#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 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...

****

[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. 

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“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

[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!

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 2)

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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⎮

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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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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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. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

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

[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! 

[landos-meat-rider]

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

[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

[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.

[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

[writtenonreceipts]

Elucien Week Masterlist // AO3 Link // Part 2

Day Four: High Society @elucienweekofficial

Summary: A Regency AU. When her family faces the backlash of questionable business choices, Elain Archeron finds herself betrothed to Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the duke.  A past of brief interactions taught Elain that there was no good to come from the man, but she soon learns there is more to the young lord than she could have ever known. Two Parts.

a/n: I shared a small section of this story last year during Elucien week as well, so if it looks familiar, that is why!  Planning on two parts. And guess what??? Part two is mostly written (and by mostly i mean 3k words and it'll probs be 6-8k).

warnings: none for this part! ~8.3k words

.*.*.*.*.

When Our Fingers Touch, I Find My Way Back Home

When she thought of love, Elain did not picture her parents.  They were cold, calculating, vindictive individuals who certainly deserved each other.  They were so far from typical conventions of affection that tolerance was the word she associated them with.

Her parents had married when mother was fresh into her first season, seventeen and well connected.  Truly, Margot St. Moore had been the diamond in her season and been used to capture the attention of Lord Elias Archeron.  Elias of course was only interested in a wife who would continue to garner gossip and valuable information that he could use to further his political agenda.

When she thought of love, Elain did not picture the heroine of the latest book she was reading.  It was dull, long winded, and focused only on the male perspective.  She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact considering it was Aunt Ripleigh who’d gifted it to her, but she’d had high hopes for it in any case.

And it wasn’t that Aunt Ripleigh wasn’t a capable woman herself.  No.  Aunt Ripleigh simply waited to be acted upon.  She hardly ever sought her own will, her own wants, her own desires.  It drove Elain insane especially when she’d been forced to spend an entire winter with the woman.  She’d gotten very good at baking however, so that was alright she supposed.

Rather, when she thought of love, Elain looked to her sister.  Which was hilarious when one thought about it because Nesta did not believe in love.  At least she hadn’t.  Until war hero and decorated officer Cassian Madura returned to the city and promptly swept Nesta off her feet.

The two were so different that Elain wondered how it was possible they’d come together.  They’d certainly played many rounds of cat and mouse during their courtship.  At one point Elain believed that Nesta had dismissed the man for good.  She didn’t know the entire story behind their coupling, but Elain did know her sister and Nesta had never truly been happy until Cassian had come around.

The strange, free-falling nature of love had long fascinated Elain.  She’d had her own fantasies and desires for what love would look like for her that she’d become quite enamored with the idea.  Of course, she knew that love was hard to come by.  Even if she was a woman and the second daughter, she’d understood she might need to make some sacrifices in her little world.  But she’d long held on to the notion that she would be loved.

Until now.

“I’m sorry father,” she said, folding her napkin across her lap.  She cleared her throat and leaned forward over the table. “I don’t think I heard what you said.”

Breakfast had never been an enjoyable affair.  It was insufferable in the fact that they were all forced together at Mother’s insistence.  Every meal was meant to be spent together, hilarious considering none of them liked the other.  But Elain new better than to comment on that.

“Oh, Elain,” Mother sighed heavily, taking a long sip of her tea. “You know perfectly well what he said.”

Elain ignored her mother and stared at her father.  He was doing a rather remarkable job at examining the single missive he’d received with breakfast.  A missive that was minuscule, Elain knew.

The only other person in the room, aside from the staff, was Feyre who was twirling her fork in her fingers in a very undignified manner.  Younger by a nearly two years, Feyre still had time before marriage became a priority.  Even then, Margot and Elias Archeron were rather bored with being parents at this point that Feyre may never be forced to find a husband.

“You’re betrothed,” Father said flatly. “To one of the Vanserra boys.  I spoke with his grace, Lord Vanserra just yesterday.”

Father finally tossed the missive to the side before cutting into the sausage on his plate.

“Which Vanserra boy was it?” Elain asked as calmly as she could.  But her fingers were shaking, her whole body in fact.  And there was a distinct rage building in her blood that she was certain would come pouring out at any given moment.

She had to pull herself together.  Ladies did not dissolve into rage at a minor inconvenience.  Ladies were calm, collected, and careful.

Mother sighed again and poured herself more tea. “Don’t be so difficult, Elain.  You’ve been preparing for this your entire life.  After your sister married that, that brute, you had to expect that you would bring our family some honor.  Honestly.”

Elain met Feyre’s gaze.  Her little sister merely shrugged. Wonderful.

“And I am happy to do so, mother,” Elain said, her smile felt tight and sharp. “I only wish to know who I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.”

She simply couldn’t believe that it would be a Vanserra she would marry.  Oh, they were a well-respected family.  They were rich, educated, dripping with all the prestige of the world.  But there were rumors too.  Rumors of cruelty and spite.  Just last year two of the seven sons had been killed in a horrific robbery while abroad.  Elain had heard from three different ladies that Beron, the family patriarch, had his own sons killed for no reason other than the boys were useless in business.  There were also the rumors of cruelty.  Lady Dierdre didn’t leave the Vanserra estate often for a reason.

Elain sipped her tea, trying to calm down.

She’d grown up with the Vanserra’s though.  Had endured those boys like one endured an annoying fly that would not leave you alone.  And she had a sickening feeling which brother her father assigned her to.

“Lucius, Leonardo, Liam.” Father waved a hand. “The one with the red hair.”

They all had red hair.

“Lucien,” Elain murmured.  Really, there was no other option.  The eldest was well into his thirties the next two married and the other still abroad.  Dread weighed heavy in her stomach.

Father grunted and continued eating his sausage.

“Unfortunately,” Mother said, another sigh. “I would have preferred Eris.  I tried arranging him and Nesta before she sullied herself—” a click of the tongue from Feyre “—and tried again for you.  Unfortunately, he has a match now.”

Mother dropped sugar into her tea. “And even if that other one is the youngest and won’t inherit a title, you will still be a Vanserra.”

“Is Father’s business truly failing so much?” Feyre, finally breaking her silence, picked up a slice of strawberry with her bare fingers. “So much that you think a marriage alliance will fix it?”

“Hold your tongue, girl,” Father barked. “We always knew Elain would marry and maintain the household.  When all our holdings go to her husband it will merely procure a legitimate union.”

Elain and Feyre exchanged another look.

“I will not tolerate your attitudes anymore,” Mother said. “The both of you. Petulant children.  I raised you better than this, Elain.  You are a lady.  You will do as you’re told.  And Feyre—you will sit properly at the table or go sit in the mires.”

Feyre slowly straightened her back.

Elain gave her mother a nod. “Of course, Mother.  I forgot my place.”

And then she promptly kept her lips sealed for the rest of the meal.

…

It was when Elain was twelve that she met Lucien Vanserra for the first time.

