#same jurian

[velidewrites]

Popping in to say that I was thinking of how Jassa are possibly doing sneaky things behind closed doors in Leave Before You Love Me, and it’s got me feeling some type of way 😩🥵

VIFFY I AM SO SORRY I'M SO LATE TO THIS. Allow me to repay your kindness in smooches & this snippet:

"We arrived separately," Elain explained. "Though I don't see how—General?"

But Jurian didn't seem to be listening anymore, brown eyes drifting somewhere far away behind her shoulder, his full lips parting slightly in what Elain could only discern as awe.

She followed the trail of his gaze slowly until she reached the same entrance the Royal Family came in through, swarmed with guards—guards and a new guest.

Elain recognised the Princess immediately, the soft waves of her hair like molten copper against the rich emerald of her gown. Elain, of course, had seen the garment before—had overseen its making the week before, even—but seeing the fabric cling to Vassa's curves before it pooled at her feet was a true sight to behold. The shimmering colour offset the Montesere gold at her neck, yet another reminder of the ceremony to come, but none of the guests seemed to focus on that right now. Everyone's attention was on the Princess's beauty, like a sizzling fire come to life under the light of a hundred chandeliers.

Elain turned to face Jurian again. "General?

His throat bobbed.

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce pov speculation: Jurian. What is he doing? Is he still in Amarantha's ring? Did Hybern dunk him in the uppity magic cookpot and he's just hanging around Spring, being a forgotten threat to fae? Also, it's so bizarre that all the fae, some who knew him personally, have forgotten how dangerous he is. He seduced Clythia, murdered her brutally, led Amarantha on a merry chase and made sure she was useless as a general until she ripped him to pieces. He did that on purpose. The Fae forgot.

JURIAN MY AXE-WIELDING MURDER MACHINE HEART OF GOLD REVOLUTIONARY HERO!

Okay, I'm going to try not to spoil too too much, because Jurian has like, his own whole thing going in Effloresce. I looked at canon and said, actually, that man is fascinating.

Effloresce!Jurian is the same age as canon Jurian but ONLY chronologically.

(The ring is SUCH a cop out in canon- if the Cauldron can resurrect from a single body part, no important fae would be dying?? Or staying dead? If someone had the power to TRAP THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF THE DEAD, surely we'd...hear more about it? We got a whole magic horse biography in acosf for some reason, but JURIAN? No information. He is...sane after being trapped in a ring for five centuries? Comes out of that ring, and Hybern assumes he's been...tortured into submission? IS ON THEIR SIDE?)

There's three big things here that I'm playing with- one, Jurian REMEMBERS human slavery. He remembers the world he fought to destroy and the birth of the next. He remembers what ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

Two, while I reject the ring/Amarantha premise, I think it's basically impossible to believe the fae, who are immortal, would let a mortal (ish) man who'd killed some of their most powerful just have a peaceful life after the war.

SIDEBAR: They're not in the story, but I have HUGE Miriyam/Dracon HATE. They're just...in hiding? forever? On an island no one kind find? They could have been SO COOL but the vibe is so much more commune turned cult. WHY ON EARTH would they get the Cauldron, Prythian's sacred vessel of creation? They're not EVEN FROM PRYTHIAN

Three, he's an even louder metaphor for Feyre's total mental shift. Humans meet Jurian and go: JURIAN? OUR JURIAN? Feyre has like, a second of wonder before being like: BUT HE MURDERED HIS GIRLFRIEND RHYS SAYS HE'S A MONSTER. She, like most faeries, seems to think fae are inherently better. That their lives matter more. Clythia killed all her slaves rather than free them, but we're supposed to think Jurian's espionage is the gross part? Compared to whatever shit the fae were up to???

Jurian's basically a walking neon sign that reads HIGH FAE ARE DANGEROUS TO HUMANS AND KILL THEIR OWN DESCENDANTS, wrapped up in the courtly manners of a bygone era, errant knighting about trying to help humans, seething beyond belief that the crowns his people fought to create have allied with their greatest enemies.

(Also I gave him a sexy murderous girlfriend with a bad attitude. because. canon didn't even give the mercenary a NAME. Also his beef with Miriyam sucking being attributed to jealousy is such a ridiculous reduction. It's not that she didn't choose HIM, she fell in love with the man who OWNED HER and fucked off forever to secret paradise while the world went to hell)

By humans, Jurian is quite literally the opposite of forgotten. Faeries made it so in their massive, unbelievable arrogance.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Part 18

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: pls trust me that some things will be explained in chapter 19 🙇

word count: 7,003

-Part 17- -Part 19-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Sharp, amber eyes pierce down into the male, despite having less than an inch’s difference in height. 

Lucien keeps his surprise under wraps as he greets his oldest brother, stood before the slightly dilapidated building he and his companions have taken up in, a few boards nailed over one of the upper windows that had broken during a particularly vicious storm. He recalls how Jurian had scavenged some of the plain silverware and they’d drawn spoons to see who would have to climb the roof and patch it up before the autumn chill hit. It’s a fond memory, in spite of his loss. 

“Eris,” Lucien greets shortly, holding position in blocking the male from strutting straight into his home as he knows the male would, given the chance. Not the building itself, exactly, but the people hidden away inside it, and he’d rather not subject them to another visit unless absolutely necessary. Neither of them are particularly well-equipped against Eris’ kind of verbal espionage, how he hunts the information he seeks and so effortlessly riles them up. Vassa is particularly prone to bursting into a flaming temper whenever the male pays them an unpleasant visit. 

“It’s rude to keep a guest waiting, Lucien,” Eris drawls from overside the threshold. Even after all this time he can’t help the instinctive part of him that cringes at the razor sharp tone used to cut into his name, carve it into something jagged and serrated. Perhaps when he was younger he might have returned with ‘it’s rude to show up without invitation’, but he learned long ago it’s best to avoid any kind of verbal conflict with the male. Ultimately it’s tiring and a waste of energy, so instead Lucien offers a mildly withering glare, and asks, “What are you here for?” 

Eris’s features remain sharp but blank, unshifting and drawing a clear line in the sand. Another silent demand he’s more than accustomed to, and wishes he wasn’t. “You can’t just show up without prior notice and expect to be escorted in. There are humans inside and you’ll scare them off.” 

“That’s fine by me,” Eris replies, his amber eyes silently simmering with inherent arrogance. “Step aside.”

“Don’t order me around,” Lucien replies evenly, not a note of sharpness to be found, but firm and unyielding. “You’re in their lands. Besides, they’ll be leaving shortly. You can wait a few minutes.” 

“It’s time sensitive,” Eris replies smoothly, neither having broken the eye contact. 

“You can wait a few minutes,” Lucien repeats.

Silence stretches, Eris’ brows narrowing ever so slightly in a frighteningly scathing glare that would have sent him sprinting to his room a few centuries ago. But he’s a grown male now, so he weathers the simmering look, keeping his feet firmly set on the ground, unfaltering in his stance. 

Within the silence, both can pick out the shuffle of human footfalls, the conversation that floats throughout the house, only detectable to fae hearing and each brother picks out as they trail further. It’s not until a latch clicks and a bolt is slid into place on the other side of the slightly wrecked estate that either of them shifts, and to Lucien’s invisible astonishment it’s Eris who looks away first. Even if it is to glance at the approaching Vassa over his shoulder, he notes it. 

“What’s he doing here?” Vassa questions, a derisive sneer in her tone as she pins the male darkening their doorstep with a look that could turn steak to coal in seconds. Lucien glances to Eris, wondering the same thing—wondering if he’ll answer now the humans have left and he’ll inevitably be allowed in. Sharp amber eyes slice to his own russet one, cutting and demanding, and Lucien bites back a sigh at his oldest brother’s incessant insistence on being obeyed. Even after all these years he’s just as controlling as he always was, though Lucien shouldn’t be surprised—Eris practically thrives in the cutthroat coliseum of the Autumn Court. 

Lucien steps aside in the doorway and Eris enters, bringing with him the harsh bite of the cold that’s sharper than it should be in the human lands. The distinct crispness that passes him as Eris strides past the both of them, removing his surprisingly plain cloak in one swift movement and chucking it over one of the hangers without looking. “I have news,” Eris replies vaguely, before striding further into the heart of the house and disappearing out of sight. 

Vassa shoots a fierce glare his direction, a slight scowl between her brows. “Did you know he was on his way?” She asks, already looking about ready to try smacking the male across the jaw. But Lucien shakes his head, already resigned to the evening being ruined, knowing her impatience isn’t directed at him. “I’m sober, aren’t I?” He replies wryly, a twist of a demeaning smile on his mouth to cool her flammable temper. 

After a long moment of pause, she huffs a laugh, low and raspy, some of the tension relieved from her rigid posture, fiery coloured ringlets jostled slightly from the tremble in her full shoulders. “We’d better go after him,” she says, a little more amused than she was previously, though that amusement dims swiftly at the thought of having to deal with more of the male’s unnecessary and underhanded jabs. Lucien nods, sighing once more before steeling himself, knowing he will inevitably end up in the position of mediator as he always does when people lose their calm, following after her. 

“And just when the cards were finally about to come out,” she mutters under her breath, and Lucien can practically see the scowl that has already worked itself back between her fiery brows, “I was looking forward to wiping the floor with Jurian.” 

The comment has his nostrils flaring delicately as mirth curves his mouth, lips twitching faintly. Between the three of them, Vassa is almost constantly on a losing streak, while Jurian frequently takes them for all they’re worth. He supposes it shouldn’t be as surprising as it is—Jurian’s mortality is debatable at best, an unverifiable grey area at worst. 

“Maybe we can fit in a few rounds after,” Lucien suggests as they make their way through the hallways, headed to the sitting room where the meetings most frequently take place. “The mood will probably be in need of some friendly competition.” 

“Friendly?” Vassa repeats sardonically, pausing just outside the door to the living room. “Those games are nothing short of bloodthirsty. Treating them so lightheartedly is why you never win.” 

Lucien refrains from reminding her that she has yet to go on a single winning streak against either of them. 

————

You shift uneasily in your seat, pulling the silk of the scarf a little tighter, making sure no patchy flesh will slip out from beneath the fine covering. Especially not over a meal. 

The comment springs to the forefront of your mind, rising like the sediment that’s stirred up upon a stone being dropped into the murky bottom of a lake. You know you’ll never be first choice. You’ll never have someone who’d choose you over everyone else, and if you’re honest with yourself it wouldn’t be that bad. You’ve survived this long without being someone’s first choice, so what’s changed? 

What’s changed?

A cold feels skates delicately beneath your speckled flesh at the imposing question, impossibly vast and inconceivably nuanced. So much has changed in the past two years it would be unreasonable to try and tackle it now, without even a paper and pen to aid you in the coherency of your thoughts. But maybe it’s a place to start—some small ideas to help take those opening steps, like how freshly born deer totter around on their delicate hooves, on thin, gangly legs before learning to leap and bound. 

So, you ask yourself again: What’s changed? 

Had it bothered you before that you weren’t first choice? Had you known you weren’t anyone’s first choice—yes, somewhere, but you hadn’t figured it out yet. Perhaps that’s why the comment stung, that you were robbed of making the discovery yourself, red-painted nails having clawed over the stone, carving scratches into the previously smooth surface, permanently tarnished and disheveled. 

No, thinking back, you’ve been first choice before. When you were eight, nine-ish, when you’d run down and about in the garden with Feyre who at that point couldn’t keep up with you yet. When you’d leap over tree stumps and balance on fallen trunks, sticking your arms out unevenly and watching with a strange sense of pride as Feyre doddered behind you, mimicking your stance and holding her own arms out as she made the trek over the mossy trunk. 

Then you’d gotten older, and left Feyre to play in the gardens, in the forest, by herself. Then you’d become closer with Elain a bit before your teens, the two of you often joined at the hip at parties, Nesta bearing down on the few who tried to approach, warding off any unwanted company with her fearsome countenance. You think you’d been one another’s choices then, when your mother would dress you up in complimentary fabrics, selecting patterns that would work well with one another, with little regard for the young girls she was dressing up—her own daughters. 

You like to think it had been you and Elain sticking together, in those last few years when your mother was around. 

That’s what’s changed. 

You’re surrounded by people who have found one another. 

And now your loneliness is starker than ever, yet you hadn’t even really realised it. How Feyre has Rhys and Nyx, Nesta has found Cassian, and even Elain is finding her way with Lucien. They’re the closest you’ve ever been with other people, and the closest you’ll get to other people. But they’ve all found someone else now, and you’re the odd one out. Of course you’d be the one without a mating bond, or whatever the special connection is that they were all afforded. 

You’re reminded of the confession you’d let slip in the midst of your fumbling mouth back in the library all that time ago. How you’d thought maybe…possibly there was a reason you’d felt a click with him. But you suppose you should have known better. You can’t even pretend that he was leading you on, in hindsight. It was obvious he was interested in Elain, and yet you’d thought… How stupid. And to tell him, too. To want something so sacred to them, and to wish it between yourself and him. All from wanting to be first. 

It shouldn’t matter to not be first, and yet it’s starkly painful. You can’t help but want that place. Wanted it so desperately you’d fooled yourself into seeing interest when in reality there was, just none for you. 

Your eyes traitorously stray from the small details on the rim of your porcelain plate—tiny ink drops of blue, red, and orange dotted about the edge—to the empty seat to your left, at one head of the table. 

Why had you ever made the mistake of opening up to him? Hoping for a gentle touch when your body feels like it was hewn from the most unloveable stone. The most unforgiving rock, and the coldest ice. So cold it would peel skin from flesh, so harsh it would be impossible to touch, so utterly unbearable there would be no choice but to remain alone.   

“Will you pass the potatoes?”

You’re drawn from your spiralling thoughts by the golden voice, meeting twinkling amber eyes as Mor watches you with a familiar expression. Warm and welcoming despite how you’d last seen one another. 

Swallowing, you nod. “Yeah, sure,” you reply as normally as you can, hand clutching the orange silk of your scarf to keep the material from sliding up as you carefully grip the lip of the ceramic bowl, passing it to her open hand. “Thank you,” Mor smiles, and you blink before remembering to retract your hand. She seems as she was before…back to the female you’d known her as. Is this…does it mean she’s accepted your apology? She’d seemed convinced of what she had told you, so you can’t quite trick yourself into believing that. But maybe civility? 

Right, you can understand it now. No matter how upset or hurt she might feel, she must not want to make it other people’s problem. Causing a scene over a dinner, one of the rare moments everyone’s together—most of you, anyway—isn’t worth it. No matter how your relationship might have soured, there’s no need to make the people around you miserable, too. 

Amber eyes gleam beneath the warm light, and you feel as though you can come to an agreement—one you’re ready to accept. You can both silently agree not to make it an issue for anyone else, a small kernel of warmth daring to flicker to life in your chest, the sense of connection that comes from mutual understanding despite a disagreement. For everyone else’s sake, the two of you can put everything aside. Even if it might only be temporary. 

“I like your scarf,” Mor says lightly, scooping the jagged, crispy roast potatoes onto the side of her plate, setting the bowl down in a spare space, “it suits you.” 

Again, you blink, caught off guard. You swallow thickly, managing a nod of your head, chest swelling as you eagerly take on the compliment, content to pretend even if it’s only for an hour or two. “Thank you,” you reply, keeping your voice steady, “I love your necklace.��� Which is true, though in honesty it wouldn’t be difficult to find something compliment-worthy about her. She’s beautiful. 

Mor hums, glancing to another bowl, before settling on the reasonably sized boat of sauce, creating a small pool at the edge of her plate. You’re a little too occupied with watching Mor to notice the wary glance sent her way by Amren, or the warning one delivered from the High Lord himself. The tiny flicker of hope that maybe things could be patched up blocking out the rest of the picture as you gaze longingly at the female diagonal from you. 

“I suppose with the autumn chill in the air yours is a little more practical than some flimsy jewellery,” Mor replies lightly, plucking a cut of bread from the wooden board, drawing the butter closer to slather the fluffy and crusty slice. “Where did you find it? I should fetch one for myself.” 

“I’m sure you have more than enough scarves, Mor,” Rhys interjects smoothly, the serrated blade of his knife slicing effortlessly through the sinew of meat, slowly dissected into politely bite-sized pieces. “Any more and you’ll struggle to shut your wardrobe properly.”

