#tamlin x y/n

[inkedinshadows]

Calanmai

Day 28: Breeding kink — Tamlin x f!reader

Warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, rough sex

Word count: 1.507

A/N: sorry again for the delay in posting this one. I’m not sure about how this turned out, I honestly don’t know what to think of it. It's not exactly what I wanted it to be, but it also is what I wanted? Idk, I have no idea lol

Tamlin had warned you about Calanmai. He explained what it was and what he was required to do, and he made sure you knew you didn’t have to go if you didn’t want to. But you had stood by each other’s side since the day you met months ago, and you weren’t about to abandon him now.

Especially because you knew he hoped you would be there, even if he never said it and left the choice to you. And you wanted to be there. You wanted to see this part of him, too, and love it as much as every other part.

You stood among the faeries lining the path that led to the cave where the ritual would take place. They were all female, all waiting for Tamlin’s arrival and hoping to be chosen.

Would he choose you? You had no way of knowing for sure. It was the magic flowing through him tonight that would make the choice, not him. But you pushed the thought away, unable to stomach the idea of him with some other girl. Even more so because he had told you he needed to “complete the rite inside the chosen one.” You needed it to be you.

The drumming picked up rhythm and volume until it was an almost deafening frenzy. Swaying on your feet alongside the others, you resisted the urge to cover your ears and instead focused on the other end of the path, where every faerie—lesser or High Fae—had gone utterly still.

You felt the thrum of power before you saw him, and when he appeared, he looked like a god.

Tamlin wasn’t wearing a shirt, his muscled chest painted with swirls of blue ink that shimmered in the light of the bonfires. His hair was unbound, and a crown of golden leaves rested on the top of his head. His back was rigid, his stride long and unhurried as he surveyed every faerie gathered just for him. A part of you swore he was looking for someone specific.

But what if you were wrong? What if he wouldn’t pick you? The question crawled its way into your mind, and this time, you couldn’t shake the concern—not when you heard the girls next to you sigh dreamily. You couldn’t blame them, but something churned in your stomach.

Suddenly, Tamlin stopped in his tracks. He seemed to smell something in the wind, and then his head snapped in your direction, his eyes immediately locking on yours amidst the crowd. You held your breath as he stalked closer, and only when he stood in front of you did you realize what he meant when he said he wouldn’t be himself tonight.

His pupils were blown wide, his short fangs exposed, just like his claws. Even his beautiful features seemed more animalistic than usual—sharper. There was nothing soft in his face, nor in his voice, as he snarled, “Y/N. Come with me.”

Every worry disappeared the moment he grabbed your wrist and headed for the entrance of the cave, not bothering to glance back to check if you were keeping up.

You followed silently as he led you deep into the hillside, the rock walls illuminated by only a few lanterns casting long shadows. Tamlin stopped after a turn in the tunnel and pointed to several blankets laid out on the ground.

“That’s where I’m going to take you,” he growled.

The sound trembled down your body, a shiver of anticipation and excitement coursing through you at this new version of him. He pulled you closer until your chest pressed against his. The paint smeared on the front of your dress, but you were too caught up in his eyes to notice.

You caressed his cheek as you normally would, and something softened in his gaze, if only slightly.

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he said, but there was a light tremor in his voice that revealed just how much he was struggling against the magic of the land.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Don’t.”

As if the word were a trigger, the softness you had glimpsed disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving behind only that feral, lustful gaze. His mouth descended on your neck, and he bit the tender spot where it met your shoulder, not hard enough to pierce the skin and draw blood, but enough to make you yelp at the jolt of pain. Yet, there was a sort of tenderness to it all—the way he soothed the spot with his tongue before he pulled back, how his claws retracted until they were nothing more than sharp nails so he wouldn’t hurt you.

Tamlin was already panting, a victim to whatever greater power flowed through him. His cock was straining in his pants, and you reached for it, palming him through the fabric. He flinched, as if not used to being touched in such a situation.

“Let me,” you murmured.

He bared his teeth in another growl. “Later.”

He was on you again, kissing you with such hunger that a moan escaped your lips. He dragged a short claw over the laces at the back of your dress and the fabric soon slipped off your body. You shivered as the cold air of the cave hit your skin, and a guttural groan came from Tamlin at the sight of your peaked nipples.

For a moment, you caught another glimpse of your beloved High Lord in his eyes when he helped you lay down on the blankets. But soon, his clothes joined yours, and he was back in the grip of the magic-induced frenzy.

The male that would normally murmur sweet nothings and soft praises as he pleasured you was gone. This Tamlin kept silent while he spread your legs and lowered his mouth to your cunt. His thumb drew tight circles on your clit, making sure to use just the pad and avoid scratching you with the sharp nail. Your eyes closed as he lapped at you, but he stopped shortly after—once you were wet enough for him to slide in effortlessly.

He thrust into you with a single roll of his hips and you cried out, the sound swallowed by his mouth when he kissed you again. He immediately set a punishing rhythm, fingers digging into your thighs, and you welcomed the slight twinge of pain, relishing in the knowledge that he would leave little marks on your flesh. By the time the night was over, you hoped there would be many more all over your body.

Tamlin looked like he couldn’t get enough of you. He was nibbling on your neck one moment and sucking on your nipples the next, and then his mouth was on yours again. Yet his pace never faltered, pounding into you relentlessly as if his very life depended on it.

“Tam,” you whimpered. You held on to his broad shoulder, your hands smudged with the blue paint that was now also smeared on your breasts. “Gods, this is—”

“I’m not stopping,” he interrupted you with a snarl. “I need to come inside you to complete the ritual.”

His words were accentuated by a deeper thrust that had you almost screaming, but concern about him stopping was actually the last thing on your mind. You knew that already and you wanted him to come inside. A primal, hidden part of you wanted—needed—him to breed you.

“That’s not what I—” you tried again, but Tamlin was too lost in the magic.

He growled and kissed you, teeth slightly sinking into your lower lip. His hips slammed into you faster, harder, and you were soon arching beneath him as you neared your climax.

“I’m about to come, princess.” His voice was barely recognizable. “I’m going to fill you up.”

“Yes… yes, please,” you whined. “Breed me, Tam. Put a baby in me.”

His grip on your thighs grew tighter, his thrusts became frantic and he came with a roar that echoed off the cave, spurting hot seed inside you. The sensation pushed you over the edge and you reached your own orgasm just a few seconds later. You clenched around him and as you did, you felt a wave of power shake the ground beneath you and expand all around.

“The ritual,” Tamlin muttered. He sounded more like himself now, though the animalistic growl lingered, along with the unnatural glint in his green eyes.

You went limp beneath him after coming down from your high, but Tamlin was still moving, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, pushing his cum deeper inside you.

“We’re not done yet,” he warned you. His hands let go of your legs to roam up your body and cup your breasts. “That was just the bare minimum we had to do.”

You were still panting, but you offered him a smile. He had told you that too. The Great Rite could take hours, if not the whole night.

“Then keep fucking me, High Lord.”

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Kinktober taglist: @thyellablackk @p1nkfluffysocks @maddieboo8 @a-courtof-azriel @whataenginerd @loviseamms @chaconnelatte @okaytrashpanda @scarsandallaz @velarisdusk @olive-main @krispypotato @scorpioriesling @fourthwing4ever @asaucecoveredsomething

[readychilledwine]

Lost Bonds pt 2

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

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

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

Read part one here Pt 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@impossibelle

[starryevermore]

i will go to lunar valleys in my mind ✧ tamlin & azriel

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader; azriel x archeron!sister

summary: to azriel, you are the most brilliant star shining in the night sky. 

word count: 7,954

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, pining, not proofread

PART ONE

Azriel stared at the cream invitation. It had landed in front of him just moments earlier, but he had already read it a few dozen times. The words were seared into his mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lord Tamlin and High Lady Y/N. High Lady. You were Spring’s High Lady. There was no way, he knew, that you could, would, ever return to Velaris when you had a court to run. He had been invited to your coronation, too, months ago. But in the year since you left for Spring, he never visited. Despite Feyre and Rhys’s insistence that you missed him, and Lucien’s chastising him for never going, and even Elain’s quiet disapproval, he knew better than to make the journey. He meant what he said to Rhys all that time ago. 

If he went to Spring, he would bring you straight back home. 

Because he had built you a home. Azriel knew how you never felt truly at home in any of Rhys’s homes—not the Town House, not the House of Wind, and not the River House. The House of Wind was the most comfortable to you, because it offered the most solitary, but it was not your home. One night, you had told him of your dream home. A quaint cottage in the woods, close enough to the city to go when you pleased but far enough to still be calm. A nice personal library, a cozy kitchen. A big fireplace that you could curl up with a nice book. Azriel committed those details to memory and spent many months making your dream home come a reality. He intended for it to be a mating gift, for when the bond finally snapped for you. 

It only collected dust.

He sat there now, at the dining table he had spent weeks picking out. His shadows flitted about, hissing at him to go to Spring. To get you before you were tied to Tamlin forever. Azriel would not. He couldn’t force you to sacrifice your happiness for his sake. You had to be happy. That was why you never returned to Velaris. You were happy in perfect Spring with your perfect mate. To bring you back here would only taint you.

“You are not going,” Rhysand said. Azriel didn’t look up from the invitation to know his High Lord had winnowed into the room. Rhys had found out about the house a few weeks after you left, concerned when Azriel hadn’t reported for any missions. 

“I haven’t gone there in a year. Why would I go now?”

“I thought the same when I was going to let Feyre live her life with Tamlin. And then she called down the bond, and I was whisking her away without any thought of the consequences.” Rhysand leaned over the table, pushing down on the invitation so that Azriel would look up at him. “She is happy with him. She looks alive when she is with him.”

“And she looked dead with me?”

It was a cheap shot, and Azriel knew it. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he wasn’t right for you. That the Mother had made a mistake. There were so many poorly-matched mates, and he was certain this was the case when the bond snapped for him. If you were content with Tamlin, then that meant you didn’t feel the same hole in your soul that Azriel did. 

His High Lord let out a sigh. “You know that’s not what I mean, brother. You remember how she looked when we forced them apart. She is finally happy again, and I won’t let anyone jeopardize it. Feyre won’t allow it.”

Azriel shoved Rhysand’s hand off the invitation. He stared at the date. It was six months away. A long time to be sending announcements for a mating ceremony, but it was surely to be a huge event for the High Lord and Lady of Spring. He imagined it would be the biggest event of the year. His teeth ground together. That should be you and him.

He dropped the invitation and rose from his seat. Shadows swirled around him as he stalked out of the house. Ignoring Rhysand’s calls behind him, Azriel took off into the air. He couldn’t stand this anymore.

“They didn’t come,” you whispered, head leaning against Tamlin’s chest. His arms wound around you. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. Your face crumpled. Letting out a shuddering breath, you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised. They haven’t come here in months, but I thought…I thought they would come.”

A finger tilted your chin up so you would look up at your mate. Tamlin’s eyes were soft. “If they’re the ones who decide to burn bridges, it is not your fault.”

“I know, but…” You sighed. You looked out the large window overlooking the gardens. Despite the blanket of night covering the grounds, you could see the beautiful, blossoming rose bush Tamlin had planted earlier that month. A tradition, he’d said. “I hoped something would have changed.”

Tamlin leaned his cheek on the top of your head. His steady breathing was the only thing keeping your from sinking to the floor. “I know it hurts, but it’s their loss. You are an amazing female, my love. I could never understand why they’d want to throw that all away, but that is their mistake to make.”

You wiggled out of his arms and stepped closer to the window. Your hand pressed against the cold glass. “I don’t understand what changed. I thought things were going well. Feyre stopped glaring at you to your face—”

“What?”

“—she still glared behind your back, but it was an improvement. Rhysand didn’t make comments wishing for your death. Even Nesta held her tongue. The only one who never came around was Azriel, which hurts because I thought him my friend. But for them to all decide I’m not worth the trouble anymore? It feels like they carved out my heart and stomped on it.”

Tamlin was silent for a long moment. You could feel his eyes looking you over, searching for any sign that you were about to waste away like Feyre had. Down the bond, you feel his love and comfort. But…there was something else there. Pain, anguish. Were you hurting Tamlin somehow? Were you making him doubt your love for him by talking about this? You looked over your shoulder at him. 

“There is still cake from the celebration. I’ll go get a couple slices from the kitchen, and some wine. Does that sound alright?”

You nodded. Tamlin smiled and left the room. You looked back out the window. Part of you was tempted to push the window open, scale down the wall, and run through the gardens until the pain of the loss of your family was only a dull ache. The other part of you just wanted to be held by your mate.

You loved Tamlin. You really, truly did. But, in recent months, you felt like there was something missing. When the high of getting to know him, accepting the bond, and becoming High Lady of Spring finally died down, you were left with a hole in your chest. Small, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, but enough to make you question everything. 

Had you been wrong to come here? 

Something tugged in your chest. Ordinarily, you would have thought it would be Tamlin. He always was so quick to send you comfort through the bond, but this felt different. Colder, but a comforting sort of cold. The kind of cold of a fan being waved on you during a sweltering summer day. The cold of a drink after hours of laborous work. The cold of a shadow slithering around your hand, pulling you out of harm’s way. The cold of Azriel’s hands on your burning face as you sobbed at being forcibly separated from your mate.

It tugged harder. It felt closer to snapping. But to what? You had a mate. You had Tamlin. What other sort of snapping could there be? 

Your hands tugged at your hair.  You had been so sure months ago. Why were you spiraling now? What had changed? It was more than your family, your sisters, not showing up to your mating ceremony. No, this was something deeper. Something that you had been ignoring for too long. Something that was starting to boil over. Tears began to streak down your face. A scream of frustration fell out as your hand smacked against the pane. 

The temperature in the room dropped. 

“Are you hurt?”

Everything went still. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the window. No. He couldn’t be here. Not after all this time. He hadn’t deigned to see you in over a year. You had sent invitations and letters, and they had all gone unanswered. Even when you told Feyre to pass him along the message that you missed him, you never got a response. Yes, you had left without a goodbye. But did that mean you deserved to be ignored? 

Perhaps he truly only saw you as the latest object of his affections. Perhaps you never were anything close to a friend of his. 

A hand stroked your hair. You sucked in a breath. “I swear, if he’s hurt you, I will snuff out this Cauldron-forsaken court’s light before he can even blink.”

You scoffed. Slowly you turned, your eyes narrowing at him. “That’s rich. If you care so much about my well-being, where were you the last year? Did Feyre send you here to tell me that she’s throwing in the towel? That she’s decided I’m not worth the effort? That she’s forbidden everyone else from coming to Spring, too?”

Azriel blinked. “What?”

“I mean, it was rich for her to not come today. It would make sense for Rhysand not to come if she didn’t. But for everyone else to not make an appearance? Even Lucien wasn’t here, and he’s Tamlin’s best friend! No one has been here in months! I can only assume the High Lady ordered gave orders to stay away.” You shook your head. “You must only be here to finally clue me in, so I’ll stop littering their desks with silly little invitations.”

He took a step closer to you. You wished you had the space to back away. Shadows wrapped around your ankles. He reached out to hold your face, but you jerked away. It was impossible to miss the hurt in his hazel eyes. And—why did your chest ache? “I’m afraid I’m the reason no one made an appearance.”

Pain struck through you. Azriel? Did he truly think so little of you because you chose your mate? You once overheard a fight he had with Rhysand—heard him say that it was only fair that he had a sister. With Feyre, Nesta, and Elain all happily taken, that had left you. Did he convince them all to hate you because you chose Tamlin over him? 

You pushed him away. “How dare you,” you hissed. 

“It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s much worse. You couldn’t have Mor, but that was fine because at least it was because she prefers females. You couldn’t have Elain. That was fine, because there was another Archeron sister waiting in the wings, praying to be picked. But then you couldn’t have me, and you had to poison everyone against me.” You gave him your harshest glare. “Why couldn’t you have pined after someone else? I hear Gwyn is single. Why didn’t you go after her? Why did you have to stoop so fucking low?”

“I didn’t!” he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls. You were sure Tamlin could hear him, but you didn’t care. Not when it felt like your chest was caving in. 

“I thought you were my friend, Azriel. I may not have always treated you the best, and I apologize for that. But I know when I’m only being picked because I’m the last option available. I deserve better than that, and you know it. Of everyone, you should know that. What did I do to deserve such cruelty?”

“Nothing!” He ran his fingers through his hair. His shadows swirled around in a flurry. Was he about to set them out to attack you? Get rid of you as a final fuck you? “They weren’t here because I am going crazy without you!”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re my fucking mate, Y/N!”

Any words you were ready to spit out dried out in your mouth. What? That couldn’t be possible. You had a mate already. You had Tamlin. And yet…There was still that tugging in your chest. Familiar, but not. 

“I have known since Nyx’s birth. I wanted to wait until it snapped for you, but it didn’t. It snapped for fucking Tamlin. As cruel as it is, I was grateful that Feyre and Rhys took you from him. At least it gave me a chance to make you see me. But then I came back from that mission and you were gone.” Azriel took a tentative step towards you again. You made no effort, this time, to push him away. “It fucking killed me to know you were gone. No one saw me for a month afterwards. I started to come around, eventually, but it was never the same without you there. I didn’t come here, to Spring, because if I did, I would have stolen you away again, because I cannot live without you. Then, six months ago, I received the invitation to your mating ceremony, and I lost it. Disappeared. Everyone has been on the hunt for me, to make sure I didn’t cause a war between our courts.”

You stared at him, unblinking. The ache in your chest only grew stronger. Could he be right? Could he truly be your mate? But what would that make Tamlin? Was it possible to be mistaken over who your mate was? Was it possible to have two mates? You wanted to cry—for you, and for Azriel. 

“I apologize for what my actions have done.”

“Why are you here now?” you asked. He said nothing, so you continued, “You stayed away this long. Why are you here now?”

Azriel let out a breath. “I had to see if you were happy. I…I imagine the mating ceremony has already been consummated, which would complicate things, but…If there was any chance, any at all, that I could be your knight in shining armor, I had to take it. If you were, I would leave you be. Let you live out your life as Spring’s High Lady and never again interfere. So, I have to ask, are you happy?”

That tug in your chest finally snapped. All at once, everything Azriel felt came crashing through. The full extent of his pain, the anguish raging through his body. The glimmer of hope as he stared down at you, waiting for your answer. Your hand reached out without you thinking, touching his chest. You could almost see the golden thread binding you to him. 

“Yes,” you said.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, the gleam of his siphon bouncing off at you. “But?”

“I feel a hole in my soul.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“One, that I’m beginning to realize, is shaped like an Illyrian.”

The smile grew. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hands. Azriel’s thumbs swiped over your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Leaning against his palm, a smile began to cross your face. Azriel leaned in, nose brushing against yours, until his lips connected with yours. 

A gasp escaped you at the contact. It was…electric. Unlike anything you experienced with Tamlin, save for the intensity of it all. If Tamlin was the innocent joy, Azriel was the passionate fervor. You had experienced the frenzy with Tamlin, but you were sure it would pale in comparison to Azriel. You could feel the full weight of his emotions through the bond—the lust, the adoration, the desire for more. 

A chord struck in you. If you could feel all of this with Azriel, then Tamlin could—

Tamlin’s snarl ripped through the room. 

He fought to keep a lid on his barely-constrained anger. Whenever Tamlin felt such explosive anger, he had a tendency to hurt those he cared about. You deserved better than that. And, even if your relationship with Feyre had become strained, he was sure she would make good on her threat anyways. But, Mother, how else was he supposed to react when that Cauldron damned Shadowsinger was kissing his mate?

Tamlin had suspected for a long time that Azriel harbored feelings for you. When you came to the ball, Azriel clung to you like a leech. Always hovering, always watching you. And when Azriel would leave you, those damned shadows of his would always linger. Even when Tamlin finally got a moment alone with you, the Shadowsinger burst in the room as if thought Tamlin was about to hurt you—pulled you out of his arms, tried to keep you from him. He knew there was a reason Azriel hadn’t visited once—hadn’t even sent word to you—in the last year. He just never thought the Illyrian would have the audacity to whisk you away hours after your mating ceremony. 

It must be a Night Court tradition. 

You pushed Azriel away—too gentle for Tamlin’s liking—and stepped toward him. Your eyes were wide, apologetic. You reached out for him, urged him to wrap his arms around you. He did, but not once did he look away from Azriel. He didn’t trust that the Illyrian brute wouldn’t stab him in the back at the first opportunity. Especially not with Truth-Teller strapped to his waist. 

“I can explain, Tam,” you said, cheek pressed against his chest.

Tamlin smoothed a hand over your hair. He tugged on the bond, let you know that he was not upset with you. He could never be upset with you. “You are not to blame, my love.”

“Of course I am. I wanted Az to kiss me.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest before he could stop it. Okay, perhaps he could be upset with you a little. Though, he supposed he couldn’t fault you entirely for harboring feelings for the Shadowsinger. You had told Tamlin once that, although you were suspicious about Azriel’s motivations at times, he had been something of a friend. The only one, save for your sisters, that you could call a friend. When you’re that lonely, it’s easy to fall for the one person who’s kind to you. But that didn’t mean Tamlin had to like it. 

“He’s my mate, too, Tam.”

He pulled away. He searched your eyes for anything sign of deceit, for any sign of manipulation. Tamlin found none. He looked back at Azriel, who still stood far away, watching you carefully. It looked like he was ready to yank you away from Tamlin at the first sign of distress. Night Court folk always held grudges. 

This was…unexpected. If Tamlin didn’t trust you, he might have thought you were trying to deceive him. Triads had existed a long time ago, when Prythian was in its infancy. There was a time where there were more males than females. People believed that the Mother would allow the female multiple mates in an effort to stop the fighting over the few, precious females that existed. Of course, all of this was speculative—a work of fiction. No one had seen a triad in millennia. No one was sure they’d ever existed at all. 

Yet, when Tamlin pressed his nose to your hair, he didn’t just smell your scent mixed with his. There was something different, less familiar. It was faint. Barely noticeable unless he searched for it. A mating bond, in its infancy. As he turned his gaze to Azriel, he knew who it belonged to. 

“What do you want?” Tamlin near-growled at Azriel, still cradling you against his chest. 

“For her to be happy,” Azriel said. “I was going to let her go, never reveal the bond. I was going to let her live a life with you, but I had to make sure she was happy before I gave her up forever.”

Tamlin wanted to say that you were happy. That you had all you needed here. And, yes, you were happy. You loved the Spring Court. If Tamlin thought you beautiful at the ball, it paled in comparison to the way you seemed to come alive in Spring. But he couldn’t deny that, in recent months, as the Inner Circle stopped coming, as it became clear that Azriel would never visit, that something inside of you was dying.

And he had heard the tail end of your conversation with Azriel before he kissed you. You wanted Azriel as a mate. Tamlin knew better than to deny you of that. He never again wanted to see you as lifeless as you had been when he brought you home from the Night Court. 

“She’s High Lady,” he said, “she cannot be whisked away from here.”

“I understand,” Azriel said. “Perhaps, though, she could spend a few months with me, in the Night Court? Most of her year will be spent here, ruling by your side. I only ask for some time.”

You turned your head to look at Azriel. Your brows pinched together. “You would do that?”

“I would rather only have a part of you than none at all.”

Tamlin looked down at you. He hated the idea of you being taken away to the Night Court. It reminded him too much of how Rhysand had grabbed you and winnowed you away—of how Night’s High Lord had done the same to Feyre years prior. The nasty, jealous part of him roared at the thought of you going. But when he looked at your hope-filled eyes, he knew he wouldn’t deny you. 

To Azriel, he said, “Give us the month to get our affairs in order.”

Azriel nodded. It was done. 

“Be careful with her,” Tamlin hissed.

Azriel rolled his eyes as he picked you up. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other hooked under your legs. Your arms looped around his neck. Though winnowing you would be easier, quicker, Azriel dreamed of flying you to the home he built for you. 

“She is not a doll so easily broken.”

You scratched at the back of his neck. Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Though you intended the action to be a means of chastising him, he only thought about how nice it would feel to have those pretty polished nails of yours rake down his back. “Play nice. Both of you,” you said. 

Tamlin stepped over to you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If you change your mind,” he said, “let me know. I’ll bring you home.”

Azriel stepped away before you could kiss Tamlin on the mouth. It was petty of him, to be sure. But he didn’t like the implication that you would not feel at home with him. What did Tamlin know? He wasn’t there for you when you came out of the Cauldron. When you were only a shell, sat at a piano all hours of the day, the melody of your pain echoing through Velaris. Tamlin was not there to hold you as you cried, begging for the pain to end. Tamlin never begged Rhysand to go into your mind, to give you pleasant dreams, so that even if you only experienced peace in your sleep, at least you got to feel it. 

Tamlin might have taken you from the Night Court. He may have made you his High Lady. And he may love you, but he didn’t know you hurt like Azriel did. He did not make the same promise Azriel did to never let you be hurt again. He did not know that, as Azriel was returning from that mission, he was planning to ask if you wished for him to take you to Spring. He was going to give you the choice that he and the rest of the Inner Circle so terribly deprived you of. Azriel had only been angry when you were gone because he never got to tell you goodbye, never got the chance to see you one last time before sending you off for your fairytale ending. But then, after the Inner Circle’s first visit, Feyre told him you looked like an entirely different person. 

Tamlin might love you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice his happiness to let you be with another male. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Azriel asked you.

The week before, Tamlin had sent your clothes, some books, and sheet music ahead. Azriel took special care to set up your room. It was the master bedroom, of course. Azriel relegated himself to a smaller guest room. Even if you were going with him to see if you truly wanted the bond with him, he was not going to force you to share a room with him. 

“I’m sure,” you said. You turned to Tamlin and nodded your head at him, urging him closer. Reluctantly, Azriel did not step away this time. He could deny Tamlin all he wanted, but he wouldn’t do that to you. The High Lord leaned down and kissed you softly. “I’m write you, Tam.”

Tamlin smiled. “I eagerly await your letters.”

After bidding him another farewell kiss, you let Azriel take to the skies. Although Azriel was not fond of his Illyrian heritage—the culture and its males, save for his brothers, disgusted him—he would never tire of flying. He didn’t think it could ever get any better, but that was before he had you in arms, clinging tightly to him while he flew over all of Prythian. 

A laugh, a beautifully loud laugh, escaped you as he pushed himself faster and faster. He shot you a wicked grin and a wink before shooting straight up, turning over backwards, before righting himself on course again. The laugh turned to a scream. Your nails dug into the back of his neck. 

“What?” he teased. “Don’t like going upside down?”

