#ruhn cc

[lady-of-tearshed]

How to be rebellious, Tristan Flynn's guide for dummies

Ruhn Danaan week 2024

@ruhnweek @cadiawrites

Day 2: Crowned Prince

Ruhn Danaan x Reader

Sumarry: "First rule of being a prince: Rebel when you can!" Tristan Flynn's steps to turn Ruhn into a rebel.

A/N: Being rebellious is unnecessary. Do not listen to Tristan Flynn. Don't repeat Ruhn Danaan's mistake of taking Flynn's tips. Or do... At your own risks.

Warnings: Lots of warnings. Smoking, drinking, tattoos, needles, sex, mention of a threesome in a pantry... yeah. That's pretty it I think.

First step: Feel like a rebel.

“First rule of being a prince: rebel when you can!” Tristan Flynn stated, leaned in the bathroom door frame. Ruhn sighed, and looked away from him, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall in front of him to focus on trying to empty his bladder. “And how, exactly, is pissing with the bathroom door open supposed to feel rebellious?” Declan chuckled from behind Flynn, at least he had the decency to give his friend some privacy by waiting in the hallway. “Alright- just shut up! You’re distracting me.” Ruhn mumbled, teeth gritting and cheeks reddening from the alcohol they had inhibited earlier that night watching sunball.

That and from the embarrassing situation he threw himself in.

The newly crowned prince had made the calamitous mistake of confessing to his friend that never in his life had he dared deliberately confronting his father. Which had made Dec give him a comforting pat on his shoulder, but Flynn had nearly choked on his beer, staring goggled-eyed at Ruhn. Which had led him to make it his mission to teach Ruhn how to be, how to feel, and how to act rebellious. Because in Flynn's humble opinion as a noble himself, a Lord, to be precise, it was a fucking necessity to misbehave from time to time. Daily, in his case.

Ruhn sighed as the pressure of his lower abdomen slacked, and he evacuated in the toilet. The door wide open in his own house. Declan chuckled, and smugly said, “Good job, man,” Flynn still stared at him while the black haired Fae zipped up his pants, flushing the toilet before heading to the sink. Flynn walked closer to where Ruhn was, “Soooo? How does it feel?” He mused, and Ruhn rolled his eyes. “Dangerously rebellious.” He said under his breath.

But Flynn didn't seem to pick up on the Crowned Prince of the Valbaran Fae's sarcasm. “See? Told you so. Now you're ready for the next step.” He continued. This time, Declan walked into the bathroom too, exchanging a worried glance with Ruhn before asking the lordling carefully, “What next step, Flynn.”

—

Second step: Look like a rebel!

“That's a waste of money,” Ruhn tried to resonate with his friend. And himself. Because if he was being honest, getting a tattoo, or tattoos, was expensive. And those needles didn't look soft.

“Chicken.” Declan muttered under his breath, but loud enough so that the princelling would hear it.

“You're not even getting one!” Ruhn scoffed, his alphahole ego slightly bruised. Declan laughed, and said, “No, I'm not. Because I have the balls to tell Flynn no.” Flynn gasped and punched his friend on the shoulder. “You say this as if I'm forcing him!” He put his hands on his chest, as if Declan’s accusation had stabbed him in the heart.

“Are you not?” Declan smirked before getting back into his car, ready to leave those two dickheads at their appointment before picking them back up later. He just hoped he wouldn't have to bring back two wailing Fae males back home.

“No! I just… convinced him.” Flynn rolled his eyes as if he was stating the obvious.

“By telling him the tattooer had nice boobs?” Declan leaned over the opened window of his car, a knowing grin spreading on his lips as Flynn flipped him off. He dragged a red faced Ruhn towards the tattoo shop. “It's been nice to be your fucking chauffeur!” Declan yelled as he rolled back up the window of his car, before speeding down the street.

The bell rang as they entered the shop, and Ruhn gulped at the sight of the curved lioness shifter standing at the front desk, checking on the computer for their appointment.

“I'm sure you'll eat those for lunch man,” Flynn gestured with his chin to the massive pair of tits of the lioness shifter. She chuckled, hiding her annoyance, then started to tattoo Flynn first, since he had insisted that he and Ruhn got at least one matching tattoo. The lioness shifter greatly punished Flynn’s obscene comments by being not so gentle while she tattooed him, the needle hurting more than usual.

Ruhn gulped.

Ruhn would definitely not have those delicious looking round breasts for lunch.

And he received his punishment too, for his friend poor, so stupidly poor way of flirting with women.

—

Third and final step: Act like a rebel!

“This is going to end very badly,” Ruhn said, his eyes taking in the sight of their messed up place. People and red plastic cups were scattered all over the kitchen and living room. The floors, even the walls were sticky from the alcohol or whatever substance Ruhn didn't even want to think about. He was also pretty damn sure that Declan had broken his bed frame upstairs with his new boyfriend. Mark, Declan had said his name was. Or was it Max? Mike? Honestly, Ruhn’s brain was too fucked up to recall anything about that conversation. Only that Declan and Mark had smelled like mirthroot, alcohol, and arousal, which had distracted Ruhn to register whatever Dec was saying to him.

He just hoped it wasn't important.

“Why would it end badly?” Flynn raised his eyebrow at Ruhn. He gave the girl that was currently straddling his laps and eating his neck a small slap on the ass before rolling her off him, promising her with a charming smile to get back to her later. Once the female walked away, he scooted over Ruhn’s side of the couch, placing an arm around his shoulder. “This is your house, you do what the hell you want!”