Mor smiles icily, meeting his gaze with a cold look on her beautiful face. “Just stocking up before we have our eastern visitors.” 

Tension crackles across the table, so acute even you realise something strange is happening, watching nervously, and feeling somehow responsible for the perceived fallout. Eastern visitors…? People from the continent? Eastern…eastern…oh. Feyre had mentioned briefly the deal that had been struck between the High Lord and the Lord that reigns over his Court of Nightmares—Mor’s father. The permitted invasion of her safe haven. The slight fissure that had been opened raw between them—one you’d forgotten about, and had assumed had been fixed. 

“How is—” You fumble when Mor’s sharp eyes cut into you, caught off guard by the fierceness held within them. “…How is he?” You manage to ask, unsure whether you should even be interfering or whether you’re just putting your foot in it. Your hands shake under the table, heart pounding but you keep from shifting in your seat. 

“Who?” Mor asks blandly, ignoring the sharp glare Amren’s pinning her with. Disregarding the hard look on Rhys’ face, slight disappointment. Possibly wholly unaware of the grip Feyre has on her cutlery, head cast downward, brows pulled together. Your throat rolls, not wanting to say his name. 

It would be wrong. 

“Who else?” Nesta asks from across the table, her voice singing with the clean cut of steel as it slices through a silk ribbon, a whisper of anger hissing beneath her tone. Sharp amber eyes clash with cool silver, glinting like mercury and ice in spite of the oranges and yellows filling the room to give the allusion of warmth and familiarity. Tension simmers just below the surface, crackling like a metal weather vane struck by lightening, sizzling with barely restrained power. 

“Azriel,” you say quietly, hurrying through his name in less than a breath, feeling it brand your tongue, tingling at the roof of your mouth. Dispersing some of the charge. “How is he?” 

Amber and silver eyes remain locked for a little while longer, a pause stretching across the table and even to fae hearing there’s hardly a sound being made save for the strain of metal as knuckles strangle and warp the handles of fine cutlery. 

At last Mor looks away, dragging her gaze back to your own, the fire dimmed and smothered. 

“Well enough to be drinking again,” she answers, and that seems to be the end of the conversation. 

————

It’s a little difficult to dry the plates off with the scarf tied at your front, hiding your arms, but you manage. 

A cluster of small, iridescent bubbles float past your nose, wafting by, and Elain laughs as you step back suddenly in surprise, having been zoned out. 

There’s no need to be washing up anymore, not with the aids of magic, and if you’re honest you aren’t entirely sure how the two of you had ended up coming to the same wordless agreement, but here you are. Elain’s at the sink, bubbles frothy and foamy as she scrubs at the crockery and cutlery before depositing them on the side for you to dry with a towel. You don’t think the soapiness would agree with your skin.

The quiet settles between you, comfortable and without strain, two people sharing a space, and the apprehension you’d had before the dinner begins to slowly mellow, ice thawing out over a chilly night. 

Despite the slightly rough start, the night had progressed surprisingly smoothly, with you content to sit quietly while the others discussed various matters: Amren’s recreational studying of the Old Language; Nesta’s progression with swordplay, having begun wielding ataraxia during training; a discussion lead by Rhysand about wards that you’d partially tuned out, thinking of the crater you’d blasted through the House of Wind—at least it sounds like something that can be fixed. They aren’t permanently broken, just temporarily disabled. 

“Feyre’s birthday is coming up,” Elain says, seemingly out of nowhere, and you glance at her questioningly, humming in acknowledgement. “What are you thinking of getting her?” You ask, curiously content to follow along this path and see where she takes it. Elain sighs faintly, “I was thinking of making some herbal teas, actually…not many, but a few different ones to see if any help with stress, or sleeping, or the like. Generic benefits.” 

You nod your head slightly—it’s a thoughtful gift, bespoke and personal, too. She’s always good with presents. 

“You?” Elain asks, glancing at you lightly, speaking only loud enough to top the gentle babbling of water and splashing of suds. You glance down at the stack of dried plates, reaching for the wet cutlery to start on. “I haven’t thought of anything yet,” you answer honestly, considering, “it’s still a couple of months away, so I guess I hadn’t started thinking about it yet.” 

Elain’s quiet for a bit, and you get the sense she has something to say but is unsure how to bring it up. You wait patiently, preoccupying yourself with the cutlery, careful not to accidentally carve a chunk of flesh from the heel of your palm. 

“I think…Feyre would like to do something with all of us,” she says quietly, a little absently. “Perhaps not on the actual day, but sometime nearby.” 

“She would?” You ask, slightly surprised. Elain doesn’t meet your gaze this time, continuing to focus on washing up, giving her hands something to do, and you copy her after a moment, carrying on with the drying up. “She hasn’t said anything explicitly, but it’s the impression I’ve gotten,” Elain says faintly, then pauses again. “I think…I think it would be nice, too.” 

There’s a tremor in her fingertips, but she pushes them below the warm water, out of sight as if reaching for a fork or spoon beneath the frothy surface. 

“Particularly, after…” Her throat closes up, and you hesitantly reach out, gloves temporarily discarded while drying, bare fingers grazing the soft skin of her forearms, unable to feel the gentle tickle of tiny hairs anymore. “I’m sorry…” you murmur uselessly, watching helplessly as a droplet falls from her eye, splashing through into the dishwater below. But Elain shakes her head, hands raising from the water to continue moving, absently washing the last plate from the dinner. 

“I’d like to see more of you, too,” Elain says, swallowing thickly as she scrubs at the gleaming porcelain, clearing her throat. “So would Nesta. I think we’ve all been a bit distant lately, with one another I mean, and with Feyre having Nyx, and Nesta off in Day… We should spend more time together, and see each other more often, and speak more, just in general. And then there’s also Starfall, and we can see each other then, and celebrate, and—”

“Elain, Starfall’s months away,” you say gently, fingers shifting so they’re lightly gripping her wrist, pausing her motions, pulling her eyes to lock with your own. Wider than they should be.

You look at one another, watching silently, and you can feel the flutter of her pulse beneath your fingertips, erratic enough for even your own damaged hands to pick up on. 

“You’ll be there, won’t you?” She whispers, eyes hot and wet. 

You blink, grasping the heaviness of the question, then nod, unable to make your throat work, lower lip trembling a bit. “I’ll be there,” you manage to get out, feeling the familiar pressure behind your eyes. 

She nods back, before finally handing over that last plate that has been clean for a while, but between the soapiness of the dishwater, and the trembling of both your hands, the plate slips, and smashes on the floor. The pale fragments split and shatter, spraying across the cold tiles, and both of you jump at the startling noise, before looking at each other again, and laughing. Gasping, ragged breaths that have both of you leaning for support, tears welling in eyes as each of you are split between crying from desperate, manic humour, and dreadful, fearsome sadness. 

Neither of you can find it in yourselves to care about the shattered porcelain, the jagged fragments with blue, red, and orange ink drops dotted around the utterly broken rim of the plate. 

“I…I need to find something…to clean that up,” you gasp through laughter, wiping away the tears. Elain just nods, still heaving ragged breath into her lungs, eyes squeezed shut, ringlets of hair jostling with each shudder of mirth as she grips the edge of the sink, expression torn between sobbing laughter and wrecking grief, and you don’t think you can stand to be in the same room for much longer, subject to the violent turbulence. 

The light from the kitchen dims but your eyes adjust swiftly as you walk unevenly out into the dark hallway, rounding the corner to go look for a brush, or duster of some kind, even a cloth or a rag would do—

Both of you freeze as you round the corner to see one another, Mor’s figure losing its rigidity much more swiftly compared to your own that will remain locked up for the following few minutes. 

You swallow thickly, eyes wide as you take her in: the dimmed gold of her lustrous hair; the bare expanse of her elegant neck; the tray held in her red-tipped hands, those long, slightly rounded nails gleaming a deep rouge. “Mor,” you greet, a touch quieter than usual, “I didn’t see you there.” 

“Nor I, you,” she replies, watching you. A beat passes, and you swallow again, eyes flicking down to the tray in her hands. “Azriel’s?” You ask through the tightness in your throat, gently probing to see if she’s open to a conversation. You’ll leave, if she’s unresponsive—you know now what it’s like to be on either end of this strange dynamic. Mor nods her head once, still watching you silently, and you look elsewhere. Then nod your own head. “Nice seeing you,” you say quietly, then move to walk around her. 

“Wait,” Mor whispers at the last second, holding the tray in one hand and gripping your wrist with the other. You recoil sharply when her fingers squeeze your arm, and her hold lightens significantly, but she doesn’t immediately let go, digits stuttering away a second later. “Sorry,” she murmurs, stepping back by half a pace. “It’s okay,” you reply hastily, looking away as you pull your hand back to your body, “you didn’t know.” 

The words hang between you, and silence stretches in the relative darkness of the corridor.

When you manage to raise your gaze to glance at her, you nearly regret the choice—she’s making no effort to conceal the fierce defence in her sharp amber eyes. You’re about to turn to try and leave again though, when she speaks, and the tremor in her voice is pronounced enough to root you to the spot. 

“Tell me why you went to Eris.” 

————

The expression that was on the commander’s face had been enough to set the two of them on edge, Jurian offering Eris one of those slow but rare, slightly insane half-smiles he can make, that often has the spiralling effect distinctive to falling down through a nightmare on whoever’s unlucky enough to have it turned on them. It doesn’t come out often, but that it’s made an appearance this evening is a dark sign, and Lucien silently prays he will not be forced into a position where he will have to default to Eris’s defence in attempts to calm the potential ire that could catch in either of his human comrades. 

The day has proven to be tricky enough on its own—none of them need this added abrasion. 

Vassa strides across the room, taking up in the seat closest to the crackling hearth, the flame making her hair blaze brighter than natural, her already sharp eyes glinting in the firelight. 

It seems he’s the only one actively trying to avoid the conflict that’s brewing in the air, the other two appearing ready and more than content to fight fire with fire. He knows there’s no use explaining the redundancy of wielding that tactic against the male across from the human queen, with fire burning in his very blood. 

“You said you had news,” Vassa demands, charging straight to the point before Lucien’s even had a chance to seat himself on the other end of the sofa, opposite from Jurian. Between his chosen family and his blood-given one. But Eris won’t be rushed, and instead turns his attention to his youngest brother, the fire doing nothing to thaw the cool ice in his amber eyes. “How is your mate, Lucien?” 

Lucien allows himself the space of a blink to recompose himself, vaguely trying to hide his suspicion. It’s never good when he can’t see the end Eris is pursuing, but he’s used to being left in the dark when it comes to the male’s schemes—he just can’t help the instinctive aggression that prickles up the back of his neck at Elain being brought into this. 

“You aren’t one for idle chatter,” Lucien replies, calming the flame that had begun sizzling in his blood, “why don’t we skip ahead and get straight to the point, as this is such a time sensitive matter?” A sinister gleam appears in his oldest brother’s eyes, and he braces himself for whatever whip is about to lash into his skin. “Very well,” Eris says instead, leaning back into his chair, practically sprawling across it, dominating the space he takes up in his typically uncaring, arrogant fashion. But then the air shifts, his expression becoming serious. “How well-informed is your mate of Night Court affairs?” 

“Enough with this evasive subterfuge. What news do you bring?” Vassa demands harshly, Jurian seemingly agreeing with her anticipation to have the male rid of as soon as possible, a disagreeable look simmering in his rough features. But Lucien levels his brother with an evaluating glance, mechanical eye whirring faintly against the dim heat of the fire. “We each have our distances,” Lucien replies evenly, yielding a vague answer. He’s getting the distinct feeling something large has happened, or is about to. Maybe even happening as they speak—slabs of rock knocking into one another, having already been pushed into motion. 

Does this have anything to do with Elain’s visit being postponed? She had been supposed to arrive two days ago, but had had to change their meeting to a later date as she’d had a family matter to oversee. Lucien hadn’t tried to pry. 

“But you’re aware that Nesta Archeron and the General took a vacation to the Day Court?” Eris questions, and again Lucien has the distinct sense he’s missing a piece of the puzzle. A very big, very crucial piece of the puzzle. 

He nods, and braces himself. 

Though even foresight wouldn’t have been enough to prepare him for the news Eris had brought. 

A warning that shook him to his fae bones. 

————

You swallow thickly, frozen stiff as her truthful eyes bore into you. 

You open your mouth, lips ajar, but your throat is much too tight to release any sort of sound. 

Mor doesn’t shift, holding your gaze with a steadiness and conviction you can’t look away from, bound to her by an invisible tether that’s keeping you from hiding or running how you’d like to. “Surely you know…” she whispers, taking in a shallow breath, her lashes fluttering with an almost imperceptible shudder. “Surely you know what he did to me.” 

You give a faint nod of your head. 

Her amber eyes sharpen, and your stomach clenches beneath the look. “So explain yourself,” she utters lowly. “Don’t leave it up to me to pry the answers from you.” 

A seed of fear plants itself in your throat, something cool and slimy rinsing gently down your spine and you’re worried sweat is dripping down your ribs, rolling in salty droplets down the soft inside of your arms where the skin hasn’t yet grown dehydrated and flaky. Fingers tighten absently on the silk of the orange scarf banding around your upper body, tugging at the folds to try and hide the tremor of adrenaline that’s filtered into your bloodstream. 

You swallow thickly, but your throat won’t clear, and you realise that’s because there’s nothing there—no matter how much it feels the opposite. 

“I didn’t…” you clear your throat again. Rip your gaze away. “I didn’t want to disappoint any of you,” you force yourself to answer, voice catching at the pitiful excuse. 

Mor’s silent. 

Silent for long enough you nervously look at her. 

You flinch internally at the expression of horror on her features, shoulders bunching with shame as your brows curve, silently begging for a reply, and not this awful quiet that’s slowly gutting you. 

“You chose…” she swallows past a lump in her throat, and her scent has shifted but you can’t understand what it means, the minute changes that occur within fae bodies. “You willingly went to him? He didn’t even have to try and persuade you?” 

“Mor it wasn’t like that,” you try to clarify hurriedly. “I just—…I just thought it would be—”

“Easier?”

“No! I just thought it would— I don’t know… It would’t cause trouble! I just wanted to do it by myself so I wouldn’t have to bother any of you!”

“Wouldn’t cause trouble?” Mor repeats incredulously, a look of disbelief on her features, like she can’t grasp what you’re saying. “We were ready to help,” Mor bites back sharply, “all you had to do was ask for it. You could have spoken to Feyre, or any of your sisters about your magic. Any of us. You could have come to me, even—but you went to Eris.” Her voice is taut, rife with anger and hurt, but even in the dim light there’s a faint shine in her eyes, belying their wetness. “What made you think that we weren’t enough?” 

“I didn’t want to bother you!” You say back, matching her volume. 

“We’re your family! You’re supposed to bother us!” 

You take a small step back, fighting the humiliating wobble of your lip before you shake your head, fingertips tingling. “No. You’re— You’re Feyre’s family.” 

“Feyre’s your sister,” Mor emphasises, knuckles pushing up from beneath the smooth softness of her skin, pronounced from her bone-white grip on the tray that’s beginning to splinter. “Or is she no longer part of your family either? It seems the only person you even bother to speak to is Elain nowadays. Her and Azriel, anyway.” 

“And what does that matter?” You bite back, hands itching. “What does it matter if I only speak to Elain? Would you prefer I start speaking to you, Mor?” 

“Why not?” She nearly spits, energy being drawn out from the cave where she’d tried to smother it over dinner. “Why not?” You repeat, neither of you completely aware of how your voices are beginning to rise incrementally, ignoring or oblivious to the faint, sickly green light that definitely isn’t coming from the kitchen. “You’d like me to speak with you when this is the kind of conversation we’re having? You want me to be emotional, or vulnerable with you, or ask you for help when you shut me out the moment I do something wrong? When I fail?” 

“I might have shut you out but you didn’t even open up. Didn’t even give us a chance in the first place, don’t pretend otherwise,” Mor spits back. “If you can’t understand the pain you caused me, fine. I can’t help it if you won’t allow yourself to think of us as family. But what about your actual family? What about them?” 

“Don’t you dare try and talk to me about my own family Mor,” you grit out, nails digging into the flaky skin of your palms, heart pounding in your chest. “Haven’t you pried enough?” 

