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talesofadragon · 4 months ago

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Thank you so much!!! Every once in a while I go back to this piece because it’s arguably the best I’ve ever written!! I’m so in love with Loki, so when I was writing this fic with Thor as the love interest, I just had to make the reader and Loki close!!

Don’t we all want to be reader?? She gets the best of both worlds in this take🤍🤍🤍

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

Synopsis: Centuries spent at the House of Odin have transformed the eclectic balls into familial gatherings and council meetings into morning tea rituals. The gilded walls of the castle have become home, and its royals, family. Yet, when your wisdom crosses paths with folly, affection is born unexpectedly, senselessly—a trait you’ve never been known to entertain, but one that Thor Odinson wears proudly.

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Asgardian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to sex. Jealousy. Unrequited Love. Love Triangles. LOKI. (we love him, though.)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort | Fluff | Mild Angst

Word Count: 6K (I have no regrets)

Based on this Request from my writing celebration.

All Masterlists | Sab's Wring Fest

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐊 into the queen’s revered gardens, let alone assault her precious snowdrops. But rationale had long been buried deeper than Yggdrasil’s roots, allowing impulsivity to reign over you.

The white petals screeched from the force of your tug, a harsh touch you’d never known yourself capable of administering. But your assault proved relentless, flower after flower limply falling to your side. Ironically, their innocent petals congregated on the fabric of your dress, painting a tinge of beauty over your despondency.

Even in their misery, they refused to be anything but enduring. Pitiful.

“Oh, how delightfully entertaining will it be to gauge Mother’s love for you once she sees what calamity has befallen her garden by your hands.”

“Go away,” you commanded bitterly, back turned to the unwanted presence.

The god behind you neglected to comment on your tone. You heard him shuffle, his feet carefully avoiding stepping on another virtuous plant. He plopped down next to you, elegantly brushing his hands atop the neglected flower stems by your side, reviving them.

“It would be a shame to forgo free entertainment,” Loki smirked, twirling the rejuvenated snowdrop in his fingers.

You craned your head to the right, eyes burning with fire even his Jotun genes couldn’t withstand. “Pity, so many courtesans have slipped from your fingers you now have to settle for my misery for pleasure.”

Loki laughed, his shoulders shaking. His gaze retained his familiar mirth as he answered, “Would your misery be associated with a certain courtesan and an Asgardian prince... fonduing, perhaps?”

“Fonduing?” Your face twisted in disgust. “What in the Nine does that word mean?”

“I heard the spangled American Captain utter it once," Loki recalled. "It’s a euphemism for two people partaking in the biological act of reproduction.”

“What?” you scoffed in disbelief. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Loki’s wry smirk reappeared. “Mortals rarely do,” he confessed.

Your face fell at the reminder of the race you were persistently attempting to forget. Focused on your previous discourse, you had ignored the snowdrops delicately sitting in the palm of your hands. Without a second thought, you resumed your previous ministrations, gracelessly tearing apart petals from the stem.

“You do not happen, by any chance, to be superseding this flower for Thor’s meek mortal friend. Do you?” Loki asked.

“No,” you were quick to reply. “She may be as delicate as a flower, but she’s as beautiful as a Ratatoskr. What do brown eyes remind one of besides tree trunks and repugnant mud?”

“The warmth of an autumn day as the sun embraces the woodlands and shelters its inhabitants from the seasonal tumult to come,” Loki poetically recited, hands drawing figures in the air and a gleam of mischief glowing in his irises.

“Sounds tedious,” you lamented.

It earned you a scoff from Loki, though not for a lack of frivolity. “Midgardians possess this abhorrent concoction called coffee,” he informed, gaining your attention. “It’s a muddy brew that staggeringly increases one’s anxiety threshold.”

“Why would someone create such a senseless horror?”

“Perhaps to use it as a metaphor for a mortal’s brown eyes.”

You scrunched up your nose at the image of the mortal in question. “Fitting. She has such a petite stature. As feeble and brittle as her thirty-year lifespan.”

“I regret to inform you that mortals can live up to a century.”

“Irrelevant. That is still a trifle of our lifespan. And do not get me started on her vexatious disposition. Has this mortal woman been raised in a cave of trolls?”

“Well, this would certainly explain her infatuation with Thor.”

“You are not helping!”

You gathered what remained of the flowers, pelting Loki with the stem and petals. He didn’t deflect your assault, accepting your sour behavior. What you hadn’t accounted for was his retaliation. He pushed your shoulder, slightly rougher than usual, forcing you to land on a bed of flowers.

You groaned, feeling the flora entangling in your hair and their pollen dusting your dress. Loki’s dulcet amusement echoed above your head. A sharp gasp escaped him when you tugged at his emerald green robes and shoved him down. Hard.

“I did not inflict a grain of harm on you,” Loki groaned, swatting the fallen petals, which landed in his hair. “This hurts, Y/N.”

“Your pride or your head? The latter could benefit from some sense knocking into it,” you rebuked.

Loki gazed at you unimpressed. “Now is not an agreeable time to spread your wisdom, Little Goddess. You’ve clearly demonstrated your dwindling abilities when you groaned and moaned about the earthling.”

“I did no such thing! I, astutely might I add, pointed out her subpar qualities that do not mirror what Asgard is looking for in a queen—”

“Thor clearly disagrees.”

“Do not interrupt me, you venomous snake! Thor has always been a dunderhead, overthinking with his brawn and underthinking with his brains.”

“And yet, you were stupid enough to fall in love with him, Goddess of Wisdom.”

“Watch your mouth!” you spat, eyes roving the expanse of the garden to ensure no meddling ears were meandering around. “I care for your brother. But do not confuse care with admiration.”

“Devotion, Y/N. Has the human’s visit caused even your accrued lexicon to recede,” Loki taunted. Had it not been for your skirts in the way and your position on the ground, you would’ve kicked him so hard in certain nether regions that he would’ve sung to Valhalla.

“I stand by what I said.”

“Apologies, Little Goddess. Allow me, as the God of Lies, to refute your statement. Both metaphorically and in the literal sense.”

That filthy little python. You scoffed, perhaps a little more at yourself than him. He elicited the responses he desired, painting a mockery out of you and your feelings. You knew you couldn’t debate the matter with him more than you already had. As the God of Lies and your, unfortunately, best friend, he’d always have the upper hand in this matter.

So, you stood up and dusted your skirts. If you weren't winning, then participating in this debate was of no use.

“Where are you going?” Loki inquired, an underlying tone of merriment hiding beneath his words.

Your eyes squinted, regarding him with indignation. “You have effectively sullied my mood even further. Your mother’s beautiful flowers do not deserve more ill will at my hands. Therefore, I’m taking my leave.”

If Loki had said anything after your response, your mind had elected to ignore it. Huffing aloud, you marched toward the castle, uncaring for the traces of mud and the wealth of fallen petals that trailed behind. On a regular day, you would’ve been more mindful, casting a simple cleaning spell to polish your appearance and ensure the poor attendants of the Odin Household would not have to partake in more work than necessary. But your anger and heartbreak had been immeasurable enough to deny you any act besides sulking over the mortal woman Thor had ignorantly brought along to Asgard.

The Norns, much like Loki, must’ve been taking pleasure in your predicament. You had rounded the corner, one gilded hallway separating you from the castle’s entrance, when the silhouette of the Crown Prince appeared.

Unlike the ladies of the court, your admiration for Thor did not stem from his ethereal beauty. It bloomed like Freyja’s primroses, a sturdy seedling that, with time, opened its foliage to a world of wonder and ardor. He was a cosmic presence—a child of the sun, with light and fire dancing around his immaculate frame in wisps of enchantment, leaving every woman breathless. Including you.

“Lady Y/N!” Thor’s voice reverberated in the long hallway, laced with excitement. "I hadn't anticipated your presence today. No wonder the day exudes such radiance."

His comment made heat rise to your cheeks. It was almost as if he had shared his warmth with you, sending it trekking along his words to your heart. You smiled at him, demure and saccharine. But your lips downturned once another presence, one less noticeable or agreeable, appeared behind him.

You cleared your throat, attempting to restrain your unease as you greeted, “Thor, Mistress Foster.”

Norns burn you if you call her by the same title you bear. The earthling, as Loki so eloquently worded it, could not match you.

Without a greeting nor a poised lexicon, the Midgardian inquired, “Why are your clothes dirty?”

Her question intrigued Thor enough for his eyes to rove your body. The warmth that had settled in your veins morphed into the embers of Helheim. You felt small and brittle under the scrutiny of his penetrating gaze.

“I beg your pardon?” you fired back promptly, indignation concealing the shame you felt at your soiled image.

Your words caused the mortal to pale, head swiveling to Thor’s side in anxiousness and trepidation. “I apologize, my lady,” she rectified her earlier statement. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Well, you certainly were, you internally chastised.

Thor took another look at your attire, meticulously examining the fabric. You endeavored to compose yourself, resisting the urge to shift your weight from one foot to another. His hand reached for your arm, his thumb sweeping across your elbow. “Are you well, Lady Y/N? You look… disheveled.”

You immediately retracted your arm, fearing his senses might pick up on your galloping heart. “I am quite alright. I was with Loki in the gardens,” you supplied.

“Loki?” The mortal regarded you with an air of cynicism. Your blood boiled at her brashness. “What were you and Loki doing in the gardens?”

“Have you no tact, you imprudent minger? Although your kind lacks sensibility and decorum, you ought to address those of elevated stature with respect while in their dominion! Neither Prince Loki nor I are your comrades to tolerate such crass mannerisms.”

“I’m… my sincerest apologies, I didn’t think—”

“Thinking is not as sparse on Asgard as it is on Earth. If you find yourself incapable of harnessing a modicum of wisdom when addressing me, then you are in the presence of the wrong Goddess.”

"Y/N," Thor interjected, his omission of your title not slipping past your notice. Nor did you miss the hand that reached out for the mortal girl.

His actions only served to fan the flames of your jealousy and hurt. Almost a millennium of knowing that male, and he had chosen a measly mortal's side over yours.

“Do not patronize me!” you ordered, jamming a finger in his broad, muscular chest. “I am not the right audience for your feigned, princely performance.”

Thor squeezed the mortal’s hand in reassurance, tugging her further to his side—as if to shield her from you. He craned his face lower to meet your gaze. Endearing as you'd always found it, it made you uneasy at this moment.

"You seem overly emotional today,” he inquired, voice low and delicate, juxtaposing his chosen words. “Has Loki said something to upset you?"

You cracked. How dare he?

“Loki may perhaps be the only male in all of Asgard who possesses an ounce of empathy and understanding when it comes to my feelings and disposition,” you snapped back, ignoring how your words seemed to slap Thor in the face. “He has been my best friend for close to a millennium and is one of the princes of this realm. So if I, as a lady of the court, find that your little mortal is besmirching his name, the least I could do is call her out on it!”

Your outburst held more weight than you had anticipated, managing to leave Thor speechless. He regarded you with an air of perplexion, his mouth open—seemingly unsure of what response was fair in this situation.

You didn’t want to waste any further time in his or the mortal’s company. You grunted, walking away. The sound of your footfall ringing louder than deemed honorable for a lady.

“Y/N, wait!” Thor called out after you, his hand shooting up to grab your arm. Though he was massively built, with the strength and mass of Asgard lying on his shoulders, his shy grasp fluttered against your skin. Featherlike, it tickled your nerves, sending a chorus of tenderness through your pulse.

You turned around, a mask of stoicism hiding your feelings. “Yes?”

“I appreciate your inclination to defend my brother, but, I, and Jane, were merely concerned over your well-being—”

“Accusing Loki of maltreatment!” you reminded Thor, swiftly retracting your arm from his grasp.

He sighed, placing both hands on his hips. You loathed how small he made you feel before the mortal. “You are exaggerating.”

“And you are heedless! Whatever Loki and I were doing in the gardens is none of your or the mortal’s concern! What’s it to you both? Maybe we decided to fondue. We do not get in your business, so do not meddle in ours!”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than your legs commanded you to retreat to another room. You didn’t understand why you had said that. Your wisdom melted into a puddle whenever Thor and his little pet were involved.

When had you become so insensitive?

Mistress Foster left. Her visit didn’t amass more than a fortnight's worth of frustrations before King Odin had deemed her visit long. If an immortal God such as Odin Allfather perceived these days as anything but transient, then Jane Foster was truly a nuisance in her own right.

The knowledge of her absence, particularly on this day, overjoyed you. The Vernal Equinox served as a portent of hope for Asgard—embracing prominent figures from neighboring realms in celebration of Asgard’s princes and in anticipation of the future.

In loose terms, it presented the Asgardian royalty with a wealth of eligible females to choose from as the next princess and queen of the realm. In broader terms, it was another opportunity to observe Loki and Thor merrily charm the ladies to appease Odin and Frigga—while satiating particular desires on the side.

You dismissed your ladies in waiting, taking a deep breath as you pulled open the door. Your feigned smile fell, and the familiar trepidation rose when you saw who stood by the door.

“Fondue?” Loki snickered, mischief practically waltzing in his bejeweled eyes. “Darling Y/N, had I known you were inclined to roll in my sheets, I would’ve bedded you centuries sooner.”

You grabbed him by the fabric of his tailored robes, pulling him harshly toward your rooms. “I panicked!” you grumbled. It was barely heard over the deafening sound of his amusement.

“Well, you certainly rectified your error by pulling me into your chambers.”

“Shut up!”

“Ah, my Little Goddess. How exquisitely appetizing do you look,” he joked, purposely raising his voice.

You jumped on him, a screech tearing through your vocal cords. Loki laughed louder, trying to grasp your hands as you assaulted him with your fists. You hadn’t expected him to bite your finger.

“You bastard!” you seethed, cradling your hand.

“What was that, Y/N? You want it faster?”

“Loki!!”

“Ah, tell me how good it feels,” he mused.

You were not impressed. “You are an idiot,” you retorted.

