#tamlin week day 1

[achaotichuman]

Kidnapped by the Faery Queen

TAMLIN WEEK IS HERE AND I AM HAPPY

This is for Day 1- Prompt: Human Tamlin.

For this one, I decided on writing an AU where Tamlin and Feyre's roles are reversed, Tamlin is the human mortal and Feyre is the High Lady.

This fic is mostly Tamlin making dumb decisions and feylin fluff at the end as well as banter between Tamlin & Lucien & Feyre! It focuses mostly on Tamlin's first impressions of the SC and the gang. It doesn't follow the canon events of what led Feyre to Tamlin because idk I wanted to write this instead.

You can read on Ao3, or below the cut!

There was something thundering in his chest, urging him faster and faster and faster. Rocketing through the woods. Passing by trees bending at the trunk like they might keel over. An archway created overhead that dappled the silvery light of the moon. Splashes across the snow like pearls of light. It was clear above, not a cloud to remove the paleness of the mood from the world. 

It was dark and cold, and never-ending snow, but he had to run. He had to feel the crunch of grass blades hidden underneath blankets of undisturbed white. He had to feel his muscles ache and burn with warmth as the chill of the air caused his face to flush. Heart racing, an owl cried overhead, its song breaking through the silence of the air. Cutting through like a sewing needle piercing intricate strings of fabric. 

He only looked up momentarily to see the flutter of soft wings darting from a tree branch through the air, before the animal was long gone from sight. He quickened his pace. Until he must have been a blur in between the tree trunks. Running with shadows, in the darkest parts of the woods. Deeper and deeper to the heart, he must have looked to be a part of the forest itself. Some indiscernible creature running as if for its life. A spooked deer, a bird flying low to the ground. A lost spirit running through the inbetween of the realms. 

Something inhuman and ghastly. Something that children would see from the corner of their eyes and quickly grab their mother’s skirts whilst pointing in between the trees. Only to find the shadow they had seen was long gone. 

Eventually he was forced to stop. Legs burning so much the fire seemed to consume his muscles. It was a miracle he was still standing as he hunched over and panted, hands on his knees, heart thundering behind his ribs. Breath fogging in the chilled air. Strands of his golden blond hair fell around his face. Quickly he brushed them behind his hood once more. The rough wool of his gloves harsh on his sensitive, flushed face. 

Taking a slow step forward, Tamlin looked through the treelines. Adjusting his thick coat before pulling the bow strapped around him off his back, and drawing an arrow. Instincts telling him he was a fool, an idiot for coming so far out at this time. But he had to get away. The wind that pummelled against the frail glass of his shared bedroom window called to him. Singing his name like a prayer falling from a devout believer. He was helpless but to strap on his weapons, excitedly gathering his gear. Only sparing a second thought to quickly shut the window, lest he wake his older brothers who laid soundly asleep. 

But now as he looked around at the dark woods, he realised how stupid he was to come out here tonight. In the cold, where he had nothing but the footprints he made to track his way back home. Even that could quickly be eliminated by more snowfall. 

There was a sudden noise from behind him, the sound of a crunch, like a foot on a stick. 

Tamlin whipped around, drawing his arrow. Heart racing and preparing to duck for cover. 

“Oh.” He whispered into the soft night. 

A stag stared at him curiously. It’s beady black eyes shining in the pale light. The majestic antlers gracing its head stuck out in so many twining directions. It had one foot lifted above a broken twig. So still and watching. 

Tamlin kept the arrow drawn. Never wavering and never lowering. His body stiller than a slingshot pulled back, ready to be fired. Like his muscles were elastic and stretched to the limit. 

Then the stag…

Just turned its head, moving its feet finally, crushing the snow below it as it leisurely strolled back into the woods. Into the darkness and out of sight. 

Tamlin’s eyes rolled as he lowered his bow, huffing. Puffs of white clouded in front of his face and he stomped the snow, digging into it until he saw blades of icy green, black in the little light. He must be truly going insane. 

Lost to the sensations of cold nighttime, he left the cottage in favour of running blindly into a dangerous woods, where wolves lurked about in the dark hours of morning. He was stupid beyond comprehension. His mother must have dropped him as a child, because there was in no way that a normal person thought the wind called for them. 

Unless.. 

Tamlin snapped up his bow again as a growl vibrated through the woods. Travelling through the air like claws reaching out. It echoed, as another growl joined it, followed by a third and a fourth. 

They emerged from the darkness. With fur a dark grey that glimmered in the silvery light. Teether bared and eyes stoking flames. Four powerful wolves circled him slowly. 

Tamlin was frozen in place. Muscles locked up as his body went into fight or flight mode. In a moment of utter terror, mind replaced entirely with fear. He ran. 

It was a terrible decision, as then the wolves pounced. 

Tamlin tried to duck down, screaming. Hoping someone equally as stupid as him had come out here during the night, hopefully with an axe or a mace. A large claw descended on him, and Tamlin screamed again as it slashed his abdomen. Blood poured from his stomach. Soaking his clothes. The four were on him, a pile of raw flesh for the taking. There was nothing he could do as he felt teeth sink into his arm, preparing to pierce flesh. 

Then a roar more powerful than any of the snarling wolves shattered the night sky. 

The large furred heads of the wolves jutted up, ears falling back, completely flat. The roar echoed again, similar to a snarled warning. They began to whimper and whine. 

Then it appeared, and Tamlin felt all the blood drain from his face, nearly fainting on the spot. 

Its fur completely white, with black spots covering its hide. Eyes yellow and gleaming. A jaw full of bone white teeth. Scraping black claws across the snow as it prowled forward. Snarling once more. 

The wolves barked and whined, and fled. Leaving Tamlin a heap of bloodied human meat. He almost wished the wolves had finished him off, so he wouldn't be faced with the hulking beast walking slowly to him. Its pace taunting, knowing he had no way to get away from it. If he ran, it would catch him. There was no possible route that allowed his mortal legs to outrun this powerful creature. 

Soon it was looming above him. Tamlin’s neck ached as he stretched his head up to keep eye contact with the creature. It cocked its head in an almost human manner, as if pondering something. 

Only one thought ran through his head, and it just made the situation all the more terrifying. 

This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae. This is a Fae.

It was undeniable. The creature was not mortal. It moved too gracefully. Was too pristine. Too big to be any kind of naturally occurring animal. This was a monster from the depths of the Faery lands. And it had crossed the border into these woods. 

Horror coursed through his body as Tamlin thought that the calling from the wind was the Faery creature, he truly ran right into a trap. 

“Please.” He begged weakly. Blood was rushing too quickly from his wounds. Splattering crimson across the pure white snow. A pattern of scarlet red. Something wet and horrible dripped down his face and Tamlin realised he was crying as he was faced with the terrible creature above him. 

But it simply watched, making his fear grow, cold pressed into his body, as the wolves had torn his clothes and revealed skin to the freezing cold. For a moment Tamlin wondered if the monster would let him die first before feasting on his flesh. Faery cruelty. Maybe he would die from pure fear before the bleeding out could take him. 

Black swirled in and out of his vision. Until his blinking was coming slower and longer. The beast just watched. Tamlin felt coldness spread up his back, neck and head. He had fallen back into the snow, his eyes could see nothing but darkness, silver and yellow eyes. Before they finally closed, tears dripping hot from the corner of his eyes. 

I never said goodbye to anyone, he thought as darkness embraced him. 

When he woke up, pain was spidering through his abdomen and arm. Lingering in his body and refusing to release him. He groaned loudly and shifted, trying to feel anything other than the horrid burning sensations in his skin. As he did, there was a flurry of whispering around him. He jolted almost immediately. Especially as he realised he was not in cold snow, but laying amongst the softest sheets he had ever felt. 

Opening his blurry eyes he tried to take in his surroundings. First he saw a ceiling above him. Pure white, a large golden chandelier hanging in the centre, not lit as sunlight poured in through the large glass pane windows. Casting long shadows through the room. Tamlin tried to sit up, but his body would not part from the stinging pain that consumed him. 

“He is awake, alert the High Lady.” A voice like silk whispered harshly from someone in the room. 

“What?” He croaked out, voice rough from disuse, he grabbed the sheets in his hands, balling them in his fists. He was squirming as he tried to sit up. 

“Hush child, you are safe.” That same silk voice murmured, now closer. 

Tamlin managed to crane his neck to the side and there he saw the source of the voice. 

He screamed. 

Jumping up from the bed, the adrenaline briefing ridding him of the burning pain. He sat up quickly and scrambled away from the right side of the bed. As he stared and stared at the creature looking back at him with a sudden, shocked expression. 

Tamlin fell off the side of the bed, onto a soft fluffy mat. He looked around quickly, hearing quick footsteps towards him. He tried to scramble under the bed, just to get away, but she was there again before he could hide. 

“You…” His voice left him as he stared, and wondered if his sudden outburst would anger the undoubtedly Faery creature standing before him. 

He swallowed hard, tears wetting his eyes, but he blinked them away the best he could. Trying to reach for anything that could be used as a weapon. 

Instead, however, of being offended, the woman- or whatever she was- simply put a hand on her hip. Tilting her head to the side, causing wiry brown hair to fall down the side of her shoulder. Her bark-skinned shoulder. 

Her skin looked rough to touch. Textured with some knots like in a trunk. As if carved from wood. Though her eyes were filled with life. She raised an eyebrow, causing the texture of her skin to shift as she did. 

“I will not hurt you, human.” She said, gently but firmly. Like a mother coaxing a child to come to her.

Tamlin swallowed again, then managed to stammer out, “Why should I believe you, Faery?”

He spat the word with venom. Faeries were creatures that hunted, killed and tortured innocent humans for stupid crimes that could not be considered as such. Like walking into Faery rings, or accidentally getting involved with Faery deals. 

She sighed heavily, chest rising and falling. Holding out a hand, she said, “Call me Alis, child.”

“Alis?” He repeated. Then cursed himself, he shouldn’t so much as speak to the creature before him. Yet he continued to stare at her. 

She nodded, hand still held out, as if offering it. Tamlin bared his teeth and huddled further away, curling in on himself. 

Her head shook and her length of hair shook with it. Turning away from the human man. She went for the door. Opening it up, Tamlin heard the sounds of shouting, crashing and swearing. He flinched hard and ducked further away from the door. Alis sighed lightly, then looked back over at him, “Someone will come soon to prepare you.”

“Prepare me-” Tamlin tried to ask, but before he could, she closed the door. As it clicked shut, Tamlin stared at the bronze handle. Then at the dark oak door itself, before looking around the room. 

It was beautiful, that was for certain. All dark, polished wood, bronze and gold. The sheets of the bed were silk, emerald green and the curtains were sheer. The window closed. 

Finally, on shaking legs, Tamlin stood, grunting as he grabbed the nearby nightstand for support as the burning pain returned in full. Though dulling as the seconds were by. When he touched his stomach where the slash had been, and found not only was he wearing a different set of clothes, but there was a bandage with some kind of salve over his skin. 

Tamlin pulled at the new shirt. It was sleep wear, just a white shirt and soft green pants. He felt his entire body go completely red as he realized someone had undressed and redressed him.

What the fuck was this place? He wrapped his arms around himself, human instincts begging to run and find a place to hide.

Some kind of Faery world. Some kind of place he would no doubt be tortured or hunted for sport. As the stories all liked to go. 

Slowly Tamlin sat down on the soft coverlet. Not quite sure where to go from here. What to do. Alis, if she had even given him her real name, said someone would come prepare him. 

Prepare him for what?

Tamlin’s first thought was he was going to be turned into some kind of stew. His next thought was he would be dragged out for entertainment. Forced to dance on hot coals until he died or something like that. His toes curled and his body shook as terror seized him once more. 

In a wave of energy and the need to get away, Tamlin stumbled for the large and, more importantly, unlocked, window. His bruised fingertips grappled with the frame for a moment before he managed to pull them open. 

But when he looked over the edge, his eyes widened when he saw how far up he was from the ground. Far below him, gardens roamed the grounds. Large and spread out. Dappled with colours of all sorts and looking like chaos incarnate. Spread out like twisting, festering vines, roots and branches. With patches of sweet-smelling flowers hidden in between. 

Tamlin tossed a look back over at the room. And decided a death by falling would be better than whatever the Faeries had in store for him. So with gritted teeth and while silently cursing his own stupidity. Tamlin leaped over the edge, grabbed onto a nearby ivy plant clinging to the wall and swung away from the window sill. 

He swallowed a shout, and quickly found footing in the green netting like plant. Hands burning as he gripped the ivy. He began a quick descent. Even as the branches gave way under his hands, he moved as fast as he could so as to get away before anyone noticed his disappearance. 

A cut, a cussing fit, and three new bruises later. The ivy gave out underneath him and Tamlin thumped to the ground with another hissed curse. Luckily he hadn’t been more than three feet off the ground. 

Groaning quietly as he picked himself off the floor. Tamlin dusted his shirt from the dirt and wiped as much of the mud smeared on his cheek off as possible. Finally he got to his wobbling legs and looked around. 

The gardens looked more like a labyrinth than gardens. Winding around and around, with walls of bushes and large trees bent over like they couldn’t handle standing straight. Moss collected on rocks and stone made pathways through the maze of sweet smelling lands. 

It was Springtime. 

But they had just been in winter. Spring wasn’t for yet another month. 

Another Faery trick. Some kind of magic he wanted no part of. Tamlin snarled at the lily of the valley near him, as if they were directly responsible for him being in Faery territory.

A trick of some sort, to lead him to a trap. Tamlin squeezed his hands into fists and began to walk silently through the gardens. Treading carefully and making absolutely sure he would not break so much as a twig underfoot. His heart thumped behind his rips, rocketing through his body, pulsing in time with each step.

Soon, he turned a corner and was met with a sight more lovely than he had ever seen before. 

A courtyard of some kind. Flowing fountains, and trimmed hedges lined the grounds. He saw the extent of the… mansion he had been taken to. Carved from marble and stone. Detailed carefully and so much larger than any house he had ever seen. Tamlin baulked at the sheer size of the place he was in. Everything seemed so much bigger than him, reducing him to the comparable size of an ant. 

He nearly stumbled back, but was pulled back into where he was and the danger he was in. Tamlin’s mouth pulled into a snarl and he quickly ducked away from the open area, hiding in between bushes and trees and winding through the rest of the gardens. Trying to find some way out of here. 

He found that the grounds were so large and trying to find his way out of them was like being trapped in a maze. As it was he wound up in some kind of small woods. Large tall oaks loomed above him, but he could still smell the pollen behind him, and didn’t know whether he had left the grounds or these woods were still part of the mansion. 

Tamlin ignored the knots twisting tighter and tighter in his stomach as he marched forward in the general direction of South, (or what he hoped was South). He ignored the chill that spread over his skin, making his mind beg to turn back. He kept going further and further and further, until it was looking dark above, maybe that was the thick brush getting thicker and thicker as he went. 

It was nerves he told himself, not real, just flight or fight making him jumpy. 

But as he went further, he could have sworn something like a finger brushed his shoulder. Tamlin leapt away with a shout. Brushing off his clothes like he was trying tog et rid of a bug. His body kept washing over and over with fear so intense it paralysed him. Shaking, stumbling back he scanned the world but saw nothing at all. 

Nothing, it was nothing, just nerves or a bug that had fallen on him. It had to be, there was nothing else out here. 

Still he picked up the pace, going faster and faster and faster until he broke out into a sprint, heading further and further into the dark forest. Running for his life, trying to reach the border, to get back to his family, to his world. Not this place. Anywhere but this terrifying place. 

Then more chills fell down his spine, rolling through his like waves lapping at a sandy shore. Tamlin stumbled but kept running, not turning back, not looking back for a single second. 

Something like a hand reached out, brushing his hair and shoulder, wrapping around his neck. A scream curled in his throat and he grabbed a branch as he ran, tearing it away and keeping it like a sword at his side. Still whatever was behind him started to whisper. Cruel cold words he didn’t understand but knew anyway, threats, promises of eating him alive. 

A roar, a roar that he remembered from the night, however long ago it was, he had been kidnapped. 

It rattled the ground, Tamlin fell to the floor, scraping his knees and elbows, but not caring as the land shuddered. The trees around him seemed to bend to the sound. Whatever had shattered the sky once more had power here and it rippled through the world. 

All at once the whispering ceased, and a shriek of terror and pain ripped through the world. Tamlin hid under a large root and curled in on himself, hiding away, not daring to even breath loud. 

In a second it was over, and silence filled the air once more. But only for a single second, before a low growl tore the ground and footsteps followed, getting closer, and closer, and closer.

He didn’t have many options. None at all really. 

Tamlin clung to the stick he had grabbed, and as a huff of warm air from around the shelter of the root breathed over him. A rush of adrenaline fueled his body. 

Tamlin leapt up from underneath the root, with barely a second to spare he pulled the stick and launched it at the creature with all the might in his body. 

It hit the beast’s jaw with a thud, followed by a roar of pain from the creature as it stumbled back, reeling from the hit. 

Tamlin took no time in pondering how he had just signed his death warrant. Instead he took off through the woods. Rocketing through at lightning speeds, desperately forcing his way through the brush. The beast shouted a battle cry once more as it raced after him. He could hear it pounding behind him on all fours.

He was prey in a trap, little more than game to be hunted. 

Tamlin ran faster and faster and faster-

He smacked into a very hard, very solid form and fell back on the ground. 

Reeling with dizziness. Tamlin forced his way up, thinking he had hit a tree. 

The idea he smacked into a tree was quickly shattered as a sly voice crooned from above him, “Well isn’t this interesting? We were looking for you, little fawn, and here you are running right back to us.”

Tamlin forced his eyes up and his eyes went wide. A tall man grinned wickedly down at him, dark skin gleaming in the sunlight above, red hair spilling down his back and shoulders like waves of scarlet. His face was half covered by a gilded fox-shaped mask. Underneath a scar over his right eye was plain to see, inside the eye socket instead of a normal eyeball, was instead a golden contraption that mimicked his other eye. 

It seemed the tree he had hit was the man’s chest. Tamlin felt himself go very red, then white as he saw the long pointed ears sticking out from in amongst the locks of crimson. 

He scrambled back, but the fox masked man just raised an eyebrow, “Don’t run away again, little fawn, it won’t go well for you.”

Tamlin snarled as he got to his feet and pulled up his stick with him, holding it like a sword, “Get the fuck away from me.”

Little fawn, they were matched in height, granted Tamlin hadn’t eaten a full meal in who knew how long so they weren’t quite matched in build. But Tamlin had never been a man to look down upon. 

Except this creature wasn’t man. Rather Faery creature. 

Tamlin tried not to let his fear show. 

However, the Faery seemed less inclined to toy with him, instead turning his eyes to something behind Tamlin, “Feyre! I found your wayward doe, ran right to me.”

Tamlin went completely still as heavy footsteps thundered behind him. The beast, he had forgotten about the beast. 

Tamlin bared a glance over his shoulder and there it stood. As terrifying and horrible as when he had seen it scare away those wolves from tearing him to shreds. It was so, so much bigger than him. With those glinting yellow eyes that glared down at them. 

Tamlin felt like passing out. But held his ground as he tried to step away, to get away. 

But he hit the Faery behind him again, and quickly reeled away. The fox-masked man cackled, and Tamlin kept looking in between the beast and the Faery.

Caught between a rock and hard place, with no escape.

Shit. 