“Did you even think to consider how it would make them feel?” Mor jabs, barrelling ahead. “Can you grasp how hurt Feyre was that you didn’t go to her? Three sisters, and you decided that none of them were good enough? Just because you aren’t their first choice doesn’t mean they can’t be—”

“Mor.” 

Utter silence falls throughout the hallway at the barely restrained interruption. 

Both of you freeze at the sound of the third voice, filled with hissing winds and rasping shadow. Managing to stay calm despite the tempest in her blue-grey eyes. 

Before you, Mor blinks, and you’re unsure if you imagine the way colour drains from her features, still watching you. Further unsure if the faint green light was smothered of its own accord or the dark shadows that seem to be heavier now Feyre has appeared. Now the Cursebreaker has entered. 

Mor turns on her heel, shifting to meet Feyre’s eyes, but quiet stretches between them, and you get the impression a conversation is being had, though not through daemati powers. A single lock of golden hair shifts over Mor’s shoulder, falling out of place, though you can no longer see her expression. And then she nods. Just once, hardly perceptible, even to fae eyes, and you watch with a still pounding heart as the tray vanishes from her hands a second later, heels clicking softly across the floorboards as she wordlessly takes her exit, leaving you and…Feyre, alone in the hallway. 

You shift anxiously on your feet, swallowing thickly. 

“How much of that did you hear?” You ask quietly, looking away again, all the fight drained from you after the brief altercation. You’re entirely unaccustomed with those open arguments, haven’t had one since—well, since that last one with Feyre, that had the sound ward placed on your room. 

Feyre watches you, the previous storm quietened, but her eyes aren’t sparkling as usual. Instead she looks drained. Drained, and tired, and a little wary. “Enough,” she answers.

You shift again, a little begrudging she saw fit to interrupt, like you needed her to intervene. “It was fine, you know…” 

Feyre’s quiet, and you’re unsure if she’s angry. Angry at you for speaking to Mor that way. Angry at you for speaking so loudly when Nyx is probably asleep. Angry at you for not speaking to her first. Angry at you for the long, long list of reasons she should have by now. 

“It did hurt,” she says quietly, and you raise your gaze to meet her own, “that you thought you couldn’t come to us. To me.” 

Your lips purse, and you look away. 

“I was upset with your choice. Disappointed a little. Confused,” she continues in that quiet whisper that could carry with ease across a cavernous hall. “But what Mor said wasn’t true. Not in the way she phrased it.” 

“Feyre, it’s fine,” you say softly. “You don’t need to—”

“Mor knows that’s not true either.” 

Your lips purse again, that quiet stretching between you. 

You want to disintegrate on the spot. 

Fabric rustles slightly, and it’s the only clue you have to Feyre shifting. Then, “it’s late,” she says, moving away from the open wound of a topic. “We should talk more about this in the morning. When Madja comes round too.” She nods her head toward the corridor, but you look at her a little apologetically. “I was supposed to find Elain a brush,” you say, feeling embarrassed, “we broke a plate.” 

“The kitchen will clear it up,” Feyre replies, leaving no room for you to skate back to your older sister. 

So you end up walking with her back to your room. 

It’s dark out, and you can’t help but look forward to settling into bed, even if it hurts sometimes to roll over beneath the covers. That it hurts sometimes to lie on your sides, when your arms press into the sheets, with your weight resting atop them. At least you’re beginning to get used to it, the pain much more tolerable now, despite it having not decreased. 

You’ve both reached the top of the stairs, turning down the hallway that will lead to your bedroom, walking close enough together to make up for the fact your arms aren’t linked—Feyre guessing correctly it would probably hurt—when Feyre speaks. “Are Eris and Azriel the only other people who’ve felt your magic before?” She asks tentatively into the darkness of the house, seemingly having cooled off now you’re further from the spot of altercation. 

“Yes, I think so,” you answer in an equally soft voice. 

“Have either of them every commented on what it feels like?” She asks, and you’re aware how she’s keeping her gaze ahead. You move your eyes to look in the same direction, spotting your bedroom door on the right not far ahead. “Not that I can think of,” you reply, before adding, “though it’s never been…going, for as long as that.” 

Feyre’s silent, and you glance at her through the shadows, wondering what she’s thinking. You can’t read her expression, so resume your looking ahead. 

“When I was in autumn, though,” you begin hesitantly, hardly louder than a whisper, worrying who might overhear the unpleasant reference, “my magic almost…I don’t know…burst? It came through me very suddenly, and forcefully.” You recall the frighteningly large creature that had charged at you while in the woods, how your magic had melted the skin from its flesh. “We were both sick afterwards.” 

“Azriel was sick a lot when he first woke up,” Feyre says faintly, and your stomach clenches with guilt. 

You try to swallow past it, but it seems to remain lodged in your throat, unpleasantly settling in your stomach heavily enough you’re thankful when you reach your door, the evening nearly over with. 

“Why did you ask, by the way?” You question before slipping away into your room, paused over the threshold. 

Feyre glances at you, turned to leave but stopping. “Your magic…I could feel it in the hallway,” she answers, a wary note creeping into her voice. 

She seems disinclined to give anything else, so you again shift awkwardly in the doorway, before gathering the gut to ask, “how did it feel?” 

Something passes behind her blue-grey eyes, shuttering briefly as they close, before reopening. “Like I was dying again,” she answers quietly. 

You stare at her silently, the threshold of your room between you, the silence heavier than it was before. You don’t even know what to say to that. 

She doesn’t give you the time to think of a reply, however, as she releases a sigh. Her throat rolls as she meets your eyes. “Sleep well,” she says, and you catch as her attention dips to your hands, like she wants to take them, to hold them. 

But she doesn’t, instead looking back at you again, throat rolling for the second time.

“I love you,” she says hoarsely, speaking those words that are so sparsely exchanged between the four of you. 

You stiffen, emotion of a different kind tightening your throat, and you nod faintly. 

“I love you, too. Sleep well.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[acourtofquietdreamers]

In ACOWAR, Azriel was faced with the choice of defending Mor or making sure the Night Court’s alliances with Keir and Eris were secured. Azriel chose politics over his feelings for Mor.

“The same thing I told Azriel when I found him snooping through my father’s woods yesterday.” Hurt flared in Mor’s eyes as she whipped her head toward the shadowsinger. But Azriel didn’t so much as acknowledge her as he announced, “When the time comes … we are to support Eris’s bid to take the throne.”

Mor whirled on Azriel. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Azriel held her gaze unflinchingly. Didn’t so much as rustle his wings. “Because you would have tried to stop it. And we can’t afford to lose Keir’s alliance—and face the threat of Eris.”

I snorted. “What about Azriel?” So much for my decision to stay out of it. Mor resumed picking at the melon. “Az … He had a tough call to make, when Eris found him. He …” She chewed on her lip. “I don’t know why I expected him to side with me, why it caught me so off guard.”

Azriel has apparently loved Mor for 500 years, but he still chose politics over her. In his ACOSF bonus chapter, we see Azriel is again faced with the choice of politics to secure alliances or the woman he has feelings for.

“I know." Rhys's eyes flickered. "And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court but also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa." Rhys bared his teeth. "So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her."

Right away we see Azriel push back against Rhys, but the conversation is ended when Rhys pulls rank and threatens Azriel.

Azriel snarled softly. "Snarl all you want." Rhys leaned back in his chair. "But if I see you panting after her again, I'll make you regret it." Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage.

This is clearly not the last we’ll see of this storyline and I think this time, Azriel will choose differently. We’ll see him choose Elain over politics (if she’ll have him of course) and it would be a great opportunity of character growth for Azriel. He’s the male who always puts his court and work first, often at the expense of himself. He feels unworthy of good things and thinks his hands are sullied from the work he does for the Night Court.

Azriel choosing to pursue his feelings for Elain, despite Rhys’s order, would be Azriel for once choosing himself. It would mean he thinks he is worthy of happiness and love for once in his life and that he is willing to fight for it.

[yazthebookish]

Why an Elucien rejected bond storyline would be boring

Years ago Sarah briefly discussed Elain and Lucien's mating bond, she changed her plans from having Nesta as Lucien's mate to Elain since she saw there is a great deal of tension, growth and healing to be found for both of them (together).

In my opinion, we are currently seeing them go through the tension stage where there is this distance and strain on both of them due to recent events. Lucien was sexually assaulted by Ianthe and he is settled in the human lands to support Vassa and Jurian. While Elain has to mourn her human life and also the rejection of Graysen (who used the bond against her) + she also grieved her father. It's pretty reasonable for her to feel that resentment and hostility towards the existence of her mating bond with Lucien.

Part 1: As of ACOSF, does Lucien want Elain or did he move on to Vassa?

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian's heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

I won't make this part long because it's right there in the text. His longing. He still longs for Elain. He still tries. If he is so occupied and in love with Vassa, what is he doing spending Winter Solstice at Velaris to give his mate a gift instead of the woman he apparently "loves".

"But he lives with Vassa!"

The concept of friends sharing a house does not necessarily mean they're all hooking up, unless Lucien's comment on Vassa and Jurian liking to be at each other's throats is to be taken literal (and he's the third wheel in that scenario). I firmly believe Vassa and Jurian would end up together.

It's clear Lucien has eyes for one female only and that's his mate.

Part 2: Lucien doesn't want the bond and he can't stand it

And that's when arguments are formed based on out of context quotes, because context always matters to get the full picture.

But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda. Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she’d been born into. She had teased him, taunted him—seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn’t wanted anything but her. She’d seen him not as a High Lord’s seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been … thrown at him.

Is it not valid for him to feel conflicted about this entire situation because he is still processing the fact that the female who he fell in love with, who had chosen him, saw him, and accepted all of him, who was beheaded because she loved him, is not his mate? but this stranger is? He is trying to make sense of it. He doesn't know Elain yet.

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.

His feelings and thoughts and instincts are all clashing at once. That is much evident in this entire scene.

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes. I can't stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back."

This is often taken out of context to point out that Lucien doesn't want the mating bond or he can't stand to be around Elain. As a mated male, it's overwhelming for him to be around her because his instincts clash and he has to keep himself grounded around her. He doesn't know yet how to approach her or what she expects of him. It's extremely awkward and he can't stand it because he still didn't find a common ground with her.

Using this quote to imply he doesn't like her or stand her is absolutely false within the narrative.

I think so. It wasn't just about what he thought—it was the ... feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And ... sorrow. Longing.

Part 3: Lucien is responsible for her trauma

Hard disagree on this one.

Even canon points out that the one who told the King of Hybern about Feyre's sisters was none other than Ianthe. This is not to defend Tamlin because he gave her an opening to do whatever she liked and did not hold her accountable in ACOWAR.

Now about Lucien, what power did he have over Tamlin's decisions when we have seen that despite being his friend, there is a power imbalance and Tamlin does lash out at Lucien. Lucien is not a character without flaws, but neither Feyre nor Nesta ever blamed Lucien. Even when Elain says to his face that he betrayed them, Lucien immediately says it was a mistake. He doesn't try to absolve his role in it or explain his actions to her, he calls it as it is.

I disagree with the statement that he is responsible for her trauma, Lucien was nothing but a spectator.

"But, but, he yelled at her and announced that they were mates!"

Cassian again stirred—trying to rise, to answer Nesta’s voice as she held my sister and cried her name again and again. But Elain was staring over Nesta’s shoulder. At Lucien—whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one eye of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain— Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”

Right. He yelled at her.

Great reading comprehension.

And it's like we forgot when Rhys said the moment the bond snapped between him and Feyre, if he stayed a second longer he would've damned the consequences and took her with him. As soon as he winnowed back to Velaris the first word he said to Mor after 50 years was "she's my mate".

"Well he shouldn't have said it anyways"

Yeah because it's not like Lucien is a Fae male and the mating bond is something that alters the Fae on a biological level. It overrides their instincts.

Part 4: Elain choosing the mating bond + Lucien will be a disservice to her arc, it won't be a choice unless she chooses Azriel

“but it definitely offers a wealth of things to explore with this concept of freewill and what is true love. Is it something that’s destined? Or is it something that you make? Is it both?”

I like that Sarah briefly discussed the topic of a character's agency when it comes to mating bonds because it's something that has long been discussed in the fandom.

However, I disagree that if Elain chose Lucien it's not truly a "choice" because of the mating bond. We have seen with both Feyre and Nesta that they didn't choose to be with Rhys and Cassian simply because of the bond, the mating bond was just the cherry on top—they loved their mates for who they were.

"Elain's entire journey will be about choice"

Isn't she already making a choice? Isnt she choosing not to pursue the bond? Isnt she choosing to ignore the bond? Isn't she choosing to not reject it? Isn't she choosing how she is living her life in Velaris? Isn't she choosing how she spends her time? Isnt she choosing to garden and help other gardens in Velaris? And I can go on.

Neither Elain or Lucien had a choice in being mated to each other, but the notion that the mating bond left her with no agency over her life is partially incorrect because she is making choices. Yes, the mating does in a way take some of Elain's agency and Lucien's agency since it's something that alters them on a soul-level, but Lucien's agency is often removed from this conversation.

Currently, the ball is in Elain's court and not Lucien's. She currently has the choice of accepting or rejecting the bond.

And in my opinion, "choice" is a theme that is incorporated in the journeys of all the characters, it's not exclusive to Elain. I don't think "choice" is the core of her story because I think Elain's journey should focus on breaking out of the docile and gentle sister mold (not that she stops being gentle, but stopping others from infantilizing her), finding where she truly belongs, realizing who her true found family are, discovering the world (a trip to the continent let's go!).

Part 5: Azriel (warning: controversial)

This will be a bit of a hot topic but I'll do my best to keep it short (it really isn't).

This kind of follows Part 4, but I will tell you why Azriel isn't a "great" choice for Elain.

Yes, they had a sweet companionship and a friendship and that is usually a good foundation for a relationship, but to me there wasn't anything solid or deeper then that. We have to *assume* they had moments off-page, but we also know that they're not spending time together and Azriel confirmed this. So am I going to wait for chapters of flashbacks after flashbacks to see that build up from the past?

Before anyone jumps the gun, I am a hardcore Gwynriel and a hardcore Azriel fan and I fully understand and accept that Azriel is a flawed character who carries so much self-loath. I dont like him with Elain because I believe it's an unhealthy dynamic compared to how lighter and more open he is around Gwyn and this is not something against Elain, it's more tied to how Azriel perceives the logic of 3 sisters + 3 brothers. Dynamics matter and makes a difference between couples because e.g., Chaol and Yrene worked better than Chaol and Celaena. Mismatched pairings exist but it doesn't mean the characters involved wouldn't work out with others.

So how is the male that centered himself in his entire conversation with Rhys instead of prioritizing what Elain wants, is the ultimate choice?

He argued that the Cauldron was wrong because he didn't get the "third" sister while his brothers got her other sisters, and at this point we know Elain is not interested in a mating bond. If she is attracted to Azriel, it has nothing to do with wanting a bond with him because we know how she feels about it but it's Azriel who wants to center the mating bond in it.

So does that mean the relationship from Azriel's perspective wouldn't be complete without a mating bond? Then why is he arguing about this? Wouldn't it be more romantic for him to say I don't care if she is mated or not, I want her for her—but that's not the case here.

Notice that it's Azriel having these discussions about mating bonds and not Lucien who is her mate. and I promise you if it was Lucine having this exact discussion with Rhys, the entire fandom would drag him to no end.

Back to Azriel, so he also says that he hadn't gotten that far with his planning certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to + and said Lucien is not good enough for her and she has not interest in him anyways. Again, he is speaking for Elain when we know one of the big problems surrounding Elain is how others speak for her and assume what she needs. If she doesn't want the mating bond, that's her speech and not Azriel's. I still don't get how people were fine with him speaking for her and I'm not even the biggest Elain fan.

Last but not least, he also was against her scrying despite publicly declaring that no one decides what she can or cannot do and wants to help. Is this truly the "ultimate choice" for Elain? But Lucien's only crime is being mated to her?

Part 6: finally, why Elain and Lucien rejecting the mating bond would be bad storytelling.

So we know that a bond can be rejected, only weakened but it will always exist.

"Elain would have our full protection if she rejects the bond. But it will still be a bond, however weakened, that will trail her for the rest of her existence."

