#underthe-mountain fanfic

[cleopatraas]

little wings; big heart

She has flown with Miryam dying in her arms for miles. She has dived through waves, banked past rocks, the feeling in her arms slowly leaving her. Yet she presses against the seeping hole in her Lady’s gut, blood sliding and flying past her nimble fingers. Yet she keeps flying even as her wings scream in protest. Not enough training, not enough muscle to carry herself let alone Miryam. 

Yet Nephelle keeps flying. 

Miryam moans in her arms, but Nephelle can not stop, can not look down. She can only press harder against that warm, flowing wound. Miryam grips her hand and Nephelle wants to sob, to beg her to just stay awake. Drakon needs her, her people need her. Nephelle needs her. 

She has always looked up to Miryam. Having her idol dying in her arms is tearing Nephelle apart from the inside. Her wings are shuttering, but they stay strong against the wind’s current, beating down, carrying both of them to their people. 

Nephelle has flown through the crashing sea, has curved between the deadly rocks, has kept Miryam alive for this long. She will see them to safety. Miryam’s hand flutters against hers and Nephelle can feel her smiling. It is a smile of defeat. 

“Nephelle” 

She knows her name. Miryam knows her name. A tear curves down her cheek. Miriam’s thumb wipes it away, leaving a line of blood in its wake. The spear is not out, not completely. Nephelle could only break it in half, leaving most of it in. If she had taken it out… Miryam would have bled out faster. Nephelle is not yet sure if she made the right decision. 

“I’m cold” 

Nephelle still does not look down. She focuses on the sky line, on where Masina had said their people would regroup, set up camp, then keep moving. So far… so far. 

Nephelle wonders if Masina will miss her. She has been in love with her since she can remember. But Nephelle is of the lowest rank and Masina has been Drakon’s right hand since the pen has touched the parchment, writing their stories down for all to read. 

That did not stop the gentle caresses and touches. That did not stop Masina from massaging her back and her wings, telling her tales and triumphs, stories and defeats. That did not stop Masina from kissing her that night under the stars. 

That did not stop Masina from flying Nephelle across the skies, after Nephelle had cried one night, saddened that her wings would never be able to hold her weight. If only Masina could see her now… 

Nephelle wonders if she will see Masina again. 

“Drakon”

Miryam’s voice is so frail, so shallow. She must hold on. They are no more than a mile out. They have healers, the best healers. Nephelle presses her hand down harder, trying to stop the bleeding as best she can. She should have ripped off a piece of her leathers, tied it around the wound. 

A mistake that could cost Miryam her life. 

Nephelle finally talks. Her voice, too, is small, fragile, frail. But for a different reason. The pain in her back has spread. She wants to stop flying, to fall down to the earth and never move again. She would do this if she were not carrying Miryam. 

“He loves you so very much,” Nephelle says, her small wings giving another mighty big flap, propelling them forward. Her back and stomach scream in protest. She can no longer feel her arms, but Miryam is still there. That’s how she knows her arms are, too. “He speaks of you often. In the most flattering light that even I am jealous”

Nephelle can feel her smile. “Jealous… of me?” Miryam asks. Nephelle nearly laughs. No. As fascinating as Prince Drakon is, with his deep brown skin, glowing golden eyes, cropped hair, and muscles that could crush her skull… she is not attracted to him. As kind as his words are, as gentle as his smile is, as good as he is with his people… she would never be attracted to him. Or anyone who mirrors him. 

Her heart, soul, her everything belongs to Masina. The soft curves that stretch against her leathers, her hair that is always in five tight braids that seem to squeeze at her skull. Those beautiful brown eyes that suck Nephelle into Masina’s soul. The bright, charming smile. The cut on her lip. She wants all of that. She wants Masina. 

If she was jealous of anyone she was jealous of Drakon, though she did not think of Miryam that way. Nephelle shakes her head and Miryam swallows, licking her dry lips. “Masina” 

Nephelle nearly falls out of the sky. Does anyone else know? Does anyone else know the way she looks at this warrior princess, this general, this beautiful female who lights up her world with each breath she takes? 

Nephelle nods just barely. 

There. 

On the horizon. 

There, there, there. 

Nephelle’s wings beat down again and she nearly cries out in agony, but she flies harder, faster. She can feel the last remnants of warmth seeping from Miryam’s body. Even though her skin is paler than the rest of them, a moonlight color, she is so sickly now… it is as if Nephelle can see right through her. 

Nephelle’s own brown skin with its golden undertone is turning paler and paler. But she keeps flying. And she sees the camp. She hears shouting, though her mind is too fuzzy, too far gone. 

The landing is rough and Miryam cries out in pain and Nephelle can barely mutter her apologies. But she tucks Miryam tight against her chest and she takes the brunt of their fall, screaming as her wings bend under her. 

“Miryam!” “Nephelle!”

Nephelle does not know who would call out for her. Who was waiting in that camp, biting their fingernails, dreading her death. She does not let go of Miryam, does not move her hand from her wound. She gives Miryam the last bit of her warmth… her eyes are closing. 

“Nephelle, baby, Nephelle” Firm yet soft hands are shaking her shoulders. Nephelle forces her eyes open and tears fall out of them as soon as she sees Masina. Those braids… those eyes… Masina. 

“I love you,” Nephelle whispers and it is fatigue that has taken over. Masina’s eyes widen and Nephelle smiles, her eyes closing again. But the warrior princess, the general, the female she is so hopelessly in love with grabs her face and kisses her. 

Everything else disappears. The feel of her smooth full lips against her own dry and cracked ones is better than any euphoria that came with flying. Masina pulls her tighter against her, brushing her small braids away from her face, holding Nephelle’s chin. 

“I love you too, Nephelle,” Masina whispers, picking Nephelle up. Nephelle grunts gently, wrapping her arms around Masina’s neck, burying her face in the curve of her shoulder. “Marry me, Nephelle”

Tears run down her cheeks, sliding onto Masina’s neck. She looks up, her eyes red, her body still screaming in agony. She stares at Masina and a grin forms on her face. Brighter than any metal that makes their swords, happier than anything Masina has ever seen. 

“Yes”

Someone called for the best love story of all time? They answered. Leave comments, please!

[ladynightshade30]

With the Dark Autumn Moon

Author’s Notes: Because surely I CAN’T be the only one who wondered about what would happen if a Satanic/Demonic cult/anyone who intends to make a pact with the devil decides to sacrifice the Demon’s lover in exchange for power or something. Also, I know The Ghost and Mrs. Muir was actually released in June of 1947 but I decided to have it released in this universe in October of 1947. Plus it's a cute film and I love the chemistry between the titular characters. I highly recommend watching it, when you get the chance. I had hoped to have this up sooner but life happens. Also, I have gotten into VIkings... So as @smut-goblin would say, I can’t keep the fridge closed. Anyways, hopefully I will go back to this and clean it up later. But for now I want to work on one of my Viking’s fanfics as well as get a banner ready for announcing the preorder of my book An Icy Road to a Warm Heart tomorrow. Not to mention start working on the 2nd edition for my paranormal Romantic retelling of Red Ridding Hood, Red, for next fall. 

********

Steve “Captain America”  Rogers, he earned the nickname because he had become the poster boy for war propaganda and morale during the war, maneuvered his brand new Ford convertible through the trees along the dark, back roads to an overlook that gave a good view of the city below. The surrounding forest also provided some privacy to parked cars. His way lit only by the large, bright full moon overhead as well as the car’s headlights. His girlfriend, Lillian Sieniawska, sat beside him; tucked up against his side as he reached his destination and put the car in park.

“Are you having a good time tonight so far?” he asked as he shifted in the seat so that his back was pressed against the corner of the door and back of the seat pulling her against his chest resting one leg on the seat.

“I am, thank you.”  She said, her Polish accent ran over his skin like silk as she spread the flannel blanket over his legs so they could share it. “I really enjoyed the movie.”

“Good. I’m glad. I figured you would enjoy The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. How’s work going?”

“It’s going well,” she answered softly after a moment of silence.

“Really? Because I know you’ve been having issues there.”

“I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about it.”

Steve said as he pulled her into his lap and tilted her face so that she was looking at him. “I do wish you would let me get you a job at SHIELD. So, that I can take care of you. Watch over you. Spend a lot more time with you. Besides, I need an assistant in the office and who better to do that than my best girl?”

“I’ll consider it.” She said softly while staring into his beautiful blue eyes, that seemed to be practically glowing in the light of the moon, before leaning up to kiss him .

“Good.” He purred. “I just want to take care of you and it will be easier to make sure you are okay if you are near me.”

She laughed as she kissed him again. “You just want to be able to kiss me whenever you want.”

“You caught me.” Steve grinned as he pulled her closer and slipped one of his hands down her thigh beneath the blanket. “That’s all I wanna do, is kiss you in my office all the time. Take you home every night. Make sure you eat enough.”

“I knew it.”

Steve chuckled against her mouth as he slipped his hand back up, bringing her skirt up with it so that he could stroke her thighs. She giggled into his mouth as he continued kissing her while he slowly started to pull her cotton underwear down her legs to her calves. When they finally pulled away for air Steve’s eyes were blown wide; the irises thin slivers of glowing dark blues while his pupils almost looked like a deep, dark wine.

“Fuck you’re beautiful.” He breathed. “I wish you would let me buy you some silk underthings.”

“Are you saying you don’t like the feel of what I am wearing?”

He chuckled. “I like the feel of everything on you, my beauty. I just want to buy you nice things.” He said, as he started stroking her clit with his thumb while two of his fingers slid up and down between her folds. “You deserve nice things.”

“So do you!” she gasped as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of her while stroking her clit.

“And you are the nicest thing I’ve seen.” He purred as he pressed a kiss right beneath her ear. “Your heart’s racing and you’re just positively dripping Dollface. Is this for me?”

“Yes. All for you. Everything I do is for you.”

“And I do everything for you.”

Steve urged her to turn around and face him so that she straddled his legs while his hand kept its place between her own. She moaned and bit her lip as she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his neck as she ground herself against his fingers. His other hand slid up her side to cup one of her breasts. His thumb running back and forth over the tip of her bra. He grinned as the sounds from Lillian’s mouth started to get louder and closer together. When her orgasm crested over her she collapsed against him, panting against his neck as he brought his drenched fingers up to his mouth and licked them clean. Before he wrapped both arms around her and stroked her back.

“You alright Doll?” he asked softly as her tremors started slowing down.

“Yeah,” she said, pulling away and pressing their foreheads together. “I’m great. How are you? Can I do anything to help you out?”

Steve moaned as she rolled her hips against his erection before smirking as he brought her in for a kiss, “I’m sure I can think of something.”

Lillian giggled before kissing him again with a pleased hum as his hands slid along her thighs beneath her skirt.

###

Steve moaned as he stretched himself on top of Lillian’s body in the front seat of the car. The flashlights that were resting on the car’s dash provided them with some light in the pitch black car.

“Wouldn’t this be more comfortable in the backseat?” Lillian laughed as he buried his face in between her shoulder and neck.

“Yes,” he mused as he ground his hips against her while her legs cradled him. “But I don’t much feel like breaking away in order to move back there. Do you?”

“Definitely not.” She whispered as she pulled him back down to her.

Her enjoyment of the night was cut short by the abrupt sound of a gun going off behind Steve. The sudden feeling of warm blood splattering across her face made her freeze as her eyes snapped open in shock. The door behind her was yanked open suddenly and she screamed as a pair of hands reached in to grab her under the arms pulling her out from under Steve’s dead body. The hands immediately wrapped around her and carted her away from the car, despite her struggling to get away. Suddenly she was slammed onto the ground with such force she felt the air leave her lungs. The man who had been dragging her flailing body around straddled her hips and grabbed hold of her jaw forcing it open while someone else grabbed her wrists in order to hold them over her head. She kicked out her legs as the man sitting on her started to pour some thick, bitter liquid into her mouth, holding her lips and nose closed forcing her to swallow the acerbic brew down.

The spots that had been forming in the corner of her eyes began to spread out over her entire vision as the sounds around her died down as if her ears had been stuffed by cotton.

The man who had been straddling her stood up and gathered her into his arms before turning to his companion as the other man started messing around in the car.

“You got this?”

“Yeah. Take her to the others. I will take care of Captain America here. This time it’s gotta take.”

