#that lucien is better off without someone like him

[yaralulu]

Can you imagine lucien opening the door to his manor only to find all his belongings from the spring court dumped on his doorstep essentially signifying that tamlin really doesn’t want him coming back and that any effort to reconcile their friendship is done and gone.What he doesn’t know is that tamlin is completely internalizing all the shitty things rhys said to him about deserving to be alone for the rest of his life and this is him accepting and believing that he really does deserve to be alone,that this is his punishment and he deserves it ☹️☹️☹️.

[marvelsmylife]

Off Limits

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Plot: Azriel was drawn to you ever since Cassian (your older half-brother) brought you to the house of wind.

Azriel knew you were off limits, but he couldn’t help himself. You were Cassian’s younger sister who lived with your mother up until her death. Cassian was upset with himself when he realized his mother passed away while he was away and you had to handle everything on your own.

As a way to make it up, he begged Rhysand and Feyre if they could move into the house of wind with him. He didn’t want you living in the Illyrian camp you were currently living in and wanted to make up for not being in your life growing up. Rhysand and Feyre obviously agreed for you to move in and said you could stay as long as you’d like.

Everyone in the inner circle made you feel welcome. Out of everyone, Azriel was the one who was the most welcoming towards you. Azriel didn’t know why he felt drawn toward you but he found himself by your side at all times. 

Rhysand noticed what Azriel was doing and warned him about his actions. “You know how protective Cassian is with y/n. Unless you are serious about pursuing a relationship with her, you better back off.” 

What Rhysand didn’t know was that by that point Azriel was in love with you and no one, not even Cassian would stop him from being with you. 

The more time you spent together the more possessive Azriel became towards you. Poor Lucien couldn’t even look over at you without Azriel growling at him. Everyone looked over at Cassian to see his reaction to the scene that happened in front of him

“Are we seriously not going to acknowledge that Azriel growled at Lucien?” Feyre asked everyone at the table, concern written all over their face.

Cassian shrugged his shoulders “Why? He’s being protective over his mate.” Everyone gave Cassian a confused look before he added “Come on, I’m not the only one who smells their mating bond; right?”

Everyone looked over at you and Azriel and suddenly realized Azriel was holding you possessively. As if he was worried someone from the table was going to take you away from him. “I knew but it wasn’t my business to comment on it” Amren replied.

 “When did this happen,” Feyre asked.

“The bond officially snapped two weeks” Azriel replied before you looked over at you “but I felt myself drawn towards her ever since Cassian brought her to stay with us.”

Everything started to fall into place for the inner circle as they pieced together why you were always with Azriel and why they hadn’t seen the two of you for two weeks.

You noticed the hurt expression on some of your friend's faces and went into damage control mode. “Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner” you apologized to everyone at the table “We would have told you sooner but we were-”.

“Do not finish that sentence” Cassian warned “I might be ok with the fact that you two are mates but that doesn’t mean I’m ok with hearing you talk about what you two do behind closed doors”.

Not liking the way your brother was speaking to the both of you, Azriel muttered under his breath “We’ve done it outside as well” as he took a sip of his wine. 

“Oh no,” you whispered as Cassian jumped out of his seat, stalked over to where you and Azriel were seated, and punched Azriel in the face. There were gasps as a fight quickly unfolded in front of them.

[fever-fluff]

Home

Azriel is lost, and cannot seem to find his way home, and it's tearing him apart

word count: 1.1k

Part II

Azriel is spiralling. He had convinced himself he was of equal standing with his brothers, but the past few years has proven otherwise. Three sisters for three brothers, that was what he had convinced himself of, and had seemed to be what Elain had wanted. But the bond he was so convinced was wrong, the bond he was so sure that would break apart as soon as the Cauldron had realised its mistake and weaved one between the two of them instead, never waivered.

And now, he sits opposite that of the woman he is so sure he loves, is the one from him, as she rips his already fractured heart in two. She's crying, and there's no part of Azriel that finds any satisfaction in it, no matter how much he wishes he could. She is the one doing this, choosing Lucien over her. But he cannot blame her.

For a time, they seemed to be happy, even if there were those around him that didn't approve. Lucien had accepted Elain's choice without anger or betrayal, and had wished she could find the happiness in Azriel that she could not seem to find in him.

It was Rhysand and Cassian, the males he called his brothers for centuries now, who had been angry for Lucien. Both of them understood a pain like that - both having to watch as their mates found solace outside their arms for a while.

it had taken weeks of coaxing from Nesta and Feyre for them to even look at him, but whether it was for their sister's benefit or his, he wasn't so sure.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, and Azriel found himself the happiest he had ever felt, but it seemed the ever observant spymaster began to miss details. He lost himself in that feeling, not realising the person he found it in was not following down the same path.

It had taken Elain five years to admit her mistake, nothing in the eyes of a fae's long lifespan, but to Azriel he felt like he'd lost centuries.

And now, he watches the world he so sorely craved crumble at his feet with a measly few words.

"I'm sorry, Azriel.... I've hurt so many people because of this. I wanted someone who never should have been mine, while carelessly leaving the male made for me behind."

Azriel had thought his heart had cracked all those years ago when he realised he'd never have Mor in the way he wanted to, but he felt it now. That large, hollow crack that vibrated down the very centre, tearing every string that had slowly began to knit itself together without caring if he could ever mend it again.

He couldn't hear the rest of what Elain said over the cotton in his ears, didn't rise to see her out as she got up and left through the door.

He knows, he knows Lucien hasn't done this, that this is purely Elain's choice. The youngest Vanserra hasn't been seen since Elain had chosen Azriel, off on the continent somewhere with no contact and no sign of ever coming back.

his shadows swirl around him, the thickest they'd been in months. They had never truly gotten used to Elain's presence, and her timidness towards them had Azriel sending them off without a care if it had made her more comfortable. Now, the wrap around him, twisting and turning as if trying to find the ache that their master seemingly has, but finding no open wound.

He takes whatever comfort he can find in them. His shadows have been the only thing that has ever truly been his, no fear of someone ever taking them away from him, being better than him. He is the Night court's Shadowsinger, there is no one else who can fill that role.

And so, Azriel grasps onto that thread and tugs so hard it will either break or rip his hand where it sits. Rhysand cannot find enough problems for him to fix, Cassian refuses to spar more than usual, and his spies have begun to disappear when he is around, leaving their findings in reports he pours over meticulously. He's barely eating, most definitely not sleeping, but he hasn't had to feel the affects of what had happened with Elain.

It's only a matter of time when it fails, Fae are strong, but not indefinitely. It isn't when everyone expects it though.

if not for Cassian, who had watched his brother go down like a rock does when dropped into a pool of water, steady and unmoving, no one would have seen the spymaster hit the treeline so hard they'd ripped his wings to shreds as they lay spread out and lax.

Had waking up been optional, Azriel would have decided against it. Rhysand looked at him with so much pity in his eyes that he had to turn away, Feyre sat at his window, refusing to even acknowledge he was awake.

"You're on leave indefinitely, you're no help to yourself, never mind the rest of us, in the state you're in." Rhysand's words had cut him deeply. His mind swirling as he realised he wasn't good enough to hold the position he'd cherished for centuries. But what could he say against it unless he tried to lie? So he remained silent, eyes downcast as Rhysand went on.

"I'm sending you to the continent, away from -" he didn't need to finish. "With Mor's work, we've made a few connections, and you can stay and figure out for yourself what you need to do."

Azriel looked to Feyre, who had finally moved from the window and stood close to the side of his bed, beside her mate. "Az, please understand, we're worried for you, and this could do you some good."

He scoffed. They had each other to lean on, he had no one - never had anyone to call home. And now they were sending him away from the one place he could pretend to feel like it was. He'd lost the female he loved, and had now lost everything that made him who he was. Why should he even bother...

But the look on Rhysand's face told him he'd order it if it came to it. His brother may always wish those he loved had a choice, but he was still High Lord first, and what Azriel was doing wasn't something he could let slip without repercussions.

He'd go to the continent, spend however long necessary it took to convince his family that he was fit to come back, and he'd hide the despair better. Hide from them all and spend whatever time he could with them before it consumed him whole.

[acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies]

Opposite (part two)

Part 1 | Part 2

Azriel x reader, Cassian x best friend!reader, Eris x sister!reader, Lucien x sister!reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, elain slander, two overprotective brothers, ooc nesta (idk she punches elain), making out (at the end)

Summary: Cassian winnows reader to the Autumn Court comes back to the night court and beats the ever loving shit out of Azriel. After a couple of weeks Azriel heads to the Autumn Court with Rhysand for official business, he sees reader happy without him and his heart breaks.

a/n um this is a bit late i’m sorry, i’ll tag the people who asked to be tagged but if u want to be tagged just lemme know and specify which character you want to be tagged for 🫶🏻 and i don’t know what’s treason in fae world and what’s not so bare with me

As I leave the apartment, I get startled when I see Cassian. “What are you doing here?” my voice is barely above a whisper.

“I know I can’t convince you to stay so at least let me take you to the Autumn Court,” he says his voice breaking at the end.

He grabs my hand and winnows us away.

I see the guards lining the palace, they give a slight nod at Cassian and me.

Knocking on Eris’ bedchambers. He looks startled to see me there especially with someone from Rhysand’s court.

My father, Beron, had me locked away until Eris let me out the day of his coronation. Ever since then we have exchanged letters and I have seen him and Lucien as an emissary of the Night Court.

His eyes dart from me and the big brute standing next to me. Cassian was the first to speak, “High Lord” he addresses with a curt nod.

Eris reciprocates the nod with “General Commander”.

“I’ll be off now” That’s the last thing I hear before Eris pulls me in for a hug. “What’s wrong, dove?” his voice is a soothing melody.

I pour my heart out and more to Eris as he awkwardly comforts me. The effort consoling me.

Back at the Night Court

“How could you?” Cassian punches Azriel’s face. “Cassian, stop it,” Elain begs.

Nesta scoffs at her, “Nesta, Feyre, do something,” she pleads. “Why?” Feyre asks, “You have a beautiful mate, so why would you break that poor girls heart by going after her mate,”.

Elain scoffed. “She deserved it, I mean she was so ugly why would someone pair someone like Azriel with a pig like her,”.

Feyre has barely a second to process the words that leave Elain’s mouth and how Nesta lunges at Elain.

Nesta lands punch after punch onto her face. “Cassian might not hit you but I certainly will,”.

Feyre gasps at the scene in front of her.

Her two sisters at each other’s throats while her mate’s two brothers about to kill each other.

She calls Rhysand through the bond, sighing in relief when he shows up almost immediately.

Rhysand grabs Cassian of a bloodied face she can sort of make out to be Azriel and Cassian after a while grabs his mate from the fist fight she was in.

Nesta is panting while staring at Elain, “Don’t you ever speak about her again she was a better sister than you have ever been.”

Azriel grabs a towel and wipes the blood of his face. “But Feyre, he loves me,” she says sobbing.

Feyre is about to reply when Azriel groans out, “No I don’t Elain” he continues when he sees her shocked expression. “Yeah the fucking aphrodisiac wore off,”.

He walks out the room.

A blanket of silence is thrown across the room. Rhysand is the first one to speak. “Aphrodisiac, but that’s grounds for treason,” he looks toward Feyre not wanting to throw her sister in prison without her approval.

But Feyre is already staring at her older sister. “As your High Lady, you have been sentenced to prison on grounds of treason and interference of a mating bond, how many years will be decided at the court date set next week. Guards take her away” With a nod and a flick of Feyre’s wrist, Elain disappears from the room.

Cassian takes Nesta up to their room. Feyre sighs and falls into Rhysand’s arms, “After the finalised sentence we’re going to go visit Y/N.”

3 Weeks Later

Eris had decided to bring Lucien over for a while. So while Eris had to deal with court matters, Lucien and I visited the people of the Autumn Court and baked and gardened.

The very first week was hell, I felt like shit, I would stay in my room wallowing in self pity. But then at the very end of that week. Eris barged into my room during one of my crying sessions.

He had used his High Lord voice to command me to take a shower and get ready for dinner with Lucien. Eris could be scary when he wanted and that moment was definitely one of those times.

They both tried their best to not remind me of Azriel and I appreciated their efforts.

One morning while we were eating breakfast together (Lucien had insisted that we eat breakfast and dinner together).

Lucien blurted out, “The Night Court is coming today, you know I heard some gossip about the spy-”.

He got cut off by a glare from Eris and time seemed to freeze at the mention of Azriel.

“What, ouch why are you- oh” Lucien mutters. “Sorry Y/N/N”.

“It’s ok you guys I don’t care anymore,” I assure them with a gentle smile. “Anyway what were you saying Luc?”.

“Nothing” he brushes it off nonchalantly.

An uncomfortable silence falls over us. “Luc you wanna come with me to the front gardens while Eris is off busy being a High Lord,” I say trying to break the awkwardness. He nods excitedly.

“Ok you guys have fun but stay safe,” Eris says placing a kiss on my forehead. “Don’t worry Eris safe is my middle name,” Lucien yells out laughing.

He picks me up on his back and we run to the front gardens. “Come on Luc faster,” I giggle out.

My laughs are cut short when I see Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta and Azriel.

He looks drained out and tired but my gaze snaps from him to the others.

“Rhysand, I presume you’re here for my brother?” I say tilting my head to the side. “You would be correct,” he replies.

Lucien looks over at me. “So,” he starts “Where’s your sister?” Nesta’s gaze hardens as it flits from me to Lucien. “The other one I mean,” he rushes to correct himself. I try to hid my smile but Nesta catches it and smiles back.

“She’s actually in pri-” Cassian speaks for the first time but he gets cut off by Eris, who seems to have found us. “Rhysand I see you’ve met my family,”

They continue chatting and heading to the castle but Azriel looks broken.

Lucien and I head to the gardens, he picks out a beautiful patterned leaf but all I can think about is Azriel.

The chilly wind decided to pick up just as we sat down. Heading inside I smile when I see Lucien’s hair whipping around his face. When we reach the safety of the castle, I shoot out fire from my fingertips into the pit.

Lucien sits down in front of the sofa where I was sitting, “Y/N/N” he sings out, “Can you please braid my hair?”.

Sighing dramatically I say, “I guess”.

I brush out his beautiful red hair and braid it the way he likes. Just as I finish the braid, Eris comes out with Rhysand, Feyre and the others he guides them to the door and Eris is about to shut the door when Azriel stops him.

“Can I talk to her?”

I can feel Eris’ gaze harden and he opens his mouth to say no when Azriel whispers out a broken “please”.

I finally snap “Eris it’s fine we’ll just be five minutes,”.

We head into one of the spare bedrooms.

“I missed you”

“Time is ticking, shadowsinger” I gesture towards the clock.

He takes a deep breath, “I love you and I’m sorry but Elain is in prison for treason”.

“What for?” I question curious. “Illegal possession and misuse of aphrodisiac. And interference between a mating bond,”.

I let out a breath. “So you didn’t cheat?”.

“No” he replies confidently. “She confessed to only kissing me and she couldn’t do anything else before I found out about her using it on me,”.

So that’s what everyone was trying to tell me.

“And when was that, Azriel?” I prod. “Right after you left, Cassian beat me up” He explains.

“Cassian beat you up? I’m sorry” I whisper.

“It’s alright” he says but then a cheeky smile graces his lips, “Maybe a couple of kisses will make it better?”.

“You’re an asshole, Azriel” I mumble back with a smile. “You love it.” he says back.

“I do” I sigh.

He gives me a boyish grin before smashing his lips against mine. My hands instinctively run through his dark locks. He pushes on the bed and crawls on top of me.

Gods I missed him. As if voicing my thoughts he breaks the kiss and breathlessly mutters “I missed you,”.

I roll us over and kiss his neck, biting and sucking his tanned skin. Going back to his lips I kiss them intensely, biting his lip.

Smiling in satisfaction as he groans into my mouth.

The door swings open.

“What is taking you guys so long, did you kill him or-” Lucien shouts.

“Lucien get out!”

a/n I MISS YOUR TANNED SKIN YOUR SWEET SMILEE anyway hope this doesn’t disappoint.

Tag list: @skyrider9 @piceous21 @crazylokonugget @fxckmiup

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: LET ME TELL YOU I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO FIGHT SOMEONE AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING THIS! Literally had this vision in my head and I got so heated I knew this was going to be a good chapter. MUAHAHA all the spooky vibes from Halloween are getting to me. I hope you guys enjoy this one because the plot is thickening. Also, I might be making a far stretch on one of the jokes i put in here... I am pretty sure these don't exist in ACOTAR but for the sake of the joke, just pretend they do 😭

Summary: After everyone in the Town House finding out about your night with Lucien and bond with Azriel, you have a nice relaxing night in with your girls... or so you thought it would be relaxing.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: lots of cursing, talk of wingspan and sex, verbal violence, and potential grammar errors

Word Count: ≈ 3,154

Chapter 5: "GYNO?"

While you were getting ready, Feyre and Rhysand were back in their room discussing what they had just learned about you-

“What should we do Rhys? Az has been wishing for his mate for so long, but little does he know that he has been so infatuated with Elain it’s caused a blockage of his bond with y/n!” as she too is getting ready for girl’s night.

“The only thing we can do is be there for y/n and for Az when the time comes. This is a very peculiar situation y/n and Az have gotten themselves into,” he chuckles as he places his hands on the sides of her waist looking at her getting ready.

“I know, and this just has gotten messier with time. It already was messy enough with Lucien being Elain's mate and her liking Az. But now, y/n being Azriel’s mate and liking Lucien just seems way too coincidental. I can tell she likes him; she is just in denial because she's still holding onto some glimmer of hope with Azriel,” she pauses. “Something just feels off Rhys,” as she starts to think through what could be going on.

“I also feel like there is something is off, and I think it’s deeply rooted. Only time will tell Feyre darling,” he says as he kisses the top of her head as she finishes up getting ready.

“I would just hate for any of them to get hurt…” she frowns up at Rhys.

“And no one will, because we will be there for them every step of the way no matter what happens,” he reassures her with a soft kiss on her lips. “Now, go have some fun with the girls tonight! But not too much fun,” he looks at her with a playful smile.

“We cannot promise anything,” she giggles. “GNI here I come!”

“GNI?” Rhys questions at the unfamiliar term.

“GNI stands for “Girls Night In,” usually it is GNO, but staying in sounds better since we were out a Rita's not too long ago.” She explains.

“GNO? Isn't that a lady doctor?” Feyre burst out into full on laughter. Tears were spilling from her eyes from laughing so hard. Rhys just looked at her questioningly because he didn’t understand what was so funny.

“Rhys… oh bless your soul… GNO is the same thing as GNI, but you go out instead of staying inside. A lady doctor is called a gyno! Oh, I am so telling the girls this!” As she wipes the tears from her eyes and catches her breath.

“Ahh shit… I'm never living that down now…”

“Nope,” as she pops the end of the word as she walks down to the living room for girl's night.

You walk down the stairs into the main living room to find all the girls already there giggling over wine all cozy in their pajamas.

“Wow, already started without me huh?” you say with a fake frown. They all look at you and smile, clearly already seeing some effect of the wine Mor brought.

