rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

Gently, Slowly (Part 2)

Summary: Elain and Lucien are reunited after a year of civil war within Prythian. Lucien brings Elain back to Day to marry her in secret, and do something very sinful in the High Temple.

** Happiest of Birthdays to my dear @moononastring!! The Queen of Elucien, and generally just a really awesome human!

Part 1 || Part 2

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Gently, Slowly (Part 2)

Before he could dip his chin and stare at Elain’s naked body, Elain pulled Lucien down. She flattened her back on the altar. A titanic shudder rippled through her as she felt Lucien’s length press forcefully against the top of her mound.

Instinctively, Elain wrapped her legs around Lucien’s hips again. This time it was flesh-to-flesh, which only made the sensation below stronger. Lucien’s mouth closed over hers and with a gentle prodding of his tongue, her lips parted for him.

Every shift of Lucien’s body was felt keenly by Elain. The slightest of movements from either of them shifted his hardening length. A stirring ache from below sent a particular tremor through Elain when Lucien’s hips pressed down harder. It drew a breathless groan and sent a small zap of electricity through her body.

Lucien’s mouth left Elain’s to suck at her neck. Elain returned the gesture, and felt the thing against her twitch. She pressed her chest against Lucien’s while she returned every nibble or kiss he gave her. Elain’s long white fingers clutched at the shifting muscle of Lucien’s back.

Lucien moved a broad hand to Elain’s breast and chuckled as just the scrape of his thumb across the hardening bud earned a moan from her. At that he slid off of her once again. It wasn’t the first time Lucien had climbed off of her that evening, but she didn’t want him to leave. The buzzing ache between her legs was like a stirring fire. Her scalp tingled and her toes were curled as tension shuddered through her. A tension that felt… nice. She wanted more- more of Lucien’s warm body pressed against hers, more kissing, more… something. Her skin crawled with want of the man.

Mercifully, Lucien didn’t go far. He knelt between her legs, holding her moon-white thighs with each tan hand. The position lifted Elain’s rear off the altar slightly, but she was quivering with desire. Lucien moved forward slowly, taking the fingers of his right hand off of her and brushing them lightly through her folds.

Elain grasped as he pressed against her most sensitive spot. Lucien rocked his hand forward ever so slightly, brushing Elain’s knot directly. A gentle, tantalizing pressure that made the buzzing beneath Elain’s skin even worse. She felt her hips lift of their own accord, grinding against Lucien.

Once more, her husband chuckled. He scooped his hand down and Elain’s entire body tensed in anticipation. There was a ravenous darkness in Lucien’s eyes. Eyes that were fixated on Elain’s sex as a single long finger slid inside her.

Elain grasped the edge of the altar as Lucien filled her with one- then two fingers. He bent down over her again, his lips drawing closer to her nipple as those fingers inside her curled and-

A shuddering groan escaped Elain’s lips, startling even herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn’t stop the next moan as Lucien began to pump his fingers through her body in earnest. Her skin instantly flushed, and the toes that were curled in ticklish arousal moments before were now straining at the sheer force that crackled through her body.

Lucien devoured Elain’s breast, but forced himself to look up at the sound of her moaning. Into her lust-glazed eyes. The way she had covered her mouth with a clenched fist, the shy flush of her cheeks. She was delicate. Innocent. And Lucien was corrupting her on their wedding altar.

The heir of Day moved the hand that was stroking Elain, reaching up to rest his thumb against her knot.

Elain’s hips jerked against his hand. Lucien pressed just a bit harder, his own breath hitching. Elain’s eyes widened and the bolt of pleasure that arced from her nipple down to her core as Lucien’s teeth scraped the end.

But there was something missing. In a way, someone missing.

Elain loved the feeling of Lucien’s mouth against her breast. She thought she could easily go insane from the near painful need building beneath the surface of her skin- but not like this. Elain forced herself to reach down and pull Lucien’s face towards hers.

Lucien’s mouth was hot against her lips- his burning chest pressed against hers- that was what she needed most in this world. Lucien’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, supporting her as he pulled her up, adjusting their positions so that he knelt upon the altar with her on his lap.

Elain reached down and wrapped her small hand around Lucien’s length, wondering at the hardness of it. Lucien kept stroking her core, but Elain wouldn’t let go of his member either. She grasped him almost frantically, squeezed a bit too hard, moved a bit too forcefully. She’d never stroked a cock in her entire life, and had no idea how to control the violent desire beneath her skin.

With the taste of Lucien’s mouth upon her own, banking the fire was impossible. Elain didn’t stifle her moans like a shy maiden anymore. She groaned into her husband’s mouth. Rocked against his chest. One of Lucien’s hands supported her back, the other pumping in and out of her with his own increasingly frantic motions.

There wasn’t enough air between them as they both panted. Elain was dizzy, and she was forced to release Lucien’s lips after only a few minutes. Her cheek pressed against LUcien. The two breathed- and moaned- into one another’s ears. Elain taunting and testing Lucien’s control with those high, breathless sounds.

And then the moment Lucien knew would come. The one he’d been waiting for ever since Elain signaled she might actually be receptive to his advances. The thing that haunted his dreams whenever he let sinful thoughts dance across his mind. Elain’s breaths became shallow and forced, she lost control once again of the hand stroking Lucien’s cock. More force and speed, her body growing tenser by the second.

A pleading whisper, a soft cry, and then a strangled groan.

Elain’s hips rolled as her core erupted, sending moisture down into Lucien’s palm. She cried out with the force of her orgasm until she sagged limp against Lucien’s chest. Her hips were twitching as the violent burst of pleasure softened and the bolts of electricity beneath her skin dimmed.

Elain’s mind was blank in a way she had never experienced before. Her entire body felt hot and tense- yet still limp and relaxed. Her mind drifted in a fog, and she felt a soft smile on her lips. She was laid gently upon the altar.

And then a warm tongue and hungry lips pressed against her core.

At first Elain lay there dazed and overwhelmed by the pleasant hum beneath her skin, but then she realized Lucien had moved to lick the moisture between her legs the moment he’d finished cleaning it off his hand. Her eyes flew open and she looked down in time to see his tongue part her folds.

“Wait!” Elain said in a panic. She immediately pushed Lucien’s face away. He relented after a few more licks and smiled up at her, hints of moisture still kissing the edges of his mouth.

Elain was mortified, more so than she’d ever been in front of Lucien. What she’d released was obviously not the fluids she was familiar with but it was still- it was- and Lucien had taken it in his mouth and-

Elain’s eyes widened in fear. Lucien winked and dipped his chin again, tongue snaking out.

“L-Lucien, wait,” Elain found her voice again. She scrambled to push him back, but Lucien wrapped his hands around her thighs and licked until she was perfectly clean.

And then had the audacity to leave just a hint of it on his lips, playing idly with it as he traced his tongue around his own mouth.

“Spit it out,” Elain commanded, her voice feeble and weak. “I’m sorry, I should have- should have…” should have what? It wasn’t anything Elain was familiar with. It wasn’t a matter of hygiene certainly. “Anyways, I’m sorry, I should go clean and-”

A low, dangerous chuckle from Lucien as he raised himself on two arms over Elain, “That was the normal result I wished to achieve with you during this.” Lucien whispered. “Besides, I prefer my lady’s taste over the most expensive wine in the world.”

It didn’t seem right to Elain. That- that came from- how could it be of a taste one would like? Elain was about to push Lucien back as he lowered himself again towards her core, but she stopped herself.

She’d decided to follow Lucien tonight. To trust him. But Lucien hadn’t released the way Elain did, so it must mean she’d done something wrong after all- or had she gone too fast and left him wanting?

Once again she peeked down between her breasts as Lucien licked her core. She could just see his member touching the altar further down. It was still hard and red and dripping a faint trail of white onto the silk of her discarded robes.

She’d taken her pleasure and left Lucien hard. Now she really was going to die of embarrassment. Not to mention panicking over what was apparently a normal thing.

Elain really had kept herself too sheltered and naive! Why hasn't he thought to read books on this while waiting for Lucien the past year? Lucien had already said he’d studied this and practiced before (she didn’t care if that practice had been with others, so long as he was hers now).

“Don’t worry,” Lucien reached up to flick Elain’s nose and draw her out of her dark thoughts. “The first one is the easiest. I promise you won’t do that again until I’ve had my fill.”

The words sent goosebumps across Elain’s body. She suddenly felt too cold and too hot at the same time. There would be more? Hope curled in her chest, rapidly washing away the misery that had been there before. Not ‘more’ some other night, but by the look on Lucien’s face, imminently.

“Wife,” Lucien came up once again to whisper i n her ear. He lowered himself onto Elain’s body and reached down to grip her thighs, shifting her until his length rested on the seam between her folds. Lucien began to rotate his hips, grinding their bodies together again, “I won’t let you sleep until you beg me.”

Lips against Elain’s neck sealed his words. Her arms snaked around Lucien’s shoulders. The neck was her weakness, it would seem. The moment Lucien began to bite and suck, her body pulsed in rising need and a warm dizziness settled over her mind once again. 

Worries were swept aside.

This time Elain would last. If this was all well and natural and right, then what had just happened… She wanted more. Infinitely more. Lucien would never hear her beg for something as mundane as sleep. If there was nothing to be ashamed of… it would be Lucien who had to say when enough was enough!

“What’s next then?” Elain murmured.

Lucien’s hips rotated once more, “What would my lady like?”

“What would you like?”

“I want to hear your suggestion first.”

Elain wasn’t going to lose this battle. The feeling of Lucien’s member against her knot- and what they’d done so far- gave her the courage to be as brazen as her husband. What words from Elain’s mouth would startle him enough that Elain might save face?

She moaned as a particularly vicious bolt of pleasure rippled through her body. Lucien had tugged at one of her nipples, and the feeling rippled from where their bodies were connected to her toes. Elain’s hips rose, grinding herself against Lucien.

“What’s next?” Elain finally asked.

Lucien lowered his lips to caress the curve of Elain’s ear, “I slide this-” he rolled his hips slowly, letting his entire length grind against her knot, “- into that tight hole.”

Elain gasped, and instead of saying something seductive she only managed to whimper, “Yes.”

Immediately, Lucien’s lips were upon hers. He was crushing her, devouring her. The kisses were hungry and fierce, and Elain happily surrendered to them. Lucien’s hands slid along her thighs. He stroked and pinched sensitive skin, taunting and teasing her.

And then his hand slid down between them and he took his length in a firm grip.

Goosebumps covered Elain’s arms as Lucien pressed the head of his member against her. “You’ll like it,” Lucien gave up kissing her to whisper in her ear. “The feeling of being stretched-” he pushed harder. Elain felt herself giving way slightly. “The feeling of me moving inside you-” Lucien pressed again, rocking his hips against Elain until the tip slid in and she gasped. “You’ll start dreaming about it-” another press, another rock of his hips, “-craving it.”

Lucien’s deep, groaning voice made Elain ache. Her reason was slipping away again as another sensation grew below One of tingling heat and warmth. Soon enough, Elain was rolling her hips down in time with his short, gentle thrusts in. The next time Lucien pressed towards her, she pulled him in a little bit further.

Lucien’s breath hitched and his whole body froze when he was only halfway seated. He gasped in Elain’s ear. The sound was high and pleading, a prayer of thanks. He withdrew and pushed in again, another inch. 

Elain clenched her teeth at the strangeness of the feeling, but she didn’t find herself objecting to it. By now the burning force inside her was maching her ache for more.

A heat and sensitivity soon began to grow with Lucien’s thrusts. He bit down on Elain’s neck and slid out, only to press in again without restraint. The sensation made Elain’s toes curl. She arched her back and buried her face in Lucien’s shoulder as his heat inside her filled impossibly far and Lucien was at last seated to the hilt.

The rhythm he set was torturous after that. Flat, even, slow. Heat built inside Elain and soon she was gasping in time with his gentle thrusts. She winced slightly at a flicker of discomfort as her body adjusted to being filled, but wanted more.

Just as Elain was beginning to moan in turn with his movements, Lucien groaned in her ear.

“I need to come inside you,” he was almost pleading. His hands shifted, lifting Elain’s legs over the crook in each arm, driving him deeper against her most sensitive places. Elain cried out and nearly came undone.

“Then do it,” Elain gasped. She gathered enough of her mind to tighten her core around his cock as hard as she could.

Lucien’s curse sounded like a whimper. He thrust suddenly faster. It felt so incredible that Elain thought she was going to burst into flame when he cried out and a sharp, thick heat began to fill her.

Lucien’s hips strained and bucked as he came inside her. His heat filling her, flooding her body and making her core wind tighter and tighter. 

He collapsed onto her chest, hips still furiously pumping as he claimed her mouth and devoured her once more. Elain’s hands were holding onto the altar as best they could, and she cried out against his mouth as his fingers found a way to her breast to taunt and tease her nipples.

She needed him to move harder, reach deeper, and rocked her hips frantically as his cock scraped deep inside her.

“Beg me,” Lucien whispered in her ear. One hand went down between them and he brushed a finger towards her burning knot.

Elain wrapped her arms around Lucien, clawed at his back as she tried to rock her hips to meet the assault below. She gasped in time with his thrusts, dizzy.

“Beg me,” Lucien repeated. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please,” Elain didn’t have the mind to do anything but obey. “Please don’t stop. Please. I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it-” mindlessly she gasped the words with every thrust of his cock.

His hand finally slid down to flick and rub at her knot. Elain heard a strangled cry in her own voice as violent electricity arced beneath her skin and her body erupted. She shook and shuddered with the force of her orgasm, sending another splash of release against Lucien’s cock while he continued to pound into her body. 

He drew her orgasm out this time, and somehow she found enough mobility to lock her ankles around Lucien’s rear and pull him harder and harder into her. She couldn’t stop herself- she ignored the pain that came on the heels of pleasure. Ignored the sensitivity so soon after climax. Ignored the weakness in her muscles and even her own inexperience.

She wanted more.

She needed more.

And for Lucien- to be moving inside the lady he intended to worship with every moment of his life, the woman he had waited on for so many years- there was no way he could stop himself. 

Long ago he’d become addicted to Elain’s smile.

Now it was her gasps of pleasure he would obsess over.

He hauled Elain up again, tipping his own body back so that she was sitting astride him, his length buried even deeper in her body. Elain rolled her hips as she struggled to find the right angle to move at.

This time she was the one who bent down towards Lucien’s ear, her breasts tickling his chest, to whisper something naughty, “My lord,” she said, just to see what it felt like.

Lucien growled his approval.

“When you released inside me it felt so. Good.” she accented her words with hard rolls of her hips. “Do you have any more for me? I want to see how deep it can go.”

Lucien cursed.

His intention for that night was to worship Elain as thoroughly as possible. But to hear such filthy words from Elain- the nasal whine as she gasped out “My lord”-

“Let your lord give you more of his cum,” Lucien’s voice was deep and rough. He moved Elain off of him. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done- giving up that heat even for a second.

He’d meant to let Elain ride him a while, but he tipped her onto her side on the altar. Lucien lifted Elain’s leg and draped it across his chest to rest on a shoulder.

Lucien touched the tip of one amber finger to Elain’s knot as he lined up with her hole and pushed into it. While he moved, that finger slid through her folds and slowly up her abdomen.

Elain couldn’t breathe through the raging torrent inside of her protesting Lucien’s gruesomely slow pace. But that finger moved slowly to mirror the tip of the cock inside her. To show Elain a rough estimate of just how deep her husband could go.

“Please, please go faster,” Elain was trembling.

“Please what?” Lucien purred.

“Please- please please please please please… Please my lord.”

“So polite,” Lucien whispered as he finished seating himself inside her. Truthfully he was shaking with the need to elease. “As my good little pet wishes.”

Elain’s entire body contracted when- without warning- Lucien pulled out and slammed back in hard enough to shift the red silk beneath Elain. The lady let out a lewd cry and scrambled for something to hold on to. SOmething to control the fire beneath her- or release a thousand times if such a thing were possible.

She continued to cry out with each thrust as Lucien set a rapid pace. He was so deep, and the angle of their scissored hips meant his thrusts struck somewhere deep inside Elain that made her thrash.

When Elain’s hand went to her knot, she found Lucien holding it in a vice grip.

His knuckles pinched either side of it tight and firm, allowing her no purchase to ease her suffering, and only a thick, hot pain that somehow made her tighter and desperate for more. She pinched her nipples hard, quickly becoming addicted to mixing pain and pleasure.

“Please my lord,” she gasped, “Please, please, please-”

“Please what?” Lucien bit his lip as sweat rolled down his chest. Words were hard. Moaning, grunting, snarling- that was easier. “Tell your lord.”

“Don’t-” Elain’s eyes rolled up as Lucien slammed against her harder, faster even. As his cock head pushed against her cervix and another bolt of pain and pleasure wrecked her. 

“Don’t what?” their hips were a violent blur of motion that was making her entire body go from trembling to a frantic shake. The leg pinned to Lucien’s chest would bruise under his crushing grip, not that she minded.

“Don’t… not…” Elain couldn’t pull the words together. She screamed and tensed, but wrapped her hand around Lucien’s and forced him to grip her knot more tightly, more painfully.

Lucien understood. Of course he understood, how could he not?

Elain was burning to death in glorious agony. She wanted to be left in the fire a while longer. To let her moans and cries and screams from before become a tantalizing song. For Lucien to never see that altar the same ever again. To look at it for the rest of his life and see his wife writhing on his cock, trapped at the edge of release until Lucien himself allowed it. Even if it drove her insane.

Lucien forced his hand off Elain’s leg and lunged forward with her next thrust. He wrapped his feet around the one of Elain’s that was still on the altar and used it as purchase against the silk, pulling Elain down on him as he moved his hand to her forearm.

He set a brutal rhythm of thrusting into Elain with everything he had, yanking the arm down to pull Elain’s body harder onto him while he pinched her knot. Torturing her without release.

Lucien had no such person capable of doing this for him. He erupted into Elain again  as she choked down air and screamed with the need to release. Elain barely felt the pressure of Lucien spilling inside her around the agony. SHe was tied to a rock as the surf slammed over her again and again. Her mind and body were completely overwhelmed, but her core refused to go numb against the devastating pleasure.

How did anyone force themselves away from their partner? How could anyone stand to exist any way other than this- fused at the hips, the frantic pounding and gasping and moaning? How could anyone get anything productive done once they had a taste of it?

After Lucien came inside her, he adjusted them yet again. A darkness glittered in his eye as he laid down upon the altar, this time with Elain on top and facing away from him. Lucien still held her knot prisoner- just as her core held him.

The new position wasn’t as deep as the last, but it stretched Elain wider, and forced Lucien’s member to shove against the ridge of textured flesh inside of her that was driving her mad.

And then Lucien wrapped his legs around hers and pinned her open. HEr body was limp and her hole dripped the last two releases of her husband along his own cock.

A wet thwack echoed through the room as Lucien pushed hard and fast into Elain again. Her voice was hoarse from the cries. Her fingers twitched and her body was almost completely limp.

Lucien couldn’t go soft, not while he was inside her. Even if he didn’t release, he found he couldn’t stop.

But her body was a miracle, and capable of so much more pleasure than she’d even realized.

As Lucien rocked into her, he slid a finger from his free hand down to where they were connected. It took some angling, but Elain arched and drew a long, shuddering gasp as Lucien forced two fingers into her around his own cock, stretching her even further.

The hand pinching her knot moved too, slid behind her and began probing her rear hole. Elain found the strength to trash and the voice to cry out again as she parted and his finger slid in, rubbing against his cock through the thin flesh that separated both holes.

Elain became even more aware of her knot once it was released. Of the glorious fire he was stroking in her skin without letting her climax.

Elain’s hands came up to her own breasts, which she yanked hard and made herself scream again, tightening around his cock and fingers inside her.

He forced a second finger in, but no more. Not tonight at least. Lucien just used the softest scrape of a nail inside her to push Elain back from the edge, all the while taunting her with the fingers in her ass and the cock sliding through her. To push her down again and again and again whenever the pressure built.

“My lord, my lord, my lord,” Elain moaned at first, then the chant became a cry. She couldn’t find any words, so she began to plead with just those two over and over again. Into those words she poured her desperation and need.

Lucien yanked at her hole with the invading fingers, then removed the two from around the cock and began to rapidly flick at her knot.

Elain screamed and trashed, kicking her legs frantically against Lucien’s and pinning Lucien to the altar with the titanic force of her climax. Moisture shot from her as Lucien continued to assault both of her holes. As he reared up and bit the nape of her neck hard enough to draw just a pinprick of blood, causing Elain to scream in pleasure once more.

Then Elain snarled.

The thing that suddenly spun on Lucien wasn’t entirely fae- or lady for that matter. It was something without any reason. SOmething primordial and primal all at once. Elain twisted her body until she was facing Lucien and shoving his cock back into her swollen, red hole.

Not caring for the mess between their legs, she crashed against Lucien. He rhips ground against his frantically, without technique or purpose beyond initiating friction. SHe needed this more than words could express.

Lucien was pinned down and ridden by Elain. He intended to keep his rational mind tonight- to thoroughly ruin Elain’s body with pleasure from sunset to sunrise- but this undoing was a gift in itself.

Elain’s cries echoed in the temple as she quickly released again- or tried to. Her body heaved and strained, but she barely managed to clench around his cock. For now, at least.

This time when Elain collapsed on his chest, she was still for a time. Unconscious- or too far gone to hear or speak.

Lucien controlled the pace, bracing Elain on top of him as he moved slower or faster as need be. It was a different kind of torture- one Elain had shown surprising expertise in. But Lucien didn’t want to torture himself any longer. He just wanted Elain awake enough to feel another wave of vicious warmth flood inside her.

When Elain’s eyes fluttered open, Lucien kissed her hard and fast. In a few short, quick thrusts he too erupted.