“Right. Don’t be late this time.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Grumbled the man who was trying to pull the so-called Captain America into an upright position behind the wheel. 

The first man crouched down and gathered Lillian’s limp form into his arms. “See you soon.”

The man handling the car made a non committal noise as he buckled the corpse in his seat while his friend disappeared into the foliage. The man remaining pressed the other man’s leg down on the gas, started the car, and changed the car’s gear to drive before stepping back as it rolled toward the edge of the cliff. He released a satisfied smile when he heard the automobile roll down the side of the mountain; crashing into the side of the cliff as he started in the direction his friend had gone. The sounds of the forest around him suddenly silenced as the hairs on the back of his neck shot up causing him to pause.

Eyes.

There were eyes on him watching from the shadows of the trees. The sound of something walking on the fallen leaves and sticks surrounded him almost as if whoever or whatever was watching him was doing it deliberately. He sighed and calmed his racing heart as the answer hit him. It was a prank from his brethren, the usual hazing they did for newcomers to test if they were worthy of joining their ranks. Most weren’t but their urine was useful for their rights.

At least that was what he told himself. But the silence of the woods that surrounded him and something in his gut told him he was wrong. Someone or something else was out there in the woods. Because things were never completely silent whenever they played this initiation on so-called pledges.

Still...

“Alright, you assholes come out and stop fucking around.” He shouted looking around while trying to calm his rising panic.

There was no response  scurrying to become even more deliberate.  He rolled his eyes and kept walking. If his brethren were going to commit to the role he wasn’t going to do anything to stop them from having some fun before they had to get serious. A low, rumbling growl however made him pause and look around as doubt began to fill his mind, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise again. That did not sound like any animal or human for that matter that he had ever heard.

It almost sounded pertenatural.

He shuddered as he kept telling himself over and over again as he sped up until he was almost running to the ritual site. “It’s just a prank. It’s just a prank. It’s just a prank.”

The same noise echoed through the trees all around him; this time sounding like warped laughter. The smell of animal feces filled the air and blood filled the air, making him gag as he covered his mouth and nose.

“What the hell?” he choked as he looked around.

He froze at the growl that sounded against skin, nearly wetting his pants as he whimpered like a wounded animal, when he felt a burning breath on the back of his neck. He swallowed against his dry throat and slowly turned around to face whatever it was that lurked behind him.

Lillian came to consciousness slowly due to a light tapping on her forehead along with the scent of brimstone, blood, burning wood and what could only be described as an animal from the zoo. The sound of soft muffled voices and a crackling fire caught her attention. The closer she got to consciousness the more she remembered the events leading up to now.

Steve.

She inhaled shakily as she remembered the sound of a gunshot, followed by the metallic scent of warm blood that sprayed against her face before Steve collapsed on top of her body, seconds before being yanked out of the car. And now here she was flat on her back on the ground with her ankles tied together and her wrists secured above her head while the blood of a dead goat dripped onto her face from above, painting a morbid mask onto her skin. She tried to scream and thrash only to realize she couldn’t move, it was as if she was frozen in place.

Her breath came in quick, uneven pants as her eyes darted around trying to catch a better glimpse of her surroundings. She could vaguely see flickering candles along her sides and based on the warmth coming from her feet and head they were probably all around her. Somewhere in the distance she could see faint shadows in shrouds around a large bonfire chanting softly.

She could feel her heart speed up and she stared back up into the night sky above her and closed her eyes, focusing on trying to get her limbs to move before they noticed she was awake. She was just getting one of her fingers to move a little when the sound of feet on the leaves caught her attention. From the corner of her eyes she could see them coming towards her chanting as the leader swung a smoking metal object from a chain that filled the air with more brimstone. A few of them were carrying large black candles to help light the way. Lillian felt her heart race and her breath came in quick, desperate pants as she struggled harder to get her body moving as they slowly formed a loose circle around her.

“Stiovael, Great Son of Balor. Prince of War and Chaos. Bringer of death. Sovereign of the Twisted Arts. Heir to the Great Throne of His Father. We summon thee. Accept our gift of a virgin sacrifice in return for Your blessings on our wish.”

When the final words were said one of the figures held their candle beneath the dead animal hanging above Lillian, setting it ablaze. As the flame climbed higher on the dead animal the wind picked up and swept through the clearing, dimming the flames of the candles and bonfire. The ashes started falling on Lillian’s face as she felt her heart squeeze in her chest and time seemed to slow down around her. Then the air was filled with a loud popping sound from the fire that seemed to shake the ground beneath them as the flames shot up into the sky before settling.

The air around her became stifling as she felt sweat drip from her body as the earth beneath her seemed to burn through her clothes, searing her skin. There was the sound of something whistling through the air and a thud followed by startling yells. The sound of wood splintering filled the air as the ground started to tremble as if something large was walking on it. There were whispers before one of them, probably the leader spoke.

“My Lord. Do you find your gift agreeable?”

The man was answered by a low growl, before a voice hissed. “You dare to violate my mate? And  offer her up to me!”

“My Lord?”

“You will pay for your impudence!”

The screams of the people around her were cut off abruptly one by one as blood splattered all around her. Silence filled the air and she sobbed against her against her motionless mouth. Suddenly her limbs regained their movement and scrambled to her feet, only to freeze when she stumbled into what felt like a stone wall that seared her flesh when large fingers grasped her to keep her from falling over.

She glanced up at the large creature, that towered over a foot above her. The sweltering stone of his skin was broken up into thin cracks of flowing rivers of lava. Massive leather wings extended from his back, blocking out her view of everything else but him. His features were sharp and despite the rage that had come from him moments earlier he was staring at her gently. Large horns curled from his brow and wrapped around his brow before curling upwards to keep his long hair back from his face. Eyes that looked like burning flames flickered and faded to a deep, familiar blue. 

"My sweet, sweet Lil."

Lillian’s eyes widened in surprise. “Steve?”

That said she felt her entire world tilting as her legs gave out beneath her.

Lillian awoke to the sun shining on her face in her own bedroom. The smell of coffee, bacon, and scrambled eggs filled her nose and had her sitting up in bed looking around in confusion.

Had last night been a bad dream?

She flipped the comforter off her legs and swung them onto the floor. She stared down at the green silk pajama set.

“Good morning Lillian.” came a familiar voice.

“Steve? You’re not dead.” she sobbed as she ran to his side. “It was a dream.”

She was so overjoyed by the fact that he wasn’t dead and the events of last night had all been a dream she didn’t stop to think about where the pajamas came from or why he was still in her apartment.

“Did something happen last night? Why did you stay over?”

Steve ran his hand through her hair as he kissed first her forehead followed by her lips. “Dollface, why don’t you take a shower while I finish up making breakfast? Because you and I have some things we need to discuss.”

“What do you mean? What do we need to… It wasn’t a dream was it?” The last part was whispered.

“No. That’s why I want you to take a shower.” He said kissing her gently again. “I promise that I’ll explain everything over breakfast when you get out. Okay? Now I will be here if you need anything.”

Lillian nodded shakily and with a shuddering breath she turned to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. The moment it clicked shut she collapsed against the door, curling up into a ball as her body was racked with barely contained sobs. She heard a soft thud against the door above her.

“Lil?”

“I’m, I’m fine.” She sobbed. “Just please.”

“Okay.” He whispered.

She stayed on the floor until she felt her breathing and crying subdue enough that she could get out of her clothes and into the shower. She lost track of how long she stayed in there, letting the water wash over her as the previous night’s events played out in her mind causing her to start crying all over again as she scrubbed her skin raw, despite there being no trace of blood on her when she woke up.

Finally she left the bathroom and opened her door to find Steve waiting for her, leaning against the opposite wall.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

Lillian is silent for a moment before smiling slightly as he gets up to face her. “I’m not okay. Obviously. But thank you.”

“Okay. I will meet you in the kitchen when you are ready.”

“Okay.”

Thirty minutes later they were sitting in her kitchen eating their breakfast quietly. Lillian took the time to gather her thoughts before she started asking questions.

“So.” She began after a moment. “You’re a demon?”

“I am a cambion actually. I have a human mother and a demon father. Well, actually my father is Balor, one of the major Lords of Hell.”

“What was their relationship like?”

For a moment he doesn’t speak before sighing in leaning forward. “My mother was named Sara and she was a peasant woman in Ireland during the Middle Ages when she met the demon, Balor, who would father me. He took on a human form and name, Seosamh. He courted her or rather he attempted to anyways but she was cautious about him because she felt the darkness within him. So, one night she was walking home from Christmas mass and she was grabbed, dragged into a field and raped her. The town’s folk shamed her for not fighting him off and drove her away. When she reached a new village she told everyone my father had died and the moment I was born she begged the midwife to baptize me because of how frail I was. But mainly because she didn’t want my father to be able to claim my soul. I was given the name Stiofán, which I changed to Stephen or Steve when I moved to America.”

“Were you actually frail enough to warrant that?”

“Yes, I was born about a month early and had health issues.”

“How did you go from being frail with health issues to this?”

“When Balor claimed me as his son, he dragged me to hell and did his own baptism of blood and fire. Which cured me of all my health issues but also awakened my demonic abilities.”

“Is that how you got, got your demonic form?”

“Well, yes and no, I have always had a demonic form but it wasn’t fully unleashed until that moment. And it allowed me to fully control my transformation.”

“So your demonic form went through a transformation like from a caterpillar to a butterfly?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“What happened to your mother? Did he keep you there or were you able to return to her?”

“She wound up trading her soul to Bolar in order to be near me.”

“Eventually I came to New York and lived among humans again for longer than a few days. And here we are.”

“What about Bucky and the others? Are they demons too?”

“Bucky is. He has more demon blood than I do. He is actually my bodyguard.”

“Do you still see your mother?”

“Sometimes yes. But not enough as I would like.”

“Why did you choose me? Are you with me for my soul or something else?”

“No, while some demons do devour the souls of unwilling victims a lot of us only take from the willing ones because there is more power in that. And I choose you because I saw you and I saw how passionate you were about bringing down the Nazis and protecting your people. How could I not love someone with so much spirit?”

“What happened to the men from last night?”

“You really don’t want to know what I did to them. But they won’t hurt anyone else ever again.”

“What’s going to happen when I die? Am I going to be dragged into hell for being with you?”

“Not unless you want to. You are still in possession of your soul.”

“What happens now?”

“That is up to you. If you want to break up, I’ll understand. If you want to think it over, I will give you all the time you need. But I would like for us to stay together because I adore you so much, my Brave Lily.”

Lillian thought for a moment before she got up and took a seat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Will you show me?”

“Show you?”

“Show me your demon form.”

Steve smiled and allowed the change to take over him. “Well?”

“I guess we could give it a shot.”

“I would love that.” He purred carefully pressing his forehead against hers.

Lillian smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Me too.”

[aqueenpromised-blog]

Favorite blogs you just love?

HEY NONIE IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE ONE OF YOU HAVE DECIDED TO GRACE MY INBOX ALSO I HAVE A LOT OF EMOTIONS RIGHT NOW SO DON’T THINK I’M YELLING AT YOU I WAS JUST READING ACOWAR BUT THAN YOU SENT ME A QUESTION AND I GOT EXCITED OKKKKKKKAY ANYWAYS 

These are gonna be just some of blogs I love because I honestly forgot a lot of them because so first things first my tumblr friends, all of you are so lovely and beautiful I just really love you guys, no I’m not crying because of you guys I have dust in my eyes I’m not a baby : 

@missarcheron @feysandsmut @rowan-buzzard-whitethorn @lu-cien@cassianandfenrysaremyboyos @readinglikewildfire @easkyrah @squaddreamcourt @elidexlorcan

Then blogs that just in general have amazing blogs/ art/ fanfic included: 

@live-and-breathe-fantasy @abookandacoffee @meabhd @merwild  @fuckyeahazriel @dorianthekinkymf @my-name-is-fireheart @hermajestymanon @blogtealdeal @elains @underthe-mountain @cass-ian @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks @bloodydamnit @crochanblackbeak @acourtoffuckmylifeup @starofvelaris @king-havilliard @feysanded

IM PROBABLY LITERALLY FORGETTING A LOT OF BEAUTIFUL AND TALENTED PEOPLE THAT I LOVE ALSO BUT YEAH THAT’S IT NONIE I HOPE THIS WAS USEFUL AND BE SURE TO FOLLOW THESE FUCKING TREASURES ♡♡♡♡

[darling-cas]

@underthe-mountain replied to your post: You ever have those moments where you’re...

me: ok lets do this i have five story ideas and i cant wait to bless the fandom me, five minutes later: these are all horrible and everyone will hate them

basically what im saying is that it’s 100% normal to feel this. at least for me. i’ve dropped tons of stories and fanfics because i didn’t feel like it was good enough. it might help you if someone else reads it and then they give feedback. because sometimes its not enough to tell yourself that this is a good idea. you need to hear someone else’s thoughts

and honestly? writing is supposed to be fun but 9 times out of 10 it is hella stressful. you just have to remember why you started writing and why its fun for you. because the second its no longer fun is the second you start feeling like shit.