“No! Just decided to pre-game a little bit!” Mor smiles at you and walks to you to link arms and lead you over to the group. You giggle.

“Well then, the party has arrived! Looks like I need a couple of glasses to catch up to you all!” you laugh. You look over and spot Amren and give her a polite smile. “It's nice to see you again Amren!”

“You too girl,” she says. “We have a lot of catching up to do!” She eyes you a bit eager to know what has been going on, but Feyre steps in.

“Nonono! I am putting a veto on discussing all things that have happened recently! We are here to forget about that and have fun! Now ladies raise your glasses,” Amren rolls her eyes, but everyone raises their wine, “and cheers to us girls and the wonderful night ahead of us!” Everyone whoops and laughs as they take a swig of their wine. You decide to down your glass to try and catch up as everyone cheers you on!

“Thats how you do it baby!” Mor pats you on the back and goes to pour you another glass.

“Oh, this night in is going to be quite interesting,” Amren says with a grin.

“Speaking of, I have something to tell you guys about what Rhys asked me earlier,” Feyre burst into laughter.

“What is it? Tell us girl!” Amren says inpatient with her laughing.

“Rhysand asked me what GNI meant, and I explained that it is basically GNO but instead of going out we stay in the comfort of our own home,” Feyre explained trying to hold in her laughter.

“Ok so like basic information, I don’t understand what is so funny?” Nesta asked confused.

“It gets funny I promise! Rhysand didn’t know what the abbreviation of GNO meant either. He said, and I quote, “GNO? Isn't that a lady doctor?”” As Feyre erupted into a fit of laughter. “He thought GNO was a gyno!”

You were the first to laugh, “You’re joking?”

“I wish I was!” Feyre was on the ground crying, and everyone soon joined her. Even Amren choked on her wine a bit from laughing at the situation Feyre just informed you guys of. Oh, poor Rhys is never going to hear the end of this one from any of you guys.

A couple of glasses later everyone is most definitely feeling the effects of the wine a lot stronger than when you first started. All of you are cuddled up together in blankets giggling over anything and everything. You decided to bring something up that you have been curious about ever since you saw it.

“Hey, Nesta! When I came home earlier today, I saw Cassian reading one of your little books.” You wink at her. “What is the book about, and why was Cassian studying it so intently?” Nesta blushes.

“I made him read a specific chapter on something that I wanted to try…” she admits quietly as she drinks more of her wine. Everyone started screaming asking to know what it was.

“Oh, Nesta come on!! You have to tell us what it is now! We are all girls here, we can handle book smut, I'm sure!” Mor says as she sits up eagerly.

“Yeah, please Nesta!” everyone says simultaneously.

“You guys want a smutty bedtime story?” She giggles as she leaves to go to get her book, and everyone cheers. Nesta comes back with the book, and everyone is already in giggles excited about hearing something they might be able to apply into their lives. “Get comfortable girls because this chapter is going to be wild!”

Everyone’s faces were bright pink along with their jaws being on the floor hearing Nesta read the chapter from the sheer number of descriptions given. Amren was the only one who remained stone faced throughout the whole thing, but you could tell every word that fell from Nesta's lips were remembered by Amren.

“Well, I can surely see why you had Cassian read that chapter now,” Amren smirked as she finished off her glass.

“Especially with his wingspan,” you said quietly, but it did not go unheard as everyone looked your way. “What?! You guys act like you don’t see his wings every day! A girl can appreciate big wingspans and think nothing of it!” Except you do think about it a lot. Curious to know which one of the bat boys has the biggest one. Everyone giggles at your comment.

“Don’t let Cassian hear that y/n, it’ll go straight to his head and then he will tell Rhysand and Az that he has the biggest one,” Nesta said with a knowing smile.

“I don’t mean to be inappropriate, but I think everyone forgets about Rhyland's wings since he only has them for special occasions.” Feyre said smirking.

“Oh little sister, are you challenging my mate’s wingspan?” Nesta eyed playfully, but before Feyre could respond you chirped in with one more fact.

“Ladies we are forgetting about one more male,” you started to blush at the thought of your mate’s wingspan.

“Oh, my gods, Azriel!” Mor finished it for you with a shout, totally feeling dumb not even thinking about the male. “If I am being brutally honest, I think he blows the other two out the water with his wingspan,” Mor said with a smirk as she twirled her wine glass and gave you a wink. This made you really blush now.

“You really think Azriel has the biggest wingspan?” Feyre asked.

“Yes.” Amren spoke and this all made you laugh hearing her agree on something like this.

“Has anyone seen Azriel’s-” Nesta tried to question.

“No,” was heard throughout the room before Mor looked at you knowingly.

“The only person in this room who could even get that close would-be y/n,” Mor said matter of factly. You blushed so hard you hid your face behind your hands.

“Mor! Stop I don’t want that image in my head!” You said giggling.

“I wouldn’t mind it…” Nesta said with a smirk remembering her thought of both Cassian and Azriel. Once again everyone laughed. This night was full of so much comfort and laughter you truly felt so at peace. However, with wine come consequences.

“Oh I forgot y/n only favors a certain red head in bed,” Mor said without thinking.

“MOR!!” You glared at her, and she slapped her hands over her mouth and said sorry. But it was too late, they all heard it.

“YOU HAD SEX WITH LUCIEN?! I thought yall just cuddled all night?!” Feyre asked with a squeal scooting closer to you.

“Ah shit- I guess yall get to know everything now… Before I met you guys, I lived in the spring court for a while,” Mor sat back and nursed her wine waiting for the reaction of the others on what you were about to tell. You tell them the story just as you had with Mor in the bathroom at Rita's. Everyone was in shock to find out about your hidden casual sex relationship with the autumn court male. Feyre was once again the one to speak up first.

“Is what they say true?”

“Is what true Feyre?” you asked back.

‘About them you know… fucking you with the fire in their veins?” Feyre asked eagerly. Everyone then scooted closer to you just like Feyre did earlier. You giggled at their anticipation.

“Yes, and it is so much more than you could even imagine.” Everyone squealed at your response!

“Screw my book y/n, tell us about a time you and Lucien had sex together! I want to hear all about the fire thing!!” Nesta said as everyone else agreed, even Amren is eager. However, before you could respond you heard a sweet voice you wished you hadn’t.

“Y/n, you had sex with my mate?!” Elain said as she had just walked through the door with Azriel, both had bags in their hands from their shopping spree.

“Oh shi-” Mor said before Elain moved closer to you, Azriel following close behind her eyeing you with anger.

“Answer me y/n! Did you or did you not have sex with my mate?!” Elain raised her voice this time.

“Elain I- I don’t know what you heard but I can explain,” you tried to reason with her for gods know what. You owed this female nothing but here you were trying to diffuse the situation. She threw her bag to the floor and pointed a finger at your face.

“NO! You expect me to hear you out after I come home to see everyone having a girl’s night without me, let alone talking about you and Lucien having sex? You are such a backstabbing sl-” before Elain could finish that sentence off Nesta was at her side.

“Elain, seriously drop it. Y/n has a valid explanation, just hear her out,” Nesta pleaded but Elain didn’t care. Maybe it was the protectiveness of the bond coming out of her, but she was not backing down.

“No! I am done being the polite one! You had sex with my mate behind my back! Is that why you both left Rita's? I cannot believe you y/n! No wonder you haven’t found your mate! It’s because you are too busy being a slut and fucking someone else’s mate!” She was fully in your face now; you looked behind her to see Azriel looking like he was about to kill you for hurting Elain. Feyre tried to step in this time.

“Elain, you do not know what you are talking about, you need to stop now before you say something you will regret!”

“Feyre, I do know what I am talking about! I heard it clear as night! She fucked my mate!” You just about had enough of being talked about this way. You kindly pushed Feyre and Nesta away from Elain and gave them small smiles to say sorry for what you were about to do.

“You know Elain, that’s a lot of talk coming from you. A female who has a mate that gladly agreed to her wishes on space. He sleeps alone every night waiting for the day that you will accept him! Oh, but poor Elain has no one to love and accept her! Wake the fuck up! Your mate has done everything for you since the day he found out, and yet you are sleazing yourself away to someone else!” You point at Azriel. “You want to talk about a slut, look in the fucking mirror!” Nesta and Feyre are looking at each other not knowing what to do, while Amren and Mor decide to stay out of it and observe the situation, ready to jump in when needed.

“Be careful how you speak about-” Azriel’s voice said dangerously low, but before he could finish that sentence you cut him off.

“Oh, don’t give me that shit Az! It might have worked in that meeting but it sure as hell isn’t going to work here!” You glared at him. “You are just as much a part of this as I am! Letting her fawn over you knowing she has found her mate is ludicrous! Especially when you’re the one who has dreamt of having a mate to call his own for years! What if your mate was standing right in front of you all along?” Everyone in the room goes silent at your words as you step into his personal space. Azriel's shadows are dancing furiously around him as he glares at you. You try pulling on the bond but are met with nothing in return except emptiness. He still doesn't know.

“You bitch!” Elain cautiously pushes you away from Az. “How dare you talk to us this way when you’re the one who threw themself at my mate knowingly! At least we have self-control!” she pushes her finger against your chest. You swat it away.

“GODS ELAIN! Why do you always have to play the victim! You can never admit to anything you have done wrong! You and him both,” you point at her and Az, “are hurting more people than you realize with whatever you want to call yourselves!”

“Well at least we are happy, unlike your mate less self-” Elain tried to say as you yelled-

“THAT’S IT!” in an instant everyone was in between you. Nesta, Feyre, and Amren blocked you from Elain as Azriel and Mor held you back. “Let me go Azriel!” you thrash in their grip. You watch as Feyre and Nesta try and calm their sister. Amren serving as a middle ground between both groups. You keep thrashing around but it's no use. The shadow singer has you in a tight hold as Mor holds one of your arms. You look at Mor with pleading eyes, but she just shakes her head at you as if to say, “fighting her isn’t right.” And you knew that… You were just so taken back by both her and Azriel being against you without hearing your explanation. Sure, Elain was somewhat valid, but nowhere near as valid as the points you were making.

You soon calmed down and looked at Mor again, “Can you please let me go now? I won’t do anything… anymore.” Mor looked at Az and he put his lips against you ear and said-

“If you so much as think about insulting her or hurting her, I will not hesitate to fire back violence, so be a good girl and walk away.” You cannot lie, having your mate that close to you and hearing him call you a good girl had your heart betraying you for a moment. You shoved yourself out of their grip and stormed towards the door before you would do anything regrettable.

“Where do you think you’re going?! I am not done with you y/n!” Elain screamed as you walked past, the jealousy of the bond obviously still influencing her. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Azriel now trying to calm her down. Tears collected in your eyes at the sight. He was supposed to be doing that with you, not her! You begged, screamed, yelled, pushed, and thrashed against that bond inside of you fighting for any kind of response. You don’t know how long you stood there mindlessly watching him comfort Elain as you used every fiber of your being against the bond and got nothing in return. That was your last straw. The wicked voice in your head took full control. Quite literally letting all intrusive thoughts win. You started laughing.

“Gods Elain you have everyone in this damn world wrapped around your pretty little finger, don’t you? Well guess what, I see right through your fucking act of desperation for the male gaze and male attention.” Azriel looked at you as a warning to watch your next words, but Elain ran out of his arms and ran straight to you. You and she were now face to face. A test to see who was daring enough to hit first.

“Fuck you y/n!!” Elain said with a pause between each word, and you smirked.

“I may not be able to fuck myself Elain, but you know what I can fuck?” you slightly paused as the realization hit her. “I can go fuck with fire!” you say with a wink as you walk out the Town House’s front door straight to Lucien’s apartment.

Lucien’s POV:

Lucien was relaxing on his couch reading one of his favorite books before he felt it. An overwhelming flood of emotions hitting him. It was as if they were screaming at him from two different ends of the bond. He learned how to process Elain’s end of the bond throughout the years, but whatever was going on was too much to deal with. This was all unknown feeling. Lucien ran to grab his coat and he quickly put it on. Just as he was reaching for his door to run to Elain, he heard a hard knock. He opened the door to find you in a fit of rage as you stormed inside. “Okay, just come on in why don’t you.” he said sarcastically as he shut the door behind you. "Nice pajamas by the way," he says jokingly before looking at you to see you glaring at him. "Shit, who pissed in your wine tonight?"

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[acourtofthought]

I want someone to provide me canon text as to why Elain "can't stand being near Lucien" and how that proves she doesn't find him attractive.

Does she ignore him as of the novella and SF? Yes but so did Nesta when it came to Cassian:

There were layered and complex reasons for why Nesta ignored Cassian at various points throughout the series regardless of her attraction to him so why couldn't there also be layered and complex reasons for Elain in regards to Lucien?

If your answer is "because she doesn't want a mate" then doesn't canon text also support a female main character changing her mind on that?

This:

To this:

So how does anyone know with 100% certainty that Elain has zero sexual attraction to Lucien just because she ignores him at this point in the series, a change from what happened between them in ACOWAR:

Feyre cringed at the sound of Rhys's name after she had fallen for him:

Cringed at his name after running away from him after he was wounded once she found out they were mates.

We saw these moments despite the fact that Rhys was the most beautiful man Feyre had ever seen:

Elain doesn't have to want to interact with Lucien to be sexually attracted to him, correct? There are many people I find extremely good looking who I'll never interact with because I'm not in a position to pursue them. If she is sexually attracted to him she might not want to act upon it if she's not in the frame of mind for something more meaningful which sex with a known mate would most likely be. Even without having fallen in love a confirmed bond is a bridge to anothers soul and that's a lot more than just sex. Her not wanting more right now makes sense after her broken engagement, her not wanting a mate for that same reason at this point in the series does too though it's something that could easily change in the span of 800+ pages.

Hooking up with Lucien would come with much more intensity than hooking up with a random guy she sees from time to time and who she doesn't share a bond with.

It's canon Elain found Az attractive but we have no proof she found him better looking than Graysen, that he's anything special to her at all, that hooking up with him would have meant anything at all.

And while it's canon she wanted to hook up with Az we don't have the reasons behind it, whether a night of fun, proving to Nesta that she too can go off and fuck strangers or her simply trying to forget the emotions she might feel when her mate is around.

I can't prove with certainty that is the case but the other side can't prove it isn't therefore it's still on the table.

In SF it became canon that Nesta found Cassian appealing from the start though she did not give in to her sexual desires for him until her book.

So again where is this canon text that proves we can't see the same for Elain in regards to Lucien?

[separatist-apologist]

Something In The Orange

Summary: Someone is trying to murder Eris Vanserra's soon-to-be wife.

And no one can rule him out as a suspect

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the mood board and the unknown anon for the song inspiration.

For @sjmromanceweek

Read On AO3

For the entirety of Arina’s life, she’d been destined to be the wife of a Vanserra. Lucien Vanserra to be specific. The ink on her marriage contract was dried before she herself was, likely still squalling in a midwife’s aching arms as her father lamented his poor fortune. Sons brought glory, daughters cost money. 

Arina might have been angry about her circumstances in a different life. In this one, though, Arina considered herself luckier than most other women she knew. Lucien was merely a year older than her—a seventh son, too, which meant he’d be sent off to some country estate, lord of the territory his father gave him. She would have no responsibility toward a vulnerable population nor would Arina ever be in danger of becoming queen.

After years of watching her father rule, a minor lord on the outskirts of the massive kingdom the Vanserra’s ruled, Arina thought that was a blessing. There was never enough gold to go around and what little money that could be scraped together, her father took in taxes. Arina felt shame every time she was paraded through the small city they lived in, dressed in finery while the people stared up, faces dirty, clothes threadbear. 

Beron Vanserra sent a chest of gold meant for Arina every year on her birthday. It was for her education and other frippery according to the notes—though in truth, Arina suspected it was a reminder that her father owed Beron. There was no backing out, no offering Arina up for better prospects.

There were no better prospects, to be fair. No one wanted the poor daughter of minor nobility nor did they want to inherit her fathers poor kingdom. Beron intended to subsume it into his own, allowing her family the rights to the land so long as they kissed the Vanserra ring. That was her fathers problem—not hers. Arina intended to waste her time drinking and dancing and whatever else the wives of Vanserras did.

Beron put the marriage off for a total three years past their original agreement. She should have married Lucien when she was eighteen—and yet Arina wasn’t officially called to the palace until the eve of her twenty-first birthday. Arina was instructed to come without a retinue. Only her father accompanied her, silent in the carriage as they rode. He didn’t need to speak to her in order for his will to be clear—if she did anything to mess this up, the consequences would be severe.

Deadly, even.

After all, Arina’s mother had not survived long enough to bring another child into her fathers world. No sons would save their family, leaving Arina to marry well and without complaint. She’d written to Lucien over the years and he’d written back. It was hardly some great love match but he seemed nice enough. Funny, when he wanted to be, and polite when he didn’t. Arina had decided long before now that she was satisfied with this man. 

Unlike her own home which seemed to be in a constant state of disrepair, the Vanserra palace was massive. Made of glittering gold and wild, old oak, the sprawling castle dripped with wealth. The city that surrounded it was just as opulent, though there was an aura of despair hanging in the air that tasted sickly sweet in Arina’s mouth. 

There was a clear and obvious divide between those with power and influence and those who did not. Arina had expected to see wealth equally which was perhaps naive. Beron had always seemed generous to her, sending gifts of gold and jewels on a whim. Why would his people fare any differently? 

That wasn’t her problem, she reminded herself. All Arina needed to do was fulfill her end of the contract, marry Lucien, and get on with things. Arina could simply turn her face from the fingerprint stained window and study the palace. It truly was beautiful, illuminated by warm shafts of spring light and framed just beyond by newly awakened trees crammed so tightly together it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. 

The palace itself was walled off, using both a gate that had to be opened for their carriage to pass through, and a bridge that caused the vehicle to lurch back and forth sickeningly. Beyond, Arina saw a white, ivory garden wall encircling at least the front of the palace, monitored by guards walking the length with sharp swords and a quiver of arrows against their backs. 

That didn’t keep people out—it merely kept them aware of the fate that would befall them should anyone decide to step out of line. As Arina disembarked, smoothing the wrinkles out of her rose pink skirts, her father was patted down for weapons. No one but the guards were allowed to be armed in the presence of the king, and Arina wondered if her father would get his sword back.

No one bothered to check her, which was lucky. They’d have found a small hunting knife tucked into her boot. 

Arina didn’t expect to need it—but it never hurt to be prepared. This was a new court with new men, and the ones back home were just handsy enough that Arina felt better with a knife. An old servant had taught her to use it—in exchange for a kiss she’d been all too happy to oblige him with—before her father sent him away. 

Arina was surprised by how busy the palace seemed to be. People moved around the drive, some making their way toward the front doors, open wide as butlers checked lists before allowing them through. Others, carrying heavy baskets covered in thin, white blankets, quickly walked around the palace toward some side door servants who were expected to enter and exit. There was an obvious and clear divide—neither groups looked at the other nor did they interact. It was as if neither was there.

