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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year ago

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Our girl – Part 7

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader

Summary: Azriel and Cassian go feral trying to find you.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Violence, torture

<<< Part 6

Cassian was pacing, the roar in his mind loud enough to miss Feyre winnow into the room, her arm wrapped around an elderly fae, his bark-like skin unmistakable.

“Finbark,” Tamlin greeted, moving to help the male into a seat as he leant into his walking staff. Finbark had aged during the war, and it was clear the long distance winnow from Spring to Summer was not easy to endure in his condition.

Azriel kept close to Cassian, but unlike his mate, his rage had fixed him to an icy steel. Arms folded at his chest, he was beyond pleasentries, unable to greet Finbark as Tamlin had. Not while his mate was still missing, not when he wasn't sure who or how many he’d kill to find you.

The marbled room before him was filled with anxious tension. Tarquin had opened his home, with promise that his recruits had a lead on Y/N’s location. Finbark, Tamlin, Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, even Helion had come to support his friend. And while Mor and Amren worked with Azriel’s spies at the border, the rest of them were here, readying themselves for the essential intel to start scouting for his mate.

It was almost impossible to resist the urge to take to Autumn skies, to start ripping the heads of any guard or spy or missionary who served in Beron’s court. That instinct was outweighed by only one thing - Y/N’s safety. Start slitting throats, and Beron could easily follow the trail of blood back to them, and punish you for it. Especially in the ruthless, unforgiving manner that itched at both their limbs. It was better to wait for this lead - both he and Cassian had agreed. Better to know where to start the carnage before they set they world ablaze.

Excruciating minutes had turned to hours, and both Cassian and Azriel were at their wits end.

“Where is it, Tarquin?” Cassian gritted, his gaze an other-worldy darkness, unbound magic as bright as rubies twining his limbs. “You promised a lead.”

Tarquin’s face was a gruelling seriousness, one that Feyre herself had never seen. “Calm yourself, friend. It is coming.”

But that wasn't nearly enough to satisfy Cassian’s urge, so he turned from the male, driving his fist into a marble pillar, the thunderous smack silencing the room. Feyre threw Tarquin a sorry look.

A maid entered then, hurrying to deliver a letter to her High Lord on a silver platter, before fleeing on quick feet – a wise move.

Tarquin swallowed thickly while reading, not a breath shared amongst the rest of the room.

“We have the name of the Inn, and the last known sighting of Y/N.”

Azriel’s voice was deadly. “We already knew that.”

He had snatched the letter before Tarquin could respond. He scanned it with quick eyes before raising them to Cassian. “This is different. Her last known sighting was underground.”

Cassian’s eyes fluttered with rage. Naturally, Beron had chosen a concealed, subterranean lair to cloak his cruelty, making it even more challenging to locate his mate.

“It says here the entrance to the dungeons are glamoured, and are bound to an ancient magic.”

All eyes were on Rhys then. “Not even my magic can unbind that,” he said disappointedly, the tremble in his hands returning once more. Beron was a slimy bitch, and the thought of sinking his talons into his neck danced around in his mind.

“Then how the hell are we to find her?” Tamlin urged.

“Hounds,” Azriel answered, looking over the letter once more. “Provided here are coordinates, where a pack will be provided to us for the search.”

“What in the Mother?” Rhys frowned, running a hand over his face.

“Who wrote that letter, Azriel?” Feyre asked, a knowing itch scratching at her brain.

“It’s signed from Eris Vanserra.”

There were a few drawn breaths, and then silence.

“It is a trap,” Helion said plainly.

“Perhaps,” Feyre countered. “Perhaps not.”

“A trap would not be so wiling, so exposed,” Tamlin added. “I believe it is true.” He cast a look at Feyre, who nodded in agreement.

“And we are to risk everything on assumption alone?” Helion countered the male. “When was the last time a Vanserra was celebrated for telling the truth?”

Cassian wasn't listening to their exchange, the General’s mind ticking as a strategy formed – for this was as good as war.

“Soldiers,” he said with a distant look, eyes finding his mate. “We need soldiers.” Be it a trap, he didn't care, between he, Azriel and the others, nor Eris’s or his phonies stood a chance.

Azriel nodded in agreement. “Rhys, call to the camps. We need Illyrians.”

Rhysand didn't hesitate. “How many?”

“Hundreds.”

Helion shifted uncomfortably. “How many males do you plan to storm Autumn with? Power is one thing, but bring an army with you? You’ll start a gods damned civil war, right here in Prythian. Over a girl.”

Even as a High Lord, Helion stood no hope against Azriel’s strength, not as those siphons that usually kept his strength at bay now consumed him, pulsing in his veins, igniting his eyes with brilliant blue.

Marble cracked as Azriel threw the him into a pillar, a snarl curled at his lips, canines inches away from his neck.

“If you think my girl isn't worth waging a war for, you’re wrong. I’ll watch the whole of Prythian burn if she is harmed, and then some.”

Helion glanced around desperately, searching for an ally. But between Cassian’s fuming glare, Feyre and Rhys’s cold as night, and Tamlin’s own chest panting, he came up short. Even Tarquin showed no remorse.

“Please,” Finbark croaked from where he sat, his hands shaking as they rested on his staff. “Please, time is against us, we mustn’t waste it.”

Azriel withdrew at that, fingers flexing as he fought against violent urges. Cassian moved, his hand closing over Azriel’s scarred one as blue mixed with red.

Tamlin eyed the interaction curiously, before finding the letter from Eris on the floor, reading it over himself.

“The letter accounts for two females held in the dungeons,” he stated, slightly confused.

Feyre blinked, her eyes fixed with Rhys as she paled even further. Forcing a breath, she moved those grey eyes to Helion. “When was the last time you saw the Lady of Autumn?”

Helion blinked, his brow then furrowing at Feyre’s suggestion. It had been longer than usual, he had counted the days. But he assumed she was keeping hidden, playing into their secret like she had always done. His hand intuitively found his chest then, rubbing at a gnawing ache, and panicked eyes found Feyre’s.

“Months,” he whispered, his chest tightening with every breath.

“That ache in your chest, friend. Has it not been a few months since you confided of your pain to me?” Feyre added.

Helion’s eyed widened. How could he have been so senseless?

Pain turned to fear turned to an all-consuming rage, and feral eyes found Azriel and Cassian.

“What was that you said of an army?”

————

The lethal point of that sword pierced through your clothing, its icy steel pricking at your skin, causing an immediate, searing pain. And oh gods, did it hurt.

Your body, attuned to the peril through the bond, convulsed within, as if desperate to break free from your chest cavity, urging you to fight, protect, or flee as far as the gods allowed. In your anguish, screams and sobs erupted, fuelled by the intense desire to kill Beron, to snap his neck with your bare hands for even daring to harm you and your mates. Yet, the harsh reality held you at his mercy.

“STOP! I BEG OF YOU!”

Beron’s attention snagged to that voice beyond your cell, the weapon stilling as it lay pierced within your chest, stuck at your left breast.

“Please, Beron, I beg of you. I’ll rid of Helion, I’ll stay by your side. For the sake of the Mother, do not hurt this girl!”

Beron’s lips curled into a sickening smirk. “How brave of you, Seraphina my love,” he toyed. “How brave you become when finally faced with consequence.”

You had only a few seconds, but you used it to the best of your ability, calling on your power, begging it to fill your veins and swarm your skin. Your anger was of no question, but you were weak, and were only met with a faint tingle at your fingertips.

Cold eyes found you again, and you whimpered.

Beron chuckled at the panic in your eyes. “Ah, sweet Y/N. Are you feigning fear, or do you really care for the bond?” He drawled closer. “Why would you have tossed them aside if you care for them so, hm?”

His eyes darkened as he grappled at the sword again. “Try not to move,” Beron gritted, teeth bared and he pushed with two hands now.

Your own howls and screams, Seraphina’s pleas and cries, Beron’s grunts as deadly power coursed through him – it was a hideous symphony of torture.

From deep within your chest cavity, death clashed with life, and so began the war within your heart.

————

Azriel, Cassian and Rhys flew overhead, circling the location where Eris instructed to meet, scanning for traps while Rhys’s magic worked to unravel any glamours.

Tamlin, Hellion and Feyre scouted from the ground, Tamlin in beast form, Feyre’s water wolves sniffing out the promised hounds.

They had left Tarquin to the border where the Illyrian army began to arrive, Mor and Amren with them. They would try to negotiate with Beron’s own armed forces while waiting on Cassian or Azriel’s word to strike.

Azriel spotted him first, ginger hair almost disguised amongst the matching tree tops. But it seemed the Autumn Princeling was true to his word, a litter of dogs leashed in his hand with enough apprehensiveness to be sensed from the skies .

Three thuds were sounded as the males landed, stalking toward Eris with violent determination - the kind that sent most running. He spun quickly at the rustle of leaves, gulping at the three water wolves and Tamlin now prowling towards him, Feyre and Helion a few paces behind.

“Where is she?” Cassian spoke, his voice harsh and quick.

“I don't know,” Eris replied, his own face grave. One of his hounds whined, and others pulled at their leads, desperate to start scouting.

Cassian and Azriel shared a growl, unsatisfied with the answer.

“No tricks Eris,” Rhys warned. “It wouldn't end well for you or your court.” And he meant it, because as he spoke, Mor sent images of the Illyrian soldiers now in formation at the borders of Summer and Spring, ready for their word, ready to tear the land apart to find you.

“I am true to my word,” Eris replied, pulling slightly at the band of leather leashes in his hands. “I have trained these hounds in secret, since I first suspected of my father’s conspiring.”

“What you wrote of your mother, is it true?” Helion asked, voice desperate as an array of curved weapons and twining knives glinted in the sun – so unique to his own court.

Eris nodded morbidly, tears pricking at his waterlines. “I have let this go on for too long.”

No one offered him any comfort.

“And what do you get out of this, Eris? What is it you want in return?” Feyre had to ask, the lesson’s Alis had taught her all those years ago ringing through her ears. Make no bargain, help no one without knowing what the price might be.

“This is beyond my own desires. My mother hasn't been seen in months, I suspect Beron has taken her. If she’s there, is she is… alive,” Eris had to pause and swallow before he could continue. “See that she is returned safely, and I will make it worth your while.”

Looks were exchanged, before Rhysand nodded. “Will you be joining us?”

Eris’s eyes dropped, shameful shoulders slumping. “If he finds out I helped you, he’ll hurt me in unimaginable ways.”

“You coward,” Hellion spat, pushing past to grab at the Princeling. “You’ve known for months, Seraphina is down there, she–”

An outburst of agonising roars pierced through the forest, Azriel and Cassian falling to their knees, red and blue winking as they clutched at their hearts.

“WHAT? What is it?” Feyre panicked, forcing Azriel up by his shoulders, scanning him over with wild eyes.

Rhys was on Cassian, in his mind, digging frantically. “I don't know, I can't see past-”

Their screams intensified, their wings flexing and twitching with pain. Cassian howled as he clutched at the grass, and Azriel swore, barely holding himself up.

“The-the bond!” he gasped. “Make it stop!”

Eyes were on Eris then, and he looked back, bewildered. “I don’t- I don't know what he’s doing! I don't know anything!”

As quickly as it had begun, the pain left their bodies, leaving the males sagged and trembling on the ground.

“We must move quickly,” Hellion murmured, eyeing Eris with distaste once more.

Eris was already unleashing the hounds who began to kick and whine, desperate for their command.

“Please,” he begged to Helion, his voice a mere whisper. “Please, bring her back.”