“More,” Elain whimpered, as if he both dreaded and craved what was coming. “I need… I need…”

“It’s alright, my lady,” Lucien whispered against her ear and brushed some of her hair aside. “I'll give you as much as you need.”

They consecrated the altar many times that night. The bed in his chambers many more times the next morning. The heir of Day and his wife- they discovered the limits their immortal bodies had and then pushed them further.

When they were hungry, Luicen fucked Elain in the dining room.

When the sweat on their skin became unpleasant, Elain road Lucien in the bathing pools.

When they did finally collapse, utterly spent, the first one to stirr woke the other with cock or hole.

It took far too long for them to find their way to one another.

The fae lordling and his lady had more than enough lost time to make up for, and they wouldn’t deny one another the comfort of their bodies for another second.

Part 1 || Part 2

#my writing #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elain #elain archeron #lucien #lucien vanserra #elucien #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

Gently, Slowly (Part 1)

Summary: Elain and Lucien are reunited after a year of civil war within Prythian. Lucien brings Elain back to Day to marry her in secret, and do something very sinful in the High Temple.

** Happiest of Birthdays to my dear @moononastring!! The Queen of Elucien, and generally just a really awesome human!

Part 1 || Part 2

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Gently, Slowly (Part 1)

It was late evening when Elain finally returned to her cottage on the outskirts of Velaris. The cottage was clean and warm, and more importantly away from her two lovely- but very much happily mated- sisters. 

Elain looked to the south and imagined she could see all the way to Day, to the place where her Lucien was. Where he had been for months now, and wondered how long it might be before she saw him again.

But then Elain turned back to her door, and in the setting sun saw a male with untamed crimson hair, rich amber skin, and a shining green eye. Just one- for the other was gold. A souvenir of tragedy that he wore with pride.

Elain’s legs trembled as she saw her mate for the first time in so long. His breath caught in his throat, and before she had a chance to run to him, he was running for her as well.

Elain and Lucien crashed into one another. Without conscious decision Elain’s hands pulled Lucien’s face down to draw him into a kiss. Lucien obeyed, his own arms snaking around Elain to hold her in a fierce and strong embrace.

Being held in Lucien’s arms- it was something so simple once upon a time, and yet Elain’s heart had ached for it. Her eyes burned and her lips began to tremble. The sound that escaped her mouth was not a joyous one, but a sob.

In a moment Lucien had drawn his face back, though his arms still held Elain tight.

“My lady, I’m so sorry I took so long to return,” he whispered, “please don’t cry.” 

One year. It had been one year since Elain last held Lucien. In that year Beron had attacked the human lands and taken Lucien as his prisoner. Helion was forced to reveal that Lucien is his son, and the heir to the High Lord of Day. If nothing else, that bought some time for Rhys and Feyre’s forces to draw Beron out, allowing Eris’ men to strike, finally killing his father.

And then Lucien was whisked away to Day, installed at the High Lord’s heir. He had to recover from whatever Beron had done to him, and find his new place in this world that had been ripped out from under his feet.

One year, and he’d finally come home to Elain.

One hand remained holding Elain while the other came to gently wipe away the tears that spilled over. He pressed his palm against Elain’s cheek and the other she leaned into his touch, her breathing still ragged.

“I’m crying because I am happy,” Elain said. “Lucien, please never go away again.”

“I promise I will always be by your side,” Lucien said immediately.

Fresh tears dripped from Elain’s eyes. After a moment’s thought, Lucien dipped his chin and brushed his lips against Elain’s skin. Delicately, he kissed away the moisture, then gently touched his lips to her eyelids.

When Elain closed her eyes and tipped her face up, Lucien once again claimed her lips. This kiss was not the desperate crash from moments before. It was soft and filled with every bit of warmth and love he held in his soul. 

Some instinct had Elain parting her lips to grant Lucien more access. She wanted to taste and touch and smell him. To bathe in that fiery scent she’d missed for so long. Every aching and empty moment of the past year could be cleansed from her heart by such a kiss, if only she could have more.

Elain sucked at Lucien’s lips and felt him smile against her mouth. She deepened the kiss. A tongue slipped into Elain’s mouth to stroke her a moment before retreating. The feeling of it was so nice and unexpected that Elain’s toes curled in her shoes.

“My lady?” Lucien pulled back a moment as they both struggled for breath. His eyes were burning in a way that sent a pulse through Elain’s body. 

“Huh?” her eyes opened slowly. Lucien was gazing at her, his lips swollen red as Elain’s must also be, and a single eyebrow crooked. Elain felt that she’d been caught doing something, but she had no idea what.

Until Lucien’s eye flickered down. Elain looked and saw where her hands-

She squeaked in embarrassment and quickly withdrew the hands that had gone from holding on to Lucien’s face to holding his hips tight. “N-no, I didn’t mean- it’s not-” she felt herself flushing scarlet and tried to step away, but Lucien yielded her not an inch.

“If my lady would like to touch something, she is welcome to,” Lucien leaned in to whisper the words into Elain’s ear.

Shivers wracked her body, and she felt another pulse shoot through her. Heat was building beneath her skin and she felt something stirring.

“Touch what? What would I touch…” Elain’s cheeks burned. She looked away and licked her suddenly dry lips.

Lucien only grinned, “If my lady would like me to touch something, that is welcome too.”

Elain’s face grew redder in the glow of the setting sun. She trembled slightly before forcing herself to speak, “Actually it isn’t- such things- my upbringing demanded purity… but in the past y-year I- it isn’t that I haven’t- haven’t considered- but such things- not that I don’t- but-”

Lucien chuckled, “Forgive me lady, but I don’t think I can understand the language you’re speaking.”

Elain pushed against Lucien’s chest and this time was released from his embrace. She stood there looking side to side, flapping her arms with nervous energy as she tried to work up the courage to speak. 

As he had so many times tonight, Lucien saved Elain from herself once more, “If I can guess your meaning, can I claim a prize?”

As if he could understand anything Elain had been trying to say. Still, she nodded and quickly buried her face in her hands.

“My lady’s upbringing requires purity, so you do not engage in any… improper thoughts?” 

The reddening of Elain’s ears was answer enough, but she still nodded her head a few times. She wouldn’t even crack her fingers enough to peer at Lucien.

“Well then my lady is in luck, because all I have are improper thoughts.” He grinned. “So you do not mind being improper, but you’re too shy to show it? Or too shy to say something about it?”

Another hidden nod.

Lucien began to pace and made a show of considering his words, even going so far as to stroke an invisible beard. “Then my is not comfortable saying that she wishes to do impure things to me, and wishes for me to do such things to her as well?”

Elain crumpled, folding until her face was buried in her knees.

“Did I earn my prize?”

Still folded into a ball, Elain nodded her head. Truth be told, Lucien only guessed half. But when she thought of saying the rest, Elain really wanted to hide under a rock forever.

“But as someone who loves and respects you, how could I even think of harming your purity? To do such a thing to my mate… how would I live with myself?”

The heat that had been building in Elain’s face abruptly vanished. Ice replaced it, a very different kind of embarrassment and humiliation. Were she not still hiding, Lucien would have seen the mad blush replaced with skin of purest white. The ball that was Elain tightened.

Lucien had only just returned to her, how could she have screwed this up so badly?

“I think I have an idea,” Lucien continued, undisturbed. He crouched by his mate and forced his hand between her arms to tip Elain’s face up towards his. His strength was crushing, and Elain could not resist as her chin was tipped upwards. Elain was cold and clammy, but Lucien only smiled in that dark and dangerous way. “A way to defile you without committing a sin.”

Power crackled in the air. Elain felt the world whip around her as Lucien winnowed them somewhere else. She opened her eyes and peered up, then sagged in Lucien’s arms.

The temple was massive. Bigger than any single place she had ever seen. Bigger than the throne room of the Hewn City, bigger than the ballrooms other High Lords held their parties in. 

The setting sun made the white marble pillars glow as they rose to a jeweled, mosaic ceiling far above. Red and gold silk were draped throughout the space, the traditional celebratory colors of Day. There was not a surface that was not covered with rich cloth- as though the temple had been prepared for the most elaborate of weddings.

“You look lovely even covered in mud and sweat from working in your gardens, but if I might suggest-” Lucien nudged Elain and pointed to a screened off portion of the temple where a truly breathtaking set of red-gold robes hung. 

Elain wasn’t sure she would even be able to wear a dress so ornate and expensive if she were a High Lady. Her heart stuttered at the exquisite detailing on the clothes and the sheer cost such fabric would have fetched. Just the hem would have been enough to feed their family for the entire ten years they lived in poverty.

“L-Lucien, what is all this?” Elain trembled as he took it all in. As if the meaning wasn’t obvious enough.

“Doing improper things to a lovely maiden is a sin. But as your husband-” he leaned in to whisper that word in Elain’s ear, “-it would only be fulfilling my duties... with pleasure.”

Lucien had certainly guessed then what Elain was too nervous to ask about. He played his game and had his fun, but at the end of it all he’d been planning a wedding from the start. Elain’s heart had belonged to Lucien for a long time, but if she was going to abandon her strict upbringing and surrender the last shred of purity she had- well, it may sound silly but the thought of a wedding reassured her. 

“We can have another with the whole world watching,” Lucien put his hands on Elain’s shoulders and she felt a warm magic ripple through her body. Things shifted and moved and when she looked down she was wearing an intricate series of red-gold robes, the fabric overlapping and twisting with golden clasps. “But I thought this would be a nice secret. A way to endure the months wedding planning takes among the High Lords.”

He wasn’t wrong.

When Nesta and Cassian formally married, it took six months to get the date worked out and set with everyone. It was a brutal, political affair that almost drove the two insane, even though they were already mated.

And Cassian was- with the deepest respect Elain had in her heart for him- a general. Lucien was heir to the High Lord of Day. She couldn’t imagine how long it would take to marry him, and with her entire being she wanted to be with him now. Not just physically, she wanted to be bonded to him in a way that meant something to her once as a human. Not just the mating of the fae.

“I want this,” Elain looked up at Lucien. “I want you.”

Those words brought a tear to his remaining eye. 

“What is the traditional ceremony in the human lands?” Lucien led Elain up towards the altar. As he stepped out from behind her she realized his clothes had changed to, into a male version of the layered robes.

“Our wrists are bound with a golden cord,” Elain said. There was a flash of light and the rope appeared. Elain helped Lucien wrap it around their joined hands. “And then we bow to our guests.”

They did so, moving to bow to the empty temple.

“And then to a shrine representing our ancestors,” Elain led Lucien back towards the altar, which they bowed to in place of the usual array of candles. Humans had no gods, and so for a wedding they acknowledged those who had come before.

“And then to one another.” It was more difficult to complete this with their wrists bound together, but they made do.

“And then we are declared wed, and there is feasting and dancing, and at night-” the thin light was nearly out as the sun set behind a distant  mountain.

The ceremony was simple, and in many ways it probably didn’t count, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was standing here with Lucien. They would do another wedding one day, with all the chaos and aggravation her sister had been subjected to. But right now, this was what Elain wanted.

Just this.

The rope dissolved into thousands of specks of glittering light that Lucien sent up into the rafters of the temple as the light faded. Glittering chandeliers flickered to life, casting them in a soft glow.

“And then it is time to worship my wife upon the wedding altar?”

“Ye- what?”

Lucien wrapped his arms around Elain’s legs and lifted her over his shoulder.

There was a squeak of surprise and protest as Elain was hoisted like a sack of potatoes, laid across the altar, and Lucien was upon her once again. 

It was an embarrassing position to be kissed in. Elain was laying mostly on the altar, but at an angle that meant her legs draped on either side of one corner. Lucien hovered above her, and the placement of his knees meant that his pelvis pressed against Elain’s.

Each had many layers of clothing on, so it wasn’t like she could feel anything in particular- but the position was dangerously intimate. 

Lucien’s tongue traced Elain’s lips and she parted for her… husband. He was her husband now. Married.. It felt strange. What was embarrassing about the position they were in? What was ‘dangerously intimate’? 

Not only were they married, wasn’t this kind of thing part of the ceremony too? Consummating the marriage was important after all.

So, Elain reasoned, not only should kissing Lucien so intimately not be embarrassing, it was actually expected of her at this point! She would be failing in her duty if she was not in such a position!

The reasoning was flawed and old-fashioned, but there was nothing genuine in it. Elain needed to find a way to push herself forward and give herself permission. Her mother demanded purity and abstinence, never in her life had she even touched herself in an impure way and now she was laying across a altar with a man’s hips pressed against her and that same man devouring her lips and tongue in increasingly fierceful ways.

Elain wanted Lucien badly, her whole body pulsed with need, but she had to find a way to overcome years of trained behavior in an instant. So she used the consummation as an excuse. A pure way to be impure.

Lucien’s lips tightened against Elain’s own as he smiled. He felt Elain’s body relax beneath his, and Elain’s hands slowly came to hold Lucien’s hips.

As Elain parted her mouth further for a deeper kiss, Lucien abruptly moved away. His mouth went instead to the neck. The brush of his hot tongue against the skin made Elain’s blood ignite and she let out a soft gasp, then an undignified groan.

“Lucien,” Elain’s hips lifted of their own accord to increase the pressure of Lucien’s pelvis against hers. Between her legs was an aching hunger she wasn’t entirely familiar with.

“Lucien,” Elain’s voice came out breathless and slightly nasal. It was more of a lover’s gasp than an attempt at speech. “Lucien, we should go to a bedroom… now,” she felt her hips rock shamelessly against Lucien’s pelvis in time with the tongue that was teasing the sensitive curve of her neck.

“Why would we go anywhere?” Lucien was cruel, and dipped his own hips into Elain’s. 

The pressure sent a wave of fire through Elain’s blood and she couldn’t help but moan when those lips touched her skin again.

Through her gasping, Elain’s fists tightened around the fabric of Lucien’s robes, using it subconsciously to pull him against her body even as she said, “Not- no appropriate for- a temple.”

A chuckle, and the mouth moved from her neck to gently nip and suck at her earlobe. Lucien whispered, “What isn’t appropriate? I intend to worship my mate as thoroughly-” he drove his hips against Elain’s, “ -and completely- ” another push, “-as possible. Temples are meant for worship, aren’t they?”

Elain’s burning mind decided Lucien’s words were very logical and therefore must be accurate. Besides, no fae god had tried to kill them yet.

She stopped protesting and brazenly lifted her tingling legs to wrap around Lucien’s hips. When Lucien next pressed against her and licked along the curve of her ear, he ground himself against Elain and did not let up. Instead, he increased the pressure and pushed Elain further onto the altar, until she was laying across it fully, Lucien on top of her.

Lucien reached back and pressed on Elain’s legs, forcing them off of him and back down to the altar. At first Elain expected him to pull back and say something, but instead those long, tan fingers grasped the outermost layer of her gown and opened it across the altar.

Elain’s arms were pulled away next and pinned on either side of her head. Lucien held her in place as his mouth returned to Elain’s and their tongues met once more. This time it was Lucien who groaned into Elain, the sound igniting another wave of burning need.

One hand was released, and Lucien held the end of the sleeve delicately as Elain pulled her hand out of the sleeve of the outer robe. Only when she’d lifted it back in place to take hold of Lucien once more was the other hand released and the outermost layer abandoned.

Frankly speaking, Lucien had seen Elain in fewer clothes than this. The traditional wedding robes of Day were expansive and had many layers. But he still leaned away from his lady and stared down at her with heavy eyes. Desire made them glassy, the gaze slightly unfocused as Lucien and Elain both panted. The outer robe was laying neatly open across the altar, but to remove the layers beneath, a series of golden belts had to be pulled away.

To reach down and touch them now would put his hands close to a dangerous place.

But… the belts had to go. They both wanted them gone with the same intense desire.

Lucien had given himself permission to kiss and bite, yet his hands trembled slightly as he stared down at Elain now. Elain was steady as she slid her arms down and began undoing the ties and clasps. Lucien rose on his knees slightly, giving Elain room to arch her back when she needed to reach a piece at the rear. The angle drove her against Lucien. There were still just as many layers of clothes between them, but Elain might have raised herself further than was necessary. Might have lingered a few seconds after she undid the stubborn tie.

But now the robes were of a different cut. The outermost draped over her, the layers beneath crossed one another and meant that it was too hard for Lucien to remain on top of Elain and peel them open to neatly hang over the sides of the altar. 

So the heir to the High Lord of Day slid off her and forced himself to stand to the side.

He began a slow circle of the altar. Elain remained laying in place, and Lucien kept a finger on her skin at all times. Stroking her cheek, placing her arms back on either side of her head, running a finger along the side of her boot. His burning gaze always fixated on Elain.

After the loop was complete, he undid the ties on the first layer of robes. As he circled, he opened one side, pausing long enough to tug it lightly and ease the wrinkles. Then he would circle to the next. At the head of the altar he once again stopped and pinched the outermost layer of the sleeves. Elain obediently pulled her arms free and placed them back exactly where they belonged. 

The next loop he removed Elain’s second layer of robes- had he ever seen Elain in so little? Elain’s mind couldn’t recall if Lucien snuck a peek as he covered her after her ordeal with the Cauldron.

All she could think about was how light her body felt without Lucien’s on top of it. Too light. Too cold. Her breathing was heavy and as the layers slipped away her scent became more and more obvious.

The second layer was gone. All that remained was the innermost layer. A wrapped top and long, flowing skirts that hid the… situation below. The moisture building in her folds.

Lucien had been off of Elain’s body for too long. Under the heir of Day’s gaze, her passion had stepped aside enough for nerves to take their place.

As Lucien’s gaze burned Elain’s skin, and anxiety was freezing her bones. She’d never been looked at for the sake of looking. Had never felt the weight of a gaze on her body with so little covering it.

One inner robe. Lucien was still in his full wedding robes, and Elain wore less than those prostitutes hanging out of the brothel windows to cajole the men wandering below.

Her hands began to tremble. Elain clenched them into fists and looked away from Lucien.

Lucien marked the movement, but said nothing. He slowly moved to one side of the altar. Elain shivered as he reached out and untied the stays on the top half of her innermost robe. She was trembling as Lucien circled the altar and pulled the far side.

Silk brushed against Elain’s skin and she closed her eyes tight. It took genuine effort to stop herself from rolling away from Lucien or grabbing as many of the layers beneath her as she could and wrap herself up to escape. She had no idea where the dress she’d wore in that morning was, but surely it wouldn’t be the first time someone fled a temple while dressed for a wedding.

What kept Elain on the altar was the thought of how awful she would feel if she did make his escape. How would she explain it to Lucien after? Lucien waited for her for years. He went through so much suffering alone in the mortal realm, all for her sake. To make her feel less burdened by his presence.

Elain had waited for him only one year, when he was first installed in Day, and it was the most wretchedly alone she had ever felt. Beron had launched a war against Helion for the humiliation, while Eris hid their mother somewhere safe.

Every night she would lie awake, sure that Lucien was about to come through the door. Every morning before she opened her eyes she prayed that there would be a red clad man beside her. Every meal she prepared she made enough for two. But that war raged, and Lucien couldn’t come.

“My lady,” Lucien said gently beside her. Elain turned her face away quickly, but Lucien’s finger traced the tear that had escaped the corner of her eye. He must have climbed on the altar, because the next thing Elain felt were his warm lips kissing away the tears trapped in her eyelashes. “My lady, why are you crying?”

Elain’s voice came out in more of a whimper than she hoped, “I just… I just really missed you.” She opened her eyes and drank in the wild beauty of Lucien’s face. A fist closed around her heart and more tears dripped down the sides of her face. “This last year… I really missed you… every single moment.”

“I missed you too,” Lucien said. 

Hands slid beneath Elain’s head and Lucien’s body pressed down on her. There was nothing sensual in the touch, just a man holding his wife as if to protect her from the world. Elain buried her face in the crook of Lucien’s neck.

“How did you survive all those years?” Elain had wondered it every day.

There was a pause before Lucien said, “It was hard. It never stopped hurting… but whenever you smile… I would wait a thousand years just to see that just once.”

Tears still dripping from the corners of her eyes, Elain managed a smile for Lucien. She reached up to trace the lines of Lucien’s face with the tips of her fingers. His cheekbones, the angle of his jaw, his nose, his lips- Elain’s chuckle as Lucien snapped and lightly caught a finger with his teeth was half-laugh, half-whimper. 

But when Elain laughed, so did Lucien.

“I’ve never… been like this before,” Elain forced herself to say such cringe-inducing words. It seemed to ease some of the tightness in her chest.

“Well, I have,” Lucien whispered as if conspiring. “I’ve had a long time to think about it… and read about it… and dream about it… and practice a bit.” The last part was said softly against Elain’s ear and punctuated by a slight roll of the hips. “I hope my lady will not be disappointed. I promise it will be fun.”

Elain was still embarrassed enough by her own words. Her face turned bright red at Lucien’s frank speech. Elain’s heart didn’t want to be sad. Not on her wedding night. Not after Lucien finally returned to her. She wanted to be happy and to kiss and… and whatever came next.

She wasn’t afraid of the act itself- Lucien would never harm her. She wasn’t afraid of judgment- Lucien had seen Elain’s worst moments and still loved her wholeheartedly. She wasn’t afraid of being deemed unworthy in any way by Lucien.

So if she wasn’t afraid… what was she afraid of?

Elain’s head became dizzy trying to understand it all. In the end she decided not to understand. As she had so many times before, she simply chose to trust in Lucien. Trust her… her husband. The word was so strange in her mind, marriage became such an alien concept after she became fae… But it brought a smile to her lips at long last.

“Husband,” she tried saying it out loud.

Lucien smiled in response and dipped his face to kiss Elain’s lips, “Wife.”