"But he'd know if Nesta were dead. In his heart, his soul, he'd sense it. Would feel it. A mate always did. Even if she'd rejected that bond."

1. There isn't enough time to explore a rejection:

It seems there isn't a ritual or a tradition we are told of about a mating bond rejection, if the female doesn't want it then that's that but it does have a worse impact on males.

As of ACOSF, it's evident Lucien still longs for Elain even if they are distant or occasionally see each other. We know Elain resents the bond but we still don't have her POV to really know what she thinks of Lucien.

What do we get out of a rejected bond with Elain and Lucien? That she just doesn't want him and can say "no"? That she finally has a choice? Even though she is making choices as of the current canon to not explore the mating bond or do anything? I gave examples in Part 4.

And then what? Lucien moved on to Vassa or another female in the next book? That despite a rejection being devastating he's all cool and moved on within months.

No stakes. No challenges. No reprecussions. No consequences. Nothing interesting.

"But it's proof that not every mated pairing works" that would be interesting if we had enough time to discover that but not with two characters that barely spoke to each other and readers have no clue to what kind of dynamic they have.

A rejected mating bond would not be a good story to tell because there wasn't much there to begin with. It's underwhelming.

"I don't want it" "okay cool see you around" < and that's it? Groundbreaking.

"It's a big factor to play into a forbidden romance because Rhys is the obstacle here" easily resolved with one word from Elain and Rhys is removed.

I think Elain and Lucien's mating bond would still be interesting to read about because we never had a mated pairing that knew they were mates but weren't in love yet.

It's giving an arranged marriage trope and the best part about arranged marriage is when the spouses get to know to each other better, they fall harder—I think the tension between Eain and Lucien would be quite delicious and fun to read about as they tip toe around each other and the mating bond.

2. Parallel journeys:

I like what Mor said in ACOFAS and it makes complete sense since it reaffirms that both Elain and Lucien are going on parallel journeys:

Mor drank deeply from her glass. "Stay out of She's not ready, and neither is he, no matter how many presents he brings."

I lifted a brow. "Snoop."

Mor leaned back against the steps, utterly un-repentant. "Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her."

3. Promised HEAs:

SJM already stated that each book going forward will follow different pairings and by the end of their book they'll get their HEA. That's the standard traditional romance formula.

A mate rejection, especially in standalone books, are miserable. Not enough time is given to navigate through it or move on and it also sets an unrealistic and cheap outcome that the other mate could easily move on from the soul-level rejection. No, that doesn't entitle a mate to force their other mate to accept the bond because it would affect them personally, it's just something I think that needs more than a book to discover through the POVs of the characters involved.

This is why a mate rejection is a very rare and an unpopular trope in fiction. There was a temporary mate rejection in the Zodiac Academy series that scarred the ZA fandom because it's depressing.

You have Fated Mates authors like Kresley Cole who published around 21 books with each book including the Fate Mate trope. That's one of ACOTAR's trademark.

Till this day, every SJM character that found out about the mating bond ended up with their mate one way or another. It's an SJM trademark at this point.

4. Then which rejected bond would Sarah explore?

In my opinion, the true rejected bond story that would be extremely emotional, tragic and powerful is the story of Helion and Lady of Autumn.

What they had is the definition of a forbidden romance. Lady of Autumn was married to a High Lord from her Court and Helion wasn't even a High Lord of the Day Court then.

The stakes are extremely high they could've triggered a war between Day Court and Autumn Court. Even though a mating bond triumphs marriage, Lady of Autumn still has children with Beron. She chose her children over her mate in the end. She had to reject the bond because everything stood against them.

While this is currently theoretical but it's strongly pointed at in canon that they're mates.

This makes for a better story of a Rejected Mating Bond because enough time passed to see what were the repercussions, the consequences of their actions and how they both suffered. Do they find their way back to each other in the end or does one of them for whatever reason loses their life? Did Helion have to seek other people to distract him from not being with his mate and her not choosing him? Did their bond weaken?

Conclusion:

I didn't expect this to be long but I hope you enjoyed reading this "essay". The rejected mates storyline is controversial and so many readers feel strongly about it. Everything here reflects my own thoughts and why I think a Rejected Mating bond wouldn't be an interesting one to discover with Elain and Lucien.

I deserve another cup of coffee and on my way to get me one haha. I apologize for any typos in advance.

[animezinglife]

I think Elain would thrive having her own circle. Feyre has Rhys and the Inner Circle of the Night Court. Nesta has Cassian and the Valkyries. Both women have a mate they know and love, but they also have friends of their own. Yes, it could be argued that Feyre and Rhys have the same friends, but she also has her art studio and business partner. She's branched out. She's built a full, fulfilling life, and has had the freedom to.

So has Nesta. She has Cassian. She has Gwyn and Emerie. She has her own home and her own purpose.

Elain was social as a human. She had friends, and she had a fiance she thought loved her. All of that was ripped away from her when she was Made.

She will always love her family--the Night Court is part of her extended family now as well, but she needs something that is hers. She needs her gardens, but she also needs her own purpose, her own people, her own love, and her own life.

She's trying to bloom where she's planted, but she can't. It's not working. She faces the window because she needs sunlight and a bigger world beyond it. She wants more--she's said as much.

If/when she does start falling for Lucien, she will flourish. The broader the world becomes again, the more trusting she becomes of herself/gains confidence, and a growing sense of purpose and fulfillment.

I could see her befriending Vassa and Jurian--two humans who absolutely know what she's going through.

I could see her warming to Lucien and opening up to him. Realizing what a genuinely good, sweet, gentle, and intelligent male he is. Watching him seamlessly and cleverly maneuver through a crowd like the most regal and elegant of emissaries, and tying back his hair, rolling up his sleeves, and catching fish in the stream with his bare hands and knowing exactly how to cook it. Being thoroughly overwhelmed by how good he looks in the firelight while they camp, and trusting herself--trusting him--enough that she realizes she's falling in love.

I could see her immediately hitting it off with the Lady of Autumn (and the Lady loving her/treating her like the daughter she never had). They would, of course, tease Lucien good-naturedly.

Helion would love her, and I think he would immediately see through the pretty face and know there's more to her than gardens and frivolous parties.

I could see Eris genuinely liking her too and being comically warm towards her in comparison to how he treats others (and Lucien never being entirely sure whether this is partly to get under his skin or not).

If I'm being honest, I could see Tamlin liking her quite a bit too once he gets past the whole Archeron thing and whatever hurt/anger he still feels towards Lucien.

I want to see her have it all.

[mycadences]

Azriel desperately wants his mate. Elain deeply resents her mating bond.

Azriel's work requires him to kill. Elain's gardening brings new life.

Azriel carries out torture. Elain abhors violence.

Azriel lives in shadows. Elain thrives in light.

Neither of them can give any of these up without changing a core part of their identity. They don't need to change. They shouldn't need to change for each other. Their paths are not the same -- not their past, their present, or their future.

Contrast this to:

Azriel thinks he's unworthy of love and believes that his hands are sullied. Gwyn thinks she's unworthy because she failed Catrin and thus does not wear her Invoking Stone.

Azriel is a master strategist and incredibly competitive, as noted by Cassian. Gwyn was determined to be the first to finish the obstacle course, as noted by Nesta.

Azriel answered affirmatively to Gwyn's question of whether he sings. Gwyn has a beautiful voice and sang frequently throughout ACOSF.

Azriel witnessed Gwyn's greatest trauma of her sexual assault which was also the day her twin sister was killed. Gwyn witnessed Azriel's greatest insecurity of what he has to do as the NC's spymaster when he slaughtered all the Hybern soldiers.

Azriel was the first in his year alongside his chosen brothers to reach Ramiel's summit and become Carynthian. Gwyn was the first female in history alongside her chosen sister to reach Ramiel's summit and become Carynthian.

Or even:

Elain said herself that she needed sunshine. Lucien is the son of the High Lord of the Day Court.

Elain has been described as not fitting the Night Court. Lucien is part of the "Band of Exiles", believing he has nowhere to go.

Elain is described as sociable and (prior to her transformation at least) enjoys making friends and attending parties. Lucien was an emissary twice and literally has connections to everyone and everywhere.

Elain is a Seer who sees things no one else can. Lucien's mechanical eye grants him a similar power.

Elain is the fawn. Lucien is the fox.

Or even:

Vassa is one of the mortal queens who has become intertwined with the Fae. Jurian is a former general of a human army who is also involved with the Fae.

Vassa is enslaved to the immortal Death-god Koschei. Jurian was enslaved to the immortal "High Queen" Amarantha.

Vassa's curse binds her to Koschei's lake. Jurian's soul was bound to Amarantha's ring.

Vassa is forced to undergo physical transformations between her avian and human form. Jurian was forced to undergo a physical transformation from an eyeball to a human.

Vassa was betrayed by the other Mortal Queens. Jurian was betrayed (in his eyes) by his lover Miryam.

The parallels between Gwynriel - Elucien - Jassa are really quite obvious. You can't tell me that all of these are unintentional. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern...

"His name is Lucien" 🤝 "See you later, Shadowsinger" 🤝 "At each other's throats"

[nikethestatue]

People who obsessively argue that Nuala and Cerridwen aren't Elain's 'real friends' and in the same breath proclaim that she should have Lucien's friends as her 'newfound family', and those friends consist of Jurian, Vassa, Tamlin and Graysen I just wonder how much you really 'like' Elain? because all Eluciens 'like' Elain, don't they?

[acourtofthought]

An Elucien book could possibly have -

A post in collaboration with @crazy-ache @zenkindoflove @goghwilde @starsreminisce

Lucien telling Elain stories about her father

Vassa telling Elain stories about her father

Elain becoming an owl shifter

Elucien performing in the Great Rite.

The LoA falling in love with Elain after never having had a daughter and Elain falling in love with her, finally having a maternal figure who sees the strength she possesses

Elain and Lucien outsmarting Koschei with their intelligence.

Elain and Lucien being able to open up to one another about their first loves that were then lost and the depression they experienced as a result

Band of Exiles sass

Helion's excitement over Elain being a conversationalist just like him

A smutty scene with Elucien against a tree

A smutty scene with Elucien in a field of flowers

A smutty scene where Lucien shows Elain just how good he really is with that mouth when he's using it for something other than talking

Elain helping Lucien through his guilt, helping him see that he is not to blame for Jesminda's death.

Lucien being able to stop Beron from harming Elain after not being able to do the same for Jesminda.

Lucien looking over to see Elain wearing the pearl earrings he gifted her.

Lucien looking over to see Elain wearing only the pearl earrings he gifted her.

Lucien looking over to see Elain wearing only the pearl earrings he gifted her and his jacket.

Elain curing the illness plaguing the Pegasus foals

Elain breaking Vassa's curse

Lucien demonstrating exactly why Azriel would not in fact defeat him with little effort

Elain admitting to Lucien that she was angry with how perfect his first Solstice gift to her was when she was trying to fight the pull she had to him

Elain telling Lucien that she was angry at herself for feeling disloyal to Graysen when she first met his eye and found him the most handsome thing she had ever seen.

Lucien being delighted to find that after the many months of Elain keeping herself at a distance by not talking, she has the ability to put him in his place with her verbal sparring.

Elain and Lucien playing practical jokes on Jurian

Elain restoring the people of Springs faith in it's leadership, whoever that maybe be.

Elain creating life like Isabela Madrigal, Te Fiti, or Cthona

Lucien coming into his own High Lord power and becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Elain telling Graysen he never deserved her.

Lucien and Eris resolving their past / brother bonding.

Lucien and Eris defeating Beron and finally avenging their mother and Jesminda.

Elain hugging Eris which might be the first hug he's been given in a very long time

Elain and Lucien feeding treats to the Pegasus

Elain and Lucien feeding treats to the smoke-hounds

Elain and Lucien riding on a horse together

Elain and Lucien riding on a Pegasus

Lucien's first hug with his mother in centuries

Elain and Lucien visiting Helion's libraries to do research

Lucien surprising Elain with a visit to the tulip fields in the continent. When she turns to him in delight and surprise she'll ask him how he knew. Lucien will tell her that her father told him, that he wanted to take her one day but since he no longer could, Lucien wanted to fulfill both of their dreams.

The reader once again getting a glimpse into Elain's mind but this time, the buds are in full bloom after accepting her mating bond.

Lucien having learned of human customs and getting down on one knee to propose to Elain.

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce Snippet

He kissed both her cheeks, bending even lower to raise Nesta’s right hand, pressing her cold knuckles to his brow in solemn salute. “Nesta Archeron,” Jurian said, like her name was twice its length, a foreign weighted history, “You ready to know whose blood runs in your veins?” Nesta, who had lived this particular conversation thrice over now, only shook her head. Touched between his brows in curious, only half-understood benediction, allowing him to step away. “Jurian. You survived the fires.” His smile was only in his eyes, rainwater grey searingly bright. “You wouldn’t waste time sending messages to corpses.” Nadia, from where she’d stopped three swaggering paces into the room, shedding her coat and swords with utterly false carelessness, huffed out a rough laugh. It was a bizarre comfort to see her, unchanged- strong brown hands dense with tattoos that bloomed into looser patterns up her arms, those knives and that hideous leather vest, remnants of a life that seemed nearly simple, now. So very far away. She cast a scathing look at Nesta’s guard, the Illyrian busy visibly wishing murder upon Jurian, his entire focus held on the distance between their bodies. “Protection has gotten more interesting,” she said, tone blithe, “Where’s your Vanserra?” “Honeymoon.” Nesta let herself lean back onto the desk, hand behind her body biting into its ash lip. Dawn, Winter, reconnaissance. Elain walking underhill in mortal wedding pearls, Lucien at her back. A heaved sigh, Jurian’s head oh so briefly dipped. “Wars and weddings, my lady. Blessings.” “When you were our age, humans couldn’t marry.” “Nor does he believe in any damned gods,” Nadia crossed the room fae quick, expression wicked as the guard flinched, stopping right alongside Nesta. A test, twofold- Nesta didn’t pull a knife as Nadia had once taught her, the legionnaire didn’t start in on violence without orders. “Don’t believe the prayers, unless they’re bloody.”

[theshadowsingersraven]

It's interesting to me how putting on a mask to fool the people around you and complete your mission is something people totally grasp for the things Rhysand had to say and do (same) but not for Jurian? As if he also wasn't pretending to be on Hybern's side? As if he also wasn't trying to make sure Feyre, Elain, Azriel, and Briar all got out of the Hybern camp alive?

And funnily enough, the person who somehow gets the most slack for Jurian playing his role and sounding despicable enough to ally with Hybern is...Lucien?

Please be so for fucking for real.

If you can find Rhys palatable for Under the Mountain upon realizing who he was later, you can do the same for Jurian saying foul shit about Elain in an effort to sound like someone foul enough to ally with Hybern. Do we not remember even Beron, Beron fucking Vanserra mentioning how Hybern treats females at the High Lords' meeting in WaR? You think anyone can just continue to drink their respect women juice without their cover being blown?

If you can't reconcile that fact, then just be honest that it's not about what Jurian actually said about Elain. It's about his proximity to Lucien and how you need to pretend Lucien is worse than he actually is.

[pit-and-the-pen]

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Think of this chapter as an apology for the last chapter <3 I split this into two parts so hopefully, I don’t have as long between them! (also girly finally has a name, let's just pretend I've been using it the whole time...)

Warnings: Mentions of not eating and weight loss, grief (Rhys is not doing well without Feyre),

WC: 12k

After Rhys and I got back to the house, things seemed better. Madja had already arrived, diligently working on Cassian’s shredded wings. She had knocked him out with a hefty dose of sleeping tonic, hopefully enough to keep out the worst of the pain while she healed what she could. 

Azriel had been moved to his room, and once Madja confirmed Cassian would be able to fly again, I didn’t leave his side. It felt strange. To not have his head in my lap without his voice or seeing his hazel eyes. No snarky comments. He stayed asleep as his body cleared out what little poison had found its way into his blood, the wound in his chest already looking better. I protested any time someone suggested that I move from my spot. So Rhys and Mor brought me food, leaving on the nightstand without a word. 