She wasn’t supposed to be outside in the gardens, but she simply couldn’t resist.  It was still early enough in spring that the new blooms were still budding, and leaves were unfurling that it all had an heir of magic to it.  In just a few weeks this garden would be transformed from bare branches to insurmountable beauty.  And she wanted to see every moment of that transition.

Even if it was still a bit cold.  And yes, the clouds overhead were gray and fierce and looked ready to pounce.  But it was no longer winter.  She needn’t be contained anymore.

So, Elain wandered the gardens.  She could identify most of the plants by their leaves alone.  After kindly bullying the head gardener to teach her about his stewardship, Elain had come to more fully appreciate this small piece of the world.

As she rounded a corner of her favorite part of the garden, she saw a flash of red and a creature dashed out of the shrubbery.  It paused in the middle of the path, staring at her.  A fox.  Sleek and lean with large russet eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you a surprise,” Elain said, because what else was there to say? “Having a look around?”

Its tail twitched and head listed to one side.  And then a great shout echoed across the garden and the fox flitted off again.

Elain couldn’t help her cry of dismay when a boy, just a few years older than her, came charging through the garden.  He was impeccably dressed for a boy his age with crisp linen and shiny boots.  His fiery red hair hung over his face as he ran towards Elain.

“Where is it?” he asked with obvious desperation.

“I—what?” Elain stared at him, this strange boy with a pal-mal racquet in one hand and determination in his eyes.

“The fox!  The blasted thing stole through the game and ruined my shot!”

Elain blinked. “You were startled by a fox?”

The boy scowled. “I didn’t say I was scared.”

“Then how did it ruin your shot?” she insisted.

“It ran out in front of me,” he replied.

“And you got distracted?”

“No!” The boy did not appreciate her at this moment, she could see that well enough. 

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.

“It’s a menace,” the boy said.  He looked at her in earnest now.  Elain could see how bright his eyes were, rich brown like the fox’s.  His skin was a warm, rich color, darker than most in the -ton. “I want to catch it.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “What on earth for?  You wouldn’t hurt it would you?”

The boy started.  “Well, I suppose I don’t know.  I didn’t think that far.”

“You’re very strange,” Elain told him.

“Well so are you,” he said.

It was Elain’s turn to scowl.  How dare he!  He didn’t know her from Adam.

“I am a respectable young lady and I would ask that you treat me as such,” she said, and then lifted her chin in the air for good measure.

“You’re covered in dirt,” the boy said. “Ladies don’t roll around in the dirt.”

Elain glanced down.  It appeared he was right.  She’d knelt beside the roses pulling weeds earlier.  And then there was a mess of fallen branches in the hydrangeas.  Not to mention lavender.

“A lady is allowed her hobbies, and her discretion,” she said, perfectly mimicking her tutors.

The boy cocked his head. “I don’t know.  Still seems strange to me, you were talking to yourself too.  Or is that another one of your discretions you're allowed?”

Was he mocking her?  Elain couldn’t help her scowl, even with her mother’s inner monologue raging in her head.  

“At least I’m not running about like a savage waving a stick,” she said.

“It’s fun, you should try it,” he replied, “but ladies aren’t meant to be savages.”

“No,” she said, “they’re not.”

And then, for whatever reason, he grinned at her.  Something wild and bright and utterly different than what Elain ever saw on anyone.  He then swept into a low bow.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said, “seventh son to the duke.”

The Duke? Elain stared at him.  Her father was a lord who managed funds and trades.  This boy, Lucien, so clearly outranked her in social standing that Elain could hardly even think.  Mother was going to be furious for being so forward and impolite to him.

“And you, my lady,” Lucien asked, his impish grin still in place. “Might I know of your name?”

If she didn’t tell him her name then he couldn’t tattle on her for being so uncivilized.  

Elain clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.  Not only would mother scold her, but she could also revoke Elain’s privileges relating to the garden, or baking.  If either of those things happened, Elain had no idea what she would do.  She would be forced to read.  Or paint. Or cross-stitch.

“Elain!” 

She started, terrified that her mother had found her out in the garden, dirty, talking to the duke's son of all things.  Hand clutched to her chest, she spun around, searching for who was calling for her.

Walking quickly down the path towards her was Nesta.  Barely a year older than her, Nesta was already so lovely.  Her dress was perfectly pressed and arranged, and her body, perfect for dancing, moved with perfect elegance.

“Elain, what are you doing?” Nesta demanded as she drew closer.

While Nesta wouldn’t tell their mother about this little venture, she would try and mother hen Elain the rest of the day.  Elain glanced at Lucien.  As if he could help.

All he did was offer another bow. “Lady Elain.”

And then he was scampering off the way he came.

“Elain!” Nesta finally stepped up beside her and took her arm. “Who was that?  What’s going on?”

“It was, I was,” she was at a loss for words.  In all her life, Elain always had the words for every situation. “There was a fox.”

Nesta did not like that answer.  She tugged at Elain’s arm, pulling her back to the manor.

“Come on, you have to change before mother sees you.”

There was no other choice than to follow.

…

The winter months were long and dreary.  Compared to the bright vibrant warmth of spring and summer, winter was the bane of Elain’s existence.  It was barely even Winter Solstice and Elain was ready to return to the comforts of the other seasons.  

“Get that scowl off your face,” Mother snapped.

Elain blinked and looked in the mirror of her vanity.  Her maid, Nuala, was carefully pinning her curls into an elegant twist while her mother paced the room behind.  She wasn’t scowling, was she?  She was merely staring off into nothing.

“You’re going to be the center of attention tonight at the ball and we cannot have your future husband see that on your face.” Mother picked invisible lint from her dress. “You are a lady who everyone will be looking to, tonight.”

Elain straightened her shoulders and relaxed her jaw. “Of course, Mother. I’m sorry.  I just can’t help but imagine how tonight will go.  With my betrothal to Lord Lucien there will be a number of expectations.”

“Expectations that you’ve been training for since you could walk,” Mother replied crisply. She came up behind Elain, nearly pushing Nuala out of the way.  The lady's maid said nothing, knowing better than to try and address the woman. “It is nothing you cannot handle.”

The compliment was a rare gem that Elain would savor for just a moment.  She told herself to relax, to breathe evenly.  It would be a successful night of celebration and merriment.  Even with the official engagement to Lord Lucien, there were still holiday celebrations.  The dancing would be wonderful, the food divine, and the decorations.  Elain had helped the head housekeeper in all the planning.  Mother only accepted the notion when Elain reminded her it was how she would best prepare for her own house in just a few months’ time.

It would be a remarkable night, and her engagement to Lord Lucien would not sully it.  She loved parties and gatherings and adored the excitement that came with all the various arrangements.

“All finished,” Nuala said.  She pined one more curl into place.  It was lovely with the twisting curls and gentle braids she’d created.  She’d even pinned a small string of pearls to act like a crown.

“Thank-you Nuala.” Elain smiled at her maid.  She’d long been a good confidant and wonderful friend despite their differences in station. “You’re dismissed, I’ll ring for you later tonight.”