Ruhn huffed at how ridiculous Flynn’s slurred voice sounds when he’s high and drunk. “Yeah, but technically it's my father’s house. He pays for it.” Everything his father paid for, he could take away from him, Ruhn thought. Before the culpability started to gnaw at him, Flynn raised his voice over the music. “So what, just enjoy the party and the pretty ladies, Little Prince!” He poked Ruhn's cheek, and the sound of furniture shattering from Declan's bedroom resonated right above them. “See? Even Dec is having fun. Just enjoy the party, and the pretty ladies, while you're at it! Come on, let it all out, little prince!”

Rhun’s head pivoted in his direction, he bared his teeth out and looked around to make sure no one had heard that stupid friend of his call him that. Ruhn’s formal title was probably not a secret to anyone here, but Flynn didn’t have to shout it from the rooftops. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, my apologies, your Royal high-mess.”

“Don’t call me that either.” Ruhn snarled his answer. Flynn only shrugged, watching Ruhn blabbering angry nonsense as he almost stumbled off the couch. As soon as Ruhn wiggled out of his seat to head towards where his stomach was calling him, the female that had been sprawled over Flynn all night settled back in her spot. The newly crowned prince weaved through the mass of partying people, every accidental touch against his body feeled like the most delectable caress, and the bright colored decorative neons all around the rooms made it feel as if he had been transported on another planet. A planet where everything felt, smelled, and tasted erratic, delightful. It was fucking sick, and godsdamned awesome.

He managed to reach his destination: the kitchen. His body felt like it was floating, and yet those doors seemed so heavy to pull. He tugged again on the walk-in pantry doors, and what waited for him inside looked a million times tastier than the waffles he had planned to devour. The set of females that were currently making out inside the pantry stared at him, stunned at first, then the three of them just bursted out laughing. “Join us?” The doe shifter asked, looking at the blond female pinned against her for her approval. The second female agreed, and both of them stared at Ruhn, waiting for his answer. They smelled good. The pantry smelled like sex, female hormones, and mixed food odors. That only made Ruhn hungrier.

Those waffles could wait, though.

“Fuck yeah.” He drawled.

Right now, he felt like he truly was a fucking rebel. Fuck his title, fuck his dad, and he’d most certainly fuck these two females. He planned on worshiping them like the goddesses they were.

[vic-the-bookdragon]

One of my biggest concerns about CC3 is Ruhn's hair.

[xouru]

CRESCENT CITY EXCLUSIVE CHAPTERS

Please note that English is not my first language also I re-writed it from photos so there might be some errors.

HOUSE OF SKY AND BREATH

1. Bryce & Hunt Waterstones

2. Ruhn Books-a-Million

3. Tharion Target

HOUSE OF FLAME AND SHADOW

1. Bryce & Danika Indie

2. Bryce & Hunt Barnes & Noble

3. Bryce, Nesta & Azriel Walmart

4. Ember & Randall Books-a-Million

5. Ruhn & Linda Target

[rainingriversofyou]

Lidia Cervos, The Hind

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae

Bryce Adelaide Quinlan, Heir to the Starborn Fae

Hunt Athalar, The Umbra Mortis

Crescent City - Art by Lua / luaartiste

[azsazz]

Day 1: You Know My Desires [Azriel, Wingplay]

Day 2: Take It [Cassian, Thigh Riding]

Day 3: Again and Again and Again [Chaol, Overstimulation]

Day 4: The Lord's Work [Rhysand, Face-Fucking]

Day 5: Catch Me if You Can [Ruhn, Shadowplay]

Day 6: The Caress of Murder and Moonlight [Young Adult Poly!Rhyzriel, Rhysand's Sister's Best Friend!Reader, Dom/Sub]

Day 7: The Burning of the Autumn Leaves and the Roaring of My Yearning Heart [Eris, Make-up Sex]

Day 8: I Can't Bear This Another Second [Rowan, Gloryhole]

Day 9: Untitled [Merman!Lucien, Breathplay]

Day 10: Untitled [Azriel, Pleasure Hall]

Day 11: Hung Up [CEO!Rhysand, Cockwarming]

Day 12: Brains and Bravado [Dorian, Hate-Fucking]

Day 13: Tell Me I'm Your Midnight [Cassian, Virgin!Reader]

Day 14: Creep [Aidas, Stalking]

Day 15: In the Palm of My Hand [Eris, Wax Play]

Day 16: Double Duty [Rhysand x Cassian, Double-Penetration]

Day 17: Dinner for Two [Ithan, Breeding]

Day 18: Untitled [Cassian, Period Sex]

Day 19: Keep It Up [Nesta, Praise]

Day 20: Cupid's Chokehold (Bonus Scene) [Azriel, Rimming]

Day 21: Untitled [Rhysand, Touch-Starved]

Day 22: Untitled [Lucien, Sub]

Day 23: Hanging by a Thread [Cassian, Edging]

Day 24: Little Bird [Lorcan, Size Kink]

Day 25: Untitled [Azriel, Collar]

Day 26: Untitled [Rhysand, Toys]

Day 27: Untitled [Ruhn, Bondage]

Day 28: The Magic Number [Poly!Bat Boys, Overstimulation]

Day 29: Equinox [Eris, Public Throne Sex]

Day 30: Untitled [Cassian, Roleplay]

Day 31: Untitled [Azriel, Shadowplay]

[biggestqiblifan]

Ruhn and Lidia is our bridge

The entire fandom has been going nuts for crossovers from SJM.

We all seem to want to see these worlds connected.

The answer?

The ultimate power couple that is Ruhn and Lidia.

