#nesta is aunt of the year

[lyssasdrafts]

Feyre: We decided that if, Cauldron forbid, anything happens to us, we would like Nesta and Cassian to be Nyx's god parents

Nesta: That is great news! Nyx! When something horrible happens, you'll be all mine!

Rhysand: It really is an 'if' situation

Nesta, taking Nyx: All mine!

[readychilledwine]

Hi I hope you’re doing well! Can I request an azriel x feysands daughter reader fic where azriel leaves velaris and the inner circle temporarily after elain chooses lucien over him. He comes back like 50 years later and at that point rhys and feyre have two kids, nyx and reader. Azriel meets reader at a bar and the bond snaps, azriel is so shocked by the bond snapping that he doesn’t notice that she looks just like rhys and feyre. After going on dates and stuff, reader introduces azriel to her parents and everyone is hella confused.

Small World

Warnings - best friends daughter, implied smut, angry rhys

A/N - Azriel can't catch a break. Poor guy. Also, peep this cute divider from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Part Two is Here

Azriel held your hand tight as you two walked through Velaris. You were running late to a family dinner where he'd be meeting your parents, brother, and a few other people for the first time.

He watched familiar streets passing by, shadows grown eerily quiet. You stopped at a familiar restaurant, one he had frequented over 20 years ago. He came here with Rhys and Cassian almost weekly before they became mated, and he left the Night Court for 20 years.

He had told you his story of a beautiful love forbidden to him due to her mating bond. He had told parts of his past, of his journeys outside of night, of the past years he had spent healing.

He had been back in Velaris for almost 3 years. 2 of which were spent solely with you.

You had been moving into the apartment next to his when you two crossed paths. You had been struggling to carry a heavy box, so he had taken it from you, helping you get it into your apartment.

That quick interaction turned into nights spent reading together so you both weren't alone. Then coffee in the mornings. Then days spent shopping. Evenings spent out to dinner.

You two spoke about everything.

Well.

Almost everything.

Families were a mostly banned topic.

Azriel knew you had a brother 5 years older than you. He knew both of your mother was involved in your life, as well as married and mated. He knew you had 2 blood aunts, one of which was married, one of which was not. He knew your father was a banned topic.

You knew he had 2 blood brothers, the ones who had scarred his hands, 2 chosen brothers, and several others he considered family. That his mother was wonderful, that he hoped his father found a shallow grave.

But you had told him bringing family into your love life normally ended poorly.

And he had told you he had not been around or spoken to his found family since he left.

You two closed that book, choosing to be just you and him.

You stopped before hitting the private back room Azriel had been in many times. "As a reminder, my dad and brother are dicks."

Azriel leaned down kissing you softly. "I can handle a few assholes, angel."

You sighed heavily. "Just remember, I didn't tell you because they ruin everything. Please." He nodded again, resting his forehead on yours.

You two stood there breathing for a few seconds as he ran a hand through your sandy blonde hair. "Let's just go in. An hour," he murmured, moving to kiss your neck. "One hour and then we go home."

Home.

The cabin you two had just purchased and moved into.

Small. Intimate. Cozy.

Everything you two both didn't know the other never knew.

Everything you two wanted as soon as the bond snapped a couple months ago.

You shared one last kiss, opening the door.

Your father and mother had their backs to you, speaking with your brother who instantly paled the second he saw who you were with.

Azriel had gone stiff, eyes locked with a shocked Cassian.

Nesta almost dropped her wine with a gasp, handing flying to her mouth as she stepped back and shook her head.

Azriel looked at you again. Studying you harder.

Sandy blonde hair.

Button nose.

High cheek bones.

Part illyrian.

Eyes that reflected starlight.

Eyes that were near violet.

Rhysand's eyes.

"Mom, dad," you approached them, ignoring the tension in the room and pulling Azriel with you.

Rhys turned first, whiskey glass shattering in his grip before a look of shock and anger hit him. Feyre immediately turned after that. She was too stunned to move. "This is my mate and boyfriend-"

Elain whispered before you could finish, eyes watering with sadness and hope, "Azriel."

Rhys nodded, scratching his jaw. "I know who he is, babygirl."

Azriel watched you as you looked between them before your face fell. "You're that Azriel."

Feyre clapped her hands, forcing light and air into the room. "Let's sit and eat! This is a um, lovely, surprise. We should all be excited!"

Aunt Elain immediately moved, sitting on Azriel's other side. His hand found yours under the table, lacing your fingers together. Your father sat across from him, mother to one side, Cassian to the other. Nyx sat next to Nesta and her Elain as you all eat at the circled table.

"So where have you been," Nyx refused to be intimated by the situation, secretly filing this away as an example of why he was the better child. "And when did you start seeing my sister?"

Azriel shifted, clearing his throat. "I spent the last 17 years traveling the world. I've been back in Velaris for 3 years. I started seeing y/n 2 years ago."

Cassian drank his beer as if it was water before setting the mug down and refilling it. "You have been back for 3 years and didn't think to yourself that you should go visit your brothers?"

"I wasn't ready."

"But you were ready enough to fuck my daughter as a revenge move?"

"Rhys!" "Dad!"

Rhys put a hand up to your mother and gave you a look. "You would feel the same had it been Elain who ran, Feyre Darling. And you," he turned towards you. "You should have told me who he was."

"Do not speak to her like that. She is not a child."

Nesta looked up, sending a silent prayer to the Cauldron. "She is my child," Rhys growled. "You've been bedding your niece."

Nesta slammed her hands down, "Enough! She is not his niece by blood, and she is clearly upset. If you all cannot be civil, I'm taking y/n home." The room went silent with Lady Death's power flickering through it. "This is the first real family meal we have gotten to have in 20 years," a sad gaze met Azriel's. Guilt shook him, reminding him if the friendship he and Nesta had formed. The friendship he had abandoned. "Can we please just enjoy it."

You were uncomfortable, tears beginning to form as his scarred hand refound yours under the table and squeezed. Rhys nodded, going back to his food as the sound of utensils barely scraping and drinks being poured filled the air.

You should have put two and two together.

Scarred hands.

Massive wingspan.

Mysterious male.

Pretty dagger.

Of course he was that Azriel. The Azriel your Aunt Elain had been pining for for years now.

The Azriel who left in the dead of night leaving only a note.

The Azriel whose seat sat empty your whole life as your dad's stare always lingered on it.

You squeezed his hand back, glancing at the white wine on the table and your empty glass. It was a rare occurrence for you to drink, but now seemed like the perfect time. "Daddy, can I have some wine please?"

You hadn't thought about that either as two deep male voices replied as they reached for the wine, "Of course, baby."

The silence was deafening. Your real father too stunned to speak, Azriel's face growing red with embarrassment.

Cassian, always the joyful uncle, broke into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, as did your mother. The two of them gripping each other tightly as your father sat blinking over and over, trying to erase this moment from him mind.

It was then the tears fell, and you stood, leaving them to eat as you went into the bathroom.

Azriel and Rhys stared at each other. "We have to get through this for her. You have to get over it. It would have happened regardless of me being here or me leaving."

Rhys growled. "You left without warning, without consulting us, without-"

"You told me to do whatever I needed do to move on and prevent war with Autumn and Day. I did what I had to. I got help, I saw the world, I moved on. I did not plan on coming home and meeting y/n. I didn't even know she was yours until tonight." Azriel took a deep breath before turning to Nesta. "She needs you. Please."

She stood, her and Feyre went after the young female without hesitation. Nyx stood, offering an arm to Elain and forcing her from the room as his father and uncles, well, uncle and soon to be brother, spoke. "You want to talk about fucked up abandonment, Rhys? Where the hell have you been the past two years of her life?"

"Do not speak to me about things you do not understand or know about."

"How can he know," Cassian started gently. "How can he know how we're all working on fixing our relationships with her if we don't tell him. We aren't innocent, Rhys. Maybe this is the first step. Accepting them, loving them despite everything," a silent message was sent to Azriel through Cassian's eyes, "Maybe that's what it takes to bring y/n home."

Rhys looked up, eyes being to line with tears. "What does she say about me?"

Azriel sighed, drinking his whiskey heavily. "That her father favored her brother. Despite his power and ability to look and find the truth, he believed her brother without hesitation and would punish her for his actions at times. That he threatened her once by reminding her that as an illyrian, and as a female, her worth was in whom she was sold to."

Azriel watched the visible flinch. "I can't help but to wonder how bad the argument must have been for that to have been what you said to her."

"I caught her with Tamlin," Rhysand's voice broke. "I caught them whispering about running away together. About sailing somewhere and living out their lives, just the two of them now that he handed Spring over to his heir. She didn't know what he had done to Feyre, who he was. I," Rhys shook his head. "I lost my shit without explaining. Tamlin also didn't know she was mine. I hid her so well for her protection. To prevent anyone from trying to purchase her. I did such a great job protecting her that my protection backfired and she began to rebel."

Cassian sighed softly. "She moved out because Rhys told her he gave up. That if she wanted to explore the world without his hands, without our guidance, then that's what she should go do. He set her up with enough money to last 5 years, bought that apartment complex you two live in, and sent her on her way."

"She just doesn't listen."

Azriel shook his head. "Why would she listen when she isn't heard? From her side, you treat her like your father treated Selene."

"I love her much more than my father ever loved my sister."

"Then show her," Azriel leaned back into his chair. "Show her before I take her from this place, too."

Cassian stiffened, his breathing becoming deep but strained. "They're about to come out. Y/n wants to leave."

Azriel stood, "Then we go. I won't force her to stay here. Let me know when you're ready to talk, Rhys. And if you never are, do not be surprised when I do what I have to in order to keep her safe and happy."

You were out the door quickly and into Azriel's chest, shadows pulling you two away to wherever he took you for comfort, to wherever you felt safe. Feyre turned to Rhys, fire blazing in her eyes, "Fix. This."

PS - there will be a part two

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

[fieldsofwriting]

And so, the stars aligned.

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader.

Summary: After the Cauldron had transformed you and your sisters into High Fae, it takes some adjusting. But as life settles down, your left with searing normalcy and dealing with your sisters being grossly in love.

Warnings: None!

This is going to be part of a ongoing series! Feel free to send over any other ideas!

Requests are open!!

part two part three part four Masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You were happy for your sisters. Truly. Feyre had found Rhysand and made her life here better than anything you could have imagined back home in the rundown cabin you had grown up in. Nesta, well she was still Nesta. But now she had Cassian. And they were annoyingly in love.

But here you were. Sitting in the gardens with your only other single sister, book perched in your lap as you get distracted watching how Elain floats gracefully through the gardens. She had a few smears of dirt across her cheek, and a light sweat sheen made it look like she was glowing as the sunlight hit her. The sound of footsteps echoed as someone approached the gardens. Looking over you saw Azriel standing there- noting how he purposefully made himself known before entering. He doesn't bother to look in your direction at first, his eyes trained on where Elain was kneeling.

"Az!" Elain chirps, quickly standing and smoothing out her dress. Smiling up at the Shadowsinger. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Azriel had the faintest smile as he looked at Elain. "I wanted to make sure you were doing well." Finally he looks over in your direction. His hazel eyes meeting yours as he seemed to share the same sentiment towards you as well. Elain seemed to remember that you were there as well. Looking over at you, she gives an easy smile.

"I think we're doing well. What about you? y/n?" She asks overly sweet. And you knew your sister well enough to know she was telling you to answer and find a way out so she can be alone with Az.

Smiling as well, though admittedly tighter due to her sisters look. You understood her hesitance with her mate. But did she really not even respect the man enough to just flat out reject him? He clearly wasn't accepting her indifference as rejection. "I'm well." You nod, standing and stretching with a slight yawn. "I think I'm going to take a nap."

Elain winks at you, taking Azriel's arm as she tugs him further into the gardens. Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you head upstairs toward the room Feyre had crafted just for you. And you couldn't lie. It was so nice to have your own room, your own space. A luxury you couldn't have ever imagined the nights you laid on the floor of the old cabin.

You were young when your mother passed. You had barely known what life was like before poverty. Just two years younger than Feyre, it had been enough to ensure that you couldn't read- but like Feyre you knew the Alphabet…at least somewhat. You wondered if you could teach yourself to read now? You look at the book you had in your hands and sighs. Tossing it aside, you just occasionally flipped through the pages to make it look like you were doing anything else but getting lost into your head. Letting yourself fall back onto your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Boredom was going to kill you. Not wanting to wither away just yet. You got up with a heavy sigh and decided to go find Nyx. If there had been nothing good about becoming a High Fae, he would be your shining light. He was the Archeron's pride and joy. You and your sisters argue over being the favorite Aunt. Nesta claims that since she saved his, and Feyre's life, she is automatically the favorite. You and Elain told her that Nyx doesn't know her yet so it's not a fair assumption. Secretly, deep down you know that you're the favorite.

Making your toward Rhys's office- where you knew Feyre tended to be around this time. Gently knocking on the door, "It's open!" Rhys answers and looks toward the door expectantly. Stepping in you give a small smile.

"I have come to steal your son." You joke, walking in and seeing the baby in Feyre's arms. Her and Rhys laugh as Nyx perks up at you reaching his little arms out. You can't help the smile growing on your face as you take him. "Well hello there, Nxyie!" You coo as you brush the hair out of his face. He babbles to you, and you nod along to it. As if it isn't just gibberish.

"Nothing exciting going on y/n?" Rhys asks, standing from his desk as he wraps an arm around Feyre and presses a kiss to her temple. You shake your head.

"You're welcome to join us, we were just about to go out to lunch." Feyre offers, her smile is soft and sweet. She was practically glowing here. Gently you shook your head.

"Nah, when's the last time you guys had some alone time? I've got Nyx go enjoy." You give your sister and her mate a gentle smile. They look at each other- eyes glossing over as they talk to each other. You try and keep the ache in your heart out. Watching your sisters fall in love was the best thing that ever happened to you, to them. You were so insanely happy for them it was sometimes hard to remind yourself that mates take time. And yours would be out there, and you'd find them one day.

Feyre turns to you, "If you're okay with watching him then we'd be happy to take you up on the offer. "

"I can compen-" Rhys begins but you cut him off before he can continue.

"He is my nephew, Rhysand." You hardly used his full name. Giving a playful glare as you turn away with Nyx, who giggles at the movement. "You don't have to pay me to watch him."

Feyre laughs and shrugs, looking up at him. "I told you she wouldn't accept." Rhys hands his hands up defensively.

"Don't say I didn't try." He gives an easy smile to you and Feyre. In a few quick steps he presses a kiss to Nyx's head. "Behave for your Aunt." He tells him gently, then presses a kiss to the top of your head. "And you, call me if you need anything." You nod and smile as Feyre also quickly kisses Nyx's cheek and tells him that she loves him. Hugging you as they leave.

You look back at the infant in your arms. It was strange to how much this little guy looked like your sister, but there was so much more Rhys in him. He blinks his big blue eyes up at you. "Well Nyx. It's just me and you." You sigh and give an exaggerated shrug to jostle him- earning a giggle.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Laying on the floor, you continue to play with Nyx. His attention currently on a crinkly kids book. And you try to read the book with him- able to make out a few words.

"Pretending to read that one too?"

You jump as you whip around to see Azriel there. HIs face remains stoic, but his eyes have a glint of amusement in them. You wrinkle your nose at the Illyrian in front of you. "Spying on us?"

He raises any eyebrow and crosses the room, sitting next to you and picking up Nyx. Holding him up above him, "Hello Nyx." Nyx babbles in return and Azriel nods along as well. He looks back toward you as he lowers Nyx and passes him back the book. "He says that you were reading to him."

You smile, leaning back on your hands as you look at him. Raising an eyebrow while Azriel continues to look at you- you'd normally shy away under the Shadowsingers gaze. But for some reason today you can't seem to do that right now. "Is that so?"

Azriel simply nods. "But if you ask me, I think you were just fake reading to him."

If there was one person who had picked up on your inability to read. It would have been the Spy master himself. "What makes you think that?"

Not expecting the challenging tone from you, you could swear that Azriel looked shocked for a second. But he leans forward, equally as challenging. "What is your book about?"

Shit. You blink, what would make it so he wouldn't question you? "…romance. Pure. Filthy romance. I got it from Nesta." You lie quickly and pray to the Mother that he believed you.

Azriel nods, seeming satisfied with that answer. "You ran out of the garden quickly." He notes. You could have sworn that as you looked at him leaning back there was a…sadness to his voice. But that would be ridiculous. He was in love with Elain.

"I wanted to give you and Elain time." You shrug, looking back at Nyx who is now smashing two trucks together. You take one of the rubber ducks on the floor, setting it on your nephew's head.

"I went out there to talk to both of you."

You don't dare to look at him. "Is something wrong?"

"…No." He says after some contemplation. Taking another duck and setting it on the babes shoulder. Nyx seemed unbothered by it. Continuing to smash the trucks.

"Then, no harm no foul. Right?" You smile as you look back over at Azriel. And the spy master didn't flinch at your words, but something told you that he didn't agree.

"I suppose." He nods. Getting up and bowing to you. "Goodbye Nyx, Goodbye y/n."

You scoop up Nyx and make him wave, trying to ease the tension. "Say bye-bye Uncle Az!"

And there was a hint of a smile from Azriel before he turned and walked out. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: This was a lot of exposition, but I swear that there is more drama coming up!!

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 17: The Sovereign, the Slayer, and the Seer.

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Azriel and Nyra are sweet. Also, Nyra wields her power in different ways.

Author's message: This is the last chapter before a time skip where I'm going to speed up things by inserting all the fluff and the smut I wrote in the office, the public transport, and everywhere I got carried away.

@feerique always and eternally grateful to you!!✨✨

Word count: 6.8k (Enjoy!!)

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Nyra remembered the day she poisoned her mother for the first time. 

It hurt every time her mother slashed her palm, seeing Nesta being moulded into something else, seeing Elain and Feyre walking on eggshells every day. 

Their mother had plans for them—Nyra to be poisoned, Nesta married to an old duke, Elain and Feyre sent to a horrible aunt. It was too much. Everyone was at risk. And their father was as unreliable and absent as ever. 

There was also the story of left-handed women in the Archeron family. Long before the partition of the lands between the fae and humans, their ancestors had resided in a land of snow, the proof of which lived on in their blue eyes. 

One ancestor had been summoned by a fae who prophesied about a left-handed female born into the family with a fate woven in darkness. To prevent that, the fae suggested forcing the left-handed ones to ‘become’ right-handed. 

That led to the cruel practice of slashing the left palms of left-handed girls, to force them to use their right hand. Failure to do so before puberty resulted in poisoning to death. No left-handed girl in the family survived.

Her mother had started slashing her palm every three to four weeks somewhere around the age of five and had started poisoning her by the age of twelve, nearing puberty. Death awaited her but that was merciful compared to the life her sisters would’ve lived.

So she did it. 

She poisoned her mother, passed it off as an illness, and the horrible woman finally passed away. 

Back then, Nyra had been poisoned enough for an aftermath that would last her entire life as an incurable illness. 

Then came the Cauldron. And then she’d died. Really died. 

Yes. It was a very painful affair. As if she was being ripped from. . . something.

Nyra was the only one who did not remember the kidnapping or how she’d been thrown into the Cauldron. Her only vague memory was about being drenched, walking, laying down, and a blue light before everything turned black. 

Her left hand had begun trembling and her scar reminded her of Azriel’s hands. 

“My half brothers were not pleased with the existence of a bastard. They wanted to test if their father’s illegitimate progeny had enough healing prowess so. . . they. .” 

Azriel hesitated to continue. Nyra hummed, looking at the night sky. She laid her head against his arm and continued to not look at him even though she felt his gaze on her. 

“What do you think of it?” Nyra straightened herself and looked at him, caught unaware by his question. He seemed expectant and nervous. 

“I don’t have the right to have an opinion, Az.”  She answered softly.

“I am a bastard.” 

“And?”

“My hands are like this.”

“And?” 

“Surely you must think something about it.”

Nyra looked at the night sky. “Why do you sound like you’re trying to push me away?” 

She now turned to him fully, angling her body accordingly. “It’s like you’re asking me to- I don’t know. What are you trying to do? Stop me from wanting to be your friend?” 

Azriel had nothing to say. He looked down at his scarred hands like an admonished child. 

“I’m not- I don’t even know what to say. Just. . Ugh!” That was the first time Nyra had ever let herself make a sound like that. Let herself not be ladylike as her mother had demanded. “Do you hate me or something?” 

“I don’t hate you.” He immediately spoke, sounding panicked. 

“I think you’re brave.” She whispered. “I also think that if your half brothers were alive, I might’ve struck them with lightning. Or poisoned them.” 

“Murder is a crime.” Azriel tried to joke. She found him so adorable. 

“Nobody can tell if I summoned the lightning or if it was actually a natural disaster.” She drawled with a smile.

“I can.” Azriel was now amused. 

“I’d like to think that if I were murdering someone, you’d wait with a shovel to hide the body.”  

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. “I think I might just hand you the Truth Teller for your murder.”

“Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your pretty knife, Az.” 

“That pretty knife has drawn much blood.” 

“It’s too late for me.” Her words might have sounded out of context but the way Azriel’s features morphed into surprise, she knew he’d understood. 

“You. . .” He was looking at her again, lips parted. 

“What?” She laughed.

“I didn’t. . . I. .”

“I suppose it’s baffling.” 

“Consider me baffled.” He exhaled and looked straight ahead. “Wow. That’s. . .”

“Scary?”

“Surprising, baffling, mind blowing, yes. Scary, no.” 

“Would be the shock of anyone’s life if a woman like me scared the Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Azriel immediately looked at her, his gaze shaking her soul. “You’re a myriad of mysteries, Nyra Archeron, and I may be too curious for my own good.” 

She looked away with a smile, closing her eyes. 

“How about we exchange secrets?” Azriel’s proposal was tempting. Feeding her desire to know the elusive Spymaster. 

“Go on.”

“I was twelve when I first killed.” 

And Nyra grinned brightly at that. “Same!” 

It was strange to be talking and bonding over such topics but Azriel looked at her and grinned back. And under the night sky with a crescent moon hanging over them, they’d confessed everything about their first kill. 

By the end of that conversation, Azriel had an arm around Nyra’s shoulder and she was leaning against him. 

“I feel light.” He spoke softly. And she knew she felt the same. Years of bottling things up and she was finally unravelled. 