A game of play-pretend, Arina supposed as she fell in step behind her father. Bowing her head ever so slightly, Arina clasped her hands in front of her body and began her own game of play-pretend. In this game, she was the obedient, demure daughter of her father and would become the obedient, demure wife of Lucien, too.

“This way, my lord,” a butler dressed in black with silver buttons, beckoned for her father to follow. What would her mother think of all this? Would she have been allowed to come, too? Arina barely remembered anything about the woman who had given her life—her mother had been sick more often than not, leaving Arina in the care of nurses and governesses. 

This was how her mother had been married, though. Back then their home had been worth something and her fathers name carried weight. He’d had the pick of the available ladies and had chosen her mother.

Arina had dared to ask him why, once. She was the most beautiful of the lot.

He’d said it so dismissively, like it ought to have been obvious to Arina. She knew she was too romantic—a dozen tutors had accused her of no less over the years. She knew her marriage was about practicality and not romance and still, over the years, she’d clung to those letters from Lucien and hoped that maybe there could be something between them. He seemed friendly enough. Nice, too, though of course she might have read too much into his careful, polite words.

Arina had been holding that hope for years, though. All of it was about to come to fruition as they stepped into a small study where Beron was waiting behind a glossy top wooden desk. Huge windows, framed with maroon, velvet curtains, allowed light to stream into the room.

Arina and her father bowed, though Arina found herself looking at the man leaned up against a bookcase with a sour expression on his face.

This wasn’t Lucien—she’d seen him a few times in her youth and what she remembered painted Lucien as a man with far darker skin similar to the shade of her own skin. His hair had always been long, his features softer. This man was fair skinned and tall, muscular like it was intentional versus the accidental effects of laborious work. His auburn hair was cut short, his eyes a cool, amber brown, his features sharp as though he’d been recently carved from marble. He was beautiful and cold in equal measure and Arina was grateful he wasn’t looking at her. 

“This is your daughter?” Beron asked, rising from his chair with gleaming brown eyes. There was no mistaking him and his son—they were so painfully related even if the other man’s features came from his mother, their expressions, their posture—that was all the same.

Cold men holding court. Arina took a small step backward without meaning to, instinctively looking for the door. This caught the younger man’s attention. His gaze flicked to her face, mouth sloping into a deep set frown. Why was he here? 

There was no escape. Arina’s father caught her wrist and thrust her forward like she was little more than a prized cow at auction. Beron looked her over dispassionately. 

“She looks just like her mother.”

Arina felt frozen right then, heart pounding in her chest. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. She’d pictured Lucien greeting her and spending the next month getting to know him outside the watchful eyes of their parents. Maybe she’d see the king once or twice as he arranged their little marriage and then sent them off. 

Not this. 

“Your letter said you wanted to discuss the terms of our original agreement?” her father said, taking the hand that had once been wrapped around her wrist to place it on her shoulder. At this, the younger man looked away again, his face unable to conceal his disgust. 

Beron sighed, turning his head toward the window for a moment. “My youngest son has been accused of compromising another lady of court.”

Oh no.

Beside Arina, her father became notably interested. His expression brightened, his posture just a little more rigid. This was good news, though for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. Beron noticed it, too, if his own darkened gaze was any indication. Something in the original contract had stipulated for this and whatever it was, it clearly benefited her father.

“When we put the original agreement together, we accounted for this,” Beron began smoothly, picking up a neatly folded document to hand to her father. 

“We did,” her father agreed, taking that document without reading it. “I assume you’ve come to make an offer.”

“My eldest son,” Beron replied easily, gesturing to the man still leaning against the bookcase. “Eris and I have spoken and he’s agreed to fulfill his brothers place.”

Her fathers shoulders slumped ever so slightly as Eris finally righted himself, looking not at Arina but directly at her father. “It would be my pleasure,” he said in a voice that betrayed how little of a pleasure it truly was. 

It wasn’t what her father wanted, though whatever it was he’d been hoping to gain, Arina wasn’t going to find out. Beron, aware he had her father boxed in a corner, offered a slick smile.

“Why don’t we go over the terms together? I think you’ll find I’ve been more than generous.”

“You always have been good to our family,” her father gritted out through a syrupy smile. 

“Eris, show Arina her accommodations while her father and I talk,” Beron said, waving them both out of the room as though they didn’t matter. Eris had clearly been told of this ahead of time and Arina wished someone would have warned her. Nodding, Eris stepped from the room without looking at her, his shoulders tight beneath the brown of his jacket. She had no choice but to follow after him, fingers curled to fists.

Eris slammed the door behind them loud enough to rattle a nearby picture in its frame. So he was angry, too. She doubted he felt any solidarity with her—she could imagine he saw her as the enemy which was just fine, because he fared no better in her estimation, either. 

“You,” Eris barked at a passing servant, beckoning them closer. “Show the lady her room.”

“Your father said—”

“I heard what my father said,” Eris snapped, interrupting Arina before she could get the rest of her indignant words out. “Unless you think my staff can’t be trusted?”

Oh, fuck him, she thought. “Charming,” she replied, holding his gaze. Eris stared back, waiting for her to back down. Arina ought to have. If he’d been anyone else she might have looked away, but this was about to be her future husband and she’d be damned if she let him think she was scared. 

Though, she was. Arina was terrified of him.

Eris took a step back when it was clear Arina was prepared to face off with him, inclining his head to the side for a moment as though to study her. “You won’t survive a week in this engagement.”

And with that, he turned on his polished boots and left her to the nervous, near trembling servant. She wasn’t going to chase him down, nor was she going to beg him. He could be mad at her all he liked. It wasn’t until she was being shown a rather large apartment that Arina considered what it meant to marry Eris Vanserra.

Gone were her hopes of an easy, simple life. Suddenly Arina felt the weight of expectation, of a life she’d never been prepared for. She’d be the wife of a king, with all the stipulations that came with that. No matter how cruel Eris was to her, Arina would have to put on a brave face and manage it. She had to have children with that man. Arina tried to picture what it would be like before she forced the image from her mind entirely. Perhaps he’d be quick—she’d heard men were more often than not. She could grit her teeth and get through it and perhaps, if she gave him a son, he’d find himself a mistress and leave her be.

Exile her to a country estate, even, where she could run her own household and have her own life outside of him. It wasn’t the great love she’d been hoping for but it was better than nothing. Better than seven sons, like his own mother had given Beron Vanserra. Two seemed like enough. What Arina needed was a plan. 

Staring at the sitting room of the apartment she’d been given, Arina decided right then and there she would make the best of things. It wasn’t what she’d wanted, but it was still an escape from the misery of life with just her father. No more emboldened courtiers pawing at her, no more of her fathers advisors leering and touching when they thought he wasn’t looking. No more being screamed at—at least, by her father. Who knew what kind of tactics Eris might employ? 

Separate bedchambers. 

Separate lives. 

She’d smile and placate him, lulling him into a false sense of security and maybe he’d drop his attitude in favor of apathy. Starting with the dinner she was expected to attend. She’d show him right then and there he didn’t need to concern himself with her at all. Then she could try and make a friend at court who could show her around and help her acclimate herself. 

Arina was practically vibrating when she was summoned. She’d changed from pink to a robins egg blue that was entirely modest, from the high neckline to the long sleeves and she’d pinned her thick, long hair up off her face with little pearl pins that matched the ones dangling from her ears. 

She looked pretty and she knew it, just like Arina knew that men valued that above all else. When their own children asked Eris why he’d married her, he could tell them she’d been the prettiest woman he’d ever seen and it would be true enough. Maybe her children wouldn’t mind as much. 

Eris was waiting in the small dining room when Arina was shown in and to his credit, he rose from his chair the way a gentleman ought to. 

“Here,” he said, pushing out her chair with his foot. Arina forced herself to smile at him, smoothing her skirts beneath her as she sat. It was only once she was seated that Eris joined her, angled away as he fiddled with his glass of wine. Was he drunk? His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes bright but otherwise he had that same arrogant sneer on his face.

“You look nice,” Arina lied. He looked fine in the same jacket he’d been wearing when they met. 

Eris scoffed before downing the remnants of his cup.

“There’s no need to lie, lady.”

“Fine. You look miserable without the manners to even try and conceal it,” she heard herself saying, her good plan crumbling before her eyes. With raised brows, Eris looked over at her.

“Would you like to try that one again, my lady?”

“I was told I’d be marrying your brother,” she hissed, aware there were servants in the room and that gossip spread quickly. 

“A fate I’ve so graciously spared you from. Where is your gratitude?” Eris replied dryly. 

“Your brother seemed kind–”

“You would have been bored by the end of the month,” Eris snapped, clearly tired. “I thought all women dreamed of being princesses?”

Arina didn’t know what to say to that so she picked at the little beads on her dress if only to have something to do with her hands. 

“Well. Your father is certainly pleased,” Eris added seconds before the door opened. His goblet was refilled as her father, Beron, and a retinue of men she didn’t know or recognize strolled in. Their chatter was enough to drown out any remaining conversation between Eris and Arina which could only be a good thing. It was clearly too early to hope they might get along, and Arina needed to figure out a way to leash her temper before it got the better of her.

Again.

Arina was used to being treated as decoration. And as her father sat without acknowledging her—as Beron pulled Eris into a conversation with some of the other courtiers—Arina was left to sit there silently and eat politely. They were all covertly watching her, judging every movement, every whispered sigh, every scrape of her utensils. What would happen if they found her wanting?

She didn’t want to learn the answer to that question so Arina kept a pleasant smile pasted to her face just like she’d learned to do back home. With each new course, Arina made a delicate show of eating only a third of whatever was served to her which clearly pleased some of the older men at the table. She passed on wine in favor of water and whenever a compliment was paid to her, she made a show of dropping her gaze and thanking them demurely. 

Eris seemed to recognize her theatrics for what they were, smirking into his goblet each time she did it like there was nothing funnier to him. Arina had half a mind to kick him—and she might have, too—had something warm not begun crawling up her throat. 

She looked down at the bowl of potato soup in front of her, strangely fascinated as it warped from one porcelain bowl into two, to three, and back to a singular entity. The heat intensified, causing Arina to gasp for air. She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached for Eris’s leg, digging her nails into the fabric of his trousers as she tried to get a grip on reality.

Something was wrong. 

She couldn’t breathe.

Arina blinked, intending to take a slow, controlled breath of air and then excuse herself. When she opened her eyes, however, she found herself laying on the floor staring upward into a pair of disinterested amber eyes. The commotion around her seemed to suggest someone was concerned—her father, maybe?

But right then, all Arina could see was the icy, bored expression of her soon-to-be husband.

And she was certain this was all his fault.

ERIS:

“What do you expect me to do about this?” Eris demanded furiously, staring at his father. He needed to get his temper in check before Beron punished him and yet Eris couldn’t help his aggrieved feelings. “If she’s so desperate to escape this marriage, let her.”

“And pay her bastard father to run his kingdom into the ground for another fifty years?”

“Why would you ever add that to a marriage contract?” Eris heard himself asking, furious that Lucien’s little dalliance with one of the Archeron’s had led him to this position. Arina was probably perfectly nice—she was certainly beautiful—and he didn’t want her. Didn’t want any wife his father picked out for him and had done a good job running them off. 

“I had seven worthless sons by then—all of whom would need wives. If not Lucien, someone else.”

“Then let Tanwen—”

“I’ll not hear another complaint from you,” Beron barked out, eyes flashing a warning. Eris forced himself to swallow his anger, to take a breath and let it go for the moment. It was clear his father wanted this to happen and his fathers will was an extension of his own. 

“She’s alive,” Beron continued, as if Eris cared about that. It was cruel, but when Eris had seen her convulsing on the ground all he’d felt was relief. She’d die and he’d be free of her, along with the entire marriage he didn’t want. “I want to know who's responsible for this and I want them punished. Quietly.”

“Consider it done.”

“Check in on your mother. She’d distraught,” Beron added by way of dismissal. 

Of course she would be. The mere words were enough to force some sympathy into Eris’s otherwise emotionless chest. Arina was merely a casualty in his fathers obsession with expansion. It should have been Lucien who arranged this deal, leaving Eris to ally with a princess who had, if nothing else, been born with the correct expectations. He’d been set on Nesta Archeron before Lucien went and mucked the whole thing up with the middle sister. Who knew Elain was her father’s favorite and he’d take it personally if a foreign born princess undressed his precious daughter?

Lucien had sworn he’d done nothing inappropriate but what was done was done. Lucien was getting a second born princess but nothing more—there would be no exchange of territory and a very loose agreement that constituted an alliance. 

And Eris was getting some rural, minor lords daughter that someone hated enough to want dead. Find out who it was, it could have been anyone. The arrangement was not popular at court and Eris considered it could be any number of lords who felt their daughters had been snubbed for Arina.

Would his father execute one of his favored courtiers? All for one woman they’d made a bad deal with? Her father must be delighted, Eris thought, to realize what had once been a decent marriage would now elevate him into the father-in-law to a king. He’d be given titles and wealth far beyond what he currently already possessed.

Eris felt his feelings harden toward Arina again. 

He found his mother in her private apartment, wringing her hands with tear stained cheeks. “Oh, Eris,” she breathed, wrongly assuming he must be upset over what he witnessed. Eris opened his arms to her all the same, pulling his crying mother against his chest. She cared, which made her far better than him in every measure that mattered. Too good for the Vanserra’s in general, though no one would dare say so. 

“Is she alright?” 

“I assume so,” Eris replied, earning himself a swat. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt nor was it malicious. His mother looked up at him with disappointment as Eris walled himself up to keep himself from internalizing her words.

“You haven’t gone to check?”

“I met her this afternoon and it didn’t go well,” he replied, following his mother to a little two seater couch facing the fireplace. “I think I can wait until tomorrow to offer my sympathies.”

“She seems like a nice girl,” his mother sniffed, dabbing her eyes on a handkerchief Eris had produced from his jacket pocket.

Nice wasn’t how he’d describe Arina. He had the sense she was more than the doe-eyed thing he’d witnessed at dinner, if her little snappish comments were anything to go on. 

“Did you know father would have to subsidize her fathers territory if she didn’t marry into our family?” Eris asked, already knowing the answer. Of course she didn’t—Beron didn’t tell his wife anything. 

“I know you’re upset about losing Nesta,” his mother began, misunderstanding what bothered Eris so much. Everyone kept assuming it was a love match between them rather than a practical understanding of the power they might wield together. Nesta had understood it, had even agreed right up until Lucien was caught with Elain. “But would it be so terrible to readjust your expectations, Eris?”

Yes, it would be. Without Nesta, Eris was still trapped under his fathers thumb and now responsible with keeping Arina from becoming trapped as well. There would be no money, no army, no powerful woman with a kingdom of her own to stand behind him should he fail. Just another powerless girl shoved at him and unlike the last one, Eris couldn’t send her back.

“Your projecting,” Eris replied. “You are nothing like her.”

“I remember how I felt when I was brought here. My own father was pretty quick to leave just as soon as our marriage license dried and I was on my own. You know how…busy…your father is. You could try to make her feel welcome.”

“You managed just fine,” Eris said, though as the words left his mouth he felt instant regret. His father was brutally cruel to his mother when the mood struck him, swinging between open devotion and clandestine violence seemingly on a whim. His mother had managed in spite of his father and he knew he’d just inadvertently told his mother none of it was a big deal. “I’ll talk to her.”

It was a compromise to wipe the look of hurt from his mothers face. She was the only woman Eris had ever loved and as far as he was concerned, the only woman he’d ever love. He wasn’t interested in caring for someone the way his father cared about his mother. It made him obsessive, controlling, and at times, violent. Eris didn’t want to lose himself that way and was terrified that it was in his nature to love someone that way. Not that he’d ever admit it—but it was useful information to know about himself.

Eris didn’t visit Arina until the next morning, busying himself at night with his favorite distraction: too much whiskey and Lady [whoever]. He wasn’t married yet, and Eris had never promised Arina anything, least of all his fidelity. Eris found her sitting in a window, knees hidden beneath a pale yellow dress. 

Eris had seen a lot of women in his life. More women than most men if he was being honest with himself. Since he’d come of age, women had thrown themselves at him and he’d allowed it, delighting in the attention and the ease with which he could get someone into his bed. And in the course of his dallying, he’d seen countless noble women with their hair unbound. 

And yet something happened when Arina turned her wan face to look at him. Her hair was long and thick, draped nearly to her waist as it fell in soft, brushed out waves. He might not have given it a second thought had she not turned her head just in that moment, allowing a rather bright beam of light illuminate the golden strands and warm her otherwise wan face.

Gods, but Arina was the most beautiful woman currently at court. Maybe in the world—Eris couldn’t remember seeing anyone more lovely even when they were as sad as she currently was. Eris found himself at a loss for words which Arina chose to interpret as mocking.

“Do you need something, prince?”

“I…” 

She turned her head away from him, rolling her eyes as she did. That was enough to remind Eris that she was merely a woman and not one he particularly cared about. Sexual attraction would help, if nothing else. “You’re well?” he asked, grateful to hear the sneer had returned to his words.

“No thanks to you.”

Eris pushed off the door frame he’d been leaned again, stepping into the airy, soft room she’d been given. It was fit for a princess and he wondered how it compared to her rooms back home. He’d heard stories that the estate was dilapidated, its staffing sparse. What it had was a good defensive position given its rocky landscape and the river that choked off other invasion points, forcing any army coming over land to take one specific path forward which made it easily picked off. 

Or, so his father said. Eris had never seen it, had never had any desire to. He’d been offered, but back then Arina was Lucien’s fiance and Eris had opted not to join in favor of remaining at home. What a waste given his current circumstances. Eris would have liked to have known exactly how to lord his wealth and power over his new wife, if only to keep her from snapping at him.

“Did you imagine me a physician?” Eris asked with some amusement. 

“I imagined you as someone with manners,” Arina shot back, drawing her knees closer to her chest. “Not the sort of coward who would delight in watching his betrothed die before his very eyes.”

“What did you say?” he asked, more taken aback than angry. No one had ever spoken to him that way. 

She didn’t even look at him. “I said you’re a coward and you were hoping I’d die. And I didn’t say this next part, but I don’t want to be married to you, either. I’ve heard stories about you.”

Eris’s heart thudded in his chest. “What kind of stories?”

“How you left a woman to die in your forest rather than marry her. That you’re capable of that kind of cruelty.”

Ah, Morrigan. How he’d never live that accusation down. Eris hadn’t bothered to try and had no intention of explaining the circumstances to Arina given what she was covertly accusing him of. She thought he’d tried to kill her?

Eris wanted to put that accusation to rest. “If I wanted you dead, princess, you’d be dead.”

He watched her press her lips together, saw how those mossy green eyes hardened with hatred. His mother was going to kill him the moment she got Arina alone and learned about this. 

“Then you should know if I wanted you dead, you would be dead.”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “It sounds to me like you aren’t particularly skilled in that arena.”

“Are you daring me?” Eris asked incredulously. 

“Merely making an observation,” she replied, turning to look at him again. Eris found he preferred when she didn’t given how beautiful her face was and how stupid it made him. If she’d just pull her hair up, Eris could treat her like every other entitled noblewoman—just like he had yesterday.

