#seasonal courts of Prythian

[thefatesofspring]

A list of Tamlin’s magic abilites & their potential

It’s quite a long post so be prepared…let’s start off with the abilities we are 100% sure of.

• Shape-shifting

- So as we know Tamlin can shapeshift, we also know he can shapeshift others (he mainly reserves this for his sentries as stated by Lucien)

- Potential: when Tamlin shapeshift’s he can do so into anyone or anything & if it’s anyone there is a high chance that he can take on that persons power/magic/ability e.g. if he were to shift into Rhysand he could take on Rhysand’s misting, daemati powers & whatever else he has.

(We kind of already know this is a possibility because of Feyre & her pregnancy, we find out that Nyx was conceived when Feyre was in her illyrian form & that he has illyrian wings, now even though in the book I’m sure it said Nyx was only 1/4 Illyrian, it makes no sense for that to be true if Feyre changed her entire body to her illyrian form which would suggest the shapeshifting happens on a cellular/gentic/DNA level & that Nyx is actually 1/4 high fae & 3/4 Illyrian, Nyx’s wings forming in the womb like an illyrian babe is consistent with him only being 1/4 HF because Feyre had shifted fully into an illyrian form & Rhysand being half illyrian)

• Glamours & illusions

- we know that Tamlin can create glamours & illusions because he did with the Archeron family (except Nesta of course) & he even did it against Rhysand & would have fully succeeded in that if he remembered to remove the 3rd plate set at the dinner table

- Potential: Tamlin has the potential to create glamours & illusions on such a huge scale that there really wouldn’t be much of a limit except maybe either his imagination or distance, we know that he glamoured his entire estate so that Feyre could not see the other faeries so what’s to say he couldn’t glamour an entire court?…or maybe even a continent?…

if Tamlin decided to be a villain after his mother was killed who’s to say Tamlin not only created this glamour but also put an illusion over everyone if he went into his villain era? What if he decided Amarantha was just made up so that he could get back at Rhysand? The potential is truly close to limitless, the fact that Tamlin was able to very nearly get one over on Rhysand & he is a daemati & supposedly an incredibly powerful one at that shows how powerful he really is.

• Air/Wind control & manipulation

- So 3 books in & we find out Tamlin has yet another ability when he single-handedly saves Feyre, Elain, Azriel & Briar using his ability to control air…I’m sorry is he the fucking avatar??😩😂

- Potential: at this point he can literally do anything Storm from X-Men can do with her ability to control the air element as well as anything Aang the avatar can do, if Tamlin wanted you to suffocate by simply removing the oxygen from the particles around you he could, tornado?✅ Hurricane?✅ Typhoon?✅ Cyclone?✅ Check✅ Tamlin has the power & potential to do it all. I’m not joking when I say this is an extremely fucking deadly ability to have.

• Healing

- Tamlin can heal himself & others exactly like Thesan can as he tried to do when it came to saving that Faerie who had its wings ripped off by Amarantha but do to Amarantha taking most of his powers he wasn’t able to do much at that time

- Potential: Well I mean he could cure pretty much any disease or bone breakages, whether that be in himself or one others.

• Shielding & Repelling against dark magic

- At the end of ACOTAR (book 1, Chapter 45, Page 405) we see through Feyre’s eyes what she sees just before Tamlin rips out Amarantha’s throat, “Amarantha screeched, kicking at Tamlin, lashing at him with her dark magic, but a wall of gold encompassed his fur like a second skin. She couldn’t touch him.” However I think SJM changes this whether it’s because she forgot she even wrote in this little gem of realised she made Tamlin too powerful & this alone makes Rhysand look weak in comparison I don’t know because in Hybern he’s no longer able to shield himself against that dark magic when Hybern uses a “leash” to subdue him so that he can’t attack the king of Hybern.

- Potential: Now the potential for this ability is insane & realistically Tamlin has the potential to go up against Koschei because we know Koschei uses dark magic of some sort & giving that it would be the perfect battle of light vs dark but it would also mean Rhysand’s magic can’t touch Tamlin so his misting ability could potentially falter on Tamlin

Now moving along to the hidden magic/abilities/powers Tamlin could have

• Elemental magic

- Honestly Tamlin could be Prythians version of Aang & Storm rolled into one, if SJM were brave enough to thoroughly write Tamlin & flush out his character in every aspect Tamlin would literally be Prythians mutant category 5 avatar👀 when Aang first broke free from the ice he only had the element of Air…Tamlin as we know it also at the moment only currently has air, if memory serves me correctly Aang then goes onto learning Earth bending…👀…what if Tamlin already knows he can earth bend…👀…or begins to learn it, he is after all the embodiment of spring!! & if we want to put more of a fantasy twist on it he can control plant’s & wildlife he is essentially an ecokinetic & his ability is ecokenesis.

Description from Superpower wiki: “The user is connected directly to the natural world and thus can communicate, influence, manipulate and control nature: all living beings and plants and natural phenomena, such as the weather and geology of the Earth, and the matter and energy of which all these things are composed. They can survive in any natural environment on earth.

The user can manipulate, tap into, blend and/or become elements of nature, including air, weather, lightning, earth, stone, metal, water, ice, light, darkness, clouds/mist, magma, fire etc. They can control animals and plants and mimic their abilities and forms.”

Now there’s been no indication to my knowledge that Tamlin can influence or control water but again if he has elemental magic that is a given & lastly FIRE!! If Tamlin is a descendant of Aelin & Aelin is know as fire-bringer descendant of Mala…YOU GUYS!!!…what if Tamlin has the colbalt blue fire!!! What if like Aelin, like Aang he has to descend into his power!!!…👀ive already said many times before Tamlin is a starborn fae like Bryce & Aelin so there is a potential for him to!!

• Daemati

- I want to thank @theegemini92 for reminding me of this one because I genuinely forgot about it until I saw her post today. So as it goes when Tamlin supposedly uses his glamouring ability to make the Archeron family believe Feyre is staying with an aunt it doesn’t strike anyone that his “glamouring” acted a lot like daemati mind manipulation??…👀

Now yes we know the ability to glamour is a trick of the mind to make you see something that isn’t really there but seeing something & thoroughly believing something that doesn’t exist are two vastly different things, the extent to which Elain & Papa Archeron truly believed that Feyre was living with a distant aunt over Nesta being fooled is crazy, both abilities revolve around the mind & we know Nesta has a “steeled will & mind” and Rhysand struggled greatly to enter Nesta’s mind using his daemati abilities…👀

The fact the only time Rhysand is ever actually able to access Tamlin’s mind is at the HL’s meeting strikes me as convenient more for Tamlin…almost as if Tamlin let it happen because he needed others to see that Rhysand would use his abilities against them if he wanted to…👀

• Resurrection & Reincarnation

- This one would tap more into the Spring Court magic lore side & the God of Spring, so again as we all know the definition of season of spring is life after death, rebirth, resurrection, rejuvenation, renewal, regrowth & new beginnings/blessings so on & so on.

Well you know how The Spring Court celebrate Calanmai what if on Calanmai when the magic is most potent it wasn’t just used as a night to increase fertility & create the next heirs but also a night where you could resurrect or reincarnate someone, not only would you rejuvenate the land but you’d also create life after death & resurrect a loved one maybe & it would technically all still fall under the category of Spring magic & maybe a bit of blood magic or something other magic but it’s still spring magic at its core performed by The High Lord of The Spring Court aka Tamlin.

Let me know what you guys think in the comments below🩷

Also let me know if you want me to do this for any other acotar characters

[ladyragingstorm]

Winter court 🖤❄️

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Mr. and Mrs. Shadowsinger

Azriel x Reader - Angst - Smut

His eyes are cold and restless, his wounds are almost healed, and she’d give half of Prythian just to change the way he feels. She knows his love’s in the Hewn City and she knows he’s going to go. But it’s not a female he’s leaving for, it’s his damned duty to the Night Court.

Warnings: sexual content, grinding, dom/sub dynamic, language, bondage, grinding, fingering, toxic couple, using intimacy as a form of persuasion

Her mate was strong but gods damn it, so was she. Perhaps that’s why by some cruel twist of fate, she was mated to the infamous Spymaster of Night Court. A male that could torture the secrets out of seasoned liaisons with even the highest of clearances. Nobody in Prythian was better at the game than him, and he wouldn’t allow anyone a moment to doubt it. “Cold”, “Calculating”, “Ruthless”, those that feared him would whisper.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Azriel?” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

His cold, stony gaze fixed on the door behind her as she pressed her body against it, blocking the exit.

Placing two palms to his leather covered chest, she shoved - perhaps she was the only one who didn’t fear him. In fact, she loved him and that was the fucking problem. She wished she didn’t, wished she could let his ass walk right out that front door and not give him a second glance. Instead she was so hopelessly devoted to him that she couldn’t fathom letting him go without a fight. The irony wasn’t lost on her that she needed him, like he needed to draw information from anyone he perceived as a threat to the Night Court. Those that respected him would call it honorable. She called it fucking insufferable.

To his credit, at the belligerent outburst of his mate, a slight tick of his jaw was the only sign of his irritation - a large hand raising to each of her shoulders.

“You just got back! This is fucking bullshit and you know it!” She huffed. She wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t let him see her weak. No, not today. Let him read the resolve in her eyes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow night.” His firm tone left no room for argument.

Too bad for him she didn’t give a damn about personal space as she made room to retaliate anyway.

“You’re not even healed! Your left wing is tattered in two places. Never mind the fact that I’ve barely seen you this past month. What the hell, Azriel? Do I not matter to you?”

His cold, restless gaze faltered for a moment. “That’s unfair, Y/N, and you know it. You matter and so does ensuring the safety of the court we live in. It’s my duty.”

She pushed a finger into his chest, emphasizing her next words. “No, Azriel, what’s unfair is the way you are walking out on me again. Fuck this court and every person in it, I only want you.” Rage seeped through her, rising to a boil beneath her heated skin. Azriel’s lips remained pressed in a firm line, a slight rustle of his wings the only show of frustration.

Lifting a scarred finger and tracing it lightly along the side of her face, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t mean that.”

Her brow creased at the implication. “I do and you know it. You are all I care about, you’re my fucking mate, not the people of this court, not the city of Velaris, YOU.”

Shaking his head, he remained calm, letting out an exhale. “We can’t keep doing this, Y/N. You’ve known my duties since well before we mated. You don’t see me complaining when you’re away on missions for the Valkyries.”

Oh- he struck a nerve with that. Bracing himself for the recoil he stood firm, crossing his arms in the warriors stance he and Cassian had both perfected over the years. With a cock of his head he continued, “Did I strike a nerve there? Let it out, Y/N. Let’s get this out of the way so you’re not stewing the entire time that I’m gone.”

“You are infuriating!” She howled, her power rolling off her skin in waves, Azriel’s shadows recoiled but he didn’t flinch. “You know why you don’t complain? Because you’re still fed, fucked, and fawned over every single night you’re home. Do I get the same treatment in return? No!”

“So that’s why you’re upset?” He challenged. “You need me to fill your pretty cunt? Is that it baby?”

He hit his mark with the statement. A rush of arousal barreling into him before she clamped down on their bond, rage again lining her sharp features. “I can get off well enough on my own, Azriel.” she spat, his name dripping off her lips with venom. He wanted to bite those lips, suck the venom coating right off of them.

He leaned in, centimeters away from her ear, running a thumb gently up and down her forearm. “You sure about that? You seem a bit-“ hazel eyes roved hungrily up and down her form, from the exposed flesh of the thighs her negligee did very little to cover, to the hint of areola peaking over the deep cut of lace trim, disheveled in her haste to catch him before he left the house. He closed the distance, his lips now caressed the shell of her ear. “-tense.”

“Fuck you.” She snarled.

“Oh, did I not make that clear enough?” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his hazel eyes boring into the depths of her own. “That’s what I’m offering.”

“You can’t fix this with fucking! I’m going to get Rhys, now. You’re not leaving. Not this time.” She stormed to their bedroom, the curve of her ass teasing him as he followed her through the house. Throwing open the armoire door she grabbed a silk t-shirt and leggings, hurriedly putting them on over her slip. Azriel’s tall form leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, watching his angry little mate with a smirk.

“I’m not fucking joking.” She scowled. “I don’t give a shit that he’s your High Lord. You’re MY mate first. Or did you forget that?” She marched toward the doorway shifting to slide past his towering frame. Just as she thought he’d let her past he flung out an arm. “How could I forget, my love? Your fiery rage is the soothing balm warming my own forged of ice.”

She hissed as she barreled into his arm, no match against the 500 years of hard-earned, corded muscle beneath. “No you don’t.” He hauled her over his right shoulder as she kicked and beat her clenched fists against the defined muscles of his back. “Put me down!”

He smiled to himself with satisfaction at the fact that though his mate was livid as all hel with him, she still was careful to throw those fists away from the sensitive membranes of his wings.

Reaching the edge of their oversized bed and much to her dismay, Azriel cradled one hand to the nape of her neck, and looped the opposite arm beneath her ass, dropping her onto the bed, his shadows darting out to restrain her.

“This isn’t going to work!” She yelped.

He hummed, a look of pure male arrogance crossing his gorgeous features. Leaning over the edge of the bed, he braced his weight on his left arm, tracing a calloused finger down the valley between her breasts. “Is that why the sweet aroma of your need is filling every inch of this room?”

Gritting her teeth, she fought the shadows pinning her to their bed.

She loved this and he knew it. His mate was wild, untamed, only yielding within the safety of their bedroom walls.

He placed a knee between her thighs, spreading them, and placing just enough pressure against her core to earn a whimper at the friction.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N.” he demanded.

The female shook her head.

“I may be a patient male, love, but I don’t have time to wait for you. Going to need you to use your words.”

She only scowled at him and he didn’t miss the way she almost imperceptibly arched her back, raising her chest, pebbled nipples peaking from beneath her silken shirt.

“Very well.” He tsk’d, turning his back, wings flaring slightly to remind her of just how accurate the rumors about wingspan were.

He stepped outside the door frame, turning the corner when a pitiful “Wait.” came from their room.

Her scent flowed to him from their room, his cock jerking at the win, at the fact that her submission and desire for him was so evident. He waited a moment. Oh yes, he was going to make her wait for this. Spymaster duties could hold off long enough to punish his girl for her outburst, in all the ways she loved to be reprimanded. She needed the attention and her behavior was a clear sign of it.

So he sauntered back into their room, oozing with confidence as he took in the sight of his mate, defenseless in her binded state.

“Can you be good for me, baby?” He asked in a condescending manner.

She nodded her head, apology dancing in her eyes.

“Promise me, baby.” He teased. “Show me just how good you can be.”

“Yes, sir.” She spoke submissively.

Pride sparked in his chest at her changed behavior. Releasing his shadows, he looked to her with faux empathy in his eyes, seating himself at the edge of the bed. “Strip.”

She did as he requested with no argument.

“Good girl.” He cooed, patting his thigh. “Now c’mere”

He took in every inch of exposed skin as she strode toward him, avoiding eye contact in a show of deference. Very well, the subtle bounce breasts with each step was captivating his attention anyway.

His submissive girl was so fucking good for him.

She spread her legs, straddling his thigh, dropping her weight down onto it, waiting patiently for his next command.

Looking into her eyes, he whispered in a low voice that sent chills through her, his palm cupping her jaw, thumb running across her lower lip. “You’re so delicious, you know? Those pretty lips make me want to devour them until they’re puffy and red.”

He was setting the bait. The next sentence determining whether she’d be rewarded or not based on her response. “But, unforunately” Azriel let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t have all day. Our court needs me.”

He caught the flash of violence in her eyes, the rage warring within them. But to his surprise, she didn’t react. Not one single word of resistance falling from that pretty mouth.

He placed a hand on either side of her hip, situating her center over the seam of his leathers. “I know you didn’t like that, sweet girl. But look at you, you’re being so good for me right now. You’re learning.”

She smiled coyly at the praise, biting her lip and looking up to him with fluttering eyelashes.

“You can move now, baby. Take your pleasure.”

So she did, finding that perfect angle and rhythm to bring the friction she so desperately needed to her aching core.

