. Just as quickly as I had peaked inside I slammed the lid closed. Lucien looked up at me startled.

“What is it?” He leaned forward trying to grab the box from me to peek inside himself. I swatted his hand and hissed.

He pulled his hand back with a faux-shocked look on his face as he gaped at me. I opened the box again and stared at the jewelry within it. Lucien stared at me expectantly and I tossed the lid into the trash pile, Brandy growling at it as it almost fell out.

“No… he didnt.”Lucien gasped and covered his mouth, the metal eye whirring as his eyes widened.

My eyes darted between the box and Lucien.

“Oh you have him hooked. Seriously hooked.” Lucien mumbled and grabbed a sip from his coffee. 

“What do you mean Lucien?” I hissed.

“That, sister, is from the vaults of the autumn court. I saw it earlier this week when I went down there with Eris looking for a piece of art he wanted hung up in the main hall for the dance.”

He murmured as he took another sip to be dramatic.

“Oh.”I mumbled, stunned.

“Oh is right, he's wrapped around your finger hun.” Brandy deposited one of her new toys in his lap and he threw it out in the hall for her.

In the box, nestled on a silky pillow the same color as the bow, was a gold diadem decorated in branches and leaves with a ruby in the center of the point that came between your brows and it somehow matched the cuffs and necklace he had bought me earlier. Beside it was a folded note, written in the familiar cursive scrawl I knew as Eris.

“All preparations have been completed for the festival, Lucien has been a major help in setting everything up while I've been in meeting after meeting. I’m sure you are able to recognize this piece is older, I spied it while in the vaults with Lucien, while I admit it was not my intention at the time to be in the vaults for this piece and I was in fact there for an ancient painting that has been passed down in my family. After I had left the vaults the piece you hold now refused to leave my mind, I imagined how well it would match the cuffs and necklace you will be wearing with your dress for the festival in two days time, I would be honored if you wore this with those accessories as well. It would send a message to all my advisors and those I wish to see replaced, I know it seems a lot and it will take everyone by surprise to see you wear a crown from autumn but my mother had it crafted as a gift for whatever female I decided I was going to court, so it will see its use in you. I will be forced to wear my own similar crown due to my duties as High Lord, so it will make us match even more and present a further unified front to the people of my court who doubt me and pressure me into taking a wife. I thank you in advance my dear. Love, Eris.” I read aloud.

Lucien stared back at me with wide eyes as he prompted my response.

I didn't give one, simply picked up the diadem and rose to my feet. I stood in front of the mirror on my vanity and placed the small gold band on my head, then looked at Lucien with tears in my eyes. He smiled sadly.

“You’ll look like a High Lady tomorrow. Mother save him, Eris will have you decorated and on display more than Rhys does with Feyre.” He huffed with the slightest smile.

I took the crown off and gently sat it on my vanity next to the other jewelry I would be dressed in tomorrow. “Honestly Luc… I think I’m okay with that. I mean it will get suspicion off of Eris, and show him the lengths I'm willing to go for him. Fuck, maybe it will even cause the bond to snap for him, a girl can hope right? If it doesn't go well then I still get to have my fun and imagine what it would be like, right Luc?” I mused at him, sadly at first but then excitedly as I processed the information myself.

He simply smirked at me. “Sure thing, Sister. All I’m saying is, I called it~”

We spent the rest of the evening in the living room burning the tissue paper in the fireplace, eventually Lucien stood and announced he was going to start making dinner. Our night stayed uneventful as we both took our places either side of the table to eat, Lucien eventually herding me to his room to show me the outfit he would be wearing and to show me the trinkets he had brought back himself. Brandy eventually stumbled into the room tripping on her own ears with a big yawn, I collected her from the floor and she whined softly, eagerly awaiting bed.

Lucien chuckled as I dismissed both Brandy and myself from the room, he wished us both a goodnight and closed the door behind us. I had installed steps for Brandy, courtesy of Lucien, so she could climb up and down from my bed as she wished; however due to her size and tendency to trip on her own ears from time to time, often enough I just picked her up to help her up and down. I had sat her in a faux-fur blanket and she began immediately curling into a ball. I couldn't blame her, tomorrow was going to be a long day and she would be joining me; Eris had gifted her an elegant collar that had been lined with fur padding, a deep wine red collar that had small maple leaves embroidered into it, and a little copper maple leaf tag hung from it. I changed into a night slip and joined her in the warm covers, the second I laid down she curled into my side and I dismissed the faelights. 

I awoke earlier than I normally did, the dark of the sky just beginning to dim, to find Lucien finishing up his hair in the mirror and he offered to take Brandy out for her morning walk while I got ready myself. Passing him the sleepy pup, he gave me a soft smile and disappeared down the dim hallway, only lit up by one small faelight we used to make sure we didn't trip on any of Brandy’s toys when it was dark inside the house. I  slipped into the bathroom around him and leaned down to draw a bath, only to find the bath freshly drawn and warmed to the perfect temperature. Lucien and I had this habit, since we knew the others daily routine so well, from small things like fresh cups of coffee prepared to the perfect temperature with all the fixings in it we had wanted to things such as this, all in favor of making the others day easier for them; it had come to us naturally being roommates for awhile now and even before that when he was small, we would exchange small trinkets like something he found in the gardens and I would bring him a treat from Night Court the next time I saw him. 

Lucien returned about half an hour later, a few minutes after I had decided to finally leave the warmth of the bath, now feeling clean and fresh enough to look like the soon-to-be high lady Eris was wanting me to play. I wrapped a fluffy towel around me  and slid into my room, slipping on my undergarments and finally stepping into the A-line skirt I had fallen in love with weeks ago. 

Lucien knocked softly at the door. “Will you need any help with fastening the dress closed Sister?” 

Lucien’s new nickname for me rarely caught me off guard anymore unless he was using it to tease me for what he claimed was Eris’s obvious affections.

“Yes please, actually I could use it now.” I chirpped over my shoulder.

The door clicked open and Lucien stepped in quietly and began fiddling with the clasps on the back. “You know all the high lords will be there tonight right? It's the first holiday or festival hosted in the court since Eris became High Lord. All eyes will be on you two.”

I could hear his genuine worry for me in his voice. “I know Luc, I’ll be okay, Eris will be okay. We’ve got this handled.” I smiled over my shoulder at him and he offered me a unsure smile back,

“I know,” he sighed “I just worry about you two, you two are some of the only family I have, save for Jurian and Vassa.”

I raised my brow at him, he hadn’t mentioned any dealings with the two recently, though I knew the affections he harbored for the two when they comforted after Tamlin sent all of his stuff to the manor south of the Spring Court. 