Thanks for all this, darling. I’m just feeling really down today. I dished out 10,000 words these past 2 days and now I’m feeling drained. I do have Ana (@ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie) reading over my chapters as I write them. But lately, even hearing someone else’s thoughts - good or bad - is bringing me down and making my doubt myself - which is happening a lot lately.

I don’t know, I’m just feeling so stressed. It’s crossed my mind a few times today why I’m even writing this fic in the first place... I just need to take a step back and breathe I guess.

[sparkleywonderful]

What is 'the war'? I've been here since december and i've never heard of it. Love your fics btw!

Once upon a time the ACOTAR/TOG fandom was peaceful enjoying their fluffy and the occasional angsty post. There were many great fanfic writers, but two in particular could rip our hearts out. 

On a cold December night it was decided that there would be a war of fanfics, to see which writer could capture the most tears. No characters was spared. The fics ranged from Lucien’s POV of losing his eye to character death (I’m still not over Elide’s death). 

Many of us still bleed from the loss. Neither writer won, a truce was made. 

@hermajestymanon  @underthe-mountain

Thank you for the awesome comment!

[hremes]

Hey im new to the fandom, i was wondering if you know any good tog/acotar blogs to follow, or any book blogs in that case. Thanks :)))

ooh yes!!  

@queen-of-lightning-and-fire and @aelinscourt were some of the first tog/acotar blogs i followed, and i still love them!! @highfaedaily is another similar blog–quality content and they all post regularly :) @aelin is also one of my fave blogs and shelby is the loml, confirmed Ray of Sunshine™ 

for super pretty edits: @highfaerys, @fcyre, @aly-naith, @kalebkrychek, @amren, @blackbeak, @the-suriel, @chainsaw-assassin (and ofc @aelin too!!), and a ton of other people as well!! this is a super talented fandom and there are too many people to list so i’m sure i’m missing a lot 

talented artists (not strictly tog/acotar but i love their tog/acotar art to death): @merwild (my FAVORITE interpretation of rowan ever tbh), @meabhd, @ashiibell (i’m obligated to link this  piece bc i’m complete and utter trash for it), and @charliebowater (of course. her art is perfection and i could SCREAM ABOUT IT FOR HOURS but i’ll try and have some self control)

meta/theory posts: @propshophannah (Iconic™ theory posts if you’re into that), and @highfaelucien 

humor/text posts: @its-suriel, @incorrecttogquotess, @incorrectacotarquotes

fanfic: @underthe-mountain, @lovingandawkward, @thelittleloverofbooks, @illyriantremors, @rowaelin-herondale, and probably a ton more but i’m not super involved in tog/acotar fanfic oops. 

of course, there are so many other talented people in the fandom (i know i’m forgetting a ton of people at the moment, sorry sorry!), but here is a short list of some of my favorite blogs in the tog/acotar/book blog niche of tumblr! enjoy :)

[tntwme]

Your blog is one of my favourites! What are your favourite blogs to follow?

Hey there anon! Thank you-I follow a few thousand blogs (I'm not too picky and have eclectic tastes) but my recent favorites deal with anything Sarah J Mass related. The ACOTAR series is AMAZING and the fandom is desperate for the third book to be out (come on, May 2nd!). Also love The TOG series and its fans. So I've become obsessed with fanfics and the following blogs write INCREDIBLY FANTASTIC FANFICS/SMUT/HEADCANONS/AUs, etc. Enjoy!!@illyriantremors, @sparkleywonderful, @paperbacktrash, @valamerys, @feysand17, @hermajestymanon, @underthe-mountain, @abookandacoffee, @easkyrah, @highfaelucien There are more but I can't remember them all now! My side blog @fanfic-masterpost-site is where I reblog all the fanfics I come across.

[azrielsiphons]

That boyband idea was literally amazing! Have you thought about maybe doing a fanfic of it??

I’m not, but @underthe-mountain is!!! I’m very very very very excited about it and you should be too 😁😁😁😁

[dandelionsknight]

a psa

hi this is a reminder that while fanfic containing only canon characters is lovely and beautiful and there is nothing wrong w it, the rich worlds that authors create also beg for original characters...and so do i. let me read all the ocs in fanfic this post was inspired by @underthe-mountain

[cleopatraas]

the son of a god; the bastard

“... how Cassian had thrown that spear, how he’d cut down soldiers like stalks of wheat, how he’d fought like Enalius - their most ancient warrior-god and the first of the Illyrians”

“Like them, and yet Other”

Enalius. Enalius. Enalius. Whispers of his name, of his tales, of his great and powerful deeds had followed Cassian after the Second War, after he had thrown that spear at the commander with such precision. Those whispers, those looks, had not stopped, had not gotten quieter. 

That had caused the Commander to pour over books; to research and dissect what he learned. Everyone knew the story of Enalius. Every little young boy was to be raised to be like him. Strong, brutal, effective. A trained killer with no heart. 

Maybe that was why Cassian was shocked to find the Illyrian god indeed had a heart. Indeed had things the tales whispered and lied about him not having. He tucked the book under his arm, left the library and the priestesses, and entered the mountain ranges. 

He clutched that book to his heart, flying deeper and deeper into the mountains. The wind seemed to carry him, to support him, to guide him to the cabin that rested between two mountains, as if placed there. Placed there to keep hidden, to keep safe. 

His boots crushing against the rocks and soil created a loud thump, the earth shuddering beneath him. Cassian pulled out a long blade, flipping it in his right hand, before approaching the cabin. The book still tucked under his arm, his other hand ready to grab an extra knife, but the door merely swung open, revealing a small woman. 

Small may have been the wrong word. She only met Cassian’s chest, but her presence was suffocating. The air in his lungs ceased to his exist, his arm shook, causing his blade to drop to the ground. Her hand was braced on his heart and Cassian struggled to take a step back, to get away from this creature. 

When he looked downed at her, her eyes seemed a thousand eons away. Cassian blinked slowly and let out what seemed like his first breath when she dropped her hand, gesturing him inside. Her bare feet moved soundlessly against the floor, wings dragging on the ground behind her. 

Cassian left a wide breadth between them as he followed the strange woman. She poured tea, her eyes focused on the table instead of the cup. Cassian reached forward, moving the cup before the tea spilled on the table. The woman smiled. 

“Cassian,” She said, looking up. There was a wide smile on her face, love in her voice. She reached out and cupped his face, sighing, her thumb arching down his cheek and nose. “You’ve found me” 

Cassian wasn’t sure what, exactly, he found. But he took the tea anyway, holding the cup, but not drinking. The woman, the Illyrian, sat down across from him. Blind. She was blind. Even as she looked at her tea, stirred it, Cassian knew she didn’t really see it. 

“I’ve heard whispers of you, Cassian. Whispers of you on the battlefield,” That smile lit up her face again, crinkles forming around her mouth. She had a silent beauty to her, one that only came up on the surface when she summoned it. Those bright brown eyes that seemed to hold worlds within them, those freckles across her face, full cheeks, the dip of her collarbones. Brown skin glowing like a new source of light. 

Cassian decided not to question how she heard anything about him from within this isolated cabin. He brought the book forward, opening it to the page about Enalius. And the woman in the mountains. Her two fingers covered the words, brushing down. “This is you, isn’t it? You’re the woman in the cabin”

“I’m a woman in a cabin, yes,” She sighed, her teeth sinking into her full bottom lip. Her shoulders curved forward, sadness filling those eyes. Cassian reached forward, pressing his hand against her cheek. Her eyes lit up once more and she nodded, “Yes, Cassian. I’m the woman in the cabin. I’m Sutton”

“Enalius,” She whispered, her finger tracing around the rim of her cup, but then she froze. “What do you want to know about him, Cassian, General Commander, a force to be reckoned with, death brought to the battle field, fighter of mighty forces”

Cassian swallowed, digging his fingers into his knees. “Who is he? Who is he - to you” Cassian clarified. Her eyes softened and she reached forward, grabbing his hands, her own small ones encircling his. 

“Enalius is my first love and one day he will be my last love. Together, we made the Illyrians. I am sad to see how they are today, but I do not regret creating them. I had to watch them destroy themselves from within. Until Enalius spared me of that pain, of that torture” 

“He did this to you?” Cassian felt like he was drowning. “How could you blind someone you love?”

“Because you love them” She smiled and gripped his hands harder, pulling herself forward. “Cassian, my curly-headed warrior, the saint’s son, bringer of that is new, the awakener, ask me what you really want to ask”

“Are you my mother?” His voice cracked. The woman sighed and she shook her head, her hands sliding from his. Cassian gripped onto her harder, bringing her hands back to his. If he felt like he was drowning then he knew that if this woman let his hands go he would surely drown as if a boulder was tied to his feet. “Is he...” Cassian swallowed, “Enalius. Is he my father?” 

“Is he not everyone’s father?” But the woman was smiling and frowning at the same time, pressing Cassian’s hands to the side of her face. “He loved your mother very much. The saying, if you love someone you must set them free, and if they are truly yours they will come back. I wish he hadn’t come back, Cassian, I do. I wish he had stayed with you and your mother. I wish he did not love me so much, I wish he had not left you with our tortured kind”

Cassian’s head was spinning, his eyes going cross. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. What this woman was saying, what Sutton was saying... 

“I wanted you, Cassian. To raise you as our son after your mother had died, for one day she would. She would grow old and die and I was willing to take you in as my own. I love Enalius and I love his son. It was too late and I am sorry for not fighting for you harder, son of Enalius”

Bastard. 

General Commander. 

Son of a god; son of Enalius. 

This writing style is really different than what I normally do. Please tell me what you think. It’s all a bit different and I’m testing the waters, but I hope you liked it. It leaves off as if it isn’t finished and I think that’s my favorite part. 

Leave comments, please. 

[cleopatraas]

Renee, Queen of writing as if it takes nothing, Queen of making me love characters more, Queen of...well everything, I have a prompt: Vassa x Azriel

Shadows of the Flame

song: i cant breathe - bea miller 

Helion, Thesan, and Feyre have been working together for months now, trying to see if they can break Vassa’s curse. Vassa still goes back to the dark-lord, to the lake, but Feyre has offered to take her people into Velaris. 

Vassa comes every night with new hope. Just before the sun sinks below the horizon, if you have a good eye, you can see a firebird flying through the skies. And just before dawn comes again, the firebird flies away. Everyone knows what this means - Queen Vassa’s curse has not yet been broken. 

But she has become a signal of hope amongst the people of Prythian - High Fae, lesser fae, faeries, humans, all of the above. They will look to the sky and see if they can spot the firebird, who has undying hope. 

Every time Vassa arrives at Prythian, she likes to go to the Day Court. She says she can almost feel the sun on her face, even in the dead of night. When she arrives, Azriel is always there. The first time, Feyre sent him out to retrieve Vassa, since they had no idea where she would land. 

Azriel finds her mid-shift (I’m taking this straight out of the “werewolfing for dummies” book). He can hear her bones cracking, wings turning into arms, talons into toes, beak into nose, spine reshaping itself. She’d huddled, her knees in her chest, spine pressing against her back, arms wrapped around her shins and the Shadowsinger drapes a blanket over her shoulders and hands her clothes. 

Vassa comes enough times that she knows where to land now, where clothes will be waiting, food and water, but for some reason the Shadowsinger is always there, handing her the said blanket and clothes. And when he’s not, he is where he dwells most: the shadows. Watching over her. 

Every night, when she can, Vassa sits before the two High Lords and the High Lady, always having hope. It’s one thing that can not be broken, can not be taken. The hope that these three High Fae can help her, break her curse. 