“You’re rotten,” you said, but you smiled up at him anyways. He liked your smile. You smiled with your whole face. Pretty dimples, crinkled corners of your eyes. Even your eyes themselves seemed to twinkle. 

“Yeah? I think you’ll find I’m the rottenest of the bunch.”

“Not so rotten if you’re my mate, though.”

Azriel prayed you couldn’t see how red his face was turning. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Only further settled in his arms, watching the clouds as you passed them by. 

Though Azriel preferred flying fast, loved the thrill of it all, he found himself wishing he had savored this moment a little longer as he landed outside of the home he built for you. He sat you gently on the ground, a hand on the small of your back as you steadied yourself. 

“I thought we would go to the River House or the House of Wind,” you said. 

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or not. You only stared up at the cobblestoned cottage, the wisteria growing along the walls. You eyed the window boxes filled with your favorite flowers. Azriel opened his mouth, ready to offer to take you elsewhere, when you turned your gaze to him. 

“What is this place? How have I never known about it?”

“It was supposed to be a mating gift,” Azriel said. He couldn’t look at you, afraid for how you might react, so he stared up at the cottage. “You told me, once, about your dream home. I can only hope that this compares.”

“When did you build it?”

“I started it the day after I found out we were mates,” Azriel said. And because he knew you were going to ask when that was, he continued, “The day Nyx was born—when you were crying because you were so scared about losing half your family and I just held you. That’s when I knew.”

You said nothing for a long moment. Azriel swallowed a lump in his throat, praying to the Mother he hadn’t scared you away. That you wouldn’t ask to be taken back to Spring, this entire thing be damned. You didn’t do that, though. 

No, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth instead. “Thank you, Az.”

Shadows flitted around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients you wanted and bringing them to you. Azriel often chided you for turning his shadows, the very things he used to spy and torture and kill, into little pets, but he loved it all the same. There was something he liked about you exposing the darkest parts of him to the light. Besides, it was his fault for leaving the shadows behind with you while he went to the market. 

You placed the tray in the oven, giggling as the shadows pulled you away to shut the door on their own, another group of shadows fiddling with the knobs so that it was at the right temperature. As the brownies baked, you took to cleaning up the mess you made. Humming a tune, you began to collect the dishes, swaying your hips as you took them over to the sink.

In the month since you had returned to the Night Court, you quite enjoyed spending time with Azriel. His plan to sleep in the guest room did not last long, for you found yourself so enamored with him that you practically dragged him into your bed. That was the first time his shadows allied themselves with you. A part of you, now, dreaded the idea of having to leave him behind when you returned to Spring. Tamlin and Azriel did not get on well, but you were certain they could at least learn to tolerate each other if they spent time with each other. 

You dried off your hands, gazing out the window over the sink. Somewhere beyond there were the rest of your family. Though Azriel had reacquainted himself with the Inner Circle, apologized for causing as much trouble as he had, he had not revealed that you were in the Night Court. He glamoured his scent so that they could not pick up on how your own scent mixed in. You wondered how Tamlin might have responded to their inquiries to visit you in Spring, but Azriel didn’t say much besides Feyre worried she had offended you. 

Good, you mused. She should be worried. She had made you grieve your relationship with her. She made you sick as you contemplated where you went wrong. She made you feel like you lost your entire family by choosing your mate. If she sat in worry, she deserved it. 

A shadow tugged on your wrist, alerting you to the fact that the brownies were finished. The shadows didn’t allow you to take the tray out yourself, but did let you begin to cut them and place one on a plate for Azriel. You bit your lip, trying to contain your smile. 

Tomorrow, you were to return to Spring. But tonight, you would accept the bond with Azriel. 

You hadn’t said a word to the shadows about your plan, yet they buzzed around the cottage as they readied for the romantic evening to come. Petals littering the floor, candles lit up around the room, a romantic song playing over the symphonium. You almost thought the shadows wished to seduce your mate more than you did. 

One tugged on your wrist as the door opened. You did hold back your smile this time as Azriel walked into kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter. 

“Welcome home,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Azriel smiled against your lips. “What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” He pulled away for a moment, sniffing at the air. “Have you been baking?”

“Brownies,” you confirmed. You twisted out of the arms and took the plate that the shadows hovered over to you. “For you.”

He stared down at the plate, then looked up at you. “I couldn’t—” he said. 

You picked up the brownie and brought it up to his lips. “I insist. I have been blessed by the Mother with two wonderful mates, and I intend to have you both fully.”

Thunder rumbled in the sky as Azriel sank his teeth into the treat, never taking his eyes off of you. You swiped your thumb at the corner of his mouth, collecting the crumbs, and licked them off. A growl ripped through his chest as Azriel tugged you against him. 

“I suppose that’s why the cottage looks like something straight of Nesta’s romance novels?”

“You can thank your shadows for that. They did that all on their own.”

“You truly have reduced them to busybodies like all the rest,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold an ounce of malice. Azriel kissed you softly. “I suppose I should thank them, though, because I fully intend to ravish you tonight.”

“Oh, I hope that’s a promise you intend to keep.”

Thunder rumbled again. The scene outside turned darker as storm clouds began to roll in. You were prepared to ignore it all when a flash of lightning made you jump out of your skin. The front door slammed open, the wood hitting the wall so hard you were almost certain it splintered. Azriel’s hold on you tightened. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. You peered over to the foyer, blood running cold as you took in the appearance of Night’s High Lord, your sister just a half step behind him. 

“I didn’t think you were so foolish to steal away Spring’s High Lady, brother,” Rhysand said. 

“I was not stolen,” you snapped. “I came here willingly. Tamlin knows exactly where I am, and that I shall be returning to Spring by morning.”

Your sister said your name softly, stepping around her mate and toward you. “You’re already leaving?” she asked. 

“I have been here a month. That is plenty long to be away from Spring and my other mate.”

Feyre’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then to the tray of brownies abandoned on the counter. “You know.”

“No thanks to you,” you said. “How long were you going to let me cry over Azriel not coming to visit before you told me it wasn’t because he hated me?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you. I hated learning about my own mating bond from the Suriel. I didn’t—I couldn’t let you live through that same pain.”

“No, you just let me think my only friend hated me. You let me think you all hated me, because you were too busy trying to find him before my mating ceremony to respond to any of my letters.”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed at you. “We couldn’t have told you anything. We hardly understand how a triad works. How could we have explained it to you without sounding like we descended into lunacy?”

“You could have said anything!” you protested. “Feyre, you could have told me anything short of the truth. There was a threat to the Night Court, or perhaps that there were some diplomacy issues you needed to tend to. But, no, you rather that I cried to Tamlin every night, prayed that you would send some sort of sign that our relationship was not beyond repair.”

Feyre took a step toward you. Rhysand reached for her wrist, to stop her from nearing you, but she shook him off. “And I will regret that for the rest of my days. You know I have never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you have. You are my sister, Feyre, but you treated me like I was no one to you. Tell me, were my letters to all the others ignored under your orders, too?”

Her glance away from you told you everything you needed to know.

“I spent my mating ceremony, what should have been the happiest day of my life, grieving the loss of my family. I will never get that day back again.” You grabbed for Azriel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing tight. “Don’t expect an invitation to the next.”

Feyre’s eyes snapped to yours. Silver lined them. “Please—”

“I would like to return to Spring, now, please,” you said to Azriel. “It seems I have outgrown Night.”

Without a word, Azriel winnowed you away. 

Tamlin stared at your back as you slept. You had been quiet ever since you returned from the Night Court. Tamlin understood—Azriel had explained how Feyre and Rhysand came to the cottage as you were accepting the mating bond with Azriel. He recalled the fury in your eyes as you stated that Azriel would remain in the Spring Court until the frenzy subsided. He didn’t see you much over the following weeks, so he couldn’t speak much to your state then. But when Azriel, rather regretfully, announced he would be returning to Night to deal with the fallout, you began to withdraw. Tamlin was left with the aftermath. And like Feyre before you, he wasn’t quite sure how to make things better. 

Unlike Feyre, he was going to do whatever he could to help you. He would not let you waste away, fade away into nothing. 

Tamlin kissed your bare shoulder then slipped out of the bed. If you noticed, you did not move. He continued on to his study, ignoring the curious looks of the servants still lingering in the halls, and settled at his desk. He procured a sheet of paper and a pen, and began to write. 

Azriel, he began, I apologize for my abruptness, but I must ask that you return to Spring expeditiously. While I understand that the Night Court is your home, Y/N has not been faring well without both of her mates. You do not need to forsake your home, but any time that you could spend here would be appreciated. Yours truly, Tamlin. 

He sent the letter off. Tamlin remained at his desk, waiting for a reply. But one did not have to wait for long as shadows began to soon flood the room. In the past, the sight of the shadows would have made Tamlin’s skin crawl. It was no secret the depths the Spymaster would go to, to extract information from his targets, and those very shadows were just another in his arsenal. But their arrival was signal enough that Azriel had arrived, and that was enough for the weight on Tamlin’s shoulders to lift ever so slightly. 

“Where is she?”

Tamlin rose to his feet. “Sleeping. She doesn’t know I asked for you to come.”

Azriel nodded. A few of the shadows abandoned the study in search of you. The shadows, generally, still disturbed Tamlin. In the month you and Tamlin got your affairs in order, those damned little things scarcely left your side. He was certain they even hissed at him for daring to be near you. Slowly, though, they began to grow on him as they came to the collective understanding that both parties were looking out for your best interests. 

“How have things fared in the Night Court?” Tamlin asked. 

“Feyre is distraught,” Azriel said. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, as if trying to stop them from rolling right out of his head. “Rhys has been insisting I bring Y/N back so they can talk things through. He does not take kindly to my own insistence that, if Feyre wished for things to get better, she should be the one to make the first move.”

Tamlin snorted. “And here I thought you were just a loyal dog.”

Azriel flashed a smirk. “Oh, I am. Just not to him.”

Good, Tamlin thought. If there was anyone who deserved his loyalty, it would be you. Kind, sweet you. Tamlin once thought your family was loyal—they certainly seemed to think they were looking out for your best interests when they took you from the Spring Court. And they had been so diligent about visiting you before. Every month at the start of the month, he would receive a letter asking permission to visit. The Inner Circle always arrived before he could accept. That was, until the invitation to the mating ceremony was sent out. Despite both you and Tamlin sending inquiries and invitations, not a single one ever responded. When they failed to show up at the mating ceremony, Tamlin decided then that he would never forgive them. 

“How long do you intend to stay?” Tamlin said. Azriel brought nothing with him, save for the clothes on his back and the weapons strapped to his waist. 

“As long as you’ll allow it. I tendered my resignation this morning,” Azriel said. “I’ll begin the search for a home here in the morning.”

“Don’t bother,” Tamlin said. Azriel looked stricken. His brows pinched together, mouth settling into a frown. Realizing his error, Tamlin corrected, “You can have a home here if you like. Your own room, or you can share ours. We might have to get a bigger bed, given your wingspan, but it would be no trouble.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. “You would do that?”

“You are her mate as much as I am. You may be willing to settle for only a piece of her life, but I would be remiss if I stopped you from having all of her.” Tamlin waved his hand, urging Azriel to follow him. “I have some more comfortable clothes you can change into. We should both rest.”

“Tamlin—” Azriel said. Tamlin paused. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. Will you need to return to the Night Court for your things, or will you be purchasing replacements?”

As they walked down the hall, the servants even more confused than before, Azriel said, “My shadows will retrieve the necessities. There won’t be much. I intend to have a fresh start here.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing Spring is all about rebirth then.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

Tamlin watched as Azriel smiled when they reached the bedroom. He slipped inside, so silent that Tamlin could’ve been convinced that he was alone if he didn’t see the Shadowsinger with his own two eyes. Tamlin lingered in the doorframe as Azriel approached your side of the bed and knelt down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, murmured a quiet I love you. 

Your eyes fluttered open. You blinked slowly as you took in Azriel’s appearance. “You’re supposed to be in Night,” you whispered. 

“I believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

You turned your head slightly, brows pinching together when you didn’t see Tamlin laying beside you. “Does Tam know?”

“Who do you think invited me?”

A sleepy smile twitched on your lips. “When do you leave again?”

“Whenever you decide to push me away.” Azriel kissed you. “And not a second sooner.”

Feyre stared at the cream invitation. It had landed on Rhysand’s desk just moments earlier, but she had already read it a dozen times. The words were seared into her mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lady Y/N and Azriel. But the part she found herself reading over and over again, trying to make sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination were— P.S. I would greatly appreciate your attendance. You are my sister, and I miss you being a part of my life.

If she went to Spring, she would have her sister again she so terribly pushed away. 

Because she had missed you. It had broken her heart to know you had come to Night to be with Azriel yet never came to see them. She couldn’t blame you, of course. You had been right. Feyre should have said something to you. It wasn’t fair for her to keep you completely in the dark. She hated when others had done it to her in the past. Why did she ever think she could do the same to you? Yet, even in the months afterward, she wasn’t sure what to say to you. 

She still didn’t. 

Feyre sat in the River House, at Rhysand’s desk, glancing between the invitation and the RSVP she was going to send in response. Rhysand stood behind her. When the invitation arrived, he said that the decision was fully hers. That he would support whatever choice to make. To stay in Night and continue to allow the relationship to strain, or to go and begin the mending process. But was there anything left to mend? You were happy in Spring with both of your mates. To go there now would be to ruin the life you’ve built for yourself. 

“Do you want to go?” Rhys asked after several moments of Feyre holding the pen in an ironclad grip.

“I haven’t seen her in months. I haven’t been to Spring in over a year. I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Because you miss her, and she misses you. Don’t torture yourself with thoughts of maybes and what ifs. You know Y/N wouldn’t have sent the invitation if she didn’t want you there,” Rhysand said. He pointed to the postscript, tapping his finger on it. “It’s a peace offering.”

“I hurt her.”

For as long as Feyre could remember, she had been trying to protect her family. For a long time, it was all she knew. Things changed, of course, when she came to Prythian and her sisters all became High Fae. But the base desire, to ensure their safety and security, still resided deep inside her. It was why she had been so scared when you said Tamlin was your mate. It was why she panicked when Rhysand said Azriel had disappeared after being invited to your mating ceremony with Tamlin. Yet, in both instances, she had been the one to cause your pain. What if that was all she could do now? Maybe she was better off, maybe you were better off, if she stayed away.

Rhys let out a sigh. “You did, but she’s giving you a chance. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all this time?”

“It is.”

“Then, I think you already know the answer.”

Feyre pressed the pen to the paper. She slowly wrote her response, worried that if she moved too fast, she would write the wrong thing. But, Cauldron, it didn’t feel write to just write a letter to you. If you were truly inviting her back into your life, if you truly were trying to mend the relationship, you deserved more. 

She dropped the pen and rose from her seat. Rhysand followed her and she stalked out of the office. Ignoring her mate’s questions behind her, she went to the living room where the rest of the Inner Circle waited for Feyre and Rhys. Everyone stared at her when she arrived. She couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore. 

“Well?” Nesta asked, breaking the silence. “Are we breaking this ridiculous stalemate together, or will I be going to Spring alone?”

“Together,” Feyre said. “We’ll go together, now. I’m sure they won’t mind a surprise visit.”

Nesta flashed a rare smile. “Good, because Elain and I would have dragged you there kicking and screaming.”

[azrielsdove]

Petals and Pain: Tamlin x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Suggestive, Longgggg

The halls were dark, quiet, and cold. A stark contrast to the last time you stepped foot in this manor. You crept through the ruins, remembering how the grand place had looked before. It had been fifty-odd years since you last came here, since you last saw your oldest friend.

Everything had changed since then.

You had left Prythian on what was supposed to be a month trip to the other territories. You were to go both as a diplomat and as a tourist. Tamlin had wanted to try to better the Court with what you learned there, a task you so willingly took. You had bid him farewell and set off, excited to see what the world had to offer.

You didn’t know it would be the last time you saw him.

He sent a letter the moment Amarantha showed her evil hand, bidding you stay put. Every instinct in you screamed to run home, but you knew you could be of more help if you stayed away. Perhaps you could seek out assistance from one of the territories.

Your heart ached for the Spring Court all those years. Your travels brought you beauty, sure, yet it all paled in comparison to your home. You longed for the manor, its large windows and warm sunshine. You wished to walk through the gardens, so full of magic and peace. Above it all you missed Tamlin. The two of you had met long ago, when you were both not more than babes. Your parents were high up in the Court, trusted advisors to the High Lord. Often you were brought along as their pride and joy, their perfect little pawn. Talks of a betrothal to you and one of the High Lords sons began as you grew, your parents vying for the eldest. They knew he had the most chance of being the next High Lord. The goal was to get you in the highest position of power possible.

Your friendship with Tamlin grew as you did. He was pushed to the side more often than not, the youngest brother with no hope of ever being High Lord. Your parents were unhappy that he was the one you chose to befriend, but they couldn’t keep you from seeing him. Not without potentially upsetting his father. No, that wouldn’t do for their plan.

Until the slaughter of the entire family occurred. Your parents were unlucky enough to have been there at the time of the attack, murdered alongside Tamlins. Too quickly the manor went from a busy, full, lively place to just the two of you. Tamlin begged you to stay after that, insisting that he didn’t want to be alone. You couldn’t deny that you felt the same and gladly moved into the manor. He appointed you emissary, setting you as the first member of his court. Not long after Lucien showed up and turned your duo into a rather happy trio. You and Lucien worked together to keep the Spring Court in good favor with the other Courts.

You wondered where Lucien was now. What exactly had happened here, besides what you got out of Tamlins last broken letter. You continued further into the manor, peering into each room as you passed. There was no sign of life anywhere. You weren’t even sure if Tamlin was still here. You stuck a hand in your pocket, finger running over the edge of the letter that brought you here.

Spring has fallen.

It is all my fault.

The threat has gone.

Short, and not nearly enough information. You had raced back to Prythian as quickly as you could, trying to imagine what had happened.

Though nothing prepared you for this.

“Tamlin?” You called out softly, unsure if danger lurked nearby. A chill flew through the air, sending shivers down your back. A noise from a few rooms down the hall startled you, eyes darting towards it. You moved hesitantly towards the door, noting the dim light showing from underneath it. Slowly you pushed it open, once again calling out his name. You looked into the room, heart sinking at the sight.

You had found Tamlin.

From where he sat you could see his hair was matted, covered in mud and leaves. His once smart attire was torn and dirtied, hanging loosely off his much too thin frame. You could see his skin was pale, scratches covering most of it. “Tam?” You asked, voice shaky. He turned slowly to you and your hand flew to cover your mouth. His eyes were dark, sunk deep into his head. He looked as close to death as you could get while still being alive. “Oh Tam.” You dropped to your knees in front of him, gently wrapping your hands around his. You stared deep into those haunted eyes, heart breaking. “Let me help you.”

He gave no response, just continued to stare at you in that dead sort of way. You began to doubt there was anything of your friend left. You quickly busied yourself with all the healing remedies you brought from your travels. You weren’t certain what sort of state Tamlin or the Spring Court would be in when you arrived, so you brought as many fit into your bags. A good thing too, for several of these were desperately needed. You gently poured a few different vials into his mouth, watching carefully to make sure they took. You wanted to heal his body and mind as much as you could, in hopes that he could explain what had all happened. You administered one final draught for the night before gently leading your friend to lay in front of the damp fireplace. “Sleep should kick in soon, will you lay here for me?” You asked, laying down the cloak you wore as a sort of sad attempt at a bed. Tamlin laid on it with no comment, the horrid blank stare still on his face. You waited until he was asleep to go scrounge around for some wood, leading to a rather pitiful fire in the great stone fireplace. At least it was better than nothing.

You settled down in the least damaged chair you could find, watching Tamlin. Your mind was racing with questions. You were completely lost on how your once witty and charming friend had been reduced to this husk of a male. And where was Lucien? You were struck with a chilling thought, one that you didn’t wish to dwell on. You shook your head, shooing it away. Lucien had to be alive, something just must have come up. There was a perfectly logical reason for why he wasn’t here, and why the Spring Court lay in ruin. You just had to wait for Tamlin to wake and you could get some answers.

***

It was days before the High Lords eyes opened once more. You spent your time forcing water and various medicinal mixtures down his throat, exploring what was left of the manor when you felt up to it. Your heart ached at seeing what was once your beautiful home in such disrepair. It shattered completely when you made your way to your old rooms and found that they were the only place untouched. Dusty, yes, but otherwise just the same as you had left them. You had quickly brought Tamlin to them after your discovery, setting him up in your grand four poster bed. A reminder of a life that feels so long ago now.

It was soon after that Tamlin came to. He still looked close to death, but there was a minuscule brightness to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He murmured your name, a hand reaching out for yours. You grasped it tightly, tears pricking at the back of yours eyes. “Tam,” you whispered, “what happened?”

He gave a sad smile, shaking his head. “It was all my fault, truly. Everyone left. I let them all down. I allowed war to come to these lands, I allowed terrible things to happen.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “All in the name of love. Love. What do I even know of it?”

You were confused, and a tad bit hurt at the mention of this so-called love. “Tell me from the beginning.”

And so he did.

He told you of what Amarantha had done, how she had tricked the Courts. How she vied for his hand and when he denied her she cursed all of Spring. He told you how she cut out Lucien’s eye, wincing as he did. He talked about the rules of his curse, how the only way out was to get a mortal to fall for him.

He spoke of Feyre, the love he had mentioned before. You could feel the pain in his voice as he did, as he explained how he tried to save her. “I was ready to sacrifice my entire court, just so she would be safe. A fool I was. A selfish, horrid fool.” He told you how they were all taken Under the Mountain, how Feyre came to try to save him. What she suffered in the months down there. How he didn’t know what to do, besides send Lucien to try to help her.

He talked about Rhysand, who you remembered all too well. He explained how the other High Lord assisted Feyre Under the Mountain, how Tamlin had thought it all a nasty trick. His voice broke as he recalled Amarantha killing her, but Rhysand and the other High Lords worked together to bring her back.

You had no words, shocked at the amount of respect they all had for this girl. Truly, you couldn’t help but be in awe of her yourself.

Tamlin continued, telling you how they were supposed to wed. How Rhysand had crashed the wedding, whisking Feyre away. He told you how Lucien and him thought Rhysand was nothing but evil, mind controlling Feyre to hate them. “Of course, she had every right to hate me. I didn’t know how to treat her after Under the Mountain. I allowed her suffering.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly, urging him to continue.

On he went, explaining that Rhysand and the Night Court were never truly evil, that there is a goodness there. He spoke of the war with Hybern, of what he had done to Feyres sisters. He told you how Feyre had turned the court against him, but it was his own actions that lead them to believe her.

He talked about Lucien, how he had fled with Feyre in the end. “I couldn’t even keep one of my oldest friends. I have done irreparable damage to everyone I cared about. It is good you were away, otherwise you would’ve been hurt too.” His gaze was faraway, eyes shining with untold pain.

You sat in silence for long moments, processing everything he had told you. Lucien had left him. That was no small fact, that what Tamlin had done was bad to have driven him away. Yet as look at the male in front of you, you struggle to see that he is truly evil.

“I believe your heart was in the right place, however your actions were a bit extreme,” you said slowly, careful with your words.

Tamlin laughed. “Just a bit?” You looked up at him, his eyes shining bright as he smiled at you. For just a moment you could see the old him in his face, the strong High Lord you once knew.

“Okay, perhaps a lot. I do not see why that should mean you must live like this now. It is not too late to make amends to your Court, and to Lucien. I am home now, Tam. Let me help rebuild our home.” And you, you thought, looking over his sickly state once more.

He nodded, agreeing. “Yes, yes. You always know what to do. For now, I will rest. I tire too easily these days.” His eyes were closed before he finished speaking, exhaustion taking over once more.

You sat in the quiet room for a while longer, still holding his hand. Your questions were answered, but in their place were a million more. For the first time you began to doubt if the Spring Court and its High Lord were truly fixable.

***

You spent the following days cleaning up what damage you could from the manor while Tamlin regained his strength. You took notice of how most of the destruction seemed caused by a rather large animal, piecing together what must have happened. What sort of a state had he been in to destroy his home in such a way? You had paused your questioning for now, focusing on his healing first. You did find where Lucien now resides and sent him a letter as quick as you could. You weren’t entirely sure what had all happened, but you hoped he would return once more. If not for Tamlin, then for you.

You were busy cleaning in the grand entry when a rather cold chuckle came from behind you. You turned quickly, holding your mop out like a weapon.

“Oh relax, it is only me,” a silky voice said, purple eyes glittering. You frowned.

“Rhysand.”

He placed his hand dramatically over his heart at your cool tone, feigning being stabbed. “Ouch. How long has it been since we last spoke, then? Welcome back to this side of the world. Noticed I didn’t see you in the war.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your mop down. “There could never be enough time in between our meetings. I wasn’t a part of the war, as I was unaware it was happening. The last I heard was the day Amarantha played her nasty trick, and I was told to remain away.”

“Lucky you. Away on your travels, galavanting around while the rest of us suffered.” Rhysand scowled at you, eyes narrowed. “You seem not any worse off for it.”

You crossed your arms tightly in front of you, anger flooding your body. “I did only as my High Lord commanded.”

Rhysand scoffed. “Some High Lord he is. Do you not see the state of your beloved Court? Do you truly believe an innocent male allowed ruin to befall your home like this?”

You took a step closer, ever defensive of your old friend and home. “What I have found is a hurting male, trapped all alone in a nightmare of his own creation. I have heard his regrets and his helplessness. I came back to find my home a dark shadow of itself, my High Lord, my friend, not more than a shell of who he was.” You looked Rhysand up and down. “I have found you, the male who won it all. You have your mate, Rhysand. You have your grand Court, your faithful family. I’ve heard you even have a perfect little son. And yet here you stand, coming to do what, may I ask? Taunt Tamlin? Kick him some more while he’s down?” Your fists clenched, anger tight in your chest. “I admit I do not know all that has transpired in my absence, but I know enough to say what you’re doing is wrong. I do not argue that he has hurt you, has hurt your mate, but to what end must he suffer? Will you not be happy until his heart has ceased beating? What more can he give you?”

Rhysand stood as still as death, eyes studying you carefully. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “You show a devotion I do not often see. If you ever come to understand there’s nothing for you here, i’d be pleased to see you in Night Court black. As I said so many years ago, Tamlin will never give you what you want.” He was gone in a dramatic swirl of darkness, nothing but a grandiose show of power. You frowned deeper, ever unsettled by the High Lord. He had always been condescending to you, deciding that you were worth hating just for being close to Tamlin.