Her body began to tense, little moans and whimpers spilling from her lips, brows furrowing as she focused on her pleasure. “Azzie.” She whispered innocently. “Please, may I come?”

He brought a scarred hand to the back of her head. “Such good manners, baby. So proud of you.”

She beamed at the praise.

“Yes, my good girl. You may.”

A whimper fell from her lips as his thumb found the sensitive bud of her clit, moving it in those rhythms he’d long ago perfected, bringing her to the edge in no time.

She cried out his name through shattered moans, her head falling to the crook of his neck, breasts heaving against him. When her panting settled, she whispered, “Thank you.”

Opening his mouth to accept her gratitude, he was taken back by something pulling at his wrists, ankles following suit.

His mate hopped off of him, heading to the closet. “What the hell?” Azriel shouted.

“Some Spymaster you are.” She chided, eyes rolling with contempt. “When would I ever submit so easily? Think with your other head next time, Az.”

Throwing on a set of leathers that typically would have had his cock at full attention by the way they hugged her like a second layer of skin, she flashed him a vulgar gesture and left the room, leaving him pinned to their four-poster bed by his own damned shadows.

He fought against the binds but the traitorous things were having none of it.

“Y/N! Come back!” He yelled but the only response was the slamming of the front door echoing down the hall.

——————————

Hours later a disheveled Shadowsinger found himself in the Hewn City. After much convincing his shadows had finally let him free of their restraint when he promised the lecherous things their share of playtime with their favorite little mate - their mate who was absolutely going to be punished later.

He was fuming, embarrassment weighing heavily upon him like an anchor. He almost felt bad for the subject Rhys has sent him to elicit information from today. They expected it would take at least a day, if not two to work on this one. Azriel guessed a day based on the less-than-generous mood he was in.

His heavy footsteps echoed off the walls of the Hewn City dungeons as he neared the cell of his subject, shadows promising violence, an obvious attempt to win back his affections after their betrayal.

Azriel gaped as he rounded the corner to find his leather clad mate sitting in a chair outside the cell, seated in a relaxed show of dominance with one leg crossed over the other, irreverently picking at her cuticles with fucking Truth-Teller.

“What the hell?” He fumed at his mate. “Where is the prisoner?”

“Oh, him?” She flashed a wicked grin.

“He’s gone. I got the information Rhys needed.”

His brows furrowed with disbelief. There was no way. It had only been a couple of hours. “How?”

She stood, swishing her hips as she sauntered toward him, brushing her chest against his. “I have my ways. Certainly you would know that.” She flicked her gaze to his swirling shadows who quickly hid in shame. “Your shadows surely do.”

Gripping him by the front of his leathers, she pulled him into a kiss, claiming his mouth with her own. The Shadowsinger too dumbfounded to argue.

“C’mon Shadowsinger.” She quirked an eyebrow, as she looked into his eyes with challenge. “You’re mine. Now, let’s go home.”

—————————————-

A/N: you get extra credit if you know where the summary for this story came from.

General tags: @lilah-asteria

[astrababyy]

the whole situation in the high lord meeting bugs me so much because in a lot of ways, the seasonal court high lords like tamlin and beron make really good points. it’s THEIR courts that will be made the battlefields and the homes for the refugees. meanwhile, the solar courts can send the soldiers and get all the glory. but it’s autumn, spring, and summer that get dealt all the damage. i’d bet a lot of money the same thing happened with the war 500 years ago too, since the infighting was mainly in the southern part of prythian.

[readychilledwine]

The First Hunt

Eris Week - Day 4 - Hounds And Traditions

Summary - Open season in Autumn always creates a fun game for you and your husband

Warnings - fingering, dirty talk, praise, signs of dumbification and pet play, signs of predator prey play, hunting.

A/n - Slowly reworking through @erisweekofficial things and getting them reformatted 🫠 Happy late day 4! Day 5 should be up this evening. 💕

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

You sighed as you walked through the fallen leaves and branches behind your husband's path. Autumn had fully fallen throughout Prythian. Leaves were changing in the solar courts, and coffee shops began to request goods from your home.

But none of that matter to Eris right now. What mattered to Eris is Prythian welcoming Autumn along all their borders meant one thing.

Open Hunting Season.

Every court had different laws regarding when hunting certain game was appropriate. With Mabon having past, Beron had opened deer and elk season. Your husband's favorite time of the year.

He spent weeks training the hounds for this, and they were as ready as their handler.

“Eris, this isn’t-”

“Now, now, my pretty bunny. Silence is the most important part of the hunt. The hounds can't find their prey if you sit here huffing.” Amber eyes stared at you, a pleased smirk on his face as you crossed your arms. “I warned you, little wife. I said this would bore you.”

“I wanted to come to the cabin, spend time with you,” you huffed again. The hounds were deep into searching. Their sensitive noses buried in the ground. They were stealthy, silent. It was as if they knew exactly what leaves and branches to avoid.

The smokehounds were one of your favorite things about Eris. It was a preview to how he'll treat your future children, a sign of the amount of love he truly had just waiting to emerge, and his patience. One of the hounds, Cyprus, came and brushed his hand before walking another direction, the others following him.

He wordlessly motioned for you to follow, bow strapped to wide shoulders again as he moved. Eris was such a graceful being. Even in his most lethal moments, Eris carried the signs of his love of dance.

You followed them, deeper into the woods, deeper into thick brush. There were no villages nearby. No fae for you to decide to leave and speak with.

You all finally stopped in a field, a cleared area in the woods with only a single ancient oak tree.

It would be the only witness to what he was about to do to you. Your back met soft ground before you could even respond and he stood above you, bent at the waist and smirking, “Little wife, on your back for me already?” His bow was carried away by Willow, weapons now long gone as the hounds began to surround the clearing, sitting in the grass to stay guard.

You pushed up to your elbows, “Huband, help me back up.” You held a hand out to him, only for him to remove his shirt. Inches of new skin was revealed before he ultimately got on top of you, caging you to the ground below, “This isn't hunting?”

“Oh but it is, sweet bunny. I ensnared you right where I wanted.”

“Did you now?”

A soft kiss found your lips, “I did.”

“What if it is I who ensnared you?”

Eris only chuckled in response, “Then maybe we are both getting what we want.” His lips found yours again, more heated and needy as he forced you to lay back again. Your own shirt was pulled of moments later before he moved to pull down the travel pants you had been allowed to wear.

His hands began to explore then, his eyes soft as he looked over your smooth skin. “This is is much better than sitting lonely and waiting for the hounds to find something,” he squeezed the plush skin of your thighs, groaning as he did.

Eris loved every inch of you. He loved the curves you carried. He loved the strong muscles of your legs. “You're already wet for me, I can smell it.”

“Eris, I'm always ready for you.”

He lifted his head at you words before glancing to where Oak had stood, “It appears we only have about 10 minutes. They've found something to chase.”

Your remaining clothing became heated, burning off to ash before a hand came to rest on the most sensitive part of you. Fingers danced through your folds, a sigh leaving your lips as you laid back. “That isn't long enough,” you whined as a nimble finger found your clit, circling it.

“Not for everything I'd like to do, no, but long enough for me to get you to finish on my hand, yes.” Eris slid a finger in while holding your eyes. “Did you really think I would not find the rabbit foot treats you hid?”

You could hardly respond as barely brushed your spot, teasing you, giving you a taste of what you craved without fulfilling the hunger.

“Did you think I wouldn't notice my hounds munching on their favorite snacks during their prehunt routine? Little wife, how silly of you to think I didn't know you were trying to get fucked against a tree.”

He began working his finger in and out, curling it just below where you needed him to touch. You continued to hold eye contact, soft moans coming from your lips as you slightly raised your hips for him.

“Gods, you're beautiful like this,” he murmured. “So responsive and soft. Who's my dumb little bunny?”

“Me,” your voice broke with pleasure. “I'm you're dumb bunny.” Eris smirked, adding a second finger and stretching you out more. His thumb grazed your clit with every movement of his hand.

Your mind shut off with every word whispered into your ear. Praising you, degrading you, the dirtiest things about how warm and wet you were, how greedy your pretty pussy was as it took his fingers so easily.

Eris began to focus on chasing your high as the hounds broke into a sprint, his fingers moving fast as the build of barking began to intimate their prey. His second hand grabbed yours, placing it on your bundle of nerves so he could focus on finding the exact angle he needed.

His free hand began to squeeze your breasts, pinching your nipples hardened from the chilly Autumn morning.

Your cries as you felt the wave approaching were drowned out to all but him. The barking now louder and insistent, indicating the hounds were closer to you and Eris, leading the prey straight to you both.

“Need you to come, bunny. Need you to a the best girl for me,” his voice had dropped, deeper as his own arousal began to grow. He kept working you, fingers pulling like a magnet and pushing you towards the sea of pleasure you wanted to bathe yourself in. “Come, bunny,” he commanded.

His spare hand forced you into a kiss, swallowing the scream of his name falling from your lips as your body found what he was working for. He kissed you through the high until he couldn't, grabbing a single bow and arrow and turning while you laid shaking on the ground to shoot whatever finally came into the clearing.

“Not bad,” he muttered as he looked between his trembling wife and the large stag. He handed you your clothing, helping you put it back on, before standing and offering all 12 hounds their individual praise.

You shook your head as Eris smiled at his first game for the season, “Good first hunt?”

“Absolutely.”

“Better than the game we played last year?”

Eris seemed to pause at that question, “Well, considering you picked the most obvious choice in distraction for the hounds this year, I would say the game of cat and mouse we played during the hunt last year was better.” Your mate, blunt and honest to a fault, looked you over. “Though, I do think you look incredibly sexy with leaves in your hair.”

Eris bent down, lifting the deer with ease, “Besides, you, my bunny, only made it 20 feet from the cabin.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes grew wide, his laughter rang through the clearing, hounds turning in circles of excitement with him. “I swear I tried.”

He moved, kissing your forehead, “Try again later.” The invitation was soft as he whistled, rounding up 12 smokehounds. “Let's go take care of this and then I can fulfill your wishes.”

He turned and walked away, muttering to himself again, “Not bad at all.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[surielstea]

Puppy Love

Eris week day two: Childhood

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x WinterCourt!Reader

Summary: Reader and Eris adventure beyond their courts borders to go hunting in the secluded, evergreen forest.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff | adolescent Eris is a force to be reckoned with.

2.5k words.

The crisp, cold air fogged in front of my mouth as I let out a relishing breath. Officially winter, the season sacred to my Court. I nearly giggled with delight as my boots crunched in the snow, the sweet sound putting a beaming smile on my face.

I was on my trek towards the Autumn Court border, where I'd meet with Eris. Vanserra, a young lord and the sole heir of the Autumn Throne, though rumor has it that the Lady of Autumn was pregnant with another.

Eris and I met last year when he scared off my prey with his loud steps, I practically growled in his face but he only stared at me wide-eyed with flushed cheeks— and then I realized he had never met a girl who wasn't tripping over themselves in attempt to charm him, a young handsome lord would be any Court Lady's dream. That day he had claimed he didn't know what he was doing, that his father sent him out here with some fancy arrows and told him to bring back dinner. I gave him my harvest that day and he demanded I teach him how to hunt, and we've met every morning since.

"I hate the cold," The young lord grumbled, his reddened nose awfully adorable and destroying his facade of distaste.

"Of course you do, Lordling." I sigh. "Accustomed to a life of warm meals and crackling fireplaces," I drone on as I approach him, my white fur cloak blending in with the blinding snow.

His lip curled. "You're a princess, you're accustomed to that too."

I shrug. "Yes but I, unlike you, don't whine when the weather isn't to my liking," I hum with a snarky smile.

He deadpanned. "If I recall, five months ago you were moaning and groaning about the heat." He retorted and my smile fell.

"Well then," I click my tongue. He looks down at the basket in my hands, his brow raised.

"This is a gift for you, for our one-year friend anniversary." I hum and hold the wicker basket out to him, the blanket over it shifting with movement. He looked at it curiously, as if whatever was inside might bite his hand off.

"Friend zoned? After all my efforts of attempting to enchant you?" He says, taking the basket from me. I give him an incredulous look. He knew it'd never work, that the Prince with fire in his veins and Princess of ice and snow could never be together, forever opposing courts. No matter how badly I wished for that fact to change.

"Just, open it." I push the basket into his hand and he takes it, a sniffling snout peaking out from beneath the blanket. Eris looked at me slightly alarmed but I only gave him an encouraging smile. He sighs and flips back the rest of the blanket, revealing a pup with a gray coat, his tail wagging excitedly at the sight of his new owner.

"Where did you get this?" He looked at me with alarmed confusion and I rolled my eyes.

"My uncle gifted him to me on solstice, but we don't have the right environment to train and take care of him," I took the pup from his basket and cradled him in my arms, he chuffed and attempted to lick my cheek.

"He's a hunting dog, a smoke hound to be exact," I explain and hand him to Eris, who holds the dog like he was an alien.

"I know what he is. Do you understand what you're giving away?" He raises a brow. Smokehounds were the best breed in Prythian, not only that but this was a pure breed, so rare that even one was extremely difficult to come by. I knew the Autumn Court had prized them, and I could think of no one more deserving than the young lord who had snuck his way into my frozen heart this past year.

"Yes, very aware." I smile.

"I can't accept him, any of this," He shakes his head and puts the dog back into the basket, and attempts to hand it back to me.

"But look, he's already so attached to you,"  I argue with adoring eyes as the pup licks at Eris's ringed fingers.

"Let him hunt with us today, and then we'll decide who he goes home with." I place the basket down and watch as the hound spills out of it, trotting through the deep snow. His thick coat kept him warm, and his tongue lolling out was enough to say he was happy to be outside rather than trapped in my castle, to be doing what he was born to.

"Fine," Eris sighed, then grabbed his bow from his back. I did the same with mine. We followed the dog through the forest, allowing him to lead us as he tracked an invisible scent that even our fae senses couldn't pick up. His long ears nearly dragged through the snow as he trudged forward.

"What will you name him?" I ask softly, my voice quiet in fear of scaring off any prey.

"You can name him," Eris grumbled, showing only disinterest in the dog. I'd find it rude if I didn't know him better than that. He was trying to let it not get to him, he had never received such a meaningful gift for no real reason. He didn't like the warm feeling in his chest that he had never quite been able to control.

"Come on," I groan. "At least bounce ideas with me?" I suggest but he ignores me and I stop in my tracks, staring at him and sheathing my arrow back in its quiver.

He halted too after realizing I had stopped and turned to me with a raised brow.

"Why do you do this," I sigh.

"Do what?" He slings his bow over his shoulder.

"Deny any form of admiration I try to give you?" I stride closer, only a pace but enough to send him a message.

He stayed silent, only swallowing thickly as a reply. "It's a hound, Princess. I appreciate it but it's too grand of a gesture—" He begins to argue after a moment but I cut him off.

"This isn't about the dog." I shake my head. "Why do you refuse to let me you let me love you?" My brows crease and he bristles at my wording, but that is what it was, isn't it? That warm feeling he couldn't control that twisted him into knots, it was love, and he was terrified of it.

"Because I don't feel the same." He wills himself to say and a twinge of pain cracks through my heart but I remain strong.

"Liar," I snarl. "What are you so afraid of?" I take another step forward, so close that if I reached out, I could grab his hand in mine.

He shrugs and looks to the side, at the long line of evergreen trees that were more free than him, rooted into the frozen soil but still, alive and thriving. Far more than he'd ever be while chained to a throne. "Eris," I whisper and he shudders at the way I say his name. It was too intimate, it held none of the malice it often did when his father spat it, only heavy with adoration and guilt. "Eris look at me," I say and he steels his features, because my eyes were too much for him to bear, the eyes of the female he loves, and that horrifies him, because he cannot fool or trick me when I stare at him with those all-seeing eyes, cannot attempt to plot or ensnare when I look at him like that.

"I'm afraid of my father finding out," He confesses. "Terrified that if he discovers that something other than power makes me happy, he'd destroy it." His voice was as pure and raw as the fresh snow beneath our feet.

"We're seventeen, we shouldn't have to worry about that—" I begin but it was his turn to cut me off.