Elain was nervous and unsure of everything, but she knew how it made her feel to kiss Lucien. So she wrapped her arms around Lucien’s shoulders and pulled him down. Lucien resisted just a little- rather than smother Elain as requested he kept the kiss light and gentle.

When Elain parted her lips in invitation, Lucien ignored her. Elain wanted to lose herself in that hot dizziness that swept her mind and worries both away. Lucien had dreamed of this for a long time- as he’d said- and he wasn’t going to go quick and fast. Not when he knew the slower path would be the most fun for his new bride.

Lucien sucked at Elain’s lips, lightly tugging at them with his teeth. He grinned when Elain’s breathing became more labored. The dizziness was building in her mind, easing her fears. 

Then the hand on Elain’s cheek vanished. The front of Elain’s shift moved, exposing half her chest. When the hand settled on her ribs, Elain sucked in a hard breath.

She stiffened as a bolt of raw electricity shot through her. That touch- it wasn’t like Elain’s skin had never been touched. But not in intimacy, not by someone she cared so much for, and certainly not as her lips were kissed until they were bright red.

A ragged breath escaped from Lucien as he felt the soft skin beneath his fingers flutter. His hands were slightly cold, but there was enough force in that touch that Elain wasn’t ticklish. In fact, she gasped and one arm left Lucien’s neck to cover the hand against her side. Lucien hesitated somewhat, but chuckled against Elain’s lips as his hand was not pushed away, but held down firmly in place.

Then, at last, Lucien kissed Elain as deeply as he desired.

A broad lick of his tongue up the column of Elain’s throat made the lady arch her back and gasp for breath. As she did, her oxygen was stolen away by Lucien’s mouth. Lucien pressed against Elain hard as the dizzying wave crashed over them both.

Elain’s legs lifted and- without conscious decision to do so- wrapped around Lucien’s hips. One ankle crossed the other as Elain locked herself in place. As air became too precious a commodity, Lucien released her mouth and latched onto her neck, licking and sucking with such animalistic ferocity that Elain couldn’t stop the whimpering groan that escaped her mouth.

She was on fire beneath Lucien. All Elain could think about was the hand on her side, the epicenter of the wondrous agony that was burning through her flesh. She held Lucien’s hand in place, but she wanted to feel that electricity across her entire body.

Lucien didn’t silence himself. He moaned against Elain’s neck, the sound adding to the her frenzy even more. There were too many layers of silk between the pair. Lucien’s robes were as heavy and rich as the ones Elain had worn. It wasn’t fair, not when only a hand and lips touched Elain directly.

Elain forced herself to release Lucien and grab onto the neck of his robes. She began to tug at them roughly. It was sloppy, especially considering the care Lucien made to gently remove Elain’s, but she was desperate.

Lucien’s grip on her side tightened almost painfully, enough so that Elain’s mind came back to her body. She was gasping as she realized just how tightly her legs were wrapped around Lucien. How her back was arched against his chest. The damp stain that appeared between her own legs as the silk undergarments became smeared with her moisture.

But this time Elain didn’t want to stop. She tugged again at Lucien’s robes. A red flush covered her cheeks, chest, and arms, but she didn’t care. 

Elain managed to push the outer robe over one of Lucien’s shoulders, staring up at him as if in challenge. Lucien withdrew and slid off the altar. Elain’s eyes burned as she slid her arms free from the top. Until only the wrap around her hips- a thin layer of silk- covered her body.

She couldn’t stop the arm that crossed her chest to hide her nipples. Lucien marked that too, as always.

“I want to-”

“We have our own customs here,” Lucien grinned. His skin began to glow and the robes- those expensive and exquisite silk robes began to burn. The silk smoked and shriveled as red flames spread from the shoulders down, slowly consuming everything. Gold charms and chains from different parts of the robes melted and dripped down to the floor.

Elain almost forgot that Lucien had fire in his blood. As his shoulders were slowly exposed there was no hint of the burned silk upon them. No soot or ash, no charred skin. Lucien was the living flame that burned through his clothing.

His chest was exposed first. Elain licked her lips as broad muscles gleamed in the firelight. Her fingers itched to touch them- to feel the hardness of his abdomen. Elain swallowed hard imagining how it would feel to press against such a chest.

The fire continued to burn. Lucien’s shoulders pushed back and he stood just a little bit straighter for Elain’s inspection as the fire drifted lower…. Lower.

Elain still had shoes, foot covers, and those thin pants on. Lucien-

He burned away every last scrap.

Elain gasped a bit as a certain part of Lucien was exposed. Genuine effort went into not looking away or hiding her face. Lucien felt no shame in Elain’s gaze. His smile grew predatory as he noted that his lady was staring at the hardening length between his legs.

“Does my lady approve?” Lucien said after a long pause. Smug and confident.

“L-Lucien, don’t say stuff like that…” Elain brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear quickly. 

Lucien returned to the altar. He pulled Elain’s shoes off, then her foot covers. He crawled onto the altar, his toned muscles shifting. Elain’s eyes were locked on the member that hung down. She jumped as it touched the side of her thigh through her pants.

Elain was still propped up on her elbows. Lucien stopped nose-to-nose with her and stared at his wife’s eyes while he undid the ties on either side of Elain’s hips that held the pants on and tugged the fabric lightly.

Another gasp from Elain as cool air brushed against her shaved mound. Lucien wasn’t as neat with this final layer as he’d been with the others. He opened the fabric and pushed it out of the way, exposing Elain wholly.

Part 1 || Part 2

#gently slowly #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #elain archeron #elain #lucien vanserra #lucien #elucien #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

An Evening in Qiandeng Temple (Hualian 18+; Part 2)

Summary: An extension to the end of Chapter 243, as Hua Cheng returns to Xie Lian, the two are married, and Xie Lian leaves his ascetic form of cultivation behind. AKA: ‘tis a smut fic.

PART 1:  Tumblr || AO3 ||

PART 2: || AO3 || 

For my fanfic library, check out @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

Keep reading

#hua cheng #xie lian #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #an evening in qiandeng temple

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

Sharing Heaven (Feysand + Azriel Edition)

Summary: Rhysand and Feyre invite Azriel to join them in bed, and Feyre finally gets what she’s been dreaming of.

Dedicated to @moononastring and @feysandfeels, and all those who HC Rhysand as bisexual

For my fanfic library, check out @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

Keep reading

#my writing #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #feyre #rhysand #feysand #azriel #sharing heaven

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

Until the Shadows Are Silent (Rhysand Edition)

Summary: In the centuries before Feyre Archeron came into his life, Rhysand and Azriel enjoyed a more… casual relationship. With Cassian, Mor, and Amren out of Velaris on Court business, Rhysand and Azriel have rekindled their old friends-with-benefits arrangement. 

Dedicated to @moononastring and @feysandfeels​, and all those who HC a bisexual Rhysand.

For my fanfic library, check out @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing​ 

Keep reading

#my writing #rhysand #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

My Fanfic Library (Updated 06/07/21)

**For the sake of space, only Chapter 1 of long-form fics are linked.**

The Shadows of Night (Ongoing)

A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night's darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

Tumblr: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Cabin By The Lake

Cassian has been keeping a secret- for the past 300 years he has been building cabins around a lake to house the Inner Circle and any family they might have. Five years after the end of ACOWAR, the cabins are finished and the Inner Circle descends for two weeks in paradise.

**Even-number chapters contain smut scenes.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Velaris

“Protect Velaris. Protect each other. I love you all.” With Rhys’ final words, the shields around Velaris rise, trapping the Inner Circle inside for fifty years. This series follows Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren as they struggle to adapt and fulfill Rhys’ final request.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Velaris: Fury and Ruin

Following a disastrous attack on Hybern, Cassian’s wings are broken, Azriel is critically wounded, and Feyre is dragged to Spring by Tamlin. Rhysand must now earn the forgiveness of his friends, protect his new sisters-in-law, and find a way to protect Prythian from a looming war- all without his mate and best friend by his side.

**You do not need to read my previous series "Velaris"

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Feast of Souls

Everyone gathers at the estate in Velaris for the Feast of Souls- and to quietly investigate Feyre’s erratic behavior and strange temperament. Figuring out what is wrong with her is the easy part though- the hard part will be saving her soul before the clock strikes midnight and she is lost forever.

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

An Elucien Epilogue

Lucien returns to Velaris after the events of ACOWAR, determined to be a better male than Tamlin and put aside his mating bond if that’s what Elain wants.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Bring Her Home

After forty-nine years in hell, Rhysand has returned to Night. A piece of him will always belong to that human who saved Prythian- the fae female now poised to marry his sworn enemy. As the sun sets on that horrible day a plea goes out across the Courts- “please, save me. Get me out. End this,” and Rhysand is only too happy to oblige.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Poison in the Wound

Feyre and Tamlin meet to try and finally clear away some of the bad blood between them.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Strength in Darkness

After she is woken by a particularly horrible nightmare, Elain asks her husband to take her to the only place that might help her make sense of everything that has happened to her: Under the Mountain.

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

What Rises from the Ashes

Tamlin confesses that he and Amarantha were incompatible mates- and the role that played in his downfall.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net || Authorized German Translation

When the Darkness Comes

Lucien recalls the day Amarantha took his eye- and the difficult weeks that followed.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The World Beyond My Cage

Azriel recalls his childhood, how he ended up in an Illyrian camp far from his cell, and how his world was changed by an arrogant little Lordling with a chamber pot.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Peaceful Night (18+)

The holidays are a time for too many parties, too many people, and too much noise. After the festivities are over though, one can take solace in the love of their other half and the light that person brings into their life.

Feysand Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nessian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Azuala Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Amrian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Morridwen Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Sweet Treat (Feysand 18+)

On Feyre’s first Feast of Souls in Velaris, she finds a new way to give Rhys his holiday chocolates.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Midday Treat (Feysand 18+)

Rhys has been skipping meals again, so Feyre decides to give him an incentive to eat his lunch.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Sharing Heaven (Feysand & Azriel 18+)

Feyre and Rhysand invite Azriel to join them in bed, and Feyre finally gets what she’s been dreaming of all year.

Tumblr || AO3 || 

Alone in the Townhouse (Nessian 18+)

When the Court of Nightmares visits Velaris, Nesta and Cassian plot to take advantage of their time alone and finally take things to the next level.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nessian: The Mating (Nessian 18+)

At long last, Cassian and Nesta's wedding (and mating) day has arrived... along with most of Prythian.

*This is a sequel to "Alone in the Townhouse"*

Extended Re-Post Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Short Version || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Simply Love (Morridwen 18+)

In a thinly veiled attempt to seduce Cerridwen, Mor takes her lover of three years to day for a date before spending an evening at home. A simple, sweet fic for a simple and sweet love.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Slowly (Nessian 18+)

Cassian returns from a fierce Illyrian civil war weary and on edge. Nesta wants to welcome her lover home after weeks away, but she knows the lust that comes on the heels of bloodshed has been building in Cassian the entire time he’s been gone. Both desperately want to be with one another, but for Nesta’s sake he must shove down the Illyrian and proceed slowly.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Bargain Well Struck (Nessian 18+)

Their deal is simple enough- if Nesta trains hard enough, she can claim a massage as her reward. Cassian’s hands never venture beneath the modesty-towels, so Nesta makes sure all the right places are exposed.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Sharing Heaven (Nessian & Azriel 18+)

Nesta and Cassian invite Azriel to join them in bed, and Nesta finally gets what she’s been dreaming of all year.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Alone in the Garden (Elucien 18+)

As the Inner Circle tricks Nesta and Cassian into spending some alone time together, Elain and Lucien find themselves unchaperoned at the House of Wind. **Contains ACOWAR Spoilers** (This is a quasi-sequel to "An Elucien Epilogue" and runs concurrently to "Alone in the Townhouse")

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Cazriel: The Spongebath (Cazriel 18+)

In this AU of my fic "Velaris: Fury and Ruin", Cassian and Azriel explore previously untouched desires each male feels for their friend (written for Court-0f-Dreamers on tumblr in 15 min after too much alcohol).

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net: NOT AVAILABLE

The Torturer’s Throne (Cazriel 18+)

Cassian helps Azriel push his darkness aside and takes a bit of relief for himself in the process.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Until the Shadows Are Silent (Cazriel 18+)

For eight years the shields around Velaris have kept the Inner Circle trapped. Azriel is drowning under the wrath, rage, and pain of being caged in the city, so he turns to an old lover, one who is very good at bending fae over and not stopping until their minds and bodies are ravaged– Cassian.

*Contains strong BDSM themes, DM if you are concerned about a specific TW*

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanficiton.net

One Year in Heaven (Elucien/Elriel 18+)

Elain and her husband celebrate their first anniversary in style. A romantic dinner, an exchange of gifts, and a new suite of bedroom toys to try out.

Elucien Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elriel Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Gently, Slowly (Elucien 18+)

Elain and Lucien are reunited after a year of civil war within Prythian. Lucien brings Elain back to Day to marry her in secret, and do something very sinful in the High Temple.

Part 1 || AO3

Part 2 || AO3

Watching (Elucien 18+)

Elain and Lucien head into the foothills of Velaris to attend the opera, but their true destination is an exclusive club hidden deep beneath the theater. They’ll still get a hell of a show- and have a chance to put on one themselves.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net

Sharing (A Watching Sequel) (Elucien 18+)

For years Elain and Lucien have been loyal members of (and performers in) the sensual club hidden beneath Velaris’ opera house. Now- after months of discussion- they have decided to test the waters on expanding their display and changing their masks. No audience, no stage- and no longer just the two of them.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net

Incense Burner (Ongoing (Elucien 18+))

After a collapse in the Hewn City reveals a long lost Vault of the High Lords, Lucien and Elain accidentally come to possess one of the Lord’s treasures. What appears to be a simple incense burner turns out to be something far, far more. As Elain and Lucien fall under its spell time and again they will be drawn into a world they could only imagine in their wildest dreams…

Chapter 1 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Chapter 2 || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Peaceful Night (18+)

The holidays are a time for too many parties, too many people, and too much noise. After the festivities are over though, one can take solace in the love of their other half and the light that person brings into their life.

Manorian Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Chaorene Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Elorcan Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Rowaelin Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Nesraq Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Lysaedion Edition || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Calm After the Storm (Rowaelin 18+)

Erawan and Maeve have been defeated, the armies of Morath are vanquished, and Aelin rightly sits on the throne of Terrasen with Rowan by her side- and Lord Darrow as a constant pain in her ass. Frustrated and in need of a break, Aelin orders Rowan to do his job and consort with his Queen.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

To Spite the Shadow (Rowaelin 18+)

Nearly a year has passed since Aelin and Rowan destroyed the forces of Maeve and Erawan. Terrasen is rebuilding, Aelin is healing, and the world is finally at peace. Rowan conspires with Lysandra to give his mate a rest from her Queenly duties.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

For You (Lysaedion 18+)

Lysandra and Aedion enjoy a peace and freedom they never knew before Erawan and Maeve’s defeat. Still- something isn’t quite right. Aedion is keeping one of his desires secret, and Lysandra is determined to figure out what it is.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Familiar Stranger (Lysaedion 18+)

Tanned bronze skin, piercing violet eyes, night black hair- after a nightmare week in Orynth, Aedion goes for a drink and catches the eye of a beautiful- and familiar- fae male. When the male leaves, Aedion follows him to a dark, secluded alley where they can both blow off some steam.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Path Ahead (Elorcan 18+)

For Elide, it is the end of her virginity. For Lorcan, it’s the last ‘first time’ he ever wants to have. Both are nervous about the evening to come, but neither would change it for the world.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

A Cure for Nightmares (Manorian 18+)

Mere weeks after the events of “Empire of Storms”, Manon and the Thirteen conspire to give Dorian the break he so desperately needs.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Curing the Fever (Manorian 18+)

Manon is forced to leave a meeting early due to a suspected illness. Luckily for her and Dorian, none of the Thirteen guessed exactly what was wrong.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

One Year in Heaven (Manorian 18+)

Dorian and Manon celebrate the anniversary of their meeting in style- with ropes, chains, and a bit of domination.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

An Evening in Qiandeng Temple (Hualian 18+)

An extension to the end of Chapter 243. Hua Cheng returns to Xie Lian, the two are married, and Xie Lian leaves his ascetic form of cultivation behind. AKA ‘tis a smut fic.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net (Not Available)

Morning in the Jingshi (Wangxian 18+)

A new merchant has moved into Caiyi Town, one who deals in sinful wares. Wuxian places an order and decides to model a whole suite of new toys for Wangji. Wei Wuxian has always liked it rough, but he may have been too ambitious this time.

Tumblr || AO3 || Fanfiction.Net (Not Available)

Project: Echo (Part 1)

A long-buried Hydra disaster, a monster in the shadows, a missing child. Eight months after the events of “The Winter Soldier”, Bucky turns himself in to the Avengers on one condition: They must help him find a girl snatched off the streets by Hydra seven years ago. In their quest, the Avengers accidentally unleash a horrifying creature of darkness and shadow, intent on making their quarry its prey.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Project: Echo (Part 2)

A new enemy surfaces with a team of the Avengers’ greatest foes, hand-picked for their destruction. Meanwhile, Inessa’s pre-Hydra past begins to surface, casting doubt on where her loyalties truly lie.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Project: Echo (FINALE)

Seven years after the events of “Part 2”, Avengers Tower explodes, fulfilling Bucky’s vision. All evidence points to Avengers Shadow-Ops leader Inessa Ryker, who is forced to seek out Bucky in hiding. Together they must determine who the traitor is in their ranks and if their friends are still alive- all while trying to survive deadly ambushes orchestrated by Sam Wilson and his hand-picked army.

Prologue || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Avengers: Valkyrie Wars (Part 1)

When a young woman stumbles across a Valkyrie artifact the Avengers will fight Asgard, Valkyrie, Loki, Hydra, and the last of a monstrous race known as the Norn. Whoever claims the weapon can unleash Hell, but when it vanishes Loki takes the only person capable of finding it again: Steve Roger's lover.

**All cannon through "Winter Soldier" used, NO "Age of Ultron" or "Civil War"**

Tumblr: Not Available || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

To Save Her Soul (Ongoing)

After the events of "Captain America: Civil War", Alice Pierce (the granddaughter of Alexander Pierce), a drug addict, is pulled off the streets and forced through detox by the Avengers so that she might help infiltrate her grandfather's compound to rescue Clint's wife and children.

**Trigger warnings noted above chapters, overall warning for drug use/withdrawal**

Tumblr: Not Available || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

X-Reader Format (Abandoned) || AO3 || Fanfiction.net

The Ridiculous Ground-Up World Building Sheet

Shorter: World Building 101

World Building 102: World Building Tips

The Ridiculous Ground-Up Character Building Sheet

General Writing Tips

Master Plot Types

Things to Ask Yourself

Dialogue

How to Write Smut

Tough-Love Tips for Writers

#my writing #library #master list #masterlist

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

An Evening in Qiandeng Temple (Hualian 18+; Part 1)

Summary: An extension to the end of Chapter 243, as Hua Cheng returns to Xie Lian, the two are married, and Xie Lian leaves his ascetic form of cultivation behind. AKA: ‘tis a smut fic.

For my fanfic library, check out @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

Keep reading

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hua cheng #hualian #hob #an evening in qiandeng temple #my writing

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 34

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || > ~34~ < ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 34

Trumpets blared from every direction, deafening Amren.

She was standing somewhere dark- the meeting hall that had become their command room. Papers were strewn about the place with details of the towns hit, missives from spies in other Courts that only Azriel would have understood, and sketchy reports about the coup Kier had staged in the Hewn City.

Amren was ready to pull out her hair- how did Rhysand resist the urge to kill absolutely everyone?

The room seemed normal enough, but with the blast of those trumpets golden glitter began to rain from on high. Harps soon joined the chorus to build towards the most shatteringly beautiful orchestra Amren had ever heard.

“Sweet, tiny sister, gaze up on high that I might impart for you the word of the divine.” An angel with spotted wings descended in a tunic made from cloth-of-gold. A gleaming crown of gilded laurel sat upon his brow, and a harp was cradled in his hands. His face was pure, gentle serenity.

Amren was beginning to hate all of her Brothers, “Haniel, cut the bullshit.”

“ No ,” his voice boomed over the chorus of trumpets and harps.

She rubbed her eyes to dispel the headache that formed. It was unique and very specific. Amren almost forgot in the eons since she last saw her Brother that she’d named this particular kind of headache ‘the Haniel’.

‘Joy of God’. Well, he might have been created from their Father’s joy, but he was breathtakingly annoying to everyone else.

“I come to deliver a message to you, oh devout ant-like one. Thine presence hath been requested most urgently ‘neath sacred and feared beacon’s shadow. Um... “ Haniel paused and looked to the side at something Amren couldn’t see. “OK fine. Elain said to tell you to tell Mor to tell Cassian to tell Varian to tell Tarquin to tell Thesan that Velaris needs a healer immediately. And she also says… Wait what-?” Haniel turned his head again.

“JUST SPIT IT-”

Haniel held up a finger to silence Amren, “Hold please.” He nodded a few times as Amren’s temper grew. “OK, we’re back. Elain said to tell Cassian and- what? Fine- and ‘the next person who enters the room’ that Nesta was spotted on the outskirts of the Yu Jun forest. Look for the white tree and turn left.”

“What the hell is going on?!”

“Talk to you soon pipsqueak!” Haniel saluted Amren, strummed his harp, and vanished.

---

---

Amren’s whole body jolted at the sudden blast of trumpets. She jumped to her feet heart racing. Mor was sitting across from her, eating a muffin.

“You looked peaceful, so I thought-”

“Varian needs to pass on to Tarquin- and Tarquin to Thesan- that he should send healers to Velaris now ,” Amren snapped. 

