#tamlin shows up in the human realm and sees it and hes like 'what the fuckkkkkkk'

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

I think its so lame that both the mortal realm and the fairy realm are both just kinda generically medieval european/pseudo-victorian except Prythian has a tiny little bit of funky vaguely magical shit, I know other people have already said this but the human realm should be wayyyy more technologically advanced. like it doesnt have to be modern technology bc at that point I feel like it would clash too severely with the aesthetics of this series, but idk, we could have some steampunk shit methinks

[b0xerdancer-writes]

The Heir of Spring

Tamlin x Archeron!Reader

Summary: When one of Feyre's sisters' stabs Tamlin in the arm, the male took a strange liking to her, he had hoped she had been the one to kill the wolf he could love her ferocity; only she wasn't but she tracked Feyre through the woods and into the Fae realms to show up on Tamlin's doorstep. The rest is history as the two fall in love and start their own family.

Prompt: Heir Of Spring

Warnings: War, violence, blood, family disagreements, feyre and rhys slander, nesta and elain slander kind of.

Word Count: 5,402

Notes: A bit smaller but a good start to Tamlin week, this may be a thing I revisit and do a prologue or multiple parts to delving more into their day to day and relationships since this is cannon divergent and kind of an AU of what if the Spring Court didn't fall. And I felt Tamlin needed some character growth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Archeron sisters had become powerful figures before the Hybern war. The oldest a figment of death herself, The next an oracle with powerful visions, the next imbued with the powers of dryads and nymphs, and the youngest a curse breaker with a touch of every court in her blood.

Stories were told of the four sisters, how the youngest was putting her life on the line for the other three but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth; Feyre knew it but wouldn’t speak in favor of the male that had once locked her within the halls of his estate and the sister she had become estranged with.

When Feyre had first been taken to Prythian she had enjoyed Rosehall however boring it seemed to her, she had been warned about the dangers that lurked between her and her home.  She had been taken aback  when a loud pounding came from the door that startled both Tamlin and Lucien, Tamlin was the first at the door Lucien and herself behind the blonde male. The sister who would later be known as ‘The Dryad’ stood at the door of Rosehall, dressed in hunting furs and bloody, a head from something Feyre would only ever see in her nightmares in her hands. They had different mothers but had bonded together over their years, her mother had been a servant in the Archeron household who had been coerced into sleeping with the master of the house yet she had some of the strongest willpower around and had spent her time in the forests around their home; it paid off now in their young adult years, she had tracked many things for Feyre during Spring when mud would hide tracks.

Tamlin was stunned, that he would admit, at how this small female human had fought her way through the woods, found her way through the wall, and had fought her way to Rosehall; and by the looks of it she had taken out a naga on her own relatively recently from the scent. Tamlin was even more stunned when she tossed the head at his feet, blood splattered on his boots.

“I killed it, I hate the fae  and I murdered one in cold blood. It didnt attack me and gave me no reason to murder it, just like my sister. Now you have to take me in too.” She had growled at the blonde male.

“You took out a naga?” Tamlin asked and she nodded. “By yourself?” She nodded again. “On my property?” She nodded again. “In my court?” Tamlin gaped. 

“Okay then Rosebud, you are free to stay here. We were just having breakfast and I’m sure you must be hungry after a fight with a naga, so feel free to eat up. I’ll have the maids make you a room and then you are free to bathe if you wish, make yourself at home dear.” Tamlin had been truly impressed by the female in front of him, taken with her he would even admit.

She had raised her head high and waltzed right past Tamlin and Lucien only to nod at her sister in greeting. “Feyre, good to see you again.”

Feyre gawked. “What are you doing here?” 

“Originally I came to save you from the jaws of a best but now I refuse to let you go through this alone.” The older female had stated matter of factly and waltzed into the dining room, Feyre at her heels.

When the two female disappeared from their view Lucien had turned to his blonde counterpart with a questioning look on his face. “Tam, pardon me for questioning you, but WHAT WAS THAT.” He whisper-screamed at the blonde.

Tamlin shrugged a smug look on his face. “I like that one, she's the one I was the one who killed Andras. She's the one I told you about.” 

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “That's the one that stabbed you with the ash dagger in your arm.” 

Tamlin nodded. “Correct however you forgot the other part of it.”

Lucien sighed, already done with Tamlin’s own antics for the day. “My apologies, correction the one that stabbed you in the arm with an ash dagger and made you 99% sure she's your mate.” 

Tamlin gave Lucien an offended look. “I’m not crazy Lucien.  I barged into their house, completely smashed the door from its hinges, mind you, and her first instinct was to leap over a couch at me and put herself between me and her family and stab me in the arm to pull my attention to her…”

Lucien sighed and cut the older male off. “And when you did look at her you felt something similar to how the bind is rumored to feel, just dampened. I get it Tam, maybe it's just dampened because she's human?”

Tamlin nodded. “Maybe. I will just have to wait and see then.” Tamlin motioned to the dining room. “Shall we?” 

Luicen snorted and started back towards the dining room, Tamlin turned and kicked the head out into his yard. Lucien was leaning smugly against the dining room door frame obviously trying to fight laughter and Tamlin found out why when he entered the dining room to find his Rosebud in his chair chowing down on the plate of bacon and pancakes he had compiled earlier before her interruption. Tamlin couldn’t be mad though, he found it adorable and he had rightly invited her into his home and to his table.

He cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention in the room, he sent a wink towards the female in his spot and with a snap of his fingers the table added another sitting and he took his place across from the spiteful, strong willed female.

+

The two were a hilarious picture to Lucien, and he was sure to the mother as well if she truly did design them to be together. They were out in the meadows and she was in his face over something and Tamlin looked like a hurt puppy, Feyre had refused to join but her sister was adamant exploring her ‘prison’ as she called it.

Lucien was leaning against a tree, nose in a good book when he had heard their argument cease, he looked up just ws Tamlin was about to say something and the female with a bored expression on her face; without fail he watched Tamlin point to the moon pool beside them and her just shove the blonde male into it. Lucien had busted out into laughter and she pointed at him and then back at the lake; he raised his hands in surrender ,set his book down, and kicked off his boots. He had stepped up to her, and just as she reached out to shove him in he threw her straight into the water instead. When she finally dragged herself from the water with a pout she had pushed Lucien back in on top of Tamlin; the two males proceeded to race her back to the manor that evening after their clothes had dried, Tamlin had let her win of course by insisting she take the fastest horse. 

+

When Rhysand had appeared the evening at the manor, Tamlin had put her under a glamor and had her behind his chair, she had clutched the same dagger she had stabbed Tamlin with tightly in her right hand and leveled her breathing, when Rhysand had found Feyre and grabbed her by her chin Tamlin had shot her a glare, still hidden under the blondes glamor, for some reason she knew what that look meant. 

‘Stay hidden.’ He begged her silently in that look. ‘Don’t stab him. It will be okay.’

She had understood and focused on her breathing not giving herself away, Tamlin had put himself between her and Rhys and she found herself clutching the back of his shirt to calm herself; after the gloomy male had left she had leaned against the blonde male while catching her breath.

It had been that night after Feyre and Lucien had gone to bed that she slipped from her own room, it was grand and only one other door shared the hall with hers; the room across from hers was Tamlin’s, she knew that much for sure, as she had heard his steps and the door close late every night. She had never been a good sleeper, insomnia had haunted her since she was a child and the only thing that seemed to sooth it was nature; during the warmer seasons back home she could simply open a window but that was impossible in the winter and she had been so adjusted to her winter schedule it affected her more than normal. Any sane person, human or fae, would think her insomnia a side effect of the gloomy males appearance earlier; she didn't know quite what caused it but she did know Tamlin was affected by the same kind as her, every night just as exhaustion began she would hear Tamlin’s steps, heavy and slow, coming down the hall and disappear into his room. 

Except this time instead of his steps lulling her to sleep, they never came up the stairs so she fought off the exhaustion nipping at the edges of her consciousness and slipped down the halls into his study where he had disappeared after dinner.  No words were spoken as he looked up from the glass of whiskey and simply offered her her own glass, she had taken it with a nod; fire crackled in the hearth to her right and eventually Tamlin moved from his seat behind his desk to the one beside her, an unspoken understanding between them as he wrapped a fur tossed over the back of his chair over her. Eventually the two dragged themselves up the stairs and through the halls again, slipping into their rooms with a wave and nearly falling into their own beds, it was the start of an unspoken relationship and the first taste Tamlin had of who his mate truly was.

+

The night of calanmai had been rough, the drums and smoke called to her, she had always loved festivals and parties; and Tamlin had been cold and distant and his steps were not there to assure her everything was okay, surely he would be out all night and wouldn't care if she were to slip into his bed in search for some semblance of comfort. Tamlin’s silk sheets were cool against her skin and her own silk pajamas, she could only assume what Feyre was up to in her room; Tamlin had ordered them to stay here and as much as she wanted to disappear into the crowds of partying fae she refused, opting to cover her head with one of Tamlin’s pillows as a way to deafen herself from the calling music outside. Two mistakes had been made that night, one was Tamlin refusing to fully inform them about what Calanami was and two was the fact she had deafened herself and didnt hear those steps she had familiarized herself with coming up the stairs.

Tamlin was completely exhausted and disgusted by Calanmai, he was sure of it now, or at least that last sane part of his brain tonight was, that she was his mate; every maiden’s scent disgusted him and he had even smelled Feyre’s there it was similar to the one he wished had been there but different enough he had no urge to chase after it, he'd had an altercation with Feyre on his way back into the manor but was able to restrain himself at the thought of his mates smell lingering in the halls. It was her he wanted, not her little sister.

Tamlin wanted to just bathe and collapse into bed, his mind in a fog due to the mix of lingering magic and his senses beginning to clear. Yet when he finally clambered his way up the stairs he found himself confused that his door was cracked and a faint lamp light seeped out into the hallway, he was confident he had closed the door and shut off his lamps. He stepped into his room looking everything over and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of his female curled up in his bed, he didn't want to wake her and ruin the sight in front of him; he cursed and tiptoed into the attached bathing room, to him he still stunk if the female he had given unto his instincts with and didn’t want to disturb or disgust the female fast asleep in his bed.

His brain was on autopilot, a mix of hormones, instincts, and the slightest bit of control he did have. He scrubbed his skin raw until every inch of paint and any trace of the females that were throwing themselves at him was gone, he finally slipped into cotton trousers with a groan; he briefly debated going across the hall into her room to sleep but a warm bed and the female in it was calling to him. Surely if she had sought him out like this she wouldn't mind him sleeping in hisnown bed beside her, after all they both had made a habit of checking on the other before falling asleep now. He tucked himself into the silk sheets beside her and sighed as she curled into him, the comfort of her being there surely was the determining factor in his muscles finally  relaxing and letting him fall asleep seamlessly.

All that had been spoken between the two the next morning was a simple exchange of “you okay?” and “yeah. You?” And a nod of her head. 

Nothing was said when they both appeared for breakfast, Lucien seemed content at poking fun at Feyre for a bruised wrist and the nearly erotic interactions she had at the festival last night before Lucien finally escorted her back to the manor; Her sister had simply shook her head at Feyre when she found out the younger female had snuck out despite being told to stay.

Other than that everything had stayed relatively uneventful, the two continued their evening drinks and then would climb the stairs together to collapse into their own beds; but it had been just the start they needed.

The next time anything eventful happened was when she and Feyre had been sent back to their home, she had put up a fight and it took knocking her out to get her in the carriage.

Tamlin had felt terrible hurting his Rosebud like that, he knew she didn’t want to leave Rosehall and it hurt him to have to knock her out just to keep her safe. She had locked herself inside her room, refusing to come down and eat; she became a ghost. She wouldn’t admit to it but Tamlin’s presence had calmed her and had offered a strange kind of presence that left a lot of emptiness and longing there, She would only ever leave her room late at night after everyone else had gone to bed and she would sit in the garden across from the rose bushes remembering her late night meetings with Tamlin; she never once noticed Feyre’s absence within the walls of the home she occupied.

She stayed out of Nesta and Elain’s ways and kept out of their business, until a loud knock came at her door. She opened it with a growl in her throat ready to scream about leaving her alone, only Feyre greets her at the door but yet she is now fae like Tamlin; her eyes scanned over the sharpened features and pointed ears, a frown comes over her face as she furrows her brows.

“Sister, before you say anything let me explain.” Feyre begged, pushing her way into the room and closing the door behind her.

The older female shrugged sarcastically. “Well I have no other option since you pushed your way in here, explain away.”

“I don’t wish for you to be mad at me.” Feyre pleaded.

“I have a feeling I am going to anyways, no matter what you say that is not a promise I can make to you right now.” The older snapped, venom in her words.

The two sat down opposite each other on the padded couches she had tucked into the corner of her room, Feyre explained everything that had happened and begged her to help them with the mortal queens that would be meeting with them soon. That it might be good for her, she needed to get out of this funk anyways because Tamlin was jot a good male; Feyre insisted it and the older female felt her blood pounding in her ears and behind her eyes.

“Don’t you dare slander him like that, he only did what he had to to protect us Feyre, don’t start with me on this.” The older female growled.

“I'm telling you sister he is a bad male and I need you to put whatever feelings you have behind you and help us with this. You were there in Prythian too, you can speak on the matters that happened there.” Feyre begged.

“I will be down for dinner to meet these males you speak so highly of. I will think about your offer. I promise you nothing.” She hissed back at Feyre, pushing her younger sister from the room and shutting the door with a loud bang.

She dragged herself into the attached bathing room, contemplating ways to truly anger her sister for how she had spoken about a male she could tell was truly broken.  She scrubbed herself with floral scents, dressed herself in the same greens Tamlin had worn, and then slipped one of the roses she had brought up from the late nights in the garden into her hair; a sign of who she was truly loyal too, she didn't see Feyre’s disdain for the blonde male she only saw the fact he tried to protect them.

She had joined the group in the kitchen, Feyre had given her a sad dejected look upon her arrival to the dining room table, she made no talk with the males around the table even when they attempted to reason or talk with her.

Eventually she stood, after she’d had enough of their insults and turned to address Feyre. “I will not be supporting you this time little sister, you insult my family and those I love then turn around and expect me to bend to your every whim? Well I will not be bending for you this time. Find your own way, Cursebreaker.” 

She stepped out into the gardens to lose herself amongst the Roses she had helped Elain plant, a stone bench with heads of beasts carved into it greeted her; the only place she felt she could truly relax when her mind was racing, the beasts on the bench had reminded her of Tamlin’s beast form. After she cooled off she would head back inside and curl into bed, hopefully she'd get some kind of sleep tonight.

+

Several weeks had passed, everything had returned to normal, the queens came and went but a loud noise of some sort had her sitting up in bed; her door was off its hinges and three males  filed into her room. She screamed and fought, but they gagged and bound her; eventually one of them had gotten tired of her thrashing and knocked her out.

+

When I came to, Elain was being pulled from a large pot, but Tamlin’s eyes never left my figure despite Feyre clinging to his arm and when he saw I was finally awake he made a subtle gesture to stay calm, his eyes held the same message they had the day Rhysand stormed into Rosehall: ‘don't fight, don't move, don't get hurt.’ 

I nodded back but tensed up as they dragged me forward. I rose to my feet, squared my shoulders, and shrugged off their grasp; stepping into the cauldron of my own free will. Just as I was about to submerge into the water I heard Tamlin call out for me, I felt his panic, felt every emotion he was feeling in my own chest and hoped he could feel my own thoughts and emotions; I took one last breath and let myself sink into the water, that enveloped me in a cool feeling that reminded of the breeze that floated across the Spring Court.

Inside the water, the cool black emptiness turned and twisted until I was greeted by a misshapen and abandoned version of Rosehall, inside a version of Tamlin that had clearly given up; it saddened me to see him in that, angered me to clearly see the cause: Feyre. The male she had chosen over Tamlin was towering over him, mocking him about Feyre destroying his court from the inside out. I couldn’t move, could only watch but then Rhys said something that had me thrashing against whatever invisible force held me in place.