As I said so many years ago, Tamlin will never give you what you want. You scoffed as the words played again in your head, picking your mop back up. Rhysand had convinced himself long ago that you only stayed close to Tamlin in hopes of being his bride. You’d laughed in his face the first time he said this, completely taken aback by such an accusation. You can admit a part of you would not have been unhappy with such an arrangement, but you had your position in Court on your own. Rhysand never saw you as more than a lovesick puppy that followed Tamlins every move.

When you returned to Tamlin you mentioned the meeting rather briefly, not wishing to upset him any further.

“Rhysand was here?” He asked sharply, eyes scanning you as though for injury. “Did he hurt you? What did he want?”

You sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at him. “He did not do anything, Tam. I assume he came to make sure you were still miserable. He wasn’t very pleased to find me instead.” A teasing smile danced across your face, an attempt to lighten the situation.

It didn’t work. Tamlin frowned deeply, clearly upset that this happened. “He comes every now and again to remind me i’m worthless and alone. He laughed himself silly when he saw how sickly i’d become last time.”

You forced your anger down, not trusting yourself to speak. While you understood why Rhysand would be so full of hate for Tamlin, there has to be a limit before it becomes just pointless cruelty. You took a deep breath, looking intently at your friend. “Whatever he has said to you is irrelevant now. You are healing, as is this Court. That is all that matters. Do not dwell on the events of the past, not now.” You reached over and grabbed the warm tea you had made, filling his cup with it. “Now drink, and rest. I gather soon you’ll be up to a walk around the grounds.”

***

Tamlins healing came slowly, and not without challenge. The first day he got out onto the desolate gardens surrounding the manor he fell into a darkness deeper than before, pained at seeing what his home had become. The physical healing was only part of the battle, the healing of his mind was what truly ailed him. You had brought him back to bed, forcing him to eat and rest. Once you were certain he was down for the night you made your way back outside, sitting on the cracked grand steps leading up to the entry.

And you cried.

This task was more than you expected. Tamlin was in worse shape than you ever imagined, the Court was nothing more than a few dead plants. You had no idea where to go from here, how else to aid in his healing. Even when he was healed, how were you going to go about healing the Court? Bringing the fae home? You’d heard how it had fallen, the poison Feyre had spewed, the ways in which some of what she had said rang true. You knew how Tamlin put his faith in the wrong beings, how his focus on her lead to his destruction. This was beginning to feel like all too much on you, but you refused to give up on him.

Someone spoke your name softly.

You shot up from the steps, eyes narrowing as you took in your surroundings. Your heart stopped when you realized who was standing in front of you.

“L-Lucien?”

His name was enough to have him running up to you, wrapping you tight in his arms. You sunk into his embrace, tears taking over with a new force. You allowed yourself to let out all you had been holding back, safe in the arms of one of your closest friends. Lucien held you close, body shaking with his own emotion. The two of you stood that way until your eyes were dry. When you finally pulled back enough to look up into his face your heart ached. One hand came up to gently touch the scarring left by Amarantha, anger and pain in both of you. “I’m so sorry I left.”

Lucien shook his head vigorously. “None of that. I stood by Tamlin when he decided you should stay away. I do not regret that choice for a moment.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, giving you one last squeeze before letting you go. “How is he?”

You sighed deeply. “He’s bad. I am starting to lose hope.” You were ashamed to speak the words out loud.

Lucien reached out and grabbed ahold of your hand. “Take me to him?”

You nodded, leading him through the desolate manor. You heard his sharp intake of breath as he took in the destruction, even with your pitiful attempts at fixing it. You paused outside of your rooms, looking up to Lucien. “He has not told me all that transpired between you, however he has told me enough. I am sorry for the pain you have suffered at his hand. The male you are about to see is but a shell of the one you once knew. If it’s too much I do not expect you to stay.”

Lucien squeezed your hand reassuringly. “At the end of it all, Tamlin was one of my greatest friends. And you are worth more than any pain he has bestowed upon me. I do not wish to see either of you suffer anymore than you already have.”

You gave him a watery smile and pushed open the doors. You felt his hand go slack as he took in the sight of Tamlin tucked into your bed, how sickly he still looked. You stayed close to the doors as Lucien approached him, allowing him to process what he was seeing. “Oh, Tam,” he whispered, a hand running across his face. “What have we done?” He stood there for a while, looking over his old friend. You went to him when you noticed the gentle shake of his shoulders, tears falling slowly down his cheeks.

“Come,” you whispered, wrapping an arm around him. “He will not wake until well into the morning. I’ll make you something warm to drink and you can rest until then.” You led Lucien down to the kitchens, fixing him up a cup of tea. He sat in silence while you did, staring blankly at the wall.

“I should not have left him in my anger,” he finally spoke, looking up as you handed him the cup. “I was so hurt by how he had acted, but I was not innocent in all that happened. Even when I disagreed with his actions I still followed him, up until the end. I’ve allowed him to fall into this state.” You knelt down in front of him, wrapping your hands around his.

“You must not think like that. We all have our own guilts and pain, but we must come back together now. Everything has changed and yet so much is the same. I have missed you, Lucien. I have missed the both of you more than I can say.” You looked down at your hands around his, taking a deep breath. “We need to come up with a plan to help him, to save our Court. Otherwise it will remain dead for eternity.”

***

Weeks went by. Lucien stayed and helped you, the two of you fixing up your home. Tamlin had improved greatly in the physical sense, but his mind was still riddled in guilt. Your pain at seeing him struggle had slowly turned into anger. “What else can we do, Lucien? Do you expect me to sit and wait decades more for him to move on?” You seethed, pacing back and forth in front of the grand fireplace. The two of you spent most nights in the newly refurbished study, the favorite of the rooms you’ve redone. The estate had been mostly repaired to its former glory, aside from the missing staff and High Lord.

“You know how long it can take. You saw the state he was in. I know it is frustrating to continue waiting but what else do you propose we do?” Lucien was as exhausted as you were, but his own guilt at letting Tamlin fall this far kept him slightly more amicable. You paused your pacing, turning sharply to look at him.

“I’m going to tell him off. We have let him deal with everything in private as much as we can. He needs a wake up call, and so help me I will do it.” You made your way from the room before Lucien could stop you. You knew you should calm down before you get to Tamlin’s rooms, finished only days ago. Your hands were clenched tightly into fists at your sides as you stormed through the manor, trying to decide what to say. All you knew was that you were angry and tired of watching your dearest friend lose himself.

You reached his doors rather quickly, shoving them open without a second thought. They clattered against the walls, alerting Tamlin to your presence. He looked over at you curiously, eyes scanning over you. “Has something happened?” He asked, sitting up in his bed. You crossed your arms tight in front of you.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Something has happened.” You watched his expression change slightly at the pure rage in your voice, as if he knew what you were going to say. “You. You, Tamlin. I am sick and tired of watching you wallow in self pity. I understand, you were hurt. You are ashamed of how you acted in your own rage. But how long must this go on? I am home, Tam. I am here, for you. Lucien and I have repaired this estate and you have done nothing but sit in this godforsaken bed and pout!” You couldn’t help the increased volume in your voice, all your hidden frustration bursting free from you. “I want you to get up. I want you to get out of this bed, put some damned clothes on, and come to work. Do you understand?” You stared him down, breathing slightly heavy.

Something strange flickered through his eyes, an emotion you had never seen in him. His voice was deathly cold when he responded. “Are you making demands of your High Lord?”

An exasperated sigh rolled off your lips. “At this point I’m more High Lord than you are.” You knew that was cruel, a direct attack to his already hurt pride. The rational part of your mind was screaming for you to calm down, to take a step back. But your anger was winning. “I came here to help you, Tamlin. Have I not done so? Have I not devoted my life to yours?”

His scoff cut you off. “No one forced you to do that,” he spat out, leaning back against his headboard. “You did not have to come back here. You shouldn’t have come back here.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is my home. You are my home! Don’t you get it, Tam? It has always been you!” The anger rushed out of your body at your confession, a sudden lightheadedness coming over you. “It was always you,” you whispered out, a hand coming to rest on your forehead. The strength left your body, your legs failing to hold you up. The floor was coming up fast, blessedly fast. You hoped you would hit it hard enough to forget this moment, your embarrassing confession.

Then you stopped. Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back up. One stayed tightly around your waist while the other cupped your chin, forcing you to look into the perfect green of Tamlin’s eyes. “Say it again,” he whispered, breath ghosting over your lips.

“It is you. You are my home,” you murmured, brain foggy at his proximity. In all the decades of loving him, you had never been caught in a moment like this.

Tamlin took a deep breath before moving a millimeter closer. “How long?” He asked, each syllable causing his lips to brush against yours.

“Since we were children. My father pushed for me to marry one of your brothers, but I never held any interest in them. My heart has always called out for you.” Your body was on fire, every slight brush of his lips against yours a lightning strike under your skin. “I waited. I waited for you to choose me at Calanmai.” You felt his nails dig slightly into your waist at that, a shuddering breath running through him. “I waited for you to seek a wife once you were more comfortable as High Lord. I waited and waited. Then you sent me away.”

The hand under your chin moved to hold your face, thumb running gently over your cheek. “I sent you away,” he began, voice heavy, “because it was getting too hard to focus with you around. With the constant need running through my veins.” His hand dropped to the back of your neck, squeezing ever so gently. “Every Calanmai my body sang for yours. It took insurmountable control to not drag you in that cave with me each year.” You couldn’t help the noise that came from you at that. Something in Tamlin snapped, his pupils blown wide before pressing his lips fully against yours.

The kiss was harsh, unleashing decades of pent up desire. You cried out when he bit your lip, canines sharp. The taste of your blood on his tongue was positively sinful, making you feel a way you never had before. His lips moved from yours, running down your neck before his teeth sunk in to your shoulder. You moaned his name loudly, throwing your head back in a silent plea for more. Tamlin growled, the arm around your waist moving to slide down between your thighs. His fingers teased the waistband of your pants, your skin burning in the wake of his touch. You had half a mind to grab his hand and force it where you needed him the most, when Lucien decided to make his presence known.

“I see we kissed and made up?” He cooed, a smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. Tamlin turned sharply to him, elongated nails and teeth on full display.

“Leave. Now.”

***

One year later

The Spring Court was alive once more. In fact, it was more beautiful than it had ever been. The flowers bloomed bright and big, their pleasant perfume filling the lands. The grass was the richest shade of green, the trees sang in the wind, and the air ran fresh. It was a paradise. You were admiring the peonies in the garden when two arms wrapped around your waist, tucking you close. You leaned into Tamlin’s hold, a content sigh escaping you.

“How are the flowers today, my love?” He asked, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“They are perfect,” you said with a smile, resting your hands over his. You looked down at the glittering emerald set in gold on your finger, a matching golden band circling his own. “How is my husband today?”

“Mmm,” he groaned, pressing more kisses down your neck. “Greatly improved now that I have you here. The other Courts are being rather obtuse about answering our letters.” You turned in his arms, resting your hands upon his chest.

“Do you wish for me to deal with them again? You know they rather like me,” you teased, playing with the fabric of his shirt. Your husband rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss you sweetly.

“They do seem to prefer you, High Lady.” You smiled at the title, a name you were still getting used to. You caught his lips with yours once more, threading one hand up through his hair. He sighed into your mouth, pulling you tighter against him. You lead the kiss, allowing his mind to grow muddled under your touch. You tugged on some strands of his hair, relishing in the guttural sound he made before pulling away from him and out of his grasp.

“Come on, High Lord. Let’s go convince the other Courts that a Spring ball is an excellent idea, planned by their very favorite High Lady.”

***

Ahhhh I LOVE this one. I hope you all do too! This took me agessss to write, but I am ever so thankful for your patience with me. <3

Note: If you do not like Tamlin, that is fine, but do not come here to argue. Just scroll on <3

[inky-writing]

The Dryad

Part 1

Tamlin x reader

Warnings: blood, scars, wounds, idk, spoiler if you didn't read at least the first three tomes of acotar

Word count: 815

The forest hummed quietly. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the moss-covered ground with golden streaks. Y/N’s hands moved gently over the bark of a massive oak, murmuring soft words to it as if it might respond. She felt the energy beneath her fingertips, the pulse of life that only a dryad could sense when it came to trees. This corner of the Spring Court was hers to protect, and she loved with ferocity.

It was then she caught the faint, but unmistakable scent of blood on the breeze. Her heart quickened, a feeling of unease washing over her. Stepping lightly, she followed the trail, each step purposeful yet silent. She rounded a cluster of elder trees and froze.

There, sprawled on the ground, was a figure she recognized instantly. His golden hair was matted with dirt and blood, his usually powerful frame slack with exhaustion. Tamlin, high lord of the Spring Court, lay unconscious against the roots of an ancient willow tree. His breathing was shallow, his body covered with wounds.

Y/N hesitated. Despite her "lesser fae" status, she’d heard the stories, of Tamlin’s failures, his grief, his exile into the shadows of his own mind after the war. But she’d also heard whispers of his attempts at redemption, the way he’d slowly rebuilt his Court after years of absence. She’d never met him in person, though. Until now.

Her heart tugged in a way she didn’t entirely understand, and before she could think twice, she crouched by his side. “My lord?” she called softly. He didn’t stir.

Y/N laid a hand on his chest, feeling the faint thrum of his heartbeat. Relief coursed through her. He was alive, but just barely. Gathering her courage, she pressed her hands over one of his deeper wounds and summoned the magic of the forest around her. The trees lent her their strength, the earth its vitality, and she channeled it into him.

Tamlin’s eyes fluttered open moments later. They locked onto hers, hazy with confusion. “Who…?” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

“Stay still,” Y/N urged. “You’re badly hurt.”

He frowned but didn’t argue, his gaze flickering to her hands as they glowed faintly with magic. “You’re a dryad?” he murmured, recognition dawning in his eyes.

She nodded. “Y/N,” she offered. “You’re in my part of the forest.”

For a moment, Tamlin said nothing, his sharp green eyes studying her. Then his gaze softened, and he let his head fall back against the tree. “Thank you,” he said quietly, the sincerity in his voice catching her off guard.

Over the next few days, Y/N nursed Tamlin back to health. Though he was reluctant to accept help at first, the bond they formed was undeniable. He told her stories of his Court, his people, and the mistakes he’d made. He spoke of Feyre and Rhysand, of Nyx, the child he’d come to consider as a symbol of peace rather than pain.

Y/N listened, her heart aching for the high lord who had endured so much loss. Yet through it all, she never spoke of the bond that had snapped into place for her the moment their eyes first met. It was a cruel twist of fate, to feel that connection, to know he did not.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Tamlin stood at the edge of the clearing where she’d found him. He was fully healed now, his strength returned, but he lingered. Y/N joined him, her steps hesitant.

“You’ve done more for me than I deserve,” Tamlin said without turning. His voice was low, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. “I’ll repay you someday. I promise.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she replied softly. She meant it, though her chest tightened at the thought of him leaving.

Tamlin turned to her, his eyes searching for hers. For a fleeting moment, Y/N thought he might say something, might sense the bond she so desperately wished to hide. But instead, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“You’re remarkable, Y/N,” he said softly, almost too quiet for her to hear, his words like a confession. Then he stepped back, the weight of his role as high lord settling back over his shoulders. “I hope we meet again.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the woods.

Y/N watched him leave, tears stinging her eyes. She touched the spot where his hand had grazed her cheek, the bond thrumming painfully in her chest. She turned back to her forest, seeking solace in its embrace, but her heart was no longer entirely her own.

As the night deepened, a whisper stirred through the trees, carrying a promise she couldn’t yet understand. Y/N glanced toward the direction Tamlin had gone, wondering if their paths would cross again.

[ambivalence-is-me]

The Lost Princess

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Your life drastically changes after meeting Feyre. You don’t know how to help, you don’t know much of anything really so, how is your life going to be now? In a city you didn’t know existed with people you thought you hated.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: manipulation, perhaps some self-loathing issues, slow burn. This is just like a prologue of their first impressions of each other.

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Glinda from Wicked. I’ve been obsessed ever since I saw it. I wanted that sort of superficial clueless character vibe and this came out. I’ve got so many other ideas so just hear me out okay lol

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You were a fool. A useless fool...and they knew that.

But you didn't want to be one. No, you wanted needed to prove you weren’t a fool. Prove it to them and to yourself.

It wasn’t your fault, even if they didn’t know it but you knew that it wasn’t your fault you had been so...lost.

They didn’t know about all the lies and manipulation you’ve gone through at the hands of your brother.

Your brother, who was probably the one male after the King of Hybern that was so hated, the Inner Circle’s number two enemy..Tamlin.

Let’s backtrack a little...

You are nothing like Tamlin, personality and physically speaking. The only trait you two seemed to share is the shade of green eyes. Hair, facial features, even height, seemed to set you apart from him. And you’ve never been more thankful for it.

Personality wise, while Tamlin seemed to damper every path and flower he passed, you had the opposite effect. A true daughter princess of Spring. You were bubbly, carefree, perky and just so full of life. It had annoyed Feyre at the start. She met you a few days after she had been taken from the mortal lands and forced to live at the Manor. You seemed to appear out of freaking nowhere in a pink dress, small tiara on top of your head and on your face a mask that seemed to be of a dove, beautiful white and gold interlaced throughout it. It was all sunshine and rainbows as if you had come down in a freaking bubble or something.

It irritated Feyre how you walked around and interacted with everyone with such joy when everyone else, especially her, seemed to be on high alert and tense but that tension seemed to leave whenever your presence was by. Feyre couldn’t get any answers from you whenever you conversed. She wanted to know everything about the fae lands, including how to get out, anything but you just didn't know. And later you both learned that it hadn't been Amarantha’s fault but your brothers’.

During Amarantha’s reign you had lived in a bubble (methaphorically speaking). You couldn't remember why one day you woke up wearing a mask, one you couldnt get rid of or even think about why you were wearing it. You didn’t know who was the evil red female who had proclaimed herself High Queen of Prythian or what she had done to all the lands and its people. Nor did you know of your father’s involvement in killing Rhysand’s family and especially didn’t know how he (and your mother and brothers) had been murdered by Rhysand’s father. All of this had gone underperceived by you for decades.

Truthfully, you weren't even supposed to be alive but were meant to suffer your mother’s fate at the hands of Rhysand’s father. And after learning the truth and re-meeting Rhysand properly, looking at the pain and grief hidden behind his violet eyes, you knew it too.

Tamlin, seemingly perceptive of what was coming after what his father had done to Rhysand’s mother and sister, suggested to your father to send you away, hide you far away where they couldn’t find and murder you. It had worked but you couldn't remember where you had been or with who, that part of your life was as if never happened.

After becoming High Lord and Amarantha starting her advances, he went even further to secure your protection and took you somewhere where he knew the sort of people who lived there would help him make sure that you followed every word and instruction he gave. He had them put a spell on you, he had cursed you.

Cursed to forget about the death of your family, cursed to overlooked Amarantha, cursed dismiss the danger they lived in, cursed to believe and follow every word he said, cursed to refrain from thinking too much, to question things, cursed to be clueless. For years.

Feyre thought it was an act. How you looked at everything so positively and nothing could go wrong but then she knew that it wasn’t.

It was never an act, you truly were clueless, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just another one of Tamlin’s victims.

Thats why Feyre gave you a chance. Besides the fact that everything seemed to go over your head, you are a nice, caring, empathetic female. After she was Made, Feyre gravitated more towards you, preferred your company over Ianthe's, sought you out after arguing with Tamlin or Lucien and while you never understood what she had gone through, the trauma and burden she carried (because of the curse), you never turned her away.

Tamlin had noticed how deep your friendship had gotten. And since he knew Feyre was to be taken away at one point by Rhysand because of that stupid bargain, he knew he had to turn you against Rhysand so you could in turn continue to feed into Feyre’s apprehension of the High Lord of the Night Court. How did he do that? He told you the truth...well, some of it.

He revealed the death of your family. He emphasized how merciless it had been and how Rhysand was the only one to blame.

You cried...for hours you wept and screamed. Your mother, your beautiful mother was dead all this time. You had thought she was off in another court with your father accompanying him with some lord duties but instead she had been murdered in cold blood, and you didn't even know.

Feyre knew then that she much preferred to see you smiling and laughing than to see you so heartbroken, to hear your cries was devastating.

And Tamlin had succeeded.

You became so incredibly fearful of the Night Court’s High Lord that you begged Feyre to break the bargain, to never look his way, to hate the cruel and soulless male who had taken your family away from you. And in return, Feyre had hated Rhysand, hated him so much for making you cry, for dimming your light. She also had fallen under Tamlin’s trap. But of course, that all changed.

It changed when it didn't get any better for Feyre, when Tamlin’s actions were feeding into her pain, when he locked her inside the Manor. You of course had no idea he had done this; you didn't even recall when Morr had rescued her. You heard the explosion and when you arrived at the scene, Feyre was already gone. Tamlin had been furious and told you Rhysand was to blame, that he had kidnapped your friend and that he had to find and bring her back.

You, of course thanks to the curse, believed him and you were extremely worried for her. Fear ran through your body and you prayed everyday to the Mother that no harm would come to her, that she weren’t suffering your mother’s fate.

Months passed and you remained none the wiser to what was happening outside the Manor’s walls. Whispers of war roomed the halls, some kind of Hybern involved, you hardly saw your stressed brother. Lucien being the one to accompany you at times for dinner. But he never revealed anything, of the war, of Feyre and you continued to stay clueless and out of the loop.

It wasn’t like you didn't want to know or that you didn't try. You did, you tried to ask around, to the servants, the sentries, but they all knew the spell you were under and knew better than to reveal anything Tamlin didn't want you to know. And you hated it. You felt so frustrated that you were doing meaningless things around the Manor while your friend, your only friend, was off in another court probably being tortured and you weren't doing anything to help her. After Tamlin had popped part of your bubble, you felt the need to be more hands on but you just didn't know where to start. At one point, you tried writing down the whispers you heard, along with questions you had, or any information obtained, and you tried to piece it all together by yourself. But nothing made sense. Nothing would continue to make sense when your brother had the power to take knowledge away from you.

Everything started to change for you with Feyre’s return. You were delighted that she was back, that your brother had rescued her from the Night Court. You hugged her so hard that for a second Feyre had forgotten her plan to ruin Tamlin. She remembered all the time both spent together, remembered and felt the care you had for her. And it was then that she knew that somehow she had to convince you to run away with her, to help you ruin your brother. After all of the things she went through in Velaris, all the knowledge and new perspective she gained, Feyre recognized you to be another prey fallen into Tamlin’s claws.

And you needed to get out. But by then, she didn’t know of the curse that was befallen on you. All she knew is that you believed every little word Tamlin uttered, that you blindly followed his every instruction, and she couldn't believe how she had never pieced the pieces together before. So, with more conviction than ever, under the wards and glamours in her bedroom at the Manor, Feyre told you everything. Of Amarantha's curse, what your family had done to Rhysand, what Tamlin did to her, of Velaris and the Inner Circle, Hybern, her mating bond, her sisters being Made and even of her plans to destroy the Spring Court. Slowly, Feyre took off the blindfold that had been forcedly put on you for decades. She talked and you listened, tears running down your face, for hours. Well into the night and again when the sun came up.

It was extremely difficult to believe her. How could you? When everything she was saying went against everything your brother had told you. Feyre knew that risk, that you wouldn't believe her but she held nothing back. She answered all your questions, worries and even hugged you.

You promised Feyre you wouldn't tell a word to anyone of what she had expressed. And you kept that promise but it didn't mean that you still full heartedly believed her. You wanted to, something inside you was screaming that it was the truth and that you had been an idiot to believe Tamlin.

But you couldn't understand, if Feyre was telling the truth then, why Tamlin had lied? Why had he kept so much from you? Tamlin, your older brother who fiercely protected you when you were a child, would read to you at nights, played with you, gave you attention when the rest of your brothers only ignored you. He was your favorite brother, your first hero, the first male you had told ‘’I love you’’ too. How can you change this image you have of him so fast when for all of your life he had been your rock? How can someone who claimed to love you do the complete opposite of love? You couldn't understand.

But then you remembered he lied about your family’s death, kept that from you. And using the same train of thought then that means, yes he could have hid so much more from you. And before making any decision in regards to following Feyre, you tried, just one more time, to get information out of your brother.

You asked him one question ‘’How did you find Feyre?’’.

He had looked up at you and said : ‘’It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s here now and that she’s safe. Keep her company and help in whatever she needs. You will do that right, sister?’’.

The spell made you nod without you even being aware that you were nodding and replied ‘’Of course, brother. I will help Feyre with anything she needs.’’

He smiled and dismissed you.

That did it for you. You couldn't explain why you had accepted his truth so fast, why you didn't question him further, why your mind seemed to be battling itself. It was maddening.

And so, you agreed to be part of Feyre’s plan to run away. She told you she was to accompany Lucien, the twins and Jurian to the forest. As per usual, you were expected to stay in the Manor while everyone did, well, everything else. But this time, when everyone left, you were to grab a bag with essentials and leave. Feyre pointed out a meeting spot where you were to wait for her there and then continue the path to the Night Court.

It was the most terrifying thing you had ever done.

‘’What about my guard?’’ You asked her, worried about your escape since Tamlin had appointed a sentry to be your guard whenever he or Lucien weren't in the Manor.

‘’I’ll take care of it. Just meet me there and wait. No matter what you hear, wait for me there. I will come find you, I promise’’.

And she had been right. Whatever she had done to your guard well, she took care of it since there didn't seem to be any near you, making your exit far smoother than you expected. Even if inside you were terrified, every neuron in your brain screamed at you to go back inside the Manor and wait for Tamlin. But you pushed through, for Cauldron’s sake did you push through. Every step away from the Manor, from Tamlin seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, making it hard for you to continue, as if there was an invisible force trying to pull you back (the curse).

When you made it to the meeting point you cried. You were feeling an immense amount of fear of this new life you were heading towards to. You were also feeling proud of yourself for committing and making it there but then the fear came back when hours went by and there was no sign of Feyre. You waited, just like you said, no matter if you were terrified of being alone in the woods. In the same woods you now knew ran part of Amarantha’s creatures. You were honest to the Mother about to piss yourself out of fear when you heard her. Feyre, she was coming. And she was not alone.

Lucien ran with her and they both looked worse for wear. You barely managed to speak when she grabbed your hands and urged you to run, tagging you along with them. You saw Lucien’s expression; he was probably confused by your involvement in all of this and he was worried of what would happen to you since he knew of the limitations of the curse. And yet, he stayed quiet and ran along with you both.