A small part of me felt guilty for not being there for Rhys. For not sitting by Cassian while his wings healed. The mating bond was so new that I wasn’t surprised by his small outbursts or hard stares. I didn’t blame him. I tried not to let my mind drift to what I would have done to the King of Hybern, to Tamlin and Lucien, if Azriel didn’t make it. Even then, it wasn’t the same. Azriel wasn’t my mate. But staring at his sleeping face, I accepted that whatever I did feel for him had long passed the childish crush I harbored for so long. 

It was days before he even twitched, before any semblance of movement came from the figure in the bed. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t take my eyes off of him for a single second. The last time he ended up with an arrow in his chest. And gods help me if he doesn't wake up. No. He’s going to wake up. 

As if the mother herself heard my words. There was a faint twitch in his wings. Then before I knew it he shot upright in his bed. Chest heaving as his head whipped around. My hands were instantly wrapped around his. “Az. Az.” He shoved me off, eyes wild. I tried to get my feet under me but I wasn’t expecting the sudden push and I found myself on my back on the ground, a harsh cry falling from my lips at the contact. The sound of Azriel’s labored breathing filling the space. I went to pull myself up before shadows started to fly around the room. In perfect time with his rapid breaths. I sat there, utterly unable to think of anything to do besides look. My body acted before my mind caught up with it. I reached out a shaky hand for one of the black tendrils. Sliding my fingers over it and the flurry of movement stopped. “Azriel?” I spoke, voice shaky. 

“Melody.” He all but whispered back. Voice caressing my name. The shadows retreated back to Azriel. Staying close by his side. I could finally see him, see those hazel eyes staring back at me. I pushed myself off the ground and stayed still only long enough for him to see that it really was me. Then I launched myself against his chest. My arms wound around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. I didn’t think as I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. But his arms wound around my waist instead of pulling away. 

“You’re safe. It’s okay. You’re home.” I muttered into his chestnut curls. Rocking back and forth on my heels as I held him. Eventually I untangled myself from him. His hands stayed on the small of my back. Holding me close to him still. 

“How do you feel?” I worked up the courage to ask him. 

“Did that really happen? It wasn’t just a bad dream?” 

“I’m so sorry-”

“You’re sorry? Melody. I almost got us all killed. If I had known Jurian was going to have an ash arrow…”

“Absolutely not. You’re not blaming yourself for any of that. Not when I almost lost you.” My voice broke and the familiar sting in my jaw had me turning away from him. “Cauldron boil me. I thought you were going to die. So you don’t get to sit here and blame yourself for not knowing everything that could happen in the world. Tamlin fucked us over. End of story.” I fought the tremble in my voice. Fought the rising panic at the twisted slideshow of him half conscious in my arms. 

“Hey. Look at me. Princess, I’m right here.” He raised a tentative hand to tap at my cheek. I might have been imagining things but I swore a single tear rolled down his cheek. I let his words sink in. He’s here. He’s alive. Isn’t that exactly what I had been praying for all week. For him to wake up and be okay. So then why the hell was I crying. 

“I’m sorry. You’re the one that's injured and I’m crying.”

“No need to cry over me, sweet girl. Save your tears for someone important.” 

“Azriel” My tone is deathly serious. “Do not think for a second that you aren’-”

A knock on the door interrupted my words. Making me jump out of his hold. I took a large step back before Cassian’s head peaked around the frame of the door. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living. Az.” Cassian walked into the room and I held back a gasp. I haven't seen much of Cassian outside of those first few hours. The hours where Madja was frantically trying to piece his wings back together. But I think I overestimated just how well Madja could heal, or underestimated how hard wings would be to heal. Something. Because I was not expecting to see every single inch of Cassian's wings covered in bandages. He seemed  to trace both of our eyes. He tried to hide the wince as he gave them a little flap. 

“Looks worse than it feels.” He gritted out. 

“I doubt that.” Azriel mutters. I go to elbow him before I stop myself. My eyes instead landed on the angry red mark right over his heart. Perfectly poised. I feel my breathing speed up as I really see it for the first time in a week. 

“Should you even be walking around?” Azriel chuckles, but concern laces his every word. Cassian laughs before the sound cuts off with a grunt. 

“Rhys told us you were awake. So I wanted to see you with my own eyes. It’s right back to bed rest after this.” 

Azriel makes a noise in agreement. 

“Cassian?” Azriel starts. “I’m glad you’re still here.” His voice sounded thick. A slight wobble that makes my chest pang. 

“I’m glad you’re still here too. Although we both know it’ll take more than that to get us both.” 

A sob bubbled through my lips. I turned my face away as the two Illyrian warriors trained their eyes on me. I held up my hand, signaling them to give me a minute. 

“How about.” I took a deep breath. “We don’t go around trying to tempt fate right now. Just be happy you both are here. End of sentence.” 

“Princess.” 

“No, I know. I’m happy you’re feeling a little better Cassian. Now get your ass back in bed. I’ll…I’ll grab you both food.” I said, suddenly needing to do something with my hands. I shoo Cassian back across the hall to his room and I did not leave until he propped up with his pillows again. I shot him a glare that told him to not move and then headed towards the kitchen. 

I didn’t do much. Just heated up some pieces of bread and cut thin slices of cheese, some leftover meat from the fridge. Not nearly enough for two full grown Illyrains that were still trying to heal, but enough to get them through until I could cook dinner. 

I walked into Cassian’s room first. Cassian was nothing but smiles as I handed him the plate. 

“I might get hurt more often if it means I get to see you playing nurse princess.” 

“Cassian-”

“Don’t. I know. We’re both here. We’re all here.” He flinched slightly. “Well not all all of us but she’s okay at least.” He was rambling and I leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead, deciding against giving him one of his signature hugs. 

“No more dying on me, General. Do you hear me?” 

“Yes ma’am.” I point to the plate and mime eating before I turn around and carry the other plate to Azriel’s room. 

I knock despite the open door, not wanting to startle him. But his shadows are already nudging the door open wider for me. The fae lights cast a small glow to the room, the curtains still drawn tight. I place the tray of food on the small table beside his bed and sit down next to him. He doesn’t say much, just letting us sit in comfortable silence. 

“You should eat.” I say eventually. He chuckles. 

“I’ll survive.” 

“Az.”

“Just stay with me?” He asks, and how am I to deny him. I curl up closer to his side. I don’t know when it happens but feeling him next to me sends me into a dreamless sleep. 

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

The next few days pass the same. I help the boys with whatever they need. Cassian needed more help than Azriel due to his balance issues. Eventually Cas was able to walk without my arm to support him. We walked back and forth along the long hallways in the townhouse. We spent hours with him just flexing his wings up and down, up and down, until he was sweating and wincing with pain.  

Rhys is busy with literally anything else it seems. He is only in the house long enough to change clothes and maybe eat whatever I’ve left out for him. He’s never in his room for more than a few minutes. At this point I’m surprised that he has any hair left with how much he’s been running his hand through it. Not once has anyone dared mention Feyre. No ideas have been shared on how to get her back. I know that the mating bond wasn’t the one that was snapped between them but I can see the way the distance is wearing him thin. 

Rhys will push down emotions until they nearly kill him and I had enough of it, I catch him one day trying to sneak out to do gods knows during the late hours of the night. The lights flicker on in the hallway as I sit down at the large table in the kitchen. 

“Hello.” Is all he says to me, turning to leave again. 

“Sit down Rhys.” I sigh to him. He tries to pretend he doesn’t hear me. “Rhysand. Sit your ass down in this chair right now or so help me, I’m following you wherever you go.” 

He flinches at my tone. The voice that makes me sound eerily similar to our mother. I see his shoulder rise as he takes a deep breath and he sits in the chair that I kicked out with my foot. 

“You’re not sleeping, you’re hardly eating. When was the last time you even bathed?” I could see the dark circles under his eyes, the slightly sick pallor of his tan skin. “Everyone else might be content to let you destroy yourself but I’m not going to sit back and watch it happen.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares blankly at a spot behind my shoulder.

“Killing yourself isn’t going to bring her back.” I whisper, scared to say it too loudly. He flinches.

“Melody-Please.” His voice breaks. 

“No. And you can’t keep blaming yourself that it happened-” He opens his mouth to try to interrupt me but I hold up a hand. “You aren’t going to sit here and tell me that’s not exactly what’s happening here. You’re punishing yourself for what happened at Hybern. No of us saw it coming. We got sold out by the one person we should have seen it coming from. But guess what, it happened. And we all survived. Be happy for that. Be happy that you didn’t have to take home your brother's lifeless body. Be happy that Cassian was able to keep his wings, and most of all, be happy that Feyre is somewhere where we know she’s safe.”

“BUT SHE SHOULD BE HERE!” His fist slams down on the table, I don’t even flinch. “I should have been able to protect her. The one thing in life I swore I would do, I wasn’t able to do. And now she’s back at that house that she hated. The one that he locked her away in and there’s nothing that I can do.” His head slumps, his voice breaking. 

“So you do what you can. And most importantly you remember why she did it. She didn’t put herself back in Tamlin’s arms because she was trying to save herself. Rhys,” I place my hand over his, still clenched in a fist. “She did it for you, for us, for her real home. She did so that we could come back.” He takes a deep breath, his head shaking slightly. 

“I should have been enough to protect her. Why do the people I love always get hurt?” He speaks like it’s a confession. And the words sound so foreign to me, that self hatred I know he hides away. That I feel tears well in my eyes. 

“Rhys-” 

“I wasn’t enough to save you. I couldn’t save our other sister, I couldn’t save my own mother. Cassian and Azriel should have died in Hybern. I should have died under the mountain.” 

“It’s not your job to save everyone.” And once again he’s shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry that you’ve felt like this for so long. But we’re your family. No one thinks you're a failure Rhys. If you do, fine, that’s your own guilt to process and I won’t tell you what to feel but I know I don’t see you like that. And no one else sees you like that. We’re by your side through all of this not because you’re our high lord but because we love you. We’re in this together and we always have been.” And he looks at me, really looks at me and I see nothing more than my older brother. The boy he used to be before he ever thought he would be high lord. The scared boy in Illyria who took in strays because he cared so much. 

“Now, you can sit here and continue to feel sorry for yourself, continue to waste away while we’re forced to watch, or you can make sure all of this means something.”

The difference was night and day. Cassian’s wings were getting stronger every day. We had taken to him training by carrying me up to the house of wind then back down. He didn’t make it the first time but within a week he was able to do it without breaking a sweat. Azriel and Rhys were watching the other courts. Spy networks to try to figure out plans and paths for the other courts. 

Rhys took over for what Azriel couldn’t do. Rhys didn’t open up more than he did that night, but I saw the way his face seemed more relaxed. His shoulders were a little less tense and it wasn’t perfect but it was a start. We’d focus on all the other stuff after the war. And the war was coming whether we liked it or not. He had only been gone for half a day when I felt the image slam into my head. Cassian and Azriel were sitting next to me, one of the few moments that the three of us were together. Feyre being slashed across the face by Eris. Running, ice cracking under her. She was in Winter. Close enough from the border that we could be there in a matter of minutes. 

“Shit.” I pushed myself up to my feet, not caring as the chair clattered to the ground at my feet. Cassian was out of the house faster than I could blink.Azriel following right behind.l I was left on my feet staring at the open door of the house.

I’m on my way back. She’s going to be okay. Rhys' voice filled my head and I could hear the desperation in his voice, the sheer force at which he was rushing to get back to the house. 

I sat and waited, picking at my nail bed until they started bleeding, watching the scabs form only to pick them back open. Blood was caked under my nails by the time I heard the beating of wings. They’re back. I practically screamed in my head. I felt the sigh of relief from my brother. 

Less than 5 minutes. 

My throat felt tight as I took in Feyre. Her clothing was torn and dirty. Hair a tangled mess. But she was alive. Alive and home. I sent the image of her standing in front of me to my brother. 

“Feyre.” I choked out. And her small smile was all I needed to launch myself into her arms. She seemed taken aback by my sudden movement, arms hanging limply by her side until they wrapped around my shoulders. 

“Welcome home.” I whispered, clutching her closer. I finally pulled away from her, giving her a quick once over for any major injuries. She seemed okay, safe for a gash that was already healing in her arm. 

“Eris had her cornered.” I felt the blood leave my face at Cassian’s words. 

“How did she-”

“You think I would let her die?”

The relief that had rushed through me was quickly pushed out of my body as I caught a glimpse of the long red hair that trailed behind her. 

“Get out.” My tone was enough to make Lucine freeze in his tracks. His eyes locked with mine and I felt Azriel by my side in an instant. “How dare you show your face in this city. In my house.” I felt that darkness rattling in its cage. Begging to be released. Genuine fear flashed across Lucines face. I risked a glance at Feyre and I saw the startled look on her face. 

“He saved me.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he did. I care about what he’s done.” They both flinched. 

Feyre said my name and it was only the near silent footsteps of my brother entering the room that stopped me from wrapping my hands around Lucien’s throat. I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. 

“Don’t think this is over.” I gritted out to Lucien who took a deep breath of his own. 

Rhys cleared his throat from behind me and I had the sense to step out of the way. Letting Feyre see her mate. And when their eyes met, she collapsed onto the floor. Sobs already echoing through the room. Rhys was on his knees in front of her in a matter of seconds, holding her face in his hands before they whispered to each other and he pulled her lips to his. 

I was happy for them, but I would be happier if I was anywhere but that room. 

“Find somewhere else to be.” Rhys didn’t even pull away from Feyre long enough to make sure we heard him. And I didn’t need to be told twice. I pushed the two gawking Illyrians out of the house, Mor grabbing Lucien’s arm and towing him behind her. 

“Gods.” Cassian mumbled under his breath as I pushed him a little too hard. Azriel glanced at me, silently asking if I was okay. I thought for a second and shrugged. 

Mor winnowed all of us to the outskirts of the house of wind, Azriel flying me up to the door. 

The moment we entered the house, I had the front of Lucien’s shirt in my hands. 

“You fucking bastard. You scheming, slimy bastard.” I shoved him so hard he fell onto his back, scooting across the floor as I stalked over him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” Lucien was silent. The room was silent. The redhead in front of me just hung his head, shaking it slightly. 

“I don’t have one.” HIs voice shook but I didn’t let it freeze the anger burning through me.

“Then you better start explaining what the hell happened.”

So he did. 

“Despite what you think, Tamlin does love Feyre. In his own way and after everything with Ama- With her” He corrected himself, not willing to say the witch queen's name. “He was so scared. His court was, is, in ruins. It looked bad to have a partner going back and forth. He tried to get information out of Feyre. Layouts and locations and plans. But she only gave us the same excuse that she didn’t remember. Saying that Rhysand was playing with her memory. They were insignificant details. But it terrified Tamlin. To think that he was sending his mate into danger whenever she left his side. If we had known what was really happening..”

“You would have never let her leave.” Lucien had the decency to look ashamed.

“He got more and more worried. Was searching all over for any way to break the bond. Every time he thought he might have found a way, it was a dead end. So he got more scared, but also was spending more time away. I was too. I saw through the happy act she was putting on but I couldn’t do anything to help. I didn’t know what she wanted, what she was waiting for. She started talking to me but that only made Tamlin more and more mad. She was looking for any way to help us and Tam pushed her away everytime.” The words kept coming. 

“Then he lost it. She had threatened to follow us. To leave the house, Tamlin was so scared he was shaking. The thought of her getting hurt again because of him was eating him alive. I don’t think he even began to think of what locking her in the house would do. Neither of us did.” He looked to Mor now, for the first time. 

“I’m glad you got her. She was drowning and there was nothing I could have done.”

“You could have stood up to him.” I said bluntly. 

“I couldn’t help you. Why do you think I could suddenly help her.”

“Because you should have.”

“And then what? I piss off Tamlin enough that he kicks me out of the court, thinking I’m making another move on Feyre. Don’t give me that look, he thought when she first got there but I would never. If he gets sick of me, then where do I go? Not back to Autumn. And who would take me in, everyone’s afraid of my father. Afraid of Tamlin. I would be utterly fucked. So I sat by yet again and watched every day as she got worse and worse. And I hate myself for it.”

“So how does all of this become helping Hybern?”

“Tamlin lost it when he came back and found Feyre gone. He searched the whole court for her, even sent people into summer to look for her. We searched for days and then he caught that familiar whiff of Rhysands power and he truly lost his mind. Again, we’d been hearing how awful he was to her but he knew he couldn’t just march into the Night Court and get her. And now I know we wouldn’t have found her anyways because she was here. He tore the entire manor apart. He just…he’s not himself anymore. I don’t know what happened to my friend but something under the mountain changed him.”

