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throneofsapphics · 2 days ago

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remember everything that we'd die for

cazriel x reader

summary: Hybern attacks Velaris, you're not where Cassian and Azriel expected you to be.

warnings: injury, death, angst

a/n: the acomaf blurb style rewrite temptation is strong

By all means, it was one of the most beautiful days of the year. Until you were called into work. Not that you minded your job, the bookstore was a peaceful place, but some days you just wanted to rest. Considering both of your mates were busy, it was probably a good thing this happened, saving you from a full day of worrying.

Fate was tricky, you knew that. Despite all previous signs pointing towards a peaceful life in a city known for its safety, not everyone could escape the scythe of the afterlife hanging over them. Your scythe was looking an awful lot like the soldiers from Hybern Azriel and Cassian had described, blotting out the beautiful sky.

“Get inside,” you pushed the door open, ushering the panicked people through. “If they break through, go out the back,” you’d firmly instructed your coworker earlier before retrieving the rusted blade you kept under the front desk. Your mates would throw a hissy fit over that. Two knives, gifted to you by them, were tucked into your clothing.

A little girl pressed her hands against the window, her mother dragged her back. You hoped you conveyed your appreciation in the brief meeting of your eyes, all you saw in hers was gratitude that made you sick to your stomach. You were no savior. You were more likely to be their damnation. Perhaps fate or destiny took you to work that day, you just prayed the people inside the building made it.

With a store full of people behind you, you tapped into your magic for the first time in years, perhaps decades, and let the wall rise as you stepped beyond it. A golden sheen now covered the building like a second skin.

You wished you could’ve had one last day with them. Or even just an hour.

As Hybern’s soldiers fell, Azriel took solace in the fact that you were in their home, safely warded. He knew, not far away from him, that Cassian was doing the same thing. Later, he’d question why his shadows had failed him, for the first time.

The first grey scaled being landed in front of you, took one look at the blade in your hand, and laughed before calling out in a language you half understood. Only three others landed.

Righteous, sweet, anger filled every nook and crevice of your body and mind. Breathing out, you let enough of it fade to keep a clear mind.

“Losing your head is the fastest way to get killed,” Cassian’s voice echoed in your mind. They may have taught you a few things, but you were no trained warrior. Tears built in the corners of your eyes. Was this really how it would end for you?

As his blade toppled the head of one soldier, his magic crushing another, Cassian counted his lucky stars it was your day off, but he wouldn’t find true peace until he managed to lay eyes on you and confirm you were safe.

Like something out of a story book, you felt rather than saw your magic sneak up the blade, coating it in what must be a golden iridescence. You didn’t dare look, didn’t dare give away that one precious piece of knowledge that might give you some kind of edge.

Despite the training you’d received from your mates, four versus one was not good odds. Tilting your eyes to the blotted sky in silent prayer to the mother, you waited for your opponents to give something away. Time, you needed to buy time for someone else to get here.

It took three dead enemy bodies for you to realize help was not coming. Your arms shook as they held the blade, the magic on it already sputtering.

The first knick hit your shoulder, blood pooling around the cloth of your off white top.

Dying was absolutely unacceptable. You had too much to live for.

If you died, you doomed the people behind your shield, the ones counting on you to keep them safe. You had a store full of younglings, females, and males all counting on you.

This couldn’t be your end, you thought as you reached for the knife tucked at your waist, dodging another blow.

Your aim had always been good, it wouldn’t, couldn’t fail you now.

The knife flew from your fist as a blow hit your head, hard enough darkness took you. Like a marionette doll, you crumbled to the pavement. As the sky turned a familiar and safe dark, the golden shield behind you faded, and you couldn’t tell if you were a failure.

As Rhys’s magic cleared the city, a black shadow wisped around his ear, whispering one of his greatest fears.

Hurt, she’s hurt.

Azriel shot through the sky, a blur of black, aiming right for where Cassian scanned the horizon. He looked up as Azriel slowed just enough to approach, the panic in his eyes must’ve made the message clear. Few things could make him panic.

“Where. Is. She?” Cassian said, jaw clenched.

Work, another shadow curled around his ear, work.

“The store.”

