#poor nyx archeron

[flat-neines]

As much as I hate nessian, I do love exploring the idea of their potential failmarriage kid because there's something super compelling about it. Especially if that child never (seemingly) inherits the power of a destined, cauldron made, starborne fae and the strongest illyrian and the shadow that is forcibly cast by this; compounded with the trainwreck that is the rest of the inner circle.

Anyways, here's a doodle of that theoretical kid. Her name is Marah (bitter):

[stargirlie25]

consider yourself an enemy if you try to say Nesta didn't have a right to use the trove in the ember bonus chapter.

I know all these ppl are Rhysand Stan's in disguise trying to make a point.

NOT EVERYTHING BELONGS TO ONE CHARACTER ONLY!

The trove obeys Nesta SUCK ITTTT

I don't say it as much but I think Rhysand Stan's annoy me more than Rhysand himself.

LIKE people will never let Nesta goes even though she is practically the authors favorite character?

[onlymexsarah]

Burning Flames IIX || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: ANGST, mention of death, language and my english :) A/n: And she is not death! I'm talking both about me and the reader, lmao. I'm sorry for the waiting, god knows how this month had been full for me, but don't worry, even if it will take me months to finish this fic I will! I have everything planned out and I won't leave you unsatisfied🫶🏻 Let me know if you liked this chapter, what you think of the fic so far and if you want to be added at the taglist ;) Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3- Chapter 4- Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

You were nothing and you were everything. You were drowing and you were flying. Everything felt infinite and yet so small. Darkness filled you, but a bright light seduced you to follow it.

Stay.

A voice as familiar as your soul filled the infinite, little space around your entire existence.

Come back to me.

Home. The voice was home and you had been wandering what felt like forever looking for it.

Stay a little longer. Fight to live, please.

Home was calling for you. It was guiding you away from that bright, warm light.

Please, Little Flame. Don't leave me.

Your existence smiled, and then you launched yourself toward it. You wanted to go home. There were so many things you still had to do that you remember no one of them. You could see it now, the golden string leading you home. You grabbed onto it and hold it tight. Gold erupted around you, warm hugged you, and then your entire existence burned.

***

Your niece was the most beatiful creature you had ever seen. Currently sleeping in your arms you got lost observing how the beauty of both Rhysand and Feyre had crafted that tiny, little, breathtaking child.

You had asked Rhys how to hold him without hurting his wings at least a dozen of times. They were so fragile and thin that you were afraid they could get broken even with a wrong look.

"You had wasted money on that crib, Rhys." Mor softly said, not wanting to wake up Nyx. "He'll always sleep in someone's arms."

You wanted to speak in, to joke too, but your sore throat didn't allow you. It turned out that while Eris had tried to hold back from killing you, his fire had burned part of your vocal cords, and Madja had forbidden you from speaking for at least a week.

"Poor boy," Madja had said. "he must have suffered an atrocious pain to fight the Crown and not kill you."

"He is going to be a heartbreaker with those eyes." You joked in your head, knowing that only Rhys could hear you.

The male laughed while he poured a glass of wine to Mor. "Just like his father."

You rolled your eyes playfully as Cassian entered in the living room with a serious look on his face. He approached Rhys while giving you and Mor a quick smile. "I'm going to visit Eris."

Your eyes snapped on him, your whole body going rigid. Eris. Only the name sent shivers all over your body. You hadn't seen him since you blacked out in his arms, after you stupidly, recklessy, kissed him.

The heat that rose on your face was enough to make you look away, toward Nyx in your arms, hoping that your hair hid your blush.

You had tried not to think about him in those last days. Not to think about how he had kissed you back. How soft his lips were. How he tasted of honey, making you wonder if he tasted like that down-"You should go too, Y/n."

Rhys' voice snapped you out from your unholy, undecent, inappropriate thoughts. You watched him visibly confused, knowing there was no point in hiding that you were absolutely not listening.

"Eris had arrived at Hewn City this morning under my request." He informed you while his violet eyes seemed to look like through your soul. "I think your presence might be...welcomed. You saved his life after all."

You really hoped not to have flinched at his words, knowing that Mor was right beside him, looking at you curiously. Gods, what did she think of you? Saving the life of the male she hated. What would she think if she find out what you really think of him?

"If you think so." Your voice was barely a whisper, knowing that their fae's ears would catch it up.

The truth was that you had been dying to see him again. When you had woken up in Azriel's arms you had barely had the time to breath again that Feyre had started her labour. There had been no time to ask about what had happened, and when the baby was born Azriel informed you that Eris had gone back to his court, not remembering much about what had happened.

"I'll take him." Mor said standing up from the couch and gently taking Nyx from your arms and giving you a warm smile. "Be careful."

You gave her a nod before taking Cassian's arm and let him winnow you inside the Hewn City, right outside a poolished, black door. You guessed was Eris' suite, and the confirmation came when an angry Keir rushed out of it.

Mor's father stopped on his feet as soon as he saw you two, and gave you in particular a sneer. "If you take away some of her clothes he might be tell you something."

You had barely widened your eyes when he stormed away, probably sensing the death glare that Cassian was giving him now. You wondered if now that he was a fresh, mated male he felt more eager to tear apart other males, but you guessed that Keir didn't want to know the answer.

"Let's get this over." Cassian's breathed as he opened the door and entered before you, shielding you with his wings as he always did.

You thought you were past the point where they would still think that Eris was a danger to you, but after what happened with Briallyn you couldn't blame them. Mor had told you that Azriel had found you nearly dead in Eris' arms and, her words not yours, Gods knew what he would have done to you if Azriel hadn't arrived.

Jokes on you, you really hoped that Azriel hadn't seen how you had tried to save yourself. Not that the shadowsinger would ever let anything slip from his mouth, but still it would be...what? Mortifying? Yes, mortifying that you didn't feel ashamed at all.

Eris was reading a book by the roaring fire, an ankle crossed over a knee, as if his presence there were nothing unusual. As if he hadn’t been kidnapped, enchanted, and manipulated by a vengeful queen and a death-lord. As if you hadn't shagged him until blacking out.

Cassian shut the door behind you, and Eris lifted his amber eyes, meeting yours. Did he remeber? How much? Did he want to kill you for what you did? Would he start laughing and mocking you?

His gaze lowered to your neck where you knew you had a nice, red necklace made of burned flesh and purple bruises where his hand had choked you. You saw his jaw clenching and his posture stiffining as he looked back at Cassian. "I can't stay long."

His whole body and tone screamed that he didn't want to be there, and by the way he had stiffened as soon as he saw you, you were perfectly sure to be the reason why.

"Good." Cassian said dropping into the seat opposite him, trying to make room for you on the loveseat without succeding.

You gave him a smile, shaking your head to say that it didn't matter as you sat on its armrest. You saw Eris studying your interaction carefully as he closed the book in his hands. His eyes fixated on you, his amber eyes scorcing your soul with the intensity of his gaze, then they fell on your lips.

You ashamely shivered as his eyes seemed to relive the kiss you had shared. Mother...he remeber, you thought feeling a hint of heat appearing on your cheeks. Then, his hand tightened around his book as his eyes met your again. "You cannot speak."

It was a statement. Not a question. He was not thinking about your kiss, he was noticing how you still hadn't opened your mouth to speak. You were about to do so when Cassian spoke before you.

"You gave her quite the necklace, you prick." Cassian sneered, suddenly in a mood. Your gaze snapped on him, burning him with your eyes as he kept looking at the prince. "Her lungs and vocal cords were all burned."

You cleared your throat, preparing yourself for the pain that was going to come. "I can speak, you overprotective asshole." Your eyes immediately stung with tears as you felt sharp rocks rubbing the inside of your throat. You hated how your voice sounded rough, low and weak. "I was just advised not to."

You could have sworn Eris flinched as soon as he heard you speak. Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, flinched at the sound of your voice. You weren't sure if you should get offended or feel touched.

"Don't worry, nothing permanent." You gave him a smile as you whispered, the only way to not ending up crying for the pain. "I'm fine."

Something shifted in his face. The worry, the hesitation were gone. If it hadn't been for his red hair you would have mistaken him for someone of the Winter Court. His face was a mask of pure coldness, his eyes, where flames usually danced, were now unmoving.

"I suppose you want to know what I told Briallyn." Eris said Cassian, as if the conversion you had never happened.

“Rhys already looked into your mind. Turns out, you didn’t know much.” Cassian gave the male a slashing grin.

You froze on your seat. Did Rhys saw the kiss? Was this the reason why he had watched you carefully those days? Why he wanted you to go and see Eris?

Eris rolled his eyes, not touched at all by the violetion of privacy. "So why am I here?"

Something was off with him, and it was not only his behaviour toward you. He seemed to not care about that conversation at all, he seemed like he wanted to do anything rather than talking about that.

"We wanted to know what you told Beron. Since you're sitting here, in one piece, I'm assuming he doesn't know about our involvement in your rescue." Cassian said, and your head snapped toward the Illyrian male.

That was not the reason why you were there. You had just wanted to know if Eris was alright. You were smart enough to trust that he obviously wouldn't have told Beron anything important, but for Cassian to imply just that was insulting.

"Oh, he knows that you...assisted me." the mocking in his tone, the hint of a smirk on his lips, were a relief compared to the emptiness you had seen in his eyes while Briallyn controlled him. "Always mix truth and lies, General. Didn't those warrior-brute teach you about how to withstand an enemy's torture?"

His words hadn't time to register in your head as Cassian spoke. "Beron tortured you?"

You watched Cassian confused. Why was he implying that? You knew that Beron was a monster, but Eris was his son. He would have probably tortured whoever he thought responsible for his kidnapping.

"Who cares what my father does to me?" Your eyes snapped to Eris as he stood up, tucking his book under an arm. No. You were undertanding wrong. "He believed my story about the shadowsinger's spies informing him that a valuable asset had been kidnapped by Briallyn, and that you lot were disgusted to arrive and find it was me, rather than someone from the Summer or Winter Courts or whoever stoops to associate with you."

The more he talked the more you felt sick. Beron had tortured him. Beron had tortured him. Beron had tortured him.

Beron.

Had.

Tortured.

Eris.

While you were uncoscious. While you were celebrating Nyx's born. While you were resting and healing and laughing, Eris was being tortured by his own father.

Tortured.

Did you even understand the meaning of that word? Could you even imagine what Beron actually did? To Eris. To your Eris.

Cassian was talking, Eris was answering, but you hear none of that. Blood was pounding in your ears. Fire was running in your veins. Red was filling your vision.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to burn. You wanted to leash out your fire and let it find Beron. Let it burn him and the entire castle. Anger. Anger was all you knew. Anger was all you had ever known.

You saw Eris wincing as he moved. Were he still hurt? Did he not get to a healer?

Beron had tortured him. How dared him touching what was yours? How dared him hurting what gave you happiness?

You will kill him. You will find Beron and kill him. You will burn his flesh piece after piece. You would let Eris' hounds eat him alive. Then you will heal him completely and start again. And again. And again. You will keep doing it until you crashed his brain. Until he wouldn't know what to beg for.

Fire. You would use the very thing Beron thought he controlled. You would shape it as his biggest nightmare and use it against him.

"Y/n." Were those voices? "Stop." Were those hands on your shoulders?

You were an arrow aimed straight, and the target was inside the Forest House in the Autumn Court. You would find him and stop him existence.

Look at me.

The words vibrated in your soul as amber filled your vision. Those were eyes you were staring into. Amber eyes. Beautiful, enchanting, living amber eyes.

Stay with me. Focus on me.

Eris' voice filled you whole, and then you realized that it was Eris standing in front of you. His hands had been the ones holding you. His eyes had been the ones you had been staring to.

He was speaking to you, but not really. His lips weren't moving, his breathing didn't shift.

Breath for me, Little Flame.

Little Flame. You recognized that name. It was Eris' name. It was your name. You blinked once. Twice. You took a better look at his face and knew that you would kill everyone who hurt him.

Smoke rose from his tailored shirt, and you needed another blink to notice the flames circling the both of you, making the world outside disappear. Making you two disappear from the world.

Gods. It was your flames that were slightly burning his shirt, and with a panicked wave you pushed the fire walls two feet more away from you. Since when you had that control? Since you don't want to hurt him.

"Your shirt." you whispered as the pain in your throat brought you completed back to the real world. "I burned it."

"Your neck." he replied so softly that you barely heard him. "I burned it."

His hands winced on your shoulders, and you felt his need to both push away and hold you tighter at the same time. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and as he leaned closer you let your foreheads meet in the middle.

Your hands were shivering, begging you to seek revenge. You gripped his shirt's collar, inhaling the scent of him. Honey, burned wood, cinnamon, cedar. It felt like the home you had always dreamed about.

"I'm going to kill him." You didn't recognize your own voice when you spoke. It was the voice of death. You watched as Eris opened his eyes and met yours. "I'm going to make him suffer and then kill him."

Something shifted in his eyes. Something you couldn't decipher. Something cold and yet warm. Something dangerous but soft. He was having an internal battle, his hands were slowly letting you go and you didn't want it.

"Let me heal you." You whispered, hoping to smooth the anger inside you.

"Make the fire disappear." it was his only response as he took a step back, leaving you confused and lost. "Now."

You had to blink twice because you almost didn't recognize the male in front of you. His voice had turned cold, he had straightened his posture and his eyes were nothing but demanding.

You gulped as you started to call the fire back into you. Suddenly you realized you were still standing in the suit inside the Hewn City. A confused, worried Cassian was looking at the two of you from a spot beside the window.

When did you move from the couch?

But you didn't look at the Illyrian male. You didn't look at the burned forniture that needed to be replaced, or at the smoke that rose from it. Your eyes stayed on Eris, pinning him with your stare.

"Let me heal you." You whispered again, testing the air between your bodies.

He clenched his jaw, his hands fixed in two fits at his side, as if he was preparing phisically for what come next. "Take your pity and leave."

***

He saw your eyes widening. He saw your breathing catching and your eyebrows furrowing, as if you tried to understand what he had said. You were taken back, you tried to mutter words but with your burned neck nothing came out.

Good. Lets be quick.

He had to strike before it was too late, and he did. He had come too close to you. He had come too close to killing you. And he needed to put distance between the two of you again. He didn't need you to hate his father, he needed you to hate him. He needed you to hate him as much as he hated himself for what he did to you.

"It's not pity." you sounded almost insulted by his implication. "You're hurt, I can heal you."

But why would he deserve to be healed by you when you couldn't heal yourself from what he did? He deserved nothing. Nothing. Not to be healed. Not to be cared for. Not you.

"Don't bother to do something I wouldn't." he saw the physical punch his words gave you. He saw the lies he said placing roots inside you.

Gods, he could be so cruel when he wanted. He knew exactly how to hurt people without touching them, and he was doing it to the last person who deserved it.

He had been so close to killing you. He had seen the life leaving your eyes, and he couldn't have done nothing to stop it. To stop him. The Gods had played a sick joke on him. The very right moment he had got close to you, when he had started to believe that he might become someone worthy of you, they had reminded him the danger he was to you. They had reminded him that you would never be safe beside him. Too many enemies. Too much of his father's blood run into his veins. And he would have cut them open if it meant he could spill all of it away and replace it with something else.

The worst, most terrifying thing was not how he felt about you, he was too gone to be ever saved from it, but it was that you cared for him. In his way to get to know you, you had started to care for him, and where did it bring you? Right into death's hands. His hands.

You had kissed him to save him. You had kissed the very lips that were now spilling hurtful words to you. You had kissed him and let him take all your air to save him.

He couldn't let you be so reckless. Not for him. Not when he just found out that the universe must have born from one of your kisses, because nothing could ever feel as godly as your lips on his.

"I thought..." you gasped as you tried to speak throught the pain he could clearly see. "I thought we were..."

Dangerous were the words that could follow. But he needed to hear them. He needed to hear them in order to destroy them.

"What?" It was easy using his mockying voice. It was easy protecting you from him. "What did you think we were?"

He saw in your eyes you were searching for the right word. He dreaded you would find it. Not now. You couldn't know now. Because if you did, he wasn't sure he would control himself and go away.

"Friends..." your voice was broken, but not from the pain of your throat. "I thought we were friends."

Friends.

After five hundreds years of living on that earth Eris finally understood the meaning of the word 'devastated'. He felt devastated. His soul was being ripped apart and he was the one doing it.

You had considered him a friend.

Nothing could ever compare to it. Not mates. Not partners. Not family.

Friends.

Something you choose to be. Something you work hard to be. Something that in his world had never existed. Had someone ever considered him a friend? Had he ever considered someone a friend?

He would endure the horrors on his life another thousands times if it meant being worthy of being your friend. Worthy of being called such. Worthy of your trust, and not because a bond told you so but because you had decided it on your own.

And you did. You had actually choosen to give him your trust, to call him your friend. And now he was breaking it. Stripping himself from the honor of that word.

He laughed. At you. At himself. At the Mother for having given him something so perfect while he would never be able to have it. He laughed because he felt he would cry otherwise. He laughed because he wanted nothing more than kneel in front of you and beg for forgiveness.

"I don't need your pathetic excuse of a friendship. I need your power." Never in his life had words left such a bitter taste in his mouth. "Do something useful and keep training it."