Nuala curtsied before hurrying from the room.  Just as she was leaving, another of the maids approached, rapping on the door.

“Excuse me, my ladies,” the maid said, curtsying just as Nuala had. “Lady Arch—er Madura has arrived.”

Elain perked immediately. “Do send her up Greer.”

“No,” Mother cut in. “We are already late.  We’ll see her downstairs.”

They were ahead of schedule, but Elain knew better than to correct her mother.  But she desperately wanted to speak with Nesta.  The two got along as well as sisters could, but they still had their differences.  And while Elain had her own thoughts and opinions about Nesta’s choice in life (not that she begrudged her sister’s choice in husband nor how she took hold of her life) there were simply things that she didn’t understand.

Things that she couldn’t talk to her mother about.  And Feyre, well, Feyre was ice and snow.  Hard to navigate, hard to approach.  Sometimes, Elain would say that Feyre and Nesta were the most similar of the sisters, but she didn’t want to get her head eaten off.

“Now,” Mother said, drawing Elain from her thoughts. “Tonight is all about your betrothal to Lord Lucien.  You must dance with him and you must speak with him.  Civilly.  None of this running around to your every whim and fancy.  I will not have you become a gossip.”

“I have to attend to guests,” Elain insisted. She did not want to spend an entire night stuck to Lord Vanserra’s side.  It was laughable.  Ludicrous to expect her to do so. “I am in part hosting this event, Mother.”

“The only one hosting this night, is me.  I am the lady of this household,” Mother said.  Her voice was stoney and viciously cold.  Elain hardly restrained her wince.  “You cannot flirt with every man that walks through that door.  Have some restraint, Elain.”

Elain dropped her gaze, demurely. “Yes, ma’am.”

There was no point in arguing with her.  Not now.  Soon, she would be gone from the manor.  Gone from the constant nagging and finagling.  Soon, she would have her own house to tend.  Lord Vanserra would allow her that small mercy, wouldn’t he?

“You’re frowning again.”  Mother rapped her on the shoulder and sighed.  “And your hair.  Why must you have so many curls?  It really would be better if it lay flat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then Elain was left to follow her mother down to the main hall where the ball would occur.

Everything had been transformed to reflect a taste of winter.  Blue and white ribbons combined with simple floral arrangements.  The chandeliers had all been shined to perfection and candelabras burned through the hall.  The carpets had been washed, banisters polished, and every surface that was supposed to gleam did so as if set upon by the sun.

Elain allowed herself a moment of admiration for the work the staff had done.  But only a moment.  Mother was already halfway across the hall and trailing behind like a little duckling would not make the night any easier.

Immediately, there were names to be learned, curtsies to be given, and greetings to be issued.  Elain had been trained for this.  Mother had taught her everything about being a good hostess and deferring to the man of the house.  Mother had also taught her how to carefully gather information from everyone that passed through their doors.  

And while Elain didn’t mind a bit of gossip, she didn’t necessarily enjoy the attention this sprung on her.  If she were being honest, she wished she could have a single moment for herself.  Just one where she could take everything in about the decorations of the house, the music, the food.  Where she could simply breathe and not worry about whether she’d done well enough or worry about how others saw the way she ran the house. 

She just wanted a moment.

“Elain,” Mother hissed beside her when they weren’t inundated with another round of guests.

She snapped to attention, realizing she was giving too much attention to a snag in Lady Charlotte’s gown.  The poor dear was failing miserably at hiding her pregnancy.

Elain didn’t need to ask her mother what happened because she already knew.  It only took a glance.

Entering their families' great hall were the Duke and Duchess.  They were resplendent in their dress, the duke formal in a black coat and rich cream shirt, trousers, and cravat.  His black hair was neatly styled and those dark brown eyes shrewdly examined everything in the hall.  His wife, though, was by far the most beautiful woman Elain had seen.  Her red hair was twisted into a fashionable chiffon and laden with sparkling gems that matched the green of her gown.  With a willowy frame and bright, amber eyes, the Duchess was remarkable.

Following right behind them were two men that were impossible to mistake.  Eris and Lucien Vanserra.  They were both proud and arrogant as they stood in the doorway.  So similar yet so different.  Where Eris had paler skin, Lucien was darker, where Eris was sharp and cut cold as his father, Lucien retained the subtle softness of his mother.

Elain couldn’t help but stare.  Truly, she tried to avert her gaze.  To focus on Lady Viviane who looked resplendent in a gown of pale blue.  To congratulate her on her pregnancy that she had no qualms of hiding unlike most ladies of the -ton.

But once her eyes snagged on Lucien, she could not look away.  And when he caught her staring, Elain knew she was lost.

A smirk tugged on his lips and his brow rose in challenge.  Elain lifted her chin and looked away.  There was only so long she could get away with it.  Only so long until her mother forced the hired string quartet to play something.  Only so long until she was thrust into the arms of her betrothed.  Like an animal.

…

She was seventeen when she realized that her life would never be her own.

She’d tried to ask her mother for permission to spend time in the kitchens with the cook so she could learn how to braid bread and roll out pie dough.  At first, Elain foolishly thought her mother would give her permission.  Until Mother tossed her head back and laughed.

“You are a lady, Elain.  And you will be married the second you turn eighteen.  There is no reason for you to sully yourself with that sort of thing.”

Elain was quickly learning that sully was mother’s new favorite word.  Especially after Nesta had been seen dancing with Cassian Madura at the Berdara Ball just two nights ago.  Mother had just never used it in reference to her before.  Elain was always lovely and sweet and perfect.

And even if Elain didn’t like being called those things, didn’t like the way they made her feel so enclosed and trapped—she’d never thought her mother would be so blatant in her cold words and cruel actions.

Perhaps that was why Elain found herself wandering the large fields of the property that day.  It was early spring and the rains had stopped for a small respite.  She’d been desperate to get out of the house.  To feel the fresh air and taste the sweet breeze that came with the fresh blooms of spring.  Even if it was still chilly and the clouds overhead looked ready to burst at any moment.

Elain wasted no time as she practically ran across the sprawling lawn.  It wasn’t long until she was far enough away from the manor that she could breathe a bit easier, that even her mother’s nagging voice disappeared.

She only came to a stop as she reached the small stream that served as a border between Archeron and Vanserra land.  How they lived so close to the duke Elain had never learned and she was certain that the truth would not be comforting, so she put it out of her mind as best she could.

She wore one of her simpler dresses today which made it easier to walk and explore in.  Not to mention it was a bit older too so if it got a little dirty, no one would care.  Well, Nuala might give her a look, and Elain was fairly certain the maid was giving her mother reports on her actions.

That was something she could worry about later, Elain decided.

She carefully crept closer to the stream bed, the grass slick with the earlier rain.  Elain had always had good luck finding different colored rocks.  She loved the varying colors that could range from burgundy to pale blue.  Even the dull grays were fascinating especially if they had a distinct stripe or marking that—

Her foot slipped and before Elain could even attempt to right herself, she went spiraling face first into the river.