They come from Midgard.: Cresent City, check.

Ruhn is part of Rhysand's bloodline.: ACOTAR, check.

Lidia is a part of Aelin's bloodline.: TOG, check.

[mochiknows]

🔪The Hind🔪 🩷✨Lidia Cervos✨🩷

[gracie-rosee]

This parallel 💚

Rowan and Aelin, Queen of Shadows // Ruhn and Lidia, HOFAS

[evermorebarbie]

Me and the girlies getting ready for the ship wars, the fandom debacles, and the people that will hate on hofas for not enough acotar.

[azrielsbxtch]

I laughed so hard when I read this scene😂

[moondrawss]

—You remind me of the wind. —He tried to explain. —Powerful and able to cool or freeze with half a thought, shaping the world itself though no one can see you. Only your impact on things. 🔥

Lidia Cervos portrait

[shadowdaddies]

I am a sucker for angst so can I please request a Ruhn danaan x reader. Where she and ruhn have been together for a while, and she overhears ruhn saying something about her being a bet or a dare. A lot of angst and maybe some fluffy ending

thanks for the request, love💜

Just a Bet

Ruhn x Reader angst to fluff

Smoothing your hair, you stepped out of your car in the driveway as you strode towards Ruhn’s house. You were already regretting the heels you’d donned for your anniversary, feet aching in opposition to the excitement you felt to celebrate one year since Ruhn had asked you out.

Cheeks burning from smiling so hard, you turned the door handle and entered the busy frat house. It wasn’t unusual for many guests to be over, so you paid them no mind as you shouldered your way through the crowd toward the game room where Ruhn usually spent evenings like this.

Juniper caught your eye from across the room, and you waved to her and Fury as you approached the doorway where Ruhn’s voice echoed in a comforting rumble - until you heard Flynn’s voice.

“One year ago, I bet you that you wouldn’t ask her out,” he laughed, the sound of clinking beer bottles and jeers following.

Your heart leapt in your throat when you heard Ruhn’s voice, time standing still as you awaited his response. Your boyfriend scoffed, “I didn’t think I could either.”

Dec chimed in at that point - your kindest friend in the group - his tone teasing as he drawled, “I still can’t believe she took you seriously.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, eyes pricking with tears as the conversation came together in your head. You were nothing more than a bet to Flynn, a joke that Declan couldn’t take serious, and apparently Ruhn felt the same.

Ripping the painful heels off your feet, you sprinted down the stairs and out of the house. Tossing the shoes in your passenger seat, you wiped the tears from your eyes and started the engine before heading back to your apartment.

The dress felt ridiculous, hair a mess and makeup ruined from crying as you stumbled into your home. Why would Ruhn have stayed with you for this long from a stupid bet? Were you nothing more than a joke, for him and his friends’ amusement?

The thought made tears well up once more, this time pouring over your cheeks as you sobbed. Practically ripping the dress from your body, you ignored the buzzing of your phone in favor of your welcoming shower.

Stepping under the steaming hot water, you scrubbed the memory of tonight as best you could from your skin before stepping out. Wrapping a fluffy towel around your body, you sighed with a hint of relief. 

Realizing how dried out you were from your tears, you padded towards the kitchen for some water when you were stopped in your tracks. Bryce lay on your couch, lazily flipping through the tv channels as amber eyes flicked to yours. 

With a dramatic sigh, she set down the remote, turning fully to face you. She took in your disheveled state, expression softening at the redness in your eyes, your puffy cheeks.

Shutting off the TV, Bryce sat up and patted the open space on the sofa next to her.

“I need water,” you whispered through a sniffle, voice raspy from dehydration. 

“I’ll get it for you. Sit,” Bryce directed, her voice gentle as she sprung gracefully from the couch and headed toward the kitchen.

You settled into the cushions, picking a pillow from behind you to hold against your chest. Nodding a silent thanks, you took the water from Bryce and drank it down, the cold liquid cooling your heated cheeks.

“Fury texted me. She and Juniper saw you running out of Ruhn’s house before he came downstairs asking if they’d seen you. He’s been blowing up everyone’s phones, worried about you.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, but you found yourself unable to make eye contact with your friend as you muttered, “Yeah, I’m sure he’s heartbroken.”

Before you could react, the pillow was ripped from your arms, Bryce’s manicured nails practically digging holes into its fabric as her eyes simmered with barely contained rage.

“You may be my friend, but Ruhn is my brother. Explain to me why you think his heartbreak is amusing to you.” Your lower lip wobbled at her harsh words, the dam of your emotions about to break again.

Bryce loosed a breath, gently setting the pillow between you on the sofa as she spoke again, her voice softer this time. “I don’t know what happened, but he’s hurting too. Talk to me.”

The patterns on the pillow suddenly became much more interesting, your fingers tracing the stitching in the fabric while you found the courage to voice what you had heard at the house. “I was going to meet Ruhn for our anniversary dinner... but I heard them talking. I heard Flynn say that I was a bet. Even Dec-“

Shifting to rest on your elbows, you hid your face in your hands as the memory flashed too vividly through your mind. “Dec said he couldn’t believe I thought Ruhn was serious when he asked me out.”

You looked up to see Bryce’s own eyes lined with tears, her jaw set in anger as she processed everything you said.

“I’m a joke to them, Bryce. I was just a bet that he’s decided to string along for whatever reason. Maybe he does like me now, but...”

You couldn’t find the words, tongue twisted in knots like your stomach as thoughts eddied deeper and darker as you reflected on the past year of your life. 