Your argument, if you could call it that, receded rather swiftly. You refused to look at Loki, rolling your eyes and settling them on your vanity. You weren’t frustrated, per se. Loki always had a knack for playing with your feelings like they were puppets on a string. Not in a malevolent way. The matter was, if your gaze caught him, you knew the little impish snake would expose the laughter he had succeeded in digging out of you.

Loki’s voice caught you before your thoughts meandered further. “You’re wearing the wrong colors.”

You looked down at yourself, your silver shoes peeking from the fabric of your long blue dress. It was light azure. Quaint and placid. An exterior representation of the feelings you were chasing. The fabric was tulle, whimsical and, airy like Spring’s birds merrily dancing across cloudless Asgardian sky. Its off-shoulder design, adorned with gleaming silver gems and bishop sleeves, accentuated your elegance and grace. A Goddess. A member of the House of Odin, even if you didn’t have a crown.

“If you’re insinuating I ought to have worn your brother’s colors, then I regret to inform you, that you were mistaken.”

Loki shook his head as a mischievous shadow passed over his face. “You’d appear desperate. And you, Y/N, are anything but.”

“Then what colors were you referencing?” you asked, brows creasing in thought. “Surely not your own.”

“Mine, no. But the witless oaf doesn’t have to know that.”

You didn’t comprehend whatever it was he was insinuating. Wordlessly, Loki twirled his fingers, a thread of emerald green seidr tantalizing your sight. He flicked his wrist. The magical trail shot from his fingertips to your dress, deftly pirouetting along the light azure tulle.

The colors changed from blue to green and silver to gold. The boldness of your outfit contrasted with the muted portrait you tried to paint earlier. You studied your dress, eyes roving the fabric before examining Loki’s attire. You almost scolded him for putting you in his colors when you did not intend for your farce to go further than it did. But then you noticed these colors, chosen by Loki, were darker than his.

It was a subtle contrast, discerned when in closer proximity to the God of Mischief. The royal family could immediately catch the difference. The ladies, though, wouldn’t be able to. Neither would Thor.

“Is this a wise choice?” you asked, playing with the sleeves of your dress.

Loki took your hand in his, kissing the back of it. “The answer lies with you, Little Goddess.”

Wise, maybe not. Fun? It certainly would be. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to these festivities without constantly having to clutch your heart at the thought of Thor.

“It’s a mutual agreement,” you answered diligently. “This keeps the ladies and Thor away.”

Loki tutted. “This keeps the witless oaf’s mind working. He has stashed his wits so far beneath the surface, the cobwebs have devoured them whole.”

“And you think this alliance between wisdom and mischief will decontaminate his head from thoughts of the impertinent mortal?”

“I believe my brother is a hopeless case. If it works, then by all means, enjoy the fruits of our labor. If it doesn’t, then enjoy the privilege of my company.”

“Your company?” you chortled, wrapping your arm around his elbow. “Lokes, I’ll be gracing you with mine.”

He mimicked your chortle, beginning to lead you out of the room. "I must admit, your presence has staggeringly illuminated my days in Asgard. Father is covertly hoping that I ask for your hand in marriage."

"And Frigga?" you asked, aware of Loki's deep affection for his mother and her opinion.

He covered your hand, which rested on his arm, with his free one, leaning closer to your ear. "She much prefers you with Thor." You blushed, a crimson hue spreading across your cheeks. Loki took delight in your sheepishness. "You could spare me the hassle of sifting through noble ladies by accepting a marriage proposal, Y/N. I immensely enjoy roleplay in the bedroom. And though I do not wish to lay eyes on certain biological regions of my brother, I can indulge you if that is what you fancy."

"I fancy your silence, you brute!" you chastised, stomping on his foot.

Loki barely flinched, but he placed some distance between you both. He opened the door, and before you could venture beyond your bedroom, he positioned himself in your line of sight. "You forgot something, darling." The nickname felt foreign, especially when unaccompanied by your first name. Before you could inquire about it, you felt a shimmer of magic raking through your hair.

"What did you do?"

Loki smiled fondly, passing his fingers through your loose hair. "Turned you from a goddess to a princess."

Your gaze locked with his as you lifted your fingers to your head. There was a weight there, not something unbearable but undeniably foreign. Your fingers traced the contours of what you assumed was a diadem.

"What was that for?"

Loki stepped closer to you, his taller frame engulfing yours, cocooning you with his body heat. His lips settled on your forehead, his fingers intertwining with yours. You blinked, mind racing to figure out the parameters of his new trick. “You’re precious, Y/N,” he confessed breathlessly, his voice almost vulnerable. “More valuable than the troves of Asgard and the magic of Yggdrasil. And by the Norns, whoever forsakes your treasured company deserves to be bereft of your radiance, ensnared by the unforgiving grasp of Helheim for their sacrilege, Little Queen.”

For the first time in your 800 years of life, you found yourself at a loss for words in response to Loki's. His words were carefully chosen, poignant, and endearing, befitting his poetic prowess. Yet, something about the declaration felt amiss; a subtle discordance that unsettled you. It was then, out of the corner of your eye, that you caught sight of Thor.

His cerulean eyes, usually bright with warmth, were now veiled in darkness, glinting with a silver sheen you had never seen before. Thor's demeanor betrayed a mix of emotions, his features clouded with anger and a hint of betrayal. Before you could utter a word, he turned and left, his bloody red ceremonial attire fading from view.

Loki's intentions became clearer then. He sought to deceive Thor. But why would such words incite his brother's ire? And why had Loki chosen to describe you as such?

This Vernal Equinox proved to be different. You couldn’t categorize it as either good or bad as you had yet to comprehend your perplexing emotions about the celebration. The familiar joviality and folly were missing given that Loki and Thor seemed to have reversed their roles.

Content with you on his arm, Loki’s charade persisted well into the late hours of the evening. He kept you to his side, not that you minded, twirling, discoursing, and occasionally, joking about the whole ordeal. The nobles, courtiers, and ladies had all presumed you debuting, your green dress a declaration of your choice in contenders. If not for that, then the golden diadem on your head

Frigga and Odin seemed to know better. The Allfather offered you and his youngest no more than a feeble smile, pleased to see you and Loki together, even though he knew this was all but a farce. The Allmother, while graceful as ever, did not attempt to mask her errant gaze, her bright eyes dimming as she looked at Thor.

The older son, heir to the throne of Asgard, had forgone merriment in favor of appeasing the ladies. Given that Loki had monopolized your time, all of the wayward bachelorettes traveled toward Thor. No lady was cast aside, each receiving a handful of minutes with the prince. And though that should’ve hurt you, the ache in your heart could only be attributed to the misery Thor wore.

You and Loki drifted toward Sif and the Warriors Three since Thor had abandoned his usual idle chatter and reckless drinking. Hours later, Fandral was on the verge of passing out, Hogun was inebriated yet still standing, while Volstagg recounted one of the ancient battles on Alfheim to Loki and Sif.

When it was an hour past midnight, you excused yourself from the festivities, claiming you were too tired to continue.

In truth, sleep evaded you. Your mind inundated with thoughts. But you didn’t allow yourself to entertain one more question or idea, letting your feet guide you wherever they preferred.

You reached one of the castle’s balconies, a small one on the right side of the ballroom. You could still hear the music from the festivities, although it was a gentle hum. Euphonious and dulcet, serving as the perfect ballad in the backdrop. The sky lit up, gleaming stars strewn across the darkness. You wondered if they were the Norns’ portents. If you could wish upon them and the world would hum in answer.

The sound of retreating footsteps pulled your attention away from the sky. You knew that silhouette anywhere.

“Thor?” the word tumbled from your lips before you could fully register what the night had brought.

Thor’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t respond, almost as if contemplating whether to provide you with an answer or ignore your presence. He sighed, broad shoulders deflating, before he turned around.

“I apologize, Lady Y/N. I was not aware the area was preoccupied.”

“You need not to apologize, Thor,” you stated, unsure where his usual boldness had gone. “The area is large enough to accommodate both of us.”

It almost looked as though Thor would decline your offer. His blue eyes wandered, from you to the horizon then back. He regarded you in an unfamiliar way, taking in your appearance. You didn’t want him to catch sight of your fluster, so you turned your back to him, getting lost in the sight of Asgard at night.

When you thought Thor would leave, you heard him make his way to your side.

“I wish to apologize to you, Y/N,” he whispered, uncertainly. Not because he did not mean it, no. You knew Thor well enough to tell when he was lying about something. Your friendship with Loki illuminating his brother’s traits further. Thor leaned on his side, the banister supporting his weight. His demeanor was brittle, a far cry from what you had known. Your breath was lost in your throat, unsure whether you should gasp or sob. A step forward and there would be no distance between the both of you. You never wanted to hug him more. “Had I known you and my brother were…” He paused, taking in a shaky breath. “...Courting. Had I known, neither I nor Jane would have adopted such an insensitive tone before.”

You shook your head, fingers tingling to reach out for him. “We’re…Loki and I we’re…” But you couldn’t complete your sentence. A part of you imploring to deny Thor’s claim. Another fearing Thor’s distance if you admitted the truth.

“An odd combination,” Thor smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Mischief and Counsel. Wisdom and Lies.”

“They’re opposite sides of the same coin. Perhaps, that’s why they work better than expected,” you defended, unsure why.

Thor nodded, the same meek smile unerased. He looked down at his feet, strands of his blond hair covering his face. It had grown taller from the last time he had cut it on Midgard. Now resting upon his shoulders. As if he needed more weight to bear.

“I must admit that he might be the luckiest one between us both. And he does not even know it?”

Your hand shot up involuntarily, clutching at the golden jewels across the bodice of your dress. “How so?” you asked, your thumb circling the fabric in a futile attempt at soothing your heartache at Thor’s tone.

One of Thor’s hands glided across the banister, landing where yours had laid. While his gaze held your face, your eyes couldn’t help but land on his larger hand. “Loki presumes I cannot tell his ire at the court ladies galivanting to my side. He has always been too forlorn to understand that numbers have mattered not to me.” His hand dared to reach for yours then, a featherlike caress that made your heart gallop faster than Sleipnir. “Those who choose me over Loki desire nothing more than the throne. I have nothing else to offer. No wit, no literary aptitude, or poetic charm. I am nothing but brutish and capricious. It takes a no great amount of ardor to love my brother. It takes a kingdom to love someone like me.”

You retracted your hand, the action so unexpected and harsh, Thor jumped back in surprise. He opened his mouth, perhaps to apologize, but he closed it when he saw the expression you wore. Silver misted your irises, decayed and morose, mirroring the disheartenment that haunted you.

“How can you say that?” you questioned—shrieked, even. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, your hands clawing at your dress because of the pain you felt. “Who…who made you feel as such?”

“Y/N—”

“No, Thor! You cannot utter such insidious words in my presence! You are kind, tender, and caring. A summer’s breath, warm and ecstatic. In your fierceness, you wield passion, and in your tempest resides the strength to protect. You are worthy of many things, Thor Odinson. And love is atop that wealth. I would forgo the world’s realms and riches to bask in the light of your affection.”

The words that traversed the distance between were not measured nor were they second-guessed. You had not the time to question your affections, wondering if it was worth bringing them to light or not. But you needed Thor to understand that what he felt, the dejectedness and loneliness, were unwarranted.

You need to touch him, embrace him—assure his heart that he was worthy, and if you couldn’t do it physically, then your words had to suffice.

Thor stood there, his expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something akin to hope. He reached out tentatively, brushing away the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “Y/N…”

You allowed his thumb to trace the skin beneath your eyes before wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his chest. Once, you thought to yourself. Even if this was a lie, I’ll gladly entertain it, just this once.

“Those ladies who crave your affections for the crown are not worthy of you. Even if you were the second son, even if the Norns had created you a mortal, you would still be worthy, Thor. You would still be loved.”

Thor’s hands traveled from your back. One moved up to cradle your head while the other rested on your lower back, cradling you closer to his chest. You could hear his heartbeats frantically drumming against his rib cage. Almost as if they were loud enough to create their own melody.

You felt Thor plant a kiss atop of your head, close to where the diadem lay. He swayed with you in his arms, hold on you tightening and unwilling to let go. “You’re precious, Y/N,” he recited the words with complete reverence. Their familiarity registered, but you didn’t have time to question him before he continued, “More valuable than the troves of Asgard and the magic of Yggdrasil. And by the Norns, whoever forsakes your treasured company deserves to be bereft of your radiance, ensnared by the unforgiving grasp of Helheim for their sacrilege, Little Queen.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips. “What did you just say?” you questioned, still nestled in his protective embrace.

“Loki did not compose this prose,” Thor confessed, his eyes dark with hesitation. “I wrote it. Two hundred years ago. For you.”

“What?” you breathed, the word splintering with emotion.

“I…I have always felt a connection to you. A sense of calm. Your wisdom and grace, but above all, your charm and wit captured my heart before I even knew it.”

“You never said anything,” you reminded, blinking harshly against the realization.

“How could I?” Thor’s thumb brushed the side of your mouth, drawing a choked whimper from you. “You are elegant while I am rough. A prince by title, but not by manner—”

“Do not belittle yourself in my presence.”

Thor chuckled softly, his gaze just as gentle.

“You are the Goddess of Wisdom, Little Queen.” That nickname—the Norns damn it—stirred emotions in you that you had never felt before. “What wisdom would there be in associating with the God of Thunder?”

“Is that why you distanced yourself?” The question was thick with unspoken feelings. “Is that why…why you chose Jane?” Over me. Your thought was left unspoken.

Thor’s expression darkened with remorse, his features shadowed by regret. “Have you never noticed the similarities between you two?”

“What similarities?”

“She is a smart woman. Accomplished, fastidious, attentive, and resilient despite her delicate appearance. Just as you are.”

“She is a mortal,” you countered.

Thor nodded solemnly. “She cannot be made a queen. Not in the eyes of the Asgardians.”