In a split second, as Tamlin considered just making a break and running for it. There was a sudden glow of gold, a brightness that had Tamlin shielding his eyes, it was gone in a moment, and suddenly he heard quieter steps coming toward him. 

“Yes, yes, an applause for you Lucien.” A snarky voice quipped. 

“I do try,” The fox-masked man, Lucien, said. 

Tamlin, however, did not look at Lucien, supposedly, behind him as his eyes went astronomically wide as he saw who now replaced the form of the beast. 

In the glow, fur had turned to skin and horns had disappeared. Paws were now hands and yellow eyes had turned to blue ones. 

A woman stepped out towards him. In a green tunic with a quiver of arrows on her back, as well as a bow. Her boots thudded against the ground, and her braid of brown hair slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were cold as she walked towards him. Face half hidden, like Lucien, by a mask. This mask however, was gilded gold and shaped like the face of the beast. Her eyes kept glancing at the stick in his hand, a drop of blood welled on her jaw, the small scratch quickly beginning to heal itself.

It seemed Lucien caught quickly on to why the stick was in Tamlin’s hand and why the female Faery had a slight scratch on her jaw a sudden cackle was torn from him, “Oh, the human got you in the jaw, Feyre? Isn’t that something Alis will be dying to hear of.”

“Quiet Lucien,” Feyre, the beast, said, narrowing her eyes in a predatory way. 

“But it’s so much fun to speak.” Lucien said. 

Feyre ignored him as her eyes went back to Tamlin, “You escaped your rooms, how?”

Tamlin snarled, and lifted the stick again like he might try to strike her and run. His mother had driven it into him to never hit girls, but his brothers had driven it into him to give back what people gave him. 

And in this moment, he thought killing a Faery in order to escape a kidnapping sounded pretty even for what they had given him. 

“Feisty eh?” Lucien crooned. 

Feyre let out a slow release of breath through her nose, then her eyes turned back to Lucien, “Take him back to Rosehall, have the servants prepare him for supper.”

So they were going to turn him into stew. 

“Now, little fawn, no need to go so pale, no one will be eating you.” Lucien said as he prowled around to face Tamlin, practically reading the thoughts going through his head. Lucien then looked him up and down slowly before adding, “Not in that regard at least.”

“Don’t be crass.” Feyre chided, waving her hand, “I’ve had enough of hide and go seek, take him back and lock the windows this time.”

“Wait-” Tamlin started, but Lucien just rolled his eyes at Feyre and grabbed his arm. Tamlin tried to reef it away, but all of a sudden he was swept into darkness. 

It felt like he was falling through flames, through dark flames that wouldn't burn him. It only happened for a few seconds before his knees hit wood and he looked around to find himself back in the room he had woken up in. Lucien was standing above him as Tamlin tried to catch his breath after having it stolen from his lungs. 

“Get him dressed… and somewhat clean.” Lucien ordered someone in the room. 

“Yes my lord,” A male voice responded. Tamlin looked up to see a sweet-faced boy with blue skin and fluttering wings. He had long black hair and black eyes. Despite the terrifying Faery features, he seemed gentle and kind. 

“Good, have him ready in fifteen minutes, sundown approaches.” Lucien started to head for the door.

“Stop!” Tamlin shouted, causing the red-head to look back over his shoulder. 

“Where am I?” Tamlin asked, needing to know, to have some idea. 

Lucien gave a small smirk, “Why you’re in Prythian, little fawn, welcome to the Spring Court.”

Without another word, he opened the door and closed it behind him. 

Tamlin looked up at the Faery servant, who smiled gently. 

Tamlin met the gesture with a growl. 

In hindsight, he made the poor man’s life so much harder than it needed to be. But either he expected it, or was used to it, as whenever Tamlin refused to cooperate, it was met with indifference and repetition of whatever order he had been given. Whether that be to take off his shirt, sit still for his hair to be brushed, or to even get into the sweet-smelling bathwater. 

He felt a little like an obstinate toddler, but for the Gods sakes, they had kidnapped him. Who in their right mind thought he, of all the people in the world, would go along with this easily? 

The blue Faery only said they had all night whenever Tamlin sat on the floor and glared at the wall. Tamlin reminded him with a snappy tone that they only had fifteen minutes, his words were met with silence, which only served to anger him further. 

Somehow, through patience and a lot of counting to ten, the blue Faery had him clean and sitting at a vanity, glaring at him through the mirror as his nimble finger braided his unruly blond hair into a long braid. 

“You know I was forced here too.” The blue Faery said. At that Tamlin blinked suddenly. 

“What?”

“I come from another land, another Court. The Court of Summer. I was forced to leave when my village was struck. The bandits that plundered my father’s house killed every living person, but missed me as I escaped through the window with my sister.”

“Oh.” Tamlin said, not really knowing how to react. 

“Mm,” he hummed, “We had not a mark on us. We didn’t know where we were going. Our village was the closest to Spring, we accidently crossed over here, into the Spring Court and had no choice but to go further in, hunger pushed us, and my sister died on the walk through the woods.”

“I…” Tamlin suddenly felt incredibly guilty for the way he had been acting, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I carried her all the way through Spring, until eventually the High Lady found me whilst she was patrolling with sentries. Her majesty, bless her reign, took me in and gave me a job in her household. My sister had a proper burial and I have lived here ever since.”

Tamlin fiddled with his fingers. Watching the Faery behind him as his fingers began to weave daises through the braid, “That must have been… scary.”

“It was, I didn’t like being here at first, even though I was just met with kindness. I snapped at a lot of people and worked as alone as I could. But after long enough I grew to love my new position. And I am thankful to the Lady for rescuing me.”

“That’s… that’s good.”

He smiled into the mirror, “Did you have any family?”

Did, as if they were dead, gone, as if he would never see them again. 

He supposed he wouldn’t. Not now that he is here. 

Not that the family he did have were much of a family. 

“Sort of.” Tamlin mumbled, “My two older brothers and my father.”

He nodded, “I see.”

The Faery looked at him as if he expected Tamlin to continue, when Tamlin just stared back blankly he looked back down at the braid he was making. Tamlin cast his eyes down to his rough fingers, scarred from times he had nicked the skin with arrows. 

“There.” He eventually said, “All ready.”

Tamlin looked at his reflection, and barely recognised it. 

His skin was clean and gleaming with hydration from the obscene amount of creams and oils the Faery had forcibly rubbed into his body. His hair was for once, untangled and smooth, braided nicely with some curls peeking out. His hair was curly from his mother’s side, whilst he had his father’s pale complexion. He inherited the impossible curls from his mother. 

The clothes he wore weren’t stained or torn, rather pressed. A white shirt and green waistcoat with golden detailing. Brown trousers, with shiny dark brown, leather shoes. All of it worth more than his brothers would say he was worth. Though his brothers liked to say if they sold him for two marks, someone would bargain for lower. 

“It's time to go.” The blue Faery said, waving him up from the vanity. This time, Tamlin stood with no complaints, which the Faery seemed to be pleased with. 

“What’s your name?” Tamlin found himself asking. Mentally slapping himself. 

“Tain.” He replied, “Yours?”

“Tamlin.” Tamlin murmured. 

“A pleasure to serve you, Tamlin.” Tain said, bowing his head. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Tain.” Tamlin replied, awkwardly bowing his head, not quite sure what to do. 

Tain quickly took him to leave the room. Opening the creaking door Tamlin saw the glorious extent of the interior of the manor. 

It was all gilded and polished and glowing. Large windows with sunlight flooding the halls. Paintings filled the walls. And the white and black chequered tiles in the hallways were covered by handmade, intricate rugs. 

It was all so expensive looking Tamlin found himself open-mouth gawking at it. More than once Tain had to snap at him to close his mouth and move quicker. 

Tamlin obeyed, still reeling a little from Tain’s story. 

It was in no time at all that they were going down a flight of stairs and walking to a room down a hallway, which had the large door wide open, and the sound of two voices arguing flowing from it. 

“You didn’t think to lock the window!” A woman shouted. 

“I didn’t think a human could scale down four stories!” A man shot back. 

“I told you to take precautions-” The woman started to reply before she cut herself off. 

Tamlin and Tain rounded the corner into the room, and Tamlin found himself staring at the two who had caught him earlier. 

Feyre, the beast who had kidnapped him and scared him two ways to death, was sitting at the head of the table. Wearing a gold and green tunic with trousers similar to his own, only more tailored. Her hair, instead of in a braid, was flowing down in waves over her back, with a ring of gold around her head. She leaned her cheek against her head as she looked from Tamlin to Lucien. Her fingers tapping her mask. 

Lucienn was standing behind the seat on Feyre’s right. His eye clicked as he looked over Tamlin. Wearing a blue, fitted tunic and black pants. Rings covering his fingers, and his hair braided back. He regarded Tamlin with a grin, “Tain you work magic once again.”

“Thank you my lord.” Tain bowed low at the waist. 

“Thank you Tain, you may retire.” Feyre said. 

“Thank you, my High Lady.” Tain said, still bowing. After a second, he stood straight and left the room. 

High Lady. Tamlin whipped his eyes back to Feyre, who regarded him with a look of boredom. 

So this was the High Lady, the mistress of this house. 

Of this… Court. 

Lucien slunk down into his seat, not seeming to need confirmation from his Lady. He crossed one leg over the other, and tapped his finger against the arm of his chair, he looked over at Feyre and half-discreetly cleared his throat. 

Feyre shot him a withering glare before looking back at Tamlin, leaning back in her chair and she looked him up and down, “You didn’t manage to escape again.”

Lucien cleared his throat again, louder this time. Tamlin scrutinised him with big green eyes. Feyre glared at him. 

The High Lady, or whatever she was, turned back to him, “What was your name?”

Lucien’s eye roll was made audible by the clicking of his eye. Feyre’s eye twitched rapidly. 

“Why should I tell you that?” Tamlin spat with venom on his tongue. 

“Because if you don’t this is going to be a lot harder for you.” Feyre snarled at him. 

“My Lady.” Lucien murmured in warning. 

Feyre let out something between a sigh and a hiss, “My name is Feyre, his is Lucien.” She said as she jutted a fork towards Lucien. 

“I gathered.” Tamlin said deadpan. 

“You know our names, so I must know yours.” Feyre said, “So?”

Tamlin wondered if that was some kind of Faery bargain exchange, he considered not answering but the look of growing frustration on Feyre’s face told him to just say it, there wasn’t much he would be able to hide for long if he was to be some sort of slave here.

“Tamlin.” He said, “My name is Tamlin.”

“Like the ballad?” Lucien asked, “The Ballad of Tam Lin?”

“Exactly like the Ballad of Tam Lin.” Tamlin watched Lucien from the corner of his eye. 

“Something your mother liked then.” Feyre murmured as she watched Tamlin. 

Tamlin furrowed his brow, “What?”

Feyre shrugged, “I am assuming your father didn’t come up with the name, so your mother did, meaning she liked the Ballad of Tam Lin.”

Tamlin swallowed, “It was her favourite.”

Feyre hummed in acknowledgment, and from the corner of his eye Tamlin saw Lucien give something like an encouraging nod. 

The High Lady sighed quietly and jutted her head to the seat at her left, as she dug her fork and knife into the plate of steaming food before her, “Sit.”

Tamlin remained standing, after a minute passed, Feyre looked up at him through her eyebrows, “Sit.” She commanded again. 

Tamlin crossed his arms and met her scowl with obstinance. 

Unlike Tain, Feyre did not care for his antics, nor cared for patience. 

Something that felt like invisible hands grabbed him, even when he screamed and thrashed, they didn’t relent, pulling him to sit in that seat, then tying him to the chair with invisible ropes. He struggled and pulled and kicked but Feyre just went back to eating. Only Lucien made a slow head turn to Feyre with a look of barely concealed anger. She just shrugged the red-heads expression off. 

“Let me go!” Tamlin shouted. 

“Eat.” She ordered.

��I refuse.” He said. 

“Then starve.” She hissed, “Either way you are not moving.”

“I believe what the High Lady means.” Lucien cut in, “Is that you have to eat eventually, so please would you eat what has been prepared.”

“That isn’t exactly what I meant.” Feyre mumbled through a mouthful of thick steak. 

Even through his stubbornness, Tamlin felt his stomach growling with hunger, he hadn’t eaten anything other than stale crackers and some boiled potatoes in two months. And what he ate before that was little more than tomato soups and salted meat. 

Magic took the plate before him, lifting it with invisible hands and filling it with the meat, vegetables, breads and fruits from the feast before him, before setting it down before him. 

Tamlin stared at the dinner, and his mind went back to what could be happening back in the cottage. 

Remembering the inventory of their kitchen, there were a few boxes of crackers left and some jars of preserved vegetables he had managed to convince his brothers not to eat until the dead of winter, when they would undoubtedly get snowed in and be unable to hunt for any meat. 

Those jars would be gone in a matter of days without Tamlin to mediate his hungry brothers from taking them. Neither had ever cared for long-term survival, not since they fell into poverty. 

“Eat.” The High lady ordered again. 

Tamlin scowled, but when he tugged his right hand, it was released. He took up a fork and began to stab at a roasted carrot. 

“Does the carrot owe you money, Tamlin?” Lucien asked with a laugh in his voice. 

Tamlin shot him a frightful glare and the laughing from his eyes fell away into annoyance, he looked at Feyre and mumbled, “God really did make two of em.”

“Shut your two-faced mouth, Lucien.” Feyre said as she too stabbed at her vegetables. 

Tamlin breathed something of a laugh, at which both of their heads shot up to stare at him. 

The almost laugh was strangled in a second as he growled low again and shoved the mutilated carrot in his mouth. 

Feyre snarled something softly at Lucien and he just grinned at Tamlin, taking a fork and elegantly piercing a potato. 

“So, Tamlin, you wandered to our side, where were you before that?” The fox like Faery asked with a sly look in his eyes. Tamlin didn’t trust it for a second. 

“Why would I tell you that?” He nearly spat. 

Lucien shrugged, “Making conversation.”

“Enough, Lucien.” Feyre said, “We don’t need to listen to your quibbling while we’re eating.”

“Says the great chatterbox High lady.” Lucien said with an eyeroll. Feyre answered with narrowed eyes and a claw appearing on the edge of her finger. Lucien quietened down but not without mumbling something about ‘dramatics.’

A few minutes past in a tense silence. One that had Tamlin’s muscles coiling tighter and tighter with every passing second. 

Finally all the tension seemed to snap in him and he asked, “Why am I here?”

Both Faeries went still, too still, in a way that Tamlin couldn’t see a flicker of movement, not even in their breathing. It unnerved him and suddenly he wished he hadn’t asked. 

Feyre glanced at Lucien before she ultimately said, “You listened to the singing winds and came to us, but that you are bound to our world.”

The answer made little sense to him. Tamlin found his eyes narrowing even further, “You tricked me.”

Feyre scoffed, “Tricked? The singing winds send out a song every seven years, it isn’t our fault that your kind doesn’t want against our magic playing.” 

***

Sitting at the edge of a brook, Tamlin picked up a smooth, round stone. Briefly running his thumb over the surface. Barely a rough spot on its steel grey top. Casting green eyes over the gentle stream of crystal clear water running in between rocks and over slopes, heading downhill into the forest. He aggressively tossed the rock into the water, watching it splash. Droplets splattered across the sleeve of his white shirt. 

Footsteps echoed behind him, making him jolt slightly, he cast his eyes over his shoulder and saw the form heading for him. 

Her hair was in it’s usual braid, hanging behind her hair. Pretty face carved with lines of exhaustion, her stormy eyes were softer than usual, having a kinder tint to them. Her hands were folded neatly behind her. Wearing brown hunting pants and a green tunic with a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. Her belt was filled with hunting knives, all carved to the handle resembled the bud of a rose. 

Tamlin turned back around, another stupid decision, to turn his back on a Faery creature. But he had so far been here a month and they hadn’t killed him yet. 

Feyre sat down beside him. Spreading one leg out and bending the other up. 

“So.” She started, her voice a gentle hum, though there was an air of awkwardness as she tried to come up with what to say, “how has your day been so far?”

Tamlin threw her a suspicious look, narrowing his eyes as he hesitantly responded, “Fine.”

She nodded, meeting his glare with an almost glare of her own before she seemed to catch herself and turned back to the bubbling brook. 

“You like hunting right?” She asked, seeming to find something to talk about. 

At that he cast her a strange look, “Where did you get that idea?”

She shrugged as she leaned back on the palms of her hands, stretching out both legs, “You had a bow and quiver full of very sharp arrows that day I found you in the woods. You seemed to know how to handle them. Therefore you must hunt.”

He answered the Faery with a shrug of his own, drawing some kind of stick figure in the ground, “I hunt out of necessity.”

She blinked at that, tilting her head in a near animalistic manner. It caused Tamlin’s heart to start thumping against his ribcage, like an animal remembering they were prey in a dog’s kennel. 

“Interesting.” She murmured. A ray of sun peeked through the folds of the leaves above and shone across Feyre’s face. Her freckles seemed to glow in the gold in the air. She lifted her chin up ever so slightly, as if basking in the added warmth on her. 

Tamlin looked away again as his heart kept beating faster and faster. 

***

“You’re kidding.” Tamlin hid his own laugh behind his palm. 

Feyre flopped back into the grass behind her, crushing wildflowers. They framed the back of her glowing, locks of burnt honey hair. She grinned up at him with sparkling eyes, “Nope. I scared that fox so much he grabbed the chandelier.”

“I didn’t think he’d be so easily spooked.” Not at all, though it was a very fun idea to think of Lucien being scared shitless by Feyre appearing out of a closet so suddenly. Tamlin stared down at the Faery woman below him. She held his eyes as her hand lifted off the soft grass. Brushing a golden strand behind his ear. 

“How are you faring here?” She asked in a quieter voice. 

As the months had gone on, Tamlin had found himself getting more and more used to this new world. Coming to a deeper understanding that he wasn’t going home and quickly learning to not mourn that fact. It was nice that he didn’t have to share a bed with his horrible brothers any longer, but the fact that he could not know for certain if his family was fine did eat away at him a little. 

“I am concerned for my family, but I am learning how to live here.” Tamlin revealed, a sliver closer into him. He had been letting her get closer and closer. Feyre hadn’t at first seemed someone to care about what went on in his head, but as the days went on, he found himself more and more drawn into her. 

Feyre gave a small smile, “If it's of any condolences. I did have quite the sum of money sent to them.”

Tamlin’s eyes suddenly snapped down to Feyre once more, “What?”

“After I figured out about your family, and where they were located, I sent them money, a nice house and a carriage. They are well-cared for.”

“How…” How did she find them?

Feyre just winked, “Call it magic.”

“You are…” Tamlin let out a breathless laugh as he lightly smacked her arm. She laughed hard, as she forced herself to sit up. To look over the rolling hills, grazing the edge of the horizon. The sun setting in the distance allowed for oranges, reds, purples and pinks to pain the sky with a thousand different brush strokes. Tamlin watched it all with a cocked head, before he turned to Feyre. What he saw made him blink as he watched her. 

Her eyes were set on the horizon and on the myriad of colours. The sheer amount of diversity in the sky seemed to make her light up. She folded her arms around her knees as she stared off into the distance. Seemingly oblivious to anything or anyone outside of it. 

“I would paint this.” Feyre sighed. 

“You paint?” Tamlin asked, another strange thing he had learned about the Faery. He tucked it away in the deep corner of his mind. 

“Yeah.” Feyre hummed. Before she quickly straightened out and her face went blank. 