“I want to tell Feyre and Elain.” About how she’d killed their mother.

“Feeling ready?”

“I feel light.” She repeated his words and looked at him. If life was a little better, kinder, maybe they would’ve kissed. But this was the best of reality and this moment would continue to live in her memory. 

He squeezed her arm and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and reality became infinitely more beautiful. 

Nyra smiled. 

The timing was bad. 

War was inevitable. The king wanted the Archeron sisters. Everyone was preparing. Nyra was learning to control her powers and access more information from her archives but. . . She was so attracted to Azriel. 

In her defence, Azriel should not be so. . . perfect. 

He was kind and so sweet to her. Always so patient and made time for her. Such a wonderful soul. So reliable. 

And he had a great face. That was just. . . Nyra clutched her sheets and turned over to the other side. And she turned again. 

She would’ve liked to complain because how was his every movement so sensual? And why did he spar shirtless? 

Nyra continued yawning but she couldn’t sleep. The first light of dawn peeked in from the corners of the curtains. 

Frustrated, she grabbed a robe and stepped out, walking through the dimly lit corridor. She reached the staircase and since she’d never been upstairs, she ascended. A door was ajar and she could see the lavender sky before the sun truly appeared for the day. 

As she neared it, the light of the dawn was covered by the glaring darkness. Dark swirls wafted over to her and stopped in front of her. 

She lifted a hand as she always did and welcomed the shadows to play with her. They perched themselves on her head and shoulders and crawled along the skirts and sleeves of her robe and finally played with her fingers and cheeks. Their cool touch made her sleepier. 

The call of her name jolted her from her haze. Feyre was standing by the door. 

“Hello.” She sounded so tired and sleepy and soft. Feyre took her hand and took her with her. The terrace of the House of Wind was in fact an open space and Cassian was yelling and Nyra nearly stumbled only for the shadows to catch her waist. 

“Careful.” Feyre warned, immediately at her side now that she’d realised her sleepy sister might need more assistance if she were to reach anywhere safely. 

The shadows were cool and so gentle and their wispy sounds were lulling her to sleep so nicely. Feyre helped her lean against a wall somewhere and Nyra no longer felt her hand. 

She enjoyed the sensation of the shadows massaging her head and shoulders and hands. And she was so sleepy she could simply fall and not care where she fell. 

“Nyra!” The loud voice jolted her from her haze. Was that Cassian?

“You woke her up, idiot.” Another voice came, low and deep and she could fall in that voice and sleep there. 

“Overprotective bastard.” A male laugh followed that comment. 

Footsteps and more voices and she forced herself to open her eyes. Her vision took their time to clear up and finally revealed three shirtless Illyrians to her. Nyra blinked and then frowned. 

“Won’t you catch a cold?” She meant to sound stern but she sounded too soft. A yawn escaped her. 

“I’ll be fine. Feyre darling is here to warm me up.” Rhysand sounded like he was eagerly waiting for that.

“And Cassian and Azriel will warm each other up?” She asked, her head tilting to the side. 

“You’re welcome to join us, Nyra.” Cassian grinned and she couldn’t help her smile at the early morning teasing. 

“I’d like to sleep.”

“You’d be missing out.” Cassian teased again and received another yawn as a reply. 

“Wouldn’t you rather have Azriel all to yourself?” Nyra smiled softly. She looked at Azriel and frowned. “Where are your shadows?”

The shadowsinger smiled at her. “With you.” 

And as if they wanted to remind her, one of the tendrils tugged at her fingers. She looked down at her hand and found shadows on her hands and the length of her robe. 

“Do you want to go back to your room?” Azriel asked. He sounded kind and his intentions were kind and her stupid self didn’t even bother registering that because his voice was far too sensual to her ears and it made her shiver. 

“You’re cold.” Azriel noted. And when her eyes cooperated with her, she found herself in front of a very sweaty, shirtless Azriel whose chest glowed in the early light of dawn. She blinked, took a step back, and lost her balance. 

Azriel had moved faster than she could comprehend and had caught her but sleep was betraying her for the second time that morning by abandoning her when she needed it the most. 

Because how was anyone supposed to see a shirtless Azriel in close proximity and remain standing? Nyra did not know how so she frowned. 

“I’m not cold.” She mumbled as the shadowsinger helped her stand straight. Her cheeks were warming up.

“And sleepy.” He helped her stand straight. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room.” Azriel placed his arms behind her back and legs and lifted her.

“I was not sleepy earlier when I left my room.” She mumbled, her head laying against his chest. His heartbeat was a beautiful sound. It was speeding up. “Your heartbeat is fast.” 

“I’ve been training awhile now, Nyra.” He made her name sound nicer than it usually was. Made her feel cherished with the way he called her name. 

And she wanted to do that for him. She wanted to love him. To cherish him. 

And she felt herself smile. 

This was. . . freeing.

Was this how it was?

To have a heart without inhibitions or doubts? 

How easy was it to see his face and forget everything else?

“Hm.” She turned her head towards his chest. “You smell nice.”

“I’m sweaty.” He had begun descending the stairs. She could feel it in the way he moved with her in his arms.

“Still nice.” And she found that comfortable space. With the shadows caressing her and Azriel’s warmth and the sound of his heartbeat, she floated away into the cosy dark. 

The realisation that her heart was leaving her to be somebody else’s affected her in a way she did not quite understand. But it was Azriel. . .

Nyra turned to the other side and slept soundly.

****

“What?” Feyre asked, amused by Cassian glancing at her for the third time. She had just entered wearing that starlit gown.

“You just look so. . .” 

“Here we go.” Mor muttered from beside Nyra. 

“Official.” Cassian looked at Mor incredulously. “Fancy.” 

Nyra snorted and Cassian scowled at her. Azriel chuckled from the front door as he entered. His besotted shadows were already floating towards Nyra. 

“Over five hundred years old. A skilled warrior and general, famous throughout territories, and complimenting ladies is still something he finds next to impossible. Remind me why we bring you to diplomatic meetings?” Mor shook her head, feigning disappointment.

When the shadowsinger laughed again, Cassian glared at him. “I don’t see you resorting to poetry, brother.”

Azriel crossed his arms, smiling faintly at the sight of Nyra and his shadows. “I don’t need to resort to it.” 

Nyra looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Really?”

Azriel stared at her, wide eyed at having been caught off guard. He looked away as his cheeks warmed while the greedy little shadows tugged at her fingers, demanding her attention again. And while she fondly played with them, Rhys had appeared. 

“I thought you were leaving.” Nesta’s voice came from atop the stairs. She descended, moved past Cassian and Morrigan, and stopped near Nyra. She patted her twin on the head and walked towards Feyre to declare her intention to go with them. 

“As High Lady, Feyre is no longer my emissary to the human world.” Rhysand smiled at Nesta. “Want the job?”

A spark flared in those silvery blue eyes. “Consider this meeting a trial basis. And I’ll make you pay through the teeth for my services.”

Rhys bowed a little. “I would expect nothing less of an Archeron sister. Welcome to the court. You’re about to have one hell of a first day.” 

Nesta smiled, something unexpected for most of them. She went over to Nyra and sat on the armrest. “Are you okay?”

“Not good, not bad.” Nyra replied. 

Rhysand looked over at Nyra. “Interested in being an emissary, Nyra?”

She looked at him, contemplated the offer, and replied. “When I’m feeling better.” 

“You should.” Nesta spoke, looking at her with mild disapproval. “Make use of those languages you learned.”

“You’re fluent in those languages too.”

“Languages?” Feyre asked. 

“Eight.” Nyra raised her hand.

“Seven.” Nesta raised her hand.

“When?” Rhysand was stupefied. Languages in the mortal and fae lands were quite similar owing to the coexistence of both species until five hundred years ago. 

“Mother nearly screeched at us to learn five. We got carried away.” Nyra answered. 

“I’m not the one who learned another language just to talk to someone she’d only met.” Nesta muttered.

“Tell me about this.” Cassian eagerly asked, forgetting that he was supposed to remain nonchalant with Nesta. 

Nesta looked at him, surprised. She simply stared at him before finally speaking. “Once upon a time, Nyra wanted to talk to someone. But he did not speak any languages we were fluent in. So she learned his language and finally spoke to him.”

“Him?” Rhysand was now grinning like a cat and watching an utterly stone faced Azriel.

“Shut up.” Nyra muttered. The shadows had begun tugging on her fingers, as if someone would somehow take her away. 

“Two minutes into the conversation and she pushes him from the balcony.” Nesta concluded, earning a shocked look from all.

“As she should.” Azriel muttered. 

Nyra looked up at him in disbelief. “You don’t even know what happened.”

Azriel walked over and laid a possessive arm around her. He squeezed the flesh of her shoulder to remind himself that she was here in front of him. “I don’t need to.” 

Azriel simply watched her. He could watch her for so long. Her eyes as they brightened and dimmed during conversations. The movement of her mouth as she spoke and laughed and frowned or cried. 

And she was so willing to allow his scarred hands to touch her. 

Azriel had held Nyra a few times. And he was always marvelling at how unbelievably soft she was. For someone like him, she was so easily pressed against him. 

And he wrapped her in his arms for a hug. When Nyra looked up at him, confused, Azriel realised what he’d done. “My mother likes hugs during her cycle.” 

It was true. 

“She sounds nice.” Nyra pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes in contentment. “Warm hugs are nice.”

At this moment, where war was imminent, Azriel wanted to marry this female. 

Because every moment with her would be worth a lifetime of waiting and an unpredictable future. 

He heard her breathing pattern became even. She was comfortable and about to fall asleep. “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” 

“I won’t.” Nyra sounded tired and ready to fall asleep in his arms and Azriel was sure he would not leave if that happened. He looked at the people around him. 

His stupid brothers were grinning with Feyre soon picking up on the feel of the family. He was already suspicious of Mor being attracted to Nyra. The appearance of Elain at the end of the corridor, walking towards them, caught his eye. 

Elain looked at him and then at Nyra and hurried over. She took Nyra from Azriel’s arms and made her sit. Azriel knelt before her and took her hand. “Sleepy?”

“Hm.”

“Does it hurt?” 

Nyra sat straight, a little alert. “. . . no.” 

“Your tea will be ready soon.” 

“Hm.” Nyra looked at him and frowned when she realised something. “Don’t you have to go?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you still here?”

And could he ever answer that with the truth? That he wanted to be with her and take care of her. And that every moment he took here was his selfishness trying to salvage every scrap of a shared moment. 

At that moment, Rhysand walked over and patted her head with a fond smile. “Tea is on the second shelf from the top right. You know where the mugs are. Books are in the family library but if you need more from downstairs, Azriel’s shadows can get them for you. And-”

“If you want to go to the priestess’ library, ask Clotho for Inanna.” Mor interrupted her cousin. “There’s an ample supply of snacks and if you want something else, just tell the wraiths and they’ll get it for you. And-”

“Tell the shadows if you need anything.” It was Azriel’s turn now. “Tea, cheesecake, books, anything. They’ll get it for you. And if you want to go outside, tell them. They’ll take you wherever you wish.” 

“Do they go shopping?”

“Yes.” He’d discovered that recently when the shadows started spending his money on dresses that they were delighted when Nyra wore. He had no clue exactly which dresses they’d bought and Nyra knew nothing. 

We bought all of them. The little bastards sounded entirely proud. 

Look at the sage green she’s wearing now. 

Very demure. 

Very adorable. 

And we were very mindful. 

They were in their own world, celebrating as if they’d achieved something and Azriel did not even say anything because Nyra looked really. . . gods, he wanted to tear out his heart and give it to her. 

“No going back now.” Cassian grinned. 

Rhysand’s wings were now visible and as Nyra learned, it would be seen by the other High Lords and their diplomats for the first time. “I figure it’s time for the world to know who really has the largest wingspan.”

“Wingspan?” Nyra asked. 

Mor sauntered over with an impish grin. Azriel twirled Nyra around, shielding her from the blonde female but that didn’t deter Mor from nearly shouting. “Azriel has the largest-” Feyre nearly hauled her away. 

“Feyre. She needs to know this. It’s absolutely important.” Morrigan protested as if she’s been stopped from divulging the secret of the universe. “Azriel has the largest mmfph-” Feyre covered Mor’s mouth but the rest of the sentence was not hard for Nyra to guess. 

And Nyra who had been cornered by Azriel looked up at him with an amused smile. “Does the wingspan mean something else?”

Azriel closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t know how to answer that. He opened his eyes and found himself enamoured by her. 

“Is that why you don’t resort to poetry?” She tilted her head with a smile, completely swept away by the urge to tease him. 

Azriel met her gaze. He did not blush, did not shy away, but looked at her with intent. He leaned down to her ear and whispered. “Would you like to find out?” 

Nyra’s smile was no more. The intensity in his eyes was beginning to be reflected in her own. She saw his gaze fall from her eyes to her lips. 

Something more powerful than lightning crackled between them. 

Nyra, now aware of her own attraction towards him, was not in control of her words or actions. 

Azriel, on the other hand, had simply succumbed to the odd bit of courage and had not expected the way she reacted. 

She’s attracted. She finds you attractive! The shadows nearly blew his eardrums with their cheers. Kiss her! Kiss her, you stupid male! 

“Go to your meeting.” Nyra whispered, placing a hand on his chest. She pushed him but he did not budge. 

She met his gaze and saw his yearning. Nyra really hoped she wasn’t hallucinating because if this male was yearning for her, then. . . this was probably the right time to faint. 

Why hadn’t she fainted yet? 

She’d been looking at Azriel’s unreasonably attractive face for this long. Surely, she should’ve fainted by now. Meanwhile, the shadows enveloped them and brought them to another room.

Azriel placed a gentle palm on her cheek. He was close. So close that another breath could lead to a kiss. “Will you be fine?” 

“Yes.” Nyra felt like she would’ve said yes to anything at that moment. This was maddening. Azriel was looking at her lips now. 

“What’s happening?” Nyra whispered.

“Whatever you’d like.” He looked her in the eye.

“You’ll be late.” The implication that he’d be late because he’d be occupied with her did not escape either of them. What they’d be doing to be occupied remained undecided.

“I’m not. . .” She trailed away and then kissed the corner of his mouth. “That’s all I’m brave enough to do.” She looked at his chest where her nails were sort of scratching on his leathers. 

Azriel leaned in, consumed by his own desire and Nyra’s, their eyes fluttering close, and then he stopped. “Not now.” 

Nyra looked up at him, eyes narrowed and irritation flashing in them. 

Azriel laughed lightly and grabbed her waist. “Do you feel this?” He pushed his hips against hers, eliciting a delicious gasp. “If I start, I will make us both finish.” 

Nyra scowled. “Since you have a grand total of zero intentions of doing anything, go.” 

“Must you be so adorable?” Azriel rubbed his nose against hers. 

“Must you be so annoying?” Nyra shot back. Azriel thrust his hips against hers, nearly going mad when she gasped against his lips. His cock was enjoying the friction far too much and ached for clothes to be discarded.

“Are you actually going to this meeting?” She did not sound like she wanted him to go. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Yes, yes, yes, yes. And even when he asked the question, he knew that she wanted him to stay. 

“There’s a war, Azriel.” Her mood dampened and so did his. It was a brutal reminder that things were too dangerous. 

Azriel stepped back and extended a hand. She gave him her left hand, her dominant hand, and he kissed the back of it. “I’ll be back.” 

The pair of them stepped out of the room to meet a very smug lot of busybodies. 

“We will talk.” Nesta gave her a secret smile.

“No, we will not.” Nyra retorted. 

“Anyway,” She looked at the smirking High Lord and his entourage. “All the very best to you nosy lot.” She looked at Nesta. “And if you sense that thing. . . right.” 

Nesta nodded impassively. Nyra saw Elain and her teasing smile and the older sister blanched because Nesta was going away for now but Elain would be here and she could be relentless when she wanted to be. “And stop smirking, Azriel.” 

“You’re not even looking at me.” The shadowsinger spoke. 

“I don’t have to.” Nyra then looked at him pointedly to see him shake his head with a close-eyed smile. 

“Brother dearest.” Rhysand flung an arm over Azriel’s shoulder and from where he stood, the Spymaster disappeared into the shadows to reach ahead at the Dawn Court. Rhys nearly fell before retaining his balance and eventually, his posture. And the company departed for Dawn.

****

What did he even expect when Eris had the ability to speak, Beron continued to exist, and Tamlin—Mother knew how much of that High Priestess’s insolence had rubbed off on him. 

Azriel knew his family could feel his irritation. A few of his shadows were with Nyra but that didn’t make up for him not being there with her. 

When Nesta felt something was wrong, the three Illyrians scouted for danger. They were in the House of Wind to check in on Elain and Nyra and found both sisters together. Both sisters were sitting on the floor with Elain holding Nyra’s cheeks and worrying.  

“Something is wrong.” Elain looked at Rhys. “I can feel it but Nyra is. . .”

“Allow me to help you.” Rhysand sat down with her and tried to enter Nyra’s mind only to be thwarted by a storm. The High Lord looked at the shadowsinger who was already sitting next to Nyra. “Can you reach her?”

Azriel focused on the bond, on that blessing that tied his rotten self to this wonderful person. Please. Nyra. Come back. 

“The Cauldron.” She whispered. Azriel watched her closely, wondering if he had been successful in reaching her. Nyra turned to him, her eyes still brightly gleaming. “It will break soon. There’s so much pain.” 

Her eyes returned to their original blue. “Az.” She gasped. He immediately gathered her in his arms. “It’s too wrong. The balance is at stake.” 

“Nyra?” Rhysand called and she turned to him. “Are you in pain? Do you need anything?”

“I. . . I think the Cauldron was calling for help.”

“Tell us everything.” Cassian had sat down on Elain’s other side. 

“They’re trying to break something.” Nyra said. “Using the Cauldron.”

“The boundary will shatter.” Elain spoke, her eyes now white. “Gods will rise. The mirror will awaken the Sovereign and the Slayer-” Elain stopped abruptly to shut her ears. “No, no, no, no.” And she kept chanting. 

“Elain, please let me in. I can help you.” Rhysand touched her shoulder. And they waited and watched as Rhysand help Elain calm down. She was now unconscious and a wave of night carried her to the bed. 

They turned to Nyra who was looking at Elain. 

“I’m staying.” Azriel spoke, his voice allowing no argument. 

“All right.” Rhysand. “Come to Dawn tomorrow.” The shadowsinger glared at him. “If things are better here.” The High Lord quickly added. Azriel did not deign to reply as he focused on Nyra. 

“All right.” Nyra looked at the General. “How is she?” 

“Physically, she’s fine but I think whatever she felt, it disturbed her.” Cassian himself seemed disturbed. Rhysand patted Nyra’s head and so did Cassian before the two headed for the balcony leaving Azriel, Nyra, and an unconscious Elain in the same room. 

“You could’ve left.” Nyra spoke as she continued to watch Elain. She waved her hand in front of her, lightning crackling at her fingertips as she cast a shield on Elain’s malnourished frame. 

She looked at Azriel and gestured with her head towards the door. They exited and found themselves in front of the door to Nyra’s room.

“I’m worried.” He watched her as she got lost in thought. He touched her shoulder and made her look at him. “Let’s have dinner.” She nodded and followed him. 

Neither of them paid much attention to the food or to anything else. They also did not mind as they entered her room, as she changed into her nightdress, and as Azriel removed his shirt. They quietly laid down, and chastely embraced each other, and fell asleep sharing an intimacy that calmed each other. 

****

“How did you even meet him?” Feyre whispered to Elain. All four Archerons, Azriel, Morrigan, and Rhysand waited as the gates to Lord Nolan’s prison-like estate opened.

“At a ball—his father’s ball.” 

“I’ve been to funerals that were merrier.” Nesta muttered, not caring if she was offending anyone.

“This house has needed a woman’s touch for years.” Elain sharply looked at Nesta before facing ahead. Behind her, both Feyre and Nesta looked at Nyra as if to ask how Nyra even approved of this match. The lightning wielder looked at them, raised her hands in surrender.

The stench of fear and disgust was overwhelming as the fae were escorted to the guardhouse. Nesta readied herself to control her temper and to let go if Graysen so much as breathed wrongly. Nyra remained observant and Feyre stood by her side. 

Do you think Nesta will kill him? Feyre asked, worrying about the consequences of harming humans. 

Probably. Nyra replied, looking around as they entered. 

And what type of person is Lord Nolan?

I might kill him. Feyre let surprise overtake her features for a single second before schooling them. She clutched Nyra’s arm in worry and in an attempt to restrain. 

Graysen entered and looked at Elain earnestly. His father certainly intimidated Elain enough for her stutter. Nesta took over, revealing the news about the wall and the Cauldron. Introductions were made by Feyre and Elain finally braved herself to make her request. Unfortunately, things escalated. 

“I have it on good authority that it was Elain Archeron who was turned fae first. And who now has a High Lord’s son as a mate.” 

Feyre felt Nyra’s calm fury as Lord Nolan said those words. She’d never been once afraid of her older sister. Her sweet older sister who never denied her a story to put her to sleep and keep away the nightmares. 

Nyra who continued to remind Feyre what it meant to have a human heart even though she knew that her older sister had lost her own many years ago. Nyra whose words carried her for all of her human life so she could finally find her own will. 

Wasn’t he the one who hurt Azriel in Hybern? Nyra was too calm as she asked. Feyre remembered that she had shown Nyra everything that happened in Hybern and now she was worried.

Yes. Feyre’s reply was followed by the roar of thunder. 

Feyre held her older sister by the arm and drew circles on the back of her hand because the rainstorm that had just begun was proof that Nyra was not as calm as her expression portrayed her to be. The High Lady held her sister long enough for Jurian’s side of the story to be heard. Azriel had vanished into the shadows to update Cassian.

We may have to get this problematic creature away from here. Nesta’s voice entered Feyre and Rhysand’s minds.

Jurian?  Rhysand asked. 

Nyra has recognised him as the one who hurt Azriel. Feyre clarified. 

She’ll fry him like a fish. Nesta did not sound worried. 

That explains the rainstorm. Rhysand sighed. Two idiots who don’t even realise their feelings for each other. He remembered the sadist Azriel could be while torturing people. He thought he’d seen the worst and the last of it when the shadowsinger tortured his half-brothers but clearly that wasn’t the case. The raven who’d touched Nyra was still in the dungeons, screaming to be killed. And for the first time, he’d seen the shadows actively torture someone. 