“Then why—”

“It would be easier to gauge her choice.” Thor shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You realized too late that he was pulling away, keeping you at arm’s length. “As I said.” His gaze traveled the expanse of your body, regret permeating the air suddenly. “Those who choose me do it for Asgard’s throne. Those who choose my brother do it for love,” he reiterated, brokenly. He added in a more fractured tone, “You look stupendous in emerald green, my lady.”

“Viridian,” you corrected, evoking his bafflement. “It’s viridian green, a darker shade than emerald. Truthfully, I had opted for my own colors. But Loki approached my chambers before I could leave, and he all but decided to trick the court to his own advantage.”

“You’re not… you’re not courting Loki?”

You shook your head. “No. He and I have long been friends.”

“Friends,” Thor repeated, but there was a shift in the air when he said the word—as if Valhalla’s gates had opened and the angels descended to Asgard, humming their dulcet ballads.

“Tell me that’s not what we were,” you ventured, figuring that courage ought to accompany wisdom. “Tell me after all that was said and done that we weren’t just friends.”

You expected Thor to flounder, to grapple with an answer to your demand. “It wouldn’t make sense,” he attested. “It wouldn’t make sense if that were all we were, Little Queen.”

The angels of Valhalla must have roared, not sung, because as soon as Thor had breathed those words, tentative and full of fealty, his lips captured your own. You understood then, the complexity that arose from his role as God of Thunder. Your lips were in a fray, lapping at each other, wet and thunderous as you were conquered by his veneration. His large hands grabbed at your bottom, hoisting you up in the air. Your dress didn’t allow you the pleasure of wrapping your legs around his waist, but that didn’t stop you from clutching at his clothes, his hair, his soul.

Thor’s lips caressed your own. There was no set direction to their motion, almost as if he couldn’t decide whether to take it slow or devour you whole. The noises you made, the noises he made, small and mellow, reverberated in the empty space, adding to the symphony of your love and desire.

You didn’t want to pull away. Latching to the thunder and lightning invading your senses, getting lost in the storm.

A shiver ran down your entire body, accentuated by Thor’s teeth nipping at your lower lip. “Y/N,” he whispered breathlessly.

Your eyes opened, your image framed by his irises—protectively and vehemently.

He settled you on the ground, lips widening at your sight. “My colors suit you best.”

You didn’t understand what he had meant until you looked down. Your clothes had changed color. Again. The accent of your attire shifted to a bold red and silver.

“You best not attempt to produce an heir tonight, brother,” Loki sounded from behind Thor. He wore a smug smirk, leaning against one of the balcony pillars. Of course that bastard followed you. “Our chambers are nearby, and I do not need to hear my brother and best friend fondue.”

You blushed, cheeks turning crimson. Thor didn’t even spare Loki a glance, focusing his attention on you. “Little Queen, you look magnificent in my colors strewn across every inch of your body.”

And before you could help yourself, you boldly claimed, “I would look even more magnificent with your love marks strewn across every inch of my body.”

Thor’s eyes darkened, a primal yearning painting his irises with desire. He tugged at your hands then, pulling you to his chest. “Let me mark you with centuries worth of love, Little Queen. Allow me to show you what lesser beings cannot do.”

“Show me, my God.”

You drowned in his ardent storm, uncaring for the waves, noise, or the chaos. It was senseless. Everything you never were. Everything Thor was. Everything you, deep down, longed to feel with him.

Thank you @crazyunsexycool for this request! It was so fun to write for Thor, you can tell since this turned out to be 6K words🥹 I couldn't stop! Seriously, this might've been my favorite fic ever! Thank you for participating in my celebration. ♥️

I might extend my writing celebration if more requests come in. For all those interested, please feel free to follow the link!

I hope you like this one, witchlings. Okay, byeeee.

#thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #thor #thor odinson x you #thor x reader #thor x you #thor x y/n #thor odinson x y/n #Senseless

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talesofadragon · 6 months ago

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My mom and my cat are in my last picture, and since I can’t show my mom, we’re gonna go with the picture before it. (And yes. It’s also of my cat. It’s always my baby.)

When people your age are getting married and having children, but you’ve brought forth a perfect daughter without all the hassle.

No pressure tags: @mika-no-sekai-blog @kaylasficrecs @ anyone who would like to participate 🤍

Let’s play a game

Everyone post the most recent picture in your camera roll. You only get one sentence to justify yourself if you wish. This one is mine.

My boyfriend is rly good at Latin, so I was looking up how to say ‘I love you’ but found this instead :)

Your turn!

@bookmovietvworm

@myfairkatiecat

@i-am-a-fish

@valtsv

#tumblr games #your last picture

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talesofadragon · 6 months ago

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Drop this sunflower 🌻 into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy! Let’s spread a little sunshine. ☀️

Thank you so much, sweetheart!! I'll be sure to spread this around, too. 🌻🌻🌻🌻💛

#sweet messages #sharing kindness #spreading love

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talesofadragon · 6 months ago

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Eeeep!! Thank you @mika-no-sekai-blog for the tag!!

I’m actually a senior copywriter in real life, so I do get to write for a living, butttt I still wanna tick author off my list🙇🏼‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️

No pressure tags: @crazyunsexycool @anika-ann @kaylasficrecs @darkserenity24 and anyone who would like to participate!

This seemed like a fun way to waste some time this morning.

Putting a blank under the cut 💕

Tagging @secret-third-thing @throneofsapphics @historiaxvanserra or anyone else who also wants to be silly and waste some time this morning with me.

#fic writer bingo #tumblr games #tumblr fanfic writers

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talesofadragon · 7 months ago

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Thank you for the tag! @kaylasficrecs

I’m bringing the Arranged Marriage trope!!

Np tags: @crazyunsexycool @mika-no-sekai-blog

I had a tag game idea, idk if anyone's done this before but idc it sounds fun

Fanfic picnic!!

Everyone brings one fanfic/ao3 thing to the picnic. It can be whatever you want; a trope, a tag, anything you want

To start us off I'm bringing some hurt/comfort tag

Np tags: @yourlocalbadgerscales @idkjustlemmedrownlikerab @friendofthefrogswastaken @serenisastar @nyx-taylors-version

#tagging game #tag games 🏷️#fanfic picnic

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talesofadragon · 7 months ago

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Thanks for tagging me, Val! Pinterest games are my favorite!

No pressure tags: @mika-no-sekai-blog @kaylasficrecs @cassiopeiasdaughter and anyone who wants to join!

📸 how Pinterest sees me

Thanks for the tag, @schnarfer !

search each topic and post the first that comes up for each one: sport // hobby // animal // instrument // song lyrics // famous paintings

Pinterest doesn't know me well, I never run 😂.

NP tags @ozarkthedog @brandycranby @holacia3 @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817

#tags games #pinterest tag game #pinterest aesthetic

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talesofadragon · 8 months ago

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Trust me when I say you won’t be ready for the next chapter!! Thank you so much for reading and reblogging🙏🏻🤍🤍

��𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Chapter V - Synopsis: Halfway through the semester, Y/N thought the only dire changes she’d face would be a hectic schedule and a few sleepless nights. But with the arrival of a mysterious woman with flaming red phoenix hair and a swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the mere thought of her professor, exam season is shaping up to be an even bigger rollercoaster than she imagined.

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x Student!Reader/Mum!Reader

Warnings: Age Gap (14 years. Both are adults), teacher/student dynamic, abusive relationship, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, terrible partner, co-parenting.

Word Count: 4K Words

All Masterlists | Paint Me Midnight Blue Masterlist

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆, Stark University buzzed with frenetic energy. Though the campus was always lively, these last few days felt like a pressure cooker—everyone was moving, but no one had time to breathe.

Y/N delivered her argument earlier that day in Professor Coulson's Trial Advocacy class. It went well—too well, in fact—since Coulson kept the session past its scheduled time, firing one question after another at her. Luckily, Y/N didn’t have another class immediately after; even if she did, this was the time of year when professors were more forgiving about tardiness. They called it "We were students once, too.” Y/N called it breakroom chatter about the looming doom of their upcoming exams.

But students weren’t shy about playing the game either. They knew how to take advantage of this “forgiveness” by squeezing in a little extra time for themselves—chatting with friends, smoking a cigarette, grabbing a quick bite from the diner across the street. Any excuse was good enough to show up fashionably late. Or to not show up at all.

While Y/N didn’t have a class to attend, she did need to finish some work for Steve. Call it diligence or desire, she chose not to take an extra five minutes to toe off her heels and tone down her outfit. The better part of her reasoned that she couldn’t afford to waste any more time. But the sensual part, the one she nestled in the deepest recesses of her being, wanted to savor the moment and revel in her outfit just a little longer.

Swapping her casual attire for something as crisp and sharp as her plaid light brown skirt, off-white turtleneck, and beige blazer with brown accents was her own version of a Cinderella moment.

Maybe it was nostalgia for her teenage years or the desire to feel like herself again—confident, empowered, even a little attractive. She couldn’t say for sure. But between her classes, work, and caring for Nyla, Y/N rarely had time for herself. She had almost forgotten the feeling of wearing heels, let alone walking in them—there was something undeniably alluring about a woman in a striking outfit and bold stilettos. Thankfully, her agility hadn’t faded with time, just like her ability to command attention in a well-cut skirt.

She met a handful of inquisitive looks on her way to Steve’s office. Students carefully assessed her, trying to guess which department she belonged to and whether they had seen her before. The university was immense, so even if she were a social butterfly—which she was not—there was no way for her to have known any of them.

Though curious, and some a little charming, the looks she received were mundane. The interest was there, but there was a glint of something missing. An intensity she had started, albeit reluctantly, yearning for. These gazes weren’t the kind that sent a thrill through her, the kind she secretly craved even if she’d never admit it. No, it was almost blasphemous to dare and compare them to those blue-green eyes she revered, a meeting point between serenity and escape—a bridge she should never, ever cross!

Steve’s office loomed ahead, commanding the distracting thoughts away. Y/N inhaled sharply, smoothing out the invisible creases of her skirt for reasons that were beyond her. Knocking on the door once, hand already on the handle, she paused, waiting for a reply that never came. She pushed the door open, eyes immediately drawn to Steve’s desk. A gasp escaped her, her heels digging into the tiles when she met an unfamiliar sight. There, sitting comfortably in Steve’s swiveling chair, was a woman.

“Excuse me,” Y/N called out authoritatively, gaining no visible response. “May I ask who you are and what you’re doing sitting at Professor Rogers’ desk?”

The woman was dressed in a pristine maroon pantsuit, exuding an air of professionalism and composure. Yet, her callous behavior contradicted the very image she tried to project. She wasn’t a professor—Y/N was sure of that. And since she had never seen her around campus, it was unlikely that she was staff. Whoever she was, whether the owner of the university or the president of the country, she had no right to be lounging in Steve’s office as if she owned the place.

With a slight arch of her dark brows, the woman’s gaze swept over Y/N’s smaller frame. “Professor Rogers is not present at the moment,” she answered as if that was the question Y/N had posed.

“I didn’t ask about Professor Rogers’ whereabouts.”

“These aren’t his office hours,” the woman commented casually, seemingly unfazed by the edge in Y/N’s voice.

Y/N’s fingers twitched at her side, irritation beginning to simmer in her gaze. She was speaking English, for heaven’s sake. What was so hard to understand? Unable to get through to the woman, she decided on a different approach.

“My name’s Y/N. I’m his assistant.”

Though Y/N meant to assert the authority her title afforded, the reaction she received was unlike what she expected. The woman’s aloof demeanor shifted to one of intrigue. Her catlike eyes softened, and a small crinkle appeared at the corner of her lips.

“So, you’re the famous Y/N,” she said, the amusement in her eyes evident. Y/N felt something flicker within her, a small jolt of surprise that coursed through her veins. The woman adjusted her phoenix-red hair over one shoulder and leaned forward slightly, giving Y/N a more deliberate once-over. “Bucky talks about you all the time.”

Bucky? Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of her former History professor. She’d been bracing herself for another name. Swallowing the confusion, she buried it deep, down by the embers of her hope that had briefly flickered to life. Bucky was the one talking about her?

“You know Professor Barnes?”

The red-haired woman smirked, the kind that hinted at knowing far more than she let on. Her lips, however, played a different tune. “We go way back. Bucky, Steve, and me.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin, disappointed line. A sharp discomfort settled over her as she realized she'd been standing there for an awkward five minutes, talking to a stranger.

Determined not to show any sign of weakness, even though the woman's overconfidence and cryptic remarks gnawed at her, Y/N squared her shoulders and walked to the desk. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor fueled the confidence she desperately clung to.

“If you could please wait for Professor Rogers in one of the seats across from his desk,” Y/N said as politely as she could, though a hint of disdain threaded through her tone.

“I’m perfectly content where I’m sitting.”

The nerve of her! Y/N took a deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “It’s not a matter of content but a matter of respect,” she enunciated sharply.

The woman’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you calling me disrespectful?” she asked bluntly.

“Did I say that aloud?” No, Y/N hadn’t, but she was glad the woman wasn’t clueless. “If you truly know Professor Rogers, then you know his stance on conformity. He likes things a certain way.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re in his seat,” Y/N pointed out, gesturing toward the chair in question. “He’s only permitted me to sit there. So, if you wouldn’t mind pulling up one of the chairs in front of the desk, I’m sure we’d all appreciate it.”

If the woman had been perplexing before, she was downright baffling now. She laughed, her cherry-red lips parting in genuine amusement. Y/N couldn’t fathom how someone like her could muster so much energy this early in the morning.

Gracefully, the woman pushed the chair back, the wheels gliding smoothly across the floor. She stood to her full height, her ankle boots giving her a few extra inches. She crossed the short distance between them with a mixture of assertiveness and finesse that bordered on predatory.

As she moved to take a seat, her features became clearer under the office light. Her green eyes, like a verdant forest bathed in sunlight, were striking. Her face, a masterful blend of sharp lines and elegance, held an enigmatic allure. She towered over Y/N, the age gap between them becoming more pronounced the longer they looked at one another. The woman was clearly in her thirties—like Steve.