There was no way to catch herself.  She knew it the second she felt the shift of her stance.  Elain let out a shriek as she fell.  The cold watch sloshed around her and immediately seeped into her shoes, her dress.  Gasping, Elain floundered in the water until she sat up.  Soaked.  Utterly soaked.  And freezing.

The chill stole the air from her lungs and Elain could do nothing other than stare through the loose tendrils of her hair that had come free from her chignon.

“Lady Elain!” 

She heard the voice but couldn’t focus on anything other than how cold she was.  Her lungs wouldn’t cooperate either.  All she could do was sit in that water and let it wash around her.  It hadn’t been terribly deep, perhaps only halfway up her calves, but now it felt as though she’d been dragged hundreds of meters below the surface.

There was a loud splash from somewhere beside her and before Elain could register it, strong hands were dipping beneath her shoulders and legs and she was hauled against a broad, warm chest.

The arms that held her were firm and unyielding.  Elain could do little more than cling to his front and bury her face against his shoulder as the shivers took control. She could make out a strong masculine scent of sunlight and pine, it was oddly comforting in a strange, subtle way. 

When she was set down on solid ground, Elain’s knees buckled and she held on tighter to the arms around her.

“Easy,” a deep voice murmured in her ear.  “Easy.”

Elain shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut.  Oh she knew that voice.  She knew exactly who it was that held her.

“Are you alright?” Lucien Vanserra’s low voice hummed in her ear.  She wanted to push him away, to stand on her own, to—

Her knees buckled again and like some swooning heroine in a horrible broadsheet story—she clung tighter to the youngest Vanserra.  Elain was still too shocked and chilled to be embarrassed by this miserable state.  It didn’t help that Lucien exuded so much warmth.

“It seems I slipped,” she finally whispered.  She kept her eyes closed, willing her skin to stop flushing.  Maybe if she stayed still long enough, she’d just sink into the earth and vanish.

She felt the soft brush of his hand against her cheek, brushing a damp curl away.

“Indeed,” Lucien murmured.  His hand moved to run down her arm, rubbing warmth back into her. “I saw you tumble.  Are you sure you’re alright?”

Elain steeled herself before blinking her eyes open.  His own eyes were trained on her—russet brown with golden undertones, the left eye laced with pale scars along tender skin.  She took a slow breath.  Ever since their brief meeting when they were children, Elain had only seen him from a distance.  Nesta had whispered rumors that Beron Vanserra was not a good man and they shouldn’t engage with him or his family.  Duke or no.

But here and now, amid the soggy weather and cool breeze that mixed with her wet skirts--Elain found herself unable to pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” she whispered even as a shiver wracked her body.

Lucien chuckled darkly.  “Forgive me, but you look like a drowned rat, my lady.”  

The haze of surprise dissipated and Elain found herself scowling. “Well then, I shall be on my way.  I hate to be such an eyesore.”

She pulled away from that careful grasp he still held her in and nearly went slipping all over again.  Lucien caught before Elain fell.  His strong hands gripped her arms and his own sturdy build kept her grounded.

“Don’t go off in a huff,” he said.

Elain swatted his arms.  She was able to keep her balance this time as she managed to put some distance between them.

“I should have remembered how rude you are,” she snapped amid her shivers.

Gathering her skirts in her hands, Elain stalked off in the direction of her family home.  Lucien kept pace easily and before she could swat him again, he’d shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Warmth immediately enveloped her and Elain had to clamp her mouth shut to hold back the satisfied sigh that wanted to escape.

“We wouldn’t want you catching a cold,” Lucien said when she finally looked at him.

She didn’t know how else to respond to that other than to continue walking while he remained dutifully by her side.

…

The ball was off to a remarkable beginning.  Even if her mother had dragged her away from most of the inner workings of the planning--Elain noted with satisfaction that everything was still delightful.

The lights were perfect, the food continuous, and the small quartet in the corner extremely talented.  All from her careful deliberations.

Elain allowed her pride to be stroked for just a moment before it was dashed away by a familiar form approaching her side.  She couldn’t help the sharp inhale nor the way she shifted just so subtly toward him.

“Well, Lady Elain,” Lucien said, “we meet again.”

In the years since that regrettable day where she’d tumbled into the stream—Elain had done her best to avoid the youngest Vanserra.  At first it was embarrassment.  And then it turned to something else—something Elain didn’t know how to identify, only that when she simply thought about the young lord, her cheeks would heat and her heart thudded harder.  Embarrassment.  Anger.  Both seemed like decent explanations so in the end she focused on the latter.

Anger mostly at him for being so arrogant.  And teasing.

Ever since that day, Elain hadn’t known what to think or how to act toward him.  Certainly he had acted the gentleman and delivered her back home safely.  But he’d never called on her after, never passed a kind note, nor paid her any heed at dances or shared meals when they arose.

She, apparently, was utterly uninteresting.

“Indeed,” she said crisply.  She clutched her glass of punch tightly between her fingers, fully expecting the delicate glass to shatter at any moment.

“And fully set to ignore me too?”

Elain glared at him, despite her keen desire not to even acknowledge him. She lifted her chin, though it did little in making up the difference in their heights.  Lucien practically towered over her with a lean, but firm build.  He’d certainly filled out in the years since he’d saved her from the stream.  Heat flushed her skin and she looked away.

“No need to get shy on me now,” Lucien remarked, she caught the curve of a smile on his stupidly full lips. “We are betrothed after all.”

“How could I forget?” She set her drink down on the table she stood beside.  She turned her full attention to him and gave him the full effect of her scowl. “It’s only been drilled into me ever since the announcement.”

“No need to be so upset.” He only grinned at her expression.  “That hardly seems a way to enter a marriage.  It should be far more fun than that.”

She couldn’t do this.  Elain turned away, already looking for the best escape.  If only Feyre was here.  But Mother didn’t allow her to come to parties even if she were of age.  Nesta and Cassian were all the way on the other side of the ballroom speaking with the young Miss Gwyneth Berdara and Miss Emerie Costa.  It would be painfully obvious if she stalked straight across the hall for them leaving her betrothed standing there.

Well she could just leave the event all together.  Her mother hadn’t said anything about how long she would need to stay after seeing her intended.  She’d fulfilled her duty so she could now leave.

She saw her escape when the young general Jurian Renault and his wife Vassa Deveraux approached.  Elain was aware that her betrothed and the general had met at school and nearly been expelled together after a rebellion of sorts involving frogs, explosions, and crotchety old men.  She didn’t know much beyond that, but this would certainly be the perfect distraction.

As soon as Jurian called for Lucien, Elain swept away toward one of the back stairways that was hardly used by anyone—servants included.

She'd hardly made it out of the great hall before Lucien caught up to her. He didn't try to touch her, merely keeping just one step behind her.

“Lady Elain.” Lucien cut her off before she made it even a step up the stairs. “Is this how you plan to spend our marriage? Running from it?”