And- Their attention was drawn to Elain and Graysen arguing over the engagement ring. 

“Take. It. Off!” For a human surrounded by fae of such power, his audacity to shout was shocking. Things were about to get ugly. Graysen ignored his father’s warning and moved forward. 

“Take it off!” Graysen roared. Lightning struck the land right outside. Lord Nolan rushed over to the window to see the stables broken and burning despite the sudden rain. Graysen’s gaze followed his father. 

Lightning crackled inside the room, playing with the hands of one fae who had remained utterly calm. Till now. “You will mind your tone when you speak to my family.” 

Nyra tapped Feyre’s hands and the youngest let go of her sister. “You will grant sanctuary to any human who reaches here. And you will shut your mouth and do as I say lest you’d prefer that I eradicate everything in the vicinity.”

“You wouldn’t.” Graysen put on a facade of false bravery. 

“Or would I?” Nyra challenged and the human lordling couldn’t meet it as he looked at the lightning crackling at her fingertips.

And before Graysen could say anything, Lord Nolan grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the room. “Get your faerie people out of here.” 

“Father, you cannot simply-”

“Listen to me well, boy. Whether she’s human or fae is irrelevant—you do not mess with Nyra Archeron.” Lord Nolan was supposedly whispering but the fae could hear it clearly with their hearing. 

The father roughly let go of his son and the latter turned to Elain. “I am not marrying you. Our engagement is over. I will take whatever people occupy your lands. But not you. Never you.” 

And before the insolent reptile could say anything to break Elain’s heart further, Nesta smacked him across the face. The fae departed upon Nesta’s declaration to do so and Nyra spared Jurian a withering glance. Jurian met her gaze and bowed his head. “Greetings to you, Conqueror of the Cauldron.”

****

When the war began, Nyra resolved to look after Elain who was having more nightmares. It was quiet between them and Elain’s visions were showing her all sorts of things. Some were calming, some were outright terrifying. And Nyra quietly absorbed Elain’s exhaustion. 

The end of the first battle came with a plan to glamour soldiers. Nyra simply tapped Feyre’s forehead and granted her access to her power. “Don’t overdo it. It might harm you.” 

And they watched the end of it as Cassian was cornered and he continued to fight valiantly. As Azriel in a cloud of shadows and blue lights fought to reach his brothers. As Nyra worried for the two of them, a flash of her power found its way to the shadowsinger. The sisters watched as Azriel slammed his fist on the ground, releasing a blast of lightning in the surrounding area. 

****

Nyra felt the wrongness of this dream. Thunder collapsed as she woke up. She looked around and found Nesta on her bed but Elain?

She threw away her blankets and took her robe. Elain was not on her bed. Or anywhere in sight. Nyra exited the tent and looked around. Everything seemed fine. 

Her eyes glowed and she found the trail of Elain’s golden magic. Without another thought, Nyra followed it. 

Nyra quietened. Mud and twigs and dirt and leaves clung to the hem of her nightdress and robe by the time she reached the enemy’s camp where Elain’s trail led her to. 

Nyra observed the rotations of the guards patrolling, timed them, waited for the opportunity, and snuck in. She followed the trail cautiously and reached a tent with a table, Elain, and the ghastly Cauldron. Wispy smokes emanated from it, taunting her. 

Once she’d helped Elain stand up straight, the younger sister began ranting about someone else. “There’s a child. A human.” Elain spoke between her sobs, eyes white. “She’s here. . . and she’s so young. We can’t leave her here.” 

Nyra hesitated. It was one thing that Elain was kidnapped. She didn’t even know how they were going to return. She exhaled, giving up on trying to convince Elain to worry about herself before others. 

“Where’s she?” Elain led her to an altar. One look and Nyra realised that Elain had not thought of how this girl was to be saved. 

The girl was human and tied to a wooden pole on the altar. Those surrounding the altar were playing cards and discussing how they would ‘take’ the girl. 

Rage swirled within her and the first clap of lightning struck the nearest group. Nyra stood tall, lightning crackling all over her body. The next group of people were examining the remains of those who had been charred and she moved in a flash of lightning. 

A flash of light was all that any of them saw before they dropped dead, vital organs severed from their bodies. After the massacre, the girl’s cries stopped. Nyra looked at her and stepped on the altar. Elain followed and began helping her. “We’ll get you out of here.” 

Nyra looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, consumed by the power she now wielded freely. Rain poured gently over the land. Lightning fractured the sky and thunder echoed around the world. 

A tingle passed through them and the next thing they knew, they were in the camp with the Inner Circle at a distance, with Rhysand and Azriel facing each other, the former’s authority weak against the latter’s unfiltered wrath. 

The sudden thrum of power in the air caught their attention and they turned and saw the three females. 

“Feyre!” Elain cried. The human girl had fainted in her arms. Feyre looked at Elain and Nyra, horrified at the sight. 

The lightning wielder looked at her blood-coated hands. With her hands, she’d taken lives. She’d massacred them. Her rage was a ferocious beast—waiting for the opportune moment to strike. And it had. She’d been possessed by something so vicious and it was an entirely familiar feeling. 

“Nyra.” Nesta called her but Nyra couldn’t look her in the eye. She was unworthy. But then she felt hands on her own. The blood was now on Nesta’s hands. 

Nyra’s eyes were hot and wet with tears and as much as she clenched her jaw and bit her lip, she wanted to scream. She had killed, killed, and it wasn’t the first time but some part of her was lost. And something vile had taken its place. 

Lightning was a frightening element but it was hers—the element that now bowed to her. The element and everything beyond.

Death embraced her twin, and the skies roared throughout the night, renouncing any sense of tranquillity. And Nyra mourned for herself in Nesta’s arms.

****

The final battle in the mortal lands felt a little personal. Maybe because she was once human. 

A few of Azriel’s shadows were with her, helping her with mundane tasks, bringing Elain and the Truth Teller upon her request for a distraction. 

When Elain stabbed the king’s neck, the twins moved. A hand wrapped in lightning ripped away the king’s arm, freeing their father, and the shadows whisked him away. 

The king’s corpse fell and three Archerons towered over it. 

The inky black surface of the Cauldron had started cracking, not letting Feyre move away and with Amren inside. A bird of light and fire emerged, draining more of the Cauldron’s power. 

Nyra reached the Cauldron in a flash of lightning and placed a hand on it. Her eyes glowed blue. Nesta and Elain had joined her, their eyes now silver and white. Feyre could now let go of the Cauldron and she watched her sisters let their power flow to fix it. 

But what Feyre thought was not what was happening. The Cauldron cracked further and a white light emanated from the cracks seeming as if lightning adorned the artefact. And then, it broke. 

Feyre was soon joined by her mate, the other High Lords, and everyone else when the battle was finally over. 

Her sisters pushed in a wave of power to contain the essence. The cracked pieces of the Cauldron rose into the air and above them. It came together, melted like iron in fire, and took shape. 

A brand new Cauldron was formed with legs and carvings. 

Three hands gathered the essence from the old Cauldron and poured it inside the new one.

And when the power subsided and the Cauldron was settled, the Sovereign of the Skies, the Slayer of the King, and the Seer of the Stars remained. 

****

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[moonfawnx]

Hands touching, fingers entangling

Nyx Archeron x reader

Prologue

A childs’ laugh echoed in Nyx’s ears, as he strode through Velaris. He turned to look at the little boy as the child run to his mother.

“mommy look, it’s the prince!” he said as his eyes shined bright. Nyx smiled and waved at the child, as he entered “Nightly Reads”, since he only had aunt Nesta’s gift left to purchase, and where else would he find a better gift for her other than the biggest bookstore at Velaris.

He took his winter gloves off as he entered the building, bits of magic already decorating the place for solstice.

He walked through isles and isles of books, switching from fantasy to romance to horror, yet he still couldn’t find the specific novel his aunt had been whining about the last few months.

As he passed the magic books section, he noticed a small figure gawking the novels. Delicate hands brushed through every detail, as if they were seeing such stuff for the first time ever.

He tried to capture the persons features, but due to their long, crimson cloak he was only able to notice long brown hair in loose waves, when the female, as if sensing him looking at her, caught his eyes.

She froze in place for a moment, before quickly switching paths, trying to avoid Nyx’s stare- but no formal greeting to the future heir.

Nyx hadn’t even realised that he had followed her, until he was an arm’s reach away and coughed to grab her attention.

“Hello there” he attempted, but quickly frowned ad the female ignored him, not even turning around to look at him.

He coughed again, louder this time.

“Hello” he repeated, praying to any God that she didn’t ignore him again as that would be very embarrassing.

Thankfully, the female this time turned towards him, deep green eyes meeting his own.

“Hi, sorry i’m in a rush” she spurted out as she tried to walk past him.

“Then maybe i can help you find whatever you are looking for” he tried again, her shyness intriguing him.

“i’m sure you have other stuff to do, sir. i’m fine on my own” she dismissed him again, and this time she walked towards another shelf of books, running her fingers through the spines.

And Nyx had zero clue why he was doing this, but before he could even process it, he was striking again for a conversation.

“That’s my mother’s favourite book” he said as she pulled out a thick book off the shelves.

Doe eyes found his own again.

“It’s my favourite, too” she muttered and then her gaze snapped to his wings, tightly folded behind his back, careful to not knock down any books.

Her eyer widened as she stared at his wings, and then right into his eyes again, as if not believing what she was seeing.

Had she finally realised who he was?

“goodbye sir” she kindly said as she quickly strode out of the bookshop- leaving behind her own gloves which were on the shelf next to the boom she had just picked up.

“Wait!” Nyx called out, grabbing the gloves and following the female, his aunt’s gift long forgotten.

The mystery female turned around, as he finally caught up to her.

The skin of her gloves was soggy and ruined, as if she’d owned these for years and hadn’t taken them off not even for once.

“oh, thank you sir” she said as she noticed her gloves in his palms.

“Please- there’s no need to call me sir, lady.” he smiled at her. “I’m Nyx”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you then, Nyx” she smiled back, although he could see her pause- not offering him her own name.

Enough- he’d followed this random woman enough, he realised.

Instead of handing her the gloves back, though, he pulled out some money, and slid it in the pocket of her cloak.

“I cannot accept tha-“ she tried before he cut her off.

“You are in need of hew gloves lady” he said, before flying off, not giving her time to answer.

And as he neared the house of wind, he looked down, where he was still clutching her gloves, as he tried to understand how it was possible that she lived at Velaris, yet she obviously didn’t know who he was.

~

A week had passed, his incident with the female having left his mind- until he walked in the main hall of his parents house.

“High lord” two guards bowed to his Father.

Rhysand nodded in response, keeping a firm hand around his mate’s waist- as he eyes down the female who was being held by the guards.

“We found a human that has passed your shields, My lord” the guard explained, and Nyx only stared at the scene in front of him.

Only stared- till the female’s head tilted towards him and emerald eyes met his own yet again.

[glittergelpensblog]

Shadow and Song (Azriel x Reader)

As the second youngest Archeron sister, it always felt like it was you and Feyre against the world. You felt like you lost a part of yourself the day she left, and then came back to leave again. When she shows up at your door with three winged fae, you refuse to do anything but help her this time.

This chapter is mostly the building of the reader's relationship with Feyre, there will 100% be more parts :) Part Two

It was quiet in the estate, as it always was in the winter. Nothing could be heard but the soft sound of the piano you had been messing with for the past hour, unable to create anything but a deep, somber melody.

The instrument was something you had became familiar with as a child, teaching yourself different chords, stringing them together with notes to create song. It was one of the few items the collectors did not take when they came to humiliate your father that day, the scratched and worn instrument more of a hassle to remove than what it was worth.

It annoyed Nesta when you were a child, but as you grew older and your jamming of chords streamed together to sound more like music than torture, she would sit in the room with you as you played, on those long winter nights with no sound other than the soft notes and the crackling hearth.

But since Feyre left, you were unable to put together a single song that wasn't melancholy, your joy and happy tune gone with her.

You and Feyre were always the closest, being not even a year apart. You were born on the new year, and Feyre born eleven months later on Winter Solstice. Despite you being older, it was always Feyre that protected you, never letting you into the woods to help hunt, always warning you of the town boys who's stares lingered too long.

Without being allowed to help Feyre, you supported your family in different ways, you got a job as a servant woman in the local pub, serving mead and roast to loud drunken men and women.

Even with your miserable job and Feyre's hunting, your family could barely stay afloat, nearly dying every winter, either from the starvation or from the sharp words your sisters always seemed to sling at each other, tongues the only weapons your family could truly afford.

And it remained that way for what felt like eternity, the only peace that was brought to you was seeing your sister's face at the end of the day. Safe, or as safe as she could be in the conditions you all lived in.

It was Feyre who was there for you, after every bad evening at the pub, after every hurtful word thrown your way by Nesta. She would always comfort you with her warm smile, sit by your side at the piano bench, head on your shoulder as you played. She had even surprised you one night, painting deep blue mountains all over for you to see when you got home from work.

But then she was gone, and you were heartbroken. You often wondered why it had been her who had to go take care of your aunt, and not Elain or Nesta. They were more proper than the two of you anyways, would keep her better company than a huntress.

And when your dads fortune was found at the bottom of the sea, you felt empty. Feyre wasn't there to see it, to see that you made it, to see that your family had survived.

And when she came back, she found you exactly where you would always be whenever she got home. Sitting at your piano, fingers delicately toying at the keys. It was't the same piano, of course, but a shiny new one made of maple and real ivory keys, your uncomfortable wooden bench replaced by one with a plush, deep blue cushion.

You wept, you wept so hard as you turned and found her standing behind you, you had hugged your sister so tight and fought the urge to never let go.

And she was gone as soon as she had come, telling you and your sisters the story of what had truly happened. How there was no aunt, no found fortune, but a fae man who had taken her, who had taken care of your family as he had taken care of her.

You saw it in her eyes, no longer an ice cold blue, but ones that had shone like the stars in the sky. This fae man, Tamlin, made her happy, loved her, and she loved him.

It hurt to let her go, but you knew it was what was best for her. This was no longer her life. You had tired to go with her, you had begged. But her and Nesta refused, keeping you under close watch the night she left. Feyre, protecting you from the horrors of Prythian, and Nesta, stopping you from what she was sure would be certain death.

It had been months, and you still haven't heard from her, did not know if she was okay. Sometimes, you had wondered what horrors she was enduring, but you would quickly shut those thoughts out, reminding yourself of how strong she was, how she kept your family alive for years. She was a survivor, and you knew some fae woman living under a rock wouldn't change that.

The creaking of the front door snapped you from your thoughts. You never got visitors, especially with your father gone on business. Even with Grayson, it was always Elain at his home, never yours.

Not bothering to shut the cover on your piano, you sat up quickly, brushing any wrinkles out of your maroon gown before you strode towards the entrance of the home.

"Mrs. Laurent" You called, almost at the front door. "Who is here to visit?"

There was silence as you edged closer, worry starting to edge your features. Mrs. Laurent was never silent, always a light-hearted, protective woman, being the closest thing to a mother you had ever had.

You peered over the woman's soft shoulder, the breath leaving your lungs as you took in the sight before you.

It was your sister in the doorway, an unnatural beauty and elegance lining her features. The same but different in every way.

She paled instantly at the sight of you, face contorting into worry and fear. Her eyes, so beautiful, were not shining like stars how they were the last time you saw her. They were empty. So empty.

What happened to your sister?

"Feyre." You breathed, silent tears streaming down your face now. You missed her, you missed her so much.

"Y/N" She croaked, and before she could speak another word, before any tears could form in her eyes, you had all but shoved Mrs. Laurent aside, enveloping your sister in a warm embrace.

You were scared to let go, scared to leave the doorway. Knowing she was not here to stay. The longer you held onto her, the longer it would take for her to leave.

She was taller than before. She once was almost the same height as you, but now, to top of your head barely reached her nose. You knew, you knew something that happened, that this was not the Feyre you had last seen. But you did not care. She was here, right now, and you were not going to let that go.

"You're back." You whispered, silently crying into her shoulder.

[areyoudreaminof]

Just For Mama: A Mother's Day One Shot.

This one goes out to all the MILFS. Just some next gen fluff for your weekend!

Feysand: Nyx (11)

Nyx lined up the brushes on the table for the sixth time. He needed them to be perfect. 

The remodeled art studio certainly was perfect. He and Papa planned it for months, and Nyx drew up the plans himself. The north wall was torn down, making way for a large bay window that would let in natural sunlight from dawn to dusk with a perfect view of the mountains. Little crystal ornaments were clipped onto the windowsill, throwing prisms of rainbow light all over the room that had been painted a warm cream color. Nyx had written to Cricket and Froggy to send them from the Day Court. His cousins had sent back an array of colored crystal charms, with one large lilac colored crystal bat. Nyx hung that one right in the middle of the room. 

Mama didn’t exactly need a new studio, but Nyx had wanted to do something special for Mother’s Day. It was technically a Day Court celebration, but his cousins were shocked that they didn’t celebrate it in the Night Court. “You don’t do anything for Mother’s Day?” Cricket had said with wide eyes a few years back, “At all?” But Nyx had been so taken with the idea, he went right to Papa, who agreed. So, Nyx had been doing small things for his mother every year on that spring day. Mama loved every single card he made and kept all the wooden figurines he had carved for her on her desk. 

But this year, Nyx wanted to do something bigger. Aunt Nesta had given him the idea last winter, pointing out that Mama’s regular studio faced the east, which didn’t get the best lighting from the afternoon onwards. It was why she painted in the mornings. He had drawn up his sketches that very night and brought them to Papa the next morning who had the builders in his office by the early afternoon. 

Papa had simply told Mama there was a plumbing problem and that the studio needed to be rebuilt. Mama bought it, though Nyx suspected she knew something was up. Nyx had presented his plans to the builder, a large green skinned orc named Neekar. “Measurements are only an inch off. I take on apprentices at twelve,” the orc grunted with satisfaction, “You can study when you come back from that camp of yours.” Papa just sighed and Nyx beamed with pride. 

Nyx came to the site every single day after lessons to work on the studio. He sanded and stained small beams of wood, he hammered nails and fetched tools. Nyx watched Neekar in his team in awe as they sawed and whittled away, explaining their technique as Nyx jotted down notes. 

Now, the day had finally come to bring Mama to the new studio. He gave one last look around, before he launched himself out of the room, stretching his wings in such a way to give him more momentum as he came face to face with his father and blindfolded mother. 

“Is that you Nyx?” she reached for him, stretching her fingers out. Nyx laced his own through them. “It’s me. Happy Mother’s Day.” 

“Anyone want to explain what’s going on?” Mama inquired with a tilt of her head as she pulled Nyx to her. He was nearly as tall as she was now, the top of his head sitting just below her chin. 

“Nyx has a surprise for you, darling,” Papa said, his violet eyes glinting with mischief, “Lead the way, son.” 

Nyx nodded, slowly leading Mama across the hall and stopping at the door. “You can take your blindfold off now.” he said, as he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and opened the door. 

Mama removed the blindfold with her slender tattooed fingers. Her blue eyes crinkled in joy as she saw Nyx in front of her. He just hoped she didn't see him shaking as he took her by the hand again and led her into the studio. 

Mama gasped behind him and Nyx sighed in relief. Sunlight poured through the windows and filtered through the hanging crystals in cracks of multicolored light. New canvases had been stretched and propped up on easels, while clean brushes and wooden palettes sat ready to be used. 

Mama turned around, stunned at the new studio. “Did you do this for me?” Mama asked in wonder, her eyes round and her mouth agape. 

“I drew the plans and Papa helped.” Nyx replied bashfully, leading Mama to the frame that held the sketches he had done in the dead of night. Mama touched the glass with tears in her eyes. 

“I just called the builders,” Papa corrected, “Nyx was in here every day after his lessons doing something. He made this room all on his own.” 

“The master builder said he could take me on as an apprentice next year,” Nyx blurted but Mama cut him off as she pulled him in for a bone crushing hug. He wrapped his arms around her then, closing his eyes as she rocked him ever so gently. At the camps, some of the other boys gave him hell over his mother; that she was High Lady, that she was human once, that Nyx loved her so much. One of the first drag out brawls he had gotten into was with a particularly snide boy back at Windhaven who insulted her. Nyx split the boy's lip and broke his nose. 

“I love you, sweet boy.” Mama whispered in his ear, before kissing him on the forehead. 

“Love you too, Mama. Happy Mother’s Day” Nyx murmured against her neck, squeezing her harder. 

Mama pulled away as she cupped his face in her hands. “An architect’s apprentice at twelve? I think you might be the most accomplished heir the Night Court has seen.” Her blue eyes twinkled as she laughed. 

“I can’t argue with that,” Papa sighed as Nyx felt his cheeks and neck go red. “You can build yourself a house up at Windhaven.” 

“I might,” Nyx grumbled, “and my sofas won’t have dried barf on them.” 

“And that my darling, is how you’re going to unite Illyria, ” Mama teased, “With your talent, wisdom and cleanliness.” 

Papa drew them both into his arms, “If Nyx can pull this off on one of Helion’s made up holidays, I’d hate to see what he has up his sleeve for Solstice.” 

“Just you wait,” Nyx smirked, “I might add a whole new wing to the house.” 

______________________________________________________________________________

That night, Feyre watched the moon rise in the windows of her new studio, stars and galaxies blinked in the moonlight that washed across the peaks of the mountains. Feyre stroked the slabs of wood on the windowsill. Nyx created this, she thought with wonder and pride, he built this with his own hands. 

He did, he had the idea months ago. Rhys said in her mind as his arms snaked around her waist from behind. 

Feyre rested her head back on Rhys's chest, "We've done alright by him, I think." 

Rhys hummed in agreement as he turned her to face him, "We really did." 

Elucien: Cricket (9), Froggy (5)

It was times like this where Cricket wished she had gotten fire powers. 

She could technically turn the stove on by herself, she was nine , but she always had to have someone help her in the kitchen, since the stove had to be lit with a match and she was too short to not have to stand on a chair. “Supervision.” Papa called it. That’s why he was here, over her shoulder, watching Cricket stir the porridge in the small pot. 

“Perfect,” Papa murmured, “let’s add the cinnamon shall we?” 

Cricket sprinkled the small shaker of cinnamon sugar over the porridge, taking care not to put too much. Even though Mama ate her porridge sweet, there were still strawberries and blueberries to add, and there was warm raisin bread that her little sister was buttering on the table. 