Until the three that gave her the most hope she’s felt in a long time, take it away. Thesan and Helion have had their best people working on it, Feyre has had the Priestesses in the library reading, scouring, hoping to find something that can help this Queen. Anything.

But Vassa can see it in their eyes. Eyes that hold sorrow. The curve of the creases in their foreheads, the harsh rubbing of their fingers against their temples. But she still comes, still lands in the Day Court. The Shadowsinger still comes, as well. She has to believe - believe that if a curse can be made, then it can be broken. 

So where does this hope go? How does she lose it. Because Azriel is waiting, waiting for the firebird to fly through the skies; the people are waiting, waiting to see those glorious red and orange wings that are made of fire, the yellow beak, soaring through the night. So why does she not come? Why does she not come if she is the one person in all of Prythian, in all the islands and continents; of fae and human; of day and night, that has the most hope. 

Azriel decides to have enough hope for her when her hope as sputtered out. He decides that if she has stopped hoping, then its time he starts hoping more. His shadows look for, he looks for her, he doesn’t know why. Not yet. Why he’s so insistent on seeing this woman, this girl, the human, this queen finally be free. 

He realizes it, when it comes to the lake, guarded by the dark-lord. Vassa is trapped in a cell of fire, where as he had been trapped in a cell of darkness. Trapped in light or trapped in darkness, both of these people were trapped none of the less. He got free and he is determined to see her freed. 

So just as the sun curves over the sky, swims and dips beneath the horizon, Azriel stands in front of the firebird. And he wordless holds out a blanket, wordless watches as Vassa’s bones break; as her spine cracks, as a beak turns to a nose once more, as talons turn to toes yet again, as wings shift and turn, becoming sun kissed brown arms. “Let them try again,” Is all he says and Vassa looks up at him, beneath a hood of golden-red hair. She takes the blanket, she takes the clothes. 

She takes the hope the Shadowsinger is offering her.

And she takes his hand, allowing him to pull her into the darkness that is his realm, his kingdom, his salvation (and what was almost his demise). She travels through these shadows, her hand never leaving his. 

She lets Helion, Thesan, and Feyre try again. Even though she is drained of hope, the Shadowsinger standing in the corner, watching, eyebrows pinched, gives her enough hope to go through this again. 

“Come with me,” Is all the Shadowsinger says when the two High Lords and the High Lady say they’ve tried everything they can. Vassa takes his hand again and finds herself on the top of the tallest building in the Day Court, so close to the stars that maybe, just maybe she can touch them. 

She has no desire to touch the stars, not yet. 

And then she sees the sun slowly rising above the horizon. And she turns to the Shadowsinger and Azriel just places his fingers by hers, then turns his palm up. Her fingers slide over his, her palm brushing against his, with those callouses and scars caused by burns from long ago. 

Azriel holds her hand and he doesn’t let go, he grips tight, hoping, praying, wishing, dreaming, that she will not turn into a firebird once more. Vassa squeezes his hand back, her shoulders shaking from tears she won’t let fall. 

She watches the sun rise. And rise more and more and more until her face and her body is bathed in sunlight. And she arches her back and finally those tears fall. She’s sobbing, tears curving over her cheeks, down her neck, as the sun warms her face - her human face. 

Azriel’s own shadows disappear, his wings tucked harshly behind his back, and he soaks in the sun with the queen, letting it warm him; his hand still in hers, a death grip returning her own. 

His thumb curves down her cheek, wiping a single tear. 

Then Vassa is hugging him, sobbing into his shoulder. Without a second thought she had jumped on him, sought out his comforting touch, cool and warm at the same time. 

And Azriel - Azriel he wraps an arm around her back, his shadows nowhere to be seen. Because Queen Vassa has had enough shadows for now, he wishes he could put the sun on a leash and bring it down to her, put it in his palm and hand it over as a present. 

“Thank you,” She whispers, because had Azriel not found her, had he not traveled far and wide, had he not told her to cling to just one more slither of hope, she would be a bird once more. 

They stay on that rooftop all day, lying there, Vassa tracking the sun with her finger. She smiles, a smile that Azriel had decided is much brighter than the sun, even by Day Court standards, and she starts talking. And Azriel listens. 

She talks about what it was like, to be the firebird. To have her soul trapped in that body, but to also have her body become that of a bird. How she had to navigate it, when she finally came to terms with her curse, but never gave up hope. 

Did their hands ever let go? Or had one of them taken the other’s hand once again as Azriel began to talk as well, tell his own story. How he had been trapped in the dark, far below ground, and Vassa listens. How his body had not been his own, how he had not even seen his fingers when he held them in front of his face. 

“Why do you find comfort in shadows?” She asks. In her time on this roof, she has found comfort in the sunlight, but it is different than the flame. The flame locked her in, made it so she could not breathe, and her only relief was the night, the stars. 

“I was too afraid to let them scare me,” Azriel whispers back, as if this is a secret he has kept a long time. Because it is. “I was too afraid to be afraid of them anymore. So when I realized that they were mine, the shadows were mine and I was not theirs, I began to find comfort in them” 

“The flame can be yours, too, Vassa”

She is almost certain this is the first time he has said her name. It sends shivers down her spine. “The flames will be mine, Azriel” 

Is this the first time she has said his name? Because it sends sparks down his own spine. He stares at her, those molten brown eyes, that seem as if fire burns within, a fire of gold. And she looks into his own hazel eyes, where the shadows swim. 

And they both look back up at the sky, at the sun which seemed to smile down at them. The Shadows of the Flame. The Flame within the Shadows. 

Tagging some people who I want to drag into this trash bin: @fuckyeahazriel @hermajestymanon @propshophannah @sparkleywonderful @elains. Tag others, please? Share your thoughts. Leave comments, please. I need validation to survive. 

[cleopatraas]

the blood; the fear

Cassian’s own voice broke as he said, “I never got to repay your mother - for her kindness. Let me do it this way. Let me buy you time.”

Cassian walks out of the Blood Rite five minutes and twenty-seven seconds after Azriel and Rhys. He walks out, blood still running down his face, dirt caked behind his ears, his fingers curled into his palms. And she is waiting for him. Waiting for him as the sun blinds him, as his knees wobble, and she catches her son. 

The blood on his body transfers to hers, but she does not let him go. She pushes against his side, her own back and knees buckling as she holds her son’s weight. As she makes him stand tall, as she leads him through the crowd of males who sneer at him, at her. 

A little girl opens the door to their home and Cassian groans her name, falling against her. She catches him, taking his weight off their mother. “What have I done?” Cassian whispers, the blood of his brothers but not on his hands. Down his throat, in his eyes, dried beneath his fingertips. Coating him, drowning him.

They were ambushed. It wasn’t his fault. They had spent the week killing killing killing Illyrians who tried to get in their way. Who tried to keep the brothers separated. But Cassian, he had avoided the bloodshed. For as long as he could. 

But when they were so close, so close to that light, to their mother and sister, to warmth and comfort, they had been attacked. Cassian had been knocked against the rocky wall, blood already running into his eyes. Azriel had made eye contact with him. That part of Cassian, the part that was Azriel’s… it screamed at them to go go go. 

They should have stayed stayed stayed. 

“Cass, Cass, Cass listen to me,” His sister says sharply, grabbing his face. His eyes come into focus and Cassian cups her cheek, blood dripping off his nose. He lets out a sharp cry as he pulls his hand away, the side of her face and hair coated in blood. So much blood, so much blood, so much blood. 

“Get him in the bath, baby girl, quickly. Wash your face. Do not let him see what he has done,” Their mother speaks quickly, already wiping a wet cloth down her daughter’s face. Cassian gasps, his shoulders and chest heavy as he watches the blood get wiped away. 

“Come on, Cass, let’s get you in the bath,” His sister whispers, her brown eyes  looking him over. She sees the blood, she sees what he did. What he is capable of. Cassian stumbles to the sink and he heaves, his back spasming. Bile rises from his throat and he breathes through his nose only relaxing when a small hand is on his back. 

“I bought them time,” Cassian whispers, shutting his eyes as his mother, Rhys’s mother, Azriel’s mother, their mother wipes a warm cloth against his mouth, cupping his cheek. The blood the blood the blood. “To repay you, to repay him. I…I killed those Illyrians, mama. I killed them” 

“Now, Chiara. Get him in the bath now” Their mother hisses, kissing her fingers and pressing them against Cassian’s forehead. Chiara takes him around the waist, both of them stumbling down the hall, until they reach the bathing room. She rushes in and turns on the water, setting the plug in. 

Cassian looks back down the hall and he catches a glimpse of his mother, wiping blood off the sink, off the floor, everywhere he has touched. He is death, he is gore, he is destruction. He does not deserve them. Small fingers work at his leathers, peeling them off his body. 

Chiara’s eyes stay focus on her task, before she leads him over to the bath, looking away as he steps in. But she kneels by his side, wetting her fingers, before running them through his blood matted hair. “You did what you had to,” Chiara insists, then grabs his face, pinching his cheeks. “Say it.”

“I did what I had to,” Cassian whispers, closing his eyes as his sister rinses out his hair. He grips at the edges of the bath as blood runs down his body and fills the water. She turns on the faucet again, letting the red water drain, replacing it with fresh water. 

“You are kind, you are good, you are merciful.” Chiara insists once more, rubbing soap over his chest, scrubbing the dried blood away. Cassian shudders and he whispers the words.

“You are worthy. You are loved. You are wanted” 

“I am worthy. I am loved. I am wanted”

“You do not fear, you do not falter, you do not yield”

“I do not fear, I do not falter, I do not yield”

“You cry, you are knocked down. You get back up”

“I cry, I am knocked down. I get back up”

The blood is gone. Cassian looks down at his clean body, his clean nails. No blood in sight. Nothing but clean, soapy water lies between him and his sister. His fingers reach up to his face and he sobs, the blood gone from his body, but not from his memories. 

Chiara lifts up the plug, allowing Cassian to stand, before she wraps a towel around his waist, then another around his shoulders. Cassian tucks the first towel into place as his sister wipes his shoulders and back down, then his chest. “You are not in debt to us. Not to our mother, Cass”

“I am not in debt to you. Not to…not to our mother” 

Later, the siblings sit in the sister’s room. The brother with his head in her lap, clothes sewn from his mother on his bruised and aching body. The sister scratches charcoal down her page again and again as the brother makes suggestions. She smiles, arching the charcoal across the page, slicing and curving down. 

She designs her brothers’ tattoos that night. One for the night remade, one for the shadow’s son. And the last one… for the phoenix breaking free of the ashes, rising in flames. The fire that is theirs. 

Rhys will have tendrils of darkness that curve from his back, over his shoulders. Azriel will have curling shadows that wrap around his arms to his chest. The twin to Rhys, yet different. 

But Cassian. Cassian will have flames tattooed around his forearms, ancient writing on his chest. 

You do not fear, you do not falter, you do not yield. 

You are worthy. 

Writing Cassian is always painful. 

I hope you guys liked it! Please, please leave comments. Tell me your thoughts. Tell me what you want next. 

[cleopatraas]

“Forever Yours” - Vaughnall

Connall slowly buttoned up his tunic, pulling at the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves. He stopped, his hand braced on his door, his nostrils flaring. Pressing his forehead against the door, Connall dug a dent into his lip that began to bleed. 

He should have been back by now. Fenrys should have been back. 

He wouldn’t leave. 

He wouldn’t run. 

He would leave him behind. 

Connall took a shaky breath and he turned the knob to his door, a curl falling in his face. He hadn’t noticed the out of place, but familiar scent in his room until he had closed the door, turning around again. 

“You can’t be here” Was the first thing out of his mouth and the male just watched him. Connall realized he was playing with the ties at his neck, and he dropped his hands, clenching his fists. “Get out” 

“Most we always go through this banter, C?” Vaughan asked, leaning back on Connall’s bed gently. His dark fingers were splayed out on the crisp white sheets. Connall could tell he was trying his best not to clench the fabric. 

“Don’t call me that” He kept a wide space between him and his cadre member, arcing into the bathroom. Connall slowly sat down on the stool, his arms hanging between his knees, pressing his brow onto his palms. “Get on with it, you old bird” 

Vaughan chuckled. A deep, rich, even slightly raspy sound. Connall’s shoulders slumped forward even more and he sensed Vaughan moving. Immediately, he tried to scramble back, but when he looked up, Vaughan’s hands were held in front of him. 