Bryce’s hand gently reached for your own, holding them softly as she spoke. “I am going to speak with Ruhn and figure out what is going on. If he was such a dumbass to do something like that to you, I’ll kick his ass. But I feel like there has to be something more to it. They’re good males - stupid alphaholes - but they’re good males.”

You nodded, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest at the thought. They had always been kind to you... Surely that couldn’t all be fake?

“Why don’t you get dressed? I’m going to see Ruhn and I’ll pick you up some food,” Bryce promised, pulling you in for a warm hug before turning and heading out the door, phone already in hand as she fired off messages.

You returned to your room, feeling numb from the pendulum of emotions you’d swung on all evening. You vaguely remembered slipping on a t shirt and shorts, returning to the couch to find the channel on Fangs and Bangs before you fell asleep.

You bolted upright at the sound of a soft knock at your door, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes to look at your phone. Not much time had passed, but the bombardment of earlier messages from Ruhn and your friends filled the screen. 

“Are you there? Bryce told me what happened, and it’s not what you think.” A tense beat of silence passed between you. “Please just hear me out. If you’d rather talk to Bryce, she’s downstairs... But I brought food.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled, drawing attention to the hunger gnawing in your gut. Stomping towards the door, you flung it open to grab the food from Ruhn’s hands when his appearance shocked you still.

His violet eyes were rimmed red and swollen like yours, his hair a mess. He was dressed in an all-black suit, the shirt unbuttoned and tie loose. You hated how it tugged on your heartstrings to see him this way, how there was a part of you that could never hate him, even if what Flynn had said was true.

“Fine,” you snapped, snatching the bag of food before returning to the couch without a second glance. “You have one shot to explain.”

Ruhn sighed, the sound slightly drowned out by the soft click of the door closing behind him. You spared him a glance as he took a seat on the couch, careful to keep his distance.

The chipped black paint of his nails blended into his onyx hair as he ran a hand through it, his muscular leg shaking anxiously before he turned to you. Wholly still, Ruhn’s voice emanated with earnest when he finally spoke.

“Bryce told me what you heard, back at my house. I understand how it would sound, but that’s not at all what happened, and I first and foremost need you to know that you are not a joke. You have never been a joke - to Flynn, to Dec, and especially not to me. I was the joke in that room. They were teasing me, because, yes, asking you out was a dare of sorts.”

You felt the rage build in your chest at that, setting down your food on the table as you prepared for what he would say next - or so you thought you were prepared. 

“I remember the first time I saw you, when you came into the White Raven with Bryce. It felt like my world tilted on its axis,” he paused, shaky breath leaving his lips as his eyes went hazy, lost in the memory. 

“You were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, and when you smiled at me I forgot how to breathe. The entire room was staring at you, and you somehow didn’t notice.”

He loosed a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he fought back a smile. “Dec and Marc were teasing me. They saw how I reacted to you, how drawn to you I was. But you were so beautiful and charming, and could have had any male or female you wanted.”

Drawing your legs to your chest, you settled into the couch and fought back the tears in your eyes at his story.

“Flynn’s ‘bet’ was just that I wouldn’t have the guts to ask someone like you out. And I didn’t at first,” Ruhn laughed, toying with his lip ring before those violet eyes flicked up to meet yours. 

“But then Flynn said that if I didn’t ask you out, he would. And that’s when I jumped up from our table so fast I knocked Dec’s beer on me, and made a fool of myself asking you out like that.”

Ruhn looked down at your hands, his own twitching as though barely holding back from reaching for you. So you reached for him. The cold silver of his rings was a familiar comfort, and you felt yourself relax as his fingers twined tightly with your own.

“Dec didn’t think you’d take me seriously because I was a dumbass, asking out the most incredible female I’ve ever met while covered in beer and stumbling through my words.” You laughed then, and Ruhn’s entire presence seemed to brighten in response. 

“I remember. I thought it was cute. You weren’t the snobby fae royalty I would have expected, and I found it very charming,” you teased, a smile spreading across your face as you then relived the memory of the striking yet goofy male first approaching you.

“I am so sorry that I didn’t tell you that. It’s not exactly something that I’m proud of, that I was so nervous to ask you out. Flynn never lets me live it down.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling embarrassed at how you had jumped to conclusions so quickly. “I feel like I ruined our anniversary. I should have stayed and listened to you.”

Ruhn’s eyes glittered like stars, his hands finding your waist to lift you into his lap. Hooking your arms around his neck, you straddled your boyfriend’s hips. Ruhn exhaled sharply through his teeth, causing you to lean back in alarm.

“It’s just a bruise, curtesy of Bryce.” You blushed, biting back laughter over your friend’s protectiveness. “You did not ruin anything. Flynn, on the other hand, got it worse than me,” he chuckled, nodding to his wounded side.

“You have a lot of people in your life who would do anything for you, including Bryce and myself. All I want is to spend the rest of our night together so I can show you just how much I love you,” he murmured, eyed lidded with desire as you settled further into his lap.

“I think I could arrange that,” you purred, leaning down to kiss Ruhn’s full lips before trailing his jaw, down his neck, his exposed chest. 

He picked you up, carrying you bridal style to the bedroom where you spent the night exchanging soft touches and sweet nothings until the sun rose the next morning.

[moonlitstoriess]

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 1: The Echoes of a Forgotten Name

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Chronomancy: The mastery of time, allowing one to bend, twist, and manipulate the fabric of temporal reality.