The soft pink light of dawn and the sea breeze filtered into the kitchen. It was Mother’s Day in the Day Court, a celebration of motherhood. Grandfather swore they had always celebrated it, but Papa told Cricket that it only became a holiday when Grandmother came to live at court. Either way, Cricket and Froggy had brought Mama breakfast in bed for as long as they could remember. They’d spend the day at the beach, then have a big dinner with Grandfather and Grandmother on the balcony under the stars. 

“I think the porridge is done.” Cricket announced. With a wave of his hand, Papa put out the flame on the stove. Mama was still asleep, unusual, since she liked to get up with the sun. But there was some sort of party last night, and they got home late, so Grandmother stayed with them, since she didn’t like late parties. Cricket vaguely remembered a kiss on the forehead when she was dead asleep. 

“What time did you get home?” Cricket asked.

“Too late,” Papa replied, “Grandfather got into some sort of dance competition with some of the scholars, it was absolutely horrifying, but we couldn’t take our eyes off of it.” 

“Did he win?” Cricket tried to picture Grandfather dancing inside a circle with the scholars. 

“No, the astronomers beat him.” Cricket snorted and swallowed her belly laugh. 

“Leave it to cool while we cut the berries,” Papa whispered, “Everything alright, Froggy.?”

“Yes.” Froggy answered softly as she set down the butter knife. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, pushing her golden hair back from her face. “I haven't filled the vase with water yet.” 

“Let me do that,” Papa said as he kissed each of them. He took the crystal vase to the sink, filling it with water. Quickly, the girls gathered up the large bouquet of orange and apple blossoms they had picked yesterday. They had raced in the groves to see who could get the most flowers, scaling each tree like monkeys. Cricket had won, but just barely. A bowl of ripe oranges and apples sat on the table, another present for Mama. 

Froggy put the absurdly large bouquet into the vase, while Cricket arranged the last bits of fruit into the large porridge bowl. Papa set down a small velvet box on the tray, the sisters giggled as they caught each other's eye. Papa lifted the tray and the girls held back their giggles as they entered Mama and Papa’s room. 

Mama slept soundly, her curly hair braided across the silk pillowcase. Cricket opened the curtains, letting the now golden dawn light brighten the room. Froggy crawled gently on the bed, while Cricket flopped down face first. 

“Happy Mother’s Day!” they squealed as Mama opened her eyes and arms. The girls scurried into her embrace, latching on and kissing her face all over. Mama just laughed and kissed them back. Papa set the tray down across Mama’s lap and stole his own kiss as Cricket and Froggy snuggled on each side of her. She touched the white and pink blooms with awe.

“Oh, how beautiful! Did you girls pick these yourselves?” 

“Yep,” Cricket nodded, “we picked lots of fruit too.” 

“We can make orange juice and apple pie!” Froggy added breathlessly. 

“Maybe we can make some juice for our picnic at the beach today?” Mama added. 

“I’ve already got the pitchers out,” Papa laughed as he stretched out next to Cricket, wrapping his arm around her back to touch Mama’s hair. 

“And what’s this?”

Cricket and Froggy shot up with excitement as Mama opened up the small velvet box. The little golden chain inside had two delicate charms that wound together; a small honeysuckle and a wisteria blossom, the flowers associated with both of them. Cricket with her wild honeysuckle scent, and Froggy, a soft and delicate wisteria fragrance. They held their breath as tears filled Mama’s eyes. 

“Are you gonna put it on?” Froggy whispered nervously. Cricket swallowed her own anxiety. 

“I’m never going to take it off,” Mama promised as she took out the delicate chain reverently. “Let me,” Papa said, as he rose to latch the chain around her neck. 

“Thank you,” Mama breathed, kissing them both and wrapping each arm around them. “I love you both so much.” 

“Love you too, Mama.” Froggy whispered. “We love you the most.” Cricket added. 

Cricket and Froggy sank into her embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of honey and jasmine, of the sea breeze that wafted through the wood and sandstone room, just as it always had. They smelled the familiar scent of Papa as he managed to embrace all three of them, of the sun on their faces, or warm mornings just like this, and cool nights at home. 

“I think,” Mama announced, “it is a perfect day for swimming and a picnic.” 

“It certainly is,” Papa agreed, “I wonder who can get ready first?” 

Cricket and Froggy squealed and scrambled off the bed as they raced for their rooms. “No winnowing, Cricket!” Froggy shrieked as her sister laughed maniacally. 

Elain finally rose from the sheets and crossed the room, meeting Lucien halfway. She closed her eyes, as she embraced him, savoring the laughs of her girls across the small house they had lived in for years. The laughs that had echoed across her visions as she fought her way across a frozen wasteland and lake. Visions of red and golden hair that gave her the strength she thought she didn’t have as she destroyed a sorcerer's box and made her way back to Lucien. 

Her daughter’s had been her dream once, and now they were her reality. A messy and loving reality. 

She rose up on her toes, kissing her mate. “We should have a Father’s Day, I think.” 

“Don’t give my father any more excuses to blow smoke up his own ass,” Lucien laughed. 

“No, we’ll just blow smoke up your ass.” she leaned in again-

“Will you two stop kissing for once?” Cricket hollered from across the hallway. “You have one more minute to get ready!” Froggy shrieked from somewhere in the house. 

“Ready?” Lucien asked.

“For my family, always.”

Nessian: Oriana (4)

Oriana kicked her feet and flapped her wings along as she hummed. The picture looked very good, she thought. She colored in the lines she drew, a picture of her, Mama, Papa and her poofy kitten, Pudding. She made sure to put the House in there too, Mama said it was part of the family. 

“Mrow?” 

She turned to Pudding, his round face was cocked with confusion. Oriana sighed as she explained the picture again. 

“It’s Mother’s Day so I made Mama a book. That’s you and me, and Mama and Papa. I didn’t have green for your eyes though.” 

A green colored pencil appeared on the rug next to her. “Thank you, House!” she chirped to the House, who flickered a light in reply. Quickly, she filled in the eyes of her cat in the picture, finally satisfied with the result as Pudding pawed and rolled the rest of the pencils around the floor. 

“Mama is going to love your book,” Papa said, as he lowered himself down on the carpet next to her. 

“I know,” Oriana replied. She had been practicing her letters and she could write very well now. She wrote Mama a book about a Valkyrie helping a nice dragon and defeating an evil wizard. Aunt Gwyn helped thread ribbon to the pages. All that was left was to finish up the cover with a picture of her family. 

“Are we gonna eat at Sevanda’’s still?” Oriana asked, putting her book on the table, next to that wrapped box of new training leathers for Mama. “Can we get fried squid rings?” 

Papa made a gagging noise, “You can get fried squid rings, sweetheart. Mama is on her way back from the library, why don’t we get changed for the symphony?” He placed a kiss on her nose and Oriana kissed him right back on his before she ran back to her room, Pudding trailing behind her. 

The House had opened her wardrobe and suddenly, it seemed to Oriana that she had a lot more dresses that she remembered. 

She and Mama went to the symphony all the time after school and training. They watched the musicians rehearse during the day, but this was the first time Oriana got to see them perform with all the fancy grown ups. If Mama is going to wear her silver dress, Oriana thought, maybe she would wear silver too. But Mama loved it when she wore red, and she also wanted to wear her Valkyrie ribbon. Taking a deep breath, she dove into her wardrobe. 

_________________________________________________________

“I’m ready!” Oriana chirped as she bounced into Papa’s view. She had decided on her favorite red dress, purple socks, and her sparkly sandals. She held the ribbon in her hand that she wanted to tie around her head. Her cousin Cricket always kept her red hair short, so Oriana cut hers to her chin the same way. 

Papa scooped her up and twirled her, “You look beautiful, Ori. Why don’t we take the socks off, it’s not cold outside or inside the Symphony.” He set her down, unhooking Oriana’s shoes as she bounced on one foot. 

“Okay,” Oriana chirped, “can I wear my ribbon?” 

“Of course you can, would you like me to put it on?” 

“Not too tight,” Oriana demanded  as Papa tied the ribbon around her dark hair. 

“Never, sweetheart.” Softly, Mama’s voice carried in from the hall with another voice, Aunt Gwyn and Papa gave her a grin. “Are you ready to go surprise Mama?” 

“Let’s go!” Oriana squealed as she flapped her wings, hurling herself towards the hallway.  She used her wings to propel her steps, as she threw open the door. She didn’t think, just flew right into Mama’s arms. 

“Happy Mama’s Day!” Oriana exclaimed with a giggle, “Surprise! We’re going to the symphony!” 

Mama just laughed as she bounced Oriana on her hip, “Surprise indeed!” 

Aunt Gwyn placed a small stack of books on the little table by the door, “I won’t keep you any longer, Happy Mother’s Day.” she beamed brightly at Nesta before smacking a kiss on Oriana’s cheek. 

“Aunt Gwyn, are you gonna have a baby?” Oriana asked. 

“Oriana!” Mama chided, her face turning red as an apple.

Aunt Gwyn laughed, her pretty blue eyes sparkling, “Maybe one day.” 

“Well, could you have one now so I have someone to play with? Nyx went to the camps and Cricket and Froggy are at the Day Court. So, I want a baby cousin to play with.’ Oriana clasped her hands together tight and bounced on her feet. “Please.” 

“Don’t you have friends at school and your art class?” Aunt Gwyn giggled.

“Yes, I got lots of friends but I want another cousin.” Oriana thought for a moment. “A girl or a boy. Just a cousin who's fun.”  

“Well, when Uncle Az and I have a baby you’ll be the first cousin to know.” 

“You’re having a baby?” Papa  asked as he walked into the room. 

“Yeah, Aunt Gwyn’s gonna have a baby so I can have another cousin,” Oriana announced, “But not right now.” 

Mama and Aunt Gwyn just started laughing. 

___________________________________________

Oriana got her fried squid rings at Sevanda’s and she got extra whipped cream on her strawberry cake. They ate on the balcony and watched and waved at people walking down the street. At the symphony, an old High Fae female told Oriana she looked like a princess, “She’s my princess,” Papa had said proudly. Oriana watched the symphony reverently on Mama’s lap, bouncing along to the drums and tubas and she had only gotten tired during the flight up to the House. 

Now, in the dim light of her bedroom, Oriana scrambled up onto her bed, book in hand. “This is for you.” she puffed as she snuggled next to Mama. “It’s a book! Aunt Gwyn helped me tie it, but I wrote it all by myself.” “That’s me and you and Papa.” Oriana pointed at the figures in the drawing on the cover. “I put silver for my eyes and your eyes, cause we have silver eyes. And I used black and red for my wings!” Oriana pointed to the blob shape, “There’s Pudding,” she said, affirming her cat’s presence, “and here’s The House.” 

Nesta set the picture down reverently on the bedside table. Grabbing Oriana into a hug, she inhaled the sweet scent of mountain juniper. “I love it so much.” Nesta said softly, kissing Oriana’s face all over. “I’m going to show everyone in the library.” 

Oriana rubbed her eyes, the lights from her flower and star lights began to fuzz in vision as Mama’s song and arms cradled her to sleep. 

“Night, night, Mama.” she mumbled as she stepped into her dreams. 

Nesta listened to the soft rhythm of her daughter’s breath as she held her, a ritual she completed every single night since Oriana was born. 

The very idea of motherhood had terrified her, her own mother took residence in the back of her mind, whispering doubt into her ear. The first time Nesta had felt her child move, a sheer sense of terror washed over her; would she be another incarnation of her mother? Would she place all expectations of grandeur on the chest of her child with no thought for breath? 

But, the moment Madja had placed Oriana on her chest, her mother was banished from her mind. Instead, a door opened in her heart, revealing a vast and wondrous sky of love for her daughter. Her name, Oriana, an old Illyrian name, sounded like a song, and it was one that Nesta sang every day. She and Cassian had made this beautiful little girl; with Nesta’s blue gray eyes and dark hair that matched Cassian’s, but still had that baby fine texture that made it impossible to stay tidy for long.

Yet, she was completely her own person, a curious and creative child who loved music and stories. Nesta delighted in every moment, even if she did want to take refuge in the deepest pit of the library some days. 

The House had dimmed the lights softly, as Nesta stroked Oriana’s face, studying her Illyrian brow and Archeron nose, of the rosebud lips and cheeks that dimpled when she smiled, which thank the Mother, was every single day. Soft wings that curled at the top in a way that Cassian’s didn’t. Did his mother have wings like this, Nesta had often wondered, was this something Oriana carried of a grandmother that would have surely loved her? 

The door creaked as Cassian almost silently crept inside. “I missed storytime, didn’t I?” He lowered himself softly on the other side of the bed, wrapping their little girl and Nesta into his own arms. 

Nesta closed her eyes as she drifted off, at peace in the tangled arms of her family.

TAGLIST: @asnowfern @born-to-riot @bunburyahoy @belabellissima @c-e-d-dreamer @conebrain @cowboylament @cursebrkr @damedechance @dawneternal @foundress0fnothing @goddess-aelin @kataravimes-of-the-shire @iftheshoef1tz @lucienarcheron @moodymelanist @moonpatroclus @cauldronblssd @octobers-veryown @queercontrarian @sassyhobbits @tunaababee @thesistersarcheron @separatist-apologist @secret-third-thing @chunkypossum @the-lonelybarricade @thelovelymadone @xtaketwox @popjunkie42 @yanny-77 @wilde-knight @luciensdefenseattorney @reverie-tales @velidewrites @lamija-v @laxibbeb @witch-and-her-witcher @itsthedoodle @missfckingfortune @rosanna-writer @mossytrashcan

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 2)

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angsty fluff?, angst, hints of anxiety, anxiety attack, nightmare

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

A/N: Hey guys! It took me a bit longer to write this chapter than I had planned to (accidentally deleted a part of the story ups) but finally did it! And I recommend you listen to "Remember that night" by Sara Kays and "The night we met" by Lord Huron.

Anyway, enjoy reading! 😙

Part 1 ⎮Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Six days. Six days had passed since the incident in the conference room. Six tough days and not a single glimpse of him. No word, no letter, no message of any kind.

The water of the Sidra washed up on the shore in mesmerising waves, each time stealing a bit more of the glittering sand. Sunlight reflected off the mirrored surface, magically illuminating the facade of the River House. 

The hammock I sat in swayed gently in the afternoon breeze and, thanks to Elain, the sun didn´t bother me too much. My aunt had planted two Illyrian oaks in our garden the year I was born, providing shade now that they had grown from tiny sprouts into strong, sturdy trees. As I became older, I found my favourite reading spot underneath them. They stood a few feet from the River House and were the perfect place to relax and simply be. 

A piece of bark crumbled onto the pages of the book I was holding right now. `Feathers and Fire´ was written in large, ornate letters on the leather-bound cover. Nesta had borrowed me one of her novels to keep me company, as I had spent the last few days mostly by myself. 

I give up! After reading the same paragraph for the third time in a row, I finally slammed the book shut. I had really tried to concentrate on the story in the last hour, but my mind had drifted off more than once. And always back to the same place. 

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I was in shock. Or so I thought, as I couldn´t think clearly. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so loudly that all of Velaris must´ve heard it.

Mate. Eris Vanserra was my mate. 

I couldn´t believe it. I mean, he doesn´t even know me?

The beige sofa under my legs felt too soft, as if it wanted to pull me into a hug and never let go. And the ticking clock on the opposite wall made my ears twitch in annoyance, so I decided to get up and pace around the living room, trying to quiet my mind. I was massaging my temples to ground myself a little when a soft touch stopped me in my tracks. Small, gentle fingers starting to trail along my shoulder in a soothing rhythm. 

„Sweetheart, look at me, please.“ My mother´s calm voice made me turn to her. „Everything´s going to be all right.“ She radiated pure love. „Whatever happens next, I want you to know you´re not alone. I´m here for you, okay, honey?“ It helped slow down my racing heart a little, but not enough. I sincerely hoped my father and his brothers hadn´t beaten Eris to death just out of anger. 

Just as I thought of them, three men winnowed into the living room. With long strides, my father rushed towards me, some of his darkness still clinging onto him, and cupped my face with both hands. „Darling, are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?“ He asked worriedly as he inspected me for any injuries, whatever he was looking for. 

I withdrew from his grasp, spun around once to show him I was fine, and put on my most reassuring smile to calm his worries, making his tensed muscles relax. „I´m so sorry. I never wanted you to see this.“ Regret seeped into his voice. „But…“ He paused, visibly struggling to find his next words. „Did the bond snap for you too?“ The question caught me entirely off guard, as I thought he was angry with me, trying to argue. I could almost feel my family holding their breath, dreading my answer. Silky hair fell around my face, casting tender shadows on my features as I shook my head. A quick glance at my parents and I knew they were having a silent conversation. Sweat formed on my palms as I unconsciously clenched my hand into a fist. With each passing second, an unpleasant feeling returned to my stomach, making me want to throw up.

It spread even further when my father turned his attention back to me, and my heart sank as I noticed the sudden change in his expression. A completely blank canvas. The mask of a High Lord. Others probably wouldn´t see through his masquerade of deceit. But I could. I did. I had studied his features over the years, every time he put it on. How his jaw tightened just an inch, noticeable only to the trained eye. How his eyes shimmered in a more vibrant shade of violet. I´d seen him in his role so many times that I´d learned to watch out for him. The real him. Not the High Lord, but my father. He kept his face sealed, but I could see what he hid behind that mask. Fury over Eris. His worry. But the strongest emotion was his love for me. 

„I want you to stay away from him. Or even talk to him.“ Someone had just knocked all the air out of my lungs and punched me in the guts. I hadn´t been braced for what was to come. My pulse skipped a beat and the blood in my veins began to boil. He can´t do this! Voices shouted in my head and a lump formed in the back of my throat. But why? I didn´t even know Eris, even though he was my mate. I shouldn´t be so disappointed. He is practically a stranger. 

At a loss for words, I stared at my parents. „We don´t want to make decisions about your life, but Eris is a... complicated man.“ my mother interjected. You mean dangerous. 

„Wait, Eris is your mate?“ I flinched and turned around, only to spot my brother hidden in the darkness with a shit-eating grin on his face. „Finally something interesting is happening.“ he chuckled, earning him a slap on the neck from Cass. „Hey!“ he cried out as my father shot him a warning glare before continuing his lecture. „Darling, listen. We only want to protect you and make sure you don´t get hurt. And Eris is not good company. He has proven that several times in the past. So please believe us when we tell you to stay away from him. We have our reasons.“ And what are they? A knot tightened in my stomach when I heard Azriel whispering from behind: „Especially after what he did to Mor.“

But he is my mate! Even if we don´t know each other well, don´t I have the right to figure out what´s happening between us? My mind screamed at me. Say something! Anything! You know you can! I forced my thoughts to shut down. We would not have this conversation now. Fight back! But I didn´t. I understood that my parents were trying to protect me. They were angry, no doubt, but with the love in their eyes, I couldn´t argue against them. 

So I only looked up and nodded, giving them a coy smile, even though it felt wrong. So terribly wrong. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

This moment had been stuck in my head for the past few days. Although I´d agreed not to approach Eris, somehow I still hoped he would talk to me. Maybe to explain when and how the bond had snapped for him. 

Starlight? Az is waiting for you in the training ring.

Oh, right. I looked at the sun, which was already sinking deeper into the sky. Uncle Az had asked me yesterday if I wanted to train with him. We usually met at the same time every week to train, but over the last few days he had become more careful around me, giving me more space.

I quickly stowed the book away, not wanting Nesta to get upset if something happened to her beloved book. Changing into my fighting gear, I winnowed to meet Azriel. 

„Faster!“ Azriel shouted, lunging forward, but not fast enough. I sidestepped his punch to the right, and in the brief moment his defence was down, I landed three swift blows to his ribs. He groaned in pain and tried to sweep me off my feet in one smooth motion. Just as I was about to dive again, my back hit the sandy ground, Truthteller at my throat. A sweaty Azriel lay on top of me. 

He pulled me up, brushing the sand from my clothes. „That wasn´t too bad, but you´re less focused today.“ A questioning look crossed his face for a second as he looked down at me, then it returned to his usual straight expression.

I opened my mouth slightly as if to reply, but shrugged instead and walked towards the edge of the training ground, breathing heavily. Az only threw a knowing look in my direction. He knows. He knows how I feel. 

We had been training for about two hours and I didn´t know how my muscles were still able to keep me standing, but anyway, I was grateful for them when I winnowed us back to the River House for dinner. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

After a quick shower, I now sat opposite to my brother at the wooden table eating dinner and it was truly a symphony for the senses. Wine glasses clinking. Knives scraping against plates. The aromatic scent of grilled steak and vegetables wafting through the room as my family engaged in a huge debate about who had the biggest wingspan. All I could do was smile at the silliness of it all and feel it seep into my soul. 

My father stroked my back lazily beside me, probably to keep calm, as Nyx started throwing peas across the table at Cassian, who dodged them. It really was ridiculous. „Seriously! A little decency, please!“ Amren hissed at this `display of strength´. Mor chuckled, „They´re Illyrians. Do you really think their egos would just ignore it if someone with bigger wings came along?“ My mother nearly choked on her wine at this comment, earning an amused look from her husband. „Can we all just calm down a little before the whole dining room is decorated with pieces of food?“ A quick, stern glance around the table from the High Lord and everyone resumed eating, interrupted now and then by a few giggles.

Ten minutes had passed, and the others had just finished chatting about upcoming events in Velaris, when Amren apparently decided to break the comfortable silence. „So y/n. Has anything been happening with the Autumn Heir lately?“ The wicked smirk on her face made her look like a cat that had caught a mouse to play with. All of a sudden, the room fell silent and everyone stopped eating. I felt my father stiffen beside me, his muscles tense. „Amren.“ Azriel warned, a low growl escaping his throat. „What? Just a sincere question.“ Not impressed by his threatening face. Not in the slightest.

Of course, the incident with Eris had spread around the River House throughout the last few days, fuelling rumours, but the others hadn´t said anything to me yet. I should have guessed that it was only a matter of time until the tension would blow up.

I think I might throw up. I certainly wasn´t in the mood to talk about it with my family. Not today. My blood froze as I gathered the strength to look into Amren´s cold, steely eyes, which were fixed directly on me. She didn´t even flinch when my father shot her a terrifying glare that would send shivers down your spine. 