“Good. He could burn the entire place to the ground and he still wouldn’t have gotten all he deserves.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t. Fucking. Speak. For. Me” I hissed at him. He raised his hands in surrender. 

“Hybern walked right in. Offered Tamlin a way to get Feyre back and stopped listening after that. Plus Ianthe did what she does best. She saw an opportunity for more power and she jumped on it. Whispering to Tamlin how everything would be better if we joined Hybern. We, I, never wanted to go that far. But once Tam get’s something in his head…”

“It’s like talking to a brick wall.” I finished for him. He nodded and I let out a heavy sigh. Everyone held their breath as I reached out a hand to pull Lucien off of the floor.

“Thank you-”

“If you take one step out of line. One hint that you’re going to go running back to him. And I’ll gut you where you stand.” Was all I said as I walked away from the group. I felt all their eyes on me and I didn’t care. I stormed up the stairs to my room and slammed the door. I was acting like an upset babe but so be it. I can feel the anger coming off of me in waves. Explanation or not, it doesn’t undo everything that Tamlin has done. The image of Feyre’s face as she had to watch her sisters being thrown into the cauldron, not knowing if they would survive, was something that haunted my dreams. A feeling of being helpless to defend your own blood. It boiled my blood. Despite Lucien claiming he wanted to stop him, he didn’t. And that’s the only thing that matters. He could have but it was uncomfortable for him to do, so he did what he does. Sat back and let it happen. Playing the nice guy when Tamlin wasn’t around. I can’t count the amount of times Lucien held me as I cried only to let the same thing happen again and again. But he’s here. He got Feyre back. 

Part of me was more angry about that. He got her out. And I’m thankful that he did but why was she any different? What had been so bad that he decided to leave another court. I pushed the thought away, choosing to sit in my own rage instead of nurturing the little kernel of sympathy that I was feeling for Lucien. He made his bed, he can fucking rot in it for all I care. At least that’s what I told myself as I flung myself onto the bed and pulled the covers over my head. Blocking out the faint knocks I heard on my door. 

Of course it wasn’t that easy. I felt the bed dip as someone sat down next to me. I peeked my head out from the covers long enough to see Mor. Her face was tight. Eyebrows pulled close to her nose and her teeth clenched. 

“I wish you would have hit him at least.” She joked and I pulled the blanket back over my head. “Okay, wrong thing to say.” She gave a tense laugh. “It was weird seeing him.” Her voice was suddenly small. I wanted to kick myself in the head. I never once considered what it would be like for Mor to see him. Her own memories that would have dragged back up. I pulled the covers back down, looking at her now. 

“I don’t remember much, but he was the one that called Azriel for me that day.” She was picking at her nails, chipping off pieces of her perfect manicure. 

“I’m not saying I’m happy he’s here. But there’s good in him, as good as any of the Vanserras can be.”

“That makes it worse.”

“Why?”

“Because he could be good. But good people can’t stand around and watch bad things happen.”

“You know it’s not that simple.”

“Amarantha almost killed me for doing it. So yes, I do know. But I also know that I would rather die than watch the people I love get hurt.”

“Then you’re better than most people. Congratulations.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice and I fought the urge to kick her out of the room. I know she was hurting, the way her eyes were flickering around the room, avoiding mine, let me know as much. So I let her bitch at me. If it made her feel better. I pulled the blanket back a little more, patting the area next to me. She thought about it for a second before she crawled next to me. I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her. 

“When did everything get so damn complicated?”

“Get?” I asked and she laughed. A real laugh this time and I found myself laughing right along with her. 

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

We all found ourselves in the house of wind that night. None of us were brave enough to try to see if the coast was clear at the townhome. 

“I wouldn’t blame them if we didn’t see them for a month.” Cassian said as he drained the contents of his glass. 

“Gross. Okay. It’s bad enough I had to see…all of that. But don’t remind me.”

“Aw sorry Princess. I forgot we had virgin ears in the room.”

“Knock it off you oaf.” I threw a pillow in his general direction. “He’s still my brother. I don’t want to hear your speculation about his sex life.” I cringed even saying the words. 

“Prude.” Cassian snorted. 

“Asshole.” I countered.  

“Gods why don’t you two kiss already, it would be quicker than listening to this all night. Isn’t that what you all do here anyways?” Lucien chirped from the corner of the room. 

I was about to snap at him when a deep rumbling growl filled the room. 

“Shut your mouth Lucien. I won’t stop her if she goes for your throat this time.” Azriel bit out. 

I felt a shameful blush creep over my cheeks as Azriel defended me. I wanted to scream how wrong Lucien was. Wanted to run my hands down Azriel’s perfect face and let him know exactly what I thought of him. It had taken one touch from him earlier to calm me down. Right as he had to haul me off of Lucien earlier.The redhead asked one question about Elain and I lost it. 

Screamed at him all over again. For his audacity to say we stole her away from him.

 “I don’t know what I expected from the night court.” Muttering under his breath had me launching myself at him. Hands already reaching for his neck. And it was truly only Azriel that stopped me. He picked me up like I weighed nothing. Threw me over his shoulder and put me in my room. I pouted like the child I felt like until I had calmed down enough to be in the same room as him. 

Even now, Lucien still gave me a wide berth. I’m honestly a little impressed that he found the nerve to try to make a joke. But Lucien saw everything. That was one of his biggest strengths. So he no doubt could tell the way I knew my eyes lingered on Azriel. The way I blushed when he looked at me for too long and he had decided to go right for the throat in his own way. Calling out Cassian and I’s banter as anything more than just that. Reminding him not so subtly about Cassian and Mor. 

“Get snippy with me all you want, shadowsinger. If you can stomach it, go ahead. Me on the other hand. I’m tired and sore and just want to go the fuck to sleep. So goodnight. You all can take turns plotting to kill me in the morning.” And he stormed off with no other words. 

He had just left the room before Cassian chuckled, poking me in the ribs with his elbow. 

“He sure can dish it out can’t he.” 

“Shove it, Cas.” Azriel snapped at him. My eyes shot to Az, eyebrows raised in question. 

“Maybe he’s right. We’ve had a long day. It might be time to get some sleep.” 

“Yeah.” I stood up, pulling away from Casisan’s side. “Walk with me?” I held my hand out for Azriel to take. He stood with a huff but grabbed my hand anyways. I prayed Azriel missed the way Cassian muttered under his breath. 

“Thank you.” I said once we were out of ear shot. I had led him to the library in the house. 

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Defending me.” I suddenly felt shy under his gaze. 

“Princess, I will always defend you.” 

“I know. You know there's nothing going on with Cas and I right?”

He bristled at my words. 

“It wouldn’t be a big deal if there was.” His tone was unreadable and I felt stupid for the way my heart sank. 

“Yeah totally. But I was just letting you know. I mean you would probably be the first to know anyways. The way these things have been following me around lately.” I looked down at the shadow that was currently resting right at my foot. Nearly wrapped around my ankle. As if sensing my glance, it pulled back in closer to Azriel. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like having them around. It makes me feel safe. Like there’s always something or someone watching out for me.” I felt my cheeks heat up as the words fell out of my mouth. I tried to look away but a gentle hand brought up to my cheek stopped me. 

“Melody, look at me please.” His words were enough to stop my heart in my chest. We still had never talked about the kiss. After everything that had happened with Hybern, it never felt like the right time.

“Azriel. I need to talk to you.”

“Anything.”

“You kissed me.” The words were out of my mouth and you would have thought I poured a bucket of cold water over his head. His hand dropped from my face and he took a step back. I didn't realize just how close we were standing together until I felt the empty space where he had been. 

“Az. Please.”

“No. Just stop. It was a mistake. That’s all.” This had to be a nightmare. But the cold shock to my entire system, the pain that radiates through every fiber of my being told me it wasn’t. Not even my nightmares would be this cruel. To let me think that I was so close to having him only to have it ripped away from me. 

“Oh. Right.” I took a step back of my own. Willing the world to tilt back onto its axis. Trying to pretend that I didn’t feel like I was drowning in all the words I had planned on telling him. 

“Right. Of course. A mistake.” I felt the sting in the back of my teeth, the way my whole face tightened up. The itch in the back of my nose. I was going to fall apart right in front of him if I didn’t get out of here right now. 

“Melody.” 

“No. That’s all I needed to hear. I just needed to know that you felt the same.” I forced out. Trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. And despite my better judgment, despite that little voice in my head that screamed at me to stay right there and scream and curse and yell at him to love me back. I walked away. I left him standing in the garden, hands balled into fists at his side. And I walked into the house. Trying to keep it together as I passed Cassian. Not even bothering to say good night as I all but ran up the stairs into the room that was mine when we visited. 

I almost screamed when I saw a figure curled up in the middle of my bed. But as the fae lights flickered on, I let out a sigh of relief. 

Nesta. 

“That was…dramatic.”

“What?”

“All of that in the garden.” 

My heart stopped for the second time that night. “You..You heard all of that?”

“Well it was kind of hard not too.” She pointed to her ears. “Super hearing, remember? Perk of being made and all of that fun stuff.”

“Nesta. If you heard all of that then you know I’m not in the mood for whatever this is.”

“What all of what is?”

“This thing where you say something hurtful and I throw it right back and we go until we’re both pissed at each other.”

“I just came to bring you this.” She smirked. Holding up one of the smutty romance books I saw her constantly reading around the house. “Figured you’d need it since you clearly aren’t getting anything any time soon.” 

“Get out. Please.” Her words sent a fresh pang of disappointment through me. Of course I had thought of Azriel that way over the years. Gods, it was all I could think about lately. But more than anything, I wanted him to be my friend. And I don;t know how I was ever supposed to look at him again without collapsing into tears. Nesta’s eyes met mine and I saw her face drop for the first time. The first time I saw that feline smirk slide off of her beautiful face.

“He must mean a lot to you. To look at him like that.” She said like she was talking to herself. 

“He does. He did. I don’t know anymore.” 

“Do you still want me to go?” And it was that little bit of warmth in her voice that I clung to. Even if it was sympathy. Even if Nesta really hated me for simply being fae. Sitting alone in my room and crying wasn’t going to get anything done. 

“No. I’m sorry.” That was all it took for her to scoot to the other side of my bed. Patting the spot next to her. She curled her knees up to her chest as I climbed in next to her. 

“Then you better tell me everything.”

So I did. I told her how it all started. Every little glance and touch and feeling. Almost five hundred years worth of history between Azriel and I. Which wasn’t a lot since it was mostly me just being an idiot in front of him. But she kept quiet. There were no nasty comments to be found on the tip of her tongue. 

“I wish I loved someone like that.” She whispered into the air as I finished. Feeling like I had been trampled under an avalanche. 

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Or do you think I’m just an outlier.”

“That’s not what I meant. I can’t even imagine how you;’re feeling right now. But I also just couldn’t imagine having that much space in me to love someone that much. Love them and not have them.”

“Nesta, has anyone told you that you’re great at pep talks?” I chuckle softly 

“No.”

“Good then I don’t have to tell you someone’s been lying to you.” And my words pull a genuine laugh from her. A full head thrown back, eyes crinkled, full bellied laugh.. 

“Thank you.” I tell her when a comfortable silence fills the air. 

“You don’t have to thank me.” She says with a large roll of her eyes. 

“I know, but I am. So suck it up.” I elbow her and she laughs again. “No but seriously, thank you. I probably would have spent all night curled up trying not to cry.”

“Well, I’m always here with a book if you need it.” She yawns and goes to leave the room. 

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

With Feyre now back, we were spending more time than not around the map in my office. Cassian and Azriel taking frequent trips to Windhaven to try to get the Illryians together before the war came. We would need every single male they had so training had become even more rigorous. We had months at most to make them battlefield ready. 

I spent all of my time not at the town house at the house of wind. Which despite all the space was feeling very cramped. Nesta and I had called a silent truce since that night when I spilled my guts out to her. Lucien hovering in the background, getting used to the fact that Velaris even existed. And then there was Elain. She mostly just sat in her room and stared out her window. Nesta would be able to get her to eat only enough to keep her alive but she wouldn’t take anymore than that. The few times I tried to talk to her were unsuccessful. 

I saw how much it was killing Lucien. To be so close to his mate but not be able to see her. He followed the rules Feyre had given him to a T. and I truly believed he just wanted the best for her. He wanted the same thing that we all did and that was for her to be okay with this life that she did not choose. 

I tried again to talk to Elain. Nesta and Lucien get into another fight about what to do with the poor girl. 

“Get her some fresh air. Let her see the sun. Being locked up in this house isn’t doing her any good” 

As much as I hated to admit it, Lucien was right. Feyre always talked about how much Elain loved gardening. Were we any better than Tamlin, was I any better than Tamlin, if I kept her locked inside a house that she didn’t want to be in and just watched her waste away. 

I knocked gently on her door. I didn’t wait for a response, I knew I wasn’t going to get one. To no surprise, Elain was sitting in her chair by the window. The sun made her flecks of auburn shine in her hair. It gave her cheeks so much needed color. But I could see the deep set rings under her eyes. The purple marks that let me know exactly how well she was adjusting to life as  a fae. 

“Elain, I want to show you something. If that’s okay. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to but I think you’ll like it. 

Elain didn’t speak. But she took my outstretched hand and let me lead her to the garden. She seemed more upset after Feyre had left. But I saw the tiniest bit of life return as she took in the flowers around her. It had been my mothers garden. I wanted to burn it all down when I returned home but Rhys wouldn’t let me. The smell alone made me want to puke but I fought it down. Elain’s eyes had been looking out the window longingly for weeks now. If this would bring back a semblance of the girl Feyre had talked about, I could suck it up. If she had gone into that cauldron, kicking and screaming. I could go out to the stupid garden. 

So I walked through the familiar hedge’s, twin moon statues on either side and let Elain lead the way from there. She wandered through the rows. Some empty from when I demanded all the roses be pulled from the ground, some not. Some held beautiful twisting nightshades, and my mothers pride and joy, black lilies. Black until the center spots which held a rich purple. I loved them too. I found myself smiling at the flowers, mind wandering to thoughts of my mother. 

“You have to be gentle with them. They’re more fragile than your little sister, more fragile than a babe. If you touch the petals too much, they could die.” So I avoided the petals, sprinkling dirt around the newly exposed roots like she had shown me. She patted me on the head when I did it correctly, my own crooked smile plastered on my face. “Now, I think I remember you talking about cookies earlier?” 

Elain’s soft voice pulled me out of my memories. “Pretty. I miss my garden at home. I want to go back.” Not unusual for her to say. She always wanted to go home and I could do nothing but wrap my arms around her as she started sobbing again. 

“I know you do. I know more than you can understand.” I had stopped apologizing by now. Sorry I wasn't going to undo what was done to her and she had enough sympathy for herself. I couldn’t explain to her that I knew what it was like to want to go back home so badly your bones ached. I couldn’t explain to her that I had barely survived my time under the mountain and the only way I did was with the knowledge that I would see it again someday. So I held her instead. I poured all of the kind thoughts I had about the girl, all the words Feyre had spoken about her, into that hug. Hoping that even for a second I could make this new place feel like home to her. 

Eventually, she had cried herself out. I was able to get her to take a few sips from the tea I had brought out. No luck on the assorted fruit or bread. But she did study the bread. Not like she was hungry but in a way that seemed like curiosity. Eyebrows furrowed slightly, eyes unblinking. 

“Can you show me how to make this?” She asked suddenly and I jumped, not expecting to hear her voice again. 

“Of course. Any reason?”

“I want to do something with my hands again. But gardening..it’s too…” She struggled to find the words, her hands started shaking and she closed her eyes tightly. Sucking in deep breaths through her nose. I placed my hand around hers, breathing in time with her. The trembling stopped and she opened her eyes. That little spark I saw earlier gone. I went to stand up, to show her to the kitchen but she remained sitting. Eyes far away and glassy. So I sat back down. 

The two of us sat out there until I saw Nesta marching through the garden. She paused when she saw the two of us. Face softening ever so slightly. Nesta was a harder nut to crack than Elain. All bark and claws and eyerolls, but the way she looked at her sister. We never talked about that night in my room. The secrets that we shared, and I never would. Not when I recognized so much of myself in the female in front of me. So scared she didn't know what way was up or down. Just trying to keep her head above water as everything surrounded her on all sides. 