“I know you don’t want to be touched. And I would never touch you, Connall, and you know that” Vaughan gave him a half smile, one of those stupidly chipped teeth showing. Connall nodded and he tugged his knees into his chest. 

“When I first came I wanted so badly to mean something” Connall droned, answering Vaughan’s unasked question, fulfilling his untold demand. Connall didn’t bother to look up, only stared at his hands. 

“We’ve been through this story. You felt destined to forever be in Fenrys’ shadows, but Maeve provided a way to escape that darkness. What she didn’t tell you was you would become a victim to a much darker darkness” Connall cringed at the steady truth in Vaughan’s words.

“Dig deeper, Connall” The way Vaughan said his name ruined Connall in a thousand and one different ways and it would take him all night to put himself back together. But it ruined him in the good way. He looked back at Vaughan, who was chewing on his lip, his eyebrows raised. 

“There’s nothing else. I’m an open book” Connall said, swallowing. Vaughan’s eyes, the color of burned copper, fluttered down to his hands, watching them clench and unclench. He shook his head, clasping his fingers on his knees. 

“If you say so, C” Vaughan gestured, changing the subject with that small gesture, and Connall sighed. His fingers trembled as he shrugged off his shirt, his chest heaving up and down, his heart fluttering in his chest. Vaughan tilted his head to the side, looking up at the ceiling. His hand was clasped over his eyes, a slight smile playing at his lips. That smile...

“Anything out of color?” Vaughan asked cautiously. His normally controlled, soothing, slightly clipped voice had taken on the nervous undertone it always did when addressing the abuse Connall suffered. 

He looked down at his chest and shook his head. Connall cleared his throat and answered, his voice seeming soft, out of place, weak. He was not weak. Vaughan swallowed, licking his lips. “You should wash up. I’d suggest warm water, but I know you’ll use cold...” He trailed off, but Connall didn’t miss anything when it came to him. 

That’s what made everything so much harder. 

“You don’t have to do this every time” Connall snapped abruptly. The other male’s jaw tensed and he stood up, walking towards Connall. His hand still pressed over his eyes, he stood in front of him. Connall had this strange feeling Vaughan saw him better than any person with both their eyes open. 

“I will always do this, C, and I am past the point of explaining to you why I will do this. I know you’re bruised right there,” Vaughan pointed and Connall winced, confirming the male’s words. “And I know you’re bleeding here” Vaughan put his hand out, parallel to Connall’s heart. If Connall would just step forward, Vaughan’s hand would be pressing against his thumping, racing heart. But he didn’t. 

“And Fenrys will press hard against this wound, try to soak up the blood, attempt to stop the bleeding. And Maeve will continue to stab you and you will let her. But I know, I know you want a shield. You have to want it. And when you do I will be your shield”

“Why?” Connall whispered. He wanted to reach forward, wanted to pull Vaughan’s hand from over his eyes, wanted to run his hands through his hair, let his fingers get impossibly tangled. He wanted Vaughan to run. Fly - fly far away. Instead of coming back to him; again and again and again.

“Because you’re it for me. I’ve accepted that” Connall’s heart froze in his chest, his stomach clenching. His fingers curled into his palms, his nails digging into the soft skin. Vaughan’s nostrils flared and Connall knew it was a physical strain for Vaughan not to reach out and grab Connall, to make him stop hurting himself. “You’re the one; I’m yours. You may never be mine, but I’ll spend every waking, breathing moment, making it very obvious whose I am” 

“Stop” Connall whispered. 

“I am wholly yours. I know it. I know that my soul would sooner collapse than be without yours and I’d let it. But you’re not ready and you may never be ready. It could be centuries from now, and we’d still be here, and I’d still be yours. That’s how sure I am. I’d rather die tomorrow, knowing, trusting, and loving that I’m yours, than live a thousand years, ignoring this fact and moving on” 

Connall stared at Vaughan. He looked ridiculous. His hand resting over his eyes, his other hand thumping on his leg. He was restless. Connall was standing there, letting him pour out his heart, and Vaughan was staying still. Because he knew that’s what Connall needed. 

If Connall was normal, he would have shoved away Vaughan’s hand, and held him. Kissed him, maybe. Given him a physical touch, an emotional caress. Given him something. But he did nothing. Nothing. 

Deep down he knew Vaughan didn’t mind, but he minded. 

“Get out” Connall’s voice shook. Blood dripped onto the floor from the crescent moon cuts in his palms. Connall’s breathing had sped up, his shoulders moving up and down. Vaughan’s face fell, but he nodded. 

“Don’t come back, V” Connall froze and continued, “Vaughan, don’t you dare come back” 

“We both know I will”

“You’re hurting me” Connall whispered. 

“Then it is very clear we are not mates,” Vaughan forced a laugh from between his lips. “Because you’re hurting me too, C. But I wouldn’t have it any other way” 

Connall should beg him to stay. Beg him to take care of the bruises, to wash him of Maeve’s scent and touch. Beg him to run his fingers through his hair. Beg - Ask, never beg - Vaughan, and Vaughan only, to allow him to rest his head on his lap, to be lost in another touch, another scent. A scent he couldn’t name, but didn’t care, because he knew that’s what home was supposed to smell like. 

“I’m sorry,” Connall whispered instead. This was all his fault. He couldn’t dig deeper because it hurt. He couldn’t admit the truth, not to Vaughan. He couldn’t bear this weight, handle what might happen. 

“I’m not” Vaughan’s shoulders sagged. In another life Connall would walk forward and grip Vaughan’s shoulders, straightening him. He would hold his face and Vaughan would hold his, and their foreheads would touch. Then their noses, maybe even their lips. And from there, everything would be okay. 

But in their world it was simply not possible. 

Vaughan turned away and Connall let him walk to the door. He watched as Vaughan braced his palm against the door, the same way he had done before he walked in, then pulled it open. “When you were gone you took a part of me with you” Connall whispered. 

It was the most truthful thing he had ever told him. 

Vaughan must have sensed that, known that, deep down. 

Vaughan turned around and their eyes met. Burned copper and onyx. Vaughan’s eyes didn’t once dip to his bare chest; it didn’t even look like the urge was there. Though it was not because of the lack of physical attraction. 

“When-” Connall choked on his words, struggling. He clenched his fists again, grasping at the air. He shook his head, the words failing him. Vaughan was so, so good with words. But they always seemed to fail him when it mattered most. 

“Good bye, little wolf,” Vaughan whispered. Connall watched helplessly as the door closed between them. He slowly lowered himself down to the ground, pulling his knees into his chest. He pressed his cheek against the wall, breathing shakily. 

“Good bye, old bird” 

My very first Vaughnall piece. More to come. 

[cleopatraas]

“Redemption” - Tamlin

@hermajestymanon I shall win this war. 

Feyre’s eyes snapped as magic slammed into her forehead. She was falling, falling an impossible distance. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she wasn’t sure who caught her. 

Feyre gasped, blinking slowly. “Tamlin?” Feyre whispered, staring into his bright green eyes, his eyebrows pinched in concentration. Feyre could feel the waves of magic vibrating around them, she could feel an evil, stronger magic pushing against Tamlin’s. 

“It would help if you stood up, beautiful” Tamlin gave her a crooked smile, thick blood slipping out of his mouth. Feyre rolled to the side, landing in a crouch. “I have your back,” Tamlin grunted and he let the shield fall, just as Feyre sliced out with her own magic. 

“Move,” Tamlin urged her, wrapping his arm around her waist. He half dragged, half carried Feyre down a long corridor, his blood still dripping out of his mouth. More blood slid from his nostrils, but he kept moving. 

“Tamlin. Tamlin, we can’t leave them!” Feyre shouted, crying out in agony when she put too much pressure on her right leg. Tamlin swore and he leaned Feyre against the wall, handing her his blade. 

“I never planned on leaving them. Give me some credit, Feyre” Tamlin shoved his hands outward, a wave of magic rippling through the corridor, tearing it apart. The ceiling fell. Tamlin grunted and he looked down at Feyre. “Stay” 

Feyre heard his back crack. Tamlin tilted his head back and roared and Feyre covered her eyes as a beam of bright light flashed before her. When she looked back, Tamlin was gone, but she saw the shadow of a beast on the walls. 

Feyre blinked slowly, gripping Tamlin’s blade and her own Illyrian one. She breathed through her mouth, trying to understand where everything went wrong. So, so wrong. Who had betrayed them? Did someone even betray them? Or was the King always one step ahead? 

Was the King always one step ahead even with Tamlin helping them? 

Feyre went still when she heard footsteps. She forced herself to her feet and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Tamlin, burdening the weight of three grown Illyrians on his body. 

The beast’s front leg shook, then snapped, causing Tamlin to fall. Azriel and Cassian moaned as one, falling on their sides. Feyre scrambled to her feet, helping Rhys up, putting his weight over her shoulders. She gripped his arm, staring down at Tamlin. 

“Move” Tamlin grunted, before he stood up. His arm hung loosely at his side, but the High Lord slammed it against the wall, and Feyre cringed as he knocked it back into place. “Feyre, cover our rear. Protect their wings” 

Feyre blinked slowly. The Tamlin before her was something new, something different. Feyre remembered when Rhys told her about how he and Cassian and Azriel had trained with Tamlin, how the four of them had become something like brothers. Feyre wondered how many times Tamlin had protected their wings. There was so much she still didn’t understand about their pasts together. 

Tamlin bent down and he picked up Azriel, grunting, and placing the Illyrian on his back. Feyre didn’t want to ask how Tamlin could bear his weight, on top of letting Cassian lean against him. Her legs were shaking with just supporting Rhys. 

“Am I being saved by Tamlin?” Cassian whispered, his eyes dazed and unfocused. Tamlin gave a droll half grin, blood still coating his teeth. 

“I owe you a few” Was all the male said, before he started walking. Azriel, balanced on one shoulder, his limp body pressing into Tamlin’s back, his wings hanging, unmoving. Cassian, his legs leaving a trail of blood, arm wrapped around Tamlin. Rhys, helping Feyre more than she was helping him. All of them, beaten, broken, in pain, dying. And Tamlin was bearing their weight, helping them escape. 

“Why?” Feyre whispered. She sent a wave of magic behind her blindly, hoping it would delay their attackers. “Why are you saving us?” Feyre whispered. Tamlin turned his head, his eyes narrowed. 

“Ask them when you all make it out alive” Tamlin grunted, shifting his shoulders so Azriel wouldn’t fall. He continued to walk, his legs buckling each time. Feyre doubted they would make it. She didn’t know how long Tamlin could hold two Illyrians, she didn’t know how long she could hold off an enemy she couldn’t see. 

“Feyre, go” Rhys whispered, pointing forward. Feyre noticed the thick closed door. Tamlin stood by it, gently leaning Cassian against the wall, then slid Azriel from his back. He gripped Azriel’s face and tapped his cheek gently, mumbling under his breath. 

Tamlin stepped away from Azriel, before pushing the door open as far as he could. He braced his back against it and Feyre watched as his legs grappled for purchase, the door pushing against him, as well. Tamlin reached out, grabbing Cassian’s forearms. Cassian swore heavily as Tamlin dragged him across the floor, and pulled him into the darkness. Tamlin now only used his leg to keep the doorway open, pulling Azriel in after Cassian. His face was contorted in pain, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his skin. 

There was a shriek and Feyre stumbled into the wall, Rhys falling after her. The ground shook, the very castle shook. And Feyre was positive the entire island was shaking with the King’s rage, mixed with his beasts. 

Tamlin’s fingers linked with Rhys’s and he dragged the High Lord forward. Rhys seemed to be yelling something, almost pleading with his “enemy”, but Tamlin ignored him. He pulled Rhysand into the darkness next. 

Feyre lunged forward and Tamlin caught her as the castle shook again. The King’s monsters finally caught up to them. “You aren’t coming with us,” Feyre whispered. Tamlin’s arms slacked against her back, their noses almost touching. 

Not so long ago, they were in this embrace, because Feyre was lying to him. Pretending to love him; pretending, lying, being a spy. It was all the same. Not so long ago, Tamlin was a beast. A true, living, terrifying beast in the body of a man. What Feyre saw before her, was one of the best stories of change and redemption she would possibly ever know. She hoped to one day paint the story of Tamlin. 