It was extremely hard for you to keep along with them. They were fighters, they were fit, they’ve been in battle before, but not you. You were just..well...a princess. You knew nothing of survival or fighting skills and they all knew that but they also knew they couldn't stop if they wanted to stay alive, to fulfill Feyre’s plans.

And made it you had.

With some great trouble along the way involving Lucien’s brothers but thankfully two Illyrian soldiers quite literally fell from the sky and rescued the three of you out of there.

Azriel and Cassian, Feyre had introduced.

And you of course took one look at them and nearly fainted. You were trying so hard not to show your fear but knew you were failing spectacularly. You’ve heard of their kind, from your father and Tamlin, of how ruthless they were, how they had no respect for females and enjoyed tearing them apart. But no, Feyre trusted them, had expressed there was nothing to fear, that they wouldn't harm you. And while everything inside you that was holding you back in Spring was telling you that it was a lie, you tried and believed her.

And now here you were. In this city you’ve never heard of, in a court where only bad things have been said, with only two other faes you knew, surrounded by others who apparently aren't evil at all. After all, in their eyes, you were the evil one, you were the villain in their story.

You met them all, the inner circle and they all stared at you. It was clear that they didn't trust you nor Lucien. But the way they treated you was different. With you it was like they didn't know how to treat you, as if they didn't know what to do with you. And well, you didn't know what to do with you either.

You were a fool, a useless fool.

They figured that out the moment Morrigan began asking questions and all you did was stare at her, mouth a bit open. Because of course, you didn't know the answer to any of her questions and you could see they were growing exasperated with you.

They all showed it differently. Rhysand hadn't met your eye once since you’ve been in the room, his jaw firm and looking anywhere else but you. The Morrigan vividly rolled her eyes at you and instead moved her attentions to Lucien. A smaller female than you with silver glowing eyes had taken one look at you and shook her head. Cassian, the big male with long hair and red jewels, was openly glaring and eyeing Lucien with distaste. And then, Azriel.

The most handsome male you’ve ever seen in all your life. While Rhysand and Cassian were also handsome, Azriel was a different type of handsome. One you couldn't quite explain. The best way your heart could capture it was by thinking that he was like the prince you always thought you’d end up married to. The handsome male described in those romance books you read. The one you hoped had a dazzling personality you longed for, to swept you off your feet and leave you breathless. And he did definitely leave you breathless but not in the way a female wants.

Right off the bat you’ve noticed that Azriel was quiet, the quietest of them all. He seemed to be analyzing everything, blending into the shadows that followed his every breath. And although he hadn't spoken your way once, his body language screamed that he wanted nothing to do with you.

And that hurt.

These people didn't owe you anything. On the contrary, you were the one invading their home, their safe space, you were the enemy so the least you could do is...what? Exactly what were you expected to do?

This only seemed to aggravate you further.

They don't know you, they don't know your heart, quite frankly besides existing, you’ve done nothing to harm any of them. Your hands and your heart were clean. And you didn't know this but that is exactly why Azriel, Rhysand and the rest had a hard time looking your way and accepting you.

You’ve done nothing. While they’ve gone through hell and back, what have you done? In their minds, you’re just a perfect little princess that can do no wrong.

And were they? Were they wrong? They weren't. Tamlin made sure you stayed pure, innocent, protected from danger so that you didn't need to lift a finger if you ever needed anything. But that was it, all your life had been dictated by someone else. Your thoughts, opinions and ideals were implanted by Tamlin.

It was time to start thinking of your own, to start creating a life of your own without Tamlin’s influence.

Without his curse.

The curse that only Lucien knew the existence and Feyre suspected of.

It was time to start battling everything you’ve been taught and fight for what you want. While you still needed to figure out what exactly it is that you want, you were going to do it. It was time to prove to yourself and to these new people that you were capable of more, of being more than just a foolish lost princess.

How were you going to do it? You had no idea, but you hope that the beautiful male with hazel eyes and scarred hands would wait long enough for you to give you a chance or perhaps, he could be the one to help you.

[surielstea]

Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

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[utterlyotterlyx]

Way Down We Go

Lucien x Tamlin!Sister!Reader

Summary - Basically Lucien smut with very little plot

Warnings - fluff, smut (p in v), forbidden love, oral (f!receiving), slight breeding kink, Lucien being the man of my dreams xo

Water baby.

Lucien had always called you it, and at first you had found it rather patronising, but you soon warmed up to the sweet pet name he had bestowed to you.

There had been countless occasions where he would stroll through the gardens of the Spring Court manor and find you idly floating in one of the ponds or fountains. Lucien would stand at the waters edge silently, enjoying the way the water made your dress stick to your skin and turn it almost translucent to the point where he could make out the faint peaks of your nibbles beneath the fabric. That wasn't his favourite part, no, it was the serene smile that would always form upon your lips.

Sometimes you would open your bright eyes and find him stood there, and you'd engage in conversation with him, polite and elegant as always. But other times you wouldn't open your eyes at all, and Lucien had often stood there until he was called away, enjoying the joy etched onto your face.

No one knew what drew you to the water. Tamlin had always teased you about it, telling you to go and drown whenever you had a spat to which you'd simply flip off with your usual level of sarcasm and ire. It had always caused Lucien to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.

Being Tamlin's sister meant that you were off-limits to him, even Tamlin had said that Lucien was not worthy of someone so light and perfect as you. Coming from Spring, it had made sense that you were at one with nature, not only were you a shifter like your brother and father, but you were also able to manipulate the earth, to sprout flowers in the palms of your hands and grow trees with a single thought if you required a touch of shade whist you floated in the streams.

Animals also adored you, bounding from the forest if they caught a speckle of your scent, one of early morning sunlight and lilies. It wasn't rare to see you lying in the grass with a school of new-born fox pups basking in your glow, stretching across your stomach as you read beneath the willow tree atop the mound to the west of the large estate.

"Why does everyone think that she's so perfect? She's a pain in the ass," Tamlin asked to no one in particular as he stared out of the window, catching a glimpse of you trapsing through the gardens with a fox in tow dressed in a sage green ensemble that brushed over your shoulders to expose your dainty freckles to the air.

Lucien hummed in reply, "Because she is perfect," he told his friend and High Lord, chuckling at the eye roll from Tamlin as he mumbled that he knew that you were, but that didn't mean that you weren't a pain in the ass.

To everyone else, you were the Daughter of Spring, a fair and benevolent creature that the fae genuinely believed was a decedent of the gods, maybe even the Mother herself. But to those within the manor, you were a rebellious thing, consistently pushing the limits of your freedom. Alis enjoyed your spirit far too much.

So did Lucien.

Tamlin had excused himself to patrol the boarder shortly after, fixing his green riding jacket to his frame and untucking his hair from the collar, leaving Lucien alone within the dining room.

Shortly after his departure, you entered the ornate dining space where Lucien sat reading over reports with a book between your fingers. You glanced about the room, noticing his arched brow of inquiry before closing the doors behind you and turning the lock; you crossed the gleaming oaken floor, enjoying the manner in which Lucien leant back in his chair and parted his legs, watching each step you took like a predator assessing its prey.

There was no denying Lucien's beauty. Everything he was, you beheld. The long red hair that you often braided when you were alone, braids that he would fight to keep in place and when a singular one would unwind he would find any reason to visit you and have you fix it. The russet orbs that glimmered in the sunlight made you weak. Then there was the issue of his body, his perfectly sculpted and muscular body that was so alluring that it was difficult to not be wrapped around him at all times.

Sighing, you nestled yourself onto his thighs, hitching your skirt around your waist as you shuffled to make yourself comfortable, you draped your arms lazily around his neck, lowering yourself to capture a chaste kiss from his lips, "Has Tamlin ventured from the estate?"

Lucien smirked at your words, his body tingling from the sensation your lips next to his ear brought him, "You know that I despise it when you talk about your brother when you're sat on me, my love."

His large hands rested on your hips, keeping you steady as your body straddled him; you laughed at his words, his humour matching your own, and you sank further down on him, feeling his cock twitch beneath the fabric of his briefs, "Would you rather I got off?" Your voice was light and held a level of teasing to it, and you slowly began to dismount Lucien, stopping in your tracks when his grip tightened and held you in place.

"Well I never said that," Lucien leaned forward, his hands travelling up to rest on the centre of your back despite the table cushioning your weight from behind. His finger traced down your throat all the way down your sternum, pausing at the corset of your dress that he had heard you complain of that morning, stating that Alis had secured it too tightly to your figure.

A wickedly feline glint consumed his stare, his finger dipped into the corset that was so tight that he could feel your heartbeat against the digit and leaned further to capture your lips against his, trailing kisses along your jaw until he found that certain sweet spot beneath your ear.

Emitting a breathless moan, you threw your head back as his lips worked their way to the curve of your breasts, "We can't. What if Tamlin comes back?"

"Let him," Lucien idly pulled at the strings of your corset, tugging each rung loose as he spoke against your skin, "I'm not the one who has the issue telling Tamlin that we're mates." Lucien continued to kiss along your breasts and collarbone, softly sucking and nipping at the skin.

"He'd be furious," you ground down on his lap, a low growl emitted from his lips, so low and dangerous that it made heat pool between your legs.

"I. Don't. Care." Lucien lifted you into the air and set you down atop the table, standing between your open legs and taking your head in his hand, willing it to the side to give him better access to the neck that haunted his dreams.

"Luc," you breathed, feeling weak under him, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the corset holding your breasts in place so that he could dip his head low and swirl his tongue around your right nipple.

That simple action had your back arching against him, and Lucien smirked at the scent of your arousal infiltrating his consciousness.

Lucien indulged the unconvincing scolding, planting his palms either side of you and pulling back slightly, "What is it, baby? Do you want me to stop?" Lucien drifted the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own, enveloping you in his scent, in the same scent that you had both worked hard to glamour from your brother.

"Gods no," your mouths collided in a battle of lips and teeth, Lucien captured your bottom lip between his canines and used the action to prise your mouth open just enough for his tongue to roll against your own; his hands slid up your thighs and rested just inches away from where you needed them to go, his thumbs dragging over your skin teasingly.

"That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips, his rough toned voice making your core clench with need, you always loved it when he called you that, his girl, and the damned bastard knew it.

Lucien's lips trailed from your mouth, leaving open mouthed kisses across your breasts that were exposed thanks to his handiwork at unfastening your corset and pulling it down your arms so that all you wore was your dress around your waist. You were the most magnificent creature he had ever seen, and you were his, his until the day you both ceased to exist.

Your mate dropped to his knees, looping his arms under your legs and pulling you to the edge of the table. His warm breath swept between your thighs as his eyes dropped to meet your core that was begging for his touch, "Always so eager," the vibration of the words against his lips made you shudder, realising how close he truly was from tasting you.

Without waiting for your reply, he ran his tongue up your folds, humming at the decadent taste of you on his lips and your body jolted at the touch. His tongue swirled around your clit, assessing the perfect spot he knew would have you screaming his name in a matter of minutes and pressed a light kiss to the area, smirking at the breathless moan that escaped your lips. "Luc, please," you whined, his hands had pried your legs apart and had moved to grasp onto the flesh of your ass, spreading you to give him better access.

Lucien attached his lips to that bundle of nerves, winding his lips around it and sucking gently, flicking his tongue against it and running a finger through your folds, "So needy," he mumbled against you.

Arching your back from the table, you slid your fingers into his hair, gently tugging him closer and moving against his face, rolling your hips against the graceful and fire-tinged flick of his tongue against you. It was so sinful, to have his head buried between your thighs pulling every moan and mewl from you that he could whilst you lay on the table where you had dinner each night, nipples piqued upward toward the ceiling and juices coating the table edge.

Your mate sensed your urgency, mainly from the way you were grinding against his tongue; Lucien coiled his fingers around your thighs, keeping your legs in place despite your writhing against the table and fingers clawing against his scalp with desperation. It didn't take him long to find the specific spot that had you crying out, he pushed two fingers into you, pumping them inside and curling them upward to meet the rough spot inside of your walls, keeping a steady pace when you cried out his name to the skies; a hot white heat consumed your body, his fingers stretched you deliciously, preparing you for what was to come.

But Lucien was a gentleman, he always made sure that your pleasure came first, and he was happy to serve you in whatever way you needed him to.

"Tell me," he pressed a kiss to your folds, smirking at the jolt the touch sent through your body before rising and pulling you upright to meet his chest. One of his hands cupped your jaw, making your cock-dazed eyes find his whilst his other unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his briefs, pulling his cock from the fabric and pumping it twice in his fingers, "Do you prefer the stars above or the ones I make you see?"

It wasn't a question that you needed to answer, you couldn't anyway, your mind still calming from the orgasm that had ripped through it only moments before; your legs still quaked as he settled himself between them, running the tip of his cock through your folds and capturing the slick left in the wake of his tongue ravaging you. Lucien trailed his lips along your shoulder, tasting your sun kissed skin and pecking against the herds of freckles that appeared when the sun was strongest.

Capturing your lips against his own, Lucien pushed into you, pushing until he was hilted and waiting a moment for you to adjust, your walls quivering around him threatening to become undone within a matter of minutes. A low growl fell from him, his fingers raked through your hair and he rolled his hips, thrusting so slowly that it allowed you to feel every single inch of his cock stretching your walls. Lucien's movements quickened slightly but it was still torturous to endure, but you loved the feeling of having him inside of you too much, the way he rocked his hips into you, the way his fingers coiled around the base of your neck and the way his lips pressed sloppy kisses on your mouth. All of it was enough to drive you irrevocably wild.

The frenzy had come and gone, you had decided to accept the bond during a time when you knew Tamlin would be gone for long enough for Lucien to be able to act somewhat normal around him. You had spent two weeks in that bed being fucked by fire, and even if you did rise from the comfort of the bed against his wishes, Lucien would always find you and drag you into the nearest cupboard, pinning your chest against the wall and taking you from behind without a single care as to who could have seen him or heard your mewls.

Though, the desire for him to be always buried inside of you had never faltered, and he would make sure to visit you nightly to remind you of that fact, even if he had to climb up the vines outside of your window to stay undetected.

"You look so good with my cock in you," Lucien's voice was low, his hands cupped your face and he moaned at each thrust you met with your hips; he dragged his thumb across your swollen lips, red and puckered from the onslaught of his mouth, neck coloured from his possessive markings.

The table groaned against the ground, rocking with every movement as Lucien's pace hardened, part of him eating itself alive to stay inside you for as long as possible, but the other part of him anxious about Tamlin returning a minute too early and tearing him to shreds.

"Do you know how much I love you?" You panted through the moans Lucien was drawing from your pretty little mouth and ran your fingers up his arms, setting his nerve endings on fire with the lingering touch of your fingers against his skin, tracing the muscles sculpted by the gods.

"Tell me," his fingers lightly wrapped around your throat, pulling your chest to his, making your eyes peer upward through their lashes at the perfect male rolling into you whose own gaze had darkened at your question.

Lucien's other hand travelled between your legs, his index finger circling around your clit and causing your breath to catch in your throat that bobbed against his grip. Lucien repeated his order, his grasp tightening around your neck and pace quickening so that you could hear your skin sounding against his, "I love you so much that I would walk away from this life to live in the middle of nowhere with you, just us, a life of our own." Lucien groaned at the image, returning home from catching fish in the streams with his bare hands to his perfect mate and even more perfect babes, "I love you so much that the thought of being with child, your child, brings me nothing but serenity," you widened your eyes deliciously, doe-like and innocent, knowing what those words did to him, "You can give me what I want, can't you?"

Lucien's resolve was fading, and the grunts that were sounding from him were edging you closer and closer to one of your favourite places. His index finger continued drawing soft mewls from your lips, your walls tightening around his cock as it slammed continuously into you, surely cracking the legs of the table with each movement, "Yes. I can," his hand moved to the back of your neck, forcing your lips to meet his in a symphony of desire and adoration, and the final few circles of his fingers had you coming undone within moments.

A white hot flash poured through you, had you crying out against his lips, and the convulsions of your walls drew Lucien to the same fate. Lucien fucked you with the fire you had always wondered about long before you had found out that you were mates, his moans delicious enough to send you into a haze as he emptied himself into you, continuing to roll into you to fuck his seed in as far as it could go, determined to give you what you desired.

Lucien's movements slowed, the feral beast tamed and locked deep within him, and he lowered his face to catch your lips once more, not wanting to remove himself from you like usual, but for a different reason this time. He pressed his forehead to yours, russet orbs staring into your own with a type of wonderment you hadn't seen before, "You'd give it all up, for me?"

"I'd give anything for you," and it was true, a life without Lucien wasn't one you wanted to live, so if Tamlin did find out and exile him, you'd follow. The simple life became much more appealing each passing day. "And, to answer your question," you ran your fingers down the contours of his arms and up his chest, curling them over his shoulders, "I think I much prefer the stars you make me see."

Lucien threw his head back and laughed, a smile so beautiful and bright that it could be the most perfect thing you'd ever see in your entire life, and certainly your most favourite thing in the universe.

Lucien's laughter dimmed and his eyes found you again, his hands worked seamlessly to pull your dress back up over your arms, kissing every inch of skin of your shoulders as he tied the corset against your skin, though, he removed your panties from your legs, folding them into his pocket and smirking at your inquisitive arched brow, "I'm not done trying to put my child in you just yet."

Authors Note

I go delulu for my Lulu x

[scorpioriesling]

What Happens on NYE…

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

Pairing(s): Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Eris, Tamlin x Reader

Warning(s): none

Summary: Each of the ACOTAR males paired with reader of you were to attend a NYE celebration with any of them. <3

SR’s Note: So… HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!! I’ve been so busy & then getting back into the swing of things — not to mention, becoming really sick as 2024 wraps up. (‘: Not to worry! I have the best friends, family, and hubby that have been taking the most care of me. I know I’ve been lacking, especially with the Invisible String series — so allow me to feed y’all tonight, at least a little bit!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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

Rhysand

“Sweetheart, what’s got you so… preoccupied?”

You sigh, turning your attention away from the drink you’d been studying to meet your husband’s gaze.

“I just… I’m just so… I don’t know, dear. Preoccupied, like you said.” You chew on your lip, the cranberry juice in your glass doing little to calm your nerves. Around you, Rhysand’s closest friends and family flit about, singing and dancing and drunkenly laughing with one another. Usually, you’d be right there with them — it’s felt like ages since you’d had a stiff drink last.

“Darling,” he coos, his hand sliding against yours as he takes your glass from you. “Whatever is there to worry for?”

Just then, a large crash sounds from the room adjacent — and your husband pulls you close to his chest out of instinct. When you lock eyes again, he chuckles.

“Why don’t we—“ he sets your glass down on the kitchen table. “… go somewhere more, private, hm?” You nod, a small smile forming on your lips as his hand wraps protectively around yours waist. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, his next words holding a smile of their own.

“Ahh, now there’s that beautiful smile I love so much.”

He walks with you to the terrace, quietly opening the doors and stepping outside with you. The cool breeze of the night feels wonderful against your skin, which only grew warmer by the minute.

“A new dress tonight, hm?”

You grab the loose fabric of the skirts, swishing it back and forth. He leans against the railing as the light of the moon reflects off of his silky black hair.

“Yes — do you like it?” He nods, scanning you up and down.

“I love it, dear. I must say, I’ve never seen you in a style like this.” He takes your hand, pulling you close to him once more. The light of the ever rising moon makes the band on his ring finger gleam.

“Well… it is New Year’s eve, after all.” You fake a confident smile. It was true — you usually went for more form-fitting gowns, or ones that at least showed off your assets… but this occasion was, well… different.

“It’s nearly midnight, you know.” Rhys points out, his gaze fixing on the moon above. You nod quietly, preparing for the clock to strike twelve.

“Anything you want to leave behind this year? To not bring into the new year with you?” He asks. You chew your lip again, not sure how to answer. You’d prepared and practiced for weeks, yet now it felt as though no amount of preparation could have helped you for this moment.

Rhys shrugs after a moment. “I, for one, would like to leave any bad vibes behind now,” he pauses, listening and chuckling as Cassian belts out a line from the newest Taylor Swift song inside. You can’t help but laugh too as he says, “… and, maybe Cassians singing.”

The lighthearted moment eases you for only a second, a mere glimpse of time before you must work to steady your mind again. You realize, going into the new year, with the husband you have — this is exactly, the right moment, and nothing would make it more perfect.

“I, have something I’d like to bring with us into the new year, rather.” You say, and Rhys looks out as fireworks burst among the stars, cheering through all of Velaris heard from where the two of you stood. As you gazed upon the side of your gorgeous husbands face, you took a deep breath and just said it.

“Rhys, I’m pregnant.”

He slowly turns to you, his joyous expression morphing into surprise as he gazes into your tear-filled eyes.

“W-what?” You don’t think you’d ever heard the High Lord of the Night Court stutter. “Did you say-“

“I’m pregnant,” you say again, more confidently. His eyes grow larger, his hands taking yours as his lips curl into a wide grin.

“You’re… oh Gods, we’re…” he laughs breathily, almost in disbelief.

“We’re having a baby, Rhys!” You beam, and he instantly swoops you into his arms, spinning you around in the light of the firework streaked sky.

“We’re having a baby!” He shouts joyously, gently setting you down to take your face in his hands and pull you into a deep kiss. When he releases you, he stares down at you in pure joy, his hands cupping your cheeks.

“My darling, you’re going to make such a wonderful mother.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Cassian

You bend in half, laughing so hard your stomach begins to tighten. Eyes squeezed shut, you try to regain your composure — but what your boyfriend said was just so. Damn. Funny.

“Cass… you’re truly a comedian,” Mor giggles from beside you, her hand resting on your shoulder. When you open your eyes again, the first thing you see is your handsome man’s face alight with a smile.

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckles, taking yet another sip of his beer. His gaze settles on you as he slides a hand around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing you on the head. “That’s how I got this one, yeah?”

Mor laughs again, and you blush as you lean into his strong frame. Strong, but a little wobbly under the influence of all the alcohol he’d consumed tonight.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Mor hiccups. “…to convince yourself worthy of such a gorgeous girl.” She winks, and you reach a swaying arm for her.

“Awwwh, Mor,” you say, as she stumbles a bit before standing upright. “You’re such a good friend!” There was a million better things you could’ve said, but in your intoxicated state, that’s all you could come up with.

“Oh my gosh!” The blonde squeals. “It’s starting!”

Everyone’s attention turns to the widescreen, the DJ cutting the music as the number 10 flashes on the screen.

“Alllllright, Rita’s!” He announces over the mic. “Let’s count down into this new year together tonight, shall we?”

The crowd cheers, beginning the descent from 10 as the numbers flash on the screen. Cassian pulls you closer, and you all but crane your neck to look up at him.

“Six, five, four…”

Cassians hand slides against your jaw, the other holding you to him by the small of your back.

“Three, two…”

“Gods, you are the most beautiful-“

“One, Happy New Year!”

You don’t even let the crowd get to one, or allow your boyfriend to finish that sweet sentiment before you press up into your tip-toes and smush your lips onto his. His grip tightens, almost lifting you off the floor as his mouth drunkenly devours yours. When you finally do pull away, he smiles softly at you as though it were just the two of you in the middle of the dance floor.

“I… truly am,” he whispers. “So, so lucky.”

Then, his mouth is on yours once more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Azriel

“Dare!”

Feyre takes another long swig from her glass, giggling as she sets it down in front of her.

“I dare you, Nesta,” she giggles. “To take off your bra, right now!” She cackles, as the group expresses their disbelief.

Through the protests and shocked expressions, Feyre groans over-exaggeratedly.

“Oh come on,” she whines. Nesta reaches behind her back, working to unhook the clasps.

“Yeah — it’s nothing you’ve never seen before.” She triumphantly yanks her bra free, removing it and tossing it into Cassians lap without so much as untying her gown. Cassian scoffs, feigning annoyance.

“What am I gonna do with this?” He picks it up, beginning to inspect it. Nesta chuckles, sitting up on her knees as she scans the group.

“Hehehe… my turn.” Her steely gray eyes land on you. “Hm. Y/N,” she says, and you feel your heart jump. You never liked truth or dare much anyway, especially not when your crush was involved.

“Truth? Or dare?” She raises an eyebrow.

You gulp. “Umm. Truth, please.”

She grins wickedly, subtly looking between you and Azriel as she pretends to contemplate a question for you.

“Truth, then. Hmm… alright, I’ve got one.” She leans back on her hands, watching as you fidget with yours.

“If you had to pick anyone in this group to kiss tonight, who would you pick?”

Your face heats, and you glare at her. Practically everyone knew of your interest in Azriel, everyone but himself — admitting that now would only be embarrassing.

“Oh… Gods Nesta, uhh…” The tequila from earlier swirls in your stomach, and for once, Azriel looks as though he’s interested in the game again and not the countdown celebration happening beyond the palace walls.

Your eyes meet hers, and she gives you an encouraging look.

“Go on then… name them.”

You swallow, glancing toward Azriel. Grave mistake, he was already looking at you.

Your cheeks deepen their shade of crimson.

“M-maybe… uh, Azriel.”

Nesta shakes her head slowly, that wicked grin only growing. Soft chanting from outside can be heard, the citizens of Velaris participating in the end of year countdown. They’re already at eight when members of the Inner Circle notice how near it is to midnight.

“Guys — it’s almost midnight!” Cassian says giddily, but Nesta keeps her gaze trained on you.

“Prove it.” She says lowly, and you sigh, taking your abandoned glass and throwing back the rest of what was in it.

In an instant, you’re standing, stumbling toward Azriel — your friend, your trainer. Your true love. If only he saw it that way.

“Five, four,” the friend group has engaged in the chanting as well.

Those deep hazel eyes meet yours, his rough hands reaching to help steady you as your friends brush past you for a look out the windows. He cracks a smile, his gently hands bracing against your forearms. You are close, so close — foreheads practically touching as he leans down to peer directly into your eyes.

Behind him, Nesta rises slowly, seeming rather pleased with herself.

“So,” his voice is low and gravelly. “Are you going to prove it?”

You don’t think twice before pressing your lips against his, every point of contact between the two of you sending a million fireworks through you. His lips move, eager for more — you’re happy to oblige.

Behind you, cheering and clapping and the distant sound of fireworks is all drowned out by the sensations taking over you — Azriel’s lips, his hands holding you to his chest… Gods, he smells so good—

He pulls back, breathing heavily as he grins down at you. You chuckle, unsure if the fluttering within is the bubbles from your earlier champagne or perhaps, butterflies.

“I don’t think,” he whispers. Your eyes widen.

“I don’t think you… proved it, enough. Yet.”

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck before kissing him again, his hands sliding around your waist. Just before you loose yourself in the moment, you squint to meet Nesta’s pleased gaze.