Though, had he really looked at her? Eris had been drunk for most of the day. Maybe he simply hadn’t noticed what was now staring back at him. His wife was beautiful and the part of him that coveted such things liked that.

Not wife. Almost wife. 

“I came to see how you were doing,” Eris snapped, irritated with her and himself. 

“Your father came last night,” Arina replied, some of the spark leaving her eyes. 

“My father?” he asked, eyes scanning her form quickly. 

“To offer a sincere apology for the attack,” she said, hands twisting nervously in her lap. “And assure me you’d get to the bottom of it.”

“And I will,” Eris lied. For all he knew she’d merely had an allergic reaction to some new ingredient or the poison had been meant for him and not her. Eris very much doubted someone would be foolish enough to try again. 

“Yet here you are,” she dismissed, turning back to the window. Eris curled his fingers into fists to resist the urge to throttle her into obedience. His father had assured him Arina was the model of female piety, not the sharp-tongued creature he was currently looking at. 

“People clamor for my company at court, you know,” Eris said, unsure why he was bothering.

She smothered a smile. “Go bother them, then.”

“Maybe I will,” he bit back, annoyed.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Arina merely waved him off, leaving Eris outraged as he stomped out of her room. He had half a mind to go complain to her father, if only to bring Arina into line. And then what, he wondered? Would she like him more or would it make her hate him more than she already did? Eris considered if he cared for just a moment.

And decided that he did care.

And he’d take her as she was.

[shadowqueenjude]

That Solstice scene :(((

@zenkindoflove I'm sorry for this one... @achaotichuman will probably love it though. Lucien closed his eyes shut, trying to shut down all the feeling in his body, his mind. But he felt everything, as if someone were poking him with hot iron rods. He writhed in his bed, trying to control the urges his body were feeding him. His hands clutched the covers, his teeth gritted with the effort to stay in bed. It took every bit of willpower he'd ever had in his life to resist the urge to storm into that hall and rip Azriel to shreds. He knew he would win. He knew Azriel was terrified of fire, and his mated rage would do the rest. But he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't hurt him, even though his body screamed bloody murder. He would endure, as he'd endured every time he'd come across that slimy worm Graysen in the human lands. He'd swallow his screams because he was a gentleman. But sometimes he was so tired of being the nice guy. Sometimes, he longed to do something crazy and rip people to shreds, like he had done that day in Hybern when he'd rushed to see if Elain was ok. But his crazy had only done him a disservice with Amarantha. His eye. The stinging crack of the whip as Tamlin was forced to hurt him. And as he sensed her arousal, he couldn't control the low growl that slipped from his lips. He was going to feel it; every moment of her fucking that Illyrian brute, and he'd have to stay silent because he knew she needed space, not an overbearing mate snapping at her not to do whatever she pleases... He entertained himself by imagining himself destroying Azriel, tearing his throat out with his teeth. His entire body heated up, and got up, realizing he'd burned his sheets to cinders. He couldn't endure this. He had to winnow away before he folded to his instincts and ripped Azriel's heart straight out of his chest. But then... He felt Elain's hurt and embarrassment, heard the murmured conversation and realized something had stopped them. Not something-someone. Lucien gripped his face so hard that it was miracle his skin didn't peel off. He'd wanted to kill Azriel for daring to touch Elain, and now he wanted to kill him even more for daring to hurt Elain's feelings without apologizing. He slipped out of his room, following the scent of the shadowsinger. Lucien's anger faded slightly, replaced by surprise at Rhysand scolding Azriel. Rhysand had always seemed as if he barely tolerated him, but perhaps this...meant he was warming up to him. "You believe you deserve to be her mate?" "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway." Lucien laughed under his breath. He always knew that Azriel disliked him, but this was downright pathetic. Lucien had nothing and no one. He had a mate who avoided him at all costs, and even that Azriel wished to take from him. News flash, Azriel: Lucien might not be good enough for her, but neither was he. "I'll defeat him with little effort." Good lord, did he truly believe that? Did he forget that he fears fire? Did he forget the strength of a mated male's rage? Did he forget what Lucien had survived? "So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." Lucien bared his teeth in a feral smile, some savage part of him quelled thanks to Rhysand's interference. And that line...Lucien couldn't have said it better himself. How dare he treat Elain like a prostitute? No one understood the pain Lucien was in better than Rhysand himself. Perhaps, at last, he was beginning to sway the members of the Night Court to not treat him like dog shit. He tried not to think about Elain, resisting the urge to rush to Elain and make sure she's ok, to embrace her and kiss her troubles away. He'd endure this, just as he'd endured Beron, as he'd endured Amarantha, as he'd endured Tamlin, as he'd endured Ianthe, as he'd endured the Inner Circle.

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 10

a/n: Happy Monday!!!!! Word count: 4k

Warnings: none, crying as per usual

Other chapters

The last few days have been a blur. When you arrived at the Manor, your stomach was a bottomless pit. The possibility of returning home evaporated in a single second. The fight with Azriel is weighing heavy on your heart. That first night was spent looking at the sizzling hearth until the flames went out, the embers went cold and the sun came out. The second day was spent in bed, drifting between dreams of a life a world away and dreams of Azriel’s face as he watched you walk away. A box of your clothes was delivered by Cassian, you didn’t get out of bed to see him. The second night you managed about one hour of rest in between the fits of crying. You weren’t entirely sure why you were crying. It could have been because of the life that was taken from you, the enormous uncertainty that was your future or the fight with your closest friend here. The third day Jurian made you go with him to the nearby village to buy food for the house and do a check up on the recovery from the war with Hybern. He said you needed to get out of the house and that you looked and smelled like hell. That day you met Muriel, the local apothecary. Jurian brought you to her shop to find some herbs or a tonic or a salve or anything to get you to sleep. When Muriel saw the dark circles under your eyes, the greasiness of your hair and the bitten nails she quickly offered you tea. It was peppermint. It made you feel a little more alive, the liquid warming your cold hands and soothing your tattered heart. You breathed deep, savoring the fleeting moments of peace. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” She asked with a comforting twang that almost brought you to tears. Jurian put a hand on your back and said “she’s going through a difficult time and hasn’t slept in days. Do you have something that would help?” She nods “of course, I don’t have much in stock right now but I’ll give you enough for two nights, by then a new shipment would have arrived and I can dispatch more if you need” she searches for powders and dried leaves on her too full shelves and empties the containers into a small jar “dilute half of this mixture in warm water or milk thirty minutes before you want to fall asleep”. She hands you the jar “thank you” you say but it barely comes out as a whisper. “I can get something for your nails as well, help them get nice and healthy” you look at your hands, the nasty habit from childhood made a reappearance these past days. “I guess that could help” she quickly goes to another shelf and pulls out a tiny bottle “put this oil on all of your nails daily”. She tells Jurian to total and he gives her a few coins “I hope you feel better soon”.

That night you slept soundly. The following morning you got out of bed without having to be dragged out by one of the boys. You felt refreshed. The pit in your stomach still present but less daunting after a full night of sleep. When you walked into the kitchen Lucien’s eyes went wide “glad to see you up and cognizant” you rolled your eyes. “I slept well last night and actually feel like a person this morning” Jurian cuts Lucien off before he makes another remark “the tonic worked?” You nodded “like a charm”. 

After breakfast you had the house to yourself. Lucien was never really home during the day and Jurian had a meeting of sorts with one of the villages’ top blacksmiths. He had mentioned something about getting a decent blade. And Vassa was in her bird form. So you lingered in the kitchen, cleaned the mess from breakfast and had another cup of tea. This morning you missed coffee an extra bit. You were thinking of how there must be coffee plants somewhere in this world but they just haven’t been harvested properly or have not arrived to Prythian when someone knocked on the front door. Startled, you place a hand on your now hammering heart and think of what to do. No one should be home so you could just ignore it and hope they go away. But maybe it was Azriel or Cassian or even Mor. You calmed your breathing a bit and walk from the kitchen to the door. “You’re back” his voice was warm and familiar, almost jovial, but not quite. “Hello Eris, Lucien isn’t home” he didn’t look taken aback by your dry tone. Azriel’s dislike for the male rubbed off on you. “That’s a shame, I’ll just have to wait” he steps into the house before you can protest. “Was he expecting you?” He sits down on one of the sofas “can’t I visit my baby brother without an interrogation?” You huff and cross your arms. “How’s your foot?” Your eyes widen a bit at the memory, surprised he remembered. You look down and flex your toes within your boot and reply “it’s fine now”. “Are you always this enchanting to be around?” He sounds annoyed, you roll your eyes “you are free to leave and return when Lucien is actually here” and walk towards the library. You hear footsteps and are relieved for half a second until you realize he’s following you. “You know how to read?” How am I even supposed to answer that? “I do,” he hums, “impressive for a human”. You look through the shelves, hoping to find something entertaining. “This is a good one” does he ever shut up? He holds up a thin book “it’s an adventure novel, the protagonist flies across the world on a dragon”. You grab it from him and scan the pages. Eyes narrow at him, annoyed that he was kind of helpful “I didn’t know heirs have enough free time to read fiction”. He answers matter of fact “in the centuries I’ve been alive I’ve managed to carve out time to read”. You forget that. These beings are so much older than you’ll ever be. “I guess” you reluctantly concede. 

The rest of the day was spent reading the novel and ignoring Eris. He left shortly after Lucien arrived, their private conversation was brief and, by the looks of it, unremarkable . You wondered why he waited for hours just for that. In a way, it was good Eris had shown up. You never had any time to go into a spiral because by the time he left everybody was home again. “How was your day?” Vassa asked you sweetly. “It was alright, better than the last few” she grinned at that. 

You  used the last of the tonic and slept until the clattering of pots and pans woke you.

“I need to return to the village today” Jurian raises an eyebrow at you. “For the tonic” his features relax, remembering “that’s right, think you can go by yourself? I have to go to the ports today” you think for a moment “I guess, can I take one of the horses?” He nods “take Lucien’s”.

You take a deep breath. The only times you’d been by yourself in this world had never ended well. Just follow the path and you’ll be fine. You repeat the affirmation to yourself all the way to the village. 

The apothecary shop was empty, as it had been the last time you’d been here. But Muriel was there and she smiled when you stepped in. “Hello” you greet “You’re lookin’ so much better darlin’” she was excited. You nod and offer her the best smile you can muster “the tonic worked wonders, do you have any more?” She put her hands at her hips and nods “I sure do, but it’ll take me a while to get everythin’ ready” she walks to the restocked shelves “the girl that usually helps me got married last week and I have about twenty orders I’m behind on”. Her nimble hands pick small leaves of oregano off the stem and drop them into a mortar and pestle. She grinds the leaves with a memorized rhythm, you stare and get lost in the perfectly rehearsed movements. You speak before you really think about what you’re about to say “I can help, if you’d like. I could use something to do during the day” and a marketable skill if you are to stay in this world. Muriel takes you in, and maybe it’s because of pity or necessity but she says “alright, you can make your own sleep powder, grab another mortar and pestle and grind a handful of these flowers” she points at the equipment and the ingredients simultaneously and you immediately get to work. 

It’s almost dark when Muriel finally announces that it’s time to close the shop for the day. Your hands were sore from grinding flowers and herbs and salts. You smelled of the incense she kept burning. Your eyes felt heavy, it had been a very long day. But you felt lighter than you had in a month, maybe in a year. The scents of the shop were warm and soothing. Muriel reminded you of your grandmother, she had crinkles around her eyes and gray hairs sprinkled through her long brown curls. “Can I come back tomorrow?” You asked, hoping she’d say yes “well, of course. You were very helpful today” you stop yourself before you crush her in a hug, her kindness bringing back to life a part of yourself that had long been dormant and say “see you then”. 

“Where have you been all day?” You smile at Lucien “I got a job, I’ll need your horse to get into town everyday” he looks even more confused now. “What are you talking about?” You hop off the saddle and skip towards him “I’m helping Muriel at the apothecary shop, look” and you pull out a jar with the sleep powder “I made this myself, she says I’m a natural”. Lucien can’t deny that it brings him joy seeing you excited about something. “I’ll need my horse some days, but I’m happy for you” he says and pats you on the shoulder. 

“I can’t afford to pay you much more than a few coppers a week” Muriel says the next morning “it’s ok, I really just want to learn”. She nods and the day progresses like the last. Grinding, mixing, packaging and handing out orders. In the flow of routine and monotony you got lost. There, your sole focus was the tasks at hand and gleaning any information you could from Muriel. You didn’t think about your world, your family, your friends, Azriel… nothing that wasn’t in the shop mattered and you were glad. 

A week. 

Two weeks.

Three weeks passed in the same routine. It was peaceful. Breakfast with the boys, then you’d ride into town and work with Muriel until sunset, by the time you reached the Manor it was dinner time and you’d stuff your face and pass out until the next day. Then you’d do it over again. “Tomorrow the shop won't be opening, I’m visiting my sister” Muriel told you as you were cleaning the tools you’d used during the day “so take a break and rest, we’ll be back the day after”. You deflated a bit, the distraction of the routine was your lifeline to sanity “oh, alright, have a nice visit with your sister” she smiled “I will, I haven’t seen her in months. Her daughter had a baby and she’s been fussin’ over them so much I haven’t seen her since” she chuckles. Your chest tightens a bit, a reminder of what you didn’t have anymore. 

The next morning was the same up until everyone left. The empty house felt extra big. You were washing clothes when you heard a knock. Sighing, you get up and open the door. “You should know by now that Lucien isn’t here during the day” you say as Eris stands in front of you. “Maybe I’m not here for Lucien” you step away to let him inside “then why are you here?” Eris walks in but remains standing “I come here when I need a break from my father” he inspects the sitting room “are you the servant?” You suppose no one has ever told him who you really are “I’m … Jurian’s friend” he puts his hands in his pockets “I see” you jump when another knock rattles the door “expecting company?” Eris asks “no” , you respond and open the door for the second time today. Your breath catches in your throat as you see a dark looming figure on the steps. 

“Az?” He’s standing with his hands behind his back but his shadows engulf you as if saying hi to an old friend. You giggle a bit as they gently caress your face. “Y/n” he breathes, like he’s surprised to see you “you look,” he scans you “you look good” you nod “I feel good”. He sags a bit, you’re not sure why, but continues “I’m glad” you shift on your feet “want to come inside?” He shakes his head “I’m actually on my way to an assignment but I wanted to make sure you were fine, Lucien said you were. I just had to see for myself” you nod “I’m better” a pause. A breath “Az I’m sorry for calling you an ass” he smiles at that “I’m sorry for saying all that I said, it was your decision and I was overstepping” another pause “I want you to come to the Night Court for Solstice” he blurts. Your brows raise “oh, I’d love to. When is it?” His cheeks are a little pink, you suppose it’s from the cold “in a few weeks, Lucien is also going. You can winnow with him or I can fly you but I think winnowing is more comfortable in the dead of winter”. You smile lightly, “alright Az, I’ll see you then”. He returns the smile and steps away and lunges to the air. 

“How do you know the Shadowsinger that intimately?” You press your back to the door, heart beating wildly and you’re sure your face is beet red. “You’re not the only one that comes to visit, Eris” he clutches his chest “and I thought what we had was special” and pouts. “It’s like you have a sixth sense for when I’m home alone. Got a little crush?” He scoffs, and you swear you can see his lips straining to lift. “It’s ok if you do, I’m incredibly charming. Not to mention beautiful”. “Humans are not my type” you shrug and wink at him before returning to your room and your chores. 

Washing your skirts, shirts, sweaters and leggings was therapeutic in its own way. The rhythmic scrubbing against the board, the sound of water splashing and sloshing, the suds tickling your forearms and the floral scent of the detergent was enough to ease your mind and keep the ever present panic at bay. When you were done, you returned down stairs and hung the clothes outside. Winter was closer now, but you were hopeful that the first frost of the season would wait until after your clothes were dry. “Are you going to eat?” You jump and clutch at your chest, having forgotten that Eris was here. At his question your stomach grumbles. It must be past midday then. “I could eat”. 

You split a loaf of bread and some soft cheese with Eris. He was not pleased by the rudimentary meal but ate, nonetheless. “Where are you from?” You choke a bit. Not knowing how to answer. “Uhm, I’m from the Southern Continent”. In the first books Jurian showed you there were maps of the world, and a southern continent twice as far as the Continent to the east seemed like a good place to lie about. From what you gathered, Prythian and the other lands North of it had very little knowledge of it, only some stories from explorers or merchants brave enough to face the tempestuous ocean that separated it. He looks surprised “and how did you end up here?” You want to groan, but instead say “oh you know… this and that. There was a boat and a storm and now I’m here” you look at the bread and cheese, making a little sandwich while Eris stares at you. You’re certain he doesn’t believe a word. But you don’t trust him enough to tell the truth, given your involvement with the Night Court and their tumultuous relations with Autumn. “Very convincing story, y/n” you still don’t look at him and are saved from further questioning when Lucien walks through the door.  

The next few weeks fly by. The shop is organized and running smoothly now that you and Muriel have settled on an effective routine. Life with the exiles was as calm as it could be. The occasional discussion between Jurian and Vassa kept things interesting and on some nights you’d sit by the hearth and share stories of your very different lives.

The day before Solstice Lucien winnowed the two of you to Velaris. You had been nervous to see the Inner Circle, namely Rhysand, but not enough to stay away. You had never talked to Lucien about Elain, but you guess that part of the reason why he makes the trip back for the holiday is to see her. And also why both of you are tight lipped and visibly uncomfortable when Feyre opens the door to the River House. 

“Lucien, y/n! I’m so happy you made it!” she exclaims while stepping aside to let you in. You were shaking now, the light coat that kept you more than warm in the Human Lands not nearly thick enough for the Night Court winter. Inside the house is toasty warm though and the smell of something sweet permeates the air. Feyre hugs Lucien and then he leaves, you assume that he’s going to look for Elain. “Thanks for having me,” you tell her, “of course, it has been too long since we’ve seen you” at that her eyes soften, remembering why you haven’t been around. “I’m sorry the portal didn’t work, I believe Gwyn is still working on figuring out what happened”. You shrug “it was difficult to accept at first but now I’m doing better” she brightens “Lucien said you had been working at the apothecary?” You smile and nod “yes, I’ve been learning a lot and getting my hands dirty. I could see myself staying there for a while” she wraps her arm around your shoulders and leads to the main sitting room “I’m glad, y/n. But remember you are always welcome here, Velaris needs apothecaries as well” and nudges you playfully. You laugh. 

Everyone is here: Nesta, Cassian, Rhysand, Elain, Mor, Amren, Gwyn, Nyx and Azriel. Your heart stops when you see him. You say hello to everyone and make a mental note to thank Cassian and Nesta for the box of clothes before you leave again. He stands pin straight as he watches you approach. “Hi” you say, the corners or your mouth perking up as you finish the word. He smiles too “I’m happy you’re here”. You’re about to say something when Mor shouts “everybody better have wine!” After that the night is a blur. 