Mor didn’t even question the order. She dumped her muffin back onto her plate and scrambled for a piece of two-way paper to communicate with Cassian. The words shimmered, and a moment later a simple ‘OK’ appeared.

“Now tell Cassian that Nesta is at the edge of the Yu Jun forest in Dawn. Look for a white tree and go left.” 

Mor’s eyes widened, but she quickly relayed that message too. She threw the pen onto the table, “Now explain to me-”

Amren held up a hand and waited. She had a feeling she knew who else the second message was for. Seconds passed. Mor opened her mouth again and-

The world gave a titanic heave as night exploded in the meeting room. Nuala and Achlys each had a hand on Rhysand’s arms as he swiftly changed from wizened old man to the High Lord they’d last seen so long ago. His fangs were bared, his black scales were climbing towards his neck. The beast was taking over.

“ Where is my mate! ” he roared.

“Nesta is at the edge of the Yu Jun forest in Dawn,” Amren said quickly. “Something tells me Feyre is nearby.”

With that, Rhysand erupted in darkness once more.

“What just happened?” Mor was shaking. She looked to Achlys and Nuala, but the two were shuddering with exhaustion.

“Get to Dawn and winnow that healer here. Now.”

---

---

They traveled throughout the night, always just ahead of the hunters. Haniel was flying high above the winter clouds, Cera and Hades veil-walked around them, confusing tracks and moving scents as much as they could.

Finally, around mid-morning, Cera appeared in front of Tamlin in human form. The High Lord slowed gradually.

“They’re on one of the false trails,” Cera said. “It will take them a few hours to double back. The forest ends just ahead and it is open plains. We’re going to rest for a little bit, okay?”

In answer, Tamlin shifted back to his fae form and dropped to his knees in the snow. Haniel landed in a clearing not far ahead, releasing Eirene and Lucien.

Hades appeared next. He stepped out of the shadow of a tree and fell to his knees beside the sled. Persephone pulled herself to him. Everyone on the sled was shivering in the biting winter chill. The goddess, Feyre, and Azriel didn’t have the power to heat their blood, and Nesta and Elain had been in contact with Persephone’s body. 

They were all freezing and numb.

Elain crawled off Nesta’s lap and over to Haniel. Nesta ignored them and turned around to inspect Feyre. Her eyes were closed- but the rip through her eyelid was almost healed. Nesta lifted a corner of a bloody bandage. The wounds were still open and seeping, but between Haniel’s powder and the cold, she hadn’t lost too much blood. A small puddle of it spread from beneath her. Considering her wounds it was better than Nesta had expected.

“Azriel?” Nesta touched his arms. He’d frozen with them wrapped around his friend. For a moment she worried he’d slipped away as they traveled, but he opened his eyes and nodded.

Tamlin built a fire, Lucien lit it, and Nesta monitored the snow that melted on the ground to identify the warmest seats. She’d make sure those went to Feyre and Azriel. Haniel and Elain were still conversing. Neither of them seemed to care about the fire right now.

Nesta threw a grateful smile to Hades when she came back to fetch her sister. The blood soaked cloak Feyre had been wrapped in was replaced with Hades’ own, and he’d taken the soiled one to wrap around himself. He looked exhausted. Persephone was holding him up as much as he was holding her.

“Nesta? We need to speak to you about something. Your sister isn’t awake to ask and… I trust you.”

Nesta’s eyes went to Hades, “Does this have to do with why you wanted to leave the camp?”

“Yes,” Persephone answered for him.

Haniel and Elain moved to the fire. Haniel put a hand to his temple and Nesta felt a strange power flow into the world. He began to whisper.

No one looked nervous, so Nesta ignored them.

“You said the gods are looking for a Lock,” she said to Hades. “What kind of Lock?”

Cera came to curl up against Persephone’s side, “My momma’s Lock. The one made when she made me.”

Somehow Nesta had missed that story. Cerberus was the guardian of the Underworld. In the myths of Hades and Persephone the beast wasn’t mentioned, but Nesta just assumed that was omission. 

“Cera is a Chaos Lord,” Persephone said. “She is the titan that represents the line between life and death. The reason those words have meaning. Before the Breaking, she was the heart of the being known as Chaos.”

“So… you were part of the Breaking?” Nesta asked. Persephone had to be, if she was there when Cerberus was created. “But you’re a god, not a titan.” 

Chaos was shattered to form the Chaos Lords- nearly infinite in number and with thousands of tiny domains. The Chaos-Lords created the titans, the titans the gods. Persephone was- according to the stories- the child of two gods. Even further removed from that original Breaking.

“I… I hid myself among the gods. But I was never one of them,” Persephone said.

Persephone actually leaned into Hades’ touch. This one thing unifying them in the moment. She kept her gaze trained on Nesta, “I am what came before Chaos. The one who shattered it, just to see what would happen. I sealed myself behind a Lock- one the gods have been trying to find since the dawn of time. And you- you seem to have eaten part of that Lock.”

The Cauldron. Nesta had devoured part of the Cauldron.

Shivers wracked her body. She wasn’t there when the Cauldron broke on the battlefield with Hybern, but she felt it. Felt what was laying in wait behind every scrap of creation in their world.

And she knew the truth then of what Persephone was. Not just a goddess or a Queen. A titan.

Persephone opened her mouth to say more, but there was an explosion of darkness far ahead at the edge of the woods. “NESTA!”

His voice was filled with so much anger and fear. She forgot about Persephone and Hades and everything else in the world. Nesta hauled herself to her feet and ran for that voice. She could hear his boots crunching in the snow as he stalked through the trees.

“Over there!” Varian’s voice- the one who’d winnowed him in.

Pure death turned on its heel and Nesta loosed a sob as Cassian’s face appeared ahead of her. He snarled his wrath, even thought relief lit his eyes. Cassian stomped towards her.

Then he saw the fire, and all those around it. 

He slowed. Stared at the Graecians. At Persephone. Confusion replaced the rage in his eyes. Then he saw Feyre’s body. Azriel… with no wings. He fell to his knees.

“I didn’t leave,” Nesta whispered. “I didn’t want you to know I went to the god’s camp in case- in case I didn’t make it out. I didn’t leave.”

Cassian opened his mouth as tears began to fall down his cheeks. Varian jogged up behind him and went silent too.

Before he could speak there was another explosion- this one hard enough to shake mountains. Black smoke came ahead of him, filled with stars and talons, scales and teeth. It vanished as soon as it appeared and Nesta whirled to find Rhysand standing over Feyre and Azriel.

He lifted his mate into his arms. Feyre didn’t even stir. Rhysand’s gaze fell on Hades and pure murder filled his eyes. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end you now.”

It was Persephone who looked up at him, strange emotion flickering in her eyes, “Because if you do, none of you will survive what is about to happen.”

Too late, Nesta saw Tamlin hang his head and snap his fingers.

Too late, the body in Rhysand’s arms shimmered and transformed into Hades, a bloody welt on the side of his head where he’d been struck.

Too late to stop what was about to happen, the figure beside Persephone shifted into that of a pale, half-dead fae.

One with the power of seven High Lords. 

Whatever power Feyre had recovered glowed in her hands as she reached up behind Persephone, her face a mask of grim determination, and wrenched open the iron collar.

Unleashing not just the Queen of the Underworld-

-but the Titan of the Void.

---

---

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || > ~34~ < ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 33

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || > ~33~ < || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 33

They made it to the treeline in one piece. That was the first hurdle.

Eirene came out from the darkness in an instant and threw herself into Tamlin’s arms, kissing him deeply before stepping back to inspect him for injuries. Up until the kiss Nesta thought it was the Lucien-Eirene. But two more copies of her peeked out from behind the trees.

Tamlin waved a hand and there was a flash of light. Soon Lucien and Elain- in their true forms- were standing in place and Eirene was holding onto a now male High Lord.

At least there was only one of her now.

“We have to hurry,” she said. Eirene turned to Nesta “Take your sister to Haniel, he has a sled for most of you.”

Nesta obeyed. Pushing Feyre through the ever deepening snow was hard work- and it left a very clear trail for pursuers to follow.

“Don’t tackle me,” Nesta said quickly as Elain ran from the forest to meet her. “I have a jar in my pocket with Feyre’s soul inside.”

Elain froze, her eyes wide and full of fear, “Did I-”

“No,” Nesta pulled it out to reassure her that it was whole and un-scratched. “I protected it.”

“I could have killed her,” Elain whispered.

“But you didn’t, and that’s what we need to focus on right now,” Nesta wasn’t used to taking control like this, but she kind of liked the feeling. “How’s Azriel?”

Lucien’s face was grave, “Not good. I- I wasn’t trying to be mean, but I lit a small fire on the tips of my fingers and he didn’t react at all.” He’d done it once in Azriel’s presence out of boredom and the Shadowsinger nearly killed him. It was a dark trigger, seeing Lucien’s hand burning. He’d made sure never to do it again. Until now.

“And Persephone?”

“Won’t even face the same direction as him.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

Darkness exploded next to them and Cera appeared in her canine form. She ignored Lucien, Elain, and Nesta entirely and trotted into the forest. Nesta shrugged at the wonder on Elain’s face and gave a heave to Feyre’s chair, pushing her along into the black.

Haniel had gathered the others in a clearing, lit only by the dimmest of lanterns.

Nesta saw Hades first, speaking to Persephone in a low voice. She was sitting on a stump bundled in her cloak. Her face was wholly neutral to whatever her husband was saying.

Haniel had an unfinished sled piled in blankets. Azriel had been laid at the back against the curve of the large sled. More blankets were piled on his lap. “Hephaestus will kill me for taking something he hasn’t even varnished yet,” Haniel said. 

“Extra incentive not to be caught then,” Nesta replied. Hephaestus was the ugly god who had laughed when she first spotted the ever-shifting Gemini twins running through camp. Little did Nesta know at the time her companion was not a moody Horae of Spring but a tense High Lord.

Haniel waved Lucien over. Together they lifted Feyre’s body from the chair and placed her on the sled in front of Azriel. She would lean back against his torso. At the sight of her body that light woke in Azriel’s eyes again. His face crumpled in fresh grief. When she was set against him, he wrapped weak arms around her chest- guided by Haniel and Lucien to avoid the ruined joints.

His High Lady, a friend he loved and respected. 

Feyre was safe in Azriel’s arms. The sight of it sent a wave of relief through Nesta.

The wave was- it was a bit too strong. Dizzy, exhausted- the poison in her body made her too weak. Haniel cursed as Nesta swayed. He fished in his pocket and produced a pair of golden phials. One he tossed to Elain, the other he uncorked as darkness gathered at the corners of Nesta’s vision.

She felt herself falling.

Felt her power rising to catch her.

When she hit the ground, she felt the soul-jar shatter against her leg.

---

---

“ Come see, come see, come see, ” her power whispered in her ear.

Nesta’s eyes opened on the hall of black smoke.

Her power shattered and shuddered around her, stronger than ever before. 

She obeyed its call. Let it pull her forward. Down through the endless empty halls. All the way to Feyre’s sarcophagus.

The dream she’d had a hundred times.

“ Do you like it? ” That horrible little voice, so filled with glee at the death before her.

Even in her dream, Nesta was tired. She wanted the nightmare to end. Needed it to- there were things to be done in the world above. The clock was ticking, and she had no time to spare.

“Fine,” Nesta said. The world around her stilled. Persephone once told her she needed to wear her power, or it would act up like a misbehaving child. “Show me. I’ll tell you if I like it.”

The sarcophagus cracked-

-where her dream usually ended, it instead continued. She sensed approval in the darkness. Like it had been waiting for the chance.

It cracked, and Nesta found herself stepping forward. She put her hands on the seamless stone and shoved as hard as she could.

Something shifted beneath her fingers. The crack spread, and the edge of a lid appeared. Nesta hissed as the stone cut her hands, but she kept shoving with all her might. Blood dripped down the sides, and where it touched, the stone crumbled to dust.

Nesta shoved and shoved, moving the lid inch by inch to reveal a swirling darkness inside until finally there was a loud bang and the sarcophagus lid fell away.

The darkness began to clear. She knew what it would show her. Had known since she first had this dream when she saw Feyre in the camp. Inside would be Feyre’s body. Her corpse. All that remained of the huntress and painter.

A death Nesta would not let her have. Not today.

“ Do you like it? ” her power whispered again. Nesta felt it like a hand on her shoulder as she- and the world around- leaned in to see the bottom of the sarcophagus.

Feyre’s body, but not ruined or rotted. In a gray and black world it was the only thing bright with color. Hidden away, buried inside Nesta’s own might and wrapped in layers upon layers of the Cauldron’s magic.

She was chained to the bottom, one band around each wrist and ankle, a wider one around her head. The head was the strangest part- Feyre’s neck was bent to the side, turning her face towards the back of the sarcophagus, as if she couldn’t stand to see what might peer in through the lid.

The iron band wrapped around her eyes, fitted to her so that not a speck of light could get in. It continued around to her ears where again it had been expertly sculpted, rendering her blind and deaf.

That was when Nesta realized what she was looking at, where she was, and why that dream was haunting her all these months. What her power had done.

“This doesn’t belong here, does it?”

“ I took it for you. Say you like it ,” the Cauldron whispered in that cruel, dark voice.

Nesta reached down and stroked Feyre’s cheek, “I do… but it’s time to send it home. Alright?”

“ I did well? ”

“You did well,” a tear slipped down her cheek. She reached for the cuff around Feyre’s wrist and yanked up on it. Two pegs as long as her arm were driven deep into the stone. It came up easily as her blood soaked the metal. “You held her very tightly, but she has to go. Okay?”

“ Of course ,” the voice softened slightly, and Nesta felt a kiss upon her cheek as she walked around the sarcophagus and removed each of the cuffs.

All that remained was what held her blind and deaf. Blind to the horrible things those eyes had been forced to see. Deaf to her own screams and any promises or whispered tricks the Graecians might have used to try and lure Feyre out.

Light flooded through Nesta’s heart as the soul once contained in Hades’ jar flew free. Hades took that much from Feyre, but her baby sister was too smart for him. She’d let him take her soul- Because Feyre had already locked her heart and mind away. Blind and deaf. Unable to escape in the flesh, so she’d buried herself in her Daemati power.

And then the Cauldron within Nesta looked into Feyre’s eyes and stole her away. For months it tried to tell her, to show her. Feyre wasn’t in that ruined body. She was hidden inside Nesta’s own mind.

Nesta reached down and pulled the iron mask up and out of the stone. She reached down and cupped Feyre’s cheek, until her sister stirred and opened her eyes.

“It’s time to go home now.”

Feyre nodded, and the world exploded into light.

---

---

Nesta choked on the potion that Haniel poured down her throat. As she sputtered, she pointed to Feyre’s body, hoping someone would get her message.

A scream shattered the silent forest.

Haniel held Nesta as she began to gag. Her stomach was churning. She heaved and vomited up something black and oily.

The screams were deafening, but Haniel refused to let her go as she emptied her stomach. The poison that had coursed through her body burned through the snow to the ground below, hissing and crackling as it went.

Once Nesta had taken three consecutive breaths without being sick, Haniel shoved her away from the burning puddle and into Elain’s arms. Nesta opened her eyes as he reached the sled. Feyre was shuddering and gasping, screaming loudly enough that the sound was sure to draw attention at the Graecian camp.

“Do it now!” Nesta croaked at Persephone. She’d whirled when the screaming started.

“Get me to her!” Persephone commanded. Hades obeyed without question.

She fell heavily into the snow beside the sled. Azriel’s eyes were wide in fear, but Persephone didn’t even look at him- concentrated on not looking at him.

“Strip her,” Nesta looked up at Elain, who was white as a sheet.

She nodded, and set Nesta down gently in the blessed cold snow. Nesta watched as Elain ran to Persephone’s side. She fumbled with the clasp on the cloak until she could throw it open. The dress she and Lucien had wrapped Feyre in was loose. This should have been done in a healer’s chambers, but when the jar broke there was no other option. Feyre’s soul had crashed into Nesta’s, and the Cauldron drew them both together to wake the High Lady.

Feyre was thrashing in Azriel’s weak grip. Haniel grabbed her head and in a moment her body fell limp. “Hurry, Melinoe won’t have had time to poison every hunter in that camp.”

Persephone didn’t waste a moment. She ripped out the black devices, barely pausing long enough for Elain to adjust the bandages and fill the holes as blood at last appeared within the wounds. Too much blood, and too many wounds.

“Can you heal her?” Nesta whispered to Haniel. She fumbled with the pocket of her cloak and held up the vial he’d given her when they first met- healing potion. “Give her this.”

“I can’t,” Haniel hurried to the back of the sled and began digging around in packs for something. “It’s not a healing potion, it’s some of Ramiel’s Gatorade mixed with edible glitter.”

“Is- can it help her?”

“Only if she’s a tiny bit dehydrated.” Haniel found what he was looking for- a jade pot about the size of his fist, “But I made friends with the Chinese pantheon eons ago and their Emperor gave me some of this.”

He yanked the lid off the pot. It was filled to the brim with a fine white powder. Haniel held it out over Feyre’s body and said to Elain, “Sprinkle just a pinch over each wound before you bandage it.”

Elain immediately obeyed, and Haniel worked with one hand to undo the bandages Elain had already set, coating them with the powder.

“This is a healing powder for mortals. It slows the bleeding. How much faster is your fae healing?”

“Here-” Lucien hurried over. He pulled a jeweled dagger out of his pocket and drew the blade. Carefully, he scraped it across his hand just enough to leave a thin scratch. Haniel kept glancing from Lucien’s hand to Feyre as he worked. Within ten seconds the cut was healed. 

“Her body doesn’t have enough blood already, and I’m betting it will be slower, but I think the powder will buy us time.”

“We shouldn’t need long,” Tamlin said. He was staying out of the way with Eirene by his side. Pain filled his eyes at the sight of Feyre. “Her mate will feel her. He’ll come. He might try to kill everyone, but I promise you he will come.”

Hades put a hand on Persephone’s back. That was when Nesta noticed how much she was shaking. Her eyes were moving rapidly, and her hands weren’t moving with the same careful precision. She started missing the black wedges as often as she touched them- taking finger-fulls of thin air.

“Cera- can you please warn us when the gods start moving this way?” Hades said. Even he knew Melinoe’s drug wouldn’t have knocked out the entire camp.

Haniel and Elain started moving faster, but there was no rushing Persephone. She’d said she could touch a single finger to Feyre’s head and all the wedges would fall away, but that might wipe out the magic of Haniel’s powders and whatever potion Elain and Lucien had given her. She was being as careful as she could, trying not to touch Feyre directly.

One by one the wedges fell away. Nesta’s strength began to return. She spat a few mouthfuls of inky black as her body and mind settled again.

“Not fast enough,” Haniel hissed. He was eyeing the camp in the distance, where lights were beginning to glow. 

On cue, Cera appeared, “The hunters are coming.”

Not fast enough, not fast enough, not fast enough.

Nesta scrambled to the sled. She grabbed Persephone’s wrist and the goddess jumped. “Let me help you.”

Persephone nodded. Nesta moved her arm from wedge to wedge. When she nodded, Persephone grabbed the black thing and pulled it away. Elain quickly sprinkled a pinch of white powder into the wound.

Ten left- the camp was glowing brighter.

Five left- figures were beginning to run across the field.

One left- Tamlin transformed in a flash into a great golden beast. Hades and Nesta hauled Persephone away as Tamlin stepped in front of the sled. There was a gust of citrus-scented wind and ropes lashed him to the sled.

The final bandage was returned to Feyre. Hades pushed Nesta to the sled. Persephone couldn’t touch Feyre directly. Azriel held her, but he was fading fast. Nesta braced her sister and sat down in front of her, then leaned back against her chest. Elain sat in front of her. The sled wasn’t long enough, but Persephone wedged herself at the head. Her leg bumped Nesta’s and she shivered against the numbing of her power. Haniel spread his wings and grabbed both Lucien and Eirene to his sides. Eirene stepped onto his foot with both of hers, and with an apologetic wince, Lucien did the same.

“Cera and I will veil-walk. We’ll try to lose the hunters.” Hades looked to Persephone. She nodded.

With that, Tamlin roared and charged into the dark forest, dragging the sled behind him. Haniel spread his mighty wings and launched into the air.

For his own sake, Nesta hoped Azriel couldn’t see him fly.

---

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All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || > ~33~ < || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 32

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || > ~32~ < || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 32

Beron slammed into Nesta with overwhelming force and tackled her to the ground. She barely managed to roll her hip, protecting the runed jar with Feyre’s soul. If it returned to her body here she would die before they could get her out.

If whatever Kier poured into her mouth didn’t kill her first.

Nesta thrashed and kicked as Beron’s arms wrapped around her. He lowered his body onto hers and squeezed tight enough to cut off her air. Beron was grunting and groaning, the sounds made her stomach twist and bile rise in her throat.

She couldn’t breathe, he was choking the life out of her.

“You’re going to kill her if you keep that up,” Kier’s smooth, slick voice came from beside the bed.

Beron suddenly became aware of his bulk. Black spots were exploding in Nesta’s vision. Her face turned purple as she tried to gasp for air. 

Where was Cera? 

Why wasn’t Eirene helping?

The High Lord of Autumn rolled off her and hoisted Nesta to her feet. She coughed and choked down precious oxygen before he was on her again, smashing her to his chest. This time he didn’t squeeze quite as hard.

Something wet touched Nesta’s cheek and she jerked in his arms.

When her head stopped spinning she realized- Beron was… crying.

The grunts and groans were… laughter mixed with sobs.

Nesta looked back at Eirene. The goddess was standing there with a smug grin on her face. A grin matched by Kier.