Cassian and Azriel had recovered quickly, forcing themselves to stand. They shared a quick nod, ensuring that the other was alright, flexing their wings and readying to take the skies once more. Whatever was happening, time was against them.

“Seek,” Eris commanded with a wavering voice, and the pack leapt into a sprint.

Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand launched to the sky, Tamlin heeding the hounds on all fours, and Feyre on Helion’s pegasus – an army of their own.

Together, they would find them, or die trying.

————

You were loosing sense of reality, delirious with pain. You begged for it to stop, and then prayed for it to stay, to know that your bond wasn't dead, not yet.

You were in and out of consciousness, your body blinking awake as Beron cut at that tether ever so slowly, not allowing you weaken or lay unconsciousness for too long. No, he wouldn't grant you that peace - he needed you alive, to withstand the torture, to survive, so his Seraphina could serve as his slave, mateless and obedient for the rest of her days.

“Stay with me now,” he gritted, slowly, oh so mind-numbingly slowly, forcing the rapier deeper into your chest, the bond whipping and lashing as magic clashed within, demanding warmth, demanding life.

Your throat strained as you tried to scream, to exert just some of the pain that coursed through you – but no sound came out, your voice long lost amongst your cries and screams hours ago.

Beron had assured you he was not trying to be cruel – that this careful extraction, and no matter how painful, he’d ensure you’d survive. Then you can die, for all I care - he had claimed.

As you thrashed, your mind flashed with memories of your mates, as if the bond or cauldron itself was showing you what was worth fighting for. Azriel and Cassian - each more handsome than the other. One of them wild, emotional, passionate and heated, the other a perfect match of icy calm, selfless, unyielding and determined.

And you were a part of them, their anchor, the vessel where red met blue. You were what made them whole. And both of them flawed - oh so flawed. But their love was undeniable, unconditional, stubborn and powerful. You could see that now. You wanted them, you needed them, and if Beron was to break this bond, you did not want the life that awaited you.

So you fought with the little energy you had left, forging the bond to a weapon of sorts, sweat trickling as you writhed and grunted, your heart an open battlefield.

Beron let out a frustrated roar, his rapier met with another bout of resistance, your bond swelling to provide a wall of magic he would again need to pierce. But it was draining him too – of magic, of whatever part of himself he had given to create such a tool. His son, Lucien, oh gods – but what else?

Lips curled with distaste, he pulled his hands back, wiping the sweat from his brow, wiping those sinful hands on his pants. “Let’s take a break, shall we?”

Flashes then, more memories. Tree tops, red ones, and distant yelping. You could not see them, but you knew that sound, heavy leathery skin flapping, pushing air under muscle. Your mates - the rhythm of their wings a lullaby. These weren't memories – they were visions. Your mates were coming for you - you only prayed they would find you in time.

You hadn’t realised you had faded out of consciousness yet again, your head lolling before Beron grabbed you by the chin, forcing to wake. “Ah ah Y/N,” he grinned darkly. “Don’t give up on me now.”

Your only response was a whimper, an attempt of a beg left hoarse and unheard as Beron took aim of the weapon, ever so cruelly forcing it deeper into your heart chamber.

—————

The auburn tree tops of the Autumn forest did little to soften either Azriel or Cassian’s landing. Their hands ripped at their leathers, clawing for their chest, to stop the phantom pain that carried through the earth somewhere below.

Feyre and Rhys halted their search, sprinting to help the males, scanning them inside and out for the third time in the past few hours.

Cassian held a palm up before Feyre could haul him to his feet, sweat trickling down his face as he panted, resting on hands and knees as the cuts from the branches were quick to heal.

Rhys had just about eased the pain from Azriel’s mind, but there was no point, as it had disappeared as quickly as it did the other times.

With a firm hand still pressed to Azriel’s chest, Rhys threw a panicked look around him. “I don't have enough magic to shield you and search for Y/N at the same time.”

Azriel shook his head. “Do not–,” he panted. “– for one second, spend your magic on us.”

Rhys’s face was grave, but he gave a small nod.

Up ahead, a collection of yelps sounded, Eris’s hounds now excited and frantic.

“Come quick,” Hellion called, the hounds leaping over one another, pawing and whining at the ground, his pegasus flaring it’s nose, wings tussling anxiously.

The group inspected the spot littered with dried leaves, a repetitive stretch of ground indifferent to any other area they had passed.

“There doesn't appear to be anything here,” Feyre murmured, running her hand through the dirt. “It’s just ground.”

“Do we dig?” Rhysand offered as Tamlin neared, pawing at the ground with bear-like claws.

But instinct had taken over the males that were doubled over not moments before. Their eyes matched in brightness, their hearts panting in their chest. Everything about this spot, chanted to them – yes, yes, yes.

They met each others gaze then, nostrils flaring.

“I feel it too,” Helion said to them with a pointed nod, his own chest heaving.

Azriel raised a scarred fist, shadows twining with raw, flowing power as he plowed a fist to the ground.

And was met with a thud.

Casting a quick look back at Cassian who nodded for him to continue, Azriel threw another punch, and another, until the ground beneath them fell through, leaves and dirt that had once been now disappeared as the glamour was broken through. Instead, an entrance was revealed, a ladder leading into the dark and damp depths of Beron’s hidden lair.

Cassian didn't wait to jump straight through the hole, landing on fists and knees with a powerful thud.

The passageway led both left and right, an ominous dripping could be heard in the distance, the only light offered by Cassian’s magic and the opening above.

Before could Azriel leap in, Feyre grabbed his arm.

“We need to keep searching for other entrances, ones that might get us closer to Y/N.”

Azriel nodded wordlessly, quickly meeting the eyes of the rest of the party.

“Be smart,” Rhysand warned. It would be hard advice to adhere to, each of them knew.

Azriel didn't wait to watch the rest of the group leave, Feyre and Rhysand in one direction, Tamlin and Hellion the other. He jumped just as Cassian had, following that thrumming, beating instinct, the frayed and weathered tether calling faintly from within.

Cassian nodded in one direction, Azriel agreeing to the other. They would split up to find you - it was the only way.

“Be safe,” Azriel grumbled.

“You too,” the War General replied, his voice predatory and lacking warmth.

Without their siphons, Azriel and Cassian’s magic was tempered, raw, unbound and wild. It twitched at their wings and hissed at their skin, because even it understood it was finally time to start paying some dues.

“We’re coming baby,” Cassian muttered under his breath, before the both of them turned their heels, picking up into a jog.

————

The first guards Azriel encountered hadn't so much as drawn their next breath before he snapped both their necks. And the next two after that.

Despite Rhys’s advice, he wasn’t being smart at all. He should question them, use his shadows to choke out any answers of how to get to Y/N that much faster. But there was a fierceness in him, one that moved his limbs and fuelled his breath before he could consider rationale. He hoped it had a purpose, that predatory instinct.

Azriel had reached the next clearing within minutes – a storeroom of sorts, guards armed, their weapons glowing in the light of the torches aflame at the walls.

Three of them died instantly, blue magic seeping through their nostrils and mouth, planting death from the inside out. The fourth was restrained by shadows, Truthteller firm against his throat as his body was pulled flush against Azriel, canines at his ear.

“Where is she?” he hissed.`

“You’re too late,” the guard gulped, wise enough to not fight and risk pushing himself further into the blade.

Azriel’s unsatisfied growl rippled through the room, contents in storeroom rattling.

“It’s true. Even if you reach her soon, you–”

A final breath was knocked from his chest as the satisfying crunch of a broken neck filled the room, Azriel letting his lifeless body fall to the floor. He had told him what he needed to know – he was getting closer. That was good enough for him.

Azriel moved through the storeroom like a shadow, his eyes scanning for the way forward. His instincts screamed at him, urging him to find her quickly, to silence the haunting calls that echoed in his mind.

As he advanced through the next passage, he caught a glimpse of movement behind a stack of crates. Azriel's senses heightened, and he summoned his shadows, enveloping himself in an inky cloak. He moved silently, like a wraith, closing in on the source of the disturbance.

A hushed conversation reached his ears. Guards were discussing a secret passage that led deeper into the dungeon, a hidden route that only the elite were privy to. Hazel eyes flecked with blue darkened with a mixture of determination and desperation.

Without warning, Azriel emerged from the shadows, Truthteller in hand, its blade shimmering with an ethereal light. The guards startled, their eyes widening as they faced the deadly Shadowsinger. Azriel didn't waste time with words. Just like the others, he used his shadows to incapacitate them, rendering them helpless on the cold stone floor.

His gaze focused on the guard who seemed to be the most knowledgeable. Azriel's eyes locked onto his with an intensity that sent shivers down the guard's spine.

"Where is the passage? Tell me, and I might spare your life," Azriel demanded, his voice low and threatening.

The guard hesitated, conflicting fear etched across his face. The seconds stretched agonisingly, the tension in the room palpable. Finally, with a defeated sigh, the guard revealed the secret of the hidden passage, his words a reluctant admission that pointed Azriel in the right direction.

Azriel sheathed Truthteller, leaving the guard to choke on his shadows instead. He vanished into the darkness, unflinching at the choking sounds he left behind. He’d find Beron’s men in hell, and kill them there too.

The calls in his mind grew louder, a symphony of urgency that spurred him onward.

As he moved through the hidden corridors, Azriel couldn't shake the fear that clawed at his heart. Time was running out, and he couldn't afford to lose you to the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

————

Cassian’s rage was brewing by the second.

He was yet to encounter anything but the unyielding, endless passageways of Beron’s underground labyrinth. He wanted to find men - to start killing, to save his fucking mate. Hell, he’d even take a torch of light at this stage.

But the only hint of life was his own breathing, ruby red magic providing much needed light. Damp air clung to his skin, and the distant echoes of his hurried footsteps reverberated off the cold, stone walls. The calls of his mate, distant yet urgent, fueled the fire within him.

It was that other worldly sense - the one that revealed itself along with the bond - that stopped in in his tracks, his breath synching.

Ears pricking to an off-shooting passage way, the unmistakable sound of a slither made his stomach coil.

It was instinct to finger at his sword, to press his palm into the leathery wrap at its hilt, ready for anyone, or anything.

An ominous wind blew through the tunnels, blowing the loosened strands of Cassian’s forward. Whatever was coming for him, it was big.

It’s scent caught him then – the unmistakable smell of a wyrm, a putrid mixture of rot and dampness. He’d only encountered one in his lifetime, on a dare with friends. The fight was easy then, Cassian had lured it from it’s burrow, and had easily defeated the creature thanks to his ability to fly, striking from above. But in here it was different - he barely fit in these tunnels, there was not enough room to even flex his wings. The wyrm itself would take the width of these paths, leaving no room to avert or dodge.

The ground trembled beneath him, a warning sign the wyrm was closing in. He could feel the creature's presence, a malevolent force that sought to consume him. The faint echoes of its slithering were louder now, and Cassian knew he had to act swiftly.

Drawing his weapon, a gleaming blade infused with the power of his siphons, Cassian pressed his back against the cold stone wall. The wyrm, blind but relentless, relied on scent and sound to track its prey. Cassian suppressed his breath again, minimising any trace that might give him away. He was stealthily still, wings tucked close to his powerful frame.

The wyrm entered the tunnel, its massive body undulating as it sensed the air, circular rows of rotten teeth bared as it’s forked tongue flickered, tasting his presence as it inched closer and closer…

With a swift movement, Cassian launched himself from the wall, a set of throwing knives set straight for the wyrm's mouth. The creature howled and thrashed as one landed its mark, lodging in its throat, the other clanging against its teeth. As it began thrashing, rocks and soot fell from around, the structure of the tunnel rumbling with impact. Cassian knew he’d be lucky to not be smothered by the damn labyrinth itself.