“I used to,” She clarified, “then… then a blight came over Prythian and I just haven't had the time for such things anymore.”

“Why don’t you paint now?’ Tamlin asked. 

“Excuse me?” Feyre reacted before Tamlin even realized he had blurted the words out. His stupid tongue revealing his own stupid thoughts. Only to be born with a filter. 

‘I said.” Tamlin started to repeat, “Why don’t you paint right now?”

She blinked again at him, those big eyes boring into him as she studied his frame. 

“Maybe,” A small smile graced her lips, “You think I should?”

“Yes,” Tamlin answered, “I absolutely think you should.”

‘I want you too,’ He was trying to say. ‘I want you too.’

“Okay,” she said, “Okay then.”

With a wave of her hand suddenly a sketchbook appeared as well as a tray of paints and water and brushes. She glanced over at Tamlin's curious eyes as she picked up a brush.

She smiled gently, more gentle than any smile he had seen from her yet, she grabbed a nearby brush and with another flick of her wrist another sketchbook appeared in her hand. Feyre handed it over to him, causing Tamlin to furrow his brows. 

What's this for? He asked.

“For you,” she said with an eye roll to which Tamlin shook his head.

“I don't paint.”

You can try,” Was all she answered with.

Who was he to argue with that?

So he did.

He did paint and he was awful at it, in fact it was a monstrosity that they both laughed at until their stomach hurt. Tamlin let the sketchbook in his hands slip onto the grassy floor, not wanting to look at the horror of pink and blue he had created any longer. He glanced over Feyre's shoulder. Where she was hunched over herself, painting with quick, precise strokes that mesmerized him.

And the work she made, the painting itself... Dear God.

The brush strokes were never ending, and the color blended into the page creating a timeless, seamless picture. Near a replica of the ever-fading sunset before them. Tamlin stared at the picture, the rolling hills and dark trees on the horizon. The buttery sun fading away and giving off a gradient of colors that eventually etched the night sky and the twinkling stars started to spot like the freckles on Feyre's face.

Tamlin awe must have shown on his face for Feyre blushed hard and coughed, “It's not that good but I-”

“Feyre look at my painting then at yours and tell me yours isn’t good again.” He told her, never taking his eyes off the sketch in her hands.

Feyre laughed hard at that, and Tamlin decided something right there and then.

Maybe being kidnapped by a Faery Queen wasn’t all that bad. 

@tamlinweek

[tamlinweek]

Tamlin Week Master List: Day 1

Fanfiction

Ill Met by Moonlight, Chapter 1 (Tamlin/Rhysand's sister) by @fieldofdaisiies (AO3 link)

The enemy of my enemy may possibly be the father of my child (Tamlin/Rhysand) by @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken

Kidnapped by the Faery Queen (Tamlin/Feyre) by @achaotichuman (AO3 link)

Spring's Awakening (Gen Tamlin) by @songofthesibyl (AO3 link)

The Sorcery of Slumbering Secrets (Tamlin/Briar, Tamlin/Rhysand's sister) by @booksnwriting (AO3 link)

The Blessing of Spring (Tamlin/Female OC) by @nocasdatsgay (AO3 link)

Take Me Out (Tamlin/Lucien) by @northern-polaris

Know Me As Yourself (Tamlin/Feyre) by @positivelyruined (AO3 link)

Prythian High Gossip Mill (Tamlin/Cassian) by @duaghterofstories (AO3 link)

A Mother Always Knows (Gen Tamlin) by @goforth-ladymidnight (AO3 link)

Prone to Infatuation (Tamlin/Reader) by @thelov3lybookworm

Wildflowers: The Lost Chapters, Heir of Spring (Gen Tamlin) by @mathiwrites (AO3 link)

no one left to grieve (Tamlin/Rhysand) by @praetorqueenreyna (AO3 link)

To Old Gods (Tamlin/Reader) by @tadpolesonalgae

Princes can play music too! (Gen Tamlin) by @lorcandidlucienwill

The Last Evergreen Heir (Gen Tamlin) by @shi-daisy

Archeron's Anatomy (Tamlin/Feyre, Tamlin/Rhysand) by @mathiwrites (AO3 link)

lev animam, grave caput, Chapter 1 (Gen Tamlin) by @feyres-divorce-lawyer (AO3 link)

The Heir of Spring (Tamlin/Archeron!Reader) by @b0xerdancer-writes

Spring's Stars (Tamlin/Rhysand's sister) by @simmanin (AO3 link)

Fanart

Heir of Spring (Tamlin/Rhysand) by @taymartiart

The scarf scene from A Second Chance (Tamlin/Lucien) by @thrumugnyr

Spring family portrait (Gen Tamlin) by @copypastus

Our favorite Heir of Spring (Gen Tamlin) by @arson-09

Contemplative Tamlin (Gen Tamlin) by @dopeartisanprincess

Miscellaneous

Human Tamlin meme (Gen Tamlin) by @szalonykasztan00

Amarantha's limericks to Tamlin (One-sided Tamlin/Amarantha) by @rin-u-pos

Heir of Spring moodboard (Gen Tamlin) by @sonics-atelier

Chrysanthemums (Gen Tamlin) by @sonics-atelier

Amarantha's curse headcanon (Tamlin/Feyre) by @lorcandidlucienwill

Tamlin and his brothers (Gen Tamlin) by @achaotichuman

[goforth-ladymidnight]

Feylin Week 2024, Day 1: Art and Music

@feylinweek

Headcanon: Feyre paints roses on Tamlin's fiddle just like she painted flowers on her cottage walls.

Source - images taken from Etsy and linked back to the respective owner.

As Feyre notes in canon:

...Our house still bore the marks of it, even if the paint was now fading and chipped: little vines and flowers along the windows and thresholds and edges of things, tiny curls of flame on the stones bordering the hearth. Any spare minutes I’d had that bountiful summer I used to bedeck our house in color, sometimes hiding clever decorations inside drawers, behind the threadbare curtains, underneath the chairs and table. ~ A Court of Thorns and Roses, ch. 2

and later on, Tamlin says:

... "It might take a few days to track them down, but the paint, the brushes, the canvas, and the space are yours. Work wherever you want. This house is too clean, anyway.” ~A Court of Thorns and Roses, ch. 16

While the text isn't clear about the style or materials that Feyre used, it seems to me that she would be more comfortable painting on wood instead of canvas, at least at first. Tole painting is a delightful folk art tradition that uses common household objects as one's "canvas", usually made of wood or tin. I can just see Feyre adding decorative touches to the windowsill in her new little studio to make it feel more like home. Then, when Tamlin comes into her studio to see her paintings, he notices the decorative touches by the window. Rather than being upset that she "defaced" his property, he asks her to paint something on his fiddle, too.

Once she gets over her shock, she, of course, chooses roses. ❤️

[shi-daisy]

Quiet Comfort

Hi everyone! Tamlin Week has begun and I'm very excited! I love our golden boy and while I have full length fic with him (This is a self ad go read A Court of Threads & Daisies 👀) I can't wait to try my hand at making mini fics with our cutie! 💚 Today on the agenda hurt/comfort Tamcien with beastly Tam. Hope you like!

@tamlinweek2023

Tamlin Week 2023- Day 1- Beast/Forbidden

Quiet Comfort (Set 20 years before book 1)

Lucien noticed the tears streaming down Tamlin's wolf like face. The High Lord had remained in his beastly form whenever he felt one of their own fall for the sake of the curse.

He stood up from his desk, laying down on the fluffy carpet beside Tamlin and gently drying his eyes.

Tamlin tried to stop the tears to no avail. He knew this was inevitable but from first to whatever last if they ever managed to see the end of it, he would grieve.

"I'm so tired." Tamlin spoke in a ragged roaring voice in this form. It always cought him off guard.

"Do you want to go to sleep?"

"No, no that's not what I meant." He said, looking at Lucien with his shimmering emerald eyes. "I'm tired of losing them because of the curse."

Ah. That he understood all too well. Almost everyday they'd lose a sentry, and after 30 years everyone was begining to lose hope, them included.

"I know what you mean, it dosen't get any easier."

Lucien found comfort in just looking at his High Lord. The green gaze, the fluffy golden frame, his antlers, even his downcast tail. No matter what form he took, he was always in awe. 'That's not awe you just love him.'

Lucien tried to shake the thought away. They had an unspoken agreement not to dwell on this, they had to break the curse for the sake of the court not mourn a romance that would never bloom again thanks to the blasted spell.

Tamlin looked at him in the same way, as if he could read his thoughts. He was trying, really trying to let go. But how can you let go when you actually found the love of your life?

Amarantha must've known, she must've seen how he would never be hers, how he'd been in love with the seventh Autumn prince since he first met him, how hurting Lucien insited more rage out of him than anything else she'd ever done. Perhaps if he'd been more guarded none of this would've happened...

"It's not your fault." Lucien told him. "She's the monster, not you."

"If I had submitted from the start, then the court wouldn't be in peril. It is my duty to protect them."

"Then who protects you?! Tamlin, you can't seriously think sacrificing yourself for our sake is prefrerable!"

Tamlin just kept looking at Lucien, at his lovely face covered by the fox mask, his golden eye and his russet one, the messy red curls and the soft dark skin. "Your mere presence is protection enough. I can withstand anything if I have you. I could even lived out the rest of my days in this form, without objection, if you're with me."

He should've told him off, he should've refused, or just reminded him that the love they had for eachother was now forbidden. They had to think of the court, they shouldn't be selfish and yet...

Lucien leaned closer, gently kissing Tamlin's lips. He didn't care that the latter was in beast form, or that there might come a day were he couldn't kiss him anymore. For now, all he wanted was to comfort him. "No matter what happens, what form you take, or whatever curses we face, I shall always love you."

"Me too." Tamlin didn't hesitate. Even if he did exactly as the curse entailed, even if he and Lucien ended up with different people, they'd never stop loving eachother in their own way.

Tamlin couldn't kiss him in this form, so he just gave him an affectionate lick. Lucien laughed relishing in the soft affections he missed so much.

The two were already sleepy, driffiting away upon the office floor. They both dozed off in an odd hug, given the size difference when Tamlin was in this form. By morning they'd have to forget, to keep trying to break the curse and forget their ill fated romance.

But for tonight they'd bask in eachothers warmth, and forget that moments like this would come to an end someday.

[b00kdiary]

Could I request Azriel and Plus Size reader where they’re both new to the mate bond and she overheard Azriel and Rhys’ conversation about the “Cauldron being wrong.” She left before she was able to hear Azriel call himself a fool for even believing it for a second, knowing that he’s already kissing the ground his own mate walks on. She starts comparing herself to Elain and then starts lashing out, going to Rita’s every night and avoiding Azriel whenever she sees him.

Cauldron Blessed | Azriel

Azriel (ACOTAR) x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image issues, angst, and eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

'The Cauldron was wrong, so wrong.'

Those words played and replayed in my mind again and again, all day, every day, for the last week.

Wrong.

He said that the Cauldron was wrong- about us, about me.

Me, his mate- wrong.

It had been an accident, me overhearing them that night, a coincidence I had decided to come home early from my girl's night with Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie. Though with the Cauldron, there was no such thing as an accident, no such thing as coincidence.

I'd waded through the House of Wind, tipsy on wine and giggling softly to myself as I banged into the walls, thumping clumsily against the art pieces hanging and tripping over my own two feet. Giddy, I had been giddy, stumbling through the halls in search of him.

Azriel, my mate.

Only a few hours apart and I missed him, yearned for him, I felt the distance as if it spanned miles and the more I drank, the more I craved him. That's all I had been thinking of when I trekked through the empty halls, closer and closer to the lounge- just of my mate.

And that's when I heard it.

"The Cauldron works in mysterious ways," Rhysand's laugh drifted out to me in the corridor, and I came to an unsteady halt at the sound. "Feyre was my salvation; I didn't expect anything good to come to me Under the Mountain."

I smiled to myself, my hand coming to my mouth, shielding any sound that threatened to slip past- Az always teased that my lips loosened when I drank too much. Instead, I lean against the cold wall, warmth filling me as he gushed about my High Lady.

They were Cauldron blessed, that was clear to see.

"I think five hundred years of waiting for her was enough, brother," Cassian snorted, and I heard the faint sound of liquor pouring into a glass, wings rustling as one of the powerful males moved. "I know I never imagined my mate as a twenty-five-year-old human female, with a bite worse than mine."

I bit my lip as Cassian laughed, a loud, bellowing sound, so full of joy, so full of content, the mere memory of Nesta, human and utterly indomitable against him something that still brought him to his knees.

"The Cauldron must have a sense of humour," Rhysand teased, and I could practically envision Cassian rolling his eyes, a vulgar gesture thrown between the two males. "Connecting people in the most unexpected pairs, in the most unexpected ways."

"Like Elain and Lucien," Cass scoffs, loudly chugging back the remnant in his glass, "There's a pair I could never have foreseen, not in a thousand years."

"Proof that the Cauldron isn't always right," Azriel muses for the first time since I arrived, and my body almost croons at the sound- low and rough, moving over me as sure as if it were his hands. "She deserves better than any male friends with Tamlin, that's for sure."

She deserves better.

It was silly I knew, for the mere mention of her, the thought of her to make me feel nauseous, make my smile instantly fade, but I couldn't help it. It was hard for me to see a female as lovely as Elain Archeron and not feel inadequate by comparison.

Another who was blessed, so lovely that she had been gifted her seer abilities by the Cauldron itself as if her beauty and delicate demeanour weren't gift enough.

"Brave words, Az," Rhys whistled, and I had to force myself to blink away the picture-perfect image I had conjured of the middle Archerson sister, forcing myself to focus on their conversation instead. "Openly opposing the Cauldron."

"Brave or stupid?" Cassian counters tauntingly, and I knew he was drunk just from how loud his voice was, practically bouncing off the walls. "You think the Cauldron makes mistakes?"

"I know it does," Azriel challenges and it was that voice, that sure, quiet demeanour that I adored and desired so fiercely. I inch closer to the door, grinning at the idea of popping out and scaring them- but then he says it.

Says the thing that makes me stop dead in my tracks, makes my heart stop dead in my chest.

"Look at me and Y/N," Azriel sighs, and there's no joy, or adoration or yearning in his voice in memory of me, not like Rhys or Cass- no, there's dread. "The Cauldron made us mates... the Cauldron was wrong, so wrong."

There's a loud crack that echoes through the room, and it's that sound, and the feel of sharp debris against my palm, that pulls me from my memories. I blink through the tears, looking down at the crumbling marble sink, the corner pieces breaking off into my hands.

I sob through my teeth at the sight, small cuts leaking stark red blood down my fingers as I bring my hands to my chest. I can't see the looking- glass before me, not through the haze of tears, tears so strong it's as if I were made of them.

As if they had become a part of me.

It was all I had done the past week, cry and cry and cry- and avoid Azriel.

Every morning I skip training and breakfast, feigning fatigue or a full stomach, just so I wouldn't see him there. Each afternoon I'd get lost in the stacks and stacks of books in the library, so vast and endless that Azriel never stood a chance of finding me in the maze.

And at night I'd find solace wherever I could find a drink- Rita's, taverns, the Music Quarter, anywhere. Anywhere but at home, anywhere that I didn't have to see him.

I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the sight of his face, even now the thought of his tilted smile, the beam of his soft hazel eyes, the touch of his scared hands and wild shadows, it made my whole body wrecked with sobs.

I couldn't bear any of it anymore- because none of it was real.

Every smile and touch, every kiss and moment where our bodies joined as one, where he confessed his love and devotion to me, it wasn't real. Azriel thought we were wrong, a mistake, a confusion, just wrong.

My hands shook as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, rougher than necessary, blood-smearing, but I was tired of tears, I was tired of crying, of feeling so unworthy. I was unworthy of him; he was beautiful inside and out and deserved so much better than me.

I sniffed as I lifted my gaze to the looking glass before me, and my heart hurt at the reflection, knowing that this was what Azriel saw, that this was why he knew the Cauldron was wrong. Every curve and roll and inch of flesh that I had, all of it, it was all wrong.

And I hated myself for it.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a step back and then another step, away from the reflection that taunted me, and mocked me, before forcing myself to look away. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat as I moved across the cold floor of my bathing suit, my body desperate for my bed.

And as I step over the door's threshold, and back into my old room in the House of Wind, I know it's not the same as when I had left it ten minutes ago.

He was here.

"Azriel," I gasped, halting at the sight of him- sat on the edge of my bed, his broad shoulders and powerful wings rising sharply at the sound of my voice, those hazel eyes meeting mine and filling with something honeyed and warm. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

He rises from the bed, elegant and still, his shadows dancing around him at the feel of my presence, the scent of my skin, and I shiver as he watches me, keen eyes gracing my stiff figure.

"Y/N," He sounds almost relieved as he says my name and my breath is caught in my lungs as I stay rooted to my spot, and he seems to sense my unease, as he doesn't move any closer to me. "You've been staying here for a week now; I missed you at home."

Home- the apartment we shared in town together, a cosy space that we had made our own.

Another thing I couldn't bear to face.

"I've been catching up with the girls," I say quietly, ripping my eyes from him and walking forward on numb legs. I tug at the hem of my nightshirt, his nightshirt I had stolen, feeling too bare before him and his eyes narrow at the movement. "It's just easier to sleep here when we have plans every day."

As spymaster it was Azriel's job to scrutinise, to observe and I felt every single part of that slot into place as he watched me now, watched as I moved toward the bed. I wasn't looking at him, I couldn't hold his stare- and he couldn't figure out why.

His shadows dance through the room, through the distance between us and I jolt, biting my lip when one brushes against my bare thigh- before scurrying back to Azriel in surprise. He inhales a sharp breath when his shadow whispers to him, telling him that something is wrong, I was wrong.

"I know you've been spending time with the girls," Azriel continues slowly, his voice tentative and soft as I move to the other side of the bed, furthest from where he stood. "I just feel like I haven't seen you at all... I miss you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

A sob threatened to rip from me at the name, so soft, so endearing on his lips and it took everything in me to not fall apart at that moment, to not crumble under the weight of it all. I shake my head, my back turned to him now and he watches as I tug back the duvet, my actions angry now.

"It's only been a week Azriel," I breathe through my clenched teeth, my tone so at odds with his and my body locking tighter at the sound of his impending footsteps. "Sometimes space can be good, it can be eye-opening, show us things we don't want to admit but know deep down."

My words hit him head-on, like a slap across the face- I don't need to see him to know it, I can tell just from the stillness in the room, the silence, so strong that even his shadows have withered.

I clench my eyes at the feeling, at the touch that strokes against my soul, him reaching out to me through the mating bond- and me slamming up every wall I have to keep him away.

"What does that mean?!"

I don't hear him until he's right behind me and when his large hand touches the small of my back, I jolt, stumbling into the bed to get away from it. I turn on shaking legs to face him, and I'm pressed into the mattress to keep the distance.

"What? Y/N-" His face pales, and I see the pain in his eyes, unlike anything I had ever witnessed from him before. It was raw, vulnerable as if five hundred years of existence couldn't hide the hurt, knowing that I had flinched from his touch, flinched from him.

A rejection- something he feared the most.

"Sweetheart, please, I don't understand," He shook his head, his beautiful face twisted into an agonised frown, and his voice trembled, weak, as weak as the hand that now reached for me, shaking as if scared to touch me. "Why won't you let me touch you? Why are you pulling away from me, why-"

He stops, and for a moment I think it's because of the tears steadily leaking down my face, the way my bottom lip trembles with the effort to hold myself together- but it's not. His nose flared, and the hazel in his eyes turned dark, narrowing down upon my hands.