Words began to flow into my mind, begging to be heard and a familiar feeling crept through my entire body, making my nerves go blank. It felt like I couldn´t breathe. 

„Are you all right, dear? You look a bit pale.“ she said, making me feel even more nauseous. „Amren, don´t.“ Everyone had stopped breathing by now. „You don´t have to answer her question, darling.“ My father´s hand darted out to graze my fingers, but I pulled back at the sensation. „You are his mate y/n, aren´t you? Must be desperate to know why.“ „Enough!“ Pure darkness collected in the corners of the dining room, ready to consume everything. I´d never seen my father so pissed off. „Why would you say such a thing?“ Mor uttered. „Exactly! She´s my sister, I´m the only one allowed to make fun of her!“, Nyx joined in. „I´m in the mood for some trouble.“ she responded honestly, taking a sip from her wine glass, completely untroubled. 

Everyone began to talk over each other, making it difficult to distinguish the individual voices. Tears welled up in my eyes as I covered my ears. The noise was becoming too much to bear. I sniffled, holding back a cry as I stood up and took a few steps away from the table. My chair scraped along the floor, causing everyone to turn around to me and all the shouting stopped. The tears began to trickle down my cheeks as my mother noticed them first, „Sweetheart, we´re so sorry.“ She stood up too. „We didn't mean to make you cry.“ Mor tried to reassure me, guilt clouding her voice. Everything felt too overwhelming. Leave. Walk away. Get out of this situation. 

„Starlight, come here. It´ll be fine.“ He took a few steps in my direction, but I quickly held my hand up in front of him to keep a distance between me and my father. 

„Y/n. Darling, we´re…“ But he stopped when I shook my head and scowled at him. Stared at all of them, anger written on my face, before I winnowed to my room. Leaving them all guilty and silent. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

With my back against the door, I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. It´s my life! I get to decide how I deal with Eris! Why do they keep talking about it like it isn´t my decision? Like it´s not my life? 

My nails scraped the floor, attempting to hold on to something, anything, as I spiralled down a path I didn´t want to go. A guttural sound escaped my lips as my hand clenched into a fist and slammed into the expensive wood panels beneath me. Pain shot through my knuckles, making me want to scream. Anger. Fear. Emptiness. These emotions ran through my mind as my body shook with sobs. Why can´t I just talk? I want to, but I can´t... I don´t know... the words just won´t come out when I try. It made me even angrier when I thought about it. Do I not feel safe enough around my own family to talk to them? Or is there something wrong with me? 

A knot formed in my stomach. I had never had a big problem with myself before. Not with my body, nor with my inability to speak to others. But now I wished, longed to talk to someone. Just someone who understood me. Someone who...

A certain scent wafted through the room making me pay attention. Was that smoke? I sat up straighter to observe my own bedroom. Books were scattered across the floor and the door to the neighbouring bathroom was open. My bed was made, covered in indigo silk sheets that shimmered slightly in the moonlight streaming in through the closed windows. A few plants hung from the frescoed ceiling. Nothing more.

My eyes were no longer watery and my heartbeat had stabilised. But I could still smell that there was... something. Parchment.

I looked over at my desk, which was littered with various rolls of parchment, papers and pencils of all kinds. But right in the middle. Something had changed. 

Slowly, on shaky legs, I got up and walked over to my desk. A crimson envelope lay there, and next to it a shiny golden feather with light brown spots. I couldn´t remember putting anything like that here. It smelled of an open fire, fresh rain and a hint of vanilla. 

Deep down I knew who must have sent it. I opened the letter with trembling hands.

 ・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

Hello Princess,

Do you remember the night we met? To be honest, I can´t forget you. Standing on the balcony in your stunning gown, watching the stars fall upon you, even though they couldn´t diminish your appearance. At first I wasn´t sure how to approach you, but I did it anyway.

And it turned out to be one of the most wonderful nights I have ever had, and I wanted to thank you for it.

I could almost hear him chuckling to himself as a warmth filled my heart.

As you probably know by now, I'm your mate, but I don´t want you to feel obligated to anything that concerns me. It is your decision whether or not you wish to meet with me. ( Though I wouldn´t mind, of course) 

A blush spread across my tear-stained cheeks and I instinctively smiled. He had thought of me. He really had. My heart melted like snow in early spring. Something about him made me feel complete and understood. 

But if that´s the case, winnow to the border of Autumn in two days. I´ll be waiting for you under a birch tree when the sun sets. You can´t miss it. Sleep well, Princess! 

His letter also contained a small note. 

(Oh, the feather and the paper you write on will appear on my desk as soon as you write back).

・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

I was speechless. Not just because he had thought of me or wanted to meet me. No. But because he would let me decide for myself. He wouldn´t force me to accept the bond, even if it hadn´t snapped for me yet. 

Not wanting to think clearly at the moment, I did the only thing that seemed right. I broke the agreement with my parents. 

I pulled out the chair, sat down, picked up the quill and wrote back. 

Half an hour later, I was lying in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a gentle night breeze caressing my form. A few candles were lit to provide some sort of night light. 

Just as I was falling asleep, footsteps came from the hallway and my bedroom door creaked as it slowly opened. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk to whoever it was. „Darling, are you still awake?“ My father´s voice echoed through the room as he peeked out from behind the door. 

Just breathe. He won´t recognise it.

And he didn´t. He only walked over to my bed and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, while the last thing I heard was him whispering: „I´m deeply sorry, Starlight.“ before he silently walked out of my room, leaving me alone. 

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Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not the slightest flicker of light. Total darkness consumed everything around me. No light, nor sun, nor any kind of something... soft. Something to keep me warm as the cold crept up my body, like a hidden shadow from the depths of darkness. 

I gasped for some air to reach my lungs, but all I could inhale was dust. Air! I need air! My lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen and a tingling sensation shot through my entire being.

I felt like a flame being smothered as a deep, dark wave crashed over me, trying to drown me, as if I were nothing. As if I didn´t matter. 

The darkness drew closer with each passing second. Minute? Hour? Time didn´t matter in this place of emptiness. A place without walls or windows or even solid ground. The only things that trapped me were my own thoughts and the giant beast I couldn´t see, but felt. It swallowed everything around it as its claws raked along my skin, my soul, leaving scratches all over me.

I screamed, but all that came out of my mouth was... nothing. Every sound, no matter how small, was absorbed by the emptiness of this place. 

My body was drenched in sweat and my voice must have been hoarse by now from screaming my heart out for I don´t know how long. Slowly my body was losing consciousness and I was drifting further and further into the devouring void as I frantically tried to breathe. Please! I need to breathe! My heart stuttered for a moment. Help... help me! Somebody! Please, I... Hot tears streamed down my face and my eyes slowly closed as I was suffocated and drowned by the beast that guarded this place. My body went limp, tired from fighting. 

A gentle brush of soft fur against my back was the last thing I felt as I drifted into nothingness. 

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I jolted out of my sleep, my heart racing and the sheets beneath me damp with sweat. You´re awake! Everything is fine! I placed my hand over my chest, feeling my pulse slowly steady as I realised it was all just a nightmare. The silver curtains swayed slightly at the open windows and the moon shone so brightly I had to blink my eyes. `Shh, it´s all right, Little one. I´m here´ it yearned to say. My breathing had normalised and I ran a hand through my sticky hair. It was just a dream. I lay back and tried to sleep again, but I knew it was going to be a long night. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Hello lovely!! Would you ever do a part 2 to Bad Idea right? Maybe the IC finds out about reader and Eris? 👀👀

I had planned for Part 1 to be a drabble only but I loved your ask so much that it’s going to be a short series now! I present to you, part 2. Thank you for this fun request!

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 2

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

Sleeping with a male your dad hates is fun… until you get caught.

A follow up to the drabble “Bad Idea, Right?”

Part 3

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content, language

Holy mother and all the bullshit gods my ancestors prayed to, I’m so royally fucked.

A necklace. A damned necklace, and my family’s overall inability to mind their own business, sent everything spiraling.

Nobody paid any mind to the jewelry I chose for Starfall until Amren set her eyes on the unique amber and gold hued necklace dangling from my neck - coveting the thing. Its unique jewels apparently something she’d never seen in her over 15,000 years of living.

Lucien, who had come with Vassa, Jurian, and Helion in tow, of course, overheard the conversation. With his wealth of knowledge and abundant need to be the biggest know-it-all in the room, Lucien chimed in that the gems came from the Autumn Court, typically only worn by the leading family and their closest affiliates. His brows furrowed with contemplation as he waived a hand toward my décolletage asking, “Which makes me wonder, where did you come across this piece?”

Damn it, Lucien.

And damn it, Eris. Leave it the prick to give me a gift that’s as much of a pain in my ass as he is.

Reading the look on my face, Lucien and Vassa’s son, my childhood best friend, Adish cut in- “Oh, I uh, I gave it to her for her birthday a couple of years ago. I’m surprised you two forgot.”

Lucien and Vassa looked to eachother in contemplation, not totally buying it, but not pressing further.

I mouthed a “thank you” to Adish before Amren pulled me back in to inspect the piece further.

Naturally, Uncle Rhys had step in at that moment - reusing the same joke that I have heard a hundred times since I was a child - Amren is a firedrake who will snatch the necklace right off me blah, blah, blah.

“It really is a lovely piece.” Aunt Feyre joined in, my mother, Aunt Nesta, and father with her. The three sisters inspecting it closely.

Holy shit, have these people never seen a necklace before?

I could have sworn that one of my shadows rolled it’s not existent eyes in agreement.

“Where did you get that?” Dad asked. “Apparently I need to keep it in mind for your mother and aunts for Solstice.”

“Oh, um, it’s from the Autumn Court, Adish gave it to me two years ago for my birthday.” I replied, innocently tracing a finger along the gems as I gave a forced smile.

It was then that my all-to-observant, spymaster jr., little sneak of a sister made her presence known. “No he didn’t! Adish got you a scarf from the continent that year.”

How the hell did this little shit remember these things!?

“Whatever, Azalea, it must have been a different year then.”

“No sissy! He never bought you a necklace - he bought you a bracelet, and two pairs of earrings, but never a necklace.”

Good gods. This child.

Rolling my eyes at my snoop of a sister, I coolly replied “Whatever, Azzy, I suppose my memory isn’t quite as good as yours.” Silently praying to whoever would listen that nobody pressed further. Dad’s shadows agitated but settled when my own shadows wound over to mingle with them.

Amren gave me a suspicious look that could only mean trouble - but fortunately kept her mouth shut. As the remainder of the group dispersed to interact with the crowd, Amren grabbed my arm.

“Be careful, girl. I know better than to tell you what to do, just… keep your wits about you.”

Her intense eyes locked with mine to which I shrugged the comment off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I am not a fool, girl. I do not know you to be one either. Be careful.” the tiny fae chided as she sauntered off to find Varian.

Keeping a collected facade but needing some fresh air, I casually made my way toward a secluded balcony on the backside of the House of Wind.

Finally free of the crowd, I released all of the tension I’d been holding in, taking deep breaths in an effort of calming my nerves. I am an adult capable of making my own choices but… given the inner circles complicated history with Eris, and my fathers overall hatred of the male, I’d rather nobody know that we fuck each others brains out on occasion.

Frowning down at the necklace, I muttered curses to it that would make my mother, dear sweet Elain, keel over.

Too wrapped up in berating the jewelry, I didn’t notice the male behind me. I startled at the smooth voice cutting through the silence, his low tone dripping in lust. “Ah, little Shadowsinger, If you’d prefer a ring instead, I’m sure we could arrange that. Though I do say the necklace compliments your lovely assets quite well.” His eyes roved hungrily up and down my body, a primal gaze darkening those amber eyes and filled my core with heat. I nearly rolled my eyes back into my head as the intoxicating scent of mahogany and crackling fire filled my nostrils.

Regaining my wits and refusing to let him see how he effected me, I met those bedroom eyes with nothing but contempt. “Fuck off, Eris. Why are you here?”

He stepped closer. I stood my ground, no way was I going balk away from the challenge.

“Come now, little one, is that any way to speak to a High Lord? I was invited to the celebration tonight, as all of Prythian’s leaders were.”

Fair enough, but I wouldn’t let him win that easily. Waving him off, I commanded “Go find somewhere else to be a pain in the ass.”

Eris closed the distance, grabbing the wrist I had waived him away with. His head dipped down as his plush lips grazed the shell of my ear. His deep, sensual voice sent chills through me as he replied, “I can only promise pleasure when it comes to that beautiful ass, Y/N.”

Releasing my hand, Eris reached both hands around me, palms pressing into my ass as his fingers hitched my dress up to expose my thighs and barely clothed sex to the brisk evening air. In one swift motion he scooped me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around him. As his lips crashed into mine I bit the lower one just hard enough to draw blood before licking it away and kissing the hurt. His tongue then swooped into my mouth, battling for dominance against my own, a low growl escape his throat, reverberating through me.

Placing me on the balcony ledge, Eris situated himself between my spread legs, desperately palming at my breasts as I threw my head back, exposing the column of my throat to him. He lightly nipped down the length of my neck and my protruding collar bones before falling to his knees before me. His lust-filled eyes met mine as he cooed, “You could bring any male to their knees before your beauty, but this…” he pushed aside the lace thong, exposing me to him, “this gorgeous, dripping cunt belongs to your High Lord, and your High Lord only.”

His skilled tongue deftly swiped up my center, eliciting a moan from me. I looked down into his eyes - mesmerized by the amber hues peering at me from under his lashes. My fingers found purchase in his fiery red locks as I firmly stated, “I belong to no one and you are not my High Lord, Eris.”

His responding nip to my swollen clit drew a sharp gasp from me. Eris let out a satisfied hum in return as he resumed feasting like a starved male. Perhaps that’s what kept drawing me back into the bastards bed - his insatiable hunger fueled by that eagerness to please that only amplified with the calloused remarks I threw at him. Most females fell at his feet - throwing themselves at the chance to serve a High Lord. Whereas most males ran as far away as they could upon realizing that my father was the infamous Shadowsinger.

One of my shadows caressed the base of his neck, circling back around as to tilt his chin up. His needy eyes met mine again. “Fuck me, Eris.”

In an instant he was up, standing before me. Biting my lip, I clenched my thighs together at the sight of the incredibly evident arousal pressing against his trousers. He fumbled with the buckles on them, when suddenly a grating sound filled the air - the balcony doors flying open. “Sissy! Aunt Mor wants to see your neckl- oh wow, who is that!?”

Fuck me. This cannot be happening.

I jumped up, pulling my dress down before my little sister could see the exposed flesh.

I scrambled for words, voice cracking as I scolded, “She can wait, Azzy, just go back inside.”

It was too late though, as my father’s shadow that had been trailing her all evening had already reported back and before Eris or I could flee, my father, mother, Uncle Rhys, and Lucien winnowed onto the balcony.

————————————————-

Stay tuned for part three!

[lady-of-tearshed]

Scarred

Nessian & OC!Nessian daughter Briana

Cassian Week 2024

@cassianappreciationweek

Day 5: Scars

Summary: Cassian's traumas comes back to haunt him when their daughter naively wishes for a real war, like the ones in her books.

Warnings: Angst, Pregnancy, PTSD/Panic attack description, Cassian raising his voice, flinching, mention of an explosion, mention of death, mention of war.

Word count: 1,687k words

A/N: Good luck with the angst. The lady of tearshed has striked again, hope your heart can bear this one! 💕 Love y'all! Xx

The pretty dividers are made by the very talented @tsunami-of-tears ❤️

The sun was starting to set, but the laughter and excited shrieks of children were still roaring at the River House. They were all playing with the wooden swords Rhysand had gifted Nyx for his tenth birthday. 

Briana, despite being the youngest one of her cousins, was ferociously defending herself. But Cassian knew her bed time was coming, and that if he didn't put a stop to their game real soon, his little princess would be in a piss poor mood all day tomorrow morning. And with Nesta carrying their second child, he didn't want her to deal with Bri's grumpiness tomorrow. His pregnant mate didn't need that additional stress. 

He whistled, loudly, and Briana's eyes immediately shot to his direction, a broad smile spread across her face as she ran into his direction. Cassian opened his arms for her and she jumped into them, nuzzling her little nose against his. 

“Did my little princess have fun today?” Cassian said, kissing her forehead. 

“Yeah! I want the same gift as Nyx's for my birthday!” 

Cassian laughed. Typical Briana's answer, always wanting to be the same as her older cousin. “Your birthday is still ten months away, Bri. Don’t grow up too fast.” He chuckled. 

Nesta approached them, and Cassian slid a protective hand around her hip. His fingers stroked the side of Nesta’s still small baby bump, and bent down. “Hi you two…” He whispered in Nesta’s ear, before kissing her cheek. “Ready to go?” 

“Yes.”

“No!”

Nesta gave the pair of eyes that meant “Don't you dare throw a tantrum just now, please.” to her daughter, then sighed. “Princess… Baby and mommy are very tired. How about we invite Nyx at home tomorrow?” 

Briana huffed, looked at Nesta’s belly, hesitated. “Okay… I'll go say bye to Nyxie, Bastian, Emett and Poppy…” She mumbled, then hopped off Cassian's arms to run to her cousins, aunts, and uncles to tell them goodbye. Lingering and taking her time, obviously. 

Cassian held Nesta against her, watching their beautiful daughter chattering with their family, before turning his gaze to Nesta's. “How are you feeling?” He frowned, his Fae male instincts kicking in, telling him to check up on his pregnant mate. 

Nesta rolled her eyes, a playful glint shining in her eyes. “Pregnant, sweaty, and full with your child… Not much different than six years ago.” 

Nesta winked at him, and  Cassian's hrin grew even wider. Before he could get another taste of his mate's delicious lips, Briana ran in their direction, wiggling in their embrace. 

“I'm ready!” Briana proudly announced. 

Cassian was drained, exhausted. The three of them were tightly squeezed into Briana's “big girl bed”. Nesta was reading out loud a bedtime story about princesses, princes and soldiers fighting against cruel Nagas. 

His calloused fingers were brushing through his daughter's dark curls, careful not to get tangled in any knots. He was starting to wonder which one of them would fall asleep first. 

Nesta closed the book shut when the story ended, and Cassian's eyes shot open. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and yawned. “Alright… It's time to sleep now princess…” He mumbled into Briana's hair, pampering her cheek with kisses. 

Cassian helped Nesta roll out of the bed, then softly tucked in Briana, just how she liked it, he even placed her favorite plushies to watch over her. 

“I wish there would be a real war going on…” Briana mumbled sleepily. 

Cassian froze, he kneeled beside Briana's bed, and his jaw clenched. “We don't wish for things like that. Ever.” He growled. 

Briana’s brown eyes fluttered open, and silver lined them when she took in Cassian’s furious expression. “B-But–”

“There are no buts,” He raised his voice slightly, panic surged through him, his stomach was churning. 

“Cassian…” Nesta warned from the door frame. 

“There are no buts!” He repeated, whirling his head to Nesta. “There are real people dying in wars. Faes, humans, male and females. Even innocent children suffer from the consequences of wars–” 

Cassian snapped back to reality when he heard a muffled sob. He looked over his daughter, he stared into those tiny eyes that looked just like his. His heart broke. 

“Princess… I'm sorry for raising my voice,” He reached out to stroke Briana's wet cheek, “I'm so–” 

Briana flinched under Cassian's touch. His wings dropped to the ground, and tears rolled down his own cheeks. He rose to his feet, stumbling back from the bed. He brushed past Nesta, and stormed out of the room. 

He headed to the bathroom, his breathing ragged. He closed the door, leaned over the sink and turned on the faucet with trembling hands. The walls felt like they were moving towards him, trapping him. The air became hard to breathe, Cassian felt surrounded by darkness. 

He had scared Briana, his princess, his daughter.

“I wish there would be a real war going on…” 

No, of course Briana didn't mean what she said. She probably didn't have a clue of what a war would occur, what ravages it would make. Cassian had overreacted, he had crossed the line by raising his voice at her. 

The way his touch had made his little girl flinch… Cassian would never forgive himself for that. 

“I wish there would be a real war going on…”

A war… Cassian had fought countless wars before Briana’s birth. He had devoted his whole life to assure the protection of the Court he was born in. He had served and led Rhysand’s armies for centuries before partially retiring once he became a dad. 

Cassian’s wings shivered at the thought of what would happen if another war would rise. He had too much to lose now to even think about it, he would do anything in his power for this to never happen. 

This stupid wish was the only thing he would ever deny his daughter. Anything but this. No one wants to live with the visible and invisible scars that a war can cause. 

“Cassian?”

“Cassian!” 

Cassian had almost collapsed to the ground when he had heard Nesta's desperate cries as if she was standing right beside him. His face had snapped to her direction instinctively, and for the first time in his life, he had dropped the plan and shot through her direction. 

Cassian still vividly remembered the death-white light hurled towards him and his soldiers. How the earth shatyered from ghe explosion. Some of the most skilled Illyrian warriors had been turned to ash within a matter of seconds. The memory still haunted him. Cassian would've stood in the middle of the explosion with the rest of his soldiers if Nesta's desperate calls hadn't pulled him away. 

“Cassian, open your damn eyes,” Cassian eyes shot open at the urgency in Nesta's voice. The intrusive memory switched to the familiar decor of their bathroom. He hadn't realized how he had stumbled down the floor and crawled until his back had bumped against the side of the large tub. 

Nesta's hands were gripping his cheeks tightly, forcing his head to stop moving so his eyes could concentrate on hers. “Look at me,” She growled. Her eyes chased his and when they locked, she grinned softly. “Hi, Cas,” 

Cassian was breathless, his chest heaving rapidly. His lungs burned as they struggled to fill themselves with oxygen. He pressed his sweaty brows to Nesta's, putting his hands over hers. 

“Hello, Nes,” He whispered, swallowing the tight knot in his throat. 

He closed his eyes, and when Nesta cradled his head to her chest, he wept. His wings drooped and his whole body shook as tears escaped his eyes. 

Cassian hadn't lost control like that for decades now. He had naively thought that maybe this was it, that he was cured. That the invisible damages that his years as the Lord of Bloodshed had left were now healed. That the nightmares, the flashbacks, the anxiety had disappeared forever. 

Cassian clenched his teeth, overwhelmed by the guilt of letting himself get into this state by a simple mention of war. 