“You’re welcome,” she mouths silently.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Lucien

The cold winter air bit into your exposed arms, but you didn’t care. The night had been so cold, you were suprised to find your tears hadn’t frozen right on your face — perhaps, the constant flow kept them streaming down your cheeks instead.

You’d heard rumors of Lucien, your absolute best friend being mated to none other than Elain. Sure, she was beautiful, and kind, and quite perfect really — which was exactly the problem. Everything so right about her, only made you that much more insecure.

If you were honest, you understood why the Mother would choose her for him. Your best friend was perfectly imperfect— he was a beautiful male, that you’d known for years, but he was also selfless, kind, and one of the best people you knew. That’s what made him so special; he truly was, the greatest friend you’d ever made.

Perhaps, that’s why the rumors broke your heart so much. No, he hadn’t mentioned it to you — had he known? Surely he couldn’t have known of your feelings, you’d kept them so buried inside… how deeply you’d cared for him. Loved, him.

“Why?” You whispered, glaring at the night sky above. “Why couldn’t you just let him be with me?” Your voice broke, and you whimpered once more. Tonight was pure Hell — watching him, watching her. You couldn’t blame him, she was gorgeous… and for all your friend had gone through, you only wished for him to be truly happy.

You rested your head on your hands, leaning against the marble ledge of the balcony and crying so hard you didn’t hear the terrace door slide open.

“Y/N?”

Your sniffling seized, and you looked up to meet the horrified gaze of your best friend.

You wiped a hand across your face, looking down to not meet his eye.

“Lucien, please-“ you coughed. “Please, enjoy the party. It’s nearly midnight-“

He was to you in three long strides, sitting beside you on the marble bench and resting a gently hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t care what ever else is going on — what’s wrong, Y/N?” His voice carried so much concern, a wave of fresh tears stung your eyes.

“It’s nothing,” you lied. He rolled his eyes, gripping your shoulders and pulling you into his lap. You rested your head against his shoulder, your wet tears dripping onto his collar.

“It’s surely not nothing,” he argued, his hand running soothingly over your back. You swallowed, regaining some control before sniffing and peering up into his face.

“It’s…” you tried, your lower lip wobbling. His hand rested against your cheek, a small encouraging smile on his lips.

“You can always tell me anything,” he encourages. You sigh, looking right up into his beautiful face.

“I… I heard, about Elain. And I’m so sorry, Lucien, I shouldn’t be doing this and behaving this way, because I want you to be happy and-“

“Wait wait. Y/N what are you even saying?” He chuckles, his thumb brushing away a fallen tear. Your eyes well up with more as you feel like this may be the last moment you’ll ever have like this, with the man you love most.

“You’re… I heard, about the bond. You, and Elain.” You sniff.

He tosses his head back, his bright laughter splitting the air between you. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, watching as he refocuses on you.

“Y/N, come now,” he starts, his hands wrapping around your waist. “If Elain and I were truly mates, don’t you think I’d tell you about it?”

You shrug, glancing down at the stone. “I… I don’t know, I-“

He tuts, tilting your chin to look at him again. Inside, the partygoers begin counting — nearing midnight.

“Oh, Y/N… you really don’t see it, do you?” He shakes his head, gazing down at you. Your bottom lip wobbles as you look to him again.

“I just… I only want you to be happy, Lucien.” He smiles warmly, leaning in as the first firework bursts across the night sky.

“You’re what makes me happy, Y/N.”

He kisses you with so much love and adoration, you hadn’t ever imagined possible. Your fingers thread through his hair as you kiss him back with as much love as you can convey.

All he says when he pulls away is, “I love you, so much, Y/N.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Eris

You sigh as you bring the mug to your lips once more, hoping the caffeinated tea can keep you awake for a little while longer.

“I don’t like this one much,” Eris comments, watching as the girl onstage sings about getting pregnant. You chuckle lazily, setting the mug down and leaning against his shoulder.

“Not a Sabrina fan?” You add playfully, and he moves his arm so you can lay more comfortably against his chest.

“I suppose not,” he says, his arms resting as he lays beneath you on the couch. He yawns, the first telltale sign of his tiredness — you had to admit, it’d been a long day. Between planting new seeds in the orchard (an annual tradition), taking the kids to visit the in-laws and wrangling them into their rooms at the end of the day… yeah. You could say you were quite exhausted.

Eris’ fingers ran along your bare arms nonchalantly as he gazed at the screen, watching Dick Clark chat with Sabrina Carpenter after her NYE performance. Her dress glittered against the city lights, reminding you of the times you and Eris shared celebrating nights like these in the past.

Sighing, you tilted your head to peer up at your mate. The angle of his jaw, so strong — it complimented the angular panes of his face, so strikingly handsome in any light. He must have noticed your stare, as his fingers stilled and he looked down at you with a tired smile.

“What is it, dear?” You sighed, toying with the small bow at the top of your pajama camisole.

After a quiet beat, you replied. “I just… I’m sorry, you know.” His brow raised, his chin tilting so he could look at you more directly. “We don’t… celebrate. Like we used to.”

He chuckles, the movement shifting you as you pressed against his chest.

“Well, my dear… we do have children, you know.” You half-smiled.

“Yes, I am aware — I’m just missing the days we went out, I guess. Me in a glittering gown, just for you, and all that.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. Your husband’s hand began lightly brushing your arm once more, his expression sympathetic.

“I understand, but, there’s nothing to apologize for my love.” You looked up at him, and he gave you a small smile. “I’m grateful we had those times, yes — but I’m even more grateful now. Nights like these are wonderful; they’re everything I want and need. I’m grateful for our children, tiresome as they may be.” You share a giggle, and his hands move to thread through your hair. “But, this, right here, laying on this couch with you on New Year’s eve… I couldn’t possibly want anything else.”

You close your eyes, snuggling closer to him as he continued playing with your hair. You began to drift off, resting peacefully knowing you were going into the new year with the one person who loved you most.

Eris only moved to reach for the remote, turning down the volume as the crowd on the screen began chanting. You stirred, but he could tell you were fast asleep — gazing down at your beautiful face, his heart swelled.

He leaned down as the crowd roared, pressing a small kiss to your temple.

“Happy New Year, my love.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Tamlin

“So, are you gonna go talk to him, or what?”

You’d been eyeing the blonde all night, trying (and failing) to keep your staring to a minimum. Naturally, your friend caught on — likely when she noticed the sudden changes in demeanor as he entered the room you were in.

“W-who?” You feigned innocence. She rolled her eyes, jerking her chin to the brooding blonde by the mini bar.

“You know who,” she chuckled. “Mystery man?”

Now it was time for you to roll your eyes. “That’s what we’re calling him?”

She smirks. “Well, you haven’t gone and asked his name yet, so yeah. That’s all I’ve got for now.”

You sigh, sipping on the last few ounces of your drink.

“Come on,” she eggs on. “Go over and at least say hi?” She nudges your shoulder. You tip back your glass, swallowing the rest of what was in it. Only when you step forward does she applaud you.

“Shh!” You glare over your shoulder, but your friend only watches with amusement as you nervously make your way toward the bar.

Once you’re within arms reach, you take a deep breath, your gaze meeting the emerald green one you’d been eyeing all evening.

“Uh… h-hi.” You stammer. He raises an eyebrow, looking you up and down before opening his mouth.

“Hi.”

Your lips press into a flat line.

“Uh… what’s your name?” You ask. The butterflies in your stomach threaten to come up your throat, and you swallow hard.

“…Tamlin.”

Your eyebrows raise.

“Like, from the Spring Court?” You squeak. He huffs a laugh.

“Like, yeah.”

Your brows furrow, cheeks heating at his lack of communication skills. You fidget with your fingers, not entirely sure what to say next.

“Is there something I can-“

“Why are you here?” You cut him off. Now he raises his eyebrows, and your mouth opens and closes like a fish.

“No, no uh I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean, uhm. Why come to a, uh, party in Autumn if you’re from Spring?” You stutter.

He tips back his glass, setting it on the counter before him before turning to fully face you.

“Friend brought me.” He glances to the room next to you, where Lucien is talking to a group and laughing.

You shrug. “Me too.”

He looks at you near expressionless, leaving you so defeated that you turn to walk away. His hand catches your wrist, and your breath hitches as you whirl around to face him again.

He stares silently for a moment, before pulling you closer to him.

“You’re not here with a… a male?” He asks. You shake your head slowly, and he smirks.

“A shame. For everyone else, but hopefully not me.” Your cheeks darken as you watch his eyes rove over your face, down your neck, over the edge of your top…

“I didn’t come with one,” you choke out. “But, I’m not opposed to leaving with one.” You can’t believe you just said that out loud. He apparently finds it amusing, chuckling as he glances to the clock.

“You’re not above kissing a stranger you just met at a party where you know no one?” He asks, his palms resting on your hips as you stand between his parted knees. You hadn’t noticed how close the clock hand had gotten toward 12, quite literally so distracted by the man in front of you now.

“Are you?” You retort. He smiles, his right hand resting against your jaw.

“Absolutely not.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･

[fieldsofwriting]

And so, the stars aligned. Pt 6

Azriel x Archeron!sister Reader

Summary: Lunch with Tamlin goes about expected. And Azriel is a jealous man. Warnings: None!

Ageless and Minors DNI

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Masterlist

Requests are open! a/n: I forgot to link the dress and stuff for part five- and maybe it's cringe to do that. But I am cringe, and I am free... and very bad at describing clothing. So here's the dress, and makeup

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After Tamlin, the ball was a blur. Truly, so much wine and dancing had your head spinning in a way that you had never experienced before. It left you feeling light as a feather, as giggly as a school girl. Much to the Inner Circle's delight because you found them hilarious. Cassian was making jokes left and right, making you laugh so hard you had to hold onto Azriel for stability. In your drunken state, you missed the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. Watching you with your sisters, which the only one who remained sober by the end of the night was Nesta. But Cassian drank in her stead. Leaving you Feyre, and him up to no good. However, Azriel hadn't let you leave his side since Tamlin had asked you to lunch. Even when you tried to lose him, his shadows were far more protective of you than he was. It was sweet to see the way the tendrils wrapped themselves around your waist and pulled you back into his side. You would look up at him with a pout. "Azriel!" You'd whine. "Tell them to let me go!"

He took a sip of his drink, trying to hide his smirk. "Sorry, princess. They have a mind of their own." He was even more satisfied when you looked at the shadows surrounding the two of you.

"You big meanies. I'm not gonna pet you if you keep acting up!" You drunkenly scolded. Azriel quirked an eyebrow when the shadows slithered away from your finger. Chuckling lowly, he wrapped his arm around your waist. And the Illyrian took pride in the way Tamlin's gaze hardened as he watched the two of you, He debated a gentle gasp as you reached one of your delicate hands reached up and touched his face. Pulling the shadowsingers gaze down. Watching you talk about something you just saw, learning that you were more observant than you let on.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

But now, he found himself arguing with a brick wall it seemed. “Y/n, I understand you have pure intentions but you can not sleep in my room.” He tried to explain softly, gently. His hands on your shoulders. Willing every part of him to behave because there was nothing he’d love more than to have you in his bed. Even just holding you for the night would make his heart soar. To be the last thing you saw, and the first thing.

“No!” You huff, arms crossed as you looked up at him. Rosey cheeks, your hair mused from dancing, your pout undeniably adorable. “I wanna sleep in here. Because you are nice, and you are warm! Mor snores!” You throw your hands up, loosing your balance as you flop onto the bed. “See the bed wants me here.”

Azriel laughs softly. Shaking his head, he knew he loved you. He really did. And normally he’d be flattered his mate was so sweet. But now, now it was an issue. Because he had to defy all of his primal tendencies to oblige your every wish. He scoops you up gently. Your head falling to his chest, lightly your fingers caress the tattoos of his that peak out. Azriel suppresses a shiver. “Come on princess. Let’s get you to bed.” He whispers, crossing the hallway. Earning snickers from the rest of his family. All of which he glared at, only stopping when he reached your room.

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The morning was spent nursing your hang over. Feyre, you and Cassian curled up on the couch being babied by everyone. Well- Rhys, Azriel and Nesta. Azriel had even gone as far as giving you some of the headache powder he got from Elian. You could have kissed him.

But now, you were back in your bedroom getting ready for lunch with Tamlin. Nesta brushing your hair, and she was much less gentle than Feyre. She didn’t care about delicately brushing out the snarls, she would just shush you when you protested. But eventually your hair had been braided into one large braid down your back. Mor placed flowers in the braid as Nesta worked on your makeup again. Dolling you up, despite your protests. “Stop wriggling, Y/n.” Nesta chides as she grabs your chin to force you to look at her. You huff, “I don’t want to look good for Tamlin!” You protest again. Trying to move away before Nesta forces you back. Her blue/grey eyes looking at you with an intensity that would have made anyone else wither.

“You have too. Looking like a goddess while you chip away at his frail little ego will just make It hurt worse. And that’s what you want. You want him to know that he can’t have you. But this is what he’s missing.” She explains, barely giving you time to recover as she brushes on a light pink eyeshadow, adding a golden shimmer on top of it.

In the end, you wore a simple pink gown. Something that was sweet, innocent. Like the princesses in the fairytales you read with Azriel. Your shoulders laid bare, the sleeves were short- frilly. The sweetheart neckline doing little to hide your frame. The front corset, designed with small intricate roses on it. You spun, the dress poofing upwards. You hated to admit it. But you would be happy to break Tamlin’s heart in it. In this dress you looked as if you belonged in the Spring Court. So to deny his offer? It be poetic. Nesta wore a simple gown with you as well, her’s a more diluted green. She’d looked out of place next to the vibrant colors of the spring court. But you and your sister descended the stairs, everyone waiting for you once again. You smiling softly at all of them. Azriel’s eyes never left yours. You could have killed him, and he would have thanked you. Truthfully. You looked like a day dream walking down the stairs. Smiling at them like you weren’t about to walk into the lions den. He would have followed you blindly anywhere. Gladly. With pleasure.

“Are you ready?” Rhys looks at you with a strained smile. You give a little nod.

“As ready as I can. I can deny him again right?” You anxiously ask Rhys, you knew he wanted an alliance with Tamlin. And your brother in law might be a snake sometimes, but you were almost positive he wouldn’t force you on dates. Rhys shakes his head, “No. You won’t have to see him again after this. Unless you want to. And if words fail you again, that’s why you have Nesta.” He gives a nod to your older sister. Nesta takes your hand and gives a little squeeze.

Smiling appreciatively up at her, you felt ready to have this lunch. Tamlin wouldn’t get to you.

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“You look beautiful, Y/n.” Tamlin bows, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss on it. You have to stop yourself from recoiling at his touch, but the cooling feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles again helps calm you. Keep you grounded, quickly flicking your eyes up to where Azriel told you he’d be- tucked away in the shadows of the garden. You smiled. The shadows gave you a gentle squeeze back. Azriel, already wanted to kill Tamlin. But seeing the way he made you recoil? It made his blood boil. The only saving grace for Tamlin touching his mate was the fact Azriel knew you wouldn’t be going home with him.

“Thank you.” You murmur as he leads you to sit. A small intimate lunch. Just his seat, yours and Nesta’s. You had to force another smile at him as you sat. “Your Court is lovely.” You speak gracefully. “I hadn’t expected it to be so lush when we arrived.” Tamlin smiled and nodded.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” He allowed the servants to come up and give you a plate of food. Small salads and sandwiches. All things that were light. “I suppose I have your sister to thank for that. After ruining my Court…and letting it go to ruin. I looked at it only to realize that I was still running it the way my father had. And I didn’t need to. So, I took control back and let myself rebuild.” He explains to you, and you can see the sparkle in his eye as he does. He was truly happy, and he meant the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m glad.” You offer, “I didn’t agree with her actions…but sometimes there is necessary evils that must take place for peace to prosper.” You give Tamlin your own gentle smile.

And conversation continues from there. Nothing out of place, or out of pocket. Tamlin even spoke to Nesta a few times, though Nesta just responded with pointed looks.

Azriel approved.

But all said and done, Tamlin was a gentleman. You could see how Feyre fell from him, how you could have fallen for him. But every time that thought crossed your mind, the shadows that curled around your ankle tightened. And at one point when you leaned down to try and brush them away- getting lost in your day dream of what life would be like here. They appeared as shackles. Reminding you what Tamlin had done to your sister. You didn’t finish your food.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed at the way you pushed away the plate. He noted that you’d have to eat more before you out to the ball tonight.

“You had quite a bit of fun at the ball last night, no?” Tamlin asked, looking at you over the rim of his wine glass. Your cheeks heated, looking away from him as you nodded. A small chuckle from him pulled your gaze back. “No worries, that is what the night was for. I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself. You got home alright?”

Nesta scoffs. “If you’re implying that we’d let her wonder your courts drunker than a skunk you’d be wrong.” You lightly kick her shin. “She went home with us, slept alone in her own bed. You needn’t worry about her maidenhood or anything of the sorts.” You felt your face heat again at her words as you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat. You felt exposed, embarrassed…you didn’t want to be here anymore. The feeling unknowingly being pushed down the bond. Azriel gritted his teeth, but kept quiet. Trying to push a sense of calm down the bond to you.

The cooling sensation of shadow washed up and down your leg. Gently trying to coax your fears down. You could have cried in relief to feel something so normal. But that relief was quickly taken as Tamlin stiffed. “I simply wanted to ensure she was safe. I implied nothing about her maidenhood. Nor do I care if it was intact or not. Feyre’s wasn’t.”

You felt a surge of anger from deep within. “That is my sister.” You say sharply. Glaring at Tamlin. “And my High Lady. Be careful how you speak of her.”

Tamlin’s eyes bore into yours as his nose wrinkles in disgust. “Tell me y/n. Would you require me to crown you High Lady?”

You felt the shadows grow still at his question. Azriel held his breath, if you had said yes? Did that mean you wanted to be a high lady? Something he couldn’t give you? Nesta’s eyes watching you intently. “I would require nothing of you.” You say simply, nodding your head to him. “Because I will not be with you- nor should a partner require another partner to value them. You shouldn’t have to ask for those things. If I truly mattered to you- and you say you have changed. Then making me a High Lady would be no different than seeing me as your equal.” You look to Nesta. “I wish to leave.”

Nesta’s mouth curls up into a smile. She stands and looks at Tamlin. “Thank you for your kindness.” Before offering you a hand, and you quickly take it. Not looking back at Tamlin. Azriel had never more proud.

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As soon as you were out of ear shot from Tamlin, Azriel appeared. Taking you in his arms and holding you tightly. The shadows wrapping around you two, and from your place- buried in his neck you felt his wings wrap around you too. ”You did such a good job…” He whispers into your hair. He reveled in the way your shoulders unclenched and held onto him tighter. Your whole body practically falling into his, soaking up his warmth and comfort.

”I wanna go back to the cottage.” You whisper. Before you know it, your feet are off the ground. Moving through shadows as you winnow back.

Azriel doesn’t let you go. Bringing you back up to his room, in his defense. Nesta motioned her head to do so, so he figured she’d go fill in Rhys. Opening his door, he gently laid you on the bed. Going to back up and let you rest- but you reached out to him. “Don’t go…not yet.” You whisper as you look at him with pleading eyes. And he is a weak man. Especially after seeing you with another male today. He had no choice but to crawl into bed with you, tucking you under his arm as he runs his thumb over your temple. “Thank you…” Your voice is soft, your eyes closed as you relax further into him. Azriel prays to the Mother that you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He says quietly. Using the shadows to pull a blanket up and around you too. “I didn’t do anything.”

You shake your head, sitting up a little to look at him. “The shadows. They gave me strength. Reminded me that I wasn’t going to be free with Tamlin when my mind wondered. Your shadows gave me the strength to speak my mind. So thank you.”

Azriel smiles at you, cupping your cheek as he looks at you with a sincerity in his eyes. “My shadows didn’t give you anything you didn’t already have. You are strong Y/n. Don’t forget that.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Now, I can feel it in my old bones. You need a nap.” He pulls you down into him. Laughing quietly at his actions you settle in for a nap. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: The next part will have another part at the ball!! I wasn't sure if I should have added it to this part or not...but let me know what you guys think! If you wanna be added to the taglist- click here! taglist: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92 @lana08 @stained-glass-eyes0708 @oucereeng @persephonesalvatore @fightmedraco @juniperberriesaries @whatdoyxumean @harrystyke21 @tenshis-cake @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @its-sam-allgood @natashachelsea @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon @cherryinsalemverse @sourapplex @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @waggel36 @oucereeng @bunnyredgirl @kookie4life @mybestfriendmademe @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mp-littlebit @caticorn61 @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @thewulf @st4r-girl-official @nightsbite @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @naturakaashi

[illyrian-dreamer]

Our Girl – Part 4

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: Smut [18+, minors DNI]

You stared at the gold invitation, cursive writing announcing Cresseida to be wed in a months time. And there was your name printed, Y/N and partners. You had scoffed when you first saw it – maybe in another life.

You were chewing your lip, lost in thought on whether to attend or not. You knew at the least, Rhys and Feyre would attend the wedding – that meant seeing them. And word would surely spread of your work at Spring Court once you got to chatting to other guests – that would reveal your location. 

“Whats bothering you, young spark?” Finbark asked from the kitchen, busy chopping vegetables as a pot of stew boiled behind him. He looked up briefly, spotting the invitation in your hand. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of not attending?” 

“I don't want to risk what I have here.”

“Y/N, everything you’ve worked for is already yours. Your home here, your work, even your privacy, no one can take that away from you now, not even a High Lord or Lady.”

“I know, you’re right. It’s just… I've so enjoyed my little bubble away from everything that happened. Seeing them… they made me feel so small Fin, so helpless. I don't know if I can stand going through that again.”

“So much has happened since then. Look at all you’ve done, all you’ve accomplished. Thousands of fae, gods, even the entire damn court is mending thanks to you. You were never small, and you have proven that to yourself over and over again.”

A wobbly smile jerked at your lips, tears pricking in your eyes. He wiped his hands, leaving the vegetables to come cup your face, brushing away your tears.

“You cannot lock yourself in Spring Court forever, sweetheart. Don't punish yourself for their mistakes, expand your horizons, celebrate with friends that are equally yours as they are theirs. And celebrate yourself, you deserve that even more.”

You reached for your uncle’s rippled hand, holding it tight. “Thank you, Finbark. You mean the world to me.”

“And you me, young spark.” 

So it was decided. You would attend the wedding, without any partners.

————

“Where are we going?” you called from Podie, Tamlin a few paces ahead on his own horse. He was leading you through a trail you weren't familiar with.

“For the umpteenth time Y/N, it’s a surprise.” He called back without turning his head. 

You let out an audible sigh, to which Tamlin chuckled. You did your best not to admire his ass as he straddled a horse – it helped neither of you how handsome Tamlin looked in his riding clothes. You pressed your heels to Podie, coming to trot beside him.

“You should know I hate surprises,” you sang.

“Even the good kind? What a shame,” Tamlin responded, clearly not letting up on where he was taking you. You poked your tongue out, earning another chuckle.

It had been several months since your first dinner with Tamlin, and you had fallen into a comfortable pattern with the High Lord. You enjoyed a regular drink or meal together when your work crossed paths, and he had even consulted you on advice for his court, which flattered you. His company was a consistent pleasure, and you treasured the friendship you had formed – the Gods knew you needed it.

You managed to bite your tongue for another twenty minutes, and just as you were about to pester him again, Tamlin spoke. “It’s just up this trail.”

Pulling the reins of his horse, Tamlin led you down a steep path, hidden much by overhanging trees and bushes, only to reveal a clearing.

No, not a clearing – a field, blossoming with rows of carefully planted pink flowers. And as you got closer, the size of the field was revealed, bordered by a low wooden fence. It was… a farm?

You drew in an audible breath as the scent of the flowers hit you. You widened your eyes at Tamlin, who was grinning at your shock. You dismounted Podie quickly, rushing to brace the fence as you took in the site with awe. 

“Wild Gernaium?” you choked, your eyes still wide. 

“The healing flower,” Tamlin nodded. “It took a while to learn how to farm them, months in fact, but Spring has Prythians best botanists.”

“And here I thought they could only grow in the wild,” you shook your head with disbelief. “Tamlin, these are so rare, how on earth you were able to farm this many?”

“Spring Court is a land that gives back, the soil here is rich of nutrients and the weather forgiving. It is of course only something we were able to do, thanks to your mission work to help recover the land. This is your accomplishment as much as it is theirs.”

Tears pricked in your eyes then. The amount of fae that could be helped with this crop – it was an overwhelming thought. 

“And they are for you, of course.”

You gaped at the High Lord, who laughed again. 

“For me?”

“Of course, for your work. Whatever you need – farmers to pick the flowers, a factory full of workers to grind and bottle the pigment – say the word and it’s yours.”

“Tamlin, I… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Please, don’t. It’s not a thanks I deserve, I’m just… trying to look out for my people. Just as you do.”

“Well… you’ve done a Gods damned good job,” you said with raised brows, blowing out a loose breath at the extend of the farm. 

Tamlin threw his head back and laughed, and you grinned at his happiness. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Nice work, High Lord.”

Tamlin squeezed your hand back. “It wouldn't be without you.”

He pulled on your hand then, leading you through the flowers as you admired the plants up close. He explained that a factory could be built at the farms edge, attached with a pressing mill and grinders. Your heart fluttered with excitement, your work could extend past manual labour, you could now offer medicine and healing. There was a force brewing inside you, something unstoppable and good, something that lay dormant for centuries, finally unleashed and free.

You still held Tamlin’s hand as he lead you through the field, making your way to a lush hill that overlooked the farm. You sat together, Tamlin listening contently as you excitedly spoke through your ideas on how to harvest the medicine, noting that your small growing team of mission workers could also help to distribute throughout the court.

“How many aid workers have you recruited now?” Tamlin asked. 

“Seven, and we’re currently inducting Nyvya in the east. She’s a trained healer, so will be delighted to hear of the Gernaium.”

“That’s wonderful,” he smiled. 

“It is,” you said warmly, and it occurred to you that you owed Tamlin a truth. An idea you were planning to run by him at a much later time. But with the offer of the Gernaium, the access to this kind of healing, that changed things. “It is,” you repeated almost flatly, chewing at your lip as your eyes fell distant, dancing with thought.

Tamlin caught the movement, and he frowned slightly as he shifted from his lounging position. “What is it?”

Your heart rose in anticipation – you felt sheepish. So you stared at him, deciding on whether it was in fact the right time.