"But we're not normal kids, we will never be normal kids." He reached out and cupped my cheeks, and despite the negative temperatures, his palms were warm and soothing against my icy skin. "And I can't risk you."

"I'm a princess of my court, sole heir to the Winter Throne. To hurt me would be an act of war, he cannot touch me." I claim.

"No, but he will find a way. He will cleave us and tear us apart until you hate me." He claims and I frown.

"That will never happen." I shake my head, refusing the idea of ever hating the male that stood in front of me.

"Won't it?" His hands on my face press firmer, stressing his point. "We're heirs of opposing courts, inevitably we will become enemies." He explains.

"But we could be the ones to form an alliance," A fool's dream. The autumn court was too prideful to accept any other court, and the winter court would never ally with fire bringers. "Can't we just be stupid and reckless and young, for once?" I plead. "Even for only a few moments?" I say and reach forward, gripping his tunic in my fist.

"Is that too much to ask for?" I murmur and his eyes soften.

"Far too much," He replies, his warm breath mingling with mine. "But I'm willing to give it to you," He says, his voice steady and warm like crackling embers to a recently put-out fire.

"As a friend-anniversary present?" I taunt him with a teasing smirk and he shakes his head.

"You don't know how to shut up do you?" He drawls and I smile.

"I can think of one way," I suggest, stumbling forward and his breath hitched as I rose onto my toes and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. I pulled back with a soft smile and that was enough to send him reeling. He advanced forward, his fingers singing with heat against my cheeks as his lips, finally, met mine.

It was innocent and gentle, and a little awkward, but gods was it perfect. The kiss alone heated my entire body, all the way down to my fingertips which were still clutching his green tunic. Realizing I was still gripping him I relaxed my hands and allowed them to slip up his chest, around to the nape of his neck so I could pull him closer and encase myself in his warmth while he deepened our kiss.

My stomach clenched when he pulled away, it was quick, only a moment— exactly what I had asked for. I hadn't realized I was now going to crave those moments until the end of me.

He looked at me, his cheeks flushed and I knew it wasn't the cold that tinged them. "You ruined my makeup," I say, reaching up and wiping away the smear of cosmetics on his bottom lip.

"But you look beautiful," He mumbled, too caught up in the action of me so casually touching his lips. I lift my eyes up to his gold-flecked ones and smile wickedly.

"That kiss really did a number on you," I taunt because it was the only way to stop myself from being greedy and kissing him again, and again, and again until I could recall the exact feel of his lips from memory.

He looked to the side, attempting to get rid of his blush, forget about how perfectly he slotted against you.

Then his brows bunch in concern and my spine stiffens with alarm. "What is it?" I ask, looking out towards the empty forest.

"Your dog already got lost." He grumbled and I relaxed, my shoulders slumping.

"He's your dog," I stress. "And he's not lost. He's hunting." I say proudly and Eris casts me an unbelieving glance. I smile at him and press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Come on," I take his hand in mine and drag him through the frosted-over forest. "We have to catch at least a few squirrels before leaving," I say and he mumbles a string of curses but follows me anyway.

We had been crouched behind a bush for so long now that my legs began to ache from my position. Eris was fletching an arrow leaning back against a tree, his auburn hair blending in with the trunk of the redwood. I admire his pale features, his sharp nose, and high cheekbones. His amber eyes that were flecked with gold if you were close enough to notice. I was just about to blurt something foolish about how handsome he was, when the crunch of snow sent my ears peeking up.

Eris froze too, becoming alert and peering over the side of the tree as I drew my arrow from its quiver and nocked it against my bowstring. The sound of steps comes from behind, straight at us, growing faster.

I whirl around and aim at the grey creature bounding towards Eris.

The smokehound pup trotted towards him with a limp rabbit in his maw. The hound chuffs then drops it at Eris' feet as an offering. "Aw, he's brought you a gift," I beam wildly. "You should turn the rabbit into jerky and treat him with it. He'd love that," I say while patting the pup's dark coat.

His gaze lingers on you for a long moment, analyzing your gentle features when you look at the dog. "Maybe I will," He mutters and I look over to him with a soft smile. "I think we're done for the day," I say and stand upright, stretching my legs as I do so. He does the same, the pup looking up at him with his tail wagging excitedly. Eris bent down and patted the dog's head and the hound began running circles around the both of us.

Eris shakes his head with feigned annoyance. I grabbed him by his collar and pulled him forward, right into me. His arms wrapped around my waist on instinct, stabilizing himself with his hands planted on my torso— and even through all the layers of clothing, I could feel the warmth emanating from him. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, right?" I tilt my head up at him and he nods with a soft smile.

"Mhm, bring Flynt," I say and he raises his brows.

"Is that his name, now?" He asks, looking down at the dog weaving between us happily.

"You said I could pick," I shrug innocently and his smile grows.

"Flynt it is," He nods, then leans forward and places a soft, precious kiss on my forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Princess." He whispers against my frosty skin and I nod, taking a wobbly step back and turning away towards my Court before I got the idea in my head that I could find us an empty cabin to live in until we were old and rotting.

I don't bother with goodbyes and continue my march towards the Mountain Home. But I did look back, just once, to see Eris and his new obedient pet walking alongside each other back towards the realm of crackling bonfires and falling leaves.

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[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War

Summary: A warlord!Rhys x Tamlin's sister!Reader AU where Hybern won the War centuries ago, ravishing Prythian and leaving the splintered Courts as nothing more than pockets of travelling war bands. Based loosely on the vibes from War by Laura Thalassa.

Content Warnings: (Each chapter will be tagged accordingly for violence, drinking, and Eventual smut) Canon typical violence, Rhys leans heavily into morally gray, kidnapping.

Author's Note: Trying something new with a first person POV, let me know what you think :)

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“Don’t come back unless you’ve brought food.”

It’s been days since that order, the rumble of my stomach the only indicator of passing time. The changing forests, the dying grasslands, the marshes, it’s all been a disappointing blur. All my traps are empty and untouched, some frozen in place as winter approaches. My father used to tell me stories of the Courts, how they were ruled by High Lords with the power to keep perpetual seasons. That was before the War, before Hybern and his General Amarantha ruined everything with the Cauldron, all for some human slaves. Father had liked to talk about the “good ole days” every night around the fire; he could spin pretty tales for hours, but that’s all they are these days. Stories. And stories don’t keep your stomach full.

I trail the deer through a stinking muck of a bog, mud and slimy water seeping in through the holes in my boots. The sludge is bone chilling, my hands shaking around my bow; teeth chattering so loud I have to clamp my mouth shut to avoid making too much noise. I need this kill and I need it fast. 

The deer stops to eat a bit of moss and I take a few more careful steps forward to get a better vantage point, cautious of where the ground sinks deeper beneath the murky water. Slipping and twisting an ankle in this mud would be dangerous, but it’s not an injury that makes my steps cautious. There are plenty of kelpie around these parts, I feel their beady little eyes watching me under the cover of a quickly approaching fog. All I need is one misstep and those spindly, webbed hands will drag me under for a quick meal.

Better a kelpie than the Highway Men I’d managed to dodge getting this far out of my brother’s territory, I suppose, but I’d rather avoid both of them if possible.

Once I’m sure of my footing, I notch an arrow to my bow. This is not the ideal place to kill it, but the rumbling of my stomach might just be too damn loud to give me another chance if I wait for it to pass out of the bog. How many days has it been since my last meal? Four? Five?

I pull the arrow back, the weathered feathers brushing my hollow cheek. 

The deer’s head jerks up, ears turning to listen to something beyond the fog and I hold my breath. The ground beneath my boots begins to rumble and the deer bolts before I can take the shot, disappearing into the gloom. A loss to mourn later, because that rumbling can only mean one thing: Horses, and a lot of them, moving right in my direction. 

I slide my bow over my shoulder and run back the way I’d come, mud sucking at my every step, slowing my progress as I try to get back to the treeline at the edge of the bog. The wet land is covered in dead and living trees alike, some as old as time, still reaching towards the sun like the ruined hands of a corpse, some fighting its inevitable demise. It’s too cold these days for the living to still have leaves, so even if I wanted to stop and climb one, I’d have no place to hide. I might as well stand there and wave my arms and alert every horseman to my location.

Still, the branches are helpful for leverage, and I grab onto the low ones and haul myself along, hoping to find shelter higher up the basin’s edge, where the water has not claimed as much. There’s plenty of underbrush there to shield me. 

The first horse appears through the fog, dark as a shadow, it’s echoing whinny chilling in the previous silence. A hooded rider sits atop the giant animal, a giant sword sheathed between his massive shoulders. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss to no one as I crouch the best I can in the open air. 

There are many warbands in Prythian these days. Some are Hybern’s men. Some Amarantha’s. The rest are what remains of the Courts. Those of us with enough magic to prove useful have been known to swear fealty and garner protection from them, but that means you get the privilege of fighting and dying for those entitled pricks who think they are owed the land their ancestors once ruled. From this far, I can’t tell who’s colors they bear, but without the, usually oppressive presence, of my brother’s own men I’m not likely to have a safe encounter. Better to wait it out and let them pass.

The first rider doesn’t see me through the fog, a small blessing that I take full advantage of by inching forward. The treeline is so close. If I am lucky, if the Mother is still out there listening and looking out for me, I can hunker down and wait.

A second rider appears through the fog, faster than the first, racing along the bog’s edge until it makes it over the ledge of the basin and disappears. The cry of their horses sound like ghosts howling in the wind. A third and fourth rider follow. I can hear even more of them, the rumble of their caravan making the ground shake, but no more appear as the fog thickens. 

A shiver runs down my spine, but still, I press forward. I’ve dodged plenty of males like this in the past, I can do the same now. I just need to be smart. And lucky.

Neither of which I am, apparently. As soon as my boots touch more solid ground, another horse appears, this time, from within the safety of the treeline I’d been so desperate to get to. The rider atop this one is as large as the first, face completely obscured by a black hood with three stars perfectly poised over his forehead, the bottom two falling where his eyes should be. 

I freeze, mind reeling back to a time years ago, when those stars had come bursting through camp, only bloodshed and destruction behind them. My hands shake at my sides as I slide backwards into the muck, slipping, barely maintaining my balance as the midnight black horse rears, hooves pawing at the air. I’d heard that terrifying whiny before too, right before my father’s head rolled out of his tent. 

My stomach rolls, bile rising in the back of my throat. This can’t be happening to me! They promised to stay away.

The rider gets his horse under control, large, gloved hands yanking hard on the reins, deep voice barking orders in the language I know belongs to the mountain men in Illyria, but had never been permitted to learn myself.

My heart hammers in my chest as I get back on my feet, head whipping back and forth trying to find a way out.  

“What’s your business here?” The rider demands, voice deep, gruff, muffled by a scarf over the lower half of his face.

“My own,” I snarl, reaching for the hunting knife at my hip. This is no one’s claimed territory, save for maybe the kelpie I hear skimming the surface at my back, I have every right to hunt here as anyone. “Now let me pass and I’ll be on my way.”

The rider swings out of the saddle and the ground shakes as his boots touch the ground. A dark mist leaks from his shoulders, shadows swirling around the sword hilt peeking out from between his shoulders and… I’d been mistaken about his size, it wasn’t just his shoulders, it was a pair of wings. Wings that had been tucked tight while he was  riding but now stretch out behind him, the leathery membrane pitted and scarred from years of battle. If I’d had doubts about who this was before, I don't now. Though I’d only seen him in glimpses that night, Tamlin had talked enough about the rival warlord over the years for me to be able to put two and two together.

A lump forms in my throat. Rhysand is even taller up close, the top of my head barely coming up to his chin. “I have nothing of value.” I’m not wearing our colors, I’m not sure if they would have helped or hindered me here, but my best bet is to just play dumb.

From the incline of his head it looks like he’s eyeing my knife, but I can’t be certain. There is some kind of enchantment over his hood, obscuring his face from view. “What’s your name?” 

“No business of yours,” I retort, tightening my grip on the knife. 

“So hostile,” he purrs. “I mean no harm.”

“Says the male with the sword.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.”

“I’m flattered,” I drawl. “How kind of you to deem me worth a modicum of decency as you block my exit.”

He takes a step forward and I take a step back, right to the edge of the water, where that damn creature hisses out a chuckle, knife poised and ready between us. He’s not wearing armor, a well placed blow could still kill him, I want him to think twice before moving any closer. Though, I suppose I must not look that imposing, considering our size difference and the sheer amount of muscle underneath that dark cloak. 

He sizes me up silently for a moment, hooded head intently fixed on the hand gripping the knife. Then, with speed enhanced even for High Fae, he’s reaching forward and grabbing my wrist as I stumble back and slam right into a tree.

It’s instinct: The punch I throw with my free hand, hitting him square in the throat, even as my heel comes down on the top of his foot. He grunts like it hurts, but doesn’t move, doesn’t let up on the grip he keeps on my wrist.

“Where’d you get this scar?” He drags a finger over the top of my hand, where I’ve got a scar shaped like an eight point star. 

“Get off me!” I shout as I try to wrench my hand free of his grip.

If his men hear, they don’t come running. There is no one here to save me--not that there has been anyone to save me in a long time anyway.

He’s wearing gloves, but with the hand not maintaining a vice on my wrist, he pushes the leather back enough to reveal a matching scar on the back of his own hand. 

All thought eddies from my mind. 

This can’t be real.

He takes the knife from my hand as if it was being held by a toddler, but much to my surprise, he slides it right back into its sheath at my hip. The move lets him lean in, large body hovering over mine. I still can’t see a glimpse of his face beneath the hood. 

“You’re my mate,” he says, voice a reverent whisper.

Mate. My heart hammers in my chest at the word, as if something beneath my skin is coming to life at the realization. The power that lies distant and untouched with me stirs, a large beast poking its head out of the den after a long hibernation. Having a mate is most women's dream--was my own, once upon a time, before the world went to hell--but not like this, not him. My world had gone to hell because of him. 

The Mother truly hates my guts.

“I’m not your anything,” I snarl as I get a hand on his broad chest and push. He’s nothing but solid muscle beneath my palm. When pushing gets me nowhere, I make a fist and hit him a good couple times. “Now let go of me, you brute!”

He chuckles, low and rich, as if this is all very amusing. “No. It’s not safe out here. You’re coming with me.”

I’d rather be eaten by the kelpie. “The hell I am!” But before I can find a way to fight him, as useless as my attempts have been thus far, he wraps a strong arm around my waist and all but tosses me into the saddle.

I reach for my hunting knife again, but a gloved hand hovers over my own, even as his other arm snakes around me to grab the reins. “Easy, mate,” he purrs in my ear. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Despite myself, that voice, so close to my ear, his body warm and solid behind me, a shiver runs down my spine. “You’re fucking kidnapping me, you bastard!” I snarl, because there’s no way I’m just going along with this. “And I’m not your mate! I don’t even believe in mates.”

“You will,” he assures as he kicks his horse into moving back into the fog.

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[nikethestatue]

How the Mating Went

(In celebration of the impromptu Elain Archeron Week, because I can)

There were things that Elain Archeron preferred to keep a secret. Her family was nosy and everyone liked being in each other's business. Yes, it was cute at times, adorable even, but also annoying and intrusive.

The things that she kept secret varied in terms of importance. For example, she didn't like that restaurant that Rhys insisted they go to. The restaurant itself was fine, and the atmosphere was lovely, but the food...Elain couldn't stomach the food. But she pretended that she enjoyed it. That was a small thing. A bigger thing was that she knew how to winnow--but she hadn't told anyone. Not her sisters, not her friends. She wasn't sure why that was exactly. Perhaps, she wanted to keep a bit of freedom for herself. The other small thing was that she really didn't like anything with cinnamon. When she made spiced cakes in the fall, she usually omitted it, and it didn't seem like anyone noticed it. Well, maybe he noticed it. But he never said anything. He never said anything to her anymore. It hurt her. It hurt her heart not to hear from him, not to hear his voice, not to have him address her. It hurt.

That was, perhaps, her greatest secret. A secret that she kept deep inside her chest and never dared to speak of. Not even to the twins. It was simple, really. She was in love.