He didn't need the bond to know how much his words hurt you, because you were letting him see everything on your beautiful face. You were letting him see how he was breaking the trust you had in him piece after piece.

You gulped, and he traced every movements with his eyes, wondering if this would be the last time he saw you for a very long time.

He saw in you eyes that you wanted to say something, but he guessed you decided that he was not worth the pain in your throat, and he surely was not.

He watched as you silently walked out of the suit, unaware that you were taking away a piece of his heart with you. A piece he had willingly, stupidly gave you.

He watched as the door closed behind you, as the silence that followed filled his ears. As the damage he had done took form in the emptiness he felt inside him.

“You know, Eris,” Cassian said, a hand wrapping around the doorknob ready to follow you. “I think you might be a decent male, deep down, trapped in a terrible situation.”

Eris scoffed, hating the pity look that the General was giving him. Cassian out of everyone should hate him. Both for what he presumely did to Mor and for what he just saw.

"You should be happy your little 'sister' won't speak with a monster like me ever again." If with you every word had been strecthed, with Cassian was easy. A dance they had been doing for centuries. "A pity you are mated to her twin. I heard Illyrians have the habits of fucking their sisters."

Cassian studied the burned furniture around them, the only proof of the rage you had felt. The only proof that something glimmering gold tied Eris to you.

“I grew up surrounded by monsters. I’ve spent my existence fighting them. And I see you, Eris. You’re not one of them. Not even close. I think you might even be a good male.” Cassian opened the door, turning from Eris’s curled lip. “You’re just too much of a coward to act like one.”

FInally the Illyrian walked away, giving Eris the pleasure of the solitude. Alone he couldn't hurt anyone but himself. Alone no one could hurt him but himself.

He winnowed right back in his bedroom back at the secret cottage he owned deep in the forest of the Autumn Court, close to the border of Winter. Everything was still, unmoving. He had not been able to go there for over two months.

Every window was rightfully closed, every fire out, and in the darkness of the house he could not bring himself to regret what he had done. Memories of your lifeless body hunted his mind, because you had died.

He had never noticed how a second was long, and he had not been prepared when for twenty-three long seconds your heart had stopped beating. For twenty-three long seconds his life had lost any meaning. For twenty-three long seconds he had wished to be dead.

Eris had grabbed into the bond, he had grabbed it with teeth and claws, and had begged you to stay while Azriel had held him down with his shadows and Cassian tried to reanimate you. He had yelled at you to come back. He had show you the image of the cottage, of the Autumn's forest around it, of his hounds peacefully sleeping in the grass. He had promised you to show you all of it if you came back.

You could not breath, he had realized while Cassian tried to make your heart beat again. You could not breath for the damaged he had caused you. So Eris had grabbed a hold on your power too, he had found the last strike of flames left in you and healed you from the inside. It had not been much, but it had been enough to allow the air to enter in you again.

You had died for twenty-three seconds.

Eris could live without a mate. He had done it for five hundreds years. He had never wanted one. Never needed one. But it had been in the brightness of the day, as the sunlight hit the falling leaves of the trees, as the sounds of his hounds running through the forest filled his ears, that he realized he could not live without you.

A/N: I do have a question: The Eris in your head has long or short hair? I was talking about it with a new dear friend of mine and I am curious about your opinions!

taglist: @adventure-awaits13 @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huffleruffplant @azysmate @bia-wayne-west @babypeapoddd @lady-targaryens-world@sourapplex @ghostwritermia @asteria33 @pinklemonade34 @tell-me-a-poem @speedypersonawhispers @historygeekqueen @webvics@paliketerson @lizzytish82 @tincanhat @marrass @acourtofmoonlightandstars @yasmin-oviedo @ghostwritermia @marly500@kabekusa @gamarancianne @butterfix @itsxchar6 @iowaladynerd @that-girl-reading @kitsunetori @rcarbo1 @username199945 @giana1508 @homeslices @yasmin-oviedo @impossibelle @iambored24601 @elisabethch82 @herondale-lightworm @garricktavisfanclub@imma-too-many-fandoms @celestialgilb @wandas-dream @virtualcherryblossomwhispers @courtofjade @azzydaddy @saamaanthaa5sos @lomahdu

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in the Bottle - Chapter 9

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: 

Elain Bashing, Rhys is trying to be a supportive big brother, This is officially the penultimate chapter of this story, but the series will eventually go on!

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

“When was I supposed to tell you?” Eira asked Feyre calmly. “You said you were busy with more important things. You were busy with running this court.”

She didn’t give her sister the fault for that, but…

“I would have…” Feyre protested but then cut herself off. “No, I wouldn’t have,” she sighed. “That’s on me. I gave you no opportunity to come to me, no reason why you should ever trust me again…” Feyre said softly, trailing off, staring at Eira with wide blue eyes. “I am sorry.”

“For what? Saying what you were thinking?” Eira asked her sister, her eyebrows furrowing. “You are allowed to do that, Feyre. Even if I don’t like to hear it.”

Even when she didn’t want to hear it…even then.

“Talking to you like this,” Feyre pointed out, reaching out for her hand.  “When I told you that I had more important things to do when you were only trying to be nice to me…or when I put my nose into what happened between Azriel and you.”

Eira swallowed at that. 

“Don’t be,” Eira assured her sister, forcing a smile on her face.  “It was time for me to…to realise that he’s completely uninterested and that any hope of him changing his mind is a fever dream.” Azriel wasn’t interested and he never would be. It would be better for everybody if Eira just accepted that. 

She would get over him. Find somebody else…maybe somebody that she wouldn’t annoy… maybe some long-suffering male… who was willing to take pity on her.  “You don’t need to worry about it anymore, Feyre. I won’t try and talk to him again,” she promised her sister. 

Feyre had enough other things to worry about. Eira’s feelings weren’t going to inconvenience anyone any more. 

“No!” Feyre exclaimed and she stared at her sister. 

What? 

This was what Feyre had wanted, wasn’t it?

“No?” she repeated questioningly, a hand still gently running over Nyx's back that was happily cuddling with her, playing with her fingers. 

“What Feyre means is that…you have every right to…handle your relationships as you see fit,” Nesta hurried to add. 

Her relationships?

“There is no relationship. There never will be a relationship. I’ll get over myself,” Eira promised. Eventually. “You don’t need to worry about it. I won’t annoy him any longer or inconvenience you.”

You’ve never annoyed Master, the shadows hissed at her, suddenly appearing and wrapping themselves around her hand. 

“It’s very sweet of you to say that, but we both know it is a lie,“ she said quietly, blinking back the tears that threatened to run over her face. It was so sweet. So sweet of them to do that…but it was useless. 

Don’t worry, I’ll find somebody else,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. Somebody that…somebody that maybe wanted her…somebody that she wouldn’t annoy…somebody that… “Is everything alright with Elain’s wedding planning?“ she asked, changing the topic. Eira hoped everything was alright with that, otherwise poor Elain would be so stressed once again and…

“Eira, forget that fucking wedding for a moment,” Nesta snapped and she flinched, worriedly looking at Nyx that didn’t seem to care one way or another about Nesta’s cursing. What was wrong with the wedding? Had something gone amiss? Was it her fault? Was it something that Eira had done?! “Look at me,” her older sister said with a sigh. She did. Eira’s eyes met Nesta’s, silver and grey, so similar. “I am sorry,” Nesta told her earnestly. 

“Why are you apologising?” Eira asked. What was…

“Because I threw everything I could think of at your head when I…during those weeks and you still came to visit me every week. You wouldn’t have needed to do that but you still did,” Nesta said quietly. 

“You’re my sister. Of course, I came to visit you,” Eira said fiercely. Of course, she had come to visit Nesta. She would have…otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself. ”You don’t need to apologise,” Eira assured her. It was fine. Nesta had…had a really bad time and…

“Yes, I do,” Nesta snapped. “You should be angry with me!”

Furious…Angry…But then Eira had never really been angry quickly. She had never…And even when she had gotten angry, it had never held for very long…even her anger at Elain had gone away in a few hours. 

It sparked and then it went out again.

“You should be furious with me! For belittling you, for telling you that all the dresses you make are ugly, for behaving like I did!”

She repeated the words, and something deep inside Eira curled together once she heard them again, even when Nesta was sorry about all she had said. 

It was fine. Nesta could… her dresses weren’t as perfect as some that one could buy maybe…maybe Nesta was right. Maybe she should keep to hemming them and shortening sleeves and alterations and stop making things from scratch…maybe she should…“You are entitled to your own opinion,” she said softly. 

“Not when I use it to hurt you on purpose!” Nesta yowled. “You never told me you made me a wedding dress,” she said, her voice dropping, sounding weak. 

How did she…

For just a moment it felt like Eira’s heart was stopping. Then she swallowed, and she looked down at Nyx, still cuddled up to her, as she answered.  “You wouldn’t have wanted to wear it, so what did it matter? It’s ugly.”

Not good enough. Not pretty enough. Worthless.

“It’s beautiful,” Nesta responded, her voice splintering. 

Eira just closed her eyes. 

She couldn’t stand it. She could deal with the harsh words but she could not deal with the outright lying. She could not… “You don’t need to tell me that to spare my feelings, Nesta. I understand,” Eira said weakly. She did understand it. 

It was alright. It was…

“I am not lying to you!” Nesta snapped.” “Be angry at us. Scream at us. Throw us out, Eira. But don’t just…accept it. Don’t just turn the other cheek. Don’t just…”

What good could that possibly do?

“So I am angry and then what, Nesta?” Eira finally asked, for the first time feeling so utterly tired. “Is screaming at you supposed to make me feel better or you?” she asked, for the life of her not understanding what Nesta wanted from her. “I love you, but I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I think it may be better if you all take a break,” a voice came from the doorway and she looked up to see Rhysand there. 

Gods, couldn’t she at least be spared that? 

At least…

“I am not…” Nesta started, but Rhys cut her off quietly. 

“Nesta. Please.” She had never heard the two of them talk to each other like that. 

Never. 

But now they did. And to Eira’s shock, her older sister listened. 

“Fine,” she agreed with a sigh, as Feyre scooped up Nyx, who gave her a toothy smile as she waved at him. 

Both Feyre and Nesta left the room, leaving her alone with Rhys. 

“If this is about my ill-hidden puppy crush on your spymaster, you don’t need to worry about that,” she told him, trying to make her voice seem frosty and probably failing horribly. “I promise I’ll do whatever you want so that he’s not uncomfortable.”

Maybe then she would get out of needing to have a conversation about it with Rhys…maybe then he wouldn’t start making fun of her or laughing at it…

God, it must be utterly ridiculous to a man who was over 500 years old. She probably was just…

The last thing she had expected was for him to watch her with his dark violet eyes and then say three words: “I am sorry.”

Why was everybody insisting on apologising to her today?

And why was Rhys of all people apologising to her? Was it because of him looking into her mind? Seeing her deepest darkest secrets? Stripping her mind naked for him to see and gawk at? 

Was it that?

“About taking a peek into my mind? Weren’t you trying to keep my pain at bay?” she asked, crossing her arms, ignoring the pain that appeared again in her ribs. 

“I was,” Rhys agreed. “But I should have known better. I was arrogant and not careful enough. You have a right to privacy, Eira, and I violated that. And then I violated it further when I told everybody what you felt when they were talking to you.”

Oh great. It just got worse and worse. 

“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off meekly. She didn’t have the strength to argue with him right now. 

“It’s not,” Rhys disagreed with a sigh. “And that’s not the only thing that I am sorry about either. I am sorry about the role I played in making you feel like you have no place here in Velaris,” he continued and her head snapped up to him. 

How…of course. He had seen everything. 

 “Like you are worthless…that you don’t matter,” Rhys continued softly. “I should have never talked to you like that, and I should have realised that we have taken you for granted a very long time ago,” Rhys said. “Even now you are wondering why Feyre and Nesta even bother to apologise to you. Eira, it wasn’t right how we treated you. When I finally got to pull myself from your mind, I threw up, because I was so utterly disgusted with what members of our family said to you. And I am counting myself onto that list as well.”

She didn’t even know what to say to that. 

She didn’t…

It was everything she had ever wished anybody would tell her…Everything right there offered to her on a silver platter. 

She could feel the tears burn into her eyes because she was…”What do you want?” Eira finally choked out. “What do you want, Rhysand? You wouldn’t say that if you didn’t want something. So what is it?”

What did he want that…

But she hadn’t expected him to reach out, one warm broad hand settling on her shoulder. 

“Oh, little one,” he breathed. “I don’t…I don’t want anything from you. This isn’t me manipulating you into giving up even more of yourself. The only thing I want is for you to be happy. I want you to know that we love you. I want you to know that none of us took for granted what you did…that you took this knife for Nyx. You were willing to give your own life for my son, Eira.” 

She had. 

“I am sorry for the role I played. I am not expecting you to forgive me now, but I would…hope that you may let me earn your forgiveness. May let all of us work for it.”

She had no idea what to think of that, didn’t know what to say about any of that, as the tears ran over her cheeks and he handed her a handkerchief from nowhere, his magic easily answering his call. 

“Think about it?” he requested softly. “If you don’t think you can ever forgive us…we’ll figure out somewhere else for you to stay…you won't ever need to worry about money or anything else…but if you were willing to give us a second chance…I know that Feyre and Nesta would be so happy to have you here.”

She didn’t want to go anywhere else. She was too connected to her family for that, she loved them too much that she thought that she could be happy anywhere further away from them. Maybe a smarter person would have taken Rhys’ offer with both hands, would have made herself a nice little life somewhere near the Summer Court maybe…but…

So finally she just nodded. 

She would give them a chance to fix things. She could try. 

And if it didn’t work out…maybe she would find herself somewhere else then. 

“There is…something else, I need to show you, if that’s alright, though,” Rhys continued quietly. “And it’s not..going to be…nice,” he warned her. “Elain had a vision.”

A vision? A bad one? “When?” Eira asked tonelessly. Were they in danger? 

“Close to two years ago,” Rhys answered gently. “Soon after you were made…and since then Elain has…manipulated circumstances so that it wouldn’t come to fruition. She didn’t tell anybody about it.”

This didn’t sound well. This didn’t sound like her sister either. 

“Is she alright?” Eira demanded and Rhys nodded. 

“She’s fine,” he promised her, his voice even. “I think it’s better if you see it if you’ll let me show you.” 

She nodded her agreement, swallowing…steeling herself for death and destruction and then getting…neither. 

Actually, that vision was…the softest, sweetest thing she had ever seen. 

It was…It was everything she had ever wanted. 

A little girl with her caramel brown hair…dark eyes…hazel and green…and wings. She had wings? Illyrian wings?

Eira watched herself with the little girl…watched them pull the carrots out of the ground…watched the little girl grin at her, gap-toothed and beautiful…everything she had ever wanted. 

And then…then she saw these violently scarred hands that had only ever touched her with so much gentleness…scoop up the little girl, her daughter…her mud-sprinkled dress decorated with little floral embroidery and settled her on his hip in a move that looked like he had done it hundreds and thousands of time. 

It was…

Azriel. 

What? How…why…the wings. It was his child? Her child? His child? Their child?!

He lifted up the basket that they kept their harvest in and then helped up her…the touch gentle and…intimate in a way that spoke of their…that…

One hand was pressed against the swell of her belly…another child slumbering inside her. 

A baby. 

Her babies. 

Their babies. 

No, this…this…

Her blood rushed in her ears, her breathing rapid as her vision cleared and Rhys looked at her quietly…nearly pitying. 

“The mating bond snapped for Azriel during dinner a few days ago,” he told her, his voice quiet. 

No. No. No. 

“This isn’t funny.” She wasn’t even sure how she forced these words out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure how she did that…How she…

“It’s not a joke,” Rhys assured her quietly. “It’s the truth, Eira. Elain saw that and decided to stop it from happening.

No. 

Not Elain. Not her twin sister. Not…

Azriel. Azriel?

At least I found two males in my life willing to marry me. The one you have your ridiculous puppy crush on is never even going to look at you!”

But you do need to realise, Eira, that that is never going to go anywhere. 

Azriel is completely disinterested. And it would be better for you if you finally realised that.

I want you to be happy. And thirsting after a male that will never return your affections you won’t do that. He’s not going to change his mind, Eira.

You should just stop your pathetic attempts to flirt with him. All you manage is to make him uncomfortable. 

There are plenty of fish in the sea… You’ll find somebody else one day.

It’s still never going to go anywhere!

He’s completely disinterested.

Her breathing came in sharp gasps. Blood rushed in her ears. 

Elain had said all of that. Elain. 

Elain, who had known that Eira had fallen in love. Who had seen this vision…who had seen her…her children. Her babies. 

Azriel’s children. These perfect babies? 

And Elain had tried to make sure that they never would exist?!

Her babies…

The first sob that broke out of her chest, the first fat tears that spilt over her face as she buried her face in her hands…as she cried. 

“I know. I know, little one,” Rhys whispered quietly. 

“Why did she do this?” Eira forced out, forcing a deep lungful of air into her constricting lungs. Why would she do this? Why had she…Why had Elain seen this and then…then behaved like this…why had she…Why…

“Shhhhh,” Rhys shushed her softly, gently brushing a hand over her hair, smoothing it over “It’s alright. It’s alright.” 

It wasn’t alright. None of this was alright.