The pounding in your head reminds you why you haven’t had wine since girls night. A cacophony of groans engulfs the room as banging noises come from the kitchen. You go to place your hands over your ears but something warm and heavy is draped across your middle. You turn your head and see that Lucien is spooning you. Oh god. You turn to look at the other sofa and see Nesta and Gwyn in the same cuddle. Mor is in a fetal position on the floor. What the hell happened.  More banging echoes and you throw Lucien’s arm off you and cover your ears. He wakes up when his hand slaps his face and curses. You push yourself off the sofa and go into the kitchen. Nyx has made an instrument out of a pot and a metal spoon. He laughs when he sees you walk in. I must look like a goblin. “Look Nyxie, one of the sleepy heads is awake” you rub your eyes “his little concert is difficult to sleep through” Feyre picks him up and gives you an apologetic look. “Looks like you all kept the party going after we went to bed” you sit at the kitchen table and rest your head on your hands “I guess we did, but I don’t remember a thing”.  One by one the others join you in your misery at the table. “Where are Azriel, Cassiand and Rhysand?” you ask as breakfast appears. Mor replies “annual snowball fight” like it’s common knowledge, but you are not that curious ask for clarification so you have breakfast and hope you don’t throw up. 

You spend the next few hours sleeping and then getting ready for the actual Solstice celebrations. You had brought your purple long sleeved dress for the occasion, your nicest dress by far. By nightfall everyone was all together again and dressed to the nines. You couldn’t help but notice how good Azriel looked. His hair had grown in the weeks you hadn’t been here. His curls frame his face and give him a boyish look. He wore an all black outfit, the only color from his siphons. He looked at ease, his usual stiffness gone in the comfort of his family. You notice you are staring and look away. “He’s been looking at you all night too” Lucien whispers in your ear. You blush and pick at invisible lint on your dress “shut up”. The group starts exchanging gifts and you watch with amusement as everyone opens Mor’s presents gingerly. You had been warned about her handicap when it came to gift giving. Then the wine starts flowing again. You opt out tonight, wanting to avoid a major hangover, possibly death.

It’s a few hours after midnight when everyone has either gone to bed or passed out. You place blankets over the few that remained on the sofas and floor. Then move to the kitchen and look for cookies. “Smart of you to sit this one out” you jump a little when you hear Azriel’s voice. “I thought you’d be out until morning” he shrugged “I just needed a power nap, I’m as good as new”. You hummed, finding the cookie jar. “Here” you hand Azriel a cookie. You sit in silence for a bit until he says “I got you a present” and he takes a small box out of his jacket pocket. “Oh Az, you didn’t have to do that. I didn’t get anything for you” he shakes his head and pushes the box in front of you “open it”. You wipe your hands on a napkin and begin unwrapping it carefully. You frown, inside the box is your phone. You look at him quizzically, he smiles “turn it on”. You gasp when you press the button and the screen comes to life, a picture of your dog staring back at you. Your eyes well up. “How is this even possible?” He smiles “I don’t know exactly, I took it to the same tinkerer that made Lucien's mechanical eye and they took care of it”. You look from the screen towards him. Tears falling freely now. You set it down on the counter and walk over to him, wrapping  your arms around him in the strongest hug you could muster. “Thank you so much, Az” his arms come to your waist and he hugs you back. You know he can feel your heart beating wildly in that moment, because you can feel his.

taglist: @luvmoo

[multific]

Lucien Crown as Your Sugar Daddy - Headcanons

Lucien Crown x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Sugar Daddy, illness

You called him Lucien or Daddy

No matter what others said or called him as

To you he was Daddy or Lucien

Or any cute nickname you could come up with

As long as it wasn’t Milo

After Michael’s many promises of a cure, Lucien had enough

And so, without even looking, during a meeting with a politician, he became aware of sugar babies

The topic intrigued him enough to start looking

He figured he might as well have some fun before he dies

He interviewed in total 16 girls

None piqued his interest

You arrived a bit late, the 17th girl

And you were perfect

While he could tell the others pitied him for his illness

You did not

You treated him equally throughout the interview 

You even joked around

And he liked that

You had a few set of rules as you explained that he would be your first.. Sugar Daddy

Your rules were very basic and he agreed to them all

He whipped up a contract that day and you both signed it

You were the perfect distraction

While you did take his illness seriously, you didn’t shy away from joking

For example, whenever you two were walking somewhere, you would call him grandpa

“Come on Grandpa! You are so slow! I shouldn’t have to call you Daddy when in reality you are Grand-Daddy!!!”

You made him laugh

Every time, all day

And soon, you moved to his place

He wanted you around all the time

And you were happy to be there

You were surprised when he said he doesn’t require you to have sex with him

You thought that was a huge part of Sugar Daddies

But you also understood that he was different

He wanted someone around him, someone to take his mind off of his pain

And you tried your best to do just that

He set up an account for you, gave you a card and explained he will put enough money on it for you and you could spend the money as you please

But he was surprised to see, you didn’t buy anything

In fact, you only bought things for him

You got him a nice new tie that you saw

You got ingredients because you wanted to bake cupcakes

You got him a birthday present

If he didn’t know any better, he would say you were in love with him

And he would be correct

But he didn’t know

He brought you on many dates

Dates to the best restaurants

Dates to the nicest places

Dates to stores where he would buy you dresses he likes to see you in

During one date however, a couple of drunk guys started to laugh at him, making fun of him

And you didn’t like that

He said he was used to it

But you weren’t

“Hey! Fuckfaces! Go and make fun one yourselves instead, you pathetic bunch! I will let you know he has the biggest cock and he surely knows how to use it! You disgusting cockroaches!”

The men ran as two cops arrived because of your yelling

Lucien was thankful for what you did

On your ride back home, you worriedly turned to him

“I shouldn’t have said that earlier. I embarrassed you, I apologize.”

“Quite the opposite actually, you made me very proud. Thank you for standing up for me.” he said

And he kissed you, it was the first kiss you two shared

A simple kiss

But it meant so much to the both of you

It was the day he noticed he had feelings for you

He would often sit in his office, looking at the contract

As if to remind himself why were you there

You wouldn’t be there if you didn’t have the contract

And he was sure you would leave as soon as it would end

But if that’s the truth

If you really were there only for his money

Then why didn’t spend it?

He checked time and time again, waiting for anything

A huge purchase or a transfer

He thought you would transfer the money to your own account

But nothing like that happened

It confused him

So much so that one morning, during breakfast, he asked you

He asked you why would you stay and don’t spend the money

“Because I genuinely like you, Lucien. If anything, I should say I am in love with you. But I know you don’t feel the same and that’s okay.”

But he did

And he told you he did

Both of you just sat there, confused and shocked

But after the shock, you both started dating

With the contract officially burnt

You two had sex that night for the first time, you were nervous but you knew you had to help him a lot, and you were okay with that

Turns out, when you yelled at those men, you were actually pretty accurate

He did have a very nice cock

And while his illness didn’t allow him to be on top

You absolutely enjoyed riding him

All. Night. Long.

Sometimes he had to tell you to slow down because he was tired

But it also didn’t take him long to regain his strength and keep going

He also had a wonderful mouth which you didn’t know he could use so skillfully, but he surely did

He definitely had a thing for you being the dominant one

But you did let him tell you what he wanted you to do

You let him lead you

You were happy

You were in love and happy

But you still didn’t stop calling him Daddy from time to time

A/N: I have more ideas for him, let me know if anyone would be interested and I’ll write those.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Twenty)

Hi! Here’s Part Twenty! @greeneyedivy and I love you all and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some violence.

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“I knew it. I fucking knew she couldn’t have received those letters.”

Eris watched Linden pace before him, arms of pure, corded muscle rippling as he clenched his hands at his sides. The male was…certainly a presence. Domineering.

“She’s been missing you.” Eris said. “She thought…”

“That I hadn’t bothered to write? I should have tried harder.”

The two males had spoken for barely an hour, Eris sharing details as promptly as he could, but the short conversation was confirmation enough that Linden adored Y/N just as fiercely as she did him. A conflict had shadowed his dark eyes, and he looked…regretful. Troubled. Eris didn’t know what to say to make it better. Or whether it was even possible to do so.

“It isn’t your fault that my father intercepted the letters.” He’d try, anyway. “None of us could have known what—”

“Except I did know.” Linden cut him off, whirling around to face him. “I did.”

Eris stared back at him, waiting for the explanation that lay behind the haunted expression. He’d told Linden everything there was to know, but there was a stark sense of…something else. It seemed to fill the room, rob it of air.

Or perhaps that was just the male’s exquisite build—

“I should have stepped in sooner. Warned Y/N when I had the chance.” Linden’s words snapped Eris out of his thoughts. He shook his head. “…her father came to me, about a year before she was informed of her engagement. It was when the family business had truly gone under, and Jesper was becoming desperate.” He stopped his pacing, slumping into a chair. “You see, my family is…not good. They’re scum of the earth criminals. They peddle things like Faebane knowing damn well what damage it can do. I got away from them because I wanted nothing to do with it. But Jesper found out somehow. He started asking me questions. How these substances were created, what kind of profit they made. I told him I had nothing to do with it, but he still continued to ask. I knew. I knew he was up to something. I should have told Y/N right away.”

Eris knew all too well how easy it was to fall into a churning cycle of should haves. But it was equally pointless. It couldn’t change a thing.

“Be that as it may.” He said quietly. “You couldn’t have known the true scope of the situation. None of us could. All we can do, now, is try to fix it.”

Linden studied him. There was something so endless and assessing in those dark, uptilted eyes. It left Eris feeling strangely…bare. He shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the heat that spread over the back of his neck. 

“What do you need me to do?” Linden asked. “Whatever it is…for Y/N, I’ll do it. No questions asked.”

Eris didn’t doubt it for one second. “We’re working on how we’re going to take down my father. Tamlin is gathering information. Lucien is meeting with Y/N to tell her everything. All I know, right now, is that she’s going to need you. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

It was without hesitation that Linden rose from his seat, once again seeming to command the light and air in the room with his broad figure. He stood tall, meeting Eris’s gaze.

“Then we’d better get moving, lordling.”

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It was a rather intimate thing, Eris had surmised, travelling closely side-by-side, just his companion and the stretch of road for company. A way to truly get to know someone. Mere hours had built a rapport between him and Linden that was…new to him. Exciting.

They’d ridden for an entire day, and Eris was physically done-in. He wanted to be back on home turf, to bathe in an actual tub rather than in a stream. To eat proper food. It would be a bare-faced lie to say that he hadn’t been tempted to take the easy route and winnow himself and Linden back to the estate, but…whatever they were to face when they got there, he wanted every bit of his magic reserve intact. And if that meant another day or two of monotonous travel on horseback, then so be it. 

They’d stopped for the night under a canopy of trees, hoping to catch at least a few hours of rough, restless sleep before they set off again. Eris had thought that he was well accustomed to nature, to camping amongst the elements, but Linden…there were no words for the refined ruggedness of both his appearance and personality. A male who could truly take anything in his stride. 

Footsteps approaching from behind roused Eris slightly from his fatigue. He glimpsed up as Linden rounded the fire, returning from his wash in the lake. Eris’s heavy eyes became a tad more alert as they landed on the male. The glorious sculpt of muscles, the brown skin nicked and marked with scars, the rivulets of water running down his chest—

Godlike — the word bleated in Eris’s mind. Linden was godlike.

He couldn’t force his eyes away as the male grabbed a discarded shirt and used it to mop up the lingering water droplets that rolled down, down his pectorals and over his abs, further still until they dipped beneath the vee—

Linden’s dark eyes flicked up, and a smirk toyed with his lips. He knew the redhead was staring; had been doing a lot of staring, in fact. He may have deliberately stretched his arms over his head as he faced him properly.

“See something you like, Vanserra?”

Eris greatly resented the dusting of pink that he knew had appeared on his cheeks. He’d never been with a male — and that wasn’t for lack of fantasising about doing so. There was just…so much pressure on him to be the perfect male; the perfect future High Lord that would produce just-as-perfect heirs. It was that snag which had stopped him having the courage to explore such desires. 

But here, alone with Linden under the expanse of towering trees…surely he could give in and flirt, at the very least. He was good at flirting.

So he sat back, resting on his hands, and shrugged. “What if I do?”

Linden’s head fell into a tilt, his braids following the movement. “Have you ever been with a male?”

“I haven’t.”

Full lips kicked up into a half-smirk. “Not your bag?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Silence snaked around them as the two of them stared at each other, challenge appearing to spark in both their gazes. There was a beat, a pause, and then Linden let out a deep chuckle that skittered over Eris’s skin like a chill.

“Interesting.” He commented simply.

Eris sat up, curiosity piquing. “Have you?” He asked. “Been with a male?”

“I have.” Linden confirmed. “I enjoy both males and females. But I have a preference for males.”

It was strange — the pinch of thrill that shot through Eris. To hear somebody talk about such matters so openly, so proudly — to talk about it without glancing over their shoulder every few seconds. It made him feel…dangerous. Alive.

Perhaps that was how he found the courage to press, “what do you prefer about them?”

Linden glanced up at him through dark lashes, his body going still. And for a moment, Eris wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. He wanted to kick himself, to take it back—

But then Linden moved. Slowly. Traipsed round to the side of the fire on which Eris sat. Took a seat in front of him. 

He smelled like a heady mix of earth and woodsmoke and moss. The scent hit Eris in a pleasant wave, and he tried not to inhale too sharply at what that, alone, did to him. Tried not to stare too closely at the bare, muscled chest that was now mere inches from his touch.

“Do you really want to know?” Linden asked gruffly. The grit in his voice was like an awakening for Eris.

Eris swallowed. Sat up straighter. “Sure. Why not?”

Linden’s lips twitched, and Eris tracked the movement, wondering what they would feel like against his. He had a full mouth, lips generous and divine-looking. He had to be an excellent kisser. 

“Okay.” The general hummed, edging slightly closer. “I like the responses I can elicit just from blowing on a male’s cock. They try to maintain control, try to rein in their pleasure. But lick just the right spot and they’re begging for more. Begging to cum.”

“…oh.” Eris breathed. He was most definitely hard as a rock, straining painfully against his breeches. He tried to adjust himself, and Linden watched, his smirk widening. 

“I find,” he said, his eyes fully on the tightening of Eris’s breeches, “that there’s an area that most males enjoy. Just below the head. Something about it is so sensitive that you apply a little pressure, and it feels good enough for them to forget their own name.”

Eris’s eyes almost rolled back into his head. Gods, that sounded good. He didn’t know how he’d gone all these years without giving in and exploring such things. He wanted them all, wanted them now. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t a future High Lord with expectation and propriety weighing him down. He wanted Linden’s lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him dry until even the leaves on the trees knew precisely what responses he could elicit. 

And Linden knew that. Could see it on the male’s face. He smiled. “Would you like me to show you, lordling?”

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You could stay here forever.

Forever, in this gamekeeper’s cottage, you and Lucien hiding from the rest of the world. No Beron. No faebane. No forced nuptials to worry over. Just…love. Bliss. 

It had hurt to see the first shafts of daylight pouring through the window. The night in Lucien’s arms had gone too fast. The hours of warmth, of security, were fleeting. 

But he was your mate. And this would all be over soon. Soon, the first signs of a new day would be exciting. 

Mate. The word had entered your mind as you’d sat up in bed. You’d smiled, touching your fingers to your lips, your chest. The cottage was empty and silent around you — Lucien had woken you briefly not long before, whispering that he was going to find some manner of breakfast for the two of you. He’d kissed your head and left you to lightly snooze a while longer, which you had, the ghost of his lips still on your skin. 

You rose, now, with a lightness you hadn’t had this same time a day earlier. Mate, mate, mate. Lucien was your mate. Your love. Your soul.

You briefly readied yourself in the washroom, listening out for the click of the front door. Your lips tugged into a smile when the thud of footsteps carried through.

“Y/N?” The deep caress of Lucien’s voice followed it. Hearing it felt different, somehow, to all the times he’d spoken your name before. Like an oath. A promise. 

You dried your freshly-washed face, hurrying through to greet him. It would be an effort not to launch yourself at him. 

You stopped in the doorway, just…just taking in the sight of him, bathed in the morning sunlight. He was resplendent. Exquisite. His hair cascaded like waves of fire around his golden face. Your eyes snagged on the braid you’d given him, and you smiled. 

“Good morning.” 

He may not have even heard your greeting. He was staring at you, too, russet eyes full of unbridled emotion. He loosened a breath. “You are so godsdamn beautiful.” 

Colour touched your cheeks. “I just woke up.” 

“I know. I think this may just be my favourite version of you.” 

You smiled, lowering your eyes to the floor as he slowly approached. He placed down two wicker baskets before he stopped in front you. His hand gently clasped your jaw, and he ran his thumb over your lips. 

“Good morning.” He murmured. “My mate.”

Your breath released with a shudder, and there was no stopping you as you pushed up onto the tips of your toes and kissed him. Happily. Gladly. Freely.

His arms immediately snaked around you as he leaned in to the kiss. There was no happier place, no better world, than in his arms. That you’d tried to ignore your feelings for him, tried to force a future where he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his—

You shook those thoughts off, pulling back and smiling at him before you could start crying again. You wouldn’t waste precious moments on thinking of what had already passed. 

“I hope you’re hungry.” Lucien chuckled softly, reaching for the baskets he’d set aside. “I walked to the nearest market. Got just about everything you could possibly want.”

Indeed, there were fruits and cheeses and meats and a loaf of freshly-baked, crusty bread. Your stomach rumbled at the sight, and you reached for the first basket–

“I got you something else, as well.” Lucien said, a soft smile on his lips. 

You cocked your head. “Oh?” 

“At the market, a couple of young girls had a stall. They were selling these little flower chains they’d made. Or rather, trying to sell them. I couldn’t resist buying one.” 

You chuckled, watching as he produced a circlet of daisies from a small paper bag. He was grinning as he fastened it around your neck.

“There.” He hummed. “Fit for a queen.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t buy one for yourself.” You smiled. “You’d look so pretty with daisies around your neck and in your hair. I’m not sure I could keep my hands to myself.”

“Oh really?”

He leaned in, his scent enveloping you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his lips brush yours — before your stomach decided to announce your hunger again.

Lucien chuckled, pressing a quick peck to your lips before pulling away. He grabbed both baskets, carrying them over to the kitchenette. “We should really eat.”

And as much as you wanted to eat him in that moment, you were just as content to sit yourself at the small table and watch, basking in the domestic bliss of Lucien cutting up the fruits and cheese and slicing the bread and meats. He poured you both a drink of juice and carried the assortment of food — far more than you could possibly need — over to you. 

“For my love.” He kissed the top of your head. “Enjoy.”

A gentle, comfortable silence swathed the two of you as you dug in, savouring the tastes coating your tongue. You would remember these tastes — associate them with Lucien, with this moment, forever more. You were happy.

But it was halfway through your meal that you realised that Lucien didn’t seem quite so comfortable. You studied him, a kernel of worry in your gut as you reached out and wrapped your leg around his.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Lucien chewed slowly. A moment passed before he lifted his gaze to yours, and he grabbed your hand. “I need to talk to you about something—tell you something we discovered in this…mess.”