And as for Feyre’s body on the bed- Most of the exposed wounds were bandaged around the black devices left inside her.

Beron pushed Nesta away for a moment to study her face, his own crumpled in wild glee that made her want to vomit. “You- you’re safe, you’re really safe!” Beron began to sob again.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nesta finally shoved Beron with all her might. She managed to untangle herself and stumbled back a few steps before falling on her rear (once again protecting the jar). “What the hell is going on?” she looked from Beron to Kier to Eirene.

“Let me give you a hint,” Kier held up his hand. A small flame erupted from the tip of each finger. The scent of fae magic filled the air- crackling flames and the musk of aged parchment. Of a warm library hearth. “My mate and I were told you might need some help.”

That scent wasn’t Kier’s. Kier’s was rot and darkness and decay. That was Lucien’s scent in Kier’s power, and if ‘Beron’ was his mate-

“Elain?!” Nesta’s eyes went wide. She scrambled to her feet.

Beron’s face crumpled again and he nodded, pulling Nesta in tight. “I knew you wouldn’t just leave. I knew it! When Tamlin said you were here-” she started crying again.

Then Nesta was crying too. Elain hadn’t spoken to her when Azriel dropped her in the Court of Nightmares to deliver her warning, and hadn’t visited her in the Hewn Palace or Palace of Nightmares above it when she was kept there. Back then Elain was waiting to see if Nesta would even bother staying. 

But then the world was turned upside down and Nesta vanished to the Greaecian camps and now-?

Now Nesta breathed in the scent of honey and jasmine in Elain’s tears and felt an empty place inside her fill with warmth and hope for the first time in well over a year. 

“Elain?” Kier’s voice was gentle, “We need to get Feyre out of here and I’m sorry, but I’m going to have nightmares for weeks of my father crying like that.”

“Me too,” Nesta choked a laugh. “You look really ugly.”

“Kier talks more than Beron, and since Lucien was a courtier it made more sense for him to do the talking,” Elain wiped away her tears. “It feels really gross to walk with a penis.”

“I bet it does,” Nesta smoothed Beron’s hair. “I bet it does.”

“He’s very small,” Elain whispered.

“I guessed.”

The humor helped stop the happy tears. Elain nodded and swallowed hard, her lower lip quivering as she squeezed Nesta’s hand. They would talk later- when she wasn’t a misogynistic bastard.

“What did you give her?” Nesta turned to Kier- to Lucien. The strange new warmth between Lucien and her sister would be explained in safer times.

“A strong healing potion Thesan himself cooked up. We can’t get these damned pegs out of Feyre’s arms-” Beron shivered and looked away, “-but since she’s still breathing it will at least help boost or wake her natural fae functions. Maybe. We think. Have you found Azriel yet?”

“Just got him out of the camp,” Nesta said. Elain breathed a sigh of relief. “Can- do you think Thesan can rebuild Illyrian wings?”

Elain blanched.

So did Lucien. “H- he might be able to, if Azriel’s healing hasn’t permanently set the damage. It can be done for broken fingers so maybe-”

“Not broken,” Nesta whispered. It was a fool’s hope, one that was dashed by the pain in Lucien’s eyes as she said, “amputated.”

Elain swayed and Lucien was by her side in an instant, bracing her. For a moment Nesta thought she’d faint. Maybe even Lucien too. He and Azriel weren’t friends but he had respect for the Illyrian spymaster, and he knew what it meant to be maimed.

“I- I don’t think anyone can fix that, Nesta,” he whispered.

No one even looked to Eirene. Nesta certainly wouldn’t- she would hold on to the hope that Haniel could fix it somehow. Give Azriel back what was stolen.. Left to rot.. Eaten by divine beasts.

“It’ll be alright,” she said, mainly to herself. “For now let’s just get them back to Night and then we’ll figure it out from there. One foot in front of the other.” 

Elain nodded. Lucien squeezed Nesta’s shoulder once, offering his strength. The fact that it looked like Kier and Beron were the ones empathizing with her only felt mildly gross.

“We were just about to put some clothes on her,” Elain said, turning back to Feyre. “Lucien and I bound everything so it shouldn’t move. And if the healing potion makes her bleed then that will help stanch the flow for now. Tamlin said Persephone has been giving you poison to keep the gods from connecting you two?”

“I- yes, but-”

“She’s too weak to lift her. You two will have to do it,” Eirene said.

“Good thing we’re big, burly males then,” Elain rolled up Beron’s sleeves.

Nesta blinked. “When did Tamlin arrive?” She looked around as if he’d appear out of thin air.

“I walked in right next to you,” Eirene held up her hands as if offended.

She blinked again. “I- um… what?”

“Eirene and I take turns walking around. I was going to declare blood rights to Feyre, but then the Graecians had her and that plan went out the window… I’m sorry, you thought I could only use my beast form? You’ve seen Feyre shift, you know what we’re capable of.”

Nesta’s head hurt. “You’ve been here all this time?”

“Surprised?” Tamlin smirked. 

“Relieved,” Nesta summoned a smirk to hide how shaken she was by everything. “Here I thought the Goddess of Peace was prone to tantrums. I should have known it was just the male-child of Spring.”

Tamlin didn’t even bristle at the little insult. He just smirked back- a look that faded a bit as he studied her face. “I was the one who offered to take you into Eirene’s service after your nose was broken. I’m sorry that happened to you. And I’m sorry we poisoned you. Haniel has the antidote. He’ll give it to you when we’re all safe. We can’t risk anyone realizing the connection between you and Feyre. Even Elain has been drinking it this past week.”

Only a week? The headaches wouldn’t have started yet at least.

“It’s fine,” Nesta said. “I understand. Haniel already apologized enough.”

He’d broken down in Persephone’s tent as they readied to get Azriel. Though Nesta was pretty sure he was more upset his food had been the delivery mechanism than he was for the actual poisonings.

“What do you think,” Tamlin said softly, nodding to the bed where Lucien and Elain were carefully pulling a loose-fitting dress over Feyre’s head. “Did we do enough to be heroes this time?”

“Depends- where are the real Beron and Kier?”

“In a cell beneath the ruins of the Evergreen Palace, in a dungeon you can only reach by winnowing, under guard by Eris’ most loyal soldiers and being fed a strict diet of faebane. They will take the fall for any and all perceived treachery. Even their followers in the Autumn Court and Hewn City will be calling for their executions.”

“When the gods realize we’re all gone-”

“They’ll slaughter the soldiers,” Lucien grinned from the bed. “The most loyal and elite of Beron and Kier’s armies. They all deserve what is coming.”

Elain swallowed hard and focused on dressing Feyre’s body. She knew it was a good plan, but she wasn’t happy that lives- even horrible ones- had to be sacrificed in order to get her and Lucien into the camp.

“Sorry,” Lucien said gently, reaching out to touch her arm. “I know that upsets you.”

Elain nodded and pursed her lips.

Together they lifted Feyre’s body. Eirene wrapped the other cloak around her shoulders and they eased her into the chair. This cloak hid clasps and ties to help hold Feyre upright as they moved her.

Tamlin stepped forward and touched a hand to Lucien and Elain. Beron and Kier’s forms melted away. They twisted and changed, and the air filled with the scent of citrus as the High Lord’s magic turned those two loathsome males into clones of himself. Well- herself.

Three Eirene’s looked back at Nesta- and she didn’t miss the subtle bounce Lucien did to play with his breasts. “Your back with ache inside ten minutes,” she said.

“Then we’d better get moving,” Lucien only winked and reached up to boldly squeeze his chest. Tamlin growled and he released his breasts immediately.

“Every five minutes, an Eirene leaves this tent,” Tamlin said. “Make for the tree line, Cera is standing guard.”

“What’s a Cera?” Elain-Eirene said.

“You’ll love her,” Nesta whispered. Her sister smiled.

Tamlin nodded to Lucien and he waved to them all before stepping out into the dark.

Melinoe’s poison, the way the gods couldn’t suspect their own kind- there was no question they would escape the camp. That was never the part Nesta was worried about. It was what happened once they were out of the camp and the hunters were set loose. How to get to Night without magic while staying ahead of gods.

One step at a time. One foot in front of the other.

One problem solved, one thousand to go.

---

---

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || > ~32~ < || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 31

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || > ~31~ < || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 31

Nesta moved silently through alleys of tents, pushing Persephone’s wheeled chair.

Long, slender fingers on the armrest would tap once or twice to signal where she should turn. It was a miserable walk that crossed every pantheon of the camp. Nesta’s head was swimming beneath heavy thoughts. She’d already thrown back the hood of her cloak to embrace the winter air.

She’d talked for hours. There was a lot of Feyre’s story that Nesta didn’t know and plenty more that she never wanted to admit. Eirene had heard some of it from Tamlin and she shared what she could, allowed Nesta to embellish here and there to hide some of Feyre’s faults. Softened the Inner Circle’s image within the Hewn City and emphasized the library in Velaris where victims of horrible crimes were allowed to recover in peace.

Persephone had sat through it all in silence. Stone-faced even at mentions of Azriel. When Nesta described him on the floor of Hybern’s castle, an ash bolt through his chest, she thought she saw the goddess flinch. But beyond that, nothing.

And then the part where she had been banished to the Illyrian Steppes as a sort of intervention. How she’d debased herself to punish the world for what she had become. For the power she stole from the Cauldron itself and how it turned her soul cold and numb.

When the story was finished the sun was low on the horizon. They sat in silence until Haniel arrived and Persephone simply said, “It’s time.”

Nesta wondered where the goddess was now. Because the person in the chair certainly wasn’t Persephone.

No one paid much attention to the two as they moved through camp. Why would they? It was normal for Clare Beddor to be out and about with her mistress. As for the heavy cloak and hood low on Persephone’s face- the goddess couldn’t hardly heat her own bones with that iron collar around her throat. 

How much of the past two months was in planning for this day? Nesta would never know. The walks through camp, sending her on errands that took her past stockpiles and stores of goods. Letting her learn the layout by heart and all those books about the history of each and every god, titan, or nymph within the four wings of the camp.

The banquet to welcome Beron and Kier as the future rulers of Prythian had begun. Persephone reassured Nesta that it would last throughout the night, meaning it was safe for them to move slowly in retrieving Feyre and Azriel. Cera was stalking the camp to find the tent with Feyre’s body. While she worked, Nesta would retrieve Azriel.

Hades relied too much on the loyalty of the other gods. The bars of Azriel’s cage- according to Eirene- were simple to open. Azriel’s person was spelled and warded to prevent him from using his own magic within the camp. So a being with power only had to touch the cage to make the door appear.

No one could approach on their own, but Persephone was mistress of the underworld. The harpies who stood guard bowed to her will the same way they would Hades. In all of her wanderings through camp these last two and a half months, Nesta was never allowed to so much as enter the alley where Azriel’s tent stood.

But with Persephone in the chair, they ignored her passing.

Here the iron collar would be a blessing. Whatever link the harpies felt towards Persephone’s might was hidden by that collar. They could only blindly trust what they saw: Persephone’s servant, Persephone’s chair, Persephone’s cloak.

Nesta passed the first of the guards and turned Haniel towards the closed tent. The harpies reached out and pulled the flaps aside, admitting them. As soon as the chair was inside, they released the flaps and the tent was sealed.

Azriel was on the floor, as thin and pale and dead-eyed as he had been the last time she saw him. Over two months had passed, and judging by the smell in the tent he hadn’t bathed in all that time. There were still signs that food had been forced down his throat, still cuts to his face from Persephone’s attack. Mostly healed, yes, but if his fae healing didn’t kick in soon he would be left with permanent scars.

If he even cared about that kind of thing, given what had happened to his wings.

Haniel threw back the hood of Persephone’s cloak and stood. His human form was muted somewhat, and he rolled his shoulders against the missing weight of his wings in a gesture Nesta had seen Rhysand make a thousand times. Grim determination filled his face as he walked to the bars of the cage and stroked a finger along the length of them.

When the door appeared though, Haniel stepped aside. “The harpies don’t listen when they are not needed.”

Nesta nodded. She entered the cage, her heart raw and aching. “Azriel?”

He didn’t respond. 

She knelt near him and put a hand on his arm, “Azriel.”

Still nothing.

Nesta swallowed hard. They didn’t have time to waste. Getting to Azriel’s tent had taken a long time, and they had to repeat the process to approach Feyre without suspicion too. She reached down and put a hand on either side of his face. Ignoring the wounds, the dirt, the stench, Nesta lifted his head so that those glassy, vacant eyes were staring at hers.

“Azriel, I need you to snap out of this. Feyre is in danger-” something flickered in his gaze. “Beron and Kier are here, they’re betraying Prythian. I made a deal with- with someone to get us out of here. All of us. But I need you to stand up now, and sit in that chair. Can you do that for me?”

Mentioning Persephone might just shutter whatever was waking in his gaze, so Nesta avoided the goddess’ name. She held onto the Shadowsinger’s face as long as she needed to. Until he blinked slowly and nodded once.

Haniel came in then to offer a hand as Azriel tried to stir his body. He was so weak- he could barely sit up straight. Nesta hooked one of his arms around her shoulders and grunted as she and the angel hoisted Azriel between them.

“Get the cloak,” Haniel said.

Together they wrapped it around Azriel. If he recognized the scent of his mother on it- if her scent was even the same in the camps as what he’d become used to- he didn’t show any sign of it. When his body and head were covered, he shuffled his feet towards the wheeled chair.

They left the cell door closed and pushed Azriel out through the front door. Nesta wondered if the harpies would even notice there were more people leaving than had entered-

-but the winged hags were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, it was Hades who stood outside waiting for them.

Nesta froze. She held onto the handles of the wheeled chair as her legs turned to jelly. The King of the Underworld stared at her a moment before stepping forward and pulling back the hood, exposing Azriel’s haggard face.

“Hades, I-” 

He silenced Haniel with a look, “Where are you taking him?”

She clamped her mouth shut against Hades question and tightened her grip on the handles of the chair.

They stood in tense silence for a long time. Longer than was safe, with Feyre still out there somewhere. Just as Nesta was thinking about asking Haniel to take Az and fly away Hades said, “If I let you leave with him, you have to do one thing for me.”

“What?” Haniel asked. Nesta’s mouth had gone dry.

“Take Persephone with you. Get her out of here and as far away from this place as you can.” Hades jerked his chin to Azriel, “The boy will be my payment to you.”

Why were so many gods paying Nesta to smuggle Persephone out of the camp?

Haniel didn’t bother waiting to find out. “Done,” he nudged Nesta aside and immediately wheeled Azriel away. Even though it was always the plan- for Haniel to escape with Azriel and wait for the others to reach them in the heart of the darkest forests Under the Mountain- Nesta took half a step to follow before she forced herself to stand down.

“Why do you want me to take Persephone away?” Did everyone know she was a spy? Nesta couldn’t help but think that Azriel himself might have found it funny. Nervous energy was crackling beneath the surface.

Hades pursed his lips, “This camp isn’t safe for her anymore. I don’t care if it’s to the human lands or if you were planning to trade that boy for passage into Night. Persephone and I are leaving here with you. And I’m bringing the High Lady. I don’t care what Mnemosyne and the Cailleach said- I am trying to save my wife from what happened to her in Night. No matter what they did to Pesephone, I won’t let it happen to someone else. Not even a prisoner.”

“Tell me why. I don’t know if I can trust you.” Without the chair to hold, Nesta knew Hades could see her trembling.

“I know all these gods didn’t come here for Persephone. I thought they wanted adventure or maybe a new home. Our humans stopped believing in most of us millennia ago. I thought they were bored and wanted to see somewhere different. But I was wrong. Mnemosyne, the Cailleach, Geb, Enlil- they’re looking for a Lock that was lost to us at the dawn of creation. I can’t let them find it, and I need to get Persephone as far away from them as I can.”

“Is she this Lock?” Nesta asked.

“No,” Hades said. “I can’t tell you- not in this camp. Some words have power, and if anyone hears even a whisper then this entire world will be destroyed. The Lock is here, and I will protect my wife against any threats. That’s all you need to know for now. When we’re away- when we’re safe- then I will answer any questions you ask me.”

“And what if I’m planning on going to Night? Are you really okay with this?”

“Of course,” Hades huffed. “Wherever you take her, chaos will follow. So go ahead- bring her back to our enemies.”

“Persephone already paid me to smuggle her out of the camp,” Nesta saw an opportunity and took it. “She’s giving me the woman in the tent. From you I want her soul.”

Hades fished something out of his pocket- a black porcelain bottle with a red stopper in one end. Runes were etched along the sides in a language Nesta couldn’t begin to decipher. He held it out. “Where Seph goes, I go. No matter what.”

She took a step forward, suspicious, and snatched the bottle out of his hand. Nesta felt nothing different in it, but her power writhed in her veins.

For once, when she pushed it down it went gladly.

Nesta slipped the bottle into a deep pocket within her robe. She stared at Hades for a long time before nodding. “Follow Haniel. Persephone will be waiting for you at the tree-line. Tell her… tell her Tamlin’s emissary sent you.” 

As much as Nesta wanted to press her luck more in one night, she wasn’t about to tell Hades her name. He had to know the names of Feyre’s sisters by now. If he knew she was kin to the woman he thought was his enemy he wouldn’t be so magnanimous. Persephone would understand well enough. Even if she hated Nesta for allowing her husband to accompany them.

Hades bowed his head. “Melinoe chose to remain in the camp. She’s poisoned the wine at the feast. The gods will be unconscious soon. You have to move quickly.”

“That was always the plan.”

---

---

Nesta said nothing to Eirene when she ducked back into the tent for the last time. The goddess asked no questions either. She knew the plan, there was no reason to tell her another person had added themselves to the equation. 

Cera had been circling the camp to help others escape. Eirene was sitting in a second wheeled chair- delivered by one of the craftsmen gods. Haniel had ordered it for her, his excuse being that the smooth wheels of the first weren’t ideal in the winter snows. Persephone couldn’t melt the snow beneath her feet, so of course she needed a new chair. This one had short, sharp spikes all over the wheels designed to punch into ice or snow, to grip them as she moved.

They waited in silence. Until Cera exploded into the room in a burst of black smoke, “Left, Eight ‘R’, three ‘L’, fourteen ‘L’, six ‘R’, two ‘L’, red tent.” She let out a soft woof , and vanished again. She’d seen Haniel, Azriel, and Hades out of the camp. Now she was ready to guard Eirene and Nesta.

Persephone had been delivered to the treeline moments after Nesta left with Haniel for their walk. Cera and Eirene had taken Persephone in that new chair to the edge of camp, where Cera changed to her beast form and carried the goddess on her back in a wide loop towards the forest. It was the most nerve wracking part of their whole plan.

Nesta could distract prying eyes with Haniel in disguise. But leaving Persephone in the woods of Under the Mountain was dangerous on hundreds of levels. Knowing Haniel and Hades were with her- at least now she was safe. Azriel would remain covered by the cloak, the hood covering his face, so as not to trigger another violent attack.

Eirene reached back and took Nesta’s hand. She squeezed it tight and nodded. Time to go.

The hood of her clock came up, and Eirene extended two fingers out of it. This would be a repeat of her previous performance- push Eirene around in incomprehensible circles, led by the tapping of those fingers. 

Maps of the camp were hard to come by, but it was laid out in a perfect grid. Cera’s directions were part of the winding maze they had to walk to reach their destination. Turn left outside of the tent door, cross eight intersections and turn right at the ninth. Three more and turn left at the fourth. Fourteen intersections- turning at the fifteenth- put them deep into the heart of the Celtic god’s territory. But if nothing else the pagan gods loved a banquet. The few of their pantheon Nesta had seen were all gods of hunting. She could only hope Melinoe’s poison was strong enough to keep them down. The hunting gods and heroes were the ones that would be sent after the escaped as soon as their absence was noted.

Round and round they walked through the camp, snaking ever closer to Kier and Beron’s tents. Nesta’s heart thundered in her ears. She was dizzy again- either from that damned Haniel’s poisons or her own nerves.

She almost hoped Beron and Kier were inside. If they were, she’d kill them. Happily. Chop their heads off the way she had Hybern’s. Give their corpses to Cera to eat.

Too soon and yet far too slowly, they made the final turn and Nesta saw that red tent. They were all squished together in this area- a small city that had popped up at the edge of the Graecian camp to house the Darkbringers and Autumn soldiers. She could hear soldiers just a few avenues over drinking and laughing. Apparently they weren’t invited to the feast.

The tents were too close together for Nesta to slip in from the side or the back. The only way in was through the front door. Eirene climbed out of the chair and nodded to Nesta.

Nesta took several steadying breaths. She listened as hard as her fae ears could. Silence within the tent. No sounds of footsteps or conversation or movement. Beron and Kier were still at the feast.

She crept towards the door, mindful of the soldiers on the street. Their voices were growing closer bit by bit. They had no more time to waste.

Nesta lifted the corner of the door and ducked in, Eirene (dragging the wheeled chair now) close behind her.

Feyre was laying on the bed.

Kier hunched over her body, pouring the contents of a green vial into her mouth.

Beron by his side with his hands clenched into fists.

They both turned as Nesta entered. Her heart shuddered in her chest. 

A wide grin broke out on Kier’s face.

It was the last thing Nesta saw before Beron attacked.

---

---

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || > ~31~ < || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 30

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || > ~30~ < || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 30

Nesta was frozen in place as the males walked past her.

Stretching down the main avenue of the camp, six thousand soldiers turned sharply and stood  shoulder-to-shoulder. Not a breath was out of sync, as if any trace of individuality had been carved out of them and replaced with something cold and hard.

Beron and Kier.

Kier and Beron.

Her mind couldn’t process what her eyes were seeing. Couldn’t accept that it was happening. Was this part of some scheme by Rhysand? Why would Kier and his Darkbringers be with Beron- the horrible male that even Tamlin had to drag bodily into war against Hybern? How could Rhysand allow this?