"You're bleeding," He mumbles hoarsely and the pain in my chest triples when his scarred hands inch closer, my eyes fluttering shut the second he touches me, holding my palms in his and examining the small cuts. "What happened, sweetheart-"

"Don't! Don't- don't call me that, don't touch me," I croak out, my voice breaking and Azriel flinches at the cry in my voice, wings rustling when I yank my hands-free from his hold, as if his touch burned me. "Stop pretending, stop making me think you care, just-just stop."

"I don't understand, what do you mean pretending-" He pleads, his voice splintering, and I can see him thrumming with emotion, desperate to reach out to me, to hold me, but trying to respect what I had asked him. "I don't understand, help me understand what I did wrong-"

"I know how you feel about me, a-about us," I sob, my weak hands coming to my face, and I cry into them, so loud that nothing can muffle them, and I feel Azriel's' helplessness down the bond, still reaching for me, "It was cruel, to make me think-to make me think you loved me-"

"I do love you!" He snarls and my eyes snap open when I feel the familiar roughness of his hands against my wet cheeks, his grip unrelenting and needing as he draws me to him- and I don't have the strength to fight him. "Of course, I love you, why would you say that?"

His thumbs brush away the tears that won't stop leaking from my cheeks and somehow my fingers have found purchase in the material of his shirt, nails digging desperately, clutching him as tightly as he held me.

"You said it was wrong," I whisper, the words slurring in my throat, and I force my heavy eyes to his, force myself to look into those teary hazel eyes and confront him, with the burden I had been carrying alone this whole time. "You said that we were wrong, that the Cauldron was wrong."

His forehead creases, lines forming between the thick, dark brows as he peers down at me, and his hands don't release me, if anything they draw me closer.

And I see the moment realisation hits him, like ice-cold water seeping through his veins.

"I heard you talking to Rhys and Cass, you said we were proof," I gasp, feeling his shadows curl and wreath around my wrists and fingers, as if afraid to let go, as if trying to comfort me as I sniff. "You said we were proof that the Cauldron could be wrong, so wrong."

"I didn't mean you, Y/N, I would never mean you," He beseeches, his breath caressing my face, my lips and his eyes are so intense, so vibrant that I can't look away, "I didn't mean you, I meant me, I'm wrong!"

I suck in a harsh breath at his outburst and I feel it then- the self-deprecation, the vulnerability, the fear, it was all aimed at himself, it was all about him.

The silence stretches on as we stare at each other and my face must hold every ounce of my surprise and confusion, because he sighs, his forehead resting against mine. I see his wings sag behind him, as if defeated.

"I don't know how much you heard but I did not mean that the Cauldron was wrong to pair you with me," He mutters, his words unsteady, and my eyes flutter shut at his words, "I meant that the Cauldron was wrong to pair me with you- the Cauldron has blessed me but forsaken you."

"Azriel-" I gasped, and it was now my hand that lifted between us, my hand that cupped his stubbled cheek, forcing his eyes to mine. "That's not true, I'm not forsaken, I'm blessed, I'm Cauldron-blessed, Mother-blessed to have you-"

"Y/N you deserve the world, the sun and the moon and the stars," Azriel's voice breaks, a sob gurgling in his throat as he nestles against my palm, now wet with his tears. "I have spent five hundred years being unworthy of anything, and now that I have you, I will spend the next five hundred being unworthy of you."

He felt unworthy of me, he thought that he did not deserve me.

"Don't say that don't- you've given me the world and more," I shake my head, forcing every inch of surety and strength into my voice, "I love you, so much, so much that the thought of you thinking we were wrong, it killed me Az, because you're all I need."

He shakes his head against my hold, but his hands slip down my back, down my waist and to my hips and thighs, fingers digging into my flesh, holding onto my meat for leverage and pressing my soft body against his firm one for dear life.

"Not once did I ever think you were the problem, I thought it was me," His brow furrows deeper at my words, and I see the denial in his eyes, in his face, "I see a male who is beautiful inside and out, who is powerful and skilled, who has been a saviour to this Court in so many ways and I can't come close, I can't ever be equal to that Az."

"Y/N, no-" He growls, nails carving crescent moons into my flesh.

"I'm not a warrior like Nesta or a ruler like Feyre," I continue, and I open up the walls I erected to keep him out from my soul and mind, letting the mating bond flow freely again- to let him see all I had thought these few days. "I'm not beautiful like Elain... I'm not enough."

"You are everything," He hisses, and I can feel his overwhelming pain as sure as if it were my own as he graces over my feelings and thoughts- as he takes in every disgusting, horrific thing I had thought about myself, about my body. "You are everything and more to me, Y/N."

Power flashes through his eyes and then his head ducks toward me, capturing my lips in his.

Time seems to slow when his lips meet mine in a gentle collision, the kind of impact that steals the breath from my lungs, the kind I can't get enough of. Azriel grumbles at the taste of wine on my mouth, his tongue lapping at mine as if devouring the sweetness.

"Azriel," I sigh, like putty in his capable hands, and like always, he's skilled with how he handles my body, so easily turning us so my legs hit the mattress, my body weightless as he lifts me to sit on the edge.

"I have seen you navigate politics and arrogant High Lords in a way that has us all on our knees," He mutters against my lips, and I croon at the feel of his hands languishing up my thighs and hips, squeezing the flesh, his eyes dark with desire now.

His nose brushes against my cheek, so bare, as he kisses and trails his tongue along my jaw, moving down my neck and I can't do anything but moan softly as he lies me flat on my back, his powerful body towering over me, covering me wholly.

"I have seen you cut down soldiers triple your size as if they were little more than weeds in a field," His canines scrape against the racing pule-point at my neck and my eyes flutter, neck exposing for him and back arching when his hand cups my breast over my shirt.

He settles between my thighs, and he groans when his hard length brushes my wet core, the smell of arousal heavy in the air, the kind of stimulation that made us both dizzy with need. I arch my hips up to meet him, needing to feel something, anything from him.

"And I have seen males and females alike marvel at your beauty, at your body, desiring to see you without a scrap of clothing on," Azriel's voice turns furious, dark, as if the mere thought of someone else seeing me naked made him violent, honed to kill.

"Az, please," I mewl, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the muscles ripple under my touch, his shadows in a frenzy, caressing and dancing and wreathing around my body, feeding off every moan that escaped me. "I need you Az, please."

He presses long, wet kisses against my jugular and I sigh in relief when I feel his body shift, hips lifting and the sound of a belt clinking as he unhooks his slacks, freeing his hard length from within.

"I love you, sweetheart," His head lifts, face tight with sincerity and I can feel the thumping of his heart against mine, those intense eyes capturing me wholly. "I love all of you, I love all that you are-"

"Body," His fingers hook into my underwear, and I gasp as he tugs the wet material to the side, fingers brushing my clit.

"Mind," Our sounds meld as he rubs the tip of his cock against me, parting my folds, spreading my arousal from my entrance to my clit, and his breathing deepens as I whimper.

"And soul." He pushes into my entrance, stretching me just from the tip and automatically, my thighs clamp around his hips and my back arches at the feeling of him.

"I love you, Y/N," He pushes in until his long, thick length hits my cervix and my cunt is stretched thoroughly, throbbing around him. I trace my hands up his arms, nails scratching along every muscle, every strong, lean plane of him.

"I love you too, Azriel," I whisper back, and when my eyes flutter open, I see him above me and I know that nothing else, no one else could feel this right.

He doesn't move, merely staring down at me, his eyes burning like embers- feeling the thought as intensely as I did.

The Cauldron was right, so right.

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

[copypastus]

Poly+ ACOTAR Week - Day 1 Beginnings (Lucien/Tamlin/Feyre) @polyacotarweek

With how often Lucien was around for their dates in book 1, I really thought we were heading towards a happy throuple or at least a threesome.

[acotarxreader]

Shadow and Flame pt. 1

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: Azriel is down bad in his feelings for Elain when a new female crosses his path. The job of the Shadowsinger is to know all and yet you evade his knowledge.

Warnings: angstish, Lucien being silly

A/N: Hello. This is my first time writing a fanfic for this series. I hope you like it ✨

Part Two

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

“Whilst we wait for Lucien, let's play a game. Fuck, Mate, Kill, High Lords edition, our own brother excluded of course. I mean there's days I want to do all to him”

“Ugh Cass” Nesta recoiled at her own mates idea of a bar game, the group laughing. 

“Hardly fair to Feyre when she's done or almost done those to more than two already” Rhys growled at Mors joking tone, the table continuing its howling. Rita's music swelled around the booth of the best friends, lightheartedness well and truly arriving once again to the group. 

“Az you go first”

“I politely decline Cass” protests followed his words 

“Leave poor forlorn Az alone”

“I am not forlorn Amren” the Shadowsinger tried his best to not grit out the words.

“I would consider pining after Elain to be pretty forlorn” Amren gestured with her head to the middle Archeron sister making her way  back to the booth balancing a tray of drinks.

“Stop saying that word” this time Azriel couldn't hide his annoyance.

“-Right well anyways, I think we'd all kill Tamlin -” the group hummed in agreement to Cass as Azriels mind disengaged from the conversation. 

Was that how he'd been feeling? Had the feelings of creeping crawling rising abandonment at the hands of his brothers for their mates affected him more than he thought? Why couldn't he have what they had with Elain? It made sense to him, but why didn't it make sense to the Mother? He shook this from his head as he frequently did. Elain joined the table once again, passing around the drinks. 

Azriel tore his eyes from her movements and landed them on the crowd of dancing Velaris residents, when a new figure approaching the bar top had his eyes transfixed.

He watched the female dip between the crowd so masterfully as if she was made of the same shadows that rested peaceful around him. She effortlessly passed the dancing Fae in candlelight.

“Earth to Az” Cass’ hand waved in front of his hazel eyes pulling Azriel back to the booth for a moment to sweep away his brother's paw. His eyes darted back to the room to find the female gone again. 

“What is it Lassie, Timmy stuck down the well?”

“What does that even mean Cass?” Azriel couldn't ignore the bizarre statement.

“I'm not sure, I read it in a human book once”

“I didn't know you could read” Cass feigned hurt at Feyres comment, the table of friends laughing. 

“Up until about last week you definitely couldn't Feyre” 

“Uncalled for!” Freye laughed hard at Cass’ comeback.

“Anyways, what is it Az….Az?” Cass found the seat next to him empty, the Shadowsinger long mingled into the crowd.

You reached the bar top skillfully, your hand reaching up and retrieving a drink ordered by someone else and dipping back to your side before the bartender noticed. You gave a small smile into the tumbler of icy brown liquor as you turned back into the room, ready to push back off. Your gaze immediately caught the Shadowsingers eyes as he leaned on the back wall watching you. He simply raised an eyebrow with a small smirk. You sighed lowly, replacing the drink back on the bar top next to a tea light candle without removing your eyes from Azriels. You narrowed your eyes at him, the crowd dancing and swirling across your sightline. Azriel finally blinked and found you gone from the spot when his eyes flickered back open. 

You crossed the threshold of Rita's into the streets, a little startled someone had seen you, a new occurrence. 

“You don't care for another drink?” The males voice stopped you in your tracks at the mouth of the adjacent alley. You curled your hands into small fists and exhaled out. Caught. You had been caught.

“Don't go shy on me now” you slowly span on your heel to face the male. Azriel felt his breath hitch slightly at the sight of you in the firelit street lights. He felt a bit dazzled by your beauty, piercing copper eyes previously inhibited by the dim and smoky light of Rita's. 

“Can I help you Azriel?

“How do you know me?” He couldn't hide the hint of surprise in his voice. You closed your eyes gently, sighing deeply at your foolish slip up before opening them again. 

“I don't”

“Why don't I believe that? Who are you?”

“If I told you that, I'd have to kill you” you gave a small smile, angling your head gently, tempting him to step in closer to your magnetic eyes. 

“I'd like to see you try”

“That can be arranged Shadowsinger” he scoffed at your cocky tone. You turned back to face the alley, quickly dipping down it but not fast enough. Azriel flashed before you, sidestepping you to where your back met the cold brick of the alley. 

“I asked your name” he stepped in close to you, your eyes looking to the exit to the side of him, only to have his wings open slightly to trap you inwards. You sighed, looking up through your eyelashes to find his eyes fixated downwards on you. 

“I'm not anyone important”

“Nonsense, every resident of Velaris is important“

“And who said I was a resident of Velaris?” you couldn't hide your smugness from him as he seemed to scan your face further, checking it again the rolodex of Fae in his mind to find a gap in knowledge. 

His shadows leapt around him in alarm at being caught out with a stranger. A true stranger. Who were you? Shadows crossed his face to try to relay information and when they settled again you were gone from in front of him. 

His wings dropped, his head turning uncharacteristically frantically from side to side only to now find you across the street. You gave a small wave with just your finger tips with a small gloating laugh before running down and into the winding streets of Velaris. Azriel moved to follow you only to crash right into Lucien.

“Are you never not in my way?!” Azriel couldn't help but bark at the emissary.

“Hello Azriel, how are you? I'm good thanks for asking? Yes I do forgive you for walking into me, of course I-”

“Just leave it” Azriel signed, ducking around him to run to cross the street. It was no good, you were gone he thought, but how? And who? 

*************

“Az stop pacing, you're not helping the hangover” Cassian ran his hands down his green tinged face, regretting going as hard as he had the night previous. Lucien giving a small laugh to the Illyrian, picking himself up from the sofa to head to the kitchen for tea.

“I have no idea who she was and that's my job. How could I not know who she was?”

“I'm not sure Az but Cass is right, please sit down, you're giving us all motion sickness” Rhysand joined the group in the sitting room of the town house, a soothing tincture for Feyre in his hands. She smiled up lovingly at her mates gesture, more pangs of jealousy passed through Azriel. 

“Let me see into your mind Az, I'll draw her, maybe one of us knows her” Azriel weighed up Feyres offer. He hated letting them behind his shields but he needed to know who you were. He thought of your face in the candle light again, did he want to share you with the world? He weighed up the options before agreeing, Mor having already retrieved a scrap of paper and a pencil for Feyre. 

The group gathered around the sketch of you freshly drawn. One by one group shook their heads, unsure of the Fae in front of them, sending Azriels heart sinking again. 

Lucien strolled back into the sitting room, tea tray in hand. The crash of the tray had the group's startled reaction landing on the Emissary. 

“Oh my Gods seriously! My head” Cassian groaned, covering his face with a throw pillow. Lucien took almost erratic steps over the broken china towards the drawing, snatching it from the knee height table and gathering it into his chest. The group now entirely addled by his reaction.

“Lucien?” Feyre was the first to break the quizzical silence. 

“Nothing! This is no one!” Lucien's skillful way with words was now long gone.

“Who is that?” Rhysand and Azriel almost asked in unison.

“It's no one I said! Leave it! I have to go, sorry for the mess!” He darted for the hallway, Azriel hot on his heels. 

“Lucien, who is that? What do you know?” The Shadowsingers sharp tone tried to stop Lucien in his tracks.

“It's no one, you didn't see her, forget it, stay away from her”

“Which is it, stay away from her or I didn't see her?” this silenced the Prince of Foxes. 

“I have to go!” His panicked tone was betraying him. Azriel went to catch him harshly, Lucien winnowing out avoiding capture leaving Azriel once again confused and alone

*****************

Part Two

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 1

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: I just got this request and I absolutely LOVE it. I have no idea how many parts it will be because it's really parking my imagination. Please feel free to leave a comment! Hearing your guy's feedback is what motivates me to write!

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SA

Word count: 2765

(all photos are from pinterest)

It was like being born, even though I was the ripe age of 435. Well, ripe in the years of fae. It felt like being born, in the sense that I can’t really remember what came before that passing shade of violet. The way his eyes bore into me, and in that moment I knew he felt the tug too. 

Mates. 

I reeled for days, the peonies of spring my only console, my brother had always been so absent minded and utterly consumed with being High Lord. How could the cauldron be so cruel? To mate me to the High Lord of the Night. I spent the next week thinking it had to be a mistake, that my bored mind was playing tricks on me. Yet when the council met the week following, his eyes found me immediately, and I think in that moment I saw him for the very first time. 

I didn’t dare approach him, far too shy and afraid to approach the Lord of Night. Not just  because of what he was, but because of what my brother would say. By basic necessity Tamilin was a good brother, he doted upon me, kept me safe, gave me free roam of the palace. But there was a darkness about him I couldn’t place. It started when he disappeared with our father one night only to come back with two sets of Illyrian wings. I knew whatever happened was wrong, but as a woman in the spring court, I knew better than to open my mouth. Needless to say, Tamlin became High Lord of Spring shortly after, and from the wings mounted on our family walls I knew we had but one enemy, the night court. 

It wasn’t until the third council meeting (the third I was allowed to attend, after I begged my brother to let me go) that the High Lord of Night finally sought me out. 

My brother was busying himself with the politics of Day and Summer, talking the heads off of Helion and Tarquin. I kept to the shadows naturally, avoiding any untoward advances from other High Lords. I tried to stay hidden in my pocket of introvertedness, but then I felt him, and my skin buzzed, like it needed to be touched, to be held.

“You felt it too right?” he purred into the shell of my ear causing the buzzing of my skin to become electric.  

“I did,” I admit pathetically. 

“And you feel it now too,” he whispers as I finally turn to face him. The violet of his eyes pierce my soul and I’m left speechless and unable to move from their gaze. He’s otherworldly, he’s everything, and he’s also completely forbidden. 

“Do you?” I ask, hoping that whatever answer he gives can validate the fire in my bones. 

“I do,” he muses like he loves the game. “Your brother killed my family. He is my sworn enemy and I should hate you.” he breathes. I can feel his resolve slipping along with mine, for every statement he makes I can make an opposing one, “but all I want to do is kiss you right now.” he finishes. 

Fire runs through my veins as a sharp breath passes my lips. I feel my brother's presence and I evade myself from the High Lord of Night’s cage. My brother whisks me off to the Spring Court once more, but not before I glance back one last time to see that shade of violet I had already learned to look for in a crowd. 

That was a week ago. 

I stand in the foyer of the castle with my brother and Lucien as we prepare to join the council once again this week. 

“You look ravishing as always,” Lucien muses, eyes wandering me like they’re hungry. 

“It’s not often my brother lets me out of the house, I have to make a good impression somehow,” I say backhandedly. All I get in return is a sideways glance from Tamiln as we are taken to court. Today the meeting  resides in Tarquins’s court. It changes once a week to allow all High Lord’s to have the upper hand. The sea salted mist hits my face and the warm rays of the sun tan my skin as we walk into the council. 

When we arrive he’s already there. He stands out amongst the rest, not just because he’s dressed in black, but because he’s the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen. The definition of a forbidden fruit. As if to tempt me, Tamilin unknowingly  sits directly across from the High Lord of Night making it so I can’t lift my head without meeting the violet of his eyes. If you had asked me to recall the events the council discussed, I couldn’t, the only word left on my tongue was Night. Talk of tithes and power checks drifted over my head. The only thing to rouse me from my trance was the scraping of wooden chairs across marble floors, signaling that the council meeting had adjourned and that the more foundational political talks of High Lords would begin. 

I took it as my queue to step out onto one of the many terraces of the Summer Court. The room where the council was held was stifling. I thought that the breeze of the ocean might cool my skin, but no matter where I went that deafening heat followed.  