“Will they be there today or tonight as well?” I offered him the ability to further discuss them.

“They should be, during the day at least. That's why we expanded the festival partially, so Vassa could also enjoy it while it also making a statement about Eris’s dedication to the court.” he seemed to brighten up a bit as he got distracted talking about the two.

He sat on the bed and Brandy scrambled to try and climb up the stairs, but when she failed and tripped over her ears Lucien ultimately ended up moving her into his lap. He continued to ramble about some need to know stuff that was seen as customary in the Autumn Court, amongst other subjects, I slipped on the golden cuffs, clasped the necklace around my neck and straightened it out, followed by the ring Eris had gifted me. I slipped on some surprisingly comfortable yet stylish black pumps that had gold detailing on the heels. I grabbed the collar from my vanity and turned to where Lucien was holding Brandy, he unclasped her old collar with a loud gasp and she leapt from his lap, bounding across my bed we both laughed at her antics until she finally calmed and I was able to slip the new one on around her neck.

Lucien stood and ushered me into the vanity chair, he refused to let me do my own hair for events if he had any say in it. He lost himself in styling it before finally setting the golden diadem on my head with a nod, he picked up the container of kohl I had and began lining my eyes with it. Once he had finished, we clipped Brandy into her leash and I picked her up in my arms, she seemed so proud of her new collar. We slipped from our apartment and the wards of the locks clicked into place behind us, he helped me down the stairs slowly making sure none of the tulle or silk got caught.  Once we were on the sidewalk I realized the many citizens of Velaris that were out walking around, the sun now early in the sky still well before noon, had their eyes on me and were whispering back and forth with each other with eager smiles on their faces. I knew what they were thinking, Lucien had graciously pointed it out to me yesterday, Oh how I was going to enjoy the look on Rhys’s face when he saw me tucked into Eris’s side; Azriel would probably be told to take a breather by Rhys unless they brought Elain, she might be able to keep him calm. 

Lucien tucked me and Brandy into his side, though I could have winnowed us myself Lucien was adamant about me preserving my energy as I ‘have a long day ahead’. Much Like Eris’s winnowing Lucien’s was warm like the caress of heat you would get from sitting beside a bon-fire, but it was unique in itself as it felt like it glittered or shined, that instead of bending the world around him the light and sun rays bent to his whim. Before I could even blink we had appeared in the Autumn Court, the smell of spices and cider filled the air and filled me with a warm familiarity that made my chest ache for Eris. It was only after I stepped out of Lucien’s side that I realized where we stood, the small clearing where me and Eris had once called our sanctuary had been turned into a private garden, a large hedge lined the outer edge of the clearing and led towards the forest house a short distance away. 

Only then as I looked around did I realize Eris had the entire clearing decorated in soft fae lights, a sculpted bench sat in the place the old wooden log had, the sir had a soft chill to it and reminded me why I loved this place as much as I did. Lucien stiffened beside me as I sat Brandy on the forest floor, leash clipped neatly to the padded collar, she barked happily in the way of the opening in the hedge that led towards the house. 

When my attention drifted towards the gorgeously carved archway, there stood Eris wide-eyed in a suit that matched my dress: primarily black, with the same flame effect of my underskirt on his waist coat. I swallowed sharply and smiled at him, my chest pounded and the bond throbbed with how perfect he looked, with how obvious it would be to all others he was mine.

He gathered his composure and stepped forward, hugging Lucien who dismissed himself through the way Eris had just come, then turned to me and brought my hand to his lips and he bowed softly. 

“Cauldron save me, you look gorgeous, just the image I wished to present to my court. Thank you for doing this my lady.” 

I smiled softly, feeling heat begin to creep into my face and a throb in my chest. “Mother above Eris, you call me gorgeous yet have you looked in a mirror? You are the epitome of a High Lord!”

He smiled back at me softly, pulling me into a tight hug he sighed softly. “No I mean it Darling, Thank You, tonight would have been so much harder without you beside me. At least now I’ll avoid having to deal with my father’s advisors barking at me to keep my eyes peeled for a pretty female.”

I leaned my head against his chest and sighed, taking in his warm scent. “No worries Eris, like I promised, I’m here if you need me. No matter what. You need me to face every high lord in Prythian all at the same time while posing as your girl? So be it I’ll deal with their eyes on me, no prob.”

I heard him chuckle softly and relax in my arms, Brandy however was not pleased with the fact she was not getting any attention and was adamant about letting us know it. He released me from his hold and looked down at the small hound, with his hands on his hips.

“I hear you mam!”  He turned back to me again. “What did you end up naming her?” he kneeled down and scratched behind her long ears.

“Brandy.” I smiled gently watching the scene unfold in front of me.

He snorted as he giggled, Brandy moving to nibble at his hand. “Fitting, she's got the spice of a fire brandy. And it's good to see the collar fits her.”

He knelt there petting the small pup, while looking her over. “No health issues? No training issues?”

I shook my head. “No, I haven't had any issues with her at all. She's been well behaved.” 

He smiled and Brandy rolled over onto her belly. “Good, I figured she'd be a good blood line, her sire was Maple’s great-great grandpup.” 

I smiled brightly at the two on the forest floor. “I thought I recognized the spunk.” 

We both laughed and he rose from the floor, Brandy in his arms happily trying to get to his face, tongue lolling out and settling for just licking at the exposed skin of his arm. I took her from his arms and he offered me his arm, I linked mine and in unison we both took a deep breath. 

“To the promise we made all those years ago to never leave the other alone?” He looked down at me out of the corner of his eye.

I nodded. “To the leaves of Maple that were the only beings to hear our promise.” 

He nodded back at me and squared his shoulders. All those years ago, when we had made the deal that initially was just him  asking to never be left alone, I had extended it to be either way: that We would never leave the Other alone. It had been just us and the trees that day, and as we sealed the deal we had spoken those words to each other for the first time; a sharp sting followed by a dull throbbing on my ankle led me to discover the sight of two small maple leaves intertwined with eachother. Eris had grasped at his protruding hip bone just below where his belt was clasped around his waist, the location of his tattoo had caused my face to heat, just the thought of it today caused blood to rush to my face. 