Although, if she were being honest, Nesta had figured out a long time ago that things was desperately wrong in Night. Since the moment she saw Mor’s condition as the old hag brought Tamlin to her rooms at the Palace of Nightmares.

Nesta’s heart thundered in her ears as Kier and Beron walked into the Graecian command tent without hesitation. Their soldiers fell into place lining the main avenue through the camp, Darkbringers on one side, Autumn warriors on the other. Gods watched in mild curiosity.

She had always been free to wander the camp as she pleased. To enter that tent if it was her will. The gods were sure of the security of their camp, they didn’t care what the so-called mortal servants did.

“With me.” Persephone’s hand squeezed tight the moment Nesta stepped towards the tent. The goddess wouldn’t know Kier or Beron, but she eyed those Darkbringers in particular with fearful eyes. Her knuckles were white where she clutched her skirts. A closed fist rubbed against her chest as she sorted through the emotions that were bubbling up to the surface.

Nesta fell into step beside her chair, blocking the Darkbringers from Persephone’s periphery as best she could. 

Gods filled every corner of the tent. Nesta made out the strange, wild form of the half-animal Celtic gods, the gold and brown wings of Zahariel and his brother Ramiel, the gold of the Egyptian gods, swirling tunics of the Greek, and the glittering jewels of the Mesopotamians. She’d never seen so many figures from each pantheon in a single place.

On his throne, Hades appeared to be agitated. Unsure. He eyed the other pantheons with as much suspicion as Kier or Beron. When Nesta was brought into the camp the gods largely ignored her, these two had marched thousands of armed soldiers into their midst and stood relaxed under the gazes of the gods.

“Kill the army,” Hades called. Likely to see if anyone would obey.

None did.

Persephone squeezed Nesta’s hand tighter.

“Lord Hades,” Kier bowed his head with as little deference as he could get away with. “We were invited by the leaders of this camp. Our soldiers are a gift in tribute to gods. A sign of loyalty to the bargain.”

“What bargain?” Hades snarled. “I am the leader of this camp.”

A tall goddess with long, curling hair stepped forward. All gods were beautiful in some way. For her, it was the beauty of an elder who bowed gracefully to age. Her long brown hair had curls of gray through it, laugh lines etched her eyes, and when she spoke her voice filled with memories of a life well lived. She seemed serene and peaceful even as she said, “We have decided to take the burden of leadership from you.”

Hades stilled, “Mnemosyne, you had better speak clearly and quickly. We are not on our world, but oaths sworn on the River Styx cannot be broken. By anyone.”

“No one is breaking their oath,” Mnemosyne smiled gently. “Your queen is returned to you, Hades. She is safe and we are devoted to finding a way to liberate her and send you both home. But for the crime of defiling a goddess, you have done only the minimum to punish people of this world. We had to step in and hold these creatures accountable.”

Now it was Nesta who froze. What did Mnemosyne mean by that?

One of the Mesopotamian gods stepped forward next. A crown of golden ox horns adorned his brow, and golden beads were woven through the hair of his long beard. “Brother Hades, we have all seen how the lady Persephone suffers, and how much you long to be by her side.” The god’s voice carried the booming of thunder and the wind in a storm. “Care for her, do not busy yourself with other matters. You brought to this world gods of warfare and battle. We are capable of wielding them for you.”

“Enlil, I will not allow it!” Hades pounded a fist on his throne. Nesta felt something beneath the ground shudder, like the dead were beginning to shift. “I have told you all time and again that there will be no attacks on the people of these lands until we have more answers!”

A hag from among the Celtic gods moved next. This one Nesta could name- the Cailleach. One of the cauldron-wielders in the camp. Hecate and Cailleach were the ones who tended that massive thing that sent Nesta scrambling through the mountains and back to the Illyrian Steppes. Hecate was a witch-god, one Nesta avoided as much as possible, but the Cailleach… She was one of the titans of creation. 

“We administered oaths to every member of our pantheon who joined in this endeavor. You did not stop to see if we took the oaths ourselves. The deal administered said that the gods follow you until they decide you are unfit to lead. The Plaguebringers have been working their way through cities of the Night Court and testing the fae defenses against us. Their wards barely work, their leaders far too suspicious of one another to reach out for aid, and even the strongest in their world is only equal to a single god.”

Nesta refused to think about what kinds of tests they had administered. Why Plaguebringers might be needed to carry it out.

“We are taking control, Hades,” Mnemosyne said. “There is more going on in this world than you realize. This is not something you can face. Go- be with your wife and heal her heart. Let us handle the rest.”

She didn’t wait for Hades’ reply. Mnemosyne merely turned towards Kier and Beron, dismissing him. Nesta could feel it in the air, even as Persephone held her hand. Power shifting and crackling as these gods- not Hades- took control of the oaths that bound the others. 

As the King of the Underworld sitting upon his throne became nothing more to them than a sullen boy in a chair.

“How dare you-” Hades stood.

But then the crowd parted on the far side of the tent and Nesta’s blood ran cold.

Four fae servants carried a wooden plank with Feyre’s body upon it.

“The agreed gift,” Mnemosyne said to Kier and Beron. “The High Lady of the Night Court is yours to do with as you please.”

The only thing worse than the barely-suppressed grin on Kier’s face was the raw glee in Beron’s eyes. The way his fingers twitched as that board was set on the ground in front of them. Like he could hardly stop himself from leaning down to touch her.

Roaring filled Nesta’s ears. If Persephone weren’t touching her hand, her power would have shattered the world. She was shaking with rage and hatred. These two had betrayed Prythian- Kier had betrayed Night itself- and it wasn’t enough.

“MNEMOSYNE!” Hades roared, “YOU DARE TAKE MY PRISONER?!” As Feyre’s captor, she belonged to him. Beyond that though, there was fear in his eyes.

The Cailleach alone turned to face him, “Hades, we will be exacting a fitting punishment for the crimes the fae of this world committed against a goddess of your pantheon. But we are not Chaos-Lords. We will not let Prythian collapse.”

Mnemosyne- their apparent leader- added, “Lord Beron is a well known enemy to Night, and Lord Kier the most likely to ascend to High Lord when we kill Rhysand. They will rule over this continent- and the territories of any of its High Lords who stand in our way. The lifeless husk of some whelp means nothing to us and yet holds significance to them. So we choose to acquiesce to the mortals.”

“We are above this!” Hades roared. “We do not trade in the flesh of mortals!”

As frightened and angry as Nesta was, his words struck her. That he was fighting not for his throne but for her sister. For what any fool could see in the way Beron and Kier looked at her with such naked glee.

Kier bowed his head to the god, “Lord Hades, the High Lord and Lady of Night allowed such horrors to be inflicted upon your wife. We wish only to help you avenge her. We join with your people not out of ambition but rather an overwhelming sense of justice and duty.”

Pretty, practiced words from a snake.

“I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!” Hades roared.

“You don’t have a choice,” Mnemosyne said. 

“No,” Persephone’s voice cut through the crowd. The immortals shifted and Hades balked. He hadn’t noticed her yet. Kier and Beron’s eyes went to the goddess. To her hand. To Nesta.

She was so much thinner than she’d been in the war with Hybern. Thinner, and yet her complexion was now ruddy, her face swollen in areas that should have made it impossible for two fae who barely glanced at her a year and a half ago to even remember now.

And yet their eyes widened. Kier’s flicked down to Feyre’s body then back to Nesta.

That horrible smile returned to both of their faces.

Her blood went cold.

“You say you’re doing this in my name, to avenge me,” Persephone said. “I don’t want it.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Kore,” the Cailleach said. “A god has been defiled. By mortals. There is only one acceptable response to that.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

Kore. Nesta knew the name from one of her books. One of the ancient names for Persephone, marking her as nothing more than the daughter of Demeter. A maiden, a child to be protected. If Persephone was Queen of the Underworld then Kore was, as Persephone herself said, ‘A silly little twit in a field.’

Mnemosyne seemed intent to be the peacemaker of the group, “Persephone, this is about what was done to you, but it is not about you specifically. Go back to your tent. There is nothing more for you to do here. If it makes you feel better-” she raised her voice to the other gods in the tent, each and every one of which stood with grave determination. “We will only take back what was stolen. Anyone with so much as a drop of Persephone’s divine blood will be purged from Prythian, and all who had any part to play in her captivity. The High Lord and Lady of Night and their ministers. We acknowledge that this is likely a high number of individuals and have worked with fae we believe to be honorable in order to preserve native governance of these lands. If that seems unreasonable to even a single god here, we will stand down and defer back to Hades.”

Nesta waited for someone to speak. Eirene, Zahariel, someone .

Not a single voice protested. Not a single person stood on Persephone or Hades sides. Like what had happened was a foregone conclusion.

“You can’t do this,” Nesta said, her voice breaking. “You know what they’ll do to- to the High Lady. Even at war, it isn’t right !”

“Normally we would agree with you,” Mnemosyne said gently. “But there is no soul in that body, so we do not accept that there is a crime.”

The Cailleach sneered, “I think it’s time for the three of you to leave. It is unsightly for gods to argue in front of mortals. And servants should know when to be silent. You can work on that with your spare time, Hades.”

Nesta opened her mouth but Persephone cut her off, “This matter is not settled.” she turned to Kier and Beron, “Look how easily the gods throw away mortal bodies. If you touch that girl, then I will break you in ways you cannot imagine, and they will show you just as much care as they show her now.”

“Have a pleasant afternoon,” Kier sketched a bow. 

Beron only grinned at Nesta.

When Eirene pushed Persephone’s chair towards the tent door the goddess refused to release Nesta’s hand. She practically dragged her out of the space. “Be silent and follow,” was all she said.

Nesta would do no such thing- but when she looked to Eirene there was something in her eyes. A smugness that did not fit. As she pushed Persephone out she winked. Even as Hades stood and began to shout again at the assembled gods.

---

---

Eirene moved Persephone into the middle of her tent.

“Cera- bite,” Persephone commanded. Nesta didn’t even see the three headed dog (or girl), but within moments there were curses and hisses as creatures fled its attack. Once the sounds died she released Nesta’s hand, “Even if it makes you sick, eat as much as you can today. We leave tonight.”

“I-” Nesta froze. “We?”

“You, me, Eirene, Haniel, and the High Lady.” Persephone said. “Cera will act as our guardian.”

Eirene went to the wardrobe and threw two full packs on the bed. Nesta blinked, “You- you were already planning on leaving?”

Persephone nodded, “I have been here for four months. Something strange is happening in this camp and I need to get to the bottom of it. Cera and Eirene are my eyes and ears, but they agree the answers lie in Prythian. Not here. Not imprisoned in this place.”

“The gods can’t figure out how to take the collar off,” Eirene said. “They’ve tried for months. But even if that thing was made by the Cauldron itself, the answer to removing it lies with the fae.”

“We head towards Night,” Persephone said. “The High Lady’s body- is that payment enough?”

There was such hope in her eyes, like she was bartering with Nesta and not ordering her. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because this thing around my neck might hamper my powers, but it didn’t make me stupid. Even I know siblings when I see them. Is the High Lady payment enough for passage into Night? Safe passage?”

Nesta’s stomach twisted, “You knew?” She looked to Eirene, “You told her?”

“She confirmed it for me this morning. I knew the moment your power acted up and turned that tent into ash. Why do you think I kept you with me? Even Cera can smell it in your blood. If I didn’t give that powder to Haniel everyone would have made the connection.”

“What powder?” Nesta snapped.

“The poison that distorts familial resemblance and changes the scent of your blood,” Persephone said. “With some… unfortunate side effects. But without it you wouldn’t have lasted three days.”

The swelling in her face, the headaches and exhaustion. Haniel put himself in charge of finding foods that might help Nesta, and yet he’d been the one poisoning her all this time?

Rage began to bubble in her veins, but Nesta shoved it down before her power woke. She could be angry without going off and ruining more tents.

“You seem like a good person,” Persephone said. “You’ve been genuinely kind to me. If you are that woman’s sister then… then it means Zahariel protected you when you came into this camp. If only because I trust his integrity, I’m willing to listen to the explanation for everything that has happened. If I don’t like what I hear- or if you people try anything- Eirene, Cera, and Haniel will be there. Haniel is silly and kind, but he flew with the Archangel of Death’s legions. He doesn’t need power to rip through your world. His brothers don’t either.”

Nesta stared at her, then at Eirene. The goddess bowed her head, “I was an emissary to the High Lord of Spring. I know what happened between Tamlin and Feyre. He told me in detail. A woman like that isn’t capable of the crimes we’ve accused her of.”

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words.

“Let’s start small,” Persephone held out a hand as high as she could. “I am Persephone, Goddess of Renewal, Queen of the Graecian Underworld.”

Nesta stared at that hand for a long time. At the dangers and promises it held. A way out of the camp- with Feyre in tow. Or a way to trick Nesta into bringing more gods into Night. Gods unbound by the power-suppressing collar around Persephone’s throat.

But… she’d been stolen from Night. In a battle against the entire Inner Circle. They wouldn’t fight unless they were protecting something. Protecting her, perhaps. The love in Azriel’s eyes when he called her ‘mother’. The devastation on his face when she spat at him…

Slowly, hesitantly, she took Persephone’s hand in hers, “Nesta Archeron.” 

“Finally, a real name to call you. Nesta. ‘Clare’ never suited you.”

That more than anything told her how long Persephone had guessed at the truth. Until Nesta heard her say the false name she hadn’t realized it- that the goddess never once called her ‘Clare’. Never acknowledged the alias.

“The gods will hold a banquet to show off for those soldiers,” Persephone released her hand. “That’s when we leave. Divine banquets are dangerous events. No one will notice a bit of mischief.”

“I can’t leave Feyre with Beron or Kier that long,” Nesta’s heart leapt into her throat. “Kier has been hungry for power in Night as long as I’ve known him. He’s a horrible creature. What he did to his own daughter-”

“Feyre is a gift from the gods,” Eirene swallowed hard. “They will have her body cleaned before it’s handed over to them. Apophis won’t remove his instruments- and he is the only one who can lift the magic- but they will wash her and place her in whatever quarters are prepared for the males. It takes time- they won’t see her until after the banquet.”

Persephone grabbed Nesta’s hand again and she jumped, “There are two ways to get those things out of your sister: convince Apophis to trust you, or let me touch the tip of a single finger to her head. The second we step into the Night Court I’ll do it.”

“No,” Nesta said quickly. Persephone blinked. “You’ll only touch her when it’s safe. When there are healers standing by to help her.”

“That’s fine,” Persephone said.

Feyre… she could have Feyre.

“And Azriel?” Nesta had nothing to bargain with for him. If Persephone refused… could she save Feyre knowing that Azriel was still trapped here? No- she wouldn’t face Cassian without at least trying. Nesta would beg if needed. “I’ll do anything, but he has to come with us.”

“Azriel?”

“The- the male in the cage. He’s my friend, I can’t leave here without him too.”

“He stays.” Persephone said immediately. She looked down and frowned, reached up to rub at her chest. Nesta waited with her heart in her throat. “He comes with us.” Again she stared ahead, reading her own emotions as they stirred at the words. Eventually, Persephone sighed and nodded, “He comes with us.”

Tears pricked at Nesta’s eyes and she fell to her knees in front of Persephone, “Thank you. I swear he is a good person.”

Eirene glanced at the flaps to the tent. “We have eleven hours until darkness falls,” she went to sit on one of the chairs. “Nesta Archeron… pass the time. You say these are good people and that we’ve fundamentally misunderstood them? Tell us about them. How you and your family came to be fae, and why we should trust Night.” She’d just admitted that Tamlin told her the story, this was all for Persephone’s benefit.

Feyre was the story teller. How many times had Nesta thought just giving her a chance to speak would be enough to turn this whole situation around? Nesta wasn’t good with words. That was what ruined her relationship with her family in the first place. Her talent was in pissing people off, not convincing enemies to become friends.

But if it was the difference between bringing Azriel with them and having Persephone change her mind and leave him behind…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Nesta had heard Feyre tell her story a few times, so she started where Feyre always did. 

“It was winter. We were starving, and my youngest sister went into the forest alone to hunt.”

---

---

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || > ~30~ < || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 29

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || > ~29~ < || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 29

“ Come see, come see, come see, ” the nightmare began the way it always did. With her own power hissing in her ear.

Darkness swirled around her, peeling back layer by layer to show her the twisting hallway. It was no clearer now than it had been the first time she saw it. As always, Nesta tried to force herself to stir, but she could feel her power wrapped around her. Holding her down within herself too deep to reach the surface.

“ Come see, come see, come see. ”

“I don’t want to.”

“ You must if you want to wake up. ”

That was the truth as well. Persephone had once likened her power to a petulant child throwing a tantrum. A few weeks ago, Nesta tried being petulant right back. She sat down on the dark floor and refused to move an inch. Hours passed, until she finally relented to the never ending chorus of “ Come see, come see, come see ” and went to Feyre’s grave.

When she woke from that nightmare, three days had passed with her apparently in a coma that terrified Persephone.

The only way to make the dream end was to let it progress to the point where the sarcophagus lid cracked.

Tired and impatient, she stomped forward.

The alcove was the same as always- a large stone box with Feyre’s statue carved into the top, cradling an Illyrian blade and an artists’ paintbrush. Nesta could feel her power beckoning her to look inside as it whispered in her ear, “ Do you like it? ”

“No.”

“ You will. ”

And then the lid cracked.

---

---

Nesta stirred on her cot.

Something cold and wet was bumping against her face, the sniffling sounds deafening. She groaned and heard a rhythmic thud, thud, thud .

“Cera, go away,” Nesta moaned. She let out an oof as a heavy weight settled onto her chest- at least two of the dog’s heads pinned her down. “Cera!”

It felt like minutes since she’d fallen asleep, but early morning light pricked at her eyelids. Within the tent the air was cold with the frozen chill of winter. Nesta was already bundled beneath layers of furs and blankets, she didn’t need a dog on top of all that.

“Let me up,” she growled. Cera’s heads vanished and Nesta did indeed sit up, her head swimming. She wasn’t stupid enough to open her eyes. Not until-

A tongue licked her from chin to forehead. At least it was a dry kiss this time.

“My lips!” Nesta barked. She wiped at her face before finally looking to see the tent.

Persephone was watching from one of the chairs, worry in her eyes, as Cera trotted back beside her. The damn beast’s tail was still wagging away. 

“She’s been sniffing you for over a minute.”

“I was tired.” Her tone was softer with Persephone. Cera was the (sometimes) lovable annoyance, but the goddess had become… well, a friend to her these past months. It was a comfort as the weeks rolled on and Nesta realized Tamlin had abandoned her to the wolves.

“Cera, notice anything?” Eirene asked from another chair. She was now a constant companion in the tent as well. More brash and quick to annoyance than a goddess of peace should be, but she was Persephone’s oldest friend. That Persephone let her into the tent was an improvement on how they’d been up until recently, when she shoved everyone in the camp away.

The dog stepped away from Persephone and in a flash transformed into a young woman with loose black pants and a sleeveless, high-collared top. Barefoot even with the snow outside, she folded her legs beneath her and leaned back into Persephone’s waiting hand. The goddess stroked her hair.

“She smells funny. Bad funny.” Cera said. “And her skin is too hot.”

Nesta ignored her. Her skin was yellowing, she was dizzy more often than not, fevers erupted and vanished rapidly, and her whole body felt thick, lethargic. Her face too- Nesta finally understood why gods kept telling her she looked like hell after she caught sight of her reflection in a polished silver vase. Swollen, ruddy skin covered most of it. Nothing too severe, but it disfigured her just enough that the reflection was almost alien.

If Eirene had become a fixture in the tent because of Persephone, Haniel and Melinoe were largely there because of Nesta.

Persephone’s daughter was cool and distant, a female clone of Azriel. She was a goddess of nightmares and insanity- part of the reason she’d been avoiding her mother was in case her influence somehow made Persephone’s condition worse. But poison also fell within her domain.

Haniel initially thought Nesta’s condition was a result of allergies- maybe even a reaction between the Graecian magic and that of Prythian. But no healing tonics or potions helped her, and none of the other fae in the camp were showing symptoms. Melinoe thought some form of food might be acting as a toxin in her blood.

Against any rational line of thought, Hades ordered his scouts to find both mortal and Prythian-based foods, all grown and prepared within this world, and had them brought to Nesta. It was a grand gesture of kindness from him, but Nesta wasn’t entire sure if that gesture was for her or Persephone. Either way, the human foods made her gag while the Prythian ones did nothing to alleviate whatever progressed in her system.

Gods should not be fussing over a single mortal, that was Nesta’s belief. But they were doing it precisely because Persephone wouldn’t let them fuss over her . That and Nesta was pretty sure Melinoe was hoping for a new poison to learn about.

Currently Haniel and Melinoe were off somewhere else in the camp, which Nesta was thankful for. She didn’t like being fussed over. But if things got much worse she was going to “remember” Amarantha saying the people of Dawn were healers. Nesta wasn’t sure if Hades would be willing to allow anyone to go there- as much as he’d come to like Nesta that was asking a lot- but each day it looked more and more like their options were limited.

On top of all that, the ineffective healing potions Haniel fed her made Nesta worry if the one she squirreled away in her drawer would even work on Feyre. 

Hades had her sister’s body removed from display in the main tent after Persephone’s attack on Azriel. Nesta never found out where she was taken. As for the Illyrian, he remained in the same tent as before. After his wings finally rotted and the bones collapsed to the ground, Hades had them fed to some of the dogs around camp.

Seeing Cera’s heads crunching and snapping the hard arch of an Illyrian wing made Nesta empty her stomach into the nearest bowl she could find. She blamed it on the illness ravaging her body, but Persephone sent the dog outside with her treat.