“Yes,” she said simply.  She tried to dodge around him but he was too quick for her.  Lucien stood firmly in front of her that even one stiff shove didn’t get him out of her way.  Bastard. “If you would get out of my way.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he replied.  He grinned, his teeth flashing, and Elain scowled as she tried to push him again.  Built like a wall, the man didn’t budge. “You and I have things to discuss.” 

There was an earnestness in his words even if his face appeared cut from stone.  Everything she’d heard about his father, his brothers, came rushing to the front of her mind and she had a hard time reconciling that cruelty.

“I am not a puppet for you to dress up and play with,” she told him.  He let her pass him this time and she hurried up the stairs that would take her to her rooms.  “Nor am I a wife you can brush aside without a second thought.”

“I never said you were,” Lucien said.  His ridiculously long legs kept him in pace with her.

“Please,” Elain scoffed.  She glared at him, mostly upset that she couldn’t storm away properly.  It was a lady’s prerogative to have equal storming rights.  “You’re getting a perfect little wife for your perfect little life.  I know the kind of man you are, Lord.”

He waited until they rounded the third floor before grabbing her arm and swinging her around to face him.  Elain couldn’t help the little peep of surprise that escaped her when suddenly she was staring at his chest.  Steeling herself, Elain lifted her gaze and met his eyes.  Beautiful and russet brown, his left eye scarred through the corner.  It was, unfortunately, impossible to look away from him.  Perhaps it was his broad features, the deep tones of his skin.  Or even that subtle strength coiling within him.

There was something about Lucien Vanserra that called to her.  She didn’t know how to describe it, and that terrified her.  But she couldn’t help it.  She often found herself thinking about it, wondering what might be going on in that trickster-like mind of his.  And now here she was, so close she could smell whisky on his breath and cloves on his skin.

“You think I want this?” he asked. “That I asked for it?  You think you know me, Elain?”

The way he whispered her name sent a shiver racing through her.  She could do nothing to control it.  His voice was dark and heavy as he spoke as though he were trying desperately to hold something back.

“No,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “Perhaps I don’t know you.  But whose fault is that?”

A sharp smile.

“Oh?” he raised his hand to curl a finger beneath her chin. “It’s my fault, is it?”

She could only stare.  She feared that if she nodded it would just give her body permission to go falling into his arms like one of the heroines from Nesta’s favorite books.

“Yes,” she replied when it was clear he was waiting for her to answer. “You are not an easy person to know.”

Lucien laughed, laughed, at her.  The sound rumbled from him and sent flurries through Elain’s belly. “I’m not easy to know?  You, Elain, have never met yourself, have you?  For every chance I’ve tried to get to know you, you have ignored me.  Hiding behind tea cups and floral arrangements.  I have tried to reach out but you have said nothing.  Believe you me, say the word and I will be gone.”

Elain rolled her eyes. “You won’t leave.  This marriage contract benefits your father as much as mine.”

“I care not for my father,” Lucien said.  The mention of his father leeched the warmth that usually accompanied him away as suddenly as if she’d smothered him. His eyes sharpened though, boring into her. “Nor do I answer to him.”

Elain’s heart beat far too heavily in her chest.  They were up on the third floor of the mansion, the sounds of the party a mere hum in the background.  She should have been concerned about being alone with a man, being so close to him.  She should be concerned over the party continuing on without her for heaven’s sake.  But all Elain could do was stare into Lucien’s gaze.

She wet her lips, speaking before she lost her nerve. “Who do you answer to, then?”

A look flashed in his eyes and Elain swore it was hunger.  Desire.  Want.  No one had ever looked at her like this before.  It sent a flush through her entire body.  If she’d still had a wit of decorum left in her senses she would have shoved him away.  As it was, she arched toward him.  Whether it was simply for the connection of another human or for feeling more than the dainty woman everyone thought her to be--

Lucien’s eyes pierced her to the very soul.  And when he dipped in closer, Elain felt her breath catch.  One of his hands brushed over her cheek as though painting the blush right onto her skin.

Elain’s lips tingled in anticipation; certain he was about to kiss her.  Much to her surprise, and horror, she wanted him to.  In the years since the incident at the stream she’d tried not to think about him. She’d tried to forget that small taste of protectiveness and rebel against it. She'd become so used to being told what her life would be like and how she should act that now having him thrust upon her in such a manner made her want to shrink back. To fight any claim he might make over her.

But he did now want this either, did he? A forced marriage being controlled.  This was never what he'd imagined for himself…was it?

And yet there was a desperation to him as his hands went to her waist, fingers tightening in the fabric of her gown. He didn't want to let her go…despite it all.

"What do you want, Lucien?" She asked when the silence stretched too long.  

He leaned into her and Elain would have stumbled if he hadn't been supporting her she would have simply forgotten to stand sinking into those russet eyes of his.

"I," he began, but there was the click of a door and the two sprung apart looking for the source of the noise.

There emerging from her rooms in a simple blue dress was Feyre. She merely raised a brow.  Just because she wasn’t allowed to attend the ball downstairs did not mean she was supposed to stay in her rooms.  Well, their mother certainly expected it, but Elain knew her sister.  Feyre had likely stolen a bottle of wine and had a little nook set up on the roof with her paints and a canvas.

Feyre crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorway of her room. “I do hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

The drawl was pointed, amused.  Lucien emitted a low growl that only Elain could hear before he pulled away.  He made sure Elain would keep her footing this time.

The interruption was just what Elain needed. She pulled out of Lucien's grasp, not an easy task when he seemed determined not to let her go, and faced her sister.

“Feyre,” she said. “What are you doing?”

Feyre betrayed nothing as her blue eyes widened in innocence. “Simply out for a stroll and thought I'd heard your voice.” 

Her sister was a menace that shouldn't be trusted.

“Shouldn't you be enjoying the ball you planned?” Feyre continued, not moving from her perch in the doorway.  She gave a pointed look at Elain’s rumpled appearance. 

“Your sister was merely showing me about the manor,” Lucien stepped in lightly.

“Liar.” Amusement flashed in Feyre’s eyes.

“Feyre!” Elain could only stare at her sister. Seventh son or not, you didn't say such things to the son of a duke.

But Lucien merely laughed. “I can see why you're tucked away up here, not many could stand your sharp tongue, I take it.”

Feyre lifted her chin, eyes narrowed. “Consider it a good thing you're already betrothed. For I could make things miserable for you, Lord.”

Having had enough of this mess, Elain took Lucien's hand and pulled him down the hall, away from Feyre’s rooms.  She knew her sister’s threat was mild to say the least, Feyre hardly cared about propriety or what they’re mother said.

“Perhaps you should tend to your studio sister,” Elain said. She gave Feyre a significant look which mostly went ignored. 

“Good night,” Feyre sang lightly and then returned to her room, the door sticking shut behind her.