“You can say it – whatever it is,” he said gently, taking your hand. Your silence lead him to start guessing. “Are you leaving Spring?”

“No, no I–”

“Because you are free to come and go as you please. I know my past behaviour speaks for itself, but I would hate to think that you feel trapped or–”

You grabbed his shoulders then, squeezing the muscle underneath. “Tamlin, gods I know that.”

The action seemed to stun him, and his lips pressed into a thin line. You felt a slight twang of guilt for drawing out such a distinct shame in him. 

You took a deep breath, pulling your hands to your lap. “With the mission work expanding, along with my team, we have been able to help fae at the borders, some from Summer, even a few from Autumn.”

Tamlin nodded assuringly, a sign for you to continue. He didn't startle over the technicality of Spring members helping foreign fae – that was a good sign. 

“And it felt good to help them Tam, they were isolated, and just as vulnerable as some of those in Spring.”

“Of course,” he said softly.

You had to take a deep breath, and your eyes found the horizon beyond the rolling hills around you. 

“You know,” you spoke softly. “My ambitions to help and protect others, it has always existed beyond court borders.”

You could see Tamlin shift, before giving a slow nod. 

“After talking with my team, we believe our mission work could gain traction in other courts, should they be willing. We could share knowledge, resources too if it was agreed, and provide aid across Prythian without being conformed to borders.”

You forced your eyes to Tamlin then, grimacing at what you might find written on his face. But it was just as neutral, his eyes soft, his jaw chiselled and handsome and – damn him.

“This is not the way I wanted to propose this to you Tamlin, please know. Especially after your generosity with the Gernaium, I understand completely if you have grown them purely to aid your own subjects. But that doesn't stop the need for mission work across Prythian. I plan to gain the support from as many High Lords and Ladies as possible, and I would be honoured if that started with you.”

Tamlin eyed you with those sharp green eyes, the kind of look that made you shift under the weight of it. And after an insufferable silence, he spoke. 

“You are incredible.”

You blinked in shock, Tamlin’s lips pulling at your reaction. 

“Truly,” he smiled, grabbing your hand to kiss it. “I have never met anyone who was to see a need as great as this, and think to grow it beyond borders. Magic anchors a High Lord or Lady to their Court, it makes us territorial and protective, violent even. But you, this,” he said waving his hand to you, before sighing, contemplating how to say what he felt in words. “You are what this world needs.”

Your eyes welled before two fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “Tamlin,” you chocked, unable to think of anything else to say.

He shifted closer, brushing the tears away with his thumb as he cupped your face. “You have my support Y/N. Thank you for teaching me to be better.”

Emotion surged through you, as if flushing you from years of doubt and hate, replaced now with inspiration, kindness and good, honest love. And then your lips were on his. 

Taken aback, Tamlin caught himself on one strong arm as you held his face and kissed him. You pulled away, worried to have overstepped your boundaries. But then a strong hand laced around your waist, his other propping himself up as he leaned in, closing his mouth over yours, a sharp breath drawn as his nose brushed against your. Friendship, understanding, a blossoming love – how quickly Tamlin had welcomed you to a world capable of healing, of growth. 

Every fibre in your limbs begged to be closer to him, to bask in the vulnerability he had shown you, and you him. In only half a year, you had grown together, healed together, and learned to love one another. You did, you loved him, for whatever he was to you – a dear friend, a High Lord, it didn't matter. It was equal, and genuine, and you craved it in every way. 

Fuelled in by dizzy passion, you quickly straddled his lap, pulling at his broad shoulders to bring him further into you, letting him encompass your senses. 

Tamlin’s own hands slid across your back, moving up to your neck, gripping at the roots of your hair, the other grasped at the flesh where your thighs met your hips. 

He seemed to realise where this was heading, pulling away with a sharp breath through his nose. “Y/N–”

You shook your head, dismissing him immediately with another kiss, your tongue begging for entrance to his mouth. “Tamlin.” His name was a plea.

“Are you cer–?”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his question, peppering kissed in between words. “I’ve–never–been–more–certain.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and goosebumps pricked at your skin as you felt it vibrate through to you. Your excitement peaked, it had been so long since you had shared yourself with another, and your core fluttered with anticipation as every fragment of you seemed to chant yes, yes, yes. 

Which is exactly what you moaned as Tamlin entered you, your skirts pulled high, his riding pants pulled low. You placed a flat palm on his chest, your eyes clenched shut as you stretched around his girth, your walls already throbbing as you slowly slid down. Tamlin let out a stifled growl, one laced with satisfaction and a lot of restraint. 

Strong arms hugged you then, and you began to writhe together, moving gently and sensually as you ground against each other. Chasing release was far beyond you, there was so much pleasure to be had in sharing your bodies, relishing in the trust you both had found in one another.

Tamlin did his best to keep a leash if his instincts, his beast form begging to be released and he grunted and growled when you moved your hips in a certain way, nipping at your neck and ear as claws now ran down your back. You ran your fingers through his hair, using it to guide his face to yours as you kissed him and fucked him how you pleased. His own hands moved to grip at your ass to do the same. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, his deep voice breaking, strained with pleasure. 

“Tamlin, gods, you feel–”

“So. Good,” he gritted, finishing your sentence. You leaned back, head thrown back as your hands found balance on his thighs as you rode him in the warm spring air. 

Pleasure found both of you again and again in that afternoon. You climaxed on his lap, and not twenty minutes later he was pushing into you again, your bare thighs spread on the lush green grass as he moved above you. You clung together, a writhing, sweaty mix of passion and pleasure until the sun began to set over the rolling hills. 

Tamlin reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours as you ate the last of the berries he had packed. He kissed your forehead before turning you to rest against his chest, not wanting you to miss the view. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your hair. 

Stroking his arms that were tightly wrapped at your waist, you swallowed, debating on what to say. But no, Tamlin deserved the truth, you must always choose truth. You sighed , saddened by what was churning through your head after such incredible sex.

“I’m thinking we need to discuss what this afternoon means.” 

You loved him, you did, but Tamlin was bound to his court, and your life called beyond it. It wouldn't work, no matter how much you cared for each other.

Tamlin knew this too. “What if,” he spoke softly, brushing your hair away from your neck so he could place a gentle kiss on it. “What if we enjoy this moment for what it is, just for today.”

You smiled, kissing his hands. “Tomorrow then.”

“Plenty of problems await,” he joked, and you laughed before settling further into him. You smiled cockily as you felt him harden against you. Tomorrow indeed.

————

One month later

Peering from the carriage window, your heart thundered in your ears, drowning out the clap of horses hooves as guests arrived at the summer estate, music floating gently from within.

Dawned in all colours, you watched guests gasp in awe at the beauty of the building. This was one of many of Tarquin’s estates - one you had never visited. It was an open, grecian style home, golden columns holding the impressive entrance carved with shimmering vines. Fae flocked in groups, sparkling wine already in their hands as they made their way to the gardens, no doubt where the service was being held. 

“Are you alright?” Tamlin asked, the velvet of his deep green suit brushing against your bare arm. 

“Uneasy to say the least,” you said thickly, your tongue stiff with nerves. “And you?”

Tamlin looked beyond the window, eyeing each of the guests. “One step at a time,” was his response as he squeezed your knee. 

————

The curtesy wine offered to you at the entrance was gone within the first few moments of arriving. You wouldn't make a fool of yourself here, but a little wine to take the edge off couldn't hurt. 

Tarquin stood proudly, wearing a fine turquoise suit detailed with gold thread, shaking hands as he welcomed guests. 

“Y/N,” he beamed, taking your hands and kissing each of your cheeks. “I’m honoured you came.”

“The pleasure is mine, Tarquin. Thank you for having me.”

“Nonsense, both Creseida and I might have forced you here if you had not come willingly.”

You laughed freely. “How is she?”

“A wreck of nerves,” he chuckled. 

“I’m sure she looks beautiful,” you laughed lightly back. 

“She does, just as you do,” he winked, raising your hands he still held to take in your dress. A silken, soft blue dress fell of your body, its back open as material gathered just before your rear. The dressmaker had done an incredible job, fitting style and colour alike. You had politely declined her suggestions of a sage green, a Spring Court signature. It was kind, but you were courtless for over a year now, and proud of it. Instead, you had asked for sky blue – as no one ruled the skies. 

Blushing, you let out another soft laugh. “You are too kind, High Lord.”

Tarquins eyes flashed behind you, catching Tamlin as he spoke with some familiars a few paces away. “Have you…?” he questioned, trailing off.

You smiled knowingly. “I’ve come alone. Tamlin and I shared a carriage, journeying from the same court. You remember of my work there?”

“Remember? Sweetheart, there is talk of your mission throughout my court. There are guests here who are very keen to meet you. And we will need to formally discuss your work, and give a proper thanks to the aid you have provided at the border.”

You were smiling wide now, shaking your head with gratitude. “I would like that too, but perhaps not here.”

Tarquin grinned. “No, perhaps not. Welcome, sweet Y/N, please enjoy the festivities, and accomodation.”

You smiled politely as Tamlin approached, exchanging a firm handshake before raising his brows at you. “Shall we head in?”

Nodding tightly, you let Tamlin guide you with a hand at the small of your back. At the very least, the warmth of his skin against yours was a small comfort. 

The estate was even more impressive the further you ventured, white marble and golden staircases twisting this way and that, leading to corridors of rooms, each door carved to perfection. These were the guest accomodations, and included your own for the evening. 

But the jewel of the home was its view, where a perfectly groomed garden now catered to almost a thousand fae, overlooking the crystal blue Adriatic, the waves beneath crashing the cliff quieted by the string quartet. It was an overwhelming beautiful home, and you were glad to be lost in a sea of guests. 

 A golden arch was set at the end of a the aisle, a High Priestess exchanging words with a groom you did not recognise. But you smiled – you were happy for Creseida. 

“An impressive turnout,” Tamlin muttered, sipping his wine as his green eyes turned sharp, scanning the crowd. You ignored the glances being cast your way, whether it was from your attendance with Tamlin, or Tamlin’s presence alone, you didn't care. What did these fools know of either of your stories to judge.

And you tried not to look, to not let your heart beat fast as you scoured for a rare set of wings amongst the finery of the wedding, telling yourself you wouldn’t turn your heel and run at the site of any siphons or shadows or night. But you were thankful to not find any. 

That was, until you felt them. Muscles jerking, goosebumps pricked your skin as your power began to tingle sharply, spreading across your body like a rash. Shit – you hadn't anticipated to lose your lid in such a way, your power had been so forgiving this past year. 

A small gap parted in the crowd of guests at the stairs of the estate, and the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were revealed. Arms loop, night curling around them in the fashion that impressed and threatened all at once. Rhysand shook hands with a nearby male, Feyre kissing the cheeks of a curtsying female. 

It shocked you, how quickly your spy instincts found you. As if in one of your many life-threatening missions, your senses narrowed, the noise in your brain focusing to immediate details – taking in only what you needed to survive, just as Azriel and Cassian had trained you. Your vision barrelled to the couple who still greeted others some distance away. Scanning behind them, you anticipated the remainder of your old family, and of course, your exes. 

Yet no one followed. Not even Mor. It seemed the High Lord and Lady had attended alone. It was strange – had things turned bad at the Court, that even the Morrigan had forgone a wedding?

Rhysand wore a handsome smile as he guided Feyre down the stairs to the garden, guests parting even further, bowing as they strode through. They were getting closer, and you ignored the clench of your heart as their scent filled your nose, before mixing with others. It was the smell of home.

No. it wasn't home. Not anymore, and not for a good while now. You hated that instinct, to curl into it, to let it welcome you, claiming you still. 

You glanced behind, conscious that they would find you standing with Tamlin. But he was no where to be seen, and you thanked him silently for the courtesy of having stepped away.

Rhysand and Feyre glided closer and closer, exchanging nods and accepting bows. And then they halted, violet eyes scanning before locking to yours, grey eyes shortly followed. And Rhys’s smile, the one that he used in the face of the public, it softened, his eyebrows twitching upwards almost unnoticeably. 

Feyre’s hand gripping at his arm tighter, and you could hear her heart fasten from where you stood. You almost resented how in-tune you were to them, these micro-behaviours. 

Glancing between them both, you followed the order of those next to you, lowering yourself to a polite curtsy. 

They couldn't reach you, not without drawing attention, not without the watchful eyes of hundreds of guests. So with a nod from Rhys, and a soft smile from Feyre, they continued on, finding their seats in the queues. 

————

Cresseida was the most beautiful bride you had ever seen. Golden vines were cuffed along her arms, as a silk gown as white as her hair trailed behind her as she walked the aisle, Tarquin proudly at her side. 

You smiled through your tears as she was married. You were happy for her– you were happy –you were… An unmarketable emotion filled you as you couldn’t help the run of tears that continued to pour, even after the ceremony ended. 

————

“And is it true that you were able to help the children at the border?” questioned one of Tarquin’s emissaries as she leaned in, raising her voice over the music. 

The party was in full swing, food had been served and hundreds of fae drank and danced, celebrating Creseida’s courtship, each of them eager to get even a glimpse at the bride and groom. 

“Yes, we were lucky to have an experienced healer join the mission, and she was already aiding some of the fae in Spring.”

The female smiled, and squeezed your arm. “On behalf of my court, we are grateful.”

“Not at all,” you smiled back. “Your authorities were notified, and from what I heard your own healers were already on their way. We were simply closer to that area, and had supplies to spare.”

It had been hours, and your company was still in high demand as endless Summer Court members were eager to meet you. Tarquin, it seemed, had been spreading you just as much praise as Tamlin. You had danced with many, exchanging jokes and stories, enjoying the festivities with some familiar faces and many new ones. 

It was a struggle to keep your eyes from averting, your instinct to find Rhys and Feyre in the crowd was loud and stubborn. Old habits, you supposed. 

Tamlin approached you then, having made himself scarce from your company for most of the evening, something you both had agreed to do. But you were comforted by his presence as he easily slid into the conversation, slipping a glass of fae wine into your hand without even asking. You smiled, giving his shoulder a thankful squeeze. 

There was an itchy, uneasy feeling that tugged at you, and you knew you were under watchful eyes. You found them, surrounded by their own acquaintances, and while Rhys masked his curiosity perfectly, Feyre’s stare bored into you from across the dance floor. 

Taking a large sip of wine, you let it warm you as you squared your shoulders. You would not cower, you would not shy away. And now was a better time than any.

So you strode directly to them, Feyre’s stare softening as Rhys pardoned himself from his conversation. Then, they were walking towards you to. 

You stopped a few paces shy from each other. Staring. It was…. awkward. 

But then Rhysand smiled. Warm and genuine and familiar. You hoped he didn't hear your silent curse to him. 

“You look well,” he said. 

You nodded, acknowledging the half-compliment, sensing their relief. No, you weren't that broken withered girl you were when you left. 

“How is Nyx?” The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them. You would have been more annoyed at yourself, but your care for that child was pure, and you knew they would never withhold him as currency. 

“He’s well, growing every day,” Feyre replied. “And walking all on his own.”

Your smile, be it small, was sincere. 

“He still… asks about you,” she added. 

Pain sliced through your heart then, and you weren't quick enough to hide it in your face. “Don’t,” you whispered, your voice strained. Gods, that didn't take long.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quickly, hands reaching out before she quickly drew them back in. “I didn't mean–“ she cut herself short, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

You cast your eyes to the side, blinking away the sting of tears. “It’s alright.”

Rhysand watched you intently. “Perhaps we can all use some fresh air? I spotted a terrace, free from other guests.”

The choice was yours, you knew that. You had things you wanted to say, and you were sure they did to. You nodded, following their lead as you quickly cast a look backwards, Tamlin offering you a tight nod as you left the room.

————

“So, mission work in Spring?” Rhys asked, wine swirling in his hand as he leaned casually against a column, warm summer breeze surrounding the three of you as the party continued faintly below. 

You nodded, your arms crossed at your chest. 

“It’s very impressive,” Feyre added from where she sat, offering a genuine smile. 

You didn't respond, unsure of how much detail to reveal. Rhysand caught on, sighing slightly. 

“We didn't bring you here to interrogate you for detail, It’s only that your work and whereabouts is quickly becoming widespread knowledge. We thought it was best to acknowledge that we know it too.”

“And what of Cassian and Azriel?”

“We have held true to our bargain on that.” You believed him. 

There was an award silence, unasked questions looming. 

“Are you safe there?” Feyre asked quietly.

“Very much so.”

“And Tamlin is–”

“A friend,” you said quickly. 

“– respectful to you, was what I was going to ask,” Feyre said with a knowing look.

You sighed then, running a hand through your hair. “I didn't do it to hurt you,” you said, with a straight face. You owed her no allegiance, but, you were done hurting others, and her concern did no one any good. 

“I know,” Feyre acknowledged, with the grace of a High Lady, of someone who knew that the past was the past. She shook her head then, before adding. “We worry for you, that is all.”

“He’s changed.” You were shocked at how quickly those words left your mouth. 

It was Rhys who threw you a condescending look. You hated how small it made you feel. 

“Look, I appreciate your warning, but Tamlin has shown strides of growth, he has acknowledged his mistakes and is working endlessly to undo them. When was the last time you looked within yourselves?”

Rhys flashed his eyes at you with warning, bringing an arm to comfort his wife. “Careful,” he said plainly, but a flash of darkness passed through those violet eyes. 

Damn him. And damn Feyre too. “You didn’t so much as try to stop them,” you breathed, your eyes welling with tears as you focused on her. Gods damn it – you thought you were past this, past them. But it was as if a year away meant nothing, you were just as hurt as that night you left the Night Court. Feyre watched with a pain expression as your lip wobbled. “And you didn't so much as try to apologise,” you whispered, your voice moments away from breaking. 

Feyre’s eyes now glistened with the same tears. “You shut us out,” she countered, and you could see how much your own choices had wounded her.

“What choice did I have?” you asked, brushing away a stray tear. “You think I want to be this way? You think I wanted to cast myself out? You broke my trust and lied to me, alienating me from this family. And I was supposed to come to you for an apology?”

Feyre gulped guiltily, looking at the floor. Rhys watched you intensely, a concerned frown on his face. 

“You’re right,” Feyre said quietly, grey eyes now finding yours. “But you must know Y/N, I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since the day it happened. I thought it wise for Azriel and Cassian to want to protect you, but I realised very quickly how it was that kind of thinking that trapped me within warded walls,  and that had me fleeing my home all those years ago.”

You nodded, casting your eyes upwards to not let the tears stain your face yet again. “We can't keep doing this.”

“What’s that?” Rhys asked gently. 

“This,” you gulped, waving your hands between you. “These sorry confessions and apologies, it hurts us all.”

“Alright,” Rhys said neutrally. “But you acknowledge our apology?’

“Yes.”

“Do you forgive us?”

Your lips pressed tight as you grimaced. 

“That would be a no,” Rhys said sadly, his smile broken. Feyre couldn't force one if she wanted to. 

“I want us to move forward,” you offered instead. “There is no use in resentment. It may be that we’ll continue to cross paths, and it is important to me that you know I will not respond illy.”

“Of course,” Feyre nodded, smiling. 

A sharp pain throbbed at your temples then, the kind that came about when you had to keep your emotions and powers under tight strain. It was instinct to rub at your temples. 

“Can I heal that for you?” Rhys was now standing in front of you, his smile remained but his eyes – heavy, saddened. 

You blinked up at him before flicking your eyes to Feyre who waited eagerly for you to respond. Was this a test? Could it be, after all that had happened, you could consider them just…friends? You searched within yourself for the right answer, but nothing came about. It was just too soon. 

But there was no harm in letting Rhys work some of his magic. “Alright,” you replied, and you heard Feyre loose a breath. 

Rhysand’s hands cupped the side of your face, his fingers pressing to your temples as the familiar feeling of him slipping into your mind sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in you, something impossible to kill that was comforted by his touch. He was, after all, your High Lord of decades. He had been your home, your family, and maybe there was some part of that would always remain. It upset you how much you had to resist the urge to wrap your arms around his waist, to pull Feyre in too, to sob of how much you missed home, your family, how much you ached while you were apart. 

It was over as quickly as it began, Rhys slipping from your mind, leaving no trace of a headache behind. You hadn't clocked that you had closed your eyes, your lip quivering as your cheeks were now wet with tears. Rhys kept his hands on your face, brushing them away. 

“Y/N–,” he said softly, his face pained. You knew what he would say – come home, even if you hate us, come home. But you wouldn't give him a chance. 

“T-thank you,” you stammered, pulling away from Rhysand’s hold and fleeing the terrace, leaving the two to their shock. 

————

You were brushing away hot, fast tears as you fled the wedding, racing towards your guest room. 

Gods, what was wrong with you today? You hated feeling like this – an unstable, blubbering mess. Nothing had changed in a year, not really. You were still the same, broken and alone. It hurt just as much to see your family now. 

To hell with this wedding. You craved a sleep tonic and to be rid of this night. That was when Tamlin fell into side-step with you. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked simply, muttering the words to avoid drawing attention as you passed through the crowd. 

“No,” you managed to say, and you could have kissed him for playing into the nonchalance. He seemed to respect privacy, even when there was little to be found. 

“I’ll walk you to your rooms.”

“No, Tam, I’m fine, you should–”

“Nonsense,” he replied, and you knew you wouldn't shake him. So you walked to your room,  sniffing through your tears as you tried to calm the current brewing at your fingertips, Tamlin by your side.

You reached your quarters, a private corner in a long corridor or rooms. The door was carved in  unique artwork, familiar somehow, as if beckoning you to enter from within. 

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” he said with an unconvinced look. 

“I will be, Tam, thank you.” 

You gave his hand a quick squeeze, before turning the handle to the door. 

And made it two paces in, before shadows filled your vision. 

————

You swore as strong hands held your shoulders, blue siphons a blur as shadows cast around you. You fought on instinct, but it was impossible to shake Azriel’s grip. 

“What in Mothers name–?!” you cursed again. 

“You’re safe,” Azriel spoke with relief. Despite yourself, your skin ignited at the husk of his voice.

“Get your damn hands off me,” you gritted, taking in the room as the smog of shadows finally cleared. 

Cassian was between you and the door, where Tamlin still stood, completely stunned. The General’s hands quickly curled into fists.

No one moved, each of you just as shocked to see the other. They had come for you, yes, but you were certain Tamlin was an unpleasant surprise. 

“Fuck,” you ground out, almost rolling your eyes as you knew the strife that now awaited your friend. 

Azriel moved you behind him, as if you needed to be shielded, protected. “What are you doing here, traitor?”

“Let her go at once,” Tamlin growled, stepping into the room. 

You stepped out from behind Azriel, your mind reeling at the sight of the two Illyrians in you room. You hated them, but something in you churned - a yearning. It was easy to stamp down as a rage took over. 

“What are you doing here?” you countered.

Azriel gave you a piercing look, running his eyes down your body. There was love in that look, but a sternness too. 

“Answer me,” you ground out. 

Cassian was still facing Tamlin, his siphons so bright they radiated heat. “Did you hurt her?” he growled at Tamlin, a shaking rage consuming him. 

“You hunted me? Like a mare?” your voice was ice cold, colder than any of these males could ever hope to perfect. Your trust, betrayed, again. 

That voice snared their attention. Cassian casting a look back at you, desperate, like he wanted to give you all of his time, to never stop drinking in the sight of you. 

You prowled closer, fingers twitching as your power grew so strong zapping could be heard. “Rhys’s promise to me, the bargain. You broke it,” you spat.

“Y/N.” Cassian said your name, begging you. His pain cut through to you, your power dampening as a sick, sick part of you folded at his plea. Go to him, that part of you begged. 

The room was filled with a sharp coldness and breeze as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into your quarters, Feyre’s face one of shock, Rhys’s one of fury. 

“What in Gods name are you doing here?” he growled at his brothers. 

“You left us no choice,” Azriel seethed back at Rhys, his wing stopping you as you silently moved to join Tamlin. 

You glared at him. “Try that again,” you growled. 

Azriel’s eyes were dark, predatory, but his brows pulled with a softness only reserved for you. “I do not trust him.”

“And I do not trust you,” you spat back. 

“The promise,” Rhys growled, glaring between his brothers. 

“Y/N, we had no idea they had come,” Feyre spoke with a desperation that you had to believe her. 

“Leave. Now.” Rhys ordered, but the males ignored him, his power underwhelming in another court. 

Cassian’s brow pulled, his face truly broken as he spoke to you. “You left us. And joined him?”

You snapped at the accusation. “I joined no one, because I belong to no one. I pursued a life beyond you, and I am a free female. Free to roam wherever I please, and fuck whoever I want.”

You words landed their mark, because both Azriel and Cassian recoiled.

And then Cassian’s face turned grave, as he slowly faced Tamlin again. “You-you touched her?”

You cursed yourself for the pointed insult – you should have known it would put Tamlin in the firing line. To his defense, Tamlin held a high chin. 

“She is a free female. Nor you or I can rob her of that.”

Azriel snarled, and Cassian was on Tamlin in an instant. 

“Stop that! Get off him! You will not hurt him!” you cried, broken at the thought of Tamlin being hurt because of you. 

But before you could throw yourself at Cassian, night magic filled the space, pulling the males apart, commanding the room to its master. And you were surprised to see Feyre walking towards them, her palms outstretched, night pouring from her as her eyes now glowed with silver. 

“Sensless violence ends now, I don’t care about the circumstance.” 

What did she mean by that?

“Leave,” Cassian snarled at Tamlin, but Tamlin held his ground. 

“He is welcomed to stay so long as Y/N sees fit,” Feyre spoke coldly, forcing Cassian’s eyes back to her. Now that, was a High Lady. “I can not believe you two–“

“You weren't invited?” you interjected, untrusting of your exes as you scowled between them. 

Rhys shook his head from across the room. “We went as far to hide the papers.”

You gulped as you stared up at Azriel. “Pray tell, how you found me, then?”

Azriel wore no remorse as he said “Amren – she possessed an invite and–”

Exasperated sounds from each of you filled the room. Amren, of course. She was the only one to know to play games above Rhys and Feyre’s head, and cunning enough to pull it off. 

“And what is your plan, then?” you added coldly. “Drag me back to the Night Court, kicking and screaming?”

“No, of course not,” Cassian responded softly, stepping towards you, stopping as you retreated back. “We had to know that you were safe.”

You stared at him, the sorrow in his voice, the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged. He was broken. 

“You were not well when you left, Y/N. It’s been killing us not knowing how you are faring now,” Azriel added, his eyes soft, looking just as worn as his brother. You knew he sang silently to his shadows as they coiled in on themself, they would be begging to reach you. 