The Asteri realm, once an epitome of unyielding power, now lay in ruins. The remnants of it's dark grandeur whispered of a time when it reigned supreme. Shadows flitted through the crumbling architecture, now an empty expanse where the only echoes were those of a fallen empire. The stillness was profound, the silence punctuated only by the faint hum of residual magic.

Amid the debris walked Seraphis, her presence a stark contrast to the desolation around her. Clad in a black cloak that fluttered with her steps, she was a figure of cold determination. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the remnants of what had been the heart of the Aster's domino. To her, this destruction was not merely a loss but a catalyst for a deeper mission.

Seraphis' existence had been shaped entirely by the Asteri. From a young age, she was taken and molded into their perfect soldier. They told her that her parents had abandoned her, leaving her out on the streets as a newborn to die. She was an orphan with no form of family, no parents or siblings. Her upbringing was harsh and uncompromising. She was trained to harness the full spectrum of temporal manipulation--abilities that allowed her to travel through time, reverse it's flow, and manipulate it's very essence. The Asteri had crafted her to be both a weapon and a guardian of their interests.

Under their guidance, Seraphis had become a master of time's complexities. Once she was old enough and they deemed her fit for it, the Asteri took her with them to new world's as they went on conquering--no sharing their greatness with the world. That's how she ended up joining them when they would go from one universe to another, her time-manipulating power's growing stronger with each time.

She remembers how in Erilea she would send Maeve and Erawan the direct orders coming from the six Asteri. Of course, no one was more pissed than Seraphis when that Aelin Galathynius and her lapdogs ended up winning the war. Well, atleast they got rid of incompetent idiots like Maeve and Erawan. She also played a covert role in the shadowy events that unfolded, aiding the Valgs in their machinations and ensuring their influence remained unchecked. She had begged Polaris, The North Star, to let her go finish what Erawan couldn't but...they didn't allow her, seeing her as too valuable to risk.

When the Asteri's control extended to Midgard, Seraphis continued her work with the same ruthless efficiency. She wove through the intricate tapestry of its politics and power struggles, her presence a silent but undeniable force. Her actions, often unseen, played a key role in the Asteri's manipulation of the city's dynamics.

Now with the fall of the Asteri and their defeat at the hands of Bryce Quinlan, Seraphis found herself in a new reality. The Asteri, the only family--no matter how cruel--she had ever known, were gone, and their cause lay in ruins. Austrus, Eosphoros, Hesperus, Octartis, Polaris, Sirius, Vesperus and....Rigelus.

Oh, Rigelus.

Though millions of years older than her, Seraphis was the only being ever that Rigelus didn't look down on. Instead, he saw her as a close second, always being kind towards her--or as kind as someone like him could be. The respect and authority she held over everyone else just like Rigelus and the other Asteris was impressive.

Seraphis wouldn't call what they had with him love. No, a far cry from that. More like a sick obsession and posession that he felt towards her, always having her watched and protected, kept by his side on every event and conquest. And Seraphis loved every moment of it. She didn't care if that made her look sick, yearning for his and only his attention.

No one could ever understand what she and him had anyway.

Does it matter now? No. No, it doesn't.

Their loss ignited a fierce loyalty within her, driving her to seek vengeance. Those Midgard rats, particularly the bastard Bryce Quinlan, had disrupted everything she had been programmed to protect. Seraphis's focus was singular and unyielding. Her powers, unparalleled in their scope, were a tool for her vengeance. The remnants of the Asteri's legacy would be avenged, and she would ensure that their enemies paid dearly for their defiance.

Maybe, maybe Rigelus was against her being in the battlefield and focusing more on improving her powers more for this very reason. Knowing him and how he would always be fifteen steps ahead of everyone, even his fellow Asteri's, Seraphis wouldn't be surprised if he knew something like this would happen and she would be left as the one to avenge them.

Seraphis’s thoughts were interrupted by a faint sound—a shuffle, almost imperceptible. Her head snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing as a figure stepped out from behind a crumbled pillar.

The figure was hunched, draped in ragged robes that trailed on the ground, their face obscured by a deep hood. There was something otherworldly about them, an eerie stillness in their movements, as if they weren’t quite tethered to the reality around them.

An oracle, perhaps. Or one of the soulless travelers that drifted through the remnants of the universe, always seeking but never finding.

“You,” the stranger rasped, their voice a dry whisper carried by the wind. “You are lost.”

Seraphis’s expression remained impassive, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of a blade at her side. “I am not lost,” she replied, her voice cold. “I know exactly where I am.”

The traveler’s hooded head tilted slightly, as though studying her. “Do you? You walk among ruins, chasing ghosts of a fallen empire. What is it you seek, child of time?”

Seraphis bristled at the title, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade. “That’s none of your concern.”

The figure seemed to sigh, a sound that echoed strangely in the empty space. “Vengeance is a heavy burden to bear. The threads of time do not forget. Every action leaves a scar, every choice a ripple. You of all beings should understand this.”

Seraphis regarded them with a penetrating stare. “The Asteri were my family. Their enemies are now my enemies. The vengeance I seek is not for solace but for justice.”

The stranger nodded slowly, their gaze thoughtful. “Justice and vengeance are often indistinguishable in the eyes of those who wield power. But remember, the threads of time you manipulate weave through all that exists. Even in vengeance, there are consequences that ripple forward.”

Seraphis stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “You speak in riddles. Say what you mean.”

The traveler raised a bony hand, palm out, as if to placate her. “I mean only this: Beware of the paths you walk, for time is not a line, but a web. Tug on one thread, and you may find yourself tangled in another. The truth you seek may not be the truth you remember.”