He’d have to kill the wyrm quickly for either of you to make it out alive. So the creature was as good as dead.

Without a second thought, Cassian launched through the air, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of the wyrm. The creature's writhed with blind rage as Cassian grabbed at it's large fangs, forcing it's hideous mouth open.

His mind reeled as toxins belched from the wyrms belly, the heat of certain death within swarming around him. But his muscles pulsed, and clarity was a blessed treat as he heard the calls of his mate echo through in his mind. He would not die – not until you were safe.

Cassian roared as he forced the wyrm's jaw that much wider, one strong arm bearing its might as he used the other to unsheathe his sword, facing it upwards within the creature’s mouth.

In a daring maneuver, Cassian leapt back from the wyrm, its mouth snapping shut followed by a piercing howl. Cassian’s blade shot right through the roof of its mouth, pointing right through its flaring nostrils. As the wyrm thrashed in pain, Cassian drew his longsword, raking a vertical line down the exposed neck and belly, gutting the creature instantly.

There was no time to observe the beast any closer, to wipe the tacky black blood that covered his face and hands or even catch his breath.

With a heaving chest, Cassian pressed forward, following the calls of his mate that echoed louder then before.

————

Azriel’s roar of frustration sounded through the narrow passageway behind him.

Another door, and likely another room of guards that lead to fucking nowhere. He was desperate, magic lashing violently from him, the blue almost fully overtaken the hazel in his eyes.

He didn't bother with stealth, kicking through the iron door, bursting it open with a large bang as it flew from rusty hinges.

The sight before him was a curious thing.

A wide spanning room, and to his right, almost fifty guards, all of them armed. He blinked across him, and in front of an identical door was Cassian, chest heaving, splattered in some form of ink, red shining from beneath.

The stretch of leathery string pricked his ears, Beron's archers pulling tight on their bows as they aimed at males.

Cassian’s grin was feral as he met Azriel’s eye.

This was going to be fun.

————

Part 8>>>

AN: Hello lovely people!! I so hoped you enjoyed this next chapter, and the beginnings of feral Cazriel! Did you see Tamlin and Feyre agreeing together? 🥺 Also Eris is such a mumma's boyyyyy, I love it so much 😝 As always, thank you for your patience with this fic. I never expected the plot to be this intense, and it's taken a lot more brain power than I had expected haha! I hope I'm doing the story justice. I'm thinking we only have another 2 parts to this fic FYI, so very keen to wrap up this big finale as soon as I can. Comment to join either my general tag list or just the one for Our Girl. Thank you always for your support and kindness with this fic <3

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sapchat · 9 months ago

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Ways to add simple little details to Prythian in your stories!

For the Autumn Court this one is basic and many people use it: Males gift their fiancées, wives, mates fox kits as a symbol of their love and good luck with the relationship. To make it sadder, Beron never did this for Lady A, so when Eris found out about this tradition he got his mom one!

For the Dawn Court: Like how the night court Illyrians put the women down, what if the Dawn Court was the opposite and the Peregryn females would put the males down. In the real world male birds are held to a high standard for breeding, I feel like Peregryn instincts would cause this and it just gives more to a story than the females constantly being the abused. Also they’re stomach/side sleepers. I talk more about this below with the night court just to not repeat myself.

Day Court is full of bastards. You can NOT convince me that it isn’t. Helion is laying the fucking pipe like he’s discovered oil. And the reason I feel this is because of @florencemtrash ‘s story “The Shadow and the Inkbird” (also it’s really good go read it if you haven’t) where the MFC is Helions bastard, and meets Lucien and instantly realizes that they’re halfsiblings. And I was like ya know the Day Court is probably like Game of Thrones Dorne. Dorne is know for their bastards almost every persons name in that city is ‘Sand’ because they’re all bastards basically. So I just KNOW that Helion probably has other kids than just Lucien. And everyone in that court is fucking.

Summer Court has mermaids. It’s basic, it’s simple and it’s true. There’s mermaids.

Night Court, listen we already now a lot about the Nigh Court but this pertains to Illyrian’s so I feel it’s different. They’re stomach/side sleepers. They are. You can’t tell me that two massive wing sticking out of your back would allow you to lay on your back. It can’t be comfortable. Like have you ever tried sleeping with like a ponytail/claw clip in? It ain’t nice. Now imagine it with two that sit right beside your shoulder blades and the clips are like 3ft long? Idk how long the base would be but like probably pretty fucking long to allow actual flight capabilities. Also when they sleep on their side they just have their wings straight out, now like laying on one and the other out. They’ve got big ass beds for a reason spread out. (Cassian fully takes up a bed like star fish style just on his stomach. Nesta is sick of it.)

Spring Court, during the Spring Equinox the High Lord chooses someone to dress up and hand out spring gifts to family’s (usually kids). When Tamlin became High Lord he appointed himself to do so. During this time Tamlin also gives many of the less fortunate families something they can later use for the Tithe.

Winter Court puts on a celebration for the children called Three Kings Day. Family’s with children are welcomed to the castle(? Do they have castles…?) and the bakers leave a cake outside the doors of the family, inside the cakes (this is a real thing from Puerto Rico/France/Spain too btw, the cake is called la galette des rois (Kings Cake)) are toys/coins. Whichever children find them get to wear a crown for the day and called Kings/Queens (Kallias started the tradition that all kids get to do this, he’s a softy).

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ghostedgrim · 2 months ago

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How do y'all think each of the High Lords would react to learning we write fanfiction about them? Like we know Rhysand would absolutely adore and brag about it. But what about the others?

Lucien, Azriel, and Cassian can be included in this debate. Same for Feyre, Nesta, Elain, Gwyn and Emerie

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lavenderandturpentine · 3 months ago

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Feyre: Do not provoke her.

Rhysand: Mhm…

*Rhysand preparing to piss Nesta off:

We all know what happens when his hands reach into those pockets 😂

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monowritestoomuch · 25 days ago

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My thoughts on the High King/High Queen of Prythian Argument:

I am currently reading A Court of Silver Flames and have not finished it has not been confirmed to me through reading that Eris has killed Beron yet, so until then and Eris can reform the Autumn Court, these are my final scorings.

To preface this, I currently like how there is a seven court system for Prythian in the books, as the lands are a continent, not a country. In addition, it would be impractical and inefficient for there to be a “high king or queen” of Prythian as the geopolitical system and issues would be far too difficult and incredibly complex, giving its high chance of collapse under the sheer weight of whoever ends up ruling on the throne.

This being said, many arguments have been made on who is going to be the high king/queen among the high lords and I believe I’ve figured out, if there was to be a high king/queen, who would be the best to sit on the throne and bear the title.

So here we go:

7: Rhysand

At number seven we have Rhysand. I know I’m about to get a supreme amount of hate for this, but hear me out. Most of his people hate him, including the Court of Nightmares and others, including Hewn City. His armies aren’t loyal in places like Hewn city or the Court of Nightmares because of his treatment of them, and I haven’t even mentioned how he treats women.

This man took over FIVE HUNRED YEARS TO REALIZE that Illyrian men’s treatment of Illyrian women was too harsh. He put in place laws to stop wing clipping and to allow women to own property and business 500 years ago, but there was a fatal flaw in his lawmaking process. He didn’t enforce it.

It had already taken years to make proper laws to prohibit the mistreatment of Illyrian women, but he doesn’t even enforce the laws he put in place, basically rendering them useless. And the Illyrian men don’t even care, they just carry on with the treatment, only now they can get caught but not much would be done about it regardless as Rhysand never visits to do a welfare check.

And don’t get me started on Velaris or Illyrian reproductive rights.

There are other parts of his character that I feel uncomfortable writing about as it is triggering for me.

6: Beron

There are many others who could go here but I’m putting Beron. The reason he isn’t at the bottom is because his court doesn’t completely hate him.

However, his prominent issues are clear within his court. There is a clear divide in privilege between classes, a classist system, clearly enforced by him. And as far as I’m concerned, this man doesn’t care for child safety laws (based on how he treated his dead son’s deaths after their subsequent murders) and murder. Since he clearly doesn’t care for the lower class, there could be horrific crimes against them, such as what happened to Jesminda.

His entire court, including his advisors and emissaries, are all toxic, backstabbing individuals who couldn’t care less about anyone besides themselves, which is what Beron intended.

The only reason he isn’t lower is because his court is still decently stable and doesn’t look like it’s going to collapse due to the obscene laws created by the high lord or BEHAVIOR exhibited by the high lord.

Once Eris kills Beron then perhaps the court will be reformed and this rating could be changed but until then this is my opinion.

5: Tarquin

Now I love Tarquin, he’s my favorite character out of everyone in this series, but there are some extremely flawed political matters that have landed the Summer Court so low.

Here are the Positives:

Tarquin, as the youngest high lord, has a more modern viewpoint than any of the other high lords.

Tarquin wants to abolish classism in his court, he wishes to merge the higher and lower classes into a single body, for there to be little to no tension between them. This is a very different view than what the other high lords have conjured for their courts.

He also takes in refugees from spring after Feyre destroys the Spring Court, implying the reconstruction and beginning rehabilitation of his court, including the deep care he has for both his subjects, and refugees that may be in harms way. He offers them benefits and a way to live with less fear than they had, which I admire about him. He seems to be a very kind-hearted high lord.

However,

Flaws:

He’s too trusting, as exhibited when Feyre visits the Summer Court for the first time. He trusts her immediately, causing him to have a piece of the Summer Court stolen and diplomatic declaration of perhaps even war on his hands due to the actions of another court because of how trusting he is. This boils over when he sends blood rubies to the night court to show his distaste, displeasure, and a ban from returning to the Summer Court overall.

He is also too forgiving, as exhibited when he forgives Feyre for the blood rubies without an explanation. I can’t tell if that is SJM’s intention, or if Tarquin is just that naïve.

In addition, he has a weak military. This is exhibited during the war with Hybern, as his forces cannot properly hold their own and the Summer Court gets heavily damaged due to it.

He is also the youngest high lord, at only eighty years, he hasn’t lived long enough, or been the high lord for long enough to fully grasp his position and the power it holds, along with the power his subjects hold. His modern views are nice, but he isn’t experienced, which can and has caused tensions and fatal flaws in his rulings.

Tarquin is a good example of a good person, just not entirely fit to rule, which isn’t his fault given Amarantha’s whole “I’m gonna be high queen shtick” with her murdering his parents and relatives, causing him to have to become high lord.

4: Tamlin

Now I just KNOW I’m going to get hate for putting him as fourth on this list, but if the shoe fits 🤷

Tamlin was a decent high lord before Amarantha and Feyre came into the equation. Even when Amarantha came into play, he welcomed in refugees from all over the continent, especially the Summer Court, as if you recall, Alis and her boys were from there.

Not only that, Tamlin’s people were extremely loyal to him, his emissaries were loyal enough to GO OVER THE WALL AND GET KILLED FOR HIM. That is how loyal they were.

(And another thing, because there were refugees from all over Prythian in the Spring Court, they celebrated other courts’s holidays and traditions, as a form of respect.)

He had reformed the once slavery-ridden court his father ran, effectively destroying the concept and acceptance of slavery. He reformed his court to be nothing like the court his father tan, but more alike to what his mother would’ve approved if she were still living.