In my dedication to Eris as my mate I had never chased after another male, had no interest in them either really. Of course I knew what would be asked of me as his wife, if had come to that at that time, but all I had ever really seen was my brothers after training, or the low slung pants of male’s at Rita’s that revealed just a little too much for my liking. It had often caused me to lose interest in the current objective that led to me seeing the other males, the bond aching in my chest reminding me of loyalty to Eris, often caused me to return to my room or apartment and escape into the books either within the library or in later years what Lucien and I had collected within our little apartment.  Every time we echoed the promise we had made back in the day, I was reminded very quickly of the tattoo on my ankle and the same one on his hip. I felt the heat in my face extended to my pointed ears as my eyes glanced over where the concealed tattoo would be before I straightened my back and looked forward.

Tonight would be hard, I decided. With Eris looking so perfect, the ache of want that had settled in my chest with a slow throb, and the heat in my face and chest that slowly moved lower and lower every time I glanced at Eris by my side.  The crunch of fallen leaves under my heels drew me back to reality as we neared the gardens of the first house, I could hear music and laughter from within the house. The halls had been closed off in a way Eris and I could make a grand entrance together through the second entrance into the grand ballroom. 

Our steps echoed against the halls as we walked in silence through the now warm halls of the Forest house, till we stopped right in front of a set of large wooden doors. The music and laughter was obvious on the other side of it, two guards looked back and forth between each other and then to Eris.

 Eris looked down at me with a worried smile. “Ready?”

“Ready.”I echoed.

 We both nodded at each other and then Eris nodded at the guards. Two finely dressed males with simple leathers on, a helmet in one arm and a sheathed blade at either side. They knocked firmly on the door once, the music and chatter from the other side becoming quiet as I heard a loud booming voice clear their throat.

“Introducing our High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra,” soft cheering erupted but was quickly silenced again as the male continued, murmurs replaced the cheering. 

“And the female he has declared he will be courting: The Princess of Night Court herself!”  Whoops and hollers could be heard as the doors began opening slowly.

Eris and I took a deep breath, Brandy made herself comfortable yet regal looking in one of my arms. I let Eris lead us into the room of Prythian residents. Eris nodded and mouthed a thanks to the small male I now realized was the announcer.  We came to a stop a few steps in front of the announcer, and Eris  cleared his own throat unlinking his arm with mine. 

“Thank you all for being here, I simply wanted to start this celebration with a quick speech.” The way the light of the grand glass chandelier hit him I was breathless, he seemed like the only male in the room as he drew everyone's attention to him.

“As many of you know this is the first holiday I will be celebrating with you all as High Lord, but I would not have been able to do it if it wasn't for the female at my side and my dear brother Lucien, both of you helped me greatly even if you don’t know it. Secondly, I would like to thank the citizens of Autumn Court for believing in me as their new High Lord. My goal from the second I took over the throne has been to reform this court and with your help and dedication I have been able to begin working in that direction. Think tonight not only as a celebration of a holiday but also as a celebration for your hard work. Now please let me not continue to ramble on because I will with thanking you for every little thing that has made tonight possible, and continue your celebrations.” Cheers erupted and I smiled sweetly at Eris as I extended my hand to him which he took eagerly, Brandy cheering him on with her own little howls and bays.

A servant brought around small champagne flutes, both of us taking one as we clinked them together.

“To tonight?” I chirped.

“To us.” Eris echoed my tone, and we both took a sip from the glasses in our hands.

No, tonight wouldn’t be as difficult as I had thought, tonight would be fantastic. I had Eris at my side after all and if all the eyes on us had any indication how it was going so far, it was working.

Taglist:

@stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbatboydreams @abysshaven

@wallacewillow0773638 @azriels-mate2 @sassyslytherinshai

@sparksandstarss @pandabiiissh @saltedcoffeescotch @cirwin2013

@minnieoo @easchies @melsunshine

@sweetcarolina-24 @florenceivy @inloveallthetime

@azrielsmate3 @witchymomfrien @eternallyelvish

@mybestfriendmademe

[gwandas]

Idk where this Nesta vs. Feyre empathy discourse came from but anyway here are my two cents

I think something to remember is that there is a difference between compassion and empathy.

Empathy is specifically a demonstrated understanding of what another is feeling.

Compassion is characterized by the desire to take action to help someone who is suffering. Compassion often involves empathy, yes, but an understanding of why another person is suffering isn't a requirement for compassion.

In my opinion, Nesta has high empathy and low compassion while Feyre has low empathy and high compassion. To be clear, they've both exhibited both empathy and compassion at times, I just think each character favors one over the other.

Feyre at her core is a fixer. She has always seen people's problems and wants to help—it's a core tenet of her character. Successfully being able to identify when people are struggling and wanting to help is compassion. Some examples of this are:

hunting in the cabin

giving jewels to the wraiths in Spring

desperately wanting to train and do more to help Tamlin rebuild Spring

her interference in Mor and Azriel's relationship

her interference in Elain and Lucien's relationship

dealing with Nesta after the war

starting the art studio for the kids, etc.

At the same time, she has trouble putting herself in other people's shoes—even in moments where she really should've been able to—which are examples where she is unempathetic.

not understanding or caring of why her sisters are apprehensive towards letting fae into their home and what that would mean for their lives (she hated the fae too)

pushing Nesta into sharing her cauldron story

jealousy of Nesta’s friendship and confiding in Amren over her

not understanding why Lucien doesn't want to be in Velaris

not understanding why Nesta was angry about the vote (she herself was angry when she learned about her mating bond)

not understanding why the CoN wants out from the Hewn City (UTM, enough said)

in general her relationship with Nesta is lacking in empathy—something that comes to mind is making Nesta’s attitude in ACOWAR all about her and the IC and completely disregarding Nesta’s actual trauma. (and it goes the other way around as well, like Nesta thinking Feyre doesn’t care about her, those girls do nooot understand each other at all)

There are times where she is empathetic too! A lot of her empathy goes towards Rhys, she understands Elain's apprehension towards Lucien, she connects the priestesses experiences to her own with Tamlin, and the jewels she gave to the wraith and the art studio are also both examples of empathy as well as compassion.

Nesta from the very beginning of her POV in ACOSF (and arguably before too) displays a deep understanding of how she is perceived and why, in addition to more general examples of empathy.

calculating the ships + crying at the thought of humans dying in the war with Hybern

her general awareness of the effect her presence has (ACOWAR dinner scene, ACOFAS solstice)

understanding while Rhys and Mor hate her

when Cassian was sad about being bested by Eris (really all the examples of her empathizing with his bastard insecurities, of which there are many—also Cassian acknowledges the dick sucking (ew) as an act of empathy)

understanding instantly why Cassian shut down while talking about his mother

softening her tone towards Gwyn when she remembered why the library was created

Feyre's comment to Cassian about how Nesta feels more deeply than others... literally the definition of empathy

understanding why the Illyrians were afraid of her (the children should be afraid of her comment or whatever it was)

if we're being real, her ability to pinpoint other people's insecurities is twisted example of empathy since it requires an understanding of how the other person feels and what would cause them pain

giving the Mask to Bryce after hearing about the murdered humans on Midgard because she understands that drive to protect humans

Something that's notable as well is that she not only understands the feelings of others, but also that she doesn't blame others for disliking her. She consistently justifies and agrees with the way she is spoken to and treated because she is empathetic towards how her mistakes have impacted other people.