He clasped Cassian’s forearm, shadows transporting them the short distance to the city proper.

They landed quietly, but their steps were near thunderous as they approached, the crowd clearing for them, words of thanks flying past their ears.

A few children hid inside the bookstore, he could feel the remains of your magic, a sensation he hadn’t known in years, something you generally kept to yourself, brought to the light by these ancient horrors.

Azriel kept his head clear enough by focusing on how his shadows said hurt not dead. Why the hell did you have to go to work today of all days? He’d kill whoever called you in. Gladly. Cassian might even help him.

“Clear out,” a voice shouted, he looked out to see a healer he recognized hovering over your form, looking at him and Cassain.

The crowd parted before he needed to shove their way through.

Azriel’s knees hit the pavement on your other side, Cassian right next to him.

The healer didn’t complain at the shadows now swarming over your body, reporting back to him on every little detail.

A blow to the side of your head, one on the back of your head, likely from hitting the ground, a wound on your shoulder. Unconscious, no doubt you’d have a concussion, but right now you were still breathing.

Cassian asked all of the questions to the healer, his restraint at her touch and magic a sign of your century old mating bond. A hundred years ago they would’ve been at her throat.

Now, he was capable, although not happy about it, of letting her work.

“She needs lots of rest,” the healer said. “Minimal activity for at least a week.” He’d tie you to the fucking bed if he had to.

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124

@callsigns-haze @littlest-w01f

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16

#cazriel x reader #cazriel x y/n #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #acotar x reader

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throneofsapphics · 2 days ago

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secrets of the moonlit garden

mor x elain

Summary: Mor has always kept her heart guarded, afraid of letting others see the truth of her. Elain wears her heart on her sleeve, often exposing it to hands incapable of understanding its beauty. Time and trials push them apart, but will they find their way back together?

Warnings: angst, happy ending

A/N: It’s your secret Santa here! 🎄@loonylooly. It's been a pleasure getting to know you and writing this for you! <3 There will be 3 parts to this little story, and the elves are just polishing up part 2. @acotargiftexchange

Read here on AO3 or below the cut

part 2 (coming soon) // part 3 (coming soon)

Elain fiddled with the flower before her, gently brushing the underside of the petals. Red.

In her mind, others associated her with roses, but Elain always saw her as a zinnia. Uncommon, and so many petals and layers she wanted to study each one, to know her like no other could. Her fingers drifted from the flower as she reminded herself there were limits, always limits.

Still, the flower had been the first to bloom after she planted them, and it gave her a painful, aching hope. She stood, brushing the snow from her knees, drying her hands on the fabric of her pants. First snow of the season, and she was glad nothing had iced over yet. Then again, it might not in this garden. Her garden.

A cloud drifted to the side, the full moon shining bright on the garden, the ornate clock glinting as it chimed. Elain counted. Twelve.

Mor was late.

A golden storm whirled at the edge of her senses, breath catching, Elain turned slowly to face it.

One hand braced against the doorway, breathing slightly heavy, white teeth shone in a grin made of nothing but pure joy as far as Elain could see. The type of grins Elain liked to think were saved just for her. Entirely differently from the court crafted ones, the ones made for subterfuge and ruling.

Her own returning smile was small, perhaps subdued, but she knew her eyes shone with just as much delight.

Golden hair flipped over a shoulder, Mor closed the distance between them, wrapping her in an embrace of citrus and cinnamon.

Elain breathed in deeply, burying her head in the other female's shoulder. Home. She felt like home, in a way. The kind of home she could only safely explore once a month, the type of home she craved every second she was away from it.

She was guided towards one of the stone benches, cold even through the layers she wore.

A light dusting of snow covered the various gargoyles and lingered on a few of the flowers. Her own private sanctuary, one designated just for her and whoever she chose to let in. Cleverly warded, by the very female sitting to her left.

“Do you want to keep the temperature controlled here? I can probably make it the same year round.”

“No,” the word came to her quick, with hardly a thought, just instinct. “No thank you.” She quite liked the cycle of things, and didn't want to disturb the nature of the plants. Everything and everyone went through seasons.

“You're certain?” Mor's red lips curved downward slightly. Elain flushed, not from the summer heat.