However, Tamlin’s easy ability to get manipulated and gaslighted is very troubling and important to include in here. Because of this, his court is falling and his people have become disloyal. His self-destructive, and generally destructive tendencies must also be raised in alarm as he drove his sentries out by shapeshifitng into wild form and becoming a beast. He also was just generally self-destructive and dangerously suicidal when we last saw him.

In the past he was a good high lord, but now? He needs a good healing arc before he can properly rule again. He needs to be able to make himself better than he currently is, meaning in the future he’ll NEED a support system to help him reach that. Until then, he stands at fourth place.

3: Kallias and Viviane

These two are so politically inclined that it makes me incredibly relieved that some high lord and lady in Prythian is finally getting forcing and regulating laws, not only that, but reviewing previous laws and adjusting them to fit the newer values of the court to part of the people’s values too.

Speaking of their people, they listen to their people and they care, they let their people speak to them trustingly, giving them hope and encouragement that their high lord and lady will listen to their issues and find a viable solution.

They’re both politically strong people given Viviane held the court up on her back for fifty years while Kallias went UTM to help protect and keep a watchful eye on his people and other citizens of Prythian.

They also are decent at making deals and alliances with other courts, which is a very good thing considering how much war this continent goes through on the regular.

But here are their issues:

They have a weak military, as it’s mentioned during the war with Hybern how their forces might be able to hold off Hybern’s forces and help, but that they’re small and not very powerful. This is a very prominent issue as an improper military could lead to the collapse of their entire court.

And with the other courts there are some tensions mentioned? Such as between them and the night court, as Rhysand’s actions UTM were less than pleasant.

With that being said, they would making promising rulers, which is why they take the third spot in the top three for now, this is until we hear any more about their court in future books.

2: Helion

Now Helion and Kallias & Viviane’s spots on this chart could flip flop depending on what he opens in the future books, but until then, this is my placement.

Helion’s court is not only rich in magic, but it’s rich in information. Don’t forget this man being the second oldest high lord.

Magic is very prominent in the Day Court, the Fay Court itself being the most magically driven court, leading me to assume that’s a large part of the infrastructure and economic system.

But it is also mentioned how the Day Court has the biggest and most libraries in all of Prythian. That is a lot of reading material, meaning a lot of information, which is valuable.

Helion is older and wiser, he’s seen a lot in his days as the High Lord of the Day Court, meaning he’s much more experienced than many of the other high lords. He’s dealt with war before several times and he knows how to handle himself and his court.

That being said, there’s also some not so great parts of him being the High Lord of Day. . .namely his actions.

Sure, Helion is nice, but he’s also incredibly sexual. He can be serious, we’ve seen that, but he is known as the high lord who sleeps around. Not exactly the nicest title to be given. He needs to be able to be more mature sex miss given his age, especially around other diplomats, such as high lords.

In addition, we don’t know much about his military, which is disappointing to me as it’s a large component on whether one’s court can hold its own. Without a proper military, the Day Court could be in shambles. Luckily, it seems like the court does have a good military, it just hasn’t been mentioned. But I’m the future, knowing how efficient his military is would certainly help in my scoring of the Day Court as a whole.

AND FINALLY

1: Thesan

Hear me out, he would be the best candidate for High King of Prythian.

As previously stated, he has a strong military, loyal and dedicated. His husband is literally their general, so he’s constantly well informed on it.

He might not be one of the older of the high lords, but it is implied how he has much expertise politically and morally.

Another large part of Thesan is how the Dawn Court is known as the most neutral court in Prythian. This is an incredibly important position for his court to be in, as a strong military and strong neutrality is a great defense for his court, not to mention when Dawn helped during the war with Hybern, Dawn’s reinforcements of the Seraphim military were mentioned to have helped push back and eventually defeat Hybern.

Dawn also held the meeting between all the high lords, giving Thesan the upper hand as the host to have executive authority as it’s HIS COURT.

Their neutrality is incredibly important as it’s kept them out of trouble for most of the series so far, and I sincerely hope SJM keeps it that way. We haven’t gotten to know Thesan and the Dawn Court well enough as they haven’t been mentioned since the war with Hybern.

Also, just personal opinion, gay high king. He would totally legalize gay marriage, prove me wrong.

Again, these are my opinions, and if you’d like to be an ass about them, then click off of this post. This is just what has been on my mind since I’ve seen others on tumblr debating who the High King of Prythian would be.

That’s all for today, Mono out ✌️

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shadowqueenjude · 1 year ago

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Tamlin's villain origin story part 7

Tamlin turns up the "charm" to try and convince the Summer Court to ally with him!

Tamlin POV

Tamlin’s court was very safe, but he wasn’t going to be taking any chances. Not with Lucien’s mate. He managed to bring Nesta over to keep watch over Elain and make sure she was ok. Nesta had been fine with it, as Eris was keeping everything under control in Autumn. A wedding ring glittered on her finger; she and Eris had had a clandestine marriage after Beron’s death. Perhaps Nesta felt something for the male, as she had asked Tamlin for freedom; surely, she wouldn’t do that only to leap into an arranged marriage. It wasn’t really his concern though. He had fulfilled his side of the bargain. Now she was upholding hers.

Tarquin was waiting for him. So, Tamlin closed his eyes and winnowed.

Tarquin showed no emotion as Tamlin winnowed to his doorstep. He’d been let in, had been expected. Cresseida and Varian were also there, staring down Tamlin. Tamlin ignored them. It wasn’t them he needed to convince. He bowed ever so slightly. “Tarquin.”

“Tamlin.” Tarquin waved off his companions and gestured at Tamlin to follow him deeper into the palace.

Tamlin and Tarquin didn’t say anything for long enough that it started to get awkward. So, Tamlin said, “Nice weather.” He winced and internally cursed himself. He then hastened to add, “After being in spring fields for so long, it’s refreshing to smell the ocean breeze.”

Tarquin nodded. “I feel the same way about Spring. Not so many flowers here in Summer.” Tarquin shook his head. “The only ones that will grow here are the hydrangeas, because they need so much water.” He sighed. “I just want some tulips.”

“I could…create an indoor garden for you,” Tamlin offered. “With tulips.”

“That would be nice, thanks,” Tarquin said. Those blue eyes focused on him with sudden intensity. “But we’re not here for tulips, are we? You want me to side with you against Feyre.”

Tarquin’s honesty was something Tamlin could appreciate. He wasn’t good at courtly games, not like Lucien. Tarquin was the same in that regard. So, Tamlin simply said, “Yes.”

“And why should I do that?”

“Because we’re the same.”

Tarquin scowled. “You know who else said that to me? Feyre. After she stole from me and laid my people bare to Hybern.”

“I would know,” Tamlin said quietly. “For your court was laid bare to Hybern because she shattered my court.”

Tarquin stilled. “I forgot. Sorry.”

“I was in love with Feyre,” Tamlin said. “I had told her once that against slavery, against tyranny, I would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom I was defending. She thought she was enough to turn me from that. And as punishment, she gladly sent my innocent people to their deaths.” Tamlin’s eyes watered, and he found he could no longer speak. Tarquin hesitantly patted his shoulder.

“I told Feyre she would be a very easy person to love. I do not blame you for falling for her. I met her once and liked her instantly…until she broke into my mind and stole from me.”

Tamlin glared at him. “Yet you retracted your blood diamonds. Why?”

Tarquin hesitated. “It was war. I thought it would be a sign of goodwill, a way to unite our people. You should talk,” he said, eyes narrowed, “did you not save Feyre in Hybern’s camp?”

Tamlin laughed bitterly. “That’s exactly how I know it’s not worth it. To help people like that. I loved her, provided her sisters with a comfortable life, and chose her over all of Prythian. It wasn’t enough for her.”

“She said you treated her like property,” Tarquin said. His eyes were cautious. Wary.

Tamlin snorted. “It’s funny that she says that when she married the male who forced her into a bargain then constantly sexually assaulted her under the mountain. I would’ve never touched her without her permission.”

Tarquin’s eyes shuttered. “Rhysand compared her breasts to apples right in front of me,” he admitted. “Yet she didn’t seem remotely bothered by it. I know if somebody had made a comment like that about me in front of a High Lord, I would’ve been humiliated.”

“Yet Feyre claims he was better than me,” Tamlin said, each word laced with leashed rage. His claws poked in and out of his knuckles. Tarquin noticed.

“I’m curious,” he said. “What have you done with my kernel of power?”

“I’m having trouble mastering the other elements,” Tamlin admitted. “So far, I haven’t really used them.”

Tarquin eyed him. “I could teach you my element if you want,” he offered.

Tamlin raised a brow. “Is that your way of saying you’re allying with me?”

“That’s my way of saying I’ll teach you water magic.”

Tamlin smiled slightly. “Come on, Tarquin. You know you want to help me. Don’t you believe in the equality of all faeries like I do?”

Tarquin’s eyes narrowed. “Feyre believes in that too.”

“The old Feyre did,” Tamlin said. “I don’t know what happened to her when Rhysand got through to her. Maybe he warped her mind or something, for I’ve never seen such a change. She happily lives in that court with 5 homes without a care in the world that Illyrian females’ wings are shredded every day, that people suffer down in the Court of Nightmares.”

Tarquin’s eyes widened. “Court of Nightmares?”

Tamlin paused for a moment, considering. In situations like this, he always asked himself: WWLD? What would Lucien do? “Do you know what goes on in the Night Court, Tarquin?”

Tarquin sighed. “I’ve been trying to get an in there for ages. Varian is the closest we’ve got, but all he can rave about is Amren. I can’t even trust him fully anymore.”

Tamlin thought for a moment. “You are…smart. Varian either does not know or does not care. But Lucien has told me. He has a residence there. He told me about how the Illyrian females get their wings cut off by the males in their family and Rhysand’s crew does nothing about it. He told me about how people suffer under terrible conditions in the Court of Nightmares, a court separate from Rhysand’s ‘idyllic’ land of Velaris. That Rhysand and co. do not care to rule over them. What kind of progressive is that? That seems like performance feminism, performance philanthropy. Would you not agree?”

Tarquin’s expression remained expressionless, though his mouth twitched slightly. “And why should I believe you?”

Come on, Tamlin told himself. WWLD? Present facts. “Somewhere deep inside, I can tell you believe me. Have you even met an Illyrian female? That seems strange, does it not?”

Tarquin replied with, “It does. But I cannot get a good read on you. I cannot tell if you’re telling the truth.”

“Put a daemati on me then,” Tamlin replied.

Tarquin’s mouth tightened. “There are no daemati here.”

Tamlin sighed. “Isn’t there any way I can convince you?”

Tarquin pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If you…gave your powers back, it may convince me.”

Tamlin sighed. “I don’t know how to do that.” He sat up. “What happened to teaching me how to use my powers?”

Tarquin sighed. “The Summer Court is in an unstable place right now. After taking in so many Spring Court refugees-“ an apologetic look at Tamlin at that- “we’re in a tough spot right now. Not enough money, not enough resources to house the refugees.”

“They will be able to return to Spring soon,” Tamlin said. “I’ve been working on rebuilding, remaking everything. It hasn’t been easy, and I wouldn’t burden you if I had a choice.”

Tarquin shook his head. “I’m happy to do it. But…I’m not sure we can afford to lose right now. So, if there is to be a fight, I would like to know that I’m fighting for the right side.”

Tamlin nodded. “I understand, after Amarantha butchered your leaders, it must be extremely difficult here. Talk to Nesta Archeron and her husband, Eris Vanserra. They rule over the Autumn Court now, and they’re allied with us. They are not like Beron; they will be able to help you.”

Tarquin bowed his head. “Thank you for the advice.”