A man who wasn’t born a beast, became a beast, and died a man. A good man. A good man who made mistakes, accepted those mistakes, and tried to make amends. A man who was using his life to save three Illyrians who had hated him for centuries. To save a girl who should have never entered his life anyway. 

“Do me a favor?” Tamlin whispered and Feyre nodded. She felt the same vibrations around them again. Tamlin had a shield that split the corridor in two, keeping the enemy forces at bay for as long as he could. “Remember me like this? You didn’t know me before, but, remember me as I am now?” 

Feyre took in his face and she pressed her hand tightly against his heart. Tamlin shuddered, knowing Feyre was pressing against his stone heart. She nodded once. Then she was flying and arms wrapped around her middle. Feyre didn’t think she would cry when Tamlin died, didn’t think she would fight for him. He hadn’t fought for her. But as Rhys held her back and as Tamlin stood on the other side, slowly pushing the door closed, she screamed. 

She tried to scramble forward, kicking at Rhys, scratching his arms. Tamlin had no right to make himself the sacrificial lamb, he had no right to choose when he died, he had no right to stand there, smiling sadly. 

He had no right to make himself a martyr. 

Feyre wanted him to live so she could punch him in the face for trading his life for theirs. 

“Tell my sister I said hello” Rhys said. Tamlin nodded, before the door closed in front of them, leaving them in darkness. Feyre cringed as she felt the walls shake, as she heard a roar, as Rhys dragged her down their escape route. Their only change at survival. 

Yes. 

She would keep her promise. Tamlin would be remembered as he was in his last moments. 

Tamlin roared as the door closed. He clenched his fists, baring his teeth at the King’s forces. He looked to his left and a girl stood beside him, smiling, joy in her eyes. She swung an Illyrian blade around, her eyes shining. 

“I knew the man I loved was still in there,” Chiara said. She took a step towards him, and grabbed his hand. She swung her blade again in her left hand, squeezing his own hand. “I love you”

“I love you too,” Tamlin laughed softly. “I missed you. They’re safe; your brothers are safe. Your wings...I kept them. I’m so sorry”

Chiara paused, her eyes twinkling like stars. “I know. It’s okay” She took a small breath “They’re alive because of you. Welcome to martyrdom, my love” 

“Is this what you felt like?” 

Chiara pulled him close, pressing their brows together. She swallowed softly, running her thumb down his cheek. “It isn’t such a hard decision to make. Your life for the one’s you love. Yes. This is what it felt like. It will be short, I promise” 

Tamlin nodded, swinging his own blade. 

Then Chiara ran forward and Tamlin ran after her, slicing through the beasts, right after she did. Her slices, her stabs, her kicks and jabs, did nothing. But Tamlin did as she did, taking down as many as he could, before he was overwhelmed. 

Tamlin was knocked onto his back, drowning in the sea of enemies, and he grunted. He head slammed against the floor, cracks spreading across the floor in his wake. He looked to his left one last time, and he saw Chiara standing over him, smiling. Her violet eyes were swimming with an emotion Tamlin couldn’t place. 

“I want to save you again. I don’t want you to die” Anguish. That was the emotion. But also...happiness? Possibly happiness, because they would be together again. 

“A little late for that, my star” They both bowed their heads, and then there was nothing for a long time. Tamlin was lost in an eternity of nothing, of everything, of nothing and everything. 

Then he opened his eyes, and there she sat. Under the night sky. Leaning back on her palms. 

Tamlin thought it was more than he deserved. But he would not question it. 

He walked forward and sat by his mate. Chiara leaned her head against his shoulder and their fingers intertwined, their joined hands resting on his knee. Tamlin pressed his lips against her forehead, nuzzling her hair. 

“Rhys says hello” 

World War Maas II continues. 

A few causalities have been reported. 

But the masses still stand.

Not for long. 

[cleopatraas]

“Shattered” - Nessian

“Harder, Sweetheart,” His voice. That insufferable voice that held command, power, arrogance, and everything in between made her fingers twitch. Nesta let out a small groan, her fingers digging into the dirt, before she lifted her arm up. 

The Illyrian female grinned and yanked her back up, almost pulling her shoulder out. She’d gotten used to that bit of roughness. Nesta learned to take it as a sign that they liked her - or at least this one female. 

“You heard the Commander,” She taunted, before her fist flew through the air. It was still too fast. She was still getting used to her newly found senses. Everything was louder, faster, closer, and it was too much. 

Nesta yelped as the fist connected with her face, effectively flipping her over. The female was pinning her down in a second, her sun dyed hair falling over her eyes. She grinned, her russet brown skin glistening from sweat. Her knee pressed into Nesta’s back, making the latter groan. “Harder, Sweetheart” The female mocked, popping up. 

Nesta clenched her teeth together tightly, but she stayed down. The female looked back and gave her a mock salute, before practically sashaying away. Nesta closed her eyes, rolling onto her back, her fists shaking. 

Cassian reached his hand out and Nesta smacked it away, before slowly pulling herself to her feet. She brushed her hands over her face, her skin considerably darker due to the time spent in the sun. Training, bleeding, sweating, and then training again. She was not Illyrian. She had their wings, their speed, but she wasn’t one of them. 

“Come on, Sweetheart, you have as much training as they do” Cassian folded his arms, his leathers tightening against his skin. Nesta’s tongue went dry and she shook her head, swallowing slowly. 

“I’m not them. I don’t have the drive, I can’t control these...these things on my back, everything is still too fast. All I am is a punching bag to them. And it’s not their fault. It’s mine,” Nesta squeezed her fists together. Her nails slowly dug into her palms and she tilted her head back, sweat rolling down her neck. 

Cassian’s eyes fluttered down and he raised both his eyebrows, before watching Nesta. Like an experiment that wasn’t exactly doing what he wanted it to do. Cassian tilted his head to the side, giving her a lazy smile. “Well at least you’ve admitted you’re horrible at this” 

Nesta snapped.

They’d spent hours upon hours out here, training. Training to no end. Fists knocking again jaws, feet hooking around ankles, knuckles bleeding, lips bruised. She didn’t feel like herself. Where as the females around her wore their bruises and cuts and the blood dripping from their bodies with pride, she felt like an imposter in her own skin. 

A skin that was no longer hers. A skin that held scars she didn’t deserved, a skin that harbored powers she couldn’t control, a skin that protected a heart that was thumping wildly in her chest. It was all too much.

So Nesta swung her first punch. And it felt good. 

Gasps and shouts filled the air and Nesta pulled back her fist. The skin of two knuckles had cracked open. It turned out Cassian’s jawline could cut skin. Nesta looked at Cassian, who was smirking and rubbing his jaw. “That’s all you got? What are you so angry about Nesta? What’s got you so moody lately, Sweetheart?”

He was baiting her and she found she didn’t care. She had watched him bait the females around her thousands of times. Females who had their wings clipped, who had beaten down all their lives. Cassian worked with their anger, and then he made it disappear. 

Nesta had anger. Just like them. 

She snarled, and faster than she thought was possible, she spun around and slammed the bottom of her boot into his chest. Cassian stumbled back and he grinned, putting his fists out. “That’s more like it, darling. Why are you angry? Tell me”

“I’m angry,” Nesta struggled to breathe. Her teeth were clenched and she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then all that anger exploded. She ran at Cassian, punching left and right, and screaming, “I’m angry because my father gave up!” Nesta panted, jutting her knee up to hit Cassian in the jaw again. 

Cassian spun around, locking her arms behind her back. Nesta shook her head and she slammed her foot down on his, turning her body to elbow him in the throat. “I’m angry because he left me, alone, hurting, to raise Elain and Feyre. And I couldn’t do it!” Nesta leapt into the air, surprised at how much ground she could cover, before her other fist slammed into Cassian’s chest. Again, and again. 

“I failed Feyre and she knows it. I failed Elain and she knows it. I’m their big sister. They shouldn’t have to worry about all this. I should. I should bear this weight and pain, not them, Cassian, not them!” Tears were streaming down her face. Nesta hiccuped and she slammed her palms against Cassian’s chest, but he had stopped fighting. She growled and pushed against the hard muscle harder, harder, harder. 

“Fight back! Fight back!” The eldest Archeron sister screamed. She gripped his collar and shoved him forward. “I have these powers I don’t deserve! I have these senses I don’t need!” Nesta slammed her clenched fist onto Cassian’s arms, his shoulders, even his neck. She started to claw at him, her sobs choking her. 

“I’m angry because I’m breaking. I’m breaking when everyone needs me whole. I’m breaking inside, and I know this is how Feyre felt! This is how you felt. This is how everyone felt and I finally get it. I finally get this pain, pain that I inflected, over and over again” 

Nesta roared, and her back burned. “Fight back, you coward! Fight me!” Wings shot from her back and it was like thousands and thousands of needles were being pushed and pulled from her skin. The females all jumped back, mostly to avoid the sheer power of the thrust her wings gave. 

Cassian grabbed her arms tightly, almost lifting her off the ground. He cupped her face, pulling her into him. Nesta screamed into his chest and she sobbed, her knees giving out on her. Cassian caught her, careful of her wings. “I got you, Sweetheart, I got you” His fingers rubbed her scalp, slowly tugging and brushing at her hair. 

Nesta shook in his grasp, her nails digging into his fighting leathers. She sniffled, tears still blinding her, still streaming through the dirt on her face. She looked up at Cassian. “Promise?” She whispered, her lip wobbling. 

“I promise, Nesta. I swear it” He pressed his lips against the side of her head, holding her as tight as she needed him to hold her. Her father was supposed to have her, to protect her. Her mother was supposed to, as well. She wasn’t supposed to have grown up so quickly, to protect Elain and Feyre. 

She wanted someone to protect her, to have her back, to be there for her. 

And that was exactly what Cassian promised her. 

I wrote Nessian. Sound the bells, pound the alarms, call 9-1-1, code red, code red. And I may write more. I may not. That’s how the game goes. 

Leave comments, tell me what you think, thanks for reading. 

[cleopatraas]

A Court of Wings and Chiara (acowar spoilers)

Anonymous asked: I just finished ACOWAR and ugh I kept thinking about Chiara the entire time! Please make a post where you have head canons or something and she's in ACOWAR. I need it, I need to know what she would have done in those scenes.

For everyone who doesn’t know Chiara is my original character. Rhys’s sister, Tamlin’s mate, High lady of the Night Court. 

I’ll be honest with you. I literally just finished ACOWAR last night and I forgot what half the book was about. So this...is gonna be rocky. 

This turned out to be...super long and I really hope you guys read it even though it’s long. And I will do a  cut...only for you guys. 

Warning: if there are typos...I will literally jump off a bridge. Because I’m sure even after proof reading, there will be at least one (1) typo that hates me. 

The Meeting: aka the Court of Dreamers is reunited. 

Feyre and Chiara are best friends, they are sisters. You can pry this from my cold dead hands. They ALMOST went from enemies (because of Tamlin) to friends (this is what they are now) to lovers (but...there’s Rhys) but I’ll be honest. I ship these ladies so much. 

But they’re just weeping and crying and clinging to each other and Chiara hisses, “I’ll kill him with my bear hands if he touched you” I have nothing that rhymes except sisters before misters, but basically they’re that™ friendship. and Feyre is like “No, no. It’s fine, it’s fine” 

Chiara is the only person who recognizes Lucien’s trauma. She was there. In the Spring Court. I do not™ care about the timeline, these two were friends. And she just...talks to Lucien. And she hears him talk, and talk, and talk. But she doesnt react, tries not to clinch her fists, and then she hugs Lucien and promises him that, “You’re safe here. I’ll protect you with my life. If you want - you are my court now, Lucien. This home, these people, are yours. When you are ready” 

Summer Court Attack: aka that time when Tarquin put everyone in their place 

Chiara shows up a little late (you’ll know why later), but boy she’s in Illyrian leathers and she’s flying with the Illyrians with Cassian, taking down Hybern’s aerial army. And they’re both working so well together, because you can PRY this from my cold dead hands but they were always super close and Chiara always got him through his kills, especially his first ones. 