“Hey… it's okay to be scared,” Nesta gently ran her fingers through Cassian's hair. His hands were still tightly wrapped around her wrists, holding onto her as if she would slip away if he let go. “I'm right here,” She slowly removed one of Cassian’s hands from her wrist, and lowered it to her stomach. “We’re right here,” 

Cassian grip instantly eased away from her wrists. He slid his hands underneath the fabric of Nesta’s dress, resting his hands flat against her warm skin. 

He moved his head from her breast, rubbing his nose against the column of her neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in Nesta’s sweet scent. She was here, pregnant with their second babe, both alive and incredibly strong. 

“I thought I was getting better,” Cassian mumbled against the skin of her neck, his hands rubbing circles atop her stomach. 

“You are, Cas. Everyday you're getting better. But these wounds…” She placed a kiss on his forehead. “These kinds of wounds… they stay. Like scars, they'll become paler with time, but they'll never completely go away,” 

Cassian hummed, knowing she was right. But accepting this reality was hard, that he'll have to live with these mental scars forever were a massive blow to his male pride. He frowned. “I scared Briana…” 

“She would never be scared of you, my mate. I explained it to her,” Cassian lifted his face to meet hers. “She understands now,” 

“I still feel bad… I need to apologize-”

Nesta held him down firmly, keeping him from standing up. “She's asleep. Appologize to her tomorrow. For now, rest. You need it,” 

Cassian nodded, and pulled Nesta up onto his lap. “Thank you…” He whispered against the shell of her beautiful pointy ear. 

“What for?” She laughed silently.

Cassian looked down at her, at their babe growing beneath her skin. He had not enough words to describe everything he was grateful for. He didn't have a fancy way to declare his deep gratitude for how Nesta's presence in his life made it extremely better. 

“Everything,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Acotar taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria

Cassian taglist: @ladybookstan @acotar-lover

[cressidagrey]

Indelible Scars - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel knew pain. So did Galena.

Also known as: Azriel’s mate is a healer and the first time they meet, he nearly dies on her.

Warnings:

People being idiots, Rhys bashing, broken bones, discussion of medical decisions

(thanks to @cafekitsune for the super pretty dividers!)

She had hoped that the antidote would be enough to get the fever to lower at least a little bit, to let him come awake in some sense…but even as she poured the third dose of it down her mate’s throat, Galena could feel his skin underneath her fingertips burn with fever. 

Still not anywhere close to his normal range.

He rested easier and by now, his magic easily let itself be cradled by hers, though she wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just pure exhaustion from him…or maybe it was that his shadows kept watch over them all. 

Nesta had disappeared because at least one of them should have had more than catnaps during that night. The General fell asleep against that overstuffed armchair, mouth open, lightly snoring, and she badgered the shadows into covering him with a blanket. 

She was sure that he would immediately wake up if she approached if only because she had no chance to be silent with a constant limp and the help of her cane. But the shadows could do it. 

Galena was also treated to the view of Cassian nearly falling off said overstuffed armchair when another cough of Azriel’s woke him up from his sleep. 

The Lord of Bloodshed seemed to be nothing more than just a male at all. 

Galena kept busy checking the levels of Azriel’s blood, which slowly turned into something that was no longer a fucking mess, but still not good. 

She was going to have to put him on so many potions to even get him anywhere close to where he should be. Broadband vitamins especially. 

Still, the fever stayed. 

As Nesta came to check on them the next morning, she took the third vial of blood that day and tested it once again. 

The compounds were gone. 

But that wasn’t the only surprise she found. 

The curse that left her mouth would have made Aunt Madja wash out her mouth with soap, she was certain of that. 

“What?” Cassian demanded immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“He has faebane in his system,” Galena hissed. Faebane. Granted just minute traces but enough to keep his fever going, enough that the infection in his lungs had something to latch onto…enough to weaken him…“I didn’t recognise it at first because it’s just traces.“

“Somebody poisoned him?” Nesta snapped. “When?” 

Galena shook her head. “I don’t know, it’s… It’s weak…It’s…”

Something… niggled at the edges of her brain, the shadows swirled worried, having rushed over to her at her outburst. 

Master wasn’t poisoned. We would have sensed that… They assured her. 

But if he wasn’t poisoned…Where did the faebane come from…

She pulled back the duvet that was tucked around him, a comment from Cassian suddenly tugging at her mind. The one thing was that he got some bruises on his chest, but that was it.

Bruises…

They were still there. They should have healed by now, especially if he had used some of the Bruise Balm she made. They should have…

“He got them around two, three weeks ago,” Cassian explained as she stared at them, willing them to tell her what was going on…

She reached out to touch, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breathing…

She wasn’t even sure what she was searching for…maybe to assure herself that he was alive, that…her fingertips weren’t particularly sensitive on a good day, so it wasn’t like she was probably going to actually feel if there was…

And then her fingers tripped over a scar right between two ribs…

“Ash Bolt to his chest,” Cassian answered quietly. “But that was years ago.” 

“Madja removed it?” she asked carefully and he nodded, realisation dawning on his face. 

“You think it was dipped in faebane?” he asked curiously. 

“I think it was filled with that…and think my Aunt didn’t remove all of it,” she admitted quietly. “Just a shard…it healed, probably encapsulated…and then he got hit in the chest, fractured the shard…faebane got into his system once again…”

She couldn’t prove it. It was a theory. But it was the only one that made sense to her. 

“What do we do now?” Cassian asked her, crossing his arms. 

“Do you want to hear what I would do or what Madja would suggest?” Galena asked with a sigh. 

It would be two drastically different things. 

“You would do two different things?” Nesta asked, curious. 

“We take very different approaches,” Galena admitted. “Mine tend to be more aggressive…more on the experimental sides. Hers would be…traditional and proven.” 

One wasn’t better than the other, in Galena’s opinion. But still…

She looked at her mate, at his still form in that bed…and Galena knew what she wanted to do. She knew that she wouldn’t have a fucking night of peace until she was sure that he didn’t have a nightmare attached to a countdown in his chest when she didn’t know when that clock would run out. 

“You would open him up and take it out,” Cassian said quietly. She just nodded.

“I would prove my hypothesis,” she agreed. “The shadows are sure that he wasn’t poisoned and the only way for him to get faebane into his system would be if it has already been present before. So yes. I would reopen the scar…flush it out.”

“And Madja?”

“Madja would give him an antidote, leave it be, fill him to his gills with potions and wait until he wakes up and can make that decision himself,” she said evenly. “One option isn’t particularly better than the other. Both have arguments for and against it,” she said quietly. “Who’s his next of kin?” she asked because that was a decision that they couldn’t make without consulting them. 

“Doesn’t really work that way for him,” Cassian said with a sigh. ”He has two half brothers but I would rather drive my sword through them than consult them on any detail of his medical care.”

Right. 

“So…You?” Galena suggested. He stared at her. 

“I can’t make that decision alone,” Cassian said, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“So you and… and somebody else?” she suggested. 

“Rhys. Mor. Amren,”  he said with a decisive nod. 

“Then I think you should get them in here,” Galena said carefully. “Madja and Zoreen said they would be back this morning. You’ll get to hear all about how my idea is a horrible idea soon enough.” She wasn’t bitter when she said that. 

It was just…her Aunt and Galena had vastly different approaches and her aunt believed that she needed to fogto the Personal Cost because she preferred to stay in the stillroom than be stared at by random people in the street. 

Or something like that. 

It took less than an hour until Cassian had somehow pulled together who he wanted to have, as Madja and Zoreen arrived…her aunt checking over her work like she still tended to do to this day. 

Some things would never change. 

“Good job, little mouse,” her aunt that softly, a hand placed on her shoulder. The childhood nickname made something in her tighten. “So what is the problem?” 

She opened her mouth in response, but by then Cassian spilt into the room, followed by a…very bruised-looking High Lord, who was moving rather gingerly…a bright blonde beauty that she knew to be The Morrigan…and a small, dark-haired female with startling grey eyes. Which meant that that must be Amren.

“She’ll explain it better than I can,” Cassian said at that moment, waving to her. She steeled herself for the glances she knew she was going to get, staring at the wall somewhere beyond the three newcomers because she really wasn’t…she couldn’t deal with that right now.

Not running on a few hours of sleep and the worry churning in her gut. 

“Would you like some Pain Relief Potion, High Lord?” Her aunt asked, sounding somewhere between amused and exasperated. He opened his mouth to respond but The Morrigan was quicker.

“No. I want him to learn his lesson,” The Morrigan hissed between her teeth. 

“Every time I heal the bruises, she just gives me more,” the High Lord gave back drily. 

“Mor,” Cassian said with a sigh. “Give him some Pain Relief Potion, please,” he said with a wave of his hand. “And maybe fix the nose I broke as well when you are already at it…” he mumbled under his breath. 

“What's wrong with Az?” The Morrigan demanded at that moment, immediately coming to his bedside. 

She was beautiful. Even more beautiful than Galena had ever imagined her to be, with flowing blonde hair and warm brown eyes…Beauty a war would be fought over. 

And clearly…clearly she doted on Azriel. 

“He has faebane in his blood,” Galena answered quietly, resulting in a gasp coming from her. 

“Faebane?” The High Lord repeated, sounding incredulous. 

“Yes,” she agreed. “The shadows have assured us that he wasn’t poisoned recently. Which leads me to the conclusion that the faebane has already been in his system for longer.” 

“Explain, Galena,” her aunt demanded. “What’s your thought process?”

“Two weeks ago, he was injured. There are still bruises on his chest,” she explained. “They should be healed by now. They are not. Naturally quick healing slowed down by the faebane. A few years ago he got an ash bolt to his chest…” she trailed off leadingly. 

“Yes. I removed it. He was fine,” her aunt agreed. 

“Did you remove the whole thing in one piece?” Galena asked pointedly.

Her aunt met her gaze, shook her head, eyebrows furrowing. “No, it shattered when I removed it. You know ashwood. It’s notorious for splintering apart if it gets wet,” she explained. “I…there was faebane on that…” she said thoughtfully. 

“I think you missed a splinter.”

Her aunt blinked at that. 

“I cleaned out the wound. Twice,“ she pointed out with a huff. 

“I think there is a splinter inside him,” Galena repeated. “You plied him with potions, sewed him up… I think it was fine, it healed. He got punched with enough force on the chest…the splinter broke apart…probably cut something inside him. The faebane that was on it went back into his system…That made it easy for the infections in his lungs to take root.” 

“Her reasoning is sound,” Zoreen agreed. “There is no way he got it from somewhere else?”

“It’s trace amounts,” Galena said. “If somebody tried to poison him, they would use more…”

“What do you want to do?” Zoreen asked, looking at her leadingly. 

She took a deep breath. She knew her aunt wouldn’t like this. “I want to open him up and remove the splinter,” she said carefully.

Her aunt wasn’t the only person who didn’t like that scenario. A gasp came from The Morrigan, Cassian looked like he had swallowed poison, the High Lord was staring at Azriel…Amren was staring at her. 

“Galena,” her aunt said sharply. “We are talking about a living and breathing person and not about one of your books. We are not talking about you mixing some mirthroot and lavender in the stillroom and seeing what happens. We are talking about a living being.  Best case scenario, you find nothing. You want to cut into his torso, carve him up for the off chance that you are right!” 

It cut that the person that knew her best, thought that she just wanted to do this for research. That she hadn’t thought this through. And she had thought this through. Of course, she had. She would never risk someone’s life until she had no choice, unless she was sure of what she was doing… 

“I want to take a calculated risk, to remove something from his body that has the potential of being enormously harmful,” she said carefully. 

Still, she could feel that not everybody was agreeing with her. Rather the opposite to be completely honest. 

“What would you do, Madja?” The High Lord asked. 

“Give him the antidote for faebane over a longer period. A few weeks,” Madja said immediately. 

“It would make him miserable. Probably unconscious and unresponsive,” Zoreen cut in. 

“It would be safer,” Madja disagreed. 

“And you want to leave a potential splinter of ashwood in his chest?” Galena asked quietly. Just leave it there? 

“As long as it doesn’t give him any more problems, yes .  We don’t even know if there is actually ashwood anywhere inside him!”

They didn’t know. They just had a theory, a hypothesis, but no actual proof. 

“I can’t make that decision alone…” Cassian said quietly. “So what do you say?”  

“What do you want to do, Cassian?” The High Lord asked him. 

“Remove it,” Cassian said immediately. 

One in her corner. One. 

“It’s a risk. Can his body stand that, even weakened like it is?” The Morrigan asked, big brown eyes still worriedly staring at Azriel. “What if… 

“The risk is high that his heart is just going to stop,” Madja agreed. Galena didn’t.  

“He’s in his prime and his body is at a peak of physical fitness. Even weakened from the infection, he still is strong ,” she disagreed. “He fought me tooth and nail at first to get his magic to calm down,” she muttered under her breath. 

“If we don’t do it, we could just weaken him more,” The High Lord pointed out reasonably. “Amren?” 

“You are all forgetting one thing,” the slight female said, her voice bone dry.

“What?” Cassian demanded. 

“That none of you have any right to make that decision for him when his mate is right there.”

No. No. No, no, no, no, no…

She was waiting for an explosion. She stared everywhere but at the male still lying unconscious in the bed. At everything but the High Lord, even when she could feel the tremors running through her, could feel the shadows that had settled into Azriel’s shadows come to her side, curl themselves around her hands…ready to defend her from…something. 

Curling themselves around her hands and holding on. 

“Amren, what…” The High Lord started, but Amren was just staring at her. Galena finally met her gaze, feeling how her body seemingly started shaking as she could feel every eye in that room on her.  

“I can smell it on you, girl,” Amren said pointedly. “It’s all over you. I am surprised that Rhysand hadn’t yet picked it out of your head, but maybe you just have very strong mental shields. I just have one question: Any specific reason why you haven’t said a thing about it?”

She swallowed. No words wanted to come out of her throat. 

And then there was Aunt Madja. 

“Galena,” she said, her name…sounding scandalised. 

“It snapped the moment I first saw him,” her voice was broken, and it felt like her throat was closing around shattered glass as she forced out these words. 

“You…” Cassian whispered and she closed her eyes because she couldn’t look at him. Because she couldn’t…she couldn’t look at anybody. 

Her chest felt like it was caving in. 

She didn’t…She hadn’t planned on anybody finding out. She had been planning on saving Azriel and then disappearing back into her Stillroom, and never coming out again. 

That’s what she had wanted. That’s what she had…that’s what she had planned on. She hadn’t wanted to ever tell him. Tell anybody. She had never wanted anybody to find out. It was her secret. She had been ready to take it to the grave with her. 

“Why didn’t you say something ?” The General asked her, and she wasn’t even sure how she forced out the next words. 

“Because I wasn’t going to let it snap for him.” She wasn’t. 

He should have been able to live his life without… without even being bothered by the knowledge of what she was to him. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t after to hi. He had a whole life and friends and family and she…she just…she was nothing but deadweight to him. Nothing but something he would feel obligated to…nothing but…

“Why?” The General demanded, sounding…furious and utterly…despaired and…

“Cassian,” The High Lord warned but Galena didn’t even hear that when her head snapped up. 

“Why?” she echoed. “Look at him,” she said with a wave to Azriel. “And then look at me! Why should a male like him want me ?” she spat out, and suddenly it all welled up inside her. Like a wave crashing against the shore and it burst out of her mouth, without her being able to stop anything.

“Galena…” her aunt said but she didn’t care. 

“I can’t even walk over the market without people staring, without them making their smart little quips that they think I can’t hear. But I can,” she spat. “And I can stand it from everybody around me, how they stare at me, with disgust and pity and shame for something that I had nothing to do with. I was a child  when I got these scars. And I hate people for it, but I can’t do anything against so I do nothing . I live through it. I let them stare at me and talk behind my back and I buy the freaking tomatoes because that’s what you want from me, Aunt Madja, and I hate every fucking second of it!”

Madja stared at her wide-eyed.  

“They just need to get used to you, Little Mouse.” 

The words that had haunted her since her childhood. They just need to get used to you. Said every day before she went to school when she sat through hours of the younglings her age staring at her like she was some kind of exotic animal. 

Said every time she was expected to go to that market…and the people still stared, even when now she was grown up and had a job and was good at her job…whatever she did…it was never enough to make the people stop staring at her. 

Never enough. 

“They had over one and a half centuries to get used to me,” she whispered, staring at her aunt. “They haven’t gotten used to me, they won’t get used to me and I am so…I am so tired of it,” she admitted, tears leaking out of her eyes, but she didn’t care. “But even if they do stare…I don’t know them…not many of them. So what does it matter, right? I go back to the Stillroom and I bury myself in my work and I am good at my job! Fuck it, I am brilliant! I am! And I don’t forget the personal cost, even when you think I do! I think about it every damn day!”

Her chest heaved as the words poured out of her, decades of pent-up unfairness streaming out of her.  

“And still…every time I look in the mirror…I hate the person who stares back. I hate the scars. And if I could rip off every inch of my skin, I would.  I hate that they remind me…that they remind me of the male that tried to kill me and that my mother still chose over me. I hate…I hate them! They are ugly and they make my heart hurt!”

“Galena… They don’t matter,” Madja told her, brown eyes filled with tears. “They don’t matter, Little Mouse. You are…”

“They matter to me!” She snapped, desperation bleeding into her voice . “ You don’t see them every time you look into a mirror! You don’t understand! They don’t hurt you, every day! They don’t make people look at you like you aren’t even a Fae! Like you are something different, a monster ! People see them and they don’t see me! And that’s…I can survive it. I don’t like it but I can survive that.” 

Her voice broke at the last word. She could survive that. If it was somebody that she didn’t know…it still hurt but…she could survive that. But she couldn’t...  

“But him? My mate ? The one person that’s supposed to love me? He’ll stare at me with disgust and pity and I can’t…I can’t…I can’t stand that . I don’t ever want him to look at me. To see me. Because I won’t survive if he stares at me like they do. I don’t want to survive if he does!”

It burst out of her, the words spilling over even as the sobs built in her chest, as she wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the floor and curl herself into a ball and never, never see anybody, be anybody ever again. 

She wanted…she wanted…she…

“Galena,” her aunt said softly, a hand landing on her shoulder, but she flinched, her bad leg spasm, and she nearly hit the floor, if the shadows hadn’t rightened her at the last possible moment, before anybody could do anything about it, before…

“Let me,” said a rough voice that she had heard so often over the last days, as broad hands lifted her, and settled her on the chair she had spent so much time on. 

“Listen to me,” Cassian said as he kneeled before her, as he peeled her hands from her face, ignoring the scars that marred them, holding them in a pair of calloused hands, even as she shook like a leaf. 

“He deserves better than me,” Galena whispered. He did. So much better. And she couldn’t even give him the fault if he did stare at her like she was a monster, because…

“Look at me,” Cassian said fiercely and waited until her eyes lifted and she looked at him. “Azriel isn’t awake, so I am going tell you what I know he would tell you if he could ,” he told her pointedly. “He. Won’t. Care.” He punctuated every word. “I swear to you. He will not care,” Cassian repeated, wiping away her tears. “He has waited centuries for you. And you really think that a couple of scars are going to make him turn you down?” he told her sharply and she swallowed. 

“You don’t know that,” she croaked out. 

She couldn’t…She squashed the warm hope that was growing in her chest. 

Cassian just snorted. 

“I have known my brother for 5 centuries. I know him, Galena. I swear to you, he will not care,” he repeated again. But when he saw the look on her face, he sighed. “Care to weigh in, shadows? Make yourself useful for once?” he asked, the shadows that still swirled around her. 

Your scars match Master’s scars. Master’s scars match yours. He hates them as well.  They told her, gently rubbing through her hair, gently ghosting against her face, against her tears... You should tell us who hurt you. We’ll take care of them. They promised her vengeance. 

“He’s dead,” The High Lord said calmly. 

Her breath caught in her throat at these simple words, at the pitch black darkness in these words. 

If shadows could harrumph they would have done it, she was quite sure. 

Did he suffer? The shadows demanded. 

“It wasn’t enough for what he did to her…but it was something. All the justice I could give her,” The High Lord of the Night Court said calmly, one hand settling on her shoulder.  

“Cassian is right. Azriel won’t care. And don’t tell him I said it, but he was always the hopeless romantic of us three,” there was humour flecking his voice in that simple sentence. Acceptance. “He’ll be so glad that you are finally there.”

It was The Morrigan that broke the silence. “I think you probably have more of a right than any of us to decide what we should do. So what are we going to do now?” 

She swallowed.  

“He’s your mate. It’s your choice,” Cassian agreed quietly. “He would want you to make that choice.”

She closed her eyes, tears still falling over her face. 

So what was…what choice…what choice should she make? 

“We’ll get it out.” She followed her instincts even if it was dangerous. Even when it was an hypothesis she needed to prove…even when…She needed to know for sure.” I don’t forget the personal cost. I know what risk I am taking. It’s a calculated risk,” she said, her voice shaky. 

“Galena,” her aunt said carefully, a weathered old hand wiping away her tears. 

“Do you really think I would risk him if I wasn’t sure?” she asked her aunt, staring at her. “Do you think I would have risked Cosima and Orion if I wasn’t sure? If I wasn’t certain that it would work? I may look like one, but I am not a monster.”

“I know that,” Madja whispered. “Oh, little mouse, I know that.”

[lucysstoryworld]

Lease of Life | Azriel x Reader Part 1

Summary: The youngest Archeron sister had been plagued by sickness her whole life. Her family just had to watch as she endured a slow, agonising death. However, the events of her sister’s transition into Prythian has the Archeron sisters having to endure the change of their very existence. It seems to be a new lease of life for (F/n), but her new life is not as sweet as she would like as she realises that she is slowly falling for the Shadowsinger, whom only has his sights set on her elder sister. 

Warnings: Death, violence, angst, dark thoughts.

Series Masterlist

Hey! This is my first Azriel fic after having so many ideas! I hope you enjoy and let me know if you have any feedback. I’d be willing to start a tag list for anyone who might be interested, but I will not accept anyone who is under the age of 18, so please either state your age in either the ask/message/comment or just have it in the bio of your blog!

Soft light peaked through curtains, bringing with it a gentle breeze from the cracked window. It would have been serene were it not for the pain that accompanied your existence in this world. Another day of being coddled like a child by the maids. Perhaps your sisters would grace you with their presence again today, letting you know that they had found yet another healer who claimed to have the ability to nurse you back to health. 