Cassian had seemed to gravitate towards the eldest sister. It didn’t seem to be a conscious decision but he would always sit next to her. Eyes followed her when she walked out of the room. His wings would flair out during their many arguments, but would always curl in slightly towards her. No one dared comment on the fact that Rhys did the same thing with Feyre. The idea that all three of the sisters had found their mates was too complicated for right now. They were still trying to make it through the day, still waking up in the middle of the night screaming from whatever had happened to them in the seconds they were pulled into the cauldron. All of that could wait until later. And it brought me some sick sort of joy to see the way Lucien squirmed when Elain would flat out ignore him. But she ignored everyone so I knew it wasn’t personal, as much as I wished it was. 

As if sensing that I was thinking about him, Lucien appeared behind Nesta. He didn’t even get to utter a greeting before Nesta was pulling her sister by the hand back into the house. Lucien’s eyes followed her the entire way. A look that was so full of longing I had to avert my eyes, suddenly feeling like I was intruding on a private moment. 

It seemed like he just noticed my presence and went to walk away. 

I sighed heavily and kicked the chair Elain had been seated in closer to Lucien. He raised an eyebrow at me. 

“Unless you want to go back to pouting in the house, which by all means, do.” I said in return. 

He tentatively sat down, shoulders tense. I didn’t try to speak to him. Didn’t want to know what was going on in his mind. 

“I know you think I’m horrible.” He started. I kept my face neutral. “And I know it doesn’t fix anything now, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of that house. I’m sorry you think I’m such a coward.” I leaned back in my chair as I let his words sink in. “I didn’t ask for her to be my mate. I’m not even sure I really want a mate.” I snorted at the words and he rushed on. “After everything with my last… lover, I never thought that I would be blessed with a mate. You weren’t the first female I had failed to save.” And I knew this. Had heard bits and pieces of the story during my time in spring. His face fell when I didn’t respond, he started to move to get up and I let him. He was almost out of the garden before I spoke his name. He turned to look at me, his face so full of guilt that I couldn’t stop the words that came out of my mouth. 

“Make this one time count then.” Make what you did for Feyre count. He looked confused then his face became sullen as he nodded. He didn’t say anything else before he kept walking back to the house. 

I sat out by the garden long after the sun had set behind  the horizon. It was getting colder out, proof that summer was starting to end, but I didn’t have it in me to move inside. I stared at the stars, tracing the constellations in my mind. 

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

We all reluctantly agree that a trip to the court of nightmares is needed. If we’re really going to stand any chance we need Kier’s soldiers. 

I’m standing at the base of the stairs, waiting for Feyre and Rhys to pull themselves off of each other for long enough for us to get anything done. I’ve been thankful for the fact that I’m practically living in the house of wind. Some silly part of me is jealous over my brother's happiness. 

Azriel walks in and we both gawk at each other. For once the Illyrian leathers are gone. Replaced with a suit that puts Rhys’ to shame. Tight black dress shirt that clings to every single one of his muscles. His pants are still those tight training pants that showcase his toned legs. I force my eyes away from him, only to catch his roving all over my body. A small feeling of pride settles in my bones. I might have picked out this dress exactly to get that reaction from him. 

The slits on the dress sit high on my hips, the fabric draped expertly to hide as much as they show. A deep vee plunges almost all the way to navel, draped in the same way as the skirt. 

I will the goosebumps to disappear on my skin. I can almost feel his gaze like it’s his hands all over me. I look away, biting my lip to hold back a shudder. 

“Gods girl. Save some for the rest of us.” Mor says as she takes in my dress. I’m thankful for her interruption. It cuts some of the tension I can practically taste in the air. 

I link my arm with Mor and don’t wait around for the others as we winnow to the court of nightmares. 

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

Per usual Azriel walked in after us. His dramatic entrance had people darting out of their way. I couldn’t help the satisfied smile that rose on my face. I also couldn’t keep my eyes off of Azriel dressed in his tight button up and dress pants. So unlike the usual fighting leathers he wore around everywhere. Still in his signature black, and of course, he still had the various harnesses that strapped his weapons to him, truth teller hanging at his side. Siphons on his hands and shoulders. But something about his clothes made him look even deadlier. The idea that he didn’t need to be in his leathers to make someone spill their secrets, or to spill their guts. 

He caught my eyes across the room, a smirk on his face that softened for merely a second before slipping back in that cold one.And it was that second of a real smile, a break in the cocky and cruel demeanor that made me almost fall to my knees. If Rhys had not been standing beside me, I would have collapsed at the weight of that tiny golden string that seemed to float across the room, settling right in front of Azriel. Azriel’s nostrils flared and I could simply not look away from him. Every single molecule of my body was tuned into him. I lurched forward, Rhys’ hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me back from running down the dias into Azriel’s arms. Azriel noticed the movement and ran his eyes down my entire body, twice, before he turned around and walked towards the meeting room. 

My mind went back to our conversation a few weeks ago. It was a mistake. My heart broke all over again. He didn’t want me. Azriel was my mate and he did not want me. Even I had noticed the way his gaze lingered on the oldest Archeron sister. I felt my knees tremble as the weight of what was going to happen crashed over me. He was going to laugh me off. I was never going to be anymore than Rhys’ sister to him. I was a mistake. It was so cruel that I almost wanted to laugh. The very thing I had been praying would happen for centuries happens right as soon as I find out that he doesn’t want me like that. It takes all my focus to turn back to the room. To not focus on that golden string that seemed like it was pulling me tighter and tighter the further Azriel got from me. Could I keep it from him? A small part of me had been hoping that the mother would be kind enough to have my mate be someone else. Someone else so I could get those hazel eyes out of my head. That I could be happy with someone else that was not the male that had made his intentions crystal clear. No. I would not be selfish enough to tell him. Maybe it would never snap for him and we could just continue as we always have. Toeing the line that neither of us would dare to cross. Azriel could be my best friend. I would not lose him because of the bond. I felt a small glimmer of calm wash over me and it was enough to bring my attention back to the room around me. 

A scream ran through the air and pulled me out of my downward spiral. I tensed up. Eyes darting around to find the source of the noise .Frozen in the middle of the crowd, three males were trying to plead to those around them to be spared. Cassian grabbed all three of them by the knap of their necks like they were nothing more than puppies. 

“Meeting room. Now” Rhys said in the general direction of Kier as he helped Feyre rise from the throne, a ravenous look in his eyes as he watched her walk in front of him. I looked away quickly. Trying not to imagine Azriel giving me that same look. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. I was itching to talk to Azriel. Did he know? His look told me that he had at least sensed something. The thought immediately made my hand shoot up to my chest, rubbing away the discomfort that came with it. 

The meeting room was nothing special. The same cold marble as the rest of Hewn city. No warmth to be found. I took my usual spot besides Azriel and I tried to ignore the way he shifted his chair ever so slightly away from me. 

“Thank you for meeting with us, Kier.” 

He scoffed. “Let’s skip the niceties and get down to what you want from me, Rhys. You want my soldiers. And I already know what I want in return.”

“You’ll remember that they are mine. This palace, the people of your court. All of it is mine.” He growls. 

“Then that begs the question. Where exactly does our high lord spend all of his time? It’s certainly not in his court. So where exactly do you hide Rhysand?” 

“I don’t have time for this.”

“My answer is no.”

“You would-” Azriel starts but Rhys simply holds a hand out for him to stop. 

“I anticipated your less than enthusiastic response. That’s why I prepared something that you can’t say no to.” He speaks to the corner of the room. “You can come in.” 

I must be dreaming. This has to be some sick twisted nightmare. My eyes dart from my brother to Mor as he enters the room. Eris. A snarl rips past Azriel’s lips and Cassian’s hand is instantly on his sword by his side. 

“What is he doing here?” Cassian spits out. So they weren’t aware either. 

Rhys ignores us all. I reach under the table and grab Mor’s hand. She instantly has a death grip on mine. Squeezing it so tightly I can feel her nails digging into my skin. I don’t go to move her. 

“Eris has been working with us for some time now. In exchange we support him when he kills Beron.” 

“And where do I play into this?” I can see the hungry gleam in Kier’s eyes despite his best efforts at appearing nonchalant. 

“You’ve wanted an alliance with Autumn for as long as I can remember. This is your way to get it. But you can’t if there is no Pyrthian left to come back to. And that’s what will happen if we do not work together.”

Eris launched into the story of how he had been working against his fathers back over the years. When I felt Mor tremble, I thought of what it would feel like to sink my hands into his throat and pull it out. Rhys and Kier talked to Eris. Their words flowed in one ear and clean out the other, not finding purchase. Between Mor trying to keep from shaking next to me, to the feeling of that golden string that I kept pulling against, I was exhausted. Mentally and psychically.

Something warm snuck along my stomach, fanning my whole body. I felt myself sag ever so slightly. I couldn’t place where the feeling came from but it made my skin prickle and my heart sped up. I tried to look at Azriel but he was pointedly looking everywhere but me. Eyes unsteady, fluttering between our group. Sinking in the words that my brother was speaking. He must not have felt anything because how else could he be so composed right now. I was practically vibrating next to Mor and if it wasn’t for our current situation, I know she would have called me out on it. 

“Not good enough.” Kier’s head snaps to Rhys. “ I want something else in return.” My eyes widened as I realized what exactly it was that he was asking for. 

“No.” Mor bites out. “Rhys you can’t seriously be considering-”

“You do this on my terms. One week. And you are only allowed in my house. You will not step foot outside, you will not interact with any of my people. If you can agree to those terms then we have a deal.”

“Rhys. Please.” And it’s the closest to begging I’ve ever heard from Mor. Rhys ignores her pleading and I want to throttle my brother right there. He nods his head. 

“I also need the Ouroboros Mirror.”

Kier laughed at her words. Even I raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s yours if you are brave enough to look into it. Oh did you not know?” Kier laughed again. “You have to look into the mirror to take it and anyone who has looked into it has gone insane.” 

Feyre paled at his words and said no more on the subject. 

“Have you lost your damn mind?” I was screaming in my head. I was immediately met with Rhys slamming his mental walls shut. I knew I wasn’t the only one that was screaming at him. I sensed the way she had tensed up and I wanted nothing more than to kick the red head clean across the room. 

The meeting seemed to be finally over. Rhys didn’t so much as say a goodbye before we were winnowing back to Velaris. 

“How could you?” Those Were the first words anyone spoke when we returned. “How could you work with him? Of all the people in this damn world you picked him?” She was livid, voice trembling with anger and a shrill sadness. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around her when I saw the tears spring in her eyes. “And Velaris? You want to let them come here? To my home.”

“If I had told you you wouldn’t have agreed and I needed us all to be there. I needed this to work.”

“You still should have warned her.” I grumbled to my brother. Not the least bit happy with him either. He gave me a shut up look and I didn’t back down. “You wouldn’t have just invited Tamlin to a meeting. Why is Eris any different?”

“It;s different because we need him.”

“It’s different because you said so.” He growled at my words, at the venom dripping from my words. At the challenge laced in them. I had opened my mouth to speak when I saw the shadows wrap around Rhys’ ankles. A flurry like I had never seen. Rhys stepped out of them, swatting them away like they were nothing more than a fly buzzing around his head, but they lingered. 

“Azriel. Stop.” Rhys commanded. A sign of how annoyed he was. Azriel did not call his shadows back, instead he stared down my brother. A small snarl forming on his lips. 

“Az…” And no sooner did his name leave my mouth did his shadows retract. Instead of going back to him, they swirled around my feet. Laying there leaving my feet with their slightly cold feeling. 

“The next time you do something like that, I will kill you.” Mor spit at Rhys before she stormed off. 

“You got us what we needed, Rhys, I won’t deny that. But at what cost?” Is all I say before I take off after Mor. 

She’s curled up in the middle of her bed. I don’t hesitate to climb in behind her and wrap an arm around her. She’s muttering to herself. I run my hand over her hair, trying my best to comfort her. I don’t even have words to say to her. It might have been centuries since she’s seen Eris but those wounds run deep. Deep enough to destroy the confident female that she has always been. 

I stay with her until she falls asleep. And even then I stay until I’m sure she won’t wake up screaming. Eventually I deem it safe and peel myself off of her, careful not to jostle her. 

I sneak back to my room. Exhaustion sinking into my bones as I crossed the hallway to my room. 

I was so tired it was no surprise that I didn’t see him before I was slamming into his chest. 

Strong hands wrap around the tops of my arms to stop me from toppling backwards. 

“Whoa there.” Azriel says as he steadies me. I tense as I hear his voice and he lets me go, taking a step away from me. I can’t look him in the eye. 

“Is she okay?” It’s obvious who he’s talking about. 

“She’s rattled for sure. But she’s asleep and I think that’s the best we can hope for.” 

He nodded and I keep my gaze fixed above his shoulder. 

“That’s good.” His voice is tight. The words clipped. It is borderline painful to be this close to him. My skin feels itchy and all of my nerves seem to be focused on the spot his hands were just on me. 

“Azriel…” I start and he shakes his head. 

“Not tonight. Please.”

“You know?” My shock rocks me to my core. I finally gather the courage to look at his face and I see nothing. No emotion. 

“I’ve known for a long time..” His rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. One of his nervous ticks. I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to break even more. He knew. 

“How…how long…?” My voice breaks

“Long before you went under the mountain.” And he didn’t tell me. Didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me. I feel hot tears slide down my face. I don’t have anything to say. What could I say? Plead for him to love me when he doesn’t? He starts to walk away, taking the warmth of his presence with him. I reach blindly for his arm. My hand wraps around his toned forearm. 

“I’ll get over you, I promise. These feelings, they can just be temporary- with everything happening around us. I just… Please don’t leave me.” The grief that gripped my heart was enough to knock the wind out of me. The idea of losing him because of this stupid feeling in my chest. When I looked at him there was no disgust in his face, no loathing or anything that I had expected. He just stared at me blankly. 

“Stop. I can’t… Just please, stop.” His voice was tight, breathing heavy. 

“Azriel.”

“I can’t do this.”

My heart sank to my stomach. “Do what?”

“Talk to you about this. Talk about us. I prayed you would never feel the bond.”

It was like he had stabbed me with the blade at his side. I think I would have preferred it over the echoing numbness that coursed through me. He didn’t want me. All those touches and all this time, had I misread the signals that much. But I felt it, that little hint of deceit down the bond. The way his shadows wrapped around my feet, around my shoulders. Comforting me. 

“We can talk about this, we don’t have to jump into anything. We can take out time-”

“No.” He all but shouted at me. He was breathing heavily, I could feel his exhales brush across my face. 

“Please. Why wont you talk to me?” My voice broke, tears welling in my eyes. I couldn’t look at him, look at the way his face just dropped. We stood in silence, my words ringing around the room. 

He didn’t try to hide the sob that left his mouth. “I’m terrified” My eyes snapped to him as he took my face gently between his hands. “You were taken away from me once. It nearly killed me then, but now, I know it would. And I know you’re more than capable of protecting yourself but if something were to happen to you because of me…” he trailed off, voice breaking at the thought. 

“Azriel,” I looked him deep in his hazel eyes. “I’m the High Lord's sister. I’ve been trying to outrun Tamlin for over a hundred years. You forget that I lost you once too.” I finally met his eyes, his own tears echoing mine.  “I have loved you since I knew what that word meant. Please don’t run away from me. Not from this.” 

“You can’t mean that.” He whispered. I felt everything like a tidal wave. The rush of shame, the denial, the self loathing. 

I didn’t respond right away, instead I took his hands in mine and placed feather soft kisses onto the scarred skin. “I mean it with every cell in my body. Every part of me is yours, Azriel. I’ve always been yours. Even before I felt the bond. It was always going to be you.” And as I placed kiss after kiss on his hand, I felt the sobs leave his body. Felt his wings wrap around me, securing us in our own little moment of time. I looked up at him, seeing this beautiful man with his soul laid out for me to see and knew that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. Nothing I wouldn’t risk if it meant I got to see those Hazel eyes looking at me that way. “Kiss me?” I whispered, almost pleading. 

“I won’t be able to stop if I do.” He closed his eyes and I used my hold on his hands to pull him down to me. 