“Too bad you listened to Feyre and that dumb little priestess instead of your mate. Maybe you wouldn’t have lost it all.” Rhysand had mocked. 

No. I wouldn't let him lose it all, I’d be there to protect him like he had me, like he had tried to do with Feyre. I fought against everything restraining me to reach out for Tamlin and Rhysand to put myself between them and from the ground a wall of thorns all angled at Rhysand’s throat grew, one wrong move could have had his head on a spike. Whatever seemed to hold me there disappeared and I clattered onto the familiar wooden flooring of Rosehall,  I rushed forward to Tamlin who called out my name; the thorns around Rhysand swarmed me instead and I screamed as they embedded themselves into my skin, it burned and I felt like my insides were being torn apart and reformed repeatedly, until one final crack had my vision going white and I attempted to reach out in Tamlin’s direction. Everything came rushing back to me as my hand made contact with the iron of the cauldron and I pulled myself back out, my body felt thinner yet heavier and all of my senses felt sharper; I stepped fully from the cauldron to find everyone staring at me and then Tamlin called my name desperately, my vision snapped to him and I rushed forward when everything was silenced by a blinding gold light and the feeling of belonging.

He had pulled me into his arms, faced me away from my sisters as they dragged Nesta under and he shrugged Feyre off. It was the first I had been able to take in my appearance, or at least a portion of it; where the vines had embedded themselves tattoos of swirling thorns made themselves at home with an occasional Rose in bloom or blooming  littered throughout the design. Bracelets weaved together of vine, woods, and ivy dangled from my wrists; the tattoos led towards my wrist and faded into black at my fingertips.

“How intriguing,” a voice called out from behind me and Tamlin’s grasp tightened around me. “She's high fae yes, but there is clearly something ancient in her blood the cauldron transformed; she's similar to a wood nymph but so very different I haven't seen a dryad for ages, I believed them extinct. How exceptional for the cauldron to give us this.” 

I felt a rumble begin in Tamlin’s chest and I tightened my own grasp on Tamlin. “Seems like the girl had fae blood in her veins somewhere Tamlin, appreciate that fact.”

The rest of the evening went by fast, I could barely remember it with my face buried in Tamlin’s chest. Nesta and Elain had tried to call me over to them but I simply shot them a glare. Eventually we returned to Rosehall, Lucien gave me a sympathetic nod while Feyre tried to cling onto Tamlin’s arm. She tried to play up how much she missed him, a lie, in fact it was all lies that fell out of her mouth; I had heard her ramble on and on about how much she was in love with Rhysand the day she brought them to our table, and it bothered me I wanted to say something but I was content in Tamlin’s arms as he carried me. 

He had brought me to my old room,  nothing had been touched beside the bed. “Sorry, I may have slept in the bed a couple times on sleepless nights.”

“You have nothing to apologize for Tamlin, but I have to ask you something.” I gave him a worried look.

“Of course Love.” He furrowed his brows. “What has you so concerned?”

“When I was in the cauldron, I saw something that I feel you should know though.” I clutched at the material of his shirt desperately.

“Of course love, what is it? What did you see?” Tamlin asked me with a concerned tone of voice.

“When I went under in the cauldron, I was here but not here, everything was torn apart and it looked abandoned. You were here down stairs in your study and Rhys was looming over you, he said something about how if only you had listened to me and not the priestess or Feyre. I have reason to believe the cauldron told me that for a reason Tamlin, I know for a fact the way Feyre is acting is a charade and that she completely despises you. She begged me to let go of the feelings I had for you and to listen to how terrible of a person you were when she came home to us as a fae.” I explained.

“Rhysand said something about how you'd lose it all, he… he was threatening you,” I looked to the ground and fusted the fabric of his tunic tighter in my hands. “I couldn’t stand for it. I- I reached out for you and then a wall of thorns was separating you and Rhysand and they were all pointing to Rhysands neck. And- and when I came out of the cauldron you called for me and then I looked at you and everything was glowing with a faint golden light and there was a throb in my chest-“ I was in the midst of rambling when Tamlin pulled me into a growl with a kiss.

“I'll send Feyre back to her court, and then me and you will consummate our mating bond and then will do this our way. Alright? Neither one of us will be left alone to lose it all as long as we have the other.” Tamlin assured me.

“Alright.” I nodded.

“Get cleaned up, I’m going to talk to your sister and send her back home. We can talk about consummating the bond later tonight.” Tamlin kissed my forehead and motioned to the attached bathroom.

+

The bond had been consummated over a cherry pie, and everything had been going alright; Feyre had frowned upon the fact I revealed her plan to Tamlin, she was even more bitter he had made me High Lady after he had refused her. The war came and went, I knew his plans of infiltrating Hybern and bringing the plans to the other High Lords; fuck, I had attended the meeting with him and fought with my sister over the venomous words she soit towards me and my mate. On the field I had caused massive damage, walls of thorns herded our enemies, tore them apart, and pulled them into the terrain below; I could cover large areas of terrain  and bend it to our whim. It had made enough of a difference and I believed my sister understood that, as she clutched her dead mate and Tamlin offered him a shred of his own magic after getting a nod from me. It would be the last thing I would do to support her.

+

After the war we spent a majority of our time repairing the Spring Court  that was until Lucien had made a comment about my scent being different which concerned Tamlin and led to an announcement of Spring Courts heir. Well I say ‘announcement’ but really we kept it under wraps from anyone but members of our court till the next High Lords meeting was called. Eris had been crowned after Beron had been assassinated by some leftover bane put into his drink; the assassin was never caught even though we all knew it had been a plot by Eris and his mother. Kallias had added Viv into our list of High Ladies and Helion had married Lucien’s mother. Come to find out Lucien was heir of the Day court and he had been trekking back and forth between Day and Spring to perform all of his duties.

Tamlin and I would be the last two to appear for the High Lords meeting, our son Alder on my hip; he was only two now but he had Tamlins golden hair and bright green eyes, you could make out his Dryad heritage though by the smokey black around his fingertips. Tamlin had offered to research my heritage with me to find out more about Dryads for me and our son.

Alder was fascinated by his Uncle Lulu, as he had taken to calling him, and started squirming in my arms the second he saw the ginger leaning against the entrance of his father’s home, His fox-like grin greeted us warmly. 

“Good to see you two again, and as always its great to see my little Alder!” Lucien took the small boy into his arms, offering him a small orb of light to play with.

Tamlin pulled me into his side, “We are going to announce it tonight but we are naming him heir.”

Lucien snorted. “Do you really have to name him heir? He's your only one so far so no one will contest it anyways.” 

Tamlin and I exchanged looks and Lucien glared at us. “Right?”

“Actually, that's part of why we were announcing it tonight.” I started but Lucien interrupted.

“Oh by the mother! You’re having another!” Lucien exclaimed. 

Tamlin and I nodded equally as excited. “We better get in there, though I'm sure they can excuse us for the lateness due to Alder refusing to get dressed into nicer clothes.”

Lucien snorted and passed Alder back to Tamlin. “Then let's get in there, shall we?” 

+

The meeting went extremely well, all the other courts were excited to welcome Alder as the heir of spring and happily congratulated us on the other arrival that would be coming soon. 

I had introduced Alder to Feyre, Rhys and the rest of the inner circle out of duty and not respect. “This is Feyre and Rhys, they are the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, the northernmost point of Prythian.”

Alder furrowed his brows and reached for Tamlin over my shoulder, he swept him away while he conversed with Eris and Lucien. 

“Sister-“ Feyre had started.

“Don’t” I hissed at her, Nesta and Elain backing her up. “You have no right to call me that after what you tried to do to my mate. The last kind act you received from me was the war. Be happy Feyre, but it won't be with me in your life. If you wish to show up Tamlin is throwing a party for Alder’s birthday, he's naming him as heir publicly there.”

I turned from her and  joined back at my mates side, Tamlin had grown since I first met him for sure; he was a good male, a good dad, he was ecstatic about training his children, and he was passionate about his court. I had seen him grow since his heir was born, there had been many a night where Tamlin would ramble on about all the stuff he couldn’t wait to show Alder about his court. He was so ecstatic to have Alder that he had gotten a small golden crown forged for him that was a duplicate to Tamlin’s. 

I was proud of the male I loved, he had come so far and I couldn’t have asked for a better life with him. I just had one last puzzle to figure out: How to tell him I was pregnant with twins, and there would be three children running around Rosehall soon enough.

Taglist: @tamlinweek

[readychilledwine]

Lost Bonds pt 2

Summary - After the second war, an unexpected bond with Y/n Archeron, and repairing all he's lost, Tamlin is shocked with news from the very female Rhys has been protecting from him.

Warnings- cliffhanger because I liked the suspense, angst in a way, unrequited love, one sided fated mates

A/N - I'm going to apologize and ask for forgiveness now. The rest of this is written, but it was uncomfortably long. I broke it into 3 parts, so you all weren't reading a short novella.

Read part one here Pt 3

Winnowing was the stupidest form of transportation, y/n thinks she has ever used. 

She sighed as she walked through the woods she found herself in, praying silently to the void that she was still in the Night Court. 

It definitely did not smell like home, though. The sweet scent of flowers and petrichor surrounded her like a warm embrace. Welcoming her, relaxing her. Her finally clue she was lost came from looking up once more. The trees were blooming. It was late winter in Velaris. Yet here, small pink and white buds covered every tree she could see. They swayed in a soft, rain scented breeze that almost seemed to tingle her skin.

She sighed heavily, playing with the wedding ring and band resting on her left ring finger. She didn't know if Azriel would be proud or upset. She had managed to winnow herself from the Illyrian Steppes to Spring. 

Even new to the world of the fae, she knew that was not an easy thing to do. It explained her exhaustion, the small trickle of blood running down her nose. She continued walking, hoping she would find someone, anyone who may help her. 

Tamlin felt someone enter his court uninvited and shifted to head their way. All the High Lords had just received a message from Rhysand regarding her.

Azriel had evidently been training her with her new powers blooming and suddenly appearing out of nowhere. She had been practicing winnowing, and now they could not find her.

It would have been ridiculous to assume an untrained female had made her way all the way down to the seasonal courts, but after Nesta had shown her hand just a few years ago, and Elain after that, it would not have surprised any of the High Lords at this point. He continued moving closer to the border between his court and the human realm, following where the magic was alerting and then pausing. 

You stood before him, illyrian leathers clinging to every beautiful curve. He shifted with a heavy sigh. “Come. Let's get you to The Manor so Rhysand can come get you.” The look of relief washing over your features tugged at his heart. The bond had not snapped for you, but he didn't need to feel your emotions to know you were afraid and very tired. 

You took his hand, bracing yourself as he tore through the fabric of the world and landed in a garden outside of his repaired estate. “You need food,” he said casually. “We can either go inside so you can eat while you wait for him, or there's a table out here.” 

He wanted to beg you to come inside, to see what he had done, to see what your home should look like. He had imagined for years now a life with you. A life where he heard your laughter every day, where you loved him and he you.

He had rebuilt his home with that life in mind. A grand piano sat centered in a sunroom you'd both use for entertaining. A dais where two thrones sat. Rooms for future children if you want them. He rebuilt the manor with love he had buried away for you. And now he hoped you noticed it, acknowledged it even. You belonged here. You would radiate here.

Aside from showing your body, the black leathers of the Night Court did nothing for you. You needed to be in jewel tones, in light colors. He remembered your skin glowing in the gown at the High Lords meeting. He ignored the pain in his chest as he saw the ring sitting on your finger, the one that matched that dress perfectly.

Blue was a lovely color for you. The silver band was plain as if Azriel had not put much thought into the ring. It was beautiful, but his heart rebroke, knowing it should have been rose gold and diamonds sitting on that finger. 

You motioned inside, wordlessly avoiding eye contact with him. He took you to the dining room where dinner had been waiting for him and grabbed another plate and cup. 

He served you in silence. The familiarity of the situation almost mocked him. “Thank you,” your voice was so soft it had him almost shivering. It had been 6 years since the war ended, 6 years without seeing or hearing it, and it had his soul burning. He yearned for you. His perfect match. 

He nodded. “You're welcome.” He summoned a paper, writing a note to Rhysand and the other High Lords that he had found you and where you had made it to. “Rhys will probably come running, so eat quickly.”

You shook your head. “He's so busy with Nyx lately that he hardly cares what I'm up to. He will send Azriel.” His throat tightened. He'd had to see his mate with her husband. 

Your husband, who was probably worried sick, who probably had been searching as far out as he could. “Then you should definitely eat quickly. Mother knows how desperately he probably wants his wife back home.” Tamlin clocked the way your eyes grew sad, the small frown that formed.

“Yeah. I suppose.” He didn't question that sadness, allowing you whatever space you needed to process it alone.

You were so comfortable next to the male who had ruined everything for you that it was almost laughable. Tamlin, to your shock, was warm. He was being kind. He seemed to know what you needed before you even asked. You had pictured Tamlin as this monster for so long. A cruel male with a heart of stone, but his mere presence had something glowing in your chest, sending warmth through your body.  “I thought the manor was destroyed.”

Tamlin's green eyes looked towards you, spoon held halfway to his mouth. “I had a reason to fix it, along with the whole court.”

You nodded. “It's really pretty.” The walls were lined with Vining floral, marble floors dancing with natural stone veining. Soft green curtains veiled the large floor to ceiling windows. "Elain would love all the flowers. She used to make me work in the gardens with her. I miss it sometimes."

He seemed to blush at the words. “Thank you. And if you truly miss working gardens, there are plenty here that would love attention." Your lips twitched up, but you two fell back into silence.

Tamlin was unsure of what to say to his mate. A piece of parchment appeared beside him, elegant script gracing the page. “Rhys will be here in a moment with Azriel.”

You nodded before caving and asking the question that had been on your mind since you first met the male in his beast form, breaking down the door to the rundown shack you all called home. “What was the significance of killing the wolf?”

He turned to you, brows raised. “Feyre didn't tell you?” You shook your head, staring at the tea you were holding. “I was cursed by one of Hyberns former generals. In short, I had to make a mortal who hated fae enough to kill one fall in love with me in order to break her spell and free the lands. That wolf was one of my closest friends.” The last sentence was barely audible. “Feyre killing him made her the only one who could break the curse.”

As your face fell into confusion, darkness appeared in the manor, gathering in the corner like a void until Azriel and Rhysand stepped out. “Tamlin,” Rhysand greeted smoothly. You couldn't help but to laugh at the High Lord, covered in paint, hair ruffled, eyes tired. “y/n, are you okay?”

You stood nodding, and Azriel moved quickly to you, arms around your waist as he picked you up and held you close. Once he set you down, you turned to Tamlin. “Thank you for sheltering and feeding me and for the invitation to play in your gardens."

“Of course,” he and Rhysand were locked into a stare down, one Rhysand clearly had every intention of winning. “She is unharmed, Rhysand. Just tired and needing rest. You're allowing him to push too hard.” 

Rhys narrowed his eyes, looking to you then back to Tamlin before nodding. “I will consider your opinion. Let's go, y/n. Nyx was distraught when he heard you were missing.”  Any chance Tamlin may have had of convincing you to stay faded instantly. You moved to Rhysand, letting him take your hand and examine your face for any injuries. “Azriel, let's go.”

The shadowsinger nodded and spoke coldly to Tamlin. “Thank you for caring for my wife.”

Tamlin hid a scoff behind his wine and nodded. “It wasn't for your benefit, spymaster.” The two glared hard towards each other before Azriel smirked and walked towards you. 

A feeling of guilt sat in your stomach, lingering there as Rhys began to summon his magic. “Wait,” you pulled your hand away from Rhys and took a step closer to Tamlin. “I'm sorry.”

The Lord of Spring arched a brow feeling the conflict in you from the bond. “For?”

You took a heavy breath, hands shaking as you subconsciously reached for Azriel's hand. You needed his familiarity, possibly his protection. You were about to tell Tamlin something that may have made everything he had gone through feel empty, like his love for your sister had been for nothing. You took a deep breath, looking up and sending a silent prayer to the Mother.

“Feyre didn't kill the wolf," the faces of all three males dropped, the secret finally coming out and being brought to light. “I did."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@impossibelle

[msbrownwithacrown]

Unhinged Theory

But, what if....