Health. Not a day in your twenty years had you ever paired yourself and the word healthy in one sentence. Sick from birth. Living from one ailment to the next, waiting for the day where you did not awake again. When your father had lost his wealth, you and your three sisters were forced to move into more “modest” living circumstances your father had called it. Not that you considered slowly starving to death modest. The gain that Feyre had hunted was barely enough to scrape by on, let alone having to spend any spare coin she had to provide you with medicines so you did not meet your maker within the following days. Guilt consumed you when you realised she would give you half her serving of food, see her forego a new cloak to get her hands on some sort of treatment for you. Often you had wished that your next bout of flu or fever would suck you into the darkness just so Feyre, Nesta, Elain and your father might have better quality of life. 

But then, Feyre had left. Gone with some distant, well off aunt. From living in a hovel, to being reintroduced to wealth you could just barely remember. Feyre took with her Nesta’s shame, your father’s sadness and Elain’s desperation. If only she had taken your sickness too. You had hoped that the sudden wealth would provide some cure. That would give you a new lease of life. However, healer after healer, remedy after remedy had dashed all hopes of you ever living a normal life. Though, Nesta and Elain seemed determined to scour to the ends of the earth for a healer that could give you your life back. 

It had frustrated you. Their sudden willingness to help when they watched Feyre give everything but the clothes off her back for you. They sat and judged her. Nesta’s pride was just as strong as her protection over Elain. Two women content with sitting around, waiting for a man to take their hand in marriage. Pathetic. You wanted to shake them out of their silly daze, tell them to go live the life you yearned for. Travel, go horseback riding, anything. Anything other than sitting around the house, gossiping with those who turned their noses up at you and your family when poverty had the Archerons in a chokehold. Those same people who now looked at you as a charity case. Spoke about you as if you were not in front of them. 

How terrible for such youth to be bed bound. 

So disappointing for a lady of your age to be unable to get married. 

Never to have children — such a shame. 

The maid entering the room tore you from your pitiful thoughts. “Good morning, (F/n). How are you feeling?” 

“The same as I have all my damn life, Dina,” You all but bit back. 

“Language, child. You won’t get better with that attitude.” Another optimist. Great. It took every modicum of self control not to tear into her. But you would not. Dina was about as kind as they got. She was the closest thing to a mother you had known, after losing your own before you were old enough to walk. 

“Sorry, Dina. What’s on the schedule for today?” You hoped there would be no visits from any of your sisters’ aristocrat friends. Not today, today you were tired and wished to at least pretend as though you were normal. 

As if the gods above had answered your prayers, Dina spoke “Nothing, for once, sweet one,” She replied softly as she helped you to sit. “You may do what you please today.” Her voice was like honey as she took a brush to your thin hair. Dina was the only handmaid who had treated you like a human. Although she was cautious, she allowed you some freedoms that often had your sisters reeling with concern. Nesta had tried to dismiss her the first time you walked around the manor with Dina by your side, claiming that a seizure could take you at any moment and that Dina was not fit to look after you. She had relented when she saw how genuinely happy you looked at the mere prospect of walking .

“Great! I would like to have breakfast in the dining hall with my sisters today.” With a ‘hmph’ of agreement from Dina, she prepared you for the day. She smoothed each article of clothing over you as if you were a living, breathing work of art. 

Once she was satisfied, her brows furrowed slightly as she held her hand to your forehead, “You have a slight fever, child. You better take it easy today.”

With a sigh from deep within your soul, you breathed a “I always do.” 

The walk from your bedroom to the dining hall was more taxing than what you were used to, a tell tale that you would likely be completely incapacitated in the following days. Though you did not let it show. If there was even so much a whisper of your health taking another turn, Nesta and Elain would have one of the butlers carry you back to your room. As you approached the doors to the dining room, you could’ve sworn you could hear Feyre. You knew it wasn’t true. She hadn’t visited once since she left for your aunt’s. However, the closer you got, the more voices you could hear. “I thought you said there were no plans today.” 

“There wasn’t.” Perhaps it was one of Elain’s wedding planners who had an appointment. Ugh. 

Nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you opened the door. Fae. There was no doubt about it when you beheld the wings, the pointed ears and the ethereal beauty each of them possessed. In spite of the fact that the creatures you were taught to fear were standing a mere few feet from you, what sent your mind into a haze was seeing Feyre with them. Standing among them with pointed ears, with a frame more elongated than what you remembered, with that same otherworldly presence than the others.

“What the fuck,” You breathed, not entirely sure if this was a dream your fevered brain had concocted. 

“(F/n) what are you doing out of bed?” Nesta barked, rushing over to you. Within an instant, she was shielding you from the guests. Her hands brushing over your cheeks and forehead. “You’ve got a fever, you shouldn’t be down here. Go back to your room.” Nesta’s voice did not leave much room for argument.

“(F/n),” Though Feyre looked different, her voice was just the same. The only difference, that she sounded more mature from when you last saw her in your dilapidated cottage. Pushing passed Nesta, you walked to just in front of your sister, who seemingly held her breath as you assessed her. Face filled out, strong body and she looked happy. Happy with her company and the beautiful man with violet eyes standing next to her. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. You had never seen her at a loss for words, not with you, not ever. The man by her side placed a hand on the small of her back as you continued to scan her silently. She did not break your gaze once, but visibly relaxed just at the touch of her partner, you had gathered by now. “(F/n), I’m sor-.” 

Before she could even finish, you flung your arms around her, holding onto her as though she had risen from the dead. And when Feyre returned the embrace, you buried your head into the crook of her neck to hide your tears from her company. “Don’t,” you sobbed, “Don’t you apologise to me. Not when you are the only reason we did not die in that cottage.” It was now Feyre’s turn to cry. Pulling away from her, you smoothed your hands over her hair. Eyes taking in every single detail and committing them to memory. You wiped her tears with your thumbs and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. “Do you want to introduce us to your friends before this gets awkward?” You joked. 

Feyre stepped back into the arms of the man, while Nesta and Elain approached your side. Nesta looked as though she was ready to rip Feyre to shreds and Elain looked entirely bewildered by the situation. “Nesta, Elain, (F/n)... This is Rhysand. The High Lord of the Night Court in Prythian and my mate,” you looked to the man standing next to Feyre, his eyes piercing yet kind. Both Nesta and Elain stood stationary. Assessing him. Calculating whether or not he was a threat. Looking from them to Rhysand with a slight roll of your eyes, you approached him and offered your hand.

His hand was large and strong, you could’ve sworn you could feel the magic thrumming in his blood. With a gentle smile, you looked deep into his eyes. “Rhysand, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, (F/n). Feyre has told me a great deal about you.” His voice was like spiced rum, filling you with warmth akin to the heat of a fire on a frigid snowy night. 

Your eyes shot to Feyre’s with a knowing smirk, her cheeks rosy as she beheld her... mate she called it. She gestured towards the blond woman next, who appeared to be very eager to meet you, “This is Morrigan. Rhys’s cousin. She oversees the court.” 

“Nice to meet you, Morrigan.” Shaking her hand, you laughed gently as she smiled at you excitedly.

“It’s great to meet you, (F/n).”

“Next is Amren, Rhys’s second in command.” You barely registered Feyre as you moved to look at Amren. Amren seemed different than the others, though you could not quite place your finger on it. Nonetheless, you shook her hand and introduced yourself. Feyre moved on to to the tall winged men next. “This is Cassian, the general of the Night Court’s armies.” 

Cassian had his eyes trained on Nesta, the two in a staring contest. Each of their expressions were about as sour as they got, daring one another to say or do something brash. You snorted slightly, drawing Nesta and Cassian’s attention to you, “I haven’t seen anyone that didn’t wither under Nesta’s glare,” You could feel her burning holes into the back of your head yet you remained fixed on the general, “It’s nice to meet you, general.” 

“It’s nice to meet the sister Feyre speaks nothing but fondly of,” He replied quietly, taking your hand in his and looking at you with so much emotion. You weren’t sure where it came from, but he was clearly troubled about being in the presence of Nesta. You were sure you’d find out soon whether you wanted to or not. 

Feyre ushered you along to the final member of the group, not without a pointed and warning glance at the general. “Last, but not least, (F/n) this is Azriel. The spymaster of the Night Court.” 

For once, you felt at a loss for words. The being in front of you was the most striking man you had ever seen. As if the gods themselves had forged him. His dark skin, golden eyes, short black hair and domineering wings jutting out each side of him. His gaze sucked the breath from your lungs. Azriel held his gloved hand out, and you absentmindedly lifted your own to meet it. The heat of his grasp jumpstarted your brain back to reality. With flushed cheeks and a smile you found your voice, “Pleasure to meet you, Azriel.”

Azriel nodded in acknowledgment as his eyes swept over you, “Pleasure is all mine.” Gods, his voice was unlike anything you had ever heard. It sent a wave of shivers gliding across your body. Although, you were aware of the way he was analysing you. Scoping out whether you were any sort of liability to his court. Figures. 

Letting go of his hand, you stepped back and addressed the group as a whole, “While it is lovely to meet you all, I’m sure you are not here to just reunite Feyre with her family.”

This seemed to bring Nesta to life as she stood in front of you, taking command of being host instead, “I agree. What do you want, Feyre?” Nesta’s demeanour sucked the joy out of the room within the second, Feyre’s face turning grim.

“We should sit down,” She replied quietly. Unease settled in your stomach. Grabbing her hand, you guided her to the table and sat yourself next to her. Rhysand placed himself on her right, and the rest of her… friends sat around you both. Your remaining sisters sat across from you, Nesta making sure she gave you a disapproving stare before she refocused on Feyre.

The talking went on for what felt like hours, Feyre explaining the war across the wall which seemed to have the end of the mortal worlds written in its destiny. The thought of it made you sick, the fighting that was approaching. Approaching fast. And you knew, that you would have to lie in your bed and wait. Sit idly by as your dearest sister fought a war that was not hers to start with yet she had embraced because of the people sitting around you both. A family. That’s what they were. Rhysand and his peers were a family. Part of your soul ached at the notion of Feyre leaving you and your dysfunctional family in order to find one that suited her better. That she had not visited once, to try and work on her relationships. But you quickly dashed all thoughts, understanding flooding your senses. When she was human, she gave up everything so everyone else would thrive around her. She hunted so you had food, she got money in whatever way she could so your family stayed clothed. Most of all, she had to fight tooth and nail in a losing battle to make sure you did not die. So she left.

And did not blame her for it.

In the brief moments you were stuck in your thoughts, Nesta and Cassian were nothing short of brawling.

“That’s enough,” Feyre all but boomed. Her sudden burst seemed to hit Nesta like ice cold water.

“You do not get to come into my home and order me around after you left!” Nesta spat in reply, “You do not get to come here and ask of us what you are asking!”

Feyre took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, “I know that, Nesta, I know. I wouldn’t put you three in this position if I didn’t think it was-.”

“Don’t finish that. Don’t you dare. Because this is not the first time you’ve done this. Not when you showed up a year ago wailing about another fae you just had to save, leaving us in the dust again!” It was rare that you ever saw Nesta this riled up. Her anger was something you tried to avoid at all costs. You believed that if she had the ability, Nesta’s rage would burn the world down around her.

That was not what you were focused on in that moment. No, it was what she said about Feyre already having been there. A year ago. “What are you talking? When was Feyre here last?” Heat spread across your body, the fever catching up with you. Nesta’s eyes shot to you as she realised what she had just let out of the bag. “You’re saying Feyre was here a year ago and you didn’t let her see me. Is that what you’re saying?” Your body began to feel strange. A slight sweat was breaking out across your forehead as a thrumming began in your head.

“(F/n) you were very unwell when Feyre arrived last year, you were barely hanging on and we didn’t want to stress you out more than what was necessary.” The first time Elain had spoken this whole time. She spoke gently as though you would break at any moment.

“Oh please, spare me!” You snapped. “I’m so sick of you treating me like this! Would you all get a grip! I’m dying, and have been since the day I was born! Just accept it!” You shoved your chair back from the table with trembling hands. Standing brought with it a wave a dizziness that you did not allow anyone the time to observe before you continued your rant, “For once, I just want you to think about me and not yourselves. Just once! You would have let me die a year ago without the chance to see my sister one last time. Whether you like it or not, these are not your decisions to make. They’re mine.” You began walking towards Dina, whom you hadn’t realise has been tucked away in the back of the room this whole time.

It took one look at you for her to realise you were going downhill, and fast. She quickly approached you and placed her hand on your forehead once again, “You are burning up, child. Come, you need rest. This was too much for you,” She spoke quietly, sending a quick but not unnoticed glare at your sisters. Feyre included.

“Dina…,” You whispered, vision swimming. “Dina, I don’t feel good.” Your body began to hunch as the nausea took hold.

With speed you didn’t quite understand, Feyre was next to you with her new family in tow. She placed a hand on your back, looking at her mate with concern. Gods, she had never seen you so weak. When you entered the room, she felt as though she was looking at a living corpse. You looked so different from when she left the cottage and not in a good way. Cheeks sunken, dark bags, skin clammy and a body that was so thin that it looked like a breeze could’ve knocked you over. Her heart was like led as she realised that you were, in fact, close to the end. Your mortal body would not hold out much longer.

As if fate was playing a cruel trick on her, Feyre watched as your body crumpled on the floor, laboured breaths leaving your body as consciousness slipped away from you. Rhys was on his knees next you in an instant, about to take away any pain you were feeling when “Don’t you lay a hand on her,” Nesta barked.

“Nesta please! He can help,” Feyre pleaded, grabbing your hand in a panic.

“Now is not the time for bickering. Help me take her to her rooms and I will look after her,” Dina ordered. The group looked toward one another. No one missed the way you looked for your maid. They saw how much trust you put into her, so they did as she said. Azriel stood forward and carried you to your room, with everyone following close behind.

As he set you on the bed, he stood back and watched as the maid began placing damp washcloths onto your head. Every time he had been in the human lands, he had found it unsettling to see how illness could kill so easily. How fragile human life was. And seeing the way Feyre paced the bedroom made him realise just how much she had forgotten it as well.

“Dina,” Nesta finally spoke, though her eyes did not leave your struggling form for a second as though she was afraid you would die the moment she moved her gaze. “How long does she have?”

“It’s hard to say,” Grim, that was the only way to describe her tone, “She has a strong heart. And she has pulled through worse. But there’s only so much her body can take.” Dina began stroking your hair gently. “She knows this too. (F/n) told me recently that she can feel her time approaching. She is giving up. I have tried to keep her spirits up but she has lived her whole live like this. She only wants us all to give up too so she may die peacefully.” Elain began to cry softly, each and every being in the room coming to the realisation that they were witnessing your death. Witnessing your death before you had truly lived. “She isn’t likely to wake again before tomorrow and if she does, she won’t make much sense with her fever.” While Dina was not directly dismissing the group, they were all clever enough to read between the lines; leave and let (F/n) rest. 

* * *

Coolness draped across your forehead is what eventually pulled you back to consciousness. A wave of violent shivers had you trying to pull the cloth from your head, when a gentle hand kept it in place. Opening your eyes took more effort than you were willing to admit. Dina was standing over you, her slightly wrinkled face smiling gently down at you, “You know the drill, sweet girl. I can’t let you take the cloth off.”

Grumbling a sigh, you attempted to sit up. The pain that clamped down on your head rendered your attempt useless as you settled back into your pillow. “How long was I out?” 

“A few days, Feyre and her friends left the same day they arrived.” Dina spoke softly, taking your hand and massaging it gently.

“So it wasn’t a dream then, she was here,” Tears gathered along your eyes. Frustrated that you had only gotten to spend such little time with her. 

“I’m afraid so, child. But she will be back within a few weeks.” 

“You and I both know I don’t have a few weeks,” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, despair would rip you apart. For so long, you had accepted your fate. But now, things were changing. Your sister was fae and had come home to ask for help. It had been a long time since you felt this way. Felt like holding on, just to see this out. But it was too late, your body was giving up. 

“I know, (F/n), I know. Your sisters asked me to alert them when you awoke. I will go get them now.” You appreciated Dina not trying to convince you that this wasn't the end. 

“Don’t bother, it’s late and the conversation can wait until tomorrow. I don’t fancy listening to excuses about why they didn’t tell me that Feyre was here a year ago.” 

“Very well. I am going to bed, but as always, if you need anything just ring the bell and I will be straight up. Sleep well, sweet girl.” Dina leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your clammy cheeky before fluffing up your pillow and securing the washcloth to your head before taking her leave. 

Staring up at the ceiling, thoughts rushed through your head. Feyre’s new existence, Elain and Nesta’s betrayal, your own fate. It was all so confusing. For the first time in your life, you wished you had the normal life of an aristocrat girl of your age. The only drama occurring in their lives was what member of nobility had found themselves in compromising situations, like a family member becoming pregnant before wedlock. A humourless chuckle left your lips, how mundane that life seemed yet so appealing in your current state.

It felt like hours before you were ripped from your thoughts by the sound of distant crashing somewhere in the manor. Despite the barking pain across your body, the noise had you sitting upright in an instant, heart thumping painfully in your chest. A second later, Dina was in your room, her face and body the epitome of panic, “Stay quiet,” She whispered. She made quick work and pushing some heavy furniture in front of the door. 

“Dina, what’s going on?” Panic was gripping you, the adrenaline making you stand with little effort. 

“I do not know, child. Stay back, you are still weak.” Ushering you to the furthest point from the door, she stood like a rock in front of you, as if she could protect you from whatever the world was throwing at you in that moment.

Not even a few breaths later, the door and all the furniture in front of it was ejected across the room, wood splintering and crashing to the floor in pieces. A scream rattled through both you and Dina, the latter curling herself around you to prevent the wood from impaling you. The sound of heavy footsteps had Dina turning her back on you once again. 

“Step aside, human.” It was fae who had invaded your home. From what you had gathered from Feyre’s visit, it was likely their enemies. Leverage. That’s what the intruders were seeking. 

“Leave, creature. I will not ask you twice,” Dina growled. Her courage was unmatched, such a strong woman that you wished you could be like. However, your trembling body represented quite the opposite of the bravery your handmaid was presenting. 

A cruel snicker escaped the fae’s mouth, and his smile sent every hair on your body standing on end, “Interesting. Brave humans are always the most fun.” 

Before Dina had a chance to open her mouth in retort, the beast was on her in an instant, grabbing her by the neck. You could not tear your eyes from her body being lifted from the ground, the noise of her choked sputters had you begging the intruder to let her live, “Please! I’ll do anything, just let her go!” 

The creature locked eyes with you, his gaze looking through rather than at you, “Good, that’s what I like to hear,” He started lowering Dina slightly. 

“..R-...Run!” She squealed, voice cracking under the grip of her attacker.

Gods you wanted to, but fear anchored your feet to the ground. Dina’s eyes pleaded with you, begged you to run for your life. As if the fae attacker knew what you were gearing up to do, he snapped the Dina’s neck and lunged for you instead. Your screams ripped through the manor as Dina’s lifeless eyes looked to the roof, unseeing. You barely registered Dina’s murderer grabbing you and hauling you towards the exit as your soul seemed to stay in your bedroom with Dina’s corpse. It just didn’t make any sense, just a few hours before she was kissing your cheek before bed. She was supposed to be sound asleep, resting for another day of looking after you in your sickly state. 

“(F/n)!” Nesta’s panicked shout shocked you into action, pulling and scratching at your attacker. 

“No!” You attempted to pull yourself away as Nesta and Elain’s own captors knocked them unconscious. Yet, before you met the same destiny as your sisters, the stress your body was under had black tunnelling your vision. Blood began to trickle from your nose, and the pulsing in your head rendered you limp in the arms of the stranger. 

Before your awareness evaded you, you faintly heard the group laughing with a taunting, “Bet you wish your one went down this easy.” 

Following that, the world went black. 

*** 

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Also if there are any mistakes, just let me know! 

[readychilledwine]

Small World Pt 2

Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.

Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy

A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends

Peep Part 1 Here 💙

Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.

His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.

He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.

7 siphons would not be enough.

And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.

He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"

Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."

A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"

Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."

"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."

"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."

Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."

Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.

You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.

You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.

Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.

Like they had with Nesta.

Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.

You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.

Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.

Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."

"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"

The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."

Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"

Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.

Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"

"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."

The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.

He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.

Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.

They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.

Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.

You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.

A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"

"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."

Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.

You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.

You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."

After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.

"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."

Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.

You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.

"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.

Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.

Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.

It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.

Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.

Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?

That you were afraid of storms?

That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?

You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.

If Rhysand would just believe in you.

Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.

Fuck expectations.

Fuck the rules.

Fuck your family.

Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.

He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

Azriel-

@elle4404

Small World Taglist-

@amara-moonlight @iimichie @acourtofbatboydreams @justasillylittlegoofyguy @janesalvarerelochanarcheron @hungryforbatboys @sidthedollface2 @hunt1bryce

[212-apricity]

mastermind, part one - theodore nott

hi omg im back😍🙌

ok so this is part one of a series called "mastermind" (inspired by the song “mastermind” by taylor swift). its a theodore nott fic and starts from the beginning of sixth year until the end of seventh, im literally making it up as i go😍🙏.

academic rivals, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, heavy angst at times and all that so enjoy😋😋

this ones a short one for now but part two is halfway done and should be out sometime this weekend🤞🤞

please lmk what you think: what were your fav parts? anything i should change?

and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))

warnings: none for now<33

masterlist

theodore nott masterlist

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“Hey, wait on!”

I turn around to see Hermione running to catch up with me, her suitcases on her trolley and her cat happily meowing in its cage.

“Hermione!” I exclaim as I give one of the trolley boys my trolley and go to hug her.

“Oh my gosh I haven’t seen you in ages!” she sighs as she hugs back tightly.

“I know, you promised to write, why didn’t you?” I say.

“Oh shush, it’s not like you sent me any care packages anyways.” she replies as she links our arms and starts leading us to one of the carriages once we’ve taken our pets off.

Hermione and I have been friends since the beginning of our first year, before we were friends with Ron and Harry actually.

To say that my mother was happy with our friendship is a huge lie.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Even her name disgusts me, much less the things she’s done.

She was mortified. I still remember the look on her face when I brought Hermione over one time.

“A mudblood?” she had exclaimed.

“Why on earth would you want to be friends with the likes of them? You’re surely not my daughter, that’s for one thing.”