Chiara can feel Rhys, through that sibling bond, that slimmer of magic they share. She checks on Feyre and Mor, but she knows her besties got this covered, and then she faces that hologram projection of the King of Hybern. And she and Rhys are side to side, the Siblings of the Night Court, Death Incarnates, or whatever other titles Rhys had, and they’re both getting ready to be martyrs (siblings who are idiots together, stay together). But then the projection goes poof and the ship and all those warriors go Mist™  

Chiara feels so bad about what they had to do to get the Book and she was genuinely starting to feel something for Tarquin? (Or Varian or Cresseida. I will captain all of these ships). That was in ACOMAF and in that time Chiara was finally...healing. After Tamlin, after Amarantha, and she just...saw something in those bright blue Summer Court eyes. And she had to betray them. 

Chiara keeps her Court in check™. There will be no disrespecting Tarquin in his own court. She just lays her hands before him, pleading with her eyes, regret, so much regret, written clear on her face. 

“You stole from me”

“I know”

“You could have just asked me” 

“Tarquin, I know. But I won’t say sorry, those are useless words. But I am. You don’t have to take the blood rubies off our names, but know that we saved you today. And I would gladly drag more Illyrian solders, I would gladly drag my family out here to do it again. Nothing owed, ever.”

“Get out”

And she’s just?? She doesn’t know what to do. She bows and then takes her Court and goes to check on the wounded. And into the night and all throughout the day, you see one Illyrian female tended to every wounded she can find: both Summer Fae and Illyrian. 

Chiara isn’t in a lot of scenes because she’s got BUSINESS to take care of. (and also because I really can not remember a lot rom ACOWAR)

The High Lord Meeting: aka the scenes where all my wigs were snatched and I still haven’t gotten them back 

The Court of Dreamers came to slay. No masks, no lies, all wings. Chiara walks in front, but she’s wearing simple trousers and a tunic, everyone else can be fancy. Some earrings, chokers, bracelets and rings here and there too, of course. But at some point in her life she had to stop being a little girl and be a ferocious High Lady. And if everyone else in pants, then so is she. 

She has a crown on her head and I’m shaking at the imagery. She has stars in her hair, nightmares in her eyes. She looks behind her, at her Court, and she nods. She gives an extra nod to Nesta (you can pry this friendship out of my cold dead hands. Try it). And then she walks into the room, her wings flaring behind her. 

She meets all the High Lords’ eyes and then Mor squeals. I love her friendship with Viviane and Chiara used to be friends with Viviane too....before Amarantha. And she just watches Mor and Viviane and gives a polite smile and then sits down. 

Tarquin shows up, like the truest boss he is. Chiara’s heart squeezes. She tries to catch Tarquin’s or Varian’s eye, but they won’t look at her. Beron and the Brood show up, eek. 

Everything is going...as well as it can be, UNTIL TAMLIN WALKS IN, IN ALL HIS PETTY GLORY. And that tug, that tug that is so small, so fragile, makes their eyes meet. And Tamlin’s nostrils flare and Chiara grips her chair tightly. 

But Chiara is the Bigger Person™ and she gets up and walks over to Tamlin and holds her hand out. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel are on edge. Mor, too. They’re the only people who know the entire story, of what went down, what went wrong. 

Tamlin sneers at her so she sneers back and huffs and goes to sit down on her chair, letting her wings flare. And Tamlin’s eyes roam over them, and something like sadness fills those green orbs. 

Then Amarantha comes up in the conversation...and it takes everything for the Bat Brothers to not snap at Tamlin and Beron. But Chiara sits with a removed silence, tilting her head to the side. Titles are flung - “High Lord Killer” which causes Tamlin to cringe, and other titles as well. (Yes. Chiara killed Tamlin’s father, beheaded that fool for killing her mother, then she left his brothers to her brother and father. And Tamlin killed her father. I told y’all their story is ...)

“You call me High Lord Killer, Beron, as if you don’t understand those three words. Would you like me to give you a live demonstration?” Helion snorts. Thesan chokes. 

“How did it feel to kill your mate’s father?”

Chiara tilts her head to the side again. “It felt glorious to get revenge for my mother if that’s what you’re asking, Beron, and if not, I would like to get to the topic at hand. Hybern”

But then the Winter Court comes up...(Rhys and Chiara both sacrificed themselves to Amarantha to keep Velaris safe. Rhys did it because he wouldn’t let his baby sister do it alone) 

“We stopped her from killing you, Kallias. We had no idea what the costs would be” Chiara falters and her eyes go to Tamlin for a moment, before she looks away. “I thought keeping her busy would distract her. But she sent Rhys instead”

Azriel protec™ but he also ATTAC™ ERIS FOR INSULTING CHIARA.

Chiara protec™ but she also ATTAC™ BERON FOR INSULTING HER AND RHYS.

Skip, skip, boring political stuff, Tamlin being petty, the usual. 

Skip!

Helion comes to their room. And Chiara smiles and she hugs him and Feyre is like “Wut?” and Chiara shrugs, patting Helion’s shoulder. 

“You two....Chiara please tell me not every High Lord is in love with you” Like Feyre is trying to piece the pieces together and she looks to Mor, Cassian, and Azriel for help and Cassian and Azriel are watching Helion, and mor is just giving small thumbs up and a wink. 

“Of course not, silly. Beron is old enough to be a pile of ash by now, and quite frankly, I have better taste than that. And Thesan has better taste than me” She™ Did™ That™. And Feyre snorts and mocks her. 

“Have fuuuuuun”

“I will”

Chiara saunters off and Feyre whistles and Mor joins in, clapping and I love girls supporting girls no matter what. I just...I love it. 

You could literally drag me away from this friendship, beat me, tie me to a tree, and I would somehow find a way back to it. 

Skip, skip, skip. 

Skip!

The Second Attack On The Summer Court: aka where I decided to finally disown Tamlin for 2 seconds 

Also the moment Chiara decided her fist belonged on Tamlin’s fast. Hard. Fast. Many times. Julian?? Redemption arc?? Idk him. But sure, let’s keep it. 

Chiara fights side by side with Tarquin and Varian and I’m literally wiping tears at how precious it was. Varian at her back, Tarquin at her side, they fight together. Shadow and water, blinding and drowning, cutting down enemies. They never falter and finally FINALLY their relationship is repaired and I can ship them in peace. Who? I still don’t know yet...

Chiara flies over to Cassian and she finishes cutting down enemies and Cassian takes down the commander like the TRUE BOSS is his. And it was just amazing and yet again, Chiara tends to the wounded, the High Lady, the High Lord Killer, getting on her knees and healing people who are supposed to be “far below her” 

She disappears for a bit and doesn’t appear until the second battle (You will know why)

The Second Battle: aka where everything went down hill so fast my mind was spinning 

Anytime Cassian and Chiara fight together I get literal chills. ANY TIME ALL FOUR OF THE SIBLINGS FIGHT TOGETHER I LITERALLY COLLAPSE ON MY KITCHEN FLOOR. Azriel is somewhere behind her, blue light flashing. Cassian is to her left, red light flashing. And Rhys is cutting through soldiers on her right, green light flashing (Rhys isnt High Lord so he has does have all those powers so yes he has seven Siphons and they’re green). 

But the line...it starts to crumble. She loses sight of Azriel, then Cassian, and then Rhys. And she doesn’t know which brother to go to first, which person to cut down to get to them faster. And she always has this fear...this fear that she won’t get to them fast enough, like she didn’t get to her mother fast enough. That all she will be able to do is get revenge instead of saving them. 

She feels Feyre tug at the bond. And she spins around, looking up at Feyre. I need you. And Chiara shakes her head, she can’t leave her brothers, and Feyre doesn’t need anyone. You got this. Go. Be safe. 

(Remind me again why I don’t have them dating?)

CHIARA. SEES. CASSIAN. FALL. She’s fighting and she finally got to Azriel and Mor is with Rhys and all four of them are trying to get to Cassian, but then that stupid commander cuts her brother down. And she screams and a wave of magic finally takes out the Hybern forces. 

And she and Azriel are running to Cassian and she lifts him up without a second hesitation and Azriel is right there with her, holding Cassian’s guts in, and she’s sobbing and telling Cassian to stay with her, and Rhys is below them, making sure they’re protected. They’re flying through the sky, Mor winning below them, trying to get their brother to a healer, before it’s too late...

Feyre comes back with Helion, the latter just nodding at Chiara once. Chiara barely sees it, she’s covered in Cassian’s blood, sitting by his side. But she has so many tricks up her sleeve...she needs more sleeves. 

The Cauldron, Elain and The Rescue: aka that moment where none of us were scared but we were all low key scared

Nesta locates the Cauldron and Chiara squeezes her shoulder gently, her hand on her lower back. (Remind me again why I don’t have them dating either?) “You did well” and Nesta gives the slightest bit of a small maybe?? And Chiara gives one right back and...great. I swear Chiara is shippable with literally everyone, even that ROCK. 

The Cauldron takes Elain or however that happened?? I still don’t understand it, but let me not question it or I’ll drive myself crazy. Chiara insists on joining Feyre. She grabs her shoulders, “You sisters are my sisters, Feyre. We are family. We do not leave one behind, one link could break us all. I’m going with you”

Chiara is in the shadows with Azriel, watching over Feyre in Ianthe™ form. Jurian saves Briar (?? its just unrealistic he didn't save himself) and then they’re on the run. Azriel is carrying Elain, Feyre running behind him, and Chiara is running behind her, trying to keep a shield up.

Chiara pushes Feyre forward and she hisses “Fly” and Feyre shakes her head, gripping onto Chiara. “I won’t leave you, I won’t leave you, I won’t leave you”, but Chiara pulls out a long sword and she shoves Feyre harder. “Fly! That is an order, Feyre Archeron!” 

(I swear they’re dating. Rhys who?) 

Feyre sobs and Chiara wipes her tears and she pushes her after Azriel. “Go, I’ll give you a lead” And she turns around and cuts a hound in half, staring the King down. Chiara pulls out another long blade, and as the hounds jump on her, and beast slams into them. 

YOU MIGHT AS WELL SKIP THIS IS IF YOU DONT SHIP TAMLIN AND CHIARA 

Chiara whispers, “Tam” and the beast looks at her, before they go after the hounds together, Chiara cutting them down, Tamlin attacking them, working together, as a team. She looks back and a hound runs past her and she leaves Tamlin and chases it down, but it gets to Azriel and she screams as it shreds his back. 

She turns back around and keeps fighting by Tamlin’s side, until she feels the wards break. Tamlin shifts and she grabs his hand and they run, their fingers linking. Chiara tosses her weapons aside 30 steps, 20 steps, 15... 10... 5... and she launches them both into the air, grunting, holding Tamlin against her, flying through the break in the ward. 

And she looks down at Tamlin and they share a look, before Tamlin winnows. Chiara catches up with Feyre and Azriel, and Elain and Briar, and she guards their backs, trying to heal Azriel in mid air. 

When they get back, Chiara collapses in Rhys’s arms, gasping for breath. “He saved us” And Rhys just strokes her hair, holding his sister as she finally, finally cries for what she lost. But she stops crying, because she knows what she can gain. 

THE COURT OF DREAMERS: aka the scene where my emotional dramatic self finally started crying

This is it. The final speech. Chiara has given a lot to her brothers, her cousin, her friend. She has given one or two to Feyre, but none to Elain or Nesta. She sighs and leans against her sword and gives a sad smile. 

“I’m glad I met all of you, and I mean that. I truly mean that. I don’t know where I would be without you...likely cowering on my own throne or dead” Chiara smiles and turns to Rhys. “To the first brother I knew, who gave me the world on a silver platter, no questions asked. Who protected me from the world with a silver sword, with maybe a few questions asked” Rhys smiles. 

“To my other brothers, who saved me even though they claim I saved them. Who saw butchering and darkness far greater than I can comprehend, who trusted our mom, who grew up with us. Who gave me the strength,” She squeezes their hands “When I needed it”

“To my cousin, my best friend, the light of my eye,” Mor smiles and her hands shake at her sides. “Who made me realize that I was not alone, that I was not the only female fighting. Who made me realize why I was fighting and kept me fighting”

“To my scary, scary tiny firedrake” Amren scowls and Chiara laughs. “Thank you. For simply existing, for simply being curious, for simply allowing me into your life. What an honor it has been” 

“To my Feyre,” Feyre grins and she doesn’t even care. She flings her arms around Chiara’s neck and Chiara wraps her arms around her waist. “Who brought the light Under the Mountain. Who taught me...who showed me that it was okay. It was okay to love again and I did. I love you fiercely. Who suffered at the hands of my mate, but still loved me back. Who loves my family, my brothers, and one in particular. Thank you so much, Feyre Archeron, I will never be able to thank you enough” (Why are THEY NOT TOGETHER IM MAD AT MYSELF AT THIS POINT)

And then she turns to Nesta and Elain and holds out her hands. Elain takes her hand and Nesta stares at it, so Chiara just almost lets their fingertips touch. “To my newest sisters, who I haven’t even begun to understand, to know, to love. But the time we’ve had together, I have seen your strengths. I am glad to have you at my side. I have seen your weaknesses and I am glad to protect those with my life” 

Chiara looks at the empty space somewhere in the circle. “And to the one I lost - I may have lost you, but I have gained so much more. And I hope you do too” And they all join hands and it turns into a group hug and even Nesta MAYBE joins.

And I swear to God...

THE FINAL BATTLE: aka everything was moving so fast and I’m still trying to figure out what happened

EVERYTHING HAPPENED SO FAST CAN SOMEONE JUST PLEASE TELL ME WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED? 

All I know is...Chiara had so many plans up her sleeves and here they are. She was a little late to the battle, but that doesn’t matter, MY GIRL HAD SOME PLANS. 

She made a bargain with The Boner Carver, The Weaver, Bryaxis, AND whatever that Book summoned (Remember that? You know...the huge plot hole that was never addressed again? Like...you do realize they probably have beasts and monsters and whatever creatures trying to get to Hybern/Prythian/wherever the Book is bc Feyre put the Book together...but okay)

I don’t know how bargains work, I don’t care, I just know Chiara, High Lady of the Night Court, DID THAT, and now has some amazing tattoos all over her back and arms. Because...that’s how it works right? 

But honestly I just love the aesthetic of the shields breaking and then Chiara is standing there, in Illyrian FEMALE armor, her arms up and then the glamors fall and she has all these monsters and?? Like yeah she probably sold her soul for this to happen, but is that the point? No. 

She’s just controlling...all of them. Never been done before. Literally never been done before. The true High Lady of the Night Court. She just looks behind her and smiles “Bone appetite” and then disappears and GOD I love her?? So much. 

And then she’s back like five seconds later and she’s flying through the skies....with Illyrian females behind her. “Cassian!” She screams for her brother to get up here with her, as she leads the females to war aka what we were all waiting for but never got?? That’s where she’s been. Saving and recruiting these females, training them, being the best person in Prythian history. 

And Cassian is just gaping at her and then he grins “Not bad, little sister” And she scowls and leaves Cassian with the Illyrians - male and female, fighting side by side, in the air, as one. And she winnows in next to everyone else, a grin on her fast. 

“That a good enough army for you, brother?” And Rhys gives her a small smile and then he’s gone, fighting with the troops on the ground. Chiara makes sure Azriel stays™ because his wings are damaged and she will not have her brother hurt. 

“It’s not enough,” Azriel says and Chiara looks at him sideways. “Have ye so little faith in dear ole sister?” She mocks gently, looking down at the battle. She looks at her wrist, as if looking at a watch. “They just need to hold the lines”

The Cauldron goes off?? I don’t know how that happened, but it does. RIP Bone Carver. Forever missed. Chiara tackles Cassian when he flies back to them, because she almost lost him and she sobs, looking back at Nesta. And Nesta gives her a small smile and she nods. And I’m not even remotely sorry when I say that this? Could totally be a ship. 

I don’t know what else happened, it was all moving so fast, but Chiara got Miryam and Drakon to come. The ORIGINAL gangster. I love her...with everything I have. She flies into the skies once again, taking Feyre with her, Cassian taking Nesta. 

Chiara just greets them and says “You came” and Drakon ruffles her hair gently. “You came banging on our wards” “Wards are so tedious, Drakon. You can thank me later” and everyone is just gaping at her like...what?? when did you do all this?? She did it when everyone was being jealous of everyone and doing god knows what other useless stuff. 

She and Cassian command the Seraphim, Peregryms, and Illyrians. Fighting as one, driving back the aerial army. We have the humans and Vassa and Papa Archeron. Chiara leaves Cassian and she fights side by side with the High Lords, side by side with Tarquin and Helion. 

THIS WOMAN. THIS HIGH LADY. SHE CAME OUT AND DID ALL THIS. 

Chiara ends up by Cassian, Nesta, Feyre, Amren, to hear that terrible plan that almost got Cassian killed? Yes. THAT one. And Chiara begs him not to go and Rhys appears and Chiara is shaking her head and yes, she’s the first High Lady, yes she’s so powerful, but she’s still just a baby sister who needs all her brothers. 

And Cassian kisses her cheek gently and pulls her closer, smiling against her hairline. “I love you, Chi. I never got to thank your mother-” Chiara presses her hand against his mouth “Our mother, Cas, and she needed...wanted no thanks from you. She loved you...so much” 

And Cassian smiles and moves her hand “Then let this be the way I show her I have protected you” and Rhys and Feyre hold her bask, kicking and screaming, as Cassian takes off with Nesta. (the worst?? most idiotic?? plan?? i have ever witnessed?? but ok)

And then...so much more went down?? And I remember like...a fourth of it. But it was all pretty dramatic and everywhere. 

Skip, skip, skip.

Skip!

YOU MIGHT AS WELL NOT READ THIS IS YOU DONT SHIP CHIARA AND FEYRE 

Feyre and Amren are at the Cauldron and Chiara is down on the battlefield with Rhys and the other High Lords. And Feyre reaches down their bond, a bond from so long ago, a bargain Chiara gave her when they were Under the Mountain, a bond Chiara offered to take away; a bond Feyre refused to let go, a bond they both found comfort in, found warmth in their coldest times, and Chiara freezes. 

And it’s like even from where she is...all the way down there... She looks up and she sees Feyre and Feyre sees her. And that bond, it glows. And they both smile at the same time, a smile of thanks, of gratitude, of love, of kindness, of being loved, and giving the love; of needing each other, of holding each other up when they both wanted to fall, of shared memories and sweet talks, of short walks and long runs, of flying and training - all in that one smile. 

And then Chiara shifts into her beast form and Feyre grabs onto the Cauldron and maybe, just maybe, that’s the last time they’ll ever share that smile again, ever feel that bond again. 

(At this point...they’re married, right? Like it’s obvious they’re so in love)

More stuff happens...that I can’t remember...Amren is unleashed. Seriously, what was she? Actually, don’t tell me. She was The Devil and anything other than that is a let down. 

Hybern loses. We win. No one dies that we care about except the Suriel. Basically what happens. 

Rhys’s Death: aka we were all pretending to be shocked or we were all actually shocked that he “died” and came back to life?

Rhys’s death would have been so much more powerful....if Feyre wasn’t the only one who reacted. Everyone else looked like they were watching a squashed bug die. It felt very emotionless to me, but ....

Chiara screams loud enough to break the battle field when she sees her brother lying there, motionless. She looks over at Cassian and Azriel quickly, but she darts to Rhys, pulling his head in her lap. And she just stares at him and her worst fears have come true - she didn't get to save him just like she didn't get to save her mother - she can only get revenge. But...she cant even get that? Because who is she supposed to kill? She killed Tamlin’s father for killing her mother...but does she kill Feyre? The Cauldron?

No. She just sobs over Rhys’s body and straightens his armor and tries to make him look nice, because he would want that. She grips his shoulders and wipes her tears impatiently, gritting her teeth. And there’s this moment...where she’s alone. Rhys, she believes so deeply, that he’s with their mom (and hopefully not their dad). And yes, Cassian and Azriel are her brothers, but she had this bond with Rhys. And she cant...she cant feel it. 

So she glares at the High Lords, her eyes red, tears staining her cheeks, “Bring him back.” and it’s not Chiara saying it. It’s the High Lord Killer glaring at them, snarling at them, clutching onto her brother, the one killed by the Cauldron. The one killed by the thing that blessed her. The irony, the tragedy. 

“I will kill you if you don’t bring him back” But she takes a deep breath, her hands still shaking, and she’s still falling apart. And Tarquin steps forward, kisses her forehead, and does that whole magic thingy. Then Helion, Kallias, Thesan, then she does it, pressing her hand against Rhys’s chest, whispering into his hair. 

“Tamlin,” She breathes. “Where is Tamlin? Where is my mate” And she looks around, still holding onto Rhys. And Tamlin steps through the crowd and she stares up at him, and its deja vu. She’s crying over Rhys, as she cried over her mother. And he’s just staring at her...doing nothing.

And maybe Tamlin sees that. And he gets down beside her, kisses her forehead and whispers, “I’m sorry. Forgive me, for all of this, for everything and more” And Chiara sobs into his shoulder and she watches as his magic sinks into Rhys’s chest. 

YOU MIGHT AS WELL SKIP THIS IF YOU DONT SHIP TAMLIN AND CHIARA 

Tamlin holds her against him and she’s sobbing into his chest, gripping onto his shirt. And he’s stroking her hair, looking at Rhys. And then that bond...that bond between them. Maybe it finally has the means to get stronger now, maybe it doesn’t. But it’s still there, and they will always have hope. 

And Rhys opens his eyes and reaches for Chiara’s hand, whispering “I saw her,” and Chiara screams and pounces on him and even Cassian and Azriel pull him into a group hug and he just whispers, “She’s so proud of us” And he’s talking about their mom and I am SO DONE breaking my own heart. 

“You saw mom?” Cassian’s voice breaks and it turns out IM NOT DONE BREAKING MY OWN HEART because Rhys has one arm wrapped around Azriel, the other wrapped around Cassian and Chiara and he nods, smiling. And Azriel has tears running down his face and Chiara she asks... “Did you tell her I was sorry”

And Rhys says, “There was no need to”

The Meeting: aka everyone in the same room so who dies first? surprisingly no one. but we’re all very cranky. 

Chiara tackles Lucien in one of the biggest, cutest bear hugs there is. And Lucien spins her around and she laughs, burying her face in his neck. He’s wearing Illyrian leathers and Chiara squeezes harder and Lucien whispers, “My High Lady” and Lucien is a part of her court now and Chiara smiles and kisses his cheeks. 

Blah blah, politics talking, I was half asleep reading this scene, to be quite frankly honest. 

But then there’s this scene, it’s just the Bat Siblings and Tamlin left in the room and Chiara stares at Tamlin. And he stares back and swallows. “Could we have been happy? If I fought that day, fought at all?” And Chiara lets loose a breath and she gives a pathetic shrug. 

“We can’t know. Something else may have come along, Amarantha was another barrier between us, Tamlin”

“If I hadn’t tried to break the bond-”

And Chiara shakes her head and she walks forward, hugging him slowly, kissing his cheek. They both shudder and she breathes in his scent. “I don’t want to focus on the should have, could have, would haves with you. We either work or we don’t. We either start trying now or we don’t.”

She brushes his cheek and kisses his brow “Tell me your decision later” and she walks out and the Bat Brothers follow her.

Chapter 81: Aka Rhys’s POV and how the book should have ended but didn’t.

Rhys is standing out in the garden and Cassian, Azriel, and Chiara go to him. The latter with a drink for him and Rhys takes it. They all stare at Elain’s garden and Chiara sits down, looking up at her brothers. 

And they just all share these smiles and Chiara laughs softly, downing her drink. “No more wars for at least another five hundred years. Or more. Please” And Cassian agrees and he lounges in the sun with his sister and Chiara smiles and plants her head on his shoulder, holding his hand. Azriel sits beside her and Rhys sprawls out by their feet and they all share jokes and they laugh. They have a family, yes, they have their Court, yes, but they also just have them, the four of them, siblings no matter what.

Feyre, Elain, Nesta, Mor, and Amren join them later and Chiara looks at her Court of Dreamers.

And she looks to the skies, to the stars that haven’t come out yet, but have definitely answered, and she whispers “Thank you”

THIS WAS SO LONG I LITERALLY SPENT HOURSE ON THIS. And I know it’s not going to get any notes and I’m cringing at the very thought, but I worked so hard on this and I might as well share it. So lease, just please, leave comments.