Elain Archeron loved a man. Well, a male. She never wanted a male, and didn't think that a day would ever come when she'd desire one. She didn't want a mate or a male. But this one--he was the one she loved. And if he was her mate, she wouldn't have minded it. But he wasn't and he wouldn't be. She loved him in secret. She loved him in silence. She loved him through unshed tears, with a smile plastered on her face. She loved him into the void.

Lastly, another thing that she kept a secret, was her newly discovered obsession with nightball. It was Prythian's premiere spectator sport. Where she came from, there were sporting tournaments, and tennis, and jousting, especially among the wealthy noblemen. When she was young, she and Nesta and their parents would go to the races, watching and even betting on ponies. Once, she even won six gold coins. Her mother had said that it would go towards her dowry. Elain was seven years old.

Nightball was a simple game, played between two teams--the objective was to throw a ball into a net. it was basic enough, but magic could be used, so each team had two winnowers and two racers, who ran like the wind. There were two defenders, who could erect walls of fire and air, and two fliers, who were winged Fae.

Elain would sneak out to go to the stadium to watch the games. She lied to Feyre, telling her that she was going to help elderly Fae in the city. She didn't. Well, sometimes she did--but she also had purchased tickets for 24 season games and when her favourite team was playing--the Golden Dragons--she winnowed wherever they played and attended the games. She'd scream herself hoarse, sweat through her tunic, and have the time of her life.

Today, the game happened to be in Day Court--it was her second favourite Court, after Summer. Day was beautiful, and its citizens certainly took their games very seriously. Their stadium was magnificent, made of white limestone and with the capacity to house many thousands of occupants.

The game was nerve-wracking. The Golden Dragons were playing the second best team in the League, the Dark Knights. The score was up and down the entire game, with one of the winnowers being taken out, and both fliers being ejected from the field by the referee. Elain was stress-screaming so much, she'd lost her voice. But the Dragons won and she was blissfully happy.

Now, she was walking down the marble promenade which overlooked the sea. It was warm and couples strolled alongside her, most carrying banners and insignia of their respective teams.

"Elain, wait up."

She turned around so swiftly at the sound of his voice, she almost fell over. His hand clasped around her upper arm and he steadied her, but not before she bounced against his chest, face first.

"What are you...how do you...why? How did you...you know..." she began babbling incoherently.

"I watch you," he said simply.

"What? Why?" she exclaimed, completely flustered.

He wrapped his long strong fingers around her fist and walked next to her. An Illyrian Shadowsinger was an unusual sight here, in Day Court, and he was stared at. He didn't react.

"Why are you here?" she repeated.

"Because I can't look away."

"What...what do you mean?" she murmured.

"Just that. I can't help but watch you. And when I can't watch you, I worry about you. That you know how to winnow makes it even harder for me. So I watch you when I can. And when I can't, I am tormented by the worst thoughts."

"What thoughts?"

"That you are with another male," he admitted. "Or that you are hurt and I cannot help you."

"I don't want any males," she huffed irritably.

He smiled sadly.

"I know."

They walked in silence for a long time.

There wasn't anything to say.

But he didn't release her hand.

Once out of the promenade, they stepped out onto a plaza where food stalls sold everything from fried fish, to fruit pies, to drinks and ale.

"Buy me a sweet ice," she requested.

"Alright," he nodded, "what flavour would you like?"

Elain stopped to read the offerings--raspberry, cherry, lemon, orange, coffee, almond, pistachio.

"Cherry," she said. "What's your favourite?"

"Hmmm, I am not sure," his eyes scanned the sign. "Caramel, I think."

"You like sweet on sweet."

"When you aren't allowed even a dab of honey on your lips for the length of your childhood, sweet on sweet sounds very good," he told her.

She blushed. She shouldn't have said it. She shouldn't have said anything.

"So cherry then?" he confirmed, counting some coins in his palm.

He hadn't let go of her hand though.

"No, I changed my mind," she shook her head. "I want caramel."

"Oh, so sweet on sweet then?" he teased.

Once he paid, he handed her the sweet ice and they walked towards the sea. The sun was setting. Dusk. The sea was calm, the surf smooth and quiet, like soft brushes of paint on canvas.

Elain stopped, admiring the view. It was endless ocean and endless sky in front of her, and next to her, the only one she wanted to stand with. Endless life. Endless love.

He was quiet. As always.

She exhaled. The words fell from her lips.

"I think you are my mate'," Elain said clearly.

Then she handed him the sweet caramel ice.

Sweet on sweet.

"So eat."

He ate.

[heartysworld]

Say it, loud and clear! || Azriel x Fem!Reader

A/N: so my friend gave me this idea where Rhys' dad took Azriel in as his own son after the two got so close. And I couldn't come up with a proper title for him so Prince will have to do for now! If you have any suggestions send them! I hope you enjoy this <3

W.C: 1.9k

If you're interested in more of these you can check out my wattpad account where I have a lot more posted from a whole ago! Right HERE

You laid in bed,covered in furs while the fireplace cracked with life af the wood inside burned. The season was starting to get colder and colder. Meanwhile, Azriel sat on the other side of the bed,his upper half exposed to the still cold air while he fastened the laces of his leather pants. The two of you had spent another night tangled in each other, just like you did for the last half a year.

The entire high family of the Day Court had been invited to spend a year under the roof of the High Lord of the Night Court in an attempt to form stronger alliance. Late at night,when every living soul is already away at the world of the dreaming a quiet knock on the wooden doors of your chambers would pull you out of your thoughts. This secret relationship was something you couldn't describe yourself. To you it was more than just seeking pleasure, you had grown to love the older Prince ever since the two of you were younger. What scared you was not knowing how Azriel felt about this, he never spoke of his thoughts and feelings. The only time he did so was the first time he spent the night with you,that same night he took your innocence away, whispering sweet words in your ear as he broke through you. The way your heart fluttered that night made you think about this moment quite often.

You haven't thought of asking him about it any sooner,until the previous morning you overhead your father and the Lord of Night speaking of a potential marriage between you and the Prince. Your father also mentioned another proposal for your hand that came from the lands of Spring. The only heir of the Spring Court had his eyes set on you ever since his family's last visit to Day. There was nothing bad about Tamlin, but knowing that your heart was already stolen by another prevented you from thinking of possibly accepting him as your husband.

"I heard something yesterday." You said while looking at Azriel's naked back, his wings spread mightily around him, making the sight even more magnificent.

"What did you hear again, sweet dove?" Azriel asked, turning his body around to look at you with a small smile. Slowly he crawled back on the bed, hovering above you as he started stealing kisses from your lips.

You delayed your answer, wanting to enjoy the moment for longer. You hand went to your lover's face, holding it gently while you kissed him, earning a quiet groan as your cold hands made contact with his warm skin.

"Yesterday morning" you started, interrupting the kiss,still keeping your Prince close to you. "I overheard our fathers speaking."

"Go on, you've caught my interest." Azriel said, smirking at the confession that you had spied on a conversation between two of the High Lord's of Prythian.

"They were speaking of potentially marrying us." You replied.

The moment those words left your mouth you felt Azriel's body tense above yours. Seconds later he was away from you, out of bed, searching for the remainder of his clothes.

His reaction both surprised you and didn't. You never knew what to expect from him whenever news that involve himself were discussed.

"What are you doing, Azriel? What's with the rush let's talk about this!" You said,now standing up close to him as you tried to make him stop his frantic movements.

"There is nothing to talk about, Y/N, if they bring up the decision for this marriage to you, just decline it!" The Prince replied, now pulling his nightshirt over his head.

Your heart broke at his words. He didn't want to even speak about this.

"Why should I decline? Don't you want us to marry and no longer have to hide this relationship from people's eyes? I thought you loved me!" You said finally snapping at him and his behavior.

His reaction followed seconds later after your outburst.

"No! No I do not wish to get married! I do not want to spent my life in a loveless marriage, to be tied down to the duty of producing children that would remain forgotten by the nation or even worse! Killed!" Azriel shouted. He spilled words out one after another, each and every single one cutting harder through you.

By the time he was finished tears were already streaming down your face while your body trembled. He didn't want you,he didn't love you. All he wanted was your body and you were too blind to see it. All these months ago,those sweet words he whispered to you were only a facade,so he could get what he wanted.

"Very well then. Have a good day, my Prince." You said,voice already breaking at the end of your sentence. You bowed your head slightly, something you haven't done in years.  Azriel never has you call him "Prince" or curtsey to him whenever you encountered him ever since you were children.

After he dressed himself he left your chambers without another word. Soon after your maids arrived, finding you curled on a ball in your bed, sobbing quietly. The three women were concerned about your state, asking if something had happened,if you were hurt in any way. You answered their questions with some made up story about a dream that felt too real and made you feel scared. No more words were exchanged.

When it was time for breakfast you were informed that Prince Azriel was not going to be present for your usual shared breakfast as he had left more than an hour ago and fled Velaris. He ran away from you to Mother know where, taking away the happiness he brought you with him.

The next week or so was spent mostly in your chambers or out in the gardens. The High Lord's mate herself had invited you to join her once after hearing of you staying in your room constantly.

She was the one to tell you Azriel had gone to Windhaven, claiming he wanted a change of scenery. You knew that was a lie, Azriel hated that place, it reminded him of his younger years, of the time his so called brothers poured oil on his hands and lit them on fire.

During that week your father also sought your presence to dine with him, sharing the news of his conversation with the Lord of Night regarding your possible suitors. The moment he mentioned Azriel your heart broke once again, memories from that morning flooding your mind. Second he spoke of Prince Tamlin and his proposal. You were not pressured to choose immediately, but the sooner you did the better, the High Lord wanted to see his younger son finally get married and if you declined the offer,another woman would be found quickly.

You asked for another week to think through the possibilities on which your father agreed. If Azriel did not return by the seventh day you were going to accept the proposal of the man of spring. It would at least take you as far away as possible from all the pain Azriel caused you.

The next morning, another invitation from the Lady of Night arrived, asking you to join her for breakfast in her private chambers. She had heard from her husband of the possibility of you marrying one of her Princes.

"I have no doubt you are going to make the best choice for yourself,my sweet girl. I also know that my son has been attached to your side ever since he could remember. Why choose a man of sprinf and leave your family behind to go live at the other side of the continent?" She said, sipping on her tea.

You waited a moment before responding.

"The Prince would not want me as his wife, my Lady, he would never even marry if he was given the choice. I do not wish to trap him in a marriage he does not want." You replied,not daring to look at her.

The woman let out a sight before she took your hand in hers, getting your attention.

"I never wished to marry my husband, dear Y/N, but we women don't really have a choice in the society that we live in. With time a woman grows to love her husband." She said.

"I promise to make the best choice, my Lady." You answered with a slight smile as you felt a light squeeze from her hands.

It was the seventh and last day of the period you had to make your decision. With not even a trace from Azriel you had already made up your mind. At least Tamlin wanted to marry you, unlike the Prince who ran away at the mere mention of marriage.

As promised you were invited to join your father and the Lord of Night for lunch where you would name your chosen husband to be. You had a few more hours until so. During those hours left, you bathed, picked up a dress and had one of your maids put your hair up in a nice braid. You wanted to look presentable after letting go fo yourself for almost a fortnight.

Now,you were taking small steps around the House of Wind, making your way towards your father's chambers from where the two of you would go to the High Lord's.

Meanwhile, a certain raven haired Prince ran across the city of Velaris after receiving a letter from his mother early this morning. As a mother, the Lady of Night knew her son had done something to make this beautiful girl in front of her look like an abandoned widow. That's why she sent a letter after thinking things through, informing her son of the decision you were about to make. Yesterday,your maids started asking about your choice,who would you wish to marry. You finally broke your silence, wanting to get it off your chest and so you told them of your loneliness here, of Prince Azriel's reaction of the possible marriage between you two. Later that day, your words reached the High Lady's ears.

"Lady Y/N, where is she?" Azriel asked as he bursted through the open doors of your chambers meeting only the maids who were changing the bedsheets.

"Her Ladyship went to find her father as the two are invited to have lunch with the High Lord." Said one of the three women. The Prince wasted no time as he ran away to try and find you as the maids giggled at his reaction.

His mind was racing with memories of how he left you alone that day a fortnight ago,with a broken heart and treat stained face. You called him Prince, you never did that, he himself had forbade you to do so years ago.

Azriel was afraid of marriage as he had witnessed the way his father treated his mother. The two were wed simply because they were mates and the court needed a male heir, Rhys. Even though the High Lord of Night had taken him under his wing all those decades ago, he could never forgive him for the way he treated his mate, the woman who raised Azriel as hers. The High Lord loved the boy as his own, but he had done way too many wicked deeds.

As Azriel was running to find you he thought of his actions,how could he even think you didn't love him all this time and how stupid he was for not telling you of his own feelings. Now you could slip away from his fingers not knowing of his love for you.

Just as he was about to round a corner in one of the many hallways,he crashed against someone else,a way too familiar voice screaming at the impact.

His body fell above yours as you let out a scream.

Moments later your eyes met the ones you had so dearly missed during the last two weeks,your own filling with tears at the sight of Azriel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked as he still laid above your form.

"Don't marry him." Azriel whispered as his head got closer to yours.

"And why should I do that?" Another question was asked.

"Because I am the one who has loved you ever since I have known you Y/N. I have to have you, it is you or no one else. Don’t marry him. Don’t be with him. Be mine.

"Do you love me, Azriel? That's all I need to know." You asked as a lone tear fell down your cheek. "Gods help me! Answer me Azriel,say it if you mean it,loud and clear!"

"I love you with all my heart,my dear Y/N, and I spent every single moment regretting how I left you alone that day, regretting the words I said to you. I want to marry you,only you. That is...if you'll have me, not only as your husband, but as your mate too." Azriel answered.

Seconds later your lips were on his as the you two shared a much needed kiss. The fact that you layed in the floor long forgotten as you drowned yourselves in the feelings you felt.

Your intimate moment was interrupted by two very familiar voices.

"I think the purpose of our lunch already received it's answers, Lord Aelius." The Lord of Night laughed as your father joined him seconds later.

The two man stood a few feet away as they happened to witness prince Azriel's confession.

You buried your face in Azriel's neck while he was barely holding back his laughter himself. This was going to be one of the many embarrassing moments to tell you children one day but it was worth it,because on this day your life actually started, accompanied by the man you have loved ever since you were a little girl.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

The High King theory truly makes me ill.

And knowing SJM and her obsession with making certain characters superior and/or have some kind of divine right to rule, I know she’ll try to make it happen at the expense of literally everyone else.

Moreover, I don’t see how it can happen without a major war. They just got out of 50 years under Amarantha, I doubt the courts are itching for another incompetent warlords’ attempt at HK/HQ.

Who exactly would bow to Feyre and Rhysand? The High Lords meeting showed that barely anyone tolerated them, nor did they have any actual allies that wasn’t Helion. And I doubt Helion would be so forgiving when he finds out about Lucien. Tamlin and Eris would never, so they’d have to die. Neither would Tarquin or Kallias agree, so that’s a given war with the Seasonal Courts. Dawn would stay neutral, or end up the rebel court. It really is the only toss up.

And even with Gwydion (which rightfully belongs to Nesta alongside the Trove) as some kind of divine symbol, feysand genuinely sucks at ruling. Conquer Prythian—yes, conquer because the other HL would never submit if they asked nicely—when they can’t even rule or play nice with their own people. Enough with the HK dreams, Amren; Rhysand would be lucky if Illyria and Hewn City don’t band together soon to stage a massive uprising.

(Y’know I’m not surprised nobody in the IC can empathize with the CoN citizens. They were all trapped in Velaris for fifty years, where they were free and the sun still rose. Imagine if they’d been UtM with everyone else; maybe then they’d get it. That life where even the sun and trees and anything worth living is out of reach at the whims of a dictator is no life at all.)

And I’ve seen theories floating around that the HK plot is set up for Nyx instead, because he’s destined to inherit all seven powers of the court. Yeah, that’s equally terrible. Divine right to rule and conquer is bullshit. Balance is something that should exist but doesn’t in Acotar. If it did, Feyre wouldn’t be as powerful as she is. 7 drops is not a lot of magic; so tiny and miniscule that each HL didn’t even really notice they lost it. It doesn’t make sense that she could go toe to toe with them with just a singular drop.