Nesta however, for all her understanding, has a lot of difficultly taking action when seeing others suffering, which comes out as a lack of compassion

We know she's always harbored guilt over Feyre hunting, but never stepped in to take over that burden

She knows humans will be affected by war, as we see when she cries when the human queens say they won't help, but is reluctant to help (both in ACOMAF dinner scene and ACOWAR when Feyre wants her to share her story)

Knows what everyone wants from her after the war—Amren wants her to train, Cassian and Feyre want her to deal with her trauma, but she prioritizes going about it her way instead of the way that would make them happier (showing up to stuff and being happy?)

She knows full well what sitting on that rock means for Cassian but chooses her own discomfort and rebellion over alleviating his embarrassment

Doesn’t want to scry until threatened that Elain would if she wouldn’t, was also fine with Feyre taking on the danger if it meant she didn’t have to

This isn’t pro or anti either of them. Feyre always wants to help, but sometimes can’t see when it isn’t wanted and can’t understand the other person’s perspective in order to help them the way that they need. Nesta feels and understands a lot but has a lot of trouble outwardly expressing that empathy towards others either in the form of words or actions. This causes her to come off as cold and unfeeling when… in her POV we can tell she’s not.

[cressidagrey]

The Witching Hour - Chapter 5 - Rhysand

Summary: 

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings: 

Mention of Amarantha, Mention of Murder, Mention of torture, Rhys Bashing

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

Rhysand's mood was far from pleasant. The events of the past week had left him on edge, his patience sorely tested, the tensions between Nesta and Cassian seemed to have escalated exponentially, and the atmosphere in his Court was becoming unbearable.

As he sat brooding in his office, his mate knocked on the doorframe before walking in. Feyre took one look at his stormy expression and winced.

"Let me guess," she said, bracing herself. "You're in a delightful mood today."

Rhysand's only response was a low growl, which was answer enough. Feyre sighed, settling herself into a chair across from his desk.

"There's something you are going to like even less," Feyre admitted.

Rhysand's eyes narrowed, his already bad mood worsening. "Wonderful," he grumbled, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Please, do tell, Feyre Darling.  I'm all ears."

Feyre looked uncomfortable, which only served to increase Rhysand's anxiety. Whatever it was, it must be bad if even Feyre was struggling to tell him.

"It's about Elain," she began, her voice hesitant.

"Elain?" Rhysand repeated, his confusion deepening. "What about her? What's wrong?"

"She..." Feyre's voice trails off, her expression troubled. "She's an oracle."

Rhysand's eyebrows shot up in shock, his eyes widening.

"An oracle?" he repeated, his voice coming out in a whisper. "Are you sure? Who made that particular call?"

Feyre swallowed hard, her expression guilty. "Cate," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhys froze.

"Feyre darling," he said very carefully, trying to keep his voice down. "When exactly did you come across Cate ?"

Feyre shifted uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding his gaze.

"Well...this morning."

Rhys's eyes widened, a sense of bad, bad foreboding washing over him. "And what exactly were you doing this morning that led to you encountering the infamous Cate?"

"We had lunch?" Feyre admitted questioningly. "Or we would have if Mor and her hadn't clashed."

Rhys let out a strangled sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Of course, you did."

He took a moment to process the information, his mind racing through the implications. Cate, in the city...it was bound to cause havoc.

"And I assume Mor and she...had words?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"To put it mildly," Feyre said ruefully. "They got into quite a heated argument. It almost ended in a brawl."

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Do I even want to know what they were arguing about?"

Feyre shrugged, her expression sheepish. "Cate's sex life and Azriel."

Rhysand suppressed the urge to bang his head against the desk. "Of course," he muttered under his breath.

He let out a deep, weary sigh, his mind already working to figure out how to damage control this situation. Cate's presence was a wild card, and her interactions with Mor were bound to cause more trouble than they were worth.

"What about Elain then?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain calm.

"Cate offered to teach her."

"Did she now," Rhys murmured, the wheels in his mind turning.

The idea of Cate teaching Elain was...disconcerting, to say the least. Cate was not exactly a bastion of stability and sanity. And yet, there was a part of him that was intrigued.

And also fucking furious because clearly, he was the last person in his family that knew anything about what was happening in his court.

Rhys's anger bubbled up inside him, mingling with his already frayed nerves. He had been completely blindsided by this information, left in the dark while Cate and Mor were engaging in their verbal duels and Feyre was having lunch with the bane of his existence .

It was utterly frustrating.

"Did Azriel get her for Elain?" He bit out. Azriel clearly wasn't listening to his orders when he was bringing Cate around for Elain. Thought Rhys wondered what the fuck Azriel had told Cate to get her to behave and not spill the beans of their century-long tryst to Elain.

Feyre looked at him curiously, clearly sensing his irritation.

"What do you mean?"

Rhys clenched his jaw, trying to keep his voice level. "Cate doesn't just agree to help people on a whim," he said tersely. "Azriel must have done something to convince her."

Feyre's eyes widened in realisation, a hint of amusement flickering across her face.

"And it must have involved a lot of ...physical persuasion," Feyre said slyly, a wicked smile spreading across her lips.

Rhys could only scowl in response, his irritation growing by the second. The last thing he needed was Feyre making light of the situation.

"This isn't funny," he growled, leaning forward in his chair. "Azriel knows better than to bring Cate here without my knowledge."

Feyre's expression softened, her amusement giving way to understanding. "I know," she said soothingly, "But she isn't all that bad, you know. If you'd just give her a chance-"

"A chance?" Rhys repeated, his voice filled with barely suppressed frustration. "Feyre, she is a walking disaster ! She causes nothing but trouble, and now she's inserting herself into the lives of my Inner Circle! You know what happens to the people that surround Cate? They mysteriously disappear. Or worse!”

Feyre shot him an unimpressed look, her hands on her hips. "You're being overdramatic," she chided.

"Hecate the Undying," Rhys said lowly. " How do you think she earned that name, Feure?"