“Natasha Romanoff,” she introduced herself as Y/N placed her books on the desk and turned on Steve’s computer. “Normally, I’d indulge in a mysterious exchange, but the scales are uneven today. I know far more about you than you know about me.”

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N hummed dismissedly.

Logging into Steve’s computer, she immediately pulled up the list of tasks for the day: updating attendance records, double-checking grades for Steve’s Intro to Artistic Visualization class, and reviewing the research papers that had passed through the plagiarism checker, among other things.

She reached across the desk to grab Steve’s binder, a languid smile tugging at her lips as she caught sight of one of the teddy bears they had won at the fair. Nyla had split the plush toys evenly between her and Steve, and according to him, one of the three had to find a place in his second home—his office.

If the gesture alone hadn’t warmed Y/N’s heart, the image of Steve holding the small toy in his much larger hands, waving it around with animated enthusiasm, surely did. She could still see him playfully swaying the bear before her eyes, its stitched mouth "kissing" the tip of her nose. The memory brought a fresh wave of goosebumps to her skin—thankfully, it was still cool enough for long sleeves to cover them.

“Drink?” Natasha’s voice snapped her out of the memory.

Y/N blinked, raising her head as her mind adjusted back to the present. Is she asking or commanding? was the first thought that crossed her still-dazed consciousness.

“Oh, sorry.” Y/N quickly stood, heading toward the refreshment area. “It didn’t even occur to me to ask if you wanted anything to drink.”

Almost as if Y/N’s genuine tone had thrown her off, it was Natasha’s turn to momentarily lose herself in a stupor. Her daze, however, was fleeting. She quickly recovered, replying, “I was actually asking if you wanted something to drink. I know my way around this office, hon.”

“Nonsense, you’re a guest,” Y/N insisted, her tone polite, though laced with subtle passive-aggression. If Natasha noticed, she didn’t comment. “Let me get you something. Coffee or tea?”

Natasha hesitated, her gaze lingering on the coffee drip beside Y/N. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, still eyeing the rich brown liquid. Y/N was just about to place a mug beneath the spout, fingers hovering over the pot’s handle, when Natasha cleared her throat. “Actually, I’ll have water, please.”

Y/N didn’t question her choice, even though Natasha looked like the kind of woman who could down two pots of coffee without breaking a sweat. Hell, she looked like liquor couldn’t hold her, not the other way around.

Without a second thought, Y/N poured her a glass of water and placed it on a coaster by her side of the desk. She poured herself some coffee, adding two sugars, and praised Steve for having a well-functioning machine, even though she’d never seen him sip a cup of coffee in his life.

Back at her desk, Y/N set down her drink of choice, drifting back to her work. Beneath her lashes, she spotted Natasha leaning back, her spine practically glued to the chair. She was gulping down her water, pressing her nose to the rim of the glass. Confused, Y/N subtly chanced a glance, sensing the evident queasiness that shook the woman’s otherwise imperturbable demeanor.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha replied swiftly. Although she intended to douse Y/N’s concern, the tremor in her voice only deepened it.

“You don’t look okay,” Y/N pressed, studying the way Natasha scrunched her nose. “Let me get you another glass of water.”

“Lemon,” Natasha coughed. “Can you…do you have something infused with lemon?”

“Uh, sure. Hold on a second.”

Darting back to the refreshments area, Y/N opened the mini-fridge. She scoured the shelves of iced tea, sparkling water, and juices. While she didn’t find anything with lemon, she did find a few fresh ones on the lower shelf where Steve stored his fruits. He had a penchant for yogurt and granola bowls.

Y/N made quick work of cutting the lemon and boiling some water in the kettle. Carefully mixing both in a new glass, she ventured a guess that Natasha’s discomfort was a result of nausea—one hand stifled her discordant groans while the other rubbed her stomach giving Y/N a clue.

“Here.”

Y/N replaced the old glass with the new one, which Natasha eagerly took from her hand.

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered, her voice void of that effortless confidence. Instead, it was laced with exhaustion, despite her best attempts to mask it.

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything else?”

Natasha nodded, languidly drinking the lemon-infused water. “Can you please move your coffee away?”

Perplexed, Y/N slid her cup to the far right of the desk. As soon as the mug was no longer close to the redhead, Natasha’s shoulders visibly relaxed, the tension evaporating like the steam coming from her glass. She sighed—almost moaned—in relief, her grip tight on the glass of hot lemon water. She hadn’t yet removed her hand from her stomach, tracing gentle, delicate circles around her belly.

A gasp escaped Y/N for two distinct reasons. The first was the conspicuous diamond ring that sat elegantly on Natasha’s ring finger—a regal emerald cut that reflected power and elegance in an iridescent interplay of blinding light. The second was where her fingers had been splayed, tracing the contours of her belly.

“You’re pregnant.”

The words left Y/N’s mouth before she even had a chance to evaluate them. Whether correct or not, Natasha’s enlarged pupils and the flare of her nostrils told her this wasn’t the right thing to say. Of course, it wasn’t! What kind of person jumps to the conclusion that a woman is pregnant based on signs that could easily indicate a different ailment or less serious condition?

Maybe it was because Y/N had been pregnant once, and the sensory sensitivity had steered her clear of even the smell of morning dew. She could pinpoint the signs easily—the slight discomfort, the twitches, even the hesitancy and over-calculation for the simplest of things, like a cup of coffee.

She was about to apologize, insisting that she didn’t mean any of it, but something in Natasha’s expression changed. Instead of the guardedness that had hugged her so tightly since Y/N first set eyes on her, a shadow of vulnerability crossed over her features.

“Is it that obvious?”

Y/N shook her head, sitting down in her seat and wringing her fingers together. So, she is pregnant.

“No. I just took a wild guess.”

“You wagered right. I better never bet around you.”

Y/N chortled at Natasha’s remark, the tension in the air gradually receding. “How far along are you?” she asked in a quiet tone.

Natasha rubbed her barely-there bump, smiling. “Two months.”

“First pregnancy?”

Natasha nodded. She stayed silent for a moment, the gears in her head practically spinning until she confessed, “I never thought I would get pregnant. It never happened in all the years we’ve been together.”

Y/N didn’t want to think of him if “him” was the person she could never stop thinking about in the first place. Instead, her mind unfortunately drifted to Paul and the first night they spent together—the night that led to conceiving Nyla. Ironic how some women wait years to get pregnant, while others are surprised by tiny versions of themselves on the first try.

“Are you scared?” Y/N ventured, watching for Natasha’s reaction.

But Natasha was unfazed. If anything, delight seeped through the cracks of her initial weariness, swiftly altering her feelings to something better, gentler. “A little bit. But I’m mostly excited. I can’t wait to grow our family. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Yeah. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, hon. If that’s something you want someday, I hope you find it too when the time is right.”

There was so much sincerity in her words, a mother’s delicate warmth harmonizing her sentences. But all Y/N could hear were the echoes of Natasha’s last words: when the time is right. Didn’t she know? Had neither Bucky nor Steve told her that Y/N, at only twenty-two, already had a daughter? A rambunctious, affectionate, social, and bubbly little girl whose eyes may have been a feature inherited from her father, but their glow resembled an infinite sky of possibilities and miracles.

The timing wasn’t right, and she would always be reminded of that when she looked at her classmates, Natasha, hell, even Steve. But she could never say that aloud, could she?

“Thank you,” she replied solemnly, busying herself with her work. She was far enough behind, and she needed to get a move on.

Natasha didn’t give her a moment of respite, though. “Is Steve available tonight?” she asked, her attention darting to the computer.

Y/N inhaled deeply, hyper-aware of the crescent moons her fingers dug into her skin for no apparent reason. “I monitor Professor Rogers’ academic schedule, but I don’t have the slightest clue what goes on in his personal life.” Hence why I don’t have a clue as to who you might even be, Y/N internally added.

“Well, does his academic schedule tell you anything about whether or not he’s taking work home tonight?” Natasha fired back, unfazed by the subtle hostility in Y/N’s reply.

Home. She said home.

“If I manage to complete today’s tasks on time, then Professor Rogers should be free for the evening.”

“Perfect! I plan to tell him tonight. I know he’s going to be excited to hear it,” Natasha stated. Y/N didn’t care to provide commentary, attempting to enter the attendance records digitally. She only hoped Natasha wouldn’t notice her slip-ups; she had already entered three records incorrectly. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately for Y/N—Natasha continued, “He’s going to think it’s a boy. He’s the type to.”

“A girl. St—Professor Rogers strikes me as a girl dad. I think he’d want the baby to be a girl,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, hoping her lower tone was enough to mask her emotions.

Natasha regarded Y/N skeptically, the tilt of her head almost personal. Y/N refused to let her scrutiny bother her anymore. Her mind kept drifting to thoughts of Steve and Nyla, replaying their interactions in her head. She knew it was wrong to think of them together, but the more Steve came to mind, the harder it was to shake Nyla’s presence alongside him. She blamed it all on Paul. If he had been a better father to their daughter, maybe she wouldn’t be sitting here thinking these sacrilegious thoughts about her professor.

She didn’t need that fickle little toad to love her, nor did she care for him to treat her any better than he ever had. She just wanted him to be better toward their daughter, like Steve was.

Steve had a tenderness, a protectiveness in the way he moved, in the way he looked at Nyla. Y/N wasn’t blind; she could see it. Steve longed for what she had. Now, in his late thirties, it was clear he was ready to settle down, to have a family. And he looked the part too—like every girl’s Christmas wish and every mother’s prayer. The way he treated Nyla, like a little princess—hell, that was even his nickname for her—showed that he was meant to be a father. A girl’s father more than anything.

“You seem so sure about that,” Natasha noted. Though her words were framed as a statement, the unspoken “why” hung in the air.

Before Y/N could respond, a knock sounded at the door, giving her a momentary reprieve. She suppressed her relief and casually invited the person outside to enter. Unfortunately, luck was not entirely on her side. It was Steve who entered the office, and his eyes didn’t find her first.

“Nat, there you are!”

Steve’s smile lit up his face, his blue-green eyes sparkling at the sight of Natasha. She mirrored his enthusiasm, and though she had shown a colorful palette of emotions during her conversation with Y/N, her expression was now purely candid—similar to when she had talked about her baby.

Y/N watched as Natasha stood and threw herself into Steve’s waiting arms. It was as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, though Y/N knew that couldn’t be the case. If her suspicions were correct, then…she didn’t even want to continue that thought.

“I let myself in,” Natasha said, her voice muffled against Steve’s shoulder. Their arms were tightly wrapped around one another. “Didn’t want to bother you in case you were busy.”

“You could never bother me,” Steve assured her. He stepped back slightly but kept his hands on her forearms, his eyes sweeping over her. “Is that a new outfit? It looks incredible. Gives you a certain glow.”

Natasha laughed, her curtain bangs shaking alongside her shoulders. “That glow has nothing to do with my outfit.”

Y/N wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe, truly believe, that she implied her secret pregnancy. But her glances felt more suggestive. And if even Steve picked up the innuendo, judging by his bright cheeks, then Y/N wasn’t wrong.

Steve cleared his throat, letting his hands fall back to his sides, though his fingers traced along Natasha’s arms as they dropped.

“Since you’re here, did you have breakfast yet? We could head to the cafeteria, or maybe a café nearby,” Steve suggested.

“Anywhere’s fine as long as we can sit outside. It’s nice out,” Natasha replied.

“I think you’d like the café by the east side of campus. They have great bagels. I could text Bucky to join us after his class.”

“Don’t worry about Bucky. He can third-wheel another time,” Natasha joked. At least, it seemed like a joke—Steve laughed heartily. Y/N, on the other hand, stood quietly on the sidelines, feeling like the real third wheel. Did they even notice her anymore?

In classic Steve Rogers fashion, he offered Natasha his arm. “Shall we?” he asked gallantly, and she didn’t hesitate to link their arms together. It looked like Steve didn’t forget about Y/N after all. Torn between relief and frustration, she caught his gaze. He smiled softly at her, offering a small wave. “Don’t overwork yourself, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

“See you, Professor. Enjoy,” Y/N managed to say. But as the doors closed behind them, she couldn’t ignore the fondness in his gaze when he looked down at Natasha or Natasha’s gentle glances toward her stomach. The sharp sting that followed cut through Y/N’s heart, leaving her reeling.

What was she even thinking? Of course, he wouldn’t acknowledge her in the presence of another woman—a better woman. Y/N was just his student, practically a child in his eyes, a mess of imperfections. A pretty skirt and blazer wouldn’t change that fact, not that Steve had ever noticed her new outfit. Not that she really wanted him to… right?

God, what was she getting herself into? And how could she possibly get out before it was too late?

Series taglist: @crazyunsexycool @imaginexred

Originally, this chapter was supposed to include two more scenes, but since we're already at 4K words, I didn't want to drag it further. So, Natasha has officially entered the chat, and with her comes jealousy! What do you think Twilight (reader) will do with these troubling doubts and feelings?

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel mcu #paint me midnight blue

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talesofadragon · 8 months ago

Text

I’ve got a heartwarming scene with Nyla coming up in the next chapter!! If the writing goes exactly how I want it to go, then the next chapter is going to be packed with feelings and drama.

Thank you for reading and reblogging, Val!!🤍

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x Student!Reader/Mum!Reader

Warnings: Age Gap (14 years. Both are adults), teacher/student dynamic, abusive relationship, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, terrible partner, co-parenting.

Word Count: 4K Words

All Masterlists | Paint Me Midnight Blue Masterlist

Swapping her casual attire for something as crisp and sharp as her plaid light brown skirt, off-white turtleneck, and beige blazer with brown accents was her own version of a Cinderella moment.

“Excuse me,” Y/N called out authoritatively, gaining no visible response. “May I ask who you are and what you’re doing sitting at Professor Rogers’ desk?”

With a slight arch of her dark brows, the woman’s gaze swept over Y/N’s smaller frame. “Professor Rogers is not present at the moment,” she answered as if that was the question Y/N had posed.