Tamlin's father and brothers weren't bad. The memories of them being bad are just false memories that were implanted there (e.g. Maeve/Valg level deception).

The rose garden of a mating gift?

Tamlin never revealing his side or really adding much to the discussion about the deaths of Rhysand's sister and mother.

The circumstances of the deaths of Rhysand's sister and mother. How they were both beheaded and burned, much like how Valg are destroyed in TOG.

It makes me wonder if Rhysands family was Valg and Tamlin's family was fighting back against this force and draining of their power and land. Much like what Bryce did with the Asteri, Aelin did with the Valg.

Only knowing Rhysand's story, makes it difficult to speculate. Especially, since there are so many gaps in the story.

“Tamlin’s father, brothers, and Tamlin himself set out into the Illyrian wilderness, having heard from Tamlin—from me—where my mother and sister would be, that I had plans to see them. I was supposed to be there. I wasn’t. And they slaughtered my mother and sister anyway.”

Why would have Rhysand even told him this and not showed up? Was Tamlin's family planning on fighting all 3? It just didn't add up.

Also, there is no proof of the wings being in the Spring Court...just memories of Tamlin getting rid of them and Rhysand asking if Feyre saw them.

Obviously, it would be a major retcon to do this in the story. It would need to be retconned that Tamlin's father never owned slaves and wasn't cruel to his sons and mate and that he never sided with Hybern or Amarantha. Sounds like a lot, but it's no different than Rhysand being the good guy all along, Dorian's father being innocent and possessed, Maeve being evil but doing it for "the good".

Imagine if the Treaty Tamlin's father signed placed Spring at the gate of the Human world, as a way to be their defender. It was their way to protect the humans from Valg.

Think of Tamlin being the Aethelwulf. "Noble Wolf". In old folklore, Aethewulf is a king who became a mythical legendary beast whose soul merged with the power of the land and transformed into a wolf-like creature. His glowing eyes are said to watch over and guard the borders of the realm. I'm predicting this will Tamlin's arc. And that he will sacrifice himself when Mor's land of aetherwold is discovered to be a gate to another divine world of wrathful god's and goddesses

[elrielsgarden]

Some Thoughts abt Lucien

Lucien is a highly debated character in the ACOTAR fandom, because he presents highly likeable and intriguing characteristics, while also displaying some major red flags.

To begin this, I want to say that I, personally, am wholly indifferent toward Lucien. In terms of his character, I don’t have any kind of stake in him; as someone within the plot, I find him intriguing-particularly with the Band of Exiles and the mortal realms on the continent.

Though Lucien clearly dislikes Feyre and probably resents that the Spring Court’s supposed savior killed his friend, he does warm up to her and show a much bolder, flirtier personality that many in the fandom are drawn to. At this point in the story, he remains a likable character.

When we reach ACOMAF, Lucien becomes a bystander to Tamlin’s abuse of Feyre. His inaction is due to his loyalty (and life-debt) to Tamlin, quite understandably. However, Lucien is stil responsible for his behavior.

Further, when he find Feyre after “hunting” for her, he focuses entirely on his and Tamlin’s needs over Feyre’s own wellbeing, referring to her essentially as Tamlin’s property.

In ACOWAR, Lucien endeavors, seemingly in earnest, to make up for his mistakes. He chooses to travel with Feyre to the Night Court so that he can see Elain just once, to know if she’s “worth fighting for.” While at the Night Court, Lucien is Emissary to the human lands, where he develops a friendship with Queen Vassa and Jurian, forming the Band of Exiles. His loyalties, which never seemed to be with the Night Court, clearly shift to this friendship. He also shows a distinct lack of interest in Elain, as she does toward him. It is important to note that Feyre never seems to trust Lucien, including with Elain, his mate.

I’ve come to realize that the people who love Lucien have chosen to forgive him for his actions and inactions regarding Feyre; those who strongly dislike him have chosen not to. Both are valid, and likely based in the readers’ personalities and experiences.

However, it must be remembered: forgiving Lucien does not erase the things he did or didn’t do.

This is essential, because Lucien’s actions set up an understanding of his worldview and set a precedent for future actions. He has been show to think of females in some capacity as belonging to the male they’re in a relationship with or mated to.

He is also loyal, and what Feyre and Rhys don’t say in that conversation is that Lucien is loyal to a fault. We see this with his sometimes blind loyalty to Tamlin, and I think we will see it again. Lucien is not loyal to the Night Court. He went there with Feyre for one reason: his mate. Not because of Elain, but because she was his mate.

These character traits of Lucien’s as well as his actions within the ACOTAR books lead me to expect the trend to continue.

I would not be surprised if we see Lucien’s loyalty lead him to unintentional bad decisions. He’s not a bad or evil character by any means, but Lucien’s character is the kind that makes choices with good intent that don’t necessarily have the intended or desired outcome.

I should be clear: I do not think Lucien will intentionally betray the Inner Circle/Night Court to their enemies.

Do I think he might unintentionally do so because of his loyalties to the Band of Exiles? It seems a distinct possibility, yes.

[stargirlie25]

ElrielxFeylinxMoriel

Feylin=Green Elriel=pink mor and azriel:red

Listening

Elriel: Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea

Felyin: His eyes twinkled—no trace of the warrior forced to accept a High Lord’s burden. “And here you are. What else did you figure out for yourself?” Maybe it was the enchanted pool, or maybe it was the genuine interest behind the question, but I smiled and told him about those years in the woods.

Elain telling Azriel about her planting and Feyre telling tamlin about her hunting. IMO both scenes are cute and will always remain cute. Reading the ACOFAS scene i was glad Elain was talking more. Although This elriel scene still gives me the exact vibes feylin had. All her life, Feyre was left to take care of her family and dealt with horrible stuff and then there was tamlin who guided her like a light and was an easy escape. I mean he listened, was polite and cared for feyres opinions. Elain after being turned fae, sees Azriel who also listens to her, is polite and also cares for her opinion. As you can see, this does not mean endgame or mates. Cassian understands feyre,Rhysand at one point understood nesta and azriel understood elain.

Controlling protection

Elriel: “Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, ‘There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.’”

Moriel:“We could try again,” Mor said. “Let me speak to them, let me go to their palace—“ “No,” Azriel said. Mor raised her brows, a faint color stained Azriel’s tan face. But his features were set. His hazel eyes solid. “You’re not setting foot in that human realm.”

Feylin: “It’s not safe,” Tamlin said, again nudging his stallion into a walk. The horse’s coat shone like a dark mirror, even in the shadow of the stables. “Especially not for you.”

In ACOTAR Tamlin let feyre ride horses with him and invited her for many activities although during ACOMAF as his feelings grew deeper, he controlled her in the name of protection. Before feylin was a friendship so there was not any control. In ACOWAR and ACOFAS i believe Elain and Azriel are friends so they started off with harmless conversations and nothing was toxic or bad vibes. After UTM Tamlin was scared for feyre and after Hybern it makes sense that Azriel feels the same. IMO it isn't abusive its just that you lack a lot of understanding. Not to mention, both these females wanted to do something. Azriel got angry by the thought of Elain helping and it was before SJM chose to make Elain not only want to go but also call out nesta for trying to forbid her from it. Oh gosh with mor? He loved her for 500 years and she is fully capable of defending herself yet Azriel does not want it?

Elriel: “That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room”

Moriel: “It was almost enough to distract me from noticing Azriel as those shadows lightened, and his gaze slid over Mor’s body”

Lighting up does not mean the shadows are some what happy. When they get lighter that means they themselves are starting to disappear and they get lighter because they loose their darkness.

Elriel: His shadows skittered back at the sound. They’d always been prone to vanish when she was around.

Moriel: “Mor patted Azriel on the shoulder as she dodged his outstretched wing. The lurking shadows vanished entirely as Azriel’s head dipped a bit.”

NO! His shadows disappearing is not a good thing. When i say that i am not suggesting mor and elain are evil. His shadows has always been apart of him and what makes him unique. Im convinced that his shadows react that way to the people he is romantically interested in because they can sense things before Azriel does and they sense that it is not the right person Azriel has these feelings for.

besides feelings for any woman, Azriels shadows have been with him since he was a baby. They were his only friends when he was alone and his comfort. The mate theories for Elriel dont make sense because MATES ARE EQUALS. Being an Equal means that you emotionally, except all that your supposed equal has and offers.

[houseofhurricane]

We know that it's the combination of Hunt's lightning, the Horn on Bryce's back, and the Starborn scar that open the Gate and send Bryce to Prythian (787).

What I'm wondering is: does Bryce need light or lightning specifically to use those powers? Because if so, then of the characters in ACOTAR whose powers we've seen, that means that the people who could help Bryce go to another world are Feyre, Helion... and Lucien.

I still stand by my claim that Azriel will be a key player in CC3 and one of the protagonists of ACOTAR5, but if someone else's powers are needed to physically move Bryce between worlds, I think Lucien opens up some intriguing possibilities.

There are so many unresolved storylines with Lucien at the moment: his mating bond with Elain, his exile in the human realms, his relationships with Jurian and Vassa, his relationship with Tamlin, his relationships with Beron and the Lady of Autumn and Eris, not to mention the rest of the Autumn Court, and, last but certainly not least, the fact that Helion is his father.

What if we see this last point realized to some degree when Lucien reveals the extent of his powers? This sets us up to investigate his storyline more, ties together some of his conflicts, and would make him an excellent candidate to be one of the key secondary characters in ACOTAR5.

This is especially likely if his presence in CC3 were to put him in close contact with Azriel. Of course there's the potential drama with Elain, but if they're forced to get past it and work as allies, I think there are some compelling connections between them. An emissary and a spy, especially if they're working towards the same aims, stand to gain significantly from each other. We know that Cassian and Lucien are building a rapport, but Azriel and Lucien, in addition to being the only scarred main characters in the series, are actually the ones with more in common. It may be only the tension regarding Elain that’s keeping them from realizing it.

And as much as I love flipping the trope of two women fighting over a man, aren't we all in agreement that there are more interesting things than love triangles?

I would love to see CC3 show us Lucien's first steps towards coming into his own, showing us that, just as he has powers beyond the Autumn Court's fire, he has so much more to offer the narrative and world of ACOTAR.

[propshophannah]

Am I the only one who thought the book had a lot of sexist undertones? Like preemptively modifying your body to MAYBE one day give birth to your man's (male's) babies? I feel like the IC never tried to let Nesta heal in her own way, they just forced her to do things they thought would be good for her, while demeaning her along the way. And the shield thing around Feyre is very reminiscent of how Tamlin treated her in ACOTAR... I don't know, a lot of the book just made me uncomfortable :/

Hi Nonnie!

First, I want to say that I’m sorry parts of this book made you uncomfortable. That’s never fun. Second…

I think we can reasonably say that no matter what we’re looking at, we can find sexism if we want to. Now that doesn’t mean that some things are not just blatantly sexist. I think with this book there is a conversation to be had about what some of us read as sexist and what some of us read as not sexist or even pro different-forms-of-feminism.

It’s sort of in the eye of the beholder.

It’s also a fantasy world that has developed under a patriarchy. So some things are just as sexist as they “should be” because that’s the world building, right? 

So, like, territorial Fae males is fully explained in the world building and is therefore fully acceptable for the books, and is also, frankly, a kink. SJM caters to that kink. So we know we’re going to get that in these books. Most if their shit is NOT okay for planet Earth. (That’s why some of us actively seek it and enjoy reading it in books.)

So let’s get in it!

Nesta modifying her body

Now as far as Nesta modifying her own body to have children one day, I don’t see that as sexist at all. Because the alternative to her altering her own anatomy is her pausing for a moment and asking Cassian if she can strip him of his faerie race and make him something else that doesn’t have wings. If that happened, we’d be getting into race and identity and all kinds of other shit that is hella problematic. 

So, no. Nesta wanting to one day birth her own children is not sexist. Nesta deciding to alter her own anatomy so that she can safely birth her own children with Cassian, is not sexist. (Now if Cassian did it without permission, then we’d have a problem!)

The IC making Nesta heal their way

Now THIS is a conversation on choice. Not sexism. Rhys has long touted that his court is a court of choices and all that. So forcing Nesta to either go to the human lands (where she’ll very likely die) or go to the House of Wind (where she can’t readily leave) and train and work everyday, is a problem. If you want to make an argument that this is the equivalent of Tamlin locking Feyre in the house, I won’t stop you. I would only ask that you consider the nuance. 

And the nuance here takes us back to world building. They don’t have psychiatric wards or mental health services or rehab centers like we do on planet Earth. Nesta needed help. AND LET ME BE REAL CLEAR: I’m not here to debate what kind of help she needed. (We could run in circles all day long debating that.) What I am saying is that they recognized that: 

Nesta’s behavior was not good, 

that THEY WERE ENABLING HER, 

that they actually had the power to do something about her situation

They do not live in a democracy. They live in a monarchy. They have and hold absolute power and rule. And while that whole intervention—or whatever the fuck that was—was absolutely TERRRRIBLE, they had every right to do what they did. Why? Because it fit the world building.

They acted like rich parents fed up with a wild teenager so they cut her off and gave her a choice between getting kicked out of the house or going to work on grandpa’s farm in the middle of BFE. Essentially that’s what they did.

Do I agree with it? Eh... they didn’t have a lot of options and SOMETHING needed to happen (I’d have been VERY ANGRY had they left her to die like that). Do I like it? FUCK NO. They went about it all wrong and it was shitty.

Abandoning her in the human lands would have been fucking murder. But do you HONESTLY, HONESTLY think Feyre would have done that??? ALSO, LET’S BE REAL: Nesta would not have stayed there long because EVERY HIGH LORD knows about her power and would want her in their court. That whole shit about the human lands likely was NOT real and was a scare tactic. It was a shitty scare tactic. But again, it fit the world building. AND Nesta’s character (cuz it worked, she didn’t ask to go to the human lands). 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

This isn’t directed at you Nonnie, but what did people think would happen? There would suddenly be psych wards and rehab centers and Feyre and Rhys would start acting with compassion and kindness and like they themselves had gone to therapy for decades and suddenly be able to convince Nesta to sign herself into one of those facilities? 

I get it’s annoying. And it’s infuriating. And some of their bullshit talking out their ass moments made me want to throw the book across the damn room. Because that’s not how you act to people in the middle of a downward spiral/crisis like Nesta was. 

But here’s the thing: they have no basis for knowing better. They don’t have mental health services. Gwyn mentioned a priestess who counsels them, but that’s NOT the same thing as a therapist or psychologist or psychiatric NP or psychiatrist.

So what did people expect?

Also. Do you think for one second, Nesta would have responded well to compassionate attempts to get her help? She hadn’t hit rock bottom yet (where compassion would have worked wonderfully *depending* on the type of rock bottom she hit). She would have seen any attempt like that as pity and she would have rebelled.

Here’s how I get over being annoyed with Feysand and Amren for that dumb af “intervention” moment: I remind myself that

They recognized she couldn’t keep going down the path she was going.

They recognized that they loved her too much to let that happen (Feyre at least). 

They recognized that they held ABSOLUTE POWER over her in their realm

They recognized that they needed to put her in a place where she had a purpose, a routine, where she couldn’t fall back on old habits, and where she had the option to talk to other trauma survivors (if she chose to) 

That’s what they knew. Putting her in the House was their only choice. So they did. And guess what? It worked. 

Now, the forcing her to train thing was BULLSHIT. You can’t force other people to change, they have to want that for themselves. But guess what? Turns out Nesta wanted to change. Because she wasn’t against training. She was only against doing it in a place where she could be judged. 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

Also, exercising is FUCKING FANTASTIC for mental health. (Maas knows that.)

Now did they demean her along the way? Yes. 

Was it shitty? HELL, YES! 

Did Rhys finally learn his lesson that night with the nightmare? He sure af did! 