Tamlin hesitated before offering another piece of information. “You’ll recall Nuan from the High Lord meeting. She created the faebane antidote with the help of my friend, Lucien. You will find she is now constructing wings for all Illyrian females. If you do not believe me, well you have spies, do you not? Send them to her for proof.”

Tarquin relaxed in his seat. “I’ve heard enough. I can tell you’ve taken a gamble telling me all of this, and I smell the truth in your words.”

Tamlin sighed in relief. “Thank the Mother. I was sweating in my seat here.”

Tarquin smiled slightly. “Not much for diplomacy?”

Tamlin sighed again. “I never expected to become High Lord, so I wasn’t prepared when it happened. When Lucien came to my border, running from his brothers, it was a blessing in disguise for Spring. Lucien knows everyone who is anyone. His help was crucial to helping me survive as High Lord.”

Tarquin nodded. “I am quite young for a High Lord. Just over 80. Some call me young and inexperienced, and perhaps I am, for I never expected to take on this role. I was on the bottom of a very, very long list of potential heirs. But the land chose me and I hold out hope for a day when I can declare all faeries are free in all of Prythian.”

Tamlin nodded. “Me too,” he said quietly. It was quiet for a long time. Tarquin was almost fully convinced; Tamlin knew it. Perhaps a few compliments would butter him up enough to bring him to their side, like Lucien said.

He gestured to Tarquin’s head. “Shiny crown,” he said.

Tarquin chuckled. “Thanks. It digs into my head.”

“Why don’t you just get another crown, then?”

Tarquin shrugged. “Tradition.”

Tamlin made a face. “My father was all about tradition too. Never liked him much.”

Tarquin grinned. “Nice family, I presume?”

“Oh yeah,” Tamlin replied. “My father was Beron intoxicated with faerie wine.”

Another chuckle at that. “You’re not what I expected.”

Tamlin cocked his head. “What did you expect?”

Tarquin shrugged. “Someone more…beastly.”

Tamlin smirked. “Should I be insulted?”

Tarquin shrugged. “That’s what they say about you. It’s how Feyre spoke of you, how you acted at the High Lord meeting.”

“I was angry then,” Tamlin said. “As I’m sure you were too. Even if you didn’t show it.”

Tarquin didn’t argue. “Your eyes are very green,” he said suddenly. “They’re like…leaves.”

Tamlin blushed slightly. “And yours are like water.”

Tarquin raised a brow. “Water is clear.”

Tamlin blushed even harder.

Tarquin spared him by adding, “But the water in our seas appears a very deep blue, as it reflects the sky’s color. I’m assuming that is what you meant.”

“Yes,” Tamlin said. “That is…what I meant,” he finished lamely. Cauldron help him. Tarquin didn’t seem to mind, though. “You’re not much for words, are you?” Tarquin asked.

Tamlin shrugged. “I…can find it difficult. To find the right things to say. After all this time, it’s ridiculous, I know.”

I don’t think it’s ridiculous. I think it’s rare in a male so high up as you; it makes you more earnest, trustworthy.” Tarquin stood up and offered his hand. “You have your alliance, Tamlin Fìdhle.”

To those of you wondering about his last name, it's actually fiddle in Scottish Gaelic, since the name Tamlin is Scottish haha. It's not an insult, I actually think Tamlin being a musician and playing an instrument of the people is pretty iconic which is why I did that.

#tamlin #pro tamlin #pro lucien vanserra #pro nesta archeron #anti inner circle #tarquin #pro tarquin #tarquin deserves better #tamlin x tarquin #fanfic #villain origin story

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scorpioriesling · 3 months ago

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Too Hot to Handle - Episode 8

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Eris, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, Azriel, & Tamlin

Warning(s): mostly VERY suggestive, but... ehm... light smut at the end. You're welcome. I suppose. (:

SR’s Note: Guys I know you’ve waited ages for this episode… don’t fret. I made this one juicy asf for you. Eat it up. (; Tags: @velarisdusk @lilah-asteria @starlightazriel @mellowmusings @paintedbyshadows @book-obsessed124 @kitsunetori @rcarbo1

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"To say I am utterly disappointed in almost all of you would be the understatement of the century."

Lana's voice was the last thing you wanted to hear this morning, though her lovely morning wake up calls were inevitable. Many members of the group failed to even sit up in their beds this morning -- you at least gave your host the decency of acting like you were paying attention, though your head was still throbbing from the amount of alcohol you'd consumed the night prior.

Your only comfort was Lucien's warm arms still wrapped around your waist, a feeling you never wished to escape from; his soft, sleepy breaths against his pillow confirmed that he definately was not paying attention to Lana this morning.

"In fact, I feel so embarassed by the actions of these individuals that I would like to replay the footage from last night caught on the security cameras for everyone to see."

You straighten, and catch Nesta's silvery stare from across the room. Surprisingly, or, maybe not -- Cassian is rubbing his eyes in bed next to her, not seeming to be fully awake yet either. Her eyes widen as Lana's cone projects an image onto the adjacent wall near the entryway; large enough so everyone is able to see.

"I don't think we should be back here," the soft, familiar female voice sounds as the video tape begins on the screen.

Your eyes widen, glancing to the bed across from yours where your friend flings the covers off of her, frantically shaking the male next to her to pay attention.

"Oh, come on -- no one is even back here," that cool, suave tone prods. The couple walks on, rounding the corner of the villa near the spot where you remembered finding Elain and Lucien in their... well, compromising, position. The footage is a bit grainy, and in black and white, but there is no doubt about who the two are. The audio is clear proof of that.

The girl chuckles, the stripes of her skirt swishing with each step she takes. He keeps walking, his hand guiding her on her lower back and inching lower as they slow to a stop near a dark corner.

"I feel so... sneaky," she giggles, and he smiles at her as the camera zooms in. You glance toward them again, her usually pale-freckled face tinged pink with embarassment.

"I bet there are no cameras back here," he says, his hand bracing against the wall and caging her in. She looks up at him, her hands lightly roaming over the planes of his exposed chest.

"Rhys... we have to have a green-"

"I don't care about a green light; I just want you, now," he says. She reaches up, and in an instant, their mouths are on one another. Audible gasps come from the group, and Feyre buries her head in her hands as the lewd sounds of soft groans and wet kisses are played aloud for the group to hear.

"Alright Lana, I think that's enough," Rhys says, his brows furrowed as he runs a hand over Feyre's shoulders. You look down, your palms clammy as you grab onto the top sheet. Lucien is slowly coming to, looking at you with a confused expression while he quietly takes in the scene around him.

You don't have the heart, or the courage to tell him what's happening.

"Had enough?" Lana pauses the clip. "So have I." She says, clearly irritated. "Your rule break cost the group $10,000. Right after I gave everyone gifts, too. How kind of you to repay me." Amren shakes her head from across the room, and you watch as Tarquin bites the inside of his cheek.

"Don't fret too much over it -- we're only just getting started." She continues. "Let's have a look at our next couple to violate my rules, shall we?"

The group watches with baited breath as the camera footage switches, this time panning to the shoreline. In the background, the tiki bar and dancing from the main group is seen, but in the front, well... another couple is seen. Alone. Laying in the sand.

This didn't look good.

"By the Cauldron," Tamlin whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh give me a break," Azriel snapped, and your brows rose as you squinted to make out the dark footage before you.

The camera zoomed in, catching the perfectly illuminated profile of the redheaded female giggling in the sand. Her dark haired counter part was delicately tracing his fingers up her exposed stomach -- the see through dress covered in M&Ms doing little to conceal her form.

"Tickles!" She squeaked, her fingers lacing through his before he pinned both of her wrists above her head in the sand. Her breath was coming out in short pants as he moved on top of her, his... excitement rather evident through the gold "foil" Twix shorts he was wearing.

"You have to know," he says quietly, sliding down toward the tops of her thighs where the short skirt of the dress ended. "This is my favorite," he pauses, kissing the inside of her knee. She shivers, smiling softly. "...candy," he kisses the other knee, looking up at her through his dark brows. You had to admit, he wasn't even your man, but... had it been Lucien, you would've melted like an M&M on the pavement during a hot summer day.

She seems to remember what is to come -- a few beds down, she grabs every layer of blanket, sheet, comforter on the bed and pulls them completely over herself, covering her entire body out of embarassment, surely.

"Azzie..." she squeaks, and you feel your face heating from the second-hand embarassment. You watch as Azriel is forcibly restraining himself, many of the other group members' eyes glued to the screen in horror.

He keeps kissing her legs, going up her thighs and you fight yourself in your own mind to not allow yourself to think of Lucien. You know where this is heading, but when you sneak a glance at him, he's only looking toward the projection like everyone else.

Azriel bites one of the candies on her skirt, the candy coming off and she gasps as he chuckles near the top of her thigh. "Mmmm," he groans, and her head tips back in the sand. "Delicious," he mutters, the next candy closer to her pelvis. She sucks in a breath when his hands move to hold her hips in place, his nose brushing the thin fabric.

"I... m-more..." she pleads, and he grins mischeviously. She continues to squirm under his touch as he descends on her again, his fingers moving under the hem of her dress before stalling, and she groans again.

"I'm sure you'd taste sweeter than anything I've ever eaten before, Gwyneth Berdara-"

"ENOUGH OF THAT," Azriel is up in an instant, his entire body up and off the bed without hesitation. The group seems to snap out of their daze as he throws himself in front of the projection, his arms wide as the picture distorts itself across his bare upper half. You can see why Gwyn is so attracted, but... Gods, how embarassed you'd be.

You could only pray for your sake, for Lucien's sake, what you remembered doing wasn't too bad.

"Not another moment more of that. I don't want to see it." He said firmly, the video pausing on the rather explicit frame of him hovering over her, his lusty gaze fixed on her mouth, fallen open in what looked like a moan as his hands disappeared beneath her dress.

"Don't like facing what you've done, is that it?" Lana mocks. Azriel glares at the cone, as if she were a real person and could see his reaction. "I think it's quite healthy to own up to our mistakes, especially when we know what's right and choose not to follow the rules."

Azriel scoffs, slouching back into bed and crossing his arms. "I'll honor the request and spare you the rest of the footage -- but this rule break, my my. This one is $20,000."

More frustrated gasps come from the group, glares sent toward the couple. Azriel only stares forward, his brows furrowed. Looking around, you aren't too surprised to see Helion finding the whole situation rather entertaining.

"Hey man, I get it, I mean... we've been cooped up in here, you got your girl alone on the beach-"

"Not another word about the situation," Azriel growls, and Helion chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender. Gwyn shifts beneath her blankets, muttering something about how she'd choose the Cauldron in this situation.

"It's cool, I'm just sayin'..."

"Not. Another. Word." He bites out, and Lana lights up once more.

"No need for words, boys. We still have more couples to reprimand. This next pair didn't seem to need many before they-"

"So, what if we just, admit to what we've done," Nesta's cool, confident voice interrupted Lana's chiding, causing her purple lights to flicker. All eyes wavered between the two, and yours watched as Cassian sat up straight, leaning in to whisper hurriedly to the blonde with concern. She only brushed him off, seemingly unconcerned with whatever warning he was trying to give her. He slowly sat back against the headboard, running his hands through his hair as he stared at the ceiling.

Lucien smirked beside you. "For a guy so Hell bent on keeping everyone in line this whole time, he sure looks like a teenager who just got caught jerkin' it for the first time." He chuckles again, and you smack his shoulder. Was he really not getting it? Surely the cameras picked up on what you'd done last night -- or, what you thought you did. You weren't dumb enough to think events like those happened in a dream.