Feyre's expression faltered, the teasing look in her eyes replaced by a hint of unease. "!.... don't know," she admitted, her voice quieter now.

Rhys took a deep breath, reminding himself to remain calm. "Hecate is a witch,” he said slowly. “One of the few of that particular dying breed. She’s over a millennia old, Feyre. And she has the cunning and cruelty to match her age. She is not someone to be trifled with."

"So has Amren," Feyre pointed out harshly.

Rhysand's eyes blazed. "Amren is a different case entirely, and you know it," he said through gritted teeth. "She has been on our side for centuries, working to protect this court and everyone in it. Cate...Cate is a rogue element. No one knows where her loyalties lie. Not even Azriel, for all his obsession with her."

"And Azriel," Rhys continued, his voice lowering. "He thinks he can control her, that he knows the limits of her power and her intentions. But he's fooling himself. She is unpredictable, volatile, and dangerous. The last thing we need is for her to cause chaos in our court."

Feyre opened her mouth to speak, but Rhys cut her off.

"And don't try to tell me that she just wants to help Elain," he said, his voice firm. "Nothing she does is without purpose. There is always an angle, an agenda. And I don't trust her, not one bit."

Feyre was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"I understand your concern, I do," she said slowly. "But have you ever stopped to consider that Cate might not be the monster you have built her up to be in your mind? That maybe there's more to her than meets the eye?"

Rhys laughed bitterly, his anger still bubbling just under the surface. "More to her than meets the eye?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What do you want me to believe, Feyre? That she's some sort of misunderstood soul, with a heart of gold under that cold, unfeeling exterior?"

"I'm not saying she's a saint," Feyre said evenly. "But maybe she's not the villain you're determined to make her out to be."

Rhys gritted his teeth, his patience wearing thin. "And what would you have me do, Feyre?" he said tightly. "Just sit back and let her run wild in my court, unchecked and uncontrolled? Is that what you're suggesting?"

"No," Feyre said, "Of course not. But maybe instead of treating her like a threat, you could try seeing her as an ally. As someone who could potentially help us."

Rhys let out a guttural sound, his frustration mounting.

"You can't be serious. You want me to trust her, to let her into our inner circle? She hasn't given me one reason to trust her, Feyre. Not one."

"She helped Nesta with her nightmares."

Rhysand's eyebrow quirked in surprise. "Is that so?" he said slowly. "She helped Nesta with her nightmares, did she?"

His tone was sceptical, but there was a hint of intrigue in his expression.

"With a dreamcatcher spell," Feyre answered quietly.

"Is that why Cassian is so furious with Azriel?" Rhys asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was just getting better and better.

"Oh yes," Feyre said with a slight wince. "Cassian is quite...upset about it."

Rhys's eyes widened. "Upset" was an understatement. He knew Cassian well enough to know that he would be seething with rage at this news.

Rhys closed his eyes. Already Cate was making a mess.

The thought made Rhysand's headache worse. Cate had only been in Velaris for days, and already she was causing ripples of turmoil in his court. How much worse was this going to get?

He had to nip this problem in the bud before it spiralled out of control.

The worst thing was that throwing her out of Velaris was not actually something he could do. She had a carte Blanche to live in Velaris, something he could thank his Grandfather for... they had had an agreement of sorts, the exact nature lost to time. But even Rhys’ own father hadn’t trifled with that witch. 

He rose from his chair, his expression steely with determination. "I need to talk to Cate," he said gruffly. "Now."

Feyre's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Now?" she repeated, looking nervous. "Don't you think you should calm down a bit first? You look like you're going to rip her throat out."

Rhys shot her a withering glare, his patience wearing thin.

"That's exactly how I feel, Feyre," he ground out. "If I don't speak to her now, I can't guarantee I won't do anything I'll regret later."

Feyre held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, fine," she conceded, standing up. "But try not to be too harsh, alright? I'm not saying we should trust her blindly. But she's not a monster, Rhys."

He could argue that point

Rhys took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.  The thought of dealing with Cate again after all these centuries was not exactly appealing.

The problem was only that he knew...he knew that they would be evenly matched

And that thought was worrying. Cate was not someone he took lightly. He had seen firsthand what she was capable of, both in power and cunning. The idea of going up against her, even if it was just a simple conversation, was daunting, to say the least.

Yet, he knew it was necessary. He couldn't let Cate continue to run rampant in his court, stirring up trouble and disrupting the peace he had worked so hard to maintain. He would just have to be careful, be on guard at all times, and hope that his own wits would be enough to keep her in check.

With a determined nod to Feyre, he headed out of his office. It was time to confront the source of his current headache.

Rhysand stalked out of the house and into the streets of Velaris with a scowl on his face. It was late afternoon, and the sun starting to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestones.

He knew where to find Cate. She had a townhouse, where she always stayed at.

He made his way quickly through the city, his steps measured and purposeful. He could feel the eyes of his people on him, the weight of their curiosity and concern. They could sense that something was off, that their High Lord was not in his usual good mood.

Finally, he arrived at her townhouse. The building was impressive, situated in a prime location and beautifully maintained. It screamed opulence and power, much like its owner.

Rhys took a deep breath and walked up the steps, his mind racing. He knew he needed to be careful, to tread lightly. He couldn't afford to let his anger get the better of him. But the thought of confronting Cate was making his heart pound in his chest. He had to remind himself that he was the High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful ruler in Prythian. He could handle one stubborn and infuriating witch.

(Hopefully.)

He knocked firmly on the door, his knuckles rapping against the solid wood. There was no response for a moment, and he wondered if she was even home. Just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing Cate's slender form in the doorway.

"Ah, Rhysand," she said with a smirk, leaning against the doorframe. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Her tone was casual, almost flippant, but he could see the glittering eyes assessing him warily. She knew he wasn't here for a friendly visit.

"May I come in?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice even.

Cate stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter with a sweeping motion of her arm. "By all means," she drawled. "Make yourself at home."

Rhys walked into the foyer, his eyes flickering around the room, taking in the expensive furnishings and art pieces.

The townhouse was every bit as opulent as the outside, with high ceilings and wide windows that let in the fading sunlight.

"Can I offer you anything?" Cate asked behind him, closing the door with a click. "Tea, perhaps? Or maybe something stronger?"

He ignored her, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face her. "I'm not here for hospitality," he ground out. "I'm here to discuss you and your sudden appearance in my court."

Cate raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, so you're not here to see an old friend?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He clenched his jaw, her casual demeanour only serving to annoy him further. "We are not friends, Cate," he said through gritted teeth. "And I need to know why you have been meddling in my affairs."