Did some people in the fandom expect too much from Amren? Yep. Lady was never going to show affection or be nice to Nesta. Amren shows respect. When you respect Amren, she respects you. That’s her ENTIRE character. We’re three books in with Amren. Idk why people are still butthurt about her personality. Like. You can’t get mad at Amren for not being a table when she’s always been a chair. (Doesn’t mean we have to like her behavior or anyone else’s. But it does mean that we only have ourselves to blame when she acts the way she always has.) This same logic applied to Mor and Feyre and Elain etc.

Also. Did them acting like assholes drive the plot forward? IT SURE AF DID! If they had acted differently the book wouldn’t be as good as it is.

The shield around Feyre

If you want to make the argument about how this is a Tamlin thing to do, I won’t stop you. But again, I’ll ask you to consider the nuance and the world building. 

In a world where anyone can scent a pregnancy, would you not try to hide your ruler’s pregnant scent and body from enemies and potential attacks? I would! 

Is it a little territorial? Yes. 

Does that make sense for the world building and what we know about Fae males? Yep! 

Could Feyre have told Rhys to cut the shit? Yes. 

Is it possible Feyre *maybe* use the lie of Rhys and Helion(?) having fun with shield as an excuse to have it around herself? Yeah. I’d probably do it. 

Look, if Feyre hadn’t wanted the shield, it would have been gone. They said it was a compromise, but you can’t tell me Rhys would force a shield around her against her own will (or that she, The Cursebreaker, wouldn’t bust through it in a heartbeat).

Sorry if this comes off as salty, Nonnie! I don’t mean to be. I just don’t really understand why people get mad at stuff in books *that’s perfectly reasonable* for the world building when the alternative that they would prefer would be out of character, out the world building, or create plot holes etc. 

Hope this helps!

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire & Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 6

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 

Chapter 5

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

 She was in his arms when he woke the next morning. The storm had passed, leaving nothing more than a light condensation on the windows of his bedroom. The light was distorted as it came through the window, hitting Lyriel almost perfectly. She was asleep, perhaps for the first time since she had come to the Spring Court. Her brow was smoothed, her fingers clenching around the blankets as though they were a hilt of some sort.

        Tamlin's heart ached as he took in the gentle slope of her nose. He tried not to focus on her lips and the gentle way they were parted, her breath coming out in the softest snores. Mother above he did not need this.

        Slowly, he untangled himself from her. He did not know when he had begun holding her. Perhaps sometime after the storm had passed. He wished he knew. He wished he could remember how it had felt to first wrap his arms around her. At least then he would have that memory. He would have been able to think on it when she eventually found someone better.

        Even if he kept her in the Spring Court, he was certain she would find someone else. Someone who would spar with her, who would laugh with her, who would give up a mating bond for her. She deserved that. Even if he would want to kill whoever tried to get close to her.

        It wasn't fair. He knew it. He knew that he was holding her to a different standard. There was no excuse for it. Maybe if he was a better man there would be. Yet, he was anything but a better man. It seemed as though the whole world was right about one thing. Tamlin was a bastard. A brute. Someone who would trap their mate and marry another woman

        Wouldn't his father be proud?

        The thought made him sick. He had to shove it down, shove everything down as far as he could as he began to ready himself for the day ahead. He did it as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Lyriel. She needed more sleep. He didn't know if she would take it well should he actually tell her that.

        From what he knew, Lyriel didn't take most things well. At least if they came from him. He had no idea how she reacted around other people. Maybe he just antagonized her. Or it was her way of fighting back against the bond that neither of them truly wanted.

        She shifted, a soft grunt escaping her. A shiver went through him at the sound. 

        Mother save him. He knew that he should just leave her there. That he should not think of what other sounds might come from her throat. How he could make them. 

        Tamlin quickly finished strapping on his bandolier before he slipped from the room. He willed himself to not return to that bed. To stay as far from her as he could. He worried that her scent would be all over him. Worried that Feyre would be able to scent it. It had been a mistake. But not one that he could find himself regretting.

        This whole thing was a mess. One that Tamlin had never foreseen. He had always assumed that he would never find his mate. He had thought the Mother would be cruel in letting him go his entire life without that bond. He had gotten over it. 

        It seemed that she was cruel in another way. 

        Tamlin huffed softly as he shoved open the door to his office. He hated to hide himself away, but it was the only thing he could do. After Amarantha had been dealt with, his lands had cleared of the beasts roaming them. Now, he was focusing more on rebuilding villages and his lords' lands. 

        Occasionally, he would find something prowling. It was easily dealt with most of the time. That or he would have to go and deal with one of his lords. They had been more of a nuisance than he had ever imagined. He had assumed they would be supportive, especially after the hell they'd been through for forty-nine years. Yet, it appeared as though all of them wished to see him fail.

        Tamlin did not have many supporters.

        "I was wondering when you'd show up," Ianthe stated as she looked over at him. She was sat in front of his desk, a languid smile on her face as she took in the room. "I hope you slept for once. The Spring Court needs you at your best."

        He hid his irritation as best he could. He hated to show Ianthe when he was displeased with her. He wouldn't risk losing his High Priestess. Not when the Spring Court needed her now more than ever. Yet, it did feel far too early in the morning to be dealing with her and her schemes.

        "Good morning, Ianthe," he said lamely. He sat down at his desk, not bothering to ask why she was there. She had a habit of telling him before he could say a word.

        "I've already written up the letter to Kallias," she seemed too eager. There was no reason for her to hate Lyriel. Not that he was aware of at least.

        She hadn't found out the truth, had she? 

        "It won't be necessary," Tamlin cursed himself for how quickly he'd said it. "Lyriel and I spent last night speaking about her actions. We'll be seeing a different side of her."

        They wouldn't. But the lie had slipped from his lips as easily as a breath. Perhaps he should ask her to keep up appearances, to keep from bringing too much attention to herself. However, he was almost certain that this would just make it worse. 

        "I suppose that's why her scent is all over you?" Ianthe's eyes darkened, the look making her look less beautiful and more like a vengeful spirit of some sort. He would not say it but it did scare him just a bit.

        His fingers curled around the arms of his chairs. His claws biting at the skin. "It was a long conversation."

        "Tamlin, if you've fucked the girl it's just another reason for us to be rid of her." 

        "I haven't laid a finger on her." It didn't matter that he wanted to. It didn't matter that she haunted his thoughts in the late hours of the night. He would never hurt Feyre in that way. Would never hurt anyone by betraying their trust like that. He was a monster but he was not cruel.

        "Of course you haven't," Ianthe sat forward, her eyes twinkling in a predatory way. "I won't judge you for having needs, Tamlin. But you might think of the Cursebreaker."

        His spine straightened as he realized just what she was doing. He knew that Ianthe had her ways. That she plotted and manipulated things. But he had never expected her to go after him. He had always assumed that she would use it for him. 

        "I think of Feyre constantly. Mind your tongue, Ianthe. I've done nothing wrong." Tamlin's claws slipped from the skin, causing him to nearly wince. Contrary to popular belief, he felt the pain that came with losing control. He did not do it for fun. Even if the world thought it was something he had fun with. The world was quite wrong about most things that had to do with Tamlin.

        The door burst open before she had a chance to respond. Lucien stood in the doorway, a letter clenched in his hands and an easy grin on his lips. 

        "Tam, you're going to want to hear this," he stopped once he noticed that Ianthe was there. His easy grin slipped from his face, a tension coming to him that Tamlin had not noticed before. He wondered if he could sense the tension in the room or if Ianthe just bothered him that much. He knew which he assumed it was. But that didn't often mean that he was right.

        "Ianthe, we'll discuss this later," he told the priestess without a glance. She was going to threaten him? He would show her exactly who she was dealing with. He had been known to be petty on occasion. 

        Ianthe bristled but she stood nonetheless. "Of course," was all she said before she slipped out of the room. She sent a glare his way before disappearing down the hallways. He just had to hope that she would not be going to find Feyre. Not now. Not ever.

        He would rather die than hurt her. Knowing he spent the night with Lyriel? It didn't matter the context, it would hurt her.

        "What is it Lucien?" He asked as his friend stepped into the room, shutting and latching the door behind him. Lucien sank into the chair that Ianthe had vacated, tossing the letter onto the desk.

        "We've received word from Cari," Lucien never used the woman's full name. If Tamlin hadn't of known better, he would've assumed that he was sweet on her. "Rhysand has shockingly not said a damned word about his plans. But she does know something about Azriel."

        Tamlin's brow rose as he picked up the letter. It was coded. The words were written in the small footprints of her green finch. She and Lucien had spent weeks with the creature devising the code. Tamlin had never really gotten his head around it. But his spymaster had been too proud of it for him to tell her to change it.

        "What exactly does she know?" 

        "Besides the fact that he doesn't want a mate unless it's Morrigan?" Lucien began to smirk slightly as he watched Tamlin. "Well, apparently the shadowsinger has been watching the human realms. According to Cari, he's spending more of his time there than at the Night Court. It makes you wonder what exactly they're doing over there."

        A soft sigh escaped Tamlin's lips. "That doesn't tell us anything! Just that the Night Court is interested in another Feyre," he wasn't completely certain that was the case. However, there was something that told him it wasn't.

        There was something else going on. Something that he was unsure if he wanted to know. He knew that Prythian was not safe. Hybern would surely send another monster to their shores. War would come sooner or later. They could not just sit around and wait for it. 

        Despite knowing this, Tamlin knew that he would try to ignore the signs as long as possible. They had already been through too much. He didn't think he could stand going through all of it again. He couldn't stand putting his people through hell after telling them that it was over.

        He had lied to so many people in his life. What was a lie to protect them? 

        "Or that something's coming and we need to prepare for it," Lucien pointed out with a soft sigh. "Besides, we all know that there's no one that could replace Feyre. She's unique."

        That was one word for it. Tamlin knew she was better than unique. She was ... Perfection. Everything that he had ever wanted. Someone who was actually worthy of him and of being the wife of a High Lord. Feyre was everything to him. She was the one person that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

        Still, the news about the Night Court was distressing. He began to pace the room, his fingers twitching towards the knives on his bandolier. He didn't think about how he had seen Lyriel do the same thing. Her fingers constantly itching for a blade when she was concentrating. He didn't think about it because he had not truly realized they did the same thing. Why would he when his mind was constantly elsewhere?

        "Should we send scouts to the human realms?" He questioned, speaking more to himself than Lucien. "They might think we have another curse if we do. Fuck."

        His head tilted back, golden hair falling just to the middle of his back. He wondered how in the hell he was going to get anyone to understand the stresses. How was he going to deal with managing the blunderings of the Night Court as well as his feelings for a certain Winter Court soldier and his upcoming nuptials? It was all too much for any man. He didn't think anyone would have dealt with this nearly as well as he had.

        But considering he spent most of his nights sleeping as a beast at the foot of Feyre's bed, that wasn't saying much.

        Something had to give. It had to be soon. Otherwise, he was destined to run the Spring Court into ruin. The thought alone made him want to be sick.

        "I need to think," he announced. Lucien nodded his head, understanding clear on his face. That was the one good thing about Lucien. He always seemed to understand Tamlin. He knew that sometimes it was just better to let the beast wander off on his own. It was better to keep away from him. To give him space and time.

        He slipped out of his office, his fingers gripping the hilt of one of the knives strapped to his chest. He missed the days when he didn't have to keep his knives close. He missed when he could travel his court with nothing more than his fiddle. He missed writing about the beauty of his lands, of witnessing a child's smile when they heard his music. He doubted he would ever get a chance to experience that again. 

        Soft words escaped his lips as he walked out of Rosehall. He had never been a mumbler until becoming the High Lord. When problems became too much, he was either prone to letting the beast out or talking to himself. One was definitely a bit healthier than the other. Even if he wasn't sure which it was at times.

        Tamlin hardly paid attention to his surroundings as he walked. His feet taking him in the direction that he needed to go. His mind too distracted by whatever it was the Night Court was planning. None of it made sense. Why were they so focused on the human realms? Why was his spymaster so worried about the whole thing? Why did he want to question everything and not leave this whole mess up to Lucien and Cariaru? That should've been his go-to. He should've been focused on the wedding and getting rid of these feelings he had for Lyriel.

        The Night Court really did have to ruin everything. Didn't they?

        He strolled into the maze of roses. It was not the ones his father had given his mother but something she had done herself. She had taken him to the maze at the northeast corner of the grounds often as a child. They'd played for hours while his father trained his brothers.

        He missed her most of all. He knew that it was shitty and that he shouldn't have missed one of his family members more than the others. But he did. His mother had been the only one who had ever seen him and cared. The only one who had wanted the best for him. Maybe that was why it hurt the most that she was gone.

        The scent of roses had once been overwhelming to him. He had thought that it would one day drown him. That he would die by an overwhelming amount of roses. They had wound up in his nightmares. But now ... Now they calmed him. Now he realized they were more of a birthright than anything to ever be afraid of.

        He sank down on a stone bench that was still slightly damp from the storm that had ravaged them last night. He didn't mind it. The chill bit into him and kept him thinking critically about what was happening.

        He rested his elbows on his knees, his forefingers resting on his top lip to keep himself from speaking anymore. The wind blew through his hair, his eyes fluttering to a close. He would figure this out. Somehow, he would figure this out.

        The human queens had to have something to do with this. Maybe Azriel hadn't told Cariaru yet. They had only known her for a few months. It wasn't long enough for her to gain their trust. Soon though, she would be able to give them the information they required. Soon Tamlin would know exactly what was happening beyond his borders. At least, he hoped so. 

        Soft footsteps sounded behind him. The restless energy that had been building in him suddenly ceased. Whoever was approaching him would find that sneaking up on the High Lord of Spring was one of the stupidest decisions that one could ever make. 

        "Tamlin," her voice was soft, soothing his soul more than anything else ever had. What he wouldn't give to hear her say her name a thousand times. His name had never sounded like a song before. But Feyre made it sound so beautiful that he wanted to cry.

        "Feyre," he turned his head towards her. He tried to smile, tried to make her feel as though everything was fine. That he was at ease. Yet, would he ever be at ease? He had no hopes of understanding the Night Court. Nor did he know how he was supposed to marry Feyre when it felt as though everything was quickly beginning to change. It was a mess that he did not quite know what to do about. "What are you doing out here?"

        "I needed some fresh air," she admitted as she sat down beside him on the bench. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. He wanted nothing more than to keep her close for the rest of his life.

        At least then he would be able to protect her. He needed to protect her.

        "You didn't come to bed last night." He stiffened at that. Ianthe had been able to smell Lyriel on him. Would Feyre? Had she been able to figure out different scents yet? He didn't know but he hoped that she hadn't. Hoped that she was still so confused about that and everything else that came with being a High Fae.

        He felt like the world's shittiest person just for thinking it.

        "I had work to attend to. Nothing serious," he added quickly. "Just precautions. I don't want anything ruining our wedding."

        He tried to ignore the grimace that flashed across her expression. He had been trying to ignore the fact that whatever bond that had once been between them was quickly evaporating. He no longer felt that strong pull towards her. He knew that she avoided him as much as he avoided her. But he was fighting every single day to get that spark back. Maybe this whole thing was Lyriel's fault. Maybe they both just needed some time apart. Time to just process all that they had been through. All that they continued to go through.

        But if she was away from him he would be unable to protect her. Who knew what the other High Lords would do if they found out anything about Feyre. He was keeping her as safe as he possibly could by keeping her contained.

        He just didn't know that it was slowly killing her. He didn't want to know.

        "Are you alright? You look like you haven't slept in days," he said, his green eyes almost glowing with the concern that he felt for her.

        Feyre nodded her head, sheets of golden brown hair falling around her. "I'm fine, Tam. Just ... Just concerned with how fast everything's been happening."

        He could understand that. Could understand how frustrating the whole thing must have been. She had died, been brought back, and was now about to marry him. It had been a long few months. A long time that had somehow not been long enough. He wished he could have done more to help ease her into the whole thing. Wished that they could put off the wedding longer. However, he thought it would be the best way to put all the horrible shit behind him.

        Behind them.

        Feyre deserved to not worry about any of this. Not to worry about Amarantha or Hybern or any of it. She had done enough. She deserved to rest. 

        "We'll get through it," he promised her as he gently took her by the hand. "We always do."