Beneath the blankets, your hand slipped under the hem of your nightshirt. You slowly inched your hand upward, careful to not raise any suspicion to the others. Your fingers drifted along your ribs, tracing them one by one, travelling closer and closer inward...

Ouch. The dull pain radiating just below your right breast was proof enough.

Definately not a dream.

"If we just admit we broke a rule, you won't need to play any more of the tapes. Right?" Nesta continues. The room is quiet for a moment, and Lana's lights move back and forth, as though she is thinking.

"While I appreciate your honesty in admitting you have broken one of my rules Nesta, the point of showing these videos this morning is for all of you to understand the humility in the actions you take. This explaination was going to come at the end of my reprimanding, but in short, it will lead to the main activity for today." She explains. Nesta sighs, biting the inside of her lip.

"We'll get to that later. For now, as you all can assume -- the next video and rule break." The screen projects again, this time as predicted, Nesta is on the screen. She walks, well... stumbles, perhaps, toward the outdoor lounge it seems. Even in the moonlight, she looks ethereal; her flowing hair perfectly shimmering down her back; the low cut, chocolatey brown dress draped across her, clinging in all the right places to accentuate her every curve. You almost wish you could cover Lucien's eyes, but there was no point. You feel a pang of jealousy when you notice him unashamedly staring at the screen like a male starved.

The camera angle changes, and you watch as she chuckles at something, then uncharacteristically trips over one of the tendrils of her dress. Your breath catches -- but, in an instant, Cassian is there, her hands wrapping around his bicep as his hands clasp around her waist. She looks up and smiles again as he guides her toward one of the plush outdoor couches, helping her into it and then sitting next to her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her slowly shaking her head in disapproval. Cassian runs his hands over his face, peeking out at the projection in horror between his fingers.

"You should have taken me on a date," Nesta drawled, clearly intoxicated as her fingers toyed with the fluff of Cassian's outfit. He arched a brow.

"A date? You were the one picking who to take on a date, not me," he retorted, and she rolled her eyes, leaning close to him.

"You still could have asked me out or something after," she continued, and he shook his head, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"You're making no sense right now Nesta, but I love to listen to you talk nonetheless." He said, gazing at her as though she was the only female to exist in this world. Your heart warmed at the sight, probably the only good thing to come from this morning from Hell. You were happy for your friend, a silver lining, perhaps, even if she didn't remember every word and conversation had amidst the madness of the morning.

"Hmmm," she sighed, twirling her finger around the cotton-like strands of his shirt. "What is your costume, anyway?" She smirked.

He grinned mischeviously at her. "Aw, really? You couldn't tell? They gave me the marshmallow one." Nesta tilted her head back, a real, genuine laugh of excitement leaving her lips. Cassian couldn't help but join in, the sight of her usually serious composure slipping was one he was happy he could bring out of her.

When she finally caught her breath, she leaned in, so close that a few tendrils of her long hair tickled his neck.

"Well," she said quietly. "I think chocolate tastes better with marshmallows, anyway." Her eyes find his, blown wide in amusement as he pulls her in, his mouth colliding with hers. It doesn't take long for his hands to slide under the curve of her ass, pulling her on top of him as their mouths move in a tango, the cameras catching once again, every sound and groan-

"So," Lana pauses the tape. "Now we have seen three rule breaks, all in one evening. I hope you're all proud of yourselves." The room is quiet, the innocent group members shaking their heads in disapproval. Lucien's fingers slide along your thigh, his touch sending fireworks across your skin beneath the blanket.

"I do appreciate the admission of the rule break, Nesta; however, the cost is $10,000. It's been long enough now that you all know why you're here, and what my rules are."

You bite the inside of your cheek as she continues. "Which brings me to why I've tortured you all this morning. Today, we will be having workshops -- the guys will have their workshop this morning, and the girls will have theirs later tonight." This news seems to excite the group, and some of your nerves dissipate as she elaborates. Maybe she hadn't caught what you and Lucien had done, and maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be punished for it.

"Since you all seem to think it is alright to misbehave after I gift you things like bracelets and parties -- you'll attend the workshops today and hopefully understand why your small amount of remaining time here is so precious." You move to stand, ready for the morning of torture to end so you can prepare for whatever "work" she has coming your way later this evening.

"Ah ah ah," she tuts, her lights blazing. "Please, guests. I'm not finished."

You sit, the pit growing in the bottom of your stomach. You can feel Lucien's eyes on you, but you don't dare to look. You can't seem to tear your gaze from anywhere but straight ahead. Straight at that damned. Cone.

"My final thoughts from this morning included another guest who'd been in my hot seat for a minute now, and after last night did not prove themselves worthy of staying at this retreat any longer." Murmurs ripple through the group, and you watch as the male in bed alone stands, seeming to know whats coming. His clenched fists indicate his unhappiness, but it's his glare toward the bed Netsa and Cassian share that has you more intrigued than sympathetic.

"Eris, please pack your things. You'll be leaving-"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it." In one swift motion, he slings his backpack over his shoulder, wheeling his suitcase behind him. The group watches silently as he walks out, not stopping to say goodbye to anyone on the way out. Its quiet for a few moments before Lana pipes up again.

"Finally guests, we have one more tape to watch. This costs the group another $20,000 -- leaving the total prize fund at $110,000. Please direct your attention to the projection."

All heads turn toward the open wall. Lana plays the video recording.

And to your horror, you watch as your face appears before the group.

ﾟ:* ✧

“What kind of outfit does one wear to a… what did Lana call it?”

It takes a few moments before there is a response. A dreary one, at best.

“A workshop.” At least Feyre had the decency to respond. No amount of bubbliness in Morrigan’s voice seemed to uplift the majority of the group today, and it was late enough that you could no longer blame the hangover headache or morning after fatigue.

All you had to blame was your outright shame. Your ignorance that cost the group due to your actions from the night prior.

Luckily, you weren’t alone. Nesta was colder than usual and Feyre hadn’t seemed to smile all day. You couldn’t say much for Gwyn, you weren’t as close with her — but you could imagine the feeling all too well.

“Right,” Mor sighs, uncapping her eyeliner and leaning toward the vanity mirror.

Lana had said earlier to be ready by 8 for the workshop, but it was now 7:45 and you’d been ready an hour ago. You simply didn’t feel right today — the pool water was too cold, you didn’t think you could handle any more alcohol, a walk along the beach didn’t even entice you as Lucien and the guys were gone to their workshop during the daylight hours. Not to mention the walk of shame from the villa to the pool to retrieve the discarded piece of your costume from last night. That was the final nail in the depression-coffin.

So, you got ready early.

As the girls corralled on the pool deck just after 8, your spirits lifted a little as you watched the guys approaching from the beach. Tarquin… then Rhysand… then Cassian…

Lucien stopped, taking your fingers lightly and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You gave him a small smile, his reassuring gaze finding yours.

“How was the workshop?” You asked.

He shrugged. “It went well, but I would’ve rather spent my day with you if I’m being honest.” He winked, and you grinned at his cheekiness.

“You’re too much,” you added playfully, and he squeezed your hand.

“But you love it,” he said, and your breath caught in your throat. You supposed you… did, love it. There were a lot of things, lately, you’d come to… love.

“Talk later?” He asked, following the group of guys back to the villa. You could only nod as you watched him leave, unable to find the words and force them out the way you wanted.

ﾟ:* ✧

“Good evening, ladies!” A tall, lean woman stood near a crackling campfire on the white sands of the shore. Her smile was inviting, her arms open and inviting the group to come join her on the beach — but you couldn’t help but wonder why she was wearing-

“Is she wearing pajamas?” Feyre whispers, and you nod silently. Morrigan snorts from her other side.

“I swear, if Lana sent us down here for twisted bedtime stories as punishment…” she shakes her head.

“Or maybe,” Nesta’s cool tone rings out from behind. “She is sending us into some kind of freakish, bedtime-cult.” Feyre shudders, wrapping her arms around her ribs. You smack your forehead with your palm. Leave it to Nesta to come up with something like that…

“No bedtime stories, nor a cult gathering, ladies,” the woman responds cordially. She must have heard you. “Tonight’s workshop is about accountability, embarrassment, change, and growth!”

The group disbands, spreading out in a circle around the roaring fire. There are 8 terry cloth blankets laid in the sand, small pillows atop each. Assuming there is one for each person and one for the instructor, everyone takes their spot near a blanket.

However, it only takes a moment to realize that the pillows are embroidered, and the blanket you’ve chosen next to Feyre will not do, as your name is not “Emerie”.

“I think you might be over here,” Morrigan says, and you look up, hoping to meet her eye. You quickly realize she was talking to Nesta, who happily struts over to her blanket next to the blonde and sits.

It seems everyone has found their spot, and you keep searching, looking for the last open one.

“Y/N, is it?” The instructor asks. You look up, her face clouded behind the smoke of the fire.

“Yes,”

“I think you’re over here,” she gestures to the last spot, right next to her. Great, you thought. Not next to your friends, and you’d have to likely go first when doing things in a circle. How convenient.

You walk over, sitting between her and Gwyn, who gives you a small smile. Settling in, you look to her as well, noticing the faint dusting of freckles on her cheeks, and despite everything — you smile back.

ﾟ:* ✧

“As I’d hinted at before, we want to really focus on themes like accountability, embarrassment, change, and growth tonight,” the instructor begins. “Now, I heard you ladies had a rough morning, which we can talk about more later — but I want to know, does anyone have any guesses on what setting you’d see things like accountability, embarrassment, growth, and some change?”

It’s quiet for a moment, before a small chuckle sounds from across the burning logs.

“Maybe at the strip club?” Morrigan giggles, and Nesta’s hand claps over her own mouth at the response. You can’t help the small grin creeping onto your face as the instructor rolls her eyes.

“Yes, yes, very funny. I’m sure you’d definitely some growth and quite a bit of change tossed around in there,” she shakes her head. “But, on a serious note. These topics of the evening relate to the overarching theme of this workshop — a sleepover!”

To say she got more than a few confused looks would be selling it short.

“Sure, you might not always discuss things such as these at a sleepover with your best friends,” she elaborates. “But, the objective is to get everyone talking; all of you are experiencing this retreat in full, you can relate to one another and lean into each other in that way. Opening up to the people who go through these kinds of things with you will only make it easier to open up in relationships in the outside world.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. Being questioned, prodded and having to say things you weren’t exactly good at expressing would be… well, tough.

To your right, Gwyn chewed on her lip. She seemed nervous too. You thought about this morning, how Lana played her intimate moment with Azriel for the group like that…

The thought only made you angry. Angry for her.

“Let’s get started then — I won’t truly keep you here all night,” the instructor chuckled, adjusting atop her blanket and cradling her pillow. She looked around, then settled on the girl to her left.

“Ahh,” she sighed, squinting at the embroidery on the girl’s pillow. “Amren. Let’s begin with you, shall we?”

ﾟ:* ✧

Each girl was given an opportunity to hash out their feelings, respond to the questions the instructor asked, and then go around and give one “honesty” to everyone, ending with themselves and their current partner if they have one.

Everyone so far had done so well, you were impressed by how emotional some of the women were getting. Amren of course didn’t cry, but her “honesty” to Emerie about being happy she made a new friend was really touching.

During Nesta’s turn, it was hard watching her struggle and calculate how to answer each question. The instructor called her out on it, and by the end, she was expressing her excitement over Cassian — and how much his never-ending endearment scared her a bit.

Morrigan made you smile, always. She told you she was happy to call you a friend, and even apologized to Nesta for how she acted toward her initially. It was nice to see, the full circle of it all.