Cate sauntered past him, walking over to a nearby armchair and gracefully sinking into it. "You wound me, Rhysand," she said, placing a hand over her heart. "I'm hurt that you think I would meddle."

He followed her, standing before her with his arms crossed. "Cut the crap, Cate," he said, his temper fraying. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've been causing trouble since the moment you stepped foot in Velaris."

"Is it the Dreamcatcher spell or my offer of lessons for Elain?" Cate asked him.

Rhys scowled, the mere mention of the Dreamcatcher spell making his blood boil. "Both," he said through gritted teeth. "You have absolutely no business getting involved in my court's affairs."

Cate leaned back in her chair, a smirk playing on her lips once more. "Oh, but Rhysand, I just want to help. Is that so terrible?"

He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to grab her by the throat and strangle her. "I don't trust you, Cate," he growled. "I don't trust your intentions or your motives. And I certainly don't trust you offering your...services to my inner circle. Let's not even start with my spymaster," he ground out.

Cate chuckled, her voice dripping with amusement. "Ah, Azriel," she said, her eyes glinting. "Such a complex and intriguing male."

"You stay away from him," Rhys warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep your distance, and you keep your fingers out of our business."

Cate's smirk widened. "Oh, I was under the impression that Azriel was just as interested in me as I was in him," she said slyly. "Or was I misinformed?"

Rhys ground his teeth, his irritation and anger reaching their boiling point. He knew all too well the strange and complicated relationship between Cate and Azriel, and he hated how easily she seemed able to get under his skin.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said, his voice growing louder. "You keep your distance from all of my court. That includes Azriel."

Cate's smile grew even more aggravating. "You have quite the possessive streak, don't you, Rhysand?" she said, her tone mocking. "Are you afraid I'll steal away your precious shadowsinger?"

"You won't lay a finger on him," he snarled, his patience completely frayed. "You stay away from him, and you stay away from my court. I don't want you meddling in my affairs, or causing any more trouble. Is that clear?"

Cate leaned forward in her chair, her eyes narrowing. "You think you can order me around, is that it?" she said, her voice cold. "You think I'll just bow down and submit to your commands?"

"Damn right I do," he shot back, stepping closer to her. "This is my court, my territory. And I will not tolerate someone like you causing chaos and throwing my people into disarray with your presence."

Cate's eyes flared with anger. "And what exactly do you mean by 'someone like me'?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You mean a witch? Or is it because I'm a woman?"

He clenched his jaw, the accusation hitting a nerve. "Don't play that card, Cate," he said through gritted teeth. "You know damn well that's not what I meant."

Cate stood up, her eyes blazing. "Oh, really?" she challenged, her hands coming to rest on her hips. "Because it sure sounds like you're implying that women, especially those with magic, are beneath you. Maybe even a threat to your precious little court. Is that why your tradition of wing clipping still lives on?" She asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

He flinched, his irritation replaced with a hint of guilt. She had hit the mark, and they both knew it. The ancient tradition of clipping wings was still practised in Illyria, a symbol of dominance and control over the female population.

"That's different," he said gruffly, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that settled in his stomach. "Change is slow. We can't just murder everybody like you are prone to be doing." 

Cate's eyes flashed with anger, her hands clenching into fists. "I don't just go around murdering people," she snapped. "I fight for what's right, and I don't shy away from getting my hands dirty if it means protecting those that cannot protect themselves."

Rhys sneered, his own anger flaring. "And who are you to decide what is right and what is wrong?" he said, his voice harsh. "You think you're some kind of moral authority, do you? That your way of doing things is the only way?"

"You're a daemati, I am a seer," she said icily. "You read minds. I read the future."

He let out a scoff, his annoyance growing by the second.

"And you think that gives you the right to do whatever you please, just because you can see into the future?" he said, his tone dripping with disbelief.

Cate's eyes narrowed to slits, her voice dropping to a dangerous level. "I use my abilities to help people. To protect them. To make sure that history doesn't repeat itself. And if that means making hard decisions, then so be it."

He let out a cold laugh. "Hard decisions," he said sarcastically. "Is that what you call it when you go around murdering people and meddling in other courts' affairs?"

Cate bristled at the accusation, her face contorting with anger. "I don't go around murdering people for the hell of it," she said, her voice rising. "Every life I've taken has been for a reason, a purpose. People who deserved it, who would have caused more suffering and pain if left unchecked."

Rhys shook his head, his annoyance and frustration mounting. "Oh, so you're some kind of judge and executioner now?" he sneered. "You get to decide who lives and who dies based on your own twisted sense of justice?"

"Yes, because apparently nobody else seems to have the guts to do what needs to be done." Cate retorted, her voice filled with conviction. "You have no idea what I've seen, Rhysand. I have a job to do, and it doesn't end until the world is a better place. So please, drop the holier-than-thou attitude and leave me alone."

"You didn't kill Amarantha," Rhys spat out. "That would have saved us some suffering."

Cate's eyes darkened at his words, anger flashing in her gaze. "Don't you think I wanted to, Rhysand?" she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't you think I've spent centuries reliving that moment in my mind, wondering if I could have stopped it from happening?"

He crossed his arms, his expression guarded. "Why didn't you then?" he challenged. "You could have ended it all right there, before all the suffering and the pain and the bloodshed."

Cate's shoulders slumped, the anger being replaced by a weariness that betrayed her centuries-long existence.

"It's...complicated, Rhysand. There are things at play that you don't understand, consequences that you could never fathom. I couldn't just kill Amarantha and expect everything to be perfectly fine afterwards."

He let out a scoff, his irritation mounting. "So, what, you just decided to let her rule and terrorize my court for 50 years instead? To put us through hell and back?"

Cate's eyes narrowed once more, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. "I had a duty to protect the people of Prythian," she said through clenched teeth. "All of Prythian. And sometimes, that meant making sacrifices for the greater good. Even if it meant letting evil exist for a little while longer."

He let out a derisive laugh, his anger bubbling to the surface. "The greater good? What about the good of my people? My court? My family, my friends, my people, all tortured and brutalized for fifty years because you decided to let Amarantha sit on the throne?"

Cate's face contorted with pain, his words hitting a raw nerve. "You think that was an easy decision for me to make, Rhysand?" she said, her voice cracking. "You think I enjoyed watching you and your people suffer, knowing I could have stopped it all in an instant?"

He sneered, his anger still searing. "Yet you didn't. You stood by and let it happen. You let us suffer for fifty years because you were too much of a coward to do what needed to be done."