“I didn’t ask about Professor Rogers’ whereabouts.”

“These aren’t his office hours,” the woman commented casually, seemingly unfazed by the edge in Y/N’s voice.

“My name’s Y/N. I’m his assistant.”

“You know Professor Barnes?”

The red-haired woman smirked, the kind that hinted at knowing far more than she let on. Her lips, however, played a different tune. “We go way back. Bucky, Steve, and me.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin, disappointed line. A sharp discomfort settled over her as she realized she'd been standing there for an awkward five minutes, talking to a stranger.

“If you could please wait for Professor Rogers in one of the seats across from his desk,” Y/N said as politely as she could, though a hint of disdain threaded through her tone.

“I’m perfectly content where I’m sitting.”

The nerve of her! Y/N took a deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “It’s not a matter of content but a matter of respect,” she enunciated sharply.

The woman’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you calling me disrespectful?” she asked bluntly.

“Meaning?”

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N hummed dismissedly.

“Drink?” Natasha’s voice snapped her out of the memory.

Y/N blinked, raising her head as her mind adjusted back to the present. Is she asking or commanding? was the first thought that crossed her still-dazed consciousness.

“Oh, sorry.” Y/N quickly stood, heading toward the refreshment area. “It didn’t even occur to me to ask if you wanted anything to drink.”

“Nonsense, you’re a guest,” Y/N insisted, her tone polite, though laced with subtle passive-aggression. If Natasha noticed, she didn’t comment. “Let me get you something. Coffee or tea?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha replied swiftly. Although she intended to douse Y/N’s concern, the tremor in her voice only deepened it.

“You don’t look okay,” Y/N pressed, studying the way Natasha scrunched her nose. “Let me get you another glass of water.”

“Lemon,” Natasha coughed. “Can you…do you have something infused with lemon?”

“Uh, sure. Hold on a second.”

“Here.”

Y/N replaced the old glass with the new one, which Natasha eagerly took from her hand.

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered, her voice void of that effortless confidence. Instead, it was laced with exhaustion, despite her best attempts to mask it.

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything else?”

Natasha nodded, languidly drinking the lemon-infused water. “Can you please move your coffee away?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Y/N shook her head, sitting down in her seat and wringing her fingers together. So, she is pregnant.

“No. I just took a wild guess.”

“You wagered right. I better never bet around you.”

Y/N chortled at Natasha’s remark, the tension in the air gradually receding. “How far along are you?” she asked in a quiet tone.

Natasha rubbed her barely-there bump, smiling. “Two months.”

“First pregnancy?”

“Are you scared?” Y/N ventured, watching for Natasha’s reaction.

“Yeah. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, hon. If that’s something you want someday, I hope you find it too when the time is right.”

The timing wasn’t right, and she would always be reminded of that when she looked at her classmates, Natasha, hell, even Steve. But she could never say that aloud, could she?

“Thank you,” she replied solemnly, busying herself with her work. She was far enough behind, and she needed to get a move on.

Natasha didn’t give her a moment of respite, though. “Is Steve available tonight?” she asked, her attention darting to the computer.

“Well, does his academic schedule tell you anything about whether or not he’s taking work home tonight?” Natasha fired back, unfazed by the subtle hostility in Y/N’s reply.

Home. She said home.

“If I manage to complete today’s tasks on time, then Professor Rogers should be free for the evening.”

“A girl. St—Professor Rogers strikes me as a girl dad. I think he’d want the baby to be a girl,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, hoping her lower tone was enough to mask her emotions.

She didn’t need that fickle little toad to love her, nor did she care for him to treat her any better than he ever had. She just wanted him to be better toward their daughter, like Steve was.

“You seem so sure about that,” Natasha noted. Though her words were framed as a statement, the unspoken “why” hung in the air.

“Nat, there you are!”

“I let myself in,” Natasha said, her voice muffled against Steve’s shoulder. Their arms were tightly wrapped around one another. “Didn’t want to bother you in case you were busy.”

Natasha laughed, her curtain bangs shaking alongside her shoulders. “That glow has nothing to do with my outfit.”

Steve cleared his throat, letting his hands fall back to his sides, though his fingers traced along Natasha’s arms as they dropped.

“Since you’re here, did you have breakfast yet? We could head to the cafeteria, or maybe a café nearby,” Steve suggested.

“Anywhere’s fine as long as we can sit outside. It’s nice out,” Natasha replied.

“I think you’d like the café by the east side of campus. They have great bagels. I could text Bucky to join us after his class.”

God, what was she getting herself into? And how could she possibly get out before it was too late?

Series taglist: @crazyunsexycool @imaginexred

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talesofadragon · 8 months ago

Text

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x Student!Reader/Mum!Reader

Warnings: Age Gap (14 years. Both are adults), teacher/student dynamic, abusive relationship, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, terrible partner, co-parenting.

Word Count: 4K Words

All Masterlists | Paint Me Midnight Blue Masterlist

Swapping her casual attire for something as crisp and sharp as her plaid light brown skirt, off-white turtleneck, and beige blazer with brown accents was her own version of a Cinderella moment.

“Excuse me,” Y/N called out authoritatively, gaining no visible response. “May I ask who you are and what you’re doing sitting at Professor Rogers’ desk?”

With a slight arch of her dark brows, the woman’s gaze swept over Y/N’s smaller frame. “Professor Rogers is not present at the moment,” she answered as if that was the question Y/N had posed.

“I didn’t ask about Professor Rogers’ whereabouts.”

“These aren’t his office hours,” the woman commented casually, seemingly unfazed by the edge in Y/N’s voice.

“My name’s Y/N. I’m his assistant.”

“You know Professor Barnes?”

The red-haired woman smirked, the kind that hinted at knowing far more than she let on. Her lips, however, played a different tune. “We go way back. Bucky, Steve, and me.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin, disappointed line. A sharp discomfort settled over her as she realized she'd been standing there for an awkward five minutes, talking to a stranger.

“If you could please wait for Professor Rogers in one of the seats across from his desk,” Y/N said as politely as she could, though a hint of disdain threaded through her tone.

“I’m perfectly content where I’m sitting.”

The nerve of her! Y/N took a deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “It’s not a matter of content but a matter of respect,” she enunciated sharply.

The woman’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you calling me disrespectful?” she asked bluntly.

“Meaning?”

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N hummed dismissedly.

“Drink?” Natasha’s voice snapped her out of the memory.

Y/N blinked, raising her head as her mind adjusted back to the present. Is she asking or commanding? was the first thought that crossed her still-dazed consciousness.

“Oh, sorry.” Y/N quickly stood, heading toward the refreshment area. “It didn’t even occur to me to ask if you wanted anything to drink.”

“Nonsense, you’re a guest,” Y/N insisted, her tone polite, though laced with subtle passive-aggression. If Natasha noticed, she didn’t comment. “Let me get you something. Coffee or tea?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha replied swiftly. Although she intended to douse Y/N’s concern, the tremor in her voice only deepened it.

“You don’t look okay,” Y/N pressed, studying the way Natasha scrunched her nose. “Let me get you another glass of water.”

“Lemon,” Natasha coughed. “Can you…do you have something infused with lemon?”

“Uh, sure. Hold on a second.”

“Here.”

Y/N replaced the old glass with the new one, which Natasha eagerly took from her hand.

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered, her voice void of that effortless confidence. Instead, it was laced with exhaustion, despite her best attempts to mask it.

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything else?”

Natasha nodded, languidly drinking the lemon-infused water. “Can you please move your coffee away?”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Y/N shook her head, sitting down in her seat and wringing her fingers together. So, she is pregnant.

“No. I just took a wild guess.”

“You wagered right. I better never bet around you.”

Y/N chortled at Natasha’s remark, the tension in the air gradually receding. “How far along are you?” she asked in a quiet tone.

Natasha rubbed her barely-there bump, smiling. “Two months.”

“First pregnancy?”

“Are you scared?” Y/N ventured, watching for Natasha’s reaction.

“Yeah. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, hon. If that’s something you want someday, I hope you find it too when the time is right.”

The timing wasn’t right, and she would always be reminded of that when she looked at her classmates, Natasha, hell, even Steve. But she could never say that aloud, could she?

“Thank you,” she replied solemnly, busying herself with her work. She was far enough behind, and she needed to get a move on.

Natasha didn’t give her a moment of respite, though. “Is Steve available tonight?” she asked, her attention darting to the computer.

“Well, does his academic schedule tell you anything about whether or not he’s taking work home tonight?” Natasha fired back, unfazed by the subtle hostility in Y/N’s reply.

Home. She said home.

“If I manage to complete today’s tasks on time, then Professor Rogers should be free for the evening.”

“A girl. St—Professor Rogers strikes me as a girl dad. I think he’d want the baby to be a girl,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, hoping her lower tone was enough to mask her emotions.

She didn’t need that fickle little toad to love her, nor did she care for him to treat her any better than he ever had. She just wanted him to be better toward their daughter, like Steve was.

“You seem so sure about that,” Natasha noted. Though her words were framed as a statement, the unspoken “why” hung in the air.

“Nat, there you are!”

“I let myself in,” Natasha said, her voice muffled against Steve’s shoulder. Their arms were tightly wrapped around one another. “Didn’t want to bother you in case you were busy.”

Natasha laughed, her curtain bangs shaking alongside her shoulders. “That glow has nothing to do with my outfit.”

Steve cleared his throat, letting his hands fall back to his sides, though his fingers traced along Natasha’s arms as they dropped.

“Since you’re here, did you have breakfast yet? We could head to the cafeteria, or maybe a café nearby,” Steve suggested.

“Anywhere’s fine as long as we can sit outside. It’s nice out,” Natasha replied.

“I think you’d like the café by the east side of campus. They have great bagels. I could text Bucky to join us after his class.”

God, what was she getting herself into? And how could she possibly get out before it was too late?

Series taglist: @crazyunsexycool @imaginexred

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #the avengers #professor!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x single mom!reader #age gap steve rogers #girl dad!steve rogers #professor steve rogers x student reader

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talesofadragon · 8 months ago

Note

Oh dear god, this is even better than I expected! She’s such a darling, and I admit, making her physically features so different that the anticipated Autumn/Vanserra appearance adds a little something to the story.

Oh, I’d love it if you make another part!! Her ability is interesting, and I’d love to see how that also plays in her relationship with Rhysand and the rest of the IC. Maybe we can even see more of her and Eris? I figure she’s also a lot like the Lady of Autumn, so maybe we can get a glimpse of that, too.

Thank you for that piece of perfection, love!! I didn’t expect it to be so beautiful ♥️♥️

Heya love,

Thank you for taking my request! I hardly think you can ever disappoint!

So, Autumn Court is a rather traditional court, and we know how discriminating against females it is.

Picture Rhys and the IC being invited to Autumn for whatever reason may it be. There, he decides to wander through the grounds. Somewhere in a secured area within the forest, he finds a female sitting by herself—too gentle and demure to belong to Autumn.

She’s shy in her discourse and neglects to tell him who she is. Eris pops up suddenly and pries the female away from him in a manner that’s too protective and possessive to be friendly.

Later on, Rhys realizes that this young female is Beron’s only, and youngest daughter. Secluded from prying eyes, Beron has made sure no one knew who she is until he was ready to marry her off.

But when Rhys finds out, and the mating bond snaps for him, he’s ready to fight for her. Going as far as to ask for Eris’ help, who happens to be extremely close and protective of his baby sister.

I hope that was clear enough and not at all confusing. Take your time with it, love! And feel free to change any detail you deem necessary.

Thanks again🩷

This

Perfect!!!!

Thank you so much🤩💕I love it so much that the story started to play in my head on its own and continued even in the dream. Hopefully, you'll like it

Moon princess

Word count: 9600+ (oops)

Warnings: mentions of Beron, court machinations, swear words, but no fights and no blood this time

I'm thinking about writing another part where they are slowly getting to know each other. Which I originaly wanted to add into this one, but tumblr stopped cooperating somewhere around 5k words in, messes up with saved text and takes forever to respond. Message is clear, I guess I have again too many WIPs in drafts. It happens all the time 🙄 Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Rhysand threw the pen on the desk and sighing leaned back in his big leather chair. Since early morning he was sitting in the office, writing letters, reading reports and sorting out complaints according to the urgency. It was already past lunchtime, but he didn't get even half through all the documents. He needed some distraction at least for few minutes.

In the very nick of time, the doors flew open and Cassian casually strode in, a massive sandwich in one hand, a piece of paper in the other one. He held only the corner of it between index finger and thumb, glaring at it as if someone had used it as a tissue.

"So.. What are we going to do with the invitation?" he asked with a full mouth.

"What invitation?" Rhys looked up, tired. This was hardly the kind of distraction he wished for.

"This one," general waved the paper. He flopped down to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "From the Autumn Court."

Rhysand frowned. "I got invitation?" he asked with feigned calm.

"Yup," Cassian took another bite from his sandwich, a bit of dressing dripped on his shirt, but he didn't seem to even notice it. Rhys' mouth twitched.

"Oh, really? And remind me, when exactly did I get it?"

"Few weeks ago. Helion also got one. He wants to know what we assume about it and whether we will accept or no. He's still waiting for the answer by the way."

Rhysand raised brows at him. "So you wrote to Helion."

"Nope, he wrote to you right after getting it."

That was the last drop. Closing eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "I think that we already talked about this at least a million times before, Cass. You can't take my mail, open it, read it and then keep it in your room."

Cassian threw up his hands and the dressing and slice of tomato flew out of the sandwich, landing on Rhys' expensive carpet. Rhysand eyed the stain, blood boiling in his veins.

"I don't do anything like that, bro! You know me. Plus, I don't remember that we've ever talked about such rule."

"That isn't rule I made up. It's called postal secret and privacy. Now bring all my mail! Immediately!"

"Fine, fine," Cassian fumed and rolled his eyes, but at last he stood up, throwing the invitation on the desk and left.

When the doors closed behind him, Rhys flicked his wrist and stain from the carpet disappeared. Then he reached for the invitation and cursed because it was smeared with dressing, too. Rhys licked his dirty fingers, commendably humming and wiped the rest of the dirt with tissue. His stomach loudly rumbled, reminding him that he should head out for some food soon.

He unfolded the paper, quickly scanning the text. Beron was inviting him and his family to a week of festivities on the occasion of a significant announcement. There wasn't written anything else, no more details. Rhysand sighed heavily, drumming with the fingers. His brain coils were working at full speed.

'Significant announcement'

What could it be? Considering that it was Beron, it couldn't be anything good. Because of Cassian, they had last two days left to prepare. He needed to know at least what to expect, so he could work up some plan later.

Azriel?

Claws of his power knocked on Azriel's mental shields. He answered right away, letting him in.

What?

Where are you now? Are you busy?

I'm preparing for the mission we talked about yesterday.

Rhysand considered it for moment, biting on his lower lip. Forget that thing for now or entrust it to someone else. This is urgent.

Azriel answered without hesitation. Fine. Are you in your office?

Rhysand loved how pragmatic Shadowsinger was. No questions. All he needed to hear to drop current job was that it was urgent. He didn't question him. Yes.

I'll be there in a minute.

When Az arrived, half hidden in his shadows as usual, he showed him the invitation and explained the situation. Azriel actually laughed when he heard how Cassian came, asking what was the plan. After that, he immediately disappeared in his shadows, heading to contact the spies they had in Autumn Court.

As expected, Azriel returned shorty before they were supposed to leave for the party. His spies didn't know much, only that Beron was secretly planning something big, the wards around his castle were strengthened and that the frequency of the correspondence between him and Spring Court increased in last two months. There was no time to contact spies in Spring whether they knew something more. Azriel planned to use the time they would spend in the Forest House to spy on Beron and learn more.

It was decided that only Rhys, Az and Cass would go. He didn't even try to ask Mor because he already knew the answer. However, he asked Amren and she clearly refused. She literally said that she would rather give up all her jewellery than listen to a single word of that old, pathetic excuse of a male.

Rhysand winnowed them to the Autumn Court close to the borders of the High Lord's estate. As soon as the world around them stilled, the brisk smell of autumn hit their noses. At gates, a dozen of soldiers stood on guard, armed to the teeth. They eyed them suspiciously, but let them pass. The three of them exchanged look as they stepped in, feeling the strong pressure.

"Putting up so strong wards and then inviting guests, one would think that your High Lord is planning something evil or he got himself a gem of size of his head," Rhys purred, but none of the soldiers even as much as blinked. Pursing lips he nodded. "Sharp guys. I wonder if they would stay still even if we started cutting off their limbs."

"I'm sure they would scream like females," Cassian grinned, folding arms on his chest.

"Are you trying to terrorise our guards, Rhysand?" a sly, bored voice spoke from somewhere behind them. They slowly turned around, arrogant as ever.

"Eris," Rhysand flashed his best cocky smile and shoved hands into pockets. "We are just merely testing them. Since when are heirs on the duty to come to the gates and welcome guests?"

"Ever since the so-called guests are mutts from Night Court," he snarled back, picking non-existent dirt from under fingernails.

Azriel was as always calm and composed, avoiding any attention, but Cassian was his opposite. He straightened up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and gritting teeth. "It's a good custom for the host to respect the guests, especially if they were invited, not to insult them. In Autumn, good manners seem not to be taught though."

Eris didn't react, only scoffed. He turned on the heel and started to walk towards the castle surrounded by reds and yellows. He showed them to their chambers connected by private sitting room, briefly informing them about the time of the evening party and that someone would come to show them the way later.

With a free access to the castle, Azriel didn't waste a minute and as soon as Eris left, he disappeared into the shadows to snoop around.

The party took place in a fancy ballroom. Rhys snorted at the sight of pure opulence, shoving hands into his pockets. Everything in this huge room was made of white marble with gold details, including a high vault ceiling. It was so polished that it looked like a mirror.

Autumn aristocracy and several of the High Lords were already here, so Rhys made a show of checking his appearance, keeping his mask of ruthless arrogance.

He had to admit that Beron knew how to show off his wealth. Massive golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, flooding room with bright light. In the vases next to each marble pillar around the perimeter of the room were big bouquets of flowers made out of gold and copper. The start of the party was planned for the sunset, so the whole room looked like made of gold. Amren would love this for sure.

Rhysand wouldn't let it show on his face, but inside he felt sick. It was overdone and suffocating. And he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Cassian was openly showing his disgust, Azriel scanned the surrounding from under his frowning brows, arms crossed on his chest.

"Finally some friendly faces and my favourite ones," a rich playful voice boomed on their left. Azriel rolled his eyes, not bothering to even look at the coming person and murmuring something about the need of a strong drink, he left. Rhysand with a cocky smile turned in time to see Helion, the High Lord of Day Court, giving a hug to Cassian.

"Good to see you, friend," he purred.

Helion hooked a muscular arm around his shoulders and winked. "What do you say about the host's taste?" he pointed with his chin to the ballroom, speaking lowly only for his ears.

"I say you must feel like home here," Rhys snorted.

Helion pursed his full lips, thinking about it. "Not really. But the drinks are good here," he swirled the golden liquid in his glass and waved them, already heading to the crowd. "I hope to see you later in the privacy of your room, so we can catch up."

Rhysand gave him just nod and his eyes turned to the dais in the same moment as High Lord of Autumn with his wife and sons appeared. Rhysand tried to keep his face emotionless as his eyes fell to the Lady of Autumn. He hated to see the visibly mistreated female, something about her reminding him of his late mother even though unlike Lady of Autumn she was strong and wild and didn't let his father to treat her badly. Maybe it was the motherly vibes they both shared.

He rather averted his gaze to the gathered crowd and half listening to Beron's speech, let his powers lurk around, looking for any useful information he could get from these people. His violet-blue eyes searched for Tamlin, the High Lord of Spring, between the High Lords. Maybe if he played it off well, he could find out more about the business Autumn and Spring were cooking up, but his golden hair and tall figure were nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, Beron finished his boring speech with a promise of the big announcement on the end of this week of festivities. Rhysand despised the idea of waiting for the whole week. He needed to know what was going on in order the prepare for it, eventually come up with plan to sabotage it. The sooner he knew, the better.

He tried to find Azriel's mind in the crowd to give him orders, but with satisfaction he realized that Shadowsinger wasn't anywhere nearby, most likely already snooping around High Lord's quarters where he intended to send him. That male was a real workaholic.

As the evening progressed, Rhysand got even more bored. Chat with other invited High Lords led to nothing as none of them wanted to discuss anything of real importance at place where they could be easily heard by wrong persons. Cassian was cleaning plates, Azriel was who-knows-where and even Eris seemed to slip out to the night.

In need of fresh, cool air he moved to the terrace and then down to the gardens, looking for a quiet, dark corner where he could blow out the steam. The sounds of party slowly grew distant, number of guests on an evening stroll decreased. Rhysand didn't want to be disturbed, so he walked more deeper into the dark gardens. Thinking that he found the secluded place he needed, he looked around, noticing guards pacing on the edge where gardens turned into a forest. That piqued his interest. What could possibly be worth of guarding in the forest?

He merged with the night, getting pass the guards unnoticed. It was too easy and thus it was no fun. He hoped for at least a small hitch to make tonight interesting. Hopefully, whatever was hidden there, would be worth of the effort and provide him with some sort of excitement.

He dragged through the forest looking right and left, searching for something that didn't fit in. After half an hour he was ready to call it off, marking it as a great waste of time, when he noticed a soft light behind the thick bush. Carefully stalking closer, he stayed hidden in the darkness of autumn forest and took a look around.

There, hidden behind bushes and trees, spread out a clearing bathing in the cool silver light of full moon and in the middle of that on a fallen tree trunk sat the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Her petite figure with soft features and porcelain skin glowed in the night. Dark brown silky hair fell in waves to her tiny waist. Dressed up in light, white dress that reflected the moonlight, surrounded by hundreds of fireflies, the small female looked like being of another world. Devouring that fragile beauty, he suddenly remembered the bedtime story mother used to tell him, his most favourite one. How could he forget it?

The story was about Moon Princess who spent her entire life, night after night watching Fae live, dance, laugh and love. Her desire to spend at least one day with them and experience the same things they did, grew so strong that she got sick, slowly fading away. When her father, Moon King, learnt about her desire, he decided to grant her her wish in order to save life of his only daughter. And so Moon Princess descended from the moon to the clearing in the deep forest, instantly feeling better.

At that time, young prince happened to be in the forest on his way back home, witnessing her descent. He immediately fell in love with her and took her to his castle. Gradually, she fell in love with the prince, but when the month her father granted her was coming to its end, she became sad and again fell ill. Her father couldn't stand to see his daughter suffer so much and allowed her to stay with her prince. After some time they got married, had a lot of children and grew old together.

When Rhys was younger, he dreamt about finding his own Moon Princess and having his happily ever after with her. Seeing this gentle creature in the woods now, he felt like he was witness of descent of Moon Princess he waited for. She took the air from his lungs and captivated his heart. Before he knew what he was doing, he stepped out from the shadows. Not wanting to scare her off, he cleared his throat, making as much noise as possible on his way to the fallen trunk.

Despite his efforts, she winced, covering lips like petal of rose flower with her delicate hands with elegant long fingers. Her doe eyes of colour of deepest sea gazed up at him. Recovering from the initial shock, she blushed, readying to run away.

"Don't! Please, stay. I mean no harm," he raised both of his hands, trying to calm her down. She was like a frightened animal. Rhysand assumed it would be for the best if he introduced himself.

"I'm Rhysand and I'm guest of the High Lord of Autumn. I was just on a walk when I noticed you sitting here alone. Are you lost?"

She shook her head, avoiding his gaze.

"What Court are you from? I happen to know all High Lords. I can help you get to the right one."

"I'm.. from here," she spoke shyly, her voice sounded to him like the sweetest melody. He swallowed hard, his palms sweating. What was wrong with him? He was feared High Lord who had more lovers in his life than he could count, yet he felt like inexperienced youngling.

"Can.. can I sit down here with you?" he asked out of breath.

How pathetic, Rhysand, he scolded himself. You finally found female of your dreams and you behave like total idiot. Bravo! She will certainly fall for you and agree to meet you again. You need to come with something better than this.

She bit on her lower lip, considering it, but at last she nodded, moving as far from him as she could. Rhys put on his most dazzling and kindest smile and sat down next to her. She blushed even more.

"The moon tonight is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, my lord, I suppose it is."

Rhysand snorted. "I'm not your lord. Please, call me Rhysand or just Rhys if you want. How should I call you?"

Female nervously fidgeted her fingers. "I think I should go." She was about to stand up.

Rhys' hand shot up instinctively, his fingers firmly but gently wrapped around her wrist. Mother above, she was so small and fragile like a porcelain doll. "Please, stay. I understand. No names."

She weakly twisted her wrist in his grasp and he let her go. She sat back down and Rhys sighed with relief, licking his lips. He wanted to make her speak more, yearning to listen to her voice from now until the end of his life.

"Do you come out here often?"

"I'm not allowed to go out much," she whispered hardly audibly, her shoulders slumped.

"How so?" Rhys asked with concern, his gaze again roaming over her petite body. However, he didn't get the answer.

Eris emerged from between the trees, his features twisted in anger.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed and taking female's hand yanked her to his chest. He looked her up and down, checking her for any injury quite roughly.

"Hey! Stop treating her like that! You are hurting her, asshole," Rhysand couldn't stop himself, his mask naturally slid down to its place and he was again fearsome High Lord. He stood up baring his teeth, ready to fight him off if necessary. He wouldn't mind to even kill him to protect this Moon Princess, as he decided to call her until she told him her name, and maybe even after that.

Female's eyes widened at him, but she didn't dare to say a word.

"How did you get here, Rhysand?! This is a private place where guests aren't allowed. If anything, the fact that guards stand at entrance to the forest, should make it more than clear."

"And you," he turned to the female. "What did you do here with this bastard? Why didn't you immediately leave when he appeared? If he finds out what happened here, we both will have a serious problem! Do you even understand that?"

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to leave, but.." she mumbled, cringing, her face pale.

"But what?! Return to your room! Now!"

"I don't know and don't even care who she is to you, but I won't allow you to talk like that with her," Rhys grabbed front of Eris's shirt, staring him down. He was only a few inches taller than the Autumn heir, though the effect was the same.

Female gaped at him in shock, but as soon as Eris let go of her arm, she backed few steps, then turned around and ran away. Rhys wanted to ran after her to make sure she wasn't hurt, but he banned himself to even move. His outburst was bad enough, giving out too much.

They stared at each other, heaving.

"Back off, Rhysand!" Eris snarled lowly.

"No!" he growled back. "Who is she?"

"That's none of your business," Eris glared at him, unmoved.

"Now when I met her, it is my business. I won't just stand by and watch someone hurt females for absolutely no reason."

Pushing him away, Eris burst into fit of laughter. "Good joke, Rhysand, really. Maybe you should clean up your own yard before you start poking your nose into other people's affairs." With that he left, heading in the same direction as the female.

Rhys just stood there, taken aback, gazing after his receding back. He didn't want to admit it, but Eris was right. There was still too much to improve in his Court, but that didn't mean Eris had any right to point it out. In this regard, Autumn wasn't any better than Night.

Later that night Rhysand was pacing in their sitting room, while Azriel and Cassian watched him from couch with concern.

"Don't you want to finally tell us where you disappeared?" Cassian groaned, sipping his drink.

"Did you find anything out?" Azriel added. Ever since he returned he was frowning, angry that he not only couldn't find anything useful, but also that Beron's office and chambers were so warded that he wouldn't be able to get in even if he had a whole month for it.

"Nothing like that," Rhysand growled. The thought of the female and her scared gaze where eating him up. He needed to see her, to make sure she was all right. But where to look for her? Then his gaze fell to his brother, half hidden in his shadows. If anyone was able to find her, then only he.