A flicker of unease stirred in Seraphis’s chest, but she pushed it aside. “I know my truth. I will restore the legacy of the Asteri.”

The traveler bowed their head slightly, as if in resignation. “Then may you find what you are searching for. But remember, time itself may turn against those who wield it carelessly.”

Seraphis said nothing, her jaw clenched as the traveler slowly turned away, disappearing into the shadows as if they had never been there at all.

She stood still for a moment, staring after them. Their words clung to the air, echoing in the empty halls of her mind. But she pushed them aside as she always had. There was no room for doubt, no room for hesitation.

There was only vengeance.

Seraphis remained standing, her figure outlined by the towering ruins of the Asteri realm as she watched the shadows engulf the mysterious traveler. Doubt was a weakness, a sentiment she had long been trained to overcome. Her purpose was clear.

Turning back to the wreckage of the Asteri empire, she let her gaze wander over the shattered remains, of what had once been untouchable. Each piece of debris, every crumbled wall, was a reminder of her mission--of the legacy she would rebuild through blood and retribution. The ancient cities, once towering, had now faded into dust, but she would ensure that their enemies would remember them. They would remember through pain, through fear, and through her.

She moved through the ruins with a calculated stride, her mind already spinning threads of time, pulling at the edges of the past. In her hands, time was no mere concept—it was a weapon, one she had sharpened over centuries. She had walked between the lines of history, bending it to the will of the Asteri. They had shaped her, honed her into the ultimate instrument of control.

Rigelus had always been there—overseeing her progress, pushing her further, demanding more. Where others would have seen cruelty, Seraphis had only seen purpose. His obsession with her, the cold possessiveness, had been her source of strength. It drove her to perfect her abilities, to become more than just a soldier. She was his favorite, his chosen, and she had relished every moment of his attention.

The whispers of time teased her now, fragments of events from Erilea and Midgard slipping through her consciousness. Maeve and Erawan had been her pawns, their strings manipulated under the orders of the Asteri. She had done their bidding, silently observing the collapse of entire worlds, her presence unknown to the mortal players. Aelin Galathynius, Bryce Quinlan—all of them had merely been cogs in the Asteri’s grand design, and yet, somehow, they had prevailed.

Seraphis’s jaw clenched. She could still remember the sting of watching Aelin ascend, of seeing Erawan fall. The threads of time she had woven through that world had come undone, slipping from her grasp, leaving her powerless to intervene. That Aelin had won infuriated her. She’d wanted to be there to ensure Erawan’s success, to be the force that would crush the rebellion—but Rigelus had forbidden it.

And now, Bryce Quinlan. Seraphis’s hands twitched, her magic itching at her fingertips. The half-fae princess had killed the Asteri, destroyed everything Seraphis had been built for. Seraphis knew that Bryce’s power over the Gate was formidable, but it wouldn’t save her. No, not when Seraphis had centuries of control over time at her disposal. The moment would come, and Bryce wouldn’t even see it approaching.

But she couldn’t rush. Not yet.

Seraphis knew that striking without preparation was foolish, especially after the Asteri had been blindsided. Bryce would be expecting retaliation, the remnants of Midgard’s population on high alert. Seraphis needed time to plan, to gather intelligence, to weave herself back into the folds of the worlds that were left.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d need allies.

She came to a halt at what had once been the central hall of the Asteri’s council. The chamber had once thrummed with power, where decisions that shaped entire worlds had been made. Now, only silence reigned here. Seraphis’s silver eyes flickered as she raised a hand, time itself responding to her unspoken command. The air shifted, the ruins stirring as she pulled at the threads of the past.

For a moment, the hall was whole again. The pillars straightened, the ceiling restored. Seraphis stood at the heart of it, watching as ghostly figures flickered into place. The Asteri council in all its glory—Rigelus at its helm, the others in their seats. She stepped forward, her fingers grazing the edge of the spectral table.

“I’ll restore it,” she whispered, her voice filled with cold resolve. “I’ll bring you back.”

She let go, and the illusion faded as time returned to the present. The ruins crumbled once more around her. The past, it seemed, was not yet willing to reveal its secrets.

But Seraphis knew it was only a matter of time before she’d be ready to act. The Asteri’s cause had not died with them, and neither had their most powerful soldier.

She turned, her cloak swirling around her as she left the council chamber behind. The traveler’s words, though dismissed, lingered in her mind like an unwanted guest. The idea of consequences—of time itself rebelling against her—was absurd. She controlled time. She was time. The scars she carved into the fabric of history were her own to shape.

As she stepped out into the barren expanse once more, the wind picked up, swirling dust into the air. Seraphis narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t alone.

A voice, soft and detached, called out to her again. “Still chasing ghosts, I see.”

Seraphis’s hand was on her blade in an instant as she turned toward the sound. The traveler from earlier stood at the edge of the ruin, watching her with the same unsettling stillness. This time, though, they did not approach.

“I thought I told you to leave,” Seraphis said, her voice a low growl.

The traveler smiled, though it didn’t reach their eyes. “I did. But time has a way of bringing us back to the places we least expect.”

Seraphis’s patience wore thin. “You enjoy speaking in riddles. Speak plainly or be gone.”

The traveler’s smile faded, their voice lowering. “I am not your enemy, Seraphis. But your path is darker than you realize.”

“I know my path,” she snapped. “And I don’t need your advice.”

The traveler studied her for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Very well. But remember this—time is not as loyal as you think.”

With that, the traveler turned and walked into the wind, their form fading into the dust.