Which is baffling when the same author wrote ToG. Everything that was given was scraped together and fought for miserably, and even in all that power, they had to sacrifice so much. Aelin Settled and got her kingdom back, but at the price of losing almost all her fire and getting to keep one drop of water. Dorian still has most of his magic, but at the price of being made a demon slave, committing fratricide, and having the sole responsibility of redeeming his kingdom ala Zuko. Manon fulfilled the prophecy and united her people, allowing them the chance to return home for the first time in 500 years. All it took was losing the Thirteen, who would never see that dream come to life.

Nothing came without cost.

And while yes, Feyre deserved to be remade after her death saving Prythian, the amount of magic she wields is the issue. Nesta having so much magic made sense given she stole most of it; we have yet to really see how much is left. But where’s the balance if Feysand does end up HK/HQ, or Nyx does. What have they given up that makes them more worthy to rule the entirety of Prythian than literally any other character? Because I can argue that they’ve lost a lot lesser. Whatever rights feysand believes they have is no more than a lot of other characters.

And the bloodline of Theia? Yeah, I’m pretty sure the important ones are her female descendants, like Bryce. And Bryce gave Gwydion to Nesta for a reason. If SJM wanted me to believe Feysand was the best choice, she should’ve made Nyx be born full Illyrian. Or better yet, mostly High Fae but with no magic. That would’ve been a much more interesting story to follow, given that Nyx might not be the next inheritor of the Night Court. And what it would mean for the Hewn City. She’ll never do it of course, but it would be fun.

[sodapopwrites]

a ballad of flame and shadow part two

pairings - lucien vanserra x rhysands sister!reader, azriel x rhysand's sister!reader.

summary - after amarantha takes control and rhysand is lost to her court the inner circle must deal with the loss while his sister pushes her way through guilt. guilt about not warning lucien enough and guilt about what she suspects is growing between her and azriel.

word count - 1.4k

a/n - im sorry im so bad at writing summaries, the chapter is better than the description i swear to god.

read the rest of the series here!

She hadn’t left her room in days. A suffocating air of grim finality was swallowing her. It was swallowing the whole town house. She was surprised it wasn’t swallowing the entire city. 

Velaris still bright and sparkling. Children still laughing in the streets. Shops still bustling. Velaris still peaceful. 

But Rhysand was gone. Her brother lost under the mountain, stripped of all his terrifying power, and reduced to-

She didn’t want to think of it. She didn’t want to accept it. 

Azriel had scraped his shadows across Prythian for any whispers he could find. Any whisper or shout of what had happened that night. 

Amarantha with all her charm and her wicked schemes had taken court under the mountain. Had declared herself High Queen. Had shackled the high lord of the night court to her side and sent a curse rumbling through every single member of the spring court. 

Cursed to stay in that insufferable season. Cursed to hide behind extravagant masks. Cursed to put their faith in Tamlin of all people. 

She thought of him. Of Lucien. 

She thought of the eye she knew was ripped from his beautiful face. She thought of what must lay behind his mask now. She thought about the last time she saw him. 

“A warning?” 

She looked at him. Tight lipped. A small crease in her brow. And he just couldn’t help himself. He reached up and smoothed that crease with his thumb. A feather light touch that seared its way into her skin. 

“The war may be over, but there are still enemies to be dealt with. People who we shouldn’t be so willing to put our trust in.” 

“You sound just like him,” Lucien sighed, “Always telling me not to put trust in anyone.” 

The crease returned. The comparison to Tamlin sending a spark of rage down her spine. The knowledge that Tamlin knew exactly what Lucien got up to every time she visited sent a churning to her gut that she couldn’t bring herself to calm. 

“So why trust me?” 

Maybe he hadn’t trusted her at all. If he had maybe he wouldn’t have gone under the mountain. If he had maybe he’d still have that beautiful russet eye that used to brush across her face so softly. Maybe she hadn’t been serious enough. Maybe she should have pushed the topic more, given him more detail, but instead she gave him vague allusions to what her brother thought Amarantha might try to do. Not even vague allusions. Shadows. Wisps of what had come about. Nothing useful at all. 

─────────⋆✩⋆─────────

The inner circle didn’t dare leave the townhouse. Not when all of them grieved so heavily. Not when she wouldn’t leave her room, when she wouldn’t eat, when she could barely will herself to breathe. 

Azriel could feel it. The guilt coming off of her. He could feel it coming down the stairs when he was in the living room. He could feel it when he stalked through the streets of Velaris. He could feel it constantly. Every single pull of self-damnation. Every pang of conscience. 

He hated it. 

Hated that he could feel her grieving the inprisonment of that smart mouthed fox.

Hated that he could feel her no matter how far she pushed him away. Pushed all of them away. 

Hated the way her guilt sang the same notes as his own. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“So why trust me?” 

Her words were soft. Pleading. Asking her ever unspoken question. The question of his care for her. He could only bring himself to smile and brush an inky strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve always had a bad habit of letting myself get distracted by beautiful things.” 

Lucien cursed himself now for not telling her. For not telling her just how intensely she had managed to bewitch him. He had been too scared and too mistrusting of whatever information her brother was willing to give the spring court. He had played it off and made whatever they were simmer into something too casual. As if she was one beautiful thing in a sea of many. As if anything could compare. 

He cursed himself for it constantly. 

As he watched his best friend send out trusted sentries to be killed beyond the wall. One after the other. Each loss a sharp reminder that he hadn’t bothered to really listen to her. To read inbetween the lines of what she was saying. Had her brother even sent her? Had she come on her own, in secret, to warn him?

“A warning?”

His question had been laced with mockery. As if any warning coming from the night court was something to brush off. Something to ridicule. 

He had only one comfort. 

She had not followed her brother. She was not trapped under the mountain. The question of where she was could haunt him forever, but at least she wasn’t another person suffering at Amarantha’s hand. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

Years passed. She let them pass as quickly as she could. She tried to grasp at whatever bit of normalcy she could. But what she found herself grasping more than anything…was Azriel. 

It was like he could feel every ounce of her pain like it was his own. It was like he could sense every move she made or would make. He was everywhere all of a sudden. Everywhere she went. A quiet company through every grim day. 

She tried to avoid it. 

The thrum of energy between them. 

The way he never brought up Rhysand. The way he never brought up the flame wreathed male across the courts. 

She sat now. On the balcony of the house of wind. She let the cold breeze sift its way through her hair and color her cheeks pink. Her eyes were closed as she breathed in the twilight air. She pretended he wasn’t there. She pretended his eyes weren’t raking down her body, almost hungry. She pretended she didn’t know about the shadows that caged him in his corner of the room at all times, as if stopping him from touching her. 

She tried to avoid it.

The irresistible force of him. 

Centuries of letting him sulk in silence whenever she spoke of someone else. Years of convincing herself it didn’t mean anything when he shifted in his seat at the mention of Lucien. When he excused himself from the room everytime she was dressed up. The way he avoided eye contact with her most of the time. The way he had started to let his guard down in the years passed since Amarantha’s seize of power. 

The irresistible pull of him. 

The way he had started to let his touches linger. The way his fingers had brushed against her face as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His ever growing closeness. 

They all pretended not to see it. Mor only pushed the topic once. 

“It’s like you’ve become the center of his universe.” 

Her statement had been hushed and tentative. Amren’s following statement much more stabbing, “Wasn’t she always?” 

Amren was the only one who remembered the way Azriel’s shadows would dance around the high lords sister. The way he’d let them curl around her body when she wasn’t looking.

She tried to avoid it. 

Avoid the way Cassian had changed seats at the dinner table, allowing Azriel to fill the spot next to her that the general usually crowded. The way that Cassian had grown hesitant to touch her if Azriel was in the room. 

Like he knew something she didn’t. Like Azriel had laid claim to some aspect of her, laying down a boundary that even Cassian didn’t want to cross. 

She avoided it. 

The wind had picked up. Her hair whipping her face in sharp lashes. She wouldn’t move. Letting herself freeze as if the stinging under her skin was a small relief. She let it encompass her completely. The ache of it. The chill settling somewhere deep. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, sliding down to wrap around her arm, pulling her away from the railing of the balcony.

He studied her face. The downturn of her lips and the crease of her brow. 

Like it was instinctual he raised his hand to her face and used his thumb to smooth that crease. His touch was warm and it burned through her. It spread, not like a fire, but like a summer night’s breeze, through her. 

Her eyes snapped open at the familiar gesture, meeting his in a startled flash. 

He was too close to her. Too comforting. Too homespun in the moment. 

That irresistible force of him. 

She lurched forward in a slightly shaky movement and captured his lips with hers. 

He stilled completely against her. Before something golden snapped within him and he let himself consume her. 

[thefatesofspring]

Thought of the day:

It literally makes no sense that The Spring Court isn’t the most wealthy court in Prythian…

Not only does the court have the most to offer in trade in terms of food, it most likely develops the majority of fabrics in Prythian, not to mention herbs for medicines etc, then there’s wood exporting & possibly jewel mining. All of this most likely coming from just The Spring Court alone & then whatever overseas trade they do too…bruh The Spring Court is literally basking in riches!

This is why I’m adamant that Spring Court is the wealthiest court but is frugal with its spending, the high lords of Spring only spend when necessary.

The Spring Court is the very definition of a self sufficient court, it doesn’t really need anything from other courts & every return trade the do is really just an added luxury for them.

It also doesn’t make sense that The Night Court & Winter court are wealthy, by rights they should actually be the poorest of all the courts.

If I had to rank the courts in terms of wealth it would go like this:

1. The Spring Court

2. The Dawn Court

3. The Summer & The Autumn Court

4. The Day Court

5. The Night Court

6. The Winter Court

This is also why Sarah Janet Maas needs to spend so much more time on her world-building skills because we need more information on how the other courts operate their courts & gain their wealth

[born-to-riot]

Idk if this counts as a Drabble but basically it starts as me theorizing an event in Prythian and then turns into ‘what if Azris’

WC: 3,325

(TW: A/B/O, loosely nsfw, talks of breeding, male omegas have cocklets and boypussies).

Okay but hear me out.

I want a Prythian mating run

Make it A/B/O (along with their regular magic powers) (however maybe there’s some traditional powder that participants are required to take so that it dampens their powers and awakens the alpha/beta/omega inside of them)

It’s primal, the lopers start first. Battling each other to find and make the best den and claim territory for them to bring their runner back to once they catch them.

After a while, they catch the scents of the runners filtering throughout the forest. That’s when the game truly begins.

the runners don’t make it easy (usually betas and omegas)

(What’s point of making it easy when you’re strong and want to make the alpha/beta prove they are worthy and can breed you full of strong pups)

(Any second gender is allowed to sign up in any position: runner or loper)

(For example, just last season the alpha prince of Adriata, Varian, shocked Prythian when rumors spread that he signed up to be a runner. The shock multiplied when it was rumored that he was caught by the scariest and tiniest alpha of Prythian, Amren of the Night Court. Legend has it the two came out four days after the mating run covered in blood and scratches but are now inseparable).

It’s all about scent.

Only unmated faes can participate. Think of the occasion like an annual festival to see if two halves of a whole can find one another.

Not every pair who comes together will be mates as an actual mating bond is rare to find (also sometimes the pairs aren’t even the most compatible scent-wise be it alpha athleticism, an omega caught in a trap, or just the luck of the catch) but usually by the time an loper catches an runner, both of their pheromones have their instincts roaring.

But if you are mates or just are the most compatible for one another… oh the mother will let you know. There will be some other force pushing the runner to go faster, there is something that pushes the loper to be more violent about ridding the runner’s trail of other lopers running after the same scent. The closer they get to one another the wetter the omegas cunt gets the heavier an alphas cock, even betas will adjust accordingly depending on whether they are a runner or a loper.

Azris below the cut

Now let’s say Eris enters the race this year as a runner. Years prior he’s been forced by his father to sign up as a loper despite the fact that he’s technecially an omega, which is fine (but dangerous- some fellow lopers would get distracted by his scent and try to go after him. While he always fought them off he can’t deny the inner thrill of the chase) and Some years he’s caught good scents and has even followed some of them, hunted them. Usually though, his interest would fade and he would just return to his den and hang out in his nest until the event was over.

Not this year, this year, instead of just going to the Autumn run, Eris heard a rumor that a certain Shadowsinger would finally be participating in an intercourt run. He hated himself for being weak to the temptation but ever since he felt the other’s scarred hands around his neck Eris’ inner omega can’t fight the fantasy of being knotted by the Illyrian.

Eris doesn’t tell his father that he’s signing up as a runner, of course. He just lets the man know that he is going to try his luck with a wider pool of runners to choose from- which Beron accepted.

There is a gathering before the run, this is where runners and lopers can mingle and familiarize each other with scents that intrigue them. Legend has it that it is at one of these minglings where Thesan and his lover first made contact. Eris goes to this meeting and tries to mingle. He talks to many handsome and beautiful lopers, but he doesn’t feel his cocklet twitch until he makes eye contact with Azriel, who is staring at him from across the room, over the head of the third archeron sister. Elain.

Shit. Eris can’t believe he let himself forget about the newest object of Azriel’s affections. He can’t believe he even allowed himself to hope for just a minute that the Shadowsinger might return his interest. He can’t believe he let himself think that he smelt the other’s cedar infused arousal back when he whispered in his ear at the High Lord’s meeting.

Eris quickly sidesteps so that he’s out of view of the Shadowsinger but he can’t rid himself of the memory of his hazel eyes. Maybe his father was right, he should never be a runner because omegas let their thoughts get clouded by their cunts.

Eris knows he should leave the gathering before Azriel could have the opportunity to spread the word to whatever other members of the Inner Circle that are present. But his inner omega is waging war against him. Give him your scent. We are the most worthy omega in here. Eris isn’t so sure if he agrees with that, but he’s come this far and defied his father by opening up the possibility for a son of Autumn to be caught and bred. He supposes it won’t hurt to give the alpha a reminder of the scent he should be hunting.

So Eris moves, head held high. He walks around the edges of the room, dodging wanting alphas who approach him. He stops once he’s two meters away from the present members of the Night Court Inner Circle, facing the back of Azriel’s wings that separate him from the two ladies in front of him—Mor and Elain. The two female fae are chatting with one another and Azriel is clearly focused on analyzing the room around him— at least Eris assumes so based on the slight movements of the black haired man’s head.

Shining gold twinkles at the corner of Eris’ eye and grabs his attention. He spies a tall spring court alpha adorned in gold jewelry. The male is not Tamlin but he sure is beautiful, Eris can’t help but think. He sees the golden male approaching his direction at the same time Eris recognizes a semi-familiar shadow flitting by him. He has an idea.

Eris waits as the golden alpha comes closer and closer and he makes note that the shadow that was passing by has stilled and attempted to blend in with the natural darkness of the wall nearest to him. Eris feels a smirk form on his face as he thinks about the fact that the Shadowsinger has no idea that Eris knows each and every time the male is watching him.

Finally, the golden alpha gets close enough and Eris purposefully angles himself so that the other will ‘accidentally’ knock into him. The plan goes accordingly and soon Eris is letting out a pointed gasp as the Spring Court Alpha catches him by the waist with an apology. Eris laughs then, purposefully emitting his toasted maple and almond scent as if he was truly embarrassed. Eris waves the golden alpha away, smiling as if he wasn’t disgusted by his musk of freshly cut grass, and calmly readjusts his blazer before walking towards the exit of the gathering. It’s not until after he takes two steps out of the door that he hears footsteps behind him and sees a shadow in front of him that mimics the lines of the familiar pair of wings that never seem to escape his mind.

“Why hello Azriel,” Eris says, pausing his movements, listening as the footsteps get louder as the Shadowsinger approaches him from behind. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think I should be saying that to you,” Eris can’t help but bite back a keen as he smells the other’s cedar aura. Azriel grabs him by the waist—his hand covering the exact same spot where the Spring Court alpha had held Eris earlier— and turns him around to face him. Eris is proud of himself for maintaining an unimpressed expression on his face as he feels his cunt clench around nothing.

Eris tries not to show how much Azriel affects him, he tries not to cry as the Shadowsinger releases him and puts his hands back in his pockets. He tries to convince himself that he isn’t desperate for this alpha to chase him tomorrow, to accept his challenge, to want him.

