#there’s no way Lucien and Tamlin were not lovers at some point

[pearblossommina]

I’m not really reading since i’m in a bit of a slump but here are some trans headcanons just for fun

I think Lucien is the trans-est guy in ACOTAR

Lucien is objectively the hottest name any character has. And sounds exactly like the type of name a trans masc person would want for themselves.

Also Tamlin’s a shapeshifter so there’s no way he’s not genderqueer AF

It just makes sense that he would welcome Lucien into his court so they could be a happy little trans family

Remember when he like, angrily told Feyre that there’s no such thing as a High Lady

Maybe he only did that because he’s so upset he was forced into this masculine presenting body because of the way society is

But Tamlin prefers to be genderfluid/genderqueer

Spring Court is all about renewing life magic and stuff.

(Also I think Elain is trans - I don’t have an excuse for this - I just think she *is*)

(Like picture Nesta always looking out for her and being like LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE) (and picture her being the most supportive big sister) (and Feyre adopting the traditionally masculine role in the family and doing tasks like hunting so that her older sister wouldn’t have to! It makes it so much MORE SWEET) (picture Elain being trans and being dropped into the cauldron) (and expecting to come out fully transitioned) (but her body was the same; she was just fae, now)(I think it lends a little more weight to the conversation she had with Amren about gender in Frost and Starlight) (also I think it would be so dang cute if she was scared of mating to Lucien because of internalized transphobia and the role of a woman under a man in their society) (only to find out that he’s trans too!)

[yourlittlebunnyy]

fawn -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. The Cauldon trasforms her into a fairy, and there's only one certain thing in her life: she doesn't belong in the Night Court.

warnings: slightly suggestive, Tamlin (haters step back🙏🤺)

wc: 5,5k

enjoy😉

The Cauldron made you a fairy. A fairy. You scoff at the thought. Nesta has become death itself, Elain a seer. You a stupid, little, useless fairy.

That day, when Fae warriors came into your and your sisters' home and forced you into that place, you never thought you would end up with pearl-colored wings and be able to talk to flowers.

You've always been shy, you've always made yourself small in front of others, and when they threw you into that pile of magic, the Cauldron was generous, in the telling of your sister's lover.

"You went in last. It could have given you nothing, as it could have killed you, but it gave you wings. And flowers, plants, and everything a fairy possesses. You shouldn't pout." But you never asked for that.

When they pulled you out everyone's eyes were on you. How could they not? They had never seen such a thing. Sure, the Cauldron could turn a mortal into a Fae, but a fairy?

You didn't look anyone in the face that day, or the weeks that followed.

"I would like to learn to fly," you once said to Azriel. He replied that he could not teach you, that the fairies belonged to the Court of Spring and that even there they were so rare and secretive that no one knew anything about them.

"But you have wings, too. You just need to teach me how to move them. Please."

Azriel shook his head, a neutral expression on his face.

"I can't. Besides helping you support its weight, your wings are shaped differently from mine, they are smaller and more fragile. I cannot put your life in danger." The authoritative tone makes it clear that the conversation is over. You would have hoped to find a friend in him. Instead, every time you try to talk to him, his gaze has only coldness to offer. Perhaps all his warmth-which doesn't seem much to you at this point-is reserved for Elain.

So, for you, the days go on with no clear meaning. You are not allowed to leave the house, and you can only afford to observe Velaris, such a beautiful city and full of life, from the balcony of the house.

When Feyre returns, you thought for a moment that things would finally change. That she would convince someone to help you get to know your new form, your new being. But you were okay, sure, you were a little confused, but you were living. Elain was much sicker, and all your sisters' priorities belonged to her.

You found comfort in Lucien instead. A charming, red-haired Fae who had lived in the Spring Court for years. That's how you became friends: no one would take you into consideration, and you were desperate for some information, some help. And Lucien fortunately seemed to have answers to your questions.

"I remember you. That day, I mean." You and Lucien are playing chess. It is rare that you talk about that day, but sometimes it happens. You don't care much, talking about it with him has helped you in the past, "Actually, I don't remember much. I remember what Tamlin reminded me of."

Now that's new. Never once had the Fae told her about his High Lord turning his back on her sister. She knew something about it, but she didn't know the whole story.

"Did Tamlin recall to you about that day?" She asks a little incredulously. Lucien nods and tightens his lips, makes a move with a chessman, and a feline smile lights up his face.

"I think...," he freezes for a moment, as if to think carefully about his next words, "he's playing some kind of double game, with Hybern. To get information. He's a good male, only sometimes he struggles to show it."

You feel a twinge in your heart. You don't know why, you should be furious with the man who took your life to give you this. The man who hurt Feyre so deeply. But the way Lucien talks about it, with so much regret....

You are sitting on the armchair in your room, already wearing your nightwear. You have a book in your hands and are completely immersed in reading, so much that you don't hear someone's footsteps outside your door. You gasp when they knock. You place the book in the small coffee table, and you don't bother to fix yourself: Lucien had told you he would come by and deliver a few things before he leaves Velaris for good. You get sad at the thought.

When you open the door you find not the familiar face, but Feyre's.

"Hey." She greets you. You return the greeting and wait for her to tell you why she is here. Although your new life started off on the wrong foot, feeling ignored by your family and useless, everything healed over time. Now the relationship between you and Feyre is closer than ever, Nesta is doing well, Elain is working on it. You have also learned to accept your sister's Fae friends. You even talk to them from time to time.

"I'm sad that Lucien is leaving. Especially for you" You nod, you know there is something else she is not telling you, "You know how much I told you about the High Lords meeting? I'd like you to come too, if you feel like it." You don't hesitate when you say yes. Your sister told you that not everyone had confirmed their attendance, of whom Tamlin. And she did not tell you about what happened with him. But something inside you urges you to go and meet him. It's for my being, you think, I just want answers, that's why I'm so impatient.

That night you struggle to sleep. At dawn you stop tossing and turning in bed and start getting ready, by now you give up: you won't rest that night anyway.

"You look wonderful" Feyre's words make you smile. She takes Azriel's hand, and in the blink of an eye they transmute into the palace of the Court of Dawn.

After greeting the others politely, you realize that Tamlin is not coming. You do not understand the reason for the disappointment you feel. Perhaps it is even better, so you avoid any awkward situation that might arise with your sister and Rhysand.

The meeting begins, and it is just as you start to disassociate yourself from the High Lords' boring talk that Tamlin appears.

He is alone. You don't remember him from that day in the Cauldron. But he is as you always imagined him. His blond hair reaches a little below his shoulders, clearly unkempt. His green eyes remind you of the blossoming plains. His skin tone is a rosy tint, his facial features delicate, almost princely. He is the very definition of spring, you think. He is a beautiful man, and you understand why his sister was once in love with him.

The silence in the air is tense. Tamlin looks at each person and takes his time with each one. And when he gets to you -- you feel his gaze run through your body, but you ignore him. You make a mistake, though. You look up too soon and meet his eyes. And now the thing is clear as day to you, what you feel in the center of your chest.

A bond.

Tamlin is your mate.

His expression turns surprised, his lips tight and his jaw contracted. He doesn't say anything. He moves on to the next person as if he hadn't heard it himself. But you can't contain yourself, and before you can stop it, a gasp escapes your mouth and tears cloud your eyes. You back away, stumbling back in your chair.

"Are you all right?" Feyre asks you, visibly concerned. You do not answer, but it is Beron, High Lord of the Court of Autumn, Tamlin's friend, who answers for you.

"A bond." He says simply, his tone both haughty and amused. Feyre sniffs the air, looks at you. Then she looks at Tamlin. And then back at you again. The look in his eyes... Rhysand says something, but everything around you is a blur.

First the Cauldron made you a useless fairy. Next the Mother punished you by tying you to Tamlin.

You listen to no one, with hurried steps you leave the room. No one follows you. Good, you think, I don't have to explain myself to anyone for a while.

With one exception, someone has followed you. Your body recognizes him before you do, your heart beats wildly, and you could cry from how wrong this all simply is. Your sister was going to marry this man. And she didn't, she ran away because he did something terrible to her, and now it was going to be your turn.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, and Tamlin grabs your arm gently, leading you into a small room. You try to ignore how such a soft touch puts a pleasant twinge in your stomach. No, you would never do that to your sister.

When you enter, no one says anything for a while and you feel his gaze on you, making you blush. He doesn't even know your name, probably.

As if he hears your thoughts, the Fae speaks to you. "Y/n." His serious tone makes you set your eyes on his. This is so wrong, yet looking at your mate feels like the right thing to do.

"How-how do you know my name?"

Tamlin smiles at your words. An expression so different from the one you saw on his face when he first walked in. It fits him, you think, and fear invades your senses because of the things you realize you would do, because of that smile...

"I remember it ... from that day, with the Cauldron..." Your body stiffens, as if remembering who the male in front of you really is. What he did to you. What he has done to your family.

It doesn't matter that he is your mate, you think. Your body may react to his look and touch, but you will not be betrayed by it.

Tamlin probably feels your emotions through the bond, and with a step forward he grabs your arm gently. He needs to touch you, and you don't realize how much you needed him to touch you, too. You welcome his warmth without fighting back.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm not just saying this because you are my mate, " Both of you seem to feel satisfaction when he says such words, the bond in your chest seems to glow and sing "I... had to do terrible things to protect my court. To protect Prythian. It was not in the plan to do such a thing to you."

You think about his words, his eyes shining with sincerity. Lucien has told you things that would explain Tamlin's words, that actually make him a good male.

"Tamlin." To the sound of his name on your lips, the man suppresses a growl. "I... Lucien has been telling me things. And I believe you, and I believe you are good male. But the thing with my sister..."

The look in the Fae's eyes becomes embarrassed, and the emotions you feel through the bond are a mixture of shame and remorse. You don't know what happened between the two, but it must have been really difficult if it causes him such a reaction.

"I regret how I behaved. What I did. I was broken, as was she, and I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to protect her, and to this day I realize my mistakes."

You study his face. You find nothing but honesty and pure feelings, and he is really putting your instincts to the test. He's so handsome that you want to jump on him, but on the other side of the coin-you still don't know if you can trust him. But he's your mate, and he deserves at least a chance. There's such a battle inside your head.

"I forgive you. For the Cauldron, I mean. I don't know if she has forgiven you, or will but..." Your hand moves to his where he still holds your arm, both of you smiling. "I think you deserve a second chance, Tamlin. And I -- I'd like to try."

The smile he gives you, so genuine that it makes his eyes sparkle with brightness, makes you realize deep down that you made the right choice.

You have not made the right choice.

Neither you nor Tamlin ever returned to the meeting.

When you see your sister and the Inner Circle again, they are all furious with you. As if you chose the bond. You scoff at their looks.

"You disappeared all day with Tamlin. Do you realize that? What was I supposed to think you were doing with your mate, huh? Do you realize who we're talking about?" Rhysand yells at you. Feyre, who does not look angry but grieved, lays a hand on his arm, and after what seems like a brief mental conversation, the High Lord comes out with one last murderous look directed at you. Tears sting your eyes.

"Y/n, he didn't mean to be so mean, it's just that they have so many unfinished business..."

"What about you? What unfinished business do you have with him? Why do you all hate him here? And I'm not talking about the alliance with Hybern."

"None, Y/n. I have none. I have had my revenge. In all sincerity I wish him the best. And I want the best for you, too. So if you-if you've talked to him and he seems to-you seem to like him I won't have anything against you, or him, if you accept the bond." Saying these words seems like a great effort for her, but you appreciate it very much. Mor grimaces.

"No one? That male locked you up - no, he let you drown locked up inside his house. Don't you remember what condition I found you in? Well, in case you don't remember, I'll remind you, Y/n. That male after she was turned into a Fae locked her up in a room, denied her every single space of freedom until she went crazy and we rescued her. So don't-"

"Enough, Mor." Feyre says annoyed.

"You want the best for your sister, and you send her into Tamlin's arms without warning her what he would do to her?"

You are speechless. Tears wet your cheeks.

"But he told me-he told me he regretted it. That he was just as broken as you and that he just wanted to protect you..."

"Those are just words, Y/n. But in actions--what do you think is keeping him from doing the same thing to you? We will have no right to rescue you and bring you back here, because you are in fact his. Think carefully about what you want to do with such an individual." And with these words, Mor leaves the room, leaving you whimpering and afraid. Feyre approaches you and wraps you in a hug.

"Everything will be all right. I know you are afraid, honey. You just try, never stop trying, okay? You don't have to accept the bond right away. Even when you move in with him, if you decide to, you can wait and see if it's worth it. And in case it's not worth it, you can always come back as a free woman."

"I thought you hated him."

"No. Everyone deserves happiness, honey."

Before you can even consider your sister's words, war breaks out. Tamlin takes Hybern's side, but as you expected, it actually turns out to be all a double-cross.

You can feel his emotions through the bond, and you know he can feel yours, too. Sometimes your dreams come together and you are able to talk. If you were uncertain about trying before, now you are convinced.

Once you even woke up in the middle of the night. The bond in your chest overflowing with emotion - lust. Excitement. Pleasure. It didn't take long to realize that your mate was pleasuring himself. Just the thought of it was able to make you damp between your legs, and you discreetly slipped a hand under the sheets and touched yourself fantasizing Tamlin in front of you, rubbing his hard cock with one hand, while his eyes were fixed on yours. You reached your climax in the same moment he did, and you could have sworn you heard his laughter on the other side of the bond.

It was also the first time you tried to touch that bond, pulling on that sort of golden thread that connects the two of you. Tamlin responded by doing the same, and when you went back to sleep, you fell asleep with a smile. That night you dreamed about how your mate taught you how to fly.

The next day you were not able to look anyone in the face, though.

But that was a long time ago.

Now you are not in the comforting warmth of your bed. You are in a tent in a war camp and you are freezing. Your body shakes as you try to rub your hands together. Your wings are sore and have taken on a worrying purple tint, you are almost tempted to go to some healer's tent and ask for an extra blanket, but surely they would be full of injured people, and they would need it much more than you do.

A wave of warmth through the bond radiates through you, and you are grateful to have Tamlin right now, but it doesn't stop there. He touches the bond, like he did all those nights ago, and you find yourself out of your sleeping bag, but not to go to the healers. You meet no one as you head to the Spring Court camps. Your heart pounds - you haven't seen Tamlin since that day at the High Lords meeting. A slight blush covers your cheeks. How will you look that charming male in the face after what you did that night?

You don't know which tent is his, but your body seems to know. The bond takes you straight to him. You can smell him - citrus and spice - even before you see him. You enter without even knocking or warning of your presence, aware that he is able to feel your closeness just as you are able to feel his.

"I've been waiting for you." The male offers you a mesmerizing smile. He is different from how you had seen him. He has cut his hair, and it now reaches just below his ears. He no longer has such dark circles under his eyes and looks decades younger. He is now the living definition of spring more than ever. The mere sight of the man could bring you to your knees.

"Hey." You greet him softly, still a little embarrassed. He notices, because his smile now turns feline. You're my little prey and I want to play with you, he seems to say. Only now do you notice a pungent note in his scent - blood. Your worry fills the bond. Yet you have felt no pain through it lately.

He seems to sense the direction of your thoughts, because he shifts his gaze from your figure to his chest. That's where he bleeds. He has been wounded in the chest.

"Tamlin... You're bleeding." He nods, then offers you a reassuring look.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a little scratch. You, on the other hand, looked very cold earlier." He cannot hide his concern.

"It's already better here, much warmer." You still feel the tips of your wings sore, though.

"To get to such a situation you must have been freezing for a long time, Y/n. Didn't they teach you how to take care of your wings in this situation?"

"Not really-I tried to ask, but I never got an answer." The anger on his face is impossible to mask. He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

"'Brute bastards." He hisses through his teeth. You feel in awe at his words; they are still your sisters' family.

"Tamlin..."

"No, Y/n. I'm fine, but you...fairy wings are different from Illyrian wings. They should have done some fucking research. You could have lost them, and do you know how painful that is? You could still be losing them." He finally realizes, and jerks around to get his blanket from his sleeping bag. It's thick and woolen, and as he wraps it around you, it smells of him in the best way.

"You're taking care of me." He looks at you surprised.

"Of course I'm taking care of you, Y/n."

"I want to take care of you, too. These days I've treated the cuts of the wounded, I can help you." Tamlin lets out a low growl, then shakes his head. He sits you down on his sleeping bag and positions himself next to you. Shoulder to shoulder. Even this small contact, divided by several layers of fabric, is capable of making your heart race.

"Please, mate. Let me take care of you." Tamlin sighs, then murmurs an unenthusiastic consent. You get up with the blanket still tangled around you, leave the tent without a word, and return a few minutes later with gauze, alcohol, and a clean bandage. You freeze in the doorway when you realize the man has taken off his shirt.

A shirtless male body was no stranger to you. You had often accompanied your sisters to see their males working out. You had gotten to appreciate the muscles. But Tamlin... seeing your semi-nude mate activates something in you, something similar to that night when you came with his name on your lips. You blush and approach slowly, he still has his back to you, as if he didn't hear you come in.

"Didn't they tell you it's rude to stare?" You know he's only joking, yet you still get embarrassed. Yes, you are used to a shirtless male. But to a shirtless male flirting with you? Absolutely not.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, but the thing that cools your blood is the wound you see ripping through his chest as he turns around. You look at him surprised, anguish and disquiet flow freely through the bond.

"It's nothing, Y/n. I'll live." You find it ironic how he is the injured one, yet you are the one being comforted. You approach in silence, your eyes fixed on the injury, and let him rest his back on the sleeping bag. You kneel beside him, the blanket now forgotten on the ground, and soak the gauze with alcohol.

"Put the blanket back on, Y/n. It's cold." You ignore him, focused on wetting every last millimeter of the fabric. Tamlin is about to get up, but you place a hand on his chest, blocking him. The contact with his warm skin makes your cheeks warm, but the blood on his chest freezes them.

"What is it?"

"The blanket. Put it on."

"No, I'll be uncomfortable while I medicate you." Tamlin growls when you answer him. You snort a laugh, protective males. "Do you find my worry funny, fawn?"

"Fawn?" You startle at the nickname.

"Don't change the subject, put it on."

"But I'm uncomfortable, Tam."

"Then sit on my lap and wrap it around both of us." You don't let him tell you twice. You do as he says and start dressing his wound, which reeks of Faebane. That's why it didn't heal. You notice Tamlin clenching his teeth from the burning and as if on instinct, you reach down to kiss his chest above the wound. At the level of his heart. You both smile, but do not utter a word. When you finish bandaging his cut, you give him another gentle kiss, this time over the bandage.

"So you heal sooner and feel better." You smile at him.

"You are such a little fairy."

"Is that an insult?"

"No, fawn, how could I ever."

You don't converse much longer, the fatigue of battle preventing you from doing so. You get off his lap and lie down beside him on top of the sleeping bag. You remove the blanket and he seems to inspect your wings. A satisfied expression appears on his face and without needing a word, you remove the blanket and use it to cover yourselves. Just five minutes, you think, then I go back to my tent or I'll risk worrying my sisters.

Five minutes turns into the whole night.

When you wake up, Tamlin is not there. You are under the sleeping bag, though. You smile at the thought. His side is cold, and you wonder how long you slept for. You get up and stretch, and take some time to poke around his tent, something you didn't do the night before. There isn't much there, but you were expecting it. You find a blanket with a note.

Take care of your wings.

You smile like a little girl under her Christmas tree. You leave the blanket there, but take his instead. It smells like him.

A little alarm bell rings in your head. Oh, God. Your sisters must be worried sick. You quickly grab your new blanket and run through the camps until you get to your tent. God, why did they put the Night Court and the Spring Court at opposite ends? It's an almost 10-minute walk.

You enter your tent panting where you find a very, very worried Feyre.

"Are you crazy! Where have you been!" She shouts without even looking at you. But then she does. She smells Tamlin's familiar scent on you. His blanket in your hands.

"Feyre...I can explain, I swear-" She turns a mocking smile on you.

"Ooookay. Maybe next time you warn before you leave. You gave us a scare!" She says without even time for you to respond, leaving you standing in the middle of your tent like a fool.

You and Tamlin have a kind of unwritten agreement. In the evening he pulls the bond slightly and you join him in his tent. The Inner Circle knows this, but says nothing about it. It's better that way. Once Nesta even came to call you, making Tamlin chuckle and you die of embarrassment.

He never tried to do anything more than cuddle you. And you are fine with that. You don't want your first time with your mate to be in a war camp, on a sleeping bag, with the screams of the wounded in the background. One time he even took you to the top of a hill and you stayed and watched the stars until dawn, then he had to go back to fighting, and you had to go back to helping the healers.

You are afraid to admit it to yourself, but you are falling in love with that wonderful man. And you are afraid of not knowing what will happen once the war is over.

The fear of not knowing doesn't last long, though. Because the war is over. Hybern has died by the hands of your sisters, and Rhys has even died and risen again. You meet Tamlin as the camps are being shown.

"Hey, fawn." He says, smiling at you.

"Hey, Tam." You return his smile, but a motion of sadness contorts your lips into a grimace. Tears are quick to stream down your face. You don't want to cry in front of everyone. Tamlin seems to understand this, because he grabs your arm and within moments you are on the hill where he took you to see the stars a few nights ago.

"It's nothing, it's just ... I don't want us to be apart." Tamlin can swear he feels his heart break and recompose itself at the same time at your words, at your tone. At the emotions you are sharing with him.

"Neither do I, y/n. Neither do I."

Tamlin kisses you. It's sudden and unexpected. It is not a real kiss: he simply lays his lips on yours. His hands caress your face gently. After a few moments, you relax and respond to the kiss with just as much sweetness. Just as much love.

"Come home with me, Y/n. Come stay with me at the Spring Court." You think about his words. The words of the male you are in love with, your mate. Your heart tightens with happiness at those words. You will think of your sisters later: for now you just want to be in Tamlin's arms.

"Yes."

Communicating this to Feyre was easier than expected, and since you had nothing significant in Velaris, you went straight home with Tamlin.

The Spring Court is... beautiful, breath-taking even. You can't hide the warmth in your chest, the feeling of home it communicates. And seeing your mate in the place where he belongs enhances the experience.

It is warmer than the dry cold of the camps, and you begin to sweat under the layers of heavy clothing. Tamlin notices, and invites you to follow him inside his palace until you reach a bedroom.

You take time to look around. The house seems full of life, smells of flowers and nature, and glows with gold. It is different from what you expected: Rhysand had mentioned, years ago, that he had paid a visit to the High Lord of the Spring Court, and found him in a miserable condition. And like him, so was his house. But to you that sounds like a far definition from reality.

The room he takes you to is beautiful. It is very different from the typical ones in the Night Court. There the wood is dark, the floors are rough, and everything looks like it's been through a battle. They're not ugly, they're just - gloomy.

While the Court of Spring is full of light and warm colors. The bed frame is made of a light, delicate wood and is carved with flowers and leaves. The room does not have much besides the well-prepared bed. There is a closet that echoes the pattern of the headboard, and Tamlin heads straight there.

He opens it, revealing a surprising amount of clothing.

"You can choose whatever you like, I'll wait outside." He smiles at you and you smile back.

You leave the room wearing a new dress. It is the one you liked most. It makes you feel like a fairy, but positively. It is definitely better than what you wear in the Court of Night. The fabric is softer, the pinkish white of the skirt is a color you've never seen before but already love. Tamlin's face lights up as soon as he sees you.

"You look beautiful in my Court clothes, Y/n." Your cheeks take on a rosy hue as you whisper a vague thanks. He holds out his hand to you and you immediately take it. Without a word, he begins to drag you through the corridors you admire all the way to outside. Into the gardens.

As soon as your eyes meet such beauty ... your breath catches in your throat. Your mind immediately wanders to your sister, Elain. How she would love it.

Your mate looks at you smugly.

"Do you like it?" You can do nothing but nod. Tears well up in your eyes at the relief you feel, and you realize you have lifted a burden, the opression of the Night Court.

The words come out of your mouth before you can even think them, let alone stop them, "I want to accept the bond."

Tamlin looks surprised. "What?"

"I-obviously if you want to. But-"

Your mate interrupts by kissing you. You are surprised the first few moments, but you quickly recover, responding to the kiss. The bond in the center of your chest seems to sing with joy.

"Now?" He asks when he pulls away from your lips, a gentle blush covers his cheeks and he is short of breath. He has never looked so good. You nod.

"A little further on there are some fruit trees. If you want we can go there."

You nod, and he takes you by the hand, fingers interlocked with yours, and once again leads you to some fruit trees. You take the opportunity to admire the beauty of his court again. Which will now become yours as well.

You stop in front of a loquat tree. In a comforting silence you turn to pick a fruit. You have nothing with you, and you struggle a little to peel it. You split it in half and offer it directly in front of his lips. He bites into the loquat with his eyes on yours. He finishes the whole fruit.

The bond seems to rejoice and shine and seems to unite your two souls even more than before. His gaze communicates to you that you have a long day ahead. A long night, too.

He kisses you fervently, his hands gripping your hips making you moan in the kiss. You didn't expect to feel this way. Sure, your sisters told you something about the frenzy ... but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The intensity of what you feel is almost overwhelming.

You pull away from the kiss with a heavy breath. Tamlin's predatory gaze, the lust in the look, is impossible to mask.

"Fawn... tell me no now, or I won't be able to stop later." You don't even think about saying no. You desire him as you have never desired anyone. You want to feel him all over.

"Please, Tamlin. I want to be yours."

You spend all afternoon making love on the fields, careless of who might see you. You return only when it begins to get dark. A huge smile on your face.

You made the right choice.

@rcarbo1

[decadentpostnachos-evil-twin]

Hanging on by a thread for a multitude of reasons.

So, looking up acotar fan art one inevitably gets smacked in the face with Fey/sand at some point. And if it's not them with their kid or cutely holding hands, it's something like this:

(There are watermarks on the fanart and I got them from Pinterest...middle one is someone called ignartio, I didn't find them on instagram though)

Why are people making a big quantity of art of this particular part of acotar? Are there truly people thinking that this is in any way appealing? Let's recap.

Feyre goes under the mountain, a comparatively dumb little girl. To save her lover Tamlin and maybe her friend Lucien if she's already at it. Faces crunchy Amaranth and doesn't get the riddle right (not wanting to belittle her here bc acotar Feyre was somewhat of a cutie, but that riddle was easy af, way to make her seem like an idiot.) Anyway, get's beaten to unconsciousness after blurting out her name because Lucien would have rather died than to give it away.

Little Feyre get's her three trials and a bunch of tasks for inbetween, i.e. cleaning that hallway. Other than that, people leave little Feyre relatively alone.

Until that self serving prick comes along and thinks to himself "Hey, why not treat her like an object and humiliate her in front of hundreds if not thousands of people, for shits and giggles?" So he proceeds to have his lackeys dress her up in what is essentially a handkerchief and paint her, so everyone can see where he put his grimy hands. And then he drugs her and has her dance for him, barely half aware of what's going on around her. All the while touching her. And the next morning she awakes with a killer headache, barely any memories and the need to throw up.

"But he did this to protect her!" - From what? Nobody cared for her beyond the trials. She was not used as entertainment by anyone else. They had their orgies and whatnot. There was no passable reason to be doing this to her.

"But he only touched her waist and hips!" - So you're telling me that you'd find it okay if somebody drugged you and "only" touched your waist and hips? Touching somebody without their consent, especially in such a vulnerable state is simply gross.

"But he had to keep his mask-" - Shut. Up. His "mask" did not include this particularly disgusting shit he pulled. He could have just let her alone, nobody would have batted a lash. Feyre was a comparatively uninteresting human girl. Had he not made her dance practically naked, no one would have missed her there.

My point, you ask? Stop romanticising what Rhysand did to Feyre under the Mountain. Stop trying to justify it. Those were the actions of an entirely sick individual.

[lovemyromance]

I am so tired of seeing people compare Elucien to Feysand or Nessian. They are not the same! In any way!

Feysand & Nessian had passion! They had drama! They had angst! They had banter and playfulness and challenge and pride and mutual attraction for each other.

Feysand had that dynamic in Book 1, even when Feyre was with Tamlin. Even when Feyre was supposed to hate Rhys.

Nessian had that dynamic since the moment they met. There was a lot of kicking and scratching with them, but it was never avoidance. They couldn't stay away from each other. No matter how much they claimed to despise the other, they could not stay away. They were willing to die for each other.

Both these couples were pretty much established in the first three books. We didn't need Rhys's POV to know he was head over heels for Feyre. We didn't need Nesta's POV to know she was grudgingly attracted to Cassian.

How did we know this, without receiving their POVs? Through their actions. Their words.

And people keep bringing up the fact that "Oh Nesta tried to knee Cassian in the balls" like oh my god be so fr rn. Everyone knew Nesta was going to end up with Cassian in ACOMAF itself. She might've been hissing at him all throughout the books, but she was ready to literally die for him, even before we got her POV, her book. Nessian had tension and drama and passion.

Elucien does not.

It's common sense at this point. Elucien is nothing like Feysand & Nessian. They don't have any feelings outside this mate bond. They aren't friends. They aren't enemies. Certainly not lovers.

They've avoided each other for 3 books! And they're literally mates? The whole point of the mating bond is you can't stay away and yet Elucien has made an effort to avoid each other.

How are people even comparing them to Feysand & Nessian?

Feyre never avoided Rhys. Nesta never avoided Cassian. And yet, Elain avoids Lucien. For 3 books, that's all she has done.

If SJM were planning for Elucien, she would've given us something to hint at their feelings or dynamic in the past 3 books. She chose to make them avoid each other, and set up Elriel instead.

It's not some elaborate ploy to set up an Elucien book. There's no reason to give us absolutely nothing just to "save it all for their book". Rhys & Feyre had significant moments before their book (ACOMAF). Cassian & Nesta also had their own romantic interactions before their book (ACOSF).

Elriel is the only other couple to have romantic interactions before the next ACOTAR book (Elain's).

How could it be any more obvious?

[acourtofthought]

SJM didn't even realize she was setting up Elucien to be the Regency couple of the year when she wrote ACOTAR

"A rake is a particular type of romance hero—a loveable scoundrel whose goal in life is to enjoy being single"

“Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.”

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle’s contents and chuckling with a muttered “Brushed.”

“I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.”

"Many a Regency heroine has gone to London to have a ‘season’ in the hope of finding a husband.

“We can’t afford a dowry,” I continued, and though my tone was firm, my voice quieted. “For either of you."

But we had nothing—absolutely nothing—to entice any suitor to take my sisters off my hands.

“Isn’t that right in the middle of the season?” The socialite season, which had ended a few weeks ago, apparently, full of parties and balls and luncheons and gossip, gossip, gossip. Elain had told me all about it at dinner the night before" / “And I’m surprised you don’t have a line of suitors out the door, begging for your hand.”

The ball my father was throwing in my honor was in two days, and the house was already a flurry of activity. Such money being thrown away on things we’d never dreamed of having again, even for a moment. I would have begged him not to host it, but Elain had taken charge of planning and finding me a last-minute dress,

Elain, who flitted about the room, personally greeting each guest and dancing with all their important sons.

"Known as the “Ton,” they were comprised of a few hundred wealthy families whose strict codes of conduct, fashion, and social customs dictated who and what was socially acceptable"

—a faint gleam in Tamlin’s eyes at that—“and being with females who were a far cry from the nobility of the Autumn Court.

“Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline.

Though the tunic isn’t as pretty as a dress.”

Though she was bundled in a threadbare blanket, her gold-brown hair—the hair all three of us had—was coiled perfectly about her head. Eight years of poverty hadn’t stripped from her the desire to look lovely.

But once she did, she let that snowball roll down the hill.

"The idea that rakes are redeemable is their most attractive quality."

“You know it’s … hard for him, where females are involved,” I said neutrally. “He has been with many females since the death of his lover.” “Perhaps it’s different with you—perhaps it’d mean something he’s not ready for.” I shrugged, searching for the right words. “Perhaps he stays away because of it.” She considered, and I prayed she bought my half lie.

He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days.

“I’m a mated male now.”

"Clothing and shoes served as necessary survival tools in the 18th century as well as powerful ways to communicate status, ideas, and a person's role in society. Fashion was a very important way that people expressed their ideas and economic status during the 18th century."

He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

Elain … She’d taken one look at us in the swaying grasses outside that wagon, the legs and assets on display, and turned crimson

"I'll be right back," she murmured and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one care if she showed up to dinner covered in flour.

Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl.

Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet, her hair half-up and curling down to her waist.

It wasn’t a formal dinner by any means—though Lucien, standing near the windows and watching the sun set over Velaris, was wearing a fine green jacket embroidered with gold, his cream-colored pants showing off muscled thighs, and his knee-high black boots polished enough that the chandeliers of faelight reflected off them.

"By the 17th Century (and beyond), ribbon usage was vast. It showed purpose in extravagant garments, hair accessorizing, and ornamenting furniture and linens. With the demand for the material rising, Coventry, England and Lyons, France became capitals for ribbon production and design."

Even during their squabbles in the cottage, fighting over who got clothes or boots or ribbons, it had never been like this.

"Regency's formal décor has recently made headlines and piqued interior designers' interest thanks to the series "Bridgerton." / The Regency period was one of elegance and opulence, luxuriousness and grandeur" / “The Regency is loud, glamorous, colorful, and much less stuffy "

Elain cut her a look. “This house has needed a woman’s touch for years.”

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. This entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

"Neither a lady nor a gentleman discussed private business in the presence of servants."

Possibly a factor in why we don't see Elain and Lucien interact when EVERYONE AROUND THEM US EAVESDROPPING! 😂

"A well-bred person maintained an elegance of manners and deportment."

Elain flinched again, her face coloring. Nesta snorted. “You’re living amongst beings who have none of our human primness, you know.”

Elain had blushed muttering about the impropriety of such things

He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

“I’m going to assume that one of those cups belongs to your sister.” “Do you mind if I help myself to the other?”

“There’s a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?”

The sound seemed to startle Elain, who swiftly set down her teacup. She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

“I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.”

"A lady did not engage in any activity that might give rise to gossip."

No wonder nobody knows what the hell Elain does or thinks 😂

"It was unacceptable to owe money to a stranger."

"I can't stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back"

"A well-bred person walked upright, stood and moved with grace and ease."

“I’ll do it,” Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn’t wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

He’d always had a casual grace about him,

"A well-bred person was never awkward in either manner or behaviour and could respond to any social situation with calm assurance."

“Nesta, please,” Elain murmured.

She put a hand on Nesta’s knee, the purple of my sister’s gown nearly swallowing up the ivory hand. “Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help … others.”

Elain crossed her arms and said calmly, sadly, “Feyre warned me this might happen.”

“I still wanted to come,” Elain went on with that focused calm, the quiet steel building in her voice. “I wanted to see you, to explain.”

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

Lucien threw him a withering look. “I’m not your enemy, you know. You can drop the aggressive brute act.” Cassian gave him a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “Who says it’s an act?” Lucien let out a long sigh. “Very well, then.”

[draguta]

.a court of fate and fortune | one.

pairing: lucien vanserra x fem!reader

summary: | book two | lovers separated, powers that won't be controlled, a doomed wedding. with the threat of war looming over prythian, lucien, Y/N, tamlin, and rhysand's inner circle must scramble to find allies and prepare themselves for what is to come. but Y/N only has one aim; to find her way back to lucien, and protect him at all costs.

chapter warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering

chapter word count: 3747

a/n: chapter one of our sequel! yessssss! (side note: forgot to add my taglist for the entirety of a court of ash and smoke, so we're back with the taglist for the sequel lol) for this series i will be posting if and when chapters are ready rather than on a schedule (i'm moving across the world this month so keeping up with a schedule is going to be hard)

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Missing

Hands caressed bodies. Some falling to the hair of the other, tangling and twisting at the roots. Some pressed against chests, rising and falling with laboured breathing. Some travelling down, past the point of no return, to where each of you needed it the most. His lips were on my neck, sucking at that spot just under your ear that made your head fall back in pleasure, made your toes curl in anticipation.

“I missed you so much,” he said as his lips traced lower, over your collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin there, down past the crevice between your breasts, turning to pull each nipple into his mouth. The only sounds that you could form were breathy moans, whispers of his name, a pleading to show you just how much he had missed you.

A hand pressed down over your dripping heat, the heel of his palm pressing fervently to that spot that caused you to shudder irrationally. Then a finger was dipping inside, bringing with it a wave of pleasure unlike any you had experienced before. Time made the heart grow fonder, and distance made the pleasure grow stronger.

“How perfect you are,” he whispered against your skin, breath hot as lips caught with each movement of his hand inside you. “How perfectly made, just for me.”

Because you had been made for him. And he for you.

His fingers disappeared, and you whined at the loss. Until, that is, you felt his tip nudge against you, gathering your wetness. His forehead pressed against yours, and as he pushed in, the pure euphoric bliss almost overwhelming, you allowed your eyes to open. They caught his in a second, and you didn’t let them go. You watched every ounce of pleasure that etched itself into the colour of his eyes.

One russet. One golden.

“Never leave me again,” he said, voice almost breaking.

“I will never leave you,” was your reply. And you knew that was the truth.

“I love you,” he huffed out, close to a beg, as if he were pleading for you to accept it, to let him love you. Little did he know that you had accepted it a long time ago with open arms. “My mate.”

His mate.

Your mate.

You woke with a start, so fast that you could barely grasp your surroundings. Your skin was hot, clammy and sweaty, and there was a fire burning in the pit of your stomach, one that you doubted could be doused in any kind of water.

There was only one way to put out those flames, to dull them to nothing more than embers. Only one person. But he wasn’t there, he never was. That dream wasn’t real, a monstrous lie told by your own traitorous mind to keep you from going crazy. From losing it entirely. Your mattress was cold, your bed empty, and your heart aching for that one soul that you couldn’t see.

The door swung itself open, revealing the High Lord of the Night Court himself leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets. “Again?” He asked. You could do nought but nod, running a hand through your sweat-drenched hair. He meandered inside, closing the door behind him, and perched on the end of your bed. He could no doubt scent the arousal in the air, but he didn’t comment on it - he never did. That was an unspoken rule between you.

He mourned the curse-breaker. You mourned the emissary. And you did so, each and every night, in each other’s company. You never spoke of it, never discussed the things that hunted your nightmares or his, but you were there for each other when the ones you both really wanted could not be. So you would sit, curled up in front of the fire, tea appearing before you as a courtesy of the very house that you lived in. And you would wallow in silence.

Dreaming of your mates.

Fate was a fickle thing.

You had never been one to believe in fate. For as long as you could remember you had scoffed at the idea that there was some higher power setting out a plan for your life. You preferred the idea that the things that happened to you were the outcome of a butterfly effect; that a decision you had made, however long ago, had led you to that particular moment, for whatever reason that may be. It wasn’t fate leading you there; it wasn’t the Cauldron or the Mother making those decisions on your behalf. It was you. Your strength. Your determination. Your courage. Your conscious choices.

Although you knew that choice wasn’t something that everyone was granted without hesitation. You weren’t given the choice to become High Fae. You weren’t given the choice to keep these powers. And you weren’t given the choice to have Lucien as your mate, although you would have chosen him regardless.

Even as a child you clung to the belief that your life was solely controlled by you. But that had been before, when you were mortal, naïve, and had thought the span of your world lay within the confines of your family’s estate in the Mortal Lands. When you’d assumed that the farthest you would ever go would be the village market, that you would never venture past the Wall, and that the male you cared for the most would be that of your blood brother, Arleon.

You knew better now.

How strange, how quickly things can change.

You could only assume that it hadn’t been your own decisions that had ultimately led you to where you were. You could only hope. Because the idea that every step you had been forced to take, every path you had been pushed to follow, was somehow due to something you had done, was all-but sickening to you.

Every life lost. Every battle fought in that cold, cavernous mountain. Every memory that haunted your each and every waking moment.

Every dream of him.

But that was the thing, you supposed; it had been worth it, you were certain of that. Whether it had been fate, or the will of the Cauldron and the Mother, or your own choices alone, those steps had brought you here, to Velaris. They had found you Feyre, had taken you to Prythain in the first place. And they had united you with Lucien, even if he was not so very far away.

It was all worth it.

Weeks had passed since Rhysand had first brought you there. The Night Court had been nothing at all as you had been expecting. When you had pictured torture chambers, instead sat plush bedrooms and studies and libraries. Where you had imagined the streets run red with the blood of victims, you had alternatively found cobblestone streets where the laughter of children bounced and echoed from the walls. It all seemed so lively. No bloodshed. No pain. Just pure, undiluted happiness radiating from the very streets of this city. How wrong those rumours in the Spring Court had been.

You had found yourself feeling strangely at home there, and you were certain that it wasn’t solely because of the city itself, but rather because of the people that you had found yourself surrounded with there. The Inner Circle of Rhysand’s court, his brothers, his cousin, and that terrifying black-haired female, had all welcomed you, regardless of where you had come from, and who your brother was.

Tamlin. You would have been lying if you said his name hadn’t crossed your mind on more than one occasion since your arrival there. You wondered if he might have been looking for you, if he knew who had taken you in the first place, if he had worked out that you had come willingly. That you had wanted to leave him behind. It was the least that he had deserved.

Perhaps Lucien had told him of your letter. No, surely Lucien wouldn’t do such a thing, not when that letter had been for his eyes and his eyes only. You hadn’t felt the need to include that; you knew all too well that he would understand the implication without it needing to be explained.

Lucien. Cauldron, how you missed him. Your entire body ached for him, for his touch. Each and every night he would visit you, and his hands would caress your body, his lips would brush against your skin, and everything would feel so right once more. Until you woke up, that is, and realised that it had all been in your head. That bond inside you, the one that was still entirely one-sided, that tied you to him, drew you back to him, to find him and never leave his side again. But you knew that you couldn’t. Not until you knew that you were no longer a threat to him, and for that you would risk missing those days with him. For that you would risk him falling back into resentment against you for leaving. You would never hurt him, even if it meant he hated you for it.

Your training had been going well. Each and every morning was spent in the ring at the House of Wind going over your manoeuvres with Cassian, who seemed more than impressed by how much you had already managed to grasp in the short time that you had been training. You cited Silas - your teacher - as the sole reason for that, although Cassian had been quick to shoot down the idea.

“Nah, that’s all you,” he had said, thumping you hard on the shoulder. Not hard enough to leave a bruise, but rough that it left a lingering pain.

Your afternoons were usually spent with Rhys going over the training of your powers. Even in just the few short weeks that you had been practising, you had already managed to get a grip on how to swell and shrink your power if and when you needed it - to bring it to the forefront and hide it away to lie in wait, only at your non-verbal command. Loosely was the optimal word, however; you still hadn’t quite perfected it just yet.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rhys’ crooning tone sounded from behind you. He had found you in the spot that you seemed to have taken residence in more than anywhere else during those first weeks. The very corner of the balcony where you had spotted your first glimpse of Velaris, where the stone met at a point, providing you with the perfect place to lean into and simply look out upon the city that so few dared to venture into. Rhysand copied your stance, bringing his forearms up to rest against the stone of the railing, clasping his hands together, violet gaze trained on you. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“I’m never not thinking about him,” you admitted, refusing to meet his stare for fear that, should you see those eyes filled with a knowing sympathy, the very walls that you had built to keep yourself guarded might crumble, leaving you a weeping mess at his feet. You hadn’t divulged to him that Lucien was your mate - hadn’t even mentioned that you loved him - but Rhysand had garnered that there was at least something there, some sort of feeling that made you ache for him the way that you did.

“I know a little of what that feels like,” he said, his lips pulling into a sorrowful smile. And there you remained, as you had for so many nights, standing in silence, lonely but not alone, staring out across the city that he called home.

Mourning those you could not have.

The Spring Court had never felt so…empty. It bustled around Lucien at a never-ending pace, preparations readying for what Ianthe had begun calling the wedding of the century. Everyone was in high spirits - even Tamlin, to a degree. That stoic demeanour was still just as it had been on the day Y/N had left, yet there was a glimmer in his eye at the thought of what lay ahead. A lifetime with the female he loved.

Lucien couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that ricocheted through him at the very idea.

Feyre, he had noticed, seemed to be the only person who wasn’t excited for the upcoming nuptials. Well, the only person besides himself. She had closed herself off, more so with Y/N’s departure to the Night Court. It had left her with no one, not really. She had Tamlin, and his arduous mood swings, and Ianthe who seemed to be trying to paint her into the portrait of an obedient High Lord’s wife. And she had him, but he couldn’t deny that his heart simply wasn’t in it anymore.

There was no more teasing from him, no more humoured lilt in his tone when he spoke to her. He too, it would seem, had become closed off since Y/N had left, for a different reason, of course.

Because his heart longed to be with her, to be near her, and no matter what distractions he might find for himself - training with Silas and the sentinels, or heading out on hunts, or lending a hand to Tamlin with the court’s paperwork - that need for her never dissipated. It was always there, bubbling under the surface.

Tamlin hadn’t given up searching for her. Sentinels had scoured every inch of the Spring Court in search of anything, and Lucien himself had been sent to damn-near every court in the hopes of retrieving her safely, or of at least finding a clue as to where she might actually be. Lucien knew, of course, although he wouldn’t share that information with his High Lord. He knew for certain that it was Rhysand and his Night Court goons who had ‘supposedly’ stolen her away in the night. Tamlin knew that too, although he was woe to believe it; he had scented that male in her room that night, and had pieced the puzzle together. Silas had even said as much, having stated with such conviction that it had been them. But Tamlin knew better than to go storming into the Night Court and risk starting an all-out war between courts without proof that she was even there, and Lucien was doing everything he could to make sure that didn’t happen.

And so, it remained, Y/N in the Night Court, Lucien in the Spring Court; two lovers trapped miles, and multiple courts and territories apart. Tamlin continued scouring every book that held any information about the laws of Prythian, and still sent his sentinels out in search of clues. Lucien kept his friend distracted from invading Night Court lands, did his best to keep Tamlin focused on the Spring Court and Feyre and the upcoming wedding. And the best that he was able to do was dream of her, to think of her when he closed his eyes, and to imagine that she was there by his side.

He felt her in every Spring breeze blowing the scent of jasmine and lavender from the gardens; her scent. He felt her in every kiss of sunlight that fell against his skin as warm as her lips, every click of blade against blade when he sparred with the sentinels. In the birds that chirped that reminded him of that night Under the Mountain when they had stared out of that little window in his chambers for hours. In every smile that he saw plastered onto the faces of passing village fae, beaming and glowing and beautiful.

He felt her everywhere, except beside him.

“That was good,” Rhys said with a small chuckle. “Although next time, please try not to go for my face. You nearly took my head off.”

You rolled your eyes and unwrapped your legs from their seated position. You had been at it for hours, trying to get your powers to reveal themselves in a non-threatening way. Rhys had said that this was the obvious next step - to learn how to let them out, to breathe, even when there wasn’t a threat. Until now, it would seem that anytime you let your powers out, they would immediately lunge for whomever else was present, as if their sole reasoning for being was to kill. And all of your previous lessons had forced Rhys to place a protection shield around himself. But now, it would seem, he was willing to take the risk. Perhaps he trusted you enough now to not let them hurt him. You weren’t sure you trusted yourself with that though. Until that point, the only person that the red smoke hadn’t tried to harm was you.

You had been perched on the rooftop of the House of Wind, away from any civilisation that may have been caught in any destruction your power might have made should it not go to plan, for what seemed like forever. Every ticking second only stood to remind you of how little you really knew or understood of these powers, and how little you were able to control them. They had already lunged for Rhysand well over ten times, and you could only assume that they would try again.

“It’s not working,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself to protect from the sharp chill of the mountaintop. “It’s pointless. I’m never going to be able to control these fucking powers.”

Rhys frowned. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. These powers that you have are strong, and the way that you’re able to wield them already, to let them out and reel them back in on command, is already showing a lot of restraint.”

“Not enough. They still try to kill you every time.”

Rhys sighed, rising to his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets, allowing his shoulders to shrug ever-so-slightly. “We’ve not been doing this for long. You need to have patience.”

“Because it’s not going to happen overnight, right?” You scoffed, echoing the words that he had told you countless times already, spinning on your heel to look back at him. His lips went thin in what you could only assume was pity.

“Exactly,” he affirmed. “You think I was able to control my powers immediately? No, it took me centuries to get this kind of grip on them, and even still, there are aspects that I haven’t perfected.”

You winced. Centuries. Centuries away from Lucien. You weren’t sure you could make it that long without him. You were sure you would go mad from want long before that. “I just feel…useless,” you admitted, kicking at the snow on the rooftop with the toe of your boot. Rhysand sighed once more, moving to clap a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re definitely not useless,” he said quietly. “Have more trust in yourself than that. I know that you’re eager to get it right, but don’t push yourself.”

“What would you suggest instead?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. He chuckled, turning and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back toward the door. You relished in the warmth that his arm provided; it seemed any training that you had been doing was finished, for now.

“Patience,” he said again. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, watched the way your shoulders slumped, and your breath clouded in front of you as you exhaled deeply. “I have to admit, these few weeks I’ve been watching you train, I’ve noticed some similarities between your powers and Azriel’s shadows. They’re not the same, far from it, but they act in a similar way. Maybe he could be of some help to us.”

The only thing you could do was nod.

Patience. You had to be patient. But if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure how long that patience could last.

It was quite a scene, really, that Lucien had stumbled across. He rarely found himself in the rose garden - preferred to leave it as a place for Tamlin, a place where he could feel closer to his mother. But for some reason, in the weeks since Y/N had left, he had found himself drawn to that little rose garden, the flowers that bloomed there year-round reminding him of her. Of the rose he had gifted her for Solstice that had been more of a jibe against her than a real gift.

He regretted that now.

But as he wandered the gravelled path, the little stones crunching and sinking beneath each step of his boots, his eyes fell on Feyre. Her familiar haunch was perched on the edge of one of the stone benches. Lucien couldn’t deny in that moment that she looked rather angelic - golden-brown hair amidst blood-red roses. The scene would be like that of one of the paintings that Feyre loved so much, if it hadn’t been for her ghostly pale skin, paper-like from endless days trapped in the house.

As he grew closer, he noticed that she held a rose in her hand, twirling it between her fingers. Each thorn was gone, ripped from the stem with what he thought looked like almost angry intent.

He cleared his throat, and she looked up, catching his eye in surprise.

“Didn’t think I’d find you out here,” he said, finally coming to a stop at the bench and taking a seat beside her, stretching his legs out straight against the gravel.

“I could say the same thing,” she muttered with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She drew in a sigh, turning away from him and glancing back down to the rose in her hand, to the way it twirled, the sunlight bouncing off each petal. “I wish Y/N was here.”

Lucien blinked slowly. “Me too.”

“She loves you. You know?” Her words were so quiet, almost a whisper, barely audible above the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves above. Lucien wondered, for a second, if the words were being uttered without her permission or forethought.

“I know,” he replied as gently as he could.

“She’s lucky.” He watched as Feyre tossed the rose back into the bush, turning in her seat to stare at him intently. “Don’t let her forget how important she is.”

Lucien opened his mouth to speak, but before he had the chance, she was rising to her feet and floating back down the gravel toward the manor in eerie silence.

Lucien didn’t stop her.

Taglist

Complete: | @loveshineslikethesky | @elleclairez | @lostpirateinwonderland |

Lucien Vanserra: | @luna-foxglove |

[hyacinthoideshispanica]

Elucien enemies to lovers fic idea

Elain is an herbalist, known in certain circles as Lady Belladonna, who may or may not sell deadly poisons to women who have no other way to escape abusive fathers, brothers, or husbands.

Her younger sister, Feyre, who was married to a wealthy lord named Tamlin, came to visit her sister one day with some shallow cuts and bruises. She insists she's fine, Tamlin lost his temper, but didn't mean for her to get hurt. Elain sends her home with a salve and a bottle of hemlock.

Feyre swears she'll never use it, but things change after she and Tamlin host a ball and she meets Rhysand. A young king visiting from the neighboring kingdom, Velaris. What Feyre doesn't realize is that Rhys wasn't actually invited. He snuck in to annoy Tamlin and to see his beautiful new wife he's heard about.

She and Rhys begin a correspondence. It's completely innocent, Feyre just feels like he understands her, but when Tamlin finds out, he locks her in their manor for months. Eventually, Feyre can stand the confinment anymore, and one night after a tense dinner, Tamlin gets sick and, after a few days of suffering, dies mysteriously.

Feyre flees to the kingdom of Velaris and, after some time, becomes its new queen.

Lucien, the seventh son of a Duke, serves in King Hybern's court and is tasked to find this mysterious poisoner, who is suspected of helping to kill off several noblemen, and bring them to him to face justice. Lucien agrees. Tamlin was his best friend, so he wants vengeance.

He travels to the land that Tamlin presided over and begins inquiring about apothecaries and herbalist. Then, one day, he walks into Elain's little shop. She glances over him, noting how handsome he is, even with the scar on his face, and she offers him a salve to help the scar fade. Lucien explains that's he's not here to buy anything but to bring a murderer to justice.

Elain pretends to be clueless and makes an excuse to go into the back. As soon as she's out of sight, she climbs out the back window and runs. Lucien chases after and eventually catches her.

Elain: Let me go! I've done nothing wrong!

Lucien: I wouldn't be so certain, Lady Belladonna.

He binds her and tells her he's taking her to the capital to face the king himself. The trip should take a little over a month, and in that time, they reluctantly grow closer.

Lucien:...apart from Lord Tamlin, you are also suspected of helping murder two counts, a marquis, and a duke. Tell me, Lady Belladonna, do you help kill the husband of every woman who enters your shop? Or only the nobility?

Elain: I help any woman who asks for it. Tamlin hurt Feyre, and I won't apologize for my role in his death.

Lucien: He was my friend!

Elain: And she is my sister!

At one point, Lucien and Elain need to escape a storm, and he takes her to his family estate nearby for shelter. His father is away, but his mother is there and welcomes both of them. Their first morning there, Lucien notices bruises on his mother's arm, and when he confronts her about it, she reluctantly tells him the truth of her marriage.

Lucien: How long has this been happening?

His mother: My darling son, please don't-

Lucien: How long?

His mother: Years Lucien. Ever since we first married.

Lucien is shocked. He never knew his mother was suffering all these years, and suddenly, he understands why a woman might seek out Elain for help.

He and Elain reach an understanding after that.

Lucien: Perhaps you were right... Perhaps you have done nothing wrong...

The weather is so bad that it keeps them shut in for days, but in that time, Elain stays as a guest in Lucien's childhood home. His mother adores her, and at the first hint of sun, Lucien watches with rapt attention as Elain dashes outside and runs through the muddy meadows, gathering flowers and basking in the sunlight. He likes watching her so carefree like this, and he wants to see it more often.... he wants her.

He writes a letter to the king, explaining that the poisoner is a woman who only targets men who are cruel and abusive to their wives, sisters, or daughters. He believes Elain will be officially pardoned after King Hybern realizes the truth and begins to imagine a life where he and Elain could be together, perhaps even married one day, if she would have him...

He then receives a response from the king that dismisses everything Lucien told him. Claiming a peasant gardner has no right to decide if any of his nobles live or die. Especially over something as trivial as women.

Lucien is ordered to fulfill his duty, on pain of death.

Furious and disgusted with his king, Lucien vows to himself that he will protect Elain at all costs.

As they prepare to leave his childhood home, Lucien's mother laments over how lonely she'll be without them until Lucien hugs her tightly, whispers something in her ear, and discreetly hands her something.

After being back on the road for a few hours, Elain notices they are going in the wrong direction.

Elain: The capital is east. Why are we going north?

Lucien: Because Lady, the kingdom of Velaris is north.

Elain:.... You're, you're letting me go?

Lucien: Does that truly surprise you, Elain?

Elain: Well, I did help to kill your friend...

Lucien: And thanks to that vile of foxglove you gave me, I have helped my mother to kill my father.

The journey to Velaris is longer, and one evening, as they arrive in a village, they see Hybern's soldiers harassing and searching travelers.

Lucien realizes that King Hybern figured out he wouldn't deliver Elain as planned and sent men to hunt down and drag them both back to the capital. Lucien knows that being caught would be a death sentence. They are able to sneak past and find an inn, and Lucien quickly forms a plan.

Lucien: Tomorrow morning, you will continue to Velaris, and I will return to the King.

Elain: What? No! I'm not going to let you go back there. The king will kill you!

Lucien: You'll have a better chance of getting away on your own. And the king might not kill me. I will be punished for failing him, yes. But I do not think he will kill me. I just need you to get to Velaris, Elain. Your sister is the queen. The moment you set foot in her kingdom, King Hybern will not be able to touch you.

Elain: Then come with me! Come with me and I'll make my sister protect you too!

Lucien: If I leave with you. Hybern's wrath will fall on my mother, and thanks to that foxglove, she won't have my father there as a protector anymore. I need to be here.

Elain, very reluctantly, agrees to his plan, and after eating together, they stay up very late talking. Both of them are unwilling to let the night, their last night, end, but eventually, they both retire.

Lucien can't sleep, knowing that, even if Hybern allows him to live, he will never see Elain again. He can't stand the idea of never seeing her bright smile or hearing her laugh. Never having the chance to hold her herb scented hands...

He knocks on the door that connects their rooms.

For hours now, Elain has been quietly pacing in her room. Debating on if she should listen to Lucien and leave without him.

If she stayed, she would most likely die, but she would be with him, and that was a great comfort. If she left, she would live, but she would never see him again, and that thought had her in agony. She can't stand the idea of never hearing another of his witty remarks. Of never dancing with him or walking hand in hand through the woods at daybreak...

Staying could cost her her life, but leaving would cost her her heart...

She hears a knock and throws the door open immediately, coming face to face with Lucien.

They don't speak. They just stare at each other until they collide in a feverish kiss. They can't stop. Desperately tearing at each others night clothes until there's nothing between them.

Utterly lost in one another, they are greedy and shameless as they move together furiously. Not caring about anyone else who might hear the sound of skin against skin or the fervent cries and moans that escape them. They can't think about what they agreed to last night or of the danger they're in. None of that matters right now. The only thing that matters is them being together, bringing each other to the peak of pleasure over and over again, and hearing the other repeatedly profess their love until they are both hoarse...

Hours later, they're laying in each other's arms. Sweaty and spent with the early light of dawn peaking through the window.

Elain: Come with me. I meant it when I said I would make Feyre protect you too. She may be a queen, but I am still her older sister.

Lucien: My mother-

Elain: Can come with us. We can send an escort to bring her safely to Velaris the very second Beron's heart stops.

Lucien: And what would I do in Velaris?

Elain: You liked my sister well enough, and I'm sure her husband would like you too. You would have no problem entering their court.

Lucien: And you? What would you do, Lady Belladonna?

Elain: I would do much of what I've done here. I would plant a garden. A large one full of fruits and vegetables that would be open to anyone who was hungry. And I would make healing salves and teas, and if it was needed, yes, I would also make poison.... There is something new that I would do there, though.

Lucien: And what is that?

Elain: I would love you.

Lucien: You would?

Elain: I would. I do.

Lucien: Would you marry me?

Elain: Yes.

Lucien writes a letter to his mother, telling her to leave home and come to them immediately, and after it's sent, he and Elain are once again sneaking past guards and continuing to the kingdom of Velaris. It takes a few more weeks, but eventually, they manage to cross over into King Rhysand's territory.

As soon as they find a village, they are married and then work their way from town to town until they come to the capital and enter the palace to meet with the king and queen.

Feyre is overjoyed to see her sister and is surprised to see Lucien, but she welcomes them both with open arms. They explain the story of how they met, which makes Rhys laugh a lot and how they came to be married. Rhys promises that as his sister in law, Elain is part of the royal family and under his protection, and as her husband, Lucien is as well. Lucien also formally swears his loyalty to King Rhysand, Queen Feyre, and the kingdom of Velaris.

Rhys prepares to send Cassian and Azriel to retrieve Lucien's mother, but everything comes to a halt when there's news that the kingdom has been invaded.

The kingdom of Velaris and Hybern go to war. The eldest Archeron sister, Nesta, joins her family in the kingdom of Velaris after her husband Tomas dies fighting for Hybern shortly after they married. She has intimate knowledge of Hybern's army and reveals places where the king plans to strike and camp the largest sections of his army as well as where they are the most vulnerable.

Everyone, but especially Rhysand's general, is impressed by Nesta.

Cassian: And how did you come to learn of all this?

Nesta: Soldiers, generals in particular, are very eager to comfort a young, pretty widow and will tell her anything if they think it'll get her into their bed.

Cassian: How quickly you betray the king your husband died for.

Nesta: He stopped being my king the moment her turned his army on my sisters, and Tomas was a pathetic fool. I'm just sorry he died in battle and not by my own hand.

Thanks to the insight, Rhysand is quickly able to bring things to a defining head and after a long year and half of fighting. The war ends with King Hybern's death.

He had no heir, so the throne passes to his cousin, Helion, who wastes no time forming an official alliance with the kingdom of Velaris and, to the surprise of everyone, marries Lucien's mother, a recent widow.

Lucien, along with his wife and her family, attend the wedding of the new king, and his mother explains that Helion had once been her lover. Her only source of happiness for years while she suffered in her marriage to Beron and that Lucien is actually his son.

Helion formally recognizes Lucien as his son and heir.

Lucien and Elain are married again, this time with their families present and are officially crowned as prince and princess of the kingdom. Lucien had a hand in designing Elain's coronation crown and delicately woven all throughout the gold, decorated with amethysts and emeralds, is a lovely belladonna pattern.

As always, this prompt is up for grabs if anyone wants it.

[songofthesibyl]

Some thoughts on Rhysand as high lord—

Though many dates are uncertain in acotar, we know Rhysand has been high lord for centuries—so minus UTM, at least 150 years give or take. We know this for certain (barring retcons) because he became high lord essentially the same time Tamlin did, and we know Tamlin has been high lord for centuries because Rhysand mentioned Lucien mourning his lover for centuries, and Lucien came to the spring court when Tamlin was already high lord, therefore—so my thinking is Tamlin and Rhysand were only in double digits when their falling out happened, but it could have been a little later, I suppose. It’s still been centuries.

So, knowing that, I’ll give him the same leeway of choosing stability over change that Tamlin has. Rhysand is in a difficult position, he inherited one just as Tamlin did. The difference is he was supposed to have ambition and a will to carry that ambition out; I see the ambition, even the will, and the willingness to sacrifice—but I don’t see the action. I don’t see the results any more than in spring. The same tenuous balance remains. He has shown he can change established norms with the high lady thing—but that’s one person. This is an entire court. I get it.

I have a character in my original work who faces very similar challenges, who becomes king at a very volatile time, where people are suffering—he wants to be different, wants to change things, but also doesn’t want to bring chaos and destruction to the world. He also is The Most Powerful™️ (and there is a way this can be verified in my story), but that doesn’t translate to subsequent political power—he’s in a very vicarious position. He’s also human and twenty years old. One key difference is while he also doesn’t want to be a tyrant, the public doesn’t know how powerful he is, and he doesn’t want to show them—he’s more like Tamlin in this respect. But Rhysand has been a tyrant, he has willingly been the monster to protect Velaris—but he isn’t willing to do that for all of his court because of the chaos that would ensue. It isn’t worth it, in his mind, because the net loss to Velaris isn’t worth upsetting the balance he has maintained for centuries. At this point it is moot. I think (or I would hope) that SJM will incorporate these conflicts into the story at large. Rhysand was disturbed by the implications of being High King (I mean he will be eventually, that’s why she had him be so disgusted by it at first), he’s struggling emotionally, he has continually confronted Tamlin in a way that could lead to him facing his issues (he certainly needs to deal with his own court before becoming high king); characters exist or have been introduced that could and probably will play a part—Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre perhaps for the Court of Nightmares, and Emerie, Azriel, Cassian, Balthazar, Nesta, and Gwyn etc for Illyria. Or not.

It is true that Rhysand can’t do it all from the top down, continually punishing and exiling. He can’t set it and forget it either. He needs to work with his people. There was a mention of him relaxing his whole “Night Triumphant” shtick when making appearances in the court of nightmares, he nominally asked permission from Bryce to go into her mind—these could be a start. Maybe Feyre was disturbed by the torture she saw in ACOSF and they had an off-page discussion about how they conduct interrogations going forward. Who knows. But he can’t dismiss two-thirds of his court and claim to have ambition. He can’t just make laws and say he’s done all he can. There is a self-determining aspect where he can support those seeking change—Mor and Emerie, for example. He can not be imperious and dismissive in the CoN. He can expand Velaris and truly offer it to anyone who comes in good faith, advertise it to them as he did to the queens, instead of just saying he’ll welcome those who are able to find their own way there. Offer to start over, use the veritas orb with his own people. But he certainly hasn’t done all he could in centuries, and I can’t imagine telling the faerie-truth to Keir about welcoming him to Velaris isn’t going to bite him (I mean, it won’t if SJM doesn’t give him consequences, but this is all hypothetical). So I get the complications. I’m just not impressed with the results.

[animezinglife]

Sorry I'm not just reblogging you like a proper person but yeah I totally agree with you. Personally I did think Tamlin was a little nicer in book 1 - but he was also less traumatized then. He really craves normalcy in book 2, so he does high lord stuff like he knows it from other high lords.

In the end, they just are incompatible, yes. They both absolutely suck at communication. Tamlin always was awkward with social interactions but they both get worse after UTM. I also always felt like Tamlin got anxiety - or yes even paranoia, which makes sense, considering. And Feyre is all over the place lol. I generally feel the word 'abuse' is used extremely inflationary in online discussions, but I honestly don't think it super applies to Tamlin and Feyre. Like everyone calls him an abuser and even with the shit he did, I really don't quite see that. But I also kinda like him as a character so I'm biased. Considering how the narrative paints it, I totally get why people project their domestic violence trauma onto him. It is all kind of framed that way for sure.

You're fine! Any format of conversation that works well with you works for me, too. There's also nothing wrong with a bias towards a character. I don't have one towards him, but I do towards Rhys and Lucien. I'll inevitably have to face that at some point I'm sure.

I definitely lean a bit more towards your end on the "abuse" thing. I'd nearly put it in quotations in my post, but I do think it's more the manipulation and control--whether fully intentional or not--that made me feel comfortable using the word. It's an inflammatory word for sure and yeah, I definitely see a projection with the fanbase. That said, those behaviors genuinely can escalate and worsen in real life. I don't blame them for it--it's just a different take that I think leaves people with different expectations going in.

Maybe he was a bit nicer--truthfully, I just don't remember that much of him in the first book. It doesn't surprise me that his desire for normalcy goes a little overboard though to the point of over-exercising control in the places he shouldn't. I can't say I'm all that mad at the reason he locked Feyre in the house. I just don't agree with the locking her in the house part.

Feyre's a funny one. Right now, the way she's acting with Rhys almost gives me a little bit of an emotional affair vibe. Personally, I've liked him better than Tam from the get-go, but for someone she supposedly wants to think is her enemy and absolutely sees him as Tamlin's, she really has a habit of spilling her gut to him and finding a lot of comfort with him.

Which, don't get me wrong, is something that can absolutely happen on an unspoken, biological level in real life, but I did smirk a bit when they were having the little three truths conversation when he was taking her to the House of Wind and she just word-vomits everything she's been feeling about her relationship with Tamlin.

Like...girl, that's a lot to tell your not-enemy who at this point in time still technically is your current lover's enemy.

I hate to bring another series into it, but a lot of the reactions to things remind me A LOT of the Twilight era.

I have to be honest: my opinion of Tamlin has somehow not changed at all between the first book and this one. Or at least, it hasn't changed enough for me to even acknowledge. I didn't hate him and didn't love him in the first, and I'm still pretty much in the same spot now.

I'm also not at all new to the fantasy genre and not even new to the fae subgenre. Tamlin's honestly pretty mild in comparison to a lot of what you get in those (especially older books).

Again, a comparison doesn't right a wrong or lessen it, but he's definitely not the worst fictional guy out there, and definitely isn't the worst fae love interest.

[deathsweetblossoms]

Seeds Planted in Frost & Starlight

A compilation of every nudge, hint, whiff of foreshadowing that we got in Frost & Starlight, which decides where the stories will go. Not including bits about Cassian and Nesta, since we saw their story play out in ACOSF already. 

Elain

Elains powers, and how she hasn’t “used” them since the war, are mentioned enough that it’s obvious we’re going to explore it again. 

Her friendship with Nuala and Cerridwen, how “(the wraiths) spent more time with Elain than (Feyre has). They understood her moods, what she sometimes needed” It’s a close enough bond that we are clearly going to see explored...which opens up possible storylines of spying and learning even more new skills. 

Her obvious feelings for Azriel. It’s canon. It’s there. 

The mating bond. Her feelings about that are clear at this point, in that she doesn’t want it. 

Azriel

His backstory, his family, his lineage. We get hints and clues (”Rosehall” “Buy her something from me this time”), but nothing beyond that. 

Azriel’s shadows themselves are mentioned a few times, how they are shadows but aren’t, how they’re different from Rhys’s power, etc. Shadowsinger mythos will be delved into, and more with Truth-Teller. 

His feelings for Elain. Again, it’s canon. It’s there. 

Confronting his feelings/connection with Mor..

Mor

Her long overdue vengeance. “Those were her deaths to claim. They had always been. I had never asked why she waited so long.” Rhysand tells us. 

Revealing of what truly happened with Eris and his motives for leaving her behind

A conversation with Azriel where she reveals her truth (not a seed planted, but something we know needs to happen from ACOWAR)

Mor’s powers and her secret life 

Love interest. It’s going to happen, the build up and her obvious want of it has been hinted, and we were even introduced to her potential future lover:

Emerie & Mor - we got Emerie’s full backstory in this book, and even though we don’t see the suggestion of this pairing until Silver Flames...it’s there simply by her being introduced here. 

Autumn Court

Beron & Eris. Beron has outlived his time, and we have the obvious bargain to help Eris take the throne. Eris will be High Lord at some point. 

Eris redemption arc has been, again, hinted at time and again. He postponed Kier going to Velaris, why? He knows something Azriel doesn’t. He taunts Mor with knowing the truth about why he left her, and is finally realizing it. Feyre contemplates in ACOWAR what his time must have been like Under the Mountain, what games he had to play to survive. Other people have mentioned “he might have been a better male” if he had grown up somewhere else, etc etc. He’s getting redeemed. I have no doubt. 

Eris & Lucien...we’ll delve into that and truly see their relationship, how Eris probably has known Lucien isn’t his brother this whole time. 

Spring Court

Tamlin??? He will either get a redemption arc or die, and someone else will rule the Spring Court. Because it can’t go on being ruled by The Beast. Calanmai needs that yearly ritual to gift the land with it’s fertility magic.... 

Spring Court in general is going to waste, and will need to be rebuilt. 

Band of Exiles

Conflict with Koschei, Vassa’s curse needs to be broken...

Vassien. It’s .. very obvious.

Lucien and his movements. As emissary he now sends twice weekly reports to Azriel but outside of that, Az isn’t watching his movements so as “not to know if he seeks out Elain”. Potential here for some type of reveal since we won’t know where he’s going if Azriel isn’t watching him.

Lucien being heir to Helion. He'll find out. Helion might croak in order for it to happen, but either way, Lucien will find out.

Lucien’s mating bond. His feelings on this are pretty clear at this point too, and he really likes Vassa.

Other

We’ll have to deal with the Hewn City nobility coming to Velaris, meaning...meeting more of Mor’s family? Azriel’s family (which will be a given because we’re getting his POV anyway), and potential for new characters 

This comment from Rhys regarding the bargain to help Eris take the throne: “But I’d made a bargain with Eris too. Perhaps a fools bargain. But only time would tell in that regard”

The mysterious dark spot Mor saw in the forest on her way to her secret house. This might be something from Crescent City, or it’ll be part of the crossover. 

So much talk of Vallahan and the continent, we may spend some time there...with that King and Queen.. 

Bryaxis.

[thisloveforyourmom]

review of acotar: solid 4/10, read it all and DNF'd the second book because i got off the plane and had better things to do LMAO. it's not very good but its also not so hilariously awful or off the wall that it becomes entertaining in its badness.

feyre as a main character is really not very inspired. everything before her going to fairy land is basically katniss everdeen with sisters who suck more - hunting in the woods, starving, one useless parent one dead parent, sibling who won't/can't help them survive, etc etc etc. and her name isn't pronounce 'fairy' but come on. she doesn't really shine until very late in the book, but she's a mildly interesting POV so whatever 5/10 for her.

tamlin is a complete nothing burger of a love interest. there's literally nothing about him and feyre's interactions that is at all compelling. at one point he goes feral and bites her and it's supposed to be all erotic and i don't know who that scene is for, considering if you want a dark romance this aint your book and tamlin never does anything like that again. all of feyre's attraction to him is explained by that bullshit romance authors sometimes do where it's like "and i didn't know why....but i wanted to see him again" girl i don't know why either

the entire setup for the curse is so. contrived. like wdym it's a lengthy and complicated curse but feyre JUST SO HAPPENS to have met every single weird requirement EXCEPT.....she doesn't do the last thing needed to break the curse! and even by her own admission she didn't know why!

the worldbuilding is...a Problem. the high fae aren't fairies they're elves. idgaf. they can lie no problem, they can touch iron, eating their food is totally safe, time passes the same way in the fairy land, etc etc etc. there are seven courts because SJM wanted to bring up the whole seven is a magic number, but she does that by making them autumn, winter, spring, summer, day, night, and...dawn? why not twilight? twilight applies to dawn and dusk, why have we just totally punted the dusk court into oblivion? the main villain does that whole "i said i'd free your love, but i didnt say WHEN!! i'll free him LATER!! he can be freed by DYING!! -evil laugh-" thing except we already established she CAN JUST LIE, so there's no reason to play word games

rhysand and lucien are by far the most compelling people feyre talks to. i think SJM is good at writing enemies-to-lovers because it forces her to actually give them scenes where they find common ground and have meaningful interactions to overcome their hatred.

i do appreciate how she takes the risk of actually getting into some dark stuff in the end of acotar and the beginning of the second book - i thought feyre wasn't going to go through with that, but then she did, and it actually eats her up from the inside out instead of just becoming a woe-is-me-pity-party situation, so props for that. i also don't think many authors would have been willing to toss out the whole LI of the first book, but she committed to that too, so good on u SJM taking risks.

THAT SAID she did him dirty. i would have liked it better if feyre and tamlin truly just became incompatible after their trauma and were forced to admit that loving each other wasn't enough, but it seems like they're full sending tamlin being some kind of villain, which i really hate. in general i think his and feyre's relationship should have been done better - i could absolutely see feyre not loving him, but feeling as though she SHOULD love him because of what he did for her, which solves the whole 'i didnt say i love you' thing AND gives her a reason to go save him and then break up with him as well. overall he is just. really a nothing character until the second book.

acotar as a whole feels like the drudgery SJM had to get through before she could write the second book. it really picks up there. but not enough for me to keep reading lmao see yall

[decadentpostnachos-evil-twin]

See a more or less short rendition of my experiences when I first read the acotar series (Three years ago?) beneath the cut. I purposefully misspelled some names, I don't feel like getting death threats from obsessive stans tonight. Bisou x

The funniest thing for me is that I started reading acotar spoiled and biased. I got the recommendation from TikTok, and everyone there was raving about Fey/sand and hating on Tamlin. So naturally, I started acotar being prepared to hate Tamlin and yearningly wait for Rice sand to make an appearance.

How the tables turned with that.

First of all, I was whipped for Lucien the moment he first appeared. (I have also been in the Eris corner ever since...2021? Or so, when there was literally one piece of writing for him and that was some headcanons. Anyway.)

Secondly, I folded for Tamlin too, against my expectations when hearing people say he was a nasty abuser and Rice sand is the feminist king. Like, I was prepared for Tamlin to be the biggest prick, and then he came along with lines like "I play a mean fiddle" or "I love you, thorns and all" and writing Limericks to help Feyrug learn to read, and he was fumbling so bad, it was just absolutely cute.

And when Rice sand made his first appearance, I was underwhelmed. At that point, I had only heard people sing praise about him and how perfect he is, and he was just the prick I expected Tamlin to be.

Utm was disgusting, and fundamented my dislike for Rice sand because he was giving Sex offender in the worst way possible.

Acomaf came along and I was kinda happy to have things "back to normal". And then everything went to shit, Tamlin was completely disregarded and vilified, as was Lucien. And Feyrug began sucking Rice sands dick. I was so disappointed, and I clung to any crumb of Lucien and Tamlin I could get, especially after the Summer Court debacle and the CoN whore thing, because that was just disgusting.

Acowar sold my soul to Eris, to the point of no return. I was an Eris girl before that, but after? Altered my brain chemistry. There's hardly anything he can do at this point to make me not like him. It also festered my hate for the Ic even more, and I began to really despise Feyrug too. I wanted to burn the book when Rice sand was resurrected, because I had hoped that he'd just stay dead atp.

Acofas was a train wreck and the only good things about it were the one appearance Eris and Lucien had each. The rest was either cringey or anger inducing, or both combined. My villain origin story.

Acosf... I hate how she treated Nesta. My girl deserves better fr. I despised Cassian's povs, except for the ones where Eris was present. (Duh) Once again, only a few good things about this book. Those being Eris, Lucien and the Valkyries. The pregnancy plotline sucks ass, and if I see one more Rice sand lover saying Eris is misogynistic for saying Morningan dresses like a slut while defending Rice sand for the shit he pulled with the pregnancy because "he just wanted to protect Feyrug" and still calling him feminist, I'm going to have an aneurism.

I went into this series biased. I literally hadn't even opened the first book and already thought Tamlin sucks and Rice sand is the greatest salvation. It was deeply ingrained in my mind before I even read the series. And even then, I came out hating Rice sand and his AA circle of life and loving everyone the popular narrative told me to hate. So no, I'm not delusional for liking the characters I do. People who blindly stan the Ic just lack reading comprehension or the will to think about what they are reading for more than five seconds because there's nothing more they want to know than the length of bad imitation Batman's cock.

[zucchinibread777books]

ACOTAR Book Review Pt.5 (final)

For my final post about ACOTAR, I will talk about the way that the author's internalized misogyny is reflected in her work. (In the future my reviews won't be this long, I was passionate about this one lol). Spoilers ahead 1. All of the major female characters fit into the sister, mother, lover roles. They lack the depth to create meaningful relationships between them and the main character. The closest female character she has to a friend (Alis) does not have any characterization to make her relationship with Feyre genuine. She is simply a mother to her sister’s children, who was forced to take care of Feyre. 2. Despite this being a fantasy world, the patriarchy exists. Every position of power is filled by men (except Amarantha, who I will discuss later). Even with how power is decided, the brothers must compete to replace their father. There is no mention as to whether Tamlin or Lucien even have sisters. Why in this completely made-up world are men the power holders? 3. This is a basic critique but the way she uses male and female is a big ick for me. It’s very reminiscent of how misogynistic men use the terms. Similarly, the only curses/slurs she uses throughout the text are bitch and whore, two words rooted in misogyny. They don’t fit well with the fantasy language and, in the case of Rhys, calling him Amarantha’s dog would have been more fitting and more insulting. 5. Both Nesta and Elain are very vain and empty from the start and they hardly gain any character.  Nesta’s character is particularly self-contradictory, as she despises her father for not helping the family and later takes on Feyre’s role as protector, yet she never helps Feyre herself and actively undoes Feyre’s work by spending her money. This was half-hearted and only contributed to the lack of well-rounded female characters in the story. 6. Amarantha contradicts my point about men being the main power holders, but her character also fits into a specific sexist trope. The female villainess, often a subordinate to the main male antagonist (which is alluded to) must obtain all of her real power by tricking and stealing it from the powerful male characters. Her trickery often revolves around her using her evil female sexuality (I say with a hint of sarcasm) and she makes rash decisions based on emotions and sexual obsession with the main male character. She is spurred by her tragic backstory of male violence in which her sister is “fridged”. But of course, the real victim is the man whom she sexually abuses. There is a lot to unpack here. 7. Unimportant female characters throughout this novel are also treated poorly. Lucien’s love was killed because she was of a lower rank and he loved her. The girl Tam met the night of the Great Rite "asked him" to hurt her. The girl Feyre pretended to be was murdered and strung up naked. Amarantha’s sister was murdered by the man she loved. This is violence that is specific to women throughout the plot. Many of these details were unnecessary, especially the girl being naked when strung up. 8. The SA in the Great Rite scene. It is very common in romantic novels to portray SA between the MC and love interest, and it is often meant to read as romantic. What does this teach the reader? How do the author and reader view romance if the ideal involves the man sexually assaulting the woman? This continues when the second love interest, Rhys, not only forces himself into Feyre’s mind and invades her desires, but later forces her to wear revealing clothing, gets her drunk, and touches her, which she has no memory of. He also kisses her. Finally, he enslaves her, branding her arm as a sign that he owns her. Like cattle. And yet Tam’s character is so poorly written that the audience is likely to side with Rhys and prefer him just because he is interesting. These scenes are not romantic and should not be portrayed as such. They should absolutely not have some poor excuse like he couldnt control his animal instinct or he was actually helping protect her. It is a real issue that plots like this only reinforce.

It's harmful and the romance doesn't work.

[acourtofthought]

Hello there! I absolutely love all your Elucien posts. You are just a gift!!! I saw this post saying that it would be “wrong” and “unprofessional” of SJM to NOT make E*riel endgame because they’re the only ones “romantically coded” I mean idk if I read that right but….is this ridiculous or what?

That’s like saying Feyre and Rhysand becoming endgame was wrong and unprofessional for SJM to do because Feyre and Tamlin were the ones romantically coded in the first book. Also, did everyone just forget that Elain and Lucien are STILL canonically factually mates?! In SJM canon, that’s one of the most “romantically coded” things you can have.

I just….I can’t with some of these people….

Anyway, thoughts?

Thank you so much for your message and really kind words!!! ❤️

As far as it being wrong or unprofessional of SJM to not make E/riel endgame, I am completely in sync with your thoughts.

A. This is the authors book and she can do whatever she wants with these characters. Considering it's her world, there's nothing "unprofessional" or "wrong" if it's where her imagination takes her. Authors all over the world have love triangles in their novels, characters in polyamorous relationships, characters who start off the book with a spouse who they end up divorced from only to find another love by the end, enemies to lovers, etc. Yeah, maybe a reader doesn't like the direction the author went with a particular relationship but there is no place where readers should be telling the author how she should be writing her own work.

B. Arguments like this make me shake my head. Have these people never read an SJM book before? Have they not paid attention to the other characters in the ACOTAR series?

SJM has a very specific formula she often follows. Most of her main leads tend to have multiple relationships before finally settling with their endgame person. She enjoys taking us on a journey with the character, watching them grow as individuals and through their past relationships.

Celeana / Aelin was in love with Sam, had a brief moment with Dorian, was in love with Chaol, then ended up with Rowan.

Feyre had a fling with Isaac, was engaged to Tamlin, entertained the idea of what it would be like to fall in love with Tarquin, then ended up mated to Rhys.

Both Rhys and Cassian talk about the past lovers they had and we know how much romantic coding Az had with Mor at certain points.

Nesta really didn't have an emotional relationship with anyone but Cassian (which is fitting of her character) however she had a thing with Tomas and many physical experiences with others before ending up with Cassian.

Chaol was with Nesryn, then Celeana, then had romantic coding again with Nesryn, then ended up with Yrene (who he had zero romantic coding with at the start of TOD).

Dorian was a playboy, then had feelings for Celeana, then fell in love with Sorcha, then ended up having a thing with Manon.

Yes, not every character has multiple relationships because she doesn't have time to follow everyone's story. Yrene was a female lead however we only ever saw her with Chaol. But, acting like Elain and Az having romantic coding now MUST mean that they will end up together is a bit naïve in my opinion. If anything, based on history, I think readers who ship E/riel should be extremely concerned that they had romantic coding and over a year of being able to freely hang out before either of them had their own book. That rarely has a positive outcome for an SJM ship.

I feel like both Az and Elain were a stepping stone for one another. A transition between letting go of their past loves and finding their way to their endgame person. Yes, they had romantic coding but flings / rebounds often do. That's normal in real life. We have romantic coding with many people before we finally settle down with who we're meant to be with.

I hate to make a blanket statement or sound judgmental about this but anyone that truly can't understand that Az and Elain (through the author) are allowed to "think" they want the other one at the moment but have the right to change their mind and realize that maybe they aren't meant to be together long term either doesn't understand how SJM writes and / or relationships in real life.

Thank you again for your message and have a wonderful eveing!

[dearaliya]

A Court of Thorns and Roses: Missed the boat, but got caught in the waves

Dear Aliya,

Booktok might know what they’re talking about.

I’d been seeing artwork and hearing snippets from this series for a while and eventually took a chance on the first book. I can’t say how glad I was, I love a good magical romance with severe parallels to Beauty and the Beast.

Well within reason.

It's actually the enemies-to-lovers trope that I wholeheartedly adore, and it's in this series a few times so naturally I was hooked. Stockholm syndrome isn't ideal, but pining and dancing around one another until someone confesses? My kinda book.

Shall we dot point? Stop me if I'd spoil things

Characters Maas does some pretty good character work in her stories. A bland story is permitted to exist if the characters can carry the show and they did so well that I had to always know what was next for them. So let's discuss a few!

Tamlin Look, we're talking about the first book here. In this one, he was pretty... okay? He's a dude thrust into a bad situation and he's making the most of it sometimes, other times not so much. I kicked my feet a few times, twirled my hair once or twice I'm not immune to charm.

He wasn't my outright pick, though I enjoyed his interactions with Feyre and they might have hit it off better if he was just slightly not so overbearing.

Short of it is, if I got swept off my feet by him I wouldn't say no, I just didn't love how perpetually unhelpful he seemed to be towards the end of the book.

Feyre You know what? I really like some of Maas's female characters. They're as strong and independent as you'd expect a woman in these types of novels to be, but there's always a facet of them that is so grounded it's kind of refreshing. Feyre learned to hunt, put her own needs aside for her family and got rewarded for that for at least a little while. She only wanted simple things, like enough money to look after herself and maybe buy a few paints.

Her cataloguing and noticing colours and everything that an artist would notice was a lovely little touch to make her feel more like a person and I really appreciated it.

She does have a lot of things go realllly well for her so we're walking the fine line of mary-sue character but it pulls back enough that it scrapes by.

Lucien Look, I have a thing for snarky mean gingers and as soon as Lucien opened his mouth I was fully sold on the book. Make of that what you will, but he’s not the only character I enjoyed following who was sporting the red hair and we'll sure get to that.

I was almost disappointed when I found out he wasn't part of the love interest cast honestly cause he had good chemistry with Feyre. I did at first think it was going to be a choice between him and Tamlin, and I would have chosen him! He helped during the challenges, it was my last push to jump ship.

I also find the headcanon that he was staring at Feyre during his challenge, unable to read, and losing his mind because the words on the wall were probably just, no, nope and this one hilarious so bless whoever placed that in my mind.

Amarantha I do not condone the actions and atrocities committed by Amarantha. No one should be excused for what she did.

Now that the formal disclaimer is out of the way she was a little bit cool. She's a terrible person and if I met her IRL we'd be brawling under the mountain, if I were able to get close. In that vein, however, fucking up the guy who tortured your sister to death so hard that all that's left is a knucklebone and an eye that you fused to a ring to force him into uninterrupted consciousness for centuries? My kinda bitch. Not all men but definitely that one and she made sure he never forgot it.

Not to mention she crippled Prythian overnight and kept it under her control for fifty years. She nearly sealed her place on a throne permanently too, if not for the power of love. She was getting shit done, I was almost sad to see her go and not end up an asset to the courts given she was a general to Hybern.

Rhysand Lucian was in the lead till this one showed up. I am just as basic and unoriginal as everyone else and once Rhysand stepped into the story I pointed, cheered and put myself firmly in his camp. (I did cheat a little, he was the primary focus of a lot of fanart.)

'There you are, I've been looking for you.'

Howl walked so this man could RUN. I assumed there was a reason he'd been looking, upon finding out what it was later in the series? What a long play, what a setup and what a payoff.

Under the Mountain was not his finest time in terms of winning over Feyre, he's mouthy and cocky and inebriated her most nights under the guise of lessening the pain of being trapped there. However, as stated a little higher with Lucien, I love a smartass and he fit the bill perfectly.

Plot Girl kills wolf. Girl meets beast. Beast is man. They will-they won't-they for most of the book. He sends her away. She comes back to fight for him. Wins. They live happily(ish) ever after till the next instalment. I give you, ACOTAR.

Okay, I'm not being totally serious because there's more in there and you could bare bones a lot of books this way. I've heard a lot made about this story and how paint-by-numbers it is and while that is true in some aspects it's not true in all. There were a lot of nice, humanising scenes and interesting worldbuilding that painted Prythian as its own place while still keeping snippets of traditional fae folklore and myth. It's not fully fleshed out, but the central focus is supposed to be the romance between the two main characters so it doesn't really have to be.

Other The Suriel CARRIED the drama dispersed through these books, starting with this one. Came for the clothing, stirred some shit and promptly disappeared into the shadows until another part of the plot needs to be jumpstarted. The other magical creatures were also interesting as well, though I couldn't consistently pronounce any of their names and neither could the girls narrating the audiobook.

Golly, is that a segway?

Yes! Speaking of audiobooks, this series is fully covered and I own them all! I don't always have the time to sit in one place so I appreciated that it was all completed and the narrators were great. There are a few audiobooks that I refuse to buy because of the way the narrator's voice sounds but that's a me problem. Another me problem is that they keep changing who narrated what book! ACOTAR and ACOMAF are both the same but it switches once we get to ACOWAR and again during ACOSF (which is slightly less of an issue because we are following Nesta this time). Each lady does a great job, but pronunciations changed and it felt a little jarring at times to experience.

Nothing more comes to mind, so I appreciate you listening to my thoughts. I’ll see you next time, stay well!

Hannah xx

[draguta]

.a court of fate and fortune | thirty.

pairing: lucien vanserra x fem!reader

summary: | book two | lovers separated, powers that won't be controlled, a doomed wedding. with the threat of war looming over prythian, lucien, Y/N, tamlin, and rhysand's inner circle must scramble to find allies and prepare themselves for what is to come. but Y/N only has one aim; to find her way back to lucien, and protect him at all costs.

chapter warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex (p in v)

chapter word count: 5209

a/n: sorry folks, i know this is a long one, but it had to be done! enjoyyyy

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please remember to reblog, like, and share a comment if you enjoy this series - it is always appreciated by writers to see their hard work valued.

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The Passing Of Time

The Night Court wilderness was far from the plush comfort of Velaris. It was cold, closer in temperature to Windhaven, and the lines of trees seemed to stretch forever. It was endless, the walking, and the only thing that kept you moving was the knowledge that each step would take you closer to the end of the day, when the sentinels would light the fire and you’d be able to cuddle up in the tent with Lucien.

A week and a half passed, and you were entirely fed-up. Your body had been stiff from the end of the first day, and the muscle aches hadn’t dulled since then. Your mood hadn’t improved much either, and the others had noticed.

“I just don’t understand why we couldn’t just winnow,” you moaned as you slumped down onto the ground as Wren lit the fire, and Lucien prepared the tent behind you.

“Winnowing would defeat the point,” Bron chuckled. “If you’re looking for something, you can’t skip out half the area by winnowing. We might winnow right past her.”

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes, and leaned back against your hands, stretching your legs and crossing your ankles, the only position you could sit in that would alleviate your burning muscles. “There has to be a better way than walking everywhere,” you muttered.

“Like what?” Silas asked with a raised brow, crouching down across the fire to begin skinning the two squirrels he’d caught earlier in the day for dinner. You grimaced as he slit one of the animals at the rear and began spreading the cut apart, sliding his dagger further in with each cut.

“This is Prythian, surely there’s some kind of magic that could make this easier for us?” You implored, tutting your tongue slightly in annoyance.

“Do you ever stop complaining?” Wren snorted, just as the flames of the fire began to grow, billowing in the crisp breeze - you didn’t want to remind them that Lucien had fire magic running through his veins, and could have lit the fire in seconds. If they wanted to practise their survival skills, you’d let them, and after eleven days trekking through the snowy landscape of what was considered the most dangerous court in Prythian, Lucien seemed to have no want in helping them either.

“No, she doesn’t,” Lucien remarked from behind you, coming to join the others now that the tent was erect. He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before grabbing a knife to begin chopping some of the few veg your group had left to throw into the stew for dinner.

“I can remember someone being much worse on their first trailing trek,” Silas interjected, shooting Lucien a cunning smirk. Lucien grumbled something under his breath.

“So,” you said with raised brows, turning to Lucien, “you’ve spent all week telling me off for complaining, when you were just as bad?”

Lucien sucked in a harsh breath, the warmth of it hitting the icy air as he exhaled through his nose, forming a cloud in front of him. He tossed the knife to the ground at your feet and stood, turning away from you. “At least I actually help.”

You winced as he stalked off - perhaps your complaining had been a little overboard. But it was that complaining that had kept your focus, rather than the burning problem you were still trying to face. How to keep your little group away from Velaris.

“You’ve been to the Night Court before,” Hart said slowly. Your eyes snapped up to meet his pretty blue ones - he was younger than the others except for Wren, and was, out of the whole group, the only one you didn’t really know that well. Perhaps that was why he had asked such an impertinent question. The others flinched at his words; they all knew what your time in the Night Court had been like. Or rather, they knew what you wanted everyone in Spring to think of those months you were there - that you had been tortured and treated badly, that Rhysand was a ruthless dictator, and that the streets there ran red with blood. Hart, apparently, hadn’t heard those rumours, or was simply too naïve to care that bringing them up might have haunted you, had they been true. “Don’t you have any idea where they might be keeping her?”

Velaris. They were keeping her in Velaris, you were sure of it. Neither Azriel nor Rhysand had specifically said so, but you knew Rhys well enough by now to know that, if Feyre was no longer under Tamlin’s thumb and a threat to that city he loved so much, it would be there that he would take her to recover after the manor.

But you couldn’t take them there. None of these sentinels - Silas, Wren, Bron, Hart - not even Lucien, could know about Velaris. Not until you were sure they were safe, that they wouldn’t go and tell Tamlin, and ensure Velaris was turned into a target, rather than the safe sanctuary it had become over the years.

But that was just the problem - you didn’t even know where Velaris was from where you were there, trekking through the forests. You could have been walking right toward it, for all you knew. You’d only left Velaris twice during your time in the Night Court - once to visit the Moonstone Palace above Hewn City, and the other to go to Windhaven - and both times you had winnowed there, and couldn’t exactly make much note of the direction in which you were travelling.

Windhaven. In the mountains - that was easy enough to find. Simple enough to suggest Feyre was being kept with the Illyrian legions, considering it was no secret that Rhys’ armies were made up of the winged-faeries, and with its mountain position, it should be easy enough to find. Maybe - just maybe - you could take them toward Windhaven, and hope that they would give up before they even got there, or the Illyrians would scare them off before they found any trace of Feyre or Rhysand - any mention of Velaris.

“There was one place they took me,” you said slowly, schooling your voice to sound as if it were trembling, as if you were scared to even say the words. “It was the only time they took me out of wherever it was they were keeping me - somewhere called Windhaven.”

“Windhaven?” Lucien asked, turning back around at your confession, eyes narrowed. You nodded firmly.

“It was snowy - somewhere in the mountains I think,” you said softly. “Maybe that’s where they’re keeping Feyre.”

Silas looked up to Lucien, who nodded his head in confirmation. “It’s the closest thing to a lead we’ve got,” Lucien said, moving to position himself beside you on the ground again.

“Do you think you’d be able to work out the direction?” Silas asked, actions frozen, dagger hanging limply from his hand. You swallowed once.

“Probably,” you said truthfully - at least that wasn’t a lie. “If I can get a good view, if we could find a clearing or something, I think I’d be able to find the mountain range.”

A hand clamped down on your shoulder - Bron, from somewhere behind you - as he said, “Good job, Y/N.”

Lucien smiled gently, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, resting his chin on your head as he inhaled sharply. “Thank you, my love,” he said, quiet enough that it was only audible to your ears. “I’m sorry I’ve been so moody recently. This place…it has me on edge.”

You closed your eyes, shuffling closer to his warmth. “It’s okay.”

“You’re sure about this Windhaven place?” Lucien asked slowly.

You shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s the only place I can think of.”

Another lie. Another deceit to your friends - your mate, and the people you loved the most - to add to the list of mistruths you’d already spewed to them. How would they feel if they were ever to find out how many times you’d duped them? Would they ever forgive you?

You couldn’t think about that now. Not with Lucien's warmth seeping into your chilled bones. Not with the fire flickering a comforting orange glow toward you in the dimming night. Not with the smell of the stew, already beginning to bubble in the pot above the fire, wafting toward you, making your mouth water. Not surrounded by your friends.

Three weeks, and you could have sworn your exhaustion had become tangible. You could feel it in the air around you with every step you took, as if it were a force pushing against you, making each and every footstep forward more difficult than the last. You’d made a silent promise to yourself to never travel across courts by foot again - Lucien could take you everywhere with him, so long as you were winnowing or riding.

You’d spotted that familiar mountain range, the one you were sure was home to the Windhaven camp, weeks ago, and your group had been trekking that way ever since. It loomed over you, high above the frost-coated tree tops, a marker of the end to your journey. It seemed to grow colder the closer you got to it, and it almost felt as if it grew taller, more intimidating, with each and every step in its shadow.

Your mood hadn’t improved much either, and the others were catching onto that. They were beginning to realise how you grew more defiant, slower in your pace, the closer to the steppes you got. You prayed they wouldn’t work out that you were trying to delay them as much as you could.

But Lucien knew something was wrong, you could tell from the way his eyes remained almost constantly trained on you, and how no matter where you went, he always seemed to be at your side. Of course he knew something was wrong, he knew you better than anyone else. But you refused to give him an inch, no matter how much you wanted to tell him exactly why you were acting like such a brat, why you were constantly complaining and asking for breaks. You would keep that to yourself for now, for the sake of Rhys and the Inner Circle - your friends. For the sake of Velaris.

“What is it, Y/N?” Lucien asked one night once the pair of you were safe inside your tent. You were camped so close to the steppes now that it unnerved you, with only the hiking climb upward remaining until you were at Windhaven. The others were asleep already, long-since hunkered down in their own tents surrounding the fire, and whilst Lucien had retired to bed a while ago, an hour or so after you had, he’d remained staring at the ceiling of the tent, not even attempting to sleep. Until now.

“What do you mean?” You asked, roused from your peaceful doze. You rolled over, turning to look at him. He narrowed his eyes toward you as if trying to see you properly in the dim orange glow from the fire outside that seeped through the crack in the tent flaps; his golden eye seemed to glow of its own accord in the darkness. The Night Court was always so dark.

“I feel like you’re keeping something from me,” he said softly. There was something there, laced into his tone - hurt. “I didn’t think we would keep secrets from each other anymore.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you,” you replied. You shuffled further down into your bed, peering up at him from under your blankets. “Why would you think I was keeping something from you?”

“All of the complaining, and the breaks, and the changes in route that you’re insisting upon,” he commented, not trying to hide the irritation in his tone. He was right - you had suggested they change route on more than one occasion, pulling them further into the wilderness to loop back around for no other reason than to offer time. “It’s like you’re trying to delay us.”

“I’m not-”

“What is it you’re keeping from me, Y/N?” He said again, firmer this time.

‘Tell him,’ a little voice in your head said. ‘Tell him about Velaris.’ You had been certain that Velaris was the closest thing to a home you were going to find in Prythian, but it had always felt like there was something missing there. You’d realised, after a great deal of thought, that the missing thing was Lucien, and had since spent days fantasising over what your lives would look like in the City of Starlight together. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to tell him just so you could see that fantasy play out. But-

But it wasn’t time for that, not now. Not when the whole world was turning upside down around you. Velaris had to remain hidden, for now - had to remain safe.

You reached upward, clasping his face gently between your hands. His warmth seeped into your palms despite the cold - he was always warm, a trait from his Autumn Court blood that you were particularly fond of, especially in the icy wilds of the Night Court, where the frost bit at your fingers and threatened hypothermia with each passing day.

“I’m not keeping anything from you,” you whispered, glancing between his eyes, the way they danced from your own eyes, down to your lips, and back up again.

“Then you’re doing it just to frustrate me,” he ground out. In an instant he was rolling on top of you, pinning you in place beneath him, hair falling around you both like a canopy of Autumn leaves. “Are you doing it just to piss me off, Y/N? Do you want me to get angry?”

“No,” you whispered. He was so close - if you moved upward just an inch your lips would be against his. It had been so long. He hadn’t touched you since Hybern. His hands planted themselves over your own, stroking tenderly at the backs of your palms.

“You’re so cold,” he noted, voice low and whispered. “Perhaps you want to rile me up so I would come in here and warm you up.”

His hands were moving down your arms now, caressing the skin, warming every inch of you. They reached your shoulders, squeezing once at the flesh there, and then moved down, along your ribs, to your hips, to the band of your trousers.

“No, Lucien,” you whispered. “I-I would never.”

His thumbs hooked into your waistband, pulling them down over your hips, underwear sweeping over your thighs at the same time, pooling around your knees. You expected the chill to hit your bare skin, to make you all-too aware of how much you wanted him then, but the sharp sting of the cold never came. In fact, the tent had warmed up immensely. Lucien threw you a cocky smirk - he had heated the tent, enough that you could both strip off a small amount of your layers, enough that you might connect your bodies properly.

His hand slid between the pair of you, the knuckle of one of his fingers brushing over your wetness, eliciting a gasp from you that made Lucien chuckle as he pulled at the strings of his trousers, releasing his length to rest against your thigh.

“You mean to tell me this wasn’t what you planned?” He asked, leaning in to ghost the words across your skin where your shoulder met your neck. It was so warm, so alluring, that it made your mouth water, made you arch up from the sleep mat to meet his body. As your pebbled nipples - visible even through the thick shirt that you had worn to bed, met with his chest, you felt him twitch against your thigh, smearing his arousal against your skin. “You mean to tell me this wasn’t what you wanted?”

One agonisingly slow thrust and he was inside you to the hilt, and a moan reverberated through your chest, louder than intended. But that feeling, of being so full of him again, of feeling him so deep…you couldn’t help yourself. He rolled his hips again, slowly grinding his body against yours as his lips travelled up your neck to your jawline, nipping and sucking.

“I always want you,” you breathed out. He groaned, seeming to involuntarily buck his hips toward you as if your words themselves were close to breaking the leash he’d given himself; the action caused your eyes to roll back and another moan to escape your lips.

“Quiet my love,” he said against your skin, leaning up to nibble at your bottom lip. His hips rolled again, and he found a rhythm, slow and passionate and enough to have your toes curling and your hands reaching up to clutch at his arm, his hair, his back - anywhere that you could reach. “You wouldn't want the others to wake up and hear those beautiful noises you make for me would you?”

He bit down harder on your lip, dragging it between his teeth and pulling it away from your teeth to suck at it. His rhythm became stronger, harder, and you could feel that coil tightening inside you as he hit you perfectly each and every time.

As he pulled up at your leg, it slipped from the confines of your trousers, and he hoisted it up over his hip, leaning down to press sloppy, quick kisses to the skin of your inner thigh.

“Look at this,” he murmured, his voice so low, so feral, that it sent sparks right down to your core. Your eyes fluttered open and found his as they fell down to where the two of you were connected. You followed his eyeline, watching as he sank himself deep into you with each thrust. “Look how well you take me, my love. Look how perfectly we fit together.”

“M-Made for each other,” you stuttered out. His eyes snapped up to yours, and you could see the concentration written into the lines on his face - he was trying not to find his pleasure too soon, was trying to wait so the pair of you could cross that line and fall into ecstasy together.

“We were made for each other,” he confirmed, snapping his hips harder into you, accenting each word with a wave of pleasure that shot through you, tingling through your entire body like the fire that ran through his veins. “There is no one else in this world for me, my love. Only you.”

“M-Me too,” you managed, arching your back again, offering him the perfect angle to lean down and nibble at your neck, likely leaving behind a purple bruise that you’d struggle to explain to the others the next day. “O-Only you, Lucien.”

A harsh snap of his hips, hitting you in the perfect spot that had you mumbling his name incoherently. “So, will you stop trying to piss me off then?” He asked. Another harsh thrust and a tug of your hair. “Otherwise I may not warm you up again.”

“I-I will,” you stuttered. A bite of his teeth to that purple bruise on your neck, another sharp thrust that had your legs shaking - so close. You were so close.

“Good girl,” he said, snaking his free hand down between your bodies, never letting up the new relentless pace that he had set. “Then come for me, Y/N.”

And you did. His fingers caressed your clit, and your body shattered, pieced itself back together, and then shattered again. Your legs shook, but he held you in place, savouring every second of your pleasure. And when you clenched, it threw him over the edge alongside you, spilling himself into you with a low whisper of your name.

Then there was a light - a different kind of light to the soft glow of the fire outside. This seemed to burst through the darkness of the tent, as if the very sun had fallen from the sky to share in your pleasure. But it wasn’t the sun, you realised as you squinted your eyes open, but rather Lucien. His skin glowed a dazzling brightness that encased the pair of you in rays of golden light. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, his mouth parted slightly as his climax washed through him, and then as his high and yours together began to fade, the light dimmed until it was nothing more than a slight light dancing in his eye.

“What was that?” You breathed out as he slumped against your chest, ear pressed against your skin as though he were listening for your heart.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s never happened before. Maybe…Maybe it’s just some remnant of my fire power.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, brushing a hand over his silken hair. But you knew that the light that had shone from him like a beacon was not the light of a fire. That had been a different light, brighter and clearer.

Morning brought with it a crisp dew that lay against the fallen snow from the night before. Everyone huddled around the now extinguished fire, bundled up in the warmest clothes to battle against the breeze that the day’s trek would bring with it, scoffing down the remnant of last night’s dinner and a few pieces of weeks-old fruit that Hart had found in his pack, for breakfast.

“You know,” Silas said eventually, the words fighting their way around the chattering of his teeth. “You two could have at least tried to be quiet last night. Some of us were trying to sleep, you know.”

You paused mid-bite of your apple, eyes wide in shock. A flush crept its way up your neck and coated your cheeks - embarrassment and guilt were the root cause. “I-I didn’t know you could hear us.”

“It’s not like this place is particularly noisy,” Wren pointed out with a knowing smirk. “Sound carries.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, looking to Lucien in shock. But to your surprise, the emissary simply curled his lips, seemingly holding back a laugh.

“You don’t need to apologise to him, Y/N,” he chuckled. “I’ve heard far worse things coming out of that dormitory of theirs.”

Silas shot Lucien a smirk. “Oh yes, you definitely don’t need to apologise,” the commander retorted. “Maybe next time, you should just invite me to join in instead. I hate to be left out of all the fun.”

Your jaw practically dropped. “You’re joking, right?”

“He’s definitely not joking,” Bron cut in with a snigger. “Silas jokes about many things, but that is not one of them.”

“Well,” Lucien said with a shrug, challenging eyes trained on the commander, “maybe we can arrange it. It sounds like an agreeable idea if you ask me.”

You turned your shocked expression on Lucien. “Are you serious?”

“Well, why not?” Lucien countered. “He’s a good-looking fellow.”

You shook your head, standing bolt upright in a second and moving to pack away your tent, mumbling under your breath, “It’s too fucking early for this.”

The sounds of raucous male laughter echoed after you.

You pondered that light for the following days as your group began the ascent up the mountain side. You had never seen magic like it, not in either of the courts you had visited before, nor Under the Mountain. It seemed so…distinctive. So special.

The bond, you had come to the conclusion. It had to be the bond. Perhaps the bond had snapped into place for Lucien that night at last, and he simply hadn’t realised it. Although how he couldn’t have noticed that tie between the two of you, you weren’t sure. Why he had glowed like that when that hadn’t happened when it had snapped for you, you didn’t know. And why the far end of that bond between you still felt so void, you had no idea.

So many questions.

Yet, five days later after the camp was set up between the trees on the side of that steppe, you made a decision, and quickly got to work skinning the rabbit Wren had caught that afternoon. It was gruesome work, and you had to admit that you didn’t know the first thing about cooking really, but you did you best, and worked through it, even with the blood and grime and entrails that buried themselves under your nails.

“You made this?” Silas asked with a raised eyebrow as you handed him the bowl of rabbit stew. It looked okay, you thought - perhaps not as good as the stew Silas usually made, but good enough for consumption.

“Yes, didn’t you see me toiling away over the fire all evening?” You snarked in reply, handing Wren and Bron their bowls as well.

“Well yes, but are you sure Lucien or Wren didn’t make this and you just pretended you did?” Silas asked, cautiously taking a spoonful and sniffing it. You rolled your eyes, reaching over to take the final two bowls from him.

“I made it,” you said. “And it’ll taste damn good too.”

You turned then, and handed that final bowl to Lucien. He barely even noticed, mumbling a thank you and returning to sharpening his blade. But you perched there beside him, watching from the corner of your eye. He had no idea how momentous this moment was for you, and you could only hope that the bond had snapped, and that this…this would work. It would work, because if it didn’t, you didn’t know what you would do.

And when he took that first spoonful, you held your breath, watching and waiting. He hummed, nodding his head in satisfaction at the taste, but-

Nothing. There was no miraculous moment of clarity, no realisation in his eyes that he was sat beside his mate. There was nothing but the grateful groans of hungry males and the sound of them slurping up the stew you had made.

It hadn’t worked.

And for some reason, you’d barely been able to look at Lucien for the rest of the night.

“How do we even know Feyre will be at Windhaven?” Silas asked as the group pushed their way further up the mountain, coming to a stop at a flat plane that hung from the side of the steppe, blanketed in forestry.

“We don’t,” Lucien said, shooting you a look that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. Frustration, no doubt, as you had changed the route once again. They still hadn’t given up though, not even after four weeks of endless trekking and any distraction that you could think of. Lucien knew - he had said as much - that you were doing it on purpose, but you prayed he didn’t work out the reason, that you were doing it to keep Feyre hidden from them in the hopes that they would surrender to their exhaustion and head home to tell Tamlin it was a pointless mission.

“But it’s our best hope, right?” Wren interjected, looking between Lucien and you and back again.

“It’s the only lead we have,” Lucien explained, pressing his lips into a tight line. He turned to you fully, coming to a stop. “Do you even know where we’re going?”

“I’ve only been to Windhaven once,” you countered. “And we winnowed there. It’s not like I went trekking through the damned forest.”

Lucien clicked his tongue in annoyance. “This is a waste of time,” he finally said, turning away from you to look out over the forest below, stretching as far as the eye could see, and the mountains that reached upward in the far distance. “It might be our only lead, but we’ve been walking aimlessly here for weeks, wasting precious time.”

“Then let’s go home,” you suggested, reaching forward to take his hand. But when he looked at you, there was fire flashing in his eyes.

“Without Feyre?” He asked. “I know you said that she’s in no danger, that she’s okay. But we have orders, Y/N, to take her back to Spring with us.”

“And if we don’t go to Windhaven, how do you propose we find her?” You countered. The shuffle of awkward feet sounded from the sentinels behind you, but you didn’t pay it any heed. “Do we just keep wandering the wilderness until we find any sign of her?”

Lucien turned to you fully then, shoulders broad and jaw gritted. “If Feyre thought you were in any kind of danger, or needed any kind of help, do you really think she would hesitate to try and find you?” He huffed a breath through his nose. “I know you say that there is no threat to her, but I can’t believe that enough to confirm it to Tamlin, unless I see it with my own eyes first.”

“So, you think I’m a liar?” You asked in disbelief. You didn’t care that Silas and the others were hearing the truth of your opinion on the Night Court, didn’t care if they thought it was true or not.

“No,” Lucien countered. “But I do think you’re keeping something from me - from us - and I’m yet to work out why.”

You breathed out a bitter laugh. “The Night Court is not the place you think it is, Lucien.”

“How can I know that?” Lucien asked, the anger rising in his voice.

“Because you should trust me, just as I trust you,” you snapped in return. “The Night Court is not filled with monsters and enemies. We have a common enemy - Hybern. So please, just trust me on this.”

“Perhaps, if you love it so much, maybe you should stay here then,” Lucien bit back. “You are close to Night’s High Lord after all. Maybe a little too close.”

You stared at him in shock - shock at the words he had thrown at you like weapons. And they hurt like weapons too, as if each and every one of them was a dagger aimed at your heart. Because he wasn’t meant to think of you like that, not now. Not when he knew you wouldn’t fall into any other male’s bed, not when he knew he was the only person you would ever love.

So you spun on your heel, ignoring his shouts of your name and apologies that trailed after you, and stalked into the forest. You didn’t know where you were walking to, only that you needed to get away from him, to get away from the thoughts that were pelting you relentlessly.

'Whore, whore, whore. Dirty whore.'

However, the words eddied and died with every breath, every step away from them that you took. You just needed a minute, and then you would go back and apologise for running them ragged trekking in circles, and would listen to his unending apologies too; you could think of more than a few ways you could make it up to each other that night.

But the rustle of something behind you caused you to freeze. Something was moving in the brush - footsteps sounded, slow and predatory, and they were heading your way. Your hand fell to the amber-encrusted hilt of your sword, and you turned slowly, carefully.

What you saw waiting for you between the trees made your heart stop.

Taglist

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Lucien Vanserra: | @luna-foxglove | @lumos-barnes | @cumuluscranium | @dreamlandreader | @enrichmenttimeinmyenclosure | @rachelnicolee | @callmelovergirl |