With no intention of showing Lucien Vanserra her bed chamber, Elain practically shoved him through the next available doorway, a broom closet, and rounded on him.  She’d misjudged how big the closet was because when she turned to more effectively yell at Lucien, he was far closer to her than she’d expected.  In fact, her nose nearly brushed his chest.  There was no where she could go because she was a fool who had stuffed herself and Lucien in said closet without any second thought.

Craning her neck to glare at him, Elain crossed her arms over her chest.  She ignored the fact that her bare arms ran along the soft fabric of his jacket sending small sparks along her skin.

Lucien meets her gaze, raising a brow that stretches out the scars that line one side of his face.

“Really, Elain?  I thought you wanted to avoid this sort of scandal?”

As if anyone would care if they were stuffed in a closet together.  If anything, it would only make her mother happy as they would be forced to move the wedding date up.  A thought that churned Elain’s stomach.

Still, she set her jaw and did her best to appear to be looking down her nose at him. “Scandal.  Our mothers would happily march us down the aisle tomorrow if they could.”

“Indeed,” Lucien mused.  “Seems a bit silly then that we continue with a betrothal if that is the case.”

She pursed her lips. “I’ll retain what little freedom I have left for a bit longer, thank-you.”

Lucien’s brow ticked higher in the silent ask: then what are we doing in this damnable closet?  Or something close to it because that was certainly the thought racing through her own mind.

“By spending the duration of your party in a closet,” he murmured instead.  His breath aired out against her face: warm and tainted with the spicy scent of whiskey.

“It’s my mother’s party,” Elain said, a bit too sharply.  Even though she’d been the one to organize everything to confirm the menu to— “And she made it clear I’m supposed to spend time with my betrothed.  So really, I’m doing exactly what is expected of me.”

A small huff of amusement escaped Lucien’s lips and he shook his head.  “Well, congratulations on that, I suppose.”

“Thank-you.”

Another smile turned up the corners of his mouth, his stupidly attractive mouth.  

She took a small moment to force a quick breath, praying it would calm her erratic heartbeat.  It didn’t work and she felt a flush begin to rise along her skin, creeping across her collarbone and neck.

“You wished to speak to me,” she said, voice quiet in an effort to hold back her flurry of emotions, “isn’t that why you chased me all around my home?”

That smile of his remained even as he pulled back to put space between them once more. “I know this marriage is not ideal for both of us, however, it is one that will benefit both of our families.  Which we’re both concerned with.”

He gave her a significant look; the kind that said he was well aware of the pressures she was under from her parents.

“And?” she pressed, ready to get out of this damned closet that was somehow getting too small--the walls closing too tight around them and the scent of his cologne too strong and delicious.

“And I propose an…understanding,” he said.  He paused as he considered his next words. “There is no escaping what awaits us, but we need not be miserable.”

Elain’s stomach churned at his words and what he could mean.  She wasn’t a dunce, she knew that displeasure and unhappiness prevailed in most marriages of the -ton, her parents for example.  But that’s not what she wanted.  She wanted a marriage and happiness and a husband who favored her.  And now here was her intended off to suggest affair partners before they were even wed.

“I would that we could be friends,” Lucien said, cutting in to the spiral of Elain’s thoughts.

She frowned; certain she hadn’t heard him right. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

Staring up at him, Elain tried to read his face.  It was impassive as ever, the only thing showing any trait of personality being the scars that emanated from his eye.  Though, she supposed that didn’t count.

“You want to be my friend?” she asked.  Such a thing had never occurred, nor been proposed, to her.  Mama always said that men wanted one thing and one thing alone and they would use her for it in any way they could.  Besides, Elain had never had a real friend before.  She could never trust her maids or ladies in waiting—they were all too loyal to Mama.  She had her sisters, but Nesta was married now and Feyre had her own little tricks up her sleeves.  They’d never been close and Elain doubted they ever would.

“Yes.”

And Elain, for some strange reason, believed him.  For the most part.  She wouldn’t let him behave so casually and confidently though.  

“And what does being your friend entail?” she asked.  Curious to see how he would define the word.  It wasn’t as though she had a good definition herself, but that didn’t matter.

Amusement flashed briefly in his eyes before vanishing entirely.  

“Never had a friend before, Lady Elain?” He asked it with amusement and fully of jest but the question pierced straight to her soul.

Because no; she’d never had a friend before.  Not really.  Not a close confidant nor companion.  Oh, she had her sisters, but theirs was a strange thing to where Elain wasn’t sure exactly where they stood together. 

Realizing she’d been quiet for too long, Elain merely shrugged. “Never one so misbehaving as you.”

That got a full laugh out of him.  Rich and bright, Elain knew she wouldn’t forget the sound of it anytime soon.  She didn’t think she’d ever heard him laugh like that.

“I suppose I can try and be better,” he said, “for you.”

“That’s all I would ask of you,” Elain said, with far more bravado than she felt. She then repeated her earlier question. “What would you ask of me, as your friend?”

“To trust me, to talk to me.” 

He made it sound so easy that Elain just kept watching him, waiting for the impossible requirement to rear its head.

“That’s it?”

“For now.”  And just like that his roguish nature returned and whatever brief kinship Elain may have thought present evaporated.  His eyes gleamed with obvious merriment and a subtle slouch entered his posture.

Elain did her best to rise to her full height as she glared at him, which only made him smirk.  With as much dignity she could muster, Elain reached around him to the door of the closet to shove it open.  She needed space, needed fresh air, needed to not be so close to him while her mind ran rampant and chaotic.

“Until the next,” Lucien said. 

Ever the gentleman, Lucien took her hand.  He leaned in to press a kiss to the back of her fingers.  Elain ignored the way her stomach clenched and her skin tingled.  But it was hard to ignore the way his hand practically dwarfed hers and his woodsy scent wrapped around her.

And just like that, he slipped out of the closet to leave her alone with her thoughts.  Thoughts that were not conducive to friendship.  And thoughts that were simply not real to begin with.  Because Lucien Vanserra, and whatever understanding they’d come to, was never going to lead her to happiness.

[moonlightazriel]

The family we choose /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: It has always been Azriel and Aiden against the world, but what will happen when the new school years begin and his son talks about this amazing teacher every day?

Warnings: None, just fluff cuz why not?

Word Count: 3,1K

Notes: Fucking finally, this has been sitting on my drafts for a while and i love this idea.

Main Masterlist

“DADDY!” Aiden yelled, raising from his spot beside Feyre and rushing to get to him, he lowered to his level and waited for the little boy, he threw himself into his father’s arms, and Azriel wrapped his arms around him, giving him a tight squeeze. 

“Hey, buddy! How was school?” His son rushed back to the table, Feyre, Nyx, and a lot of art supplies were waiting for him, he grabbed a piece of paper and ran back to him to show him the drawing.

“Miss Y/L asked us to draw our family.” Azriel looked closely at the figures, the 6-year-old had done a great job, he could see himself, Cassian, Nesta with a huge pregnant belly, Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, Elain, and Lucien.  

“That’s a beautiful drawing, you have a lot of talent.” He complimented.