“Are you a runner or a loper?” Azriel asks, surprising Eris as the Autumn Court male was expecting some sort of snarky comment that is typical of a member of the Night Court when it comes to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Eris smirks in a manner that he knows irritates the other, hoping for Azriel to let out more of his scent.

“I’ve heard you usually spend your mating run in Autumn as a loper… that you haven’t…” Azriel trails off, his scent growing stronger as he completes the sentence internally. Eris takes a step closer to Azriel.

“That I haven’t taken anyone back to my nest? That I haven’t been bred yet?” He asks, “What is it Azriel, what have you heard?”

What do you want, alpha? Eris shushes his inner omega.

“I’ve heard you’ve chased hundreds of runners but none of them have satisfied you enough to finish the chase.”

Eris spies Azriel gulp and his wings twitch as he says so.

“What you’ve heard is true,” Eris admits and shivers as he senses Azriel’s cedar musk grow stronger. He feels his own inner omega screaming inside of him, begging him to let out his own maple and almond in response. He feels heat pooling in his stomach and he knows he needs to exit this conversation soon before his inner omega takes over completely.

“Are you running?” Azriel asks, stepping even closer to Eris. Eris glares at him, hating that Azriel’s curiosity is feeding into his inner hope that the male might be interested in him.

“Maybe, not that it should matter to you with the remaining Archeron sister in the mix,” Eris crosses his arms over his chest.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I just want to know,” Azriel insists. Eris rolls his eyes. Liar.

“Okay Shadowsinger, whatever you say,” Eris nods at the other and starts to walk off towards his tent, trying not to get his hopes up.

“Eris, wait!” Azriel calls out to him, causing Eris to pause.

“Yes?” He asks, turning around to face the other who hasn’t moved from has spot.

“I…” Eris feels more heat pool into his core at the growl of frustration that Azriel lets out.

“I fucking hate you, but I need to know,” Azriel sounds a mix of conflicted and determined. That is more than what Eris was expecting so he’ll take a win where he can.

“The only thing I will tell you is…,” Eris starts as he approaches Azriel, figuring this is his best chance to let the other know his intentions. Almost as if the Shadowsinger is in a trance he takes a couple steps forward to meet Eris, bringing the two chest to chest. Eris is taller but Azriel is wider with muscles and his wings.

“Hmm” Azriel hums, prompting him. Eris watches as Azriel removes his hands from his pockets and starts to clench and unclench them.

Tell him, his inner omega encourages. Eris knows this is his only chance to get what he wants. If he were to get caught by another loper, not mate him, and his father finds out Eris knows he will never be allowed to participate in another mating run again unless it’s in Autumn and he is loping.

“I’m tired of being empty, Azriel. I want pups, I want a partner, I’m tired of pretending I’m not interested in you,” Eris ignores how Azriel widens his eyes in surprise and continues before he loses his courage, knowing he would be executed by his father if the man ever found out Eris was so weak to his instincts.

“I know what I smelled in that High Lord’s meeting, your hands were around my throat but your alpha was in your eyes and he was daring me not to disobey. I could smell that you wanted me and I can tell that every time you’ve looked at me since you’ve been thinking about it,” Eris sniffs as he feels a tear coming to his eyes, he knows his dream is impossible but he also owes himself one last chance to see it through.

“Remember my scent, Azriel,” Eris shakily reaches out for one of Azriel’s scared hands and takes it into his own, ignoring how his inner omega screams in delight at the contact. Azriel doesn’t resist as Eris brings the shadowsinger’s wrist up to his neck and rubs it against his scent gland before releasing it. He briefly eyes how Azriel’s wings seem to spread wider around the two of them, almost like he’s trying to block Eris from the sight of anyone who may walk by. Eris refuses to get his hopes up, even as he notes how carefully Azriel brings his now-scented hand back to his side.

“Do know, Azriel, if you decide to try and catch me, I won’t make it easy for you. If you successfully catch me, I’ll try to break loose and force you to catch me again. If you give me no other options but to submit to you, I will never let you go. I don’t give second chances, I can’t afford to,” Eris’ amber eyes stay locked on Azriel’s returning hazel gaze, “I refuse to settle for anything less than what I deserve and do not think I will wait for you if some other alpha proves to be stronger.”

Azriel alpha lets out a growl at that statement. Eris ignores the surprise that blinks into Azriel’s eyes at his own reaction and he takes a step back so he can communicate his thoughts clearly—he also begs his inner omega to shut the fuck up about how badly Azriel’s alpha clearly wants them, Eris knows that hope only leads to disappointment. However, Eris also knows that he can’t afford to have any regrets here, so he must finish his piece.

“Think about what you want, Azriel. Don’t let your guilt or loyalty influence your decision. I will say this only once: I refuse to be your back-up option, if you come after me, you better want me.”

With that Eris turns around before Azriel can say anything or shift his expression in response to Eris pouring out his soul for the other to see. He quickly walks away, trying to ignore the eyes he can feel boring into his back as he does so.

That night in his tent Eris weighs the merits of following through with running. The mating run is about lopers chasing the most compatible scent. It’s a bloody affair, lopers often fight each other if they sense another alpha on the path to their runner of desire and even once the loper catches a runner any respectful runner will fight back and make them work for it.

The pre gathering is often a time for lopers and runners to first get familiarized with some scents so they can maybe find one they want to chase the next morning. If he is being honest with himself, Eris is a little embarrassed at how much weakness he showed Azriel in admitting he wants the other to consider him. But Eris also is someone who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants and he knows that realistically this is his only chance. Also he knows that Azriel’s family has probably planted doubts in Azriel’s head so Eris needed to make sure the other saw him as a possible mate.

As Eris lays down to sleep that night, he imagines how tomorrow could go if Azriel decides to choose him. The lopers would get up earlier and paint themselves in their chosen ritualistic symbols from their courts and that represent themselves. The runners would all gather behind the lopers as they line up to race into the forest, ready to compete to find and make the best den before the runners begin. Maybe if Eris is lucky, Azriel will give him a sign that he’s made his decision, that he is going to be coming after him. If that’s the case then Eris knows he won’t be able to stop his cunt from releasing juices as he bathes himself in preparation during the dedicated time while the lopers are in the forest and building dens. Eris would wait with the other runners once he was done, strategizing and planning against possible traps and obstacles that will be in his way. He knows he has an advantage as the heir of Autumn, even if the special powder they take dampen his powers, he grew up jumping from tree to tree along with all his siblings. Eris knows his inner omega will be singing and he will happily take a backseat once it’s finally time to run. He trusts his omega to guide him where to go and he trust in his own strength to keep him safe.

Eris knows he smells good, maple and almonds make a lovely mix and he knows his inner omega won’t be able to stop radiating his scent like a beacon. Eris is only interested in one alpha, and the powder doesn’t affect his wings as they are additional limbs. So he knows if Azriel comes for him, he would come from above. Eris imagines hopping from tree to tree staying under the cover of leaves. He imagines being stuck at one point, up high, the next tree too far for him to make the leap and a crowd of drooling alphas waiting for him to fall. He imagines Azriel finally swooping in and growling at them all, taking care of them viscously. Eris knows his cunt would be dripping at the sight but he also knows that he couldn’t watch he’d have to keep moving.

Eris doesn’t know how Azriel would finally catch him but Eris knows that he’d fight with every fiber of his being, he’d want Azriel to prove that he wants him, that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to claim him, that he’s strong enough to father their pups. He knows that his cunt will be throbbing once he finally submits and he hopes Azriel will take a moment to taste him before he flies them to his den.

Eris imagines that Azriel would probably set up his den in a cave on a mountain, higher than other alphas, easy to defend and probably close to a water and food source. He imagines that Azriel would be thoughtful and supply the cave with nesting materials for Eris to use once he brings him there.

Eris doesn’t even want to imagine what comes next as he knows the idea of Azriel breeding him over and over and claiming him will give him too much hope.

Eris falls asleep, oblivious to the shadows that occupy his tent, their master not planning on letting his dream omega slip away from him when he finally has a chance to make him his.

____________

OKAY so I wasn’t planning to write all of this, it’s kind of just a story I want to happen but I am too lazy to fully write myself.

But any thoughts?

Also lopers don’t have to kill rival lopers but there’s nothing against it if they do… azriel most definitely will eliminate threats.

(Also this is just an idea, if someone were to write something like this I would spread my legs for them especially if they added smut and gore WOOT)

NVM IM GONNA WRITE IT MYSELF MUAHAHHAHAAHA

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 5

I Want Crazy

Azriel Eris x Reader

After a promotion to an emissary position by a meddling Tarquin, Y/N and Eris get much, much closer.

A/n: There will likely only be a couple more chapters of this fic. For those of you concerned by the previous chapter, please continue to trust the process. Our girl is intelligent.

Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: Language, brief mention of fertility struggles

Our first date, the seasons changed. It got washed away in a summer rain

He wasn’t what I expected, Eris Vanserra. Not that I ever fathomed what to expect or even considered it. In fact there was only a very short list of things I knew prior to the day we met:

-He was a High Lord.

-He’d been a secretive ally of the Night Court prior to his father’s demise.

-Azriel fucking hated him.

And after that day I knew everything I needed to:

-He was warm beyond the fire in his veins

-He was a just ruler

-He had a dry wit that sat well with my soul.

-I wanted to see him again.

After dancing that night, we ran back to Tarquin’s palace in the rain. It was the first time I’d been unable to contain my joy in far too long. I laughed, and skipped, and spun in circles the whole way back. Eris grumbled the entire way but I could see the amusement lit in his eyes. The next morning he met me for breakfast and found me again before he left for the Autumn Court.

He began finding reasons to visit the Summer Court more frequently and sought me out every time. It was no time before Eris became a close friend.

Tarquin - ever the cheeky, wonderful bastard - only gave me knowing smiles when he’d catch us walking the palace grounds. According to Cresseida, The High Lord of the Summer Court was quite the romantic and had a knack for playing matchmaker. I was inclined to agree considering that after a month of spotting Eris and I around the grounds, Tarquin made a proposition to me. I could still teach my classes but he needed a temporary emissary to the Autumn court as they negotiated border, trade, and tariff agreements. Given my recent closeness with the High Lord of Autumn and overall wonderful (debatable) disposition, he found me to be the perfect candidate. With that, I found myself on official court business in the Autumn Court.

Who cares if you’re all I think about?

I was nervous on the first visit to Autumn. I knew things were different under Eris’ reign but the stories of Beron’s cruelty within his own keep were enough to warrant a bit of caution.

My worries were quickly cast aside when Eris personally escorted me from the border and to his keep. The Autumn Court was stunning. The leaves on the trees were brighter than I’d ever seen. The hues ranging from gold to red absolutely stunning. I’d love to have Feyre one day paint it for me.

Smells of roasting chestnuts, hickory smoke, crisp leaves, apple cider, and autumn air filled my nose. On the way, Eris stopped by a small farm where the owner allowed us to pick what Eris called the finest Honeycrisp apples in all of Prythian. I’d never had that variety before and though I had nothing to compare them against, the apples had the perfect crunch and just the right ratio of tart and sweet. He paid the farmer handsomely for a bucket of them and several pie pumpkins for his kitchens.

The Autumn Keep was far from the drab stone castle that I’d pictured. Eris clearly went to great strides to ensure the ghost of Beron Vanserra had no hold here. The grand rooms were filled with maple accents, rugs and tapestries with hues greens, golds, oranges and reds. Fires roared in massive fireplaces and autumnal spices filled the air.

And despite the beauty of the keep. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off of the tall, handsome redhead walking alongside me.

Once I was settled for the stay, we did meet to discuss political matters which took countless hours, but I was rather impressed with the ease of our negotiations. He and Tarquin had similar visions for the economic future within their courts.

We enjoyed dinner together, indulged in autumnal wines, including a hot mulled wine that flushed my cheeks. Or so I told Eris that was the reason for the blush on my features, and certainly not the way way he’d refer to me as “my lady” or “little fox.”

We’d stayed up late, sitting by a bon fire outside beneath the Autumn Skies. There was music and dancing, spiked ciders, and caramel apples. I could see why Eris loves his court.

We, of course, kept respectful distance from eachother as not to spark any gossip of anything more than friendship between he and I. Yet somehow, hours later, we found ourselves in a private courtyard - a small fire burning as we lay back on a blanket together. I began to shiver as the evening chill grew cooler. As I went to bid Eris goodnight and head for the warmth within Castle Walls, he halted me.

“Come here” he spoke. His voice low.

I scooted a bit closer.

“Come closer, little fox. I won’t bite.”

He refrained from adding “unless you ask me to” but that was readable enough in his heavy lidded gaze.

So I laid beside him, my head nestled between his chest and shoulder as his heat warmed my body. I showed him various constellations that I’d learned of during my time in the Night Court and he did a terrible job of visualizing them. He tried though. He told me how he used to wish on shooting stars, how he still found himself occasionally wishing upon them. I teared up when he told me of the wishes he’d made back then for his mother and Lucien, for himself, to one day escape Beron’s cruelty. For a better life. A better Court.

When we saw a shooting star later, he made a wish and told me it was bad luck to tell someone else the wish.

And I, despite everything that had turned upside down in life, found myself struggling to ask for anything more than what I had in that moment.

When we finally said goodnight I realized his own suite was right next to the one he had set me up in.

I woke in a sweat sometime hours before dawn. Pain ripping through my chest. Azriel once again pulling on the fucking bond with no regard for the feelings of despair he was shoving to me. This time was worse than usual, the waves of grief continuing to grow stronger and stronger all the time. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t deserve this. This was a bed of his own making and yet I still had to suffer beyond what I’d already been through. Sleeping through it was futile and the room’s darkness began to suffocate me.

I padded from my room to a common area outside of the suites, sat before the fireplace and worked on breathing through it.

Though I tried my best to remain quiet, Eris apparently had a sharp sense of hearing as he wandered into the room, seating himself on the floor beside me. If I hadn’t been in such a sorry state, perhaps I would have noticed the low slung gray sweatpants and broad muscled chest of the half-naked High Lord- no, friend - beside me.

He took my hand. “Hey, fox, look at me.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You’ve got this. Breathe for me.” I took a shallow breath. “Can you breathe deeper for me, little one?” He placed a hand on my shoulder while the other remained on my hand. I took a deeper breath and let it out slowly.

“Good girl.”

Eris sat with me in silence on a plush couch once my breathing steadied. Still too worked up to fall back asleep, I nestled myself against Eris’ chest while his fingers ran through my hair in soothing, repetitive strokes.

It was hours later that I awoke, finding that I’d fallen asleep on him. I tried shifting away slowly but a sleeping Eris only held his arm around me tighter as I pulled. We slept like that a while longer.

The rest of the trip went by uneventfully. We discussed further trade options and Eris spent the evenings working with me on how to close off the bond to Azriel’s feelings. While I was already excellent at shutting down sending my feelings down the bond, cutting off his feelings was what I needed help with. By the end of the stay I could only feel his emotions slightly.

I expressed my gratitude to Eris who only waived off my thanks. “Anyone would have done it.” Yet he was the only one who tried. What I didn’t tell Eris was that as Azriel’s end of the bond silenced and the depths of my soul went from overflowing to filled with contentment, my thoughts began drifting to happier things, drifted to him.

Front porch and one more kiss. It doesn't make sense to anybody else.

The fifth month after I left, my grandparents held an outdoor feast for our family and friends in celebration of a holiday of one of the lesser Summer gods they worshipped.

It was far from a religious event. There was always wine, dancing, and lively conversation at these celebrations with none of the boring sermons that typically came with such events.

I invited Eris, and to my delight he came. My drunken sister made plenty of comments over how pretty of a pair of “friends” we made, with overemphasis on the word. My sweet, protective nephew took to Eris right away, deciding that after what Azriel put me through, anyone was better than him. He had no tolerance for cheating or sympathy for adulterers from the time he was old enough to understand what it meant and that his father had cheated on my sister during her pregnancy (real stand up guy) though my sister was so far out of his league that he’d have to reach the stars to find someone better. Obviously she’d left him immediately and she and my nephew were better off for it.