Emerie took her turn, discussing her childhood trauma which clenched your heart and made you realize how hard some people have had it. You felt so terrible, you had no idea. You were happy to see Feyre comforting her as she let it all out — admittedly, feeling much better afterward.

Speaking of… Feyre did bring you to the brink of tears. She spoke of how meeting Rhys has been so special, but finding friends like you and Mor are what she will take away more than anything from this retreat.

The lump in your throat only grew at that.

Gwyn was surprising, as she brought up her past relationships and how she didn’t trust Azriel at first. That, you could relate to — Elain, of course. You saw it in her eyes when she talked about it, but when she talked about him now, a new light was brought into her face, one that you were happy she was able to find. One you hoped no one would take away, or embarrass her for, again.

“Y/N, are you ready?”

You swallowed hard. No.

“Of course,” It came out shaky at best.

All of your past. The relationships, the dynamics. The toxic ones, the good ones, the almosts — every card was on the table. But she just kept pushing. You felt that with every answer, there came a new question. Were the other girls talked to this long?

“…I see you’ve been through some difficult relationships,” the instructor says. “But, you seem very happy in your current one?”

Your cheeks flush, the silence loud against the crashing of waves on the shore. The image of Lucien flashed in your mind, when he’d been out there in those waves. So carefree, so beautiful.

“I… I am.” You say, your eyes meeting her soft gaze.

“Do you think you’d, stay with him? Outside of the retreat?” She eases.

Oh boy. Here’s the hard part. You glance around, everyone’s eyes on you. You knew the answer, what you wanted to say, what you wanted to be true — but, you refused to be wrong, to be bitten and look like a fool in the end.

“Maybe, I mean, I-“

“Ah, ah,” she urges. “I feel like that’s not really what you want to say. In here.” The instructor points to your heart, and you glance down at it, as though you can see through your clothes, your skin, your bones right to it. If you could only say what you felt, you’d tell her right now that you’d rip it out of your fucking chest and hand it to him if he simply asked.

You didn’t realize in the silence that a tear slid down your cheek, only registering the feeling when a cool hand wraps around your own. You look to your right, your eyes burning when they meet a pair of turquoise blue ones staring encouragingly at you.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” Gwyn says quietly. “All of us are here with you. You’re not alone.” She smiles, and a river of tears floods over your waterline as you look between each girl, staring back at you with just as much encouragement.

You wipe your cheek with the back of your hand, your heart beating out of control as you clutch your pillow against your chest. Taking a long breath, you look directly at the fire, its dying embers smoldering as dark as the night sky.

“I will. I have to. He’s…” Your shoulders shake as a small smile creeps into your face, a steady mantra replaying over and over in your mind. Lucien. Lucien. Lucien.

“He’s … the best man I’ve met. In a really, really long time,” you continue. “I… I go to sleep, thanking the Cauldron I’m laying next to him. I wake up, so excited to learn more about him. I talk to him like I’ve known him my entire life, I…” You breathe heavily, looking around. Nesta’s hands cover her grin, and Feyre looks to you through her teary lashes.

“Well,” the instructor drawls, her smile evident. “I’m very pleased you got all of that off of your chest, and I’m hoping now that you’ve expressed it, you’ll be open to sharing these feelings with him as well.” She says, and you smile down at your pillow, swatting away your remaining tears.

“Because it seems to me, the feelings you share with him go a bit deeper than just liking him, dear.”

ﾟ:* ✧

You slowly pulled back the covers on your side of the bed, moving as silently as possible in hopes to not stir anyone -- especially the male sleeping on the other side. His shoulders rose and fell every few seconds, the soft sounds of his sleepy snores bringing a little smile to your face.

The mattress dipped slightly when you sat on it, slipping beneath the covers as quickly as you could. It was a challenge, especially in the dark; but, that's what you got for staying up later than everyone else to shower. After the retreat, you felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of your shoulders, and walking back to the villa, you only felt positive about the relationships you had formed while being on the retreat.

As you snuggled deeped under the covers, you stilled when Lucien suddenly angled his shoulders toward you. You saw his profile, his face scrunching in the darkness. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand -- even in the dim room, you could make out the arcs of his muscled arms reaching above him.

"Mmm... Y/N..." he drawled, his voice gravelly and thick and so, so sexy from sleep. You leaned close, delicately placing your hand on his arm and leaning in to whisper against his ear.

"I'm sorry, I tried not to wake you-" He breathed deep, shifting to roll to his other side. He faced you now, but his eyes were still shut. He didn't hesitate in reaching his arms around your middle, drawing you as close as he could get you to him.

"I missed you," he said lowly, and you grinned, running your fingers through his long tendrils. He hummed in gratification, a little smile on his sleepy face.

"I missed you too sweetheart," you say.

"Smell so good," he drabbled on, breathing deep again. You giggled quietly, moving ever so slightly out of his grasp.

"Well, I just showered, my hair is still really wet-"

His brows furrowed, and he squinted his eyes open in the dark.

"C'mere baby."

You wiggled closer, and his arms fully encased you against his chest, his fingers playing down the column of your spine. You couldn't help but melt into his touch, his intoxicating earthy scent only a reminder of the spine-tingling moment you'd allowed yourselves to indulge in the night before.

This time, instead of feeling embarassed by your actions -- you allowed yourself to drift of to the memories of those wonderful, reckless, carefree moments, only hoping that when you left Lana's retreat, the two of you could share more of the same.

･ﾟ: *✧

The music from the tiki bar was blasting so loud you felt like it had transcended through the air, in through your ears, and was now embedded in your bones. The air was thick with the scent of the sea, but the sound of the waves was much too overpowered by the bass coming through the speakers.

Bodies around you moved back and forth, jumping, sometimes tilting their heads back as they downed another shot -- you knew you should have stopped hours ago. The neon lights blended together, pink and blue and yellow in the sky. You didn't care; inside, you were warm.

After the Tito's, you had to call it. You were holding up well until Lucien appeared in the corner of your eye -- and when he started talking, those inviting lips so close, practically asking for yours -- you knew you were done for.

When his hands touched you... now that's when you formulated your little plan.

You felt so needy, and frankly, you didn't care about money. Lucien was what you wanted, and the way his cock pulsed against your stomach... all it would take is some clothing removal, and there we go, he's all yours.

"I won't be able to just talk to you. When you look. Like that." He growled, his dominance sending heat straight to my core. I shifted on the balls of my feet, the gauzy fishnet fabric stretched across my chest scratching against his.

"I can barely hear you over this music," You say loudly, biting my lip and staring up at him with wide eyes. He huffs, tearing his gaze away from where my body connected with his.

When he looked at me again, his eyes narrowed. "If we go to the pool deck, will you promise to be good?" He asked, clearly agitated that he had to hold himself back. You grinned as he fell right into your little trap.

What was even better was that no one was on the pool deck. The ligths were dimmed, and the water was illuminated by the underwater glowing bulbs. Lucien sighed, propping himself on the sofa near the edge and leaning back.

You sat on his knee, and he frowned at you.

"Y/N, we said we'd talk-"

"Let's talk," you said, your arms draping over his shoulders. You leaned in, your hands playfully squeezing his shoulderblades as you let out a light giggle.

"Y/N..."

"You're so strong," you praised, adjusting your position so you straddled him instead. He sucked in a breath, his hands braced on your hips as you wiggled around on his lap.

"Y/N." He said sternly, and you pulled back, looking straight into his eyes.

"Hmm?" You hummed, your heart sinking as his expression hardened.

"We've been so good this whole time, babe," he explained, and you reached out to toy with a strand of his hair. "We're supposed to get a light first before we... well..." he trails off. You drop your hand, sitting back on his thighs as tears well in your eyes.

"You... don't... want me like that?" You ask, your bottom lip poking out dramatically. His eyes soften at your words, the realization in your reaction hitting him in full.

"No! No sweetheart, I just..." he cups your cheek with his hand, and you lean forward once more. "I need you to know I care about more than just this, alright? I care about you." He stops short, his eyes falling as he searches for the right words. Even as you toe the line of blacking out, one thing is clear; for him, you'd give up every cent of that prize fund. It means nothing -- for you, he was the real prize, and you'd won the moment you met him on the boat the first day you'd arrived.

"Lucien," you let out a breathy moan, inching closer as you grind your hips back and forth against the tent in his shorts. His eyes flutter closed, his lips parting as short breaths escape him.

"Oh... fuck, baby," he utters, his fingers squeezing the flesh of your hips as you continue your minstrations, his erection continuing to harden. Your hands brace against his shoulders as you lean in, not giving one damn about any money or prize fund while you shamelessly open your mouth, your tongue licking a fat stripe from his collarbone to his ear.

The sound that comes from his throat can only be described as primal, his hips thrusting up off of the sofa and harshly rubbing against your clit.

"Fuck," you cry out as his gaze focuses on you once more, your cleavage on display before his very eyes. The images running through his head are absolutely mouthwatering, but something Lana would never approve of.

"If I could," he pants breathlessly, continuing to dry-fuck you. "I would have... oh Gods, Y/N... I would have bent you over... the minute we walked into... the private villa..." he groans, and you tangle your fingers through his hair.

"You... you feel so good Lucien," you squeak out, before he grabs your hips and tosses you onto your back on the cushions. You let out a devilish laugh as he leans over you, his sly smile illuminated in the iridescent moonlight.

"You're not being a very good girl," he tuts, his hands lifting the arch of your back gently before unhooking your top. You gasp as he pulls it clean off of you, tossing the heart-covered thing right into the pool.

"Lucien!"

His only response is his teeth grazing your neck, sucking gently as he plays with your boobs. His fingers pull at your already hardened nipples, pinching and bouncing them while he smirks.

"Fucking perfect," he admires, his gaze now trained on the spot just beneath the right one. His eyes flick to yours only for a moment before his lips attach to the spot, kissing and biting at the skin there.

"Lucien... ahh, oh Gods yes..." you babble on, only slightly distracted by his thigh inbetween your legs, his bent knee propping him up above you. Instinctively, you drag your clothed pussy along his thigh, the only thing separating your skin from his being your lacy underthings which are surely soaked by now.

He nips particularly hard and you squeal, your fingers tugging lightly on his roots. His eyes find yours in a disapproving look.

"Don't get greedy now, sticky fingers," he says, licking his bottom lip again at the sight of your top half bare beneath him. "I'm just making sure everyone knows who you belong to."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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iamheadcanontrash-deactivated · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy, I was wondering if you could do hcs of the acotar characters, rhys, cass, az, lucien, eris, etc. and what kinds of birthday gifts they'd get you, how they'd celebrate your birthday?? thank you so much!!

What the ACOTAR Males Would Do For Your Birthday~

Cassian: 🦇❤️

-Would do literally whatever you wished. It’s his command.

-Would sit in silence with you or take you to Rita’s, whatever you wished for that day.

-He has a tendency to put a lot of thought into his gifts, so it his gifts would revolve around your own hobbies. A music player with your favorite songs, a limited edition book series you’d mentioned months prior… fleece lined Illyrian leathers… anything.

Rhys: 🦇🌙

-Surprise parties. For sure—he wants to celebrate his Darling! 💕

-Would gift you a beautiful dress beforehand as well (made by his mother, of course. It’s unknown where his stash of dresses is.)

-Would offer some late night fun as well, iykwim 😉

Azriel: 🦇🖤

-Would want to spend quiet, 1:1 time with you on your special day. He doesn’t like crowds.

-Would plan a secluded vacation for just you and him, and you’d both dress up for a simple dinner night.