Seraphis stood there, alone once more, her mind already discarding the encounter. There was only one thing that mattered now: finding Bryce Quinlan and finishing what the Asteri had started.

She would bring time itself to its knees to see it done.

With a final glance at the desolate landscape that had once been the center of her life, she turned on her heel and began to walk, her steps deliberate, her mind racing with plans. She couldn't afford to waste any more time in this hollow place of memories. Midgard awaited her, Bryce and her puppets blissfully unaware of the storm that was coming for them.

Seraphis extended her hand, her fingers shimmering with the familiar hum of temporal power. She closed her eyes, focusing on the thread that would lead her to Midgard. Time bent to her will, the universe shifting around her as she tore through the veils of reality.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the ruined empire. The air was crisp and cold, the sky above a muted gray. She stood at the edge of Lunathion, the sprawling metropolis stretching out before her, it's towers scraping the sky.

For a moment, Seraphis took it all in--the hum of life and magic, the scent of the sea carried on the breeze, the distant sounds of the city's chaos. It was an intricate web of power, alliances and fragile peace. She would tear through it all.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her mind already calculating her next move. Bryce Quinlan might have been the one to kill the Asteri, but she wasn't foolish enough to think that her target would be that simple. Bryce wasn't alone--she had allies, strong ones, and it would take more than brute force to bring them all down.

No. She would need to be smarter, patient. The plan would unfold piece by piece, and by the time they realized what was happening, it would be too late. The city would be hers to dismantle, it's champions falling one by one.

Seraphis began to walk, blending into the crowd with ease, her hood low over her face. The streets were filled with fae, shifters, and ordinary citizens going about their lives, blissfully aware of the storm brewing in their midst.

This was no longer just about vengeance. It was about control--taking back what had been ripped ripped away from her. And Seraphis had no intention of stopping until the last remnants of these street rats were nothing more than dust.

Let the games begin.

Seraphis moved through the crowded streets of Lunathion like a shadow, unnoticed and undisturbed. She watched the people around her with detached curiosity, studying them, their movements, their habits. They lived in this world, so sure of their safety, of the new order that had come with the Asteri’s fall. Fools. 

The Asteri had been invincible for eons, and now that they were gone, these mortals believed themselves free. But freedom was an illusion, fragile as glass. Seraphis would shatter it.

Her power thrummed beneath her skin, the flow of time bending ever so slightly as she moved. With a mere thought, she could slow it to a crawl, watch the world freeze around her while she continued untouched. But now was not the time for such displays. Now was the time for observation, for patience.

She knew the city well, even if she had never set foot in it herself before now. Through the Asteri’s influence, she had seen Lunathion grow, its streets mapped out in her mind long before her arrival. The Asteri had ensured her knowledge was extensive, always keeping her one step ahead of their enemies. That was how she had operated—always in the shadows, just out of sight, but always present.

Bryce Quinlan was the key to it all. She had torn down the Asteri, and for that, she would suffer. But Bryce wasn’t the only one on her list. Hunt Athalar, Ruhn Danaan, and all the other lap dogs. All of them had played their part in toppling the only order Seraphis had ever known.

As she passed through an open market, Seraphis paused, her gaze locking onto a news holo-screen. The display flickered to life, showing a broadcast about the city’s newest heroes. Images of Bryce and her allies flashed across the screen, their faces well-known to everyone by now. The city had hailed them as saviors, but Seraphis only saw targets.

Her lips curled into a faint sneer. “Enjoy the limelight while it lasts,” she muttered under her breath. “It’ll all come crashing down soon enough.”

Without another glance, she moved on, slipping into an alleyway where she could plan her next steps in peace. She leaned against a brick wall, closing her eyes briefly as she reached out with her powers. Time was a river, flowing constantly, but she could see its branches, the possible futures that stretched out before her.

She saw herself confronting Bryce, the clash of power, the chaos that would unfold. But it was distant still—there were obstacles to remove first, pieces to shift into place. She saw glimpses of Bryce and her minions, saw them moving through their lives, unsuspecting. They had no idea she was here, that she was watching, waiting.

But something else stirred at the edges of her vision. Something… unfamiliar.

Seraphis frowned, her concentration breaking as she pulled back from the threads of time. There was a presence she hadn’t expected, a ripple she couldn’t quite place. Someone—or something—was watching her in return.

Her eyes snapped open, and she tensed, scanning her surroundings. The alley was empty, the market bustling just beyond, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed. Her hand moved instinctively to the blade at her hip, her muscles coiled for action.

“Show yourself,” she called softly, her voice low and dangerous.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, from the shadows at the far end of the alley, a figure emerged.

They were tall and cloaked, their face hidden beneath a deep hood. But unlike the ragged traveler she had encountered in the ruins, this one moved with purpose, with grace. There was a weight to their presence, a power that prickled at the edges of Seraphis’s awareness.

“Seraphis,” the figure said, their voice smooth and calm. “It’s been a long time.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her blade. “Who are you?”

The figure took a step closer, their movements slow and deliberate. “You don’t remember me, do you? Perhaps that’s for the best.”

Her patience was wearing thin. She stepped forward, her power surging to the surface, the air around her thickening as time began to bend. “I won’t ask again.”

The figure paused, as if considering their next words. “I’m not here to fight you. In fact, I’m here to offer you something.”

Seraphis’s eyes darkened. “I’m not interested in offers.”

“Oh, I think you will be,” the figure said, a hint of amusement in their voice. “You’re here for revenge, yes? To make those who wronged the Asteri pay?”

Seraphis remained silent, her gaze cold.