And she couldn’t stop the tears or the sob that shook her…even as she didn’t know how long it took until Nesta crawled into bed with her, hauling her against her body and holding her tightly. Even as Feyre curled up next to her, holding her hand…until it was the three of them, just as it had been in that cottage…lacking one sister. 

[artethyst]

~ Shadows Bathed In Moonlight ~

Azriel x Youngest Archeron Sister!Reader x OC

Little Ezekiel was not like his cousins.

Nyx, older only by two years, was cheerful and outgoing, curious like his mother and with an unbridled fearlessness just like his father.

Baby Thena, the youngest of the three, who had only just began to walk- toddle, already had the will of both her mother and father.

Cassian’s mischievous grin with Nesta’s piercing gaze.

Ezekiel, however, was just like Azriel.

He was very shy, in fact, he preferred to hide behind his mother’s legs and cling onto the shimmering skirts that pooled over them than chase after his cousins.

Rest his curly mop of raven hair against his father’s neck who was more than happy to scoop him up and carry him around, protective over the innocent child who had yet to be tainted by Prythian’s cruelties.

It was no secret Azriel preferred it that way, Rhysand and Cassian often teasing his parental axiety and overbearing behaviour, reminding him his son was an Illyrian after all.

Just as Illyrian as he had once been- delicate wings folded against his little back but with unblemished hands and love in his heart.

Azriel would keep it that way.

His Mate knew it was because of the innate fear of the Mother snatching his happiness away- as though he had never deserved it.

Ezekiel was a little miracle.

Not only were Fae children rare, the dangerous birth had put his mother in a coma, and him confined to the Healer’s for the first month of his wavering life.

It was the worst time of Azriel’s centuries long existence.

If he had been protective before, he was a hundred times worse now

When the other children played, Ezekiel was happy to curl up in another adult’s lap, to which many of them had no qualms, as Ezekiel was just the “cutest” according to Mor- a tiny version of his father that the Inner Circle could squeeze and smother with kisses.

Feyre often scolded Nyx for dragging the poor boy around, but Ezekiel held no grudges, a small blush on his face as his cousin tugged him along ranting on about whatever a child of his age had to rant about.

But now it was time for him to leave the nest.

The one his parents has so throughly wound.

“Ezekiel,” his mother bent down to his eye level, twinkling hazel eyes wide and scared. “Mama will be back soon okay?”

The little boy’s lip wobbled and tiny fists came to rub at his eyes which quickly filled with tears. His silent sobs broke her heart, Madja had always said he was an easy baby, like his father.

And even now- when he cried, he tried to hide it.

It worried her- that he would never throw a tantrum or openly seek comfort- but hide it as though he was ashamed to feel.

He choked back little cries as his mother had to force away her own.

She hated to think her little boy felt the need to internalise his feelings- especially from her.

Azriel had assured her it was okay- that he had been that way too, even when his own mother had shown him nothing but love.

“You’ll have lots of fun my Little Shadow,” she pressed a deep kiss to his wet cheek, gently brushing away his tears, trying not only to convince him but herself. “Nyx will be with you-“

“Yepppp! Come on ‘Zekiellllll!” His cousin’s voice sang in anticipation, not understanding why the boy was so reluctant to play with toys and read funny picture books all day.

Ezekiel continued to cry and so his mother picked him up, cradling him against her chest as he sobbed without restraint.

Unusual for such a well-behaved child such as he.

“D-Don’t leave me mama!” He wept. “I-I pwomise I’ll be good p-pwease don’t give me away!”

Her heart broke as he trembled and her free hand came to stroke at his curls, the way she had done to comfort her own husband many a time.

“I would never give you away my darling, and you have not been bad,” she smoothed his raven locks, “you are a big boy now, just like Nyx. You are old enough go and play with all other children-“

“I not a big boy I-I still a baby!” He cried and that was when his father appeared, face just as torn as his mother’s.

The boy did not giggle as he usually did when his father’s shadows came to tickle against his cheek, his cries coming out in small hiccups as she looked to Azriel in pure misery.

He wordlessly plucked the child from her arms, his own chest tightening at the sound of his only child’s pained cries- crying under the belief he was being abandoned.

Azriel had vowed his child would never feel the way he had, unloved and nothing but a burden the Mother was so cruel to burden the equally dismal world with.

His Mate had changed that outlook.

And now his greatest treasure- a part of them both, homage to their fiery passion and proof the Shadowsinger was indeed capable of love.

Ezekiel continued to cry as Azriel’s shadows were equally as unsettled, trying their best to cheer up the little boy who quivered so violently, he might have fallen from his father’s arms had the older male’s grip been so secure.

He would rather suffer burns across his entire flesh- take Truthteller to his heart than have his son feel unwanted.

“You know that your mother and I love you- more than anything. More than the sky above.”

Ezekiel sniffed, his little head nodding pathetically as best it could smushed into Azriel’s chest.

“You are our little star Ezekiel. You are the most precious thing to us- in all of Prythian. We would never let anything or anyone harm you, you never have to be afraid of the world as long as I am here.”

Feyre stood in the distance- letting her brother-in-law share the moment with his son, knowing just how heartbroken Rhys was at the same situation.

The difference was, Nyx hardly gave him a second glance- sprinting into the unfamiliar building with a new sense of reverence and promise of adventure.

“D-Daddy stay?” The boy became hopeful as Azriel shook his head, running a hand lovingly through his son’s inherited locks- a sense of pride and indescribable love overwhelming him at the sight.

Before he could come up with some semblance of comfort, Feyre saved the day. Pressing a wet kiss to her nephew’s cheek with an infectious smile on her warm face.

It wasn’t that she thought her own sister incapable, she just knew the poor woman was just as worried as Azriel.

Their forced smiles and glossy eyes hardly convincible even to a child.

“Hmmm, a little shadow told me that Uncle Cass has a surprise back home waiting for his best Spy…”

The boy paused, his little face red and besmirched with tears but an undeniable curiosity to his eye.

“Spies don’t cry Zekie!” Nyx chimed in as his mother sent him a gentle look of reprimand. “Come onnnnn, the faster we get home, the faster we get the suprise!”

“You like painting, don’t you Ezekiel?” Feyre continued, distracting the boy enough for him to perk up in curiosity, loosening his little balled fisted grip on his father’s leathers. “Would you like me to show you the art room?”

Azriel- albeit reluctantly, lowered his son to the ground, gently encouraging him towards Feyre who happily received his little hand in hers.

The Shadowsinger took his Mate into his arms as replacement, the loss of his son weighing heavy even on his own marred heart.

The boy had never once been out of their sight for so long.

And as Feyre guided him into the Nursery, her sister mouthing a watery ‘thank you’ as a tear cascaded down her cheek, Azriel couldn’t help but let one of his own slip as Ezekiel passed through the doors and out of his sight.

Hesitant in his little steps, but with his cousin there to help him along.

Just as Rhysand had done for his father.

[the-daydreaming-show]

(4.) The Skyfall

SUMMARY: Your time is up.

NOTE: I'll be honest, I've been struggling with this chapter, and this is the final version, but even then I'm not sure. It's a bit boring, but next chapter has a bonus, and then the final chapter of finales! So, sorry about the lame chapter, but hope you like it as leas for entertemiend and see you in the bonus chapter!! XOXO Ella

Memories/Thoughts in italics

Dragon Language in bold italics

Reader dress is inspired by this art of Queen Rhaenys.

Previus Part: (3.) DREAMS MADE HEAVY.

AO3 / Story Masterlist

There was less than a week between Nyx's birthday and the Starfall celebration. From what Elain had told you in the party, the previous year they had not celebrated it due to the birth and other circumstances she didn't explain. 

So, it was not only her nephew’s first Starfall celebration but also the first for her and Nesta.

You spent every day until it at the House of Wind, until the morning of the celebration, when you decided it would be best to take Balerion for a fly. There was a possibility that Feyre and Rhysand would appear early at the house for the party preparations, and despite your newly acquired ability to avoid people in that house, you ran into Nesta at breakfast before leaving.

“I hope you’re not thinking about fleeing the party,” she mocked coldly at you. Of course, because she would be the first to notice how you had spent more time than usual inside the house rather than outside on the balconies or in the sky with your dragons.

“No, I'm just going to take a fly. To make sure, Balerion doesn't cause a scandal when he sees there's a party here tonight.” You explained while spreading butter on your bread and then adding a disrespectful amount of honey.

“I was glad to know that you're well-" She admitted behind her cup of tea. "She missed you too."

You tried not to halt your movements at her words and smiled as best you could before biting into your toast—a poor attempt to hide in some way.

"You can fool many people, Nesta Archeron, but you and I both know you have been missing me every day since the day I disappeared." You teased gently, taking a sip of your own tea. A small tilt of her lips was visible behind her cup. She didn’t deny it, but you hadn’t expected her to admit it out loud.

With her, it had always been like that. The longest conversation you had ever had was before you really knew each other, and you had always been able to understand her silences. You knew that made it more irritating than useful—because you already knew things she didn’t want to tell anyone. Silence had become both an agreement and a decision over the years, a shared language. That was why you had breakfast in silence and parted ways just as quietly when you got up from the table.

With Feyre, there had never been silences, probably the reason it now felt so uncomfortable not to tell her about the things that had happened and those you knew would happen. But you had seen firsthand the life she had now, and there was no room for you or what you had to do in that life. Even if she were able to accept everything. 

You love her, and that was why you wouldn’t drag her to where you stood now—just for the selfish comfort of her company.

Already in the sky, you roamed the mountains and even accompanied Balerion in his hunt of the day—anything to avoid returning to the house, just in case. 

All of it left your face covered in ash, so Mayhem would probably scold you later. After all, your presence that night was supposed to be an official visit—the last before leaving. Your court expected you to inform Feyre and Rhysand of your decision today. Those two didn’t know that, of course. However, you were aware that, since the decision had already been made and confirmed, staying until the party was already too much by the political standards.

So you stayed in the sky until night started to fall. Your stomach growled with hunger, and your tongue felt dry with thirst. It was then that you realized maybe you had overdone it. You flew over the house to dismount, no longer after. You threw yourself off Balerion’s side, using his wings to slow your descent and land on the balcony of your rooms—a dangerous maneuver. The dragon was flying too close to the house, meaning he could easily break something, and the risk of you missing the balcony, falling onto the one below, or any of them, and breaking something was high. But you preferred that risk. 

Fortunately, you didn’t break anything, you simply stepped onto the balcony, where an angry Mayhem was already waiting for you. She glared at you with the same fury while you dropped the harnesses on the floor and headed toward the bathroom, where a bathtub had been waiting for you for far too long.

“It's cold,” you complained as you got into the water. You started to stand up, but her hands pushed your shoulders down, submerging you up to your neck.

“It would be hotter if you weren’t an hour late,” May said offhandedly, but she still left the room in search of hot water.

After the extra hot water, the bath wasn’t as hot, but warm was better than freezing, so you didn’t complain when she went for more. Your presence in the tub helped reheat it, after all, and by the time you were done, the water was bubbling and boiling. May had to let you finish washing alone because of this—for her irritation and your amusement.

You dried yourself in silence while she busied herself in the room. You wrapped yourself in a towel and went to find her, and found her delicately placing your dress on the bed, ready for use.

“Go get yourself ready. I'll call you for the hair,” you said. She frowned at you. You roll your eyes. “I know how to dress myself. You can check my work when you return. Now go get ready.”

“Okay, call me if you get tangled up.” You nodded to her demand.

Mayhem closed the door behind her, leaving you alone. You sat on the bed next to the dress and felt your stomach growl. You closed your eyes, silently regretting all your decisions, and when you opened them again, you noticed that at some point, May had left a tray with juice and a sandwich for you.

"How did I not see this before?" you muttered, quickly reaching for it.

The sandwich was simple, but it was enough to satisfy you and silence the hunger. After it, you shook off your fatigue and turned to your dress with renewed energy.

The dress Mayhem had chosen for the party was composed of two layers that required careful arrangement, which explained her hesitation about letting you put it on alone. The first layer was a sleeveless black dress with a V-shaped neckline, clinging to your figure thanks to the corset, accentuating your hips and letting the fabric cascade to the floor without a train or excessive drama. The corset had a texture reminiscent of Balerion’s scales, adorned with tiny diamonds so small they were invisible unless viewed up close.

When you put it on, you felt as if you were wearing stars, glimmering in the darkness of the room—just as Balerion’s scales did at night.

The second layer of the outfit was dark red, made of a softer fabric. This part covered the left side of the corset, fastening at the waist with an embellishment in the shape of a black iron dragon. From the sleeve, which perfectly matched the dress underneath, a cape extended, also serving as the train of the dress, elegantly crossing your bare back and cascading to the ground. It could have been just a single dress, but this way, you were sure you could wear both pieces on other occasions and with different outfits. That was a condition when you agreed to the special preparation of this attire for the event.

You were putting on heeled sandals, complaining due to the corset that prevented you from breathing and bending down enough to adjust them properly, when Mayhem returned, wearing her own red and black ensemble. All of her outfit complimented yours, but did not imitate it. Her dark hair was styled into a crown of braids on her head, leaving not a strand of place. It was surprising that she had managed to get completely ready in the same amount of time it took you to put on your dress and struggle with your sandals. She entered with a tray with more sandwich and juice, and quickly let all in the night table knelt in front of you to help. You sigh as you sit straight, since movement causes the corset to stop stabbing into the lower stomach.

"You need to eat something. " May said. You felt cold sweat running down your back.

You let yourself fall onto the bed for a moment, trying to catch your breath. That sandwich clearly hadn’t been enough. Mayhem offered you one of the sandwiches, and held the juice while you ate to offer it to you as soon as you finished, the next sandwich was offered to you immediately after. 

By the time you were done, downing the third and finishing your juice, Mayhem stopped worrying about it to stop and check your dress. While you were chewing, May loosened the corset of your black dress, allowing you to breathe more freely, and refastened it just right. You hadn't realized the corset was strangling you because it was so poorly fitted until May readjusted it, and you could easily swallow the last few bites of your food. 

You could barely feel the corset; probably if you hadn't suffered from it earlier due to your poor performance, you wouldn't be so self-conscious about its position. But she didn't adjust anything else, which made you feel proud that you'd managed to put almost the entire outfit on correctly.

You were led to sit at the vanity to do your hair after that, hoping that what you had eaten would be enough to tide you over until dinner and that a good meal would be served at the party. Mayhem carefully brushed your hair, and you almost fell asleep. You frowned in disappointment when she finished before you could even nod off.

"We won't do anything too dramatic with the hair," May told you as she set down the brush and grabbed a jar to apply oils. She massaged your hair and scalp for a while. "We could touch up the roots if you want," she whispered at the end, noticing the tiny roots peeking through the front strands of your hair. 

You shook your head gently after considering it for a couple seconds.

Mayhem used two hair-slides shaped like dragon wings.With them, Mayhem gathered your hair away from your face, and in a half updo with a bun at the back of your head. The combs matched the clasp that fastened your dress, and they were made of the same material as the bracelets she placed on your bare arms. Then, you stood in front of the full-length mirror while Mayhem carefully hooked part of the dress’s train to the bracelets, so it wouldn’t drag too heavily behind you.

Looking at your reflection, you realized the train resembled a blood-red halo that unfurled when you moved.

Mayhem was applying perfume to your neck when Armin and Luka entered the room, also dressed for the occasion, just like May. Coordinated, but not identical to you, their queen.

"You look beautiful, your grace," Armin remarked lovingly, smiling.

"Impossible not to look good with the amount of money spent on this outfit," you remarked gracefully, stretching your neck while Mayhem continued perfuming you. "Are you all going to keep calling me your grace all night?"

"I'm afraid so, your grace," Luka replied mockingly. 

You roll your eyes, and look at yourself in the mirror. 

You looked ethereal. 

It was strange, considering there was a time when you didn't care about your appearance because there was no room in your life to even think about that. Back then, you were still young and had your whole life ahead of you. 

And then, as you learned, appearances meant survival. So you took great care of yours, always wanting to look better—in the ideal way to attract the customers you wanted, not others. You had perfected your image, making sure that every aspect of your outfit, hair, and attitude played the role that would earn you more money and more time for Rue.

Now, everything feels so foreign to you. You played with the fabric of the dress a little, watching the reflection mimic your movements, confirming that it was really you. 

You didn’t know what to say or do about the outfit. It was beautiful, but that didn’t mean you looked beautiful in it. It made no sense. Perfecting your image years ago hadn’t saved Rue, and this outfit wouldn't change anything that night. So, it didn't really matter.

You had barely made it down the stairs to the ballroom, where the party was already underway, when Morrigan appeared and took your arm, leading you around the room with Mayhem shadowing you both. She complimented your dress, and without hesitation, you told her she could have it if she wanted; you wouldn’t have much use for it in the Bay. Truthfully, the Bay's fashions were nowhere near what your outfit looked like that night—it had been designed to blend seamlessly with the party and Prythian styles.

"Honestly, for a moment, I was afraid you'd come out wearing a diamond-studded riding habit or something, considering how long you took to land. I was sure Mayhem would be scrambling to get you into something elegant for the evening," she mocked, glancing at your friend for a reaction. But May just looked at her briefly before whispering,

"If I had tried, I definitely would have never left," she declared firmly, making Mor laugh.