“Come here, I need to ask you something,” Persephone said. She glanced to Eirene, who nodded.

Nesta wrapped the uppermost of her blankets around her shoulders and obeyed. Automatically, she grabbed her sapphire and amethyst pendant from a bowl beside her cot and draped it over her neck. The craftsman god who designed it embedded each of the jewels Persephone gave her in a nest of dozens of small diamonds that wrapped around the sapphire. The three teardrop amethysts hung from the base. 

It was a safety measure for Nesta- something for her to compare her food against to avoid accidentally eating the food of the gods. Persephone had assured her even a drop of nectar or a crumb of ambrosia would either burn her from the inside out or drive her insane with want. Nectar was easy enough to avoid- just look for a sheen of golden light on any liquid, but ambrosia- even Haniel had accidentally grated some as a garnish on top of her food once. 

Persephone and Eirene were in chairs today, so Nesta settled into the chaise that her goddess usually favored.

“You had another nightmare,” Eirene said.

“I know,” they were coming almost every night now. 

“You didn’t wake when I touched your arm.” Persephone’s voice was soft. Usually all it took was that touch- sharing the nullifying power of the collar around her throat to force the Cauldron to release Nesta.

“I know,” she said again.

Persephone chewed on her lip, picking her words carefully. “You’re getting worse. And I don’t know if one is causing the other somehow. But if nothing else… it’s getting worse and we’re running out of things to try.”

Nesta tried to muster up some fear or concern, but she was just too tired. She knew how to fix it- or thought she did. A trip to Dawn, or return to Velaris and Madja. But she couldn’t go. Not without Feyre and Azriel.

Eirene smoothed a wrinkle in her dress, “We have discussed three options. Two offer the best security for us, one the better chance for you. No matter your choice, we will honor it. But you aren’t allowed to tell us your opinion. Not yet.”

“Hear the options, then go for a walk around camp. Only when you return can you make the choice. Alright?”

She nodded. Like Nesta had any other option. Somehow this felt familiar. Like the intervention Feyre and the rest held when they banished her from Velaris. Except- except she’d done nothing wrong. Not that she felt she had back then either. It was a strange feeling, history repeating itself. 

A touch of self loathing crept into her veins. How often would she have to go through meetings like this?

“Option one: We find you a healer. I was an emissary to the Spring Court when we first arrived. I heard mention there of another Court in the north that specializes in healing magics. I could enter that territory and find someone to bring back. We can’t risk telling them why or letting them go once they’ve seen the camp. They would become a prisoner here too.” Eirene said.

Persephone cleared her throat, “Option two: We try nectar and ambrosia. Haniel and Melinoe think they can minimize the risk that it will burn your soul and perhaps sedate you deeply enough that there is only a small chance your body would realize what it was digesting. The risks are huge, and it may not work. If you do imbibe and things go wrong without killing you, I would take you into my service for the rest of your life. As a semi-immortal fae there is a chance you would live long enough to become acclimated to the food of the gods and find yourself able to eat normal food again. But it would take millennia.”

Two options that protected the Graecian camp. But the third option was one Persephone said was the better chance for Nesta.

“Option three,” Eirene said. “You leave this camp, and never return. If someone is poisoning you then we need to get you as far from the gods as possible. We can give you coin and jewels to make your passage easier, but you’d have to outrun the best hunters in four pantheons. Cera could get you a few miles away from camp, but the rest would be up to you. You’d need to survive long enough to find a way north to the solar Courts and throw yourself on their mercy.”

A way out of the camp? No. Not without Feyre and Azriel. She couldn’t risk it. Better to risk her own life at the nectar and ambrosia. A thousand years with the Graecians to buy her time to save her sister and Azriel was worth the sacrifice.

Nesta opened her mouth and Persephone held up a hand, “No. Go walk. We’ll discuss this when you return.”

She didn’t want to discuss it though. Only one answer was even acceptable. By Nesta knew it was useless to try and go against Persephone once her mind was made up. A walk wouldn’t change her decision. Not in the least. But the cold winter air might help clear her head and ease some of the pounding behind her eyes.

“I already know what I want,” Nesta said. She stood and went behind the screen to change from her sleeping dress to a more modest outdoor gown.

“Well, then tell me when you get back,” Persephone said. “If you don’t want to do anything then I could petition the healing gods to check on you again, but they won’t know any more than Haniel.”

Healing gods were for the gods only, Asculapius had made that clear enough the day Persrephone sent Nesta to him. They could tell basic things- if she had a fever, the rate of her heart, diagnose some minor physical problems- but they had no understanding of fae biology. The samples of blood and hair Asculapius collected were still being studied not for the sake of fixing Nesta, but because they had never seen anything like it before.

“I have a headache,” Nesta grumbled as she dressed. “I don’t want to walk in the snow.”

“And yet cold air always makes it feel better. Go.”

“You sound like-” she couldn’t say ‘sister’. Feyre had ruled over Nesta in the cabin where matters of survival were concerned. It almost felt nice, hearing Persephone do it now. “-my mother.”

“Then your mother was a good lady. Get out.”

She waited for that cold, venomous place in her heart to bristle at the words, but Nesta just smiled in spite of her temper.

Eirene waved as she passed by and headed out of the tent.

---

---

The morning air- damn it all- did help with Nesta’s headache.

Snow fell sometime in the night, though thankfully dense clouds overhead kept it from blinding her. The avenues of the camp had been cleared of the worst, but out of respect for the winter gods and spirits an inch of snow was left behind. It had mostly been trampled to mush by now.

Nesta’s boots stayed dry thanks to Graecian magic, but she followed a route through the camp that ran along plenty of fence-lined courtyards. It gave her something to hold when she slipped. 

Craftsmen gods nodded to her warmly. The few times Nesta had lost control of her power in the last two months caused so many tents to wither with age and rot that they never seemed to find an end of things to fix. She thought that would make them hate her, but Persephone wasn’t joking when she first woke up in the camps- they loved the weird little fae woman who gave them something to do.

Nesta was halfway through her circle of the camp when a horn blared in the distance. It sounded like the warhorns used in battle against Hybern to coordinate their forces. So much so that Nesta shivered in the early morning air.

Gods around her actually looked curious at the sound. They started to move towards it. A rhythmic, steady pounding echoed from the north. Nesta knew Persephone would ask, so she altered her path and followed the gods.

Thump, thump, thump, thump - thousands of boots marching in time.

It took a long time for Nesta to reach the source of the noise- the grand avenue that ran through the very heart of the camp all the way to Hades’ black command tent. She could make out the tops of shining helmets through the heads of gods lining the path.

Nesta’s power banked suddenly and she reflexively closed her hand around Persephone’s. Eirene was pushing the goddess’ wheeled chair forward. Gods parted for them out of respect, and Eirene was able to set Nesta and Persephone right up front to see who was walking through the Graecian camp.

Polished silver armor with red cloaks marked half the forces. The other half wore steel so black that it drank the light around them. Soldiers of Autumn and Darkbringers, marching in tandem.

And at the head of the army, walking with smug confidence were Kier and Beron Vanserra.

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All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || > ~29~ < || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 28

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || > ~28~ < || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 28

Mor sent Elain to the Human Realm. To stay at the manor with Vassa, Jurian, and Lucien while Night was in turmoil. It wasn’t a punishment or to hide her somewhere away from the danger. It was because they all knew that Nesta would find a way to flee to the human lands.

Well, at least that’s what Mor had told her.

Elain would spend her days with Jurian or Lucien guarding her as she traveled up and down the coast and tried to find her missing sister. The Graecians were looking for the gods of Prythian and their search would lead them to Nesta. To the Cauldron’s power inside of her.

She went willingly. Gladly even. Having a purpose and a mission gave Elain something to do that helped. That gave her more of a sense of purpose than what Mor or Amren had. 

Two weeks passed, and Mor was close enough to her original appearance to use cosmetics and the dim light of the Hewn City to hide the lingering effects of the Keres power. With that, Nuala and Cerridwen turned their healing energy on Cassian. 

His mind settled back together piece by piece. Another week and he too was out in the cities (supervised by Varian). They hunted each and every port for Nesta. A message to Helion had the crossings between Night and Day guarded.

Cassian couldn’t fly far on his aged wings. Certainly not far enough to make it to Cretea and give Miryam and Drakon the message to take to the Graecian camp. Their only shot at peace relied on his ability to fly through the wards that prevented Mor from winnowing. He could manage a few miles now, but nowhere near the hour that was required.

Amren dealt with Kydoimos and Bellerophon- who she’d moved to a cold cell in the House of Wind- but the two gave her no information. Bel certainly thought they were only there for Persephone, but Kydoimos- he knew something. Something he refused to say no matter how much torture Amren claimed his lover was enduring.

There was another reason the gods came to Prythian. Amren knew it, but she couldn’t figure out what. Was there another god who’d stumbled into this world? She’d found several in her eons there, none worth starting a war over.

Weeks passed and the bodies piled high. So high that Amren was seriously considering having Miryam and Drakon use the Cauldron to end the bargain between Rhysand and Feyre. To sacrifice that shining, wonderful child in order to save the High Lord. Not that he would ever forgive her for it.

Three months after the raid at Vele Luk and people were beginning to notice Rhysand’s absence. He hadn’t appeared in the Hewn City, hadn’t written to his friends in other Courts or made any appearances even in Velaris. Not a breath of him. Not a whisper.

Varian brought word that his spies in Autumn saw a stirring of Beron Vanserra’s forces. For some reason that didn’t bother Mor as much as hearing that in Spring Tamlin was silent and absent as ever. 

They knew where the Graecian force was, thanks to Zahariel. It had to be Under the Mountain. But with no armies ready to launch, and at the very most only seven High Lords against an army of one thousand beings at least as powerful as Rhysand, a direct assault on the camp was impossible.

Three months, and the death toll in Night was higher than it had been during the war against Hybern.

Three months of endless frustration, hopelessness, and searching for any solution to the problem.

But then the fourth month came and at the peak of winter Mor returned from the Hewn City wild-eyed and bloody with the news they’d dreaded hearing from the start:

Kier realized Rhysand was not coming back.

He’d mobilized the Darkbringers.

And vanished into the night.

---

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All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || ~27~ || > ~28~ < || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 27

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || > ~27~ < || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 27

Haniel- and Hades- did not allow Nesta to leave the garden until she finished her drink. 

By then any shock her body felt towards the damage in her nose had faded away and left her with a splitting ache between her eyes. At even the softest breath of wind her bruised eyes began watering. She knew she was pale and trembling, but all she could think about was Feyre and Azriel.

About the soul she now had to find on top of everything else.

But also… she thought of Persephone. The uncontrollable wrath and grief she’d shown to Azriel. He’d called her ‘mother’. His love for her was the only thing that woke inside the ruined Illyrian. And what she said to him… the way the light died in his eyes…

Hades was wrong. She didn’t know what happened with the goddess but she knew what he said couldn’t be right. If nothing else, Azriel was a good and kind male who would do anything for his friends. For his family. He wouldn’t allow any harm to come to his own mother. 

Azriel had gone out of his way to make Nesta broth while she shivered in that cabin. When she came back to warn them about the army in the mountains he gave her something to eat and summoned Madja to help her. Someone he didn’t even like. But that was love shining in his eyes when he looked up at Persephone. Someone like that, Nesta knew, Azriel would go to the ends of the earth to protect.

Besides that, Rhysand would never condone the abuse Persephone had been subjected to. It was one of the very few things Nesta actually liked about her brother-in-law. Even if Persephone was a random stranger on the side of the road, Rhysand would go out of his way to both protect and avenge her. 

But why did it get to this point? Why didn’t anyone just explain whatever the misunderstanding might be? Were they not given the chance? Was Persephone Azriel’s secret? But if that was the case then why hadn’t he just explained ?

Nesta let Hades walk her back to Persephone’s tent. She didn’t know how strong the healing potion Haniel had slipped into her drink was, but she knew she still looked like hell. She felt like it too. And all those thoughts swirling in her head made her silent and distant.

“I’ll leave you here,” Hades said at the edge of the tent. Nesta looked up at him. He wanted to go in. More than anything in the world… but he wouldn’t be welcomed. Hades was sure of that. “Take care of her.”

“I will,” she said honestly. When Hades stepped away Nesta dared reach out and catch his arm, “I- forgive me,” she released it and tried to sort through the thoughts in her mind. “What happened in the tent between her and that man- how do you know… that he is responsible for what she went through? You found the three of them together- Persephone, the man, and the- the lady… isn’t it possible that there was a misunderstanding? He didn’t seem cruel. He seemed… sad.”

She expected the god to dismiss her outright- just yesterday he was as ready to kill her as he was to let her into the camp. But Hades looked back and read her face, the fear in it, “I have seen the best and worst of humanity cross through my gates. I’ve heard every excuse for every reprehensible action and seen villains drink from the river Lethe to become heroes in their next life. I am holding the gods in this camp in place to give the people of Night a chance to explain. We will take no innocent lives unless completely necessary. I have no taste for mindless slaughter. If that so-called High Lord has an explanation for his actions, then I will heal his mate and return her soul to the body.”

Nesta paused, then nodded. “Please don’t think I have empathy for monsters I just- I know what it is like to be caught up in a conflict with no understanding of it.”

“You’re a kind person,” Hades said. “I understand. There’s a reason Eirene led you into this camp. She has a soft spot for the kind ones. I give you my oath as a god, Clare Beddor, that I will not harm a single innocent person in this conflict.”

He wasn’t what she expected, this man who threatened to rip her world apart.

A man she should hate and yet pitied.

Hades left her to her thoughts and Nesta didn’t stop him. She stood outside Persephone’s tent and rubbed at her chest. Her power was silent within, and that aching void she’d carried her entire life was silent. No poison, no vitriol. Just… silent.

But she supposed that was right, in a strange way. Madja told her to only focus on being a tiny bit better each day than she was the day before. Yesterday she walked into an enemy camp to find her family.

Today she was learning empathy. Understanding.

This mission gave her something to hold on to. A goal to aspire to. 

Nesta thought about Hades, the aching love he felt for his wife. Even when Persephone dismissed his assistance at best, showed hostility towards it at worst, he was doing everything he could to protect her.

‘ I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you in the next world- the next life. And we will have that time. I promise. ’

She closed her eyes and blocked out Cassian’s voice. His face filled with love and agony on that battlefield. Filled with hatred and disgust the last time she’d seen it- when Azriel brought her to the throne room of the Hewn City.

Nesta couldn’t think about him now, not with everything she still had to do. 

When she opened her eyes again, Eirene stood in front of her. “If you want, I’ll take you into my service instead. You can still-”

“I already told Hades I’m staying. I won’t leave her.”

Eirene just nodded, guilt in her eyes. She walked away.

Squaring her shoulders, Nesta stepped into Persephone’s tent.

She expected to see… well, at the very least Cerberus. Either as a dog or the flighty young woman who stepped in front of Persephone to stop her attack. 

But there was only one person in the room- Persephone, alone on the bed. She’d been bundled in warm blankets and propped up with pillows. A short-legged table was sitting across her legs and she was hunched over a book. Though she winced in pain each time her arm moved along a row she wrote quickly, furiously. Tears stained her cheeks and her eyes were red-rimmed, the only evidence of the mania that had gripped her.

She looked up quickly, hopefully. Regret and relief spread across her face. Persephone dropped the pen she was holding and tried to reach for Nesta’s hand, but such movement was beyond her. She’d hurt herself in the attack on Azriel.

So Nesta came to her bedside and sat on the cover. Persephone studied her face. Forced her arms up higher than they should have gone to touch her cheek. Pain filled her eyes at the bruises on Nesta’s nose. Her gaze drifted down to the leg she’d struck as she tried to stomp on Azriel’s head. There would be another bruise there for sure, but the blow didn’t land as hard as it might have.

“I’m alright,” Nesta said. She gently pushed Persephone’s hand down and studied the goddess’ arms, “How are you?” 

Already she could see fresh bruises forming where Hades had grabbed her arms to stop her attacks.

“I hate that question,” Persephone closed her eyes. A tremor went through her hands. “I’m sorry-” her tone was harder now, like she was just barely suppressing her temper. She took several deep breaths to calm herself.

“I hate that question too,” Nesta admitted. “I just couldn’t think of anything else to say.”

A slight smile touched Persephone’s lips. “I like you. You don’t try to dance around like the others.” She looked across the tent, “I told Cera to go bite anyone trying to listen.”

She’d given the same order the night before.

Nesta said nothing, letting Persephone choose for herself if she wanted to say more or end it there. She had enough people hovering over her without Nesta adding to it. 

After a long time, Persephone nodded to the book, “I write in it whatever I feel.” Nesta looked to the open page but- it was a series of dots with no discernable pattern or connection. “It’s my own special code.”

So the others wouldn’t be able to read her secrets.

“They- when they got me back they did something to my head,” Persephone whispered. “They took my memories of this world but- but they couldn’t do it properly. They got through the power of the collar for just a moment and stopped me from remembering. To clean out whatever those two prisoners and their people did to me.”

She took a few more of those slow, deep breaths, “I feel things I can’t understand.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I love Hades. When I hear his voice I am so relieved I could cry. Right now I would give the world to see him walk through the door… and yet I hate him. More than I can even put into words. I hate him and I dream of throttling him every time I close my eyes.”

She shook her head, “The girl in the tent. I see her body and I want to scream. I feel everything all at once- hate and disgust and grief- but when I turn to leave it feels like part of my soul is being ripped out.”

She went quiet for a long time. Hesitantly, Nesta asked, “And the boy?”

“I miss my son. The first two weeks I did nothing but cry for him. Hades gave me a painting of Zagreus and… It felt nice to see his face again, but the pain never goes away. This fire that is burning me from the inside out and I don’t know why. Everything in my body is screaming for my child like he’s in danger and I don’t know why .”

“The boy in the tent,” Persephone shook her head. “Today was the first time I went to see him. I don’t know anything about him and yet when I saw his face I was so angry. So angry I couldn’t think. I needed to hurt someone, to break them and shatter them and destroy them. I know what he and his people did to me. Things- things you can’t even imagine. Things no one should have to imagine…”

Nesta’s heart cracked at the tears now openly spilling down Persephone’s cheeks. At the way this ancient goddess looked up at her like a frightened child, “Why can’t I stop thinking about him? All I felt in that tent were rage and disgust and yet now I can’t stop crying. I feel sick to my stomach. I’m angry with myself. Why? Why do some of the old songs make me feel scared and alone, and others give me strength?”

Persephone was trapped in hell. Not just when she lost control, but every moment of every day. To feel things you couldn’t understand, to have every instinct and emotion exist as strangers to one another- Nesta couldn’t imagine how hard it must be.

“Did you ever try to speak to the two prisoners? To see if they know?”

“No one would let me go. You’re the first person to take me where I asked. And… I wasn’t prepared for so much hatred. I would have beaten him to death-” she choked on her own words and whispered through clenched teeth, “-why does that make me feel so… angry?”

Nesta knew the answer. She also couldn’t possibly convey it without giving up her entire identity. Azriel called Persephone ‘Mother’. He- not this Zagreus Persephone mentioned- was the son she was looking for. That she missed. It wasn’t Azriel that she was mad at or disgusted with- it was Hades and the others- the ones who ripped off her son’s wings. She just couldn’t understand her rage and grief weren’t both for the same person. Couldn’t understand why she felt such strong emotions directed towards what must seem like entirely the wrong people.

“Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help?” Nesta asked. She could see the answer to all of Persephone’s questions so clearly and couldn’t speak it. Not until she figured out a way to tell her without ending up dead.

“Kill me,” Persephone breathed. And Nesta wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t mean those words. “I’m just tired. Tired of all the secrets and the lies. Of not understanding my own heart and always feeling like I’m making some awful mistake.”

That part Nesta understood. Perhaps better than she could admit. 

“I’ll help you figure this out, however I can.”

“Thank you,” Persephone squeezed her hand. 

Nesta just hoped she could keep her promise. And that Persephone would understand the sincerity in her words whenever the truth finally came to light.

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All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || ~26~ || > ~27~ < || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 26

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || > ~26~ < || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 26

His skin was dull and gray. There was no color in it- none of the sun-kissed bronze of the Illyrian legions. You could identify the Townhouse- and later the river estate- from any distance by the sight of mighty black wings open to catch the rays of the sun. As often as those wings belonged to Cassian or Rhysand, they were Azriel’s.

Instead of basking in the warmth of daylight his wings now rotted. And he was here to witness it.

His hair was greasy and had already grown shaggy in the six weeks he’d been captive. It hung far enough to cover his eyes where he lay slumped on the floor. There was sick down his front and the sides of his mouth were bruised and torn. Nesta saw a funnel and tube on the side of a post and her stomach lurched.

They’d been force-feeding him. 

Azriel’s eyes were black, void of any emotion. And his back- she’d seen the wings rotting on the post outside. She knew they were gone, but seeing Azriel without them was somehow terrifying and cruel and wrong .

“Open it,” Persephone said. Her voice was strange, strangled and raw. 

Nesta took half a step towards the cage but one of the hags standing guard appeared. Whatever magics were in place, she slid a single long claw from the base to the ceiling. There was a flash of light, and where she’d touched a door appeared. 

“Inside,” she said. This time it was directed at Nesta. 

Azriel didn’t stir as Nesta opened the cage door and wheeled Persephone inside. It would be easy to grab Azriel now, and they weren’t too far from the edge of the camp by her reckoning. But… he looked the same as Feyre. Shattered and lost.

Persephone’s breathing was ragged. So much so that Nesta came around from the back of the chair and positioned herself just far enough over to see her face.

She was snarling.