“I don’t want you to. I want my beautiful mate to kiss me right here and right now.” It was like the world moved in slow motion as he leaned down to connect our lips. And it felt like every moment leading up to this had been in black and white. The world erupts into color for the first time as his lips touch mine. It wasn’t like the desperate kiss in the court of nightmares. This was his own personal love letter. And he had spent all of his life writing it. I thought I had spent my life waiting for that first kiss. But this kiss, this moment, was exactly what it had all been leading to. Time slowed down around me. Not caring about anything but the male in front of me and I let the rest of the world fade away. Wars and powers and horrible nightmares be damned. All I needed was the one thing standing in front of me. And I would be damned before I ever let someone take that away from me.

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Taglist: @nickishadow139 @tothestarsandwhateverend @quinzzelx @durgenyx @i-am-infinite @mariahoedt @acourtofbatboydreams @nocasdatsgay @sarawritestories @ninthcircleofprythian @evergreenlark @marvelbros-oneshots

[hrizantemy]

It's fascinating how some people genuinely despise Jurian for the fact that he killed a woman who was, quite literally, enslaving humans. Of all the reasons you could dislike his character, you chose to focus on him killing a slaver? That's an interesting stance. The portrayal of slavery and the dynamics between humans and fae in this book are deeply troubling. Take, for instance, the moment when Cassian tells Nesta that humans had no valid reason to hate the fae—seriously? And wasn't it Rhysand who made the point that humans were just as bad as the fae? That comparison is absolutely outrageous. No, they weren't the same, and it’s alarming to see such a false equivalency drawn in the story. It diminishes the very real suffering and injustice that humans endured at the hands of the fae. This entire narrative around slavery and the fae’s treatment of humans feels grossly mishandled, almost as if it tries to excuse or downplay the horrors of enslavement.

[reblogandlikes]

Miryam and Drakon/everyone thinking the worst of Jurian gives me the same vibe as Feyre and Rhysand/everyone thinking the worse of Tamlin.

The ex's getting the worse reputations, damned for doing the best they could and never forgiven for playing double agents, which ultimately aided in winning their wars. Odd. I don't like it. Tamlin is left with nothing, and Jurian had gone through 500 years of trauma and hell. Wtf.

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | seven

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: I think none, just some bantering and fluff towards the end

A/N: here is where the good shit starts...

Nimue had started spending more time outdoors. She sat on the balconies of the house, in the garden, in the outdoor patio, and she enjoyed the fresh air. She loved feeling the wind on her skin, in her hair, the chill as the sun set.

However, there was a shadow looming over her.

She was enjoying her new life, her new freedom, but she knew that at some point all of that would have to change, that she would have to return to reality.

She was sitting in the garden, in a chair, with her eyes closed and letting herself be carried away by the sensation of the sun on her skin when suddenly she felt it.

She felt something in her mind open up, and her vision was blinded from inside her skull. When she opened her eyes, she didn't see the trees and rose bushes in the garden, she only saw white.

She didn't panic, as that light was the same one that surrounded her when she was inside the Cauldron. It was him, trying to tell her something, to teach her something.

So she clung to the chair's armrests to stay anchored to the earthly plane and let herself be carried wherever the Cauldron was dragging her.

She saw herself in the middle of a path. In front of her, green meadows and lush forests. There was something there that made the greens of the leaves seem livelier, that made the blue sky shine brighter.

When she turned around, trying to take in all her surroundings, she found a beautiful mansion behind her, where the path she was on ended. The house was neglected, but still, its charm made Nimue feel drawn towards its interior.

She supposed it must be the Spring Court, as it matched the brief descriptions Feyre had given her when telling her story.

And then she saw it.

Under the huge entrance gate, she saw them, all of them.

She saw Jurian, she saw Dagdan and Brannagh, her hateful cousins. There in the midst of all that splendor and springtime radiance, the human and the two twins exuded a poisonous and black aura that tainted the air around them.

She wondered if that's how Azriel and the others saw her, and she felt a pang of disgust towards herself in her chest.

Azriel, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a cup in his hand, felt the same pang in his own chest.

He immediately became alert and pulled and pulled on that invisible thread. He felt Nimue's presence on the other side, but there was something strange. As if she also wasn't there.

He set the cup aside, not caring if it fell to the floor or not, and hurried out of the kitchen. He first looked in the library, where he knew she spent most of her time.

He knew, clearly, because it was his duty to watch over her and make sure she didn't have any hidden intentions.

Just because of that, nothing more.

When he decided to peek into the garden, there she was.

The princess, taking one last look to identify Tamlin and Lucien, let herself be dragged back to Velaris, to her new home.

She came to her senses, and in front of her was Azriel.

"Hello."

Azriel didn't say anything. He just looked at her, in silence, watching as the girl got up from the chair and walked towards him under the sunlight.

There, in the light, she seemed to shine with her own light.

He took a couple of deep breaths and tensed his body completely. Involuntarily, his wings spread behind him, and he could see his own shadow projected on the ground.

Alright, perfect. We have to impress her.

He wanted to smack himself.

After what had happened the other day at the training ground, after letting himself go so unconsciously, Azriel's shadows had completely betrayed him. They spent the hours of the day chasing Nimue around the house, whispering in his ear everything the princess did or didn't do, telling him that she wore a very pretty dress, or that she had perfumed herself with a small bottle of cologne that Feyre had given her.

He had been avoiding her for days, now more than ever, after the ridiculousness he had made in front of Cassian.

Oh, Cassian. He had made sure everyone in the house knew, and he had also made sure to embarrass Azriel on the subject.

And now, after days, their encounter couldn't happen any other way, with his body disobeying him again, his wings spreading like a bird's, his body tensing every muscle to pretend.

He looked like a foolish teenager trying to impress the girl he liked.

Nimue gave him a warm smile, so warm that Azriel could swear his heart was melting in the middle of his chest.

"I haven't seen you in many days."

Nimue knew he had been avoiding her. Nimue knew Azriel's shadows followed her around the house. She also knew that something had changed within the male, because she felt it through the bond. She felt a small burning spark, amidst all that anger and rage boiling inside him.

"I've been busy. I have a job, even if it doesn't seem like it."

Azriel reconsidered the option of smacking himself.

Why was he like this with her? Why couldn't he manage to give her a kind word, a good look, a nice smile? Just like everyone else in his family did.

However, Nimue's own smile didn't falter.

"I know," she simply said. She continued to look at him a little longer, with all that curiosity in her face that only made Azriel soften even more.

And so they stood, in silence, facing each other for a while longer without really knowing what to say. Simply internalizing each other's presence. Until Nimue remembered the pressing matter.

"Oh, I have to talk to Rhysand. Things are moving fast in Spring.”

"Wonderful. So now it's not just Tamlin, as if that wasn't enough, the damn Jurian is with him in Spring too. And you're telling me you have two sadistic and psychopathic cousins there as well?"

Rhysand immediately wanted to tear his hair out. Everything was slipping out of their hands. They had found a quick and discreet solution to all of this, to prevent a greater evil, and things had gone awry. He was grateful for the help Nimue had unconditionally provided, but welcoming the princess into their home had only put a target on their backs for the King of Hybern.

"I can help, Rhysand. Let me go there, and I'll take care of slowing down all their plans."

The High Lord hesitated. He could feel Feyre's gaze on him, the expectation she placed on his decision.

"Nimue..." Rhysand didn't know how to say it tactfully.

He glanced around the room, where everyone had gathered to hear what the princess had to say. He observed Azriel carefully, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking as though he might bore a hole in the floor with his restlessness.

Azriel didn't want to let her go to Spring. It was suspicious, too risky. The perfect opportunity for her to betray their trust, to join forces with her cousins and the traitor Tamlin and end everything in Prythian, just as her father wanted her to do.

He wanted to trust her, but her eagerness to convince them to let her go, to let her go with the enemy...

"No," said Azriel. He stepped forward, imposing himself in the atmosphere of that meeting, and everyone looked at him. "We can't let her go, it's risky and dangerous. We still don't know what her intentions are or what will happen if her family convinces her to return.

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here in front of you." With her sharp teeth fully visible, ears laid back and pinned to her skull, Nimue looked like a stray cat about to attack. The embodiment of rage. "I've been in this house for almost a month, living with you all and earning your trust. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it in Hybern to save myself all this time, I wouldn't need to convince you of anything if my goal was to win the war for my father. I would simply kill you, and there would be no war to win."

Everyone remained silent and surprised at the princess's sudden outburst of fury. The sweet and innocent girl they had come to know over the past month had disappeared, and in her place, a furious beast stared at each of them one by one.

"I made it clear from the beginning. You need me. Let me fit into your plans and help you, or I'll burn everything down regardless of what stands in the way: High Lords or kings of Hybern."

Rhysand immediately became alert, ready for anything, as did the entire Inner Circle.

"Calm down."

"I'll calm down when you understand that I'm not a helpless child, nor a mere spy. I'll calm down when you understand that I'm a weapon made for war and that I have no reason to wish you harm," Nimue breathed. She did her best to dissipate her anger, to let it flow and evaporate through every pore. "Unlike the father who imprisoned me for twenty years and intends to ravage the entire world, I wish no harm upon you."

Azriel, with his hand on the hilt of his dagger, felt the heavy atmosphere of the room dissipate slowly, as Nimue glanced at each of them one by one, pleading for a vote of confidence. He felt the sorrow of the female in his own chest, raw through the bond.

Sorrow, because even though Nimue believed she was finding her place, she felt so hard to love, so hard to accept. They saw her as a monster and a threat wherever she went, and there were times when, despite her efforts to fight against that stigma, she only reinforced it. Like at that moment, when faced with the rejection of these people, she had reverted to her old self, the one who bared her teeth and threatened others.

In a final desperate attempt, she turned to Azriel, "Please, I beg you. Give me this chance and take action against my father and his madness."

Azriel looked at her, holding his breath and fighting against the instinct to fall to his knees and give the pleading female whatever she wanted. It was so difficult for him to fight against his instincts that he had to close his eyes and then look at the ceiling, avoiding Nimue's eyes, who knew what she was doing with all the rationality Azriel could have.

Rhysand broke the silence with a long sigh.

"Okay," sighed the High Lord. There was a moment of silence in which Azriel supposed he would be speaking mind to mind with Feyre. "The only condition is that Azriel goes with you and ensures that everything goes well."

"Okay. When do we leave?"

Azriel gazed enraptured at his lifelong brother, his High Lord.

"Pardon?”

She was sitting in one of the armchairs in her room, her gaze fixed on the stars shining in the sky. She counted them, searching for the constellations that Amren had taught her in those books, memorizing their names. She felt nerves on edge, anticipation for the next day, for her parting to the Spring Court boiling deep within her.

Finally, she felt useful. Finally, her twenty years of waiting were leading her somewhere. Although she found herself on the opposite side of the fight than she had imagined, she felt that was where she belonged.

In her reverie, she felt a tug in the middle of her chest. The door to her room opened on its own, as if a gust of wind had pushed it, as if the house itself were urging her to go. Nimue shivered and decided to follow that pull, that sensation she received with open arms even if she didn't want to, even if she tried to resist it.

Azriel.

She followed the bond through the corridors, blindly, opening doors and ascending to the attic of the house. There, she climbed out of one of the windows and onto the roof of the house.

In the darkness of the night, illuminated by the half moon, Azriel was sitting on the black tiles, his face tilted towards the sky and his eyes closed.

Nimue didn't utter a word, didn't move a muscle, by the Mother, she didn't even breathe. She stayed still, observing every angle of that male's face, how the pale light of the moon illuminated his dark skin, how his raven hair shone like the purest of onyx. She remained silent, afraid he would notice her presence and chase her away barking, as the only communication between them was usually to insult or annoy each other.

Nimue looked at him and looked at him. She looked at him so much that she thought she was going to cry, until Azriel let out a sigh.

"Are you going to come closer or are you going to stay there all night?"

Nimue flinched, but quickly crawled over to where he was, sitting beside him at a prudent distance and pulling her knees to her chest. She felt her nose and cheeks reddened by the cold, her fingertips growing numb. But she didn't mind, as that made her feel alive.

"Are you nervous?"

She mulled over the response for a couple of seconds, still gazing at the stars.

"Yes," she turned to look at Azriel only to find the male's gaze already fixed on her, a relaxed expression on his face. "And you?"

"Only a fool wouldn't be."

They fell silent for a while longer, Nimue's gaze on the city below, Azriel's on the beautiful female beside him.

He couldn't stop looking at her. When he tried, his gaze involuntarily returned to her figure. He focused on every little thing, every tiny detail he could see: the waves of her white hair, the messy half up she wore, how the smile seemed so natural on her face that even though she tried to hide it, it always came back.

His shadows seemed awfully and suspiciously quiet that night, leaving room for his not so quiet thoughts.

Suddenly, she raised her hand, pointing at something in the middle of the sky.

"I never knew what that constellation was called, but it's the one I observed from the few windows I saw in the Palace. Every night I looked at it, counted the stars, drew it on every piece of paper I laid my hands on."

Azriel followed her finger, unable to contain his smile when he saw what she meant. He leaned back, lying on the tiles and letting his weight fall on his elbows. Nimue turned to him, that curiosity and fascination typical of a child discovering the world shining in her eyes, and Azriel felt a stab of anger.

His mate, who had spent the twenty years of her life locked in a Palace, was nothing more than the puppet of a bad man. And only now she was lucky enough to see the world, to be fascinated by all those things that he considered so mundane and ordinary that he overlooked them day after day.

"Here we call it the Promise constellation, but in other courts they call it the Lovers' constellation. Under it, many couples in Prythian swear eternal love. They celebrate their weddings and engagements at night and swear their vows under the light of those stars." Azriel looked at her cautiously, waiting for any reaction from her.

But Nimue only turned her gaze back to the stars, a lump in her throat. It was beautiful. Swearing eternal love to someone...

In all her existence, she had never imagined that there would be room for love. But she allowed herself to dream for a second, just one second, about how it would feel to love and be loved.

Azriel felt his emotions mix with Nimue's, felt so many things at once that, careful not to let the female see him, he brought his hand to his face to wipe away the tear that was sliding down his cheek. It was brutal, feeling all those things as if it were the first time, because it certainly was the first time Nimue felt them.

"How beautiful..." the princess whispered.

"Yes, it is. It's beautiful."

Nimue looked at him again, the purest of smiles on her face, and with a quick movement, she took Azriel's hand between hers and brought it to her lap, causing Azriel to be surprised by the gesture.

"You must learn to trust me, no matter what it costs. From my heart and under this constellation, I swear loyalty to you, I swear I will do everything I can to win this war and make sure nothing goes wrong. I swear with all my soul that you can trust me, that I am worthy of your trust."

Azriel was stunned, speechless, a look of complete surprise uncommon on his face. With his gaze lost in their joined hands, he couldn't help but notice the scars contrasting against Nimue's pale skin, and how well their hands looked together. So contrasting were their skin tones, yet so accomplice in the marks of their past. He sat up, and with his other gloved hand, he embraced Nimue's.

"And I swear I will learn to trust you, blindly."

Intertwining between their fingers, a tattoo in the shape of thorn branches began to stain their skin, bearing witness to the promise they had just made.

And with only the stars as witnesses, Azriel and Nimue held each other's hands, looking into each others eyes, staring into each other's souls.

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[yennas-stuff]

Don't you think it's important that we got a name for the Band of Exiles?

Sjm didn't have to name their little group. She certainly didn't name them just to have Feyre dunk on Lucien about it.

The Inner Circle, the Court of Dreams, the Valkyries... Can you see the pattern?

We got introduced to these groups by their names, and they became friends of the protagonists of the stories. Feyre and Nesta both found their place within these teams.

I don't see why it would be wrong to assume that the Band of Exiles will be Elain's group of closest friends.

The struggle to lift Vassa's curse would hit even more if we had a real friendship between her and Elain. Vassa, being a human woman, would understand Elain's still very human-like sensibilities. At the same time, we know Lucien mentioned her foul mouth and brashness. She might encourage Elain to be more confident and less ladylike, which we already saw a hint of when she laughed at the fuck you from Nesta. She has some fire within her to match her mate. She just needs some space and sunshine to bloom.

And she can bond with Jurian over being into cunty redheads.