Morrigan led you to the table, unconcerned with the people who had to shift and adjust so that the trains of both your dress and hers could pass without being stepped on. The three of you stared at the snack table in silence for a while, until the blonde picked up a caviar sandwich, never letting go of your arm. You watched her chew nonchalantly before slipping your arm free and reaching for a glass of champagne, ignoring Mayhem's gaze.

"Are you on babysitting duty, Mor?" you asked, bringing the glass to your lips with utmost delicacy, mindful of the work May had put into your makeup.

"Something like that. You are the honored guests of the evening, so keeping you entertained and well cared for tonight is the responsibility of the court emissaries, while Rhys and Feyre are the evening’s hosts. Cassian was assigned your general, and Nesta, your secretary," she explained, and you made a quip over the rim of your glass.

"I'm sure that'll be fun for Luka," you remarked mockingly, and May smiled beside you. Mor looked at you as she took another bite. "Armin is the slowest talker in the world—he's very serious, I always tell him that. He says it's his age. And Luka is just Luka. I don't think he and Nesta will exchange a single word all night unless someone forces them. Though I think they'd both prefer it that way."

"And this one?" Mor asked, pointing at Mayhem with a smile. Your friend's ears turned red in the dimly lit room. "How should I ensure his fun tonight? Since he won’t leave your side."

"Well—"

Someone calling your name interrupted you. You turned to see Feyre and Rhysand walking toward you.

Feyre wore a dark blue, mermaid-style dress that hugged her curves, with a single sheer sleeve that draped over her arm down to her wrist, where it fit snugly. Around her neck, a strip of fabric wrapped like a scarf, cascading behind her like a cape. The entire ensemble was adorned with tiny gems, making her look as though she were covered in stars.

Rhysand wasn't far behind, dressed in pants, boots, and a black tunic with silver embroidery that provided subtle contrast. Beneath the tunic, he wore a shirt in the same dark blue hue as Feyre’s—sparkly and all. They were stupidly attractive as a couple. Their coordinated outfits only made them look better—and worse—all at the same time.

You were suddenly grateful that Armin, Luka, and Mayhem matched you, because the thought of standing out alone left a hollow, lonely feeling in your chest.

"I see Mor already dragged you to attack the snack table," Rhysand teased, glancing at Morrigan, who stuck her tongue out at him while taking a sip of champagne with one hand, the other still holding a bite of food, waiting to be eaten.

"I thought I dragged her, but it may have simply been mutual," you admitted honestly, to which Rhysand smiled in amusement.

"I was looking for you," Feyre said gently, her eyes obviously trailing over your dress. "You look incredible."

"There’s no doubt the Dragon Queen of the East has arrived tonight," Rhysand added, following Feyre’s lead. "You’ll definitely steal the show, Your Grace."

"Oh, please. There’s no dethroning the best-dressed couple of the evening. High Lord and High Lady, you are undoubtedly the envy of all Prythian with the beauty you carry tonight," you said, hoping it sounded less bitter than it felt. You immediately took a sip from your glass and set it down on the table, refusing to look at their reactions.

"And Nyx?" you asked, forcing a lighthearted tone, maybe a little too disingenuous. "I hope he matches too, or I’ll be disappointed!" The words slipped out before you could stop them. But there was no turning back now—you had already stepped in the mud; you might as well sink into it completely to hide it.

You met Feyre's gaze, saw a flicker of concern in her eyes, and pointedly gave her the best everything-is-okay smile you could muster. It didn't work as quickly as you would have liked, so you turned your attention to Rhysand, making him the most interesting person of the evening as you avoided Feyre.

"He is, but I'm afraid nap time clashes with the start of the celebration, so he'll be here for the big moment only," he explained gently, his tone completely casual, his hand resting on Feyre’s waist. You nodded slowly, smiling at him, and took another glass from the table beside you. You sipped it as calmly as possible, though you could have easily downed the champagne in one go.

"I should go find Armin and Luka before they make any strangers too uncomfortable with their lack of sociability," you told them, stepping away from the table before anyone could say anything else, your dress billowing behind you as you walked away.

Once you were sufficiently covered by the crowd, you tipped your glass back at an angle, emptying it in one motion. You placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. Mayhem followed you closely to the balconies, where people were chatting without missing a beat.

There they were, standing with their matching outfits and ethereal beauty. You realized you couldn't stand it for another second. So you made your choice—you would keep your distance for the rest of the party. You ran away. That was the solution. It wouldn’t change anything, only hasten the inevitable.

And so you did.

You dodged Feyre and Rhysand as best you could for a couple of hours while they flitted around the food and drink tables, eating and drinking. But the task proved more difficult than you had anticipated—you quickly realized your dress was working against you.

That's how Morrigan found you a couple of hours later, just before the starfall began. She announced that Nyx was already at the party and had brought his dragons, so you let her drag you along—Mayhem included.

The boy truly matched his parents, which warmed your heart instead of bringing the heartache you had feared. You silently thanked that relief with a sigh. He wore pants and boots that matched his father's and a loose shirt made from the same fabric as his mother's dress. His black curls had been slicked back, but by the time you reached him, he had already managed to loosen some of them.

"Hi," you greeted softly, stepping closer to him, as he was currently in Elain's arms. The boy looked at you and immediately broke into a smile, offering you one of the wooden dragons.

"Bababa," he declared proudly, showing you the black-painted wooden dragon.

"Yes, Balerion." You hesitated, feeling Feyre and Rhysand’s gazes on you. And you could bet the rest of the Inner Circle also had their eyes on you and the boy. "Did you see that Balerion has stars?" you asked sweetly. You knew he probably didn’t understand what you were saying and wouldn’t answer, but you still spoke to him that way, unsure of how to interact with children so young.

Nyx tilted his head curiously and looked at his toy. Then he offered it to you again, trying to understand what you meant. He seemed to recognize the word stars.

"Like this," you said softly, gently holding his hand. You raised his arm so it looked like he was flying the dragon above his head. "See? There, Nyx—stars."

The toy had its wings stretched out as if it were hovering in the sky, and when Nyx looked up at it, he saw its entire belly, legs, and the underside of its wings twinkling, as if a starry sky lay beneath. The boy let out a squeal of excitement at the discovery. You thought that, in his mind, you had just revealed to him that this toy truly contained stars, because the way he held it upside down and excitedly showed Elain the stars beneath it was as if he were presenting the greatest discovery of the century.

You let out a laugh at his enthusiasm.

"Does Balerion really do that?" Rhysand asked, his tone curious. You looked at him for a moment, searching for any trace of insincerity in his voice but finding none.

"Yes. It's his scales. In the dark, they shimmer as if covered in stars, and in the sky, they camouflage him." You explained simply. "The toy is made to mimic that."

"It sounds beautiful," Nesta remarked, to which you smiled in appreciation.

"No doubt," Elain added, adjusting Nyx in her arms as he excitedly moved to show his aunts and uncles how the stars appeared on his toy.

"Can we see it?" Feyre asked, making you look directly at her. You noticed the silver combs in her hair, matching Rhysand’s cufflinks, and how beautiful she looked with her hair styled that way. You couldn't bring yourself to say no—but you forced yourself to.

“I wouldn't want to interrupt today's big event. I'm sure it'll start soon,” you said quickly, trying to divert attention from the conversation so you could escape again. Nyx showed you the toy once more, and you smiled at him again.

“Maybe later, we could watch it from one of the higher balconies. I'm sure it’ll be an equally beautiful sight to close out the evening,” Rhysand offered swiftly, glancing between you and Feyre.

Feyre smiled excitedly, waiting for your response. You looked at the toy Nyx was babbling excitedly about, staring at the stars painted on the wood and trying to scratch at them with your fingers to see if they would come off—but they wouldn't. You glanced back at Feyre, who was still waiting for an answer with hope in her eyes, and felt the urge to refuse leave your body with a resigned sigh.

“Well, I guess a demonstration won't hurt, as long as we don’t overshadow the main event of the evening,” you agreed, having no real choice.

Nyx began throwing himself toward his mother, babbling and yelling that he wanted to go with her. As the child was passed into her arms, you silently stepped away, watching as his bright eyes moved further from you.

You hid at the nearest snack table until an announcement prompted the guests to move to the balconies for the start of the meteor shower. You stood on a balcony with your court and a group of other guests. You’d like to say that the meteor shower took your breath away with its beauty for the rest of the night, but you didn’t get to enjoy it—because a few feet away, on another balcony where the Inner Circle stood, Nyx’s reaction to his first meteor shower stole your attention. And you didn’t mind, because the sight of the child, mesmerized by the way the sky lit up, was brighter than the stars themselves.

That balcony made for a perfect family portrait. Feyre should paint it, you thought as you took another sip from your glass. You had lost count of how many you’d had, but the champagne wasn’t strong enough to get you drunk.

A knot tightened in your stomach, coiling in on itself. The corset wasn’t helping matters. You seriously considered hiding in one of the bathrooms and pretending you’d had too much to drink to avoid the private demonstration. But you didn’t get the chance, because an excited Elain—who must have spotted you across the balconies—appeared out of nowhere just as you were leaving the area with your court and led you to a different, more private balcony.

On the way there, you glanced at Armin and Luka, silently warning them not to follow. If I suffer, we all suffer, you told them with your eyes. Armin, despite his age, somehow didn’t even hear Elain when she called for the attention of those still at the ball.

You did the only thing you could think of to calm your nerves. You reached through the bond with Balerion and commanded him to demonstrate, using the moment to focus on his breathing, heartbeat, and movements—syncing with them, relaxing into the connection they represented. By the time you reached the balcony, you had calmed down, and Balerion roared, making you aware of how close the house truly was. The people on the balconies below, where the party continued, leaned out to watch as well

“Well, here we go,” you said softly as Elain told you how to spot Balerion approaching, and you leaned on the edge of the balcony.

Your boy put on a show. First, Balerion revealed himself, flying around the mountain, rising from beneath the house until he passed by the balconies—so close that some people below stumbled as the wind from his wings shook them all. You only watched with affection. Upon reaching the top of the house, he quickly ascended, making sure everyone knew where he was, spitting a ball of fire through which he flew before disappearing into the sky.

A few seconds passed before anyone spoke.

“Where is he?” Nesta asked in amazement beside you.

You looked around, noticing the balcony filled with the Inner Circle and your court. Nyx was leaning against his mother's hip, staring at the sky in fascination, clutching his dragon toy in his hand. You were more than capable of locating Balerion because you knew what to look for, but the others weren’t.

You stepped closer, making sure to stand next to Nyx, accidentally placing yourself between Feyre and Rhysand—which you chose to ignore for the sake of demonstrating to the boy. You hoped they would do the same.

"Nyx," you called softly. The boy turned to you, though his eyes were still preoccupied with the disappearance of the dragon in the sky. "There, look," you said, placing a gentle hand on his back and pointing to a particular spot in the sky. He followed your finger intently, leaning forward as his eyes narrowed.

It was easy to spot Balerion in the sky if you knew what to look for. It was like staring at the sea, searching for a ripple on the still surface to find where a fish swam just below. The way the stars seemed to flicker more than the others—how some appeared to shift before blinking out—was the clue. Then, Balerion let out another burst of fire, betraying his position once again, and whispers rose from below, a mixture of admiration and fear.

“Bababa,” Nyx whispered in awe. You glanced at him, unable to help but smile at the way he stared at the sky. You were surprised by how quickly he had located Balerion after only being pointed in the right direction once, absorbing the information like a sponge.

That was when you realized you were perhaps too close to him—because, in the next second, his small arm wrapped around your neck, and his weight pressed against you as he threw himself at you with complete trust that you would catch him. You had no choice but to hold him as he leaned into you, taking you by surprise. He was probably used to being passed around effortlessly, and you froze slightly once he was settled in your arms, his legs resting around your waist.

For the first time, you willingly looked at Feyre, silently asking for help with the situation. But she only smiled and shrugged gently before turning her gaze back to the sky, where Balerion was still circling—offering no further assistance.

Traitor, you thought, and you could have sworn you heard a chuckle from your right, where Rhysand was still standing.

“Bababa,” the boy in your arms said with more certainty, drawing your attention as he lifted his toy, mimicking the real dragon’s flight.

“Yes—yes, Balerion flies like that,” you managed, stumbling slightly over your words.

Rhysand circled behind you and stood beside Feyre, but when you looked at him for help, he simply smiled, as if he found the situation amusing. You might have rolled your eyes, but any movement beyond focusing on holding the boy felt like a risk, so you didn’t.

Mayhem appeared behind you, like a saving grace. Without hesitation, she approached the boy. She gently adjusted his position, placing his legs against your hips, one arm resting slightly behind his back and the other supporting one of his legs to keep him steady. You relaxed slightly thanks to her help—and even more so when she positioned herself on the side where Rhysand had been.

You looked back at the stars, trying to appear as casual as possible, afraid that if you seemed too uncomfortable, Nyx would notice and grow uneasy. You adjusted him slightly in your arms, almost hugging him to you, wrapping the cloak attached to your bracelets around him accordingly.

Gods, it had been years since you had held a child. Your sister was the first and the last.

You stood there for a while, watching as Balerion broke the stillness of the sky with his movements. The rest of the Inner Circle and your people moved about the balcony, but Nyx remained utterly fascinated, guiding his toy through the air in tandem with the real dragon. You stayed still, letting him be. You were too focused on the weight in your arms to pay attention to anything else.

For a while, the boy was quiet—but when Balerion let out a particularly loud roar in the sky, Nyx shifted excitedly in your hold, and a pop caught your attention.

“Oh,” you whispered, surprised to see two small wings suddenly sprout from the boy’s back, tangled in the fabric of his dress. You instinctively moved to free them, but hesitated—you didn’t want to take your hands off him for too long, afraid he might move and fall.

“Here, let me help you,” Rhysand whispered, leaning closer. “Move your hand like this.” He guided your hand to support the boy’s back beneath his wings, careful not to press too far.

“Get the fabric out of there,” you instructed softly, pointing to a piece of cloth caught on the small horn atop Nyx’s wing. Rhysand followed your instructions with ease, and soon, Nyx’s wings were free of any fabric, folding neatly into place, twitching in excitement as he gazed up at the sky.

“Better, Nyx?”

You didn't get a response from him—just watched as he continued playing with his toy—and you felt bad because Balerion had already told you the show was over.

"Balerion has to go, Nyx," you informed him softly. He looked up at you in surprise, clearly not very happy about it. "Say goodbye. Goodbye, Balerion." You waved at the dragon, who breathed fire and roared before swooping down into the mountains, where he slept most nights.

"Baba, baba, baba," Nyx mumbled, mimicking your gesture with a sad tone and pouting.

You followed Balerion with your eyes as he descended into the mountains, feeling his landing through the bond, reassuring yourself that he was safe. Then, out of nowhere, Nyx rested his head against your chest. You were grateful you hadn’t worn a collar because, immediately after, he rubbed his head against your skin as if it were a pillow.

"Oh… okay," you whispered, surprised and overwhelmed by the trust the boy displayed as he murmured against you, settling deeper into your arms.

"It's because you're warm," May's teasing voice reached your ears, and you glared at her, offended by her persistence on the subject.

"I'm not," you retorted, irritated but keeping your voice gentle, not wanting to startle Nyx, who had grown even more comfortable, snuggling against your chest with his little hands all over you, as if you were a very large pillow. "He's just sleepy."

"And yet, he chose to settle against the little oven that you are," she mocked again, hands behind her back, a smirk spreading across her face. She didn’t even look at you, which irritated you even more. This time, you rolled your eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Feyre asked as Rhysand reentered the balcony with a drink in hand, which he then offered to her. You hadn't even noticed he was gone.

"Mayhem and Ragnar insist that I'm warm—like my dragons. Which is nonsense. My body temperature is perfectly normal; all the medical tests confirm it," you explained, throwing an irritated glance at your friend, but May just shrugged and grinned mockingly.

"That doesn't mean you're not unusually warm for a person—and very huggable. Nyx seems to agree." As if on cue, the boy let out a contented sigh against your chest. "See? The evidence speaks for itself."

"Go to sleep, Mayhem. You get annoying when you're tired," you told her coolly, but she only responded with a mischievous laugh. She left the balcony soon after, bidding Feyre and Rhysand goodnight.

You suspected her lack of further teasing had something to do with the fact that you were holding the child—doubtful anyone would try to kill you while you carried him.

Armin was nearby, in the hallway inside the house.

There, you realized you were alone on the balcony with Feyre, Rhysand, and their tiny, winged baby in your arms. The discomfort of holding the child returned. You felt like an intruder again, as if you were trespassing on a moment that should be theirs—to hold their child and cherish the beautiful life they had fought so hard to achieve. You were about to muster the courage to say you needed to leave, hoping it would prompt them to take the child from you, but they got there first.

"I think it would be best if I put him to bed," Rhysand said, reaching out to take the baby. You almost sighed in relief, but as soon as Rhysand pulled the child away from you, Nyx’s hand clutched at the fabric of your dress, grabbing the red part that stuck out beneath your cloak, pulling it over your shoulder. Suddenly, three adults were struggling to manage a half-asleep child who had begun to fuss, trying to free his grip without tearing anything.

"Let me get his hand out."

"Nyx, honey, please let go."