And that kernel inside you grew instantly. Not just worry, but…doom. Doom, as you shifted in your seat. “Okay…”

“…Eris discovered some hidden letters in our father’s office. Letters from Linden. He’d written to you during your first couple of weeks at the estate, but they were intercepted and hidden from you.”

Your body stiffened. Lucien’s thumb brushing over your hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. “…But why? I know your father is a callous bastard, but…why bother? They’re just letters from my friend…”

Your words trailed off as Lucien shook his head. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat back. Still gripped onto your hand. “They weren’t just any letters. Linden alluded to the fact that he had important information he needed to give you. He wanted to meet with you so you could talk.”

“Information?” 

“You see…there were other letters, too. Addressed to my father…from your father.” His fingers gripped tighter. “…the whole thing, Y/N — you and Dion getting married — was all a part in some twisted, convoluted plan that our fathers cooked up together.”

“I know that. My father wanted me to marry a high-standing male to save our reputation—”

“No, Y/N/.” Lucien cut you off gently. “Your father arranged for you to marry Dion as part of a bargain with my father. Your father had begun peddling faebane because of the gambling debts he’d racked up and the risk of what they could do to your family’s reputation. He…he essentially gave you to my father, to Dion, to get you out of the way. So that they could negotiate their sales without you finding out and trying to put a stop to it.”

You weren’t sure you were breathing. 

Your entire body had gone ice-cold. Stiff. A strange sensation of pinpricks crawled over your skin. 

No. Surely your father wouldn’t stoop so low. He’d undoubtedly changed since the family business had gone under, but he wasn’t a bad male. Wasn’t someone who would bring harm to anyone’s door — much less his own children—

But despite your pleading, whirring thoughts, you knew damn well that Lucien wouldn’t be telling you this without reason. Without evidence. 

You tried to swallow the lump that had grown in your throat, and the tears that rolled down your cheeks were starkly warm against your frozen skin. You were only just able to croak out, “you’re sure about this?”

“I wish I wasn’t, my love.” There was a rustle, some movement — and then a pile of envelopes was placed in front of you. “Eris made copies of all the letters.”

For a moment, you just…stared at them. You didn’t know if you had the courage to read the truth. But some small part of you knew that you needed to. That you needed to finally put the puzzle pieces of this entire bizarre situation together. To step back and look at the picture they created.

With shaking hands, you reached out. And you forced yourself to read.

Every word was like a punch to your gut. Like wiping clean what you thought you knew of the man who had raised you. You didn’t…didn’t recognise the person who had written these letters, who was doing these things. And to essentially sell you to the Vanserras — to get you off his hands…

You tossed those ones aside before you could finish reading them. But it was Linden’s letters — his tone and his manner in writing — that truly finished you off. Your tears splashed against the pages, blurring your eyes and making it impossible to read. But you could hear his voice in your head. Warning you. Telling you to stay strong. And the idea that he’d thought you hadn’t wanted to write to him—

The letter drifted from your hands, onto the table, just as a sob broke from your throat. So many emotions were warring inside you at once. You didn’t know which to focus on, how to process them.

Lucien was immediately pushing out of his chair, rounding the table to where you sat. With utter ease, he was scooping you up into his arms and lowering himself into your seat, securing you in his lap. You clung to him, the front of his shirt, as you gave in to another onslaught of tears.

“It’s going to be alright.” He soothed you quietly, pressing his lips to your hair. 

You cried harder, barely able to get your words out. “My father—the hamlet fire—”

“I know. I know. The whole thing is fucked up. But they’re not getting away with this, I promise you.”

You pulled back, just enough to stare at Lucien through your teary eyes. “How can you be so sure? No one has ever stopped Beron before—”

“It’s different now. We have more people on our side than our fathers do on theirs. And he’s been rapidly losing support as High Lord for a while, now — particularly since the Harvest Festival last year, and then the hamlet fire. He’s losing his power. And we’re going to leach him of every last bit of it and expose him for what he is, what he’s done. We’re going to take him down.”

“But—but how do you outsmart and take down pure evil?”

“Tamlin has had his people watching him while I’ve been away — gathering information and evidence.” Lucien leaned down, his lips brushing away each tear on your cheeks. “That’s why I have to return to the Spring Court for the time being. To find out what he knows and help him. We’ve already learned that my father is meeting with yours today, all the way in Rask  — Dion is going to use his skill and follow them. Spy on the meeting. My mother is willing to help any way that she can. And Eris…Eris has gone to track Linden down. To bring him back to our court. There is…no way, Y/N, that our fathers are getting away with this. Not once we’re finished with them.”

The information — all of it — was swimming in your head, clashing against each other like waves against rocks. You half wanted to slam your hands against your ears and hide, to reject everything you were hearing, but—

“Eris is bringing Linden back?” You sat up — and paused. “…Your father is meeting with mine today?” So many questions, you couldn’t ask them all at once.

“Yes.” Lucien studied you cautiously. “But Dion is dealing with that. You’re not to go anywhere near that meeting, do you hear me?”

You heard him. But that impulsive, furious part of you wanted to damn it all to hell and go storming straight to your father. To confront him face-to-face.

“Y/N.” Lucien dragged your gaze back to this. “We’re doing this the proper way. Believe me, I want nothing more than to confront both my father and yours, and gut them both. But that isn’t the way to solve this. We can only win this with information and evidence. By outsmarting them and exposing them.” His arms tightened around you. “I want you to go back to the estate and stay with my mother. Alright? Promise me that you will.”

You stared into those deep, russet eyes, reading the emotion, the pleading, that lay there. Everyone knew you could be foolish and ruled by your short fuse, but…but the only way of getting what you wanted — of seeing a happy ending with the male you were so in love with — would be by following their leads. This was an intricate game that they were far more well-equipped to play than you were. You wouldn’t destroy the outcome for everyone by being impulsive, reckless.

“I promise.” You said, and you meant it with your whole heart. “I’ll go back to the estate and stay with your mother. Just…just be careful. Please—”

Your worries were smothered by Lucien’s lips slanting over yours, the kiss hard and promising. He cupped your face, and it was though he was committing the feel and taste of you to memory as he claimed your mouth with his. He only pulled away to suck in a deep intake of breath.

“This’ll all be over soon, my fireling.” He breathed against your lips. “We’ll be together soon.”

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Rask was a wise territory in which to meet. Rask was so preposterously big that even the High Lord of the Autumn Court could stroll through its packed streets without garnering attention. 

Dion understood the logic behind Beron and Jesper agreeing to meet here, but that didn’t make the stifling heat any more pleasant to endure. To any innocent bystander, he and Willow were just one of many wealthy couples strolling through the streets with parasols and hand-held fans and clothes so expensive they could feed an entire village for a year. But though Dion was by no means a honed, seasoned spy, not at all confident in his abilities – his skill was in conversation, in charm – he would sooner throw himself into the centre of the action than have Y/N do so – again.

He and Willow had been here for a day already, a happy, young couple — for all intents and purposes — simply holidaying on the continent. But they’d familiarised themselves with landscapes, learned exactly where this meeting was to be held. They were leaving nothing to chance.

Dion hadn’t even wanted to bring Willow with him, but…as his brilliant, wonderful love had pointed out, they were far more likely to blend in as a couple, than a lone male would, scoping out the streets. And blend in, they did.

It was mid-morning, the sun already unbearably hot, when they glimpsed Barric through the cafe window they were sat beside. Indeed, the male, striding along alone, did look rather misplaced amongst the couples and groups. The mere sight of him had white-hot rage building in Dion that he had to tamp down on. Willow kicked him beneath the table for good measure. 

Right. He needed to focus. The timing had to be perfect. They’d learned, through Tamlin’s sentinels, that Barric would be disembarking at the docks at ten o’clock – which he had. He would make his way to the public gardens and be joined an hour later by Beron and Jesper. A perfectly reasonable place for three businessmen to take a leisurely stroll whilst holding an inconspicuous meeting. Nobody would suspect anything untoward, or even pay them any mind. 

Dion and Willow waited until Barric was firmly out of sight before they rose from their seats, paying for their breakfast and returning to the busy Raskian streets. They kept to the darker corners of the city, the alleys and more impoverished areas – places in which they knew they weren’t at risk of running into the High Lord’s advisor. They retraced the route they’d planned in the room at the inn the night before, thanks to the map Tamlin had provided them with. It was certainly not as pleasant a walk as they would have taken on the main streets or the promenade, no – but through the winding, cobblestone paths of the city’s underbelly, they could find their way to the public gardens more or less unseen and undetected. 

They arrived around thirty minutes before Beron and Jesper were due to. Once again, they blended in with the various other couples who were strolling the paths that wended through the hedges and bushes. Rather bold, really, for the High Lord to conduct such discussions in such a public place – but the coded, secretive language would mean nothing to these people. No one would know what the males amongst them were capable of. 

No sign of Barric, yet, but Dion wasn’t concerned. He need only place himself in his father’s mind, think like him. He tucked Willow’s arm within his own and guided her around, pretending to peruse the flowers and shrubs. But he was looking for quiet, shaded alcoves. For somewhere Beron might stand and talk whilst maintaining a picture of ease and utter casualness. 

The pair were just rounding a large conifer hedge when Dion yanked Willow back with him, pressing her against the wall of shrubbery. Barric approached from the other direction, hands in his pockets and his shoulders rolled back. He headed to a stone pavilion at the back of the garden. A quiet corner, indeed. 

They kept their footsteps light as they followed the line of hedges that encased the pavilion in an almost circular formation. There, they could wait. There, they could listen. 

Sweat rolled down Dion’s neck, his hair sticking to his skin. The heat was truly unbearable, and even more so with he and Willow squished so closely together. A rustle had him pressing her even closer against him, and she shoved a hand over her mouth, stifling a yelp as he stepped on her foot. There was no comfort in spying, in being discreet – his thoughts flitted momentarily to Azriel of the Night Court, and he wondered how the male did it with such ease.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was unbearable. But with every passing minute, the other members of the public had steered well clear of that quiet corner of the gardens. Perhaps Barric had spoken to the staff ahead of time, insisted that they not be disturbed—

Chimes peeled nearby, announcing eleven o’clock. Beron and Jesper would be here any moment. Beron Vanserra despised poor time-keeping. Was never, ever late. 

The sound of footsteps scuffing on the stone path had both Dion and Willow tensing. He pushed her closer against the hedge, tempted to hold his breath, to not make a sound as he listened to the approaching people – no, he realised, approaching person. That was only one pair of footsteps. And not headed towards the pavilion, but rounding the corner—

He turned just in time to come face-to-face with Barric. Barric, who merely smiled at the two of them, unsurprised. He took in the sight of Dion and Willow with a strange look of amusement in his eyes. There was no Beron. No Jesper…

Alarm bells began ringing inside of Dion’s mind. He stood up straight, angling himself in front of Willow as Barric began to stroll towards them. 

“Oh, dear me.” He purred, a figure of pure assuredness. His eyes flicked over Dion, and his lips twitched. “Does Y/N know that you’ve taken to rutting among the conifers with the younger, prettier sister? I can’t imagine she’d be all too thrilled.” 

Dion’s jaw clenched. He had no words. The situation was suddenly clear as day before him.

The whole thing had been a fucking trap.

“What a coincidence, that we should end up in Rask at the same time as each other.” Barric clicked his tongue. “Except, of course, it’s no coincidence at all, is it?” 

Dion swallowed. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to–”

“This was a fun little experiment. So rarely do I get to visit the continent.” He leaned past Dion to shoot a positively lupine smile at Willow. “I take it this is your first time here? Beautiful weather, no?”

“What,” Dion gritted out, “experiment?” 

Barric rolled his eyes. “I must say, Dion, I’m a tad disappointed. I thought you were smarter than this. You didn’t actually think that Beron could be spied on without finding out, did you? He suspected for weeks that he was being watched. This was just a fun way to confirm it. Though, I’m a little annoyed – I bet ten gold marks that your feral fiancee would be the one to follow us.”

Dion clenched his fists at his side. He wanted to throttle him, to kill him. He’d been so fucking stupid. 

“My father’s not here?” He asked. 

“No, Dion, your father’s not here. Do you truly believe he has time to go gallivanting around Rask when there’s work to be done? You made a wasted journey, I’m afraid. But at least I can go back and tell him he was right — that he was being spied on.” He tsked sarcastically. “And by his own son, no less. I’m sure he’ll have a small amount of leniency for his kin, but…well, Tamlin’s sentinels didn’t have the same kind of luck.” 

“You killed them?” Willow finally spoke on a breath, staring wide-eyed over Dion’s shoulder. 

“Me?” Barric scoffed. “No. I was on a ship to Rask by then. But I believe the High Lord had a fun time doing so. And he’s even being generous enough to return their bodies to the Spring Court – well, their heads, anyway. On spikes.” 

Dion…Dion needed to get Willow out of there. Now. If she didn’t vomit, he may just do it for the both of them.

He grabbed hold of her hand, tugging. He could barely get his shaking legs to move as he snarled, “Come on.” 

“Oh, are you leaving?” Barric tilted his head. “That’s a shame. These gardens are so beautiful. I do hope I didn’t ruin your experience. If I were you, I’d make the most of your trip — give Beron some time to calm down before you return home.” 

Dion didn’t deign to respond. Every part of him trembled, but he pushed himself forward. Pushed himself to hold Willow close and hurry past. To…to go back to their inn, or…or wherever. He didn’t know. His head was swimming, spinning. He needed to get them out.

But Barric called after them one more time.

“Dion?” His lips twitched upwards. “You can’t win, you know. There’s no use in trying.”

Again, he didn’t bother with a response. Didn’t even look back. 

But as he hurried himself and Willow out of there, feeling like he was wading through mud, he couldn’t help feeling like Barric’s words rang true. 

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Go back to the estate and stay with my mother.

You would do just that. Whatever Lucien needed you to do. You could still feel him on you, smell him on you, and that in itself gave you the strength to just sit tight and wait. 

You couldn’t help feeling unease, though, after you’d returned your horse to the stables. As you climbed the steps up to the front door, the place felt…wrong. As though you were walking straight into a trap.

Paranoid. You were simply paranoid from all the information you’d learned.

Still, that paranoia kept you on high alert whilst you began travelling the winding corridors of the house, in search of Catrin. You knew that the High Lord and Barric were still away from the estate, as were most of the other Vanserras, but…something felt off. Even with the usual servants milling around and completing their jobs, it felt almost as if the entire property was…was holding its breath. Waiting.

“Catrin?” You called softly, opening the door to the sitting room she favoured. The area was empty, dark. No teacups or open books or signs that anyone had been in there recently. 

You pursed your lips, shutting the door again. Maybe you should try the solarium; she often enjoyed watching the evening sun pour through the windows in various pastel hues. You could sit with her, and tell her that she was right — that you were going to fight for your love. 

You turned, rounding another corner – and smacked into someone.

Not Catrin. The figure was far too big, far too imposing. Tall and muscled and firm. Your stomach bottomed out as Beron Vanserra’s spiced scent filled your nose. 

Slowly, you stepped back. Swallowed. The High Lord cocked his head at you, not unlike a curious cat. 

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, a voice bleated in your head. Watch yourself.

“Apologies, my lord.” Your voice barely came out, a mere rasp. “I didn’t see you there.” 

His lips jerked into an unkind smile. “Snooping about the halls? Have you nothing better to do?”

“I was looking for Ca—Lady Autumn. I thought we might have tea together.”

Your quick correction clearly wasn’t enough. Realisation crossed his face, swept away by thunder. You’d given away that she’d shared her name with you — and he hated it. Hated her having an identity, something besides the title he’d stamped to her. Hated that things went on beneath his nose.

But he schooled his features into neutrality. “Interesting,” was all he offered.

You dipped your chin, stepping aside. “Excuse me.” Go back to the estate and stay with my mother. Go back to the estate and stay with my mother. You couldn’t get yourself into trouble if you simply…avoided it. Did as you were told.

But the High Lord’s arm was whipping out, blocking your path so quickly that you walked into it. It was firm, like a true barricade able to hold you back. You stiffened.

“Lady Autumn,” he said, his tone dripping with distaste, “is at the market, where I sent her. I needed you and I to be able to talk in peace.”

You swallowed, your eyes not moving from his arm. “What could we have to talk about?”

He moved so fast, there was no chance for you to even register that the strong, muscled arm was scooping you up and shoving you into the sitting room, slamming the door shut behind you. You winced as he pinned you against the wall, barely a space between you. His scent was too much, too strong.

“You’re posing a great deal of problems for me, Y/N.” He murmured lethally. “And I don’t like it.”

You didn’t—couldn’t—raise your eyes to his. You honed in on an insignificant, dark blot on his collar. So unusual for the High Lord to be anything besides pristine. To have carelessly allowed his crisp tunic to be stained with ink, or—

No, not ink. Blood. That was blood.

Only then did you meet his gaze, your voice like steel as you gritted out, “what have you done.”

Not Catrin. Please, please not Catrin. Had he somehow found out about your little trip outside the estate, your conversation? Had he—had he hurt her?

The High Lord glanced down at the stain of blood on his tunic. His lips twitched. “I merely doled out a justified punishment to Tamlin’s sentinels. I don’t like being watched, Y/N.”

Your stomach turned. You were going to be sick. “Seems to me that hiding that big cache of Faebane has turned you paranoid—”

You flinched, words cutting off as his hand rose. But he merely lowered it to your hair, his fingers sinking through the strands and…and finding your braid. Toying with it. His eyes studied it, and he seemed to smile knowingly.

“Do you know what I find mighty curious, Y/N?”

You didn’t miss a single movement of his. “What?”

That small, barely-there gap between your two bodies was closed as he leaned in. You stiffened, not daring to breathe as the ridge of his nose coasted along your throat, and he inhaled.

“I can smell my son all over you.” His voice was too close, too much, a scrape against your skin. “Over every. Single. Inch of you.”

You tried to back up, to no avail. “Dion and I never swore an oath of celibacy before the wedding. What of it?”

Beron chuckled — an awful, grating sound. “Wrong son. Try again.”

“Dion—”

“Dion,” he spat, his hand snapping up to wrap around your throat, “is in Rask with Willow. Because the two of them went there to spy on me, didn’t they? And fell flawlessly into my trap. Barric is dealing with them as we speak.”

Every word eddied from your mind.  Every word except your sister’s name. Willow, Willow, Willow. You hadn’t known she’d gone with Dion, hadn’t known that—

Fell flawlessly into my trap.

Barric is dealing with them as we speak.

“What are you—” You managed to gasp out around your quickening breaths. “What have you done?”

“Besides defending what’s mine? My right?” Beron shrugged. “Besides punishing traitors—”

“You are the traitor.” You snapped. “You and my fucking father. Betraying your people. Harming them.”

The High Lord chuckled — chuckled. And it was enough to incense you. Enough to spark that fury inside of you that gave you enough strength to shove him away from you.

“You’re sick.” You sneered. “You’ve done so much damage — to your own people, your court — and you don’t even care. But rest assured, Beron, you won’t get away with it. We will destroy you, just as you have destroyed so much. We’re going to expose you, and—”

Your words must have hit a nerve. Because Beron struck. 

One moment, he was sneering at you. The next — in a flash of movement so fast, you barely had time to register it — he was grabbing you by the neck, raising an object over your head.

He squeezed hard, and you clawed at his hand, fought and fought to rip it from your skin.

But then his other hand was slicing down. Something hit your head with a thunderous blow.

You knew nothing more than the darkness that seeped in.

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The High Lord stood over the female, his breaths heaving.

She didn’t move.

Crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from a deep gash on her head. He could hear that she was still breathing — just about. For now.

He’d known he’d have to deal with her eventually. 

He nudged her with the toe of his boot. It only caused her arm to flop back. Good. She wouldn’t wake any time soon — not before it was too late.

Everything had got too close to comfort. Watchful eyes everywhere, whispers amongst his kin. There was evidence — evidence he needed rid of. 

Y/N being the most glaring piece of evidence.

He would raze this place to the ground before he’d allow his secrets to be exposed. Words were nothing without proof — and this manor was full of the stuff. 

He stepped over Y/N’s crumpled body. She didn’t so much as twitch. Didn’t stir as he slipped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

He felt nothing as he walked through the halls of the manor, towards his office. That was where the bulk of the proof lay.

And so that was where the heart of the destruction would begin.

He flung the door open wordlessly. The guards were with Catrin, accompanying her to the market, just as he’d instructed. The servants never dared spare him a glance. Perhaps they’d feel differently after today. 

His eyes took one sweeping look of his office, and still, he felt nothing. Wasn’t capable of feeling anything. He’d always been cold, stoic. Always needed to be.

There was no flicker of emotion for the wealth of possessions he’d accumulated over the years. No emotion for the proud domain of a High Lord.

And no emotion for his two sons who lounged on a couch, lying in wait. Jareth and Rian glanced up upon his arrival, waiting dutifully for instruction.

“You called for us, father?” Jareth sat up, eagerness shining in his eyes.

Beron strode to the desk. The desk that would be ashes within the hour. “The time has come for the two of you to prove yourselves to me.” 

Both males immediately straightened where they sat. They were different to their brothers — had none of Catrin’s softness, and all of Beron’s cunning.

“What are we to do?” Rian asked.

Beron stared into space, as if seeing something no one else could. “I want every room on this level burning within minutes.”

His sons stilled, sharing a glance. It was Jareth who repeated, “…burning?”

“I want you to set fires. As many as you possibly can without being seen.”

“…to the manor?” Rian stared at him.

The High Lord’s eyes shot to him. “Yes, you imbecile, to the manor. The whole place needs to go up in flames. You know of the discourse amongst the court — that villagers have been steadily turning on me. The fire will be blamed on them. On an uprising of brutes. And I, their High Lord, will be running straight towards the danger and rescuing innocent servants and staff from the blaze.” While vital evidence is burned, he didn’t add. “No one will dare question their loyalty to me after today.”

There was clearly a moment of hesitation between the two sons. A part of them that wanted to argue that this was their home, these were their things, that they loved it here.

But their father was their High Lord. And with a scathing last look from him, they rose and slunk from the room to follow orders.

Beron stood from the chair at his desk. Took one last look at the study.

He glanced down at his hands, summoning flames to his fingertips. Strode towards the door.

And with one jerk of his wrist, the entire study became an inferno. The heat was stifling, the flames spreading, eating up the carpet and furniture. The evidence. He shut the door behind him with barely a glance.

He backed away, not at all hurried. But as he strolled to the exit, he tuned in to the sounds of similar fires bursting through rooms. Destroying things.

And soon, the most vital things would be gone.

Soon, there would be nothing of Y/N and the evidence, besides a pile of ashes.

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He took a back exit, into the gardens, and followed the path to the front. By the time he’d strolled there, black smoke was already churning out of the windows and doors. Panicked cries had begun to seep out from inside. He wasn’t worried that any of the staff would find Y/N; very few of them ventured to the lower areas, the personal areas, without express permission.

He rounded the corner just in time to see Catrin approaching, Beron’s two guards at her sides and pure horror on her face. The basket she’d taken to the market was tossed aside, and she grasped the skirts of her gown, running towards the manor.

Beron shot into her path so quickly, she stumbled into him. He barely glanced at his guards, ordering them with a jerk of his chin. “Go and help. Quickly.”

The two of them took off in a sprint, running for the manor. Shouts carried out to them – and heat. Unbearable, stifling heat.

Catrin attempted to sidestep Beron, her entire body visibly shaking. “What is—”

“Don’t,” The High Lord cut her off menacingly, “you dare.”

But she was panicked, trying to push past him, to see past him. “What happened? How many people are in there? Beron—”

He was tired of dealing with hysterical females. He gripped her with one hand, so hard that he knew it would bruise. Used the other hand to unsheath his dagger. 

She was far too preoccupied to notice as he drove the hilt into the back of her skull, and she crumpled just as Y/N had.

He laid her down on the lawn. By the time she awoke, it would be too late to help. 

And then he hurried back inside.

To play the hero.

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lucien tags: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95

[starsreminisce]

I tried not to cringe at the warning. Alis went on. “Some folk are bound to be upset about Andras. Yet if you ask me, Andras was a good sentinel, but he knew what he would face when he crossed the wall—knew he’d likely find trouble. And the others understand the terms of the Treaty, too—even if they might resent your presence here, thanks to the mercy of our master. So keep your head down, and none of them will bother you. Though Lucien—he could do with someone snapping at him, if you’ve the courage for it.”

Nesta’s pulse pounded throughout her body. “Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern’s camp?” “I do,” Elain said coldly. “And I remember Feyre rescuing me.” Roaring erupted in Nesta’s head. For a heartbeat, it appeared that Elain might say something to soften the words. But Nesta cut her off, seething at the pity about to be thrown her way. “Look who decided to grow claws after all,” she crooned. “Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.”

What I love about Elain and Lucien is how both of them can only better the other without changing who they are fundamentally.

If Lucien were to step into an important role as he is hinted to do, given his status as heir—a role he didn't want, considering he has six other brothers to contend with—Elain would be well-suited to support him, having already been engaged to someone who would have had the same status.

And for Elain, who wanted someone to see her for who she is and acknowledge what she is capable of, Lucien has already demonstrated that he does.

In a way, both of them can only help the other achieve what they truly want. I suppose that's why they are mates.

[lullabesstie]

“E/riel has four books of build up”

But where? Mor and Azriel we’re originally supposed to be endgame in ACOMAF, but was retconned in ACOWAR. The series was originally supposed to be a trilogy which is why ACOWAR ended with Nessian’s and Elucien’s interactions like that. In ACOFAS, there is tension and distance between those couples now. In an interview or on twitter, SJM said Elain and Lucien would have tension, and would you look at that, they do. SJM switched Lucien from being with Nesta to Elain because she said (on twitter and there’s pictures of it) Lucien and Elain would suit each other better.

In ACOFAS Azriel is looking at Mor with longing/yearning and Elain still isn’t over Graysen. In ACOSF, when Rhys asked “what of Mor?” Azriel didn’t respond. He could’ve said “I don’t love her anymore” or “I’m starting to get over her” literally could’ve said anything but didn’t. If Rhys saw that Azriel had legitimate feelings for Elain then I definitely think his approach would’ve been less harsh. He would want his brother to be happy.

People say Elain and Azriel are friends, but if you actually read the books, they don’t interact a lot. They don’t have deep conversations and no banter, which SJM said she likes in a couple. In ACOSF, Azriel interacts with Gwyn more than he does with Elain. Gwynriel’s interactions pick up after his bonus chapter. We saw Az’s sense of humor come out.

Even before Rhys told Azriel to stay away from Elain he didn’t make an effort to get to know her. We didn’t get nothing in his bonus chapter that showed anything romantic or even a small crush or that they’re friends. Lust and love are not the same thing. You can be sexually attracted to someone without it being deep.

In his bonus chapter why didn’t we get anything about her as a person or if he has romantic feelings for her? It wouldn’t be that hard to add a sentence or two, but instead “he hadn’t though beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to” but he planned for a snowball fight for an entire year. What does Azriel know about her other than her love for gardening and baking? Which there’s nothing wrong with. I like that Elain is more traditionally feminine.

The sexual aspect didn’t bother me. There was nothing even kinky about it. It’s the fact that Azriel is supposedly in love with Elain but he couldn’t think of anything other than sexual thoughts. It wouldn’t have been that hard to add a little something romantic coded if he actually liked her. But SJM didn’t, because Azriel has no romantic feelings for Elain.

And after his bonus chapter, there’s no interactions between Az and Elain. No glances. No conversations. Unless it’s happening off-page, which isn’t SJM’s style, she develops relationships on-page, then they haven’t talked at all. If you want someone that bad, you’re still gonna find a way to interact with them. Or at the very least look at them.

And honestly, I don’t think it would be a forbidden romance. Nothing is stopping them. Rhys said in ACOWAR if Elain rejected the mating bond she would have support and protection. Lucien wouldn’t be demanding over the bond. Upset? Probably. But not hostile. No one would be mad at Elain and Azriel. If Azriel confessed to Rhys he has genuine feelings, Rhys would support his brother. If Elain rejected the mating bond, she would be supported. Nothing is stopping them. It’s just the fact that Azriel knows it was a mistake. He called it a mistake. Azriel = rebound for Grayesen and Elain = rebound for Mor.

“Lucien and Elain have no interest in each other”

In ACOSF, Cassian noted that Lucien is looking at Elain with longing. He has interest in her, but he’s being respectful. If he really did make her uncomfortable, then I strongly believe Feyre (and Rhys) wouldn’t have him around. Feyre would take her sisters feelings into consideration. Her loyalty is to her sister more than it is to Lucien. As for Elain, we don’t really know what she thinks of Lucien. We don’t have her POV. Same goes for her almost kiss with Azriel. She wanted him to kiss her, yes, but we don’t know if it was only out of lust or romantic feelings. We don’t have her POV.

Also, he didn’t think of how Elain would feel if he did kill Lucien. Regardless if Elain wants the mating bond or not, if Azriel does kill Lucien then she would feel him die. They’re mates. They’re souls are connected. And if Lucien died she would literally feel a part of her soul die. Feel empty. And it’s canon that Elain doesn’t like violence, so people really think she would be happy about two men fighting over her and one being killed in the process? Be for real.

Exactly! You mentioned everything I was about to write!

Everyone was aware that ACOMAF was setting up Mor and Az, but ofc Elriels deny that.

In MAF:

1. They only met twice, once they were talking Normally I don’t know why people romanticise that, the second time when she was thrown in the cauldron and Az did not give a fuck about her. “But Az was dying🥺”so was Cassian, but he was crawling to Nesta and screaming her name.

2. The girl was still in love w Grayson.

3. Az is still pretty much in love with Mor.

In WAR:

1. In the beginning of the book, we learned that Cassian kept visiting Nesta over and over to make sure she was all right. Elain was depressed and locked herself in a room, it was not mentioned that Az visited her at least once. If he cares so much about her wouldn’t he visit her, just like Cassian did with Nasta?

2. The book ended with Elain inviting Lucien to Valaris

3. Elain still not over Grayson.

4. Az still in love w mor.

Im Fas:

1. I’ll give you that there were some moments between them in this book.

2. But also, there was this: “a blush creeping over his cheeks, his hazel eyes fixed on her. I looked away at the heat, the yearning that filled them.” Still not over Mor.

3. And this: “she wants a human man and not a male.”

4. Not to mention that Elain is still wearing Grayson’s ring.

In SF:

1. You see my previous point when I said I’ll give you that well? I change my mind here, bc in SF SJM ruined all the possibilities for Elriel.

2. And completely closed the door on them in the bonus chapter.

3. It was mentioned that Elain does not belong to the night court, but this is literally Az’s home. If Elain left then there’s no way Az will leave with her, but guess who is actually out of the night court? Lucien.

Btw, I didn’t include SJM’s Pinterest nor her interviews where she confirmed Elucien twice, nor the bonus chapter.

[fever-fluff]

Part I - Quick as a Fox

word count: 2.3k (not proof read)

will contain spoilers for the ACOTAR series

“What could Rhysand possibly need that would be out here, Shadowsinger.” Lucien’s voice was thick with disdain, swatting another branch from the thick brush they walked through.

“Scared of getting you breeches a little dirty, Lucien? Doesn’t seem like you do well in the dirt.” Azriel’s sneer was no better, and the innuendo about Elain did not fly past Lucien so easily.

“Believe me, its not the first time I’ve gotten it on my knees, maybe you’d like to hear all about my time in the garden last week-” Lucien was quick to block the fist aiming for his gut, but it threw him off balance all the same, soft ground beneath him not much to grip.

Azriel came at him again, “Shut your filthy mouth, Vanserra.” Lucien just laughed at the male’s brazen behaviour towards the female he’d tried to snatch for himself. It had been months now since the last solstice, and the catastrophe of the necklace had caused a rift between Azriel and Elain that Lucien had, without regret, used to his advantage. Elain was mated to him, and he’d agreed to Rhys’ wish of not inciting a blood rite  over the shadowsingers obvious display of disrespect.

He had not pushed Elain in the slightest with his affections, but he had made it clear they were there. And after finding a bitterness under all that façade of sweet, Lucien had coaxed it out. It turned out she had more in common with Nesta than they’d all first thought, and he relished in the fire when she let it out.

The two tumbled as they fought, both to engrossed in getting another blow to the others face when they stumbled down a concealed ridge. They had separated just as the reached the bottom, and went to got at it again until Lucien noticed what they’d fallen into.

“Mother above”

Azriel looked to what was behind him, sucking in a breath and the grove of statues they’d landed in. “What the damned is this place?” walking around, the two noticed now that they were not statues, but petrified bodies of fae of all kinds. Lucien stopped in front of a certain one, loosing a shudder as he recognised the face in front of him. “I can’t be…”

Azriel joined his side, analysing the kneeling figure in from of him. The arms were twisted as if two fae had hold of her while the magic took effect. A sneer crossed her features, and he felt a shiver as he though of what it might have looked like in flesh. There was pure hatred in those eyes, and the snarl of her lips was something that he’d only seen on the most animalistic of his kind. Though she looked to be high fae, with pointed sharp ears, her demeanour was something he’d place in a wild beast.

“We need to free her.” “Are you mad?!” Lucien had already turned and began sifting through his sack, pulling viles as he went. “Lucien, who the Hel is she?!” he started mixing different liquids together, the mixture turning all different shades of different colours too quick for Azriel to catch.

“Someone who may be able to help.” “Hah…?”

Before Azriel could stop him, Lucien poured the new potion on to the top of the statue, and waited as it took effect. It was a simple reversal but depending on the depth of the initial fae's magic when she had been petrified, the time to undo the curse was debatable.

So they sat a respectable distance apart, and watched the statue like hawks. The sun had started to dip in the sky by the time they noticed the stone slowly shift, and a pale complexion took its place. Her chest began to slowly rise and fall, and a flutter of her eyelids became stronger as the hours passed on.

The moon had taken its place in the sky, and both males had drifted off into the land of the unconscious until they heard harsh coughing. The statue, now skin, moved achingly while the faes body returned to normal. Lucien cautiously moved towards her with a canister of water, “Fox, its alright, we’re not here to harm you...” The slap of the canister from Lucien’s hand was quick and strong, too strong for someone who had atrophied for mother only knows how long now. What was even more miraculous was the speed she moved towards the brush to their right, finding a small stream to gulp out of heavily. Azriel made to move on her, but Lucien held his hand up as a signal to wait, “don’t spook her, unless you don’t like having limbs anymore.”

Once she’d had her fill, she turned her eyes to the two of them, and he could have sworn they flickered between a serpent’s slits to the fae oval. As she spoke, her voice cracked from years of disuse, but he could hear the power she could wield it with, “I suggest you both start talking before you have no more tongues to do so.”

Azriel’s responding growl was low, truth-teller now grasped in his hand as he etched closer to her, “you shouldn’t make threats you can’t follow through on, bitch. In your state, this is going to go only one way. With your throat at my bla-”

Too fast. Way too fast for someone only after waking from such a long prison did the woman lunge for Azriel, snapping at his wrist with both hands and knocking the knife from his hand. He didn’t have time to reach for another as her body morphed, twisting into muscle and scales, wrapping round his body and wings and tightening instantly. She’d wrapped the latter half of her body round him like a snake, leaving her upper body in the fae state and sneered when he choked for air as she squeezed, “what was that? Sorry, I cant hear you over your own spit.”

“Fox, let him go, please.” Lucien had backed up, hands in surrender. Her gaze moved to him, and the recognition that lanced through her eyes did nothing to ease the grip she had on Azriel’s body. “I never thought I’d see a child of autumn beg for the life of an Illyrian.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know. But the High Lord of Night won’t take it well if you kill his spymaster on my watch.” Finally, she eased herself off, and Aziel gasped for the precious air he’d missed. She’d put a reasonable amount of distance between them all, still on guard with how the serpentine part of her body coiled like a spring. Once he’d finally reached his feet again, she started looking for answers, “How long have I been asleep? How do you know who I am?”

“If my brother’s words are something to go off of, half a century, maybe more.” Lucien flashed her that goddamned smile, “I’m Lucien, Beron’s youngest son.”

That didn’t seem to placate her like he’d hoped, and Lucien wasn’t quick enough to move away from her attack. Talons retched from her fingernails, and she had him in her grip before he even had a chance to realise. “I suggest you keep his name out of your mouth, child, before I really do rip out your tongue.”

“He’s telling the truth, he’s a Vanserra.” Azriel wouldn’t make it in time to stop her if she made for his neck. She snorted, “And what makes you think I would believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Shadowsinger.” Shit, she’d caught on to his shadows. He pulled them back from the two, holding up his hands in the fashion Lucien had before. “You know who I am?”

“Everyone knows the little toy the High Lord of Night uses in his arsenal of weapons, though congrats on the promotion. Spymaster seems fitting for your type of… constitution.”

She’s turned her attention back to the redhead lying beneath her, “If you are telling the truth, my lord won’t be too happy if I slit this lovely, tanned neck of yours. So, I suggest you both stay where you are until I am far enough away to not turn back and change my mind.”

“wha-”

She was gone before the two could blink.

“What in gods damned was that, Lucien?!” Azriel’s anger was far beyond livid. But the autumn male simply stood, rubbing at his neck, still feeling the ghost of her claws on his skin.

“Her name’s fox. She’s been missing since before the war. One of the most dangerous fae Beron ever had under his control. He used to tell me stories of her, to scare me into going to bed.”

“And you didn’t think waking her would be a bad idea, considering she has no clue who you are?!” Lucien winced under his tone, “I thought she’d smell that we were related, nothing gets past her senses. But I suppose I really didn’t think…”

“Rhysand is gonna be pissed, you realise this?” Azriel started to pace. If they really had released something like that with no safeguards, nothing to stop her from returning to Autumn, they could be in for a lot more trouble with Beron than they first expected.

“Yea, I know.” The two made to go back to Velaris, winnowing silently.