“Please, don't be angry,” Cassian begged, his eyes welling. “We’ll go, we’ll go now, it’s just–”

“We love you. We- we need you,” Azriel interjected, his own brow clenched with pain. 

Each of their words were a dagger to your heart, piercing it’s way through the walls you had built. 

“Stop that,” you whispered, your hand pressing against your chest to ease the pain. Were these your feelings, or theirs?

“It’s true,” Cassian continued. “You’re our girl. We'll do better, Y/N, we promise. Please.”

It was painful to hear, and you faltered slightly as your body jerked in pain. Something was breaking within you, crumpling around something else, something buried deep. 

“Please Y/N, come home.”

Your knees gave out as you let out an anguished cry, your heart tearing and swelling to the point where you thought you just might die. 

“Y/N!” Tamlin called in panic, but Azriel and Cassian were already at your sides, holding you, asking where it hurt. 

Palms braced on the floor, you tried to breath through laboured breaths as you finally felt what was concealed for so long. It was unmistakable, a tether of sun-lit rope, tying you to the males at either side of you. You felt it all – their fear, the instincts to take you far from this place, their overwhelming, unconditional love. 

And you hated it. 

“No,” you gasped, your hand finding your heart as you tried to calm its pounding.

Azriel glanced at Cassian, who gave a single nod in confirmation. Feyre gasped from where she stood. 

“What is it?” Tamlin panicked. “What’s going on?”

“No!” you repeated, standing quickly and backing away from the two males. It couldn't be – you were free, you had left…

They watched you with saddened eyes at the horror that beheld you. 

“The Mother is cruel,” Rhys tutted, lowering his head in sympathy.

“What in the gods-forsaken realms is going on?” Tamlin yelled.

“No, no, no, no! Please, no!” You clutched at the roots of your hair, your mind reeling as you begged to no one. You were bound to them, whether you liked it or not. An enslavement of kinds.

“It snapped,” Feyre answered to Tamlin without ever turning his way.

It was too much to bare – their instincts, your newly ignited ones, their love, your hate. Your brain scrambled for sense, fighting itself over and over as you shook at your knees. 

A final ‘no’ pushed past your lips before your body gave out, the world tipping and your vision darkening as strong hands caught you. 

You succumbed to the gods damned mating bond. 

-------

Part 5>>>

AN: Helllllllllo my lovelies! I am so so bloody excited to share this part with you! It was a rollercoaster to write, hope you held on tight for this angst-train! Always, always, ALWAYS want to hear your thoughts and feelings on where this story is heading, so please drop a comment anytime. And thank you endlessly for your support with this fic - it means the world. MWA!!

[readychilledwine]

Hello, i just wanted to to start off saying i love your work!!!!! And I was wondering if i could request a Tamlin x Feyre's twin sister like there at a meeting with the high lords and Rhysand and Feyre decide to bring her and then her and tamlin lock eyes and the mating bond snaps into place for them, or something like that, the rest is up for you to decide! :) :)

Do you all remember the olden days of Twilight fanfiction where the oc/reader was Bella's twin and Jacob's imprint, but Jake didn't find out for quite sometime and then was like, "This explains it. It explains why I wanted Bella so badly. It wasn't Bella, it was you (insert Italian name)."

Aka I fucking loved this idea and dropped everything I was working on to write it. It's an angsty little piece.

Lost Bonds

Warnings - Told mainly from Tamlin's view of reader, angst, mentions of trauma, mentions of sex, unrequited love, one-sided mating bond

A/N - I can totally see myself doing something with this and making it a mini series.

Tamlin felt his jaw twitch.

You were an unexpected liability.

An foreseen circumstance.

A blessing and curse all at the same time.

And so fucking beautiful.

You were the most unique of your sisters, and it immediately told him which one you were. Y/n Archeron, Feyre's younger sister and twin. You stood out from her and Nesta, yet were flawless in your own right.

Long dark hair he knew would have came from your father was done so delicately, falling to above your hips in soft waves. A face that damn near was the identical match to your sister's, only yours held more freckles that seemed to dance like paint splatters landing in all the right places. You shared those blue eyes, though. Elain having been the only one to inherit the doe brown of your father.

Rhysand had dressed you immaculately. He had allowed you to wear a jewel toned blue gown. No doubt to ensure you matched Azriel, just as Nesta's jewelry matched Cassian. The dress was tight, clinging to your torso and accentuating your breasts perfectly to be on display each time to bend over to whisper into Azriel's ear.

His jaw tightened again, looking away from the two of you as it happened again. A shadow then curled your shoulders, your arm, through your fingers. Your gorgeous long fingers he knew were trained to play piano.

He knew damn near everything about you already.

And you only knew the worst of him.

He didn't know if you had felt it, but the second you two locked eyes after his third started insult towards your twin, he felt the sentence dying on his tongue, chest aching.

Rhysand had begun to smirk, settling into his seat while looking at Feyre, who's face fell before looking at her younger mirror image.

You'll never have her, a soft feminine voice rang in his mind. You will never fucking touch her.

Azriel stood, taking your hand as you cocked your head and removed you from the room. He one of his hands placed around your waist, resting softly on your hip as you leaned into him. "Excuse my dear sister," Rhysand purred, eyes locked on Tamlin. "She still exhausts easily after being stripped of her mortality."

"But what a gift," Nesta's eyes drilled into Tamlin. "To be blessed with beauty and immortality." The words were a stab in his heart. Sitting in his chest.

Words he had previously used to belittle your trauma.

The trauma his High Priestess, and in turn he, had caused you.

He would not lay eyes on you again until the war. Where he watched Azriel take you to his bed nightly. Where he heard Azriel pulling you apart, whispering to you his love and praise, and you returning it tenfold.

He watched you two pack after everything was over together. He watched as those scarred hands touched your flawless ones. He watched every joke Azriel would make land. He watched you be chased by him like a child. He watched each soft kiss.

"They're in love," Rhysand appeared next to him. "True, genuine, chosen love. Don't fucking ruin this for her. You've done enough." The High Lord of Night walked away. Joining Azriel in teasing the youngest sister and kissing the top of her head softly, eyes glaring directly into Tamlin's soul.

You'll never have her.

Those words rang in his head over and over becoming a mantra shattering even his heart of stone.

You'll never have her.

You will never have her.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers

[starryevermore]

i will go to secret gardens in my mind ✧ tamlin

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader

summary: you have always been a wallflower, but to tamlin, you are the finest rose in the garden. 

word count: 7,676

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, unrequited feelings, pining, multi pov, plot twist perchance??, not proofread 

PART TWO

The Spring Court had been rebuilt. What would have been a joyous occasion under any other circumstances, for perhaps any other court, left your family scowling as they looked over the invitation that landed on Rhysand’s desk this morning. An invitation to all courts—to come to Spring and celebrate the burgeoning court. No one, it seemed, wanted to go. It was understandable, of course. After everything that Spring’s High Lord, Tamlin, had put Feyre through—had put your entire family through—it almost felt like walking into a trap. But call you naïve, or perhaps a tad too optimistic for your own good, but you wanted to believe that Tamlin might have truly turned over a new leaf. Sometimes, it took someone losing everything to learn the value of all that they hold dear. No one wanted to go, it seemed, except for you.

Well, and Lucien, but he often fought in Tamlin’s corner. “Tamlin is a far cry from what you remember him as,” he said. “What he did to Feyre was horrible, but he’s trying to make amends. Isn’t the point of the Night Court to offer second chances?”

“We don’t owe that worm a second chance,” Nesta snarled, her eyes narrowing at Lucien. 

“It might be good for Feyre to close this chapter of her life,” Lucien continued. 

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Because you care so much about Feyre’s wellbeing. Remind me, what were you doing while she wasted away in that manor?”

“All I’m saying is, you should consider hearing him out. We all were troubled after Under the Mountain. His actions were, are, shameful, but that doesn’t mean he cannot regret what he did.”

You noticed the tension in Feyre’s shoulders and reached out, placing your hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to go. I just thought it might be fun. We haven’t just gone out in so long.”

Rhysand’s narrowed gaze turned on you. “Then we can go to Rita’s, or take a walk down the Sidra. Hell, I’m sure if we asked Tarquin, we could have a nice trip down to Summer if you’re wanting to go somewhere warm. We don’t have to go all the way to the damned Spring Court for fun.”

A sigh escaped your lips. You rose from your seat, turned to leave. “Forget I said anything.”

Feyre looked up at you. She said your name, standing to follow after you. “If you want to go—”

You waved her off. “It’s alright. I didn’t want to go that bad. I only thought it would be fun, but Rhys is right. We can do something else instead.”

She said your name again, but you ignored her. You understood why she of all people would be apprehensive of going to Spring. Trust and believe, you understood. Tamlin was hardly the most wonderful person in Prythian in your eyes. He let Feyre waste away, he sold you, Nesta, and Elain out to Hybern in a vain attempt to get Feyre back…At every turn, it seemed like he was dead set on humiliating her. But when it was all said and done, he still gave up a kernel of his power to bring back Rhysand. “Be happy, Feyre,” he’d said. It was nothing groundbreaking, it was not even close to an apology for all he’d done, but it seemed like a step in the right direction. 

As you retreated to your room, you didn’t have to look to know you were being followed. Ever since Elain had accepted the mating bond with Lucien, Azriel always trailed so close behind you, he was like a second shadow. When you reached your room, you left the door open, allowing him to slip inside. The door clicked shut behind him. 

You took a seat in the bay window, looking out over the city of Velaris. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

The cushion sank underneath Azriel’s weight. You moved over, avoiding your knees knocking into his. “I just want to know what’s going on in your mind.”

“Does it matter? Rhysand has made his decision clear.”

“Of course it matters. It matters to me.”

It should’ve tugged at your heartstrings to hear him say those words. But all you were reminded of was how Azriel pined after Elain for so long, and for Mor for centuries before that. You were all too aware that you were just the latest object of his affection. “I don’t know. I just…It feels like something is calling for me to go there. Something trying to tug me along until I finally cross over Spring’s border.”

When you spared Azriel a glance, you noted the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. “You should tell Rhys that. He might be more amenable.”

“Rhysand is hardly amenable to anything that isn’t already in his favor.” You shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m Elain, with some vision about why we need to go to Spring. I just…I don’t know. I have a feeling it’s somewhere I should be.”

Azriel looked you over. Perhaps he was trying to ascertain if you’ve lost your mind. And maybe you had. You could hardly explain the feeling, deep in your chest, that pulled you towards the Spring Court. The feeling only intensified when you learned of the invitation to come to Spring’s celebration. “I’ll talk to Rhys for you. He’s been wanting to forge alliances with the other courts. If he’s able to extend a hand to Spring, other courts might be willing to work with him.”

You shrugged again. “Do as you please.”

He reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it. At least you found a modicum of comfort in the gentle squeeze. Azriel’s mouth opened—to say what, you weren’t sure, for a knock sounded against your door. It opened shortly after, Feyre slipping inside. Her eyes fell to your joined hands. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. You pulled away. One of his shadows trailed after you.

“We’re going to Spring,” she said, smiling. But it didn’t reach her eyes. 

You stood up, crossing the room in a few strides, then took Feyre’s hands. “We don’t have to if it’ll cause you pain. I don’t mean to dredge up those terrible memories.”

“I am High Lady. I can set aside those feelings for one night, if it might end in an alliance that will benefit my people. Besides, Lucien might be right. It might do me some good to speak with Tamlin under better circumstances.”

“Are you sure?”

She offered you a smile. “I’m sure.” She squeezed your hands. “You haven’t asked for much since you’ve come here. The least I can do is give you this.”

You shook your head. “No, Feyre, you’ve already gave up so much for our family—”

“Hush. If I didn’t want to do it, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Fine. But the second you’re uncomfortable, we all leave, okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Okay.”

Rhysand was certainly giving you the cold shoulder since Feyre insisted that you all go to the Spring Court, but you could hardly find it in yourself to care. Not when you finally got to trade in the darkness of Night for the blossoming life of Spring. You couldn’t wait to finally leave Night’s borders. You couldn’t quite remember the last time you had the opportunity to leave, save for the war with Hybern. Other than that, though, you had bounced between Rhysand’s many homes, going to whichever place made you least likely to pick a fight with the High Lord. These days, that was primarily the House of Wind, since he had given it to Cassian and Nesta. That, of course, left you with even fewer chances to go out. If you didn’t have an Illyrian to fly you down, you would have to brave the 10,000 stairs. And you were no Valkyrie—you were sure you wouldn’t even make it down a few dozen before throwing in the towel. Of course, you were certain that Azriel would be more than pleased to be at your beck and call. 

After all, he sat on your bed now, watching as you rifled through your dresses, trying to pick something out to wear. 

“You look beautiful in anything,” he said. “Why are you putting so much effort into this?” A hidden question was on the tip of his tongue—Were you trying to impress someone? Perhaps him?

“My mother always said, when you go outside, you look your best because you never know what will happen.”

Azriel stood up, crossing over to your wardrobe. A scarred hand wrapped around yours, stopping you from flicking through the dresses. His voice was husky as he asked, “And what do you think will happen?” 

Your face grew warm. Even if you knew that he was only pursuing you because you were an Archeron, for a male to be so close to you…Well, it was easy to get you flustered. Stuck between Nesta’s vivaciousness and Elain’s sweetness, it was easy for you to fade into the background. When your family was better off, everyone flocked to Elain. After your family became rich again, Elain garnered so many men’s attention. Even Feyre, when your family was its lowest, found herself with someone, if just for the pursuit of pleasure. But you…You were a wallflower through and through. 

“Anything. Nothing,” you said. 

Your breath stilled as Azriel pulled a dress from your wardrobe. It was a beautiful blue tulle dress. Silver stars littered its entire body. There was a tasteful slit up one side. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, you knew there was a matching pair of long, sheer gloves. You had gotten it for Starfall, but found yourself tucking it away in favor of a simpler gown. It, however, wasn’t lost on you that its color complemented Azriel’s cobalt siphons well. 

“You should wear this,” he said. “In case something does happen.”

You found yourself nodding. 

A soft smile crossed his face. It took everything in you to not look away, lest you give him the wrong idea. You may have been a wallflower, but you were not a demure female. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

You nodded again. 

Azriel placed the dress in your hands. You expected him to leave, but he lingered still. His hand grasped yours, pulling it up to meet his lips. He made eye contact with you the entire time, hazel eyes twinkling, before he pulled away. 

When he was finally gone, a sigh escaped your lips. A part of you, you recognized, should have been delighted at Azriel’s attention. He was an attractive male. He had so many qualities that you admired—protective, loyal, kind. But anytime you looked at him, you were reminded of his past history with females. How he pined after Mor for centuries. How he fixated on Elain. In both cases, each made it clear in their own ways that it would never go further. And here you were, certain that you were sending clear signals that you were uninterested, and yet…There he remained. Where was Rhysand, telling him to leave you be? Could you only be left alone if you had a mate?

Perhaps it would be easier, you mused as you changed into the dress, if this tug in your chest was for Azriel. That, by going to Spring, something would happen that would make the bond snap for him. At least if he was your mate, you could convince him to get a home of your own, far away from the busybodies occupying the Inner Circle. At least you would finally feel free enough to breathe on your own. 

You spared a glance in the mirror, satisfied with your hair and makeup, before leaving your room. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see Azriel waiting on the other side of the door, shadows swirling around him. His face brightened as he saw you. An arm was extended toward you. You took it. 

“Beautiful, just as I expected.” Azriel smiled at you. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

All eyes were on the Inner Circle as you entered the manor, but you were too busy looking at everything else. Spring was…Mother, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever seen before. Not even Elain’s gardens held a candle to the beauty housed here. It was difficult to imagine how a Court so ethereal could have been in ruins just months before. It was easier, though, to see how Feyre could fall in love with this land. 

It was even easier, you mused, to fall in love with Spring’s High Lord as he stepped into the Inner Circle’s path. It was the first time you really got a good look at him. When you were taken, you hadn’t dared look at your captors. And when you came out of the Cauldron, you cried so hard you couldn’t see. But the male before you now…Wow. 

“Welcome,” he said, extending a hand to Rhysand. As Rhysand shook it, he turned to Feyre. “Thank you all for coming. I cannot imagine it was an easy decision to make.”

Feyre tilted her head in your direction. “Thank Lucien and my sister. It was their convincing arguments that brought us here.”

Tamlin’s emerald eyes fell to you. Something in your chest tugged harder, but you couldn’t dwell on it as Azriel took a subtle step in front of you. A charming smile passed across the High Lord’s lips. “Well, thank you, too,” he said. “And if I may, I must offer the utmost apologies for everything that transpired the last time our paths crossed. There is no excuse for my actions.”

You tried not to flinch at the mention of the Cauldron. The memory of being submerged as a human, reemerging as a fae…How everything was so different, too intense. It was, perhaps, the darkest part of your life thus far. You prayed it was never so dark again. “It wasn’t all bad,” you found yourself saying. “At least now I can live a long life with my sisters.”

“That is a generous way to think about it,” Tamlin said. He took a step toward you, a hand outstretched. His eyes flicked to Azriel as a growl escaped the Spymaster. Still, he reached for your hand. When you slipped it into his, he lifted it toward his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Something, something akin to joy, swirled inside of you. A tendril of a shadow pulled your hand from Tamlin’s. “Would you be so kind as to share a dance with me?”

“I—” The Inner Circle tensed around you, though you caught Lucien rolling his eyes at their antics. A dance didn’t seem so horrible, but you hated the way Feyre looked so uncomfortable at the prospect. You wished you were a daemati and could see what she was thinking. “Perhaps later. I should like to spend some time mingling.”

Tamlin seemed disappointed, but he still smiled as he said, “Of course. Have fun.”

He nodded at Feyre and Rhysand before disappearing into the crowd. 

“It was like he disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Y/N,” Mor remarked, plucking a glass from a passing waiter’s tray. 

“Don’t,” Feyre warned. She looked at you, her eyes wide with worry. “Don’t fall for his charms. Dance with him if you so wish. But…I don’t know how much I believed him to have changed.” 

“I won’t. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done to you. It will take more than charming smiles and offers for dances to win me over,” you said, turning away from her. Your heart clenched at her distrust. Well, perhaps it wasn’t distrust. To be here, to be in Spring again, must have been extraordinarily difficult for her. But you were her sister. You knew her struggles, her pain, better than most. You weren’t going to throw all that away because Tamlin was kind to you. You weren’t that sort of female. 

A scarred hand caught your wrist before you could slip away into the crowd, perhaps find a nice corner to hide in and people watch. “Would you? Like to dance?” Azriel asked. 

“I see Kallias and Viviane. I would like to say hello.”

You could feel the Inner Circle’s eyes on you as you disappeared into the throng of fae. Though you were no daemati, you could practically hear their collective thoughts: You would be better off with Azriel. But what did they know about you?

Coming here was a mistake. You’d decided so hours ago as you could see various members of the Inner Circle keeping tabs on you from the corner of your eye. Despite hardly making a move from the corner you resided in, save for trips to the refreshment table or conversations with the few friends you had made from other courts, they still hovered. You wondered if it was under Rhysand’s orders, or perhaps Feyre’s. To make sure you didn’t slip away to dance with Tamlin, become the next pretty thing trapped in his gilded cage. 

You sucked your tongue against your teeth as you watched Azriel approach you from across the room, Nesta and Cassian slipping off onto the dance floor. The changing of the guards. Your eyes rolled. Of everyone, Azriel’s presence was the worst. While the others would linger, he would stay by your side, trying to coax conversations out of you or pull you over for a dance. It might have been sweet if you weren’t all too aware that it was a vain effort to keep you from Tamlin. And unlike the others, who would have been merely following orders from the High Lady and Lord, Azriel had his own ulterior motives. 

When you lost sight of Azriel, dancing couples blocking each other’s view of the other, you took the opportunity to slide out a nearby door and into the hall. They would be furious to learn you left—especially when it was because of you that they were even here. But you couldn’t handle the hovering any longer. 

The music from the ballroom soon faded into the background as you walked down the hall, searching for some sanctuary. There were groups of fae lingering around the hallway, but none paid you any mind. It was refreshing, if you were being honest. They had no idea who you were, who your sisters were, of what they had done to save Prythian (or doom this court). You smiled at one couple, wrapped up in each other’s arms, blissfully unaware of all that happened around them. 

You spied an open door and slipped inside. It was far smaller than the ballroom, but still grand. Paintings hung along the walls—a few you recognized to be in Feyre’s style. The thing that caught your eye, though, was the handsome piano in the middle of the room. A smile tugged at your lips. It had been so long since you’d had a chance to play. During your family’s dark years, you of course didn’t have access to any instruments, much less one so expensive. When you arrived in Velaris, straight out of the Cauldron, you had clung to the instrument, letting all of your pain flow out of you until there was nothing left. These days, though, you had strayed away.

You took a seat at the bench and ran your fingers along the ivory keys. You tested a few notes to see if it was still in key, but you didn’t make it very far. 

“Do you play?”

Tamlin stood in the doorframe, watching you curiously. Panic settled in your chest. If the Inner Circle, if Feyre, found out that you were alone with Spring’s High Lord, you knew they would be less than pleased. But that tug in your chest—it pulled harder than it ever had before, and that brought you an odd sort of comfort. 

“Yes.”

“May I hear you play something?”

You eyed him, trying to ascertain if this was some trick. As much as you wanted to believe your family was being overdramatic, you did wonder if they knew something you didn’t. When you sensed no ill motives, you gave a nod. 

As you pressed down on the keys, it felt like everything melted away around you. There was no inter-court politics to be wary of. No Shadowsingers following close on your heels. No sisters whose heart would surely break if she knew you were letting him in. Just you and the music that flowed out. 

“That was beautiful,” he said as the final note rang through the room. He took a few steps closer to you. Tamlin extended a hand. “I wish, though, that I could still hear it while we danced. If you would like to, that is.”

You stared at his outstretched hand. 

“Just say the word if you don’t wish to. I know you didn’t dance out there, but I thought, perhaps, without all those eagle eyes watching you—”

You took his hand. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“That’s alright. Neither am I.”

Tamlin was a right liar, he was. As he spun you around the room, you clumsily just missing his feet, you knew he was a liar. But the awkward dance made you laugh, harder than you had in a long time. The tug in your chest pulled more than it ever had before. 

“If this is you at your worst, I would hate to see how skilled you would be after a few lessons,” you teased. 

“We could take lessons together,” Tamlin suggested. The thought made your smile grow, though you weren’t entirely sure why. “Maybe after tonight, your High Lord will let you visit more often.”

“Perhaps—” you began to say. 

“That will never happen.”

Shadows swirled around you, tugging you out of Tamlin’s arms. You gasped, a chill running down your spine. Large wings kept Tamlin out of your view. When you tried to look around Azriel, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place. 

“Did he do something to you?” Azriel asked. 

“What? No!”

“You just disappeared. Everyone’s in a panic. Feyre looked ready to kill, Nesta ready to hide the body. We didn’t know what happened to you. We didn’t know if you were hurt or—” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Tamlin. “—or worse.”

“I’m fine! I’m not some damsel in distress—”

“Of course not. But you have to understand—”

“No! You have to understand that you are not my knight in shining armor, Azriel! I am not so stupid to just waltz headfirst into danger. If I ever found myself in such a position, I would have screamed or called out for Rhysand and prayed he was listening. I do not need saving, especially not—” You caught Tamlin’s eye over Azriel’s shoulder. Something snapped into place, a golden thread tying you to him. “—especially not with my mate.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. Hurt, maybe? Or anger? “He can’t be—”

“He is. He is the reason I felt the calling to come to Spring, Az. He’s my mate, and you have to respect that.”

Behind you, you heard a flurry of footsteps as the room quickly filled. Your eyes squeezed shut. Fuck. Was it not enough to have to deal with Azriel? Did everyone else have to come, too? 

Feyre’s voice rang through the room. “Y/N, come here, please.”

“I should be allowed to make the choice to come, shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what the Night Court is all about?” You looked at her, a solitary tear dropping down your face. “What? Are choices not allowed when it goes against your wishes?”

“Please,” she repeated, her hand reaching out for you. 

Tamlin stepped around Azriel, stood by your side. “I would not hurt her, Feyre. I have given you every reason to distrust me, to hate me, but I wouldn’t do anything to her.”

Feyre closed the distance between the two of you, Rhysand hot on her heels. She snarled at Tamlin, “I have every reason to not believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“I understand—”

Her finger jabbed at his chest. “Don’t. Don’t you dare give me any honeyed words or false promises about how Y/N—my sister—being your mate changes things. A skunk still stinks even when it hasn’t sprayed.”

“Feyre, please, can’t we just talk this through—” you tried. This was going horribly wrong. You hadn’t imagined any of this would happen just by following the tugging in your chest. A mate, you might have suspected. But all of this—

Her head snapped toward you. Her eyes glazed over as Rhysand spoke into her mind. When they cleared, she spoke with the authority of a High Lady but with none of the love of a sister.“You said we could leave if I became uncomfortable. I would like to leave,” Feyre said. “Rhys, please, get her out of here.”

Rhysand’s hands were on you, winnowing you away, before you could even dare to make your protests. But you didn’t miss the pain in Tamlin’s beautiful emerald eyes. 

Feyre had made a terrible mistake. Since that horrible, awful ball, you were moved into the River House so she and Rhys could keep an eye on you. While you might not have been able to leave the House of Wind without an Illyrian to fly you down or otherwise brave the 10,000 steps, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to go. At least here, they could make sure you remained in place. Anyone who wished to see you, save for Spring’s Cauldron damned High Lord, could. They just needed to make are that something horrible wouldn’t happen. 

But you hadn’t left your room in weeks. They would send food up to you, but would find only small bites taken out of it when they came for the next meal. You had said scarcely a single word. The only time you would move from your bed was to take a bath, where you would sit for hours still. Once, Feyre had gone to check on you, to make sure that you hadn’t hurt yourself, and found you staring at the bubbled water, unblinking. You hadn’t even realized she was there.

The only person you seemed to respond to was Azriel. He would go to your room, crawl in your bed, and play with your hair. Sometimes, Feyre would linger in the doorway, watching you and him. Azriel would talk to you, try and convince you to leave your room. You would only cry.

And now, Feyre paced the length of Rhys’s office, chewing on the corner of a fingernail. Rhys sat at his desk, his face leaned against his palm. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know how to make this better. She, she’s wasting away in there.”

Rhys let out a sigh. “There is an obvious solution to the problem, though not the preferred one.”

Feyre spun on her heel, narrowing her eyes at her mate. “You know perfectly well that I can’t just let her be with Tamlin. It would be safer sending her into a viper’s den.”