“Aunt Feyre helped me make this drawing so I could give it to Miss Y/L, I really hope she likes it.” The flower bouquet was painted on a piece of parchment paper, Feyre had done the drawing but Aiden had painted it. 

“She’s going to love it Den, but why don’t you and Nyx play in the garden while the adults talk?” Feyre suggested as she started to gather the supplies from the table, Aiden looked at Azriel and he nodded, the two boys happily smiled and started to rush outside. “He really loves this teacher.” She said and Azriel got to her side, helping her clean. 

“Did he start with the never-ending rant about how amazing and beautiful she is?” She nodded. “You don’t think he’s projecting the feeling he had for his mother on her, do you?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure Az, Nyx likes her too, a lot, sometimes feels like he likes her more than me.” She giggled, rolling her eyes. “Maybe she’s just a really good teacher and there’s nothing to do with his mom.” Azriel nodded.

He had met Laurie in an Illyrian camp 10 years ago, and it was love at first sight, they lived like a happy couple until she met her mate, and decided that it was a good idea to leave Azriel with their 1-year-old son. 3 years ago, the news of her death reached him in Velaris, it was a tough blow that he wasn’t expecting but he slowly got over it, he had to, for his son. Ever since he does everything he can to make sure that his son is happy, and focused his life on him, even if his family tried to tell him that he should live his life too.

“She’s all he talks about ever since they started the school year, you have no idea how many times he asked if he could pick “Aunt Elain’s beautiful flowers”  to give them to her.” Feyre looked at him and smiled. 

“Let him be Az, it’s probably just a phase.” He nodded.

“Thanks for everything Fey, you’re amazing.” He said giving her a quick hug and kissing her temple.

“Get your hands off my High Lady.” Rhysand spoke with a smile on his face from the doorway. Azriel stepped back with his hands in the air. 

“I’m already on my way, don’t need to get all overprotective.” Rhys playfully slapped his back while he walked outside to get Aiden. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Do you want to eat something?” Azriel asked his son as they walked around Velaris.

“My belly is full Daddy, Miss Y/L brought us the best cookies in the world, she made them.” The toddler happily spoke. “She said that she will teach us how to make them, she’s so nice, I really like her.”

“That’s awesome buddy, you just have to be careful around the fire.” He warned his son.

“Yes Daddy, cuz the fire hurts if we get too close.” He repeated the words Azriel had told him ever since Aiden started to crawl, his son was perfect, and he didn’t want him to be marked like he was, he didn’t need any scars on his perfect brown skin.

Aiden was a copy of him, with the same eyes, the same hair color, the same skin tone, and huge wings behind his back, and even if he could understand his father’s shadows just as perfectly as Azriel did, he had none, at least not yet. 

The two kept walking until they reached the townhouse, Rhys knew how Azriel loved that house and decided to give it to him as a gift, it was good enough for him and Aiden and he was happy that his brother made him the owner, he took good care of that house. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel brushed his wet hair, spraying some perfume on his neck and chest as he got ready for the school meeting, the teachers requested to talk about the student's progress and how the parents could help with their learning. Aiden was already ready, playing in the living room as he readied himself, a simple black shirt, pants, boots, and truth-teller strapped on his thigh, his siphons glowed as he looked at himself in the mirror once again. 

His son was really excited for him to meet his teacher finally, and even Azriel was curious, Aiden had practically dragged him across the street towards the school, the little boy was rambling all the way, and when he saw his cousin, he left Azriel behind to go play with Nyx.

“Someone is super happy.” Rhys said as Az approached him, the two kids were running around now.

“You have no idea.” He replied looking around, the kids were running and most parents just waited for the reunion, Azriel tried to spot who he thought was Miss Y/L, in his mind, he was looking for an old, kind fae, with white hair and granny coats, weren’t all teachers like that after all?

Faes started to come to the parents to lead them to the classrooms, they followed a male as he guided the way, the classroom was decorated with flowers, and kids' drawings, books, and toys were all over the place, and in the corner, in the front part of the classroom a female stood, she was beautiful, her hair was in a braid behind her back, she was wearing a long dress, and she had the prettiest smile in the world, she looked at Azriel and he swore he could see the world shining brighter as she looked at him, she couldn’t be…..

“Miss Y/L!” Aiden yelled, running past them and jumping in the female's arms, she lifted him from the ground, laughing with him.

“Hi Den, did you bring your daddy as I asked?” She spoke, her voice was calm and airy, and hearing her talk made Azriel feel like he was walking on clouds.

“Yup!” The toddler proudly nodded and pointed at Azriel who still stood in the doorway. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/L.” He happily said as the female walked closer to him. 

Of course, everyone in Velaris knew who the Spymaster was, but it was something entirely different seeing him in person for the first time, the tall male was absolutely breathtaking, he was wearing the simplest clothes on earth and yet he looked perfect, the cobalt gems adorning his body, to contain his powers, glowed as he looked her up and down. 

Y/N felt her cheeks getting hot as she approached the male, his eyes still glued to hers, she could feel the sparks of electricity as she held his gaze, extending a hand in his direction.

“I’m Y/N.” She managed to say, her voice more steady than she expected, good!

“Azriel. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The male chuckled and Y/N felt her knees go weak at the sound.

“Oh, i could say the same about you, little Aiden here loves his father more than anything else.” The little boy held his father’s hand while he blushed. “What about you take your Daddy to your seat and we’ll talk more later?” She lowered to Den’s level and he nodded, pulling his father to the empty seat in front of her desk. She went to greet other parents that arrived in the classroom. 

“I wasn’t expecting that AT ALL.” Rhysand spoke as Azriel approached him, Nyx and Aiden sat side by side in class, he smiled at that, loving how close the cousins were like they saw each other as brothers the same way their parents did.

“What?” Rhys gave him a knowing look and he rolled his eyes.

“That she would be this pretty, guess I was expecting an old lady.” Azriel scoffed.

“Don’t let Feyre hear you, or you might sleep on the couch tonight.” Rhysand laughed and the two males looked at her while she spoke about the class progress. One by one, the parents approached her to speak about their children, they were the last ones in the classroom when she came to speak with them.

“High Lord!” She bowed a little. “Thank you two for coming in today. The boys are absolutely wonderful, they’re the top ones in class, but I’m afraid that they have some trouble with maths, I’ve been giving them extra exercises but maybe you two could keep an eye on that, and see why they’re struggling with that.” 

“Of course, do you teach privately?” Rhysand asked, saying that she could teach a thing or two to Azriel in his mind, Azriel slightly shoved the High Lord and Rhysand suppressed a laugh.

“I do! If you need me just contact the school and they will let me know.” She smiled at them, and Azriel felt his chest fill with warmth with that.

“Thanks, Y/N.” He said, and the two said their goodbyes leaving her behind.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel rushed through the school corridors, opening the door to the nurse’s office, he almost fell to his knees as he spotted Y/N sitting in the corner, Aiden was in her lap, he was holding his little arm, and his cheeks were red from crying, his head was resting against her chest and she had her cheek pressed against his forehead, whispering a song to calm him down. The way his son grabbed her like she was the only person that could keep him safe, made Azriel’s heart bleed, the two turned their head to him.