“I'm certain,” she murmured. Somehow, she didn't think the words would sound as good aloud as in her head, and something about the golden haired female always made her … stumble. “But maybe just a small section, if that's possible.”

Mor's smile told her it was, indeed, possible. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

“How have you been?” Mor asked, voice a bit hoarse, probably from disuse. There was a slight tremor in her fingers where she clutched her hand. Elain covered it with her own, gently rubbing back and forth. “It's from excitement, not cold,” Mor said at the motion. She went to move her hand away, but Mor instead covered it, holding her there. “I didn't say that to make you stop,” she added, perhaps a tad petulantly.

A low, breathy laugh crept up from Elain's chest, and she resumed her motions. Elain cocked her head to the side, and could've sworn guilt flashed over Mor's features, just before she moved her hand away. Elain had to remind herself, again, that Mor was just her friend. Could only be her friend.

Mor didn't know what she was doing, perhaps for the first time. Giving her heart away to a female who'd made it clear she only saw her as a friend, but would then turn around and do things that turned her head upside down.

She watched as Elain crossed the garden, shears slipping from her pocket as she carefully snipped the stem of a pretty red flower.

”A zinnia,” she said, with that smile that made Mor bite the inside of her cheek, and extended it to her. She took it carefully, delicately, already trying to think of a way she could preserve it forever. If anything just to save this moment, as she'd already decided before coming here that it needed to be one of, if not the last. These nights were everything to her, and it might very well destroy her to end them, but the way things were right now was already eating her up inside.

Minutes ago, she shouldn't have touched her. Shouldn't have reached for that delicate skin, but she'd needed something. Some kind of connection. She should've known better. Each time she reached, and each time it broke she broke a little further.

Mor extended her fingers in front of her, glancing down at the red painted nails, perfectly matched to the flower balancing on her lap.

“This-” she started speaking, pausing to clear her throat. Was it really necessary? Couldn't she just stop coming? No, even she knew Elain deserved better than that. “I have to stop meeting you here,” she said, knowing the female next to her deserved someone who would look her in the eyes and say it, just as well as she knew she couldn't do it. That was the root of everything, really, that she couldn't be the female Elain deserved.

Silence radiated through the area, and she risked a glance in her peripherals. The other female had shrunk into herself, arms wrapped around her to stave off an invisible cold. “If that's what you really think,” the voice that came out was cold as ice, despite the tears building in the corners of her eyes, “then you should leave.”

Mor left the flower on the bench behind her. It would be years before she realized the magnitude of her mistake, the true depths of the pain she'd caused.

#mor x elain #elain x mor #morrigan acotar #elain archeron #mor x elain archeron #acotar fic

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throneofsapphics · 6 days ago

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I do love dark rowwaelin x reader, I enjoy when the y/n doesn't take their shit and gives back to them tenfold and then runs away into the sunset. I just love it when a reader insert or y/n is -1000% done with their partner's shit.

how did I miss this???

I loveeeee that trope, especially when they have a long established relationship, and you can see just how far they had to go to get them to finally say enough

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throneofsapphics · 6 days ago

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♡ Announcing SJM Romance Week 2025! ♡

Hello everyone! Valentine’s Day 2025 is coming up, and that means it's time to celebrate any and all ships related to Sarah J. Maas' work. This will be a week-long event and we (@moodymelanist & @separatist-apologist) welcome any and all forms of celebration of the various types of love — fics, headcanons, playlists, art, moodboards, or anything in between.

When will this take place? February 8 through February 14, 2025!

Who can participate? Any and all of SJM’s couples! From canon to reader to crackships, any and all ships from Throne of Glass, A Court of Thorns and Roses, and Crescent City are welcome! Please remain respectful — the characters are fictional, but the people who ship them are not. Leave the shipping wars at the door.

What are the prompts?

First Kiss — How did your ship's first kiss happen?

First Fight — Why are they arguing? And more importantly, how do they make up?

First "I Love You" — How did your ship first exchange those three little words? Who said it first? Was it planned, or could they just not hold it in anymore? You decide!

Moving in Together — How does your ship go from dating to living together? Tell us!