“What did your people do to me?” her voice trembled with wrath.

Azriel’s eyes moved.

“Tell me, or-”

His head lifted from the floor and he looked up at Persephone. Life crept back into his eyes as he saw her- life and hope and love. “Mother?” he whispered.

The word hit Nesta like a stone. Mother- he’d called her ‘ mother ’. Azriel was-

Nesta was so stunned she’d stopped monitoring Persephone. If the goddess was shaking with rage before, the word was her undoing. 

She launched herself out of the chair and slapped Azriel across the face before grabbing him by the jaw. A small, injured woman lifted the fully grown Illyrian warrior and slammed him against the wall of the cage. Her nails bit into his cheeks hard enough to draw blood as she spat- actually spat - in his face, “Don’t you dare call me that, you disgusting creature!”

The look in his eyes at those words- somehow the void from before was kinder. Complete and utter devastation filled them now. Azriel just stared at her in hurt and wonder as the wrath in Persephone grew. As she searched his face, snarled again, and screamed at him with every ounce of her being. 

It was a wordless scream of grief, rage, pain, and wrath. Every single emotion she felt- everything keeping her standing against the wounds to her body and the collar around her throat. She dropped Azriel and he crashed to the ground as she attacked.

Nesta jarred from her stupor and jumped forward as Persephone’s fist collided with Azriel’s jaw. As she continued to scream and beat the male in front of her.

“GET HELP!” Nesta shouted to the creatures standing guard. She didn’t turn to see if they obeyed, she threw herself at Persephone, tried to grab her arm and pull her back.

The second Nesta’s hand touched her the goddess whirled and slammed her free palm into Nesta’s nose, shattering it. A blinding wall of pain exploded between her eyes and she fell back against the other side of the cage.

But Persephone only turned back to Azriel and continued to scratch and punch, to scream that horrific, terrifying scream.

And he never once raised his hand to defend himself. Not even to cover his eyes as her nails ripped at the skin around them.

As if her words had torn away whatever life was left inside him.

Once Nesta’s head stopped spinning she threw herself back at Persephone, but something black shot in front of her. 

Hades forced himself between his wife and Azriel. “SEPH!” he roared her name as he grabbed both of her wrists. She jerked and thrashed and- and suddenly Nesta understood exactly where the barely-concealed bruise on her eye had come from.

Her husband did too, as she screamed and wrenched her arms her head swung towards one of his hands and he quickly held her wrists to the side, stretching her arms out away from her body. But that position- something about it changed Persephone’s screams from ones of hate and pain to ones of terror.

The change was so immediate, so fast. Nesta hurried behind Hades, blocking Azriel’s body with her own as Persephone’s leg struck out. The blow would have cracked his skull but Nesta took the hit with her thigh. She fell on top of Azriel. He didn’t even reach up to brace her.

Nesta’s skull throbbed from her broken nose. Hades seemed to realize his hands on her wrists were making matters worse but he didn’t know what else to do. Release them and she’d launch herself at his face.

Another streak of black shot in through the door and this time something wedged itself between Hades and Persephone.

“Stop, momma.” The voice was hard, commanding. 

The screams stopped immediately.

“Deep breaths,” another voice, this one soothing and calm.

Nesta had pulled herself off of Azriel. Shaking violently, tears blurring her vision, she peeked out from behind Hades’ legs.

Cera held Persephone’s face in her hands. Eirene stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t use her power on the goddess but her presence seemed to help all the same.

Persephone’s eyes widened as she finally saw Hades in front of her, then Nesta on the ground hiding behind him. Her face crumpled and her body sagged as gasping sobs ripped through her. Cera moved, allowing Hades to move his hands to her shoulders and guide her back to her chair. 

As soon as her hands were free, Persephone wrapped her arms around her head. Blood covered her fingers and palms, but she buried her face in her forearms while she sobbed.

Nesta whirled to check on Azriel. His face was bloody, but nothing fae healing couldn’t take care of in a few days- if that was possible in his condition. He was silent and staring ahead at nothing, but tears dripped down from his eyes. His breath was ragged and Nesta heard a whimper escape his lips. 

“Come on,” Hades’ voice was gentle as a broad hand tugged at Nesta’s shoulder. He pulled her away from Azriel, but Nesta couldn’t stop staring at the tears he fought so hard to keep silent. Azriel never looked at her, never acknowledged her. Did he even know she was there?

‘ Mother-’

‘Don’t you dare call me that, you disgusting creature!’

The screams rang in Nesta’s head long after Hades half-carried her from the tent. The winged creatures outside were back in their places, nothing on their hideous faces betraying any worry or even acknowledgement of what just happened. Hades closed the door on Azriel’s cell and it vanished in an instant, leaving him alone on the ground.

Eirene pushed Persephone’s chair through the camp with Cerberus- now in dog form- padding alongside. Hades kept a hand on Nesta’s shoulder as he guided her through the camp.

She knew she should want him dead for everything he did to Azriel but… Her nose was shattered, black spots and white light flashed in her vision with every awful step, and all she could hear was the sound of Persephone’s screams echoing in her ears.

“We’ll be there in a minute,” he called ahead to Eirene. She looked back over her shoulder and nodded, pity on her face as she took in the state of Nesta.

Hades led her not towards the tent- they’d reached the avenue near Persephone’s home without Nesta realizing it- but to the garden. Haniel’s domain.

The angel came over with a smile on his face that vanished the moment he saw Nesta. “That table-” he quickly pointed to one and then ran in the other direction.

Nesta let the god help her to a seat, but she stiffened as he sat down across from her with a heavy sigh.

“Seph didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said. In those words was a weariness that cut right to her soul. 

“I know.”

“If you want to work somewhere else in the camp, she will understand. I’m not trying to lure you away from her. I just want you to know that it’s an option. If you go back to her tent… it will probably happen again.” 

Nesta didn’t hesitate, “I want to stay with her.” Because what she saw- Persephone needed her. Had needed her since before she brought Nesta to her tent the day before. She needed…. Someone.

Hades nodded, as if he’d already guessed she would say as much. “Thank you. For staying with her, and for sending the harpy to find me.”

She only nodded, then winced as pain lashed through her skull. 

Haniel ran back over as she flinched. He was carrying a tray with two gold-lidded bowls, a glass cup of some amber liquid he immediately passed to Hades, and another iced cream drink for Nesta. “I put some healing potion in it, but I need to set your nose first. Alright?”

“Y-yes,” Nesta held her breath as the angel reached up for her nose.

He touched her shoulder and heat flooded through her body. The whole world suddenly became slow and thick. Nesta’s head lolled slightly, but Haniel caught it easily. His hands found their way to her nose and with a sharp jerk and a loud pop he slammed it back into place.

The strange feeling faded, ushering in a bone-deep ache in her face. But whatever Haniel did, he spared her the worst of the pain from the re-setting.

Hades downed his drink in a single shot, then waited silently while Haniel fussed over Nesta. One bowl contained clean linens, the other warm water. Nesta sat still as he dabbed at the blood that had poured from her broken nose- blood Nesta never even noticed in her distress.

The drink was a different form of medicine, Haniel explained. One for her soul. Nesta eyed it for gold, sapphire, or amethyst- the markers of the food of the gods, but it was perfectly normal. The flavor of strawberries and chocolate, but no hint of divine magic.

“Is the man in the cage r-really her son?” Nesta whispered.

Haniel didn’t acknowledge Nesta’s words in any way, but she felt his attention slide to Hades.

The King of the Underworld closed his eyes and loosed a long, shaking breath, “Yes. He was one of Seph’s captors. He helped do this to her. My Seph she was… she was the most beautiful soul in all of creation.” There were tears in Hades’ eyes when he opened them again. “Warm and loving and kind- and she had the most childish sense of humor I’ve ever seen. It was always so easy to make her laugh.”

And now she barely looked at him.

“I’m going to kill that boy,” Hades said. There was no wrath in his voice. It was like he’d been telling himself that over and over again- and no longer believed it. “For what he did to her, I’m going to kill him. But not until she’s better. Not until she can appreciate the gesture. I ripped out that girl’s soul and Seph had one of her attacks-”

“What?” Nesta’s blood went ice cold. Haniel was still tending to her face and even he seemed to freeze.

Hades raised an eyebrow, “The girl in the tent. The one-” he seemed to remember what happened when Nesta saw Feyre’s body and stopped himself. “I won’t let her die until we get her husband. They tricked us with their little dress-up game, but we won’t be fooled again. We get him, then we end her. Let him watch. Let him see what it feels like to have your whole world destroyed.”

Something kept her power in check. The cold wrath in her veins didn’t rise at the panic flooding Nesta’s chest. It burrowed down deeper, hiding. 

“Y-you can take away someone’s s-soul? Forever?”

He shrugged, “It isn’t hard. My domain is nothing but souls. I’ll put hers back in that body just before I kill her. Let her husband feel the hope I felt when we got Persephone back so that he can lose her all over again. Or maybe just crush the vessel containing it and let him feel her death. The fae in camp say that kind of thing drives mates insane.”

The death in Feyre’s eyes- it could be undone. But that presented a new problem- she knew where they were but Azriel’s wings were gone, which as far as Nesta knew was death for an Illyrian; and Feyre’s soul was in Hades’ possession. A key piece in his scheme for vengeance.

Nesta’s pulse thundered in her ears as Haniel dabbed away the blood beneath her nose. She barely felt the pain in her face as her mind whirled.

She needed advice.

She needed Tamlin.

But Nesta had no way of knowing that one month ago, after unsealing the tunnels Under the Mountain, the High Lord of Spring vanished, never to be seen again.

Her ally wasn’t coming.

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All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || ~25~ || > ~26~ < || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing]

The Shadows of Night: Chapter 25

Summary: A mysterious army appears in the mountains of Night and soon declares war against the High Lords. The conflict will shed light on Night’s darkest secrets and reveal the horrible truth behind every Daemati and Shadowsinger in Prythian.

All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || > ~25~ < || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.

To read on Archive of Our Own, click here.

Chapter 25

As Nesta stepped into the field, three shining gods appeared out of nowhere.

Their arrival was nothing too impressive, basic winnowing by the looks of it, but Nesta made herself jump all the same. She’d been terrified the first time she ever saw someone winnow and only sheer force of will kept her from screaming. Clare Beddor, trapped Under the Mountain for years, wouldn’t be nearly so composed.

One was a male with skin of the richest and deepest brown flecked with gold. His eyes warm and bright as amber. His pants were a cool white linen held by a jeweled belt. A robe of shimmering gauze covered his exposed muscles and gleamed like the scales on a particularly venomous snake. Around his throat was wrapped one such creature- even Nesta couldn’t tell if it was a convincingly realistic piece of jewelry or the actual creature.

To his left stood the most beautiful woman Nesta had ever seen. Her long black hair was unbound and fell just past her hips. Her tanned skin was flecked with speckles of something rough and white. As Nesta forced herself to move closer to the gods she realized it was… sand. Stuck forever to the hands of the goddess. She wore a long skirt of ivory and gold lace and a matching top- kept short to cover her breasts and shoulders alone. The style seemed reminiscent of the Day Court, from what Nesta remembered.

On the right side of that golden snake-god stood a beast of a man. Taller than anyone else Nesta had ever known by a full head at least, he barely seemed to count as a god. They were majestic and put together- but this male had long, scraggly black hair and skin that hadn’t seen the sun in years. He squinted beneath bushy eyebrows, clearly unhappy at being dragged outside. His lips- something was wrong with his lips.

Nesta’s stomach lurched- they’d been sewn shut with thick black cord. Brutal stitches covered his upper torso, as if he’d had dozens of deep cuts roughly sewn. Maybe even a hundred. Like the other male god he wore only long flowing pants- these made of black silk. His chest was left bare though. Perhaps to show off the stitching.

“We have been asked to teach you a few things about not destroying the property of others,” the central god said smoothly. He bowed at the waist, “I am Apophis. Bringer of light and- to borrow a Graecian term- a titan of chaos.”

Nesta began to shake, but it had nothing to do with nerves. Apophis. The one who tortured Feyre. She tasted blood in her mouth as she bit her own tongue to keep the snarl from her lips. Apophis was the one she would kill slowly as soon as she had the chance.

“I am Tiamet,” the woman’s voice was gentle. In it Nesta could hear the crashing of waves against a distant shore. “I am the titaness representing the chaos as the first organisms stepped out of the oceans of our world and onto the shore.”

The other male grunted and grumbled for a long time. His rough, unused voice completely useless with his lips sewn shut. Apophis seemed content to translate though, “Typhon here says hello. He was once a hundred-headed dragon but chose the wrong side in the war between the Greek Gods and Titans. As such he has been a resident of the Underworld prisons since the dawn of creation. He likes to bite the heads off things, hence the lips.”

Nesta tried to focus on the other two chaos lords. Her power was starting to roil inside her, chatting over and over again, ‘ Kill him for Feyre. Kill him for Feyre. Kill him for Feyre. ’

Tiamat said, “How would you describe your power?”

Death. Lucien Vanserra had said as much. Everyone said as much. Death and fire so cold that it burns all it touches.

“I don’t know,” Nesta said.

“Lie,” Apophis’ voice was light. “There’s no need for that. You’re among gods who wish to help.”

“I said I don’t know-”

“And I said that’s a lie. I can taste lies in the air, Clare Beddor. Do not test me.”

So that was Hades’ game. Interrogation in the guise of helping her. Nesta was willing to bet it was no coincidence that his torturer was here, Chaos Lord or no.

“In the beginning there was chaos and nothing more,” Apophis said with an easy smile. “Chaos shattered as the gods rose, and fragments of it are held by every pantheon in this wide and wild universe. A way to keep us in check. Keep us from re-forming what we once were. I am the chaos that exists if there is no truth, so I can sense my opposite in the air. Tiamat is the chaos of life emerging from the seas. Typhon is the chaos of feral beasts. What are you?”

Since he wanted truth, she gave him truth. She repeated some of Lucien’s words so long ago, “It feels like ice but… not. Ice in a place that has never seen  warmth or light or life. The ice that filled the world before creation.”

Nesta had never told her family that. She couldn’t- each time she tried that hateful pride that ruined her life stood like a wall between her and the truth. But here, to a man she fully intended to kill, the truth came easier than it normally would.

The fear it brought her felt… lessened, somehow.

All three gods froze for a moment. Nesta could have sworn Apophis… blanched. He forced a too-casual smile and spoke as Typhon and Tiamat also feigned ease. “You mentioned your power appeared via a cauldron of some sort? We asked one of the fae in camp and they said it is their creation deity. That it holds the world together. Apparently if you destroy it this whole place ceases to exist. Looks like a bit of that Creation seeped into your veins while you were changed from human to… fae.”

No. It didn’t take power to tell Nesta he was lying. Apparently gods weren’t so used to having to twist the truth themselves. At least not this one. Creation wasn’t what Nesta carried in her soul. Even the opposite of that- an unmaking- didn’t seem right to her ear. It was whatever came before. The end that existed at the beginning of everything. The water of the Cauldron had been used to create. When Nesta attacked the Cauldron and devoured it she didn’t start gulping down that water that was drowning her. She ripped at what contained it.

“How do you hold your power?” Tiamat asked. Her voice had lost much of its kind warmth. She was afraid too.

“I don’t,” Nesta said immediately. “I - I kept it behind a wall. It was easy when I was alone.” Truth- it had been so much easier to control her power when she pushed away everyone who loved her. Pushed away Elain and Amren and Cassian. Pushed away Feyre. “But after I saw the woman- the female- in the tent… the wall shattered.”

“Why is that, I wonder?” Apophis asked. Probably the thing Hades had sent him to discover. “What about her frightened you so terribly?”

“Everything,” Nesta breathed. She had to find a way to answer only with honesty from the stand point of a person she was not. “What was done to her- the way she was just left there like that-” her throat closed and tears pricked at her eyes. Her power rose in her veins and Nesta felt the silver fire ignite in her eyes. “That gods could do something like that to a person-”

Typhon grunted against his sewn lips, hands out. “Easy,” Tiamat echoed his attempt at speech. Nesta could feel her power boiling around her and- and it was an out, she realized. A way to avoid the question Apophis had asked. At least for now.

“Have you ever been tortured, Clare Beddor?” Apophis asked.

What was being thrown into the Cauldron if not torture? Carrying this power certainly felt like it.

“Yes.” She let him taste the truth of it. But before he could ask another question she decided to put a bit more fear in him. In all three of them. She let the power rise. Stepped aside for it as the grass at her feet died, was reborn, died again. As the ground began to tremble beneath her feet.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Apophis said quickly. 

“I don’t know how to stop it,” Nesta gave him that truth as well. Shekept picturing Feyre’s body hanging in the tent. Not a stranger to Clare Beddor, a sister to Nesta Archeron. Someone she failed so consistently and so wholly that Feyre had wanted to cut her out of her life like a severed limb. Would have, if it weren’t for Rhysand silencing her in the Hewn City. 

Nesta let her shame and guilt boil. In the war with Hybern she went off and destroyed a large section of the battlefield. What would she do to the Graecian camp?

“I said that’s enough!” Apophis shouted as the entire field began to wither and die, as the ground roiled beneath their feet and Nesta felt deep in her bones the mountain that had once stood there eons ago. Felt it, and could sense it starting to re-form beneath the surface.

Her power filled the air- the world- as the Cauldron boiled.

A small, broken sound cut through the roaring in her ears. The magic of the Cauldron guttered instantly and Nesta whirled.

Persephone was sitting in her chair, staring down at her hands much as she had been earlier. Hades was watching Nesta and the field with rapt focus, but at that sound his attention snapped to his wife.

To the look of pain and confusion on her face. The loss in her eyes.

“Where is my son?” she looked at her hands as if a child would appear there. Her voice was soft, a broken whisper. “Where is my baby?”

Hades slid from the fence and took her hands, kneeling in front of his wife. “Zagreus stayed behind in our world. He was never captured by the host, and has been ruling in our place. He misses you and is waiting for us to bring you home.”

“Oh,” Persephone’s hands were limp in Hades’ grasp. She was diminished and slumped in her chair. “Oh.”

“I’ll take her back to the tent,” Nesta said as she hurried away from the gods at the center of the field. Gods who were staring at her with naked fear on their faces.

Hades nodded, tugging the shawl around Persephone’s shoulders tighter. As if the strange turn in her was the fault of the cool breeze. He stood when Nesta took the handles of the chair, using it to hide her own trembling. 

The roaring in Nesta’s ears had guttered at that small, confused sound from Persephone. Even her power banked in an instant. That scared her more than anything else.

She intended to practically flee under the fearful gaze of the gods. To hurry Persephone back into the camp and seal herself away from the gods outside.

But two rows of tents into the camp Persephone suddenly said, “Wait.”

Nesta stopped and looked to Hades- only to realize he wasn’t with them. She looked back to see him standing in that field with the chaos lords.

Persephone’s voice was still distant and lost as she pointed to the left, “I want to go that way.”

“The tent is-”

“I want to go that way.”

Her heart was thundering in her ears, her hands were still shaking, and yet Nesta forced herself to turn left. She was Persephone’s servant, she had to do as she was told. The part of her brain that would have called this an opportunity to learn the layout of the camp was still trembling in fear from the magic of the Cauldron.

Gods ignored their passing, but marked it in their eyes. Nesta caught sight of a few rotten tent beams and knew why. Her power had reached even here. Maybe that could be useful somehow in the future. The fear the gods had of her power.

They walked for a long time in silence broken only whenever Persephone would point and tell Nesta to turn. She’d been so lost in that field, but with every step she settled back into herself. As did Nesta.

“I want to go there,” Persephone said at last, pointing to a gray tent down an alley. It was perpendicular to their path, the flaps pinned open. Two silver, winged hags perched outside of it and made Nesta’s blood run cold. They had beaks and talons and cruel, hate-filled eyes.

Obediently, Nesta pushed Persephone towards them. 

There was a square in front of that tent, she realized. Not particularly large, but a square nonetheless. In the middle of it was a wooden pole that pointed upwards to pierce the sky. Something had been run through it, put on display for the owner of that gray tent. It looked like-

Nesta realized where they were. Before she even knew what she was doing she stretched out two fingers to lightly touch Persephone’s back, banking her power before it realized what she was seeing too. Before it came back and ripped apart the camp again.

Wings.

Desiccated, rotted Illyrian wings. The leathery membrane had been eaten by pests for the most part. Only a few strips of it remained. Delicate bones were exposed here and there, bleaching in the sun. They’d been carved away from the male’s back with precision. And left to rot upwind of the gray tent. So that he could smell it with every breath.

“There,” Persephone whispered, pointing to the entrance.

Nesta couldn’t make herself take a single step. Not for a long time. She was staring at those ruined wings.

“ There ,” Persephone insisted again, an edge to her voice now. 

One foot moved. Then the other.

The winged hags at the entrance to the tent did nothing to stop them as they approached. Didn’t even acknowledge their presence. They weren’t there to stop gods from entering, but to stop the thing inside from getting out.

As if he had any life left in him.

Nesta wasn’t prepared for what she would see when she turned the corner with Persephone.

Wasn’t prepared for the ruined creature in the cage.

All that remained of Azriel.

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All Chapters: ~1~ || ~2~ || ~3~ || ~4~ || ~5~ || ~6~ || ~7~ || ~8~ || ~9~ || ~10~ || ~11~ || ~12~ || ~13~ || ~14~ || ~15~ || ~16~ || ~17~ || ~18~ || ~19~ || ~20~ || ~21~ || ~22~ || ~23~ || ~24~ || > ~25~ < || ~26~ || ~27~ || ~28~ || ~29~ || ~30~ || ~31~ || ~32~ || ~33~ || ~34~ ||

#tson #the shadows of night #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic