#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

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT III

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: sorry for such a long break!! pls let me know what u think and again if you’d like to be added to the tag list send me a message or ask as I rarely check my notifs and go back to them. also sorry abt the cliffhanger uhmmmm also unedited ok bye

“You look like crap.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Mor scrunching up her face as she peers at you from her seat across your own at the dining table. It takes a second for her words to register and you throw a belated scowl her way.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, sitting up to continue swirling your spoon around your bowl of barely eaten oatmeal. Your appetite seems to have vanished over the past week, but you try and force a spoonful down your throat, nearly gagging.

Mor narrows her eyes at you and her lips press into a thin line of concern. “No, you seriously look like crap. You’re not eating lately and you were literally asleep at the table when I got here.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say, defensively. “I was resting my eyes.”

“You sound like Cassian after a three hour afternoon nap.”

“I’m just having a little trouble sleeping.” You set your spoon down and push the offending bowl away from you before slumping in your seat. You brush off her skeptical look with a wave of your hand. “I’m always like this after absorbing Fae magic.”

And over the last few days you’ve been absorbing a lot. All in an attempt to find out as much as you could about the Fae rebel group that had been attacking the borders of multiple Courts, in order to weaken them and make a point against you.

Well, you and your sisters. Not all of Prythian was accepting of Feyre for how she was Made, and even less so of you and Nesta and Elain. Instead, they viewed you as unnatural mutations and the whispers had only become worse after the War. It seemed that the lack of conflict looming over Prythian was unacceptable in their eyes.

With the help of your powers and Azriel’s shadows, you were closer than ever to finding them. Truthfully, the idea that there were Fae out there who hated you didn’t bother you so much in the sense of feeling like outcasts, but you couldn’t lie. They were starting to be a giant pain in your ass.

“You’re never like this,” Mor scoffs, gesturing to the bags under your eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks. As her voice raises, the pounding of your head gets more intense and you attempt to hold back a grimace. “Why is it affecting you so much this time?”

“It’s the type of magic I’m absorbing,” you practically whine, abandoning all pretences of being okay and allowing your shoulders to drop. “It’s so angry and harsh and impure, Mor! It’s literally making me sick because I have nowhere else to redirect it.”

At that moment Rhysand and Feyre walk in to join you at the table.

Rhysand, having overheard you, chimes in as he reaches for a plate of fruit. “Good news, our little Siphon,” he nudges you lightly, the nickname making you scrunch your nose up in mock annoyance. “We have enough information now to move forward using Az and Cass and resources from other Courts. The only thing we need you to do now is rest.”

Rhysand’s upbeat tone brings a weak smile to your face. You know that he’s being flippant to make you feel better, like he always does when you’re stressed or unwell and you’re nothing but appreciative as he whistles under his breath, nonchalantly piling some fruit onto a plate for you.

“You should have been resting days ago,” Feyre eyes you from beside Rhys with furrowed brows, taking in your tired form. “We told you yesterday would be too much.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Give me a couple hours and I’ll be fine for the meeting in Summer.”

Mor snorts and looks up at you, amused. When you raise an eyebrow, her smile drops into an incredulous expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I need to be there to discuss what I siphoned from that knife we found at the border of Dawn,” you say, holding up a hand and rushing out the rest of your words when Feyre opens her mouth to speak. “And Rhys promised me I would be there since it’ll be all the High Lords, Court informants and even soldiers. I couldn’t possibly not go.”

Feyre sighs, sensing that you’re not going to back down. She nods slowly, pointing at your plate. “Finish all of your breakfast and your lunch later on and then you can go.”

You let out a breath, feeling nauseous when Rhys slides your plate closer to you and simply shrugs when you glare at him. Traitor, you speak to him in your mind. He suddenly becomes very interested in a strawberry.

“Watch me,” you say confidently, waving your fork at Feyre who rolls her eyes at you and goes back to her own breakfast.

Summer court is your least favourite court at the best of times, though you’d never admit that to sweet and kind Tarquin, who’s arguably one of your favourite High Lords.

The beautiful, shimmering lagoons aren’t of interest to you as large bodies of water have always unsettled you. The warm breeze that everyone welcomes always reminds you of the times you had to suffer through sweltering heat when foraging for food with Feyre in your adolescence. You’ve always preferred a colder climate and appreciated a more muted daylight.

Considering your current health, the ripples in the water make you dizzy and the light salty breeze nearly brings your breakfast and lunch up.

You’re thankful for the sheer, thin material of the sage coloured dress that Nuala and Cerridwen chose for you because you suddenly feel a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Are we done sightseeing?” you ask weakly, desperate to be inside already.

Elain turns to you and winces. “You don’t look too good….”

“Aw, thank you, Elain.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she tuts, coming over to fan your face with her hands. You swat them away, sputtering and try to catch Rhysand’s attention to move things along. He reluctantly agrees and gestures everyone to move along, too used to your aversion to Summer.

As you all enter the palace made of gleaming marble, you hang further back to avoid the watchful eyes of Feyre who seems to be waiting to send you right back home to rest.

The palace is beautiful and you push down your nausea to look around and take in the tall arched windows. The jewelled embellishments adorning the frames trail higher and higher and you crane your neck to see them.

This turns out to be a mistake when your vision starts to blur and another wave of nausea causes your steps to falter, the world tilting sharply.

A firm hand grips your elbow in an all too familiar fashion, steadying you before you’re sent flying to the ground. Another hand settles around your waist where the cutout of your dress exposes your now damp skin, glittering with sweat.

You look up and find Eris’ amber eyes locked onto your own.

“Foolish,” he mutters, his voice sharp with irritation, yet his hands remain steady in their position, holding you up. It’s the first word he’s uttered to you since your encounter a couple of weeks ago in the Spring Court where he’d left on frosty terms. You had seen him twice since then, but it was in the middle of meetings and siphoning sessions and he had barely spared you a single glance.

Your lips part but your senses are too overwhelmed to think of a response before he carries on, lightly shaking his head at you. “You overexert yourself all week and then travel here? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, pulling away from him, but his grip only tightens. You can’t help glancing around and noticing that the growing crowd of all the Court officials has separated you from the Inner Circle. You huff out a breath as you register his words. You knew Rhysand had to communicate with the other High Lords with updates, but you didn’t know that included your physical state. “Gods, High Lords are such gossips…”

“You’re not fine,” he says, scowling like you’ve dreadfully inconvenienced him by nearly collapsing. His gaze flickers over the pallor of your skin and the way you’ve started to shiver slightly. “You drained yourself dry this week. And for what? To impress Rhysand? To prove something to him?”

“Let go of me, Eris,” you attempt to snap at him, but even you can hear the lack of strength in your voice. His eyes soften slightly when you say his name without your usual bite. “I can’t have this same conversation with you when I’m like this.”

“You think I want to be the one always catching you from falling on your face? Trust me when I say I have things I would rather be doing,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

You grit your teeth at the reminder and heat flares in your cheeks, whether it’s from embarrassment, anger or the climate of Summer, you don’t know.

Before you can retort, Eris sighs and straightens you up, still not fully letting you go. Releasing the hand around your waist, he loops your arm in his own and makes you lean on him for support. To your utter surprise, he doesn’t say anything as he starts walking towards the meeting room where everyone else files in. Despite your frustration, you’re grateful for his strength.

The moment of blissful silence doesn’t last too long, however. As he begins to lead you to where your family is stood and clearly looking around frantically for you, Eris leans in to whisper in your ear. “You need to sit down at the table,” he orders quietly, High Lord behaviour on full display.

You’re about to argue that no one else is going to be sat and he immediately catches this, cutting you off. “Don’t be stubborn for once in your life,” he murmurs, breath warm against your ear, making you shiver more than you already were. “Please?”

You quickly turn your head to meet his, shocked at the pleading in his voice. You didn’t realise how close this would bring your own face to his and words leave you. Thankfully, you’ve reached your family as you hear Cassian’s loud voice and it snaps you out of your little bubble.

“Finally!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “We were about to send a search and rescue team, thinking you’d finally collapsed.”

“Why didn’t you?” Eris asks, coldly.

Cassian merely rolls his eyes at Eris’ attitude and gestures at Azriel.

Feyre comes forward to take your other arm in hers and explains. “Azriel’s shadows informed us that you were with her, Eris.” She smiles warmly and sincerely at him and Rhysand nods at him in recognition of his actions. “Thank you for looking after my sister.”

Eris shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet. I foresee many falls in her near future that I’m sure I won’t be present for.”

Feyre’s mouth twitches, but she quickly smoothes her face into an expressionless one when you frown at her and she busies herself with disentangling you from Eris.

He takes a step back, dark and fiery hair catching the sunlight through the tall windows and glances at you once more, not breaking eye contact, yet his words are directed towards Feyre. “Just make sure she sits down. The Night Court doesn’t need a martyr,” he says drily, before walking away.

Your mouth goes dry at the double meaning in his words, but you can’t shake off the shock at seeing genuine concern in his eyes. You must have looked practically near death, but you appreciated it all the same and you don’t even realise your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away until Feyre sits you down next to Nesta.

Your older sister raises an eyebrow at you, always so intuitive and you swat weakly at her to look away from you. Cassian’s eyes flit back and forth between you two, confused.

Before he can say anything, the meeting commences and you feel a shift in the energy of the room, full to the brim of Court officials, emissaries, a few warriors and of course, the High Lords around the table.

Your turn to speak comes fairly quickly since the most information regarding the Rebels is from you and Azriel. As per Rhysand’s instructions, you don’t go into any details regarding your siphoning powers, instead just sharing the information you gained due to them. You try to ignore the way people are staring at your weak form, but you continue to speak with all the strength you can muster. Evidently, you’re doing a convincing job as people start to nod, satisfied and scribble things down.

When Azriel’s turn arrives, you zone out a little, already having heard everything a few times over. Your ears only perk up when everyone is discussing plans of action against the Rebels and a question is asked in your general direction.

“Who are we thinking is to be at the front lines of this hypothetical mission?” The question comes from one of the Spring Court advisors, Vaelith, an older Fae with silver hair gathered in one long braid down his back.

His gaze lingers on you for only a split second before moving onto Rhysand and you feel compelled to answer. “Myself and Azriel,” you blurt out, before you can think twice. “And others of course, but the two of us are the most familiar with-”

“We’re all aware of the Shadowsinger’s abilities,” Vaelith interrupts you, holding up a hand to stop you from talking. You hold back a scowl. “What makes you suitable to lead such a mission aside from your… familiarity with a selection of items left behind by these Rebels?”

“I’m more than able to-” you cut yourself off and swallow, gaining yourself a second to think of a way to defend yourself without giving away your powers, as per your High Lord’s request.

Careful, Y/N

Rhysand’s voice sounds clear as day in your head and you try not to wince at the volume considering the silence of the rest of the room. The other High Lords knew of your powers, but Rhysand had requested they keep it to themselves, even from their own Court officials. Whether or not Rhysand had used his Daemati abilities to ensure this, you didn’t want to know.

“I’m more than able to assist in a plan of action,” you continue firmly, voice hardening. “I’m not sure if you remember a certain War we just had, but you may wish to remind yourself who was at the front lines of that.”

A few laughs break the tense silence and some people start muttering, slowly raising the volume of the room. You almost don’t hear Vaelith’s next words. “You haven’t really answered my question.”

“Let’s use our senses, Vaelith,” a voice rings out from further down the table and you’re startled to realise that Eris is speaking up. The room finally quietens down and you sit up impossibly straight, surprised that Eris is about to defend you.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

He only spares you a fleeting glance, but even from your seat you could see it’s full of amusement and mocking. The thing that surprises you is that the mocking is directed at you. “Look at her. Are you really questioning the abilities of a female who barely has the strength to sit up in her seat, let alone fight?”

Your stomach drops, a ball of humiliation unfurling in your chest as he continues to speak.

“I’d like to believe Rhysand has more sense than to send someone on the frontlines who would just be doing the rebels a favour,” Eris drawls, raising an eyebrow at Rhys, still avoiding your gaze.

Rhysand nods. “I can assure you I’ll only be sending my strongest soldiers, Vaelith,” he smirks, faintly, as though the implication he’d do anything to suggest otherwise is laughable. “Now may we discuss matters of actual importance? Tarquin, what have your soldiers been preparing?”

The tension dissolves almost immediately, but you’re still shellshocked, shaking with anger rather than weakness now. It’s as though you’ve been pumped with a burst of adrenaline and it doesn’t seem to be dampening.

After the conversation has shifted to a completely different subject, you shift from your seat as discretly as possible and mutter to Nesta that you need some air before standing up.

You look at the High Lord of Autumn before you walk away, but it only infuriates you more. Eris doesn’t look anywhere near you, but his jaw is clenched all the same, as though he can feel you glaring at him.

Mor catches your arm as you’re walking out and hisses in your ear. “You’re still not well,” she turns her body fully towards you. “Wait for me to come with you.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head and clenching your fists to keep them from trembling as you speak through gritted teeth. “I feel suddenly energised. I’ll only be outside.”

Mor gives you a once over and is clearly satisfied with the fact that you’re unlikely to collapse again as she nods and releases your arm, allowing you to rush through the crowd of people and push through the guards.

You walk briskly away from the doors of the meeting room and further down the empty hallway until you’re satisfied that no one will hear your heavy breathing.

You lean against a pillar, exhaling in and out to control your anger and keep the tears at bay. Gods, you feel so stupid. Of course, Eris is incapable of being a decent male to anyone, let alone to you. Damn him and his cruel smirk and damn Rhysand too for allowing it to happen.

Brushing away the tears that have managed to fall, you curse yourself for not just pushing him away and allowing yourself to collapse on the hard marble flooring. It was giving you whiplash the way he could be so full of concern one second and practically call you useless in front of a room full of officials the next.

The longer you stand against the marble pillar, the weaker you begin to feel and that burst of adrenaline you previously felt is no longer present. The anger that fuelled you mere seconds ago is now winding you and a rising sense of panic begins to consume you.

You decide to turn around to walk back so you’re closer to the doors of the meeting room in case you embarrassingly do collapse.

However, the second you take a step, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye is all the warning you get before strong arms clamp around you from behind and a cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, preventing you from breathing. You can’t even scream as the scent of something strong and chemical floods your senses, making your vision blur.

You thrash around in an attempt to use the little strength you have left to escape, but the arms only grip you harder and the world begins to spin. The last thing you feel is the cool marble floor as your knees give out and no one bothers to catch you as you hit the ground, darkness swallowing you whole.

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[acotarxreader]

The Sea's Call

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: You belonged to the sea in every and all sense of the statement. Pirating the seas was just who you were and you loved it, its where you belonged until a pesky Spymaster takes an interest in your activity, quickly finding himself captivated by you in more ways than one.

Warnings: Flirty back and forth, snark, angst, near drowning, seasickness, light smut, enemies to lovers to omg could this be mates!?!?!?!?!? Rough editing (its exam season yall)

A/N: Hello! For this to make sense lets pretend that Azriel was with Amren and Feyre when they went to get the Book of Breathings! hehe, okay sound good? good!

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The feeling of solid ground beneath your boots was always a source of discomfort for you, a child of the sea would never feel at home on the solid soil of Prythian. Rarely did you leave the comfort of the ship you captained, only coming to shore for the more lucrative deals. Passing through Adriata, you felt yourself admiring the shimmering buildings, catching yourself in an instant and banishing away the thought. You practically counted the cobblestones back to the port, where a smaller sailboat would bring you back to your floating home. You passed a building that was in the process of being rebuilt, the whole city still practically on stilts after Amarantha’s reign of terror, the stories your crew told you enough to keep you awake at night. 

“Excuse me” A broad, winged male apologises as he gently bumps into your shoulder, your cloaked head unlifting from your course home as you pass. Never noticed, never seen, the main attribute that landed you at the helm of one of the most infamous ships at sea.

Through the crowded area before the final dock, tradespeople called from their port, customers eager to obtain the precious goods they brought from their travels. You quietly noted who sold what and for how much, marking their ship's colours in the back of your mind for later. You chuckled lightly to yourself at the plethora of unassuming fae, all ripe for the rip-off at the hands of these merchants, their financial gain ultimately trickling into your own. A sudden shudder shot up your spine as you found your feet instinctively taking you to shield yourself behind the canopy of one of the port side stalls. A large crowd of people stood in awe and fear as Tarquin transversed the crowd, a female in Night Court clothing on his arm with Cresseida and the Lord of Night following closely behind. You sneered at the sight of the foursome, playing Court to the crowds and clearly winning favour with all. 

“How am I going to pass by their giant egos?” You scoffed quietly to yourself for no one to hear. 

“I know the cape is a bit overkill on the Lord of Night Court’s part” You laughed lightly at the comment that came from the warm voice behind you, your movement then stilling completely. On the ball of your foot, you turned to face the wall-like male who you had passed earlier. Azriel raised an eyebrow to you, clearly feeling cocky he had caught you off guard, something that made you feel bare. Your eyes fell briefly on the Night Court emblem on his chest, its gleaming blue goldstone flickering in the unrelenting Summer sun. 

“Shouldn’t you be part of the other swans?” You asked boldly, your hood still slightly obscuring your full face, a smirk dashing for a moment across Azriel’s face. 

“Not my style, besides, who would keep an eye on the ones who normally avoid all observation?” 

“I know know what you’re implying sir” You did your best impression of the confused damsel, the type you were sure Azriel spent countless nights with before you turned away to head into the flowing crowd, the royal four now nearly at the exit of the port marketplace. Azriel caught hold of your wrist, the leather of his glove crinkling under the light pressure on your skin. You turned to watch him lift your own hand between you both, his eyes falling on the toughened skin before sweeping away your hood. Azriel swallowed what gasp rose in his throat, trying to stay with his feet on the shore as your marine blue eyes seemed to flicker back iridescence. 

“A seafarer?” He questioned gesturing with his head to your waterworn digits. 

“I dabbled briefly” You lied, taking your hand back from him and a step to put some distance between you. 

“What brings you to shore? You don’t seem to have a stall here? Or not one that I see that hasn’t recoiled on sight of you?” He quizzed, the mystery prickling along every nerve. 

“Maybe I’m a tough of a boss?” 

“I don’t doubt that somehow” he laughed as you fought to not show your offense. 

“I have no business with the Night Court right now, no cause for this line of questioning” You bristled, turning your back on the Illyrian and striding away, the end of the dock in sight. You thought of your contact waiting beneath the boardwalk, you unable to meet him with the Night Court’s Spymaster breathing down your neck. 

“Interesting how you said right now. What previous business had you with my cour?t” He called out to you, stopping you in your tracks. You balled your face into a knot, rookie rookie mistake you cursed yourself. The sound of the rising tide crashed beneath the tall boardwalk. Beneath the gnarly warped boards, you could make out the silhouette of your contact, gently swaying back and forth between the slats of the wood. The end of the unfenced dock now a mere metre away.

“I meant… I’m always open to business with all courts, perhaps we have business to agree to down the line” You lied again, the business you occupied yourself with would never be agreed to by any Court inner sanctum. 

“I somehow doubt the business you deal with would be in the interest of my Court unless it is to stop it?” Azriel’s voice danced the line between playful and arrogant ease similar to that of a cat with a cornered mouse. 

“I spoke out of line sir, I have nothing to offer anyone, I was simply shopping for wares for presents” You decided to change tacts entirely. 

“And the large bag of rare gems and crystals you have in your shoe, is that the payment for these invisible presents?” 

“How di-” You cut off your own question, Azriel’s eyes fully aligned with the thrill of the catch, he would have to try harder to catch you. You scoffed, your face changing from faux concerned cornered damsel to the hardened confidence in your ability that years of trade had given you. Your hands clasped together in front of you before you clapped slowly, the action seemingly catching the Illyrian off guard. 

“Nice catch, tell me is your outfit fully leather?” the question surprised Azriel, his eyes looking down briefly.

“Are you a fashion consultant now?” 

“No no, just making an observation, you seem so fond of those” You rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet, ever so softly inching your way to the edge of the dock. 

“And what observation is that?”

“Quite a heavy material when it's wet” Azriel didn’t have time to further question you before your foot slammed harshly down on the rotting board, Azriel narrowly but nimbly dodging the gap created by the crumbling plank, its reminisce crashing into the swirling tide 20 feet below. 

“Cute, any other party tricks?” Azriel straightened himself. 

“Just one” You saluted him with two fingers against your forehead before once again surprising the Illyrian and launching yourself backwards off the dock to freefall into the rushing wild tide below. Azriel ran to the edge of the dock, foamy white circles fizzed around your entry point into the water. The heel of Azriel’s ankle slipped from his boot as he prepared to follow you the moment you came up from the air. Except you didn’t. He waited and counted to at least 2 minutes before planting his foot back into the boot. Azriel looked out towards the growing swell in the ocean where he squinted to bring the very distant hazy grey outline. He couldn’t understand how you had made it so far, so fast, clearly at home in the crispy sea. 

“Azriel, if you’re gonna off yourself you have to at least warn me so I can get a jumpstart on the funeral speech” Rhysand laughed from behind the Spymaster, his voice making Azriel jump slightly, the sight of it confusing Rhysand. 

“Hey you okay?” Rhysand clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, ever so gently guiding his friend back from the edge of the dock. 

“Yeah I eh..” He couldn’t find the words.

“Oh Azzie I know that look, well keep it in your pants, we’re here to get the book and go, I’m sure you can find someone just as fun at home” Rhysand laughed, turning Azriel’s body away from the edge of the dock, guiding him back up the boardwalk. Azriel took one more quick glance, no longer able to make out your distant shadow. 

—--------------------------------------

Azriel cursed every moment of his life that led him to this one that he shared with Feyre and Amren. This was the Spymaster's ultimate nightmare as the floods of endless water crashed into the chamber room, Feyre seemingly having a psychotic breakdown while clinging to the Book of Breathings. Every nerve was screaming at Azriel to entirely freak out but watching Feyre struggle with whatever the Book was giving her kept his head between his shoulders. As quickly as the water flooded in, the pulling force wrapped around the friends and tugged. Feyre and Amren seemingly had a silent discussion that pulled the three through the smothering water. 

The first swallow of salty air was choked down by the three as the wraiths pulled them upward through the blasted door, the dehydrating water still keeping a tight hold on Azriel. Alarms blared in any and all directions as Rhysand clearly had his own trials during the retrieval of the book. Wraiths suddenly squabbled over Azriel, their sharp talon like nails clawing along his wings, his yelps drowned out by the waves. Swelling currents pulled and pulled as the wraiths clung to Amren out of fear and Feyre out of repayment of debt leaving Azriel to fend for himself against the violent washes of water. Azriel had felt all his energy sapped by the fight for air inside the chamber being challenged again by the pulling force of the water. Out of bloodshot eyes, he saw the wraiths successfully bring his friends to shore until he could no longer fight the fray and instead allowed it to sweep him out. 

—--------------

Azriel’s face was swollen in the colours of choking purple and blue as his lungs fought to cough up the swallowed seawater. He felt his bones sink into the water-swollen wood of the ship he found himself hauled up onto. The sound of his body being dragged along the wood rattled against the strong gusts of wind. 

“Well, who did you piss off this time?” You laughed down towards the greying Spymaster as he tried to blink you into focus. He could only groan in reply before you jerked your head to the side, the large males dragging him across the deck continued their course, tossing him into the bowels of the ship. A smaller fae quickly clasped heavy chains on him, energy stores still depleted from the fight with nature. 

Azriel couldn’t tell if it had been minutes, hours or days since he had arrived on board the next time he woke up. He took in the musty surroundings, unable to detect any other living creatures in the room with him.

“I told you leather was a heavy material when wet” You smirked from atop the beam above Azriel before jumping down to land in front of him. 

“Remind me to take the fashion advice next time” Azriel rasped out, his throat raw from the salt. You circled him briefly before retrieving a tray from a darkened corner of the room, the swells of the wave lifting and dropping the boat in a natural rhythm, it never throwing off your stride. You placed the tray down by his side as he squared off his hips to sit upright on the sodden wooden floor. 

“Drink” You half ordered, Azriel looking from the liquid lifeline to your eyes of equal colour. 

“To have you poison me?” he scoffed. 

“The salt in your system will do that work for me if you don’t drink” Azriel looked back down at the water, weighing up the options before deciding to take it with a heavy chained hand. The water tasted of pure light itself as you watched him carefully swallow it all while attempting not to drool yourself. Another swell hit the side of the ship, causing Azriel to fall to his side. 

“You’re going to want to find your sea legs soon Leathers if you want to be able to keep your lunch down” You laughed, removing a cloth from the tray to reveal a thick, nutritious stew. 

“Where are we going?” He managed, trying his best to keep his sickly grey cheeks from turning green. 

“We're chucking you out closer to home, a courtesy” you squatted down to his eye level, drawing his amber eyes into meet you. 

“Why?”

“What can I say, I don't love the drama it loves me” you laughed standing again, pushing the tray closer to him with your foot. 

“Real answer” the stew bubbled in the dish, punctuating Azriels words. 

“I fish a prize out of the ocean, I'm going to collect”

“Aw you think I'm a prize” Azriel batted his eyelashes in faux flirtation, righting himself. You squatted back down, catching his chin lightly and to his own surprise he allowed you. 

“No, but the High Lord of endless wealth does” you let him go with a jerk. 

“Now eat, we've a few stops to make” You left him to his thoughts. 

-

Azriel picked at the food, before falling in and out of a state of pure exhaustion, it had been at least 3 days since he was sent out to sea. He gave into the food after 72hrs of deciding whether or not it was poison until it's filling nature sent him to as comfortable sleep. Azriel woke to the feeling a cool liquid dripping down his wings.

“Don't touch me” he jerked his wings out of your reach, the cloth going slack in your hand. 

“Listen here Leathers, either the wounds are cleaned or you lose the wings” You bit, Azriel weighing up your words, the cuts the wraiths left fighting to heel under his diminished energy. 

“Fine, do it yourself” You wrung out the cloth before dropping it to his side.

“Why do you care?” The thought rattled around Azriels head for the hours you had left him in the dark, he had to try to find the answer. He reached for the cloth, dripping the liquid down what wounds he could reach under the constraints of the chain. 

“You're less valuable to me dead” You lied, trying your best to ignore the cuts he missed. You ran your tongue across your teeth, and Azriel took note of your inspection. 

“Seems you care an awful lot about someone you see only as monetary gain” he smirked, unable to hide how your interest made him feel. He then proceeded to miss the wounds on purpose until you finally snapped, whipping the cloth from hands. 

“Just let me!” You snapped harshly and then met his wing with surprising tenderness. Azriel watched you from the corner of his eye, afraid to blink and you'd disappear. 

“Damn wraiths” you whispered, the deep claw marks fighting against the healing solution. 

“The way you swim, I thought you might be one yourself” You met his eyes with a grin, the cloth slipping from your hand. 

“Don't belittle me like that Spymaster-” Azriels eyebrow raised again at your coy response “-yeah I knew the moment I met you who you were and how much it drives you crazy that you have no idea who I am”

“I'm piecing it together” he said softly, watching you trace your eyes over his wings. Veins of opal and midnight blue liquid leaked from your hand, flowing over the deeper marks and sealing the shut-on contact.

“And more pieces fall” Azriel said, watching in amazement. You brought a finger to your lip and whispered shh, a banging then coming from behind.

“Captain, we're here” a burly voice came from the door, you stood before they could see what you were doing. 

“Business to attend” You grinned down, wiping your hands on your trousers and leaving Azriel once again.

—------

The boat soon after began to rock again, Azriel still not finding comfort in the waves. He tried to map out mentally the course you had taken him and why his family had yet to appear and save him. He knew the importance of the Book of Breathings and its vitality in a successful mission but he thought he was equally as vital. The swells rocked the boat to almost vomit-inducing levels as it reached the peaking waves of the thick sea once again.

On the main deck you glided with ease, your whole crew used to wild seas and never wanting to change any part of them. A long day of scouting out treasures and seeking payment for your protection had you staring up at the ceiling of your cabin, contemplating it all. The rush of waves hitting the solid oak of the massive ship sent you to welcome sleep shortly, the whole ship falling into well-earned rest after a day of various activities. Hours later you woke with the feeling of a true unfamiliar sickness. You ran quickly to the private washroom adjacent to your room, your skin a sickly green colour, your body at the will of the ocean for the first time in centuries. 

“What the fuck?” you said to yourself before wrapping a cloak around you and heading to the deck. Stray waves washed over the rim, flooding the deck as your crew fought with the sails, waves almost as tall as them made an attempt to claim a prize. You raised a stray hand, deflecting the walls of water from any serious damage, still unable to fight off the full feeling of sea sickness. You were always one with the ocean, allowing it to reek it havoc but keeping it from toppling the ship. The boat rocked nearly level to its starboard side before you willed the water to keep the mast from tilting, your crew ever happy to have a master of the elements at the helm. 

“Just keep the fucking sails straight” You barked, your crew scrambling to obey as lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the flooding deck, your stomach doing somersaults to match the movement. You rushed from the wheel down the decks again before entering into the depths of the ship, shielded from the rain. 

“For fuck sake, drink this before I vomit” You fired a small vile at the green Illyrian who caught it through his disorientation. Azriel always hated being at sea, doing his best to avoid it during his training and having a stark reminder of why now that he found himself at the centre of a colossal storm.

Azriel’s eyes locked on you as he fiddled with the lid of the bottle, he no longer cared if it was poison, if it ended the hellish seascape he’d drink it happily. Your eyes rolled like the waves before you made short work of the distance separating you both and in quick movement you separated the blade strapped to your thigh from its holder, sinking it into a miniscule chink in one of the chains on Azriel’s arm. You quickly hauled him upwards, the movement rattling his head to accompany the severe seasickness as you hauled him over to the side of the room. With your bare hands, you pulled the small wooden sheet nailed to the wall down, revealing a porthole. In a swift motion, you whipped it open, pressing Azriel’s face out into the swirling sea air. 

“There! See that line, thats the horizon, stay on that!” You barked at him, the ravenous waves crashing up to meet Azriels face through the hole as sea spray. He rocked from foot to foot, allowing his weight to rest in your strength as he found the horizon, nearly boring holes in it with his eyes as he focused.

“Just focus on the centre of your world Azriel, focus” You tried more softly this time, his name from you striking some deep nerve he always neglected. He caught as much air as he could before turning to lock eyes on you, colour drained from his face. 

“Not on me, the horizon!” You snapped, catching the back of his head and forcing it forward again. The curling, twisting sensation in your stomach was quickly replaced by a different sinking sensation. 

“Okay, okay, I’m okay” Azriel called out, your pressure releasing slightly on him, allowing him to sink back to the floorboards, one arm still tethered to the bowels of the ship. You followed his lead, sliding down the wall of the ship to meet his side. He curled his knees into his chest like he did as a child and you found your thumb tracing small soothing circles on the back of his hand before realising. He scanned you in almost horror, panting deep breaths into his lungs.

“That vein in your head is gonna pop if you keep thinking that hard” You found yourself laughing breathlessly, thankful for the end of the illness you so rarely felt. 

“Do you make this many visits to prisoners normally?”

“I guess you’ll never know, maybe this is how I am with all my guests” You rolled your head against the wall to look at him.

“An interesting way to treat your guests” He jingled the chains.

“Chains make it more fun” You whispered, the words rolling over his nerves like a wave at sea.

“More pieces, Captain” his rusty voice stopped your thoughts under his warm gaze.

“You’ll never have enough to understand”

“Oh yeah?” In one smooth movement, Azriel swerved his chained arm over his head, hooking it around your throat. He pulled until you found your back flush with his chest, his legs like vice grips around you from behind as you dug your nails into the betraying chain. 

“Chains make it more fun-” He whispered into the crook of your neck, the hairs on your neck standing on their end “- Now tell me how you knew I was sick down here?! Have you spelled me?” He ordered, rolling his hands into tighter fists around the chain, ensuring you were fully at the will of its biting metal jaws. He released enough pressure for a life-saving gasp of air you took hungrily. 

“The-the same way you-you knew how to find me on-on the dock. How did you see m-e that day?” You rasped, Azriel allowed more slack on the chain as he thought, the answer rolling off his tongue like a rogue wave. 

“How could I not?” he admitted in a whisper, the only sound filling the room. 

“Then that is my same answer to you” You thought of the ways you could overpower him at this moment, the simple ways you could will the sea to save you and yet you didn’t. You weren’t ready to end this moment and you weren’t fully sure why, well not in a way that you’d admit to yourself yet.

“I just-I felt someone need me, call to me without a voice… I just saw you through it all” he realised aloud.

“People don’t usually”

“I thought you were a Captain, or was that just a pet name?” his head tilted in question, “I’m no ones pet” More tension was released from the chain, enough for you to put your fingers between it and your marbled throat.

“I bet I could change that” his warm breath coated your ear, some force pulling him forward until the full slack was released from his chain, it clattering to the floor along its captivated wrist, his other hand tracing along your chest to gently catch your chin. You felt your back relax further into your chest until you instinctively fell to the side allowing the Spymaster the access to your neck he desperately craved. Fresh, electrifying bittersweet pain rattled through your body as Azriel sank his teeth into your tender flesh, his chained hand anchoring you to his chest by curling tightly around your abdomen. You released the air from your lungs that felt as though it had been held forever. Azriel’s hand left your obedient chin to trace down your body, landing at the fraying waistband of your favourite sleep shorts. His thumb traced beneath the band, his nail skirting along your skin, a shiver shooting up your spine. 

“Tell me your name” He whispered with tantalizing ease. 

“YN” You replied, not often telling those outside the inner sanctum. 

“The name I’ll thank the sky for and wish on every star to hear” His hand finally sank beneath the elastic, stroking small circles to coat your throat in soft moans you fought to keep hold of. You could feel him against your backside, feel how much he wanted this and you and yet you didn’t want him to know the same about you. 

“For you, only you” He groaned, pressing further into you as if hearing your thoughts, a rewarding groan this time unable to be stopped from leaving you. As quickly as he had trapped you, you turned, hooking a leg over his to press him back into the deck, straddling either side of his waist, his chained arm clanking against the wood. Your hand traced his cheek and he allowed himself to rest against your palm, his wings relaxing outwards, the wraith marks on show. You felt rage boil beneath the surface at the sight of their claim to what you felt was yours. You lowered down to his mouth, eyes swirling into his as he drank your energy in. 

“I’ll kill them for hurting you”

“And I’ll do the same to those who look at you in any unkindness, or look at you at all, unworthy of the pleasure” His free hand found the nape of your neck, magnetic forces guiding you down until a wash of the purest release met you both in one another's lips. Nirvana. Then unrelenting hunger. Your mouth parted slightly causing him to eagerly take the invitation, his tongue conducting teasing strokes that you happily match. Your hands clutch the material of his shirt, afraid to let go of him and the movement.

“Land!!!” An unwelcome shout came from far above where the two of you were deep in entanglement. The voice of your second mate pulled you back from Azriel, who tried his best to not whine at the movement. You quickly shot from his grasp, retucking your shirt and pulling your damp hair to one shoulder. You looked frantically at the broken chain before darting to cover the porthole again. 

“What-what just happened?” Azriel asked, doing his best to stand.

“We just reached your drop off” You left a sad smile paint your face as Azriel bolted towards you, his chain dragging.

“But we-I just- we just-”

“I know but they’ll be expecting you and my crew will be expecting the payout I promised them when we diverted course to fish you from the sea” You caught his knotted hands in yours, the marks of your years of hard work melting into his of deepest cruelty. 

“Run with me, come with me, just don’t leave me” he found himself begging.

“This is my world, that’s yours, I don't have land legs just like you definitely don’t have sea legs-” you laughed “-besides, I don’t think we’ll be welcomed in this Court after our capture of one of the favourite children” You joked, your hand tracing his cheek. 

“YN, I’ll tell them the truth, tell them how you saved me, how you will save me in so so many ways” A knock came at the end of Azriel’s plea, your sign to say goodbye. 

“I’m sorry Azriel, my crew are my family and I owe them what they deserve” you stepped back outside the range of what his remaining chain would allow. You reluctantly opened the door, towering males like those who dragged him aboard entered, your back facing him unable to look. Azriel wasn’t sure what happened yet, wasn’t even sure he cared. 

—------

“Is he dead?” Azriel heard Nesta through the screeching song of overhead seabirds. He rolled onto his back, the sharp sun scratching his retinas after a few days in the dark.

“Azriel!” His friends said in unison, helping him to sit up in the soft sand. 

“They didn’t drop you where they said, sorry it took so long to get to you” Feyre smiled, dusting the sand from his hair as Rhysand and Cassian scanned the horizon for any semblance of your ship, long long gone. 

—-----------------

The following weeks were rough for the whole Night Court, all unsure of their next moves to save their world from Hybern. Countless nights watching the bay allowed Azriel time to devise plans and hatch ideas. All paths lead to you more so than success against Hybern. 

That Starfall his family rejoiced in their full reunion, their first in 50 years and yet Azriel still felt a missing part of him, it cast out to sea. He watched Rhysand take Feyre by the hand up the stairs, a smile decorating his face at his brother's deserved happiness. His rusty coloured liquor reflected the moon, the party danced around him, the noise of it all not enough to drown out what he felt was a call he had to answer. 

Azriel landed on the shores of Velaris, the hidden home he’d die for, thinking about the hidden love he’d do the same for. An idea pinged into his head at the sight of Velaris residents releasing lanterns from passing canoes. 

Without full coherence, Azriel found himself rowing a small dingy of a boat out of the Velaris port. He dug deep against the slowly growing waves, the House Of Wind and it’s gleaming party lights in the growing distance. He rowed until he could no longer see his home over the crests of the waves before he stood on rattling legs and found the bow of the small boat. With one deep breath, Azriel swan dived into the crystal clear depths, allowing it to overwhelm him and pull him down. Cautiously, Azriel opened his eyes beneath the water, adjusting to he burn before swimming deeper. Lactic acid began to build in his muscles and beg him not to swim deeper into the pressure of the unforgiving water. Black blots inked across his vision as the darkening water began to overwhelm his system once again until right before blacking out an arm wrapped around him. 

“You have to be fucking kidding me” Was the first thing Azriel heard you say in weeks as you both breached the surface. He almost howled with laughter and exhilaration of his near-death experience and seeing you again. 

“I-I knew you’d come” he rasped out in giddy excitement. 

“Risky game Leathers” You laughed until he kissed you, the lapping water supporting you both. Overhead the sky began to fill with lights on their journey, reflecting off the water with pure light but in that moment Azriel knew that even the darkest night would be illuminated by you.

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

Teehee Whatcha think?!

[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

[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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Comment an “🧡” to be added to the Eris Week tag list!

[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.

[olenvasynyt]

Here's some Prythian lesser fae world-building headcanons because I am so bored of human-looking hot guys with semi-pointy ears and literally nothing else.

Spring has several races of lesser fae that have wings like butterflies. They are the main farmers and bouquet makers for the Spring Court but they were targeted by Tamlin's father before his death.

Spring also has a lesser fae race that are a bit like fawns / satyrs but resemble sheep instead of goats or horses. They have fluffy white wool and ram horns for the males

Many lesser fae races migrate between the seasonal courts based on the season. There are the monarch fae, who migrate between Spring, Summer, and Autumn.

There are also the Kontio fae, who are bear-like lesser fae who travel between courts based on the season. They hibernate in Winter during the winter months, travel through Summer and Autumn on the Spring Equinox to settle in the Spring Court, then they travel to Summer and Autumn perspectively until it's time to hibernate again. They are one of the main lesser fae races in my Lucien backstory fic A Court of Embers and Sunlight :)

Sprites are common in all of the courts, but each court has their own unique variety based on the elements / main features of the Court. Spring has sprites that resemple petals and sleep in flowers; Autumn has sprites that glow like embers and hide in the colorful leaves; Summer has wood sprites and water sprites. Winter has snow sprites with frosty skin. Dawn has fae that only come out during the sunrise and camouflage with the clouds. Day has sun sprites that are completely gold and shine in the sun like jewels. And Night has star sprites that hide in the mountains and shoot across the sky like comets.

Winter has ice giants that hide out in the mountains. These became almost extinct after the Human War, and many believe they no longer exist.

Winter also has snow leopard fae with tails, spots on their white skin, and and fluffy ears that peek out from their soft white hair.

Summer has the Áfruvvá fae, which is a mermaid race that lives on the coast

Night has the Aranrot fae, which is a fae race with beautiful silver skin that glows and sparkles like a star. The race is all female, very stern and independent, and live proud sexual lives.  Believed a virgin was an independent female who was answerable only unto herself. Associated with the galaxy.

Autumn and Winter have lesser fae that resemble wood lemmings. They are covered in soft fur, and have small paws with a flattened claw as their index finger. They have terrible eyesight but their sense of smell and hearing are 10 times better than the High Fae. They're called Sopuli Fae in my fanfic :) 

These are a small precentage of my lesser fae headcanons and it's one of my favorite things to write. Like come on, it's so fun! Give me more, SJM 😩

[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.”

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[scorpioriesling]

Hello! Do you think you're going to continue writing part 5 of " invisible strings" with eris? I really loved this series! Thank you

Invisible String - Part 5

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Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): Please be advised; this part might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution.

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: My apologies, this took forever for me to finish writing for you all (I've had so much on my plate lately). This part IS SHORT, HOWEVER I'm literally already working on the next part and wanted to give you guys at least what I had done so you knew I was indeed working on it! Lol. I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't read the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come. For those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- I hope you are excited! Nonetheless, I hope readers will enjoy this series that came to me in a dream one night. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @mellowmusings @talesofadragon @rcarbo1 @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kitsunetori @dannul @velarisdusk @lamarmotta @paintedbyshadows @i-know-i-can @adventure-awaits13 @acourtofbatboydreams (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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The Autumn Court experienced the changing seasons like any other in Prythian. Spring was still spring, there was still snow in the winter -- but, the current state of dreary, grayness that took over the sky and stretched beyond the court's borders was quite the contrast to a usual week in July.

Perhaps, it was a reflection of the inner turmoil seeded in those residing in the Forrest House.

"Y/N," Riley whines. "When will the sun come back?"

You sigh, wondering the same.

"I don't know Riles. I truly don't."

She huffs, her fingers reaching for her the mason jar sitting in the middle of the table. The wilting flower inside has lost the vibrant orange coloring on its petals from last week, now replaced with wilting brown ones.

"My flower is yucky with no sun on it." She frowns. You pat her head as she inspects the plant, your shoulders stiffening when you hear the front door open and close quietly.

"Daddyyyyy," Riley groans. "When is the sun coming out?" She trills, hopping off the dining room chair and making way for the front door. It seems she heard him come in too, as she makes her way toward the foyer.

The two of you had gone the entire week with as little communication as possible -- a whole lot of "yep"s and "mhm"s and nods and short debriefings. Since the whole closet incident from the week prior, you hadn't gotten the courage to talk with him again anyways; he'd been so cross with you, so irritated. Your cheeks heated at the thought, how embarassed you'd felt that night. The shame.

Honestly, the whole thing made you a bit angry.

You take a deep breath as footsteps approach, their hushed, mindless conversation drowned out by your own thoughts clouding your headspace. It's not until Eris is standing right in front of you that you come back to reality.

"Play tea party?"

You glance down, taking in the little one's innocent expression from down below. You give her a soft smile, looking to Eris quickly before returning her gaze.

"I'd be honored, dear -- would you go set it up? I'll come join you in a few minutes. Let me talk to your dad first." Riley nods, skipping down the hallway toward her bedroom. Eris looses a sigh, passing toward the kitchen island and leaning against it before looking to you again.

"So..." He says, folding his arms across his chest. You suck in a breath, prepared to hand it to him -- ask him what the Hell all that disrespect was for, what the deal is with the gowns, what was going on between the two of you, all of it.

But, your eyes catch on the wilting stem in the glass jar still sat on the table. You stall a moment, every angry thought in your head receeding like the tides when you consider what could be a more imortant topic of conversation in this very moment.

"So..." You begin, taking a step toward him. He watches you, his face expressionless, as you continue. "I... I've been thinking. Riley is, almost five, and... well, it is the last week of July..."