-He’d gift you a new piece of jewelry to wear (either he saw you eyeing it, or he saw it himself and it reminded him of you.)

Eris: 🍎🍂

-Listen: you are this male’s TREASURE. If his dad is still in the picture, he won’t risk anything. You will stay a secret for a while whether you like it or not. Not in a Tamlin way though—more in a “my father has killed females for loving us; you wouldn’t be an exception” way.

-He will only have 1:1 time with you. You’d be on a getaway vacation in a cabin not even his brothers know about.

-He’d gift you clothes, or an Autumn Court cloak, something thoughtful and beautiful. He’d also love to dance with you on your day.

Lucien: 🦊🌞

-This male pays attention. He only wants the best for you, he is a protector.

-Would maybe gift you a beautiful dagger he’d found while on his trips, or an expensive tea he’d caught you looking at while out and about together.

-Would also be another male that prefers his 1:1 time with you. It’s not that he hates crowds; it’s more of a trust thing. He only trusts you. He only wants to see you, be surrounded by only you.

Tamlin: 🥀💚

-Would be pretty basic about his gifts/celebrations until The Girlfriend Effect TM kicked in.

-Would gift you anything to do with a hobby you’ve expressed interest in. You gotta give him credit though, he’ll only gift you high-quality things.

-Tammy has grown to be not too fond of crowds anymore. He would enjoy a quiet dinner in his home with you, a walk through his garden. Maybe once he heals he will have a nearby village that’s thriving. He would be willing to eat dinner at a cafe in Spring Court with you, he’d learn to support small businesses.

Tarquin: 🌊🐬

-A day on the yacht? Party on da boat. He loves watching your hair blow in the wind, your smile as you watch dolphins jumping by.

-He would give you your own island if you asked. The whole ocean.

-If parties aren’t your thing, he would plan a whole dinner, a sunset boat ride just you and him, floating in the ocean while you just enjoy each others company until you want to go back. He’ll be out there all night if you so wish.

Thank you for requesting!! I hope y’all are ready for Kinktober tomorrow 😌😉

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #rhysand #rhysand x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #tamlin x reader #tamlin #tarquin #tarquin x reader

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viktoriaashleyyx · 4 months ago

Text

Tamtam and Sky (oc) meet with Tarquin. I am not completely happy with this one, but I have come to the realization that these will always be dialog heavy. My desire with this fic is to uplift the characters who were treated like shit by the narrative.

Also this post by @msbrownwithacrown is cannon to me and I reference it.

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet. No warnings apply, I just wanted to show Tarquin some kindness.

Ch1

Ch4 > Ch6

Chapter 5:

I portaled us to the entrance of the Summer court castle in Adriata. The delicious smell of the salty sea water filled my lungs as I glanced up at the magnificent architecture that stood before me.

“You know, we were invited into the meeting room, we could've just winnowed straight in there.” Tamlin said, offering me his elbow to guide me inside.

“I never portal inside someone's home, I find it grotesquely rude.” I placed my hand on his arm gently, still admiring the beauty around me.

“We are here for a meeting with Tarquin.” Tamlin informed the guards as they led us inside and through the beautifully decorated halls. I bowed my head in thanks to them as they left us at the door to the office and we took a breath together as we entered.

Tarquin was already sitting there at the head of the magnificent table. His immaculate white locs hung down to the middle of his chest and his bright blue eyes sparkled like the sun shining off the sea. Why is every male in Prythia so damn gorgeous? He was young, not counting Feyre, Tamlin had told me he was the newest high lord, only rising to his position a few years ago, but that did not take any merit away from the power he held. A leader with a kind heart will always be more powerful than their counterpart.

“Welcome to the Summer court,” Tarquin smiled as he extended his hand to shake Tamlins, “it's good to see you getting back on your feet.”

“Thank you, friend, what wonders a woman's love can do for a broken heart,” Tamlin gushed as he looked to me. “This is my mate and other half, Sky.”

“It is nice to meet you, sir. I have heard good things about you. The Summer court is lucky to have a heart like yours leading them.” I complimented him earnestly as I turned the chair sideways to sit down.

“It is nice to meet you, Sky, but you must forgive me if I am a bit wary. The last few times a face like yours entered my court, it was left worse for wear.” He added cautiously. “I have come to realize that I handed my trust out far too easily, and it ended horribly for my people. I have been working to learn caution.”

“I understand fully. Your duty is to your people, and unfortunately I was cursed with sharing the face of an arrogant ass,” I giggled at the last part, lightening the mood.

“I will try my best to remain impartial to that,” Tarquin smiled. I, honestly, couldn't blame him for not trusting me. In his short reign he's had to rebuild his city three times. He has seen war and had precious heirlooms stolen from him.

“I appreciate it, but I have no issue putting in the work necessary to earn your trust.” I offered. He seemed pleased with my response.

“We are working hard to rebuild our court and welcome our citizens back home. I understand that the actions I took and decisions I made harmed your lands as well, Spring and Summer were hurt by the hands of the toxic relationship I was a part of, and for that I extend my most sincere apologies.” Tamlin began, Tarquin listening intensively. “And even after all of it, you welcomed my people to your lands with open arms. I can only hold hope moving forward that I can model even the slightest inch of the compassion you have in you.” I had heard him rehearsing this speech every morning since Tarquin agreed to this meeting and Tamlin was doing a beautiful job. A man willing to humble himself and give a sincere apology is so attractive.

“Yes Tarquin, we need help, we cannot rebuild the entire court on our own. We need carpenters, and supplies. We plan to pay well for these services and Spring will be forever indebted to Summer but we did not come empty handed.” I started, Tarquins gaze shifted to me, pondering our words. I pulled out the parchment I had prepared in my bag. On it wrote:

Animus meus est.

Ancilia dimittam

“Do you have a daemati that serves your court?” I asked as Tarquin studied the words on the page.

“Yes, Vili.” He answered.

“Would you please call for him?”

Tarquin sent his guard to find Vili. He looked back at me confused. “Are you not a daemati?”

“I am,” I responded, “but I think it best to have a man you trust for this demonstration.” I continued, “you see, for years, Tarquin, I have hated being a daemati. I believe your mind should be your own, and if someone wishes to change how you think, they should have to show you, in their actions. My brother has been abusing his daemati powers to control the other High Lords for his entire reign. Tamlin shared his memories of the past few years with me and I saw through his eyes at the High lords meeting. Rhysand was controlling the words expressed by Tamlin and I suspect he was doing it to you and Kalias as well. Him and his ladies stole a priceless artifact from you and you resended the blood rubies just like that?” Tarquin was invested. I assume it was Vili who entered the room and stood next to Tarquin, head held high, he didn't trust me either, with good reason.

“On the paper I have given you is a spell, I spent many years studying in the libraries of Aretuza, and that spell has been tested and shown to render daemati powers utterly useless.” Daematis were supposed to be healers of the minds, something incredibly necessary in Prythia especially after Amaranthas cruelty, but that kind of power being genetic instead of earned is how people ended up being terrorized instead of helped. I have tried for years to rid myself of the curse I feel daemati to be.

“You can use it on me. Vili, I request that you monitor my mind as Tarquin performs the spell.” Tamlin offered.

“The first line is the spell that applies a metal shield, protecting and encompassing the entire mind. The second line drops it.” I explained.

Tarquin looked at me hesitantly, then spoke the words, directed to Tamlin. “It's gone, no wall, no entrance. I cannot see anything. He might as well not even be here.” Vili noted aloud.

“I feel fine, great even. Like my head is clear.” Tamlin announced.

Tarquin then uttered the second line. “I can see it again, his walls.” Vili exclaimed, shocked.

“Why give me this information, I have yet to agree to help you?” Tarquin looked at me.

“It's not a payment, Tarquin, it is a gift. If the only thing I gain out of you having this information is that the Summer court is slightly more protected from my brother's antics, it will be payment enough.” I assured. “I do not expect a reply today, please, consult with your advisors, make a decision that you are comfortable with. I understand that this is just a stepping stone towards a hopeful friendship.”

“You have made a compelling case for an alliance, Sky. I do not wish to hold your brother's actions against you.” Tarquin consoled.

“I appreciate that,” I smiled at him, and Tamlin squeezed my hand. “I would like to spend some time this afternoon at the wonderful shops you have in the town square, but, if you would prefer us to head straight home we will.”

“You are more than welcome to enjoy the city, as long as what ever you happen to leave with is acquired honestly.” Tarquin said with a knowing smile. “However, I must warn you that my people might not be the most accepting of you, they have suffered great losses.” He added softly. “All I am saying is, if you want a true Summer experience, you might want to utilize that shapeshifter you have next to you. Just for right now.”

“Oh, that is a good idea.” I pondered and turned to Tamlin, “help me blend in, just for today.”

He was hesitant at first, but with a gentle hand I felt his magic encompassing me. I looked into the large mirror on the wall. I was still myself, just less Rhysand-looking. My wings were gone, and my violet eyes turned to a soft light brown. Changed, just enough, as to not worry the people of Summer.

“Perfect, let's go shopping.” I smiled. We both bowed to Tarquin as a sign of respect and made our way to the pier.

♡♡♡♡♡

Tarquin had invited us to join him to dinner at one of the beach view restaurants on the pier. As the High Lord of Summer, him and his company naturally experienced certain perks amongst the restaurant owners.

We sat at a large table on the patio, and I was entranced by the view of the sea, the waves crashing into the shore and the various colors out where the sea met the sky. It was an effort to pay attention to the conversation taking place between the two High Lords.

“I'm glad you're enjoying the view, Sky. I can still sit and stare at it for hours myself.” Tarquin doing his best to include me, offering understanding at my fascination. “I was still young when my family and I were trapped under the mountain for all those years, as a child of Summer, being denied these sights was just one of the many tortures I endured.”

I offered him an understanding smile, and reached to squeeze his hand. Amarantha truly hurt so many of us. Tamlin had shared his memories of the few months he spent under the mountain, while I practiced the mental healing the daemati powers were supposed to be used for. Tarquin had lived that for 50 years. “To come out the other side, still holding softness and kindness in your heart, shows me just how powerful you truly are. There is so much strength in being gentle.”

“I can only imagine the experiences you've faced that have made you this wise.” Tarquin returned the smile, then turned to Tamlin, “You are a lucky man, Tamlin. I hope to have someone by my side someday that can match her beauty and grace, if the cauldron sees me fit.”

“My advice to you, don't wait on the mating bond. Tamlin and I fell in love a long time before it snapped. Put yourself out there, fall in love because you choose to, not because the cauldron thought you would make an interesting pair. Sure, you're gonna get your heart broken at times, love is messy and beautiful, painful and wonderful. That's what makes it worth it. A woman wants to know you've chosen her out of your own free will, not because some outside force tied you to her. She wants to feel loved because you want her to.”

Tarquin pondered my words for a moment. “To fall in love with the possibility it will fail is a scary thought.”

“Oh absolutely, but have the courage to do it anyway.”

The conversation ended as the waitresses brought out the feast Tarquin had ordered for us. Crawfish, shrimp, potatoes, corn, eggs, and crab legs boiled to perfection and seasoned perfectly and generously. I was happy enough that I didn't have to cook tonight, but this looked divine. I had always heard that Summer court had the best food. The rumors were true.

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rcarbo1 @rin-u-pos @knoxic

#pro tamlin #anti rhysand #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin x oc #pro tarquin #tarquin #tarquin stans #tamlin #acotar tamlin #tamlin fanfiction #tarquin fanfiction #acotar tarquin

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