Favorite Tropes — What are your favorite romance tropes? From enemies to lovers, there was only one bed, forbidden love, love triangles, or something else, use your favorite trope for your ship!

What Comes Next? — What do you see in the future for your ship? Do they settle down, buy a house, and build that white picket fence? Are they traveling the world, or staying close to home? Tell us all about it!

Free Day — You can post anything you'd like to celebrate Valentine's Day!

Please tag @sjmromanceweek and use #sjmromanceweek2025 so we can see your posts! We can’t wait to celebrate a week of love with you all! ♡

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throneofsapphics · 7 days ago

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august I'm crying. I'm so so lucky to have you as my friend bestie <3 thank you for answering all of my random rambles, and for sharing your beautiful art with us

No one is safe during my 12 Days of Christmas list, but especially not my friends. And what a marvelous friend @throneofsapphics is. She's always down for chaos and has the best ideas. Thank you for partnering with me on so many things this year and for writing such incredible stories.

1.) Old Faces

This one is on a temporary hiatus, but I think it was one of the first fics that introduced me to Irene. There was not enough poly!Rowaelin in this fandom before she came along. Irene is the queen of that particular pairing. No one does them quite like her. This one has such an interesting premise and fun worldbuilding, I love it so much.

2.) Against the Contract

I'm a fool for this kind of thing. A FOOL I TELL YOU. It's dark and sexy and so, so fun. I love it so much.

3.) have your little girlfriend

More poly!Rowaelin for me to be insane over. It's fine, they're also a little crazy and possessive in this one. Red flags in real life make for such fun fiction 😌. I absolutely was down bad for this one.

#I would die for her

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throneofsapphics · 7 days ago

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screaming, crying, throwing up just a little this is INCREDIBLE!!! and I can't wait for the next chapter. thank you so so so much for making this masterpiece!

Cruel Summer

Chapter One - A Recipe for Disaster

Merry Christmas @throneofsapphics - it is finally time for me to reveal myself as your Secret Santa for the @acotargiftexchange ❄️ It has been such a joy getting to know you over the past few months, and I've had the best time writing this fic. I really hope that you love this gift as much as I have loved working on it.

Summery: Nobody knows what happened between Mor and Elain last Winter Solstice. One day they were joined at the hip, giggling as the seer taught the warrior how to bake, and the next morning, they refused to look one another in the eyes. Sick of the tension, Rhysand and Feyre are hopeful that two weeks in the sun will be enough to help the pair rekindle a friendship, but the inner circle are oblivious to the fact that their relationship went much deeper than they know, and it will take a hell of a lot more than a beautiful beach to repair what was broken.

Story contains: Forced proximity, only one bed, second chance romance, lovers to enemies to lovers, angsty start with an eventual HEA.

The patrons of The Frosted Peak - Velaris's sparkling new fine dining restaurant - sat silently as they gawped at the family dispute breaking out before their very eyes.

The High Lord and his beguiling cousin sat centre stage amongst the crowd, but the gentle tinkling of piano keys and candle lit ambience did nothing to soothe the tension that was taught in the air.

“Absolutely not!” the warrior growled through gritted teeth.

“Mor, please just-”

“No, Rhysand! I am 540 years old. I do not need a babysitter!”

Mor had already suspected that Rhys had an ulterior motive when he invited her for dinner on such short notice. It was ever so rare for the two of them to dine alone these days, especially since Rhys had become a father. She knew she was going to dislike what he had to say when they arrived at the restaurant and Rhys began to skirt around the subject. Mor lasted five minutes before snapping and telling him to just ask what he wanted to ask.

“She is not a babysitter Mor, she is a very skilled seer who has been training tirelessly with Azriel and who needs the opportunity to practice what she’s learnt in the field,"

"The field! Rhys, it's a conference for emissaries in the Summer Court, it's basically a paid vacation!"

"It is still official court business and anything could happen. You need someone to support you if anything untoward happens, and she needs to prove to Azriel that she is ready for actual missions,"

“Sounds like a babysitter to me,” Mor mumbled, glaring at Rhysand so furiously that he feared she may set him alight through sheer willpower.

“Please do this for me. I don’t know what happened between you two last winter, but you were friends once, I’m sure you can get back there again,"

Mor continued to glower at her cousin, internally begging that he would back down, but Rhysand would not be backing down today. Not when he had been sent here by his mate.

“I'm serious Morrigan,”

“Ooh full name, boss man must mean business,” Mor quipped sarcastically, scrapping her chair across the hard wood floor, readying herself for a dramatic exit. That would show Rhys just how serious she was.

“If you can't do it for me then do it for Feyre,” Rhysand threw out, desperate for Mor to see sense.

“It's crushing her that she can't have her best friend and her sister in the same room without you both ending up at each other’s throats. Please, Mor,’

Mor contemplated for a moment telling him no, but then she thought of Feyre. Of all the sacrifices she had made for them all. Of how much she valued her friendship.

“It’s a damn good job that I love your wife!”

Elain Archeron had spent the last three weeks pretending that her upcoming trip was not happening. Three glorious weeks of ignorant bliss, that did not involve her dwelling on the dreadful adventure upon which she was due to embark. But present Elain was actually rather furious at past Elain for her decisions, because she had left every ounce of packing until the very last minute. This was why she sat on the cool floor of her bedroom surrounded by piles of clothing, as her sisters draped across her bed, giggling at the language coming out of the seer’s mouth.

“Elain, calm down,” Nesta drawled, a lopsided grin spread across her face. “I know you enjoy dressing up, but it’s not the end of the world if you take the fusha skirt instead of the magenta one,”

“It does matter! For starters, I have to blend in if I’m going to feed information back to Azriel. I also need to consider the heat because most of these clothes are far too warm for the Summer Court, and don’t even get me started on what she will have to say if I end up wearing a fashion disaster!”

“Elain, breathe!’ Feyre said, sliding off Elain’s plush bed and sinking onto the floor besides her sister.

“You will blend in just fine, you’ve trained so hard. I have every faith in you,” she smiled, softly holding Elain’s hand. “Secondly, if you are struggling with packing me and Nesta can help, can’t we Nes,”

“Mmmhmm” Nesta mumbled, face down in Elain’s pillows, lazily lifting her hand in a thumbs up motion.

“Look, Elain. Are you sure this is really about the clothes?” Feyre pried carefully, tiptoeing around the point.

“Huh,” Elain replied, scrunching her brows in confusion.

“I just mean are you sure that you’re not actually freaking out about spending time with Mor?”

“That’s ridiculous Feyre! Why would I care about that?” Elain screeched, her voice rising an octave and a rosy colour creeping across her cheeks.

“I just don’t understand how you and Mor went from barely interacting with one another, to joined at the hip, to enemies in a matter of weeks,”

“I don’t know. Sometimes people just don’t click that’s all,” Elain brushed her off, as if it was nothing. As if her sister’s investigation wasn’t ripping open a barely patched wound. As if Elain had not spent months agonising over the same thing, wondering what happened and how they had got themselves into such an uncomfortable situation.

“It didn’t seem like you were struggling to click last solstice,” Nesta interrupted, “We barely saw you because you were oh so busy getting to know each other,”

Nesta raised a brow and Elain’s heart sank … did she know? Had Nesta worked out the details of the worst heartbreak Elain had ever suffered.

She wished more than anything that she could tell her sisters everything. How she fell in love, slowly and then all at once. How she had placed her delicate heart in the hands of someone she thought felt just the same, only to watch them destroy it in front of her eyes. How she had been living, heartsick, and guarded ever since. She wished she could, but she couldn’t, because speaking it out loud would mean acknowledging the ache she felt in the depths of her soul, and no good would come from digging that up, not when she had spent so long pushing it down down down.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Elain whispered.

“But I just-” Feyre started.

“No! I just want to have one last night with my sisters before I’m stuck in another court for weeks. I’ve agreed to go so that I can be approved for actual missions. I will put up with her company and keep things professional. But I have so much to do before I leave, and I don’t want to spend the time I have talking about Morrigan. Please,”

“Fine. Fine,” Feyre said, raising her hands in surrender. “You and Nesta get started with the packing and I’ll go grab the wine!”

There was not much in life that Elain Acheron hated more than being late. Perhaps it was due to the etiquette lessons her Mother had forced her and Nesta into as children, or maybe she just appreciated punctuality. Either way, the clock was ticking ever closer to four pm and Mor had yet to show her face.

Elain began to pace, her heart fluttering relentlessly at the anticipation of coming face to face with the woman who had smashed her heart into pieces. They’d done a pretty successful job of avoiding one another over the months, but it had meant sacrifice. Avoiding each other unfortunately also meant avoiding the people they loved.

On the few occasions that they were forced into each others company, the weight of the air around them became suffocating. Harsh words were flung across the table, as vicious and deadly as daggers. Neither party seemed able to restrain themselves from snipping, despite the protests from everyone else in the room. It seemed that time was no great healer, no matter what the ancient poets said, things had only become worse the longer they went on.

"Elain, you are wearing a hole into my new flooring. Please stand still, I beg of you," Feyre implored, guiding her sister into a chair.

Elain shot up again immediately, and continued to pace, and rant, and pace some more.

“Where is she! We have to leave in five minutes Feyre!” Elain screeched, making her sister jump.

“Four actually,” Mor drawled, having slipped unnoticed into the grand entrance of the River House with Rhysand whilst Elain was mid tirade.

Elain stopped dead in her tracks, and span on her heel. It felt like the blood had frozen in her veins, like time itself had melted away. Mor stood, beautiful as ever, with utter contempt consuming her features. Silence rang through the room like a warning bell, begging Elain to run, to hide, but she wouldn’t. Not any longer. After all, she had done nothing wrong. It was Mor who had lied. Elain had nothing to be ashamed of.

“You will both make it with plenty of time Elain, don’t fret,” Rhysand spoke soothingly, patting her arm as he passed and settled next to his mate.

“Mor here was simply primping and fussing over what to pack. But, she is here now, aren’t you?” He continued, smiling over to his cousin who fixed him with a deadly glare.

“And you are both sure to have a wonderful time,” Feyre finished enthusiastically, far more hopeful than the rest of the room.

“Pfft,” Mor scoffed, at the same time that Elain mumbled something equally as obstructive under her breath.

“Are we going then, seeing as you are oh so desperate to keep to schedule?” Mor asked, paling somewhat as she offered Elain her arm. Dread swept over Elain’s body like an icy wave, as her hand made contact with Mor’s bare arm. Feyre was wrong, this was not going to be a wonderful time. This was going to be a total disaster.

The second that Mor's feet touched the white sands of Adriata she tore her arm away from Elain and put a healthy amount of space between them.

The turquoise sea glittered under the boiling midday sun, lapping gently at the shore, but the calming scene did nothing to ease the anxiety that swirled in Mor's chest. To feel Elain’s touch once more after so long without it had thrown her completely, the skin of her arm still tingling. With her closeness came a flurry of memories, of soft caresses and urgent grasping.

Mor snapped herself out of her thoughts. It would do her no good to sink into memories that were once so warm, but were now twisted with a tinge of guilt and a bucket load of resentment.

“Neither of us wants to be here. Let’s just make the most of it and stay out of each other’s way,” Mor asserted, daring to glance at Elain, whose loathing was written across her face.

“Fine with me,” Elain replied, offering Mor only her back as she turned and walked towards their accommodation, a hauty sway in her step.

“One room,” Elain squeaked.

“With one bed!” Mor spluttered, wide eyes taking in the hotelier with desperation.

“I thought we’d have separate rooms,” Elain stated plainly.

“With separate beds!” Mor exclaimed.

“I’m sorry ladies, but we were not aware that Ms Acheron would be accompanying you on your travels, and all of our rooms are fully booked,”

“And there is really nothing we can do?” Elain asked. She had paled considerably upon hearing the news. Not only would she be sharing a room with her ex lover, but a damn bed. White hot claws of anxiety punctured her chest. This trip was brewing to be a total nightmare.

“I’m afraid not. I can provide extra blankets and pillows if you want to try and fix a bed on the floor?” The hotelier offered, sensing the discomfort radiating off her two newest guests.

“Thank you. That would be very helpful.” Mor said quietly, clearly resigned to the idea that avoiding each other was now not so simple after all.

