#the summer court

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Tarquin: I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy!

Tarquin: Unless of course, we're talking about my enemy, Cassian. Fuck you Cassian, you know what you did.

[thefatesofspring]

Thought of the day:

It literally makes no sense that The Spring Court isn’t the most wealthy court in Prythian…

Not only does the court have the most to offer in trade in terms of food, it most likely develops the majority of fabrics in Prythian, not to mention herbs for medicines etc, then there’s wood exporting & possibly jewel mining. All of this most likely coming from just The Spring Court alone & then whatever overseas trade they do too…bruh The Spring Court is literally basking in riches!

This is why I’m adamant that Spring Court is the wealthiest court but is frugal with its spending, the high lords of Spring only spend when necessary.

The Spring Court is the very definition of a self sufficient court, it doesn’t really need anything from other courts & every return trade the do is really just an added luxury for them.

It also doesn’t make sense that The Night Court & Winter court are wealthy, by rights they should actually be the poorest of all the courts.

If I had to rank the courts in terms of wealth it would go like this:

1. The Spring Court

2. The Dawn Court

3. The Summer & The Autumn Court

4. The Day Court

5. The Night Court

6. The Winter Court

This is also why Sarah Janet Maas needs to spend so much more time on her world-building skills because we need more information on how the other courts operate their courts & gain their wealth

[animezinglife]

When you remember that Tarquin has no mate (that we know of) and that his mate would basically live a life of being rich and lounging on the beach:

[dawneternal]

Tarquin // I think it might be very easy to love you. Easier to be your friend.

[velidewrites]

Cassian, in a Summer Court prison: How did you find me??

Rhysand: Well, I used my enhanced daemati skills to—

Amren: We typed “bitch” in the GPS and it led us here

[aftgmostly]

Pinterest memes I found funny

Part 1:

[devellium]

I recently finished AFTG and fell deeply in love with it. now that I’ve read it though, I have absolutely no idea what to read after it.

suggestions for book series to read after AFTG?

[achaotichuman]

Hello 👋

I hope you're well

Idk if you're taking prompts for fics but if you are, could you please write something for Tarquin from ACOTAR? Could it be something platonic (not sexual at all), him interacting with the other High Lords or yelling at the IC or maybe just expanding on the Summer Court? I feel like there's so little Tarquin-centric fics and i am dying just to get something.

I hope i'm not pressuring you into doing anything tho (and am really sorry if i'm sounding like i am) becoz if you don't want to or want to do something else, that's fine as well. I love your writing and will be happy regardless

Sorry if i'm disturbing you

Helloo!!!

Omg I love this prompt so much!!

Don't ever think you are disturbing me by sending me prompts, I am always happy to receive them!!! And if anyone is ever wondering whether or not I am taking requests, in the pinned post on my blog, it will tell you whether my inbox is open or closed. We def need more Tarquin-centric fics so I am very happy to write this one!!!

Okay so, I definitely wanted fluff and a touch of hurt/comfort, but mostly good vibes. Tarquin's trauma in the books is completely swept under the rug and I absolutely despise it, so here we see a window into him healing from Under the Mountain. Some friendship with Eris and Tamlin, and his relationship with Cresseida and Varian.

I hope you enjoy anon!!

 I’m almost me again, she’s almost you

I got some colour back, She thinks so too. I’m almost me again, She’s almost you. -(Almost (Sweet Music) Hozier

I’m running a circus. Tarquin thought to himself as he watched the three lords around the glass circle table bicker over minor details of the recent High Lord’s meeting. Debating seating arrangements, decorations and who would greet who. Tarquin listened as each Lord gave his opinion, only to be talked over by the other. 

Eventually though, his eyes slid to Cresseida who met his gaze. He gave the slightest of nods, and she plucked a crystal bell from the table. Ringing it loud and suddenly to catch the full attention of everyone in the room. 

Tarquin smoothly stood from his seat, folding his hands in front of him. He said cooly, “We will assess and organise the arrangements as necessary, but first I would like to discuss the logistics of the meeting with my second. For now you are all excused.”

There was a murmuring of ‘yes High lord.’ And general thank you’s for the meeting before everyone began to file out. The door finally clicked shut and Tarquin fell back into his chair. 

Cresseida hid her laugh behind her palm, but couldn’t stop the shaking of her shoulders as she watched her younger cousin practically melt into his chair. 

“What we really need to do is prepare a room as far away from the rest of the Palace as possible. And find some sort of enchanted unbreakable chairs.”

His second nodded thoughtfully, “Perhaps, my lord, we should nail them into the ground so that no one decides it's necessary to use them as an aerial weapon.”

Tarquin faced her with a deadpan expression as Cresseida struggled to reign in her giggles. 

“I swear to the Mother and Cauldron, if anyone ends up getting choked on my floors-”

“We’ll make it mandatory to remove all weapons. And ask Thesan for his spells to ward the room against magic.”

“I think we’d have outrage from the Night Court if we made their spymaster strip off all his weaponry.” He mumbled. 

“Maybe then they won’t come.” Cresseida murmured as she picked at her nails. 

“Cress-”

“It would certainly be a more peaceful meeting then.” She argued. 

“We have to get along with them. If only for Varian’s sake.”

She frowned, “Varian is a love-sick fool. Completely blind, I couldn’t tell you what he sees in her.”

Tarquin waved his hand in dismissal, he didn’t really want to think about his cousin’s love affairs right now. As strange as they may be and as much as he did not understand them. They weren’t his business. 

They were when he found out Varian had been telling Amren Summer’s personal matters. It got him revoked from the Court until Tarquin was completely sure it would not happen again. Since that day, Varian had not been seen in Adriata. And Tarquin didn’t go looking for him. 

“I need a drink.” Tarquin said, standing up and stretching his arms, hearing his joints crack and pop. 

Cresseida stood with him. Her skirts wishing around her ankles. The long, slim flowing blue fabric of the Summer Court billowed in the sea air as they opened the doors. 

Most of the palace was open to the air. The tall stone pillars that lined the hallways, allowing the breeze to waft in. As well as the hot, buttery yellow sun combining with the salt in the air. Tarquin closed his eyes as he breathed it in. 

He had taken it for granted. In his decades before Amarantha came for them, he had taken this all for granted. 

He breathed it in like the salt might burn away the tang of blood which tainted his senses. The thick crimson which had caked Norstrus’ and Brutius’ skin as Tarquin watched them executed. The image was there whenever he dreamt, stained in the sky at sunset, in his the blood rubies he sent to the Night Court after their thievery. 

Tarquin had always hated the colour red, it was too harsh, too cruel, too much like fire for him. It was a stain to the normal whites, blues and gold he wore. 

But after Amarantha, it was a nightmare of itself. 

“Tar?” Cresseida asked, snapping him from his own thoughts. 

Tarquin looked down at Cresseida, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him carefully.

“Are you okay?” She asked. 

Her eyes were an earthy brown, skin made vibrant and dark by the sun again. She was alive, and so was he. She was breathing and he did too. The scars on her arms from where she had been grabbed by the Attor at times hadn’t faded entirely, and the claw marks down Tarquin’s thighs from when he had been in a grapple with one of the guards who picked on Varian still got sore sometimes. 

But they were healing. They would heal in time. 

“Yeah, Cress.” Tarquin smiled and it was real, “I’m okay.”

She smiled back, and he knew she knew what he meant. 

“We’re both okay.” She took his hand and gave it a loving squeeze. 

“You thought you could escape me.” Her voice was dripping with cruelty as she laughed and laughed, “Did you think I wouldn’t see through your plans, oh Norstrus, you weren’t this dense even when I first entrapped you.”

Cresseida grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight enough to grind the bones, as tears flowed relentlessly down her face. She couldn’t stop them. 

Tarquin squeezed her hand back. 

“I feel like something fruity and full of good alcohol.” Tarquin loudly proclaimed, “And let’s go to the beach, I’ve been in shoes for far too long now.”

Cresseida laughed, “Cousin, you are full of good ideas.”

“Ive more ideas that all of Helion’s libraries combined, you should know this well.” Tarquin grinned. 

Cresseida looked out over their people in the city streets far below, she smiled at what she saw, “Of course, of course.”

Tarquin and Cresseida sat at a busy bar at the beach that night. Tarquin got to lose his shoes and feel the sand under his feet, the sea lapping at ankles. Now he savoured a pineapple drink and watched the ocean sparkling in the deep orange light as the sun began to set. The band of red glimmered at him, Tarquin watched as the colours darkened, the stars beginning to shine from the blanket of darkness high above. 

Cresseida happily sipped on her drink, watching the sunset with her cousin. He wondered if she also saw blood in the sky as he did. 

“I love sunsets,” She said, he looked over to her, to see her eyes trained on the display before them. 

“They’re pretty,” He agreed. 

“They’re unique.” She said, “Not one is the same as another. Just like people, you’ll never see one the exact same as the other.”

Tarquin looked over the sea again, the sky an array of blended colours and dimming light. 

He watched the red as it began to fade, seeing that deep orange-tinted colour as it blended with the pinks, blues, purples, fading into the silvery ocean as the sun fully dipped below the horizon. 

“You know,” Cresseida said, “When you were young, I told you that no sunset is the same and the one we saw that night you would never see again.”

Tarquin rubbed a finger along the lip of his drink, listening intently as he turned to stare into the yellow of his drink. 

“You didn’t like that,” She laughed, “You asked me if we could get on a ship and sail to the horizon, if we could chase the sunset and see it forever.”

He followed the line of his fingers with his eyes, his skin, his wrists, his veins. He saw it all. 

“What did the sunset look like that night?” He asked.

Cresseida sighed dreamily as she thought back fondly on the memory, “It was marvellous, the whole sky was red, even the ocean shone crimson. You were amazed by it. Said it looked like the Mother had dipped a bucket of red paint over the sky.”

He remembered it, he remembered holding Cresseida’s finger with one hand and clutching a stuffed seahorse in the other. He had smiled and pointed at the sky and been upset when Cresseida said he would not see it again. 

Perhaps he had not hated red as much as he thought. 

Amarantha had tainted his memory, dragged jagged claws and left a bleeding scar. 

But blood clotted, and scars healed over. His were no different. 

Tarquin turned to face the sky. He looked at the red band, and saw the Mother’s grand expanse of paints. 

Norstrus’ blood would always haunt his mind. 

But he would look at the sunset, and he wouldn’t be afraid. 

______________________________________________

Music played in the air, a symphony of notes that wrapped around his limbs like hands pulling him forward. The night air was cool, the notes of ocean, fruits and citrus salt blew through his hair and pushed him in all directions. 

Every string was plucked with the celebrations of his lands. Tarquin clutched a flute of bubbling Faerie wine in one hand, watching the dancing Fae, twirling and spinning in long fluttering layers of fabric. A sea of blue and gold, as shining and unbound as the ocean itself. 

The meeting was over and he forgot the stress as he drank deeply from his glass. Swallowing each pale gold drop. A haze settled deep in his bones, making him as free as raging currents coursing through the sea itself. Tarquin didn’t know when or how, but he found himself spinning and twisting in the crowds to the music which wrote and rewrote itself into his soul. Etching this memory into his bones. Burning out the memories of days and nights under a cave’s ceiling, they turned to ashes which blew out into the night with the ocean air, replaced with the view of the stars above, the perfume of his Court, and the smiling, free people around him. 

At some point he spotted Cresseida, she was twirled around by a man he hadn’t met before. She met his gaze and laughed, in a second she was beside him. Grabbing his hands and spinning him around. 

“You got wine on your shirt, dunce!” She laughed, throwing her head back, white curls bouncing around. 

Tarquin stopped his spinning just enough to grab his shirt and look down. And instead droplets had splattered across his pale blue and gold shirt. 

“Oh well!” He laughed with her, grabbing her hands again. 

The night spun away from him, it came back to earth when another set of hands caught his wrists. 

“Cousin!” There was Varian, grinning from ear to ear, drunk on alcohol and the spirit of the crowd. 

“Var!” Tarquin caught him in a tight hug, catching Cresseida’s arm once more and drunkenly pulling her into the embrace. 

The three laughed and danced and drank to their merry heart’s content. Allowing the night to sweep them off their feet, whisking them into the antics of the party. 

At some point, sometime very early in the morning, Tarquin found himself laying across an empty beach, the last rays of moonlight shining down on him, painting the sand in pure silver. The ocean shimmering like the scales of a fish with every tiny wave. His shoes were gone, possibly for good, and his loose pants were rolled up past his ankles. 

He laid supported by his elbows. Watching the horizon as the very first drop of sunlight broke from below the horizon. 

“Well that was a wild night.” A voice he didn’t immediately recognise commented. 

Tarquin looked up to see a head of blond nearly right beside him, supporting a near unconscious pale-skinned redhead. 

“Tamlin,” Tarquin grinned, he glanced down at Eris and raised an eyebrow. 

Tamlin laughed, slowly lowering Eris who swayed with every movement like he’d be sick. 

“Too much Faerie wine for you, Lord of Autumn.”

“It was your terrorising cousin who wished to see me undone who kept shoving a full glass into my hand.” Eris said. 

“Cresseida is a force to be reckoned with.” Tamlin noted, flopping down on Tarquin’s other side. 

“Truer words have never been spoken, Spring,” Tarquin said, letting himself fall back down into the sand. Tamlin joined him. Staring up at the last remnants of the stars. 

“You’ll both come to Spring solstice this year.” Tamlin said, not even an invitation, almost an order. Almost, if Tarquin did not know he had long planned to go regardless of if Tamlin even wanted him to be there. 

“And I’ll be at the Autumn Equinox,” Tarquin noted, “I have to get Eris back for emptying out my cellars by doing the same to him.”

“You’ll never succeed.” Eris responded, laying back with them, looking a little more in control of himself, “If there was anything Beron was good for it was collecting the good stuff. There’s hoards of it that will put your treasure trove to shame.”

“We’ll compare and see who comes out on top then.” Tarquin said with a challenging grin. 

“What new kind of dick measuring contest is this? I’ll have to start my own hoard.” Tamlin laughed. 

“What are you going to hoard Tamlin? Flower crowns? Those would rot in mere days.” Eris snapped. 

“That's why you either dry or freeze them, Eris, then you can keep them forever. I still have the flower crowns my mother had her nieces wear to her wedding.”

“Introduce me to them one day.” Tarquin said, “I’ve heard many good tales about Lady Dahlie Fairburn.”

“My mother was awesome.” Tamlin grinned. 

“Your mother’s awesome? My mother is the most awesome,” Tarquin said, “But your mother can have second place.”

“No, my mother is the most awesome.” Eris said, “Not even a competition, you two can fight over second place.”

“Oh, please,” Tamlin scoffed, “It’s not even a fair contest, Tarquin never even met my mother.”

“What are the three of you bickering over?” Someone else chimed from above. 

Tarquin tilted his head as back as he could to try and make out who stood above them. 

“Mother, you’re just in time!” Eris chimed, clambering to sit up properly. 

Andrea took in a deep breath whilst the observed the three males try and stumble to get up. Dusting sand that stuck to their wine-stained clothes and hair. 

“Come inside the lot of you, you can sleep all this off.” She said, beginning to walk back to the Palace. 

“Wait Andrea! You knew my mother, you can settle this argument.” Tamlin shouted after her. 

Eris, Tarquin and Tamlin got up and started running after the Lady of Day. The soft fluffy sand cold beneath their feet, turning to the stone steps and the rocky cobblestone as they continued to argue. 

Andrea laughed as she listened to the three, her ribs ached as they tried to make her pick who would win their imaginary competition. 

The sun’s rays grew stronger, blue bleeding into the dark as day overtook night. 

Tarquin looked up at the sky and saw the endlessness spread out for all to see. 

Maybe he was stained with the darkness of that depraved mountain forever. 

But right now. 

He was almost him again. 

[btsbabe7]

Developing a crush on the High Lord of Summer I fear…

[theladyofbloodshed]

Prythian Infographics ¦ The Summer Court

[highladyofterrasen7]

Feyre: flirts with Tarquin

Rhys:

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Cassian: *Actively on trial after the Summer Court incident*

Cassian: Mothers and fuckers of the jury...

[animezinglife]

Late Nights in Summer

Lucien tends to Elain after she has a bit too much to drink.

Genre: Fluff/Romance/Subtle Angst. Mild suggestive humor (brief). Post-canon, established relationship Elucien fic | Masterlist Simple, fun little one-shot I wanted to get off my chest. Briefly-mentioned OC. Thank you as always to @lucienarcheron, @zenkindoflove, @crazy-ache, @teddyhoneybear, and @thelov3lybookworm for their continued support.

Lucien wasn’t sure what to expect when Tarquin had called him in about Elain, but it hadn’t taken him long to figure out. With one glance he'd known: her hair and the clothes she’d worn out with Cresseida disheveled, head resting on the pillow of Cresseida’s sofa, and snoring.

Loudly.

The princess of Adriata stood behind where his mate lay and raised her hands in mock surrender.

“I told her to slow down,” she said, and Lucien smirked, crossing the room and kneeling at the side of the sofa. Elain wasn’t accustomed to drinking to begin with, much less the strong, deceptively sweet drinks of Summer that could take a fully grown male out of commission if he didn’t pace himself. Despite her snoring, though, Elain’s face was serene, and he brushed a strand of her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. 

She snorted in response. Cresseida bit back a laugh.

Resting a hand on her shoulder, he glanced up at the princess. During his and Elain’s earlier visits to Summer together, Cresseida had acted aloof towards his mate, keeping a distance and not going much farther than to offer her the usual, courtly formalities. It had bothered him even though he’d quickly pieced together that it hadn’t been personal–more of a lingering suspicion towards the Night Court in general. Yet over time Elain had thoroughly charmed Cresseida and Tarquin both, and this wasn’t the first time they had explored Adriata’s nightlife together. Though it was the first time they had left the males behind altogether, on account of “Welcoming Acelia to the family!” as the princess had put it.

“Where’s Acelia?” he asked, and the princess rolled her eyes, her smile softening slightly.

“Where do you think?” she asked, and Lucien nodded in understanding, knowing the small female had been returned home to Tarquin safely. The High Lord’s mate was as small as Elain in stature, though as a Summer native herself, he suspected she’d fared better than his own. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and the princess nodded once as he gently turned Elain and lifted her into his arms. Even though the sweet scent of Summer booze was strong, her own scent of jasmine and honey still filled him, and as if in response to his nearness she stirred awake, their bond humming as her eyelids fluttered open. She pulled herself closer and nuzzled his neck, and at Cresseida’s amused expression, he said his goodbyes and winnowed them back to their quarters.

Elain had been ecstatic about their guest suite, its walls invisible from within and facing the sea. The wards that protected the room from the elements and external threats only allowed the fresh, gentle breeze and sounds of the waves to flow through. Vines with tropical flora wove their way around the columns of warded wall, the view extending out uninterrupted to their terrace and private bath with edges that seemed to drop into the ocean itself.

They’d spent most of their previous night there and most of the following morning in bed. Time seemed to move more slowly in the Summer Court, and while Tarquin himself was a punctual high lord and a gracious host, it was rare that any among his court rushed on a daily basis.

Lucien and Elain had found themselves thoroughly enjoying that fact.

Presently, he smirked as her nuzzling turned into a long, wet kiss, and he carried her towards the bed and sat her down gently. His mate propped herself up lazily as he knelt to remove her shoes, and he didn’t miss the heat in her gaze as her hand found his hair.

“I love this view,” she slurred dreamily, and Lucien allowed himself to glance up at her, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. 

“They did give us the best suite in Summer,” he quipped, and she shook her head, steading herself with her grip on his hair and leaning down closer. Fruit and rum danced on her breath as she met his eyes, focusing on that scent to distract himself from the way her legs parted before him. 

“Not that,” she said, her cheeks flushing beyond the effects of the booze. “I like you right here.” Her voice emphasized the last two words with a suggestiveness Lucien was certain she would’ve had more reservation making had she been sober. He held her gaze as he slid off her sandals, his hands tracing up her legs lightly until they rested on the sides of her knees. He moved them together gently, resting one hand atop them and smoothing down the hem of her skirt that had risen from the motion with the other.

“If only you hadn’t had so much to drink,” he teased, pressing his lips to her exposed knee. “I’d stay here as long as you liked.” 

“I’m not that drunk,” she insisted, wavering slightly as he rose and sat down on the bed beside her. 

“Sure, you aren’t,” he said gently, brushing her hair over her shoulder and reaching for the pins in her hair. She always took them out before bed, and as he started on them one by one, she swayed slightly and rested her head into his touch. The warm caress she sent down the bond didn’t surprise him–what did was the sharp tug that followed, so strong it pulled his body towards hers in response. He raised a brow as she giggled, angling herself so she could place her hands on either side of his face. She leaned into him so closely he could taste her breath on his own, her eyes narrowing slightly…and trying desperately to focus. He spoke again as her gaze lingered over his mouth, allowing a fraction of defeat. “You’re not making this easy, love.” 

It amused him, this once-human mate of his who’d surprised him more times than he could count. Whether from her resilience, her warmth, her wit, or her sharp tongue, there hadn’t been a dull moment with Elain Archeron ever since they’d begun to know each other.

There was no doubt to any who saw her that Elain was High Fae: she was beautiful–devastatingly so--and the gentle, warm power that had lay dormant for so long seemed to glow from within her even now. But it wasn’t that fact alone that made it impossible for Lucien to take his eyes off her; hadn’t been from the moment he’d first seen her the day she’d been Made.

It was the vibrant spark in her fawn-brown eyes–the innately, undeniably human spark that had held him in its grip and refused to let him go. 

Even now, despite her current state, its embers shined through, holding him there as she lightly traced his jawline.

His nose.

His mouth.

His eyes fluttered closed as her fingertips found his scar, gently brushing over his eyelid and resting her thumb against the height of his cheekbone–where the scar met its greatest depth. 

Lucien had hated that scar for a long time. He’d considered glamouring it; had once even sought information on healers who might be able to rid him of the disfigurement. 

He had wondered–despite his senses and intuition telling him otherwise–if that scar and his eye had been partly to blame for the distance Elain had initially put between them. Though those fears had long since proven a fragment of his own insecurities and vanished, and when Elain had asked him to tell her the story behind it, he’d done so. He wouldn’t have blamed her for running–not when she’d already been given a bond she’d never asked for.

And yet…

Lucien didn’t stop her as she leaned closer still, closing the distance between them to press a kiss to the spot her thumb had lingered. Despite himself, he sighed into her touch; her scent. He let her fingers find his hair again as she ran them through his red strands and accepted the chaste, lingering kiss she placed at the corner of his mouth.

“Kiss me,” she murmured against his lips, tugging lightly at his hair in encouragement. “Please, Lucien.” 

Something in her tone sobered him, and his eyes opened slowly to take her in. Of course he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her and never stop, giving in fully to their bond–to her–and tangle with her in bed until they were both spent and had nothing left to give. 

There would be time for that, and he thanked the Mother every day for the time they spent together.

For now, he could oblige her one request.

Gently resting his hand beneath her chin, he closed the distance between them again. He savored the kiss she returned, tasting the drink on her lips and at the scent that so potently warmed to him as her body called to his. But as she tried to part his lips he stopped, forcing himself to break it and instead place another long, chaste version against her temple. “I’ll always kiss you,” he murmured, and she hummed against him and slid her hand over his heart. He covered her hand in his, feeling their heartbeats move in sync. 

He wanted her. He always wanted her, whether he kissed her or made love to her or simply felt her presence near.

But he would only have her when it was fully her choice and nothing could blur those lines between them. He'd made that decision long ago, even though it would have never been a question to begin with.

Elain knew as much. He could sense it now as some conscious part of her seemed to withdraw slightly, even if it did nothing to stifle either of their want.

She tilted her head and met his gaze, the embers like sunlight dancing in her eyes again. This time, the spark and feeling she sent down the bond were playful.

A dare.

A private, blissful challenge.

“Tomorrow,” she said, tapping a finger against his chest. He felt his smirk return as her blush deepened. “When I’ve slept this off, I want more than a kiss. I want you."

He didn’t bother to jest or retort, and instead pressed another peck to her lips. 

“It’s a deal.” 

[dawneternal]

☁︎ Cresseida as a mermaid for mermay???

☁︎ I just posted a drawing yesterday but I just finished her and I really wanted to share!!

☁︎ also I tried so hard to make her baby hairs look cute if anyone has any tips for drawing baby hairs let me know lol

☁︎ please do not repost or use with AI

[velidewrites]

THE SUMMER COURT || A Court of Thorns And Roses, Sarah J Maas

For @separatist-apologist

[ae-neon]

The Summer Court

will always be African and Latin American to me