He simply nods, as though saying go on without saying it. You can't help but roll your eyes, stepping to stand right across from him in the space between the island and the kitchen counter.

"I think she should be enrolled in school."

His brow twitches at this, the most you've gotten from him all week. It's silent for longer than necessary, almost uncomfortable, so you start again.

"She's asking me things, Eris, that she needs a proper teacher for-"

"No."

You startle, blinking as his face returns to that look of emotionless stone.

"W-what?"

"I said no." He shrugs, staring you straight in the eye like it isn't negotiable.

"...Okay, well, I want you to hear me out." You say, trying to remain calm. "She wants to learn. She's inquisitive, and smart, and she-"

"I know she's smart." He cuts in. You huff, your brow furrowing.

"Eris, you're not even listening to me." You can't help the way your voice pitches, but his brows flatten into a straight line.

"I don't need to hear it, Y/N -- she has you. We can hire a teacher to come here if you want. But no, she isn't going to a public school where Gods know what could happen to her." He says, his low tone rising with each sentence.

You push off the counter, folding your arms across your chest. "She needs the social interaction with other kids her age, Eris. You can't keep her locked up in here-"

"I'm her father," he says angrily, leaning toward you. "I think I know, what she needs."

Once the words leave his mouth, his face softens as though he realizes what he's said and how he has acted. You stand still, your eyes wide as you stare up at him. Never has he acted so defensive, not even with the damned dresses -- but this, this was on a whole different level.

You watch as his expression changes from rage to pure worry, his concerned eyes searching yours in desperation. You can't help but look away, only glancing back when his fingers hesitantly reach for your arm.

"Y/N, I didn't mean-"

"Don't." You yank your shoulder back, sneering up at him. He drops his hand slowly, shaking his head as he fumbles for his words.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I-"

"You're damned right, you shouldn't have." You said, glaring up at him through your brows. The lump in your throat only grew as you began to feel bad, practically kicking him while he was indeed apologizing.

Maybe he deserved it... a little.

You turned on your heel, making way for Riley's room. He could make dinner tonight. After all -- maybe some pretend tea would do you good.

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"I need to leave at first light for another trip with the guard."

It'd been a few days since you'd had it out with Eris, and maybe it was good you did; he'd been much more present, insisting on cooking, proving more when he was home, and being more involved with not just his daughter but you as well when he was home in the evenings... well, as much as you'd let him be. You hadn't entirely forgiven him yet, all things considered, and the incident from a few weeks ago hadn't even been mentioned, so the relationship was, awkward. To say the least.

"How long this time." You said it as plainly as you could, trying to ignore the burn of the firepoker upon your heart at the thought of him leaving again. You wished it didn't hurt so bad, wished it didn't effect you so much each time.

"Only three days. A quick trip to Spring and back." He nods assuringly, setting his pack on the dining table and looking to you. Nodding, you awkwardly run your hand along your arm, feeling a bit exposed under his intense gaze. This late in the evening, you knew he didn't tell Riley he'd be leaving (per usual) -- so she'd wake up tomorrow with that lovely realization.

"Ok." You chew on your bottom lip, and Eris sighs, stepping toward you. He reaches for your hand, but sensing your hesitation, he retracts. A look of sadness crosses his face before his eyes meet yours.

"Those dresses... in the closet." He murmurs. "They were Selene's." His jaw tightens at the name, and you swear you stop breathing. This was not the conversation you planned to have tonight.

"She... her family, they pass them down for tradition." He continues. "On her way out, she didn't really care to take them; I mean, she took just about everything else, but." He huffs a humorless laugh, but continues when you don't say anything.

"Anyway... I kept them because." He sighs, his head dropping before looking to you again. "You're right, Y/N. Riley is a very smart girl. One day, she is going to ask about her birth mother, and, well."

He shrugs. "I'm not going to have anything to show or give her that was hers." His gaze drops.

"The only thing I had left was those silly dresses from her side of the family."

Your heart clenches as though you can feel every ounce of sorrow he is feeling in that moment. You reach out, your hand caressing his cheek softly before you can think.

"Eris, I... I had no idea, really, I'm sorry-"

"Please, Gods don't apologize." His hand covers yours, his fingers wrapping around yours as he holds it against his cheek. "I know how it looks, and how it must have looked when you happened upon it." He sighs, his other hand reaching for your waist.

"It didn't help that I handled the situation poorly, either." He admits, sorrowfully looking into your eyes. You gaze up at him, your mouth twisting to the side. "I can't take it back, but I truly hope you can understand how sorry I am Y/N."

You step closer, closing the gap between the two of you as he pulls you into a firm embrace. His hand runs through the strands of your hair, a gentle reminder that everything might, just might, be okay.

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"Y/N! Another!"

Riley holds out an identical bloom to the one previously in the mason jar to you th efollowing day, her earlier sadness at her father's departure replaced with temporary glee.

"Oh wow! Look -- this one is very vibrant." You wink at her, continuing on the path back to the Forest House.

"Vi...bran...t." She sounds out, examining the stem in her hand. She dumped out the dead flower pre-garden walk, and surely will now want to replace it.

As the two of you approach the front door, you stoop down to grab the few pieces of mail collated there. One envelope of deep mohogany with gold embossing catches your eye -- but, you follow the little girl inside nonetheless and push the door closed.

"We put this in the cup?" She asks, already making way for the sink to gather more water for her jar. You set down the paper pile, giving her all your undivided attention.

"Of course dear," you say, helping her to sit on the counter and fill her jar from the sink. She places the new flower in the glass, beaming at its brilliancy.

"Yay!" She squeals, her little feet kicking with delight. You help her off the edge, carefully transporting the jar to the table where it sat prior.

"We make sure this one has sun," she insists. "So it won't be ugly."

You chuckle, returning to the mail pile and plucking the envelope from the top. Your intrigue only grows when you see it is adressed to Eris, Riley and you.

You don't waste another moment in tearing it open.

Scanning the page, you feel a new kind of excitement -- a flutter of hope in your heart, a surge of excitement through your veins. Every nerve ending is electric within you as your true joy grows, the passionate feeling inside deeper than what you thought you could explain before. You felt, like truly, what you said meant something. Someone cared what you said, and you'd been heard.

"Riley?" You called. Her little footsteps bounded into the room, a look of interest on her face as she took you in and the paper between your fingers.

"Uh huh?"

You grinned, telling her the wonderful knews.

"Your daddy signed you up for school next month, sweetie."

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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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Let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist for future updates :)

[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.

[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

[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.

[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

[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.