Quick. Quick as a fox. You need to be fast, faster than anything that might catch you. His voice rang in your ears as you sprinted through the thicket, four paws pushing silently off the ground at each lurch of your body. Come on, fox. I know you’re faster than that. The hounds are going to rip you to shreds if they catch you, I wont hold them back. Gods, you needed to run. If you were still in the grove, that meant you were only one court away from Autumn, the winter court.

Sure enough, a border of ice and snow came into view, and the fur you wore changed from the fire red of his hair to the white of winter. They’d never feel you breach the border; animals came and went as seasons changed, even in the eternal courts. And your winter body would blend you into one of them long enough for you to pass through unnoticed. You’d run, run as fast as you could until you reached him.

Five hundred years you haven’t been watching from the shadows. Watching and waiting. You knew the day they took you he wouldn’t look for you. You had failed him, had gotten caught. You are my fox, quick and sly. But if you get caught in a snare, there will be nothing I can do to stop the hunters from claiming their game.

Hours had passed until you reached the land of Autumn, and your body returned to the red that you never forgot in your imprisonment. It was all you could remember of him, that and his cruel disposition. You had forgotten his eyes, but never the feeling as they landed on you with cold contempt.

You made for the cabin on the base of the mountains. You knew he’d keep it warded. And all you had to do was cross the threshold and he’d come for you.

Being encased in that stone should have turned you mad, but the hot anger you had been laced with for the change had kept you burning with sanity. You would be no good to him if you’d freed yourself and come back with no wits. So it had burned, for year upon year, until the red head idiot decided he knew who you were and released you.

He hadn’t smelt like Beron, you’d checked. Lady of Autumn, sure, but Beron was no where in his blood. You wondered what happened there.

The cabin was in sight when you felt your legs give out. Shifting back, you wobbled on fae legs to the front of the porch. But you couldn’t sit. If he came and couldn’t remember you, you’d have to make fast work at fleeing before he decided you were a threat to his oasis.

It didn’t take long for the beating of hooves and the pounding of paws to reach your ears. Light flickered in the distance, one lone torch among the forest of orange and yellow.

Standing steady, you raised your head as the face you’d forgotten became clear. Gods, now that it was in front of you again, you realised it had never left you. It haunted your dreams, your nightmares, and every waking moment you sat kneeling in that grove. You'd only forgotten that it was real, and not a figment of your trapped mind.

Nothing was said as the hounds came charging, ready to tear whatever decided to breach their master’s property. But the wave of scent you let wash over you had them stopping in their tracks. Now unsure of whether you were truly the threat they were first ordered to rid.

“State your business, before I am no longer lenient with my dogs’ lag.” He voice sounded harder than you could think to remember. You hated it, wondering what he'd done in the time you were gone to sound like that. But you bowed deep, knee hitting the wood beneath you in reverence, “my lord.”

You didn’t dare lift your head, couldn’t bear it if you looked up and saw nothing of recognition in his eyes. But the sharp inhale, small enough that only you would ever hear it, loosed the fear filling your chest. “Fox?” you smiled.

“It’s been a long time, Eris.”

[wishcamper]

AITF Part IV: The Nestapocalypse

Pre reqs: PART I | PART II | PART III

Creds: licensed mental health profesh, person with a family

Hello and welcome back to our deep dive on ACOTAR and family systems theory!

Last time we talked about how Feyre destabilized, and then re-stabilized the IC family system. Her addition revealed the weak points in the system, particularly of Mor as the primary source of anxiety. So let’s look at what happens to the system, and Mor in particular, once Elain and Nesta join, with Lucien peripherally.

Mor, you good? You’re looking a little lonely there.

So I had to eliminate some relationships to make it readable, but there have been some major changes structurally that I want to highlight:

Feyre and Rhys introduced a romantic alliance into the system. Cassian and Nesta later reinforce this. And Azriel is clearly tryin, even if he’s not having success. This is a complete turn from the original systems where, not only were there no romantic relationships, but via the buffer romance in the family was actively discouraged.

The center of anxiety has shifted to Rhys. We see him make choices for others to soothe that anxiety CONstantly throughout ACOFAS and ACOSF. It’s pretty much his primary strategy. And that’s because..

Rhys has real challenges to his power. Nesta doesn’t want or need anything from him, yet has influence on her sisters and Cassian. Nesta refuses to follow the family rules and participate in the NFEP, undermining Rhys’ ability to keep the system stable. Until they cut her off financially and give her the “intervention”, he has no leverage against her because enough other people ultimately want her in.

Waaaayyyy less energy and resources are being devoted to Mor, and her feelings matter much less in family decisions and functioning. 

It’s interesting because even though Mor is no longer the center of the family in terms of relationships, I think she has the most to lose from instability in the system. Everyone else has a stronger relationship than the one they have with her. Yet she needs each one of them to:

Rhys - establish her relevance in the system, provide structure and enforce the rules, and keep the buffer drama from spilling over

Cassian - protect her from connecting with Azriel’s feelings and diffuse her anxiety

Azriel - provide a reason for her to be cagey about her love life/justify keeping her sexuality a secret

Feyre - ensure her relevance to Rhys / secure her position and value

Elain - less their relationship, more that there’s a blanket family rule of “protect Elain”

I say this not as a call out, but to show that Nesta is the only person Mor can attack without jeopardizing her position and reasonably assume the others will let her. Nesta in ACOFAS and ACOSF is a classic scapegoat as the person with the least apparent power and most obvious and stigmatized issues. She’s an easy target, especially for someone like Mor, who is well-versed in the courtier’s game and can appear to be innocent while actually being quite malicious (see: lingerie-gate).

This is where we come back to the topic of alliances. I always associate that term with Survivor, which is actually a really good representation of how alliances function in families in three main ways:

Alliances are always mutually beneficial.

Alliance can be used to leverage power.

Alliances can be broken or changed if one person can get their needs met in a better/easier way.

Alliances can be temporary and utilitarian (I’ll give you a dollar if you don’t tell mom I hit you) or long-standing and an integral part of the system (parents do not contradict each other on rules in front of the kids, and work those disputes out in private to maintain consistency).

The Mor/Cassian alliance fits all these qualities exactly. Cassian gets relief from his guilt and can suppress conflict before it starts, and he also gets someone to fuss over which tbh it seems like he enjoys. Mor gets protection from Azriel’s feelings for her, doesn’t have to face the conflict she generates, and gets fussed over which she also seems to enjoy. And when Cassian starts getting those needs met by Nesta instead, with more perks and fewer costs, he leaves more behind and both their roles fundamentally shift.

In that way, Nesta and Cassian’s relationship is really the thing that changes the family permanently, in my opinion. I think if Nesta had just been pushed out, or at least neutralized, they could’ve been fine for a while longer. But because he wants her there, and she refuses to follow the rules, the family has to figure out how to accommodate her. The Nes/Cass alliance is crazy powerful when you break it down.

Nesta has power in the purest sense, as in she is probably magically stronger than anyone else in the Night Court, especially considering Amren’s lost her powers. So at the end of the day, if she got her shit together she could tear it all down. She’s could really leverage the idea that no one should take her temperance for granted. She doesn’t do this and I think that’s because she’s a good person. She doesn’t desire power, which weirdly makes her very suited to have it. She also has power in an influence sense, in that at least her sisters and Cassian are invested in having a good relationship with her which means, by extension, Rhys and Mor have to get on board.

(I realize I haven’t mentioned Azriel very much - he’s the former scapegoat, and never had much power in the first place. I wonder if that’s why he seems to have a soft spot for Nesta, like there’s a sense of solidarity. So his opinions and actions don’t really affect the system unless he wants to start rebelling. Which I think we’ll eventually see him do since he doesn’t have as much investment in keeping the family together after his brothers pair off and Rhys pulls rank.)

Cassian’s power is more passive in this system, in that he causes change when he STOPS doing things, mostly peacemaking behaviors. He absorbs a lot of anxiety in the system, along with Az, and exerts influence through physical and emotional absence. Because of this power, when he starts investing more time and attention in Nesta, Mor reacts by retaliating toward NESTA, who she sees as the more vulnerable/lower status one even though Cassian is 100% initiating the change. Lingerie-gate. “She belongs in the Hewn City”. Her protectiveness of Cass. The call’s coming from inside the house, my love.

As a sidebar, I find this such an interesting dynamic in that is sort of an accidental subversion of the typical tropes. Magical young women conquers the world by NOT using her powers. Bad ass fighting dude is more powerful when he chooses not to act. Such a fascinating theme. Anyway.

We know systems want to stay in balance, so members will do things to rebalance them. Cassian and Nesta are going to be together? Okay, then she has to be acceptable by the family standards and fall in line with the rules. We see this blatantly in the way the IC “intervenes” when Nesta is “embarrassing” them. And there is a layer of the backlash to this shift this that is definitely Mor feeling threatened by Nesta taking her place in the alliance. But what’s interesting to me is that there’s another layer in what she says TO Cassian when Nesta isn’t even around, a passive aggressive way of expressing her disapproval that he’s abandoned her and what she sees as his role.

So when they’re very clearly going to be together, and the mating bond is both obvious and powerful given the rules of their culture and their own system, it forces a schism. On one side is Rhys, Mor, and Amren. On the other is Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel. Feyre straddles the middle, and Elain uses absence to avoid taking sides.

This is actually fairly normal in families as kids grow up and begin families of their own. Shifting priorities change how decisions are made individually and as a group, and where members go to get their needs met. If people are able to accept their changing roles, things can go well - parents transition to being grandparents, siblings can support each other without competing for resources, adult children can establish their own family rules that are in line with their values. When it goes poorly, or when people cling to their rules and roles too rigidly, there can be a lot of conflict.

It’s the great contradiction of the family system that the best way to achieve equilibrium is by accepting that shifting is constant, inevitable, and important. It’s like standing on one foot, that even when you feel stable there are tiny shifts happening, and when you focus too hard on staying upright you almost always fall over. But when you treat the little shifts as normal, you realize that balancing is a process in motion, and looking ahead keeps things steadier than looking down.

Looking at this in a zoomed out way is helpful, but I also want to remember that while these are characters, the dynamics they play out are very real and can be very damaging. We naturally internalize the strategies and structures of our family system. I see this over and over again in my office, the ways people have been conditioned to believe they are defective, broken, inadequate, hopeless. In my personal life, I’ve been contending recently with a lot of trauma from my family that was covert, normalized, and well-hidden but which left me convinced that I was so repulsive, that my inner world was so ugly that anyone I showed it to would immediately leave. Some days it feels like it’s permanently damaged my brain. I know that’s not true, both on a literature level and a personal belief level, but it can be hard to remember and god does it still hurt. I still fear breaking the rules even though I’m the only one enforcing them now.

Okay I’m gonna stop here. This one is really rambling so I hope you got something out of it lol. Life is hard and weird right now, so I hope you’ll excuse if it’s not my usual standard. Thanks for reading <3

[flowerflamestars]

I don't know if my continued Rhys Efflorese babble gotten eaten so here it is again. (if I'm repeating myself I'm very very sorry)

Rhysand being so certain that Cassian and Azriel's Illyrian honor and loyalty will keep them on his side without having even a shred of awareness about what Illyrian honor even MEANS much less what it might mean if they feel that HE'S the one who betrayed them first. I'm not sure that Rhysand even has any concept of Illyrians beyond the asshole camp lords that Night put in charge. (Why were they freezing in the mud, huh, Rhys?! WHO PUT THEM THERE?! Why might they not be will to share their whole selves with the Prince of Night, huh Rhys?)

It says a lot about how much faith and respect they had for Shahar (I can't remember how to spell her name right now) that even though she didn't live among them as one of them, they still very much considered her theirs and believed she could (and would) make the future better for them. (This is a thought I had while reading Starlight: the House of the Wind is possessed by the ghost of Rhysand's sister and she's fucking Pissed at him)

Rhysand is very bad a cost-benefit analysis. Particularly because he doesn't seem to have any concept of what a 'cost' actually is, especially when it's someone else who'll be paying it. Or even what a benefit is really. (Dude, you have two business savvy, policially knowledgeable, intelligent humans who are personally invested in keeping Feyre safe. This would be a FANTASTIC opportunity to learn about the state of the human lands and kingdoms and formulate plans based on new information instead of, you know, deciding you already had a perfect plan despite the fact that you haven't talked to a single (not Feyre) human in at least 500 years.(*insert the "no it's the children who are wrong" Simpsons guy meme here*) Or that maybe there's this guy right here with friendly acquaintances all over the place that could be very useful if you weren't, you know, a shithead. But nope, slightly bruised pride too much cost)

Rhysand's desperation for Feyre to only see him in a very specific light is greatly aided by Feyre's equal determination to only see him in that exact light.

Rhysand thinking that, even after learning he fucked off to the continent and got arrested for gambling debts, bringing shit-head papa Archeron into the situation will keep ANYONE in line (kinda love that even though we're all, like, Everyone Gets a Name but then none of us will can shithead papa Archeron anything but shithead papa Archeron)

Rhysand hoping this situation that he doesn't want to deal with implodes while not comprehending that it will implode into A WHOLE NOTHER SITUATION

Do you think he's a bit baffled when Feyre comes to the conclusion that her sisters hate faeries? Like he's perfectly pleased with the situation and happy to roll with it because it'll drive a further wedge between her and her sisters do you think he looks at the perfectly polite chats with Cass and Az despite the glowing siphons and giant bat wings (plus the Shadows in Az's case) and the House Full of Blood Magic/ Lucien FUCKING Venserra situation and think "Whelp, I guess you've got an immortal lifetime to learn some observation skills" (not that she'll learn good observations skills from HIM anytime soon)

Rhysand thinking that Feyre loves and cares about these people and that therefore they are a THREAT to HIM instead of that meaning that he should maybe he should care about, or, a least, try to get along with them.

Elain just keeps smiling a playing the perfect hostess is nearly as infuriating as Nesta snarling in his face. Then she puts Cassian's knife to his throat. That's probably one of them most WTF moments of his life. (someone please tell the Illyrians that Elain held a knife to Rhysand's throat. They deserve knowledge that this tiny human girl was willing to pull a knife on a High Lord for her people (a people they are now part of))

Did he notice that Elain served him some funny tasting tea and just think nothing of it because human food is all shit to him? (Also Cassian had almost zero reaction to Nesta saying that Elain had tried to poison Rhysand, his High Lord/'brother')

(in your Nesta/Eris story, the Valkyrie priestess says something along the lines of "Rhian's sniveling brat son may think the world revolves around him but it doesn't" and "Shahar would be disappointed in him." These statements feel applicable this Rhysand (or all Rhysands really))

Rhysand is about to get a crash course in how loyalty is a two-way street. The Archerons' people (now including a bunch of awestruck Illyrians) are so ride-or-die for them because the Archerons are just as ride-or-die back.

All three of the Bat Boys are in the process of completely loosing their shit in different directions.

Side-note: When Elain offers Cassian tea and calls him sir and Cassian's like "WTF I'm not a sir" and Elain's like "It's a courtesy given to any man with a title" and Cassian's just "naw I don't have a title" and then in her head Elain's like "WTF in what world is General not a title?" It just makes me wonder about Cassian's (and by extension, Azriel's) actual place in the Night Court's (barely existent) court hierarchy.

Side-note the second: While mentioning the Night Court's barely existent government system the thought of Amren having secret peons in place helping keep the court running. It might have started as a bit of a game 'How much functioning government can I make before Rhysand actually notices" however I think it got boring pretty quick through a combination of, 'he barely ever notices anything not shoved directly under his nose' and mild concern that Rhysand might actually notice and stop her and the court will implode even faster than it already is (and she's gotten stupidly attached to some of these colorful insects and would like to keep them around a bit longer) (Side-side note: I'm SO hyped for Amren to meet the rest of the Archerons)

Side-note the third: if there's Archeron ships in Night then there's probably Archeron ships in Summer too right? That could spin the whole Summer-book theft debacle in... interesting ways. (I'm imagining Tarquin talking to Feyre about Archeron ships bringing in supplies to rebuild the city at greatly reduced transpiration fees or something and Feyre's just mentally like "wtf my sisters hate faeries why would they do that" (because she's still operating under that particular delusion) but (because Rhys thinks it's a good idea) she plays along like she knows about it or something and uses it to gain more of Tarquin's trust before, you know, Rhys's whole *brilliant* plan takes place. Imagine how abso-fucking-lutly pissed OFF, Nesta, Elain and Lucien would be. Like, the whole situation would already piss them all off but add in deliberately taking advantage their family's reputation and kindness to do it? Rhysand had better stay well out of stabbing distance. (Side-side-note: Tarquin's, like, less than one hundred right? The dude spent more than HALF is fucking life Under the Mountain. Give him a fucking BREAK.) (Side-side-side-note: Just popped into my head. What if there were babies BORN down there. Like, that's their whole life down there. I just realized that this isn't actually much of a what-if scenario because really we just have to look under Rhysand's OWN fucking mountain to see how that goes.)

I think that's all of the babble for the moment. <3

Oooo so much good stuff here! I'll try to go in order 💜

Rhys is canonically shitty about Illyria and the Illyrians! I almost feel like I'm hitting the bottom of the barrel to give it emotional nuance- Effloresce Rhys has wrapped together all his grief and ego into just. Complete bullshit. Nesta sees this immediately! ( Cassian and Az have. Had to live within this, which I'll get to)

But yeah, that's the center for him in so many ways: he has to The Most Right, Fully in Control, Always in Charge and also does not take responsibility for shit. Ever.

So he belittles it. A warrior culture? Savages. Mor blatantly using Cassian when they were young? Oh that drives Cassian crazy. Azriel is wildly fucked up? No, it's the fault of his childhood not his continued life! Cassian gets close to his literal soulmate? Are you fucking around with Feyre's sister, Cas?

One of my character things for Rhys is that he wants Everything just barely more than he wants nothing. He is SO voraciously is the center of his own world while being so utterly careless with that world. So there is no balance. There's just what Rhys wants.

And he wants Feyre so Feyre is also always right. And just. Canonically does not seem to value her sisters as people so much as auxiliary manifestations of her own self.

They're like her irksome pets Rhys has to deal with.

Cassian's actual rank is going to come back, but I would say that you could easily call Rhysands perspective on the Archeron alliance making 'huh, the dogs AREN'T smart enough to be afraid of bears, and I, a person, find this quaint'

(Elain is going to kill the fuck out of someone over this.)

Poison doesn't matter because Cassian chose a side basically the second he crossed the wall. Even without Nesta. (You could possibly say he has always had a side, and it has always been Nesta.) Further, Lucien absolutely clocked that blood! All these things add together, really.

As for Amren, she's less focused on a functioning government as she is invested in a broad outcome. She keeps her vows. She is, perhaps, playing an elaborate game of wondering what Rhys does and does not know.

Oooo Summer is a stop on the Elucien honeymoon diplomatic carpet bomb, actually. They're not actively trading there, but they're not unknown. Rhys is definitely still hunting the book to use Feyre's Super Specialness.

Tarquin is young and progressive! I know the books utilize this to be like 'oh, he'll give Rhys a chance', without ever clarifying if Tarquin or anyone knows the actual degree of Rhysands willing or unwilling cooperation with Amarantha. It doesn't make a ton of sense. I like to take it in another direction.