        Her hand felt stiff and cold in his. It felt more like the hand of a corpse than of the woman that he loved. What had changed between them? Had they been through too much? Could they ever go back to what they had been? They deserved a happily ever after. He had been her fairytale prince. She had been his knight in shining armor. They were done now. They could sit back and rest without worrying about any of it.

        Yet they were broken. Perhaps they always had been. Two broken people who had tried to make each other whole. It just wasn't working this time.

        They had been broken down beyond repair. Tamlin just could not see it. He could not begin to let her go.

[illyrian-lover-flower]

What are your top 10 and bottom 10 ACOTAR characters?

Hello sweet anon, I first wanted to thank you so much (you brightened my day with that😊) and before we start I just thought to tell you that this turned out rather long, so I summarized it at the top and put my whole reasons under the cut😄

Positive:

1. Elain/ 2. Azriel/ 3. Nuala & Cerridwen/ 5. Lucien/ 6. Amren/ 7. Alis/ 8. Nesta/ 9. Cassian/ 10. Feyre

Negative:

10. Morrigian/ 9. Graysen/ 8. Rhysand/ 7. Cauldron/ 6. Attor/ 5. Amarantha/ 4. Ianthe/ 3. Luciens Brothers/ 2. Beron Vanserra/ 1. -

+ 1. Elain

Ok, so I just love this female. I love how Elain is not portrayed as the type of woman who does need a weapon to get what she wants. It is true that one might take her outstanding beauty as a weapon (it sure is) but she can achieve a lot of good things by just using her words and charisma, letting peace remain, before one might do the wrong step and start a war.

Elain is in my opinion though not only charismatic, but also really … yeah silent and well behaved. She does not need to be the centre of the party or a conversation, we have learned she enjoys the company of silence too and her language or the way she is, just speaks on another level. One might say she has a stick shoved up her ass, but I don’t think that this is the case, simply bc we have seen Elain act on her own emotions as well, she just seems to prefer to hold up that mask of her human days around her family, she can use curses too and also have dirty thoughts (her reaction to Azriel on solstice (this was no shock, fear or whatever one might claim!)) god forbid!

Something I also love about her is her seer ability, I am most of the time really intrigued by the future, so seeing her look into the still foggy realms of what is to happen, is really interesting.

+ 2. Azriel

This boy just deserves all the love this world has to give! One of the reasons probably bc dark and broody males with a whole wall of mystery build around them are my typ. But no, seriously – I think Az is one of the most misunderstood characters, mostly by his family.

Bc even though he has known the greatest part of his family for 500+ years, no one seems to understand him, his feelings or his wishes (Thank you Rhysand!) as everyone just assumes Azriel is Azriel and is just ok with being where his family is( Obligated to be the fifth wheel for the rest of eternity!😭)

Something which I also think the IC mistakes is his silence. It might seem as if Azriel barely has anything to say, but I guess it is more the other way around, as we have figured out that if he talks it is always well thought with deep meanings, at times even poetic from the bottom of his heart and often used to motivate or encourage someone. I just think he picks his words so carefully bc he is afraid to give away too much of himself and that everything he might say, or every thought he harboured, could be used against him, so that he would be wounded (THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THAT RHYSAND!)

+ 3. Nuala & Cerridwen

I just love both of them, so I was not able to put one of them on a fourth place.

Anyway, Nuala and Cerridwen are two characters who are also majorly underestimated. Those two have a quiet side which makes most  of the people around them forget that they even exist, which is pretty noticeable from Feyres, Rhysands and even Nestas pov (though I am not gonna lean too wide out of the window with her since I haven’t read Acosf yet) Those two could literally plan to overthrow an High Lord and we would only know the moment it is too late,bc everyone seems to forget about their existence. Something I also love about them, is their whole character. We don’t know much about them now, but it already is noticeable that they accept people like they are, for they have no fear of Azriel, nor do they act around Elain as if she were made of glas.

+ 5. Lucien

Lucien is just an innocent bean who deserves all the love in all of Prythian! I might be an Elriel stan, but you might want to address the fact that not even one rooting for Elriel is oblivious to the shit show which took place in Luciens life. Undermined son, lover killed in front of his eyes, abused/used by his best friend and on top of that practically homeless. He knows that he can’t go back to the spring court yet, for things with Tamlin did not yet settle down, he also knows he isn’t also really home at the Night Court and god forbid if he ever thought of entering Autumn again! If it wouldn’t be for the Band of Exils (Thank god they exist) he’d be all lonely and without a roof over his head.

And this is something our sassy, witty fox does not deserve.

+ 6. Amren

Amren is just a character I identify with. She seems like as if she is only caring about her own stuff and only mind her business, while in truth she just doesn’t know how to express the love she feels for her family, as we know from her former past she did not even receive love, and just cares the most about her family.

Something I also love about her is her whole behaviour if one is to doubt her size. In my country I barely scratch the minimum of average height, so a friend of mine likes to make jokes about my size (much like Cassian about Amren), so seeing how she just shows him his place with a glare or some sharp words is just satisfaction to me.

+ 7. Alis

The kindness with which Alis treated Feyre in Acotar just sort of stuck to me and as I did not really find a character in Prythian, who was born there, who had the same kindness as her – she just stayed.

+ 8. Nesta

Nesta is a character I absolutely love, in Acotar I do admit I did not pay that much attention to her or Elain, but I just love how strong minded she is. She had been fighting for her own goal the moment she got spit out of the cauldron and she did not particularly stray from that. I also adore her for her strength – she wouldn’t even have been in the need to learn combat in order to hurt someone, as Nesta just analyses the people around her so much, so that she’ll know exactly what would feel to them like a gut stab.

The fact that Nesta is a huge bookworm and a dreamer in her own way makes her even more awesome.

+ 9. Cassian

Now you can just love this guy! He might have his ups and downs, but in the end he always worked his way out of them. Cassian just has such a big heart, that much like Nesta, he would do anything in order to protect his family and loved ones.

And while he is great to cheer one up, he might not be the brightest candle on the cake, but he would still go to the end of the world if it meant he could fight and protect those he loves. Something I also liked was that he is practically the one who started this whole thing with the females training while Rhysand just let the Illyrians do like they please.

+ 10. Feyre

As the main character we had learned a lot about her and I am happy that she is alive, has her freedom, is in love with her mate, has a child, a loving family and a really high title (*cough* High Lady). But what I think she could have done different was the way of how she treated both, Elain and Nesta, during their traumas.

Even though Nesta might not have shown her trauma that clear in the beginning, she could have still looked over the plates rim once it was almost tearing through one’s ears in a painful scream of help that Nesta was not fine. And judging someone straight out mad or considering it while you yourself have not even a real clue of how this whole Prythian thing works is just a big no-no. Elain doubted herself already enough, Feyres fear that she might have gone mad was not helping the situation.

And well Nestas story is one I can’t particularly dive into yet, but from what I have read (Acofas) she dealt with it the wrong way. It might have been that she and Nesta did not have the best relationship and she might have even wondered if she was entitled to bound with her sister on such a topic, but when Nesta pushed each of them away Feyre should have not moved away from her.

Feyre already did a lot for her, true, but Feyre knew herself how it was to have a trauma and she herself had pushed help, in the first months, away, but however I am overall just happy she got her happy ending.

- 10. Morrigian

I have criticized Morrigian already a lot, but I will just say it again.

First of, I don’t hate her. Morrigian is a character who I think has a lot to tell, as we know she kept the biggest part of herself a secret until now, but I just don’t like how she claims to trust the IC while in truth she refuses to tell them of her sexuality (the thing she seems to be afraid? of the most.)

I know the Azriel pining after her for 500+ years, was a lot of pressure on her back, but she could have also just told him she wasn’t interested or loved females (if she wouldn’t have been fine with telling Rhys). However I think she is going to be one of the more important side characters as I think her situation and everything that follows, pretty much sums up how gays/lesbians and other LGBTQ members feel now a days. And I think her journey is sort of supposed to help to overcome those struggles.

I at least hope she gets her journey.

- 9. Graysen

Graysen was an ass for breaking the engagement of like a toddler, that’s it – end of the song. If he would have told Elain he couldn’t trust her bc she lied to him – ok.

But the tune makes the music! Keep that in mind,Nolan!

- 8. Rhysand

Now Rhysand is to me a character who tip toes on a two sided blade.

I normally do like him, he is kind and caring and no doubt would die for the people he loves, but he has a very, very hard time separating work from private life. The example I’ll go with is the big bad magical solstice. He might have claimed that the kiss between Elain and Az could have invoked a blood duel, if Lucien would have notice, possibly even provoking a war between Night and Autumn (work) but his ulterior motive were Feyre and Nyx, no one blames him for that, but it is a private reason and excuse he should not use while speaking as the High Lord.

And again, when Az starts doubting the Cauldron with choosing the wrong mate for Elain, Rhys assumes it is just lust speaking from Az and commands him as the High Lord to stay away from Elain (low blow of assumption, but not my point) while he then offers to pay for the pleasure halls Azriel could possibly seek out (according to him). With what money would he have paid it, his own (private) while he was speaking as the High Lord, or the exchequer (work)?

You see my point? Anyway Rhys is a loving character, but he is just a bit troubled ruling an entire court (this huge) and having a family to take care of. Perhaps he is having it settled in a few years, but until then we will just have to wait and see.

- 7. Cauldron

I don’t really know if you can call the Cauldron a character, but I just placed it here as I hated how it had humiliated Nesta and Elain.

The bloodshed it caused was also nothing I ever want to mention again.

- 6. Attor

Now just the Rainbow and the attack on Velaris, just this, nu-uh man.

- 5. Amarantha

I hated her for killing innocent fae, enslaving High Lords or in general and setting up ‘riddles’ (games) in which the life of helpless fae was depending on a human who could barely safe herself with a bargain. Something I also kind of take personal is how she treated Jurian, I mean ok – he deserved a punishment, but like setting him in chains and having him barely at the minimum of survival would have been also fine.

- 4. Ianthe

Just the Suriel! This was when I took things personal! (I’ll add an 11 to the list above – I loved the weaver!)

- 3. Luciens Borthers

Luckily, most of those little shits got what they deserve.

I don’t grow up in a family very high in statues, so I don’t know how it is, but no matter if poor or rich – siblings should fight together instead of against each other! And most definitely not kill the female their brother loved!

- 2. Beron Vanssera

I hate him for having hesitated saving Rhys, watching how his sons treated Lucien and how he could possibly let anything as terrifying, as what had happened to Mor, happen. Also – it’s just the way how he treats his wife!

Someone really hadn’t drunken his ‘respectful juice’, for the last fucking Millenia!

- 1. /

I don’t really despise a character entirely, as I know each and every one has a bright and dark side of the coin (Still trying to find the bright side of Luciens father and brothers though)

[dawninlatin]

Whispers In The Night

Feyre x Rhysand

Words: 3099

Warnings: Mature content throughout

Song recommendation for the vibe: Mountaineers by Susanne Sundfør

AO3: Click here

A continuation of chapter 60 and the scene we never got to read.

Feyre and Rhys goes to the High Priestess to have their mating bond verified and to oficially make Feyre the High Lady of The Night Court. Shameless smut ensues.

Rhys took the box from my hands and set it down on the nightstand before herding me toward the bed. «And if I wanted to go one step beyond that?»

«I’m listening,» I purred as he laid me on the sheets.

His lips ghosted over my collarbone, moving upwards, to my neck, my throat, lightly kissing my jaw, before he lifted his head and took me in with such intensity that I melted under his gaze. I could get lost in his violet eyes and the way they shone now, full of love and adoration.

«I want to make you my High Lady,» Rhys murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Heat pooled between my legs at his voice, low and raspy.

Then I realized what he had just said. The shock I felt must have been written on my face, because he continued: «We could do it, tonight. I would have to make a few arrangements, of course, but we could do it.»

I sat up at that, pushing Rhys away from me. I walked towards the vanity, needing to wrap my mind around what he had just said. What he had suggested.

«There is no such thing as a High Lady,» I said as I turned around to face my mate. Rhys stood, walked over to me and took my face between his hands.

«That-,» he said, stroking his fingers over my cheeks, «is a load of bullshit, and you know it.» I let out a snort at his words, remembering what Tamlin had said not long ago.

Rhys leaned in and whispered: «I’m High Lord of The Night Court. I can do whatever I want.» His lips met mine, briefly, before he once again pulled away, looking at me with the same intensity as before.

«And there is no one I would rather have as my High Lady, to rule the court beside me, as equals,» Rhys finished. This time it was my turn to reach up and kiss him, my heart pounding furiously at his words.

«I love you, and I would be honored to become your High Lady» I whispered against his lips, laying my head against his chest. We stayed like that for a moment, just enjoying being near one another.

«As much as I would love to do this all day, I have a few things to arrange,» Rhys murmured into my hair. He stepped back, leaning against the dresser. «Are you sure you want to do this?»

«Yes,» I said, once again stepping into his arms, straightening out the frown forming on his forehead. «And like you just said, you have things to arrange, so stop being an overbearing mother hen and make me your High Lady instead.»

He tipped his head back laughed at that. A deep chuckle reverberating through his whole body. «Meet me at the temple at midnight,» he said, before kissing my forehead and winnowing away.

-

Velaris during the day was gorgeous, but Velaris at night was a truly breathtaking sight. The sky was clear, stars shining brightly over my head. Lanterns lit up the cobblestone streets, and music sounded from somewhere far off along with a group of young fae laughing into the night.

I stood in front of the temple, dressed in nothing but a white dress and a pair of sandals. My hair was loose, pooling down my back. The air around me was warm with summer nearing. I heard a pair of footsteps, and lifted my gaze to find Rhys walking towards me.

He was beaming, wearing a black shirt and a pair of loose pants. His wings were out and tendrils of darkness floated around him. He was truly The Night Triumphant, and he was truly mine.

I knew my power was showing as well. A slight glow that wouldn’t leave my skin. I couldn’t help it, war and cauldrons and Hybern be damned, I was so happy. Rhys was my mate and I would be his High Lady. We were equals, Stars Eternal and Night Triumphant.

He smiled and reached out his hand. «Ready?»

-

We stepped through the wide entrance of the temple. My breath hitched at the sight in front of me. Various colourful murals adorned the walls, showing epic tales of gods and fae alike. I had to ask Rhys about the stories behind each and everyone someday.

Stone pillars were scattered throughout the open area, green vines crawling down them. Lanterns were hanging from the ceiling, casting the room in a golden light. I could feel Rhys’ eyes on me as I took in our surroundings.

The temple felt ancient. Sacred.

A young female approached us, bowing. An acolyte, Rhys whispered into my mind. I gave her a court smile. «The High Priestess will be ready for you shortly, my lord. You can wait over there,» she pointed towards a bench imbedded in the wall. «You must also take off your shoes before entering the chamber.»

«Thank you,» Rhys said, bowing his head. The acolyte disappeared through the same doors she had just entered, and we were again alone.

Rhys led me towards the small bench, where I sat down, taking off my sandals. The tiles were cold under my feet. Rhys sat down next to me. «I should probably tell you what is going to happen once we’re with the priestess.»

I hadn’t even considered what was going to happen next. I was too busy thinking about the fact that I was going to become High Lady of The Night Court. The first High Lady to ever rule one of Prythian’s courts. It was a statement, a declaration of what the future of our land were going to be like. I also couldn’t help but smile a little at the big fuck you it was to Tamlin. There’s no such thing as a High Lady my ass.

I must have sent my thoughts down the bond, because I heard Rhys laugh softly beside me. «Tell me,» I said, and took his hand.

«First, we will enter the sacred chamber, where the High Priestess will greet us. We will say a few vows to one another, before she gives us her blessing, verifies the bond, and you will be formally recognized as High Lady. It should be a quick affair.»

Rhys swallowed audibly, and I noticed his hands were shaking lightly. «Are you nervous?» I asked, scooting closer.

He looked at me, pressing a kiss to my hand. «No, I just can’t believe this is actually happening. That it is real.» His voice cracked a bit at the end, and my heart broke for my mate. I had that same fear, that I would suddenly wake up in the human realm, or Under the Mountain, or in the Spring Court, and all of this would just have been a cruel, cruel dream.