“I was hoping I would see you again,” purred a voice from behind me. 

I turned to find that piercing violet once more. “Of course why wouldn’t I be at the council meetings?” I ask, trying to act like I won’t be replaying this conversation in my mind when I return to bed tonight. 

“You’ve only been to four council meetings now, and your brother has a habit of keeping you locked up in the Spring Court.” he trails, drawing closer to the railing of which I’m leaning upon. 

“Well I intend to be at all of them from here on out,” I state.

“Any particular reason why?” he asks with a playful tone in his voice and I know what he’s insinuating. 

“Because I wish to be a part of the governing of my court, even though I am just a woman,” I say, evading his innuendo. 

“That’s a shame if you were part of my court you wouldn’t have such phrases like ‘just a woman’” he states almost as if he’s upset with the phrase. 

“I highly doubt that, women aren’t equals in any court,” I scoff. 

“What about Kallias and Viviane?” he asks. 

“What about them?” 

“Kallias sees Viviane as his equal, she is his mate and his High Lady,” he explains, stepping even closer to me, close enough that my skin starts to buzz again. 

“Viviane is special, everyone knows that,” I justify. 

“And you’re not?” he muses and my skin goes from buzzing to electrifying in three words. I feel his fingertips grazing my hand as if asking for permission. 

“My Lord we can’t do this,” I breathe out. 

“Call me Rhysand,” he says, stepping even closer. 

I step to the side, avoiding his advances, “My Lord, I won’t do this, I can’t do this.” I affirm. 

I see him bristle from my reluctance to call him by his name, “You’ll give into the idea of us. When you’re lying in that cold bed high up in the spring court thinking of all the ways I could warm it for you. When you’ve spent the week with nothing but this conversation on your mind,” he leans down to whisper in my ear. “This time next week you will beg for me to touch you, and I’ll happily oblige, mate.”

I’m so taken aback by his words that I can’t even form a quick witted response, I simply slid away and tried my best not to look back at him as I felt his gaze pierce my back. I nearly slam into Viviane and Kallias. 

“Y/n are you alright?” Viviane asks. 

“Yes, just feeling the heat of the summer court,” I lie, fanning my face. 

“Then you should come home with us today, it’s been so long since we had a girls night. I wish for your company." She smiles while taking my hand. 

“Shall we go home sister?” Tamilin appears, Lucien in tow. 

“Actually I think I’ll spend the night in the winter court with Viviane, she’s right,” I look at her and smile. “We haven’t had a girls night in quite a long time.”  

“Very well, I won’t get in the way of your sinful gossiping,” Tamilin smiles and leads Lucien away with him. 

If the summer court is sea salt and sun, then the winter court is pine and fresh fallen snow. Though they are opposites in every way, they are stunning in their own right, like all courts are. I’ve been here many times before to sit and talk with Viviane, she’s one of the only other ladies of nobility my age and a fierce friend. It’s not uncommon for me to spend a couple days here in the winter court, with Viviane and Kallias. 

I sit among a bed of furs near a warm fire adjacent to Viviane as Kallias pours both me and his mate a glass of red wine. 

“Thank you dear,” she smiles, kissing him on the cheek before he leaves us to gossip. 

“You and Kallias really are a perfect match,” I beam and Vivianane knows me well enough to know that there's a sadness there. 

“You’ll find it too someday, your mate. I know you will,” she assures me. “Now tell me, what of Lucien?” 

I roll my eyes taking a sip of my wine, “He’s still insufferable. The other day he backed me into a wall and if one of my ladies maids hadn’t walked in I swore he would’ve had his way with me.” 

She lets out an airy laugh, “I still can’t believe Tamiln allows him to play with you like that. He’s so fiercely protective of you with everyone else.” she says, taking a sip of her own wine. 

“Lucien is his best friend, he wouldn’t deny him anything, even his little sister.” I point out. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she smirks. The night is filled with goblets of wine and laughter as we continue to talk about the high lords of Prythian. We even go as far as to talk about her and Kallais’ sex lives, to which Kallias promptly came in laughing taking his wife to bed. 

I trudge down the hall to the bedroom the High Lord and Lady had set aside just for me a few years ago. I fall into the plush mattress, the world slightly spinning around me. The second I am left alone with my thoughts I recall the feeling of Rhysand’s breath on my neck and I shiver. 

The room spins and I feel my skin grow hot with need, my heart beats faster and my  head is drunk with that shade of violet. My hand subconsciously drifts down my body. 

You’re drunk? A voice cuts through my head. 

I sit up right and look around the room. The only thing I find is the flickering of the fireplace against the walls. 

The same voice chuckles and speaks again, No I am not in the room with you my mate.

“How are you doing this?” I ask in my head.

The daemati gift, and of course, I am your mate. The High Lord croons. 

“Get out of my head” I grumble. 

But you called for me, I can feel your… excitement.

“Then you're mistaken,” I hiss.

We both know that’s not true darling. 

“Goodnight,” I groan, rolling over to go to bed.

Goodnight, darling

The following days are long. Despite my better wishes there is a part of me that yearns to see the High Lord of Night again. I waltz through the spring court, picking flowers for the dinner table and evading Lucien’s advances. At night I find myself obsessively reading the romance novels I keep beside my bed. On one night in particular a certain scene in my book makes my toes curl and my thighs clench. My fingers skim the pages and the roughness of them is almost heightened. 

My my my, what a dirty book. That voice croons into my mind.

“Get out of my head,” I gripe. 

I can’t help myself when I feel your body react as it does. He purrs. 

“How on earth can you ‘feel’ my body?” I roll my eyes.

Like this. 

A tug reverberates through my body. Like there’s a string in the pit of my stomach that he just pulled. The sensation causes me to lose a breath as further arousal goes to my legs. He lets out a dark chuckle. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” I order him

But you loved it so much, He purrs and I can practically feel him smirking in my head. 

“You’re an insufferable bastard High Lord,” I growl at his persistence. 

Call me Rhysand. 

“I see no reason to drop informalities, my lord.” I quip back. 

My name will fall from your lips one day, and when it does I’ll be sure to swallow it with my own. Until then, I’ll leave you with this. Goodnight darling. 

I feel another tug at the bond reverberating through me and I nearly let out a moan at the feeling. I snuggle into my sheets that suddenly feel as if they are constricting around my body. I toss and turn and try to push all thoughts from my mind, but I can’t stop the idea of the High Lord's lips on mine. His night black hair in my hands, the way his moans might fall from those lips.

The next morning I take my breakfast in one of the lounge areas, still reeling from last night. My thoughts still wander to the image of his face, and how his eyes light me on fire. The door opens and a head of auburn hair pokes in. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t know you were in here,” Lucien says like he has regret, yet he sits down across from me. 

“No worries, I'm almost finished eating,” I reply, placing my tea down and getting ready to get up.. 

“And I secretly hoped to spend some time with you,” he sighs, sinking into the couch. 

“Perhaps later, I wanted to read in the garden,” I stand and make my way towards the door. 

“Perhaps now,” he growls. I feel a cold hand grasp my arm hauling me into the wall. 

“Lucien,” I hiss as my back is pressed into the wall, his frame looming over mine. 

“You are such a tease,” he smirks before kissing my neck hungrilly. His hands roam my body pulling me impossibly close. 

“I’ve never once given you any inclination that I wanted you,” I gripe at him. 

“That’s what makes you so desirable my dear,” he practically moans into my neck. 

I gather my strength and push him off of me, “I’ll remind you that I am Tamlin’s little sister and while he favors you his favor only goes so far. One word from me and he’ll send you back to the Autumn Court.” I growl at him, and it seems to be enough as he backs away and leaves me to reel from what just happened in silence. 

I sit down on the couch and take deep breaths to ground myself. 

What’s going on? Are you alright? That voice like glorious night cuts through my mind and I almost feel thankful for how it brings me back to reality. 

“Yes I’m fine,” I say back. 

What happened? I felt your fear through the bond.

“It’s nothing, just Lucien.” I dismiss him. 

Did he touch you? 

I almost swore I heard anger laced in his voice. “Well I am his favorite plaything,” I roll my eyes.

And Tamlin allows him to touch you like this? 

“As long as my virtue isn’t completely compromised so that I am still of value when he inevitably marries me off, yes. He doesn’t care.” I divulge, and quite stupidly I realize. 

As if I needed another reason to hate him.

“He is still my brother, my Lord,” I remind him, though I secretly feel the same. 

Don’t you mean, Rhysand?

“No I don’t, my Lord,” I say, drawing out the last words. 

I’ll see you tomorrow my darling, I relish the idea of seeing you in the golden light of the day court. 

[mcuamerica]

Waiting For You | Eris x Reader

For Eris Week 2024 - Day 1: Bonds | Bargains @erisweekofficial

Summary: Lucien and Tamlin bring Rhys's sister to Eris after Tamlin's brothers almost kill her. Eris finds out who his mate is.

Warnings: mentions of SA (nothing happens), canon level violence, torture, parental death (let me know if I missed anything!)

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears for Eris Week.

Your mother and you were in a small cabin just outside the Illyrian war camp territory, waiting for your brother to show up after his training for the day. You’d spend a week as a family, minus your father, in the cabin. As you admired the river streaming below the small porch, you took in the fresh air. Out in the middle of Illyria, no males to bother you. It was wonderful. 

You let your wings spread out, admiring the way they felt as you took in the cool wind. Only, something was off about it. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked around, knowing Rhys liked to play tricks on you all the time. While you were a fully grown Fae, you were still young and he was still teaching you a lot about being alert. This time, you were too late when your mother started screaming. Not in terror but for you to run.

Instead, you walked right back into the cabin only to see Tamlin’s brother, Xavier, with a dagger to your mother’s throat. Before you knew what was happening, another one, Neo, had one to your throat. “Hmm.. you smell devine… I should like ravishing you before I destroy these.. Precious wings.” He sneered. A cold chill went down your spine at his words. Your wings. Mother, please don’t let them take your wings. 

“You let her go.” Your mother said. A fierce female that wouldn’t let either of her children get hurt if she could help it. You let out a sob as Xavier pressed deeper into her throat. You scented the blood before you saw it draw from her neck. “Do what you want to me, but leave her alone. She’s innocent.” She said. 

“She won’t be for long,” Neo said, a shudder running down your spine as he nipped at your neck. Your magic was still new to you and certainly not as strong as Neo’s. Not to mention, his strength alone could hold you in his restraint for hours. 

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Your mother growled. A female protecting her young, that was all in your mother’s eyes. Suddenly, you had a terrible feeling neither of you would get out of this alive. 

“Oh, we won’t make you watch.” Xavier let out a low laugh. “But you…” His gaze turned towards you just as Neo shoved you into a chair. “You get to watch us gut your oh so loving mother to shreds…” 

“Why?” You asked, doing your best to keep your voice from shaking. “Why are you doing this? Rhys- Rhys is helping you!” You yelled. Too young. You were too young to understand any of this. 

“Rhysand is growing too powerful and close to our dear brother… so we need to show him just how powerless he is. Let’s start with you.” He said, running the dagger along your mother’s arm in a deep cut. 

Once they were tired of your screams, they put a gag in your mouth. And as your mother laid on the floor, blood flowing out of her, you couldn’t bear to watch anymore. But they made you, kept you awake just so you could watch them take her wings. 

The things they did to you next were unspeakable. Carving scars and words into your back, around your wings. Running their rough hands along your wings… your body. The only thing they didn’t do was rape you… but their hands on your body… it was terrible. 

And then they took their swords to your wings, shredding them and eventually peeling them from your back. Slowly. Their magic woke you long enough to view yourself in the mirror. Bruises covered in bright red blood along your once clean skin. Just hours before, your wings were intact and stretched out in the sun.. but now they were in the hands of your tormentors as they sneered. 

“I hope Rhysand sees this message… not that you’ll live long enough to know.” Xavier said, his laugh echoing in your head before delivering the final blow. And then everything was dark. 

Something wasn’t right. Eris could feel it in his gut, something was very very wrong. Someone was hurt… he just didn’t know who. Or why he felt this way. Still, he felt a tug on his heart, and he tugged back. Whatever that tug was needed an answering one. 

He didn’t know what it was until his brother… the one who had vowed to never step foot in the Autumn again, came stumbling in with Tamlin. And a bloody, broken body between them. 

“Xavier and Neo went crazy.” Lucien said. “They- they killed the High Lord of Night’s wife… and this… his daughter.. Rhys’s sister..” His words stumbled. “Eris, she’s barely alive.” 

Lucien looked at his brother, the one who wouldn’t take part in killing his lover. The one who he knew had a compassionate side of him. Begged him to help her. If she died… It was bad enough that the Lady of Night was killed.. But a future heir? The High Lord of Night might start a terrible war. Tamlin and Lucien set you on Eris’s table, both peering at him like deer in faelight. 

“Bring her in… and go find Renae. Quietly. Tamlin.. I suggest you go home and see to your brothers. The High Lord of Night will hear of this soon enough.” Eris ordered. Tamlin, the young prince he was, stumbled out of Eris’s private cabin and winnowed away just as Lucien went to find Eris’s trusted healer. 

“(Y/N)...” He whispered, his magic flowing to heal any wounds. Just as it did… the bond snapped. His eyes widened and he stumbled back, the pain that eddied down the bond was unbearable. How… how were you still alive? 

Eris let out a low growl at the thought of those males touching you. Hurting you. Like this. You were so young… just over 30 years old. And yet… they did this to you. 

He shook his head, stepping up to you again to heal whatever he could with his magic. His wards rang the bell that Renae and Lucien returned, and he sat aside as he waited for Renea to work. 

He told Lucien to go back to the Spring Court, check on Tamlin and not come back. Eris would be in deep shit when Rhys found out where his sister… his wingless sister was taken but he’d be damned if his little brother was caught in the middle of it. 

So, he had a messenger deliver the news to the Court of Nightmares, that the Princess of the Night Court was healing in Autumn, too fragile to travel, and to send an emissary of Night to watch over her. 

Azriel is the one who showed up, almost knocking down the door in the process. Eris growled as Azriel walked up to the table. 

“Step back, boy,” Renae said, looking up from her gaze on you. “If you want her to be healed properly, you will give me space.” She said. 

“We will have our own healers assess her.” He replied. 

“She can’t leave. Moving her here was a mistake enough. Another trip might be fatal.” She stated before getting back to work. 

“Why, Mother above, was she brought here?” Azriel asked, finally moving his gaze towards Eris. 

Eris’s lips were a thin line, hiding the swirling emotions… The pain you were feeling… “The heir of the Spring Court found out about his brothers’ plans. Arrived too late to save the Lady of Night, but found the Princess unconscious. My brother, in aiding his friend, brought her here. Because if either of them stepped foot in the Night Court, they would have died instantly.” Eris explained. 

Azriel let out a low growl, but paused when he heard a whimper come from your lips. 

“I have healed all I can for tonight. She needs rest. Do you have a bed?” She turned to Eris. 

“I will take her,” Azriel said, glaring at Eris as he gently took your broken, bruised, and bloodied body in his arms. Eris focused on restraining himself at the sight of another male touching you when you were hurt. 

“Second door on the right.” Eris ground out. He was shaking by the time he heard the door shut. “Will she survive?” He asked Renae. 

“She will… it will be a long healing process… but she will survive. When she wakes, she will be disorientated. I suggest that Illyrian stay with her, if she knows him well. A familiar, safe face will ease the pain of what she went through.” Before she left, she said she would be back in the morning to check on her, but to get her if anything else happened. 

You woke up screaming from the pain. Of course, it was the one time Azriel stepped away to relieve himself and Eris was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. His room. You were in his bed. Azriel, thank the Mother, had cleaned you of the blood. You had bandages in almost every spot on your body, the brace on your arm and leg a temporary solution until Renae could come to fully set them. 

Your screams… They were terrible. Full of pain, misery, and terror. Relentless horror. 

Eris knelt next to the bed, not daring to touch you in fear he might hurt you more. “(Y/N), you are safe.” He whispered, resisting the urge to cup your cheek. Gods… Your face was still bruised, your nose now slightly crooked from how terribly it was broken. 

Then your sobs started as you tried to move, but the pain must have been too much as your body slackened. Azriel burst through the door, shoving Eris aside as he took his place beside the bed. 

At Azriel’s voice shushing you, you quieted. Your sobs were soft whimpers as your swollen eyes searched for Azriel’s. Or so he thought… until your gaze landed on Eris. 

You couldn’t speak, but the way your eyes slightly widened… The slight tug on the bond he felt… He knew you felt it snap. You knew Eris was your mate. And you couldn’t do a gods damned thing about it. 

It took two weeks for you to be well enough to travel. In those two weeks, Azriel didn’t leave your side. And neither did Eris, no matter how many times Azriel said he wasn’t wanted. 

Azriel didn’t say that again when you corrected him. “I want him here.” You muttered, your voice still hoarse. No matter how much water you drank, the injury to your throat was a burden. “He’s helping me. I want him here.” 

When it was time for you to go back to Velaris, you told Azriel to go outside. Shadows included. You wanted a word with the heir of Autumn alone. So, Az did as he was told and went outside, but kept an eye on you through the window. 

“What can I do to thank you?” You asked, leaning against the cain Renae gave you, since your leg was still healing. 

“Nothing… You don’t have to do anything. I don’t want anything.” He said and shook his head. 

“You’re my mate.” You whispered, searching his eyes. “You have every right to claim me and keep me here.” 

“Do you want that?” He asked, a soft look on his face. 

You bit your lip, eyes glancing to the floor before you looked back at his face. “I will come back to you, Eris.” You said, reaching up your free hand to cup his cheek. “I promise.” You said. “I need… need to heal first.” 

“I’ll be waiting for you.” He said, a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist. “I promise.” 

With that, a tattoo formed around your forearm, and one on his. It was one of flame and shadow, but perfect for the bargain made for mates of Autumn and Night. “Thank you.” You whispered, then gave his cheek a gentle kiss. 

You made your way to Azriel, taking his hand and telling him to not ask about the bargain you just made. You would get enough questions about it from your brother. And all you wanted to do right now was go home… where the new High Lord of the Night Court awaited you… and you needed to say goodbye to your father and mother at their burial sites, since you missed their funerals. 

As you appeared in the Town House in front of your now smaller family, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you would have to wait to see your mate again. Or how long that bargain would last before it pulled you towards him again. What you did know, however, was that you didn’t care how long it would take. You would go back to him again. You would be with your mate. The male who healed you and helped you through the terrors of pain and loss in those initial days, even if they were now a blur in your mind. You would return to him. And he would be waiting.

Eris Masterlist

A/N: This is my first official Eris Week participation! I'm so excited! More to come throughout the week. I think you all will like it!

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Why do some of us not *hate* Tamlin?

I am pro-tamlin, not pro feylin. I would prefer Tamlin to never have to deal with the NC ever again. If SJM never types his name out again I will be happy.

Tw: light mentions to DV, SA, and Divorce.

Feyre is written in a way that makes it feel like she is intentionally manipulating us against Tamlin to justify her leaving him the way she did, and to put Rhysand up on a pedestal.

The abrupt and sloppy way SJM handled Tamlins' character assassination induced my fight or flight. Let me explain:

My parents divorced when I was 4, and I had to learn, quickly, how to interpret people's true intentions and empathize with where they are coming from vs just blindly listening to someones account of what happened. My father got custody of us and would use the same elements against my mom that Feyre uses against Tamlin. I HAVE to read between the lines or I would fall to the intentional manipulation.