The figure chuckled softly. “You may be powerful, Seraphis, but even you can’t take on this crew alone. They have allies, resources—things you can’t even begin to imagine. But I can help you. I know things. I know their weaknesses.”

Seraphis tilted her head slightly, intrigued despite herself. “And why would you help me?”

The figure’s hood shifted as if they were smiling beneath it. “Let’s just say I have my own score to settle with Bryce Quinlan and her friends. We share a common enemy.”

Seraphis studied them for a long moment, her instincts on high alert. She didn’t trust easily—especially not strangers who appeared out of nowhere offering help. Whoever they were, they were dangerous. But perhaps, in this case, dangerous could be useful.

Seraphis let her hand fall from the blade at her hip, though her guard remained up. “You speak as though you know much. And yet, you haven’t even shown me your face.”

The figure laughed softly, a low, melodic sound. “Trust isn’t something freely given, is it? But for now, let’s keep things this way. You’ll find out more when the time is right.”

Seraphis’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, the figure stepped back, already fading into the shadows. “Find me when you’ve made up your mind,” they called over their shoulder, their voice trailing off. “You know where to look.”

And with that, they were gone. Only the stillness of the alley remained, along with the faint hum of magic in the air.

Seraphis stood there, contemplating the encounter. Whoever the stranger was, they clearly knew more than they let on. If they could be trusted—or if she could control them—they might be the key to speeding up her plans. For now, she’d keep her distance but watch closely. 

She pushed herself away from the wall, stepping back into the crowd, disappearing once again into the flow of this metropolis life. Her focus sharpened. She didn’t need anyone’s help—yet. She would deal with Bryce and her gang in her own way. But there was something about that presence earlier. It lingered, unsettling her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn't quite like anyone she'd known before.

Moving toward the heart of the city, Seraphis caught a flicker of movement to her left. Just a glance, quick, fleeting—but her gaze caught it in time. A tall figure, cloaked in shadows, moved through the market. For a split second, his profile appeared—just long enough for her to notice the tattoos curling up his arms, the way his eyes scanned the surroundings like a predator assessing the area.

Ruhn Danaan.

She didn’t know him. But as her gaze followed him for that brief moment, something stirred in her. A pull. It was faint, distant, almost unnoticeable. She clenched her jaw and forced it aside, refocusing her attention.

He turned a corner and vanished into the crowds, oblivious to her watchful eyes. 

Good. He should remain that way for now. Her target wasn’t him—not yet. She had bigger prey to hunt.

But as she moved away, that strange feeling lingered in the back of her mind.

Seraphis continued through bustling streets, her mind a storm of plans and calculations. She navigated the urban labyrinth with practiced ease, the weight of her mission pressing heavily on her shoulders. The city’s vibrant life was a stark contrast to the darkness she harbored within.

As she walked, she observed the people around her with a cold, analytical gaze. She noted their routines, their behaviors, and the various places that could serve her needs—resources, potential allies, or convenient places to remain hidden. The city had a pulse, a rhythm that she had to understand if she wanted to exploit its weaknesses.

Finally, she found a small, nondescript motel tucked away on a quieter street, away from the main thoroughfares. Its faded neon sign buzzed faintly in the dusk, and the building itself seemed to blend seamlessly into the backdrop of the city’s urban sprawl. It was perfect—low profile and unremarkable, a place where she could stay under the radar.

Seraphis pushed open the door to the motel with a practiced nonchalance, the bell above the entrance jingling softly as she stepped inside. The small lobby was dimly lit, and the air carried the faint, musty odor of old carpets and stale coffee. Behind the reception desk, a man sat hunched over a magazine, his eyes glancing up as she entered.

The man looked up, startled by her sudden appearance. He was in his mid-forties, with a graying beard and weary eyes. He quickly set the magazine aside, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to apprehension as he took in her commanding presence.

Seraphis walked up to the counter, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She placed a stack of cash—more than enough to cover the cost of a room—on the desk, her fingers lightly drumming on the surface as she spoke. “I need a room. Now.”

The man’s eyes widened as he took in the cash, and he gulped nervously. “Of course, ma’am. Right away.” He fumbled with a set of room keys, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Seraphis leaned closer, her voice a cold whisper. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Understand?”

The man nodded vigorously, his face pale. “Yes, yes, of course. Room 7. Just down the hall to the left.”

Without acknowledging him further, Seraphis took the key and turned to leave. The man watched her go, his relief palpable. As she walked down the narrow hallway, she heard him muttering under his breath, though she couldn’t make out the words. It was clear he was shaken, and that was exactly what she wanted.

Once she reached Room 7, Seraphis unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a decisive click. The room was small but adequate for her needs—a bed, a table, and a window overlooking the street below. She set her belongings on the table and began to prepare for her next steps, her mind already working through the plans she had laid out.

The motel’s ambiance, with its dull colors and low hum of activity, was perfect for laying low. The chaos outside was a useful cover, and she would use this time to strategize her moves carefully.

The hunt was just beginning and Midgard's fate hung in the balance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist is open!

[wishfulimaginings]

Okay, just read the bonus chapters of hofas

Ember handing Rhys his ass in defense of Nesta , it's like hearing everything Nesta stans have ever wanted to say to him through her mouth !!

New favourite character unlocked: Ember Quinlan!

[rainingriversofyou]

CC3 - HOUSE OF FLAME AND SHADOW - TARGET EXCLUSIVE BONUS CHAPTER - RUHN AND LIDIA - PART 1

[ariadnethedragon]

"Now I don't fucking care who you are, so long as you're mine…Because I'm yours, Day. I'm fucking yours."