«It’s real, I promise» I whispered, before lightly brushing my lips against his. As we broke apart, a pair of wide doors opened, and the acolyte reappeared.

«The High Priestess will see you now.»

We stood and walked in as one. I should have been nervous, but that was impossible with my mate by my side.

-

The chamber we entered was dark, only lit up by candles spread throughout. Rhys squeezed my hand as we stepped toward the High Priestess, waiting for us at the end of the room. She stood before a stone altar, pillows lying at her feet, the room buzzing with ancient magic.

As we reached her, Rhys bowed. «High Priestess,» I followed him, lowering my head.

The Priestess nodded once in greeting. «High Lord, Lady,» before gesturing for us to kneel before her.

«Please, join your hands,» she spoke, her voice low and raspy. I did as she said, taking Rhys’ hands in mine, before meeting his gaze. The love I felt for him then was borderline painful. I would do anything for this male.

«If you wish to say any vows to one another, please do so now.»

I’ll go first, Rhys spoke into my mind, before clearing his throat.

«Feyre, darling-,» I smiled at the familiar nickname. «You are the light of my life. When we first met, I was in such a dark place. Completely lost. I thought all hope was gone, and when I was at my worst, you came and showed me a way out. You taught me what it was like to be happy and love again. You are the strongest person I know, and I am honored to be able to call you mine. You are my mate, but also my saviour and salvation.»

I couldn’t help the tear that escaped down my cheek at the way his voice cracked, silver lining his eyes. Tightening my grip around his hands, I tried to communicate everything I couldn’t possibly put to words.

«I vow to always stay by your side, in joy and sorrow, sickness and health. To always view you as my equal. To always honor and cherish you. I vow, on everything that I am, to love you as long as my heart is beating,» Rhys finished, genuinely crying now.

After drawing a shaky breath, I begun speaking. I knew that I could never truly express all the things I felt for him, but I would try.

«Rhysand, you might be my mate, but you are also my best friend. You made me want to keep living, to keep fighting, when I was ready to give up. You have saved my broken spirit more times than I can count, and I will forever be grateful for that. I promise to always treat you as my equal, with your soul twin to my own. I promise to honor, trust and stand by you no matter what. I love you, with all that I am, and shall keep loving you for as long as I shall draw my breath.»

Even if I wanted, I was unable to tear my eyes away from his. It was hypnotizing, and the feeling of unconditional, never-ending love made my chest tighten. I knew Rhys felt the same way, could feel it through the bond.

The High Priestess laid her hands atop ours, and spoke: «Do you, Rhysand, High Lord of The Night Court, wish to verify your mating bond to Feyre, marking her not just as your equal, but also High Lady of your court?»

«I do,» Rhys spoke, pride shining through his hoarse voice. He grinned at me, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

«And do you, Feyre Cursebreaker, defender of The Rainbow, wish to verify your mating bond to Rhysand, and with that accept your position as High Lady of The Night Court? Do you vow to protect your people with your life, to always remain loyal to your court, and to always put The Night Court first?»

«I do,» I whispered, my voice clear of any doubt.

«You can place the crown on top of her head,» the High Priestess said to Rhys. That is when I first noticed the silver crown lying on the altar, star sapphires glittering in the dim light.

Rhys took the crown from the priestess’ hands. I looked up as he placed it on my head, his hands trembling, tears still streaming from my eyes. I would move the earth for you, I thought.

His hands held onto mine again, and the High Priestess pressed her palms against them. «Then it shall be known here today, with the Gods as our witnesses, that you are mates, equals in every way, High Lord and High Lady of The Night Court.»

I gasped as I felt a surge of power go through me, a bright light shining between us. That light settled somewhere inside me, along with the power. Rhys’ power, I realized. Looking down on our still joint hands, I found a brand new tattoo on my right hand, twin to the one on my left. I grinned at my mate, feeling as if I could levitate at any moment. He grinned back at me, whispering I love you into my mind.

«Congratulations to you both,» the priestess beamed.

-

It didn’t take us long to winnow back to the townhouse, to our bedroom. Rhys sat down at the edge of the bed. «We should sleep. It’s late, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,» he sighed.

«I know, but I don’t want to sleep,» I said as I walked towards him, settling in his lap with my legs straddling him. I could feel the evidence of what we both much rather wanted to do pressing against me.

As I took in the look of him, violet eyes dark with arousal, but also love and hope and fear, it all hit me, what we were about to do, what we were about to risk. «What would you like to do instead?» Rhys asked, swallowing audibly, his hands exploring my back.

I pressed my mouth against his, let my tongue explore him, my hips grinding against his growing hardness, before drawing back and saying, voice low and out of breath:

«I want you to fuck me as if it’s our last night alive.»

That seemed to snap something in him. My dress quickly found it’s way to the floor, and Rhys was delighted to find that I wore nothing underneath. My hand reached towards the crown still on top of my head, but Rhys grabbed my wrist, growling in my ear: «Keep it on.»

«Your wish is my command, High Lord,» I breathed. At this point, I was so aroused I was sure I could come from the sound of his voice alone. We somehow managed to frantically remove his clothes as well, and before I knew it my back hit the wall.

I moaned at the feeling of Rhys’ lips exploring my neck. «You always wanted me to fuck you against a wall, darling,» he said against my skin. I felt my core tighten, reminding me of how empty it currently was.

«That I did,» I purred, lifting his face to mine, crashing my lips against his. My hand reached down between us to stroke his fully hard cock. He growled at the contact, grabbing my wrist and pinning it over my head.

«I want to taste every inch of your skin tonight,» he whispered against my lips, before he hoisted my legs over his shoulders and put his mouth against the apex of my thighs.

The first stroke of his tongue set me on fire. My head fell back, hitting the wall, as I moaned. Rhys let out a groan himself when my hands grabbed onto his hair, pulling it.

Rhys kept his promise, his tongue exploring every inch of my core, swirling around my knot, writhing sounds I didn’t know I was capable of making from me.

My legs tightened around his shoulders, the wave inside me rising and rising, until he applied just enough pressure at just the right spot. A load moan escaped my lips as the wave came crashing down, his mouth never stopping it’s exploring.

«Rhys-,» I choked out, seeing stars, a new orgasm beginning before the previous had even ended. As I started shaking around him, he rose, hoisting me down from his shoulders. I rested in his arms, head resting against his neck.

«Look at me,» Rhys whispered softly. I lifted my head, his hand pushing my hair out of my face. «My beautiful, brilliant mate,» Rhys breathed, before his lips crashed into mine.

Tasting myself on his lips was enough for my core to come back to life. I needed to feel him inside me, to be as close as possible. Rhys seemed to think the same, because moments later he entered me in one long thrust, pushing to the hilt.

Rhys groaned, pressing his face against my neck, giving me a moment to adjust to the considerable length of him, before setting a vicious pace. Slamming into me as if every thrust was his last.

I knew I would be both sore and bruised come morning, but I didn’t care. The feeling of him, thick and hard, inside my core was exquisite. I again captured his mouth with mine, moaning as his tongue entered me, knowing he now filled me in two places.

His hand started exploring my breast, and I felt myself tighten around him, that sweet, sweet wave once again rising. He groaned my name, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy. He was close too.

I moved his hand down to my knot and he started swirling it. The pressure in my lower abdomen kept rising and rising, seemingly having no end. Rhys kissed me one last time, before lightly pinching my knot. Then I exploded.

The noises coming from me would have made me embarrassed, but I could hardly register anything at this point. I faintly noticed Rhys slamming into me one last time before he too erupted with a groan, holding onto me, repeating my name over and over again. I wasn’t sure were I ended and he began.

Rhys moved to lay us down on the bed, but I was too far gone in bliss to notice. I was lying with my head on his chest, him stroking soothing circles on my back. He paused for a moment and removed the crown from my head. I chuckled, having forgotten it was there in the first place.

As his hands returned to their ministrations, I pressed light kisses to his chest. Tendrils of black rolled of him, and I knew without looking that I was currently glowing brightly. The star to his night.

«If something goes wrong tomorrow-,» I interrupted him by catching his mouth with mine.

«Don’t,» I whispered, stroking his hair. All the unspoken words shining in his eyes made me tear up. «I don’t want to think about all that could go wrong right now. I just want to enjoy being here, with you, like this. I just want to pretend that everything is right in the world. Just for a moment.»

As my voice cracked, Rhys reached up to brush away my tears. «No words could ever portray how much I love you Feyre, darling.»

A sob escaped me at that. «I know, Rhys. I love you too, more than anything.»

I sat up at that, taking his newly hardened shaft between my hands and sinking myself down on it.

Then we made love, long into the night with the stars as our witness, completely oblivious to what tomorrow would bring.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: The Assassin’s Blade, Ch 19-20

SJM either cuts one measly scene into three chapters or crams 100+ long scenes into on chapter so this one is gonna be super fucking long

Celaena dressed in the nicest tunic she’d brought—which wasn’t really anything to admire, but the midnight blue and gold did bring out the turquoise hues in her eyes.

SJM gotta stop bringing attention to Celery’s Mary Sue eyes because I laugh every time I think about them.

Ansel takes Celery to dinner.

Staying alert as they entered the hall was an effort of will. Yet even with her exhaustion, she instinctively scanned the room. There were three exits—the giant doors through which they entered, and two servants’ doors on either end. The hall was packed wall-to-wall with long wooden tables and benches full of people. At least seventy of them in total. None of them looked at Celaena as Ansel ambled toward a table near the front of the room. If they knew who she was, they certainly didn’t care. She tried not to scowl.

This paragraph right here. This sums up everything wrong with this book.

At first while I was reading this, I was like “Yes finally!! Celery is acting like an assassin! It took us two short stories to get here, but we finally did!” And then SJM immediately ruins it by having Celery cry and wail about nobody giving her special attention.

Boo fucking hoo! You’re an assassin, you’re not supposed to stand out, you fucking spoiled asshole!! This character is utter garbage and I hate her so much, this is actually making me enjoy the ending of E0S where she gets the shit kicked out of her and shoved into an iron coffin. Fuck her. Fuck this book.

Ansel mentions some Lord Berick guy, who Celery has never heard of before.

“He’s the villain,” said a curly-haired, dark-eyed man across from Ansel. He was handsome in a way, but had a smile far too much like Captain Rolfe’s for Celaena’s liking. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.

Nuance who?

Ansel blathers on about Lord Berick and how he’s the most Evil Guy Ever who wants this part of the desert or some shit. No doubt Celery will beat him in one paragraph if they meet, so who really cares.

Outside of the markets in Rifthold (...) she’d never seen such a mix of different kingdoms and continents. And though most of the people here were trained killers, there was an air of peace and contentment—of joy, even.

This place is way tf better than Arobynn’s shitty assassin joint. Please let us stay here?

Vows of silence, Ansel had explained earlier, were taken for as long as each person saw fit. Some spent weeks in silence; others, years. Ansel claimed she’d once sworn to be silent for a month, and had only lasted two days before she gave up. She liked talking too much. Celaena didn’t have any trouble believing that.

That is quite fucking rich coming from you, Celery.

Celaena felt someone’s attention on her, and tried not to blink when she noticed a dark-haired, handsome young man watching her from a few seats down. Stealing glances at her was more like it, since his sea-green eyes kept darting to her face, then back to his companions.

oh no

Their eyes met, and his tan face spread into a smile, revealing dazzlingly white teeth. Well, he was certainly desirable—as desirable as Sam, maybe.

oh god no why this

SJM has basically skipped out on love triangles (Dorito never had a chance in T0G and Tamlin never had a chance in AC0TAR, and you all know it) but nope, she just had to hit all of the shitty YA tropes. Fucking great. Poor Ilias is probably gonna be put down so Celery can realize Sammy is her one true love.

“I’m surprised you caught Ilias’s eye,” Ansel teased, keeping her voice low enough for only Celaena and Mikhail to hear. “He’s usually too focused on his training and meditating to notice anyone—even pretty girls.” (...) “I’ve known him for years, and he’s never been anything but aloof with me,” Ansel continued. “But maybe he has a thing for blondes.” Mikhail snorted.

Holy shit, is this... self awareness? I mean, both the protagonists of SJM’s big ticket series are skinny blonde white girls who have men drooling left and right for them. I bet that new Creamcheese City novel will also feature a blonde “””strong female character””” as the lead.

Celaena pushed around the food on her plate. It wasn’t that she wasn’t romantic. She’d been infatuated with a few men before—from Archer, the young male courtesan who’d trained with them for a few months when she was thirteen, to Ben, Arobynn’s now-deceased Second, back when she was too young to really understand the impossibility of such a thing.

Dude he’s like a fucking adult and she’s barely 16. Get this nasty shit outta my face. So Celery rescued Ben’s body not because he was a good guy, but because she used to have the hots for him?? This is actually gross.

Mikhail asks why Celery’s master beat the shit out of her, and she kisses her own ass for a moment or two while telling the story of freeing the slaves.

“But if the two hundred slaves that I freed are telling the story, then no, I suppose I didn’t deserve it.” None of them were smiling anymore. “Holy gods,” Ansel whispered. True silence fell over their table for a few heartbeats.

HFAKHDKAHDKAHDS I AM GOING TO LOSE MY SHIT

STOP!! MAKING!! EVERYONE!! SPLOOGE!! OVER!! CELERY!! IM SICK OF READING IT GET IT OUT OF MY FACE

The next day (I think?), Ansel takes Celery out to do some running and Celery is pissy that she isn’t immediately getting special attention from the Mute Master. Good to see Celery will never change in her selfish, whiny ways.

Celery fucking sucks at the run to the oasis and everyone continues to lap her.

A small oasis, mostly a ring of trees and a giant pool fed by a shimmering stream, was barely an eighth of a mile away. She was Adarlan’s Assassin—at least she’d made it here.

Stop reminding me she’s Adaran’s Assassin, I fucking know. Remember how I said at the beginning that Celery doesn’t splooge over herself as much as Alien does? Yeah I take it back, Celery is even more obnoxious.

Later on Ansel tries to stroke Celery’s fragile precious little ego by saying she did worse on her first run.

“My first run, I collapsed. Mile two. Completely unconscious. Ilias found me on his way back and carried me here. In his arms and everything.” Ilias’s eyes met with Celaena’s, and he smiled at her. “If I hadn’t been about to die, I would have been swooning,”

No Ilias/Ansel/Celery love triangle, please.

Celaena blushed, suddenly too aware of Ilias’s attention, and took a sip from her cup of lemon water. As the meal wore on, her blush remained as Ilias continued flicking his eyes toward her. She tried not to preen too much. But then she remembered how miserably she’d performed today— how she hadn’t even gotten a chance to train—and the swagger died a bit.

Celaena made her best attempt to look casual as she, too, stood and bid everyone good night. As she turned away, she noticed that Mikhail took Ansel’s hand and held it in the shadows beneath the table.

Apparently Ansel and Mikhail are a thing? I literally don’t care. Mikhail has said like what, five words this entire story? They’re literally just together because SJM can’t stand the idea of having any single characters (unless they’re evil).

Celery chases down The Master to demand her special snowflake treatment.

The Master paused, his white clothes rustling around him. He offered her a little smile. Up close, she could certainly see his resemblance to his son. There was a pale line around one of his fingers— perhaps where a wedding ring had once been. Who was Ilias’s mother? Of course, it wasn’t at all the time for questions like that.

Yeah, no shit Celery. Why are you such an idiot?

The Mute Master is like “wait your turn” and leaves. Ilias shows up for shipping fuel I guess?

“I have no plans to hurt him,” she said softly. But Ilias gave her a half smile, his brows rising as if to ask if she could blame him for being protective of his father.

Maybe I’m a softie, but this endeared me to him somewhat. He seems like a nice guy, which is more than what you get with 95% if SJM’s male characters. How come all of Celery’s love interests Rowboat who are waaay better characters than her?

His eyes were vivid in the torchlight, his hand firm and warm around hers. She let go of his fingers. The son of the Mute Master and the protégée of the King of the Assassins. If there was anyone here who was at all similar to her, she realized, it was Ilias. Rifthold might be her realm, but this was his.

Human brain: don’t get attached, Celery is an asshole

Monkey brain: hhhhhh parallels between partners in a ship...love....

Not that Ilias and Celery are/will be a thing, but you know. I’m a sucker for shit like this.

Ilias suddenly began making a series of motions with his long, tan fingers, but Celaena laughed softly. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” Ilias looked skyward and sighed through his nose. Throwing his hands in the air in mock defeat, he merely patted her on the shoulder before passing by

Ilias is a good, pure boy. I’d read a story where Sammy goes to the desert instead of Celery and him and Ilias fall in love and hold hands under the shade of the desert night. Hngh, I really wish I could be reading that fanfic instead of this novel.

As she walked back to her room, Celaena had a horrible feeling that here, being Adarlan’s Assassin might not count for much.

Celery says this like we’re supposed to feel sorry for her, but back in Arobynn;s Assassin joint she flaunts her title around and rubs it in everyone’s face so yeah, you don’t get sympathy from me.

“How long have you been seeing him?” Ansel was silent for a long moment before answering. “Since I was fifteen.” Fifteen! Mikhail was in his midtwenties, so even if this had started almost three years ago, he still would have been far older than Ansel. It made her a little queasy.

Oh. My. God.

See, I personally don’t like huge age gapes in ships (that’s just my personal preference, don’t fucking @ me) but Celery you literally said earlier you were in love with Ben, a fucking grown man, when you were a young teenager you fucking hypocrite!!!!!!!! God I fucking hate Celery!!!!!!!

With nothing else to distract her, Celaena eventually returned to thinking about Sam. Even weeks later, she had no idea how she’d somehow gotten attached to him, what he’d been shouting when Arobynn beat her, and why Arobynn had thought he’d need three seasoned assassins to restrain him that day.

Pretty simple answers. You got attached to Sammy because a) SJM wanted you to so she forced you to start thirsting for him, and b) you realized “oh hey Sammy is a good guy maybe I shouldn’t imagine myself slitting his throat”. What Sammy was shouting will be revealed later to my knowledge, and as for the 3 assassins thing... idk, tbh. I mean, Sammy is just a teenager boy, one big buff assassin should be enough to restrain him.

This chapter finally ends thank fucking god. We still have one more to go for today.

[Celaena] did run farther the next day. And the day after that, and the one following that. But it still took her so long to get back that she didn’t have time to seek out the Master. Not that she could. He’d send for her. Like a lackey.

Stop trying to make me feel bad for Celery being ignored if she’s just gonna splooge about how ~special and uhmayzing~ she is.

Like the assassins in Adarlan, the Silent Assassins weren’t known for any skill in particular—save the uncannily quiet way they moved.

That seems kinda odd. Assassins should be talented at many ways of disposing of people yeah, but wouldn’t it make more sense for some of them to have a knack for a certain type of killing, such as using poisons?

Still, even as [the assassins] corrected her posture and showed her new ways to control her breathing, she tried her best not to snarl at them. She knew plenty—she wasn’t Adarlan’s Assassin for nothing.

If I have to read that fucking sentence one more time I am ripping this book in half. No joke, I am a hair’s length away from not finishing this fucking book. Even E0S never got me to want to throw  the towel in completely and quit like this.

Perhaps if she demonstrated that she was skilled enough in these practices, the Master might take notice of her. She’d get that letter. Even if she had to hold a dagger to his throat while he wrote it.

Wow, asshole! You have to put in the tiniest amount of effort to learn and talk to people and you’re already resorting to violence??? You really are a weak and stupid protagonist and I hate you with every fiber of my being.

The attack by Lord Berick happened on her fifth night.

This made me sit up in my seat, to be honest. We finally get.... plot? Promises of action? Assassins versus assassins? Holy shit, I’m hype!

Apparently the attack happens oh so conveniently when the Mute Master and a bunch of assassins are away on a mission. Celery acknowledges this as extremely convenient, which leads me to believe there may be a rat in the assassin fortress. If not, then this is laughably stupid and convenient.

“We’re not going to kill [the soldiers]?” Celaena whispered back. (...) Ansel shook her head, watching Ilias down the line. “No, though I wish we could.” Celaena didn’t particularly care for the casual way she said it

Why would that fucking bother you?? Don’t act all high and mighty asshole, you’re an assassin the same as her. You both kill people for a living. Jesus fucking christ.

They all fire some burning arrows at an oil ridge in the sand or something which scares off Lord Berick’s goons. The scene ends.

I’m not even joking, this entire scene takes up a page and a tiny paragraph of another. I... I’m fucking speechless. You promise us an action scene and you give us this shitty, glossed over pile of garbage that serves no point? No named characters were even injured!!!!!! Holy fucking shit, SJM, you are a terrible terrible terrible writer! Please fucking stop, I can’t handle any more of these dumpster fires of novels.

The next day Mikail tells Ansel she has orders to go to Xandria, and she invites Celery to go along with, I assume Xandria is a place.....? This chapter ends. I am going to drown myself in chocolate chip cookies to heal.

[imprecisemagic]

ACOTAR character profiles: Nesta

Family name: Archeron

Other names: None given

Eyes: Grey-blue

Hair: Golden-brown

Race: Mortal made High Fae by the Cauldron.

Age: 22 in Wings and Embers

Blood relatives:

Mother, name unknown, deceased

Father, name unknown, the “Prince of Merchants”

Eldest sister to Elaine and Feyre. Nesta has been hard on Feyre for many years but is incredibly protective of Elaine.

Relationships:

At one point, Nesta hoped to marry Tomas Mandray, the son of a mortal woodcutter. She broke this off upon realising that he wouldn’t help her trace Feyre into Prythian. Feyre had already warned her that Tomas stood by while his father abused his mother and in Wings and Embers we learn Tomas tried to rape Nesta when she ended their relationship.

When Graysen rejects Elain, Nesta hits him and tells him he never deserved her. Prior to this Nesta had supported the engagement, although she hinted at doubts about the Nolan family.

Nesta and Cassian come to care for one another despite arguing when they first meet. During the final battle against Hyburn, Nesta summons Cassian from the Illyrian ranks before the Cauldron is used to destroy them, saving his life. She protects him as the King of Hyburn prepares to kill them both, before they are saved by Elain.

Mor and Nesta have a rough start to their relationship. Mor is angry when Nesta fails to tell anyone Feyre has gone to meet the Suriel during one of the battles against Hyburn.

Amren trains Nesta to use her powers.

Together, Nesta and Elain kill the King of Hyburn. The Cauldon spares Nesta, who stole its power, because Elain defends her – and it had found Elain so lovely it gave her extra powers when she was Made (ACOWAR p.655).

Titles/positions: Emissary of the Night Court to the Human Realm.

Magic: High Fae, once made fae by the Cauldron. Nesta also threatened the King of Hyburn as she entered the Cauldron and somehow took power from the Cauldron as it made her. The power is often described as relating to death. Through her link to the Cauldron, Nesta can sometimes tell when it is used (ACOWAR p. 468). After the Cauldron is destroyed Feyre wonders whether Nesta will have kept her additional powers.

Additional references for Nesta’s powers:

ACOWAR p 174: Feyre & Cassian discuss Nesta’s possible powers.

ACOWAR p. 236 – 237: The Bone Carver suggests that Nesta took power from the Cauldron.

ACOWAR p. 255: “I made it give something back.” Cassian, Rhys and Feyre theorise that Nesta took the power of death from the Cauldron.

Key backstory:

Nesta resents her father for failing to save his wife and to care for the three sisters when his fortune was lost. She admits to hating Feyre at times for being able to care for them when no-one else could, and spending Feyre’s earnings because either Feyre would earn more or their father would be forced to do something (ACOTAR p. 266). Feyre and Nesta repair much of their relationship through events in ACOMAF and ACOWAR, the third book ending with them joining hands to enter and lead the Treaty negotiations at the Archernon manor.

When Tamlin takes Feyre to Prythian, the glamour he uses on her family does not affect Nesta. She hires a mercenary and attempts to find Feyre, with no success (ACOTAR p. 264).

Other information:

Enjoys romance novels.

Since the Cauldron, Nesta can’t endure baths or small spaces.

On the Suriel’s advice, Nesta uses blood and stones to find Hyburn’s army by scrying. This has the unforeseen side affect of showing the Cauldron where she is.

Nesta’s father later names a ship after each sister. The Nesta is the ship he sails on.

Quotes:

“I think I’d like to see what else is out there, what a woman might do with a fortune and a good name.”

“Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?”

☆ ★ ☆ 

The character Nesta & all those mentioned above belong to Sarah J Maas. If you see any omissions/mistakes please hit me up and I will edit this!

ACOTAR fanstuff masterlist

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (22/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: Vassa is changed forever. You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ If you'd like to get an early preview on the next chapter, follow me on Instagram at @house.of.hurricane.

There are legends before legends, which whisper of beings who preceded the Mother, who knew her and walked with her when the world was young. Though the human realms ostensibly rid themselves of the ancient tales, in Scythia such stories were part of a queen’s education, and watching the Archeron sisters prepare for their spell, their gowns whispering on the marble floors of the Spring Court, Vassa feels as if she is watching the old goddesses step out of the realm of myth and into Prythian, into the great hall of the Spring Court.

Feyre would be the Mother, watching over her sisters as they review the sequence and the calls to their magic. The natural leader, drawing people together and believing the best in them, seeing that spark that nobody else can discern. All through their preparations, she has taken Vassa’s hands within her own and squeezed them, telling her that they will be with her, that they will not abandon her. Whatever frustrations Vassa has had within the High Lady of the Night Court, they vanish in the face of this earnest care.

Nesta is the Crone, though even Vassa would be afraid to speak the words aloud to her. The one who has seen all things and borne them, made beauty out of pain and knows that even the deepest hurt is possible to survive. The one who looks death in the eye and does not blink. Even so, she’s tied her sword and the Dread Trove tight to her body, in case her magic is not enough, though she’s seen Elain eye the crown with fear and then shake herself, as if trying to drive the thought from her presence completely. But Nesta admits no fear on her face, only a fierce certainty, and Vassa finds herself a little less afraid in her presence.

Which leaves Elain as the Maiden. Months ago, Vassa would have given the title with derision, but now she realizes why the Maiden was worshipped so long ago: she saw a new world, dreamed it into life. And this is what her friend has become. No more the hapless tool of men who did not recognize her worth, Elain believed that this world could be a better one, that Tamlin could be a hero, that Lucien could find his place, that Vassa could be free of her curse.

Still, when she looks at Vassa, Elain’s brown eyes are worried, just this side of terrified, and Vassa feels all the warmth leave her body. In the space of moments, Elain is going to take her hand and rip her apart.

Her friend takes a step towards her, but Lucien enters the room and Elain changes course, studying the dimensions of the room, the wards that Feyre has painted on the floor in silver and gold. They are supposed to guard against Koschei’s magic, according to Lucien, although nobody can say with total certainty that he will be kept at bay. A small battalion of volunteer guards, led by Tamlin, surround the estate.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lucien says. “If you are afraid -- I will find another way. Without pain or transformation. So you can return to your people, have the life you always wanted.” She knows how deeply he means the words, which come out of him in little bursts, his fingers clutched around each other in a tangle. He has promised to watch over her, to make sure that she is safe. If she is being honest, she is not sure what he can do. Still, she cannot imagine arriving at this moment, this pain and death and whatever might lay beyond, without him.

“A queen should be courageous,” she tells him, lifting her chin.

“You are not only a queen, Vassa.”

There are a thousand words under those words, the kind of phrases that the poets of Scythia would declaim at banquets in praise of love and beauty. And yet all Vassa needs is that quick phrase from Lucien to remind her of herself. Who she is. Who she could be, if she does not perish.

“I will come back to you, Lucien. Even if the spell goes wrong. Even if the magic tears me to pieces. I will find my way back to you.”

She reaches out, heedless of the pain, to hold his face in her hands. The feel of his skin under her palms, his hair at her fingertips. The quick mind that works inside, where nobody can see. All of it provokes in her a deep, nearly overwhelming tenderness.

She loves him.

She cannot tell him now, not when the words will haunt him.

“I will take you back to Scythia.” His gaze is fierce on hers. “No matter what. You deserve to be in your country. With the people who love you best.”

Her eyes hot and blurred with tears, she presses her lips to his, pushing the pain away to savor the spice on his lips, the sip of whisky they’d shared as they’d readied themselves for this moment. His mouth opens against hers with a little groan.

She pulls away just before the pain overwhelms her, before she can let herself realize what it would mean, to lose him.

“Tell me you will be here with me,” Vassa says, once she’s caught her breath.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me,” Lucien says, and winks his russet eye.

When Vassa looks around, she realizes that the Archeron sisters have been watching her discreetly, even as they’ve conferred amongst themselves.

“Are you ready?” Elain asks, and Vassa is grateful for her warm wide-eyed gaze, the certainty that if she said no, Elain would wait a century to put her hands on Vassa.

Instead, she meets those deep brown eyes. She says “yes” loud enough that the words echo in the hall. The decree of a queen. Perhaps the last word she will ever speak as Queen of Scythia.

The Acheron sisters walk toward her, forming a triangle, surrounded by the wards and runes which gild the floor. Steps away, Lucien watches, his body taut, poised to strike.

With an indrawn breath, Elain reaches for her, and Vassa surrenders.

&

&

&

The pain rips and tears at Vassa, holding her in its grip with fire and stinging bolts of power, elements that are beyond this earth, beyond anything that she has ever experienced. The sensation is so overwhelming that she cannot tell whether she is screaming or whether her eyes are open, whether she fights it or is frozen to the spot. All she can do is will herself to breathe, to continue on through this vortex that rips her apart, steadily and then all at once. She can only hope that she still clings to Elain’s hands, the gentle press of her fingers that invited this apocalypse.

Suddenly, everything around her is thick darkness, a starless sky. She tries to move her hands, her legs, but there is nothing to move.

The pain is gone, and so is every other part of herself.

She thought that she would be lonely or frightened, but the absence of pain is such a welcome gift that Vassa finds herself enjoying the darkness, reveling in the sensation of nothing. She had not realized how much the curse had taken from her, day after day, until, now, left with nothing, she feels abundant.

There is a softening of the darkness. A hint of white light, a flickering of a silver flame. The barest whiff of jasmine. Then, brightening the darkness is a thread of gold, dazzling to Vassa’s vision. She feels the warmth of it gather her awareness into a central point, a caress against her skin that smells of citrus and sandalwood and the ozone scent after a lightning strike, a scent she knows better than her own.

The sound of a chord being plucked on a harp, a shimmering golden light, and the three Archeron sisters stand before her. On one side of the triangle, Nesta wears the mask of the Dread Trove, holds the harp in her hands. On the other side, Feyre holds out her palms to reveal a concentrated beam of white light, from which a rainbow emerges, thick with raw magic. And around Elain, in the center, there is a pillar of light that encircles her sisters. A small bone cupped in her palm, around which the light spills.

Behind her, formed from that first cord of golden light, Lucien appears.

Vassa does not know if this magic will work, or if this is a hallucination in the realm of the dead, but she will never stop being grateful for this one last look at him, illuminated in the golden light which smooths the worry from his face, only shows the working of his mind as he beholds her.

Although Vassa can feel the boundaries of herself, demarcated by the golden cord, she cannot move, cannot feel the air of this place against her skin, or suck air into her lungs.

Still, there is such hope in Lucien’s face.

I will come back to you, she thinks.

The words echo in this realm, a peal of bells.

Elain turns her head toward Lucien, a smile on her face, and her magic flares brighter.

Feyre extends her hands, and the white light becomes a rainbow that enters Vassa with a surge of power. She is pure possibility, a thousand eyes and hands, every magic that has ever existed.

Then she feels the pull of the golden cords, and the roar of possibility becomes a song inside her, a melody that is beautiful and haunting, a firebird queen ripped from her country, trapped by a lake until she was rescued by creatures she’d never known before, who became her best and dearest friends. Who showed her that she could become something else entirely. That she did not have to be the Queen of Scythia or the cursed firebird, but only Vassa, this small form in a dark expanse.