"Fine, so listen up," he groaned. While still pacing back and forth, he told them everything about his encounter with her and described every detail he remembered.

Azriel listened him attentively, nodding at last. "I will look for her while spying around. But I have to warn you - don't keep high hopes. There's an entire part of castle where I nor my spies couldn't infiltrate no matter how many times we tried it. And we work on that for years. If she is held captive in this castle, they can keep her there."

Rhysand sighed and ran hand through his hair. Eris knew her, but he wouldn't tell him anything. Could she be his lover? Or some secret fiancée? Wife? Or she belonged to another Vanserra? Just imagining that such fragile, young female was here to satisfy Beron's needs made him feel sick.

He needed to calm down, to do something to change the flow of thoughts, so he stepped to the bar and poured a glass of whiskey. He emptied the glass in one gulp, the liquor burning his throat. He grimaced and poured himself another glass. He sat down.

Cassian and Azriel started to discuss something, but he couldn't focus on their words even if he wanted. He could still see her in front of him, surrounded by silver moonlight, beautiful and so unearthly. He was only snapped out of the memory when Cassian put his big hand on his knee.

"Stop it," he muttered in amusement. "It's nerve-wracking when you nonstop tap your foot. Even Azriel here is getting nervous because of you."

"I don't-"

"You do," Azriel nodded, corners of his mouth twitching. With raised brow he looked at Cassian. "What do you think? Finally?"

"Finally," general agreed.

Rhys was confused. "Finally what?" he snapped.

"You are in love," Cassian howled with laughter and Azriel joined him shortly.

"I'm not in love. I'm just worried," Rhysand retorted, crossing hands on his chest and almost tipped the drink on his expensive shirt.

"And now he's even blushing like an innocent schoolgirl," Cassian was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"What's so funny?" Helion appeared on the threshold, light smile playing on his lips.

"Nothing. They are just two bored idiots," Rhysand groaned. Helion was the last person he wanted to find out about his encounter. High Lord of Day was the worst gossiper in entire Prythian.

"Oh, c'mon. I want to laugh, too. I'm bored here. This is the worst Court to be in."

"Because you would like to make out with a certain lady who is out of your reach?" Rhysand grinned. This lifted his spirit a bit.

Helion groaned, flopping onto other couch. "Don't even remind me of that matter."

To that Cassian started to laugh even harder.

Helion frowned at him. "Is he okay?" Rhysand only shook his head.

"Two lovesick birds," Cassian tried to calm down, Azriel next to him was massaging his hurting cheeks. He hadn't laughed so much in ages.

Helion watched them with wolfish grin and shiny eyes. "Idiots or no, I'd love to see them worn out in my bed anyway."

Azriel stopped smiling immediately, the idea had never been to his taste. Cassian just shrugged. "Maybe some other time, but thanks," he playfully winked at Lord of Day who obscenely ran teeth over his lower lip.

"I'm already waiting for the day."

Rhysand cleared his throat, grinning. "So.. Did you come for something specific or just to make obscene proposal to my brothers?"

"Actually, yes," Helion smiled, still undressing his long-term targets with eyes. "I and other High Lords are worried. You certainly already heard about something going on between Autumn and Spring."

"Sure, I did."

"I didn't see Tamlin at party tonight. I have quite bad feeling about this."

"Me too, friend," Rhysand swirled the golden liquor in the glass. "Me too."

"I guess that you don't have more detailed information on this matter that you could share with me."

"Unfortunately, I know just as much as you and the others. Azriel here is trying to find out something while we are here and his spies are snooping around in Spring, but we haven't heard anything new from them, have we?" He turned to Shadowsinger who only shook his head.

"But if you find out something, you will share it with us, right?"

"Of course I will. I can imagine only one scenario in which Beron is after the access to the Wall and human lands. We both know very well what it would mean."

"Do you think that Tamlin would allow such thing?" Cassian asked seriously.

"We can only hope that he has enough common sense to not allow it," Rhysand emptied his second glass.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

The week of festivities passed quickly. Beron prepared all kinds of activities to keep his guests entertained. Rhysand had stopped counting the number of hunts, competitions and banquets he absolved right after the first day.

Azriel spent most of the time in the shadows, spying all around the castle, following Beron like hound, but there were no news about the female nor the plans Lord of Autumn had.

Rhys started to have very bad feeling about this all and grew nervous with every passing day in dark. He kept his eyes on Eris who was obviously ignoring him, hoping he would make a mistake and take him to the female. However, Eris, the cunning fox, after the first ball never left the room, participating on every event from the beginning to the very end.

When it was finally time for the last ball, Rhysand was so nervous and irritated that even his brothers were avoiding the conversation with him. And he wasn't the only one. All gathered High Lords seemed to have enough of this shit show and masquerade, waiting only for the big announcement.

That evening, the atmosphere in the ballroom was suffocating, none of the Lords bothered to tune off their powers anymore. When Beron with his family appeared on the dais, five pairs of hostile eyes gazed at him from the crowd, waiting.

Thank you for coming and blah blah blah, Rhysand didn't really listen that old asshole, not until Tamlin appeared on the dais next to Beron who announced that they were intending to make an alliance together. Tamlin seemed to be taken aback to see everyone and to hear that they spent the whole week here, so apparently he wasn't invited for the shit show nor Beron bothered to notify him about the recent events.

"And to confirm my good intentions, my only daughter, Selene, will marry Tamlin," Beron declared.

The wave of shock ran through the crowd. As it seemed, even Autumn aristocracy didn't know about the existence of the mentioned daughter. High Lords looked at each other. Their worst fears had come true. Beron was after free access to the Wall.

However, right at that moment, it was the last thing Rhysand cared about. The doors behind Beron again opened and from the dark of the hallway a small figure emerged. Dressed in dress of moonlight colour with dark brown waves styled into a complicated hairstyle, his Moon Princess walked into the room. She looked up and their eyes locked. Exactly as that night in the forest, her beauty took all the air from his lungs, but it wasn't the only thing that happened at that moment.

Something inside him broke, the crack so loud everyone in the room had to hear it. And in that hole in the middle of his chest, a shimmering gold thread formed, blooming like a flower. The thread shot out, bridging over the entire room. Gently touching his Moon Princess, it wrapped around her and bound their souls together.

Rhysand watched it all with wide eyes and slightly opened mouth. As understanding hit him, he wavered and took a small step back, shocked. Beron's daughter was his mate. The Mother had a strange sense of humor, but in certain way it made sense. The feeling he had when he saw her on the clearing, the pull, the need to make sure she was safe. Of course she was his mate.

"What's going on?" Azriel, always the most attentive, as the only one noticed his moment of weakness.

Rhys couldn't take eyes off of her, barely managing to force his lungs to work again. "She's.. she's my.." He didn't need to finish the sentence.

Azriel's eyes also widened, jumping between him and the female. Even Cassian who overheard them, gaped at him.

"Are you sure?" Rhysand gave him a look and Azriel shook his head. "Of course, you are. Whatever you decide to do now, you can count on me," he said darkly, tendrils of shadows dancing around him.

"And on me," Cassian pat him on the back.

After the shocking announcement, the party was naturally over or at least for High Lords certainly, as they all left right away.

Helion stopped briefly at the doors of their chambers with grave expression to tell them that all the High Lords agreed that the wedding must not take place. For some reason they expected that the Night Court would take care of that, but they were ready to assist them if needed.

Honestly, Rhysand didn't remember much from what had happened after the bond snapped for him, not even how he got back home and to his bed. He lay there in the dark, unable to sleep, all the satin sheets suddenly too scratchy and insufferably hot. His mind was nonstop returning to the only thought - he had a mate and she needed his help.

He tried to analyse the moment when it snapped for him. He was curious whether she felt it too. Though, no matter how many times he replayed the scene in his head, he couldn't find a proof she felt it. Her eyes were sad, her expression shy and guarded. She walked into the room, stopped at Tamlin's side and accepted his waiting hand without a single wobble. She was shivering like leaf in the cold breeze, but all for the different reasons. At dawn he finally came to conclusion that she didn't know about the bond.

He kicked off the blanket and changed. He was determined to solve this problem as soon as possible. He wouldn't leave his mate in hands of any other male.

The Town House was completely silent when he ran down the stairs taking two at a time. The wedding was supposed to take place on the day of the autumnal equinox. That left him only a month to solve this. He didn't have much time and had to start right away. He rushed into his office, almost breaking the doors, and took a sheet of paper and a pen. Quickly he scratched letter and without reading it again sent it. He waited for the reply whole day, without leaving his office. He didn't even eat nor sleep. When there was no answer, next morning he wrote another letter.

Nobody came asking him what to do. His family already knew where they were needed the most. Azriel took all his spies and dividing them into two groups, he sent one group to Spring, the other one under his lead headed to Autumn.

Cassian collected all information and maps they had of the Forest House and looking for places where wedding could take place, he began preparing plans from kidnapping the bride before the ceremony to snatching her from groom's hands before they could say their yes.

Amren shut herself up in her apartment, searching old books with ancient magic for the ways how to break through wards.

For Mor, this was hard. She couldn't be much of help in this case, so she took it upon herself to take care of her cousin and made sure that he ate three times a day, took shower and tried to rest. She gladly accepted the role of an emotional support, listening to all his worries and self-loathing whenever he was in mood to talk.

On the fifth day when there was still no answer, Rhysand decided that he wouldn't wait any longer. He only had a limited amount of time and it was inexorably running out.

Without invitation he winnowed to the clearing near Tamlin's manor in Spring. As expected, it took only mere seconds and Tamlin appeared in his beast form, ready to turn the intruder into shreds. When he saw Rhysand waiting for him, he slowed down.

"What are you doing here?" he growled angrily. "I thought that not sending a reply is quite a clear answer."

"So you read the letters. I need to speak with you. You are doing enormous mistake-"

"That is not your business!"

"The problem is that it is my business. It's all High Lords' business, for the fuck's sake! You are going to open for Beron a way to the Wall!"

Tamlin snorted. "No, I'm not. I would do no such thing!"

"But yes, you are. Why else would Beron want to make an alliance with Spring?!"

"I can assure you that he won't get to the Wall."

"You are wrong and you know it. Whatever is going on, it won't take long and he will get what he wants."

Tamlin just gazed at him, muscles in his jaw ticking.

"What is it what you need so much that you are willing to work even with that old bastard, Tam?"

The beast's gaze wavered, but he wouldn't give in so easily.

"Tam, talk to me. We used to be friends and damn good friends. If it is a help you are looking for, I'll send you any kind of help. Do you need more soldier? You can have them. Money? Bride? Skilled officials to help you rule the Court? You can have it all, you just need to tell me. But don't go into alliance with Beron.."

Tamlin seemed to consider his offer. "I-.. I have tied hands.. I'm trying, but I shouldn't have been ruler.. I'm not built for state affairs. Everything is falling apart and now.. my advisers gave me an ultimatum.. They ask for heir otherwise they will leave me alone in this mess.."

Rhysand blinked in surprise at sudden honesty. With Tamlin, they had a lot of bad blood standing between them like a wall. Ever since Rhys' mother and sister were killed and he and his father killed Tamlin's family in return, they had hardly spoken. This was definitely progress or so he thought.

"I don't need your help, Rhysand," Tamlin murmured, "return to your Court before I make you." Tamlin pivoted, heading back into the forest.

Rhysand planned to solve this without mentioning Selene and the bond, but now there was no other way. Tamlin didn't want to listen and wouldn't accept his offer. This was the last thing that could change his mind.

"You can't marry her!" he called after Lord of Spring.

The beast stopped and looked back at him. "Why can't I?"

"Because.. she is mine."

Tamlin snorted, again moving.

"She's my mate." Rhys only whispered it, but the sweet spring breeze carried the words to his former friend. The beast halted in the middle of the step and fully turned to him. He searched him for any hint of lie, but when he found none, the emerald eyes widened.

"It snapped for me the moment she stepped into the ballroom and our eyes met. I think she doesn't know though," Rhysand continued quietly, hoping he would understand and cancel the wedding. All he needed, was more time to find a way to get her out of Autumn. He didn't ask for anything more. She didn't need to find out right away that he was her mate. He would be completely fine with only a friendship as long as he knew where she was and that she was safe.

Tamlin's eyes narrowed and darkened, one corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. "Don't worry," he said lowly. "I'll take good care of her. She will have anything she wants and I will protect her. I promise you."

"But will she be happy? Without her mate?"

"If she doesn't know about that, I see no reason why she shouldn't be. One can't mourn something they don't even know that exists."

"Tamlin, you don't understand-"

"But I do understand," he interrupted him. "See you at the wedding. Or rather not. Now we don't want to try our luck, do we."

"Tamlin!"

"Get lost!"

Rhysand fought against the magic of wards that after the dismissal was forcing him to leave. He wasn't done here yet. However, not even a High Lord could stay in other Court if the Lord there expelled them. Unwillingly he winnowed back to his house.

He stood in the middle of his office, heaving heavily. Tears gathered in his eyes. He ran hand through his dark hair and then dragged it down his face. He looked around, searching for something that could ground him, finding nothing. He fell to his knees and yelled so loud that walls shook.

In a blink of eye Cassian appeared at his side and clumsily held him, checking him for injuries. He seemed to be relieved to find none.

"He refused," Rhys sobbed. "I told him and he refused.."

"I'm so sorry, Rhys," Cass spoke kindly. "But.. We will solve this. Don't worry. We all will do our best to get her out of there."

Next week Rhysand's mood was switching between being furious, coldly calculating and falling into depression. At the end of the week, Azriel returned and whole Inner Circle gathered to share all facts they knew and come with some solution. As far as they knew, Selene lived in warded part of the castle where only family members and chosen maids could enter. Azriel spent the whole two weeks trying to break in but to no avail. Amren also had no luck with her research. Wards were a complicated ancient magic and to break through so strong ones, they would need a very powerful and dangerous magical object like Cauldron that was lost for centuries and they didn't have time to look for it anyway.

