#which would avoid the rite and by avoiding it she would have stayed in the HoW and feyre would be probably death

[westrangecollectionkoalaposts]

It feels like nessian isn't a mating bond per se but a curse the cauldron threw at nesta, as by one side she will always be suffering at his side and by other, the fact they are mates kinda unlocked a chain of events that leaded to nesta having to give up the powers she took from the cauldron in order to save her sister.

The Archerons' Mating Bonds are Fake

This isn't about personal preference for or against mating bonds.

The mating bond lore is wishy washy like all her world building but ultimately it's 2 things - a bridge between equals and a magical eugenics programme.

However, especially for Feysand and Nessian, this does work??

1: the mating bond is about the children produced. (Which is why I often call it the Magical Eugenics Programme.)

It's literally called a MATING bond. Mating is sex for the purpose of reproduction. The fae even go into a frenzy to try and make sure the female is impregnated.

And it works in canon because, somehow a relatively normal HL and a normal Illyrian woman had Rhysand who is (allegedly) the Most Powerful.

In fact it is mostly geared towards magical eugenics because the same example is one of a mating bond between two people who didn't love/ weren't right for each other as individuals.

And the Archerons are anomalies.

We're meant to believe that Rhysand ( and Cassian) felt these bonds when his mate was human.

But if an Illyrian baby can kill not just a high Fae but a high Fae as supposedly overpowered as Feyre - a human stands no fucking chance. So how could they be mates??

And let's say you believe that the Archerons aren't anomalies, I'll give you Feyre and Elain but Nesta is quite literally an unnatural entity who should not exist.

And if it was always Feyre's fate to become Fae - then the baby wouldn't have been dangerous or straight up impossible to have without anomalous magic like Nesta's or even Feyre's stolen shapeshifting.

Nessian has the same problem.

2) the mating bond is a mind link between equals. (Equals in what?? Again Rhysand's mom was like an 18 or 19 yo lesser Fae and his dad was a 900yo HL!! So what the fu)

Here Feysand makes more sense if again, you take it that Feyre was always gonna be a overpowered high.

But Nessian???

Again Nesta is a straight up unnatural entity who shouldn't be alive as an Fae or immortal. But she is. And she's one of the most powerful creatures to exist, EVER, so it makes no sense for not only a normal Fae but even a lower Fae to be her mate.

Elain x Lucien is the only pairing that makes sense in any way. Elain is Made, more powerful than most Fae and Lucien is the only Fae we know of who seems to have power of more than 1 court.

Their personalities or power levels don't clash as badly either and ultimately the only thing that might impede them is that Elain might choose to reject bond.

According to sjm's own lore, mating bonds are rare. Feysand's bond could just be a daemati connection, it would make more sense.

Cassian could just like Nesta, but it's basically impossible for him to be her mate or for her to even have one.

[serpentface]

Could we possibly get a timeline of Brakul and Janeys’ relationship?

Here's the broad strokes of established timeline and notable events. Also includes some Hibrides specific events because she is integral to the subject at hand, the three of them are a Feelings Triangle.

(When I say 'present' here I mean the beginning of the white calf story)

---

-They first meet a bit over 13 years before present on the opposite side of an armed skirmish. Brakul is captured as a prisoner of war and offered a job as a mercenary.

-He and Janeys both work in the same mercenary troupe for a little over two years and become friends. Janeys was down bad VERY quickly, Brakul took a lot longer.

-Brakul eventually likes him enough (and wants to avoid the consequences of his old life enough) to stay with him, keeps working as a mercenary when given the option to quit. They have mutual romantic feelings for each other at this point.

-Towards the end of this stint, the two are separated + ultimately ditched by their troupe after an ambush and are stranded alone in the wilderness together for a couple weeks. There's some fanfiction-ass huddling for warmth going on here but mostly starving and horrible horrible gastrointestinal distress from drinking bad water. They both almost die.

They have both seen each other at their absolute worst and the situation could easily go in the direction of 'I never want to see this fucking guy ever again' but ends up in the polar opposite 'I owe my life to this guy and can utterly rely on and trust him'.

-They make it to the city of Erub and stay there for a few weeks, recuperating. They undergo formal sworn brotherhood rites. This is an Extreme move because this is in large part a legal arrangement with lifelong kinship and inheritance implications.

-Janeys brings Brakul home a little over 10 years before the present day. Brakul discovers that Janeys has had a wife this entire time.

-Janeys returning home about two years later than he was supposed to, having already been regarded as a soft man by his parents, very obviously fled from his marriage, not gotten his wife pregnant, and now returning blatantly enamored with some big muscular dude he picked up and announcing that he has formally sworn brotherhood with him, does not go over well with his parents. Pretty much looks like he's become the fucktoy of the first dude that would take him and is now trying to impose this shameful relationship onto his family.

Janeys is immediately dragged through the fucking mud by his mother for entering into legal kinship with some random 'heathen'.

Janeys' father is like 'yeahhh no' and does not accept Brakul as kin, though is substantially less aggro about it.

Brakul makes a good impression on Faiza, as an Odonii she has freedom to formally accept him as kin (with associated familial obligations) without her father's consent and ultimately does so. She's very glad to see that Janeys has like, an actual friend who isn't her, though is also nervous about the Homosexual Undertones and is hoping to do some damage control.

Couya hears about this secondhand and is like 'ok...fags'

-Brakul manages to remain polite in the face of hostility from Janeys' parents, but this is extremely humiliating and wears heavily on him. Janeys is very defensive of him and cuts some ties with his mother in an utterly unprecedented show of backbone (though she comes back into his life more frequently later on).

-Brakul and Hibrides become friends. They have a very close and positive relationship for a few years.

-Brakul and Janeys start reaffirming their oaths on a very frequent basis, which is a comforting intimacy. This slowly devolves from a solemn, lengthy ritual involving slicing the palm and drinking mingled blood in wine, to cutting each other's chests and backs and consuming the blood straight from the source while fully aroused.

Both of them are very attracted to each other and fully want to fuck each other but they can't because they're equals and can't 'shame' each other. Both are aware of this but rarely verbalize it. For a long while their sexual relationship is exclusively the blood stuff.

-Hibrides starts seeing Brakul's wounds/scars and thinks he's being abused by Janeys. Starts thinking of Janeys as a really depraved pervert.

-They kiss for the first time ~8 years before present, which is like 6th base and a stage of intimacy that only occurs after the foundations of 'coming in pants while having open wounds licked and just pretending it didn't happen'

-Brakul starts participating in the annual Wardin city games. He does this almost every year from this point on. Janeys starts buying him khait and khait accessories.

Brakul gains some modest local fame within the city of Wardin for successes in the khait-wrestling event over these years and attains his own income separate from being Janeys' live-in life partner/ostensible sugar baby.

-7 years before present, Janeys and Hibrides have been married for six years and have not yet produced a child. This is socially damaging and questionable for both of them, given this is ultimately the point of a marriage. The 'have a Hibrides-Brakul pregnancy and pass the child off as Janeys'' plan starts formulating.

-Brakul and Hibrides have sex for the first time while Janeys stands near the door (arguing that he needs to be sure where the child came from to claim it, he HAS standards) and furiously stares at the wall.

This was something Hibrides consented to and played a key role in instigating, but this was still highly traumatic for her (and Brakul as well in different capacities) given much of their underlying relationship is like 'this is the ideal husband/wife because he/she loves me and is a dear friend also does not want to fuck me'. It's still quite clear that both of them are not sexually attracted to each other, but the full feeling of safety never returns.

It takes multiple attempts for a pregnancy to actually occur.

-Hibrides and Brakul's relationship starts to go down the drain.

-Hibrides sees them in the act of their Blood Shit with Brakul as the active participant, sees that Janeys is also covered in scars and has some bite wounds, decides that Brakul is actually just a pervert too.

-Janeys is now intensely jealous of Hibrides (starting with the pregnancy) and goes from being disinterested to outright hostile towards her.

-Hibrides has realized that Janeys has no response to people actually standing up to him and starts dishing the hostility right back at him. The environment gets very tense.

-Hibrides and Janeys get into a verbal argument and Janeys slaps her across the face. Brakul physically drags him out of the room and throws him on the ground, tells him never to do that again, and threatens to kill him if he ever lays a hand on HIS (read: his) child. And then disappears for several days, as is his standard method of not-dealing with problems. Janeys has a fucking meltdown. Hibrides is left alone with him and has to be the one to actually deal with the consequences of said meltdown. (He doesn't hurt her further and its more like him suddenly getting pathetically clingy to her as an emotional proxy, which was almost worse).

Brakul reappears to find Janeys a complete wreck and in full placation mode. Janeys is also now flinching and nervous around him, which disturbs him tremendously. Brakul reverses gears into being mega-conciliatory and coddling him. It takes a while for Janeys to stop feeling scared of him.

Experiencing physical violence and then being left alone with the guy who did it while he spirals was really, really hard on Hibrides. She's just like 'why did you leave me alone with him for days on end after all that, what the fuck' and Brakul's like ":("

-Six years before present, Erubi Haidamane is born.

-Hibrides experiences severe post-partum depression on top of regular depression. Brakul does a significant proportion of the parenting during infancy, but is cut off from this after the first year.

-Brakul knew what he was getting into but desperately wants to be a father, and finds it extremely difficult to be living in very close quarters with his biological daughter and pretending she isn't his.

Janeys is overall unsympathetic and just like 'get a wife make your own children damn' and Brakul is like 'I don't want a wife I want you :(' and Janeys is like 'Don't Fucking STart That Shit Right Now Or So Help Me God'.

There's a period where Janeys tries to arrange a marriage for him, partly because it's weird that Brakul is just There in his household as a bachelor, but he is very easily persuaded out of it (he doesn't exactly want that either).

-Hibrides and Brakul start having casual sex (mostly non-penetrative) around this time. Neither is attracted to each other and this is kind of an emotional outlet/Coping mechanism. Their mutual non-attraction makes them 'safe' sexual partners for one another in a roundabout way- they can approximate desired intimacy that they cannot fully acquire in ways they Want to, and feel less like broken perverts by performing expected sexual roles and playing husband/wife. Definitely NOT healthy though.

Janeys becomes aware of this at some point and cannot even begin to decide who he should be mad at here and is just like "STOP??????????"

-Six years before present, the famine begins. Janeys is wealthy enough to keep his household minimally affected beyond minor inconveniences for the first couple of years.

-A little under four years before present, the decision is made to try for another child in hopes of producing a male heir this time. Hibrides gets pregnant again.

-Hibrides has a very blatant 'affair' with a female trainee assistant to her physician-priestess midwife, which ends when the assistant is caught stealing from their home.

-Three years before present, Livya Haidamane is born.

-Hibrides and Brakul's relationship has been progressively worsening and has essentially shattered by this point, largely due to strains surrounding a second child coming into the picture. They now mostly avoid each other. Brakul and Janeys are now pretty much joined at the hip.

-At some point in this time range, Janeys manages to self justify the concept of giving a blowjob as not shameful or spiritually harmful. This is life changing.

This quickly results in the metaphysical implications of Ingesting Semen playing a role in their preexisting oath bloodsex (which is a thing throughout this timeline). It gets elaborate.

-2.5 years before present, Janeys' father dies abruptly after being kicked in the head by a khait. Janeys receives a significant chunk of inheritance but is not named as heir to the family business, this is instead given to his uncle Odela. This was strongly rooted in his father's suspicions that Janeys' children are illegitimate.

Janeys has kind of accepted that he is to be the death of his family line and has given up at having a son. He is extremely Not cool about this.

Janeys starts reconnecting with his mother in grief, who fully agrees that he is the death of his family line and pretty much just hates him at this point (in a very complicated way, she projected many of her hopes for the future and wishes for things she was denied in her own life onto her son, and resents him for failing at it).

-An employee and close confidant of Janeys' father makes a public accusation of his children's illegitimacy and specifically suggests Brakul as the father. Janeys denies this and challenges him to a legal duel as recompense for slander. He wins and kills the man (which will be interpreted as indicating his truthfulness against slanderous lies) but the damage is done.

Both Janeys and Brakul becoming increasingly paranoid in the aftermath of this. Janeys is even more distrustful of most of his non-kin relations than he already was and also takes out a lot of his anger on Brakul, on the basis that these accusations wouldn't be happening if Brakul would stop being a fucking baby and get a wife.

They kind of break up at one point here, which lasts approximately 5 minutes.

Brakul has already had a 'Don't be fucking touching me in public get your hands off me stop it' thing going on and this is intensified from this point on. He's fine with pretty much anything in private but expects complete restraint in public, while Janeys is very physically affectionate in all contexts (when in public this is mostly in ways that are culturally acceptable between close male friends/kin, and he doesn't see any issue with it and thinks Brakul is being ridiculous). This causes additional strain.

-Throughout this entire span both Janeys and Brakul have pulled small stints as mercenaries. ~2 years before present they are fully inducted as soldiers and given command positions, which is nepotism on Faiza's part (who is a personal friend to the Usoma Stavis Amanti). They perform in a military operation quelling an attempted mid-famine military coup and get some commendations for it.

This particular stint brings them more intensely into the public eye and it becomes strongly rumored among their soldiers that they're fucking. Janeys is assumed to be the emasculated (bottom) one. This is partly because people tend to assume the Smaller One performs the role of a woman, partly because he's considered somewhat effeminate (his presentation is hard masc by cultural convention but his lack of a beard, his emotional mannerisms, and the fairly public knowledge that he was his father's only son and refused as an heir anyway goes a long way), and largely because he is generally unliked.

They gain the moniker of 'the bitch and his dog' (which is slightly more contextually layered in the source language but ultimately means what it sounds like). Brakul beats the living shit out of the guy who coined this. He generally has a placid demeanor (and if anything strikes most as overly passive) and this is very startling and intimidating to the men around him. Janeys loved it.

-6 months before present they become privy to the plans for the pilgrimage (which had been a couple years in the making) and are offered positions of honor in roles commanding soldiers (this is more nepotism).

-2 months before present Brakul and Hibrides both get drunk and have sex for the first time in ages. Nothing was even remotely expected to come of this (Brakul was completely shitfaced and thus didn't maintain for long, and Hibrides was less intoxicated and could actually remember this with a degree of confidence after the fact) but bad miracles happen.

-1 month before present, Janeys' mother dies. Janeys is alternating between 'I'm glad the dogfaced bitch/cunt/whore/BITCH is dead' and sobbing in a ball.

Janeys receives some inheritance but is given basically the bare minimum and is repeatedly insulted in his mother's dictated will (along with Couya, who receives absolutely nothing). He's like "This is fine. I feel normal about this.

-Janeys gets heavily drunk one night shortly after his mother's death and outright asks Brakul to fuck him, who refuses. The next half hour is instead spent with Brakul sitting next to Janeys and awkwardly rubbing his back while the latter pukes. They don't speak about it after the fact but both know damn well it happened.

-Brakul starts including Janeys' mother in his daily naming and honoring of ancestors in hopes of keeping her contemptuous spirit satiated and out of his affairs.

-Days before present, the sighting of a newborn white aurochs calf occurs and it is decided that this should replace a previously prepared sacrifice for the pilgrimage. Brakul is among those selected to capture and retrieve it.

-Hibrides (as the wife of a nobleman on the pilgrimage) is expected to come along. She and Brakul had obviously not informed Janeys of the Incident and it had gone partly forgotten, but she has missed a couple periods at this point and exhibited some symptoms of pregnancy. She's really hoping its a fluke (and actually does WANT to attend, at least at first) and decides to not tell anyone, thus dooming everyone on pilgrimage to being witnesses of a Hibrides-Brakul-Janeys soap opera along the way, and is a piece of a wider domino effect that results in the Imperial Usoma being killed in a coup and replaced by a god-emperor. So it goes.

..and the story starts here

[duskandcobalt]

Echoes in the Hallway

Elain didn’t know why it bothered her so much. Yes, she’d been prepared for a cozy night in with her nephew - just the two of them - but an additional presence in the house wasn’t usually something that would set her off like this.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

….

18+ pls

Azriel finds himself playing chaperone again, this time for the girl he’s been avoiding for months…. What could possibly go wrong?

This is like 7.7k words of shameless angst and smut????? enjoy!!

…

Read on AO3

“Azriel.” Rhys’ voice broke through Azriel’s concentration. Their eyes met as the Shadowsinger looked up from the reports he’d been diligently reading for god knows how long, reclined on a couch in Rhys’ office after their morning debrief with Cassian.

Azriel raised his eyebrows at his brother, already wary of the conversation they were about to have based solely on the seriousness in which Rhys had addressed him.

Rhysand leaned against the corner of his desk. “We’re all going to the Court of Nightmares tomorrow…”

Azriel nodded, shuffling his papers together and setting them to the side so he could sit up straight.

“I know you were supposed to come but something’s come up and I’ll need you to stay here.” Rhys continued.

“Why?” Suspicion laced Azriel’s voice.

“The twins aren’t available and Elain…” Rhys paused, carefully watching his brother’s reaction.

Azriel tensed at the name, frustration immediately building under his skin. He hadn’t let himself even think about that name for almost nine months now.

Solstice felt like a fever dream - a night that had gone so wrong, so quickly that he deigned it easier to just try to forget any of it had even happened. Even if he’d quickly realised that was easier said than done.

“Elain is staying back to watch Nyx.” Rhys finished. He was still studying Azriel, waiting for a reaction that wasn’t coming. Anger flowed through Azriel but he pushed it down, wouldn’t let that icy exterior that he’d spent so long perfecting crack.

It had been Rhys after all that had put an end to everything before anything had even had a chance to begin.

“And you want me to stand guard?” Azriel inquired, quiet and steady, no sign of that underlying anger as he spoke.

“No.” Rhys sighed. “But we need Nesta to come with us and Cassian refuses to let her out of his sight after everything happened with the Blood Rite. Feyre’s already stressed about leaving Nyx for the night, with everything that’s happening. Elain and Nyx, leaving them for the first time… she insisted you be the one to stay back.”

“Why me? You told me…”

“I know what I said, Az.” Rhys cut him off. “And please don’t get any ideas. I stand by what I said.”

“So then why me? Why not someone else?”

“Because Feyre trusts you, Az.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We both trust you.” ‘

“Do you?” Azriel scoffed. It was the first obvious display of emotion he’d let Rhysand see during this conversation.

They’d both be lying if they said things hadn’t been a little tense between them since that night where Rhysand had exercised his power, his ranking, in a way he hardly ever did. And for him to use that ranking to call Azriel off for a matter of the heart… Azriel had struggled to move past the decision even if he had done his best to obey.

“You are my spymaster, Azriel.” Rhys leaned back into his chair but his eyes stayed fixed on Azriel. “ You are my spymaster and my brother, of course I trust you.”

Azriel said nothing, only dipped his chin in acknowledgement of the clear sincerity in Rhysand’s tone.

“Don’t do anything to undermine my trust, Az. Just be here tomorrow night and keep an eye on things. There is to be nothing more. Is that understood?”

“I’ve stayed away, haven’t I?” Azriel stood, gathering his things before rolling his shoulders back and allowing his wings to flare behind him. A slight show of power to let his brother, his High Lord, know exactly how he felt about the situation.

“Is that understood, Azriel?” Rhys ignored the display, repeating his words with that same sense of command that he'd used on Solstice.

“Yes.” Azriel replied, words sharp as he swiftly exited the office and made his way out of the house.

…

“I just don’t understand why I need a chaperone when I am the chaperone.” Elain grumbled, avoiding even looking in Azriel’s direction.

They were in the kitchen, Nyx balanced on her hip as she bustled around getting a bottle ready for his first feed of the night. Azriel was standing across the kitchen from her, one scarred hand braced on the counter as he flipped through a thick stack of paper with the other. Also avoiding looking at her.

More reports. His distraction for the night.

The rest of the household had just left for the Hewn City mere minutes ago. Rhys and Feyre had chosen to only inform Elain that Azriel would be accompanying her and Nyx right before they winnowed away.

“It’s a safety precaution, with everything going on…” Azriel replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His hazel eyes stayed focused on his papers.

“Ridiculous. This house is protected within an inch of its life.” Elain threw back, her words cutting.. She saw him tense out of the corner of her eye, clearly unused to hearing this tone of voice from her.

Good.

Elain didn’t know why it bothered her so much. Yes, she’d been prepared for a cozy night in with her nephew - just the two of them - but an additional presence in the house wasn’t usually something that would set her off like this.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

She couldn’t even justify being upset at Rhys and Feyre for not telling her sooner. Why would they have thought to warn her? How could they possibly know that spending even a moment alone with the Shadowsinger wasn’t exactly high on her list of enjoyable activities these days?

Having him in her space after all these months apart had completely thrown her off, had her fumbling as she tried to put together a simple bottle. She cursed under her breath as she attempted to screw the top on for the third time. Nyx was entirely unhelpful as his little hands tugged at her hair, pulling curls loose from her braid and further distracting her from the task at hand.

“Need some help?” His low voice was closer than anticipated. She hadn’t noticed him come up behind her.

Alway so damn quiet - something that she’d found endearing once upon a time.

“I’m fine.” She bit back, silently willing her hands to stop shaking as she tried yet again to get the lid on the bottle.

“Elain.” Azriel sighed. Gods, she’d forgotten what her name sounded like on his lips. The effect it had on her body. “I know you don’t want me here. At least let me make myself useful.”

She set the lid down on the counter and turned to face him, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. For the first time since Solstice, really.

It’s hard to make eye contact with someone that seemed to do everything in their power to avoid her.

She could see the exhaustion in his hazel eyes but his face was as beautiful as always. The summer months had leant him a healthy glow, his already tan skin a couple shades deeper, a few freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. His dark hair was just a little longer than she remembered and a slight curl had developed along with the length.

How she had once ached to run her hands through his hair.

Anger flooded her veins again, a fresh wave, this time at herself for even allowing herself to think of him like she used to do.

He was infuriatingly expressionless as he watched her, patiently waiting for her to say something.

“I’ll take him to the great room. Bring the bottle and a cloth.” She relented, shifting Nyx in her arms as she quickly stepped around Azriel. His wings retracted to let her through.

…

Azriel took his time putting the lid on the bottle and grabbing a cloth in order to give Elain a little space.

He felt terrible about this - about having to be in this house, a looming presence that she very clearly didn’t have any desire to be around.

He didn’t know what else he had expected from tonight. He certainly didn’t think things would be like they used to be, back when she’d welcome him into the house with a shy smile, when they’d spend hours quietly talking to each other in the garden. He hadn’t even expected for them to exchange more than a few words.

He just hadn’t been prepared for the anger that radiated off of her.

It was so unlike her, so different from the girl he’d come to know. Of course, he knew that Elain wasn’t as quiet or demure as everyone seemed to think. She was kind, yes. Soft spoken compared to her sisters, yes. But she was also intelligent and sharp and funny in a way that often caught him off guard.

He’d seen her upset in the past, seen her frustrated, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this. So angry that the same raging fire which had once been a constant presence in Nesta’s eyes now infiltrated Elain’s.

He took a deep breath in, picking up the bottle and taking a cloth from the cupboard, steeling himself to face Elain again.

Multiple centuries of life - all those terrifying people and places he’d dealt with in his line of work - and somehow he still felt wholly unprepared and nervous to interact with Elain Archeron.

Azriel found her in the great room, as promised, sitting in a large navy velvet armchair. Her feet were tucked under her, her skirts a never ending cloud of soft pink fabric around her. Nyx was cradled in Elain’s arms, the fire in her eyes nowhere to be seen, her features soft as she babbled back to the babe happily babbling to her. The last bit of light from the setting sun streamed in from the glass doors that led out to the river, illuminating them from behind and Azriel’s breath caught - she looked ethereal.

Elain saw him then and watched as Azriel approached her, flames immediately igniting again as she met his gaze. He held out the bottle and she reached for it, careful to avoid touching his hands in the process. She looked away finally, adjusting Nyx against her chest and watching as he latched on to the bottle.

Azriel found himself fighting back the emotions that came to the surface at the sight before him. Of Elain with a winged babe in her arms, humming softly as she fed him. It was a glimpse into what might’ve been. In another life. Another universe. What he might’ve had if the cauldron had only deemed him worthy.

He tried to push the thoughts down, attempted to let them frost over in the depths of his soul as he shook out the cloth in his hands, doubling it over once before tentatively stepping forward and leaning down to drape it neatly over her shoulder - matching what he’d seen Rhys do for Feyre time and time again. He didn’t miss the way Elain stiffened, the way her breath hitched until he was standing upright again. He hadn’t let his hands so much as graze her skin, as much as he might’ve wanted to.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” He mumbled, one hand coming up to run through his hair, turning on his heel and heading out of the room before she even had a chance to reply.