As they both slumped up the staircase to their room, Elain fought the memories of the last time the two had shared a bed. It was a rush of tangled limbs and searing heat, purposefully placed kisses and fumbling hands. It was nothing short of incredible. Until the next morning, when Elain had woken to an empty bed.

“I’ll take the floor,” Mor stated coolly, breaking Elain from her thoughts as she threw the bundle of bedsheets and pillows onto the ground.

Looking around at the room Elain suppressed the idea that in drastically different circumstances she’d be squealing with joy. The room was pleasantly sized, perfect for one person, or even two if they were willing to make themselves cosy. A beautiful arched window looked out onto the sea, reflecting oranges and pinks with the setting sun. The bed looked luxurious. Although it was on the smaller side, she knew the second she sat down, that she’d sink delightfully into the plush mattress.

“You aren’t taking the floor, don’t be ridiculous!” Elain grumbled.

“Pardon me?” Mor replied, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“We are both fully grown adults, I’m sure we can handle sharing a bed,”

“Thanks but no thanks, I’d rather take the floor,” Mor quipped, writing the idea off quickly before she even considered it.

“Fine. I should’ve known you’d act like a child,” Elain huffed, rolling her eyes.

“I am not a child!” Mor snapped, a hot rage beginning to burn behind her eyes.

“Sure,” Elain replied sarcastically, striding for the door. “I’m going to get some food. Do as you please,”

Elain felt Mor's eyes on her as she strode out of the room towards the oak staircase, feeling ever so smug that she had the last word.

Mor had spent an hour stomping around the room, unpacking her bags and seething over her conversation with Elain. How dare she act as though Mor was the child? After everything that had happened between them. After everything she had done! No, Mor was most definitely the adult. It was Elain who had acted like a teenager. Fickle, and thoughtless. It was her who had treated Mor's heart like it was worthless. Well Mor was ready to show her just how mature she could be.

Plonking herself down onto the bed, Mor huffed as she surrounded herself with the luxurious sheets and turned her back firmly to the door.

It seemed like hours passed before Mor heard the door snick open, though barely twenty minutes must have passed. Just long enough for Mor to fight off the memories that so desperately longed to be on her mind.

Mor lay silent, feigning sleep, as Elain began to pad around the room in an effort to prepare herself for bed. When Mor felt the weight of Elain joining her in bed, she had to stifle an intake of breath. The sweet scent of rum seemed to drift through the air as Elain adjusted the blankets, and the slightest brush of their legs had Mor unravelled.

No longer able to fight against the memories that flooded her brain, she decided to let them in, oblivious to the fact that right next to her, Elain was also lost in the same thoughts.

~ 6 Months Prior ~

The River house was full of revelry. Laughter bounded around the room, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with joy. Wine flowed freely as Elain entered with desert propped carefully in her hands.

The three tiered cake towered high in the centre of the table as she gently placed it down. The inner circle looked on in awe at the masterpiece. Elain had decorated the cake with a multitude of pastel colours, pinks, blue and purples made up a scene of a beautiful sky and spun sugar adorned the sides like fluffy delicious clouds.

‘Elain, once again you’ve outdone yourself’ Rhys beamed.

‘A true artist!’ Feyre added, painting a soft blush along Elain’s cheeks.

‘Yes Elain you are truly wonderful, but please can we eat it now!’ Mor whined, plate at the ready.

‘You’re just jealous, Mor,’ Cassian smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

‘Jealous?’ Mor replied, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

‘I think he means because you can’t bake, dearest cousin,’ Rhys said.

‘I can bake!’ Mor scoffed, rolling her eyes.

‘Mor do you not remember the bread incident?’ Azriel suggested gingerly.

‘That was one time Azriel!’ She responded, whipping her head in his direction and fixing him with a pointed stare.

‘What bread incident?’ Elain enquired curiously.

‘The girl made a loaf of sour dough that was raw on the inside but burnt to a crisp on the outside, it was quite the feat,’ Amren stated, lazily sipping from her glass.

‘Sour dough is hard!’ Mor was quick to clarify, shrinking a little in her seat. Elain eyed her carefully and was surprised to see that the warrior, who never seemed to be anything but confident, looked mildly embarrassed.

‘I can help teach you to bake if you’d like?’ Elain blurted out without thinking twice. Mor’s warm brown eyes flicked up to meet Elain’s and her heart began to race at the attention.

‘You’d really do that?’ Mor said

‘Of course,’ Elain smiled softly. She had always silently admired Mor, her strength and femininity so intrinsically intertwined that she didn’t have to give up one in order to wield the other. She would never admit it out loud, but when she first began to train with Azriel and the sessions felt unbearably difficult, she would picture Mor’s powerful presence and it would motivate her to keep moving forward.

‘Good luck with that’ Cassian muttered under his breath, swiftly followed by an ‘Ow!’ when Mor smacked his arm.

‘I bet you 500 gold marks that by this time next month I can bake a cake as grand as any bakery in Pythian!’ Mor stated, determination flaring in her face. ‘With lovely Elain’s tutelage of course!’ She smiled.

And so they began to meet and bake. At first it was planned they would meet twice a week, but after the second session that increased to every two days. Their baking lessons were filled with laughter and accidental touches which caused heat to bloom in places that neither party was yet willing to admit. Before long both were making excuses to see each other every single day. Whether Elain had found a new technique she thought Mor might want to help her with, or if Mor had come to Elain for advice on how to make tiny fondant flowers - they were spending every waking moment in each others company.

Then three weeks in to their arrangement something shifted. Elain floated into the kitchen of the River house bright and early to make herself a pot of lavender tea, only to see that Mor was already pottering about. Her back was to the door as she hummed a little tune to herself, fussing with something out of Elain’s sight.

‘Hi,’ Elain said softly, smiling as she leant in the doorway.

‘Oh Elain you made me jump!’ Mor clutched at her heart as she span around, hiding whatever she was working on so carefully.

‘Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing up so early?’ Elain moved into the room, trying to see what Mor was blocking from her view.

‘I - well I wanted to make you something. As a thank you! But uh it’s - well it’s better if I just show you I guess,’

Elain could sense the nervousness vibrating from Mor as she gingerly moved out of the way, and presented her with a very runny looking raspberry tart.

‘I had put edible flowers on top. I thought you’d like them. But they sank to the bottom,’ Mor explained, her eyes looking to the floor.

‘I love it!’ Elain whispered, her eyes lined with tears as emotion bubbled in her throat.

‘What? It’s inedible how can you love it!’ Mor sputtered, perplexed at how anyone could appreciate her failed attempt at a thank you.

‘Because you put so much thought into it! No one has ever made me anything before. Thank you!’ She replied, nothing but genuine joy written across her face.

Elain leaned up on the tips of her toes and placed the most gentle of kisses on Mor’s cheek. Her lips tingled, and her heart swelled in her chest. Hearing the light gasp in her ear, she pulled away, slowly, leaving their faces only inches away. This close to the warrior, Elain could make out every tiny detail of Mor’s face. She could have stayed there all day, counting the freckles before her, mapping the constellations of her face, but she knew one of them would have to speak soon.

‘Mor I -‘

Elain never had the chance to finish her thought, as Mor leaned in and kissed her. It started slow at first, tentative pecks and trembling hands. After a while Elain felt Mor’s mouth part and they deepened the kiss, heat swelling between them. It was far from the first kiss Elain had ever shared with another, but it was the first time she felt so light that she could fly. Mor sucked gently on Elain’s lip, eliciting a soft groan, before pulling away, bursting into giggles and leaning in once more.

Elain broke from her reverie. Remembering just how good things were at the beginning hurt so ferociously now that she knew how it ended. She couldn’t let herself get swept up again. No matter how much her heart longed for Mor. No matter how much it hurt to remind herself over and over how it was never meant to be. She had to let it go, she thought as she began to drift off to sleep. It was the only way she would ever make it through the next two weeks.

A/N - Ah I’m so happy I finally got to share this, I’ve been bursting to share the first chapter of this gift for such a long time and it’s finally out in the world!

The next chapter will be out soon and it gets spicier from here so it is definitely one to look forward to! ❤️‍🔥 I really hope that you’ve enjoyed the story so far!

Check out my masterlist here!

Dividers by the incredible - @tsunami-of-tears

#secret santa 2024 #morlain

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