"He really has a strong grip," you laughed uncomfortably, now caught between both rulers as they tried to pry their child off you.

"Here, here," Feyre said, taking the toy from one of his hands and guiding his grip from your dress to one of the toy dragon’s wings. "There we go," she whispered as she succeeded, finally freeing the red fabric from his grasp.

You exhaled in relief as Feyre and Rhysand focused on soothing Nyx back to sleep. Rhysand rocked him gently in his arms, while Feyre whispered reassuringly. It was a beautiful sight, and you needed to escape from it, but they were blocking your only way out. You stepped back toward the balcony railing, resting your arms on it and gazing up at the sky.

Breathing through the bond with Balerion, who was already nestled in the mountains, you synchronized with his calm, steady breaths. He dragged his claws over the earth beneath him, and you sighed, feeling the sensation in your palms. The sound of birds above him and the rustling treetops in the breeze grounded you.

The click of approaching stilettos pulled you from your trance, and you turned to see Feyre settling beside you, resting her arms on the railing, her hand dangling near yours. If you moved your fingers, you could intertwine them with hers. You looked back up at the stars and immediately dismissed the thought, folding your hands in front of you, away from both the railing and Feyre.

A comfortable silence stretched between you, carried by the cool night breeze.

"You have something beautiful here, Fey," you whispered, and you knew you’d regret it later, because it revealed too much—because you felt too much saying the words. "I'm glad you found him, after all these years."

“I'm sure the Bay is beautiful,” Feyre said quickly.

“Yes, it is,” you confirmed without hesitation, looking down at your hands and the ring that had been created for you when you took over the Bay. The Bay was, without a doubt, beautiful. There was no denying that. “It used to be called Slaver's Bay; now it's Trinity Bay. And it's so beautiful that sometimes it feels like a dream, as if I'm oblivious to everything around me.”

“I understand,” Feyre assured, and you looked at her to confirm that she wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better, which was unusual because your Fey never said things just to please others. But she wasn’t Fey anymore; she was Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court. So you looked to confirm, and she noticed. “Sometimes I still wake up thinking about the routine I had before. I wake up thinking about what I should hunt, buy, or fix in the cabin.” It takes hearing Nyx complain or feeling Rhys beside me to remember I’m no longer there. Other times, it's as simple as the warmth of the blankets, which reminds me, because it was never this warm at home.”

“With those holes in the floor, it was impossible; all the houses in the area used to have that problem,” you recalled with a smile that felt inappropriate, considering how they had once lived in such poverty.

“It was that horrendous, rocky soil. Elain always complained that she couldn't grow plants there. I don't doubt it also made building anything difficult,” Feyre laughed, joining you in the memory without giving it much thought.

“Yes, my mother also complained that you couldn't even make mud to cover holes in the floors or walls. Too many stones, and the soil was too fine; the mud would form but fall apart after it dried.”

“The soil caused the problems and refused to fix them, too.” Feyre laughed again, and you burst out laughing at the remark.

“It was a renegade and spiteful land,” you added, and it wasn’t all that funny, but soon you were both laughing out loud at the idea. The laughter shook your chest in ways you couldn’t control, and for a moment, you were afraid you might go from laughing to crying in ways you couldn’t help.

“The area where our neighborhood was really shouldn’t have been built on,” you admitted as you stopped laughing. “But the town had to move a few generations ago because the nearby river flooded the surrounding area after a year of torrential rains.”

“Really?” Feyre asked, shifting from where she stood beside you. “How do you know?”

“My great-grandfather was among the people who started building away from the river before the floods. They called him paranoid, and they were the only ones who had lived in the river area who survived the floods because he wasn’t there.” You rolled your eyes at the thought. “My father loves this story—something about family pride and being born leaders.”

Feyre nodded silently, clearly tense at the mention of your father. She said nothing about it, but you could feel her irritation from where you stood.

Silence filled the balcony. You could still hear the distant bustle and the clatter of toasting glasses. The night breeze stirred the sleeves of Feyre's dress and the cape of yours.

"I wanted to find you, even when the odds were that you were dead."

It took you a second to realize that the statement, so familiar in your mind, hadn't come from you. You looked at Feyre as if she had grown a third head.

"Feyre, she was sold to a slaver. She would have died looking for me," you told her, straightening, trying to be logical and disabuse her of the idea that she might have found you. She mimicked your posture.

It would have been impossible for her. You had been in the volcano when she might have had the resources—halfway around the world. You stood across from each other now, nose to nose, and you realized you were barely taller than her in your heels.

“I would have,” Feyre admitted firmly, anger bubbling up at your response. “Rhys even offered to build a tomb for you, so I could have some peace—to honor you—but we didn’t because of the news from the Mortal Lands. But I’m immortal now; I would have sought you out beyond my lifetime if I hadn't been bound by logic. You were everything to me in those years—”

She stopped dead in her tracks, stiffening. Recognition crossed her face, and her eyes bore into yours, widening wildly in surprise. A line of panic tightened her jaw before she rocked back as if dizzy. You were about to step forward to support her, but she threw herself against the balcony railing and looked at you in horror.

Something was wrong with her, and you were about to rush to her side, to ask what was wrong. But panic didn’t quite form when a voice called out urgently.

"Your Highness."

You jumped in place when Luka's voice rang from the doorway. He stood there with a stony expression. "Just a word, please."

"Please" was the key. It was urgent. You looked at Feyre, saw her adjusting herself and regaining her balance, and although you should have asked her something anyway—to make sure she wasn’t dizzy or unwell—you walked toward Luka. Rhysand passed by you like a gust of wind, heading toward her, so you focused your gaze on Luka.

When you reached him, Luka leaned toward you, speaking in your ear in an equally flat tone.

"Astapor is under siege."

The statement made you mirror the horror on Feyre's face a moment ago, and you straightened.

“You know what to do,” you instructed, turning to face your hosts.

Rhysand and Feyre stared at each other as if having a silent conversation, and then Rhysand looked at you, his jaw clenched. You didn’t give yourself time to think or worry about any unknown offense he might have committed before speaking.

"I'm afraid we must leave early."

Morrigan and Rhysand ensured that your court arrived safely at the Bay during the night. In the morning, you dressed in complete solitude and silence, putting on your riding habit and harness with a serene expression. You had known that the former slave masters would try to attack when you were away from the Bay, even though many of your dragons were still there to defend it if necessary. They were desperate men; they would do desperate things.

You were just putting on your gloves when a pair of footsteps sounded behind you. You recognized Rhysand without needing to turn around. He remained silent as you finished fitting the leather around your fingers.

“I hope we can finish our talks once the issues at the Bay are resolved.” The phrase was more of a question than a statement, evident from the caution in his tone.

Will you return? That was the real question.

“As agreed in the negotiation treaty we signed, once the war is resolved, negotiations will resume,” you told him as you finished your task, turning to look at him. The way he stood in the doorway, where the morning sun shone directly on him, made you see even more of the man you had been told he was, rather than the mask he wore.

“Feyre will be waiting for you,” he assured you, and for some reason, he seemed to be searching for something in your reaction. You remained expressionless, giving him nothing, until Rhysand stopped. You didn’t know if he had found what he was looking for or not, but you had no time for that.

Neither of you said anything else. There was nothing left to say. Without further ado, you turned around, walking toward the balcony of the room where you had lived for these past weeks—now devoid of any trace that you had ever been there, as it should be.

You climbed up the wall to the roof closest to the balcony and glanced one last time at your room’s balcony, where Rhysand stood, watching you as if he still expected something from you.

You jumped onto Balerion’s back and flew into battle without looking back.

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Bad Idea Right - Part 7

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

Soft Eris! Brooding Azriel! Meddling Nyx! Nosey Azalea! Reader has feelings! Enjoy.

Part 6 Part 7.5 (Prequel Headcanon)

Warnings: Language

How convenient that the moment I show up in a compromising position at my door step with my half-naked lover? Fuck buddy? For all intents and purposes we’ll say boyfriend to spare my father from a heart attack at such a salacious relationship status. Surprise, Eris! You may be an oh-so-noble High Lord but now you’re my boyfriend too. Time to meet the parents! Again. But I digress, my father’s busy schedule conveniently cleared right up as Eris and I showed up at the door.

And Eris, the bastard, accepted his complete and utterly insincere offer to come in for lunch.

He winnowed back to his place beforehand to change into something more befitting of the situation at hand.

It was my intention to dart to my room, put on more clothing than my skimpy underwear and hide there until Eris returned but…. Azalea had other things in mind. No sooner than I dressed, she barreled in through the door.

“Sissy! I missed you. Why didn’t you have clothes on?”

Following her into the room came my mother. “Azalea, why don’t you go help dad set the table.”

Her jaw dropped “But-“

“Please, Azalea. We don’t want Eris to return while we are unprepared. That would make us poor hosts.”

She mulled over it for a moment before letting out a breath. “Fiiiiiine.”

As she ran off down the hall, my mother approached me, seating herself on the edge of the bed.

Here comes the lecture.

Her soft face, frozen in eternal youth remained neutral. “Y/N, your father was mortified to walk out and find you two like that.”

I waited for her to continue but to my absolute shock, she raised her hand to her mouth and LAUGHED. A true, genuine laugh.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I know it must have been so uncomfortable for you.” Her laughter was contagious, I couldn’t hold back the very slight grin that tilted the corners of my lips upwards. “I just- he’s so hard to surprise. I can count on both hands the amount of times I’ve ever seen him shocked, and Y/N, half of them have been because of you.”

Her laughter softened as she placed a hand softly upon my cheek. I leaned into it. “I love you, Y/N. Your antics and the surprise you bring to our lives makes immortality far less dull.”

I didn’t realize how much I needed this moment with my mother. It was easy to forget that she was more than just “mother”. She was a strong female with a sense of humor and more purpose than just tending to a home and garden and doting over her children.

I am an adult now. She is still very young in fae terms. My mother could be my friend if I’d only let her.

As her laughter died, a memory struck me.

The burning flame drives away the wild shadow.

“The vision from Starfall. What about that? You seemed so upset.”

Mother took my hand. “Y/N, my visions are only a piece of a puzzle, not the entire picture. It could mean anything. The situation itself took me by surprise and the vision felt ominous in the moment but it may not mean anything. And despite the situation that just unfolded at our door, I trust you to use your best judgement. If you feel safe and happy, that’s all I can ask for.”

Elain Archeron, seer and pragmatist. Who knew?

——————

Forks scraped on plates and glasses clanked on wood as the five of us tensely ate our lunch. My appetite non-existent at this point in time. Eris decided to show up in his most noble High Lord attire because why not make this lunch more stiff and uncomfortable than it needs to be? And while he may have been dressed for the part of serious High Lord, his posturing oozed irreverence. with a saccharine grin plastered onto his face. A silent battle of wills raged between he and my father, who would cut the tension by breaking through the silence first?

My father, cauldron bless him, only sat stiffly in his chair, trying his damndest (and failing) not to clench his jaw, while his fists wrapped tightly around his utensils - as if he were afraid he’d set them down and his fists would immediately go flying toward Eris’ face.

My mother sat directly across from me, passing the occasional eyebrow raise in my direction - a silent sentiment of “Males. Am I right?”

Meanwhile, Azalea bounced eagerly in her chair, eyes darting back and forth between my father and Eris. Sparing the two males of a shot to their male egos, she broke the silence. “Well??? Is anyone going to say something?”

“Azalea” my mother warned. To which Azalea let out a dismissive huff before opening her mouth again. “Hey fire-uh, Eris! Do you love my sister? Are you going to get married?”

I choked on my water, father somehow managed to grip his utensils tighter, and Eris only chuckled. “I’d have to get her to go on a proper date with me first.”

While his intentions were genuine with the statement, my father visibly paled as if remembering what two adults who aren’t on dates tended to get up to.

“Ohh! A date! Sissy, why don’t you go on one?”

“Eris is a High Lord, Azzy. It’s hard to schedule time for one.”

“What about Aunt Feyre’s art exhibit? You could dress up fancy and go to Sevenda’s and Eris, you could get her flowers!”

A small part of me lit up at that. I had never considered a date as an option. A larger part of me wanted to fall through the floor immediately only to resurface once everyone had left the table.

Eris glanced toward me, likely noticing my slightly reddened cheeks. With a grin he said, “I’d like that. When’s this exhibit, Azalea?”

The comment sent Azalea into a frenzy as she gave him all the details of the day, the time, the gallery, her favorite works, and into her own interest in art and painting, and how Aunt Feyre keeps a picture that she’d painted of a Unicorn - which is very different from a Pegasus, thank you very much - framed in her gallery.

Azalea may be the biggest busybody of us all but gods was I thankful for her chatty ways and tendency to overshare in the moment.

As Azalea rambled on a loud knock banged on the door, far too loud for my lingering headache from the night before. My shadows practically hissed in irritation at the disruption. And then, as I saw my fathers tense features shift from his own state of irritation into relief, rage flickered inside me.

I glowered. “Are you fucking kidding me, dad?”

Ignoring my question completely, he strode to the door only to be greeted by Cassian’s hulking figure and Rhys.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how cheeky he was feeling, Nyx strode in behind them.

If Eris was phased, he didn’t show it. Powerful High Lord or not, I had to give it to him. My- the male had balls.

Cassian clapped Eris on the shoulder as he strutted in. “To what do we owe this pleasure, High Lord?” Cassian’s ability to bait with only his tone of voice was rather impressive. Almost as impressive as Eris’ ability to remain unbothered by his efforts.

Nyx gave a subtle smirk and simultaneous eye roll. A show of “Oh I’m enjoying this very much but I empathize with you as well, cousin.” Rhys only gave Cassian a cautioning glare and likely a stern mental warning of “he’s still a High Lord and you will treat him as such.”

I forgot I still had a bone to pick with him over whatever secrets he and Eris had been keeping.

In fact….. since they were all here why not make this more uncomfortable for everyone - not JUST me.

Cassian, Rhys, and Nyx poured themselves glasses of whiskey before finding chairs at the table. Because why not mix in alcohol to this shit show? It’s not uncomfortable enough as it is.

“So,” I mused. “Uncle Rhys, when did you approve Eris for a temporary visa to rent an apartment in Velaris?”

Eris, ever the master of chaos, paled for the briefest of moments before a look crossed his features that he usually reserved for calling me “good girl” in his bed.

At that comment my father turned his icy gaze toward Rhys and even Cassian gaped.

And Rhys, the smooth prick, only replied “High Lord business, we have much to discuss regarding commerce in the coming months. Given his status it made more sense for him to have a private, warded apartment than to stay in a hotel with so many prying eyes.”

Though I thought the same, it was my father who muttered “Bullshit.” Shadows whirring in rage at Rhys openly allowing Eris to stay in the city as he pleases.

A part of me wanted to jump in and defend Eris but another part of me was still pissed to not have a direct answer.

Sensing the argument about to unfold between the brothers, my mother ushered Azalea, Eris, and I to the garden for tea. Nyx politely declined the offer in lieu of watching the drama between his father and Uncles play out.

—————

Seated in the garden, Azalea was jittery, practically begging to go inside and listen to the conversation with father and Rhys. Truthfully, I couldn’t blame her, and would have sent my shadows in but someone had thrown up a ward.

The tension between Eris and I, well, the tension from me to Eris was thick. I was still so angry with him for his secretive ways but… also so drawn to him. I craved him.

Fuck - this man and his stupid, beautiful face.

“Aw, are you thinking about me again? Glad you recognize which of us is the best looking Archeron.”

“Get out of my head, Nyx. You’re as nosey as Azalea.”

“Fine. I won’t give you updates on what’s happening in here.”

“Fuck off. Anyone have a broken bone or a black eye yet?”

“Nothing too exciting going on. Sadly. Mostly your father brooding in that rageful way of his over my father ‘encouraging’ your relationship.”

“He’s really struggling with accepting whatever it is between us.”

“Yeah, and Amren is a hoarder. Since we’re apparently stating the obvious here.”

“And you’re a pompous asshole.”

“You wound me, cousin.”

“Update me if anything interesting comes up.”

“Only if you say it.”

“I’m not saying it.”

“Fine. No gossip for you.”

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

Silence. Pure silence filled our mental connection for several moments.

“Fine.”

“Nyx is the most handsome Archeron.”

“I’m flattered. Talk to you later.”

I flipped him off mentally which earned a chuckle as his voice faded away.

He really was his father’s son. Insufferable in the most endearing of ways.

Seemingly having zoned out for too long, Azalea waived her little hands in my face “Earth to sissy!! Are you talking to Nyx? What’s happening?”

“LADIES.” Mother reprimanded. “Leave them be.”

A warmth heated my shoulder that I hadn’t previously noticed. When had Eris put his arm around me? So casually, so comfortably.

So…. Right.

And because she couldn’t leave him in peace, Azalea interrupted the quiet contentment, “Eris! I have a Sprite garden. Want to see it?”

Eris gave a gentle nod to Azalea. “I would love to.”

Mother only gave me an affectionate smile as I stood to follow them.

“This is Night Blooming Jasmine! The flowers are only out at night and this is a bench in case a Sprite comes to visit but I also put a bed back here” She motioned deep within the planted jasmine “in case one comes and needs a nap!”

Eris didn’t miss a beat as he crouched down to look at the little oasis she’s created in her garden.