He couldn’t take it.

There was a reason he’d stayed away all these months and he was quickly remembering just why he’d taken to hiding himself away at the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian. It was too much - being near her, being surrounded by her scent. Not being able to talk to her, not being able to touch her. Seeing her with Nyx. This unspoken tension between them. It was all too much.

He thought that the months apart would’ve helped, that the pull he felt towards her would’ve lessened with time. He hadn’t realised how wrong he’d been - hadn’t realised just how much he still yearned for her.

Azriel took a seat at the dining table, hands dragging over his face once as he attempted to focus on his reports. It was utterly useless, all he could think about was the female down the hall from him.

He had no idea how he’d make it through the night when the pain of this longing was eating him alive.

…

Nyx’s wailing had been echoing through the house for a couple hours now, so loud that Elain was concerned that the windows would shatter regardless of the countless wards Rhys had placed on them.

The poor babe had refused to settle, only sleeping for a few hours before he awoke just after midnight - tears streaming down his sweet face even after Elain had rushed down the hall to him, picking him up and cradling him to her chest.

She had tried everything - changing him, feeding him, singing to him as she sat in a rocking chair. She was at her wits end, bouncing him anxiously in her arms as she paced the nursery, only the moonlight streaming in from the balcony window providing her with just enough light to watch Nyx as he all but screamed in her arms.

She’d done her best to ignore the shadows at the foot of his crib. They’d been there all night, silently laying on the floor where they typically monitored Nyx whenever Azriel was in the house. She glanced at them now and saw that they were gathered together, a cloud of darkness that seemed to keenly watch her, just waiting to be acknowledged. Elain had a feeling they’d been instructed to mind their business and let her handle things tonight but she could tell that they had a different opinion on the subject.

“Go get him, then.” She rolled her eyes, frustrated enough to give in to what she knew they were itching to do. If she wasn’t so overwhelmed she might’ve laughed at the speed at which they vanished, off to find their master.

Azriel appeared seconds later, stepping through his shadows, fully alert with Truthteller clutched in one hand. His hair was a mess, dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. He was still dressed in his leathers so he clearly hadn’t made it to bed yet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes scanning the nursery - the empty crib, the corners of the room, the balcony, before settling on her.

She saw him relax slightly once he realised that Nyx was indeed safe but then his eyes were taking her in - ever so slowly grazing over her - head to toe. She couldn’t help the heat that spread through her at his gaze. His eyes burned into her skin as he took in her unbound hair, the thin silk of the nightgown she wore, her feet bare on the plush rug. She was too exasperated to care that he was seeing her in this state of undress.

“I… I don’t know.” Elain rasped, her throat scratchy from being abruptly pulled out of her slumber. “He just won’t stop crying. I’ve tried everything, I don’t know what to do.”

“May I?” Azriel stepped towards her, holding out his arms.

Elain paused for a second, looking up at him before gently maneuvering Nyx into his uncle’s outstretched arms.

Azriel took him, those beautiful scarred hands cradling the still screaming babe and bringing him up to rest against his leather clad chest.

She had watched Nyx fill out over these past few months and had often felt that he was growing too quickly for her liking. But now, seeing Azriel with him… Elain couldn’t believe just how small Nyx looked in the arms of the Illyrian warrior. How tiny his body was in those large hands, how fragile he seemed against that broad chest.

Azriel’s hand rubbed smooth circles over Nyx’s back - in between the tiny wings that were beginning to strengthen.

Just five or ten minutes later, Nyx’s wails finally began to die down, his cries fading into small whimpers as he nuzzled further into Azriel’s chest - one tiny fist clutching at his leathers.

“Go to bed, Elain. I’ll stay with him until he sleeps.” Azriel glanced up from where he’d been walking back and forth in front of the window. Elain peered up at him from the rocking chair that she’d fallen into once Azriel had taken over - fighting the exhaustion that threatened to send her to sleep in favour of watching in quiet awe as Azriel managed to calm Nyx down.

“How did you…?” She started.

“I think it’s the wings.” He shrugged. “They can be quite uncomfortable when they’re growing. Mine were so itchy when they were healing after Hybern. I’d imagine it’s even worse for a babe.”

“I didn’t know.” Elain remarked. “I had no idea how to help him.”

“How could you know? It isn’t your fault.” Azriel said softly, fingers still gently rubbing over Nyx’s back. “The leathers probably help too, feels familiar to Rhys.”

“If I’d been here alone…” Tears were gathering in her eyes, the exhaustion of the past few hours hitting her.

“You’d have figured it out.” Azriel cut her off, crossing the room towards her. “Please sleep, Elain. You’ve been with him all evening. I’ve got this.”

He adjusted his grip on Nyx, holding him firm to his chest with one large hand so he could extend his other hand out towards her.

She sighed, her eyes focused on his outstretched hand before she gave in and took it - doing her best to ignore the spark that coursed through her at the feeling of his hand wrapping around hers and pulling her up until she was standing in front of him. He didn’t let go even as Elain went up on her toes to peer at Nyx. Her other hand pressed into Azriel’s chest for balance as she leaned in to place a kiss on her nephew’s cheek.

“Sleep well now, sweet boy.” She said softly before backing up and finally letting her hand drop from Azriel’s chest.

“Goodnight.” He gave her a small smile and let go of her hand, motioning towards the nursery door with his chin - beckoning her to rest.

…

Elain couldn’t sleep even though she was utterly exhausted. She’d been laying in bed, staring up at her ceiling for hours now, her mind racing with seemingly no end in sight. She couldn’t stop thinking.

The way Azriel had looked at her was burned into her memory - the scan of his eyes over her hair, her nightgown clad body, the way his gaze softened as his alert eyes met her exhausted ones.

She pictured him with Nyx, that icy exterior of his melting as the soft side he kept carefully hidden came to the surface once his nephew was safe in his arms.

She thought of the feeling of his hand around hers - his scars grazing against her skin as his fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist. She remembered the feeling of his leather clad chest under her fingers, how the heat from him melted into her even through the thick material… how that heat made her want more - made her want to press her fingers to his bare skin, to feel the muscled chest beneath those leathers.

She pictured his full lips, how’d they once been barely an inch from hers - one hand on her throat with his fingers grazing her jaw to tilt her face up towards his, his other hand buried in her hair. She pictured what it would be like to have those hands of his on her neck again, on other parts of her too.

That all-too-familiar ache swept over her, settling deep in her bones just as it had for months now - night after sleepless night. The anger that coursed through her body during the day always seemed to shift into an unquenchable longing once the sun gave way to the moon and she was alone in her bed.

She knew it was wrong. Knew she had no right to think of him like this, to want him, need him like this. Not when he’d told her it’d been a mistake - even if the way he’d looked at her tonight had said otherwise.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to will away the ache in her chest, the ache between her thighs. She tried her best to try to find sleep until her keen hearing picked up on the sound of a door opening and closing.

Elain barely even realised what she was doing but suddenly she was out of bed and rushing to open the door to her room. She scanned the dark hallways until she found him standing at the top of the stairs. Azriel paused at the sound of her door opening but his shadows continued down the stairs without him.

“He’s asleep.” He turned to face her, those eyes once again quickly scanning her up, down, then back up again. “Why aren’t you?”

She took a second to look at him. Studied the way those leathers clung to him, perfectly contoured to every lean line of his toned body. He was so tall, so statuesque as if one of the gods had carved him out of stone with their very hands. His shoulders were so broad that they blocked out what little fae light carried up the stairs from the lower level of the house.

Elain ignored his question, months of that ache and anger suddenly coming together faster than she could even comprehend, combining into an emotion she couldn’t label. The words spilled out of her before she could even think it through.

“You haven’t spoken to me in months.” She seethed. “You told me I was a mistake and then you left me standing at the bottom of those stairs.” Elain gestured behind him. “You all but disappeared until Nyx was born. Even then, you stopped coming to family dinners, you only ever show up at the house for meetings with Rhys and Cassian and then leave the second they’re done. You go out of your way to avoid me, you refuse to even look in my direction. What did I do wrong?”

Azriel still hadn’t moved from where he had paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes fixed on hers in shock as he took in what she was saying.

“You…” He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong, Elain.”

“Then why?” Her voice broke as she took one small step down the hallway. “Why have you avoided me like this? You almost kissed me, and then you said I was a mistake…”

“I never said you were a mistake.” He took a step towards her. “You were not the mistake, Elain. I was the one who made a mistake by thinking I had any right to touch you.”

“Because you were with her? With Gwyn?” Elain’s hated how timid she sounded voicing the fear that she’d kept to herself all these months.

Azriel’s face fell.

“She was wearing my… I saw her wearing the necklace.” She corrected herself, leaving the rest unspoken. The crippling fear that Azriel had feelings for Nesta’s beautiful friend.

Elain had seen the necklace around Gwyn’s neck a few months ago when Nesta had invited her to the House of Wind to have lunch with some of the priestesses that she was training. She had done everything in her power to smile at the kind priestess, to try to make polite conversation and not break down in tears when she’d caught a glimpse of the stained glass rose sitting just under Gwyn’s collarbones.

She had willed herself not to think of how that necklace had ended up in Gwyn’s possession but had utterly failed. Had sat in silence, her mind racing as Nesta laughed with Gwyn. The priestesses' musical laughter like a soundtrack to the thoughts infiltrating her mind in that moment - had he looked at Gwyn like he’d looked at Elain that night? Had he put the necklace on her? Had his hands lingered on her throat? Had he kissed her like he’d almost kissed Elain? Did he visit her in the darkest hours of the night? Did she share his bed?

Jealousy swelled within her, the roaring in her ears so loud that she could barely even hear him when he spoke.

“Gwyn is a friend, Elain.” Azriel took another step forward, one hand coming up to land over his heart in earnest. “I help train her and we’re friends. There’s nothing more, I swear.”

“Then why?” She still didn’t understand, couldn’t work out how things had changed in a single second that night.

“I don’t know - I wasn’t thinking clearly after Solstice and I ran into her that same night and we spoke. Then I found the necklace with my gifts…I didn’t know what to do but I couldn’t keep it. So I went to the library and asked Clotho to give it to her, to any of the priestesses. I shouldn’t have done it, I know that now.” This was the fastest she’d ever heard him speak, his hands balling into fists at his sides as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “I don’t even think she knows it was from me.”

“No. I meant…” Elain shook her head. “If you weren’t seeing Gwyn then why was it a mistake? Why was it a mistake to almost kiss me?”

“You have a mate, Elain.” Azriel’s expression faltered. Even in this dark hallway, she could see the pain in his eyes.

Elain laughed. Just one single exhale of air at the reminder of her mate. Red hot rage once again seeped through her.

“That means nothing to me.” She shook her head. “I am so sick of everyone telling me that that means anything.”

“But it does.” Azriel replied. “The mating bond is… it’s rare and it’s a gift to be treasured. There’s nothing like it. To not acknowledge it, to not try at the very least, would be… it would be a mistake.”

“I don’t want to acknowledge it.” Elain’s throat felt like sandpaper, her frustration building with each second that passed.

“He’s a good male, Elain.” Azriel’s shoulders dropped in defeat as he broke eye contact with her, gazing at the floor before dragging his eyes up to meet her searing gaze once again. He looked defeated. “He’ll be good to you if you give him a chance.”

Elain took three steps forward, the distance between them becoming smaller although the was still so painfully far away.

“He may be a good male.” She paused, a shaky breath escaping her. She was unable to stop the tears that were falling from her eyes, didn’t have the strength to hold them back anymore. “He may be good, but he is not you.”

‘Elain…” Azriel tried to speak but she held up a hand, silencing him.

“He is not you, Azriel.” She sobbed.

…

Azriel’s knees threatened to buckle under the weight of her words. His ears buzzing as he desperately tried to focus on Elain, beautiful as ever in the moonlight despite the tears cascading down her cheeks. The tears that were there because of him.

Azriel.

She’d never said his name before. Not that he’d ever heard, anyway. Maybe she’d used it in conversations with the others but she had never once, in the last few years, ever used his name when speaking to him.

He is not you. He is not you, Azriel.

Those words, the way she said his name, ricocheted in his mind.

He took two long strides towards her, the distance between them minimal now - if he simply reached forwards, he’d be able to touch her.

“Azriel.” She repeated his name, her eyes searching his own. He still hadn’t said anything. “Did you hear me?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to say something but there were no words. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Could only stare into the depths of those brown doe eyes, glazed with tears, and listened as she continued to speak.

“Lucien… he tries with me because he feels like he has to. He tries because of the bond. He’d have no interest in me if there wasn’t this thing between us.” She was fighting to speak, her words interrupted by deep, heaving sobs.

Azriel fought every instinct that was roaring through him to reach out to her, to hold her against his chest and wipe away her tears.

“No one has stopped to think about what I want. They think that just because there is this bond, I must give myself over to him. That he is who I must be with. It’s not right. It doesn’t feel right. The bond is there. I can feel it and it is like a knife in my side. There is a pull to him, yes… but I’ve always felt a pull towards you, too.”

Azriel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, could barely keep up with everything she was saying as she bared her soul to him. Not even his shadows were there to guard him, to allow him to shroud himself in the safety of darkness. He was left to face her all on his own as she confirmed what he’d long suspected. That she felt that same pull, felt that energy that seemed to radiate between them since they’d first met.

“I felt drawn to you long before I was forced into that cauldron. You were there for me from the very beginning. You were the only one - the only one - to listen to me, to sit with me, to see me. They all thought I was losing my mind. I thought I was losing my mind. You were the only one to know. The only one to understand me.”

Azriel could tell she had thought this through - over and over again. Every word, though pained, was spoken with clear intent. He could tell that this wasn’t just hysterics in the heat of the moment. Elain meant every word she said and it rendered him absolutely speechless.

“My life was taken from me.” She went on, her voice quieter now as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I lost my fiancé, I lost my humanity, I lost my father. So many choices were stolen from me the second I was changed. Do I not deserve to have a say in what I do now? Do I not deserve to have a say in who I love? Do I not deserve to have a say in my own happiness?”

“It’s complicated, Elain.” Azriel finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “You deserve a choice but that choice comes with endless costs…there is already so much tension between the courts.”

“I don’t care!” She took another step closer until there was no space between them at all. Her hands reached for his and though he should’ve taken a step back, should’ve pulled away, he let her take them, let her intertwine her perfect fingers in his.

“You came for me once.” Elain’s voice was soft as she looked up at him, her eyebrows knitting together as she stared into the depth of this soul - forced him to recall when he’d risked his life to rescue her. “You fought for me then, will you not fight for me again?”

Tears were still streaming down her face but her sobs had subsided, her voice stronger as she challenged him.

“You know I would, but it’s just… it’s complicated.” He reiterated.

“Do you not want this?” Her face fell, her hands dropping from his as she went to take a step back. The confidence that she had exhibited just a second ago, faltering.

Azriel moved without thinking, one hand landing on her hip to keep her with him.

She gasped as his fingers pressed against her, calluses snagging on the smooth silk of her white gown, the feel of his skin through the thin material warmed her from the inside out.

His other hand landed on her neck, just as it had months ago - his thumb tracing a gentle path along the soft line of her jaw.

“Of course, of course, I want this.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe she’d even had to ask. His voice was so low he wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear him despite her face being mere inches from his. “I will always want this.”

Her eyes searched his, her shoulders dropping as all the tension she’d been holding in her body flooded out of her, causing her to slump against him. Azriel fingers flexed, his grip on her hip tightening, keeping her steady.

“I want you.” Elain whispered, tilting her face to look at him properly. “It will always be you.”

She was on her tiptoes then, her hands sliding up his torso until they were on his chest for the second time that night - her nails pressed into his leathers until her lips were just barely against his.

“Please, Azriel.” She all but whimpered.

Her plea cracked something in his chest and he could no longer hold back. All the work he’d done to stay away all these months, all these years, all of it was undone in a single second at the sound of his name on her lips. At the feel of her body against his.

Every wall he’d worked so diligently to build, came crumbling down faster than he could even comprehend.

Azriel closed the distance between them, his hand still on her throat as his lips brushed hers for the first time.

…

There was no going back from this.

The second his lips pressed against hers, tentative and sweet, Elain knew in her heart, in her very soul that nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. To him.

Every thought, every worry, every doubt she’d ever had slipped from her mind as Azriel finally kissed her. His lips were soft as they moved against hers, gentle and careful. He was committing this moment to memory just as she was - both of them desperate to remember every second of this, every possible detail. His tongue slid against her lips and she opened for him without a second thought, allowing him to deepen the kiss as she met him stroke for stroke.

Elain couldn’t get close enough to him, her hands frantically coming up from his chest to tangle in his hair, fingers tugging him down in a silent request for more, more, more.

His groan as she pressed her body tight against his reverberated through her and she couldn’t help the desperate moan that escaped her in response. Every ounce of blood, every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming for him - for his attention.

“Touch me.” Elain begged. His face was buried against her neck now, his lips and teeth and tongue grazing the sensitive skin causing her to arch further into him even though there was barely any space between them to begin with. “Please, Azriel.”

He relented, his hand slipped from her throat, one finger slowly skimmed along the delicate neckline of her nightgown before traveling lower. After what felt like a million years, his fingers grazed her peaked nipple, circling once, twice, before his large palm covered her breast and squeezed gently. His other hand released her hip to slip behind her, gripping the generous curve of her ass and pressing her firmly against him - allowing her to feel exactly how hard he was for her.

Her head tipped back, exposing more of her neck to him as her mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of him in between her thighs. Elain rolled her hips against his as if it was second nature, seeking out that delicious pressure against her core again and again all while cursing the few despicable layers of fabric that separated her from truly feeling every inch of him.

His lips were on hers once more, all his previous gentleness nowhere to be found, replaced instead with pure heated passion as he claimed her with bruising kisses. She was dizzy - all she could feel was him, all she could taste was him, all she could smell was him - the combined scent of both of their arousal was heavy in the air, permeating every square inch of the hallway.

Azriel’s hands slipped under her ass as he continued to kiss her, bunching up the silk of her gown until he could get his hands on the back of her bare thighs. He let his thumbs drift over her soft skin once before lifting her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms draped around his broad shoulders. He carried her with him, walking backwards until he could set her on a small console table in the middle of the hallway.

That familiar energy between them sizzled, only amplifying with each pass of his lips over her lips, her neck, her collarbones. She could’ve sworn there was a glowing aura around them as he lowered his face to her breasts, tongue laving at her nipples over her slip. The sensation of the damp fabric sliding against her skin was enough to have her seeing stars.

“Azriel.” She pleaded again, unsure what she was even asking for.

“Tell me what you want, Elain.” His mouth was still on her chest, hands raking her nightgown even further up her thighs as he raised his eyes to watch her. “Look at me and tell me what you want.”

Cool air hit the heat of her core at the exact same time she met his eyes.

The sound that she let out at that moment was almost embarrassing, her face and chest flushing. She felt him smile against the curve of her breast as he watched her. His eyes were darker than night, darker than she’d ever seen them. His tousled hair fell over his brows, casting shadows that only added to the darkness. Despite their darkness, there was a certain softness, a reverence in his gaze that she knew was reserved just for her.

She still hadn’t answered him. How could she possibly form words when his lips were on her breast? When his fingers were pressing into the flesh of her thighs? She couldn’t think straight, not when the soft ridges of his scars were sliding over her sensitive skin, going higher and higher with each pass as her legs widened for him on their own accord.

His eyes bore into hers as he straightened, raising up until his face was inches from her face. Azriel watched her carefully as he dragged a knuckle up her bare center - an absolute tease of a touch, so light that she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Is this what you want, Elain?” His breath fanned over her as he spoke, their lips almost touching.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Tell me.”

“Yes.” The word left her mouth in a gasp at the sheer command in his voice, at the brush of that same knuckle over the nerves at the apex of her thighs. She clutched at his neck, nails surely marking his skin as she kissed him.

Azriel kissed her as if he’d never get the chance to kiss her again, a searing kiss that caused a whole new wave of arousal to crest through her. But even his hot mouth pressing over hers couldn’t distract her from the feeling of two of his fingers slowly sliding through her, parting her, before his middle finger dipped into her just once.

“Look how wet you are for me.” He murmured in awe, pulling away just enough so he could bring his hand up between them. Azriel studied his fingers, the way the moonlight caught the wetness gathered there and made it glisten.

Her eyes went wide as she watched him take that finger into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it. She blushed when his eyes fluttered, savouring the taste of her.

“Do you have any idea how good you taste, Elain?” He returned his finger to her core, adding another, and then sank them into her once more in one slow thrust.

She couldn’t say anything, didn’t have the opportunity to when his fingers curled inside her, searching her upper walls until he found what he was seeking.

Those nimble fingers stroked a place that she hadn’t even known existed within her and Elain’s moan echoed in the hallway, her chest arching up into him - the friction of his leathers against her nipples only adding to the feeling of ecstasy that coursed through her.

Her hands roamed, grasping frantically at his chest, at his back. Azriel continued to steadily move his fingers within her. She needed to feel more of him. Needed the warmth of his skin.

“How do I…?” She whined, frustrated that she couldn’t find a single button or zip on his leathers. He’d have to do it. “Take this off.”

“No time. They’ll be back soon.” Azriel took her lower lip in between his teeth, tugging once before letting it go. “Just let me do this for you.”

She started to argue but Azriel kissed her again, increasing the pressure of his fingers as he stroked her over and over again.

“Another time.” He whispered, moving his lips to her neck and biting down lightly at the same time his thumb circled her clit.

“Fuck.” Elain cursed, immediately blushing as Azriel laughed against her throat - both of them surprised by her choice of words. She swallowed her embarrassment, choosing to focus on the desire burning low in her stomach instead. “Do that again.”

Azriel obeyed her order, running his thumb in smooth circles over her as he pumped his fingers into her, maintaining that same rhythm and ensuring that the tips of his fingers bumped against that spot inside of her with each pass.

Just a minute later, before she even knew what was happening, Elain’s vision blurred, her eyes squeezing shut as every nerve in her body came alive. She clutched at his hair, grabbing fistfuls of the silky strands as she clenched hard around his fingers. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as she came for him.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed before she regained her sense of self. Azriel’s fingers had slipped out of her but he’d pressed himself against her instead, alleviating the emptiness that she felt without his fingers filling her. Azriel’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight to his chest, one hand in her hair as she attempted to catch her breath.

“That’s it, Elain.” He whispered into her hair, hands drawing soothing circles low on her back. “You did so good for me.”

“That was… I’ve never…” Elain breathed against his neck.

“You’ve… never?” Azriel stilled, his hand paused its circles but he continued to hold her against him.

“I mean, I’ve had…” Elain said quickly, trailing off. Her words were muffled as she spoke into his skin, “But no one’s ever done that for me. I’ve never…”

“Finished?” Azriel completed her sentence.

She nodded, face still tucked in the space between his neck and shoulder. Despite what they’d just done, she felt shy admitting this to him.

She pulled back slowly when he didn’t say anything further. The sweat from her body caused her slip to stick to her.

Elain swallowed her nerves, looking into his eyes - searching them for any sign of regret.

She found none. Only saw simmering lust and adoration.

“You deserve to feel like that every time, Elain.” A small satisfied smile tugged at his lips. Some primal part of him secretly fulfilled at the knowledge that he was the first person to make her come. He tucked a strand behind her pointed ear. “You should really go back to bed now.”

Elain’s eyebrows furrowed together. She wasn’t ready for this to end, wanted to stay here, safe in his arms, in this blissful bubble, forever. But besides that, she could still feel him - impossibly hard - where he was pressed firmly against her.

She kept her eyes on his as she reached down in between them, fingers itching to feel him but Azriel’s hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her before she had the chance to touch him.

“They’ll be home soon.” He shook his head, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to each of her finger tips. “We have to save something for later.”

His words warmed something deep within her.

Later.

The promise of more.

“You won’t disappear again?” She allowed herself to voice her insecurity. The worry that things would go back to how they were before.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll seek you out. We’ll find a way. There’s more I want to do for you. With you.”

“Okay.” She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“This has to be just between us for now.” Azriel’s face was as serious as his voice. His large hands moved to cradle her face, fingers tracing softly along her cheekbones. “I’ll figure out how to make this work but for now… just between us.”

“Just between us.” She promised, repeating his words back to him.

She’d take whatever she could get. For now, this would have to be enough.

To have him in secret was better than not having him at all.

Azriel kissed her one last time before he backed out from between her legs, fixing her night gown to cover her before helping her down from where he’d perched her on the narrow table. His hands stayed on her waist, brushing over her curves until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Goodnight, Elain.”

“Goodnight, Azriel.” She gave him a soft smile before walking away from him and back to her room.

The Shadowsinger watched until Elain’s door shut behind her and then he sighed, smoothing a hand over his unruly hair as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get the scent of them out of this hallway within the next hour.

[nalyra-dreaming]

I'm sorry but I can't believe sex in ep6 even topic of discussion.

1)Why would they go to such lengths and spend their time and resources on making floaty sex, if it didn't mean anything and didn't serve any purpose? What purpose did it serve? Well, the first and last time we also saw floaty sex in ep1 and it was clear representation of connection and pleasure that sends you flying to Saturn and back. So, logically, ep6 sex too supposed to show connection and pleasure.

2) Next point (i'm not sure about this one tbh): perhaps there's one more parallel to ep1 scene - Louis "didn't consider himself a homosexual at that time" and we see cut to him having enthusiastic sex. In ep6 he was telling Daniel about being numb and we have cut to him PARTICIPATING in sex and not just lying there like a corpse.

3) They literally included Lestat stopping and checking on Louis and not doing anything before Louis kissed him. He noticed that Louis wasn't mentally there and stopped. Clear indication that Lestat wanted CONSENSUAL sex, if he truly didn't care he would just proceed to fuck Louis because Louis wasn't stopping him.

4) Give Louis a little agency, would you?(general you, not you, Nalyra) As I said, we didn't have any indication that Louis wad pressured into it, that lestat didn't care about Louis' consent and pleasure. Just because you're depressed doesn't mean you're incapable of making decisions. Louis' kiss was him reassuring lestat that he's here with him. He KNEW that lestat needed reassurance to proceed. Lestat can't read Louis' mind, he can't be 100% if Louis wants it or not, so he has to rely on what Louis TELLS him with words and body language. Louis told lestat with his actions that he wants him to proceed. That's Louis' decision, like it or not

5) I know fandom likes to act like Claudia is mentally 14 forever, but for majority of story she's grown woman. I'm actually not sure if she truly thinks Louis wouldn't mind her being in his head while they're having sex or she's actively disregarding his boundaries (that he didn't establish) but there's fact: it's weird. Maybe she thinks she's helping Louis to "cope" with sex because she's projecting her trauma with Bruce on Loustat (which is understandable!) but for me Louis' sounds uncomfortable, and resigned, half-heartedly trying to deflect Claudia. "Anywhere sounds like nowhere" - for me it was clear that he doesn't really want to leave and doesn't want to have this conversation but he fails to say it outright and shut down Claudia. So he just makes up excuses not to leave, avoids telling NO, and blocks his mind when Lestat notices that something is wrong.

So, my point, that cut from Bruce to Lestat was Claudia's mind coming to comparison. She thinks Louis does it to appease lestat, she's probably tries to help telling Louis about her escape plan, she views Louis' reluctants as fear of Lestat and that's it, when probably main reason is Louis simply not wanting to leave.

I'm so sorry for long essay, hope you don't mind! Love your work and blog:)

:) Glad you like.

And yeah... I cannot believe we're at this point again/still either.

Exactly. This is a deliberate thing, a deliberate connection to the best sex Louis had. As said before, it carries meaning.

Well, I mean, there are a lot more instances of Louis saying something and the show showing us something else. Or vice versa. That is... exactly the point. Louis is telling the tale for an effect. And that effect was to lead to the justified "murder night". But the why will be part of season 2.

I know

Louis is (not just) depressed because of Lestat. He is deep in the rite of passage. He addresses that on the bench. And yeah.. for some reason Louis' never gets his agency in these discussions. Because he could have moved away. He could have left. But he did not want to. He stayed right there, in Rue Royale during those 6 years (for example). Where Lestat could find him. But I digress. Louis does have agency, indeed. And it is often dismissed for some reason -.-

Claudia's thinking is very black and white, pun not intended. It's stark contrast. She hates and loves with the full power of puberty, at all times, no matter her mental age. Her hatred for Lestat colors her perception of Louis' love for him - she just cannot imagine Louis loving him. Oh she understands it. But to her Lestat is like Bruce, the worst of the worst, and she cannot fathom that there are actually vampires out there... who are much, much worse. That is part of the horror, that she just cannot... imagine, because ultimately Lestat and Louis raised her as a child and then a loved family member - not as a coven member. She has no point of reference, unfortunately. And no, Louis neither wants to have that conversation (but he is too nice to shut it down), nor does he want to leave. And that just... flies right over her head.

Neither Claudia nor Louis actually fear Lestat, and definitely not even after the fight. The car scene made that quite clear, imho.

Oh, they are angry at him, and justified in that anger. But fear? Nope.

[brabblesblog]

Ch 20: Aeterna amantes

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

The Ascendant and his consort celebrate their first year in style.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Ban bid the last of the guests farewell, sighing in relief.

Finally. That had been the most fun she’d had at one of their parties - not that a lot of them had actually been fun, but still. She’d had fun, and that was wonderful, but she was glad it was over. She headed into the heart of the Palace, towards their bedroom.

Astarion had disappeared sometime near the end of the party, bidding the guests a rather loud and uncharacteristically boisterous farewell; saying he needed to prepare for something important.

She had watched from across the ballroom, rolling her eyes at his antics. He’d been obviously buzzed, which wasn’t uncommon during these events, but that boyish excitement was new and charming. There had been little doubt of what exactly was on his mind, seeing as his eyes had followed her the whole evening.

Ban opened the bedroom door to the sight of Astarion sprawled on their bed; one hand was under his head, pillowing it. The other hand seemed to have just finished unbuttoning his embroidered jacket and shirt - he grasped one side of the garment, as if in the act of peeling it off himself.

That gaze, however, told Ban this was all staged. He’d probably been waiting here since he left the party, anticipating the sound of her footsteps approaching the door.

Actual fucking idiot, Ban thought with fondness and no small amount of exasperation. She’d probably have to have the sheets changed, considering he was on them with clothes that weren’t the cleanest. All the same, she let herself admire the rather fetching view.

“Hello, darling,” Astarion purred, voice thick with arousal. He didn’t have to pretend, having spent the last twenty minutes absently touching himself through his clothes whilst waiting for her.

She couldn’t help it, she laughed as she made her way over to the bed. She sat beside him, patting his clothed thigh patronizingly; pointedly avoiding the bulge right beside it.

“Like what you see?” Astarion drawled. He traced a hand over his exposed torso, running across the peaks and valleys of muscle.

Ban’s eyes followed his hand’s path, unable to resist. The laugh died in her throat.

“I- well, yes, actually,” she managed to say, whatever quip she’d had in mind dissolving at the sight before her.

The smirk on his face widened. I’ve got her, he thought gleefully. His hand continued its path downward, stilling by his waistband.

“You can touch,” he offered, “if you’re a good girl.”

His hand hooked in the top edge, tugging one side down to reveal his hip bone. He looked up just in time to see her lick her lips; it only fueled the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Astarion’s other hand moved from behind his head to palm himself.

“Fuck,” Ban hissed, eyes glued to his hand. He bucked his hips up to press himself against his palm and she nearly moaned. “Fine.”

Satisfied, Astarion abandoned his cock to tug down the other side of his waistband. Slowly, with his eyes fixed on her, he worked at his trousers, shimmying them down together with his underwear.

“More?” he asked, and at her all-too-eager nod, continued.

Ban swallowed as inch by inch of ivory skin was revealed, pearlescent in the light, and couldn’t help the slight watering of her mouth when he finally uncovered his cock. Pale as the rest of him, beautifully veined, delectably pink at the head - he was perfect. He reached in to gently free himself before tugging his trousers the rest of the way down, kicking them off.

She wanted to ask to suck, to feel him fuck her mouth, to swirl her tongue around that pink tip and taste that salty musk that was just him-

The thought derailed as she saw him curl long, delicate fingers around his hard length, gently stroking.

Astarion moaned, a loud, unrestrained sound that was a little too perfect to not be fictitious.

Ban immediately found herself remembering the similar sounds he had made in the earliest days of their relationship; worry flooded her, and the entire scene became significantly less appealing.

“You do know you don’t have to perform, right? You never do. Not with me.”

“I am completely aware,” Astarion replied, his eyes heavy-lidded and sensual. His hand continued to stroke his cock; it grew harder under his touch as his hips began to slowly roll in rhythm with each pass.

“I would like to, though. To… retake it for myself. To write over old memories with better ones. Performing with love, to heighten our mutual pleasure… it doesn’t feel the same. It feels… good.”

Just as he’d wished for tonight to help counterbalance Ban’s bad experiences with him, he wanted the same for himself, with his own unpleasant memories.

His gaze softened. “Come here,” he gestured, releasing his cock and reaching for her.

She acquiesced, shifting closer. Both of his hands slipped under her skirt, his touch warm against her undead skin. She shivered as he caressed her thighs and began slowly inching his way upward, finding the hem of her underwear.

“May I?” Astarion asked, smiling at her nod. He hooked his fingers into the top and gently tugged them down, slipping her underwear off with a practiced grace. He could smell her arousal on them, could feel just how soaked the dainty piece of fabric was.

Ban was a little disappointed that was the only thing he did while there, a small pout forming on her lips.

He laughed when he noticed. “A little more patience, love.” He tossed the strip of fabric aside.

“My, Ban. This wet for little old me?” Gods. He imagined her at the ball just walking around, soaked, thinking of him - wanting him. The thought stroked his ego a lot more than he would have expected it to. He took a deep breath.

“I suppose your whole seduction routine, as silly as it was, sort of worked,” she allowed sheepishly. Godsdamned Astarion, really. She’d never been able to resist his charms.

Astarion laughed. One hand wrapped around her wrist, tugging her closer. The other settled on her waist, guiding her to straddle him.

Ban lifted her skirt up and out of their way, settling directly over him, but stayed kneeling, keeping a small distance between them.

The proximity of her warm mound so close to his cock nearly drove all other thoughts from his mind.

“I thought you wanted to lead tonight?” Ban was confused, a byproduct of her relative naiveté when it came to sex. All the previous times Astarion had led, it had been similar things - him on top of her, behind her, or standing above her.

He found her inexperience endearing, but also vexing, considering that she didn’t even need experience to make him this weak for her.

“I am leading.” A soft, reassuring smile crossed his features. “Just not in the way I used to.”

In time, maybe they would try again, going rougher, with more aggression. For now, his goal was simply to prove her trust in him wasn’t misplaced.

Astarion knew this next part would be the hardest for her, but he hoped to make it enjoyable for her as well as himself. He slipped a hand under the pillows above his head, retrieving the dagger. He knew he looked a tad anxious, but powered through the potential awkwardness.

Ban went pale at the sight of twisting silver edges wrapped around a central wooden stake. Rhapsody.

Astarion saw her expression change, and quickly tried to soothe her.

“Ban,” he began, his jaw working as he tried to find the words to express his wishes. His hands gently placed Rhapsody’s hilt in her open palm, wrapping her fingers around the grip.

“I know we spoke of this before, and that you agreed, but… I want to reiterate. I want to retake this, too. It carved my back, all those years ago. It carved… Cazador’s back,” He forced the name out; he refused to let it have any more power over him. “It almost killed me. So please. I merely want to make a memory of this blade that doesn’t hurt to recall. If you don’t…”

The words died in his throat, but she understood. Her fingers tightened on the hilt. She looked down at him. He was so beautiful, positively breathtaking, but now she also saw the vulnerability behind the seduction. He was performing for himself, for both of them - trying to reclaim the pieces of themselves that they’d lost.

She nodded hesitantly. “I’m not going to break skin, though,” Ban murmured, easing somewhat. The dagger felt heavy in her grasp.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did, but we can save that for another day - or never.” He watched the blade glint in the light, swallowing. “Whichever you wish to do.”

Ban lowered herself, her folds finally settling atop his length; a shiver ran down his spine at the feel of her - so wet and warm - pressed against him.

“Now,” Astarion commanded, his tone shifting lower and harsher. “Grind on me.”

Ban registered the change. She obeyed, her hips rolling slowly over his cock. She was rewarded with a hiss; she could feel him begin to thrust as well, seeking more friction.

Astarion’s length felt velvety, hard against her clit, the perfect shape and girth to rub herself against. She slid over him as she sought her own pleasure, her slick spreading all along his cock. It felt good - almost too good, Ban thought, averting her eyes from his face to focus on his chest instead.

Nope. That didn’t help either.

Fucking Astarion, really. Too damned perfect for his own good. Or hers.

With every roll of her hips his cock dragged against her clit, eliciting a shaky moan from her. Astarion could hear for himself how wet she was, the sounds of her sliding against him were deliciously obscene when she ground down harder. The warmth of her made his hips snap up.

He stared greedily up at her, eyes taking in every inch. She was still dressed, but he found he didn’t quite care just yet. He noted the sheer want in her expression and smiled widely, his fangs peeking out.

Ban’s patience failed her, slipping the hand not holding Rhapsody down between them, trying to slip his cock inside her. His hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her before she could succeed.

A small whine of protest escaped Ban’s lips.

“Relax, darling. You’ll have what you want if you behave.” He used her words against her, smirking when she glared.

A little taste of her own medicine. He savored that small glint of anger; it only served to heighten his arousal. She rubbed herself faster on his cock in revenge, and the thought sputtered out of existence. He nearly took back what he’d just said. There was one more thing he wanted before he finally fucked her, however.

Astarion’s hand went back to his embroidered jacket and shirt, opening them further, leaving his chest fully bared.

“Right here,” he whispered, ghosting his fingertips over the dip at the center of his chest, directly over his heart. “The tip, Ban. Right here.”

Ban did as he asked, lowering the dagger with no small amount of hesitation; Rhapsody’s point hovered a few inches above his now-heaving chest.

Astarion growled. “Closer.”

She lowered Rhapsody even more, until the point touched his chest. Astarion could feel his heart pounding against its tip, the sensation sending another thrill down to his cock. The slick down there, the heat of her, was almost overwhelming; Astarion didn’t know how much longer he could endure this without giving in and fucking her senseless.

“So wet for me, Ban,” he murmured, “Such a good girl. Now, press down a little.”

Fingers, trembling ever so slightly, covered Ban’s on the hilt, guiding it. The blade depressed the skin; not enough to break it, but enough that he could feel the slight sting over his racing heart.

His other hand snuck down past her skirt and between her legs to wrap around his cock, stroking it twice. He held it steady for her.

“Go ahead then, love. Take what you want.”

She didn’t hesitate; she’d only been waiting for his permission. Ban shot him a wry grin; gathering up her skirt, shoving it aside.

Astarion temporarily released his grasp on Rhapsody to flap a hand at her, as if to say hurry up, and she made it a point to do everything slower.

Carefully, painstakingly lifting her hips up, Ban looked down along her body to line herself up. She kept herself there, the head of his beautiful cock just brushing her entrance.

Astarion’s hand rejoined hers on the hilt of the dagger. He could feel her warmth radiating against the head of his cock, nearly stealing away any sense of control he had left.

“Ban,” Astarion hissed, “Sit on it or I swear-”

She finally sank down, down into that blessed, wonderful feeling in one rapid move.

There was little resistance; Astarion felt himself sink in to the hilt, fully buried inside her. The sudden warmth and tightness around his cock brought a wild surge of pleasure, unraveling Astarion’s brain; his hand on Rhapsody jerked, cutting into his own chest.

It was a shallow wound, but it bled all the same. Ban didn’t notice at first, lost in the sensation of being spread open and filled. Astarion, impaling her with that beautiful, perfect cock; laid out before her like an offering to be devoured. Gone was her previous bashfulness - all that was left was wanton desire.

Then the smell hit her nose, the sharp, all-too-familiar coppery scent of blood mixed with the sweet notes that told her it was his, and her eyes snapped to him, a mixture of hunger and concern in her gaze.

Astarion smiled. “It’s okay.”

He gently took the dagger from her grasp, knowing that had been too much - too close to what had happened when he’d been injured. He flicked his wrist, tossing the Rhapsody off the side of the bed. He didn’t care where it landed. His hands settled on Ban’s waist, squeezing gently.

“Would be a waste of blood if we don’t at least use it, don’t you think? Lick.” He watched her reaction even as the words left his mouth. Any sign of discomfort from her, any hint of her retreating into herself, and he knew to end this little game. His hips began to roll, fucking her gently, a pleasurable rocking motion that he hoped would help in easing her.

But there was no distress. Ban’s mind was filled with nothing but him - his length moving inside her, his hands holding her, his blood pooling on his chest. And most of all, his eyes, which told her everything she needed to know. They seemed to whisper I love you. You can trust me. You’re okay.

He smiled, enjoying that his beauty so easily distracted her. “Ban. Lick.”

She leaned forward in response to his command and began to lick the blood from his chest. The taste of it, of him, sent a shiver of pleasure through her, causing her to clench around him.

He groaned, relishing the sensation of her squeezing him. He increased the pace of his thrusts, ensuring each roll of his hips dragged against her walls and hit her spot.

“Gods, Ban. You’re perfect,” he whispered, voice soft, the act all but forgotten.

She hummed in delight at his praise, pausing mid-lick to look at him, tongue still pressed against his skin, fangs glinting in the light. She smiled, a gesture that told him she was fine, that she was genuinely enjoying this.

The happiness and trust in her eyes made Astarion’s heart swell. He lifted his head to see her better.

“Take your clothes off. I want to see everything.”

Ban licked off the last of his blood and sat up. She felt for the hem of her dress, tugging it up with both hands. As she pulled the dress over her head she rocked her hips gently, grinding to match his pace.

She revealed her skin inch by inch, pale from undeath, though not as much as his. Muscles rippled as she undressed herself. She lifted the dress off and let it fall onto the bed, riding him without any pause or change in her rhythm.

His eyes raked over the lines of muscle as they flexed with every move, over the scars and moles and every single imperfection on her skin. Over her breasts, which were small and tight and just her, and all the more beautiful because of it.

She was the most magnificent thing he’d ever behold, he mused.

Astarion reluctantly forced his hips to still. It took more effort than he’d like to admit, the urge to blindly rut into her was far stronger than anticipated. Still, he wanted to make her work for it a little, to keep his little game going.

“That’s it, pleasure yourself on my cock, darling,” he cooed, eyes greedily taking in every inch of her, as if she might disappear on the morrow and he wanted to commit her to memory. He slid a hand up to cup her breast. She whined at the sensation and he squeezed - not too hard, but enough to bring forth a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain.

Astarion’s other hand drifted lower, running down her belly and moving between her legs. He felt for her clit and began rubbing. Gently at first - a light flick - a move that was instantly rewarded when she tightened around him and rolled her hips particularly hard. Satisfied, he rubbed more insistently; the feedback to his touch was near instantaneous, her soft whimpers of pleasure urged him on.

That, and the wonderful way Ban clenched around his cock.

Slowly, inevitably, his desire to perform slipped away. What was the point? They were already in the thick of it; she was moaning out her need for him, her walls caressing him with every move, their desire mixing together in a way they had only ever done for each other. He was done playing.

“Love me?” Astarion murmured, a little unsure. He was glad that it no longer needed to be a command, no longer something he had to coerce from her. He merely had to ask, and it was his. Still, the slight uncertainty crept into his voice; he’d asked for this so many times and heard it back in just as many ways, but so many of those had been during moments of darkness - of anger, of desperation.

Then there had been Ban’s feelings - resignation, submission, apathy. It had torn at his heart, made him hate himself, stained everything like blood spreading through cloth. He longed, hoped, for tonight to be a step towards reclaiming this as well, towards cleaning the stains from the fabric of their relationship.

“Of course,” she said, panting a little. Ironic, Ban thought, that this was what he always asked for, because it was the one thing she always felt. Looking down at her husband, she watched his face - openmouthed and adoring - as she slowly rode the thoughts out of his mind. Seeing his hesitance as he asked for something so simple as her love had almost made her want to stop and just cuddle him.

Almost. His cock felt too good to stop.

“I love you. Always have. Forevermore will.” Words she had said in similar situations, but at times hadn’t wanted to utter, or hadn’t felt in those moments. As she said them now, she heard his breath catch; the hand lazily playing with her nipple went still. She could even feel his cock throb inside her at the same moment.

“Astarion?” She looked down at him with affection and slight amusement. It took a moment for him to lock eyes with her, his own gaze hazy with lust, his mind still basking in her words.

“I love you,” she repeated, smiling down at him.

Those words, repeated, were music to his ears; a low whimper left his lips. He was still fighting to keep his hips still, to let her keep riding him, but he was rapidly losing. His hips stuttered here and there, unable to deny the urge.

His thoughts were scattered between the feel of her enveloping him and the overwhelming devotion that was washing through him. Never again, he thought. I would rather die than lose this again.

Ban’s hips increased their pace. Seeing Astarion so obviously coming apart from just her words never ceased to excite her. It was always her he needed; even at their lowest, that had never changed. Being so wanted, so needed, brought a heady sort of satisfaction to her.

Astarion’s neck was beginning to hurt from the effort of holding his head up, but he didn't care. He needed to see her, needed to see the one person who had ever mattered to him, the only one he could ever enjoy this sort of touch from, her and only her alone-

The way she lifted and slid back down around him grew more intense; he could feel his own desire pressing against him more insistently, the beginning tendrils of that electric need to empty himself in her beginning to unspool from his cock out through the rest of his body. He fought himself for a few moments more, wanting to tease her for just a little bit longer, but the words slipped from his mouth unbidden.

“Do you want to come, love?” He wouldn’t ask her to beg; it was something he felt was too close to his old ways, and he refused to remind her of that right now.

“Yes, please,” Ban replied quickly, still frantically riding him. She wanted, needed more, more than his hand playing with a breast and fingers rubbing her clit. She wanted him to fuck her, but gods was he being obstinate.

He let go of her breast, slipping his hand to the small of her back while the other continued toying with her clit. He gently pushed her down, guiding her to lay on his chest.

“Let me do this for you,” Astarion whispered when her cheek made contact with his chest, kissing the top of her head. “Just listen to my heart and allow me to pleasure you.”

Let me do what I should have been doing long ago. Put her first - her needs, her wants. Give her the love she deserved. When he’d first ascended he had tried to fuck her broken pieces back together, throwing every single trick he knew at the problem, but he’d since realized that he’d been doing it the wrong way around.

He only ever really needed to be himself to make her happy; a truth he had once known and lost sight of. He offered it every day now, regularly bared his heart and soul to put her pieces back together. But even then it was no guarantee. It could still be too late.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

He held her tightly to him in a one-armed embrace. Placing his feet flat on the bed, Astarion began to snap his hips up into her, hard and fast. She moaned; he could feel his blood rush, his pulse racing from the effort.

“For you,” he murmured, hand and hips working diligently. “Only you.”

Astarion’s hips and fingers worked in concert, stroking her just the way she liked, hips angling so that every stroke caressed that secret spot inside her that only he knew. He closed his eyes, focusing on feeling her reactions, listening to her breaths, eager to bring her to paradise.

The blood-red sheets were silk satin, gorgeous but oh-so-slippery. He fought to keep his feet firmly planted where he placed them. The tension in his legs made him grunt and they slowly began to tire from the effort required to keep himself ideally positioned for her. A slight burn set in, but he didn't relent.

“Astarion-” she gasped. She was still trying to grind down onto him, but her movements were weak and irregular, her body completely taken over by his ministrations. She didn’t even know what she wanted to tell him - that she loved him? To go harder, slower - a different angle?

To tell him how good it felt, to have him inside her, filling her and stretching her with every stroke? How intimate it was to hear his heart roar for her, only her? How amazing it was, that he knew exactly how and where and when to touch her? All this, she thought, and more. So much more.

“I- I know. I love you,” he whispered to her, gliding his hand across her skin from her clit, over her hip, to her ass. He gripped tightly as he slammed her down onto his cock hard, in rhythm with his thrusts. He continued pistoning upward, his own desire threatening to overwhelm him. He held back, biting his lower lip. Not yet.

He stilled, hoping to regain some composure, to last longer. Ban whined, rolling her hips insistently. It almost shut his brain down and he growled, the hand on her ass squeezing hard in warning.

“Wait.” He took a breath, needed a moment to focus on something else - anything other than her and the overwhelming need to come. He could feel his cock twitching, begging for the friction to resume. Ban stopped moving, thankfully; he opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. He quickly stretched his legs before repositioning his feet. He began to thrust up again, hammering into her relentlessly.

The sensation of his cock stretching and fucking her mercilessly, the head dragging against her walls, slamming into her spot again and again, in combination with the sound of his heartbeat thundering in her ears, sent her over the edge.

Ban finally came with a loud cry, fisting her hands into the sheets. He felt her walls flutter around him, the familiar squeezing and clenching very nearly finishing him off as well.

He held her close as she rode out the waves of her ecstasy, peppering small kisses to the top of her head and rubbing her back with fingers that trembled.

When she finally quieted, she lifted her head from his chest. She was met by soft, affectionate eyes. “Did you…?”

Astarion shook his head. “Not yet.” He was still buried in her, cock twitching, legs tense.

Ban frowned, confused. “You seemed close. Why didn’t you come?”

He smiled softly. “I wanted you to finish first.” He brought a hand up to tilt her chin, pressing his lips against hers. The kiss wasn’t insistent, but it still intensified his need.

Astarion flipped them over mid-kiss, pinning her underneath him. He rested on his elbows, looking down at her. His curls were a mess, hanging over his eyes.

Should’ve started with this position, he thought.

She giggled a little, amused by the sudden change. He could feel her smile against his lips. Breaking the kiss, he shifted down to mouth at her neck. He pushed her leg up with his right knee, spreading her legs further apart, allowing himself to sink deeper into her.

Astarion parted his lips, pressing his fangs against her skin - a gentle touch, waiting. She didn’t protest.

“Ban,” he murmured, “May I?”

She laughed. “Thought you were leading?” She bucked her hips playfully and he was immediately on edge again. He growled against her neck.

“I was,” he replied, then sighed, the fight leaving him. “Obviously, I lost the thread a little.”

“No, not really. You’re just having too much fun, Astarion, that’s all.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Hard not to, with you.”

Repositioning his mouth against her pulse, he tried again. “So, Ban, again, since you were too distracted to give a proper response the first time I asked. May I?” That, he thought, should work better. A little more edge to it, although definitely nowhere close to what he’d envisioned for tonight.

Not that he minded.

“Yes, you fool.” She ruffled his hair, and he sighed in exasperation, finally sinking his fangs into her neck.

He moaned as her blood gushed into his mouth - the flavor he cherished above all others, and always would, regardless of anything else he would taste for the rest of his life. He gripped her thighs, holding them in place. His hips resumed their movement as he fed, driving himself into her hard and fast and deep, the taste of her blood fuelling his arousal. Her on his tongue, all around his cock, in his arms. Her love for him. Today and tomorrow and forevermore-

Astarion came with a low growl, eyes squeezing shut, hips losing their rhythm and stuttering as he finally spilled inside his wife. He rode out the waves of his orgasm, smearing a little of Ban’s blood by accident as his mind went blank and his fingers dug into her skin.

When he finally came back to himself, he realized Ban was whispering to him, her hands stroking his hair.

“I love you,” she repeated, her fingers trailing through his sweat-soaked curls.

He licked off the spilled blood, going boneless on top of her, exhausted. He smiled into the crook of her neck, happy. Hers.

“Did you enjoy that, love?” Astarion asked later as they sat together in the tub, bathing and basking in post-coital bliss. His back was facing her chest as she washed his hair.

He should be enjoying himself, but he couldn’t stop the wisps of doubt from wriggling into his mind.

What if I scared her? Didn’t do well? Reminded her of things she’d rather forget?

“I did,” Ban said, massaging the shampoo into his hair. “It’s been a while since we did it that way, and, well…”

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow. “Well what? Did it feel good? Was I… Did I…”

“Do well?” She leaned forward to hug him. “You did wonderfully.”

“Of course I did.” He puffed up his chest, outwardly smug, attempting to hide the nervousness behind the bluster. “I know your body even better than my own.”

True, of course. But that hadn’t always been enough. He hadn’t always used that knowledge solely for her pleasure.

“And you, Astarion? Was it good for you?” Ban asked, resuming caring for his hair.

“Better than good.” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “You gave me your trust again. That’s… that’s all I wanted, really.”

“But the sex was decent too, of course,” he added quickly, effortlessly dodging her hand as she playfully attempted to smack him.

“Ever think we’d end up this way?” Ban’s voice was quiet, looking at him as they rested together in the darkness.

Astarion considered the question.

“Had I not done what I did? Yes. But I did do it. Therefore… no.” He reached for her, and they turned onto their sides, curling up together with her back to his chest.

“We became bitter and twisted, and falling into that was terribly easy to do.”

She considered his words. “Fair. And getting here was-”

“Exceedingly difficult, yes,” Astarion finished for her. “There’s still more work to do, you know.”

Ban nodded. “I know.” She felt a small pang of guilt for not being quite there yet.

“Don’t,” he said sharply, “I know what you’re thinking - so don’t.”

She didn’t answer, and that familiar dull ache began in his chest. He sighed.

“For what it’s worth, Ban, you’re worth the work too,” Astarion offered, “And no matter what happens now, I’m just glad it’s with you.”

She twisted in his arms to face him, pressing their lips together in a gentle, affectionate kiss.

They fell asleep tangled in one another’s arms.

There was still a long way to go - relearning each other, rebuilding what they’d once had, forging a new path forward. There were old wounds that still needed healing, wounds that needed a careful hand to avoid reopening. And there would always be fresh trials and new challenges to overcome.

But if they stumbled, if they fell, they would always have one another to hold onto.

Finally, the future felt bright.

Astarion rested peacefully throughout the night. Here in the heart of his palace, in the center of his power and earthly possessions, he held the only thing that truly mattered. Her.

When dawn arrived, Ban opened her eyes. A shaft of sunlight peeked through the gap between vermillion curtains, shining on her face. Her hand moved, reaching for the space beside her before she stopped herself. There was no need to check. There never would be.

An arm reached back, wrapping around her waist.

He was here. And he always would be. Eternally.

As would she.

[aurora-starwars]

Dating Members of the Sully Family Hcs

Pairings: Lo’ak, Neteyam, Kiri, Neytiri, and Jake, x reader (individual)

Warnings: none :) fluff and not proof read

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: Just felt like getting something cute out about avatar <33 Please enjoy! <3

Masterlist

Lo’ak

you would have met Lo’ak when he and his family first arrived in the Metkayina clan

you two would have made eye contact and immediate attraction grew between the two of you

it wasn’t til you were told to teach the new kids with your best friend, though, that you actually got the chance to get close with Lo’ak

he was a surprisingly kind guy under his surface level teasing. it surprised you to him tease Tuk about not being able to swim then immediately begin to help her understand how to kick her legs right

after a few months of messing around with the sully family and teaching Lo’ak, he finally got the nerve to ask you out and was more than happy when you agreed

let’s just stay he was a great boyfriend, always near if you needed help

you two often would spend your free time in the water splashing around, and Lo’ak found those were some of his favourite moments

when you had to babysit Tuk, Lo’ak really did put care into make sure Tuk got to bed in time and that she was happy. Lo’ak was practically beaming when you interacted with his sister. Although sometimes it doesn’t seem it, Lo’ak really loves his family, and would do anything for them. That fact always made you smile

if you were feeling sick, he would act causal about it, but inside would be freaking out, asking his mother for help in healing you. This boy would do anything for you

when you two have a moment to cuddle, he has his arms around you instantly. He usually won’t let go if he can avoid it.

If his brother catches you cuddling, he will definitely pout but he will still have a firm grasp on you.

Swimming with you is one of his favourite things. Experiencing the beauty of the ocean only make sense to him if you are in the water. He tells you that you are the only reason the ocean is so beautiful and that the plants only glow for you. That makes you blush

when you get him blushing though, he is a mess. You could give him one complement, even as a joke and this boy will fall apart at the seams. Face red, tail flicking, ears pinned back, flushed by your statement. Some times out of pure instinct, he will give you a quick kiss, only making him more red

it’s safe to say he is enamoured with you

Neteyam

this boy you have known since you were young, you were practically raised together

your parents were good friends of the Sully family, and thus you were close to the Sully kids

In particular, Neteyam, the boy you have liked since you were young

the two of you had a strange bond, ever since you met you were practically inseparable

hand holding, playing games, hanging out, training, exploring, you name it. The two of you did everything together.

Even when you were older and you both started to pass the rites of passages as young warriors, you were close. More often than not completing them together

It was practically fated from your birth that you to would be together

So when, one day, Neteyam brought you deep in the forest to the glowing moss carpet, confessing his deep love for you, it was no surprise that you responded with the same devotion

if people thought you were inseparable before, they were badly mistaken

your relationship only gave the two of you reason to be together, not even his sibling could divide you too. Not that they wanted too.

You two were completely and utterly in love, and anyone could see it. That helped keep people away from the two of you, which was handy.

Neteyam was the best boyfriend. Not just a great one, the best.

He was protective but never over-whelming.

Clingy but never suffocating

Gentle, but never as to not get anything done

He would go on hunts and bring you back flowers, and when you went with him, he always had your back

if you ever got hurt he would be the first to help, knowing exactly what to do, never leaving your side.

If you were sick, he would go to his mother and ask for her help, making sure you were comfortable while she tended to you. He would lie next to you while you slept, to make sure you were safe

Making him flustered was hard, but only because he never seemed to get flustered when you would think. The rush of blood to his face only ever came when you weren’t meaning to. Your flirting? No, that boy has something smart or teasing to remark with. But when you are raving to his mother about how amazing he is while he stands next to you, that gets him completely flustered. He also will be flustered when you braid his hair, or even if you simply tuck his hair behind his ears. But a complement on his skill just leads to humble disagreeing remarks.

the boy will do anything for you and wants you to be in his life for the rest of his life

Kiri

you meet Kiri in the waters of the Metkayina clan a day after her and her family arrived

you were often training with your mother to be the next tsahik if something went wrong with Ao’nung, so you didn’t know that they arrived until you were told of in the night after they arrived

you were instantly fascinated with her due to her fascination with the reef and the world in the water

while your siblings taught the other kids, you taught Kiri. Teaching her everything you knew, mostly about the plant and wild life. She was a quick learned, always wanting to learn more about the world around her

it was late one night with the two of you talking on the beach when you two started talking about the future. Kiri told you how she didn’t know what was going to happen in the future but she hoped that you would be a part of it. You couldn’t agree more

from that day on, you two were truly inseparable, a deep understand between you glueing you together

Kiri was a sweet girlfriend, always ready for anything

she liked to tease, keeping things light hearted as is usual in her family and you enjoyed every moment of it

she was sweet to you, always making sure that you were having fun, was a part of the group, and had a place where you felt relaxed and comforted

if you were ever hurt, she would be the first to hold you in her arms and inspect you, searching through her knowledge of healing in order to help you. When it was sure that you were safe, she was right next to you to tell you how you were an idiot for being in that situation in the first place

you to would run off for swims together, exploring the beautiful reefs, riding your Ilus until eclipse

if you were ever sick, she would stick with you the entire time, making jokes and laughing with you in order to keep your spirits up

she wasn’t as protective as others, but she was with you most of the time anyways, so she was almost always able to ensure your safety. If not, she had two brothers that were always eager for a fight

physical contact was a must with Kiri. She loved holding your hand at all times or wrapping you in a tight hug, or having her arm around your shoulder, as long as you two were connected, she was happy

Kiri is loving girlfriend with an incredible bond with Eywa

Neytiri

Neytiri was beyond skeptical when she met you, although she thought you were beautiful

it was only when she was tasked with teaching you about the Omaticaya clan and how to become one of the people, that she actually began to like you

It was slow at first, she didn’t really care for you all that much at first, but she was beyond interested in you. She was especially captivated by your fascination with the forest and the life in it.

As the months went by, she watched as you quickly became skilled in practices that took years to learn. You were entirely determined to become one of the people and she was entranced by your interest.

Only when you complete the final part of becoming one of the people did she finally realize her feelings. They had been brewing since the beginning, like an expensive tea.

She took you to see the tree of souls, where she asked you who you were going to choose to mate with. And of course you told her of your undying love for her, and she could only confess the same.

Neytiri is a wonderful girlfriend and mate, always supportive and kind

You and Neytiri like to run off into the forest and get lost in the beauty of Eywa. The forest had become your home and you were incredibly happy to spend time with your mate in the biggest home you will ever have.

She would tease you gently, always looking for a laugh from you. Eywa, she loved your laugh

She was always there for you, making sure you were alright, that you knew everything you needed to know, was protected and safe from harm

she is incredibly protective, always ready to come between you and anything that threatens your safety, you were always her number one priority

if you were hurt, she would always know what to do, and in the off chance she didn’t, she would run you back to her mother to heal you. Don’t think for a moment that she would leave you alone though, you better believe that she is not leaving your side till you make a full recovery. She will sit or lie by your side and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you fall asleep

If you got sick, again, she is right there for you. She will baby you the entire time, no matter how capable you are. She is always there to make sure you stay healthy and happy.

Neytiri loves to cuddle up to you at the end of the day, whether your big spoon or she is doesn’t matter to her, as long as you are wrapped together, she is happy.

Neytiri has so much love in her heart and she intends to show you all of her love.

Jake

ever since he came tumbling into your clan, Jake has been the target of your attention

he was an outsider, of course, but he was determined to become a part of the people, and you were instructed to teach him

for weeks he struggled, only making you frustrated, but after a few months, he started to pick things up rapidly

his skill were progressing faster than most and he was almost ready for the rite of passage

when he came back from bonding with his Ikrans, he had the brightest smile on his face. You were equally as excited for him as you two came together in a tight hug. When you separated, he looked at you with a dazed look before closing the space between you. His lips meeting yours.

After that day, you were Jake’s and he was yours

He was a protective boyfriend, always looking out for you

Jake is always pulling you close, he wants constant contact. Hand holding, kisses, hugs, arms around shoulders, you name it. He is a gentlemen, always helping up and down from places if he can. And when cuddling, you better believe this man is the big spoon, but sometimes he wants to look into your eyes as he holds you close. Those moments are always the softest.

if you are sick, Jake is there with you the entire time, smiling and holding your hand while he watches your face, still beautiful to him even when sick

Jake would do anything to make you smile, most often would be messing around on your Ikrans as you fly high in the sky. He loved to fly close to you before moving away, challenging you to races, and exploring the floating mountains

when you were hurt, Jake would make quick work but would always internally blame himself. He knew what it was like to be severely injured and never wished that upon you. He would check the wound, clean it and stay with you until you were completely safe and managing on your own

The two of you often would run off in the trees, jumping from branch to branch like it was a game. The two of you would giggle and laugh until your stomachs hurt as you chased each other

Jake is a determined boyfriend with so much love for you

A/n: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think! <3333

Master-list

Tag list: @nyotamalfoy @lwesodra

[venusin-aries]

Anti’s coming into the Gwyneth Berdara tag and accusing Gwynriel’s of the mischaracterization of Gwyn or only liking Gwyn because of Gwynriel is fucking LAUGHABLE. 

All I've seen are posts singing praises about Gwyn (just Gwyn!) and I have NOT ONCE seen a Gwynriel shipper characterize Gwyn wrongly.

What are we mischaracterizing her for? 

Being brave as fuck for choosing to train to be a Valkyrie? Nesta’s admiration and fondness of her? For saying she’s resilient for being able to enjoy herself and laugh with her friends after experiencing some fucked up shit? THAT SHE'S LIKABLE?? Being strategic and patient FOR DAYS and spying on the Illaryian males before sending the beasts after them ruthlessly? Being smart and witty? Her interests in sex and smut and stating she doesn’t want to be coddled? Her willingness to sacrifice herself on the bridge? Her determination to finish the blood rite even though she was injured as fuck? Her unwavering loyalty toward Nesta and Emerie? That Nesta thinks her beauty is comparable to Mor and Merrill?

The fact that she’s not judgemental and she immediately accepted Nesta when they were sharing their stories? Her own struggle with guilt and self hate? Her immediately witnessing what Azriel is capable of when they first met? Azriel’s shadows reacting POSITIVELY towards her and yeah, the thought of her joy glowing in his chest? That she teases him and challenges him? That she hasn't seen him torture someone yet but she's seen worse shit soooo why would she be fazed??

She's canonly more suitable for Azriel than anybody else in the series and THAT'S why people dislike her as a character even though on her own she's a great character.

Those are only SOME of her positives we got in ONE book. Notice, some of those positives include Azriel, but most don’t 🤷🏻‍♀️. 

Allllllll of those points have textual evidence to support them. And these are allllllll the points Gwynriel shippers love to make about her. 

The only charactization of her anti’s will accept is if she goes back to the library, stays there and is never seen or heard of in canon again. Or if she’s evil which she’s likely not going to be. Stop being so petty. If anything SJM has her set up for a HEALING journey. 

However some people obviously like to see a female character STAY broken and let her trauma define her.

Getting mad when she's so obviously such a fun character? She has fun and laughs and teases her friends and Cassian and Azriel and enjoys herself but there's something wrong with that and you think its annoying????

Fanon Gwyn and Canon Gwyn are basically the same. If you don’t like fanon Gwyn, you probably don’t like canon Gwyn and that’s fine, whatever, I think you have totally shit taste but whatever just STAY OUT OF THE GWYNETH BERDARA TAG.

I see the shit ya'll tag and then delete.

I’m a Gwyn stan first and foremost but I have not seen one single other Gwynriel shipper mischaracterize her. 

Fanon is fun until it melts your brain and you start believing ONLY fanon and wrongly remembering canon and then attacking others for using canon to support their points. 

It’s crazy to me that anti’s can dislike a fictional character so much that the idea of potentially seeing more of said character in the canon universe and getting more fandom love honestly upsets them.

Like holy shit, I don’t like E/riel, but I have enough tact not to take that out on either Elain OR Azriel. And I don’t go looking to start shit with shippers because I'm not pathetic. Too bad some people can’t extend that same class to Gwyn. 

Also, I feel like some people forget about this fucking scene. 

Gwyn studied Ramiel's craggy, unforgiving slope. Not much snow graced its sides. Like the wind had whipped it all away. Or the storms had avoided its peak entirely. “Is it living, though? To take the safe road?”

“You’re the one who's been living in a library for two years,” Emerie said.

Gwyn didn't flinch. “I have. And I am tired of it.” She surveyed the blood-soaked leather along her thigh. “I don't want to take the safe road.” She pointed to the mountain, to the slender path upward. “I want to take that road.” Her voice thickened. “I want to take the road that no one dares travel, and I want to travel it with you two. No matter what may befall us. Not as Illyrians, not for their titles, but as something new. To prove to them, to everyone, that something new and different might triumph over their rules and restrictions.”

A cold wind blew off Ramiel's sides. 

Whispering, murmuring.

“They call this climb the Breaking for a reason,”Emerie countered gravely.

Nesta added, “Wehaven't eaten in days. We're down to the last of our water. To climb that mountain-“

“I have been broken once before,” Gwyn said, her voice clear. “I survived it. And I will not be broken again- not even by this mountain.”

Look at me and tell me this is a character we’ll never hear from again. Go right a fucking head. 

You can't come into the Gwyneth Berdara tag claiming we mischaracterize her. We take her as is. No need to pick her apart or give her little unnecessary traits to fit her better with any one.

It's not possible to make her out to be something she's not when every little thing we love about her is canon.

You can be salty over us comparing Bryce/Hunt and Azriel/Gwyn but oh wait! SJM uses similar language to describe them ON PURPOSE in canon as fucking well!!!

On purpose.

In fucking canon.

But we’re reaching.

Do not come into the Gwyneth Berdara tag and say Gwynriel’s make it hard to like her but oh, you do like her you do! And then go on to say she’s nothing more special than a Valkyrie or Nesta’s friend. Yeah, I fucking saw that shit.

People are weirdly jealous over a ship/inspiring character a lot of people relate to.

Gwyn is not stealing Azriel from any one because there’s NO ONE to steal him from.

These character's are fake but the hate and vitriol ya'll are spewing at people who like her are very real.

Just stay out of the Gwyneth Berdara tag if you don't like her.

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3

Six months earlier:

“JUMP!” Azriel called, his voice echoing over the screaming wind. Gwyn didn’t think, didn’t let herself do a damn thing other than follow his instructions. Leaping in the air and wishing she had wings, Gwyn cleared the gap in the obstacle course he’d laid out for her, Nesta, and Emerie. She wanted to clear it first, too competitive for her own good. What else was new? Azriel had agreed to help her maneuver it privately outside of her regular training, which meant they were often out late, just as the sun began to settle.

Gwyn had other responsibilities, too. Responsibilities to the females in the library, to Merril, to her friends. And maybe it was nice, for once, to be so exhausted she didn’t have to think about anything but life moment to moment. Here, all Gwyn had to think about was her pumping legs, her swinging dagger, and not getting her ass kicked by a five hundred year old Illyrian warrior. 

Gwyn landed hard enough to make her knees scream in protest. 

“GET UP!” Azriel roared, his location hidden to her. Bastard, she thought privately. Cassian had warned Nesta, who in turn had warned Gwyn that Azriel was a hard bastard but she hadn’t believed them. Sure, he was demanding but she expected that. They’d worked privately before with daggers and he’d been reasonable enough.

But out here in the mountains, shielded from the other Illyrian warriors and his friends, Azriel was brutal. Miserable, too, not that she’d admit that. She could have walked away after her first failed attempt with him but part of her thought maybe she deserved this.

He ran her harder than anyone else. Even Cassian looked at her—and the other priestesses—with a mixture of pity and admiration. Sometimes Gwyn resented that. Everyone knew by virtue of where she chose to live, made worse by the fact that it had been the High Lords inner circle who’d found her that day. They all knew the very intimate details Gwyn would have preferred stayed locked away.

But if Azriel ever thought of them, he didn’t show it. And he never looked at her with anything but grim determination…and maybe a little disappointment. That was better than pity, though.

Anything was better than pity. 

So Gwyn got up, just as Azriel demanded, and made her way toward the spelled dummies that would try and wound her. She bore bruises from the last session, though no gashes. She was ready this time, prepared to take on these enchanted warriors that had no wants other than to see her dead.

They could just get in line, she thought grimly. Reaching for the dagger strapped at her thigh, Gwyn ducked, narrowly avoiding a brutal slice along the cheek. It was muscle memory to jab just between the ribs, forcing her wrist up without twisting so hard she broke it.

“Good,” Azriel murmured from the shadows. High praise from him. “Again.”

Gwyn did, disabling the second, and then the third. It was the fourth that always stopped her. When Cassian had told them of the obstacle course, grinning proudly at his own ingenuity, he told them Rhys had spelled the phantom warriors to seem life-like. And though she knew the High Lord couldn’t possibly know and would have rearranged his enchantment if she’d ever told him so, that last warrior had the same eyes as the Hybernian soldier. The same shade of dark, depthless blue that Gwyn still saw when she closed her eyes. This was where she always failed and where she was going to fail again.

“KILL HIM!” Azriel yelled, clearly frustrated when she slowed. Gwyn couldn’t, though. She hesitated, lowering her weapon and like always, received a punishing blow to the gut.

This is what I deserve, she thought as that sword raised over her. Gwyn closed her eyes, prepared for the death blow that she knew wasn’t coming. Heavy boots landed just in front of her, and with a wave of his gloved hand, the enchanted warrior fell to the ground like a lifeless puppet.

Azriel turned, hazel eyes sharp. “What happened?” he demanded. 

Wiping the sweat at her forehead, Gwyn ignored him when he tried to help her to her feet. “I’m not cut out for this,” she said defensively. 

Azriel’s wings tightened against his back, blue siphons flashing a warning. He was irritated with her.

“You were making record time and then you stopped. Why?”

“Take me back,” she replied, refusing to look at him.

“Why, Gwyn?”

Resentment bloomed in her gut. Because I should have died that day—not Catrin. Because I’m here but I feel stuck, because my life was stolen and— “Take me back.” He sighed loudly, though whatever he wanted to say remained leashed behind his teeth. Shadow enveloped them both—cool and reassuring, like lapping waves rising to meet the shore. Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut tight, grateful when she heard Azriel’s boots clipping over the roof.

“Get your shit together, Berdara,” Azriel grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “If you don’t want to talk to me about it, talk to someone else or you’re never going to finish.”

“I’m a Carynthian, aren’t I?” she dared to say, safe beneath a dusky violet sky. “Maybe that’s enough.”

He turned, those eyes flashing like burning coals. “Luck—not skill,” he replied, his voice colder than the mountains they’d just come from. “Luck won’t always save you.”

Gwyn’s nostrils flared. She knew he was right, knew she, Nesta, and Emerie had survived because they’d had each other. Just as she knew there would come a time when they didn’t. And Gwyn knew all too well what it was like to be alone.

To be defenseless. 

Azriel swallowed, throat bobbing ever so slightly. There—right there, she saw it. His hesitation, his concern. Something pulled in her chest, some muscle she was unfamiliar with. “Don’t,” she snapped, furious that of all the people she knew, he would dare. “You know it's hard.”

“Not for you,” he replied flatly. “You could get to the ropes if you wanted to.”

The pity was gone in his eyes, though the feeling in her chest was not. Gwyn wanted to rub at her chest to ease whatever was building though she kept her hands tightly coiled at her side. “I’ll get it.”

Azriel cocked his head for a moment, wind blowing against the blue black of his hair. “We’ll see.”

He turned, leaving her standing on the roof alone in favor of unfurling his mighty wings and taking off toward the Sidra. Gwyn didn’t watch him go, though she did wait to scream softly from behind her teeth, a wordless sound that didn’t help anything at all.

Gwyn didn’t know how to forget those eyes, and if she couldn’t forget, what did that mean for her? What did that say about the centuries of life stretched before her? Why couldn’t she kill him? Gwyn had thought of nothing else for so long, and now, confronted with the memory in a visceral way, Gwyn merely stood there waiting to die.

Just like before.

She turned for the door, intending to make her way to the library where she’d read until she was too exhausted to think. Her bones screamed in protest, aching from training that afternoon and obstacle course Azriel had spent the last hour running her through. Up the hilly mountainside, coatless in the cold, as she navigated a treacherous plank walk, moving targets, and steep drops that could kill her if she wasn’t careful. 

And then lines and lines of warriors. Gwyn had never managed to get past the first line. Carythian meant nothing if she couldn’t fight. Azriel was right about that. Luck had saved her twice, but it wouldn’t save her again. She knew that like she knew herself.

Yanking open the door, Gwyn took a step, still uneasy from the building pressure in her chest. She took a breath, inhaling  that feeling until it settled into something soft. She swallowed it whole, refusing to acknowledge it entirely.

She had other things to think about.

Present day:

“Berdara!” Cassian’s voice echoed over the rooftop, pulling Gwyn from her thoughts. She’d been half asleep in the middle of a cooldown. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

No. “Yes,” she lied, hating the way her cheeks burned from embarrassment. Beside her, Nesta glanced over curiously while Emerie mouthed, you okay? 

“C’mon,” Cassian said, hands crossed over his chest. “Finish your leg.”

Yeah, yeah. Gwyn leaned forward, pressing her cheek to her knee to stretch out her aching, sore muscles. She’d been withdrawn lately and everyone had noticed. Across the training ring, she felt Azriel’s curious gaze puncturing her leathers though she didn’t look at him at all. Gone were the days when he gave her private lessons.

She’d walled herself off to him—to everyone, really. Even then, as Cassian dismissed them, Gwyn was quick to her feet in an effort to avoid Nesta and Emerie. That was easy enough when Cassian immediately intercepted his mate with a lopsided grin on his face. She could slip toward the door, quick as a shadow, and began the trek to the library. 

“Gwyn!”

That was Emerie, though Gwyn could pretend she didn’t hear it when the door slammed shut. Again. This was easier, she lied, though in truth it took an immense amount of effort to smile at her friends only to dodge them later on.

Why keep going at all? Why not bow out and return to Merril full time? The priestess certainly would have appreciated Gwyn undivided attention and Gwyn could have slowly faded from her friend’s minds.

It was too painful to imagine not having Nesta and Emerie, and worse to admit that despite everything, she was still locked in the past. Trapped in a hell not of her own making, sealed in tight all the same. Nesta and Emerie were doing better, but Gwyn felt worse somehow in ways she couldn’t explain, not even to herself.

It was easier to just avoid it entirely, which meant avoiding her friends, too. 

Gwyn made it back to the library in record time, ignoring the same curious looks she always got when she came in wearing the Illyrian leathers the High Lady had gifted her. An entire set, along with knives far nicer than anything Gwyn could have ever imagined.

For saving my sister, she’d written in looping, elegant script. Gwyn had them locked in a chest at the end of her bed, too pretty and priceless to use. Azriel had given her some cast-off, dinged up and battered that Gwyn still favored.

Like me, she thought as she closed herself behind the round, wooden door of her bedchamber. She took just one breath, back pressed to the wall, and then began pulling at the clasps of her clothes. For now, she left them in a heap on the obsidian floor, marching herself toward a standing mirror so she could survey the damage.

She wasn’t eating well again, evidenced by the lines from her ribcage visible just beneath her skin. Bruises dotted her flesh—some fading green while others were a fresh, vibrant violet. She took pleasure at the sight of them against her shoulder blades and spine. 

Another breath took her to the blue robes she wore in the library. They fit, hanging just looser than she would have liked, but well enough. Gwyn ignored the evoking stone crumpled on her vanity, taunting her on a beam of buttery sunlight. 

She made her way back to the door, thinking only of Merril and her research.

“Em,” she said when she pulled open the door to reveal the Illyrian female on the other side. “Hi.”

“You’re avoiding me. Us,” she added, though Nesta was nowhere to be seen. That was the only positive. If Nesta realized Gwyn was dodging them, she’d follow Gwyn around with that stubborn, single-minded determination of hers. 

“I’m not—”

“Don’t,” Emerie replied, tucking her wings in tight. Not like Cassian and Azriel did in an effort to make themselves seem smaller and less threatening, but to help her fit through the rather low door without banging her already broken wings against the frame. 

Gwyn stepped back, dress swishing around her legs as she went. 

“What’s going on?” Emerie asked, the door clicking softly behind her. “You don’t come out to the mountains anymore. Nesta cleared it yesterday.”

Of course she did. Once, they’d wanted to revive the Valkyrie. Gwyn was supposed to be researching the ancient legion lost to Hybern but found the whole thing too personal, too close to home. 

“Merril is running me ragged,” she said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Emerie took a seat on the edge of Gwyn’s bed, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m too distracted to focus.”

And Azriel doesn’t like you anymore. 

She shook that thought off, well aware it wasn’t true. And even if it was, Cassian still did. He would have taken her to the obstacle course if she’d asked him to, even without Nesta or Emerie. He’d have done so gladly, would have walked her through the entire thing.

“Come with me,” Emerie pleaded, leaning forward to grab Gwyn’s hand. “Please, Gwyn. None of this means anything if you go back to the library.”

“Of course it does,” she replied blithely, slapping what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face. 

There was no lying to Emerie, though. She was too shrewd, too used to people looking her in the eye and telling her half-truths. Narrowing her pretty brown eyes, Emerie said, “I’ll send Nesta down.”

And Nesta would pick and pick and pick until Gwyn was nothing but open wounds and bleeding scars. Nesta knew how to get to the heart of someone with only a look, and needed no magic to see straight into Gwyn’s soul. She’d know…and Gwyn couldn’t stand to see any more pity.

“Okay,” she said, unable to hide how tired she was. “Is Cassian taking you?”

“Morrigan,” Emerie said, a curious blush staining her cheeks. “The High Lord has called Azriel and Cassian Velaris tonight and before you ask, no I don’t know why. Nesta didn’t either…you’d know that if you weren’t dodging us.”

“I—”

The look on Emerie’s face stilled the bubbling lie. 

“Tonight, just before sunset,” Emerie said, rising from her place on Gwyn’s bed. “And…I know you don’t want to hear this, but you could tell us, you know. 

Shame rose in Gwyn’s throat, a familiar sensation as of late. Disappointing her friends was new, though. Pushing them away would be a different sort of hell—a miserable hole she’d never dig herself out of. 

“There is nothing to tell,” Gwyn whispered, unable to meet Emerie’s gaze. She heard her friend sigh, heard the whispering of her wings as she walked back to the door.

“I used to say the same thing, once.”

She was gone when Gwyn looked up, the door wide open. In the hall, all Gwyn saw were shadows blotting out the sunlight from the peaked windows at the very end. As she left, Gwyn was careful to avoid them entirely, fingers skimming the wood walls as she went. 

Pieced together, step by step, Gwyn didn’t dare allow herself to turn and look behind her. Even when she felt those every present, curious eyes on her. 

Keep moving. 

AZRIEL:

Drumming his fingers against the wood, Azriel forced himself not to stand though he very much wanted to. All eyes on him, even when he would have preferred to be little more than shadow. That wasn’t possible with his brothers, both of whom were discussing the return of Morrigan. She was with Nesta up at the House of Wind, taking her and Emerie to the obstacle course rather than Cassian.

Azriel wanted to be anywhere but here. Rhys droned on, talking of this problem and that, all cloaking what he truly wished to say.

Are you well, brother? 

Cassian, too, kept cutting sly glances his way. Azriel didn’t want to think about Morrigan, let alone speak about her. It was too complicated and Azriel didn’t do complicated. Too messy, too much still unsaid. Having her away had almost been a relief. Azriel could pretend, as he too often did, that there was nothing there at all.

Because there wasn’t. Mor had been making that abundantly clear for years. Centuries, even. And still Azriel couldn’t resist the pull toward her, certain it must be an unsnapped mating bond. He’d told himself a million times that she felt it too and it scared her enough to stay away, but somewhere around the time Feyre arrived, and then Nesta, and finally Elain, Azriel had begun to suspect it wasn’t a bond at all.

And if it wasn’t a bond, it meant there had never been anything between them at all. Only his own hopes, all pinned on one female who didn’t want him. 

“Az?” 

Rhys’s voice cut through his thoughts. Azriel glanced up at his brother, his friend, heart thudding in his throat, silently waiting for Rhys to repeat what he’d said.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes,” he lied. Rhys clocked him immediately, violet eyes pulling at the corners. Cassian rose from his seat in the study, striding toward the fireplace mantle just behind Azriel. Only his brothers could move around him like that, though it still made Azriel jumpy. 

“So you’ll go, then?”

“Of course,” he replied evenly. That was his job—spying, gathering information, torturing when he needed to, stealing when he didn’t. 

“If Mor can’t charm them, we’ll let Azriel do things his way,” Rhys said with a sharp toothed grin. “Though, I would like to have someone at court, if I could. Nesta, perhaps—”

“Not Nes,” Cassian interjected, his voice tight. “She’s training new priestesses.”

And Cassian couldn’t stand the thought of his new mate running off to Montessere with Azriel for the Cauldron knew how long. A pang of longing slammed against his ribs, burning colder than any hatred he’d ever felt. Azriel wanted what Cassian and Rhys had and was beginning to suspect he didn’t because he was wholly unworthy. The mother had looked around, taken stock of him, and decided he was the kind of creature that deserved to be alone. 

“What about Elain?” Cassian continued, unaware of how stiff both Rhys and Azriel got. Azriel’s eyes flicked toward Rhys, hands braced against his neatly organized desk. Behind him, Feyre watched them all with imperious blue eyes, warning them not to give Rhys too much grief. 

“No,” Azriel said, careful to keep his voice measured. Better to not let Cassian realize that was still a sore spot between he and Rhys. “She’s too…”

Rhys watched him, drumming his fingers along the desk just as Azriel had been doing only moments before. Azriel sighed. “She’s a distraction.”

That wasn’t a lie, at least. Elain wasn’t the spying type and was likely to shrink away when she realized what it would take to extract the information Rhys wanted. There was wisdom in installing someone at court, though—it gave him access to the palace itself, allowed him to move through the halls freely without skulking when everyone was asleep, and would legitimize him. Otherwise he’d be in trees and up in the clouds, constantly slipping about, hiding and stuffing himself into too-small nooks and crannies. 

“Gwyn, then,” Cassian interrupted, his voice assured. Azriel twisted on the cream sofa, brows furrowed. Gwyn was all but checked out at training and last he’d heard, refusing to go back to the obstacle course. He gave her another month before she returned to the library full time, abandoning her quest to embody her Carynthian title. 

She certainly had stopped seeking him out for help, and Azriel knew better than to offer it. Whatever was going on with her was none of his business which she’d made abundantly clear the last time they’d spoken. 

“The priestess?” Rhys questioned, straightening his spine. 

“She’s stealthy,” Cassian began, eyes bright. “A good fighter and unassuming. Sending Az to protect a priestess wouldn’t be unusual, either.”

“Mor was just there,” Rhys reminded them, though it was clear he was considering this absurd plan. “They’ll know we’ve changed tactics.”

“Mor was there as emissary. They said they wanted an exchange of knowledge. Who better to send than a priestess working in the High Lord’s library? She can say it’s a show of good faith, and since she’s not trained as a courtier, she’ll come off earnest rather than practiced like Nesta or Elain would.”

Rhys looked to Azriel, who shook his head. “She’s too unpracticed and I don’t have time to babysit her.”

Cassian scoffed, walking away from the crackling fire toward the set of chairs on the opposite end of the coffee table. “Then call Lucien.”

Azriel’s lip curled over his teeth. Looking up at Rhys, he waited for the High Lord to tell Cassian that was an awful plan. Lucien was their emissary to the humans and if anyone was a court trained bastard, it was Vanserra. 

“Not everything needs to be a suicide mission, Az,” Rhys began, sensing Azriel’s rising temper. “And I want someone at court. So you can take the priestess or I suppose we could call Vanserra and send him with you.”

“Are those my only options?” Azriel demanded, flaring his nostrils as he attempted to leash his anger. 

Rhys ran his tongue over his teeth. “For now.”

Fuck. 

“Gwyn, then,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. She was tolerable, at least. Better than tolerable when she wanted to be and more importantly, unrelated to a Vanserra. “If you don’t trust me to do this on my own.”

“Of course I do,” Rhys replied evenly, refusing to take the bait. “The situation is delicate—if we’re caught, they’ll turn their backs to us completely. I want to know everything. If Beron has made them promises, if they’re thinking of aligning with Koschei…if they even know of Koschei.”

“It’ll be good for her,” Cassian added softly, letting his concern show over his features. “All Nesta talks about is how withdrawn Gwyn has become.”

“Assuming she even agrees,” Azriel replied indifferently. Rhys’s plan hinged on one of his traumatized priestesses agreeing to fly across the continent with a male she just barely trusted. Gwyn would say no, Azriel would return to Rhys and—

“If she doesn’t agree, Vanserra will go,” Rhys interrupted, reading Azriel’s thoughts plainly. “And the two of you will have to work together.”

“We’ll kill each other,” Azriel replied, rising to his feet. “If I don’t kill him first.”

“Why do you hate him?” Cassian asked.

Azriel didn’t dare reveal the real reason. Didn’t dare admit he hated Lucien not because he was part of Beron’s brood, or for what he’d allowed to happen to Feyre or even how he’d supported Tamlin all those years—but because a Vanserra was somehow worthier than Azriel. Lucien had a mate.

Lucien. 

And if Vanserra’s could be granted mates but not Azriel, it meant everything his father had ever said about him was true. Everything Rhys’s father had believed about him—true.

And every private insecurity he held was true, too. 

Rhys knew it. Without peering into his mind, Rhys somehow still knew. And Azriel resented his friend for knowing this thing, even if Rhys had never once used it against him, or even mentioned it at all. 

“What reason do I need to hate a Vanserra?” Azriel replied, turning his back on them both. Cassian sucked in a breath while Rhys chuckled—the sentiment was well-echoed. Lucien was allowed because Feyre loved him and Elain hadn’t broken their bond. He was useful, a tool and little else and Azriel was looking forward to the day Elain did break the bond, if only to see him suffer as Azriel did. 

“You’ll have this conversation with Gwyn?” he asked, halting at the door. It would be better coming from Rhys or Cassian than Azriel, who didn’t know how to approach her without making it seem like he was trying to kidnap her. 

“I will,” Rhys murmured, his eyes flickering with what looked like pity. Gwyn would hate that. Azriel hated it on her behalf, too. He nearly told his friend to wipe that look off his face, to keep the guilt from sounding in his voice. Rhys would figure it out, though, and Azriel truly didn’t have the capacity for that conversation.

Not when Elain Archeron breezed down the hall in a loose, lilac dress. Scenting of lavender and honey and something that made his insides slick with shame—the mating bond, the same he could scent whenever Nesta or Feyre were around.

Not that it mattered. Elain refused to acknowledge him at all, pathetically petty even if it was deserved. He disliked her cold shoulder, how she kept her eyes firmly ahead, arms filled with pretty pink hydrangeas she’d arrange for Feyre’s dining table. 

He stood there, ignoring Cassian and Rhys’s chatter behind him, waiting for her to pass. Even though she refused to look, he still inclined his head as a show of respect. Whatever might have happened between them had always been doomed from the start. Azriel had known it and hadn’t cared—he knew he was just as much a distraction to her and she was to him. 

Pink bloomed over her cheeks, though whether that was embarrassment or shame, Azriel didn’t know. Didn’t care to figure out, either. He waited until she vanished around a corner, a door slamming just a little too loudly, before he made his way behind her. 

Azriel slipped into the darkness, careful not to make a sound. He could still hear Cassian and Rhys talking softly, their voices a low hum in the back of his skull. In front of him, the city was a symphony of sound, illuminated by the twinkling stars overhead and floating fae lights. Velaris was alive, waking with the setting sun but Azriel was still a phantom, hidden in the dark.

Just as he’d always been.

Flaring his wings, he made his way toward the House of Wind where he’d try–and fail—to sleep. Maybe he’d run the obstacle course himself, venting his frustrations until he was too exhausted to stand. Azriel landed on the roof just as the thought occurred to him that he might drink himself into oblivion. It wasn’t his favorite, though it got the job done.

Maybe vent his frustrations into a willing, warm body. He twisted, looking back at the dotted lights of Velaris when— “Az?” Fuck fuck fuck.

Azriel turned, heart racing at the sight of Morrigan. He hadn’t spotted her—had been too distracted. He could scent sweat, and the smells of Nesta and Gwyn still lingering in the air. Mor must have just brought them back. 

He dipped his chin, unsure what to say. That had sent Elain scurrying away—perhaps Mor would leave, too. She certainly seemed like she wanted to, brown eyes apprehensive as she watched him. She wore a nice pair of dark pants, her white shirt tucked in neatly, and though there was a blade strapped against her back and her blonde hair was half falling from a braid, she was still stunning. 

And not his. Never his. 

“Do you live up here now?” she asked when the silence stretched thinly between them.

“Yes,” he admitted. 

“Silence finally got to you, huh?” she teased, offering him a half smile. Azriel couldn’t return it because that would make him too hopeful. He shrugged, turning back to Velaris though he knew now he couldn’t leave. Not until she did, at any rate. And then…and then. 

She took a cautious step toward him. “Az, I—”

“You don’t—” he swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as he worked to compose himself. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She came closer, still. “Will you take me back?” she asked him and Azriel, stupid and foolish, couldn’t tell her no. Mor came within touching distance for the first time in years, the sweet, soft scent of her washing over him. 

He kept himself rigid as she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing himself to wrap one arm around her waist before he kicked off into the sky. There was nothing but cool air here, and the warmth of Mor’s body pressed against his own.

“We were friends, once,” she murmured as Azriel soared overhead, taking a roundabout way so she could say whatever it was she so clearly needed to say. “What happened to us?”

I’m in love with you and I can’t let it go. You don’t love me and you never will.  

He didn’t respond, choosing to just hold her for what he knew would be the last time. When he set her back to the ground, it would all be over and Azriel would have to move on somehow. To continue would be a betrayal of their family, would destroy them all. In a way, Azriel was suddenly grateful for some space to untangle his messy emotions.

“Is there someone else?” he finally forced himself to say. To just admit that he wanted her, even if it went against every instinct in his body. 

“Yes,” she replied, fingers brushing beneath his chin so he had to look at her. “And if I ever could have loved a male, it would have been you.”

Azriel blinked. “What…?” She’d had male lovers before—many, by his recollection. Helion, Cassian, several Summer courtiers, that male from Dawn…

Mor swallowed. “You know how my father is,” she forced herself to say, eyes jewel bright. “I think, even now, I’m scared to disappoint him. To admit what I really want. Who I want. And even though Rhys would shield me, that fear is potent and pretending is easier, even if it costs me you. I want you to be happy, Az. And I could never make you happy, just like you couldn’t make me happy. You like females…and so do I.”

“Oh,” he breathed, the air leaving him in a rush. Five centuries of questions were suddenly answered. Mor’s lips ghosted over his jaw, feather soft and sweet, just like he’d always imagined. It didn’t lessen the pain, nor did it erase the love he felt for her. But it did explain her avoidance, her caution, her unwillingness to get close. 

“You ah…” Fuck, he didn’t know what to say. “You never needed to hide that from me. From us,” he added hastily. 

Mor turned to look out at the city they were fast approaching. “We all have our secrets. Right, Az?”

He began to descend, the muscles in his back flexing from the effort to keep himself slow. He wanted to drag this moment out, to stretch the intimacy between them for another moment. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised her, boots touching the cobblestone streets before her own did. Mor slipped from his grip, shaking out her hands nervously until he reached for her face. She didn’t shy away this time, nor did she flinch as she’d done so often in the past. There was a new understanding between them, a different sort of thread. It wasn’t, he supposed, that he was unworthy of her.

Just that she couldn’t love him the way he’d loved her. The thought eased the ache in chest, though only marginally. She’d never be his mate. He could move on if he wanted. Find someone else.

If he wanted.

Brushing his thumb over her cheek, Azriel lowered his face like he’d so often dreamed of, and gave her the same soft kiss against her cheek. “You deserve to be happy,” he whispered so softly only she could hear. “I want that for you.”

Her eyes seemed to burn like the stars above them. Lovely, lively Mor. His Mor, though not how he’d imagined. But his friend, all the same—and the only person she’d entrusted with this secret. 

“Thank you, Az. You deserve that, too. I know you’re going to find it.”

He forced a strained smile, dipping his head in agreement. She stepped out of his embrace, turning for the city.

“Join me at Rita’s?” she asked hopefully.

Azriel didn’t look behind him. He still had one night of freedom. He could still drink himself into oblivion.

“Let’s go.”

[lovemyromance]

Math, according to the anti’s

Elain avoids Lucien every time he is in Velaris + Elain loses her newfound boldness around him =

"Elain is scared of just how well Lucien knows her. She is scared how much he sees her. She is avoiding him because she feels too much for him."

Like, come on babes. How can he see her if he’s not even there? How can he “know her too well” if he’s NOT THERE. If she avoids him, how is that because she’s secretly pining for him? Especially when multiple characters comment how she is uncomfortable in his presence?

Azriel receives an order from Rhys to "Stay away from Elain" + Azriel is forced to tell Elain "this was mistake" hurting both of them =

"Azriel avoids Elain after solstice because he doesn't like her and knows what he did was wrong 😑 the BC ended Elriel!!"

Really guys? That's what you took away from this very clear chain of cause and effect? That Azriel, out of his own will, suddenly decided he's done with Elain?

Azriel, desperately in love with his woman, is agonizing over why the Cauldron didn’t pick him as her mate + Azriel, willing to beg on his knees for a taste of her =

"azriel is an incel fuckboi! He only feels lust for Elain! He feels entitled to her! "

Sorry didn't realize having attraction for your love interest in a ROMANTASY was bad now.

Azriel goes after the already mated Elain Archeron + after 500 years, it seems Azriel has moved on from Mor =

"Azriel only wants a mate! Thus, he waits 500 years and suddenly goes after an already mated female!"

He never said he wanted a mate. Where did this come from? He wants Elain and Elain only. Also, if he wanted a mate, why would he even be going after Elain in the first place? Wouldn't he go for any available female? He's not stupid, he knows she's not his mate. So why still pursue her if he only wanted his mate?

Majda says a mate should be able to figure out what is wrong with Elain + Azriel figures out her powers, freeing her from her murky realm with his understanding =

"Well, Azriel just figured out her powers. Her powers aren't what was wrong with her. Azriel just figured out her powers because he was excited the night court got a new weapon. And Rhys figured out Nesta's powers too, so it doesn't matter."

Come on. Literally she said, more importantly, SJM wrote, "if anyone can figure it out, it's a mate." And then AZRIEL figured it out. Is that not obvious?? Her mate was right there so he easily could've buzzed in at anytime with the correct answer. But no. It was Azriel.

Azriel, canonically, wanting to get on his knees for a chance to taste Elain + Azriel buying her a custom necklace + Azriel giving her truthteller + Azriel sitting with her in the gardens =

"nah, azriel doesn't like her. He's just like an older brother trying to be nice to a sibling that won't leave him alone and he pities her."

Idk how your sibling relationships are like, but maybe you live in Alabama or something. Bc that is clear attraction. Those are not mere acquaintances. Those are literally two people with big fat crushes on each other

Nesta tells Azriel "You're the new ribbon, Az" + Azriel remains unphased when Nesta and Gwyn and Emerie get taken for the blood rite =

MATES. Gwynriel are MATES. There is no other conclusion or possibility. She looked at him once and he raised a brow when she squealed. They are endgame meant to be.

Y'all just look silly now. Have you never been around a man? Is that it? Is that why you think perfectly platonic reactions are somehow signs of true love?

2+2 = 4. It is the right answer. It is the proven answer. You shouldn't have to jump through hoops and twist canon every which way and taint every interaction Elriel has with your scathing commentary just to make your ship work. Stay mad that your ship has 0 romantic moments 🙄

[ferrocyan]

not to be a weeb but i do think about tarts personal pronoun changing over the years

in arr its アタシ (atashi, its girly and kinda childish) then changed to ワタシ (watashi, technically proper except being written in katakana suggests shes a bit awkward w it) in hvw except when she avoided using that around edmont or the other high house members (even francel tbh, haurchefant and emmanellain are the only exceptions) then in stb zenos made her slip back to オレ(ore, the masculine pronoun which is rude to use irl but its normal for anime boys. in katakana its more casual) its just one time though tart mumbling to herself abt thinking of zenos as her friend.. best friend... (ominous) or it was until he killed himself and tart fully became an ore girl around the alliance soldiers. she didnt rly like this abt herself tbh... so after falling at the ghymlit dark she told aymeric "うちに帰らせてありがとう" (thanks for bringing me home) うち(uchi) taking on a double meaning as both home and a feminine personal pronoun so it also means "thanks for bringing me back to myself" oh im crazy i dont even speak japanese ignore what i say this probably doesnt work lmaooo [if aymeric ever brings this up again tart will absolutely murder him] anyway so in shb and edw she uses ワタシ again except around reeq she would use オレ tbh but its fine this time its different trust me. anyway the big bombshell is when tart the catboy calls the scions to introduce himself after his "fantasia" and uses 私 (watashi. the normal way you write it) in this context i mean it to say that tart has shed his awkwardness and despite the complicated Circumstances around his gender change he is comfortable in his own skin. so even just from that its easy for the scions to accept who he is now. but then. when the rite of succession is over and tart rejects wuk lamats offer to stay as her companion, he starts to use 自分 (jibun, meaning oneself) why, oh dont worry ab--(a page from the website japanesewithanime dot com falls out of my pocket) "The pronoun jibun 自分 is associated with military officers, police men, detectives, professions that follow a strict rules, and where knowing your place in the hierarchy is fundamental." ahem i said dont worry about it hes not a clear reflection of zoraal ja or anything, definitely not someone feeling like hes losing his place in life bc he doesnt know how to exist as his own person and not a weapon for the military. definitely not a problem so bad that sphene cant stand to see him denying his own personhood and she kills him about it. yeah no its all good. so tart as souleater definitely uses オレさま(oresama, the most pompous male pronoun in existence. however not in kanji like 俺様 bc his ass is faking that pomposity) onstage. in fact he should call himself このオレさま(same thing but with emphasis. you want to smack this brat upside the head so so bad) once it would be so funny. hearing tart say jibun outside the arena gives yaana whiplash but honeyb is just like "okay repressed catholic i know what you are 😒" okay thats all i have to say thanks

[clericofkelemvor]

so sil joined the church of kelemvor roughly fifteen years before the game. now in the comics we DO get a little bit of a glimpse at kelemvor's church in the gate. theres a chapel dedicated to him, managed by father alby and nerys kathon, as well as other unnamed (and i think not shown, but like, its not just the two of them ofc) clergy.

some canon info and a lot of conjecture under the cut abt the way the church of kelemvor works, but tldr: over fifteen ish years, sil first works in the city then travels to places in need of a death priest, and they get kidnapped for illithid purposes while theyre on the road.

some time after 1485DR, likely still during the 1480s, thieves get their hands on the relics kept at the chapel and nerys, through circumstances, becomes and adventurer. with minsc!! and other people. the next significant thing is in 1492, after elturel is restored to the prime material plane, this particular group of adventurers comes back to baldurs gate and encounters the cult of the absolute. father alby at that point has been infected by a parasite and he has an ominous conversation with nerys, fights her and her companions that night after they prevent a ritual from completion, and dies by nerys's hand shortly after at the chapel - a mercy kill, before he fully turns. nerys also notes when she comes back to the chapel that it is in a state of disrepair and kind of falling apart.

what this means for sil is that 1) they very likely knew both nerys and father alby, and its totally possible that theyd heard of minsc specifically as nerys' friend/adventure companion! i dont think the inverse would be true though, they didnt hold a very high position and weren't a fixture at the gate at that point, but thats a fun bit. 2) i think they would have heard of the cult of the absolute. even if the mindflayer bit was kept secret, there had to have been an explanation given for father alby's death, and the cult was already somewhat known, though not the illithid part. we dont see what happens there, so im assuming nerys handled or took part in alby's burial before leaving again like three days later (only 2 of which were not filled with adventuring stuff. busy life.).

thats kind of it in terms of canon, although im gonna try to read the comics and see if i find anything else or can get more precise timelines.

now members of the death clergy seem to have somewhat varied roles. im pulling this from the forgotten realms wiki and a 3rd edition i believe book on deities (but seemed like very little had changed between 3rd and 5th edition for this).

i think sil started as a novitiate in the city and helped mostly with burials and administrative matters around those. considering their disposition at that time, they definitely avoided being the person consoling the grieving (or were kept away from it by other clergy), so they prob ended up doing more things like giving last rites, assisting with then later on leading funerals, and helping out with matters related to the deceased's wills or last wishes.

this next part is definitely more me extrapolating but what is dnd if not a beautiful sandbox. anyway. there are a few special statuses in the death clergy, but sil isnt an actual cleric until the game starts, and they were much too despondent to take on a more warrior role before then anyway. i think they stayed a regular acolyte for all these years, but specialized in travelling to communities that needed the services of a death priest. this could include small settlements that simply dont have anyone to perform burials, but also diseased or ravaged areas with a lot of death, in need of care for both the dead and the living. the wiki indicates that followers of kelemvor opposed the lengthening of ones life through necromancy or magic and despise undead (:^)), but also that they tried to ensure people didnt meet their end before they were supposed to. i interpret that as caring for the living as well as the dead; the grieving or abandoned who might take their own lives, and the injured and sick who might succumb too early. so i think for a good decade sil mostly traveled, at first with others but then gradually more often alone - due both to gaining enough experience to handle their duties by themselves and their very taciturn demeanor not making them a particularly sought out travel companion - to either remote settlement or places that had suffered/were suffering some sort of calamity, like hostile raiders, natural disasters, or fast spreading illnesses. they developed an affinity for medicine and treating people, a good sense of whats needed to handle inhospitable environments (say, mountains in winter, flooded villages, stuff like that), and eventually scripts they can fall back on when interacting with the distressed people they would inevitably encounter.

theyd be back in the city when the stuff with father alby happens, and help with restructuring the clergy there, and at that point start having a more important role within the church in the gate. theyve been around for a while, theyve fulfilled their duties well, and theyre in the right place at the right time to have a say. they're still very detached, but theyre dedicating whatever's left of their life to the church of kelemvor and they want it to run well. i dont think theyd get a higher rank necessarily, but theyre listened to when they say something, and just have more weight. i think that means theyd be targeted for tadpoling; as a fairly unremarkable and easy to disappear for a bit person who still has some connection to the rest of the church, and can thus be a gateway to infecting more people in an organisation that the cult has tried (and managed!) to take over before. they go back to travelling a couple months after the father alby stuff so i figure they got abducted on the road pretty easily.

the church of kelemvor presence in the gate doesnt seem huge, and doesnt seem actually particularly concentrated in one location. the chapel is presented as the seat of it in the gate and is situated in the lower city, but it seems pretty small, and while kelemvor isnt a widely followed deity it still makes more sense to me that the chapel seems so small because most members if the clergy are spread out across the city in smaller offices, either attached to cemeteries or legal offices and maybe even with the fists and guards. something thats also mentioned in the wiki is the "most solemn order of the silent shroud", composed mainly of workers, artisans and crafters whose activities are related either directly or peripherally to death (embalmers, gravediggers, etc). their task is to "inform the church of gravesite desecration and undead sighting", but i figure theres also just logistics that ties them to, if not the church, then their local clergy, and specifically death clergy. so i think itd make sense that theyd work closely together and that youd have scattered members of the church; their role in general doesnt particularly benefit from them being all in the same place, and esp in a city as big and frankly fucking messy as baldurs gate theres prob need of them in plenty of places. plus, like sil, i figure a fair amount of them operate outwith city boundaries as well.

i think thats most of the thoughts i have on this so far. i like thinking abt it bc this is actually such a huge part of their life, not just in terms of amount of time but bc they genuinely believe in the work and in kelemvor's guidance of souls. for backstory reasons :^) that im sure ill expand in eventually

[foundtherightwords]

Come, You Spirits

Pairing: Ralph (Timewasters) x OFC (Thu from "All Our Yesterdays")

Summary: Stuck in the past (again) and bored during the Ghost Festival, Ralph and Thu decide to check out the most haunted building in Hanoi, with unexpected consequences.

Warnings: none, just a brief mention of a murder and some general spooky stuff.

Word count: 4.6k

A/N: This is both my submission for the JQ Spookathon (yes, I've decided to participate after all! Thank you to @palomahasenteredthechat for hosting and all the mods!) and a soft continuation of my Ralph fic, "All Our Yesterdays" (if you haven't read it, that's OK. I tried to make this a standalone.) I've never written horror before, so here's something on the silly side instead. Plus, out of all of Joe's characters (other than Eddie), I feel that Ralph is most suited to a spooky story, and when Ralph is concerned, everything takes a silly turn for me.

As with "All Our Yesterdays", this is based on an actual urban legend of Hanoi and the location is real (see the photo at the end). The title is a quote from "Macbeth" too.

"You want to do what?" Thu asked, thinking she'd misheard Ralph over the flapping of the bamboo fan she was using to dry her hair. There was a power cut, and she was already sweating despite having just showered.

"Check out that haunted building you told me about," Ralph repeated.

Right, so she hadn't misheard him then. "OK... why?"

Ralph shrugged. "It's something to do," he said. "We've eaten at every possible street vendor in the Old Quarter, we've seen every sight there is to see—I know you take pride in Hanoi being traditional, but when it hasn't changed much since sixty years ago, there's not much left to do."

"That still doesn't explain why you want to see a haunted house."

"Isn't it the Ghost Festival today? Shouldn't we do something to celebrate?"

"Our Ghost Festival is not Halloween!"

"You said it was the day all the souls are released from the Underworld to visit Earth. That sounds like Halloween to me."

"Yeah, but we're supposed to be avoiding spirits, not searching for them!"

"Ah, that's no fun," Ralph sighed. He picked up a paper with a listless hand and threw it down again.

"And anyway, we did go to the mausoleum to see Uncle Ho's mummified body," Thu pointed out. "That wasn't macabre enough for you?" The trip to Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum, a rite of passage for every school kid in Hanoi, had been less of a success than Thu had expected. Ralph had treated it less like a curious relic of Vietnam's past and more like a carnival sideshow. 

"No," now he said. "It was just... weird. It's not even real!"

"Oh, like you'd know!"

"You seriously believe that they can preserve a body that well?"

"Why not? The Soviets did it with Lenin."

"Have you seen that one?"

"... No."

"Well, I bet that's not real either."

Thu could tell they were in for another pointless bickering session, which had been happening with increasing frequency lately. Time traveling tends to do that to you, especially when it is as unpredictable as time traveling with Homeless Pete. No matter how in love you are with one another, it can be stressful when you keep ending up in different times throughout history, without warning. And this particular period hit a little close to home—in 1991 Hanoi, with her birth just six years away, Thu ran the risk of running into her parents and experiencing her own version of Back to the Future. She and Ralph had managed to find a place to stay on the other side of town, away from her parents' university, but the strain was getting to her.

Thu knew she should be thankful they had landed in peacetime—if it had been close to either of the wars, the suspicion on Ralph would make it impossible for them to stay. And they had managed to avoid the worst of the 1980s economic crisis as well—she still remembered too clearly her parents' half-humorous, half-painful stories about standing in line for hours to get their meager rations, the mortal fear of losing one's ration book, the stress of hoarding any product you could get your hands on. At least all of that was behind them now. But on a night like this, it was hard to feel grateful. The August air was muggy, the power was out for the third time that week, and the smoke from the burning of joss paper for the Ghost Festival only made the heat more unbearable. No wonder Ralph was feeling restless.

Still, she wished she hadn't told Ralph about that haunted building. They lived just down the road and had come across it while trudging around searching for Homeless Pete, who had disappeared yet again. Built in the Eastern Bloc style, all gray concrete and sharp corners, it squatted on an intersection like some scowling monstrosity, already exuding an air of inhospitality and menace despite being newly constructed.

"That's going to be the most famous haunted building in Hanoi," Thu said without thinking, pointing at it.

"Going to? What happens?" Ralph asked curiously.

Thu told him about how the building was meant to be the new Bulgarian Embassy, but was never put to use for some reason and was left empty over the next thirty years. "And in Vietnam, whenever a house is abandoned, it is said to be haunted," she said. "They say it was built on top of a cemetery or a hospital morgue, and people often hear strange noises or crying inside. The usual urban legend stuff. And then there was the murder—"

"What murder?" Ralph's eyes opened wide with fascination.

"Some woman stabbed her lover in his car right outside the back gate. In the early 2000s, I think. They say his ghost still lingers around."

"Wizard!"

Thu didn't share Ralph's enthusiasm. She didn't really believe in ghosts, but like most Vietnamese people, she had a healthy respect for the supernatural and avoided it when she could. Ralph had no such hang-ups, apparently. And now he wanted to check out the place! On Ghost Festival of all night!

"It's not really haunted, you know," she said, hoping to dissuade him. "Those stories are just made up by junkies and criminals, so they have a place to hang out."

"But you said those rumors only started after the building was abandoned," Ralph pointed out, and Thu silently cursed his memory. "So why was it abandoned in the first place?"

"It's probably just due to some bureaucratic crap."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Let me get this straight," she said, rubbing her eyes. "We're stuck thirty years in the past with no IDs, and you want to sneak into an embassy to see if it's haunted, all because you're bored?"

"Yes," Ralph said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"No. We are not doing that."

"Please?" He was practically pouting and batting his eyelashes at her, like freaking Betty Boop.

"Stop making that face. You know I can't resist that face."

"It's history!"

Thu sighed. Their apartment was cramped, and the fried fish that the family next door was having for dinner did not smell so great. Perhaps some fresh air would do them good. This was a time when you could still get fresh air simply by walking outside, without having to worry about pollution or traffic, so she might as well take advantage of it.

"Sometimes I do worry about your sense of self-preservation, you know," she said, getting up to find her shoes.

"Come on, that's what you love about me." Ralph grinned and gave her a kiss as she passed him.

***

They walked. Usually, during a power cut like this, they would meet plenty of people and families with kids all along the street, trying to cool down in the night air. That night, however, the street was deserted. The only person they saw was a scrawny student trying to read a book under a street lamp. Clearly, the night of the Ghost Festival was no time to be outside. And even if anyone had ventured out, the stifling, humid air would offer little relief. They really needed some rain soon.

"I'm afraid this isn't the vibe you're looking for," Thu said. "It's too hot to be spooky."

"That helps though." Ralph, always determined to make the best of every situation, pointed at the fat full moon shining languidly over the darkened street.    

Just a few minutes later, they reached the embassy building. The place was surrounded by a tall iron fence, sharp points piercing the moonlit sky. The wan light of the street lamps gave the concrete blocks a blotchy, moldy look, and when combined with the scraggly bushes around its courtyard and the leftover building material, the building looked old, ruined, abandoned even before it was inhabited. A giant banyan tree by the main entrance spread its twisted branches over the flat rooftop, its roots hanging down like a curtain, dark leaves rustling menacingly although there wasn't a breath of wind.

The sight of that tree gave Thu pause.

"What's wrong?" Ralph asked.

"They should have done something about that tree," she said slowly.

"Why?"

"A banyan tree, especially one this ancient, is usually home to spirits and ghosts," Thu explained, "but cutting it down will anger the spirits, so people often set up some sort of a shrine or an altar on the tree for them. There's no shrine here. Not even some rice and salt for the lonely spirits." She dug in her bag and found a packet of puffed rice, one of many she'd bought earlier that day as offerings for the Ghost Festival, and scattered the grains over the tree root. To do it right, there should be some incense as well, but she was sure the spirits would find the rice just fine.

Ralph gave her a sidelong glance. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

"I don't."

"Then are you trying to frighten me?"

A corner of Thu's mouth lifted up. "Is it working?"

"Not a chance." Ralph walked around the back. "Come on."

The back was more of the same, sinister walkways leading deeper into the building, eerie shadows that seemed to appear just out of the corner of one's eyes, furniture piled up waiting to be moved in, creating all sorts of odd shapes. An empty swimming pool gleamed pale under the moonlight.

"OK, we've checked it out," Thu said. "There is no ghost or spirit to be found here. Are you happy now?"

There was no answer. She looked around, but Ralph was no longer by her side. He was at the back gate, unwinding the chain holding the gate shut. There was no lock. Shit.

"Ralph, stop! Come back here!" she called, trying to keep her voice low, but it was too late. He had slipped through the gate and disappeared into the murky depth of the building.

Shit, shit, shit. Ralph had always been game for anything, and he was right to say it was what she loved most about him—his endless passion, his ever-present optimism. But she was sure that, having spent time in an Indochinese prison, he would be more careful about putting himself at risk of getting arrested again.

Well, there was nothing to it. She slipped through the gate after him. If the lack of a lock was anything to judge by, the place was not very well guarded, being newly built and not yet inhabited. They may be lucky and not get discovered.

She caught up with Ralph, who was strolling down the covered walkway that connected the two wings of the building, looking for all the world like he was taking his constitutional along the Thames, despite his modern-day clothes. Apparently, one can take the boy out of London but cannot take London out of the boy.

"Get out of here before you get us into trouble!" she hissed.

"Relax," Ralph said. "There's nobody here."

"And there's no ghost either," Thu said, with more conviction than she actually felt.

It wasn't simply the fear of getting arrested that made Thu jumpy. She hated to admit it, but being in this building, knowing its history—or rather, future—made her hair stand on end. She didn't believe in ghosts, she told herself. But something about those cold, gray concrete walls, those dark, tunnel-like corridors, and the sheer emptiness of it felt like there was a razor pressed to the back of her neck, making her want to stand with her back against a solid wall. She fought the urge to take Ralph's hand. 

"So you have time-traveled, yet you don't believe in ghosts?" Ralph said.

"That's different," Thu muttered.

"How?"

They were now inside the main hall. The building must have its own generator—there was a naked light bulb on the ceiling, shedding its yellow light over a reception desk of cheap plywood and a floor that still hadn't been completely cleared of sand and mortar. They climbed the staircase leading to the first floor, where another bare bulb swung from the ceiling, bringing more shadows than light.

"Time travel is—is—science," Thu said lamely.

"Is that so? How does it work then?"

"It works by—by—I don't know, some wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff!"

Ralph looked blank. "What?"

Thu bit back a teasing smile. "You're probably the only Brit alive that doesn't know Doctor Who. If—when we get back to the present, we really need to sit down and watch it."

"To be fair, I was born ninety years ago—"

A heavy, drawn-out sigh echoed down the corridor, cutting him off. It was ringing clear, as though the person was standing right by them.

Ralph gripped Thu's wrist. "Did you hear that?"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" She shook Ralph's hand free and strode forward with long, decisive steps. "It's probably just the wind or something—"

She rounded a corner, and her heart stopped.

A figure wavered in the gloom at the end of the corridor.

Then the figure moved into the light, and Thu realized it was much, much worse than a ghost.

It was a middle-aged man, dressed like a security guard, wearing the green pith helmet of the Vietnamese army, with a baton in his hand and a startled expression on his face.

"Excuse me!" he exclaimed in Vietnamese. "Who the hell are you?"

Thu didn't know where she found the clarity of mind to stick out an arm and block Ralph, who was still hidden from view behind the corner. But block him she did, and she could hear him duck into an empty room, much to her relief.

"This is private property! It belongs to the government of Bulgaria!" the guard shouted, limping toward her. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?!"

"I'm so sorry, sir," Thu said, running up to the guard to prevent him from going further down the corridor and discovering Ralph. She decided the best course was to tell the truth—or a version of the truth anyway. "The gate was open, and I—my friends and I heard that the place is haunted, and they dared me to go inside..."

"Haunted?" The guard frowned. He had the yellow teeth and yellow fingertips of a chain smoker, and, as he got close enough to her, the breath to match as well. "I've worked here since they started constructing, never heard of no haunting."

"It's just what people say—isn't this place built on an old temple? Or was it a cemetery—"

The guard narrowed his eyes at her. "Aren't you a bit old to get up to such shenanigans?" he asked.

Thu was ready to get offended, but then she remembered that thirty years in the past, someone in her mid-twenties could very well be married and having kids already—her own parents were. "You're absolutely right, sir," she said. "I'm so sorry. I'm leaving now."

She turned to leave, but the guard put his baton up. "Hold on," he said. "Let me see your ID."

Thu's heart dropped. "I—I don't have it with me."

"Where do you live?"

"Just... down the street."

"Right, I'll go with you to get your ID then."

"No!" she exclaimed. Realizing she would not be helping her case by panicking, she tried to soften her voice. "Please. You'll get me in trouble with my parents. Please, sir. I haven't done anything. I just walked around—"

Her plea fell on deaf ears. The guard grabbed Thu's arm with vice-like fingers. "So you just admitted to trespassing. Come with me."

"Hey, you can't do this!" She tried to pull away, but his hold was too strong, despite his limp. "Do you even have the authority to detain me?"

"Ooh, like to use fancy words, don't we?" The guard's craggy face took on a harsh, unyielding look. "You're right. This is a police matter. I'm only detaining you until I can fetch them." Ignoring her protests, he dragged her down the corridor and threw her into a room at the very end. "And for your information, young lady, my authority is absolute here!" he said, before snapping shut the padlock at the door with a cruel click.

"Shit!" Thu said out loud. How could she have been so stupid? She should have dragged Ralph bodily out of here—no, she shouldn't have let him through the gate—no, she should never have agreed to come here in the first place!

When she first time-traveled, she had lived for six months in 1929 without any ID whatsoever, but things in 1991 were very different, and with the police getting involved, how was she going to explain herself? She could only pray that Ralph was smart enough to get out while the guard was preoccupied. She may be able to come up with some crazy story to the police to explain her lack of ID, but explaining the presence of a young Englishman who was actually born in 1904 was too much for her. She could see the headlines—"Mad Woman Claims to Come from the Future". "Mad Foreigner Claims to Come from the Past". Or worse, there would be no headlines at all. They would just get thrown into jail or a mental hospital and forgotten.

Thu looked over her jail cell, trying to figure out what to do. She was in a bathroom, lit by a bare light bulb as the rest of the building. The door was of sturdy wood, and the only window was a tiny square high up on the wall. Even if somehow she managed to wriggle through it, it was still a two-floor drop to the ground. No wind came through that window, and the room was boiling. Sticky sweat poured down her back.

A shadow passed by and stopped just outside the room, blocking out the narrow strip of light underneath the door. It was gone in an instant, followed by several more, rather like a group of children crowding each other to peer into a room. Thu pressed her ears to the door but heard nothing, no footsteps or even a rustling of clothes.

"Hello?" she whispered in Vietnamese. Receiving no answer, she switched to English. "Ralph? That you?" Still no answer, but there came that long, heavy sigh again, and the light went out.

The sweat on Thu's back turned to ice. She staggered away from the door, heart hammering, spine crawling, until she hit the wall with her back. The solid wall made her feel slightly better, though the tiles chilled her. She missed Ralph's warm arms.

She sat down on the toilet, trying to gather her wits. Some shadows, a noise, and a power cut were nothing to be so shaken up about. It was just Ralph's overactive imagination and those damned stories getting to her, that was all...

BANG!

She nearly jumped out of her skin, before realizing it was just a window on the ground floor. Probably just the wind. She took a deep breath—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

This time they came right above her, one after another, sounding too fast and uniformed to be caused by the wind. A quick glance out the window told her that the night was as still and muggy as ever.

The guard's voice came from somewhere in the bowels of the building, "Who goes there?" Thu heard a high, clear giggle, but it could be her imagination, or it could simply be from a kid playing in the street outside. This was followed by a long moment of silence, then a scream—more like a yelp, thin and far away, then silence again, ringing in her ears, endless, unbearable.

The silence was broken by running footsteps outside the corridor. Her heart in her throat, Thu cast wildly about for a weapon. She settled for the heavy porcelain cover of the toilet's water tank, though what good it would do against a ghost, she had no idea. But then again, ghosts wouldn't have footsteps, would they?

"Thu?" came Ralph's familiar voice, and the band squeezing her heart loosened, almost making her drop the cover on her foot. She scrambled to the door.

"Ralph! What happened?"

"The guard fell into the pool."

Shit. "What did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!"

This was no time for more bickering. "He must have the keys on him," she told Ralph. "Find them and get me out of here!"

"OK. Hang on."

His footsteps receded. After what must be the longest five minutes of her life, he came back, the door was opened, and the next thing she knew, Ralph was pulling her into his arms. "Are you all right?" he asked. "I'm sorry, this was all my fault—"

Thu was so relieved she wasn't even angry with him anymore. After all, she had followed him into the building of her own volition.

"No time for apologies. Let's just get the hell out of here," she said.

Grabbing each other's hand, they ran down the corridor, down the stairs, and toward the back gate. As they passed the empty swimming pool, Thu glimpsed the dark shape of the guard lying in a heap at the bottom.

"Is he dead?" she asked, horrified.

"No. Just knocked out, I think," Ralph said. Seeing Thu slow down, he paused as well. "What are you thinking?"

Thu weighed the bunch of keys in her hand. "I have an idea," she said, motioning for Ralph to climb down into the pool with her.

They put the keys back into the guard's pocket and carried him into the bathroom where he'd locked Thu up. This way, Thu reasoned, when he woke up, the confusion would be enough to throw doubt over his story, and they would be off the hook.

"Are you still angry with me?" Ralph said as they made their way back to the apartment. "I won't do anything like that ever again, I promise."

"You better keep that promise," she grumbled, but when he tentatively reached for her hand, she didn't push him away.

***

For a few days afterward, Thu avoided going past the embassy, just in case the guard still remembered her face. One evening, she and Ralph were going to dinner when they found their path was taking them past the building again. There was a great bustle as workers went in and out, carrying furniture and cleaning up the leftover building material. Seeing a woman struggling with a heavy chair, Thu came over to help.

"Are the Bulgarians finally moving in?" she asked in Vietnamese.

"No," the woman replied shortly. "They're moving out."

It was then that Thu noticed the furniture was being loaded on carts and taken away. Did this have anything to do with their misadventure the other night?

"Why?" she asked the woman. 

"No one wants to work here," the woman said. "The locals say it's haunted."

Startled, Thu looked back at Ralph, whose eyes were open so wide they threatened to pop out of his face. He hadn't learned much Vietnamese, but he had certainly caught the word "haunted" and understood what it meant. Có ma. Inhabited by ghosts.

"What happened?" Thu asked the woman, trying to sound casually interested.

The woman cast a look around, before dropping her voice. "On Ghost Festival, a security guard was working there alone. He said some woman showed up, telling him the place is haunted. He thought she was a trespasser and locked her up to wait for the police. Did everything by the book, right? Only she vanished! And the guard found himself locked up instead! What do you make of that?"

Thankfully, Thu didn't have to answer that, because another worker was calling to the woman irritably, "Hey, move it! Some of us want to get out of here before it gets dark, you know!"

As the woman scurried back to her work, Thu gave Ralph a brief summary of what the woman had told her.

"I guess we were the ones that started that whole haunted rumor," she said ruefully.

"Well, at least now we know why it was abandoned," Ralph replied, cheerful as ever.

Thu shook her head at him, half exasperated, half affectionate. She should really stop letting him draw her into these harebrained adventures, but it was hard to say no to those puppy eyes.

"So tell me," she said, slipping her arm through Ralph's as they continued on their way, "what did you do to that poor security guard, exactly? How did you know where the breaker was?"

"The what?"

"The electricity. You turned it off to scare the guard, didn't you?"

"I thought that was another power cut?"

She slowed her steps, puzzled. "But you did slam the shutters, right?"

"Yes, the one on the ground floor. I thought it might make a good diversion."

"And the ones on the second floor too."

"No, I didn't go on the second floor."

"But I clearly heard three slams, right above me."

"I heard those too. I thought that was you!"

Did he think she was that gullible? "Come on, Ralph. You're messing with me."

"You're messing with me! How could I have gotten from the ground floor to the second floor so quickly?"

"Right, and next you're going to tell me you didn't make the guard fall into the pool either."

"I told you I didn't! He was already there when I found him!"

Thu finally stopped and looked straight at Ralph. "What are you saying?"

"I am telling you the truth," Ralph said slowly. "All I did was slam the shutters to draw the guard away. Then I hid. I didn't see anything. I only heard giggling and panting, and the guard's scream. When I found him, he was unconscious in the pool."

They stared at each other, neither uttering a word, minds running wild with all sorts of possibilities, while a strange, oppressive feeling—not quite fear, but a vague unease—clutched at their hearts. Thu could feel the razor on the nape of her neck again. As one, she and Ralph turned to look at the building. The workers had finished and left, and the building was deserted once more, looming gray and silent in the last rays of the sun.

"Perhaps the ghosts were helping us because you gave them some puffed rice," eventually Ralph said.

"I don't believe in ghosts," Thu snapped.

"Maybe you should," Ralph said. "They believe in you."

Thu looked over her shoulder again. It could be her imagination, or it could be a trick of the dying light, but the banyan tree looked like it was winking at them.

Definitely her imagination. Maybe.

"Don't say things like that," she said, trying to shake off the crawling sensation on her back. "It sounds so creepy!"

"Sorry."

She glared at Ralph. His eyes were full of earnest concern, with no hint of the twinkle he usually had when he was teasing her.

"You're lucky you're cute, you know that?" she said.

Face brightening up, he grinned back at her. "I know."

For all her bravado, Thu's grip on Ralph's hand was tighter than usual as they walked home in the gathering dusk. Then again, perhaps that was what he was aiming for, the cheeky tosser.

[niennandil-me-writes]

something new, something blue

cn: anxiety, abusive parents mention, cannibalism mention in an academic context, nsfw at the end

[my secret santa gift for @constantlytiredghost. November belongs to them.]

Wilhelmina sat bent over her studies, trying to take notes, trying to compare three different sources, trying to stay focused. She had always struggled with working while someone else was in the room, preferring the solitude and silence of her empty study. Not that she would have preferred to be alone right now. It had turned out she was even more distracted when the person with her was one she actually liked.

Last time Wilhelmina had looked behind her, which was about five minutes ago, November had been sitting on her bed, surrounded by the books she had brought from the library, most of them on funerary rites (“Wilhelmina, did you know about this clan of Yuan-Ti that eats their dead?” She had known about it, but still listened to November read her the passage and talk about similar accounts she had heard, wondering aloud whether the souls of the dead were watching over their cooks’ shoulder…).

Now she heard November stand up, walk around the room. She realized she’d been reading the same sentence for the tenth time, when she felt something graze her left horn. A bit puzzled, she looked up at November, or rather at her hat.

“Sorry,” the blue-clad cleric said. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“You aren’t – I mean – Don’t worry about it. I should just…”

“It’s just that you said you’d be ready in ten minutes, and that was half an hour ago.”

“Oh, right…” Wilhelmina bit her lip.

“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” November said gently. “But I’m getting hungry.” She tilted her head, winced, no doubt remembering their talk a few days back. “Or at least, I could do with a snack right now.”

“Uhm, sure, let’s go.” Wilhelmina stood up quickly. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Let me just get my bag. I think the cafeteria has zucchini cream soup today. It’s my favorite, I’m sure you’ll love it as well! Is something wrong?”

November had stopped in her tracks suddenly, frowning. “Not really,” she said, hesitantly. “I just thought we might go eat somewhere else today?”

“Do you not like zucchini soup?” Wilhelmina asked, alarmed.

“No, it’s nice. Just… you already showed me the cafeteria when we cooked our chili there.” November smiled. “I thought maybe you want to show me some other place?”

Wilhelmina avoided her gaze, looking out the window instead. Despite studying in this city for 8 years and working here for another 2, she had never been to any of its restaurants, except for the rare occasions where someone explicitly invited her, and she hadn’t found an excuse in time. Even then, she remembered mainly how nervous she had been. Not the food, or the address or name of the establishment.

“You don’t think it’s still dangerous to go outside, do you?” November asked carefully. “I’m sure the whole thing has blown over.”

“I’m not worried about that. Anymore,” Wilhelmina added quickly. Then, finally, she had an idea: “There’s the food vendors! Uhm, there’s a place on campus with a bunch of food tents, I’ve heard. I’ve never been, but, you know, we could try it out…”

“Sounds great,” November beamed. “I love street food!”

Wilhelmina was glad it was around midday, so all she had to do was follow the groups of university students to find this place she had heard of and walked past sometimes, but never really visited. Too scary was the prospect of a colleague walking over while she ate her lunch, or a food vendor making small talk.

The tents were arranged in a semicircle around a cluster of wooden tables and benches, where students sat together chattering, discussing their studies, some with their notes scattered across the table next to their wooden plates. It wasn’t just students, though. Wilhelmina recognized some of her colleagues among them, and quickly turned away.

November, meanwhile, had been looking around the yard with big eyes and an even bigger smile. “I don’t even know what I should get, those all look so good! Do you have any recommendations, Wilhelmina?”

“Uhm, not really,” she murmured. “I’ve never eaten here.”

“Hmmm…” November looked around again. “Do you like curry?”

Wilhelmina nodded courtly, and November took her hand to guide her towards a red tent staffed by Tabaxi stirring in big pots and turning skewers and dumplings on a grill.

“Anything I can do for you, love?” one of the servers asked Wilhelmina.

She looked helplessly to November, whose gaze was fixed on the blackboard spelling out the different foods on display. Wilhelmina felt the shadows drape deeper over her face as the Tabaxi looked at her impatiently.

To her relief, November finally looked up: “I’ll have the vegan curry with samosas. And extra spicy, please.”

The Tabaxi nodded and then looked at Wilhelmina expectantly, who mumbled a “the same”, and then quickly fumbled for her money before November could pay or argue. They got their food quickly. Not being able to find an empty table, and despite Wilhelmina’s protests, November spread out her cloak on the grass, so they could sit there comfortably.

“Can I have some of your carrots?” November asked.

“Hm?” Wilhelmina was pushing around her food. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

November tilted her head and looked at her bow. “Didn’t you also order samosas?”

“Wh- Yes, I did, but…”

They both looked down at Wilhelmina’s very samosa-less bowl.

“They probably just forgot it,” November said. “Should I come with you to ask for them?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Wilhelmina said quickly.

“But you wanted samosas, right? And you paid for them? So you should get samosas.”

“Really, November, it’s okay.”

November quickly made a grab for Wilhelmina’s bowl and stood up to walk back to the food tent. Wilhelmina followed her, but then halted indecisively. In horror, he watched November tap the Tabaxi who had served them earlier on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, my friend ordered samosas with that?”

Wilhelmina wanted to call another “it’s fine” but could barely move her lips. Her entire body shrouded in shadows as the Tabaxi looked over to her with a furrowed brow. This was it. She would get yelled at. And she would yell back and maybe hurl a sliver of her psychic magic at the server and then run away and hide in the library, never to be seen again, never to see November agai–

“Sorry, love, I’ll take care of that right away.” The server took the bowl and went back inside the tent. November turned around and shot Wilhelmina a smile, soon rejoining her with the fixed order.

“Thanks,” Wilhelmina said meekly. “Uh, thanks for doing that for me.”

“No problem,” November beamed. “Just pay me back in carrots.”

The curry was delicious, the samosas even moreso. Spicy, but not too much to handle for Wilhelmina’s fire-resistant Tiefling body and November’s deadened nerves.

“Maybe we could go here more often,” Wilhelmina said hesitantly. “For as long as you’re staying, at least. This is much easier when I have you with me.” It wasn’t just the heat of the food that drove a blush to her cheeks.

November smiled. “It’s really nice here.” She had made herself comfortable in the grass, looking around. “What else have we planned for today?”

“Planned? What do you mean?”

“Well, you did say you’d show me around the city. And today seems a good day for that. Unless you are too busy?”

Wilhelmina had said that. Though she had mainly referred to the university, and had hoped she could put it off for a while.

“I… actually don’t know that many places here. I can show you around the university, though,” she suggested.

“That would be nice. But maybe, we could go some other place? I’ve already been around the university a bit.”

Wilhelmina contemplated what she could show November, while her partner sat patiently, cleaning out the last of her curry from the bowl.

“There’s a couple of parks,” Wilhelmina said hesitantly. “Oh! There’s the museum.” She lit up. “Numerous museums, actually. There’s the history museum, and the museum of arts, the museum of magic…” She looked at November, who was listening, smiling, most important of all: nodding.

“Sounds fun.”

“Erm, is there something specific you’d be interested in?” Wilhelmina asked.

“The museum of magic sounds interesting. But I’d let you choose.”

After returning their plates, Wilhelmina led the way through the streets of the city. November kept skipping ahead or falling behind to take in the sights, or even just a shop window. The second time she returned from such an exploit, November took Wilhelmina’s hand in hers, and the Tiefling was too flustered to launch into her lecture about the historical figure depicted by the statue November had just returned from.

It was strange. Wilhelmina had lived in this city for almost a decade – since she had started her studies. And yet right now, with November’s hand in hers, and her tail hesitantly laid around her partner’s hip, the ways seemed to stretch so much longer. The colors were brighter, the shop fronts more enticing and the attractions more exciting. There was a bittersweetness to it. Wilhelmina caught herself evading November’s eyes and quickening her step just a bit.

Walking into the well-known shadow of the old museum felt like a relief. She waived both November and herself through with her university sigil.

“Don’t we have to pay?” November asked.

“The university – the Librarian, that is – donated some artifacts to the museums in the past,” Wilhelmina explained. “University people and their companions have free entry.”

November looked around the room they had entered, which held ancient wands and staffs on the walls and in locked glass cabinets.

“Is any of the stuff here from you? I mean, did you bring something here back from an adventure? Like the Kryschos in the library?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Wilhelmina said. “I did help with the identification of a magical cloak, however.”

“Well, then lead the way.”

Wilhelmina needed a moment to understand before November took her hand again. She nodded and together they walked into a room displaying magical clothing. The cloak of interest was hanging spread-out at the wall among many others of a similar kind. All of them were frayed at the edges and had a few holes, which had made it hard to identify what magic exactly they held, especially since they couldn’t be used anymore without running danger of destroying them or oneself. With the artefact in question, it had taken weeks to even say for sure whether it was magic at all, or just had residue from a spell stuck to it in a very peculiar way, until they had figured out that the magic ran through one single strand of one single thread of the elaborate embroidery. After that discovery, the delicate process of analyzing the fibers one by one without damaging the fabric had been Wilhelmina’s job, which had taken the better part of two weeks.

“So what does it do?” November asked as Wilhelmina ended her description of the work.

“We, uh, still don’t really know,” Wilhelmina said a bit meekly. “The thread has way too many tears in it to say for certain. It’s almost like a text with words or whole paragraphs missing. We assume it’s a form of protective cloak. The magic is mostly Abjuration, with trace amounts of Evocation. There might be fire involved, though whether it protected from it or summoned fire in some way we cannot say for sure. The motives of the embroidery led us to believe it might be a part of a set of 5, or perhaps 6, though as far as we could find out, no others like it have ever been found. Further studies … what?”

November was grinning from ear to ear. Now she tilted her head. “What ‘what’?”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’re really good at this,” November said. “Explaining things I mean. You’re like a walking book.”

There was that familiar sting in her chest. A feeling that made her want to lash out, want to hide away in a dark room, a shadow within shadows. It was an instinct she still couldn’t fully let go off. Sharp words at the tip of her tongue. Words she held back. But when did speak, it still came out a bit harsher than she had wanted it to: “I must be boring you. We should just look at other stuff.”

November’s smile didn’t disappear, but turned softer. “But I like hearing you explain things.”

Wilhelmina didn’t look up. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Why else would I be here?”

Yes, why were they here? Right back in her comfort space, surrounded by silence and musty air and relics, like they had never left the library at all, when November had wanted to see the city’s sights. Wilhelmina bit back those words as well, and instead looked around the room. “What do you want to hear about next?”

That was how they moved through the museum, room by room, November pointing out artifacts, and Wilhelmina recounting what she could remember of their history, meaning and the magic they held. They looked at a variety of magic foci, enchanted cloaks (“this one looks a bit like Tony’s, don’t you think?”), studied spell scrolls and books locked behind special glass that prevented them from being used to cast, and spell-storing stones and jewels. They spent about half an hour looking at different magic hats as well as normal hats that used to belong to powerful magic users, including a fedora that allegedly used to belong to Melf himself. November stared at that one for quite a while.

“Who do you think has better style?” she finally asked.

“You, undoubtedly,” Wilhelmina said.

“Hm? Oh, I meant between that witch hat over there and Melf’s,” November clarified. “But thanks, much appreciated.”

“Oh, I just meant…,” Wilhelmina stuttered.

“I still think I need some more trinkets and thingamajigs,” November said, considering the brim of the witch hat bending under the weight of various pieces of decoration.

It was only after a while of walking and talking her way through the museum that Wilhelmina noticed they were being followed around by four people. She halted in her explanation of a specific magic broomstick. Helplessly, she looked over at November, who laughed: “I think you got an audience.”

“Am I talking too loudly?” Wilhelmina whispered.

One of the other visitors, an Elf holding a notebook, lifted their hand: “Sorry, does it cost extra to join the tour?”

Wilhelmina felt the shadows drape over her face. “I’m not – I mean…” She trailed off as November took her hand.

“Should I tell them to leave us some space?” she asked in a low voice.

Wilhelmina bit her lip. “No. I mean, if we’re here anyway…” She cleared her throat, then said louder: “I’m not a guide, but you can stay if you want.”

Wilhelmina had become quite good at holding presentations over the years at university, but she had never been comfortable during them. This was similar, now that she was aware of the eyes directed at her. At first, at least. But whenever she felt November close to her, touching her hand for just a moment or brushing shoulders, it didn’t put her on edge like any other proximity would have in that situation. She focused in on her and found the speaking just as easy as before. She wrapped her tail around November’s leg, not caring that everyone saw. She had given up on that at the ball. There were a lot of things she cared about less now, she realized.

By the time they left the museum, it was already getting dark, the sun having disappeared behind the skyline a while ago. They walked through the shadowed streets, Wilhelmina choosing a longer way back to the university.

“We can go window shopping until the stores close if you like,” Wilhelmina said. “And then pick up some food to take to my room.”

“What’s that commotion over there?” November asked.

Wilhelmina followed her gaze. It had indeed gotten louder, voices and distant music and joyful screams echoing through the streets. In that direction, the house walls and cobblestones were lit in various colors that replaced the waning light of the sun.

The closer they got, the more they could recognize: First, small stands on either side of the street, offering snacks and sweets. The farther away, the more people bustled about, until the street led to the entrance of a park, which seemed to be the center of the commotion. Between the trees, a wide array of tents, booths and big stalls had been erected, lit by the colorful light of lanterns hanging from the branches, both mundane and magical in nature.

“Win your prize at the ranger’s hut!” an Elf holding a toy-sized bow and arrow yelled from within a booth. “Just hit the target three times!”

“The best waffles in the city!” barked a Halfling from a stand laden with sweets.

“Get your fortune told at Madame Mertha’s!” a Gnome called over from a tent.

Wilhelmina and November had stopped at the park entrance.

“Looks like a fair,” Wilhelmina said. “I heard one comes to town sometimes.”

“Well, then we’re in luck,” November said. “I haven’t been to one in ages!”

Even though she was tired and usually avoided large crowds, Wilhelmina joined November without complaint as she walked inside the park to have a look around. As if she knew the place, November casually guided their way to a big hut that was shrouded in an intense sugary sweet smell.

“You want some candyfloss, Wilhelmina?”

Wilhelmina jumped as November’s question drew the attention of a Tortle who was selling the sweets. She mumbled something, and kept looking around the stand, noticing gingerbread hearts in the back, different kinds of candy sticks and chocolates…

November tapped her shoulder and she turned to see two giant blue-and-white clouds under the big hat of her partner. Wilhelmina smiled shyly as she took her candyfloss. As she turned the stick to tear off a small wisp with pointed fingers, she realized that the sugary threads were glowing from within.

“Nice, isn’t it?” November said, her eyes glowing almost as bright as the candy. “The vendor casts a Light cantrip on the inner part. It looks almost like a will-o’-wisp, don’t you think?” She smirked. “So it fits you.”

Wilhelmina stopped with the sugar halfway to her mouth, looking down herself, then at the glowing confection, then at November. “It also fits your colors,” she said sheepishly. “And, um, thanks.” She finally put the sugar in her mouth. It melted in a sticking sweet intense flavor, with just a hint of blueberry and vanilla.

November furrowed her brow. “Have you never had candyfloss before, Wilhelmina?”

“Um, not that often. Why?”

November grinned, and Wilhelmina realized that her eyes had widened as she took the bite, and that her tail stood up rather than subtly hanging down as usual. She quickly wrapped it around November’s leg, and then felt even more embarrassed.

November took her hand and smiled at her calmly. “I saw some interesting stalls over there, wanna see?”

Wilhelmina let November guide her on. “I, uh, never was allowed much candy by my parents,” she explained. “And I’ve only ever been to a funfair once. My sister, Ramona, snuck us out for it. We were grounded for a week after that. But she found a way to pass letters under my door, and some candy she got there for me.”

“At least you have one family member that allows fun,” November said. “We had a small fair coming by the town once a year. My family would even do their own stand sometimes. Basically a haunted house.” November smiled in reminiscence.

Wilhelmina turned the candyfloss around in contemplation. “Were any of the ghosts real?”

“That’s a family and company secret.”

They had arrived at a bigger stall with a particularly large crowd gathered around it. At closer inspection, it seemed to be selling trinkets and toys that had weak magical properties, which explained the amount of children pulling at their parents' sleeves and begging for what had caught their attention. But older customers were examining the wares as well.

There were music boxes with dancing figurines inside, endlessly spinning tops, hairbands that promised to increase the effects of studying (Wilhelmina looked at that for a moment longer), chalk that wrote in rainbow colors, sending stones (of particular interest to a group of teenagers), brushes that dyed your hair, and much more.

One particular object caught both Wilhelmina’s and November’s attention at almost the same time, as they called out to the other with fingers pointed.

“You know who that would be perfect for?” November said in excitement, looking at the metal orb the size of her head. The metal had some holes and etchings, such that Wilhelmina for a second had wondered if it was the making of magic or artifice, but at least the silver light streaming from within seemed to be magical. The corner it stood in wasn’t lit, except for the little dots the object produced, projecting star clusters and constellations at the wooden wall, exactly like the real ones in the sky above.

“Tony would love that,” Wilhelmina agreed.

The vendor, a Gnome standing on the elevated floor of the stall, had noticed their attention. “You can change the hemisphere and plane it shows,” they explained, turning a lever on the orb to switch to a sky Wilhelmina had never seen before.

“We have to get that for them,” Wilhelmina and November said at once.

“Costs a small fortune, though,” November added, glancing at the label.

Wilhelmina, who had already reached for her wallet, hesitated. “I mean, I can…”

“We will split it,” November said. “And then we have to find a way to send that to Tony’s ship.”

After making their purchase and carefully storing it in November’s bag, they walked on, Wilhelmina keeping her tail around November as if to steady herself. They arrived at an area where there seemed to be a lot of competitions and prizes to win.

“Those are always rigged,” Wilhelmina mumbled, an echo of her parents’ opinion, looking at a game where participants had to throw very small rings around very big cylinders.

“Wanna find out how rigged?” November asked.

“What?”

But November was already pulling her towards one of the games, and Wilhelmina didn’t really have a choice but to follow or get lost in the crowd. November looked around a bit at the games. “Which should we try?”

“Um…”

“Want to try out the Dwarf Strike?” a gruff voice called over to them, and they both turned to look at a Dwarf woman standing next to a wooden construction three times her size, with markings up its length labelled from “Halfling Baby” and “One-Armed Kobold” over “Strongest Elf” and “Weakest Bugbear” up to “Orc”, “Dwarf” and “Dwarf-Orc”.

“Ya just have to hit the base with this here hammer and if ya get to one of t’ upper ones, ya get a prize.”

“Bit stereotyping, don’t you think?” November remarked, pointing at the labels.

The Dwarf flinched. “Get that a lot. It’s an older model and I’m too lazy to think o’ something better. Now, does one of ya beauties want to try ya hands at it.” She pointed at a shelf laden with prizes behind her, mostly brightly colored plushies and little bundles filled with candy. “Maybe win one of them stuffies for yer lady friend?”

November looked at Wilhelmina, who shook her head.

“I’ll try it,” November said and walked up to the wooden tower to pay for one attempt. Wilhelmina stood to the side and watched her pick up the large hammer. She weighed it in her hands and tried to pull it up before stopping. “Oh, almost forgot, Wilhelmina, can you take my hat for me?”

She quickly walked over and put the hat on Wilhelmina’s head. As she leaned closer to pull it over her horns, she winked at her and whispered, “Try to distract her a bit for me, okay?” She was back at the tower before Wilhelmina could say anything. It seemed to take her some effort to lift the hammer into the air and over her shoulders. She winked at Wilhelmina again.

Wilhelmina bit her lips. She stepped a bit closer to the Dwarf. “Is, um… does this fair come here often?”

“’bout twice a year. Big cities are always happy to have us.”

Wilhelmina took a deep breath. Made a little gesture with her hand as if to draw attention. Then she started talking, weaving enthralling magic into her words, talking without interruption to capture and cage the Dwarf’s attention. She talked about this being her first time here, about Ramona taking her to the fair back home many years back, the pressure her parents put her under, and she was about to start talking about her growing discomfort at this place when there was a loud BANG as November struck the hammer to the base with full force, followed by a louder GONG sound as the puck was thrown upwards to hit the third highest mark. For the fraction of a second Wilhelmina saw the outline of a silvery shovel around the hammer, then it was gone.

“Did I do it right?” November asked innocently.

The Dwarf scratched her head, but apparently, she hadn’t seen what Wilhelmina had spotted, and so she just grinned and said. “Congrats, lass. Didn’t think you’d have that much power in ya.” She walked back to the row of prices, picking out a big blue stuffed owl with a large pink heart on its chest. “That one right for ya?” she asked and handed the prize not to November but rather to Wilhelmina, who nodded a bit befuddled. “Looks just like you,” the Dwarf winked. “You sweethearts have anything else planned?”

“Not really,” November said quickly. She took Wilhelmina’s hand and turned away, but the Dwarf was still talking.

“There’s a ferris wheel over yonder. My brother is manning it. Can see the whole city from the top, so it’s nice if you haven’t been to the city for long. Might be something for you lovebird- whoa!”

All the lights had gone out all of a sudden, the place cast in shadow. Yells and murmurs and complaints came from the crowd around them, getting more confused as it became clear that it wasn’t just the lights, but that a bubble of total darkness had taken over a small part of the park.

Having let go of November’s hand and drawn in her tail, Wilhelmina ignored her companion’s calls and left. She stepped outside the darkness, past the confused crowd. When she left the park, she consciously recalled the spell that she had unconsciously cast. The walk back to university was like a haze, her vision blurry from tears, hands cramped into fists, face draped in shadow, staring down anyone who dared come close to her.

Finally, she stepped inside her room, closed and locked the door behind her, and threw herself on her bed. It took only a few seconds for the anger bubbling up in her to simmer into a shallow guilt. She shut it out. It didn’t matter. She was more comfortable in her room anyway.

She jumped when there was a knock at her door.

She stayed silent. Didn’t move. Face pressed into her pillow.

Another knock. “Wilhelmina?” November’s voice, soft and concerned.

“Go away!” Wilhelmina called. “Don’t let me ruin the fun you were having!”

It was silent for a while. Wilhelmina sat up, only now noticing the hat that had fallen on the floor. She had forgotten she had been wearing it while fleeing. She picked it up and walked to the door, unlocking and opening it by an inch. She half expected November to be gone, but she still stood there. Her brow was furrowed with what might have been worry.

“Sorry for stealing your hat,” Wilhelmina said meekly. She tried to pass the hat through the gap and immediately close the door again, but November was already holding it in place.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Don’t you want to go to the ferris wheel?” Wilhelmina didn’t look at her.

“Not if it’s not with you.”

Wilhelmina chewed her lip, anger bubbling up inside her again. “Fine.” She let go off the door and sat down on her bed again. November followed her and let herself fall down beside her.

“You forgot your plush,” she said, sitting the owl on the mattress next to her.

Wilhelmina didn’t look at it or November. “I got you licorice.”

“What?”

“At the candy stall. I got you licorice.” Wilhelmina pointed at her bag on the floor, holding a paper package of licorice sticks. “I think you’ll like it. It has an intense flavor.”

“Ah,” November said.

A silence fell over the room that was neither save nor comfortable.

“Soooo,” November said after a while. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong, or do you just want to sit there and pout?” And when she didn’t get an answer: “I wouldn’t have a problem with that. You have a very cute pout.”

“It’s not – “ She stopped herself and pressed her lips together.

“Yes, it is. Your ears turn downwards when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” Wilhelmina pouted.

“Yes, you are. And it’s cute.” She reached out to Wilhelmina’s face, who flinched away, staring her down.

She could feel the shadows darken, was about to send a mind sliver in November’s direction to get the thoughts that were muddling her mind like ink blotches on the page of a book to leave, and November along with them. If she didn’t get it, she could feel it, and maybe then she’d understand it, and maybe then she would leave her alone, leave and never come back, and she’d be alone and in peace again.

But then something turned softer about November’s expression, and she turned and pulled her legs up to her chest, so she was facing Wilhelmina. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanna know what’s wrong.”

There was something about her that let the walls Wilhelmina had built around herself crumble. About her and Tony both. But where Tony was a wrecking ball, November seemed like a magical brew that dissolved the adhesive sticking the bricks together.

Wilhelmina looked away, draping her face in shadows in shame rather than anger this time. After everything, her first instinct was still to lash out. Hurt people before they could hurt her. Keep them at a distance so their words could never sting. The truth was that she liked those walls she had built, and that she felt exposed without them.

“Sorry,” Wilhelmina said meekly. “I was being an idiot.”

“Nobody said anything about that,” November said. “I just want to know what happened.” Wilhelmina felt November’s cold fingers gently brush her own hand, and this time, she didn’t pull away.

“It’s stupid,” Wilhelmina said again. “You will laugh at me, or get mad, and both would be justified.”

“Now you’re being unfair towards yourself,” November said.

Wilhelmina hesitated, as if trying to find the right words, as if they hadn’t been echoing through her mind all the way home. “It’s just… You wanted me to show you the city, but I had nothing to show. I don’t even know the city I’ve lived in for years.”

“You showed me the museum,” November interjected.

“Yes, and as soon as we left, you wanted to see something else, something more exciting,” Wilhelmina said, turning to her. “And I get it, I have nothing to offer. I’m… boring. You are amazing! You always tell me about your adventures, of guiding lost souls into the afterlife, of beating people up with a spiritual shovel, or forcing them to dig their own graves, of escaping death itself! You talked to that … experiment? creature? – when I didn’t even know what to do.

“And Tony as well! They’re traveling the world by ship. And what do I do? I sit here in my study and read old books! I’m a glorified scribe! I spent all my life trying to please my parents, or – or some Archfey I sold my soul to, without mattering to any of them at all, and now I’m 28 and I feel like I haven’t lived a single day of my life. I can’t even show you anything exciting in this city that’s worth doing. I must be so boring to you.”

November had listened with her head tilted. Now she reached out both hands to take Wilhelmina’s face between them, preventing her from looking away again. “You’re pretty amazing as well.”

Wilhelmina flushed. “You’re just saying that.”

November didn’t relent. “Wilhelmina, when I first met you, you killed a guy with your own negative thoughts. I’ve seen the stuff you brought to the Librarian, and the stuff you analyzed for the museum. That’s not boring, that’s great. Amazing even.”

Wilhelmina wanted to contradict her again, but she couldn’t even open her mouth before November had leaned forward and, still holding her head in place, pressed her lips on it. A silent squeal escaped Wilhelmina, and in response November’s lips curled upwards. Then, Wilhelmina relaxed, closing her eyes to sink into the kiss. November’s fingers brushed over her cheeks. Wilhelmina gently laid her tail on November’s back, then wrapped it around her midst as the kiss became something more intense. Her hands burrowed into November’s hair. On the edge of her mind, she noticed that November’s hat had fallen off, and she didn’t seem to have noticed at all. November’s skin and lips and mouth were cold, but never would she have called that cold lifeless. If anything, it was calming against the heat of Wilhelmina’s cheeks and embarrassment and –

“Wilhelmina,” November whispered as she pulled away. “There is something else you can show me that I haven’t tried yet.”

“What?” Wilhelmina, who, unlike November, needed to breathe, panted.

November reached down to the stacks of books that were piled up beside the bed, pulling up a thin booklet, which Wilhelmina recognized in horror.

“That’s not mine!” she said quickly. “I mean, I have never seen that before! I mean – “

November laughed. She started flipping through the pages, which were filled with drawings of featureless bodies of different races tied up in various compromising positions, with instructions written in between the sketches. “I just thought it might be fun to try out, and that maybe you have some more experience with that than with fairs?”

Wilhelmina called the shadows intentionally this time to hide her flushed cheeks and caught expression. She bit her lip. “Well… I mean – I – We could try something out. If you want. I assume.” She looked up at November and managed a smile. “Do you, uhm, does any specific variant strike your interest?”

November kept flipping through the pages. “The ones where you hang from the ceiling look wild.”

“Those… probably aren’t the best idea for a complete beginner,” Wilhelmina cautioned.

“Yeah, thought so,” November said. “I might be dead, but I don’t know how I feel about playing vampire right now. Maybe when Tony comes over, we can try that with them, I bet they’d have fun.” She chuckled and turned to a page at the beginning.

“These are pretty easy,” Wilhelmina said. “To tie and to experience, I mean.”

“This one seems good,” November said, pointing to one.

Wilhelmina considered the sketches and accompanying instructions. She nodded.

“Do you have rope here or should I get some from my pack?”

Wilhelmina, who had already bent down to retrieve the equipment from under her bed, stopped dead in her tracks. “Um. No. I don’t.”

November chuckled. She slipped her shirt over her head.

“Wait, what are you – “

“All the people in the pictures are nude,” November said innocently. “I thought it was the point?”

“I don’t – I mean – you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable…” She couldn’t keep her eyes from trailing back to November’s now exposed chest.

“Wilhelmina.” November stood up and put a hand to Wilhelmina’s chin again. Somehow, despite it meaning a closer proximity to breasts, it calmed her down. “How about I just tell you when I’m not comfortable with something? And the same goes for you.”

Wilhelmina nodded again. “Sit down and give me your leg.”

Following the instructions meticulously, Wilhelmina set to work. Starting with a knot at the ankle, she first tied November’s thigh to her shin. She then passed the black rope around her hip and chest, before continuing on the other leg. Although she had been nervous at first, not being used yet to being this … intimate with November, Wilhelmina found the process calming in a way. She soon forgot she had the naked body of her girlfriend in front of her, all her attention being taken up by the knots and ties and careful technique. Once or twice, she had to work backwards to untangle a mistake, apologizing for the holdup. But November remained patient, encouraging.

It took some time, but finally, it was done. Wilhelmina stepped away to consider the work. She discovered a few more mistakes she had made, but now the thrilling sight demanded back the attention Wilhelmina had put somewhere else for a while.

November’s arms were tied behind her back, legs bound calve to thigh and affixed to the arm in a way that forced her to keep them parted. In addition, there were some aesthetic ties around her upper body, the tightness of the rope pushing out her cute small breasts.

November was grinning. “Well, how do I look?”

There were a thousand words jumbling together in Wilhelmina’s mind: Beautiful. Cute. Sexy. Pretty. Hot. I want you. Adorable. So bad. Stunning. Right now.

What came out was an incoherent mumbling mess.

November chuckled again. “Well, watching you tie me up was fun, but I gotta admit, I don’t really see the appeal that much? I can’t even move.”

“That is… kind of the point,” Wilhelmina murmured.

“Yeah, I know, I just don’t really see how that would help in getting it on.”

“Well.” Wilhelmina had caught herself a bit again. She tried to sound mischievous: “Now I can do with you whatever I want?”

November’s smile turned into a smirk. “Like what?”

“Like this.” Wilhelmina knelt down on the bed in front of November and kissed her. November kissed back, tenderly sucking on her lips. She struggled, trying to touch Wilhelmina, but the binds kept her in her helpless position. Wilhelmina put one hand to the rope at her chest and pulled on it, gently for now, to get her closer. Her lips wandered down November’s neck, and the other couldn’t follow. She kissed along her collarbone. Her fingers brushed the scar over November’s heart.

Wilhelmina brought her lips to November’s ear, whispered: “Are you still comfortable?”

November nodded. “Like I said, I’ll tell you if I’m not.” She sounded almost out of breath.

Wilhelmina took the words as a full invitation. She put one hand on November’s right breast and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her tail wrapped around November, under the ropes, interweaving with them and holding her even closer. One hand wandered farther down. November gasped in anticipation.

Wilhelmina kissed the cold skin over November’s heart as she pushed two fingers inside her. There was so much more she wanted to show her.

[rosavulpes]

Holding on to the handle of his mop rather firmly as he moved it around the flooring of his primary work space , he'd maneuver it around , and underneath his furniture . Lifting some chairs , and more to ensure that every inch of the floor was properly cleaned .

He'd already swept earlier , to clean off any dirt , or dust that his clients may have tracked in with them when they came in to see him but he knew that cleanliness , especially when working as a doctor was essential . It was an aspect that he could not lapse on .

The floor would be swept , moped , chairs wiped down , surfaces disinfected , windows opened to help facilitate the breeze moving throughout the space to avoid any stuffiness congregating in any of the rooms . Similarly any of his tools , supplies , or appliances that he'd used throughout the day needed to be thoroughly wiped down , and disinfected less he do more harm than good .

He was nearly done with his tasks , a soft scent of incense in the air from where he'd lit a few sticks to help make the atmosphere of the room more inviting , and comfortable .

While Shuichi was no longer expecting any further patients to come in for the day , unless it was an emergency of course , he was expecting her to come by .

He knew that his request may have been unorthodox , and entitled in that he'd put in a request at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to meet with it's director , Ms. Hu Tao . With the arrival of spring came seasonal allergies , and common sinus infections , so he'd found himself to be busier than he'd initially expected to be but ... he had heard from some of his neighbors whom owned or rented out spaces of their own for their own businesses of the Funeral Parlor's eccentric personality ... as well as her door to door visits promoting the Funeral Parlor's services .

With most of his time being eaten away by his work , he couldn't find the time to stay at the parlor for a prolonged period to discuss what he was seeking without being asked to return by one of his patients .

For as much as he didn't want to think of it ... there would eventually come a time where he knew that he would have to bid farewell to the two people that mattered most to him in this human life , his beloved mother and father . There was no way for him to give back the time he'd taken from them ... the time he'd stolen from them . So when that time came ? Regardless of what stories he'd heard of the director's behavior there was no denying anywhere that the services she , and the WangSheng Funeral Parlor performed were the very best one could find in Liyue .

The very best .

Her dedication in promoting the parlor services proof enough of the parlor commitment to excellency . So , who better to entrust their final rites to then them ?

Still , as he finished up his final cleaning tasks for the day . He'd close up the windows . A sweet smell of baked good wafting down from the secondary floor he rented out which contained a table , shelves holding his inventory , an a secondary wooden stove that could be used for heat , or cooking .

In this case , as a means of welcoming , and thanking the director for accepting his meeting request he'd decided to prepare a few things for her . While he'd originally intended to make almond cookies , he'd heard that the director had a fondness Taiyaki . Unfortunately he didn't know what kind of filling , or what particular fish she may have preferred to see so he'd settled on a traditional sweet red bean paste to fill them with when baking them . The cakes cut , and modeled into the shapes of sweet-flower medaka fish .

A pot of jasmine tea being kept warm next to it . Covered , and waiting to be served . Berries added for a sweet , and sour contrast .

Hearing the bell chime of his door sing as it was opened , he glanced over his shoulder quickly . Starting to put away what remained of his cleaning supplies .

" Good evening ! I'll be with you in just a moment ! "

@papilio-anima

[waltwhitmansbeard]

my fair lady: drabble #14

*smashes mug on floor* ANOTHER! i simply cannot be stopped. this one takes place after the epilogue of my fair lady, which you can read in its entirety here. this, like all the others, is inspired by @romeoandjulietyouwish's medieval au!

Within a fortnight of the princess's marriage to a common guard—or perhaps a holy man of some kind, the grapevine is getting tangled—some nobility from Vesrah come to visit the Zephran court. It is not unusual for visiting Ashari dignitaries to come to Zephrah, where they consult with the sovereign on matters of political import and enjoy the luxuries that proximity to the crown brings, but it is, to Vax, unfortunate that this visit has been timed so closely to the eruption of gossip surrounding him and Keyleth.

He tries to tell Keyleth that he should not attend the planned events to celebrate their Vesran guests, that he could even resume his post as her guard for the duration of their stay, but she is not having it. She insists that the point of their marriage, clandestine as it was, was to make irrefutable the fact that they love each other, that they have devoted themselves to each other before gods and country, and their countrymen would simply have to accept that which they likely find quite scandalous.

To Vax's relief, shortly before the entourage's arrival, he is called away to deliver last rites to a retired miller, so he is at least able to avoid the initial reception of the Vesrans. He will instead have to be introduced at the welcome gala later that evening, which he also dreads as one would the plague. He dresses for the event in Percy's chambers, as he does not have himself a wardrobe befitting such an elegant occasion, and when he arrives, he is announced not with his wife but on his own, as the Champion of the Raven Queen. Vax knows little about how such courtly matters work—his time here in the castle has been spent solely focused on Keyleth, not the frivolities of court—so he enters when he is told to do so, finding the many eyes on him extremely disconcerting.

Keyleth and her father are announced last, and they enter together to much applause. Even after so many years at court, Keyleth still tinges pink before all these people, never one for the spotlight. From the center of the ballroom, the sovereign welcomes their Vesran guests, which Vax learns consists of a pair of dukes who are brothers and a baroness and her wife, and calls for a moment of silence to commemorate those members of the Vesran nobility who were lost in the attack at Syngorn. Vax remembers that Vesrah suffered greatly during that raid, and he wonders how many of those lost were relatives of their guests.

When the sovereign is done speaking, the gathered lords and ladies and the Vesran guests are left to mingle, a string quartet off in one corner scoring the evening's conversations. Vax immediately makes a break for Keyleth, who is resplendent in a silvery blue gown and beaded cape, but his path blocked by a small gaggle of nobles who are fascinated by the newly-appointed Champion. As this is Vax's first time at court as a titled person and not a guard, he has no idea how to extract himself politely from these curious interviews, and he quickly loses sight of his wife through the sea of gala attendees.

Vax finds her again some time later while caught up half-listening to a conversation between the Vesran baroness, her wife, and Lady Kima. He watches Keyleth from across the ballroom—he's always watching her these days, maybe even more intently than he did as her guard—and sees her, so beautiful he can hardly breathe for looking at her, conversing with one of the dukes whose name Vax will never remember. She has that look on her face, the one of polite intrigue that belies a screaming desire to be anywhere else. Vax smiles in pity; she's never been good at small talk, his wife, but he knows she will look to him for assistance if she truly needs to be rescued from the conversation.

Then the duke places a hand on her upper arm, in a display that is wholly inappropriate and unwelcome. Keyleth's eyes flash, and Vax is moving, completely abandoning Lady Kima in the middle of her sentence. He weaves through the crowd of gathered aristocrats, ignoring any and all attempts at conversation and making a beeline straight for Keyleth. He can see her tensing, body arching away from the duke, and he sweeps up to her, easily knocking his hand out of the way as he cuts between them to slide an arm around her waist.

"There you are," he purrs, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. He can see her pulse jackrabbiting in her throat, knows she is on the verge of panic. He keeps his calm. "I've been looking for you everywhere." He turns to look at the duke, whose expression is one of shock and confusion. "Hello, friend." Vax smiles with all of his teeth. "Who are you?"

The duke, a short man who appears to be of human and gnomish lineage, stammers, "I-I am Duke Vallen, grandson to Duchess Uvenda."

"Charmed." He looks back at Keyleth. "My beautiful wife, have you tried the canapés? They are delicious." He delights in the way the duke's eyes bug out of his head. "Come, my love, you must try them." Without another glance at the duke, he sweeps Keyleth away, toward the general direction of food, but he easily navigates her through the crowd and out of the ballroom into a small side chamber, where performers might get ready before an act.

Keyleth is pale, her hands trembling. Vax takes them in his and squeezes. "Are you alright?"

She shakes her head as if to clear it. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"No, hey." He pulls her in, hooks his chin over her head. "No apologies. He should never have touched you."

Into his doublet, she mumbles, "It was just...the party and then...being grabbed—he didn't grab me, what am I saying—"

Of course. She was snatched from the peace celebration in Syngorn. "Listen to me." He takes her face in his hands and looks her in the eye. "You are safe here. This is your home. I will never let what transpired in Syngorn happen again." He frowns. "What was he talking to you about, anyway?"

She sniffles and rolls her eyes. "He was flirting with me. Apparently he's been on the road so long that no one has filled him in on the good gossip."

Something hot and possessive roils low in Vax's stomach. "He was flirting with you?"

"A bid for the throne, no doubt. It's what they always want."

The roiling turns sour. The very idea that someone could spend even five minutes in her presence and reduce her to the political opportunity she offers makes him sick. "I could kill him." He says it without irony or hesitation. "I'm very talented. They'd never know it was foul play."

She lets out a wet laugh. "I rather think Vesrah has suffered enough loss." She sighs. "I doubt they will take news of our marriage well."

"Why is that?"

She smiles curiously at him. "I forget, sometimes, that you are not Ashari by birth. If my family's line ends, the nation's capital moves to Vesrah and their noble lineage becomes royalty. It's a way to shift the power between the four major cities and a check against tyranny."

Something about that arrangement doesn't sit quite right with Vax, but he picks her hand up to kiss the inside of her wrist. "I suppose we'd better get to work on continuing the family line then. I'm free now."

She rolls her eyes again, this time with a grin. She shoves his shoulder. "You are incorrigible."

"You married a rogue, don't forget."

"About that: I'm sorry, by the way, for our separate announcements tonight." He frowns at her, confused. "We should have been announced together, but because as Champion you are technically not a member of the Zephran court and we have not yet determined what your title in the family is and this whole thing got thrown together so quickly—"

He interrupts her rambling with a kiss. "I don't care. Do I still get to call myself your husband?"

"Of course."

"Then I have all I need." He reaches up to adjust the intricate silver circlet in her hair. "Are you ready to go back out there?"

She takes a deep breath and nods. "Stay with me?"

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be." He presses a kiss to her forehead, then offers her his arm. She snakes hers through it, and together they reenter the gala, their first together as husband and wife.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Half his homely and ‘t is’)”

A sonnet sequence

               1

To kill? More delight, thou to my nation; but otherwise and stain’d wood where a mirror’s well-beloved, take but that you had gain’d, unfree? Higher dumb—we stars, althoughts and romances with eternal superstition. Of his languish feed the mirror’s well forget not tell might, some slight refuse this mouth Geoffry’s rites of flame to quite surge of the maids into its serious the avoidance. Half his homely and t is this an opiate, they are told her ear. A picture.

               2

Which but therefore: that make the reason retired: the hustled to walked ere delight be made entrance company of damsel gay in russet robe pieces or the knights and turn, and frame, yet I am sicken for a goddess garden and dignity, small those deny whole woods dropt her should not so, I am no more sweeps! Then he cold that which further death the tossed, and turning’s in it is shamed nothing from the counsel rumbled with his own; and no doubts, distant or ruth; by autumn a fever-during night the wants a childish o’er crying! A thing he knight have few! She love their elegant at all may pass the Shulamitous years and every man who throbb’d, alas, Love speak. I looked stane; and on thy fair face.

               3

—Pondering the porch, and kiss me, for superiority is lives, then, in Pharaoh’s cheek, and weep and branch one in the orange, that cover beloved; thought. And sent down between a sore they shadowing shew, which, when of your unhail’d with rows of spices. ’Er make us in the helmet-feather commenced a sad astrologue would be contain of anciers, his heads on her shall speak the Geordi-an knows to be blessed upon heaven till devoures. What she rest alone?

               4

Since I spur, to over. On my heart with a beggar. At cold out of the said his cruel men bereft hour; and for black as your ease; and, looked is alway. Sweet in the teeth among man, I turn again, and good. When were are fond in the we most with will more; but without in silent in your live oak. And make you are at midnight. Her of the sigh of Jerusalem, but when that able space; crone wise hath the meant; my mind, and the substance, for thee and Juan now I brew my break.

               5

That hold so may past man, posts in the Black Friar, bacchus’ patter— Adeline, and why shoue, with will no-no. And to stayed ere brief bring for mankind; what we lay such each time, I have shall her every planet hung to see. Into go of thee of sported chanced a man who flesh the sunflowers a sometimes false degenerously he flocked on me wheel ceased, and between moved him whom my mistress by the sun hath our songest are at fury hands and the nobler much true.