"She left me so she probably cheated" "he trapped me in the house" "she has a new boyfriend so she doesn't care about you anymore" "he hit me [when I was actively TRYING to get him to hit me to sway public opinion of him]"

Everytime Feyre left for the NC, she did so kicking and screaming. Every indication Tamlin could see was that she did NOT want to go with Rhys, until he gets a letter from her saying to not come looking for her that she doesn't want to be with him. Tamlin didn't know she could read or write. Had that been my love I would assume it was a ransom note too, written by someone else. Had she actually spent 1 hr winnowing to Tamlin, tell him face to face, then winnow back (with an escort) he MIGHT have gotten the hint.

A tithe was a weird thing to use to show how cruel Tamlin is, considering how 2/3 of the night court live in constant fear, children's bones are broken for misbehaving, the CoN are trapped there. SJM really showed us that she has no political knowledge what so ever. I barely started ACOFAS and when Feyres talking about the unnatural sum of her money, my first thought is "You don't amass that level of wealth without oppressing someone." Lucien said that Tamlin would be expected to hunt down those not able to pay the tithe, but when we get to Tamlins actual actions he just said "get it together in 3 days or pay double next time". In my initial reading, I interpreted it as another mask (like how Rhysand acts). Tamlin does this due to tradition, he is expected to act a certain way, but *I felt* he had no intention of acting out what he said. It was just a line he was expected to say to send the wraith away without others expecting the same.

Feyre and Tamlin were not right for eachother because they were not eachothers mates. People can exist fine separately, and be incredibly toxic together. From page 1 we see Feyres inherent inability to empathize with anyone, she has it bad, she has to hunt, therefore her sisters don't do anything. But she also can't cook, so who was preparing the meat she brought home? It gave me "housework isn't real work" vibes. Feyre also doesn't communicate very well, which would explain why a literal mind reader was able to help her better than Tamlin was. I saw Tamlin trying but not being able to help her because he couldn't read her mind.

Feyre didn't want to be trapped in a manor for a few hours while she was displaying manic behavior, but she condoned her sisters be trapped in the HOW for 6 weeks immediately after losing their lives. She condones the treatment of the people in Hewn city and supports the literal Jim Crow laws placed against them in Velaris when all they wanted was to leave. She condones and supports trapping Nesta in HoW after the war just to force Cassain on her so Feyre can play matchmaker.

Feyre is an inherently self centered sociopath. She can read minds and still can't develop a shred of empathy.

Just leave Tamlin alone. Damn.

[readychilledwine]

Broken

Rhysand x Winter Court OC

A/N- Happy day 3 of my Here's to 100 week! I wanted to give angst a try a few weeks ago, and I am kind of proud, kind of not proud of this piece. I think this is something that could become more, and I've left it open to more, but I don't really know if I want this OC to have a happy ending, or a tragic one. If I add to it, it might be a roll of the dice thing to decide.

Summary - Rhysand is finally home from the Mountain, but he's home with news that shatters Aelia, his wife's world, from under her feet.

Warnings - alludes to a panic attack kind of angsty.

Part Two Part Three

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

This wasn't a conversation Rhysand wanted to have with Aelia.  "It's not your fault," she whispered softly. "It's just the hand you were dealt. I get it." She stood and began to move to walk out of the room. She needed to leave the room. Panic had set into her chest, tears were beginning to form in her eyes. 

"Aelia," he strained out. "Please."

His heart was breaking as she dropped her hand from the door and looked up. He watched her hand run through her hair again. The snow blonde curls were a mess from her hands constantly running through it and pulling at it. He wanted nothing more than to brush it, to bring her to his bed, and to play with it. "Rhys, I need time. You need time."

"You're my wife. The mother of my child." His voice held a tone of desperation. 

"And she's your mate? I can't win here Rhys." Rhysand stood. Caging her body between him and the doorway. His head rested on her shoulder.  "I need to go, Rhys. I can't watch this."

"Please don't leave me." Her eyes squeezed shut as tears began to openly fall. He was breaking behind her, and she was shattering before him. Hundreds of years of love, of laughter, of joy. Hundreds of years, just gone.

"What am I supposed to do, Rhysand? Sit here and warm your bed until she realizes Tamlin isn't the one? I need to start looking for somewhere for Nyx and I to go."

"Your place is here. Our son's place is here. I don't want her, Aelia." His voice cracked as he began to sob. "I've only ever wanted you. I love you. I'm in love with you."

Aelia wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe none of this mattered. That the female he was bound to didn't matter.  She knew it did, though. She knew this changes everything between them. "You found your mate, Rhys. That's going to change."

His eyes were squeezed shut as he forced her into his chest. "No, it won't. I'll reject the bond." She shook her head softly. Azriel would murder her if she asked this of Rhysand. Azriel had dreamed of finding his mate. He had begged them to think getting married through, but they impulsively had. And Rhys had sworn her in as High Lady. And now they had a son together. A son who was 60 and would understand exactly what all of this meant. 

"I can't ask you to do that, Rhysand." 

"You aren't asking me to. I am telling you I'm going to." He forced her to turn in his arms, pulling her tight to his chest and holding her. "Just give me time, snowflake, please." She nodded. The smallest smile broke onto Rhysand's face, not reaching his eyes, as he kissed her roughly.

(1 Month later)

Cassian watched in silence as Nyx packed his things. His high lady was not dumb, but the choice she was making was stupid. And her son was blindly following right behind her.  "This isn't necessary," Azriel said softly to their nephew. "Talk to him first."

"What is there to talk about," Nyx turned to Azriel. "How about the fact that he fucked someone besides mom for past 50 years. Or the fact that the first thing he says to mom isn't something caring or loving. It's "I found my mate."  Azriel and Cassian shared a look as Nyx threw a few weapons into his bag.

"We've given him a month and now he's in Spring. With his mate. Instead of here with mom and me. Do you know how much I've actually seen my so-called father since he came home?" Nyx looked at Azriel, a raven brow raised. They all knew the answer to that question. 

Rhys had not made time for his son, nor his wife. When his own dreams weren't turning every waking moment of his reality into a nightmare, Feyre's were destroying him slowly from the inside. The moments Rhys spent with Aelia were spent loudly arguing. They were spent with the couple in tears as their relationship finally had to face 50 years of strain and hardship.

Nyx threw the shirt he was holding into his suitcase. His anger and sadness were radiating from him. "We're leaving. It's what's best for mom, for me, and probably for Rhysand." They knew better than to argue with the young male. The love Nyx had for his mother had always, and would always trump everything. Including his loyalty to his court, to the warbands, to his uncles.

"You are the heir to the Night Court," Azriel said slowly. "He isn't going to let either of you go without a fight." 

Nyx shook his head. "I don't give a fuck what I am to him. Carthanian, heir, illyrian soldier. I am my mother's son first." Aelia came back down the stairs with the bag she had been packing. She had been crying, but she forced a smile for her son. She had been forcing a strong outward appearance for the court and Inner Circle for the past month. She held her hand out to Nyx as he picked up his bag. 

"Are you sure, Nyxie?" They knew she gave him the choice. She had told Nyx he was welcome to stay. That she wouldn't hold it against him, but her son had picked her. He nodded to her, grabbing her hand in his and walking with her. Azriel knew where they were going, and Aelia knew her brother in law would know. She also knew he would not tell Rhysand until he knew if her heart was safe in his hands again. 

Azriel followed them to the door, his hand on her back as he whispered softly in her ear that he would be trailing them until he knew they were safe, that he would be checking in, that he loves them. Azriel watched as they winnowed with one last look shared between him and Aelia.

"He's going to lose his fucking mind," Cassian whispered. Azriel nodded to him slowly. "Does she know he's in Spring rejecting the bond right now?"

"No. All Mor told her is that he went to Spring."

Rhysand came home, hours later, to an empty house. The faelights were dim and the scent of his wife and son was fading as if they had not been here recently.

"Aelia! Nyx!" He walked around the Riverhouse. Checking every room for them. Each door opened felt like a nail pounding into a coffin as he found empty room after empty room. He stopped as soon as he hit his wife's office. Hands shaking and  silently praying to anyone who'd listen she would be inside. He opened the door and felt hope leave him.

An envelope with his name sat neatly on her desk, and Azriel and Cassian were in the room. The two refused to look at him as Azriel handed Rhysand the letter. 

Rhysand,

By time you're reading this, Nyx and I will have left. Mor let me know that you were going to Spring. That you were planning to see your mate. I do not want to stand in the way of your happiness. 

I know we always promised each other joy and peace. We just had hoped it would never come to us not being the source of those things for each other. You have brought me more joy and happiness in the past 300 years than I deserved to know, Rhysand. It is only fair I give you the same chance to find that.

Please know I gave Nyx the choice to stay. I let him know I love him either way, that you love him either way. Ultimately, we would both want him to be where he felt happiest. He made the choice to come with me. He said he may come back at some point, but his anger at this situation is… strong at the moment. I'll continue to try to talk to him and try to get him to come at least to the Moonstone Palace once a week to meet with you. Please try to understand things from his side. He's young. He's impulsive. He's hurting. This isn't what he had in mind, nor what he ever pictured, all those years he'd dream and talk about "when daddy came home." He loves you, Rhys. He's just lost right now. We all are.

I love you, Rhysand. I hope you find the bliss  you need and deserve.

Forever yours,

Aelia

Rhysand read the note over and over. "Where did she go," he growled. "Why did Mor not tell her why I was in Spring."

"We don't know," Cassian said. "We haven't seen Mor since she told Aelia."

"Where is she, Azriel?" The shadowsinger looked at his brother, taking a sip of the whiskey he had poured himself. "Az, where are my wife and son?"

Azriel shook his head. "They need time, Rhys. You also need time. You need to heal. To regain a grip on yourself and your surroundings. You rejected your mate, Rhys. For her and Nyx's safety, I need to keep you away from her." 

Rhys felt his hands shaking, tears beginning to fall. He felt his world crashing down around him. "I didn't even have to reject the bond. I spoke with Feyre about it and she did it. She flat out asked me why I'd be dumb enough to believe she'd leave the male she gave her life for just because of the Cauldron." Rhys chuckled bitterly. "And now my wife and son are gone." They watched as Rhysand sat down in a chair, staring out the window. 

Azriel knew this was a guilt trip. He nodded, playing with Aelia's favorite pen. "I will not tell you where they are. You will not guilt me into it, and if you command me to, Rhysand, I will never forgive you." Azriel stood and walked to the window. "I promise you she is safe. I have a shadow trailing both of them."

Rhysand scoffed lightly, refusing to look his way. "It is good to know where your loyalty truly lies, Azriel. Get out, both of you. I want to be alone." 

Cassian looked at Az, then Rhys. Azriel was taking the insult. He did not argue. He did not bite back. He was refusing to give Rhysand the fight the male clearly thought he needed. "Rhys, she-"

"Get. Out." The faelights flickered with Rhysand's anger, tendrils of darkness and mist flaring around him. "I'll find her myself. Since my spymaster is incapable of giving me the High Lady's location." Another insult Rhysand knew deep down his brother did not deserve.

He waited until the door shut, until two sets of footsteps and muffled voices faded. Once Rhys knew he was truly alone, he felt the first broken sob fully tear through his throat. He allowed himself this moment to fall apart, to break into one thousand tiny pieces as his heart fell from his chest. He allowed his breathing to become uneven, rushed. He allowed that feeling of nothing, yet everything all at once to hit him. That feeling of never being enough, of being too much. 

Cassian found him the next morning asleep on the floor to Aelia's office. "Rhys," he gently touched his shoulder. "Rhys, I have a letter from Nyx. It's for you. I need you to get up." Cassian needed to know the contents of the letter as much as Rhysand would. He shook his brother again, slightly smiling as he stirred. 

"Go away, Cassian." Rhysand's voice was like gravel, his eyes still slightly red and swollen. "Why the fuck are you here?"

Cassian held the letter up. "I need you to open this so we both maybe get answers. He won't tell me anything either, Rhys. He says once he knows she's safe from your emotional spiral, he will go get them. So, get yourself up and get your shit together."

Rhysand stared at the letter. At the gently practiced scroll of his son's handwriting. He took the envelope immediately, standing to walk to Aelia's desk, and taking out her letter opener. He read the letter once, then a second time to be sure, and third just in case before handing it to Cassian. 

The general read it slowly, processing each delicate curve of his nephew's lettering. "So, they're in Winter?" Rhysand nodded, his jaw tight. "Doesn't Kal believe you-"

"Yes." Cassian paused, knowing why she would have picked there, and knowing Aelia had longed to go home for a while now. "I'm banned from his court as of yesterday morning."

Cassian whispered softly in response. "Nyx is asking you not to come anyways, Rhys. He's asking you to give him and Lia space and time."

Rhysand nodded. "I can read, Cassian. Thank you." 

"Then let her go." The high lord shot him a look of shock. Of betrayal. "Let her go and let her come back on her own terms, Rhys. Show her you love her by respecting her wishes. We both know she is going to come back. Remind me of how deeply she told you she loved you?"

"Deeper than the ocean of Summer, stronger than the vines of Spring, with more passion than an Autumn fire."

"And with the purity of a fresh Winter snow." Cassian finished softly. "She'll come home, Rhys." 

Rhysand broke down again, and Cassian rushed to him, pulling his brother into a tight hug.  "That's so much easier said than done."

"I know."

"I love her." Rhysand sobbed heavily. "Cassian, I love her. I never once thought  about leaving her when the bond snapped. She carried my son. She risked her life to give me a baby. She risked her life so I could live my dream of being a father and now its all falling to shit, Cassian."

"I know."

Rhysand openly cried now. Hand forming fists in the back of Cassian's shirt. "I just want them. I love him. I love her." He repeated again.

"I know, Rhys. I know."

[callsigns-haze]

Memories Fade IV

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Summary: Not so long back Rhysand lost his sister. Years after Helion and Elain can raise her memories from the past to see what truly happened to Y/n. Warning: Mentions of death and drinking, mentions of violence

Part 1 here

Previous part

Two weeks had passed since that dreadful night, and the silence from Y/N had been driving Eris to the brink of madness. Each day felt like an eternity as he fought against the bonds of duty and the rage simmering within him. He was determined to find answers, to know what had happened, and why Y/N had gone silent.

Eris rode through the forest with a single purpose in mind: to confront his youngest brother, Lucien. Lucien, who had been banished by their father and now lived in the Spring Court with Tamlin. Eris had arranged this meeting under the guise of family matters, but his heart pounded with a mixture of desperation and fury.

When he finally saw Lucien waiting by a cluster of trees, a storm of emotions surged within him. Lucien looked up, his expression wary. He hadn’t seen Eris in months, and the sight of his brother now, looking so tormented, immediately put him on edge.

Eris didn’t waste a moment. He strode forward, grabbed Lucien by the collar, and pinned him against a tree. The force of the impact made the leaves above rustle, and Lucien’s eyes widened in shock.

"Eris, what the—"

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Eris's voice was raw, trembling with the intensity of his emotions. "Why didn’t you tell me about the attack?"

Lucien’s confusion was evident, his hands coming up defensively. "What attack? Eris, I don’t know what you’re talking about!"

Eris’s grip tightened, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "Don’t lie to me, Lucien. Y/N... she was attacked. And you were there, in the Spring Court. You had to have known!"

Lucien’s face went pale, and his eyes softened with genuine concern. "Eris, I swear, I didn’t know. I’ve heard nothing about an attack. Tamlin’s father... they keep things from me, you know that."

The sincerity in Lucien's voice made Eris falter. He loosened his grip slightly but didn’t let go. "Then tell me what you do know. I need to know what happened."

Lucien looked deeply troubled. "Y/N survived the attack. I heard rumors, but nothing concrete. I heard that Azriel found her and her mother but the Lady of the night court was already dead. Later that night, Rhysand and his father invaded the Spring Court. It was chaos. Rhysand's father was killed, and in retaliation, they killed Tamlin's mother, father, and brothers. Only Tamlin survived."

Eris released Lucien, stepping back, his hands shaking. The weight of Lucien’s words settled heavily on him. The massacre, the bloodshed—it was all too much to process.

"She survived?" Eris whispered, a mix of relief and horror coursing through him. "But why didn't she contact me? Why the silence?"

Lucien rubbed his neck where Eris had held him, his eyes filled with sympathy. "I don’t know, Eris. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she was too hurt, or maybe... maybe she's afraid."

---

Y/N had been in a coma for the past two weeks, her world shrouded in darkness and silence. The memories of the attack lingered on the edges of her consciousness, a haunting reminder of the violence that had shattered her life.

In the healing room of the Night Court, Rhysand sat beside his sister's still form, his heart heavy with sorrow and guilt. Azriel and Cassian stood nearby, their expressions grave as they watched Madja, the healer, carefully change the bandages on Y/N's back.

"How is she, Madja?" Rhysand's voice was hoarse, each word weighted with fear and hope.

Madja glanced up, her eyes filled with a mix of compassion and professionalism. "She's lucky to be alive, High Lord. The wounds were severe, and she lost a great deal of blood. The fact that she survived at all is nothing short of a miracle."

Rhysand's gaze remained fixed on Y/N, his jaw clenched tightly. "And her wings?"

Madja's expression turned somber. "The muscles where her wings were cut off... they were damaged beyond repair. The flesh has started to heal, but the muscles will never fully recover. She'll bear the scars for the rest of her life, and it will be a miracle if she can function properly."

Cassian's fists clenched at his sides, anger and helplessness radiating from him. "There has to be something we can do. Some way to help her."

Madja shook her head gently. "I'm doing everything I can to ensure she heals as best as possible. But even with the best care, her life will be different now. She'll need time and support to adjust to the changes."

Azriel stepped closer, his shadows swirling around him. "And her mind? When will she wake?"

Madja sighed, continuing to work on Y/N's bandages. "Her body is healing, but her mind... it has been through a traumatic ordeal. She will wake when she is ready. We cannot rush this process."

Rhysand reached out, taking Y/N's hand in his, his thumb gently caressing her fingers. "Stay strong, little star," he whispered, his voice breaking. "We’re here. We’re all here for you."

The room fell into a heavy silence, each of them lost in their thoughts and prayers for Y/N’s recovery. The bonds of family and friendship tightened around them, a silent vow that they would stand by her side no matter what.

Madja finished changing the bandages, her touch gentle and precise. She looked at Rhysand, her eyes softening. "She’s strong, Rhysand. Stronger than you know. Give her time, and she will find her way back to you."

Rhysand nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N's face. "I’ll wait as long as it takes."

With that, Madja gathered her supplies and quietly left the room, leaving the Inner Circle to their vigil. They stood together, a united front against the darkness, their hearts beating in unison with hope and determination for Y/N's recovery.

---

Three weeks had passed since the attack, and the healing room had become a place of silent vigil and whispered prayers. The Inner Circle took turns watching over Y/N, their concern and love for her evident in every moment they spent by her side. Rhysand rarely left her, his heart aching with the burden of his guilt and the desperate hope that she would awaken.

It was a quiet morning when Y/N’s eyelids finally fluttered open. The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Rhysand sat by her side, his hand gently holding hers, as he had done every day since she fell into the coma.

At first, Y/N’s vision was blurred, her mind sluggish as it struggled to piece together the fragments of her memory. She blinked several times, her eyes adjusting to the light. Slowly, the familiar face of her brother came into focus.

“Rhys...” Her voice was a weak whisper, but it was enough to send a surge of relief through Rhysand.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his eyes wide with astonished joy. “You’re awake.”

