#House of Wind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illyrian-dreamer · 1 month

Text

And Then There Were None – Part 2

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

<<<Part 1

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage, suicidal themes

You woke in a bed as soft as the clouds, the covers silken with feathery pillows piled beneath your neck so plush your hardly felt them.

A level of luxury you had never known could exist – and that’s how you knew you weren't home.

Vision a blur, the room you woke to was dim, safe from the fire that crackled at the opposite end. Your vision reeled as it took in the space around you - an obnoxiously large bedroom.

The haze lingered as you raised your hand in front of your face - a quick way to decide between reality or dream. If this were real, someone had done an awfully good job at scrubbing the dirt from your fingernails.

But then a familiar ache throbbed as you bought your other hand from under the covers, and a stark white bandaged wrapped tightly at your wrist. Real then, and that fae male had indeed broken your wrist. The scars from your journey were faint now, but still there too.

You felt for your stomach under the covers then, for any signs of your lingering ailment. They had changed you - thick cotton like padding within the fresh undergarment and the softest gown you had ever felt between your fingers.

You pushed the thought of who might have changed you from your mind. Healers - you hoped.

Your skin beneath the gown was soft and oily, and smelt of salve. The healers had done well to heal you. Good, this was good. It meant you had a chance to return home, continue your search.

Gods – the search, your family. You had to continue.

You were alone in this room, and it was night - all good signs. Perhaps with enough strength, you might slip be able to escape unnoticed…

With a slight dizziness, you swung your legs from the bed, toes pressing to the warm, rich wood - as if they floor was warmed from within.

You wouldn’t dare to poke your head out the door - not in a house of creatures with heightened senses.

The windows - that was your only option to remain unseen.

Whether it was the delirium of the events days prior or the haze of exhaustion you were yet to shake, you didn't consider escaping into an unknown lands in nothing more than a nightgown was a fools choice, mortifying at the least. But survival called, your family called.

Padding around the postered bed, you scanned quickly for your belongings . Clothes, waist belt, knives were no where to be found.

The cupboard was empty, safe from a long black coat made from the softest velvet your had ever felt. Tying the fabric firm at your waist, you didn’t take the time to roll the sleeves that drooped well past your fingertips - clearly made for a much taller, larger form than your own. Black was good, especially at night, helping conceal the silky cream night robe that seemed to scream find me.

If you had the time, you would have marvelled at the wall of windows - in shapes and sizes you didn't know a glass welder could blow. Arched in a row of three, each of them had smaller panes within - still large enough to fit through, and with latches.

Perfect.

You fiddled with the latch, the world outside dark and unmoving with no sign of light until you cast your eyes upwards. Fingers halting on the latch, your breath knocked from you chest as you observed the most brilliant array of stars you had ever seen.

Were these the same stars as the human lands? How was it that such magnificent beauty was concealed from your own part of the world?

Another stab of loathing for fae found you then – it seemed even the Mother was versed in reserving luxuries only for them.

The latch clicked open, and you pushed gently against the pane, the window unmoving. Frowning, you pushed again, before trying to pull it inside instead. The glass moved on smooth, oiled hinges - and that’s when the howling began.

As loud as a pack of wolves, yet that insistent noise was instead from wind.

Fretting at the noise, you glanced behind you in urgency. Any second now they would come, the wind as good as any alarm. So with a strong grip on the window ledge, you pushed your head through, eyes squinting through the unforgiving gales.

The wind almost knocked you, hair immediately whipping this was and that, eyes stinging with tears as you failed to see clearly.

Scanning as best you could, you saw no stairs of landings to climb to, no balcony from which you could hope to escape.

And then you looked down.

It was instinct to back away, so fast that the back of your head knocked against the pane, and a quick profanity escaping your lips.

You had never been so high up before. Never knew anything could be built so tall.

With a roll of your stomach, you forced your head back out, avoiding looking anywhere below the horizon.

On the far left, hidden mostly by brick, was a distant glow of a city, the lights warm and flickering with glorious life. And between you and it - a river, it’s water the blackest of blacks in the night, besides from the reflection of the city that budded it’s banks.

To your right - dark, intimidating forms of mountains and peaks. And with a quick flash below, far, far below, there was only night.

Your gut lurched both from the height and realisation - it was suicide to try and escape.

It took a moment to force your rigid muscles to push yourself back inside the room, hair strewn over your face and cheeks pink from the bite of the cold.

“We don't usually advise opening the windows here,” a melodic voice spoke over the wind.

Hissing in fright, you whipped your head behind you, to the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And beside her - the same blue siphoned male, his eyes aglow with hazel.

You fished for your voice then, strained in your throat from days of not speaking, the rush from the wind and the awe of what and who stood before you fighting for silence.

They were am incredibly handsome couple.

Folded clothes in her hand, the blond simply placed the outfit on a spare reading chair, moving lightly to re-hatch the window behind you. You almost sighed in relief as the piercing howling stopped.

“The windows are charmed to block out the noise,” she explained, her tone light and friendly despite the step of caution you took to distance yourself. “Well, don't you look good in black,” she perked, brown eyes scanning you, her smile sincere.

You looked down, the fabric of the coat drooping from your frame.

“I stole this,” you said dumbly, before cursing yourself silently.

The women laughed, and you could have sworn a slight smile pulled at the males lips too.

“That’s quite alright, besides, you were awake before I could deliver you some proper clothes,” she gestured to the set she bought in, but you were fixed on those golden locks, the way they bounced when she moved, and that dress…

“I’m Morrigan by the way, but you can call me Mor.” If she caught you staring at her, she did not let on.

You frowned, senses returning, and you scanned the room again. Formalities, names, nicknames –completely unnecessary, unless…

“I must carry on with my search,” you said sternly, eyes darting between her and the blue-siphoned male.

He knew. He would have told her.

Those large, towering wings pulled in tighter against his frame, and the male opened his mouth to respond. But Morrigon beat him to it.

“You’re awake much earlier than the healers expected. They advised you may need a few more days rest.”

You tried to hide your panic, eyes scanning her, then the door, then where Azriel stood between it.

Mor traced your eyes. “We are no threat to you,” she said gently.

You swallowed. “Then I am free to leave?”

Mor schooled her face into something softer, more sympathetic. “You may want to meet with out High Lord and Lady. I know they are eager to meet you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “They wish to discuss your predicament.”

“Have they found my family?” you all but blurted, heart thundering with anticipation.

She shook her head then, her face falling more grave. “I’m sorry, I haven't any news.”

A gnawing at your stomach then - something was wrong. How long had they kept looking, had they found anyone?

“How many days was I-?"

“Four,” the male answered, hands still clasped behind his back. There was no smile on his face, but it remained soft.

“And up and about well ahead of the seven days the healers predicted! Quite the fighter you are Y/N,” Morrigan chirped.

You almost jumped at the use of your name. And then a scowl fixed on your face.

“My apologies!” More gasped quickly, and you missed the glare Azriel threw her way, Mor’s eyes meeting his with guilt. “Please forgive me, I forget that humans aren't accustomed to-"

“Mind reading?” you gritted, more exposed under the ridiculous ensemble of clothes you wore. You wish you could drown in the lengths of extra fabric.

Mor wore a broken smile. “Of sorts, yes.” She paused then, fretting to fill the silence. “Would you like to change your clothes? They should be to your size.”

You looked at the set neatly folded at the chair.

“The healers have washed you, but we can draw you another bath if you’d prefer?”

Your cheeks reddened at the question, the male’s eyes politely finding somewhere else in the room to fix that gaze.

Was this their way of telling you that you smelt?

Humiliated and frustrated, your eyes narrowed on the male. “What is your name?”

Hazel flicked back to you, and he took a moment of silence to observe you before answering. “Azriel.”

You eyed him up and down, taking him in fully. Tall, large, muscled - your attempts to stab him would have been laughable. Delirious indeed.

As he eyed you back, his gaze fixed your wrist, even while concealed beneath the velvet coat. “I am sorry to have hurt you.”

Civilised - far more civilised than you would have expected fae to be.

You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose I’m sorry for my attempts of murder.”

His mouth pulled into a polite smile, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the firelight.

Mor chimed in then. “They told me you caught Azirel off guard, Y/N. Like I said - quite the fighter. Not just anyone can catch the Shadowsinger by surprise.”

Shadowsinger. As if at their mention, the furling, smoky shadows peaked from Azriel, and you let out a small yelp. It seemed it was your turn to be surprised.

Without a whisper of a word, they withdrew into the Shadowsinger himself, as if scolded back into place. Azriel gave no hint of amusement as he kept watching you.

Your eyes danced from him back to Mor, cheeks once again redening.

“This is… overwhelming,” you admitted.

Mor gave you a sympathetic smile, before placing a delicate, manicured hand on your shoulder. “A bath, then?”

You nodded, and she led you to the bathroom, candles lighting with the wave of her hand, and water now filling the marbled pool, steam quick to fill the room.

You forget about Azriel in the other room as Mor closed the door behind her, marvelling at the arches and architecture, a new set of large windows in this room, this time facing the city. You padded there mindlessly, watching the twinkle of the town that beckoned.

“Velaris,” Mor came to stand beside you. “Or, the City of Starlight. It’s location is well concealed, unknown by the other courts.”

You were reminded of the courts then, the brief lessons they had taught you at school. The divide of seven different courts, each ruled by a High Lord determined by their magic gifted the Mother and bloodline. Allies, enemies – it was complicated twining of politics and power.

But you had never heard of Velaris.

“This place is a secret?”

Mor nodded. “The true home of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. A paradise they keep concealed, untouched by others.”

“Why?”

Mor chewed her cheek. “It’s safer this way,” she said simply.

“And you trust me with such information?”

Mor’s brown eyes warmed, but something sadder hid behind them. “It doesn't seem fair to lie to you about your own whereabouts.”

You nodded, eyes finding the city beyond again. “You mentioned the High Lord and Lady want to meet. Rhysand and Feyre?” Your head ached at the strain to remember their names, but the information found you.

Mor smiled at their names, and you remembered the way the males had too when they first found you. Loyalty coursed through them like some kind of magic. If you wanted to survive, you would be sure to respect their hierarchy.

“Morrigan,” you swallowed, bracing yourself for an answer. “Please, what do you know of the search?”

Mor stiffened, pausing for a moment. “The High Lord and Lady are on their way home to meet with you. They will tell you all they know.”

You eyed her carefully, your heart straining. “They haven't found my family, have they?”

Mor’s face of sympathy was beautiful, whether schooled or real. “I’m sorry, I really can not tell you.”

You swallowed once before nodding, eyes casting out to the city of Velaris, the name foreign in your mind.

“They are travelling as fast as they can, and should be here within a few hours,” she reassured. How or where from you didn't bother to ask.

“A bath then,” you nodded.

Mor smiled tightly. “Should you need anything, just ask. This house - the House of Wind - is just as alive as you and I. You should only have to speak what you wish.”

You nodded, hiding the overwhelming thought of a magical living house as the pool of warm scented water beckoned you with furls of steam.

“A fitting name,” you murmured, remembering of the persistent howl that waited just outside those obnoxious windows.

Mor grinned, catching your every word. “Isn’t it just,” she called and she fluttered from the room, pulling the large, carved door closed behind her.

You took a few moments of silence, again scanning the marble-splayed room you now found yourself in. Dream or reality, you were still yet to be convinced.

That was, until your dropped your undergarments, the thick wads of cotton stained with specks of bright, fresh blood. A saddened whimper escaped you, and your hands instantly found your belly, phantom cramps pulling from within.

You thought about calling for Morrigon, to demand an answer or to see a healer again. But deep down you knew, and that instinct to protect yourself, your privacy, was greater.

A waft of essential oils blew your way, as if the house was beckoning you to bathe. Toeing the water, each of your muscles seems to relax and steam clouded around you. An uncontrollable sigh left you as you moved deeper and deeper, breasts bobbing beneath the water, the muscles in your abdomen glad for the relaxant.

You had never had a bath like this, never indulged in such a level of luxury. Was this how all fae bathed, or just the ones so closely aligned with royals?

It was a jarring comparison to the tin bath in your family home, the steam quick to escape from the batches of hot water your mother boiled in the kettle when you were young. As you grew older, you would often forgo using the kettle, bearing the bite of the cold for efficiency, only treating the children when you bathed them.

A shock of panic found you as the pool dipped even deeper, and you shot from your toes back to the scooped edges of the pool, clinging to the edge. Obviously built for creatures much taller and larger than you, while you on the other hand had never learnt to swim. Not when your parents were so busy, and the creek behind your home merely ankle deep.

Bathe, change, and then you would have your answers - you reminded yourself. So you scrubbed with determination, dipping your head beneath the water and rubbing the pads of your fingers at your scalp too, washing away any remains of the taxing journey it took to get here.

You would start your search fresh, start anew, even swallow your hate for fae if it meant the help of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. You could drink their wine and pass pleasant smiles if it meant they would aide you, if it meant your family returning home safely.

————

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the black tunic and pants gifted by Mor fitting better than any of your skirts and dresses back home. The fabric was soft yet thick, protecting you from the cold, even while the House of Wind seemed to warm from within.

There were slippers waiting by your bed, black also, and your skin seemed to glow from the oils from the bath. The face staring back at you was clean, yet tired, the bags under your eyes still a swell of purple. Forcing your shoulders back, you forced a stance of determination. You could do this, you could meet with the most powerful creatures of Prythian, and you would convince them to help you.

With a gentle knock at the door, a voice called. “It’s Mor.”

“Come in,” you answered turning from the mirror, hands finding the pockets on your pants.

Her eyes warmed at the site of you. “Black certainly does suit you,” she repeated, and you wondered about the comment from earlier. Loyalty to black, it seemed, was also a part of their strange culture. Perhaps something to do with the Night Court, and you wondered if the other courts found such ties to certain colours.

“Thank you for the clothes. I will return them once-"

Mor raised her hand dismissevely. “We’d hear of no such thing. Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Are they?”

“Rhys and Feyre arrived a half hour ago. They await you in their office.”

Mor seemed to want to take your hand, but rethought it, and instead raised a palm to the door.

“Follow me,” she hummed before striding for the door, red gown trailing behind her.

With a deep breath, you followed in silence.

————

“Here she is,” Mor cooed musically as she pushed the doors open to the office, the High Lord and Lady stopping their polite conversation with as they turned to take you in.

Your knees almost buckled under their gaze.

That power, even as a human you felt it from many steps away, steely blue and violet eyes seemingly pinning you to your spot. A heavy dose of intimidation overcame you and your body faltered, even though their eyes remained soft, their smiles friendly.

They both stood, Rhysand donned in a neat black suit, Feyre’s dark gown falling from her frame like liquid night. Gorgeous – an absolutely gorgeous sight the both of them were.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Feyre spoke, her voice and as smooth as Morrigon’s, yet younger.

“Welcome to our home,” Rhysand added.

Blinking between the two, your knees almost groaned as you forced a curt bow. “Thank you, High Lord and High L-Lady,” you stammered. “For your hospitality.”

You waited for any sign of compliance from your bow - knowing that fae spoke a language of hierarchy and formality.

But your were instead met with an informal sideways smile of Feyre. “Please, call us Rhys and Feyre.”

You nodded, although you couldn't see yourself respecting that wish.

“Are you feeling any better?” Rhysand asked, violet eyes piercing, refusing to leave you. “We were told you had survived almost a fortnight on your own. That is very impressive.”

You weren't sure you’d ever get used to the unblinking ways of the fae as you blushed at his compliment. Had their parent’s never taught them it was rude to stare?

The smallest of smiles tugged at Rhys’s lips.

But you muffled your thoughts, forcing yourself to answer. “Feeling much better, thank you High Lord. You swallowed tightly, fishing for the right words to say. “And to your healers,” you added with rush. “Thanks to them too.”

“I am glad,” Rhysand smiled, moved back into his seat and gesturing for you to do the same.

“I’ve informed Y/N that you would update her on the search for the humans, to explain your own findings.” You could have kissed Mor for steering the conversation, desperate to hear what the High Lord and Lady had to say.

Feyre immediately began fiddling with the fingers, before Rhysand took them in his own hand. You observed closely at the small interaction, Feyre’s nervous fidget, Rhysand’s immediate response. They seemed to speak na unspoken language.

Not good, not good, not good. Your nails instinctively settled into familiar wounds at your palms.

“Of course,” Rhysand answered, his beautiful features schooling into something more serious as his voice softened.

Feyre’s eyes found you then, something like regret and sorrow burrowed within. In that moment alone, their difference in upbringing was at contrast. Rhys - ever the schooled socialite, tamed and controlled behaviour from years of perfecting courteous mannerisms. Feyre on the other hand – human, child-like sincerity shone through despite her pointed ears and occasional glimpse of canines.

“I’m sorry to say that we have not found your family Y/N,” Rhysand said straightly.

You nodded, assuming that had been the case. That didn't stop the sting in your eyes, or lurch of you gut. You clamped your lips against the wobble that already threatened.

“The truth is, we haven’t found a single human since finding you.”

Instantly the room began to reel, Rhysand and Feyre tipping slightly as your heart skipped to an irregular thunder.

How could this be? You had been asleep for four days, between their armies and winged beings among them, how could they not find a single other? Your mind screamed a flurry of questions, but your remained stiff, only moving to grip the arms of your chair.

Rhysand sighed then, glancing once at his mate who’s look of regret only deepened, tears shining in those grey-blue eyes.

“It is with the deepest regret that we inform you we have traced a powerful magic from the lands of Hybern. A spell, rather.”

You forced your voice past the lump in your throat, past the bile that swarmed in your mouth. “What spell is that?”

Tears spilled from Feyre’s eyes, whatever control she had on her breaking into unmistakable grief.

No, no don’t say it - your mind screamed.

“As spell to kill all humans,” she whispered.

You blinked. And the others watched, waiting.

You blinked a few more times.

"What did you say?"

Rhys's frown was pained. "It seems Hybern was intent on capturing your lands, and used a magic so strong it expelled humans..."

But Rhys's voice grew muffled as your vision narrowed, clouding with darkness.

And then it hit you.

It was as if someone had pulled the floor from underneath you. The room tipped unforgivably, vision blurring and stomach lurching with the lack of food in days.

A broken noise escaped you.

“Y/N, you must breath,” a voice spoke.

Panicked, laboured breaths wheezed from you, and you clenched your eyes shut past the horror of what they had told you.

Meek breaths passed your chest as you tried to speak. “I don’t-how, I don't understand.”

“Hybern has access to the cauldron, and we believe he used it to seize the territory of human lands.”

“It worked then, then spell? They’re gone?” You voice was hoarse, breathy with distraught. Tears had not found you yet, only an overwhelming dread laced with a flicker of denial.

Even while the room danced around you, you caught Rhysand’s tight nod, his face grave and solemn. “We are so sorry.”

Mor’s hand was gentle at your back, as an all consuming anxiety took over and you clutched at your head.

“Please do not touch me,” you rasped, audible wheezes catching in your throat.

Immediately her hand lifted.

“Dead, then,” you swallowed another rise of bile, raising frantic eyes to Feyre.

Broken eyes locked with yours. “I’m so very, very sorry Y/N” she whispered.

“My family, my siblings? Dead?”

She was crying, but you didn't care. You waited for the answer. All she offered was a nod.

A broken, crazed laugh found you then. It was a cold, lonely thing, and you caught Mor exchange a look with her High Lord. There was nothing they could do except watch as you ran shaking hands over your face.

You were trembling, eyes dancing frantically. No. No no no. This was unbelievable. You didn't believe them, you refused to.

“Impossible,” you scoffed.

“We wish it were, Y/N truly,” Mor said softly.

“Then pray tell, how it is that I survived?”

“We’re perplexed by you remaining, Y/N. We have no answer for it,” Rhys offered, a tanned hand stroking at Feyre’s back in practiced comfort.

“Liar,” you snarled, standing so quickly your chair fell back.

Liars - the lot of them, to tell you of the extinction of humans when you sat there alive and well in their home.

Rhys’s eyes pinned you, as if expecting your outburst. “I can’t begin to imagine your grief Y/N, but we tell no lies.”

“I don't believe you,” you spat, hands curling into trembling fists. “You wish to keep me here, to trap me!” Anger rose within you. Typical fae tricks and fibs, that's all this was.

“I would have thought the same thing if I were still human,” Feyre coaxed, wiping at her eyes. “I don't blame you for not trusting us. I truly wish we were lying.”

Something in her sincerity knocked you, cracking at your anger, demanding you to consider their words true.

But your shook your head stubbornly, crazed by their audacity, distancing yourself from the devastation that loomed underneath.

“I will not stay here and listen to this.”

You heeded for the door, pulling on the handles with trembling hands, only to find that blue siphoned male waiting on the other side.

Azriel.

His arms were neatly tucked behind his back, legs wide and ready as if waiting for you.

If only you had your knife.

“You will let me leave,” you all but growled, eyes darting from behind him back to his frame, looking for your way out. He bore no weapons this time , but it wasn't as if he needed them.

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I can’t.” His voice was soft and steady. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

Your fists clenched tighter. “I don’t care! I will not sit here prisoner, I need to find the truth for myself.”

You made to step around him, but those rippled hands gripped you, from the shoulders this time.

“Let go of me!” You struggled against him, but his grip remained strong.

“Listen to me. Hybern has sent an army and they sweep the human lands as we speak. I saw it for myself – if they find you, they will kill you.”

The integrity in his voice, deep down you knew he was telling the truth, even if you refused to believe it. Because believing it meant you had lost everything, everyone. It meant the cruelest punishment from the gods - not another day with the laughter of your siblings, the caress of your mother or hold from your father. No home, no love, no warmth - just a bobbing existence, with grief as your only friend.

Perhaps that’s why you started sobbing, still trying to pry Azriel’s hands from you with his own.

“I don’t care, I don’t care!” you cried, voice breaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I want my family!”

Azriel cast a worried look back to the others who could only watch with pained expressions.

Mor sprung into action, fetching a blanket from a nearby room.

“You are liars, territorial murderers, the lot of you! How could you let this happen?” your voice was hoarse once again, your knees buckling as shock took over.

Azriel moved with you, gently bringing you to the ground as you wept, your legs folding underneath.

The blanket was strewn around you gently, Azriel’s touch surprisingly tender. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a strangely soothing balm against your turmoil. "I wish things were different. But your safety is paramount."

You wanted to fight against it, to push and claw and burrow in the bubble of denial, but you hadn’t any energy left.

Waking to an empty home, to empty streets, days of travel without another human in sight – perhaps you knew all along that this nightmare was real.

The room continued to spin as reality sunk in. Your family, gone. Your siblings, so young, so innocent. The humans wiped clean from the world. A full scale genocide, and you were the only one to survive it.

"They were children," you wailed, your words a harrowing cry. "They were only children."

Injustice, isolation and grief was leaden on your chest, so constricting and heavy you thought you might die.

“I-I can’t breath.” One palm braced on the wooden floor, the other against your heart as you began to pant. Eyes darting between the fae that watched on, you clutched at your chest, panic swarmed with bile.

And then you made sick.

Azriel's grip didn't falter, and someone moved to pull the hair from your stinging eyes.

"Try to focus on your breathing, Y/N," a voice coaxed in your mind, male or female you couldn’t tell. "In and out, slowly."

But the air felt thick, suffocating, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you. Each breath seemed to be a struggle against an invisible force, and panic tightened its grip around your heart.

That voice in your head again. ”Just keep breathing," it said gently, the voice cutting through the haze of your panic. "Focus on my voice. You're safe here, I promise."

The words were like a lifeline in the storm raging within you, and you clenched your eyes shut, clinging to it.

Rhysand approached cautiously, his expression a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. "Az," he prompted, and the male raised from his knees.

Rhysand crouched down in front of you, his gaze unwavering. "We'll explain everything after you've rested Y/N, I promise," he said, his voice carrying the weight of truth.

And as the room slowly ceased its relentless spinning, you found yourself clinging to that promise, holding onto the hope that amidst the devastation, there was still a path forward, however uncertain it may be.

The world outside was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and threats you couldn't begin to comprehend. And Hybern. He had killed your family. Your siblings, those sweet innocent children who you loved so dearly. Your parents too.

Sobs wracked through you again, your body giving out as you let out a muffled whimper of grief.

Strong arms slid from under you turning you over to cup you by your arms and knees. And then you were being carried, away from that horrible scene, from the mess on the floor where your world came crashing down.

You clung to whatever you could, the blanket, Azriel’s shirt, you didn't really care – but you clung and cried. Even when you were again met with the softness of a mattress, even when the weight of the duvet being drawn over as it settled against your skin.

In that tumbleweed of devastation, a rippled hand soothed you, coaxing you to sleep. You gladly let it, letting the horrors of the world slip away, even if only for a moment.

“Just rest now. You are safe.”

And with a final thought, you sent a prayer to the Mother to not wake up to this nightmare.

A/N: Hey pals, thank you so so much for the love and support of Part 1!! I sincerely hope you liked part 2! <3 <3 Now would you like some fries with that angst? Because it'll only get darker from here. Again, I'll tag everything I can at the top of the fic, but please have a look at the warnings ahead, I would hate to hurt anyone <3 <3 If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, drop a comment! Thank you so much for reading, mwa!!

343 notes · View notes

nymphia-wind · 3 months

Text

#nymphia wind #drag race #rpdr 16 #rpdr16 #rupaul's drag race #banana buddha #house of wind

140 notes · View notes

dreamsandstars24 · 1 month

Text

🫖HUSH🫖

my little Gwynriel fic because I am listening to a House of Wind library ambience and it has teleported me to another realm. Just fluff because it's quick but my Valkyries are here and they make me soft. Anyway, enjoy!

Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn were in the library. That had been as much as Azriel's shadows had reported to him before frantically going in the direction of the library.

With a sight, with Rhys and Cassian behind him, he made his way to the library, fully aware of the quietness that was inside the place. Once he reached the closed doors, he knocked softly and opened the door, ready to go in, but the scene he found froze him in his spot, and a part of him noticed how his brothers stopped and took the scene in.

For starters, the library had cushions everywhere of every colour with piles and piles of books filling the floor, teapots whistling softly on a small stove, and the three most feared Valkyries spread throughout the place.

Nesta had found her place on the window, sitting on a cushion so big that it appeared as if it could swallow her. Her feet were tugged in under her, and a frown had been set on her brow as she read the book she was holding between her hands and supporting with her legs, the name of which was impossible for him to see.

Emerie, on the other hand, was near the bookshelf. Her wings were relaxed, and the smell of floral oils seemed to emanate from her. She had a thick blanket covering her legs, but her feet peeked under it as a soft smile was plastered on her lips.

When Azriel found Gwyn, he had the urge to laugh out loud. She was on the floor, lying on her back, as an invisible hand kept the book right on top of her. Her feet were moving happily, her hair like a valley of flowers under her hair and pooling on the floor, a soft blush on her cheeks as her lips moved quietly following her reading.

With astonishment, he noticed how his shadows were moving around her, caressing her skin in subtle ways. Her fingers moved against them as if she could feel them between her hands.

She looked peaceful. She looked beautiful. She looked safe.

With his heart on his throat at the sensation of having witnessed something beautiful, he turned to his brothers, motioning for them to keep quiet with a finger on his lips. Both Cassian and Rhys nodded, their eyes soft as they stared at the females, who seemed at peace in their own space, undisturbed and happy in their quietness.

Reluctantly, they moved out of the room and closed the door quietly behind them to not bother them.

Azriel took a deep breath, taking in once again the petrichor smell that surrounded Gwyn, and stepped away, knowing she was safe.

His shadows, however, stayed with her. Making sure she was safe, holding her in the way he secretly wished he could.

#gwynriel #nessian #emerie #nesta #gwyneth #azriel #rhysand #cassian #house of wind #mates #acotar #sjm #sjmaas #grwynriel fanfiction #fluff #short and sweet #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn

54 notes · View notes

jmoonjones · 8 months

Text

Valkyrie Week Day 3: The House

The House of Wind becomes an honorary Valkyrie by providing the girlies with all the weapons they could dream of.

I like to think the House just aggregated all the weapons hidden/stashed by the IC over the years into one organized and comprehensive armory ⚔️🪓⛏️🔪🛡️🗡️🎯🏹🪄🍌

What weapon are you grabbing? Long sword? Broad sword? Bow? Throwing daggers? Battle axe? Knife? Spear? Shield? Pollen?

@officialvalkyrieweek

#house of wind #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanart #nesta archeron #acosf #acotar art #nesta #gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #emerie acosf #emerie of illyria #sarah j maas #acotar fan art #valkyrie week 2023

166 notes · View notes

velidewrites · 1 year

Text

A Court of Thorns and Roses Locations

⤷ THE HOUSE OF WIND

For @dustjacketmusings

#acotarlocations #the house of wind #the house of wind acotar #house of wind #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #cassian acotar #cassian acosf #nessian #pro nessian #acotar moodboard #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #a court of silver flames #sarah j maas #sjm

480 notes · View notes

invisibleanonymousmonsters · 1 year

Text

chapter xiv - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 3,200+

Warnings: spoilers for entire ACOTAR series

masterlist

“Well done, Y/N.” Cassian complimented when Y/N disarmed one of her fellow Valkyrie.

Both Illyrians were not ones to coddle them. And therefore, compliments were rare. They were tough, but fair, when it came to their training. Y/N appreciated it. But she had also once overheard Nesta late at night snapping at her mate that women wanted more positive reinforcement.

“Even an Illyrian should fear fighting you,” Cassian added for good measure.

Y/N beamed at the compliment. After months and months of training with the Valkyries, she didn’t just feel like she could defend herself, she felt like a warrior.

“Shall we put that to the test?” Nesta suddenly chimed in.

Both Cassian and Y/N whipped around to look at Nesta to find her arms crossed, her hip popped and a mischievous smile on her lips.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked.

“Gwyn, Emerie, and I have held our own against Illyrians in the Blood Rite. Why shouldn’t Y/N have an opportunity?”

“So you wish to send Y/N to the Blood Rite?” Cassian teased.

Nest scoffed, “Of course not.” Then she turned to Azriel, who stood at the other end of training ring, working on archery with another group of females. “I propose a contest between Y/N and Azriel.”

“What about me?” Cassian cried out, as if he were offended that his mate didn’t wish to see him spar with her friend.

Y/N frowned as she followed everyone’s gaze to Azriel.

It had been two weeks since he’d tried to apologize to her for forgetting about her to sneak around with Elain. And Y/N hadn’t spoken to him since. Whenever the two were in the same room, Azriel sometimes let an expression of guilt escape. But perhaps only Y/N caught it.

“Hey, Az!” Gwyn called to the other side.

The Illyrian’s gaze immediately answered her call.

“We need you over here,” she continued with an amused tone.

Azriel’s posture was tight as he walked over to them, taking in all of their gazes tracking his movement.

“Y/N needs a new sparring partner,” Nesta gave, trying to stop herself from glaring at Azriel while speaking to him. “She’s already caught onto Cassian’s fighting patterns. Their sparring is too predictable.”

That was a lie – and everyone knew it. There was no way Y/N would ever be able to fully predict Cassian in battle. He was the Lord of Bloodshed for Cauldron’s sake! She would be lucky to hold her own in an actual fight with him.

But Y/N knew what Nesta was playing at.

They all did.

Especially Azriel.

Nesta wanted Y/N to have a moment of catharsis. But really, it was probably revenge Nesta wanted for her.

Azriel turned away from Nesta to meet Y/N's eyes, silently asking her if this was what she wanted.

“Scared of me?” Y/N asked, refusing to back down.

Azriel gave a shy grin, hoping the joke meant perhaps she didn’t hate him.

“Don’t go easy on me,” Y/N requested. But really she was warning him that she had no intention of doing so either.

Nesta stepped forward suddenly. “But let’s make it more interesting,” she quickly added. “Why not let both of you use your…other abilities?”

“Nesta…” Cassian warned quietly.

Clearly, he thought this was no longer a good idea.

But his mate ignored him and continued with, “Y/N can use her witchcraft. Azriel can use his siphons and shadows.”

Just as Azriel opened his mouth to argue against the idea, Y/N responded with a firm, “Deal.”

When he looked at her, Y/N gave him a look that dared him to try to talk her out of it.

Azriel eventually sighed, and gave a desolate nod of agreement.

“The first to make the other yield wins,” Nesta announced.

Cassian reached for the wooden practice swords.

“Hand-to-hand combat,” Nesta called out, stopping her mates movements.

The rest of the trainees gathered around the sparring circle, buzzing with excitement.

By now, all of the Valkyries knew that Y/N wasn’t fully mortal. They were careful about using the word ‘witch’ in her presence, still unlearning that not all of them were evil, power-hungry women who drank the blood of the innocents. But they were also curious about Y/N’s powers. After all, she kept them to herself during training, convinced showing any of her magic would scare her new friends and sisters.

Azriel’s siphons flared blue, almost in warning.

Y/N smirked.

Azriel expected her to be timid with her first attack. Which is exactly why Y/N struck immediately, catching him off guard.

He blocked her punch with the two siphons on his wrist as he crossed his forearms into an X formation.

Then with a surge of power, a blue wave shoutout and knocked Y/N back with the force. She smiled at the attack, glad that he wasn’t going to treat her like she was weak and made entirely of glass.

Before she could counter attack, Azriel’s shadows hid him from view.

Instead of panicking, Y/N calmly closed her eyes and listened. The wind whispered to her, warning her of his next attack and from where.

Just as Azriel appeared behind her in a blind spot, she whipped around with a hard kick that forced Azriel to his knees with a look of surprise.

Their sparring continued with limited use of their powers. With every few moves, April’s siphons would shield him from a hit. And in return, a gust of wind would make Azriel stumble back before he could strike Y/N.

The Valkyries were shocked at how well Y/N was holding her own when she was able to use her magic. It was as if she had been training with an arm tied behind her back until now.

But then their moves were getting quicker and harsher. Tension and anticipation filled the training ring.

The Valkyries could see how Y/N grew more and more frustrated. But it was more than that. She was taking out every single emotion she’d been locking away.

She was kidnapped while just trying to travel and survive on the road alone. They planned on selling her to the evilest of faes, ones who were willing to break ancient laws of buying and selling mortals. She risked her life to free herself, as well as the women and children who had been captured alongside her. And then a stranger found her at her most vulnerable and brought her to a fae court she never even knew existed. She was always surrounded by people – whether it were her new friends or customers. Yet she was the only mortal or witch here. Then she was stupid enough to feel like she cared for one of them more than a friend. And for a moment she was even more stupid to allow herself to believe the feelings might be returned.

Her emotions took over her mind.

Azriel struggled to catch his breath all of the sudden. His body felt weak, almost lethargic. Had Y/N cast some sort of spell on his body?

Resentful. Y/N hooked a punch into Azriel’s side.

Embarrassed. She blocked a kick.

Lonely. She used her momentum to send her own kick to weak spot behind his right knee, making Azriel groan in pain.

Different. She used his pain against him and swiped out his feet from underneath him entirely.

Confused. She managed to land a punch across Azriel’s face.

Everyone around them gasped at the hit, both from surprise and from worry at their stoic trainer taking such a hit.

Lost.

Suddenly something took over Y/N. She wasn’t in control. She raised her arm back to land a final blow.

But suddenly lightning struck the ground, just inches from Azriel’s face as he lay on his back.

“Y/N!”

The screaming of her name finally snapped her out of it. She blinked and looked up to see all the Valkyries watching her with shock. Not fear. No. They knew better than to fear her.

Y/N looked down to see that she was kneeling over Azriel, with her fist still held back about to hit him. His nose was crooked and there was blood all over his face.

To her surprise, Azriel also wasn’t looking at her with fear. No, it was so much worse. Azriel was looking at her as if he didn’t know her at all.

Y/N’s breathing was quick and shaken as she looked at the burn mark just inches from his face, where lightning struck and could’ve killed him.

She shot to her feet and backed away from Azriel as if her proximity alone would kill him.

“I-I-I-'m sorry!” Y/N blurted out before she ducked her head and practically sprinted out of the stairwell.

Cassian watched her flee and then turned to Nesta with a raised brow, as if he were silently asking her, ‘Are you proud of herself?’

The wild part was that she was. Nesta had a smug smirk on her lips.

Meanwhile, Gwyn had rushed forward to offer a hand and help Azriel up. He didn’t need it, but he still gave her a small nod of thanks as he got to his feet.

“I think your nose may be broken,” Gwyn pointed out with a wince.

He nodded, already knowing based on the feeling of it. “I can align it after training.”

“You are all released for the day,” Cassian called out to the group.

All the females started murmuring amongst each other at what they’d just seen as they started to depart:

“I knew she must be gifted, but I never expected that.”

“She could’ve killed him. Azriel! The High Lord’s Spymaster!”

“It was astounding! Remember when she first started training?”

“What is the matter with all of you? She almost killed him! With lightning!”

Nesta turned to her mate to find him already giving her a disappointment glare with his arms crossed.

“I regret nothing,” she told him with a proud tilt of her head.

“Of course you don't,” Cassian grumbled in return.

Nesta added, “He deserved it and you know it.”

Cassian sighed and uncrossed his arms. “Perhaps he did. But I let it go too far.” He shook his head. “Y/N’s powers may be stronger than she ever realized. And it was just made very clear that she does not have full control over them.”

“All of you trained Feyre on how to use her powers,” Nesta pointed out. “What makes you think we can’t train Y/N as well?”

“Because she is not fae, Nesta!” Cassian argued with frustration. “She is a witch. Her powers…they are not the same magic of Rhys or Feyre. Can’t you feel it?”

Nesta was unperturbed and narrowed her eyes playfully at him. “Are you scared?”

Cassian sighed once again. “No. I simply believe we should avoid facing Y/N off with someone who has wronged her – at least until she has full control over abilities.”

Nesta nodded as if she’d won some half argument.

“Don’t wait up for me tonight. I’ve decided all the Valkyries should finally be invited over for a proper sleepover. Think of how excited the House will be.”

And with that, Nesta hurried to catch up with the others. Leaving Cassian to watch his mate get excited with the thought of female bonding time. He was sure he’d be kept up with the sounds of their giggles. Or even better, Nesta will get giddy with drink and wake him up, seeking a different kind of fun.

—🍁—🍁—

Y/N’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking since she fled from training. She could’ve killed Azriel. She almost did.

After all these years of magic, she had never ever produced lightning.

Now she sat at the fireplace in her bedroom, trying to drink tea to calm her nerves. Perhaps she needed to be sedated. Was she a danger to others? To herself?

A knock sounded at her door suddenly. And it frightened Y/N so much that she dropped her tea cup and saucer. She jumped to her feet, swearing as the expensive china shattered across the wooden floor.

“Y/N?” Nesta’s voice was muffled. “May I come in?”

It was her house for Cauldron sake. Did she really need permission?

When Y/N looked away from the door back to the floor, the shattered tea had already been magically swept away.

She looked up at the ceiling and whispered, “Thank you.”

The door to the bedroom opened. But not by Nesta. The House seemed to think Y/N should talk to her, whether she wanted to or not.

“I was just checking on you,” Nesta told her softly, stepping into the room and gently closing the door behind her.

“I-Is…Is everyone scared of me?” Y/N whispered.

Nesta blatantly laughed at the question, earning her a glare from the witch. “More like they idolize you now,” she managed to say through her laughter.

Y/N stood and fully faced her. “I almost killed him, Nesta!”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Please, it would take more than a strike of lightning to take down that Illyrian.”

Before Y/N could argue, Nesta continued. “Are we done feeling sorry for ourselves? Or would you like to miss our epic sleepover?”

“Sleepover?” Y/N stood straighter.

Nesta smiled. “Yes, I took your idea. I should’ve done it sooner, knowing how scared so many of them are to leave the library.”

Y/N gave her a shy smirk.

Nesta crossed her arms. “So are you coming to drink wine with me or not?”

Y/N sighed and nodded.

Without waiting, Nesta turned around and walked out the bedroom. Y/N hurried her pace to catch up and follower her to a parlor that she had never set foot in. Just as Nesta had implied, all of the Valkyries were lounging around the room. Some already had glasses of wine in their hands. And there were plates of food – charcuterie, sweets, fruits, and more – scattered about the room.

“The House is spoiling them,” Nesta told her with a smirk.

“They deserve it,” Y/N added.

Nesta turned to look at her. “And so do you.”

Then two glasses of wine magically appeared on the side table next to Nesta. She quickly took one for herself and handed the other to Y/N.

“Try to relax,” Nesta said softly before leaving her side and going to mingle with the rest of the females.

Y/N tried her best.

She thought they would all fear her after she displayed such dangerous powers. But she sensed only curiosity and admiration. Many of them asked her questions about her witchcraft. Y/N wondered how long they’d been wanting to be frank with her.

The more wine that was drunk, the more rowdy the group became. The House seemed to be vibrating with joy, and spoiling them with food, wine, and entertainment. At one point, Y/N’s eyes widened as a group of miniature Pegasus galloped around the room, much to Gwyn’s delight.

And for the first time since their passing, Y/N felt like she was a part of a coven once again.

Women started passing out as the night became early morning. Some of the priestesses left the House of Wind to go back to their rooms in the library. But others stayed, falling asleep where they lay. And little fluffy cots started springing up beneath them, then blankets and pillows would lightly fall on top of the sleeping females.

Nesta, Emerie, Gwyn, and Y/N ended up being the last ones still awake.

“I should head off to bed,” Y/N quietly announced as she stood up and stretched.

“Sure you don’t want to cuddle with us in here?” Gwyn teased.

“Tempting,” Y/N laughed. “But you would understand if you slept on that bed in my room…”

“Then maybe I’ll come and cuddle with you there,” Gwyn winked.

Y/N laughed again. “Be my guest. Goodnight, ladies.”

Emerie and Gwyn said goodnight in unison. But Nesta just watched Y/N with a curious expression, like she was thinking on something hard.

Y/N didn’t take offense to it and left the parlor to make her way back to her bedroom.

Y/N had just changed into her pajamas and was about to get under the covers when there was a soft knock at her door.

Y/N smiled and shook her head, thinking it was Gwyn following through.

But her smile dropped when it was Nesta.

“Nesta? Everything OK?”

Her face was pale and she looked almost as if she was going to be sick. “May I come in?”

Y/N widened the door and stepped back, silently welcoming her in.

Nesta walked into the room, but stayed standing in the middle of it. Her back was to Y/N, but she noticed how her hands were clenched into fists at her side.

Y/N walked closer. “Nesta? What is it? You are starting to scare me.”

“I must tell you something. Something the rest refuse to.”

“O-Okay,” Y/N’s voice shook.

“The reason you are here, in Night Court.”

Y/N’s heart was racing with anxiety now.

“The reason Rhysand and my sister offered you sanctuary here…” Nesta hesitated, her exhale shook unevenly. “Is because Eris asked him to. And the reason Eris asked him to is because…is because you are his mate.”

Y/N’s entire body froze. She processed the words. Her thoughts were racing so fast, she was no longer mentally present in the room.

“Y/N, please say something.” Nesta blurted out.

And then she wondered how long she had been just standing silently.

Time seemed to be speeding fast while simultaneously feeling as if it has stopped entirely.

Y/N blinked and took in a quaking breath. “T-T-That’s not possible. I am not…I am n-not fae.”

“Cassian knew. Deep down he always knew what I was to him – even when I was mortal. But you are a witch, Y/N. And the Cauldron works in strange ways.”

Y/N could only try to catch her breath.

She wanted to say it was impossible, that she didn’t believe it.

But didn’t she? Wouldn’t it explain the strange feeling that rushed through her body every time Eris was near her?

“Who knew?” Y/N suddenly hissed.

“What?”

“I said, who knew?”

“Their Inner Circle."

Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Azriel, Elain, Nesta, Morrigan, and Amren. All of them had known.

Nesta quickly added, "But none of the Valkyries ever knew.”

“We were basically sworn to secrecy. Eris…he didn’t…he didn’t want you to know. I think he believed you’d be safer that way. But I didn’t think it was fair. You had the right to know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Y/N answered. But her tone and expression was cold as ice. She wouldn't even look Nesta in the eye.

Y/N had been in the Night Court for months and months. All of them had a chance to be honest with her, to tell her the truth of why she was brought here. But they didn’t. And Nesta took far too long to finally do so.

“I am sorry, Y/N. I do not know what else there is to say.”

Y/N walked to the door and held it open. “Goodnight, Nesta.”

Yes, the House of Wind was hers. But Nesta knew she deserved to be treated in such a way. She’d let her friend down.

As soon as Y/N was left alone, she rushed to the windows that were wide open.

“You knew. You knew this whole time. Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“It would have… only frightened…you,” the wind sang to her.

The way they all clearly hated Eris. Surely they hadn’t taken her in merely out of kindness.

“What did they get?” Y/N hissed. “What did Rhysand and Feyre get in return for keeping me here?”

“Eris made a deal…with the High Lord…His future armies…for your safety.”

Y/N blinked away the tears. That was why they were so overprotective of her. That was why they wouldn’t let her live in Velaris, instead keeping her close at the House of Wind.

It wasn’t out of love or kindness. They weren’t her friends. In a way, they had just used her.

“I…I-I-I can’t stay here,” Y/N whispered as the tears fell down her cheeks.

Suddenly she rushed around the room, grabbed a satchel and started packing.

–––––––

let me know what you think 🧡

chapter xv

#gust & flame #acotar #a court of thorns & roses #eris acotar #eris #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #autumn court #inner circle #nesta archeron #night court #valkyries #house of wind

378 notes · View notes

lanitalay · 6 months

Text

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 3

A/n: Chapter 3 yay. Ngl i got feels towards the end. This is a sweet one. I kind of love the Band of exiles dynamic.

Other chapters

“Great, Cassian will pick you up in the morning”.

“Ok” you say between bites. “I have to get some things done before morning, but try to sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow” she stands and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Ok so maybe this Rhysand can help. Hopefully. If they are really worried about an unguarded portal then maybe they’ll hurry to send me back and close it up. The thought brings you a bit of peace. Finishing the stew you get up from the bed and place the bowl on the dresser. You look in the mirror and decide that you can’t wear the dress tomorrow,it’s far too long and, honestly, riding side-saddle was terrible, so you resolve to dig up your leggings and sports bra. Now that they have fully dried, the mud and sweat created a layer of crust and the smell… Ew. You bring them to the bathing room and scrub them until they have returned to their normal color. Hopefully they’ll be dry by morning. An idea pops up. You take the damp clothes down the stairs and place them near the crackling hearth. I’m so smart. Then remember the bowl left on the dresser, groaning to yourself as you walk back up the stairs, pick the bowl up and return it to the kitchen.

Jurian is sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a book. He looks quaint, much different then the rough looking man you’ve seen the last day. He looks up, sensing someone in the room and his eyes land on the bowl in your hands. “Beef stew is my specialty,” he says with a sly smile. “It was delicious, thank you” walking over to the basin, you wash the bowl and set it to dry with the rest of the dishes. “Tea?” He asks and motions to the pot on the wood stove. “That would be great, actually” you pour yourself a cup and sit down next to him. The tea is mint and there is another flavor that has hints of lavender. You breathe the scent in and try to ground yourself. Finding that if you are not doing something or talking you spiral and begin to think about home. Home. It's been more than 24 hours now. They probably think I’m lost in the woods. You shake your head and ask Jurian “are you human?” He looks up from the book and says nothing. You open your mouth and close it and then say “sorry, I just noticed that you have round ears and Lucien has pointed ears and also Vassa has round ears and the man from earlier had round ears but he had wings and… well in my world all humans have round ears so I'm guessing you’re human and if this is an offensive question I’m sorry. I'm rambling now. I’ll shut up” you look away and sip your tea. Maybe solo travel completely stunted my social skills. Oh god kill me now. Jurian chuckles “it’s fine, yes I’m human, Vassa is also human but she’s been cursed to be a firebird by day, Lucien is High fae and Cassian is Ilyrian. Any other questions?” About a million. “Vassa is a firebird by day?” That seemed like the most important detail. “Yes, it’s a long story though, and it’s also not mine so if you want more details ask her” fair enough. “Ok… how old are you?” He looked like he could be in his mid thirties but something about him felt off. “About 500” you choke on nothing and look at him wide eyed. He chuckles “I’m sensing a follow up question so I’ll elaborate. Yes I’m human, yes I’ve been alive for 500 years. How is that possible? Well 500 years ago there was this war that was fought by humans against the fae and I did some… bad things that got me dismembered and kept conscious in the ring and necklace of this truly awful female. Anyways, there was another war recently where a very powerful king found the cauldron and harnessed its power to resurrect me. Well, to put me back together and now here I am” he motions to himself and smiles bright. Jesus. “And I thought my life was hard, why did they resurrect you?” He sighs “The king was unhappy with the result of the last war and wanted me to help him invade the human lands and enslave the humans.” You put down the cup and ask “So there is no war happening currently?” “No, not right now but Koschei,he’s another powerful king, is up to something. Not sure what it is though”. “I see” you fiddle with your thumbs and ask another question “Vassa said that I’m supposed to go to the Night Court? Is it far?” He nods “ah, that’s right. Rhysand wants to question you. I suppose you have no idea where anything is. Come with me” he stands and walks out of the kitchen and crosses the house until he reaches two double doors.

When you walk in you see shelves and shelves of books. Oh my god it’s a library. Sick. “Here we are” Jurian says as he pulls out a large book titled “Geography of Prythian and its Surroundings” he opens up and gestures to the bottom of the page. “We are here, these are the mortal lands, pretty self explanatory. You showed up around here” he points “that is the Spring Court, there are seven, as you can see. The Night Court is all the way up here” he points to the north of the map. “Wait, so how am I going to get there tomorrow? That’s at least a few days by horse” he hums. “I’m pretty sure it's only a few hours by flight”. Oh no. There’s no way. “What?” “You’ll be flying, hope you’re not afraid of heights” he smirks, sensing your fear. “And if I refuse?” “Well, they are your best chance of getting back home. If you think I’m old just wait till you meet some of the people at Rhysand's court. They should know something about portals”. “That’s great” you say in a monotone voice. “Listen, I’m going to call it a night but feel free to stay here if you want”. You nod as he walks out of the library. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight. You resolve to stay and read the book. Gleaning as much information about this world as you can and not taking note of the time. You doze off on the chair and wake up to the sound of the book hitting the ground. Taking a deep breath and putting the book away, you make your way to your room and fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

The next morning breakfast is the same: warm bread, cheese and tea. Lucien sits in front of you as you scarf down the meal, having woken up very hungry. “Do they have food where you’re from?” You swallow and scowl at him, “of course we do. We have bread and cheese and tea and chocolate and coffee”. I miss coffee so much and it’s only been two days. “Well you’re eating like a woman starved” you sip your tea and roll your eyes. “Why are you so grumpy? And if you must know I think I’m stress eating. It’s a normal reaction for someone in my situation. Is pie a thing here? I could really go for some pie right now” he seems unimpressed. “I’m not grumpy and yes pie is a thing here. I’ll see what I can do to find some, we are a bit secluded from the nearest village” you beam. “Really? You’d get me pie?” he nods “oh thank you!” You can’t help yourself as you get up from your chair and throw your arms around him in a hug. “I haven’t gotten you anything yet” you straighten up “but it’s the thought that counts”.

“When is this Cassian guy supposed to get here?” you ask Lucien as you pack your bag for the trip. You suppose it’s only a day and you’ll be back by nightfall but you want to have your things with you just in case and having a water bottle and snacks is always handy. “Soon” you groan “but when-” before you can say anything else a knock comes from the front door. Lucien goes to open it and reveals Cassian waiting on the other side. “Sorry I’m late, the morning got away from me. If you’re ready we can leave now” he finishes looking at you. You get up and put the bag on “I’m ready”.

“Ok so how does this work?” you ask Cassian. “Well I’ll carry you in my arms and then I’ll take off. It’s a little scary at first but I’m not gonna drop you. Promise” He flashes you a grin and you let out a shaky breath “Listen, I am terrified of heights so please, no sudden movements” he nods curtly and holds out his arms for you. You step closer and hear Lucien snicker at your visible discomfort. “Stop it, Lucien!” you whine as Cassian grabs you and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. “Ok, I’m ready” you scream as he takes off. “It’s ok, the take off is the bumpiest part” you try to speak but nothing comes out as you see how high you’ve gotten in a matter of seconds. You press your eyes shut, refusing to look down and try to steady your breath. I am at home watching tv. I just fell asleep. This is just a very long and convoluted lucid dream. “So tell me, how’s life with the band of exiles?” Cassian attempts to make conversation “Uhm… it’s fine, ah! They have been very nice and accommodating. Whoa!” you hold on even tighter as he dodges some rain. This is all the rain’s fault. Stupid rain. “Sorry and I’m sorry for offending you yesterday, it was not my intention” you gulp “it’s ok, I’ve been on edge recently, ha ha” you shut your eyes again “how much longer do we have left?” Cassian looks at you and you don’t see the pity in his eyes as he answers “about an hour” kill me now “oh god”.

When Cassian finally puts you down you nearly collapse in relief. “Come on, the meeting is through here” you follow him inside the mountain building and try your best to keep up but his legs are probably twice as long as yours and you’re also still a bit dizzy from the flight. “We’re here!” he says as he walks into a dining room full of the prettiest people, or fae, you’ve ever seen. The male with night black hair and purple eyes says “yes the guest of honor, please sit” you nod and sit next to Cassian. The group all introduce themselves and then the female you now know as Feyre asks you “y/n please tell us, with as many details as you can recall, how you got here” and so you tell them. Trying your best to remember all of it. The rain, the wind, the rocks, the mushrooms. Rhysand then says “can you show me?” you look confused so he elaborates “I can access your mind and see everything you have seen, I would only be accessing that memory though” you nod “do i just sit here?” “Yes, it won’t hurt and it will only be a second” you look around and feel a gentle scrape within your mind and then you’re back in Scotland showing Rhysand what you saw. When he’s done you sag a bit, having to relive your last moments on Earth had been unsettling to say the least and watching yourself in a third person point of view made you want to scream at your past self to just stay on the path. I should’ve just kept walking. Rhysand showed Feyre and Amren and then Mor and then Azriel. “I’ll see what I have about portals, but I’ll warn you that I have never heard of traveling to a whole different realm. Other worlds, yes, maybe. A portal from point A to point B within the same world, of course. But this… this has bigger implications than anything I've seen before” Amren says matter of factly. Your eyes sting and your breathing becomes shallow. She can’t be right. “I’ll tell Nesta to get a group of priestesses to help research” Feyre says and then Cassian adds “I think we should add a patrol to the clearing, the weakened Spring Court borders and the portal business seems like a great opportunity in the wrong hands”. Rhysand and Feyre nod “I can send a few of my spies down there tomorrow” Azriel. “Y/n, you’re free to stay wherever you'd like. But we have a few rooms here if you want to help with the research. I’m sure Lucien, Jurian and Vassa have been very hospitable but they are pretty isolated and I’d feel better if you stayed here”. You try to take it all in but the despair… the sorrow is taking over you and you feel numb. They’re going to think I’m dead. A few tears fall and you nod, “I can stay, but I’d like to get some things I left at the house” . You were mainly thinking of the only change of clothes you had and saying goodbye to the exiles that had offered you shelter when you needed it the most.

97 notes · View notes