“Do they ever come visit?” he asked inquisitively.

Softly, sadly, Azalea shook her head as she looked to the ground. “No.. but maybe someday. Maybe they’re nervous because we’re so big and they’re so tiny. I never see footprints but I will keep making it cozy for them so maybe they’ll feel safe. I would be their friend. We could be best friends.”

Eris listened attentively, never drifting his focus from her and her garden. And then my armored heart melted ever so softly as he warmly replied, “They’d be lucky to have you as a friend, Azalea.”

Her eyes lit up. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

“You can be my friend too if you want.” She said, looking to him eagerly.

Eris was taken back for a moment. And the look in his face gutted me. As if- as if he couldn’t fathom that someone so gentle, so unbroken by the world could look at him and see anything other than the cold, calculated product of Beron Vanserra.

Azalea stared at him expectantly, her face beginning to falter until he smiled. A broad, genuine smile that I’d seen so few times. “I’d like that very much.”

And with that she grabbed his hand and led him through the rest of the garden.

——————

Eventually my mother retrieved a reluctant-to leave-Eris’-side Azalea, as father had sent Cassian, Rhys, and Nyx home. He was likely fuming that his little plan to make things more uncomfortable than necessary backfired and she didn’t feel like dealing with explaining to him why Azalea was gleefully dragging Eris by the hand through the garden.

I made a mental note to myself to take my little sister out for pastries soon as a “thank you” for serving as a buffer throughout the afternoon. I didn’t realize just how much discomfort she’d spared me from until she had gone inside and I was left alone in the garden with Eris.

Perhaps softened by his kindness with my vivacious sister and the painful look on his face at her kindness in return, I brushed my hand against the back of his.

His face remained stoic but I could have sworn a small lump formed in his throat.

We wandered a few more steps through the garden. He said nothing but, to my surprise, brought the back of his hand back to mine and hooked his pinky with mine.

And gods damn if that didn’t give me butterflies.

“So,” he started, almost coyly. I couldn’t be hearing this correctly. “About that exhibit at Feyre’s gallery?”

“Yes?” I asked.

“Could I-“ he took both of my hands in his, avoiding eye contact at first but finally meeting my gaze. “Would you- like for me to escort you? We could get dinner beforehand.”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A nervous Eris Vanserra. Of all people, he was nervous in front of the female he’d been fucking for two years.

And yet, something sparked within me at the thought.

Feigning shock, I asked: “High Lord, are you asking me on a date?”

The corners of his lips lifted slightly. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Think you can manage not to strike anymore mysterious, shady bargains between now and then?”

“I believe I can manage.” He quipped. That casual irreverence in his tone returning.

“Then yes, Eris, I will. Now you should probably get home before my father comes out and decides to make his brooding everybody’s problem.”

With that he wrapped an arm around my waist as a hand gripped the back of my head, pulling in me tightly. His lips crashed into mine, kissing me passionately. I gasped into it as heat pooled within me, reverent need burning through my veins, urging him to deepen the kiss further.

And as suddenly as he initiated the kiss, he pulled back with a smirk. “See you soon, little Shadowsinger.” and winnowed away.

————————————-

Tags: @b0xerdancer-writes @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin @azrielsmate3 @coolepowersthings @isa1b2h3 @inloveallthetime @julesofvolterra @deeshag @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @courtofbatboydreams

Totally forgot to add the tags when I first posted this (I was half-asleep) Sorry!!

[violetasteracademic]

A Court of Twisted Fate: Multi Chapter Elriel Fic

Summary:

After nearly losing both her sisters once again, Elain Archeron decides to take the growth of her powers into her own hands. Things may not be going as she would have hoped, but when the Crown is stolen, it is finally time for Elain to serve her court and show her family what she can do. The search for the Crown winds up being a job for the seer and the shadowsinger, the male she has fallen for but barely spoken to after an unrequited wish for a kiss. Azriel has been careful to stay away from Elain, trying his best to follow his High Lord's orders. But as they are forced to work together to protect their court, his resolve begins fading more quickly than he can manage. As they search for the Crown, they become trapped in a castle of treachery, vengeance, and twisted fates. If they cannot find their way out of it, they risk becoming lost there forever, or killed. And if they can't keep their hands off each other, they might finally have to face the mountain of obstacles standing in their way at the home that awaits them.

Warnings: Eventual smut and spice

Chapter One Preview: 2,006 words

Elain

Elain Archeron gritted her teeth as silken shafts of sunlight broke through the heavy veil of twilight. She could not tell if it was morning mist or sweat that clung to her lashes as she panted, suddenly overwhelmed with urgency as the light warmed her skin.

No one questioned her on the mornings she departed the river house hours before dawn, claiming she had to start on her work earlier and earlier as the roster of Velaris citizens whose gardens she tended to grew longer and longer.

It was all true enough. She had grown close to her ever-increasing number of gardening clients. Many would often stop to chat and let her know how the blooms were faring as she strode arm in arm with her sisters, Nyx cradled on one of their hips, through the streets of Velaris. This made her story quite believable and easily accounted for.

What she lied about was exactly when she started her workday. And what she was doing in the early hours of the morning. So early the blooms still slept soundly, not yet ready to stretch awake in the sun and be tended to.

Once the first light broke across the horizon every morning, anxiety gnawed at the edges of her mind. She was always a little bit terrified that someone might decide to come check on the townhouse garden one morning and find her there, eyes closed and waving her hands along the ground like a madwoman.

Focus, Elain, she chided herself. Focus.

She listened. She watched. She felt.

The worm she narrowed her sight on came closer and closer to the surface, and Elain readied her small garden shovel.

Velarian earthworms were fully regenerative. She knew that getting it wrong, that being off in her timing and accidentally slicing the poor creature in half would not kill it. But still, it poked little holes in her heart to do such harm. That, and it was another sign of her failure.

Elain’s vision had always worked in peculiar, specific ways. One being that it worked at a distance. Whether it be the distance of time or location, Elain had never been able to see what was right under her nose. Another was that she was not able to control what visions came to her. She had no say in what she saw and when. She could often easily find information when asked but… everything else came in fits and starts, with no rhyme or reason to it.

There were so many things she should have been able to prevent since gaining her sight.

Her father’s death. Briallyn infiltrating the Blood Rite, nearly killing Cassian and Nesta. Nyx, Feyre, and Rhys and their brush with death. Azriel…

No. She would not think about Azriel. There were far greater risks that she needed to be able to detect other than her own bruised heart. She had survived such a thing before, and she would survive it again.

The safety of her court and her family was what mattered most.

So many threats… she wondered if they would ever stop.

And so, she practiced with the earthworms. She tried to cast her sight into the ground and watched as they wriggled their way up.

Time continued to be the issue. If she tracked a worm, and dug her shovel to find nothing there, she had no way of knowing if it was because that worm had not even been born yet and was hundreds of years into the future, or if it was a smaller, slighter miscalculation. For all she knew, she wasn’t seeing anything with her power at all. She may have spent every morning staring at the ground, imagining worms that were merely a product of her desperate mind and in no way an indication of her power.

There was no one to teach her. No one to help her. No other seers that could offer guidance or help her understand.

The answers she had found in the library at the House of Wind yielded disappointing results. Seers where historically kept in the employ of kings and queens and High Lords, treated as oracles. Kept hidden from the world and doomed to a life of predicting the future for anyone who dared ask. Seers, it seemed, lived solely for others. The stories and legends never once seemed to focus on the life of the seers beyond their servitude.

Did they have wants and wishes? Did they dream? Did they… fall in love?

Or had they lived nothing more than a shell of a life? A ghost, a vessel. Watching so many lives and futures unfold over and over again in their minds until they entirely lost sight of the fact that they once were someone. That they, too, had a heart that beat.

Elain heard so many heartbeats. How long until she could no longer determine the cadence of her own among the chorus?

And while she could not confirm it in her research, there didn’t appear to be any indication seers predicted or tried to affect their own future. They simply answered what they were asked. Elain had found that to be true of her own power so far. When Feyre asked her to look for the Suriel, or when Azriel asked deeper questions about Vassa and Koschei, she was able to find the information they asked for without any prior knowledge of how to do so. It was intuitive to find what others needed.

And yet she had questions of her own that needed answers.

She wanted to protect everyone she had ever loved from harm. She wanted a life of her own. A choice in where her life would lead.

And somehow, when she tried to guide herself in the solitude of this garden, she always drew up empty.

She stared at the ground. She tried to feel the worm move as she touched the earth.

Please, she begged silently. Please work today.

She dug her shovel deep into the earth, her eyes pinched closed.

She crumbled the soil in her hand, her lungs stilled in her chest.

Elain slowly peeled her eyes open, her heart hammering and thudding.

Please.

The soil broke down into smaller and smaller sediment, until it all fell from her hands.

Empty.

She bit back a sob as tears began to prick her eyes.

Elain gripped her small shovel and began digging furiously in the soil, desperate for any sign she was close. That she was getting somewhere.

“Please,” she cried aloud this time. Her cheeks heated as she tried to swallow her anguish. She tossed the shovel aside, digging with her bare hands into the earth. She dug and dug until her fingers grew raw and aching. She could not stop the torrent of tears that had broken free from her eyes.

Empty. All of the dirt- completely empty.

She pressed her lips into the crook of her elbow to muffle a heart-piercing scream.

Her hair suddenly began to lift from her face and shoulders, blown this way and that as a cedar and night chilled mist scented wind rushed in. She stiffened, quickly reaching to brush the wet tears from her face. But she halted just in time, realizing her hands and dress sleeves were so thoroughly coated with mud and soil that trying to clear the wet trails staining her cheeks would only serve to make matters worse.

Elain tried to slow her breathing as Azriel appeared before her, eyes boring into her own.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. She was too shocked to see him.

She had to stop herself from falling into that old habit of trying to read him. To see and feel all the words he kept hidden behind that stone cold demeanor. The thoughts tried to rush forward and flood her mind regardless of her attempt to squash them. The slight dilation of his pupils. The tightening of his jaw. A quick, near imperceptible flare of his cobalt siphons.

She shoved the thoughts away. Tried to bury them in the earth beneath her hands, then straightened her back and lifted her chin indignantly.

“What are you doing here?” She couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting to his mouth as his lips pursed.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied coolly.

An ice-cold chill sluiced through her stomach, and her skin paled. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone about the work she had been doing in an attempt to master her powers.

She could have sworn a flicker of guilt flashed across Azriel’s eyes before he said, “I’m here for you.”

The words washed over Elain and the tips of her ears nearly caught fire. Her heart thrashed against her ribcage so violently she was certain Azriel could hear it.

Breathe, she commanded herself. Breathe.

She hadn’t been alone with Azriel in months. Her breath halted as he stepped closer, his eyes darting across her face and down to her hands. To the holes she was digging before she broke apart.

I’m here for you. Was he…

“You are needed at the river house immediately,” he clarified.

“Oh.” The icy water sloshing around Elain’s stomach turned solid, and she dipped her head to hide her mortified flush.

He wasn’t here for her. Not in the way she had hoped. Not in the way she needed.

He was here to retrieve her. That was all.

Foolish. Foolish. Foolish.

“Alright,” she said, brushing the muddy soil caking her hands on her skirts.

Azriel extended a scarred hand to help her up, and she briefly considered not taking it. The last time their skin touched she had nearly gone out of her mind with desire. She had pushed him. Like a woman possessed, she wanted… she needed him to keep touching her. And he…

Well, he hadn’t wanted to.

And he stayed far away from her ever since.

She stared and stared at his hand. Despite her deep embarrassment and shame over how terribly she had wrecked her friendship with Azriel, she could not wave him away.

She knew what it meant to him. She knew how it hurt him when others turned away from his hands. She would not let her own insecurities damage him. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and placed her palm in his.

For a moment, there was a warm familiar spark that had Elain’s skin briefly humming. But Azriel tensed, tightening his grip on her so tightly that she winced and pulled away.

“Sorry,” he murmured, not meeting her gaze. He briefly rubbed his neck, unable to hide a slight grimace.

“It’s fine,” she replied, rubbing her palm and trying not to show her utter devastation. “I can get up on my own. I…” her voice caught in her throat. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

She began to push herself off the ground, dusting her dress as well as she could as she moved.

“Elain, that isn’t…”

“It’s fine,” she said again as she waved her hand. “Just give me a moment to clean up.”

Azriel nodded tightly. Elain tried not to let her heart sink right into the ground as she began to smooth over the unsightly holes in the ground with the toe of her slipper. Anxiety sank its claws into her mind as Azriel stood stiff muscled behind her.

She hated herself for making him so on edge.

Although she had clearly misinterpreted the meaning of it, she knew that what she and Azriel had shared together was special. The peace and comfort they used to find in each other… that was not imagined. It was real. And maybe… maybe with time they could have it again someday. As friends.

Once she stopped loving him.

Once he could stand being alone without fear she would try to cross another line.

Time. It just needed time. Her garden, her powers, her friendship with Azriel… time would improve it all.

Click here to read the rest of chapter one on AO3!

[seleneprince]

When the Vanserra-Archeron twins find out that Nyx is courting their beloved friend, Zinnia (Tamlin's daughter), they're not amused at all. Specially Sylvie.

She doesn't care about her cousin, has a borderline hostile dynamic with him, but for the most part he's just "that guy from Night Court she happens to share blood with". Neth is on better terms with him and she doesn't mind spending time with him, but they're not close enough to see him as family. She considers him more a long-distance friend.

Meanwhile, they adore Zinnia. They grew up with her. She's their godfather's daughter, their beloved Uncle Tamlin. They spent their childhoods jumping from Spring to Autumn frecuently just to see each other. They love like her a sister. Their families are on the same circle. In their eyes, Zinnia has always been this sweet girl they must protect and who only deserves the best.

Which it's not Nyx Archeron. Or any other brute from the Night Court. They're sure of it.

It's not just them. Literally, no one in their circle approves of this possible union, except Elain (because she knows things). Both Eris and Nesta are amused by the whole mess but he doesn't think they fit together and she doesn't want her to be at the Night Court . Lucien doesn't like it at all and neither do his and Elain's kids. And let's not get started on poor Tamlin, having to see his exes' spawn court his precious daughter so insistently.

Back at the Night Court, it's more or less the same situation. Rhysand is the only person that openly supports his son on this and even gives him advice on how to woo the girl (which is awful advice because he only tells him to do the same things he did with feyre, ignoring that not everyone enjoys those as much as she did). Feyre doesn't understand why he's so enthusiastic about becoming family with Tamlin. The rest of the IC know where Rhysand is coming from and don't dare tell Feyre the truth...

[lovemyromance]

"The plot of the Gwynriel book will be...

Dual POV where Az & Nesta will go save Dusk Court/Autumn Court/Illyria and Gwyn will tag along as ... their scribe/Azriel's gf (?) Nesta & Azriel will fight with their powers of ... shadows and death(?) and use made weapons Gwyn cannot touch. Then Bard!Gwyn will sing with Azriel and his shadows will dance and she will ... heal his "darkness"... somehow? They will fall in love and Therapist!Gwyn will then have dirty freaky sex with Azriel and tie him up with ribbons while Nesta ... kicks rocks and thinks about how much she misses Cassian? Then, Kinky!Gwyn will descend from the skies on a Pegasus provided to her by Uncle Helion (?) and kiss Azriel on the battlefield and then they will charge into war (?)"

Do I have that right?

Then, once that hot mess of a book is over, the plot of the Elucien book will be...

"Dual POV with Elain and Lucien where we find out Elain has been avoiding Lucien because he truly SEES her and she's madly in love with him already but afraid (?) Lucien will apologize for that tiff with Hybern and Elain will tell him no need to apologize, she is thankful for getting dunked into the cauldron because it gave her her mate 🥹 (?) Then Lucien and Elain will accept the bond, leave the NC and move into the Human Lands where they will spend their days talking about Lucien's relationship with Papa Archeron and bantering with Jassa (?). Elain and Jurian and Vassa will become the new trio of besties-who the fuck are Nougat and Cerluean? She will slowly forget all about her sisters and Nyx and that fuckboi incel Spymaster as she and Lucien heal and grow together (?) Koschei might also show up at one point but don't worry-Lucien, the all powerful son of a HL will defeat him by himself, as nobody was there to help Elain train her Seer powers and she is NOT a warrior, you guys 🙄 Vassa will be free, and then somehow Helion will die (sad) and Lucien will become HL of Day. Then he and Elain will move to the day court where she will get plenty of sunlight and live happily ever after as the pretty prize for poor baby lulu who has suffered so much 🤩"

Wow, so much to cover in just two books? How will Sarah ever write such an enthralling plot?

[darcyelain]

My biggest issue with gwyn isn’t even her character. It’s the fact that some gwyn stans (obv not all - some are really nice) are so misogynistic.

They make up so many headcanons about gwyn and how great she is - which would be fine if they didn’t have to degrade other female characters to do it. Apparently gwyn is going to be Nyx’s mommy because Feyre’s not a good parent. Gwyn is going to yell at Feyre for not properly taking care of her son and snatch her baby out of her hands and snap her fingers in her face while Feyre is crying - and everyone (including Rhys) will admire gwyn for knowing how to calm a screaming baby and Azriel will be so in love because gwyn is just so nurturing. And of course Rhys will be besties with Gwyn and will confide in her over his wife/mother of his child…

And apparently gwyn is going to yell at elain and feyre for being bad sisters - and Azriel will admire gwyn for that. Oh, and she’s also going to be mean to Mor for no reason at all….

Usually I wouldn’t even comment on it. Let people make up headcanons and write the fics they want to write. But it’s telling to me that people seem to pit gwyn against every single female character. Feyre’s a mother? She’s a bad mother - gwyn is nurturing and loving and will step into the role as mommy. Elain is pretty and feminine? Gwyn is much more beautiful and girly - but also knows how to fight so that makes her more interesting. Mor is a fighter? Gwyn is a better fighter.

You can like gwyn without tearing down other women.

Hi, anon!

I am totally in the same boat as you. I try to be as vocal about this as possible because misogyny in this fandom has been ignored and normalized. I have no issue with Gwyn as a character. I love Nesta, and I appreciate how Gwyn adds to Nesta's story and gives her a friendship that she never got to have before. In the actual canon, she's a good friend and an ambitious woman. I personally think Emerie is more interesting and has more potential, but both characters are generally likable and serve their purpose well.

I want to expand on what you said because I've also seen that before and it really is disgusting. I have no issue with anybody loving a side character. I myself am a total sucker for Tarquin, you do need to expand on these more one/two-dimensional characters a little bit by using headcanons. However they do not stay true to Gwyn in the slightest, instead they turn her into a mean girl who bosses everybody around, and lets face it: they make her into a Mary Sue and give her a savior and superiority complex.

The reason I think they do this is because of G*ynriel shippers. As we know, it is a self insert ship. So these people want to imagine themselves with Azriel. That means they will put their own personalities in place of hers. We have her lore and a bit of her as a character, but not a lot, so she is enough of a blank canvas for them to put their gross misogynistic and bully fantasies into their headcanons when in reality Gwyn would never treat another woman this way. That is why people write her attacking Mor and Elain specifically, it's jealousy which is so weird to me.

Their misogynistic fantasies don't even make sense. Why would Gwyn yell at Feyre, Mor or Elain? (I have seen people giggling about Gwyn physically hurting Elain too.) What reason would she have? And why would she be involved in the Archeron's sisters business? Just because she's Nesta's friend that doesn't give her the right to treat her sisters like the ground she walks on. Also making Feyre cry in front of Rhys is a death sentence. He is not gonna praise anybody for treating his mate like shit. Look at him with Nesta, he can't stand her because of her relationship with Feyre. Anybody who hurts Feyre is an enemy of his. You can really tell some people did not read the books because they don't even know how to write a proper Feysand.

This poor character, who quite literally did nothing wrong is used a misogynistic weapon (BY HER OWN FANS) in the fandom. And that is very sad to me. I personally think that she would love Elain, Feyre and Mor. So yes, I agree. They are allowed to like Gwyn, they're allowed to make headcanons and make her as strong as they want. They can do whatever they want, but they need to leave their misogynistic fantasies away from her and any ACOTAR character. Just take it out of the fandom.

Sorry if there's any typos, I have a really annoying muscle twitch rn.

[wingsdippedingold]

The purpose of the mating bond (TL;DR at the bottom)

I was thinking about the mating bond (and consequently how much I hate it) and I started wondering about it's purpose. Apologies: This is barely organized rambling.

Our current explanations are: to create the most powerful offspring, and that the mates are perfect equals. We know its not romance since there are examples of unhappy mates so I'm ignoring that.

Rhysand suspected he was Feyre's mate while she was still human, aka before she was a high fae, and they were still mated after she was. This means that the bond doesn't care about physical bodies, which would play a part in powerful children since fae are just supposed to be so much better than humans in EVERY WAY. Therefore it had nothing do with offspring, but knowing SJM Nyx is gonna be even more powerful as an adult because her favs need to be worshipped like gods.

If the purpose was to create the most powerful offspring that wouldn't even work logistically? The two most powerful beings being mated would work, but everyone after that, not so much. Its kinda weird to explain so imagine 4 fae, their power ranking aligning with their number. 1 & 2 are mated because as the most powerful, their children would then also be the most powerful. With Rhys logic, 3 & 4 would be mated. But 3 & 4 child would be much less powerful than a 1 & 3 child, so that mate bond wouldn't produce the most powerful offspring. Of course the mother could just go by pairing the next most powerful people, but we've seen examples where even then that's not what happens. Of course unique combinations of genes could lead to powerful kids without the need of powerful parents, but considering Rhysand's high lord father was mated with an average Illyrian mother, that doesn't always seem to be the case.

Okay so power aside, the other explanation is that the two mates are two equal halves. Sure? I guess? But that seems to be a product of being mated rather than the reason. Rhysand's parents had huge power imbalances and their personalities didn't mesh. Sure, you could be equal without compatible personalities but power and livelihood? I find it hard to believe.

The mating bond is so inconvenient for it to be a reasonable way of getting any offspring produced in the first place. Rhysand and Cassian were both mated to people from the human world, of course those humans came to the fae world so their mating bond lines up with fate. BUT. They went 500 years without a mate just to end up with 20 yr old women as mates? Same thing with Rhysand's parents. A 900 YEAR OLD MAN AND A 19 YEAR OLD WOMAN. WHAT THE FUCK. High fae rarely leave their courts too, and considering everyone supposedly has a mate, most of their mates would be in other courts, whom they'll never meet. The fate argument that works for Feysand and Cassian fails here, because a mating bond being found is so incredibly rare (except for the fact all three archeron sisters found theirs) that it has nothing to do with fate and circumstance.

Nessian. I hate it with my entire heart. Their ENTIRE romance plot was Cassian domesticating Nesta. He consistently abused and ridiculed her, but Oh! They're mates! So it's out of love! Get out. Pack your 50 shades of domestic violence and get out. That man bitch laughed at her as she fell down the stairs, locked her in a house, insulted and made fun of her regularly, and lusted after her emaciated body while she was clearly struggling. He does not give a fuck about Nesta. They were happy at the end! SO WHAT. That doesn't change the way he acted. She kept pushing away his advances and he didn't not care. The same goes for Feysand but I've already discussed them enough.

Considering all of this, I have come to a conclusion!

SJM used the mating bond as an excuse to not have to write compelling romances that actually make sense and instead a fast track to poor fairy porn and her kinks.

[dreamlandreader]

Sick Day

I have no idea if fae can catch colds/the flu but I’m currently stuck in bed sick so this is my comfort fic 🥲 It isn’t edited because I just wanted to get the idea out of my head, so apologies for any mistakes ❤️

Warnings: Flu, none graphic discussion of flu symptoms, and stubborn Illyrian babies

Feyre Archeron was feeling incredibly smug. She and her mate had somehow managed to survive their son’s first exposure to the flu unscathed. 

Poor Nyx had unfortunately become sick after a play date, so Feyre and Rhysand had spent the past week knee-deep in used tissues and providing endless hugs and kisses to their crying toddler, who didn’t quite understand why he couldn’t stop coughing.

For the first time in almost five days, Nyx had felt well enough to play with his toys on the living room carpet, and that’s where Feyre left him under the dutiful watch of his Auntie Elain while she wandered upstairs to join Rhys in their shared office. 

Her smile faltered, however, the second she stepped through the door to the office and came face to face with her mate. 

Rhys’s usually impeccable style was now far more dishevelled than she was used to seeing. His shirt was buttoned incorrectly, his hair was sticking up as though he had run his hands through it in frustration far too many times, and his perfect nose was looking rather red. 

It was then that a single sniffle signalled trouble.

“Love, are you okay?” Feyre asked tentatively, knowing her eldest Illyrian baby would likely be the most challenging to handle when sick. 

‘Yes darling, I’m absolutely-” Rhys broke off, falling into a fit of sneezes and released a slight groan before continuing. “Fine. I’m absolutely fine,” 

“No offence, but you look awful. Why don’t you take a break? Go back to bed. I can finish up whatever you’re doing.” 

“Okay, ouch! Plenty of offence taken. I’m fine. I’m the most powerful high lord. I don’t need to take a break because of the sniffles,” Rhys scoffed before he again began to sneeze uncontrollably. 

Deciding it was not worth an argument so early in the day, Feyre settled down at her own desk and began to tackle her looming pile of paperwork, desperately trying to block out her husband’s endless coughing. Feyre’s resolve to leave Rhys to it lasted precisely twenty-two minutes before his sniffling drove her so mad that she slammed her pen down and stormed over to his desk. 

“I love you so much, Rhysand, but if you sneeze one more time and refuse to go to bed, I will lose it!” 

“Feyre, I can’t!” 

“Why?” Feyre practically yelled, “Because of your paperwork? Do you think me so incapable as a High Lady that I cannot sign a few papers and get to grips with our court’s laws?” 

“No! It’s not that, and you very well know it,” he argued, incensed that his wife would assume he thought of her as anything less than the most competent of beings. 

Sighing, Rhys put his head in his hands and seemed to steady himself before making an important admission. 

“I cannot go to bed because he will never let it go.” 

“What? Who?” 

“Cassian!” 

Rhys finally looked up at his wife and met her confused gaze. His beautiful face was full of something Feyre had never seen take over her mate’s expression before. Embarrassment. Rhysand was- well, he was blushing. 

“Around my 400th birthday, I contracted a pretty bad case of the flu. My bones ached every time I moved, my head hurt, I couldn’t stop coughing and sneezing, and frankly, I felt dire. So, for the first time ever, I took the day off. I sent word to Cassian that I wouldn’t be at training that morning because I was under the weather, and him being the concerned idiot he is, he turned up thinking I was on my deathbed. When he ran into my bedroom and found me with two chunks of toilet paper stuffed up my nose and an eye mask on to block out the sunlight, well, I’ve never seen him laugh quite so hard. And he has never let it go.” Rhys said, rolling his eyes. 

“The great Rhysand,” he exclaimed, deepening his voice to match the grit of his brother’s vocal range. “The most powerful fae in Prythian’s history, taken down by a gnarly cold!”

Feyre’s frown disappeared, replaced by a look of sympathy and understanding. Sitting gently on his lap, Feyre took Rhys’s face in her hands and looked deep into his violet eyes. 

“He doesn’t mean anything by it, and it doesn’t upset me by a long shot,” Rhys laughed to himself, “but if I have to go another century listening to his sarcastic comments about it, I may commit murder.” 

“So you’re not going to take a break because your stupid, stubborn ass is too full of pride.” Feyre queried. 

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” Rhys shrugged. 

“Rhys!” Feyre scolded, playfully tapping his shoulder. 

“Look, why don’t you just go to bed. Cass is busy the next few days anyway; he doesn’t need to find out where you are. It can be our little secret.” Slowly, Feyre could sense her mate coming around to the idea, and she had one more trick up her sleeve.

“I’ll even stay with you if that will convince you. We can have a day in bed together. Just relax, the two of us.” Feyre suggested, a sly glint in her eye as she ran her fingers up and down Rhysand’s tattooed arm. 

“Feyre, we’re already so far behind,” Rhys interrupted, shivering under his mate’s touch. 

“It will wait, Rhys. And anything in that pile that can’t, we can delegate to Mor and Amren. They’ll be happy to help,” 

“Fine. I’ll agree to one day in bed. On the condition that nobody ever finds out. Oh, and that you stay with me.” Rhys agrees, squeezing Feyre’s hip. 

Dragging Rhysand by the hand to their bedroom, Feyre sent a message to her sister informing her that she and Rhys were snowed under with work and asking if she would mind taking Nyx out for the rest of the day. After receiving a reply from Elain that she would happily take her nephew for the afternoon, Feyre settled in bed with Rhysand, pulling him into her chest and stroking his hair in a bid to help him fall asleep. She found success within ten minutes as her mate drifted into a secure slumber. 

A week later …

“Oh, by the way, I contacted Tarquin about renewing our trade agreement, and he said he is happy to sign the contract again under the same terms as last time if that is what you both wish, of course,” Mor stated, looking towards her High Lord and Lady. 

“I thought you were dealing with the trade agreements alone these days, Rhys?” Azriel questioned, unable to leave his inner spy at the door, even if it was family night. 

“I am. I just needed a little extra help this week after being so busy taking care of Nyxie the week before,” 

“That’s right, little buddy, you were sick, weren’t you,” Cassian said to the young Illyrian perched on his lap, ruffling his hair and making him giggle. 

“Yep. I was sneezy, and I threwed up.” 

“Lovely,” Amren cringed from the other end of the table. 

“Daddy was sneezy, too, but he didn’t throw up. He sleeped a lot. Mama pet him like a puppy, and he feeled better.” 

The table erupted with laughter at the image of the High Lord of the Night Court being stroked like a dog. Rhysand sank in his seat and gave Feyre a pointed stare that said, “I told you so!”

“Oops,” Nyx cried after seeing his father’s strange reaction, “I member now Mama said I was meant to keep that a secret.” Nyx covered his mouth in surprise and looked towards his mother with shame in his eyes. 

“It’s okay, baby, it was an accident,” Feyre replied and opened her arms for her son to crawl into. 

“Did you- did you check him for fleas before you let him into your bed, Feyre.” Cassian howled, wiping tears from his eyes while meeting Rhysand’s glare. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Have you had your fill now?” Rhys quipped.

Cassian opened his mouth again to fling another joke Rhysand’s way but was interrupted by his own inability to avoid letting out a very dramatic sneeze, swiftly followed by three more. 

Shock filled Cassian’s face, and his smirk dropped. He took one panicked look at Rhysand, who was holding in his laughter, before looking to Feyre who was wearing her own wicked smile as she handed him a tissue and calmly stated, “Good luck, Lord of Bloodshed.” 

[dawneternal]

Take the World in Your Hands | Eris x Elain | Four

Summary: Eris's brothers catch wind of his proposal to Nesta. They plan to find and deliver her to their father as a gift, surely winning his favor. Their plan takes a turn when they kidnap the wrong Archeron sister and Eris finds her in the Autumn Court dungeon.

all aboard the crack ship???

Notes: it's the shopping episode!! 🛍️💅 Also I discovered dividers. This one is by cozykitsune

Warnings: none for this part

Word Count: 2.5k

Ao3 link / Masterlist

When Elain woke in the morning, Eris was frying pancakes in the kitchen. Shirtless and barefoot, which seemed very unsafe but admittedly nice to look at. It was a good sign, as well, that the balm had done it's job. The smattering of bruises seemed to be mostly gone, only a few smudges of color ghosting his shoulders.

"Eat up! Long day of shopping ahead," Eris sang, gesturing to the full plate of pancakes and eggs on the kitchen table.

A mug of hot cider sat beside it, and Elain eyed it suspiciously, wondering if he had somehow sensed her dream. Nevertheless, he seemed very chipper this morning and it was a pleasant change from the awkwardness of last night.

Elain savored the pancakes, a little hum of satisfaction escaping with the first bite. Food in Velaris was delicious, but the variation of another court's flavors was a nice change.

"You didn't have to sleep in your dress," Eris said, joining her at the table, "I'm sure the tunic was more comfortable."

"Is that what your guests do? Sleep in your shirts?" Elain looked up at him through her lashes as she took another bite, "I did notice you don't have any nightgowns."

Eris suppressed a grin. Somehow, no one else had figured out that little scheme. Or at least, no one had said anything.

"You don't seem to be a morning person," He said, instead of answering.

"Oh, I am, actually. I love the early morning. But I watch Nyx so often that I've more or less adapted to his schedule, and he definitely takes after his father." Elain sipped her cider, relishing the spices that lingered on her tongue.

"Poor little fellow," Eris clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock sympathy.

Elain emerged from the washroom, dressed, groomed, and bathed. She had decided she liked the cut of Autumn Court dresses. Comfortable, modest, and delicately adorned with embroidery and beads. She had chosen a warm burnt orange and admired the way it complimented the honey-brown of her hair. Eris resisted the urge to tell her exactly how well the wardrobe of his court suited her. Or that he wished she'd wear her hair down, as was the current fashion in Autumn.

Instead, he held out a wine colored-coat for her to slip on, and tucked a knitted scarf around her collar. She found the matching mittens and and hat stuffed into the pockets and tugged those on as well.

"Ready," She said, a little bit muffled behind her layers. He couldn't help his grin then.

Eris began to put on his own coat, but stopped and let out a hiss of pain.

"Are you okay?" Elain's brows knit together.

"I'm alright," He sighed, "Just stretched a little too far on my bad side."

Elain took his coat from his hands and helped him into it, fastening each wooden button for him. He gave her a grateful smile and led her out of the cabin, away toward the edge of the wards. When Elain turned around, the cabin had disappeared. There was not even a clearing where it should be. Nothing but a tiny gap in the trees.

"Neat trick, no?" Eris eyes sparkled.

Elain placed a mittened hand on his arm and looked up at him with furrowed brows. "Are you sure you're up for winnowing?"

"Yes, dear," Eris smiled, "I'll be alright. Not all of us have wings to take us where we wish, anyways."

"How is it so cold here, if we're in Autumn?" She asked, ignoring the pet name. But she did take the hand he held out to her.

"We're very close to the Winter border. Hazelbury is the last Autumn village before the Winter Court border. Its higher up here, so it snows during cold snaps. Ready?"

"Ready."

Elain gripped his hand tight as they winnowed. She was grateful for the barrier of their mittens and gloves, but she could still feel his warmth radiating through her.

They landed among the trees, bits of loose snow falling onto them from above.

"Alright?" Eris asked, brushing snowflakes from her eyebrows. Elain looked up at him and started, forgetting that the plan had been to glamour them both. He was unrecognizable, his red hair now deep brown, the angle of his nose smoothed, his skin clear of freckles. The fire was gone from his eyes. A little ruby teardrop dangled from one ear, as if to compensate for the missing warmth.

"I stole a description from a Sellyn Drake novel," Eris gave her a crooked smile.

"How do you know Sellyn Drake?" Elain laughed. Her eyes drifted to the bustling village ahead of them, a blur of colors and motion. The murmur was pleasant, frequent laughter rising up from it.

"My observational skills are excellent," He said, "And how do you know Sellyn Drake?"

"Am I glamoured?" Elain dodged yet another of his questions, bringing her fingers to her nose to feel it's shape.

"A little, you'll see." Eris started toward the village path, stepping high through the snow. Elain was grateful for her the heavy boots and wool socks she'd been given. The cabin truly seemed to hold everything one could need.

"What do you usually call yourself when you come here?"

"I've never needed to come up with a name. What about you? What would you like to be called today?"

"I suppose I'll think of one in the moment if it comes up," Elain said, blushing at the improper answers that had come to her. None of which she planned on ever uttering out loud.

The bustling crowd flowed around them as they stood on the edge of the cobblestone street - presumably the main street. Worn buildings popped up all around, their once-colorful roofs spreading as far as the eye could see. Lanterns hung from the awnings, and strings of fae-lights wove back and forth overhead, illuminating window displays filled with lovely things.

"General store first," Eris said, pressing a guiding hand to the small of her back. He led her inside one of the wooden buildings, warm air greeting them in the doorway. He gave Elain a smile and nodded toward the displays. "Pick whatever you want."

So, Elain took her time studying the displays as Eris made polite conversation with the shop keeper. She felt a little pang of guilt as she came across a box of pencils in an autumn color scheme that Feyre would surely love. She wasn't even sure if her sister would accept a gift from the Autumn Court, anyways, judging by her reaction to Elain's note. And Nesta was not supposed to know she was here, so she couldn't pick a gift for her, either.

Instead, she picked for herself a maple sugar candy to try, and a few varieties of seeds she had never seen. Perhaps someday, when things were different, she could return with her sisters and shop with them.

Elain dared not make the comparison aloud again, but Eris's shopping habits were very similar to Rhys's. He encouraged her to pick something at nearly every shop they stopped in, claiming it was necessary for the "full Autumn Court experience."

By the time they had made it to the dress shop, his arms were full of bags with handmade cheese and bread, fresh flowers, books, and  candy. Half were recommendations or gifts from the shop keepers, all of whom seemed to recognize and greet him eagerly. Naturally, Elain began to wonder how often he did this and how often he needed to visit the safe house.

The dress shop was no different. Eris flopped down into a chair at the front of the store, letting his arms rest from carrying the heavy bags. A short, older women scurried to greet him.

"Ezra, my love," She cried, planting a kiss on his cheek.

An involuntary, shit-eating grin spread across Elain's face. Eris flashed her a warning look. So he had chosen his name him a Sellyn Drake novel, as well.

"What brings you in today?" The woman asked after she had finished fussing over him.

"My lady is to accompany me to an event in a few days," He gestured to Elain, who blushed and nodded in greeting, "Do you have anything that we could take with us today?"

"Of course," The woman cried, placing a hand over her chest. Her enthusiasm was rather infectious. "I will find a few sections for you."

"I do hope she brings something scandalous," Eris grinned, leaning back in his chair as if it were a throne, crossing one leg over the other.

"I will not wear anything scandalous unless you agree to show just as much skin as I do," Elain retorted.

Eris tipped his head back and laughed. He seemed so at ease here, pretending to be someone else. Someone proud of his court, enjoying a day of leisure in a tourist town. It made Elain's chest ache for him.

The seamstress returned and beckoned Elain to a dressing room. She seemed baffled by Elain's insistence that she could dress by herself, but left her alone nonetheless. It did not escape her that the woman had never asked for her name, leading her to wonder how much she really knew about Eris. How much she knew about guests that must remain anonymous.

The first time Elain looked in the mirror it startled her. She forgot Eris had glamoured her, though the changes were not as drastic as his. The curve of her nose and lips had tilted, eyebrows thicker and straighter, and her eyes shifted more towards a solid green than her own hazel. It was unsettling, though the girl who stared back at her was pretty.

Elain had planned to show each choice to Eris and let him choose. It was his money, after all. But she lost her nerve after slipping the first dress over her head. A moss green silk gown with cut outs around the waist and translucent gossamer sleeves. The skirt hugged her hips and flared out at the knees, a train of shining fabric falling behind her. It was beautiful and skillfully made. But she was not brave enough for the plunging neckline and skin-tight bodice.

She made her way through the rack of dresses, each one-of-a-kind in some gorgeous jewel toned fabric. When she found one that she loved, it took her a long moment of staring in the mirror until she gathered enough courage to leave the dressing room.

It was not anything as revealing as her sisters might choose, but it was tighter and showier than anything she'd normally go for. The plum-colored velvet gown had a full shirt with slits up each side, inching dangerously high on her thighs. The bodice laced up like a corset, the square neckline framing her cleavage with shimmering golden lace. Over the whole gown, swirls of beadwork caught the light and glowed like gemstones. The back dipped low, threatening to expose the dimples at the end of her spine.

"Well?" Elain appeared before Eris, wringing her hands in nervousness.

Eris's eyes snapped up from the newspaper in his lap, his gaze dragging slowly down her body. As if memorizing every detail. He swallowed hard before clearing his throat and announcing, "It's perfect."

Elain padded to stand before the mirror. Eris appeared behind her, dutifully clasping his hands behind his back.

"And what do you think?" He asked, eyeing her furrowed brow.

"It's a bit more...scandalous than I'd usually choose," She said, turning to side and letting the slit in the skirt expose the length of her leg.

"Well we are hoping to cause a bit of a scandal, no?" He flashed a wild, crooked grin.

"I suppose you'll be baring your back in solidarity?" Elain watched him in the mirror, his eyes drifting up and down her form.

"As I promised." Eris laughed, "Now you just need a dagger to match. There's a shop a few doors down-"

"No," The words came out before Elain knew she had wanted to say them. "I want it to be yours."

Eris's eyebrows arched high, a little of his glamour fell and let a few flames through. They burned into her, blush creeping across her chest under the golden lace.

"I want the dagger to be yours. I want to-to have something of yours," Elain stammered.

Eris's eyes were on hers in the reflection. She watched them darken, a muscle in his jaw twitching. One of his hands, despite his best efforts to behave, reached out to rest on her exposed thigh, fingers brushing just underneath the velvet fabric.

"I'll give you a dagger of mine," He purred into her ear, deep voice rumbling in his chest, "if you'll promise to wear it here."

Elain's stomach fluttered, skin heating under his touch.

"Promise," She whispered.

"Go change, little dove," Eris whispered, giving her a gentle nudge.

It took her just a moment to return to herself, to resist the urge to lean her back against him and let his lips brush her neck. Perhaps they would, before their time together was over. And perhaps she was terrible and wicked for wishing such a thing. She moved towards the dressing room as if in a trance.

Elain managed to collect herself before returning to Eris, shoving down the butterflies in her stomach and fanning her face to cool her skin. Eris stood at the counter chatting with the seamstress, No sign of the hunger that had gripped his features before. They had found a pair of matching shoes and enchanted them to fit Elain's size.

"Eris," Elain said as they gathered their bags and boxes.

"Yes?"

"You are not buying me anything else today."

"I refuse to be ashamed of my love for buying things," He proclaimed, "Just dinner, and then we go home."

"Just dinner," Elain repeated firmly.

"And maybe dessert," He grinned.

"Eris," Elain groaned at him but he just smirked.

Eris took her to the edge of a village, leading her to a restaurant with walls of full-length windows. The waiter led them to their own room in the back, a cozy booth tucked into an alcove of glass. A little faelight, encased in a dome of glass, sat on the center of the table. The heavy snowflakes just outside caught the light and glittered as they fell.

"My favorite thing about this place," Eris said after the waiter had left them, "Is that they decide your order for you and have it sent to your table. You don't have to talk to anyone for your whole meal."

Eris tapped the faelight on the table and two mugs of hot chocolate materialized, garnished with whipped cream and chocolate snowflakes.

Elain's heart hammered in her chest. Of course, he had to look gorgeous in the dim light, every handsome characteristic accentuated by the fae light. He had dropped his disguise, the full force of his beauty hitting her like a rough wave. He smiled like he knew what she was thinking, and Elain wondered if it was a good thing or a bad thing that no one would return to wait their table. No buffer for her to insist on propriety in front of.

Because the most troubling thing of this whole ordeal was how easy it all was. Easy to talk, easy to flirt, and so very easy to want him. 

[herharmonyenemy]

ACOTAR Headcanons

Rhys: 

Has had a skincare routine since he was a teenager. His mother taught him. 

And hair care (gels n everything)

Has like 15 university diplomas. 

Waxes. 

Has the highest bodycount. Everyone wanted to sleep with the crown prince (then highlord), and being as arrogant as he was, knew he had the females (and males) head over heels for him.

Plays piano because he’s a rich spoiled old money kid

To this day he sometimes blurts out some unchecked spoiled comment without realizing it. Cassian punches him as part of the deal. Once the archerons caught on, they also take turns. 

He once got a face piercing (nose/lips) just to spite his father. He got punished but kept it until he became highlord. 

Did a lot of things to spite his father actually. Including but not limited to: growing his hair out, dying his hair, getting a diploma in something not very legacy/bloodline like (sports medicine?), painted his nails (black ofc), got drunk in poor people bars like Nesta (when she learns about this…), and started wearing his shirts open to show his chest (which stuck until present day). 

Does in fact read smut. The best way for him to learn is by reading, so teenage rhys decided to read about sex to be better. It worked, but he got an interest in smut and still reads from time to time. Nesta never lets him live it down for the rest of their lives. 

Is the kind of person to correct your spelling and grammar. However, someone once did it to feyre and he responded that as the person to teach her to read, he is the one to correct her. 

Gift giving is his love language. 

Would watch game of thrones in modern and criticize every move. 

Doesn’t know how to do any chores. Feyre forces him to learn 

Doesn’t like animals only because he formed a bond with a dog when he was younger and when something happened (died/ran away) he cried and his dad told him to man up and it’s only a dog 

Out of all the highlords, he’s the worst at controlling his beast once it’s out but he’s the best at keeping it in 

Knows other languages (as hofas proved)

Is actually religious. 

Is a clean freak. Doesn’t even sit on the bed with his everyday work clothes unless sheet are already going to be changed. 

Had a stuffed animals that he brought to the Illyrian camps when he was 8. Cas learned and threw it off a cliff. Cas gave another stuffie for rhys’s 18 birthday, which was put on a shelf for the next 5 centuries. Nyx now plays with it. 

Picky about food. Feyre jokes that it’s a red flag. Once Rhys learn human slang and what a red flag is, he fixes it. Although Feyre laughs when he makes a face at the brussels sprouts.

Gets his fashion sense from his father, who also likes high quality pieces. 

Also gets his eyes from his father. 

Has toxic dating history that az and cas disapprove and hate 

He was like Simon from Bridgerton as a child: He learned to speak very late, which is why his father was borderline abusive and didn’t pay attention to him. He didn’t learn to speak until right before he went to the camps. Only amren knows, but rhys told feyre after nyx was born. 

Actually the nerd of the group but he hides it 

Wins the prize for best mouth action

Insecure about his ears since he grew up around Illyrians 

The first to learn how to tie shoes, so he was the designated shoe tie-er. Many jokes were made about the crown prince on his knees, mainly through Cas.

Az:

least body count - but he could actually hold a relationship for longer then one night.

As we already know, the kindest bat boy

Trims. 

Also got piercings with rhys so he wouldn’t be alone. 

Writes in all caps 

Doodles when he’s doing something on autopilot 

Knows hand placement 

Drinks way too much coffee

Had the most pimples as a teenager. 

He was the most romantic out of the three. While cas and rhys were going through their “never getting married, forever the bachelor life” phase, az was still after romance. 

Loves bread 

Loves loves loves traveling 

Is good at gymnastics 

Very good at winged eyeliner. When it’s eyeliner time, everyone goes to either az or feyre

Wins the price for best downstairs action

Likes watching the sunset

Always wins the scavenger hunts cas organizes 

Cas: 

once had a buzz cut. Happened because of a dare but he ended up being fine with it. 

Au natural

Has worst handwriting but doesn’t care. Rhys complains that it’s so bad he can’t read it (he can) 

Wears a chain necklace from time to time. After mating, he doesn’t take it off. (Nesta likes when it swings in her face) 

Out of the three, has the highest rice purity score. Az is kinky, and rhys is up for anything. 

Makes the most dad jokes 

LOVES fruits. And veggies. Eats the healthiest out of the three. 

Morning person. He used to wake up rhys and az at the crack of dawn to go hiking. 

He has a hair care routine - more complicated than rhys. Those locks aren’t just magically there. He oils his hair at least once a week. 

Wins the prize for best hand action 

Insecure about his nose 

Best at making scavenger hunts 

Has slow metabolism so whenever he eats really fast he falls asleep right after the energy high

Once used az’s toothbrush to annoy him, ended up using rhys’s. Being the clean freak he is, this started a war among them. 

100% takes dramatic showers like those scenes in movies

All three: 

on the camp, there was another trio that was everything they weren’t (pure blood illyrians from a noble line, got favored). The day comes when those three meet the archerons and the girls think they just want to be friends and the boys get jealoussss

Rhys takes them shopping. He’s up on the mini stage getting measured and tailored and cas is drinking on a couch. This is their gossip and complain time. 

They all speak Illyrian when they want to speak secretly. They never taught mor no matter how many times she asked because “it is a boys club” thing 

The archerons catch on and they eventually learn with help from bat boys, who then momentarily regret it because they don’t have a secret language anymore, but it’s the archerons who know crack the dirtiest jokes in Illyrian. 

When they were younger, they would share notes via this charmed journal that would winnow to whichever one wanted to write in it. Centuries later one of the archerons finds it and the boys jump over each other to get it from the girls cause it’s filled with teenaged thoughts (another headcanon)

They have a synchronized dance 

They used to have beach days but gradually stopped. They started again once the sisters said they have never been to the beach

They used to share a bed when they were younger. It was a hard fit, but rhys slept in the middle since he can disappear his wings. 

Cas and az didn’t leave rhys alone the first week he was highlord. Even in moments of silence. One of them was always within arms reach

They slap each others butt. At first it was a joke, but it became a competition of who could surprise slap the hardest. 

Once, az’s ex made moves on rhys, and rhys took the chance. This lead to the biggest fight between the two (up until the elain situation) until cas asked if they were going to let a girl get in between them. They made up and the next day rhys found out she was only with him for the power. Az comforted him when he cried. 

Engaged in locker room talk. Shared tips on sex. 

Rhys and az wear eyeliner/kohl on special but informal parties. Cas always smudges it so he’s quit. 

[venus-celestial]

I have so many Writing/Art ideas Mostly Nesta so here's a list of things coming in no particular order

Priestess Nesta (After Feyre leaves for the second time shit goes down with Tomas and she somehow ends up at a small fey temple later ending up in the library)

Rhys Sister and Nesta (based on a head canon I have that the house of wind is Rhys Sister's spirit Nesta's powers end up giving her a physical form after a while and she fusses over nesta and fucks with Cassian who she never lets she her)

Tamlin and Feyre wedding but It's Eris and Nesta (I have a whole au with this idea I posted a bit about it a while back there's going to be Amren Mor and Nesta friendship Also Rhysand is going to get bonked)

More Next Gen kids (Nessian's oldest is coming Next Then Nyx I'm also planning on giving him a little sister)

Next Gen Romance (Or as I'm calling it Night steals Spring 2 electric boogaloo or poor tamlin can't have anything nice first his wife then his daughter although he kinda deserves it Rhys is proud Sylvie doesn't get along with her dad and consents to "kidnapping" and Nyx just loves his mate)

Mor being a big sister to all 3 Archerons ( I'm going to Drop a Terrified and traumatized Nesta in front of her and give her protective older sister instincts so help me god)

Amren and Nesta Friendship (I Swear I'm going to forever be upset this went nowhere and seek to rectify it the power they hold with their friendship they could take over the world or scare the ever loving shit out of the courts or Cassian just for shits and giggles also both of them in a modern au omg also if I'm giving the braincell to anyone in my fics it's going to be ether Amren or Azriel speaking of which)

Azriel and Nesta Friendship (Everytime he calls her little sister in any fic ever I lose my mind I love these two together so fucking much also I have the image of Azriel singing to Nesta to her during a panic attack in my head and it won't go away

Rhysand caring for Nesta like a sister (I also lose my mind when this is in a fic and I will make it happen so help me I will)

That's it for now but lots of these could have many more prompts so there's a lot coming

I love Acotar but I'm electing to just throw Cannon out the window of 500 story building and write my own