Hermione and I both knew what rejection felt like. Her, with most of the pureblood Slytherins, and me, with my pureblood Slytherin family.

My aunts and uncles are probably the worst of the bunch surprisingly.

Lucius and Nesta Malfoy.

Even their names are filled with poison.

Not to mention my cousin. Draco.

What a horrible waste of a family.

My uncle, Sirius, is the only one in the family who understands me. Coming from a highly Slytherin pureblood family, we were the only Gryffindors. God knows why.

I think the neglect from my mother and most family is what made me and Hermione such good friends. We both knew how the other felt.

“Have you seen Ron or Harry around yet?” I asked, settling down in the train cabin in the train with my cat, Alfie, in my lap.

“No, not yet. They should be coming up soon though.” Hermione replied and surely enough the door to the cabin opened and in came a mess of ginger hair, already complaining about God knows what;

closely followed by Harry who tried to say hello before he was cut off.

“Guys you’ll never guess what. Mum made me wear Fred and George’s old jumpers again. As if I’ll ever fit into these, they’re huge! And another thing, she said I’m not allowed to get a new pet so I’m stuck with this old bird.” he finishes his rant as he points to the old caged owl in his hands.

“Hello to you too Ron.” I say after a pause.

“Oh yeah, hi guys!” he says smiling.

Hermione rolls her eyes at him with a smile and pats on the space next to her, motioning him to sit down and Harry sits next to me after hugging me and Hermione.

“So what’s all this about Draco and a weird-looking cabinet? And who are all these people you’re talking about?” Ron asks Harry settling down and rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

“Don’t you see? It was a ceremony, an initiation.” Harry says, looking over at me.

“Stop that rubbish Harry. I know where you’re going.” Hermione says, trying to ignore whatever Harry and Ron were talking about and looking out the window.

“No guys listen to me, it’s happened. He’s one of them.” Harry says the last part quietly.

“One of what?” Ron asks, confused as I take a sigh and say,

“Harry’s under the impression that Draco Malfoy is a death eater.”

“You're barking.” Ron says as he sits up, ‘What would You-Know-Who want with Malfoy, he hasn’t got any hair to want Malfoy’s bleach bottle.”

“Well then what’s he doing in Borgin and Burkes? Browsing for furniture?” Harry quips.

“It’s a creepy shop. He’s a creepy bloke. Put two and two together and there you go.” Ron responds.

“Look, his dad’s a Death Eater, his aunt’s a Death Eater, most of his family is, whos to say he isn’t following in their footsteps.” Harry says as I look away in shame.

Harry realises his poor choice in words and says, “I need some air.” and walks out the cabin.

“He’s going mad I’m telling you.” Ron says to Hermione and I.

Hermione and I don’t say anything in response but busy ourselves with our reading books while Ron raids the sweet trolley.

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It only took us around half an hour to get settled in our dorms again, this being our seventh year we had a lot more practice and we were all now making our way to the great dining hall.

“Welcome all students…” McGongall’s voice boomed as we took our seats, Hermione and Dean Thomas on either side of me with Ron and Ginny in front. Our table was on the other side of the hall to the Slytherin table but I could still see my cousin's crispy fried blonde hair as he took his seat next to one of his friends.

What was his name again?

Thomas?

Timothy?

“Why are you staring at Theodore Nott? I thought you hated him.” Ron interrupts my thoughts as he shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth.

Theodore. Right.

“And now with the sorting ceremony finished for another year, let us feast!” McGonagall’s voice, thankfully for once, gave me a chance to change the subject before things got weird.

“What? No I’m not, pass the mashed potatoes.” I say shrugging it off as I draw my attention to Hermione.

“Where’s Harry, he’s already missed the welcoming.” Hermione says, looking around in anticipation, clearly worried.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here in a moment.” Ron responds shoving a spoon of jelley in his mouth.

Jelly with chicken? Ew.

Hermione stares at him for a moment before hitting him with her book repeatedly, making me laugh, “Will you stop eating? Your best friend is missing.” “Oi! Turn around you lunatic.”

We turn to where Ron is looking and see Harry walking towards us with a white cloth at his nose, stained in blood.

“Why do you always have to be covered in blood?” I say, taking the cloth from his hands as he sits next to me. I try to clean up his face the best I can.

“Where have you been? And whats happened to your face?” Hermione hisses at him.

“Later, what’ve I missed?”

“Sorting hat urged us to be brave and strong on these troubled times.” Ron replies.

“Easy for it to say, its just a bloody hat innit?’ I say.

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“Y/N! GET UP!”

I open my eyes and see Hermione pacing around our room trying to get ready.

“What?” I say groggily, putting my head back on my pillow.

“I said get up, you’re going to be late and we have potions first thing.” she said as she pulled the pillow from under my head and tore the duvet off my body, forcing me to get ready.

“Eugh no I can’t deal with Snape this early.” I say as I make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

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“Attention to detail in the preparation is the prerequisite of all planning. Ah! Hello ladies. Please, please take a seat.” The professor says to us.

Wow. This is a change.

Hermione rushed to take the nearest seat available next to Lavender Brown which left me next to,

“Well hello to you too.” Theodore Nott says smirking up at me from his chair as I drop all my books down.

I took a seat before my knees had the chance to give out.

Woah, what?

“Hey.” I say curtly, drawing my attention to the assignment, trying to ignore Theodore’s piercing gaze and strong cologne.

“Late on the first day I see, not a good impression. If Snape were here, he’d have your heads.” Theodore says as he scribbles down the assignment on the board into his scrolls.

I roll my eyes and ask, ”Who’s this anyway?” as I copy the ingredients for the potion in my scrolls.

“Professor Slughorn. He’s taking our class for this year.” Theodore says as he waits for me to finish writing so we can get the ingredients for our potion from the back of the room. “The whole year?” I say standing up and making my way to the back with Theo, “What’s happened to Snape?”

“No idea love.” Theo says, making butterflies erupt in my tummy but I shove them down before they can travel up to my throat and make me say something flirty back.

Theodore and I never had a reason to dislike each other. Well, not officially. We never had a big fight or any interactions of any sort honestly. I didn’t even take any notice of him until he had beaten me to a question in first year in dark arts and gotten 10 house points because of it. Since then we’ve had something going on between us. The need to one-up one another, to be smarter in lessons and faster in quidditch.

I’m not going to deny that he was attractive, because God he was beautiful.

Beautiful and conceited.

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part one, done!

lmk what your fav parts were!!

and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))

taglist: @timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 2: Mortals and Immortals

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes is a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: Feyre returns to her sisters from the Spring Court with too many feelings. Rhys fights a losing battle with his family after returning. Feyre and Rhys navigate their emotions when the Archeron sisters become the topic of conversation.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Feyre felt like she was dying as she reached the new residence of the Archerons. A bit of her life leaving her body with every foggy breath. Tamlin had kept his word and provided for her family. A bit too lavishly, perhaps. The residence was a sprawling estate with lush lawns and well-maintained flowers Elain had undoubtedly involved herself in. Feyre had no sense of anything except for the flowers which reminded her of the Spring Court. Of Tamlin.

With Feyre now back, Nesta wanted answers. She had clearly seen the beast take her youngest sister away, citing some Treaty and something else that made no sense to her. Nyra would want answers too. Whatever stunt that the fae had pulled, whatever magic they had cast which resulted in Elain and their father having new memories of a non-existant aunt, Nesta needed answers about all of it.

Feyre was quick to flow away with her thoughts ever since she had returned. Elain was simply happy that her sister was back, safe and sound and was listening to her about her plans for the new flowers she had recently planted. Nesta was suspicious but she did not push much after Nyra's insistence.

The only time Feyre gave anyone her attention to the maximum was when the physician came for Nyra and recorded a very slow but thankfully steady improvement in her health. One thing wrong and the heavily-bellied man claimed it would threaten Nyra's life.

"Let her tell us herself." Nyra had said when Nesta's curiosity grew. "What if it is something she wishes not to recall?"

"Whatever it is, it has affected her. She hardly pays any attention during conversations and mindlessly agrees with everything asked of her. That ghastly shade of yellow does not suit her and yet, she agreed to it before the seamstress without so much as a glance at the fabric." Nesta did not like it when someone wore the wrong shade. It was something their mother had insisted and something she cared for since it was one of the few useful things the deceased woman had actually bothered to teach her.

"How long do we wait before we ask?" Nesta once asked Nyra and when her twin did not have an answer, the interrogative mood of the former awakened. She found Feyre and confronted her and that led to a long story.

Nesta and Nyra looked at Feyre when the youngest had concluded her story and then looked at each other. To be in love with a fae much less a High Lord was unthinkable. Even then, they knew that this sister was a reckless girl.

"And now what? You are here and not there. What is your fate?" Nyra asked. Feyre took her time comprehending the question but had no answer for it even after understanding it. It seemed to her that there were multiple gaps in her understanding. So many things had been hidden from her in Prythian. They had called Amarantha's curse a bloody blight.

The twins knew that Feyre probably did not belong in this world of mortals and maybe, she did belong in Prythian. Every word spoken about this fae named Tamlin was laced with a sort of affection they had never witnessed for any human.

A part of them hoped that Feyre would live with them in the safety and comfort of this estate. That she would lead a normal, mortal life. Another part of them knew that the connection between Feyre and Prythian had yet to be severed. And in pursuance of that connection which she believed was her love for Tamlin, a few days later, Feyre Archeron departed from the mortal lands with a final goodbye.

****

Amarantha was dead. Rhysand was back. A few days had passed and Azriel had noticed that something was still not right. Something other than the trauma from those forty nine years had been inflicted on his brother. Something that was probably his mate, the newborn fae. He wasn’t exactly discreet about it when he told Mor right after he returned. For the first few seconds, Azriel had hoped to all the spirits that Rhysand was not referring to Amarantha as his mate. But then, Mor had managed to somehow calm her cousin. And then, Rhys told them his story.

Azriel took it upon himself to study humans and fae and trace back records of any transitions as had been the case with the Cursebreaker. He had enlisted the help of the priestesses from the libraries of the House of Wind. Everything was hectic these days. Hunting down the traitors who had joined forces to rebel in the High Lord’s absence. Reviving his network of spies after decades of inactivity. Resuming trade and commerce and travel between courts and with the rest of the world. All of this was just the beginning. He was tired. Everyone was tired. And yet, everyone continued.

The Cursebreaker, he’d learned, was a female by the name of Feyre Archeron. A human who received a kernel of every High Lord’s power to be brought back to life. That itself brought the possibility of her inheriting powers. If she had indeed been successfully revived, then she could probably have a fragment at least.

“She rarely leaves the manor.” Azriel spoke. Cassian looked at him in confusion while Rhys barely looked up from the disturbing amount of paperwork. “Unhealthy and haunted by nightmares.”

Rhysand slammed the pen on the table. That was meant to be a warning but Azriel could care less. Rhys glared at him as though he was ready to rip him apart. “Call in your bargain. Tamlin is making things worse for her.”

To Azriel, this female, his brother’s mate had already become someone to be cared for. On the verge of becoming family. In his eyes, Rhys had to take her from her misery. And he had to push his brother to do that. What would life be worth if not for a mate? He was already waiting for the Bone Carver’s words to come true.

Cassian did not want to say much. He quietly watched as his brothers glare at each other. He knew why this conversation was taking place. He knew why Azriel was pushing Rhys to be there for Feyre. Because they would have done the same thing in case of Azriel and his mate. The mate who was Rhysand’s deceased sister. The mate who would be reborn.

“I will bring her when I deem fit.” Anyone could see how heartbroken Rhys was when he said those words. The beast within him raged at him to stake his claim over his mate. The more rational side of him preached respect. Something his mother had taught him.

“By the time you deem fit, what if it’s too late?” Azriel was quick to ask. The High Lord’s power rumbled before them and they weathered it like any other rainstorm.

“She’s surrounded by the rogue Vanserra and that mannerless priestess who once requested a visit.” The mention of the priestess was made with his own power rumbling. A shadowsinger was a truly mysterious creature. Cassian looked at Azriel in disgust at having even mentioned that female.

“And a High Lord who has no interest helping her settle into this new life.” Cassian spoke. Rhys met the General’s gaze. “This is not just any female, Rhys.”

“She’s the saviour of Prythian. I know.”

“She’s your mate.” Cassian emphasized on that word. “Anyone could have been the saviour of these damned lands. Only she can be your mate. She is family, you stupid piece of shit.”

In that moment, Rhys remembered what he felt back when Feyre had defeated the Wyrm. How he felt Cassian’s spirit manifesting nearby and shouting at him to marry this girl or he would do that himself. He let out a wry laugh. Azriel and Cassian looked at each other, wondering whether their brother had gone mad.

Rhysand stood up and started pacing behind his chair. He stopped and resumed pacing every now and then. “We knew about Azriel and my sister.” He knew he had to tread very very carefully with this. He might be the High Lord but the shadowsinger was not to be trifled with in any manner. He saw how Azriel had stoned his features at the mention of his mate. “So I assumed that we would witness your mating bond first when she was reborn.”

“It could be another century or even a millennia before we meet her again.” Cassian remarked, remembering the Bone Carver’s words.

“You should focus on your own mating bond right now.” Azriel added, not wanting to remember his mixed feelings for his mate.

“I know she’s upset and she has nightmares and she vomits all the food and that ignorant asshole does nothing to help her.” Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure and failing miserably. The opening of the door had the three males looking in that direction. Morrigan walked in, ever the picture of power and beauty.

“What are we talking about?” Mor casually sat on the sofa, her legs on the seat with the silk of her dress dropping to the ground like a wisp of magic.

“The Cursebreaker.” Rhys answered. He would call her anything but his mate.

“Your mate.” Mor corrected. Cassian grinned at her and even Azriel breathed in relief at the growing support. “You made a bargain with her. Why haven’t you called it in?”

“None of your business.”

“She is family.” Mor spoke sharply and and her rage began quickly. She had recognised how her cousin was beginning to be somewhat of a stubborn child but this was not a matter which could be addressed with such immaturity. “And her health is our business.”

“You may identify her as family but I have no intention of claiming her.” Rhysand looked like he would vomit at his own words soon enough.

But the High Lord knew what his family felt for Feyre Archeron. They were undoubtedly grateful to her for reuniting them after forty nine years. They were grateful to her for saving Prythian because Cauldron knew how long they could have kept the Night Court afloat in his absence. And they did not even want to delve too long about other courts.

The mortal who was now fae.

The female who was his mate.

The female Rhysand was now in love with.

“You love her.” And that was the truth. Simple and clear. Azriel and Cassian looked at her in mild surprise. They hadn’t known that. And now that they did know that, Feyre Archeron was indeed a person of great concern. “We know you won’t claim her like she is property. She is not family not just because she is your mate. She is family because you love her.”

“Mating bonds are not fairytales. Couples don’t end well. You knew my parents.” Rhysand was not strong enough for this. He could not win this. Not when this was about Feyre. Sweet, beautiful Feyre with her human heart and powerful feelings.

“Your parents had a miserable union. The difference is that you love this girl. And we also have Azriel who waits for her.” Azriel closed his eyes, knowing that Mor would now continue this battle. That she would wield more powerful words for attack. The mention of his own mate was one of those weapons. Mor had just looked at the Spymaster once before he confirmed with a nod that it was okay to speak of his mate. “Your mating bond does not have to reflect what your parents had.”

“That’s it!” Cassian slammed his hands on the table. “You!” He looked at Rhys, eyes focused into a glare before continuing, “are a fool.” Rhys opened his mouth to speak. “Everything you’ve spouted so far has been an excuse.”

“She’s marrying him.” Rhys sounded pained as opposed to the indifference he tried to put forward.

“Just because she’s marrying him doesn’t mean he’s worthy of her.” Azriel was grumbling at this point. None of them cared about Rhysand’s self loathing opinions. They cared about the girl who had no one to help her when she needed it. The girl who was his mate. The girl who was almost family. She was not a cruel person. She was the reason Rhysand was back after so long. And they had a feeling that she’d be good for him and that he’d be good for her. Azriel had suspected as much after his spies from the Spring Court had been planted and resumed activity.

Two days later, Rhys had scheduled a trip to Rita’s with Cassian only to winnow away without prior notice right before they had entered. The same night, Feyre Archeron had been brought to Velaris.

****

It took time before the Cursebreaker had started to warm up to the Inner Circle of the Night Court. One fine night as they lounge around after dinner for a night to drink, Feyre took a few sips.

In her curiosity, Morrigan asked. “How was life as a mortal?”

Feyre looked at Mor for a few seconds, trying to process the question. When she did, she opened her mouth and paused. She began by talking about her early childhood, the days of poverty and how her family was now rich. She had kept her story short, giving nothing more than a summary of her mortal life which couldn't have been more than a paragraph.

“So, you have sisters?” Cassian asked, curious about the people she shared her mortal life with.

“Three older sisters.” Feyre affirmed as she stared at her wineglass. The faint imprint of her lipgloss was there at the edge and she kept staring at it. She took a moment to remember each sister and smiled with such gentleness that made Rhysand a little jealous.

A little.

Just a little.

Not even noteworthy.

Very negligibly so.

An inconsequential bit of jealousy for a smile that was not directed at him.

Mor took extreme delight in seeing her cousin's face. She quietly motioned to Cassian. Azriel and Amren had already noted the change in Rhys's expression.

“And what were they doing when you went out to hunt?” Mor's question brought everyone back to the harsh reality that Feyre went out to hunt for her starving family as a child.

Feyre did not answer. She did not look at anyone. She kept her gaze at the rim of her wine glass where the stain of her lipgloss was from when she’d taken sips of the drink.

“Nesta was angry at a lot of things. Mostly at our father. And then, at me. We were always at each other’s throats. Elain is more of a gardener than a huntress. Nyra has been sick since we were children.” Everything was begining to sound like a poor defence for her sisters.

Mor had sobered up. Cassian and Azriel were quiet. Mostly because they knew that any wrong move or word from any of them and Rhys would rage. His mate had led a life of poverty and had thrown herself into the forest to hunt and free her family from starvation. Her family, incapable in different ways to help her. The youngest who had risked her life over and over again for them.

Rhysand was close to breaking his wine glass. One of those sisters was a gardener more than a huntress. A gardener than a huntress. What about Feyre? She was an artist more than a huntress. And had anger not consumed the other sister enough to do something about their situation? And a sick sister who could do nothing. A burden. All of them were burdens on Feyre. Why save a family like that?

Family was not always blood bound. He knew that. Rhys looked at Azriel, the prime example of someone who had family because he had chosen them and not because he was related to them. Azriel met his gaze, silently questioning him. Rhys shook his head despite the suddenly growing brotherly affection for the shadowsinger.

“Why save a family like that?” Amren finally asked, having spoken for the first time since dinner. Rhys turned to her in mild surprise for having voiced his thoughts.

“Because they are my family. My father who had lost all hope. Elain, who sees good in this world no matter how many ugly sides of it has been presented to her. Nesta, who kept me angry and made me want to fight against circumstances. Nyra, who guarded my heart against all odds.”

A traitorous tear traveled down her cheek. Feyre closed her eyes as another tear made its appearance. At the end of the day, she missed her family. And the Inner Circle could relate to that. They had missed each other for so long and they had just reunited only to be faced with the prospect of war which could ensure permanent separation in the form of death.

“Do you wish to visit your family?” Rhys finally asked. Everyone looked at him in mild surprise for various reasons. At the sight of her tears, the High Lord had softened. The cold fury within him had thawed and nothing but affection and the will to do something to make her happy remained. He took in each of their expressions before explaining himself. “You’re an immortal now, Feyre darling. Time moves slowly for us especially when compared to mortals. They are still human. Surely you must know what that means.”

It only meant that Feyre would live with this young and strong body while her family grew older and weaker and finally died. And Nyra. Mother knew if she would ever live a normal life. Whether her health would improve.

What if something did go wrong?

What if she could never see her again?

What if Nyra...

****

[nestastits]

Okay, I understand people not liking the pregnancy trope but with Feysand I never had a problem. Maybe it had to do with it not being from their pov but if we had read it in their pov I still wouldn’t have hated it.

I’ve seen people argue it contradicts acotar/acomaf Feyre’s wishes, but literally people change their minds in the span of weeks Feyre changed hers over a year and half😭. There was an entire scene and buildup in acofas where Feyre realized she wanted to start her family. Which is entirely okay and her choice. I don’t really see the problem? Also, acotar Feyre was human and disliked the fae and wasn’t at a happy mindset or safe place for herself. It’s completely fine and understandable for her to change over the books, it would be a waste of time for her to stay the same over five 100+ page books😭.

The other argument I’ve seen is that sjm turned Feyre into a boring sit on her ass character with motherhood, this honestly disgusts me. Motherhood should be seen as powerful and in a good way, Feyre wanting to be a mother does not take away from her strength as a character, if any thing it added power to her. And no Rhys did not force Feyre into becoming a mother💀. Feyre literally told him she wanted to start their family, he did not force her or manipulate her into becoming a mother. Now, I hate that he hid the truth from her about the full danger of the birth, but I can also see his side. He didn’t want her to worry the entire pregnancy, that’s not a bad thing. I still think he should of told her the truth but I understand why he didn’t🤷🏼‍♀️. My biggest complaint is that he ordered everyone else not to tell her the truth, that he went about a family matter in a high lord way.

I hate how people say he sat on his ass the entire time not looking for a solution because he in fact did not do this 😭. He went to Helion about a shield to protect Feyre, asked Drakon about their experiences and solutions with winged births, looked through libraries of his court and other courts, and talked with healers about the best way to save Feyre. He wasn’t wallowing in self pity. He was trying to save her but couldn’t find a way. I personally see this as a bad plot from sjm to make a way for Nesta to redeem herself but it’s whatever I guess 🙄.

I think it’s cute how Feysand decided to have a family. I even like them being parents, I think they’ll be great at doing better than their parents. I like how the ic have a baby to love unconditionally and spoil. I’m excited to see the relationship between nyx and his aunts and uncles in the future books. Especially his relationship with Nesta considering how much it’s clear nes loves nyx in hofas. Plus in acosf she said she’d protect the baby no matter what. I’m very excited to see how perfect of a mother Feyre is since she was described to be one in hofas.

I never saw the baby move and motherhood as a bad thing, but if anyone did please tell me why. I’m open to look at it from a different perspective so long as it’s respectful.