He rose and crossed the room, took her hands in his own. “You don’t mean that. You and Tamlin were not right for each other, especially after everything that happened Under the Mountain. You no longer wanted the same things as him. Was his actions wrongful? Of course. He could have tried to help you, but you also pushed him away. It was doomed from the start.”

“And I should let her go into a doomed relationship with him?” Feyre poked her finger at Rhys’s chest. “She is too good for that. She deserves a better mate.”

“I agree. But the Mother found reason to bind their souls together. You once thought I was something straight out of a nightmare, but look how far we’ve come.”

“I recall you hating Tamlin for everything he did to me.”

“And I do. I still do.” A sigh escaped Rhys’s lips. “But I also look at Y/N and remember having to leave you behind in Spring. I remember collapsing in Mor’s arms, begging for just a chance with you. I was a shell of myself then. I worry that if we keep them apart, we’ll lose her either way.”

Feyre turned away. She looked toward the door. For a flicker of a moment, she wished she could go back to that horrible cottage, when she was still a human. Even if survival was a struggle at best, she didn’t have to worry about your sweet soul being taken advantage of. 

“Send a letter to Tamlin,” she finally said. “Tell him he is welcome to come here. If Y/N so wishes to leave with him, she may. But make clear, if a single hair on her head is harmed, if we receive a single word that she is being treated as anything less than what she deserves, it will constitute an act of war.” 

Tamlin stared up at the River House. He had moved faster than he had ever moved before when the invitation to come to the Night Court was extended. So fast, he realized with a glance at his feet, he forgot to put on shoes before winnowing away. He hoped you wouldn’t mind. Ever since Rhysand had winnowed you out from under his nose, he had been a mess. If Tamlin thought losing Feyre was him at his lowest, it paled in comparison to losing you. Worse yet, he had the previous experience to know he couldn’t give into his desperate impulses and expect everything to go smoothly. No, he had to tread carefully. 

Still, he found himself sending you letters over the last few weeks. Tamlin never received a response, but he never expected one. He wasn’t sure how well you were being surveilled, if the Inner Circle were taking active steps to keep you from contacting him. But he hoped his words brought you some modicum of comfort. 

The door swung open before he had a chance to knock. Rhysand looked him over. “You didn’t have time to at least make yourself presentable?”

“I thought if I took too much time, the invitation would be rescinded.”

Rhysand’s brow raised. “I wasn’t aware you could have such intelligent thoughts. You know, since you had sided with Hybern so readily in the beginning.”

Tamlin bit back a snarl. It would not end well to pick a fight with Night’s High Lord. He knew good and well he was out-powered, and he was sure that Feyre’s threat should also extend to any threat her own mate faced. Instead, he said as diplomatically as he could manage, “It was a terrible mistake, but one I would make again if it would give me a chance to live a long life with my mate, should she so have me.”

Feyre appeared, pushing Rhysand out of the doorway. She, too, scrutinized his appearance, nose wrinkling at the sight of him, but at least had the courtesy to say nothing about it. “You came quickly.”

Somewhere in the distance, Tamlin could hear Cassian chortle and mutter something about “that’s what she said.” 

“I did not know how long this invitation of hospitality might remain open.” Tamlin searched Feyre’s eyes, searching for a sign of your wellbeing. “Is she alright?”

Tamlin watched as Feyre swallowed, her hands subtly shaking. She had always cared deeply about her sisters, perhaps you more than Nesta or Elain. Where Nesta could hold her own and Elain was sweet enough to charm any potential suitor, she worried that you were too quiet for your own good. Too willing to slip into the shadows and be forgotten. 

“She has hardly eaten since that night. We…We have fixed dinner. We thought she might be more amenable if you brought a plate to her room?”

“Of course, of course,” Tamlin said. Feyre moved out of the threshold, motioning for him to step inside. He did. “Has she…?”

“She hasn’t said a word. She just sits and stares. I thought females were able to suppress the bond. I don’t understand why she is so afflicted.”

Tamlin suppressed an eye roll. He had to play nice, at least until he could see you again. Until he could find out if you wished to be his mate. “You took her choice away, Feyre,” he bit out, weighing his words carefully. “Anyone would be heartbroken by such a betrayal. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Rhysand snarled, but Tamlin ignored him. He maintained eye contract with Feyre until she looked away, gesturing to the dining room. “Take a plate to her room. Just up the stairs, third door on the right.”

He gave a curt nod and did as directed. Every step weighed him down. Tamlin was grateful, at least, for the plate in his hand, to distract him from the sinking feeling in his chest. Neither you nor him had closed off the bond. Tamlin felt every bit of your anguish and he had done everything he could to send comfort down the bond. Every day, he prayed to the Mother that it helped you. Now, as he stood on the other side of your door, he wasn’t sure it did.

The door was ever so slightly ajar. Tamlin pushed it open. The sight nearly made him fall to his knees. You were laying in bed, back to him, staring out the large window overlooking the gardens. If it wasn’t for a subtle rise and fall of your chest, he might have thought you dead. Tamlin stepped inside, walking around your bed, until he faced you. He set the plate on your nightstand and knelt in front of you. 

“Have my dreams begun to torment me, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“No,” Tamlin whispered back. He reached out, cupping your face in his hand. His thumb run over the swell of your cheek. “I am here. I am real. Feyre allowed me to come.”

“I cannot even trust my subconscious now,” you said. You rolled over onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. Your comforter moved with you, revealing the papers you kept clutched against your chest. Your eyes fell shut. 

Tamlin sat on the edge of your bed. He reached over and brushed your hair from your face. “Open your eyes, please. I am here. Feyre had Rhysand send me a letter, inviting me here. I can show you if you like?”

An eye opened. “I doubt you could. Everyone knows that written word in dreams hardly makes sense.”

He pulled the letter tucked away in his pocket. Carefully unfolding it, he pressed it into your hands. Your other eye opened. Slowly, you sat up, dropping the other letters—his letters—from your grip. Your eyes scanned over the page, once, twice, three times. Slowly, you looked up, as if seeing him for the first time. 

“You’re here?”

“I am.”

“Feyre allowed it?”

“She did.”

Your hand moved to your mouth. You chewed on your thumbnail. “She would hate me if I left.”

“She would not. And, even if she did, that is her burden to bear. Feyre cannot keep you sheltered here anymore than I could her.” Tamlin grabbed the plate and held it out to you. “Could you eat first, before we talk about this? Please?”

You stared at the plate for a long, silent more. Tamlin nearly thought you hadn’t heard him. He was ready to ask again, the words on the tip of his tongue, when you looked up at him. “Could we go to the gardens to eat?” 

“Of course.” 

Tamlin extended a hand to you. You slipped yours into his grasp. Joy soured through him. He bit back his smile as he helped you to your feet. His hands were quick to move to your waist, steadying you as you swayed. How long had you been laying there, in that bed? Had you even left it? A part of him, a territorial part he worked hard to keep at bay, had half a mind to scold Feyre for waiting this long. He, of course, would be a hypocrite if he did. But you also deserved someone in your corner. 

Slowly, the two of you moved out of your room and down the stairs. At the creak in the wooden steps, all conversation in the dining room ceased. There was a scrape of a chair. Feyre appeared in the doorway as you reached the bottom step. You didn’t make eye contact with your sister as you turned for the exit. 

“Y/N wished to eat in the gardens,” Tamlin said and followed after you. He did not wait for Feyre’s response. 

You stared at Tamlin, chewing on the bread that Elain had made. He made no protest when you plopped yourself on the dirt path. He only sat across from you and watched as you slowly ate your food. It nearly made you sick, if you were honest. You hadn’t experienced this level of hunger since you were human. You remembered when Feyre would bring food home, how you would have to eat slowly so you wouldn’t vomit it all up. There was something about such extreme hunger that it almost felt like food couldn’t save you from the gnawing pain. 

“I still do not quite believe you’re really here,” you said. 

“I can promise you, I am.” Tamlin reached for your hand, and you allowed him to take it. His thumb stroked over your knuckles. “I have missed you. If I wasn’t concerned that an unprompted arrival would have waged a war no court could surely handle, I would have come sooner.”

“It was not right what they did…” You trailed off. 

Tamlin’s emerald green eyes twinkled with curiosity. “But?” he prompted. 

“I am not sure I can find it in my heart to leave them,” you said. His face dropped. His hand started to pull away, but you tightened your grip. “Feyre and Nesta are still here. While Feyre may have given the order to take me away, she is my sister. She sacrificed so much for our family. I feel like I would be throwing it all back in her face to go to Spring with you. At least when Elain left, she was going with Lucien to Day. People she could trust, you know. I worry that if I leave with you, she would never see me again.”

He straightened. “I would never keep you from your sister. Any of them. I have done little to prove such, but I have learned from my mistakes with Feyre. I have grown, am still growing, from them.”

“Not because of you,” you corrected. “You know how she feels about you. Even if I extend an invitation to her, she still may never come. And she may never extend one back. I could never forgive myself if I damaged our relationship so.”

Tamlin’s eyes searched yours. For what, you couldn’t be certain. 

“If she does so, she would be the one to damage the relationship. I have hurt her greatly, I understand. But, if she chooses to plant herself between you and I, that is her choice to make and her consequences to bear.” He reached over, cradling your face in his hand. “You are a grown female. If this is a mistake of its own, then it is your mistake to make. She cannot keep you here any better than I tried to keep her in Spring.”

You looked away. You pushed the plate away and began to rise. Tamlin followed after you. As you began to walk down the path, he trailed after you. He kept a distance between you, far enough that he wasn’t on your heels but close enough that he could be at your side in a few long strides. 

In your heart, you knew he was right. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, no matter how hard you tried. After everything Feyre has done, after all she has suffered, staying with her was the least you could do. Yet, why would you sacrifice your happiness for hers when she was so quick to rip it from you without even listening to what you had to say? You could not yet forget  the cold look in her eyes as she ordered Rhysand to winnow you away. She was not your sister then. She was anything but. 

“Come to Spring,” Tamlin said from behind you. You paused in your step. You did not turn, but you listened. “It does not have to be permanent. Come to Spring, see if this is worth it. If you decide that it is not, then I will not stop you from returning here. I will respect whatever choice you make, but I would appreciate it if you could give us a fair shot. That is all I ask of you, I swear it.”

You turned. You looked past Tamlin at the River House. You were certain that Feyre and Rhysand were trying to listen in on the conversation. You were sure they were waiting for your answer. But, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care what they thought. After all, they hadn’t cared to ask if you even wanted Tamlin as a mate. 

“One chance,” you said. “One chance, and if I decide to that I would rather a relationship with Feyre, you must not follow.”

“I promise, whatever you decide in the end, I shall respect it.”

Feyre watched as you gripped Tamlin’s arm, an apologetic smile on your lips. She had a million things she wished to say to you—a hundred warnings, a few hundred thousand promises to have her door open to you if you ever want to come back, and an acceptance to the offer to visit Spring in a month’s time. Instead of saying any of those things, she mouthed a goodbye while Tamlin winnowed you away. 

Rhys’s hand fell to her shoulders, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. Somewhere in the distance, she could see Nesta and Cassian hovering. Elain and Lucien busied themselves with clearing the dishes. 

“She’ll be alright,” Rhys said. “He is not so stupid as to make the same mistakes again.”

Feyre hummed. “Is this where you say it's different with mates?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen too many awful mated couples to say that with any ounce of sincerity. But, I will say, he does seem different with her.”

“And if he isn’t,” Nesta said, stepping toward her, “he will pay tenfold for any pain he causes her.”

Feyre nearly laughed as she watched Cassian nod enthusiastically to Nesta’s threat as he bounced Nyx on his hip. She could only hope that you knew how protected you were—that you had the entirety of the Night Court to support you should trouble ever make its way to you. But any laughter she had, any words she wanted to say, died in her throat as shadows flooded the River House. 

Azriel. 

Shit. Rhys had sent him off on a mission a few days prior. Azriel had been reluctant to go—one of the few times she was certain that Azriel would fight her mate to the death on an issue. But it was Feyre’s promise to keep you safe in the River House that gave him leave to go. She had forgotten that when she had the letter sent to Tamlin, when she bid you goodbye. You were gone now and, worse, you hadn’t said goodbye to him. 

“Where. Is. She.”

Feyre turned, looking at Azriel’s towering form darkening the doorway. His wings were flared out behind him, beating furiously as his shadows continued to search the home for any sign of you.

“She has gone to Spring, with Tamlin.”

Azriel growled. His nostrils flared. The shadows began to swirl around Feyre. Rhys took a step in front of her, ready to block any attack sent her way. Would Azriel attack her? Why would he be so upset about not being able to say goodbye to you? She knew he pined after you, but she thought it was like Mor and Elain. Something one-sided. Had she missed something? 

“It was her choice, brother,” Rhys said. “We are welcome to visit her whenever we so please. If you would like, we can go now, just so you may have a chance to talk to her.”

“If I go to Spring, I’m bringing her straight here. This is where she belongs. Not with that swine of a High Lord.”

“She has every right to choose to be with her mate—”

“No!” Azriel snapped. “I am her mate!”

It felt like time froze. Everyone stared at the Shadowsinger. Even Elain and Lucien came out from the kitchen, concern about his antics. Feyre blinked. No, that couldn’t be. Tamlin was your mate. You had felt the bond with him, and he you. 

“Triads are a thing of legend,” Rhys said slowly. “They haven’t existed in millennia…Cauldron, no one has ever been sure they were ever truly real. You aren’t suggesting…”

“All I know is that the bond snapped when I found her crying after Nyx’s birth, so certain she’d lose her sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in one fell swoop that all three of you surviving overwhelmed her. It snapped as I held her, trying to reassure her that all was right. That no one would hurt her or her family.” Azriel took a step toward them, glowering. “You have sent my mate into a lion’s den. Lesser males have killed for lesser slights.”

“Azriel, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” Feyre tried. 

But he was already gone—wings rustling against the wind as he flew away. To where, she couldn’t say for certain. 

PART TWO

[azrielsdove]

1K Celebration Fic List

These are the stories I have planned out to thank you all for 1K followers! I cannot believe so many of you want to read what I write and I hope you will love these as well ❤️. This may not be the order I post them in, and I will update this (along with my main masterlist) with links as they’re posted!

Forbidden Love: Lucien x IC Member!Reader

It is no secret that your courts don’t get along, that anything other than a professional relationship would be seen as betrayal. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop your heart from being captured by the emissary of the Spring Court.

Littlest Joy: Cassian x Pregnant!Reader

The Night the High Lord Fell: Rhysand x Reader

When Feyre rejects the mating bond, choosing to marry Tamlin instead, Rhysand doesn’t know how to keep on going. He leans heavily on you, his closest friend, as the two of you figure out where to go from here.

Scarred: Azriel x Reader

A nasty incident at one of the Illyrian training camps brings Azriel’s trauma to light, a shame he didn’t like to discuss with you. You take the time to help your mate through his emotions, filling him back up with love.

Petals and Pain: Tamlin x Reader

The events following UTM and the war with Hybern have rendered the High Lord a shell of himself. The court has fallen into disarray, the male who runs it rarely seen. You decide to go up to the manor one night to speak to your old friend, to try to help the court and High Lord thrive again.

[velarisnightsky444]

Insufferable

Angstober Day 3: Miscommunication with Lucien

CW: Tamlin, angst with a happy ending, miscommunication, implied SA(not super obvious, but if you know, you know)

AN: So sorry this is late! Today I'm catching up with my October fics! This takes place during ACOMAF, when Feyre would be in the Night Court. I tried to make YN tomboyish without making her a pick me, but sorry if she gives pick me vibes.

Summary: YN has lived in the Spring Court her entire life. When Lucien arrived, the two became fast friends. YN fell in love with him. But when she overhears a conversation between him and Tamlin, her heart is broken.

Word Count: 1.5k

October Masterlist

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You watched Lucien as he pulled back the string of his bow, his russet eye unwavering and focused on the target.

His long, fiery hair was pulled back, secured to keep it out of his face. His tan skin was golden under the setting sun.

And his face. His beautiful face. You had missed being able to see his whole face.

Once Tamlin got Feyre back from the Night Court, you would need to thank her for setting everyone free from Amarantha, simply because you could see Lucien's face again.

He let the string go, and you watched in anticipation, your eyes following the arrow until it buried itself right in the center of the target.

"I win," Lucien grinned, turning his smug attention towards you.

"It was close," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

"It was," he agreed with a nod. "But not close enough. I win."

You rolled your eyes, but had to bite your lip to keep back a smile. You watched his muscled form as he walked toward the target, collecting the arrows and placing them back in his quiver.

"It's getting dark, Y/N/N" he observed as he neared you again. "Your father will be waiting for you."

"Yes, I'm aware," you sighed.

Your father would be waiting at the manor, getting his horse ready to take the two of you back to the village. He would likely scold you for participating in such an unbecoming activity, but he knew very well what to expect from you, by now. A part of him would always secretly love you for it.

It wasn't that you refused to be a proper lady. You loved wearing dresses and spending your time with other females. You enjoyed cooking, didn't even mind taking over the house chores. And you had surprisingly proper etiquette for a poor village girl.

You could act like a lady with no complaints when the occasion called for it. But you needed a balance.

You needed adventure, and excitement. And you did not want to act like a proper lady all of the time.

The Fae in your village had always sneered about you when you were a child, gossiping when they saw you coming home covered in mud, climbing a tree, or playing with the other boys.

"It's because she doesn't have a mother," they would say. "A male cannot raise a lady on his own."

But your mother had died in childbirth. That wasn't your father's fault. Nor was it yours, as he always insisted.

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You woke bright and early the next morning to go back to the manor with your father. You rode on horseback together, every morning since you were a child.

Your father worked as one of Tamlin's sentries. Since you had no mother to watch you, he began taking you with him since he first got the job, when you were just a toddler.

Once you were old enough to watch yourself, you realized you loved going with him so much, you didn't want to stop.

It wasn't until two centuries ago that Lucien arrived. The second your eyes met, you had fallen head over heels for him. But he hadn't shown any interest in you, not like that. So you settled for being his friend.

He was the closest friend you'd ever had. He was only a decade older than you, and he had a dry sense of humor that you loved. He let you hunt with him, and challenged you to competitions of all sorts. He didn't care that you were a lady, and he didn't expect you to act like one.

When you arrived to the manor, you were informed that Tamlin and Lucien were taking care of business. You ignored the disappointment that settled in your gut.

Before Lucien, you had spent a lot of your days in the library of the manor. One of the Lesser Fae servants had even taught you to read there.

You settled in by the fireplace, reading an adventure novel you had loved when you were young. Every now and then, you reread it to remind yourself of the simple innocence of childhood.

When you had finished the short book, you sighed, stretching out your limbs, and getting to your feet.

You decided to venture out into the manor, just to see if Lucien had returned from the business he was attending to.

Your shoes clacked against the marble floors of the manor, until you found Lucien sitting alone in the dining room. He was not eating; he was just sitting there, staring at the table.

"Lu?" you asked, frowning as you approached him. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, Y/N," he murmured, the words unconvincing. Your brows furrowed. He very rarely called you by your full name.

"You don't seem fine," you said, sitting in the chair next to him.

"Just leave me alone," he nearly whispered, not even glancing up to meet your eyes.

"Lu--" you began, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, snarling and shaking your hand off of him.

You flinched, eyes going wide. He had never raised his voice at you, nor had he ever spoken to you in such a disrespectful manner.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Just leave," he repeated, voice breaking.

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You couldn't sleep that night. You tossed and turned, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you had done wrong. But you could think of nothing.

You were hesitant to return to the manor the next day, but you did. You made to decision to seek out Tamlin, and ask if Lucien had mentioned anything to him.

You and Tamlin had never been close, but he'd known you since you were a toddler. He had a soft spot for you. He had made sure to buy more children's books for the library, and he always let you eat whatever you wanted from the kitchens. When you were young, he made sure to assign a servant to watch you everyday.

As you neared his study, the sound of voices inside carried out to you. You stepped closely warily, pressing your ear to the door.

"You'll have to put up with her for a bit longer," Tamlin was saying.

"I can't fucking stand her. Don't you think I've had to put up with her for long enough?" was Lucien's harsh reply.

You flinched, the words cutting deep. Did he mean you? You always thought he enjoyed your time together.

"She is our guest," Tamlin snarled. "We have offered her hospitality, and you will be civil to her."

"You have no idea just how insufferable she is!" Lucien snapped. "She never leaves me alone. She's always right there. I fucking hate it, Tamlin."

You had heard enough. You felt sick to your stomach. You pulled away from the door, tears lining your eyes as you quietly walked away.

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You went back to next day, only because you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of avoiding him. Not after everything he had said about you.

Your father had questioned you when your tears had begun to fall on the ride over. But you insisted that you were okay. He was still concerned, but he knew better than to push.

You spent the day in the library again, reading something new, this time. You wiped your tears and sniffled through the entire book.

"Y/N/N?" you heard. The first sound you'd heard in hours.

You glanced up, meeting Lucien's russet eye. Your shoulders slumped, your lip trembling pathetically at the mere sight of him.

"I wanted to apologize for the other day," he said calmly. "I was cold to you, and I shouldn't have raised my voice. I'm sorry."

"Are you apologizing because you're sorry, or because Tamlin is making you?" you challenged, eyes welling with tears of hurt and fury.

"What?" he asked, his face twisting in an expression of genuine confusion.

"I heard you talking to him yesterday," you scoffed. "You said you didn't want to put up with me anymore, and that I was insufferable."

His brows furrowed for a moment, then clarity fell upon his face. He sighed, shaking his head and approaching the couch you were sitting on.

"I wasn't talking about you, Y/N/N," he assured you.

"Who else could you have possibly been talking about?" you demanded.

"Ianthe," he explained. "She doesn't leave me alone. And she's very pushy. I can't stand her."

You frowned, recalling the words that were said. Yes, it did make sense for them to be about Ianthe.

"Oh," you said weakly, cheeks heating.

"I would never say or think such things about you," he promised, placing a hand on your warm cheek. "You mean everything to me."

"Really?" you whispered, meeting his eye.

"Yes," he nodded. "The other day, I was upset because of Ianthe, not you. I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," you said. "I'm sorry for the way Ianthe is treating you."

He shrugged, though something skin to pain flashed in his eyes. You reached out, cupping his face like he was doing to you.

He smiled softly, leaning in a planting a kiss on your lips. Surprise rendered you frozen at first, but then, you relaxed against his lips. And you kissed him back.

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Kink/Fluff/Angstober Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @danikamariemain @book-obsessed124 @winchesterbbygrl @kissesfrommads @binnieonabike @fourthwing4ever @ghostslittlegf @mollygetssherlockcoffee @hawke1917 @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @honk4emoboys @rogerbarnesxx @a-courtof-azriel @kodokunarisu-blog @dxjaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @littlepippilongstocking

Lucien Taglist: @roxan1930

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @anneas11 @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking @effervescentbutterfly

comment to be added to any of the taglists!

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[inky-writing]

The Dryad

Part 2

Tamlin x reader

Warnings: blood, scars, wounds, idk, spoiler if you didn't read at least the first three tomes of acotar, fire, violence

Word count: 844

The forest was ablaze with chaos. Smoke coiled through the trees, a dark, suffocating shroud that choked the air and blotted out the sunlight. Y/N clung to the massive oak at the heart of her grove, her hands trembling as she felt the searing pain that came from the deep connection she shared with it. The attackers had come swiftly and without warning, their hatred sharp and unyielding.

“Lesser fae filth,” one of them snarled as they swung an axe into the trunk of the tree. The impact sent a jolt of agony through Y/N’s body, and she cried out, the sound raw and broken. They didn’t care about the sacredness of the forest or the life that thrummed within it; they only saw her as an abomination that needed to be erased.

She had tried to fight. She’d summoned the magic of the forest, had whispered to the roots and vines, calling them to rise and defend her. But there were too many of them, and her strength was failing. The purists’ fire spread quickly, licking hungrily at the edges of the grove. The flames grew closer to the tree she was bound to, and Y/N���s vision blurred with tears.

“Please,” she whispered to the forest, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “Help me.”

The purists laughed, their cheers ringing hollow in her ears. “No one’s coming for you, dryad. No one cares.”

But they were wrong.

A roar split the air, primal and furious, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. The faes froze, their weapons poised mid-swing as a massive, golden-furred beast burst through the trees. Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, was a blur of rage and claws, his beast form towering over the attackers. His green eyes blazed with fury, and his roar turned to a snarl as he lunged at the nearest male.

Chaos erupted anew. Tamlin tore through the attackers with a ferocity that left no room for mercy. They screamed and scattered, but there was no escape from his wrath. His claws slashed through their ranks, his fangs tearing into those who dared to harm what he had come to protect.

Y/N could barely process what was happening. Her vision swam, and the bond she shared with the tree pulsed weakly, the connection fading as the damage grew too great. She felt herself slipping, her strength draining away.

When the last of the attackers fell, Tamlin turned to her, his beast form shimmering as he shifted back to his fae self. His golden hair was disheveled, and his hands were stained with blood, but his focus was entirely on her.

“Y/N,” he breathed, rushing to her side. He gathered her into his arms, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his movements. Her head lolled against his chest, and she felt the faint tremor in his hands as he held her.

“Tamlin…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel his warmth, the steady beat of his heart, but it wasn’t enough to ground her.

“Stay with me,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. He pressed his forehead to hers, his golden hair mingling with hers. “You can’t leave me. Not now.”

Through the haze of pain, she heard him speak again, his voice low and raw. “The bond… it snapped for me. I was just too much of a coward to admit it. I was scared, Y/N. Scared of failing you, of losing you like I lost everyone.”

She wanted to respond, to tell him it was all right, but the darkness pulled her under before she could.

Two years later, the grove was whole again. The ancient oak that Y/N was bound to stood tall and strong, unblemished, its roots deep. The forest hummed with life, a testament to the care and love that had gone into its restoration.

Y/N stood beneath the oak, her hand resting on its trunk. She was healed, though the scars of that day lingered in her memory and on her body. She glanced at Tamlin as he approached, his presence warm that brought a soft smile to her lips.

“It’s thriving again,” he said, his voice quiet. His green eyes met hers, and she saw the unspoken question there, the lingering guilt that he still carried.

“It is,” she replied, stepping closer to him. She reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “Because of you.”

Tamlin shook his head. “Because of us.” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, Y/N. I swear it.”

Y/N leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, the bond between them humming with quiet certainty. For the first time in years, she felt truly safe.

The forest whispered around them, its magic wrapping them in its embrace. Their story wasn’t over; it was only beginning.