Cate's hands balled into fists, her eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what it means to be responsible for fate, Rhysand," she said through clenched teeth. "No idea what it means to carry the weight of history on your shoulders. Don't you dare accuse me of cowardice when you don't have a single clue about the sacrifices I've made?"

He clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to lash out even further. "Fifty years, Cate. Fifty years. My people suffered unspeakable horrors for fifty years because you decided that it was for the greater good. How do you expect me to forgive that?"

She let out a bark of bitter laughter, her face twisting into a grimace. "Forgiveness?" she said, her voice thick with disdain. "You really think I'm looking for forgiveness, after everything that's happened? I'm not asking for any forgiveness, Rhysand. I know the mistakes I've made, and I have to live with them every damn day."

He let out a scoff, his anger now mixed with a hint of incredulity. "You expect me to just act like nothing's happened? To just let bygones be bygones and move on like you didn't stand idly by while my people suffered?"

"I don't expect anything from you, Rhysand," she said coldly, her eyes hardening. "I know things can never go back to the way they used to be, that there's no erasing what's been done. But that doesn't mean I'm not doing everything in my power to make things right, to prevent it from happening again. That's all I've ever tried to do."

He let out a dry laugh, his heart still thudding with anger.

"Oh? And what exactly are you doing to make things right, hm? Meddling in my court, offering lessons to my inner circle, causing chaos and trouble wherever you go?"

Cate's eyes flared, her temper rising once more. "I'm not causing chaos and trouble, Rhysand," she shot back. "I've been helping you and your court in ways you don't even realize. Maybe if you took the time to look past your own anger and pride, you'd see that."

He let out a derisive scoff, his irritation growing with every word. "Help? You call meddling in our affairs and offering your so-called 'services' help? I'd hate to see what your version of hindrance is like. I want you out of my court," he hissed.

Cate scoffed, glaring at him with equal measure of anger and frustration. “ As long as my blood rules this throne, you shall always have a place here, ” she quoted at him, hissing. “Your grandfather pledged that to me. Just let me know when exactly you want to make your family an oathbreaker.” 

He had known that she had…had permission to come and go from Velaris as she pleased, but he had not known, how pointed these words must have been. What his grandfather had pledged to her in…

“I’ll take that risk if you are gone for good,” he growled, his own anger bubbling to the surface. "One word from me, and you'll be gone from this court for good."

His magic thickened, night rising.

Cate braced herself, her own power crackling around her in response. "You think threatening me with your magic will make me cower and leave?" she challenged. "I've faced much worse than you, Rhysand."

His eyes narrowed, the darkness in the room growing thicker as his power surged. "You have no idea what I'm capable of," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "| won't hesitate to do what I have to to protect my court, even if it means using every ounce of my power to remove you from it. And do not touch my brother," he hissed.

Cate's eyes flared with anger, her own power flaring in response. "You think I would do anything to harm your brother?" she snapped. "Your arrogance is astounding. I'm not a monster, Rhysand. I wasn't the one who treated him like he wasn't even a person," she hissed at him.

He flinched, a brief flash of guilt passing over his face before he could mask it. "Don't you dare bring him into this," he said through clenched teeth, his anger flaring again.

"You started it," she ground back. "You treated him like he doesn't have feelings. You told him to go to a pleasure hall, Rhysand."

Rhys's jaw worked, his anger and defensiveness mixing with a hint of shame. "You don't understand," he said, his voice strained. "It was for his own good."

She snorted.

Rhys clenched his jaw, bristling at her reaction. "What is that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"It means that I find your excuses pathetic," she shot back, her eyes narrowed. "You claim to care about him, yet you treat him like he's less than nothing. You tell him to go to a pleasure hall, to lose himself in mindless pleasure instead of facing his own emotions. It's repulsive."

Rhys flinched again, her words hitting a nerve. "It's not that simple," he said, his voice low and defensive. "You don't know what he's been through, what he had to endure."

Cate scoffed, her eyes flashing with anger. "Oh, I don't?" she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I don't know what he's been through? I know him, Rhysand. Don't you dare tell me l don't understand." 

"You think you understand him just because you have shared his bed a few times?" he shot back, his own anger flaring again. "You think you know him better than I do, better than his family and his friends?" 

Her magic flared. He had been unprepared for the cold fury on her face.

Rhys took an involuntary step back, startled by the intensity of her magic and the anger etched on her face. He was so used to being in control, to being the one everyone feared, but for the first time, he felt a hint of trepidation.

"You come to my house and threaten me, insult me and my relationship, insult Azriel..."

Rhys opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Her words had caught him off guard, and for once, he was at a loss for words.

Her magic heaved, cracking.

Rhys watched her with a mix of awe and caution. He could feel the power in her, the cold, sharp edge of her magic that crackled through the air like lightning. He had never seen her so angry, so intense.

"You have no right to speak to me like that, no right to dictate who I sleep with or who I care about," she hissed, her voice dripping with anger. "Azriel is not your property, Rhysand, and I will not tolerate you treating him or me like we are lesser than you."

Rhys clenched his fists, his own anger and defensiveness flaring again. "You think I treat you as lesser?" he said, his voice tight. "I'm the High Lord of this court. You're a guest here. You don't get to come here and tell me what I can and cannot do."

Her magic exploded.

Rhys was caught off guard by the sudden explosion of her magic, the force of it knocking him back a step. He barely managed to keep his balance, his own magic reacting defensively in response, a shield forming around him instinctively.

He stared at her, his eyes widening with surprise and a hint of fear. He had seen the extent of her magic before, but never had he seen her lose control like this. Never had he seen her so unbridled and raw.

The air around her crackled with energy, charged with the cold, sharp power of her magic. It was a force to be reckoned with, a storm of anger and frustration. And yet... there was something else there too, something deeper, something more vulnerable.

He swallowed

"I have not survived for a thousand years so you'll tell me what to do in my own house," she said darkly.

Rhys's jaw worked, his own anger and defensiveness clashing with a hint of uncertainty. He had never seen her so intense, so powerful. He could feel the cold, sharp edge of her magic in the air, and it sent a chill down his spine.

And then her magic snapped. He wasn't quick enough.

Hadn't expected another surge, as she forced him back, back towards the door. "Out of my house, now," she hissed.

Rhys stumbled back, caught off guard by the sheer force of her magic. He tried to fight it, to push back against her power, but it was like trying to swim upstream against a fast-moving current. She was stronger than he had given her credit for, and he found himself being pushed towards the door.

He gritted his teeth, his own anger and frustration mounting once more. "You can't just throw me out of here," he said through clenched teeth, struggling against her magic. "This is my court, my territory. You have no right-“

"I have every right," she cut in, her eyes flashing with anger. "You came here, uninvited, threatening me and insulting me in my own home. I have the right to defend myself, and if that means kicking you out, so be it."

Rhys clenched his jaw, his own anger and sense of entitlement warring with the sheer force of her magic. He wanted to fight back, to show her that he was the more powerful one here, but he knew deep down that he was outnumbered. Her magic was far stronger than he had expected, and he knew that he couldn't overpower her in her own home.

Not when her wards closed around him like a vice

Rhys felt the wards close around him, constricting his movement, and cutting off his connection to his own magic.

He tried to struggle against them, but it was like trying to push through a solid wall. He was trapped, unable to use his powers or fight back against her.

The realization of his helplessness hit him like a ton of bricks. He was the High Lord, the most powerful fae in the Night Court, and yet here he was, being held captive by a woman he had underestimated and disrespected.

The thought made him furious, his heart thudding with anger and frustration. He couldn't believe he had let himself be put in this position, that he had been taken down by her so easily.

But there was something else, too. A hint of fear, a hint of uncertainty. The realization that he had misjudged her, that he had underestimated the extent of her power and her determination to stand up for herself.

He swallowed, his mind racing as he tried to find a way out, a way to break free from her wards and regain his power. But there was nothing he could do. He was trapped, completely at her mercy.

"Out," she repeated, her voice razor sharp.

Rhys listened.

[lovemyromance]

I was thinking back to all the frankly ridiculous arguments I've had to fight against EL/GAs about over the few months I've been in this fandom and I realized ...

A lot of these arguments aren't even based on canon?

Walk with me 🚶🏽‍♀️

Let's make a list of all the things the GA/EL's have flat out ASSUMED Elain/Azriel have needed and why it ultimately means they cannot end up together:

Elain

Needs sunlight (based on when she asked for it ONCE while in her depressive state)

Is miserable in the NC (because she...looked bad in a black dress even though that was the intention...?)

Cannot handle anything grisly or dark (?? Even though she literally stabbed the king of Hybern?)

Secretly pines after Lucien (this one I can't even explain because nowhere in her frosty, detached interactions with Lucien is she giving "pining")

Is a socialite who needs to go host balls and be an emissary (based on...? Who she was when her family was rich at age 13? And definitely has not shown that kind of personality even after becoming rich again?)

Azriel

Is a dark murderer/torturer and needs a torture assistant (based on.... literally nothing in canon because everything in canon shows how exhausted he is having to play that part. How detached he's become.)

Needs his shadows constantly around him and when they disappear it means he's hiding his true self (based on ... literally nothing?? In fact everything in canon text shows how Azriel's shadows disappear multiple times when he's happy or at ease or comfortable with the people he's around)

Is only capable of lusting after women (based on ... literally nothing again, because he loved Mor for 500 years and then moved onto Elain. Mor said she could strip naked in front of him and he wouldn't touch her.)

Needs banter and to be challenged in a relationship (based on... you guessed it - nothing! He gets headaches around his friends and says maybe 100 words per book - but yeah... sure ... sounds like a man who needs constant challenge and "banter")

All these are literally just headcanons anti-Elriels are clinging onto and trying to pass off as canon. Then, they're finding "evidence" that fits in with their inaccurate underlying assumptions, and using it to say "EL/GA is endgame bc Azriel & Elain need XYZ"

Except they don't need any of that! They quite frankly, need the literal opposite of all the assumptions antis have made. If you go off an underlying assumption that is incorrect - every single theory or conclusion you draw going forward is going to be - wait for it - INCORRECT!

That's just like ... common sense I fear.

[ladydeath-vanserra]

its amazing that every single thing in the acotar series paints Rhys the one In the Right so often and the v few times he's ever acknowledged to be in thr wrong he gets forgiven in like. a chapter. and I'm not even talking about Rhys and Nesta bec I understand nuance and neither of them are 100% in the right for most situations

but Rhys with Az and warning him off Elain? Rhys is in the right. Rhys going behind Mors back and letting her abusers into her safe space and then lying to her face? it's a war 🥺 and he'd have killed Amarantha on the spot 🥺🥺🥺. he gets to cry about it and all is forgiven. Rhys threatens Amrens life if she didn't help with Azriel behind her ready to attack if need be. Rhys making a rape joke about Luciens abused mother? Feyre growls at Lucien when Lucien gets upset, Azriel and Cassian #stiffen waiting in case Rhys gives the order to strike Lucien dead. Rhys keeping a life threatening pregnancy from his wife and putting a gag order on EVERYONE else? Well Nesta was cruel and mean about it and just wanted to hurt her so she's the one in the wrong, actually

meanwhile Nesta has been punished again and again for the cabin years. She has been murdered for helping Feyre after agreeing to help Feyre bec of "everything Feyre sacrificed for them". Nesta is punished again and again by the ICs snarky comments, by Feyre not painting her. Nesta is punished for using the bar tab left open and a bribery to self medicate to smother her powers that scare her and to numb herself. Rhys somehow butts his way into the relationship between Feyre and Nesta, every time they find common ground and begin to mend their relationship. SOMEHOW every time Rhys gets involved they now have to start back at square one

yes. Nesta could have been a kinder sister. yes. Nesta could have done more in the cabin. yes. Nesta could have asked for/taken the help. yes. Nesta could not have abused the money that Rhys just So Selflessly bribed her with Gave Her

Have you Noticed that Nesta has zero beef with Azriel because he does not instigate a fight with her. He never insults her and they are perfectly civil.

Mor compared her to the people who shoved nails in her stomach and told her to "keep her forked tongue behind her teeth." Amren calls her a waste of life. Cassian watches Nesta waste away and then comments on her breasts in the same breath he notices how thin she is. Nesta almost dies to the Hike from Hell and being severely dehydrated and weak carrying the bags. he let's his friends talk shit about her and agree with them when they suggest she'd thrive in the Court of Nightmares. Rhys is a fuckhead who takes away her home, her autonomy, uses Elain against her, uses her trauma and grooming against her to get her to seduce Eris

I. fucking. get. it. She failed as a sister. I GET IT. she doesn't deserve to be punished for it over and over and over again. it is within Feyres right to cut her off and not interact with her. the IC, the *governing body* do not get to keep kicking and kicking her while she's already down

how much beating does this girl have to take to make it even. How much does she have to give to earn basic decency

she's just a girl. She's a traumatized, flawed, imperfect 23 year old girl getting beat down by 500 year olds