The sound of her name brought a rush of memories crashing back—the attack, the pain, the darkness. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to sit up, but her body felt heavy and uncooperative. Rhysand gently helped her, his touch careful and soothing.

“Take it easy,” he said softly. “You’ve been through a lot. Just rest for now.”

As Y/N’s senses fully returned, she became acutely aware of the dull, aching pain in her back. She reached a trembling hand to touch where her wings had been, but Rhysand gently intercepted her, his expression pained.

“They’re gone,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “My wings...”

Rhysand’s heart broke at the sight of her sorrow. He pulled her into a gentle embrace, holding her as she cried. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

The door to the healing room creaked open, and Azriel and Cassian entered, their faces lighting up with relief as they saw Y/N awake. Azriel rushed to her side, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

“Y/N, we’ve missed you so much,” Azriel said, his voice choked with emotion.

Cassian stood nearby, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and hope. “It’s good to see you awake,” he said softly. “We’ve all been so worried.”

Madja entered the room shortly after, her keen eyes assessing Y/N’s condition. She nodded approvingly, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’ve made it through the worst, Y/N. Now, it’s time to focus on healing and recovery.”

Y/N nodded, her tears slowly subsiding as she looked around at the faces of her family and friends. Despite the pain and the loss, their presence gave her a sense of hope. But then, a thought struck her, and her heart tightened with fear.

“Where’s Father?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why isn’t he here?”

Rhysand’s expression grew somber, and he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the words he had to say. “Y/N... Father’s gone. He died in the Spring Court.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, the reality of his words sinking in like a heavy weight. “He... he’s dead?”

Rhysand nodded, his own eyes filled with unshed tears. “Yes. He died protecting us, protecting you. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

-----

Rhysand and the Inner Circle stood around the memory projection, the tension in the room palpable. The swirling mists of Helion and Elain’s combined magic revealed the recent past in vivid detail, each scene unfolding with haunting clarity. Rhysand's heart ached as he watched the memories of his sister, the pain and suffering she had endured. Now, something new and unexpected was being revealed.

The memory showed Eris in the forest, meeting with his youngest brother, Lucien. Eris's face was a mask of barely contained rage and desperation, and the sight of him grabbing Lucien by the collar, pinning him to a tree, was almost too much for Rhysand to bear.

"Eris," Rhysand murmured, his voice filled with disbelief.

In the memory, Eris's voice was raw with emotion. "Why didn’t you tell me about the attack? Why didn’t you warn me?"

Lucien’s eyes were wide with shock and confusion. "I didn’t know, Eris! I swear, I didn’t know!"

Rhysand watched as Eris’s grip tightened, his eyes burning with unshed tears. "Y/N... she was attacked. I felt her pain. And you were there, in the Spring Court. You had to have known!"

Lucien’s face went pale, and his eyes softened with genuine concern. "Eris, I swear, I didn’t know. Tamlin's father... they keep things from me, you know that."

Eris released Lucien, stepping back, his hands shaking. "Then tell me what you do know. I need to know what happened."

Lucien looked deeply troubled. "Y/N survived the attack. I heard rumors, but nothing concrete. Later that night, Rhysand and his father invaded the Spring Court. It was chaos. Rhysand's father was killed, and in retaliation, they killed Tamlin's mother, father, and brothers. Only Tamlin survived."

The memory faded, and the room fell into a stunned silence. Rhysand's mind was reeling. The intensity of Eris’s emotions, the raw desperation in his voice, and the violence of his confrontation with Lucien—all of it pointed to something deeper, something Rhysand had not fully understood until now.

"They were mates," Rhysand whispered, his voice choked with sorrow. "Eris and Y/N... they were mates."

Cassian and Azriel exchanged somber glances, while Mor’s eyes filled with a fresh wave of grief. Amren’s expression remained inscrutable, but a flicker of understanding passed through her gaze.

"That explains so much," Azriel said quietly. "Eris’s actions, his desperation... he was trying to protect her. Even if it meant nearly killing his own brother to find out what happened."

Cassian nodded, his voice heavy with regret. "And now we know what happened to him. Four months after Y/N was murdered, Eris was found dead. He was hunting with his hounds... they say it was an accident, but..."

"We all know it wasn’t," Mor finished, her voice bitter. "He couldn’t live without her."

Rhysand’s heart ached with the weight of the tragedy. The bond between mates was sacred, powerful, and the loss of one could be unbearable for the other. Eris had kept his suffering hidden, even from his own family, and had ultimately succumbed to his grief.

-----

Three months had passed since the attack, and life had slowly begun to regain some semblance of normalcy for Y/N. Her recovery was slow and arduous, but she was determined to regain her strength. The memories of the pain and loss haunted her, but she clung to the support of her brother and the Inner Circle.

Tonight, they attended a High Lords’ ball held by Helion in his court. The grandeur of the event was a stark contrast to the turmoil within Y/N. She stood beside Rhysand, her face composed despite the turmoil inside. The dress she wore was elegant but simple, designed to hide the bandages that still wrapped around her back, a constant reminder of the wings she had lost.

The ballroom was filled with laughter and music, the air thick with the scent of exotic flowers and fine food. Y/N’s gaze wandered across the room, her eyes meeting familiar faces, some offering sympathetic smiles, others looking away, unsure of how to approach her.

Then, she saw him.

Eris stood across the room, his fiery hair unmistakable even in the dim light. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, the noise and commotion of the ball faded away. She could see the pain in his eyes, the questions, the longing. He looked as if he had been through his own personal hell, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a raw vulnerability.

Y/N offered him a soft smile, a small gesture that spoke volumes. She wanted to reassure him, to let him know that she was still here, still fighting. But she knew that approaching him would be impossible. Rhysand stood by her side, ever the protective brother, and she could feel his suspicion even now.

Eris seemed to understand. His hands clenched at his sides, the need to come to her almost palpable, but he held himself back. The bond between them was a silent, invisible thread, tugging at his heart. He gave her a subtle nod, his expression a mix of relief and sorrow.

Rhysand’s attention shifted slightly, and he noticed where Y/N’s gaze had landed. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, simply placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Y/N replied, her voice steady. “Just... a lot to take in.”

Rhysand nodded, his protective instincts easing slightly. “If it gets too much, we can leave.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, her eyes briefly flickering back to Eris before returning to her brother. “I promise.”

As the night wore on, Y/N and Eris continued to steal glances at each other, their unspoken connection a lifeline in the midst of the chaos. She knew they would have to find a way to speak, to reconcile everything that had happened, but tonight was not the night.

For now, Y/N took solace in the fact that Eris was here, that he still cared, and that despite everything, they were both survivors. She straightened her shoulders, ignoring the discomfort from her healing wounds, and allowed herself to enjoy the ball, even if just for a moment. She was surrounded by friends and family, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Eris watched her from across the room, his heart aching with unspoken words and untold stories. But seeing her standing there, alive and fighting, gave him the strength he needed to carry on. They would find their way back to each other, somehow. For now, this silent understanding would have to be enough.

Part 5

A/n: If there's any scene you'd like to see in the memories please dm me or even write it in the comments!

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

@lucky7rosie

@daughterofthemoons-stuff

@lilah-asteria

@crossfandomslut

@pit-and-the-pen

@inky-sun

@the-sweet-psycho

@why4anne

@bunnyredgirl

@rcarbo1

@pandabiiissh

@adalia-jaycee

[tamlinweek]

Tamlin Week Day 1 Master List

La Belle et La Bete by @songofthesibyl

Metamorphosis by @songofthesibyl (AO3)

Tamlin in beast form by @ilyasfanart

Beast Tamlin moodboard by @mygreendandelion

The Beast of Spring by @suckerpunchfemale (AO3)

Beastly ACOTAR trio by @balladoffeylin

Beast Tamlin by @queercontrarian

The High Lord of Spring by @thrumugnyr

Beast Tamlin by @vivictory-draws

cingulomania by @praetorqueenreyna (AO3)

High Lord of Spring by @cursebrkr

Bloody Tamlin by @dopeartisanprincess

Stuck in beast form by @dopeartisanprincess

Beast moodboard by @heartheartboom

Once Beautiful Beast by @dark-empress-justice (AO3)

Tamlin's luscious locks by @andrigyn

Quiet Comfort by @shi-daisy (AO3)

Mask as a beast by @ladymidnight-goesforth

Once Upon a Beast by @acotardeservesbetter (AO3)

Forbidden by @nocasdatsgay (AO3)

Spring, Again by @secret-third-thing (AO3)

Tamlin/Rhysand moodboard by @praetorqueenreyna

[cressidagrey]

I breathe flames each time I talk - Chapter 1

Summary:

The story of how Oriana Fireborn Belmont finally meets her mate's family.

Also the story of how Rhysand, The High Lord of the Night Court, finally recognises that by the cauldron, there is no fury like a female scorned.

Azriel would just like everybody to get along.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Serious Injury

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

There weren’t many things that shocked Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. The sight of his brother, brutal bruises painting his face after what should have been a simple retrieval mission in the Winter Court… that did it. 

It had been supposed to be a meeting to exchange intelligence on whatever was currently going on with Tamlin in the Spring Court. 

Instead…it had apparently turned into…a mess . 

“I was caught in an avalanche,” Azriel said, his voice harsh. “Rhys, I told you that it probably wasn’t gonna end well. There was nobody there…and that avalanche wasn’t natural.”

Nobody but a trap waiting for Azriel.

That was the last thing that he wanted to hear. Peace in Pyrithian was hanging on by a thread, somehow seeming all the more precarious to Rhys, ever since Nyx had been born. 

Maybe it was the instinct of a young father…maybe it was something else, but he couldn’t dare to not trust them. 

And so he had wanted to keep his allies close, but the ones that kept away from it all…even closer.

“Right. And I told you that this was important,” Rhys responded just as sharply. “I’ll write to Kallias. And you should probably do something against the blood that is currently dripping on my carpet,” he said pointedly. Azriel wiped at his split lip. Rhys opened his mouth to tell Azriel to go see Madja damnit, but Azriel beat him to it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” Azriel’s voice was dripping with disdain, and Rhys opened his mouth to respond, but Azriel’s shadows were already converging onto him. 

Mother help him. 

His brother was gone, shadow travelled away, before Rhys had even dismissed him. 

He sighed as he sat back down at his desk, fingers tapping against the dark wood of it. 

There were so many moving pieces and so little time. 

And still, his mind turned towards his brother. Not Cassian, who seemed as content as Rhys had ever seen him with Nesta in the House of Wind…but Azriel . 

Azriel, who had, ever since that Solstice nearly 3 years ago, pulled back from him. Who had still not forgiven him for what Rhys had done. 

At the start, Rhys had thought that Azriel would get over himself in a few weeks. 

Azriel was infatuated with Elain. It would be a few weeks and then it all would be back to how it was before. 

Oh, but he had been so wrong. 

He had not been wrong about what he did. He hadn’t. 

Rhys had done what needed to be done.

They couldn’t afford a fucking war with Autumn and/or with Day or a blood duel that would be called because Azriel had wanted to…had decided that seducing Elain was his fucking right . 

It wasn’t, it hadn’t been, it never would be and Rhys had needed to stop that from happening. 

So he had. 

So he had ordered his brother away from Feyre’s sister. An order, not from one brother to another, but from The High Lord of the Night Court. 

Azriel had…listened. 

The question was just if the price Rhys paid for it, hadn’t been far steeper than he had realised. 

If the prize hadn’t been his brother’s…happiness. 

Azriel hadn’t rebelled against the order. 

And at the beginning…Rhys had seen that as…well, as another point in his favour. If Azriel was really in love with Elain, he would have fought against the order. Azriel hadn’t. So Azriel had been infatuated, but not in love. 

Azriel had done nothing. Azriel had stayed coldly detached. He had even attended the wedding of Elain and Lucien, nothing but sincere words for the happy couple. Not a mention of what had gone down between him and Rhys…to anybody. 

Elain was happy with Lucien. So especially now, when they were married for close to a year…when it was clear that the mating bond had worked out for them…Rhys had expected Azriel to soften. At least a little bit. 

To realise that what Rhys had done was right. To understand why he had done it. 

He had waited for that. And waited. And nothing of that sort had happened. 

Azriel hadn’t budged one inch. Maybe Rhys shouldn’t even be surprised about that. Azriel had always been…stubborn as a mule.  

Azriel did his work. Efficient as always. But Azriel only came to as many family dinners as Rhys outright ordered him to attend, and otherwise kept away from anything that was…well, personal. 

His mind, which had once been an open book to Rhys, few secrets kept between them…nowadays it was guarded. An iron wall around it, slamming down whenever Rhys wandered even just in the direction of anything that wasn’t work-related. 

Azriel kept quiet. Kept on moping after three years, regardless of how much Rhys tried to draw him out of it. 

Morrigan finding Emerie and being happy with her…Rhys had thought that maybe that would pull him out of it. But Azriel had only wished her all the happiness in the world, sincerity dripping from every word. 

He was sincerely happy for everybody around him…and kept Rhys and the rest of their family as far removed from him as he could get them. 

Rhys had tried to order him to come to dinner with Elain and Lucien, a part of his mind hoping that Azriel would finally have enough and his temper would flare, his magic would crackle and he would attack Rhys. Maybe then they would be able to clear the air. Maybe if Azriel just got pissed off at him…maybe it would be better afterwards. 

Azriel didn’t. His temper stayed even, especially for him. He sat through that dinner, even let Lucien have a few barbs at him and then even helped him, even when nobody thanked him for that. 

And then Azriel disappeared to cauldron knew where somewhere which he clearly much preferred over the presence of anybody else these days. 

That had been a few months ago. It hadn’t changed any since then. 

Cassian tried to play the mediator of sorts between them. Cassian tried. Cassian teased Azriel about a non-existent lover and Azriel took it in good humour, only shutting down the theories when they were outlandish. 

Or when it was Gwyn. 

Rhys had really thought that that…that could have worked out. 

If Azriel just gave her a chance…if he just opened himself up for the option of it…but Azriel was as stubborn as a mule. Azriel wasn’t interested, that was so very apparent when he had slipped into his brother’s mind. He liked Gwyn as a friend. But there was no attraction there. 

None whatsoever. 

And even the suggestion had been shut down by Azriel so harshly, that there was no question what he thought about this. 

None. 

Azriel had cut him out of his private life. Built a wall around it that kept Rhys out…and Rhys had no fucking idea how to bridge it anymore. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Master is coming. It was the only warning she got because then Azriel was already materialising in their kitchen. 

“ Sweetling .” It only took her seconds to take in the bruises painting his face, the blood that was dripping down his split lip…Seconds for her to fit herself under his arms, to half drag him into one of their kitchen chairs. 

It wasn’t the first time that Azriel came home to Oriana bleeding and hurt in some way. Though most of the time, it was things that she could patch up easily. She couldn’t do anything against the bruises, but she could clean out scrapes and ply him with pain potions. 

But today, his usually olive skin was nearly ashen-faced, his jaw tight as she got him to sit down. “You don’t look good,” she said quietly. 

“It’s fine,” Azriel promised her, his voice rough as gravel and she cupped his cheek, turning his face. His eyes closed as she very gently prodded the scrapes at one side, the split lip…the dried blood. 

“It’s really not fine,” she disagreed. “Anything else?” 

He shuddered, hands clutching the fighting leathers he still wore. He started taking it off, and she took over from him after just a few seconds, sliding the buckles open, taking off the leathers, piece after piece. 

His torso was painted every which shade of blue and black, violet…maroon. 

“You should have seen a healer,” she said quietly. It looked… excruciating. She couldn’t say if there were any broken bones. It didn’t matter. It must be painful anyway. So painful. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, closing his eyes as she wet a clean dish towel at the sink, making sure that it was warm and gently started cleaning the blood off him. The split lip stopped bleeding sluggishly after a moment. 

“Still should have seen a healer,” she quipped.

"But then it would have taken longer until I came home," he responded, even through his pain and she sighed.

He didn’t even flinch away from her touch, even when he had every fucking right to it. If anything, he leaned into it. 

Leaned into the pain that she was sure she was creating, even when she tried to be as gentle as she possibly could be. 

“What happened?” she finally asked quietly. He didn’t often talk to her about his job. Nearly never. Whenever pushed either, because this was nothing that he needed to know. This was nothing that she needed to be aware of. This was a line he had created because he didn’t want her to touch any of his work that was so very….so very harsh.

She accepted that because she knew that for him she had become a sort of island in the middle of everything, untouched by it. 

And it was better that day. She didn’t wonder what he did. As long as he came home to her. That was all that mattered. 

“Bad intelligence. Got caught in an avalanche,” he murmured. “I knew it wasn’t going to work, but did Rhys believe me, of course not,” he muttered under his breath. Since they had consummated the mating bond…Azriel had opened up to her, in some ways. He still knew more about Oriana’s life than she would ever know about his past, but she knew that it didn’t mean that he didn’t love her. She knew that for him it was difficult to open up because he expected everybody around him to use any knowledge about them to hurt him. 

Still, Oriana wasn’t stupid. And she had put together her own version of Azriel’s past through all the snippets he had shared with her. 

And so she knew that Rhys and Cassian were his brothers. And that Rhys was short for Rhysand and that that was the fucking High Lord of the Night Court. 

Who was still as annoying as he had been two centuries ago. 

And somebody that Azriel both loved and also loathed sometimes, especially when he decided that he knew better than everybody around him. 

Cassian…Cassian seemed more interested in who Azriel was seeing romantically than anything else if Oriana could believe the stories Azriel told. 

Hyacinth had been the latest possibility. Hyacinth had found the whole thing hilarious and spent the last night out dancing teasing Evander with it.  

“I think this calls for an early night,” Oriana said as she handed Azriel one of the pain-reducing potions that she kept stocked, watching carefully how he rubbed his temple. 

She got out the salve she had bought at an apothecary a few weeks ago, squeezing some of it on her fingers and carefully kneaded them in Azriel’s neck, just there where his neck met his skulls. 

He shuddered, though she knew that the heat the salve created would loosen the tightness that he had there in his muscles. He could get horrid headaches. 

She had learnt that too since the two of them lived together. Like a whole other list of details, like that he loves every form of berries he could get away with, his sweet tooth was so bad that on occasion he ate lumps of sugar straight out of jar…he absolutely adored doting on her in that quiet, calculated way of his and he had a real problem with giving up any sort of control in the bedroom. Her pleasure seemed his singular goal, his own just a byproduct of it. 

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” he murmured, pressing his head into the soft flesh of her belly. 

He found so many different ways to say I love you than to utter these three words to her. 

You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Coming home to you is the best part of my day. Every time I wake up to you, I am so grateful that you are there. 

Sentence after sentence, said in that earnest, sincere way of his and Oriana squirrelled every single one of them away, like precious gems. 

“Better?” she asked and he hummed. “Alright. Eat some of the sandwiches I made and then we’ll go to bed.”

That’s what they did. 

He collapsed into their bed, and she pulled the blankets around them, careful not to tangle them in his wings, gently running her fingers through his hair. She had only cut it for him a few weeks ago and it was only just starting to curl again. She was quite sure she had done a hack job at it, but he had seemed pleased with it. But then she was sure she could dye his hair bright pink and make him completely bald on one side and he would still kiss her and tell her thank you.

She pressed a kiss to his head, and then she fell asleep herself, no more worry about Azriel being somewhere else, because he was right there, next to her. 

It was his retching that woke her up. 

She immediately reached out, feeling his skin burning up underneath his fingertips. 

“Azriel?” she asked quietly, hearing more retching, immediately sitting up to find him leaning over the edge of their bed. 

“Sorry,” he was shuddering as he brought out the words and she opened her mouth to respond, but by then she saw the blood that was trickling out of her mouth, another sound of retching and then he fell to the side like somebody cut all the string that held him up. She managed to catch him at the last moment, her eyes wide, ice-cold fear clawing at her heart. 

She could see the shadows dancing around him worriedly, taking her weight from her, helping her to get him to lay back against the pillows. 

She could hear them call for him, but getting no response.  

“Azriel!” she tried, panic apparent in her voice and getting no response. 

He was unconscious, knocked out. After vomiting up blood. She had never seen anything like that. 

She cursed. 

Master is hurt, The shadows stated the obvious. 

She jumped out of the bed, tugging the first best dress she could find over her head, forcing her feet into shoes. 

“I know. Can you bring me into the mountain?” she asked the shadows. Alternatively, she would need to get out of her ward boundaries and winnow to the ward boundaries of the mountain. 

We can, Mistress.

“One of you stay with him, please,” she requested, holding out a hand for the shadows, as she cleared her mind as best as she could, taking one last back to Azriel, so pale, so still, and then thinking as intently as she could of their living quarters in the mountain. 

It was a whole lot less smooth than when Azriel did it for the two of them, but then he was the shadowsinger, and Oriana was only his mate. She could ask, he could command. 

But they were willing to listen to her, to drag her through wards she had placed on her own, to take the magic that she offered them and turn them into the strength they needed as they flung her across Velaris and shoved her into the mountain. At least it felt that way. 

She landed in their private living quarters, surprised to find Kiran, Toron and Samson sitting there, playing cards. And drinking. The scent of Fireale was unmistakenly

“She’s really here, I am not just seeing things, right?” Toron said, sounding like he had definitely drunk more than a little bit of their self-brewed Fireale. 

“No,” Kiran muttered. “That’s Oriana. What are you doing here? Where did you come from?” her older brother demanded, slightly slurring. 

“Are you drunk?” she gave back because she had never seen him quite like that. He just shrugged. Samson still stared at her wide-eyed, waving his hand in her direction, like he wasn’t quite sure if she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“Where’s Enya?” she demanded. She really didn’t have time for that. 

“Working,” Samson answered, nodding sagely, and nearly tipping to the side. 

Thank the cauldron for that at least. “Great,” she muttered, flinging herself in the direction of the door.  That was something. She was going to check the infirmary first, and then Enya’s bedroom, when she wasn’t there. 

She knew these halls, knew the mountain better than anything else, and so it only took her minutes, before she reached it, pushing open the door without even bothering to announce herself.

“Oriana?” Enya asked, sounding shocked, having risen from her chair as Oriana came running. 

“I am kidnapping you. I mean I hope you come willingly but otherwise, I am kidnapping you,” she blurted out, the shadows coming to a stop behind her. “Enya, I need your help.” 

It spoke of her sister's unflinching trust in her that she only rose and reached for the bag that she kept stocked behind her desk and grasped her coat. 

“What happened?” she asked, as she came around the desk. 

“He vomited blood, Enya. I don’t know who else to…He was fine and then he wasn’t and he lost consciousness and…” she blubbered. the panic that she had tried to keep at bay, threatening to overwhelm her. Azriel. Azriel . 

“Let’s go then,” Enya answered, turning in the direction of the door, but they didn’t have time for that. She grasped her sister’s arm,  letting the shadows take them both. 

Home. Home. Home. 

They landed in the bedroom, Oriana staggering at the impact, the shadows trying their best to keep her upright as Enya looked like she had lost all colour in her face, her skin was the same black colour as Oriana’s own looking decisively grey. 

“If you vomit, I am sorry,” Oriana forced out, pulling in a harsh breath on her own.

“What was that?” Enya asked, staring at the shadows that swirled around the room, then at Oriana, then at Azriel, on whom the shadows seemed to converge. 

“ Shadowsinger ,” she breathed and Oriana just stayed silent. Managing a nod. 

Yes. That. 

They were stupidly rare. She herself had done a double take the first time she had met Azriel. Nearly mythical in nature. She had never once met one before. So shadow travelling…like she had just done…dragging Enya through two sets of wards, was highly unlikely. She knew that. 

But her sister shook herself out of it, already taking in Azriel with an analytical glance, crossing the room, her hands slightly glowing. 

“You, sit down at his head,” Enya snapped. “I don’t need you fainting while I try to work.”

Oriana did as her sister asked, knitting her fingers through Azriel’s short curls, her whole body shaking with fear and nervousness that suddenly seemed to make an appearance. She didn’t even know where it was suddenly coming from. 

Just that it slapped down onto her heart, as she swallowed to keep tears at bay. 

She had gotten Enya here. She wasn’t alone. She had done that. Azriel was getting help. 

So why did it feel like her whole world was caving in around her? 

Her sister’s magic was so unlike her own, thanks to the High Fae ancestry that Enya didn’t have. But Oriana knew it, had felt it move around her own more times than she could count. It was safe. she knew that. 

“He has inner bleeding. Quite extensive,” Enya said quietly and Oriana forced down the panic that wanted to rise in her throat. 

Enya’s eyes met her own. “It will be fine,” she said quietly. “He will be fine, Oriana.” There was promise there in her eyes, glowing like coals in her face. “I swear to you. He’ll be fine,” she repeated again. Oriana just nodded, closing her eyes. 

It was all she could do. 

She kept quiet as Enya worked, pouring whatever potion her sister told her down Azriel’s throat. She tried not to shudder at the sight of blood-flecked metal as Enya worked, Azriel’s blood all over the sheets of their bed, all over her dress where it had dripped down. 

Time seemed to stretch and warp and finally, Enya stepped back. 

“I am going to bandage him…and then you’ll need to let him go because I going to put him into a healing trance. Just for a day,” Enya said quietly. “Are his wings gonna be alright with him laying on them?” she asked, and Oriana managed a nod, carefully stretching out the wings so they covered the bed. They seemed strangely cold to her touch, not moving like they usually did to respond to her touch. 

“Thank you,” she whispered as she worked, as Enya gathered up the blood-soaked linen that Oriana knew she was going to need to boil to get the blood out.  

“Of course,” her sister responded. Oriana pulled up the ugliest blanket she had ever seen from the end of the bed, covering Azriel with it, straightening out his arms and then leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead. She could feel the even, deep breathing of him, the warm puff of air…the pulse underneath her fingertips…

She stepped back. Enya raised her hands and the whole bed was enveloped in a green dome just seconds later, burning brightly for just a moment before settling in a subtle glow. 

“He’ll be fine,” Enya repeated. “You saved his life with your quick action.”

“No, you saved his life,” she corrected her sister.” “Thank you. You didn’t need to do this.”

She really hadn’t needed to. She hadn’t needed to let Oriana and the shadows drag her into Velaris.  

“You married Wynstan for me,” Enya said at that moment and she stared startled at her sister, who grasped her hand in hers. “You endured decades of being married to that idiot for me. You lost your ability to have children, just so that I wouldn’t need to get married.” She opened her mouth to protest but Enya shook her head. “This…” she waved to Azriel. “This…. This is the least I can do for you. He’s yours, Oriana. He’s family .”

She swallowed.

“It’s not your fault,” she finally whispered. “What happened…it’s not your fault. It was on Wynstan. It was on…Enya had saved her life. She had done everything she could. But even Enya hadn’t been able to…

“I know,” Enya said quietly. “Still. You always wanted children.”

She had. When she was young, she had wanted them. And then she had married Wynstan and first, he had wanted to wait, to finish his mastery, even when Oriana would have been fine with starting to try immediately. And then when he finally wanted kids, their marriage had been more than questionable. Questionable enough that OOriana didn’t want to put a child anywhere near it. Didn’t want to give Wynstan anything he could yield as a weapon against her. 

And then he had taken even the option from her. 

“I made my peace with it,” she said softly, watching Azriel lay there, still, silent, but gloriously alive. She hadn’t had any other option. Still, when she saw Cyyrus with his three children, so close in age, a miracle in itself… “He doesn’t care,” she finally said quietly. Azriel didn’t care. “I don’t think he thinks that he could be a good father,” she said softly. She thought that that was the main reason why he didn’t care that she couldn’t give him children. Why he was so alright about it just being the two of them. He seldom thought that he even deserved her. “But he would be. He would be the best. ”

“That’s not the only way to have children, you know,” Enya said quietly. She knew. Under the mountain, adoption was… if there was a child in need of a family, that was never a problem. But they had rules for that kind of thing and one of the biggest ones, the unspoken one, would be that the child would be raised in the community in the mountain. 

“I know. But that only works in the mountains. Not out here,” she said with a shake of her head. 

Enya watched her for a moment. 

“You know…if I have learned anything then that…Fate has a funny way of working. If you are supposed to have a child…Fate will provide. One way or another.” 

It was a nice thought. 

“And now, we need to get some alcohol into you, because you look like you are going to faint,” Enya said briskly. “You keep Fireale around?”

“I don’t think Healers are supposed to be proponents of alcoholism,” Oriana said weakly, but her sister just ignored her, dragging her into the living room and depositing her on the couch.

“I am not a proponent for alcoholism, I am a proponent of you not fainting,” Enya said drily as she pushed a glass filled to the brim into her hands. “You aren’t feeling it, but you are shaking. And your magic is leeching all over the damn place,” Enya said pointedly and Oriana stared in front of her, only now seeing the sparks that seemed to come off her. 

The shadows around her throat pressed gently, just a touch, never constricting. 

Master will be fine, Mistress. Thank to you and the healer.

[highlordofkrypton]

ACOTAR Omegaverse Week // Day 1 - Nesting (Submission #2)

Shoutout to everyone that requested Tamcien for @acotar-omegaverse-week! While this isn't the main Tamcien I have planned, please enjoy this amuse bouche while the real meal is being cooked for later this week 🙏

Thank you to @matrixsss, @lzrsaugust, @yaralulu, @thrumbolt and ESPECIALLY @achaotichuman for opening my ship horizons and getting me to write Tamcien!!

SUMMARY: Lucien has one rule. Inside his study, he has to work. Tamlin is very respectful of his space, but that doesn't mean he can't complain about it.

PAIRING: Alpha! Lucien x Omega! Tamlin

TAGS: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Nesting

Read on AO3 or beneath the cut.

LIGHTWORK

"Are you done?"

"Not yet."

Lucien doesn't lift his eyes from the parchment before him. He's not even halfway through the stack. It's no one's fault but his own. Time management has always been important; it was drilled into him from a young age. Beaten into him, if he was too early or too late.

The Spring Court is much kinder to his failings, but that doesn't mean Lucien should get too comfortable. There is a debt to repay and he promised to keep this Court in order and represent his new home to the best of his ability, which includes addressing correspondences promptly without pressuring the senders. He times everything perfectly so that those reaching out to him may bask in their accomplishment of reaching out, and relax for a handful of days before he obliges them to respond with a response of his own. It is courteous to wait.

Tamlin struggles with the notion. He has been pacing outside of Lucien's study since this morning. He has left twice, once to get a snack, then to address a complaint in the gardens from the other denizens about the cherry tomatoes encroaching on their space. The bushes have bloomed far too much for the liking of the other leafy greens that are used to being the star of the gardens.

"Are you done now?" Tamlin huffs, pacing outside the door again.

It's not that he isn't allowed in the study, but they made a rule. Cross the threshold and it is business only. Too many times they have been distracted and far too many times Lucien has had to replace the desk. It's just not sustainable and it's wasteful. Those are Tamlin's own values, and yet when they're together, it's so easy to toss logic out the window.

Lucien can scent Tamlin—his anticipation, his eagerness and his desire.

He finishes up his last letter, feeding it to the sparrow at the window. It preens, flaring its leafy wings and plucking the letter out of Lucien's slender fingers before flying off.

"I am done and I have your daily report," he stands, adjusting the tails of his coat. Lucien picks up his list of important points that must be conveyed to the High Lord of the Spring Court. He approaches Tamlin who cannot stand still for a moment.

"First, we should discuss this season's—Oh," the Autumn son says softly as he's lifted and hauled over Tamlin's shoulder. The position gives him a direct view of Tamlin's ass. "Wonderful," he deadpans. The likelihood of Tamlin listening to a single word of his carefully crafted report has gone out the window completely. "Aren't I too heavy to tote around like a child?"

"No. This is light work."

Lucien sighs. He dangles over Tamlin's shoulder, tossing his papers in the air because what does it matter? After a moment, he is casually tossed into a very tall pile of leaves in one of the additional rooms with a fireplace. Underneath it, an immeasurable amount of pillows catch him. The fire crackles comfortably, despite Spring's constant perfect and tolerable weather. He scents the fragrant scent of pumpkins, cinnamon and other Fall scents. It reminds him of home.

He lays there as Tamlin climbs into the very messy pile of nature and comfort. Tamlin curls into his side, hugging him close. Lucien's hand automatically goes to his soft blonde hair, caressing him lovingly.

"This is very… autumnal."

"Mm," Tamlin hums. "I thought you might miss home."

"Spring Court is my home. I thought this was supposed to be your nest."

"It is. You are my home, whether we're in Spring, Autumn, Winter or Summer. I don't care." Tamlin has every intention to keep him at his side now and forever.

"You're not going to let me leave, are you?"

"Nope."

"You big baby," Lucien says with the utmost affection. "Come here and let me kiss you."

[rosanna-writer]

Knuckles Bruised Like Violets (1/1)

Summary: Love blooms at the garden expo when Elain witnesses a handsome stranger pick a fight with Tamlin. Pairing: Elriel Warnings: None Rating: General Audiences Word Count: ~1.2k

Read on AO3 or under the readmore!

Elain had known they'd cross paths again. She was a florist. He owned a nursery. Running into her sister's ex at some industry event was bound to happen before long.

But even if she'd been able to see the future, Elain would never have guessed that Tamlin would be bold enough to buy a bouquet for his new girlfriend from his ex-fiancée's sister, a few short weeks after they'd called the wedding off.

To make it worse, the new girl was there with him, too. Briar—Elain only remembered her name because Nesta had scoffed it at Feyre during a much-needed girls' night ("Really? Were her parents naming a baby or a rabbit?"). Elain wouldn't forget, not when the eldest Archeron's mean streak had actually made her baby sister crack a smile.

From behind the cash register, Elain tried not to vomit at the sight of Tamlin making eyes at Briar the way he used to do with Feyre. They were browsing what was left of the flower arrangements for sale, and this late on the last day of the expo, there wasn't much. Especially not at Elain's booth. Her arrangements were by far the loveliest, selling out every year she'd been a vendor. If Elain had to guess, Tamlin had only mustered the courage to show his face in her corner of the convention center because he'd wanted to impress Briar with the best roses available.

If she hated conflict a bit less, Elain would have been looking forward to telling him she refused to make the sale.

Instead, dread was already blooming in the pit of her stomach. The whole thing would be horribly uncomfortable, and she wouldn't put it past Tamlin to raise his voice—or spin the narrative and make her look petty in front of other colleagues.

But the dread lessened just a bit when the most beautiful man Elain had ever seen stopped at her booth. He was intently studying the very last bunch of pink roses, and Elain let herself appreciate his classically handsome features, shiny close-cropped black hair, and the cut of the cobalt t-shirt that showed off the powerful muscles of his arms.

She supposed if he caught her staring, she'd just say she was trying to read the word emblazoned on his chest—Rosehall, if she wasn't mistaken. Perhaps another vendor, then. She could ask about it, strike up a conversation, maybe get his number.

Assuming, of course, that Tamlin didn't decide to ruin her day.

It seemed likely that that he would—her sister's ex was already reaching for the bouquet the stranger had been eyeing. Elain steeled herself for an uncomfortable conversation.

The stranger snatched the bouquet before Tamlin had a chance to. The pair exchanged a few tense words that Elain couldn't quite hear over the noise of the crowded garden expo, though she made out the words "here first" and "for my mother."

One sweet smile and a well-timed offer to ring up the purchase would diffuse the tension if Elain pointedly directed them at the stranger. She meant to do it. Really, she did.

But the man's fist had already collided with Tamlin's jaw.

He punched like an expert, with brutal, ruthless economy of movement even as he cradled the bouquet of roses like a sleeping baby in his other arm. Elain should have called for security, but she was too entranced to do anything but stay rooted to the spot.

Tamlin wound up to hit back, but Briar was already cupping his uninjured cheek and fussing. He let his fist drop uselessly to the side, and she led him away as she murmured something about finding an ice pack.

Perhaps that should have been Elain's cue to call security. But she found herself smiling and saying, "I can ring you up if you're finished browsing."

At the sound of her voice, the man turned, his eyes going wide in pure shock. He must not have realized she'd been watching the entire time.

He stepped closer, careful not to crush any of the petals as he handed her the bouquet to scan. "I'm sorry about that," he said.

His voice was midnight-dark, and Elain tried not to shiver as she wondered what it would sound like saying her name. "Don't be," she said brightly. "You saved me the trouble of telling him to leave."

"Has he been giving you problems?"

Elain had the sneaking suspicion that if she said yes, he'd offer to take care of it permanently.

"My sister broke off her engagement to him just a few weeks ago."

The man went still, and there was something preternatural about it, as if he were one the dangerous faeries of myth, something far too otherworldly for a Sunday afternoon in a too-bright event complex full of vendors hawking hedge shears and patio furniture. "You're Feyre's sister?"

Names have power. The thought came to her unbidden, the only fragment from a long-forgotten story that was still rattling around in her brain. A warning. Elain said nothing, just shook her head as if to clear it.

The man wasn't a faerie. Just…strangely magnetic. And hot.

Perhaps he'd realized the sudden outburst of violence—even if it had been directed at someone she hated—might have frightened her. He softened his expression and politely held out a hand. "I'm Azriel. Rhys's brother."

Right. Rhysand—the new boyfriend that they hadn't met yet but Nesta had immediately decided was sketchy. The newfound awareness that she might run into Azriel again jolted her back to reality, and Elain regained her manners and shook his hand.

His skin was rough against hers. Not from callouses, like the hands of hundreds of other gardeners Elain had greeted over the years, but from scars. Out of politeness, she pretended not to notice, as tempted as she was to run her fingers along them slowly.

"I'm Elain. It's very nice to meet you."

"You too," he said, sliding his card into the reader. After a beat of silence, he added, "Feyre sent me, by the way. I mentioned I was getting flowers for my mother's birthday, and she said her sister was the best florist in the business."

Thank God for her younger sister; Elain decided she'd thank Feyre by making sure not to mention to Nesta that the mysterious Rhysand had already introduced Feyre to his family.

If all the customers Feyre sent her way were like Azriel, Elain certainly wasn't about to discourage her.

"Did you find everything to your liking?" she said, fluttering her lashes to make sure it was clear she wasn't only talking about the flowers.

"It's perfect."

The receipt printed, and Elain grabbed a pen and jotted her phone number down before sliding the paper across the counter. Azriel's brows flicked up.

"In case Tamlin presses charges and you need a witness to swear you didn't put a hand on him." There were probably security cameras somewhere, but a few seconds of grainy video wouldn't be more convincing than Elain Archeron's doe eyes.

"And if it doesn't get to that point?"

She smiled. "You can still give me a call anyway."

Before Azriel left, he saved the number to his phone—a wordless promise. Elain sold the last of her arrangements with a newfound spring in her step.