A peace that is nurtured by beauty, she thinks, the words cascading through the darkness, and now Elain grins directly at her, her warm eyes illuminated by the light of her power.

Nesta raises her hands, twists her wrists as she forms two fists.

As if she is daring the darkness to claim Vassa.

Then she opens her fists with a sudden gesture, and light explodes in the darkness.

Two bolts of silver flame fly towards her, landing in the center of her being.

She can feel her heart begin to beat, warmth spread through her body.

Her gasp of breath does not echo but sounds in the expanse.

This body, the collection of her self, feels so like and unlike the way she felt in those days when she was first made Queen of Scythia. So sure and capable, bursting with energy and promise. And yet she has never felt this vital, this at peace. The heart that beats in her chest could mark this same rhythm for a thousand years. She does not need to see her reflection, the arched ears or some new faerie grace, to know that the transformation has taken place. She feels the change in her veins, rushing through her, making her into a Vassa wholly like and unlike the human queen who existed only moments before.

She extends her arm, and a wind rises in a great gust, and the world is an intermingling of light and darkness, nowhere and everywhere at once.

&

&

&

When Vassa opens her eyes, she sees the ceiling of the great hall of the Spring Court, and then Lucien’s eyes, one filled with tears, and the other, his golden eye, constantly moving, as if it cannot believe that she is here before him.

“Did it work?” she asks, and instantly knows the answer. Her voice sounds different to her ears, more musical, as if in speech she can find only the most pleasing tones.

“You sent us back with your own power,” he tells her, his fingers tracing her face, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I should have known you would only come out of this stronger.”

“You’ll have to train me,” she says, trying her imperious voice, gladdened when it sounds more forceful than ever, though its effect on Lucien is unchanged. He rolls his eyes, can’t manage to hide his smile.

“Anything you require, Your Majesty.”

She doubts it will be so simple, but she allows him to inspect her without complaint, cup her shoulders and study her toes, run his hands up her silken skirts to the knee, cup her ankles with his long fingers. Now she can hear the slight hitch in his breath, smell a musk from his skin that might signal desire.

There is no pain at his touch, only pleasure and comfort. A wanting that coils below her belly. Whatever magic has been kindled inside her today, nothing about her feelings for Lucien has changed. Still, the space in the circle of his arms feels more like home than any place she’s ever known.

Even Scythia.

She does not know what to do with this knowledge, which seems more overwhelming than this new version of myself. Instead, she casts her eyes around the room.

Around her, the world is more vibrant than she’s ever seen it with human eyes, as if she were given the vision of the firebird while being allowed to remain inside her own mind. She studies Lucien’s hair, the endless variations of gold and red, until he pulls it from her fingers, apologizing with a kiss.

When she turns her head to look at this new landscape, Elain’s gown catches her attention. The floral embroidery is a jewel box of color and texture.

“Of course Lucien does a tiny amount of work and gets all the credit,” Nesta grumbles to Feyre, low enough that Vassa’s human ears wouldn’t have heard the remark.

“I can give you a thank you kiss if you’d like, Nesta,” she retorts from the floor, her arms still around Lucien’s neck. “I won’t forget who started my heart.”

As if summoned, the three sisters gather around her, Feyre with soft inquiries about how she feels and promises to help with her training, Nesta’s stern features quickly giving way to a brilliant smile, glad and triumphant, and Elain’s eyes passing over her wonderingly. When she reaches to squeeze Vassa’s shoulder, she hesitates for a moment, and so Vassa takes her hand in her own fingers, holding so tight to Elain that she can feel the bones below the skin and muscle, the pulse of each of their hearts.

“You remembered,” Elain says, her eyes bright with tears. She’s remembering the phrase Vassa summoned in the darkness, intoned by a thousand bells.

“It’s the legacy of the person who saved me.” Vassa does not tell her, might never be able to express, the way that phrase had strengthened her during her second captivity, when even the thought of Lucien was too painful. “Do you know how strong you are?”

Elain leans forward and wraps her arms around Vassa, so tight that Vassa can feel her friend’s tears as they fall against her neck.

“You are going to be the most excellent queen, but before you go back to Scythia, I’m going to take you to every world,” Elain whispers. “Lucien is going to be so jealous.”

“Lucien can use his tethering spell,” the male in question says, his voice full of longsuffering.

“Only if he behaves himself,” Vassa says, and then, even though she said nothing particularly funny, she and Elain can’t stop laughing, and then her sisters join in, and finally even Lucien begins to laugh, and though by now the night has swallowed Prythian, around Vassa there is nothing but light.

[theladyofdeath]

Lord of Night and Darkness. {Chapter 2}

Day 18194 The day she willingly entered hell.

I thought my eyes had deceived me. I thought I was hallucinating. It would not be the first time since I met her on Calanmai that I thought she was standing before me.

But she was there.

Being dragged by that damned Attor before Amarantha was the human girl. I wanted to curse her name, scream at her for coming here. I knew her name was not Clare, I knew she had given me false information. I already felt terrible for sacrificing an innocent human, but it was all for nothing the moment she was dragged before the Queen of Disaster.

I was trying to keep her safe. I was trying to save her.

Bile rose in my throat as the girl took in Clare���s body, stripped naked and nailed to the wall.

I glanced at Tam as she was pushed to her knees before Amarantha’s throne. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. I entered his mind, and it was utter chaos. He didn’t know she was coming. He had sent her home. He had told her to go back to the other side of the wall. He tried to protect her, too.

He didn’t think she would survive Amarantha.

From the look on my mistress’ face, I knew she was going to try her best to see that through. Although, she kept her word. She was going to give the human a chance.

She was going to give her a chance to free us all.

Three tests in three months’ time. Judging from the laughter that echoed from Amarantha’s court, no one expected her to survive the first.

Judging from how easily the Attor threw her to the ground moments before, I couldn’t say I blamed them.

I lied awake all last night, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she was doing in her cell. She is not mine to worry for, but I could not help myself. She was in pain. She was scared. She was probably thinking about Tamlin of all people.

Tamlin. How unworthy is he to be the one loved by this courageous mortal? He is nothing more than a coward. He is nothing more than a demon in the flesh. How he earned the love of her will always confuse me. He must have manipulated her in one way or another.

Then again, without her love for him, we wouldn’t stand a chance at freedom.

I wouldn’t stand a chance at going home.

This morning, Amarantha summoned her once more. She called me out, asking me questions about who the human girl was. I tried to hide what I knew, not that I knew much. I wanted it to end, I prayed to whomever was listening that my lies were accurate, that my face showed no emotion.

Then she called Beron’s son forward. Lucien. I admire Lucien for many reasons, but I could never figure out why he chose Tamlin. Although, I suppose even Tam is a better alternative than his father. 

Lucien’s brothers mocked him as he approached Amarantha, Eris laughing the loudest. The prick.

The girl wouldn’t share her name, and Amarantha was getting desperate. She called upon my powers, my curse. I was gentle with Lucien, with his mind. It frightened him, though. I could tell. I could feel it. To him I was the monster that most of Prythian saw when they took in the High Lord of the Night Court.

It scared her, too, because she screamed out one word.

Her name.

“Feyre!”

My head swiveled to where she sat on her knees. Pure fear radiating off her at what I was doing to Lucien. 

When she spoke, I felt the truth of it in my soul.

“My name is Feyre.”

On the inside, I mourned for her, the piece of herself she had to give up so her friend could live. I felt dirty. I felt shame.

On the outside, I grinned. I was a monster. I am a monster.

I am Amarantha’s monster in which she controls like a marionette. I am a powerless puppet while she is the ultimate puppeteer.

Amarantha tucked Feyre’s name in her mental torture file, and the glee she got from the small milestone of defeat, and continued with their agreement.

The riddle.

There are those who seek me a lifetime but never we meet,

And those I kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet.

At times I seem to favor the clever and the fair,

But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare.

By large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet,

But scorned, I became a difficult beast to defeat.

For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,

When I kill, I do it slow.

Amarantha said it again, and again, and again, and Feyre looked more confused each time. I wanted to scream out the answer, or even just a small hint.

I wouldn’t, though. I can’t. It would damn us all.

She was dragged back to her cell, confused, frustrated. Defeated. An emotion passed through me that I hadn’t felt in decades: the need to comfort her, to embrace her, to make her laugh.

The need to make her feel as if she were not alone.

Feyre. Her name is a breath of fresh air, a sense of security in this dark and dingy realm.

I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for who you think I am. I’m sorry for this charade, for the things I have to do. But know they are all in good faith. Know that I am this person because it is the only way my family, my people, the people I love, can be safe.

Three tests. One riddle.

One mortal to save us all.

She cannot do it alone. She needs my help. She is strong, though, and brave, kind, honest. She can do it, I believe that much.

I vow to help in whatever way I can. I vow to keep her spirits up, to keep her mind focused on what she’s fighting for. What we’re all fighting for.

Feyre. An innocent goddess trapped in hell. Our only hope.

Let me help you, Feyre. Let me help you.

I think you all know where the next chapter will be picking up. I have so many feels while rereading this book....I hope you liked it. Let me know what you think!

 @callmeladytypewriter @illyrianswingspan @skarpetkamroku @iwouldtrusthagridwithmylife @kortanna @illyrianshadowhunter

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates of any of my fics via my ask box. :)

[moiraineswife]

Just something for your consideration because I have just thought of this and think it's adorable... Elain, giving Lucien flowers

It IS adorable aier;toienoac okay okay have some more thoughts in return that this Spawned: (listen i’m fully aware that u were probably just ‘wouldn’t it be nice if Elain handed Lucien a little bunch of flowers one day, that’d be sweet, but like GO BIG OR GO HOME MEABHD. and u sent this to me i honestly don’t know what else u were expecting...) 

Elain says at the end of ACOWAR that she wants to fill the world with more gardens. No doubt she makes the one she’s started in Velaris spread and enthusiastically throws herself into it after the war. It’s a place that she’s comfortable and a place that’s hers so Lucien, being tactful and polite, probably chooses to court her there more often. 

He lets her talk endlessly about the flowers that she’s growing there, all the different seeds, the things that will grow in Prythian that she’d never even heard of in the mortal realms (she scolds his people for that because dammit, if I’d known about this before I’d have come here much sooner. And Lucien offers her a very grave apology on behalf of all fae-dom which makes her giggle) 

Lucien literally lived in the Court of Flowers for the past 300 years or something, right, and he spent an inordinate amount of time riding the rails, on border patrol, etc, etc. The boy knows his plants, okay. And he’s probably delighted to have someone as enthusiastic as he is to share that with. (Listen, Lucien spent his free time in the Autumn Court camping out miles away from his home and learning how to catch trout with his bare hands - he loves the outdoors just as much as Elain, who spent all her time wherever they were carving out a garden, does. Elain spreads life wherever she goes and Lucien basks in it. This is a beautiful point of bonding for them). 

Lucien tells her all about the Spring Court. It was toxic and unhealthy for him in Tamlin’s court and Elain gets very grumpy about the abuse that he suffered at Tamlin’s hands (and starts to encourage Lucien to look and think about Tamlin’s treatment of him too) but the court itself was beautiful. He tells her about the deep forests. About the plants that would bloom all year round. The gardens of the manor and the wild, untamed beauty found in the heart of the court. 

Partly he talks to share this wonder with Elain the only way he knows how. He would take her there but with his relationship with Tamlin being what it is that isn’t possible...But he knows that he needs to tell her everything he can about it. Elain laps it all up and so he starts sharing things from the Autumn Court as well, diving into memories he thought he’d long forgotten because that court, too, had its beauty. 

As he talks Elain starts to realise that this is for her benefit that he’s sharing these things, to see her smile and light up in wonder imagining all of the things he’s telling her about...But she also starts to sense a pang of longing and nostalgia in him and she realises that a part of him is homesick for these parts of those courts he once called home. 

Elain hatches a cunning plan. 

Using that sweet, diplomatic charm she cultivated in human high society she charms merchants and vendors from other courts into getting her what she needs and sets to work. 

There’s a corner of her garden that she keeps fenced off and made such ferocious threats to Cassian when he tried to peek inside that he swears of all the Archeron sisters, he fears Elain the most. No-one is allowed to go to the part of the garden but especially not Lucien, it’s kept so secret from him that he doesn’t even know it exists. 

Not until Elain comes to him one day, bursting with excitement and glowing so brightly people start questioning which one of them, exactly, is the heir to Day. She takes Lucien by the hand and quite firmly ignores his baffled babbling as she ties a blindfold over his eyes and leads him outside. She just tells him to trust her and Lucien shuts his mouth and obeys and that’s that. 

She leads him out into the garden (Lucien stumbling a few times because, well, Elain is very excited and enthusiastic and that tends to dull her noticing things like loose stones and protruding roots, all of which poor Lucien trips over) but they manage to make it to this special little corner relatively intact. 

Quivering with anticipation Elain takes off Lucien’s blindfold (standing on her toes and having him bend down a little while she curses him for being so damn tall) and waits with baited breath for his reaction as she stares around at what she’s created for. A little part of her garden is a miniature Spring Court, with a small section of Autumn too, both of them filled with all of Lucien’s favourite plants and flowers, that she spent a great deal of time researching to make sure she got it just right. 

Lucien steps forwards on slightly trembling legs and moves deeper into the garden. It feels like he’s home, at last, like this strange, alien court that spent so long as the subject of his most twisted nightmares, could some day be his. Elain tentatively follows him and murmurs that she knew he was missing home and she thought this might help but if he doesn’t like it...

Never in all his many, many years of life has Lucien ever been this lost for words. After a very long moment and several tries, instinct and training kick in at last and he’s finally able to wheeze that he loves it, he loves it and that no-one...No-one has ever done anything like this for him before.

 That little line he’s learning to love creases between Elain’s brows at that and she says that they should have done...Then she softens and smiles and murmurs quietly that she supposes she just has a lot of making up to do, in that case. 

Lucien walks towards her and pulls her to him and tells her that he would very, very much like to kiss her right now, if that would be agreeable to her. Elain giggles and informs him that she didn’t very well go to all this effort for the simple pleasure of watching him gape at her like a fish, she thinks he should most definitely kiss her, after all her hard work. 

Lucien doesn’t need to be told twice. He laughs at her boldness, even as she blushes for him, and wonders if this woman, this soft heart who just might be the strongest person he’s ever known, will ever stop surprising him. 

He concludes, as she, impatient with his overly-polite dilly-dallying, takes his face firmly between her hands and draws him down to kiss her, that she most certainly will not. And he’s absolutely fine with that. 

Once he’s spent a good long time properly appreciating Elain and all her hard work and their lips are red and swollen from said appreciation, he lets her lead him around the garden. 

She shows him every single plant she’s brought here and lets him talk, tell her silly little facts about them, how that one is good to put on burns and that one should absolutely not, under any circumstances and no matter how much gold she’s offered, ever be drunk as a tea. 

She tells him how much trouble she had getting hold of that and he tells her he’s not surprised, that it almost died out a few decades ago and he can’t believe she managed to get it to grow at all. Elain swells with pride and Lucien appreciates her some more. 

He laughs and laughs and laughs over a small, insignificant looking little plant and tells her about the memories that it brings back from Spring, when things were better, a lifetime ago. Then he asks about her favourites, of the new ones that she’s found here and they bond and Lucien appreciates her a great deal. 

Lucien, ever the graceful courtier, plucks up a delicate blue rose and tucks it into her hair. And then nothing will do but that Elain has to weave an entire bouquet into Lucien’s hair. They lie in the shade of a tree while she does this, Elain’s legs folded into a (highly unladylike, as Lucien teasingly comments and gets a swat on the arm in return) basket, Lucien’s head in her lap. As she works she confesses, giggling and blushing, that she’s been wanting to play with his hair for a very long time. Lucien smiles and tells her she’s welcome to do this as often as she wishes. Elain leans down and kisses him upside down. 

Lucien refuses to take off his flower crown and proudly wears it to the family dinner the Circle have that night at the House of Wind. During which, Feyre smiles knowingly at them and just smiles some more when Elain sidles over to thank her for helping her find out what flowers Lucien likes.