“He fell while playing in the garden, the healer said that his arm just hurts cuz he fell on top of it, it’s not broken, and he’ll be okay. He’s just scared.” Azriel kneeled in front of them, and Den’s puffy red eyes locked with his, he grabbed his son, cradling him to his chest, kissing the top of his head. She still looked worried, like she was about to cry, the only people that worried that much about his son, were his family. 

“Thank you so much for always taking care of him.” His voice was shaken, and the shadows around him still moved frantically, assessing Aiden for any injuries she could not be aware of.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, Aiden is a special boy, it’s my pleasure to take care of him.” She said gently, rubbing the toddler's back, Aiden was already sleeping in his father’s arms.

“No modesty please, let me pay you a coffee, I insist.” Azriel didn’t know why, but he wanted her to understand how much he appreciated her for all her care for his son. He could see that she was inclined to accept, so he talked again. “Meet me tomorrow morning at the Oak Alcove, by the Rainbow. At 9!” He said, thanking her once more, grabbing his son’s backpack, and leaving without waiting for an answer, he just hoped she would show up. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N walked between the tables trying to spot the Shadowsinger, she was wearing a simple dress, and she rubbed her sweaty hands in the soft fabric for the third time, she gave another look around before she saw a hand raised in the air, Azriel was wearing leather clothes, the breath got caught in her throat as she looked at him, absolutely beautiful.

“You came.” He smiled at her, getting up to pull the chair for her, she sat, thanking him. She didn’t know if it was just a coincidence, but the Oak Alcove was her favorite coffee shop in Velaris, the soft breeze from the Sidra, the smell of flowers, the soft music, it was a magical place. 

“I did.” She laughed. “ It’s not often that I get to go to my favorite coffee shop for free.” She joked. 

“And here was i, thinking we would split the bill.” He rested a hand on his heart, pretending to be hurt and she liked that, everyone just saw him as a serious and stoic male, which was intimidating, but the way he smiled, a sight that she was sure wasn’t often people saw, made her heart melt. 

Azriel was a pleasant male, the way he softly spoke, his wide knowledge of everything, his passion for literature, he was really much more than the eyes could see. The time flew as they got to know each other better, now she understood why Aiden loved him so much, the Shadowsinger was sweet, gentle, wonderful, her heart skipped a beat every 5 seconds, and she tried to stop blushing like a little girl every time he smiled in her direction.

“This was fun.” She said after he stated that he should leave, he had plans with his son. 

“It was.” He got closer to her as they walked away. He walked her to her house, not far away from the coffee shop. “I was hoping we could do it again if it’s okay for you.” Her heart came to a stop in her chest.

“I would love to, Azriel. See you around.” The way she spoke his name, it was a sweet melody.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“She’s wonderful.” He said, stretching his wings, the glass of liquor dancing in between his fingers, Rhysand smiled and Cassian entered the office. 

“What’s happening?” Rhys served him a glass as well.

“Azzie here is in love with Den’s teacher.” Cassian whispered a “NO WAY!” shuffling his onyx hair, making Azriel growl at him.

“I’m not in love with her.” He sipped on his drink. “Yet!” The trio laughed. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Azriel knew he was wrapped around her fingers when he kept going to the school every day, just to see her smile, just like his son, he would bring her flowers, he would take her out, after suffering because of Laurie, he was ready to open his heart again, especially for someone like her, she was perfect for him and he was ready to take their relationship to the next level. 

“Where are you going daddy?” Aiden asked as Azriel fixed his tie in the mirror.

“I’m going out with Mrs.Y/L, you like her, right?” He pulled his son closer.

“Yes, she’s amazing.”

“Would you like it if she was Daddy’s girlfriend?” His little eyebrows furred and he looked confused.

“Will she be my mommy?” The words shattered his heart and he swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling his eyes burn, he knew Aiden probably missed his mother, he noticed how he would look to Feyre when Nyx called her mommy, Azriel knew he wanted, craved that too, and broke his heart not be able to give that to his son.

“Maybe in the future buddy, if she wants to.” His son nodded and Azriel fixed his hair, he dropped Den in the River House before meeting Y/N for dinner, the bouquet Elain prepared for him was almost slipping from his shaking fingers, Y/n was already there waiting for him, she smiled, getting up to greet him with a quick kiss, they shared their first kiss after their fifth date, and he couldn’t keep his hands to himself ever since, her lips were sweet and she fitted so perfectly against him, she was made for him. 

“I want to ask you something.” Azriel had been building up the courage all night, Y/N dropped her spoon, her lips smudged with chocolate and he smiled at her, she was beautiful. “Will you be my girlfriend?” She almost jumped from her seat as she shook her head agreeing, he took her home that night, where they made love until sunrise. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Mrs. Mommy I need help.” Aiden’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her and she immediately turned around, seeing him shaking the glitter off his tiny fingers. Az had mentioned what happened between him and Den’s mom, and how he knew his son wanted a  mother, she just didn’t expect that.

“Hi Den, what do you need?” He showed her his fingers glued together.

“My fingers are sticky.” She guided him to the sink.

“Let’s wash it then.” She said, then releasing the kids to their break. Azriel showed up like he did almost every day, he was holding a cup of coffee and some cookies for her.

“Hey love, what’s wrong?” He kissed her cheek and closed the door.

“Aiden called me mommy today. Mrs.Mommy to be precise.” She giggled a little.

“Shit.” Azriel didn’t want to pressure her to assume a motherly role to Den, but he also couldn’t exactly control these kinds of things. “I can talk to him if you want, tell him that you’re not his mom. He’ll understand.”

“I just don’t want him to be confused, I don’t know.” He hugged her. “I love him, just as much as I love you. Maybe tell him not to do it at school? Cuz the principal is already fuming that we’re dating.” He smiled.

“Maybe she’s jealous.” He joked and she laughed, she loved them really much. And her heart clenched hearing Den call her mommy. Maybe they could make this whole thing work.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You can’t catch me.” Aiden smirked, as Cassian chased him and Nyx, they were at a picnic with the inner circle, and Y/N was more than welcomed among them, they really liked her, she was getting really close to Feyre, the two were watching as the general pretended to be slower than the children. Den rushed to her, jumping on her lap and hiding from Cassian, while Azriel watched from afar. She looked at him, and it was like the whole world had come to a stop, she was the only thing holding him on earth, he had always assumed he was just lucky to have found someone so similar to him, and now he understood that it wasn’t luck, she was perfect for him because she was made for him, his mate, his equal, the love of his life. 

She blinked too overwhelmed as she explored the newly found bond between them, she had suspected for a while that he might be her mate, she had hoped and she had prayed to the Mother that she was right, and there it was, glowing like a thousand suns, the mating bond tying them to each other for the eternity, finally everything was complete for them.