Rhys only sat there, gloomy, listening. He was again falling into depression.

"What if we got help from the inside?" Cassian suggested, looking around the table.

"From Vanserras?" Azriel looked up. His hazel eyes lit up with idea and he turned to Rhys. "I think that it's quite good idea."

"Thanks," Cassian grinned.

"And who would you ask for help?" Mor rolled eyes. "Beron? His wife? Or his rogue sons?"

Azriel didn't pay any attention to her insults and continued. "I think that the heir would be willing to help us if we convinced him."

Rhysand finally looked up, frowning. "He told me that he doesn't want to see me anywhere near her."

"Exactly! Don't you see it? Who let her out during the party when Beron was too busy to notice it? Eris. Who was out there protecting her? Eris. Who is often visiting the warded quarters despite having chambers in a completely different part of the castle? The answer is again Eris. I'll bet that he goes there only to visit her. Several times a day actually."

"Why should he want to help us to kidnap her?" Rhys shook his head.

"Because he cares for her," Azriel answered simply, tilting head to the side in disbelieve that Rhysand didn't get it yet. "I heard that he isn't thrilled for the coming wedding."

Rhysand clenched hands into fists, thinking. During the last two weeks they had tried everything and nothing worked, even Tamlin laughed him out. There was nothing else they could do except of waiting until the wedding day and then try one of the risky plans Cassian had prepared for that case.

At last, he nodded. "Fine then. Can you deliver message to him?"

Azriel smiled. "Gladly. If you write it right now, he can get it tonight."

Two days later, Rhysand winnowed to the river bend on the border of his Court and hid into the shadows under the trees, waiting. He didn't have high expectations, he was avoiding the hope so as not to be disappointed in the end. The time ticked by while he watched flowing river, but in his mind he saw only her, his Moon Princess bathing in the silver moonlight with shiny big eyes and soft smile on her lips. He could keep watching her lovely profile forever. If that was all he was allowed in this lifetime, he would die a happy male.

Thirty minutes later another male winnowed to the same bend of the river, his red hair looked like blazing flames in the setting sun. He eyed the empty river bank and nearby tree line with arrogant, bored expression. He crossed hands on his chest, glaring into the waters.

Rhysand stepped from his hideaway, casually walking with hands in the pockets to the place where the other male waited at. "I already started to think that you won't come," he tried his usual cocky tone, but even to him it sounded fake.

"You are the one who wanted to meet up at this.. where are we actually?" Eris raised a brow, disgusted.

Rhysand shrugged. "Just old campsite. Nobody is coming here anymore, not after what happened here. Old story. The most important is that we can talk here without being overheard."

Eris clasped hands behind his back. "So? What is so urgent? I'm busy with wedding preparations as you know."

"That's the reason why I need to speak with you." Rhys swallowed hard. He was preparing for this discussion ever since Azriel left with his letter in the pocket. Despite everything he decided to be honest for once instead of making up lies. "That wedding must not take place."

Eris raised brows at him. "Why?"

"Because..," he tried to say it aloud, but couldn't, "it can't happen."

"Good try, but I don't have time for this. So if you don't have any good reason for this, I'm leaving." He pivoted.

"She's my mate."

"What?!" Eris turned back to him so fast that he almost slipped on the stones.

"You heard me. Selene, your sister, is my mate."

Eris just gaped at him, eyes wide, but at least he wasn't about to leave anymore.

"The wedding is the biggest mistake. I don't think she knows about the bond, but she won't be happy. You have to help me stop it."

Eris's mask slipped down for a moment and Rhysand noticed pain hidden beneath. "I can't. It's too late."

"It isn't. They aren't wed yet, there's still time."

"And what do you expect me to do? Do you want me to go to my father and tell him: hey, forget about the alliance with Spring, her mate resides on the other side of Prythian? That would 100% work."

Rhys rolled eyes. "No, just help me get her out of there. If there is no bride, there won't be wedding nor alliance. This will solve all the problems at once and nobody gets hurt."

Eris snorted. "And what about her? What will happen to my sister?"

"She can live here, in my Court. I'll protect her, give her home and take good care of her. You will be welcome to come visit her anytime you want."

Eris shook head in disbelieve. "You will keep her at your side like some sustained lover? No, in such case she's better in Spring with Tamlin. I saw them talking together and he was really kind and respectful to her. That's what she deserves, Rhysand. The respect. There might be no love between them yet, but it can change in the future. He will provide her with the same things you are offering, but he will make her his wife."

Horrified, Rhysand took a step back. "Lover? What? Don't put words into my mouth. She doesn't know about the bond and I won't push her into relationship with me. If she wishes so, we will be friends. She decides what we will be, not me. But if the bond snaps for her and she accepts it, I'll more than gladly marry her right away. In my Court, she will have freedom she never had and in marriage we will be equal. In everything."

He gave him a doubtful look, laughing. "Equal? Mother's tits! I won't believe such empty promises."

"These are no empty promises, I'm serious. Can you see me laughing? I'll make even a bargain with you. If she agrees to marry me, she will be my equal. I'll make her a High Lady."

"There is no such thing as High Lady." Eris stuck out chin, narrowing eyes.

"Then she will be the first one. Do you want to bet?"

"No, but I want that bargain."

"Fine," Rhys smiled for the first time since he learnt that his Moon Princess is doomed to marry another male. "So, what do you want in exchange for your help?"

Eris tilted head to the side, pressing lips into thin line. "Help for help. When the time comes, you will help me get rid of my father."

"We have a deal." After wording their vows, smell of magic filled the air and a small tattoo appeared on their bodies.

"Great that you agreed so easily. I was ready to get down on my knees if necessary," Rhysand grinned.

"That sounds like a lot of fun. Especially, in this awful state you are in. I think I'm going to change my mind."

"Good you can't," Lord of Night patted his shoulder with new tattoo.

Eris barked with laughter.

"Now tell me, just out of curiosity, is Selene really your sister or just half sister? It doesn't really matter to me, I'm asking because-"

"She looks so different?" Eris finished the sentence with fox grin. "She is my sister. Frankly, she looks like clone of father's great grand mother. I would show you her picture, but.."

"No need. I believe you."

Eris raised his brows doubtfully.

"How exactly do you imagine her abduction to take place? If your spymaster can so easily get into my chamber, I'd say you don't need me."

"Believe me when I say that we already tried to get to her. Unfortunately, not even my brilliant spymaster can get through your father's wards. That's why we need your help."

"I see. I'm relieved to hear there are wards that can stop you and your people."

"If we weren't in such time crunch, we would find way in for sure. But we don't have so much time now," he winked. "All I need from you is to get her out of the wards inside the castle. It really doesn't matter whether you take her to your room or to that clearing, as long as she will be somewhere where we can get to her."

Next hour or so they spent discussing the details of the abduction, so the both sides knew the exact meeting place, time and what to do. When Eris left, Rhysand return back home, feeling much better. In good mood he shared the plan with Cassian and Azriel who would go into the action with him. Now he just needed to wait for message from Eris. If he hadn't seen with his own two eyes how much young heir cared for his sister, he would doubt his intentions. This all was possible only thanks to the exceptionally strong sibling love and overprotectiveness. In moments like this Rhys thought about his own baby sister. What would it be like if she was still here?

Days were passing one after another without any news from the Autumn heir until finally four days before the wedding a small piece of paper appeared on Rhysand's desk. He opened it and skimmed a neatly written short message.

Cassian! Azriel! he called in his mind.

Ever since he made the deal, they were staying in their rooms in the Town House instead of the House of Wind, just in case they would need to quickly move on. It took them only a minute to get to his office. As soon as they appeared on threshold, he happily waved the paper in the air.

"Get ready! We leave an hour after sunset."

Exactly one hour after sunset Rhysand winnowed the three of them to the Autumn Court's borders, the rest of the way they had to fly to avoid being detected by the magic of the wards that Eris inconspicuously lifted for several minutes.

Thankfully, wards around the Forest House weren't so hard to get through and Azriel could safely get them in without any help. Under the cover of night, Rhysand led them through the grounds to the clearing where they were supposed to meet with Eris and Selene. They slipped past the patrol on their way, unnoticed. Just to make sure they weren't walking into a trap, they silently landed in the forest and went on foot the rest of the way. Hidden in the dark shadows under the trees, they waited.

Ten minutes later, Eris appeared on the clearing dimly lit by the waxing moon. And he wasn't alone. Holding his hand, a small figure walked behind him.

"Be careful here," Eris kindly warned his sister and she smiled in answer.

When they stopped in the middle of the clearing, Selene looked up on the moon, bathing in the silver light. With her long hair down and in the snow white dress, she was stunning. Meanwhile, Eris intently gazed into the night, his body tense. Rhys nodded to his brothers and moved forward. They assumed she would be less frightened if he went first. He let the dry twig to crack under his boot on purpose, notifying them of his arrival.

Both siblings turned in the same time. Tension in Eris's shoulders melted away, replaced by sadness. Selene seemed to recognize him and shyly hid behind her brother.

The males nodded in greeting. "Everything okay?"

"Nobody saw us."

"And Beron?"

"Some kind of troubles with goods for wedding in the port."

Selene watched their quiet exchange calmly from behind the brother's back, curiously peeking at Lord of Night. She didn't seem to be surprised by the turn of events at all.

Rhys nodded at last and leaning to the side to get a better view, he smiled at her.

"Hey there," he said so softy he surprised even himself. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes, my lord," Selene answered shyly and hid even more into brother's shadow.

Rhysand huffed in amusement. "I thought we already had this conversation, darling. Only Rhys for you."

Eris winced at the way he addressed his sister, but didn't say a word. Instead he took his sister's hand and pulled her from behind him. "It's okay, dear. He's here to take you.. to safety."

She looked up at him with her big bright eyes, waiting. "I'm sorry, Sel," Eris continued, "I can't let you marry Tamlin. I genuinely think that he would be a good husband to you, but you wouldn't be happy with him. That's why you have to.." He couldn't finish the sentence, his voice failed him. Rhys noticed the tears in his eyes and decided to ignore them for now. He understood how hard this must be for him.

"So you allow me to leave with my mate?" Her silent question made them both gape at her in shock. Eris recovered as first and smiled sadly. He reached into the pocket between the words and pulled out a bigger bag.

"I- I packed you some clothes for the start.. and a couple of your favourite things.."

"You know about the bond?" Rhysand's heart stuttered. He didn't expect that.

She met his gaze for a second and quickly shied away, blushing fiercely. "Since the night we met here," she took her brother's sleeve between fingers and stepped closer to him, partly hiding behind him.

Rhysand was so happy that he couldn't find words. He had so many questions that he didn't know where to start. Cassian and Azriel quietly approached them and Selene's eyes widened with fear.

"That's okay, they won't hurt anyone. They are my friends who came to help me get you safely to my Court," Rhys held out hands, explaining. "This is Cassian, General of my armies, and this is Azriel, Spymaster. They are big, clumsy and quite grumpy, but both are very kind-hearted, I assure you. We grew up together like brothers."

When introduced, Cassian grinned widely and waved at her, while Azriel put hand on his chest and slightly bowed.

Eris scoffed, rolling eyes.

"It's time. We should go before someone notices she's gone," Azriel murmured lowly. He was right. It was too risky to stay here for too long.

Rhysand cleared his throat nervously and offered her hand. "Can we?"

She looked up at her brother questioningly. Eris's jaw tightened as he turned to face her. At first he only held her hands, suppressing his feelings, but then he broke and pulled her into a hug. He whispered her something in the ear and tried to wipe his tears away stealthily while pretending to clean some dirt from her shoulder.

They parted and Selene walked over to Rhys' group, her cheeks wet.

Eris sadly watched as Rhysand gently picked her up and handed her bag to Azriel. "Everything is going to be fine. He will take good care of you.. I'll visit you soon," he looked at Rhys who nodded in agreement.

"Anytime you want."

"Oh, and take this," Eris reached into his pocket and handed her a blank sheet of paper. She turned it in fingers, confused. "It's enchanted. If you want to talk with me, just write on the paper and it will teleport to me. When I answer, it will return. If there would be any trouble with it.." His eyes moved to Lord of Night.

"I'll gladly help you with it or you can write a letter and Azriel will deliver it for you."

The mentioned one nodded in agreement and opened the bag so she could put it in.

"I'll miss you, brother," she sobbed.

"I already miss you. Stay safe." Eris stepped away, hardly keeping his tears back. He put on his cool mask of heir, but his amber eyes were giving him away.

"Thank you," Rhysand swallowed hard, hardly suppressing his own emotions. "When you are ready, let me know. I owe you for this. And don't worry. She will be safe and well cared of. I'll write you when we arrive."

Eris only nodded, fists clenched at his sides and retreated a few steps to give them enough space. Rhysand summoned his wings and carefully took off followed by his brothers. Selene watched Eris until trees obscured her view. Then she wiped her tears and rested head on his shoulder. It took him by surprise and for a moment he forgot how to use the wings.

"Sorry," he apologised for the shock and she hummed in answer. He exhaled shakily, again feeling like a youngling on the first date. "A-are you scared? Of flying?"

"No," she whispered between sobs.

Rhys tugged her closer to his body, gently rubbing her shoulder with thumb. "I know it's kind of scary for you. You don't know me nor my family, but I promise I'll do anything to make you happy. And the bond.. I won't pressure you. It's up to you-"

"I want the bond," she said firmly, interrupting him. "I saw that we will be happy."

"You did?" Rhysand raised a brow. Eris probably failed to mention that his baby sister was a seer.

"Sometimes I see little flashes of my future. I knew that you will come for me."

He huffed. "Of course you did. You are the Moon Princess after all."

"Who's Moon Princess?" She seemed to calm down at last and stopped crying, but she stayed hidden in the crook of his neck.

"Well, she's someone my mother used to tell me a story about. Do you want to hear it?"

She nodded and so Rhys started quietly whispering the story into her ear while they were sliding through the peaceful night sky, heading to their own 'happily ever after'.

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