My family tried their best and failed miserably to act normal with the High Lord of the Autumn Court in their presence. Fortunately, Eris paid no mind and had won everyone over by the end of the night.

Despite his aversion to the sand, Eris accepted my invitation to camp on the beach so we could enjoy my favorite part of the night, the fireworks shooting off over the bay.

As the finale approached, I pouted.

“I hate when they end.”

Gesturing toward himself, Eris replied. “It’s a good thing you have a High Lord at your disposal to light up the night any time you wish.”

Before I could reprimand him for the crude comment, he began shooting small orbs of fire toward the water in a rainbow of colors.

My eyes sparkled watching the vibrant flares. Soon enough the orbs into butterflies of fire flying through the air, some circling around me. One brushed my cheek and there was no pain, just a gentle flutter.

“That’s… Just wow, that’s incredible, Eris!”

He gave a shrug of nonchalance in return.

“I bet you do that for all the ladies, don’t you?”

Eris looked me in the eyes, something unreadable in them.

“Only the ones I want to kiss.”

A moment passed before I realized that he was entirely serious.

And that I WANTED to kiss him.

So I did.

We kissed under the stars. It was a hard, passionate kiss, our shared breaths riddled with desperation, a profession of the unspoken words between us, “I’ve been waiting for this.”

And when we eventually pulled apart, I looked into his eyes with a smile, genuine, full of adoration, and Eris gently grasped the back of my head, pulling me into another searing kiss.

We shared many more before dawn.

You can’t undo a fall like this.

When Eris returned to the Autumn Court, I tried feeling any remorse for what we’d done. I was technically still a mated female, though I’d left and due to Azriel’s infidelity nobody expected me to honor the bond.

The guilt never came.

Eris had to travel so I wasn’t able to see him for the next couple weeks but we wrote back and forth often through enchanted notes. Curiosity or concern must have gotten the best of him because eventually he asked:

“Do you regret it?”

I knew exactly what he referred to.

“I regret many things, Eris. None of which pertain to you.”

I sent the letter to him with confidence. I did not regret a single thing about the night our lips collided on the beach.

“Thank the Mother, because I need to kiss you again.”

Heat radiated through me at his admission.

But then reality struck. He was the High Lord of the Autumn Court. I was the - separated, yes, but still - the mate of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Eris, I love spending time with you and will never regret it. You’ve helped me heal in ways I will never be able to repay you for. But this… how can this work? It’s messy.”

I sent the letter. My own heart crushing at the words. I didn’t want this to end but I couldn’t risk it going further just for reality to come crashing down on us.

Some time passed, the unease in my gut growing when his response appeared.

“If I wanted easy, I’d have married the daughter of some Autumn Lord. Nothing about my past has been easy and despite what some may believe, nothing worth having has come easily to me. Every second spent with you is worth it. Do not, Y/N, doubt that for one single moment. And perhaps this is crazy, but I would not want it any other way.”

It was that moment that I knew I wanted, I needed Eris as more than a friend.

“Then let’s be crazy, Eris Vanserra.”

I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"

The thing about immortality is that six months can bring more change than six decades or even centuries.

Six months ago I would have never dreamed that my mate would take the life we’d built over the years and tear it into shreds with those once sacred, beautiful scarred hands that I held reverently. The hands that placed the lovely mating band crafted from one of his own siphons on my finger after he’d made his vows, the hands that lovingly caressed my bare thighs through restless nights until sleep took me, hands that held me pressed to his chest and wiped away the tears of grief after yet another failed fertility cycle.

Those hands that held another and damned it all, the hands that came home and stroked my hair as pretty lies fell from his mouth, the hands that took my glass heart and dropped it.

I especially wouldn’t have dreamed that six months later I would be laying in the bed of the High Lord of the Autumn Court with his strong, warm hands holding me like this heart of mine that he’d forged anew was the most delicate, precious possession in his keep.

I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"

We’d spent the night together making love. The kind of love making that shifts something intrinsic within a person, the type where no matter what happens, a piece of you is forever changed. It was more than just giving my body to him, it was a claiming of the soul.

We lay in bed all morning, his long fingers tracing along the arch of my bare back as he pressed soft kisses along my shoulder and neck. Between kisses, his low voice whispered quiet hopes and dreams for the future.

I was just about to speak those three words that I’d only ever spoken to one other male when a loud knock came on the chamber door.

“For fuck’s sake” Eris muttered before shouting “Come back later!”

“We apologize, High Lord but this is urgent.” a muffled male voice replied through the closed door.

Eris growled, shifting out of bed and throwing on his sweatpants not bothering with a shirt. I enjoyed the view.

“This better be worth my while, lads.” Eris hissed in a tone that conveyed “I’m very fucking inconvenienced right now but understand that you are doing your duty as my sentries.”

“Apologies again, High Lord, but we’ve….”

The male outside the door cleared his throat in attempt to communicate that the matter should be discussed privately.

“It’s fine.” Eris grumbled. “Just get on with it.”

“We, well, High Lord, we’ve apprehended the Shadowsinger. He was making an attempt to infiltrate the keep.”

———————————

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious

[itsswritten]

when the sea calls for three | 1

Paring: Azriel x Reader x Eris

Word Count: 5K

Summary: In the aftermath of war, peace reigns over the realms of Prythian, but the delicate balance hangs in the hands of two unlikely mediators—You and Lucien. As the newly appointed Emissaries of Peace, your duty is clear: maintain alliances, foster understanding between courts, and navigate the intricate webs of fae politics.

But when fate deals an unexpected twist, revealing that you possess not one, but two mates, the tranquillity you've worked so hard to uphold is suddenly threatened. Caught between two males who refuse to share, you find yourself thrust into a precarious position, torn between duty and desire.

What will you do and who will you choose?

Intro | Masterlist

The Dawn's Meeting Chamber, served as the esteemed location for all court attended meetings. Through previous trials and tribulations, and now amidst the settled peace, its significance remained steadfast. Thesan, your own High Lord, presided with grace and authority, embodying the essence of a perfect host.

And despite this being a time of peace, alliances were still rocky. Dawn served as the perfect neutral territory. 

Cushioned oak chairs were meticulously arranged in a circle around the reflection room,  offering a comfortable seat for attendees. Positioned opposite each other on either side of the reflective pool, you and Lucien stood poised amidst the chairs. He occupied the twelfth hour, while you claimed the 6th, a silent yet powerful representation of the balance and harmony you held within your new positions. 

Up until this moment, the weight of such responsibility had never rested upon your shoulders. For years, you had drifted through various roles within the Dawn Court, from the serene halls of the Library, the bustling markets of the city and the melodies of the theatre. Even during the war, Thesan had recognised your unique talents and utilised you on the border, a role that had never quite settled comfortably within you.

As a soldier in the midst of conflict, you had often felt like a square peg in a round hole, grappling with a sense of unease that gnawed at your core. It was as if you were searching for something, yet never quite finding where you belonged. Perhaps it was because you were different, your nature straddling the line between worlds in a way that defied easy categorisation.

As much as you passed for High Fae, it was clear to those who truly listened, that wasn’t the case. 

So when Lucien came to you with his proposition, a plea wrapped in a promise of purpose and significance, you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him. For the first time in your life, an opportunity had arisen that held the potential to make a tangible difference, to offer a sense of fulfilment, a sense of belonging.

A subtle exchange of nods and smiles passed between you and your friend. With a confident stance and a lifted chin, you prepared to address the esteemed gathering.

As the chamber filled with representatives from the solar courts, the seasonal courts, and the human alliance, a palpable sense of anticipation hung in the air. You and Lucien exchanged respectful greetings with the High Lord and Ladies in attendance, bowing your heads to their esteemed positions.

Once everyone was settled, Lucien stepped forward to take his place at the head of the meeting, assuming the role of leader with poise and authority. With a nod of approval from Thesan, the meeting commenced, setting the stage for discussions that would hopefully shape the future of the fae lands and beyond.

Lucien’s voice rang out, commanding the attention of all present. You felt the swell of pride fill your chest. That was your best friend. Lucien had been selected by all courts for this role, and you couldn’t envision anyone better. 

A kind male, with a huge heart and smart mind. He was perfect for this.

"We are here today in the first allied meeting of peace since the cessation of hostilities," he began, his tone measured yet commanding. "It is a testament to our collective efforts and determination that we gather here today in pursuit of peace and prosperity for all."

Pausing briefly to allow his words to resonate, Lucien continued, his gaze sweeping across the assembled dignitaries. "This is a pivotal moment for our land, a time to address any lingering concerns, to foster open dialogue, and to reaffirm our commitments to cooperation and understanding."

He gestured with open arms towards the reflective pool at the centre of the chamber, "I invite each of you to speak freely, to raise any issues or grievances regarding borders, trade agreements, or any other matters that may impact the stability of our realms."

Lucien had set the tone for the meeting, and you gave him a proud smile in return when his eyes flickered over you. You, along with Lucien and the courts were shaping the course of the future. A better future for everyone.

You had never been a part of these meetings before, but from what Lucien had shared, they usually didn’t go well. Before the most recent peace treaty, Lucien had briefed you on the usual hostility that hung in these meetings. Hostility so rife, that Lucien’s own brother, Eris, had almost met his end at the hands of the Shadowsinger. 

A male who you had spotted as soon as he had entered the chamber. How could anyone miss him? His features were chiselled and angular, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline that clenched as he listened to the conversations of the room. He demanded a dark ethereal beauty that was all encompassing. You were smart enough not to let your eyes linger too long when he first arrived, but now while everyone was distracted by debate you took a moment to take him in.

Azriel stood tall and imposing behind his High Lord and Lady. You and Lucien had restricted how many attendees were allowed in these new meetings. High Lords and Ladies of the court were allowed to bring up to two attendees, whether that be scholars, soldiers, courtiers. Whoever they deemed fit. These were meetings of peace, there was no need to flex muscle and power.

It seemed the Night Court had selected their Spymaster for attendance with them today; his presence spoke volumes of the Night Court's cautious approach to diplomacy. Especially after what Lucien had shared about the Shadowsingers unrestrained actions of the last meeting.

His dark hair fell in sleek short waves, framing his face. The black strands were a stark contrast to those hazel eyes. Beside him, his shadows lingered, a constant and enigmatic presence at his side. Though you had grown accustomed to their role as messengers in your correspondence, it was a whole other experience seeing them now in the flesh, accompanying their master.

You were aware of his delicate relationship with Lucein, the crossfires they had found themselves in regarding Lucien’s mate. And although you’re not entirely sure what went down, the repercussions left neither males fostering any type of relationship with Elain. 

Azriel’s expression was inscrutable, much like his earlier cryptic letters you had exchanged with him over the past two months. Hard to decipher. 

Perhaps it was your natural charm, or your way with words though, that managed to entice the Shadowsinger to show a different side. It was exactly 2 weeks of correspondence before the tone started to change.

Before officially taking on the role of Emissary, Lucien had to request approval for you to join him. In the meantime, you took on the difficult task of helping Spring Court. Those earlier weeks were dire, Tamlin would hide in his vine covered house and you were left to pick up the pieces best you could. Surprisingly it was Azriel’s letters that you received the most, him wanting daily updates on Tamlin and the progress of the court. No doubt, his own High Lord breathing down his neck for all information regarding his mate's ex lover.

Your notes were always polite and concise, but when writing to Lucien you often signed them off in jest. And after a particularly depressing update on the Spring Court, you signed at the end.

Send prayers, I worry I won’t even make it till Solstice. 

You signed with a scribble of a sad face, knowing Lucien would read your sarcasm well. However, thanks to the Shadowsigner’s meddlesome shadows, Lucien’s and Azriels letters somehow got swapped. So when you were expecting some witty remark from Lucien, it was in fact Azriel that took you by surprise.

I worry you won’t too…and what a shame that would be.

It was a taunting reply, one you hadn’t expected but made you smirk all the same.

A shame indeed… but do you doubt my capabilities, Shadowsinger? I’ll have you know, I am to be the new Emissary of Peace.

I know exactly who you are, y/n.

That had just been the beginning of your playful mockery, and there was a small part of you that felt guilty for looking forward to his messages so much. Especially considering who he was to Lucien. But you couldn’t help but reply. Spring Court had been so dreary, it was sometimes the only thing to lighten up your day.

You were intrigued to hear Azriel’s voice, hear what the ripples of his vocal cords would reveal. What did your pen pal sound like? What else would you discover about the Shadowsinger, now his court resided under you? 

༄ 

Your eyes carefully swept over the other attendees, absorbing the nuances of their discussions and concerns. Kallias's voice carried across the chamber as he delved into the intricacies and concerns of trade agreements between Summer. His worries about the quality of products traversing such diverse climates were evident, but you knew how desperately Summer needed the trade.

Tarquin was the youngest in the room beside Feyre– the Night Court's High Lady. 

The first High Lady ever you reminded yourself. 

With Summer now falling under your jurisdiction, you couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy for the younger ruler, still finding his footing amidst the complexities of court politics. He had never even ruled during a time of peace when the only concerns were whether his goods would freeze as soon as they crossed the Winter border.

This is where you came in. This was your job. Maintaining vital exchanges for the prosperity of all involved.

As Kallias concluded his remarks, you chose that moment to interject, your voice cutting through the air with quiet authority. "You've made such a valid point, Kallias," you acknowledged, drawing the attention of the room toward you for the first time.

Your voice was soft and gentle, yet filled the room with a warmth that perhaps these meetings had always lacked. 

“I know it’s been a long time since trade as ran between the courts, and we want to make this transition as smooth and successful for everyone”

Your gaze shifted to Helion, the High Lord of Day, a thoughtful expression on his face as he observed you. "I wonder if this is something Day could help with," you continued, laying out your proposal with careful deliberation.

“Solan, your spell weaver has quite the talent for weathered charms. His expertise is extraordinary, I’ve seen his work” You sung the Day’s residents praises brightly.

You had met Solan many years ago when he collaborated with Nuan on one of her ingenious inventions. 

“I believe he has the capabilities to create such a charm that could assist with smooth tradings and deliveries, across all the seasonal courts” 

To win the favour of this notion, it would have to benefit not only Summer.

Helion met your gaze, his eyes betraying a hint of intrigue as he considered your suggestion. "You are correct," he conceded, nodding in agreement. "Solan could create such a spell. But of course at a cost."

“Of course,” you smiled. You wouldn’t expect anything less.

Tarquin's smile was genuine but soft as he responded, "That is something Summer would be happy to discuss."

“As would Spring” Tamlin spoke. A quietness settled after, his transgressions still creating an uncomfortable tension.

Your eyes flickered to the familiar auburn hair of Eris, someone you had not seen in years. He merely nodded reluctantly, almost as if he detested how smooth that had been.

“I will speak with Solan, and be in touch shortly, gentleman” Helion said with grace, sending you a smile and a soft wink.

Turning back to Kallias, you addressed his concerns directly, offering the solution. "With Solan's expertise, we can ensure that shipments between courts are unaffected by weather conditions," you assured him. 

"Send me a quote Helion '' Kallias nodded beside his wife, mate, Vivnae– the second High Lady in history. “As long as the goods maintain their quality, I’m happy to move forward with confidence."

A sense of relief washed over you at the resolution. You were smooth, decisive and quick.

༄ 

As your perceptive gaze traversed the room, meticulously dissecting the nuances of each attendee's demeanour, listening to their breaths, smacking of lips and the clicking on tongues. It all revealed so much. You could hear it within the unspoken. 

Your eyes abruptly came to a halt upon falling into a familiar amber gaze—the penetrating stare of Eris Vanserra.

His eyes locked on yours like a hawk. A tight smirk graced Eris's lips as his gaze roved over your form with a predatory intensity, sending a subtle shiver down your spine that you quickly suppressed.

You couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in his appearance—the shorter hair that framed his features in a way that suited him, a departure from the longer locks that had once adorned his head. You wondered if he had cut his hair before or after he had killed his father? Or had he cut his hair for that reason alone?

A new chapter. Cut the dead weight. Just like he’d cut down Beron.

To kill a parent. To kill your own father. Not that Beron didn’t have it coming, it was rightfully deserved but you wondered what toll that would have on someone. You knew of the scars Beron had left on his sons, even if they hadn’t told you. You had always heard under their words. And you hoped now, that they could heal and find some semblance of peace with their monster of a father gone.

Memories flooded back of a time when your mother would take you for playdates in Autumn. Eris along with his brothers would often tease you. It was because of those moments you and Lucien had gotten so close. Seeking unity in one another when hiding together as children from his older brother's taunts.

Eris was the kinder one out of the pack, at least back then. Perhaps kind wasn’t the right word to choose, but he was indifferent to you. He stood out as a somewhat mitigating force. Being the eldest and already grown, his words always carried a sharp edge, laced with venomous undertones, however there was a distinct lack of malice directed at you. Eris would often intercede his brothers teasing with biting remarks, questioning the rationale behind their actions when they would corner you and Lucein. 

I didn’t realise you were so weak that you had to pick on our baby brother and his little friend.

Perhaps if you weren’t so obsessed with Lucien and his little girlfriend you might have figured how to channel fire by now.

Why do you always bother her, do you like her? Should I tell Father about your little crush on the girl from Dawn?

His words were often curt and abrasive, but they never failed to disrupt the relentless onslaught of ridicule. You were young then, your ability had only reared its head in your early adulthood. But you wondered what you might have noticed within his words if you had been able to hear.

Your loyalties always lay with Lucien, but as much as you hated to admit it- you couldn't deny the undeniable allure of the eldest Vanserra brother. Sure, Lucien was undeniably beautiful, that was a fact you didn't need reminding of. But there was an enigmatic quality to Eris that had always intrigued you. In your early adulthood, you often caught yourself searching for the eldest Vanserra brother during your visits to Lucien, a secret desire you hoped Lucien never caught wind of.

You pulled your eyes away, not allowing him the satisfaction of noticing any indifference on you. You honed into the rest of the discussions, aiding Lucien when needed to keep conversations moving freely and light.

The new peace treaty between the courts and the humans was still fresh and hung delicately in the air. Despite the fervent desire for discussions to revolve solely around diplomatic relations and fostering harmony, there were inevitably topics that couldn't be skirted around.

Rhysand had taken charge of ensuring that any lingering remnants of former enemies were swiftly disbanded. It appeared that, for the time being, any remaining threats had retreated into the shadows.

Good. You hoped they withered away in their caves. The resentment you harboured against the people who had caused your home, your land so much pain was something you were sure everyone in this room could relate to.

With a successful conclusion the meeting came to an end, leaving you with ample opportunity to mingle among the courts and assess the collective mood and gain insight to how this inaugural gathering had been perceived. A quick look at Lucien told you everything you needed to know, and you both swiftly walked in opposite directions to begin addressing the courts independently.

Tamlin was first on your left. And you offered him a respectful bow and small smile.

“Heard you’re abandoning me” there was that bitterness that always hung on his words nowadays. However the depressive lull of his tone wasn’t as prevalent as it once was.

“Tamlin” you spoke softly, with an endearing look. “Your court is about to embark on it’s renewal, something you should be tremendously proud of.”

His features were set in a tight expression, lines of frustration etched into his brow as he regarded you with a mixture of wariness and scepticism. His once noble visage now bore the marks of weariness and resentment, a shadow of the High Lord he had once been.

You continued “But with Lucien once being your emissary, we felt he had the best expertise when it came to resettling some of your residents, I’m sure seeing a familiar face will be reassuring to them” Tamlin's response was guarded, his jaw clenched as he absorbed your words. He couldn’t deny you were right.

You usually always were.

"Of course, I'm only a correspondence away if you truly need my help," you reassured him, reaching forward to give his forearm a delicate squeeze. "Don't be a stranger, Tamlin."

With a reluctant nod, Tamlin conceded to your words, his expression softening ever so slightly as he bid you farewell and winnowed away.

That went better than expected, you thought. Grateful that Tamlin’s days of tantrums seemed to be over, but you did worry for him and his court. You hoped he and Lucien would be able to work through their problems together and get Spring flourishing once more.

You knew of the friction between Tamlin and other courts, particularly Night. It was not lost on you. Lucien had provided insight into the underlying conflicts and grievances, filling you in on the gaps that gossip hadn’t shared. While you understood the ramifications of Tamlin's actions, you couldn't help but feel a sense of compassion for the Spring Court and its inhabitants.

You wanted to see Spring thrive once more, to provide a safe haven for those who had spent their lives within its borders. This was a goal both you and Lucein shared.

As Tarquin approached with a radiant smile, his white hair flowing gracefully over his blue and gold attire, you returned the gesture with a respectful bow of your head. His presence exuded warmth and vitality, his rich brown skin glowing under the gentle rays of dawn that filtered into the room.

"I believe you'll be taking care of Summer," he remarked, his smile widening as he acknowledged your new role.

"Tarquin, Varian," you greeted, inclining your head towards both him and his attendee with a bow. "I'm looking forward to supporting you both, and I have to say… I am a lover of the sun and sea, so I'm sure my visits to Summer will be my weekly highlight," you added with a light smirk, hoping to sweeten the interaction with a touch of flattery.

"I hope that will be the case,” Tarquin replied warmly, his tone filled with genuine enthusiasm. As he took your hand, you felt a rush of warmth as he pressed a gentle kiss upon it. “I look forward to our relationship and seeing what we can do together for my court, and of course for all of Prythian," he bid you farewell, and with a nod to Varian, they both winnowed away.

You didn’t need to rely on your ability to hear the unspoken to understand what that was. It was evident in the way Tarquin looked at you. A genuine fondness in his eyes, a warmth that spoke volumes. It was clear that he liked you…and attention from a handsome High Lord was not something you were opposed to. 

You felt a gaze and you looked back gently to see Lucien giving you a knowing look with a slight smirk. He’d seen the interaction then. You’re sure he’d have something snarky to say later about it.

༄ 

You were left with the looming shadowy energy that had been in the corner of the room – the Night Court. Azriel was to greet you first, stepping away as his High Lord and Lady were engrossed in a conversation with Winter.

You turned to the Shadowsinger, your hand outstretched in a very human gesture of greeting, a deliberate choice made by you and Lucien to foster bridges with both the Fae and humans. Adopting some of their mannerisms wouldn’t hurt. Plus, Azriel was your equal; you would not bow to him.

Azriel hesitated for a moment, a fleeting pause that had you searching for its cause. But that reluctance dissolved as you felt his large hand envelop yours. You felt the jagged edges of lines on his palm pressing against your soft skin, scars that covered every inch of his hand, that had you curious to what had caused such a thing. Without glancing down, your eyes remained locked on the Shadowsinger's gaze as you gently squeezed his hand back in a firm shake.

“It’s nice to finally put a name to a face,” Azriel spoke as your hands parted.

“I hope I don’t disappoint,” you teased, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Perhaps it was the familiarity that had grown in these past weeks that allowed such a remark to escape.

A glint of something unfamiliar flickered in Azriel’s eye, his lips quirking into a slight smirk. But before you could hear his words, you sensed the powerful presence of another, and you swiftly turned to bow to the Night Court's High Lord and Lady.

“Rhysand, it’s been a long time. It’s good to see you again,” you greeted warmly, recalling brief encounters at events when you were both much younger, before he’d even ascended to High Lord. 

Rhys nodded in agreement before introducing you to Feyre.

“Your reputation precedes you,” you remarked, turning to the High Lady, who returned your smile.

Cursebreaker. Cauldron-blessed. High Lady of the Night Court.

“As does yours. Lucien said he was enlisting the help of a trusted friend. Glad to see another female in the room,” Feyre replied, her tone light and welcoming.

“Ah, yes.” You gave a knowing nod to the outdated misogynistic rules of the land “I have a long-term plan. Just give it a year, and I believe it will be us females who dominate these meetings,” you joked playfully.

“Now that is something I would like to see,” Rhys teased, nudging his mate playfully.

Feyre laughed lightly before continuing, her voice carrying a warm tone. “We’ve been told we fall under your jurisdiction now.”

You nodded, acknowledging the shift. “I will be splitting my time equally across the courts under my care.”

“I’m glad,” Feyre replied, her gaze thoughtful. “Azriel said you were quite adept in your work. You've apparently got Spring Court back up and running”

You smiled at the mention of Azriel's appraisal. You noticed him shuffling slightly on his feet at his mention, his shadows swirling around him in an almost teasing manner “Nice to know someone was singing my praises,” you quipped, but you heard the unspoken words of Feyre’s remark. 

You knew of her time in Spring, a time she was definitely not fond of. But you could hear in her words that she was digging for something. “Sure, me and Tamlin have been able to collaborate for the renewal of his court. I’m pleased it has been so successful, to finally have it’s residents returning home”

Whether that was the response Feyre was hoping for you’re not sure, but she merely nodded her head. You excused yourself from their company to finally greet the flickering energy that had been heating it’s way across the room to you. You stood before Eris, his imposing presence overshadowed by his two brothers snickering behind him as you offered a respectful bow.

“Eris.” you greeted respectfully. There was a part of you that had been hesitant to look after Autumn, however you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them under Lucien. 

Eris merely smirked, his demeanour suggesting he relished the moment you had to bow before him. He reached out, his touch warm yet firm as he grasped your wrist and examined your sleeve with a critical eye.

“Leaves, really? I thought flames best represented my court,” he remarked, his tone teasing.

You withdrew your hand quickly, his touch feeling oddly inappropriate in the formal setting. It served as a stark reminder that regardless of your newfound title, you would always be seen as his little brother's best friend.

Swallowing hard, you met his gaze with narrowed eyes, defending your choice of attire. “Autumn has always symbolised a transitional time within the seasons, a new beginning. I felt it best represented the fresh start we are embarking on. I thought it mirrored the new chapter you seek as well.”

Eris’s brothers rolled their eyes behind him, but you held your ground, unyielding in your stance. Eris couldn’t refute your words; you had spoken the truth. With Beron’s reign over, Eris was indeed ushering in a new era for his court.

“You and your pretty words…” Eris mused, his tone bordering on slight admiration.

“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know your court falls under my jurisdiction,” you announced confidently.

“Oh good, do we get you for two months as well? Or do you only whore yourself off to Tamlin?” one of Eris’s brothers interjected with a crude remark. Eris shot his brother with a deathly reprimanding glance that shut him up instantly.

You bit back a retort, knowing that maintaining composure was paramount. Especially in this setting.

Instead you would use your pretty words and smart mouth.

“I didn’t realise Autumn felt neglected. I’ll make a note,” you replied evenly. “I will be visiting Autumn for two days every week, if that suffices. But if your court is in dire need of additional support, I can inquire with the other courts about allocating more time to you.”

“That will not be needed,” Eris replied curtly, cutting off any further discussion on the matter. He would not have any insinuation that his court needed support, that his reign was weak.

That was exactly the response you had expected. You gave him a knowing look, his stare challenging yours as a small smirk played on his lips. He was enjoying this you realised, enjoying your company, enjoying the challenge you presented. And as he gently licked his bottom lip, his gaze still prowling over you, you realised he was enjoying what he was seeing too.

As you stood in the midst of the exchange with Eris, you noticed a slight movement out of the corner of your eye. Sensing the shift in energy, you turned slightly to glance over your shoulder, finding the piercing gaze of the Shadowsinger fixed upon Eris. His eyes bore into Eris with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, an unmistakable venom simmering beneath the surface.

You were aware of their previous altercation, but you hadn’t realised how deep their hatred ran.

The Shadowsinger didn’t like any of the Vanserra brothers then– noted.

Eris, catching the subtle exchange, rolled his eyes lightly, a small huff escaping his lips, barely noticeable to anyone but you. 

"It'll be nice to see you among the autumn leaves again, y/n," Eris purred with an air of indifference before he and his brothers swiftly winnowed away. However for a split second you swore you saw it. When his amber eyes fell back to yours, you swore you saw that kindness he always kept hidden.

༄ 

As the last of the attendees left the meeting chamber, you and Lucien shared a glance, a mixture of relief and satisfaction evident in both your expressions.

"I think that went well," you remarked, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Lucien nodded in agreement, linking his arm with yours. "Better than expected, considering the diverse personalities we had to deal with." he chuckled with an eye roll.

You nodded in agreement, smiling softly with a playful glint in your eye. "Looks like the real work begins now, eh?"

Lucien laughed heartily, falling into step beside you as you made your way out of the chamber. 

“Make sure you’re being careful though” Lucien said in a moment of seriousness. You tilted your head to look at him, trying to understand what he meant in that. 

Was it your interaction with Tarquin, or something else entirely?

"I’m always careful Lucie” You replied, offering a reassuring smile before pivoting back.  “Let the peacekeeping begin." You declared, your fist pumping the air with determination.

Lucien couldn't resist a playful jab, muttering under his breath, "Why does this feel more like we're babysitting everyone?"

Laughter bubbled between the two of you as you exited the meeting chamber, ready to embrace the challenges of maintaining peace and unity among the courts.

How hard could peacekeeping be anyway?

Next Part >>

a/n: Sorry this took so long, and again I'm still setting the role and relationships up so it's gonna be a slow burn- but bare with! It'll be worth it <3 would love to know your thoughts on it all! Enjoyyyy - Lottie xx

[danikamariewrites]

can i please request azriel x reader who is a brilliant inventor, she is groundbreakingly smart and she comes up with solutions quicker than anyone. She is very known and well-respected for her quick mind through all the courts and lords and courts try to recruit her for reader to be in their courts. She invents the best inventions like:

- a magical mirror that allows users to glimpse other courts and realms during the annual Starfall event, providing a unique and enchanting view of the world beyond their own.

- Enchanted gemstones that can regulate temperature and create pleasant, cool microclimates within Summer Court, making the sweltering summer season more bearable.

- Quills imbued with the magic of the Night Court, which write in a language only decipherable by those who have undergone the Night Court’s trials, ensuring secret communication.

- Cloaks made from enchanted materials that can protect wearers from various magical and physical threats in the dangerous world of Prythian.

- Mechanical attachments for Illyrian warriors that temporarily enhance their flying abilities, allowing for greater maneuverability and speed during aerial combat.

she makes personal devices for the ic aswell. like gauntlets to help enhance hand-to-hand combat or magical swords, and so on❤️❤️ i’m a woman in stem so this is just amazing idead fr

Inventor 

Azriel x reader

A/n: omg anon ur brain is insane, like this is such a good idea!

Warnings: none

Walking in the house Azriel heard you humming from work room. He smiled to himself as he framed the door open. You were sat at your desk working on your latest invention.

Azriel loved your brain. It is a vast, endless sea of ideas and knowledge. Each creation a new unique wave flowing from you. You grew up on the continent and attended a school that encouraged creativity. Once you moved to the Night Court you made a name for yourself.

Every court wanted you to solve their problems or help create something for agriculture or to consult on new medical technology. And of course you’d help. You’d never want anyone to suffer. Once you told Azriel that inventing things to help people, big or small, made you unbelievably happy.

Azriel walked up behind you placing a kiss on the back of your head. You turn to face him and Az jumps, not expecting your giant magnified eyes. Removing your goggles you smile up at your mate. “Hi babe, how was your day?”

“It was good. What are you working?” He asks looking down at what you are currently tinkering on. “Oh, it’s a small light for Nesta. It can attach to her book so she can read in bed without bother Cassian.” You said with a giggle. Azriel rolled his eyes at his brothers childish complaints.

“If this one works I’m going to make ones for Gwyn and Em too. This is the third prototype, I can’t seem to get the button right so fingers crossed it works.” You pick up the small light and click the button.

The small, but bright light illuminates your work space. Your lips break out into a wide grin. As you hold up the light Azriel smiles at you. “That’s amazing my love! Excellent job, Nesta is going to love it.”

Turning it off you set the book light down. “I’m going to get a box for this, will you fly me to the House of Wind so I can give it to Nes?” “Of course love. I’ll wait here for you.” You kissed his cheek and hurried out of your work room.

He looked around in awe of everything hanging or on shelves in the room. Azriel always prided himself on knowing what was knew or what you made improvements on. It was a fun game for him.

Your voice broke him from his thoughts as you tugged him out of the room. Your excitement to deliver something so small to your friend infectious.