#Mystical Bond | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiaxet · 8 months

Text

HOW ABOUT THAT @somerandomdudelmao DISASTER TWIN REUNION, HUH

Went a little feral to the tune of 2.2K words of self-indulgence. What else is new?

~~~~~~~

Donnie can't sleep. More accurately, he won't sleep. Not until he's done. He'd never been one to leave a project unfinished; death and resurrection hadn't changed that.

He taps incessantly, repetitively, on a keyboard and screen, the motions long since past inputting data and now only serving to keep him awake. The repetition is soothing, easy, and - counterintuitively - he finds his head drooping forward into sleep-

And he snaps back upright. No. Not until he can confirm Leo is okay.

Leo is behind him, he knows. Breathing. In bed. Asleep. Very much alive. And-

He jumps and whips around as a thud sounds behind him. "What the-"

Leo is on the floor.

Well, that answers the question as to whether his twin is awake.

For a fraction of a second, part of him wavers uncertainly. He loves his idiot twin. The question he hasn't been able to answer is whether his reaction to Leo waking up will fall on love or idiot twin-

"Leo!"

He can hear the exasperation in his voice, and yep, it's the latter. He takes a knee next to Leo and hauls him into his arms, lecturing him all the while, and if he can hear the annoyance in his voice then Leo sure as hell can. Sleep deprivation for the purposes of keeping his brother's soul alight had done nothing for his temper. "I swear to God, all you had to do was make a sound! Why are you such a difficult patient?"

He deposits Leo carefully on the bed - "Sit still!" - and checks him over, running every scan he can think of and making sure his brother's new body really is in good working order, spouting increasingly irritated commentary all the while. Of course the fall didn't hurt him - Leo is tougher than that, and Donnie does better work than that - but he still can't help the rising anxiety in his throat.

This almost didn't happen.

"-stupid, stupid selfless idiot!"

Donnie almost couldn't save him.

"Grrhh-"

Leo nearly died for real. Permanently beyond Donnie's reach. Well and truly gone-

"Do you have any idea how close you were to having nothing left to save?"

And now here Leo is, in perfect health, sitting on Donnie's bed with a big dopey grin on his face as Donnie chokes on his anxiety and damn near shakes himself apart-

Oh for fuck's sake.

"Hey. Are you even listening?"

Leo speaks up for the first time since he's woken up, voice shaky from disuse. "D-Donnie?"

And that is not a goddamn answer to anything Donnie has been saying, because of course it isn't. It's Leo. He's always had his own priorities. "Yeah. No. You're not fucking listening." Donnie heaves a long-suffering sigh, sinking back into the routine comfort that irritation at his twin provides. "At least you're talking." Small favors. "Although I'm surprised you're not throwing your stupid jokes at me." Even smaller favors.

He stops short as Leo's hand closes around his wrist, drawing Donnie's arm to Leo's plastron. "You're real," his brother breathes, looking from Donnie's hand to Donnie himself with tears streaming down his face. "You're real!"

And then, in the space of a thought, Leo's joy breaks, his smile turning desperate. "Are you?"

For a moment, Donnie stares at his twin, wondering at the sudden change in expression. He takes a breath-

And the part of him that had lain dormant for so long after he'd woken up - the part of him that had been screaming for his twin's safety ever since they'd recovered the few scattered embers of Leo's soul - gasps to life, blooming like a time-lapse video of a flower and reaching to the edges of Donnie's soul. Leo had called it their twin sense, and Donnie hadn't had it in him to argue after a while. Whatever it is, it's back, connected to Leo's renewed presence, and-

Donnie's heart floods with emotions. Relief and joy sprout quickly and are nearly swept away in a tide of exhaustionanxietyfearfearfearfearFEAR-

But down beneath it all, steady against the rising wall of terror, is the little blue spark of hope that his brother always carried. His core. The thing that let him continue on in the face of insurmountable odds, and lent that same strength to everyone around him. A ninja's greatest weapon.

It's Leo. It's Leo-

And Donnie can't leave him alone in his fear. Not when there's no need for it. Not when they're safe.

He lets that breath out, and sits next to Leo on the bed. "Mhm. I'm alive. And you're alive. We're safe. The Krang are gone." That's all the news that's fit to print, or at least the most important parts. What else does he have to say?

Oh.

"I'm sorry I..uh…"

He's sorry he what? Died? Left a mess for Leo to deal with? Didn't do enough while he was alive to keep everyone else alive in turn after he was gone? Kept his brother's soul in a fucking mug, because that was the only way he could ensure he wouldn't break it while Leo was still fragile? All of the above?

…yeah, it's all of the above.

He owes Leo one hell of an apology, and he's never been good at any of this, so instead he shrugs haplessly and leans forward, pulling Leo into his arms and hanging on tight.

It's a matter of moments before Leo has him flat on his shell on the bed and is sobbing into his arms. Normally he'd hate seeing his twin cry, but it's proof of life - proof that Leo made it, that his soul is intact enough for him to still be Leo, that he's alive and awake and here - and Donnie will take it.

And if he's squeezing Leo back pretty hard himself, well, that's fine too. Nobody else needs to know.

~~~~~~~

Donnie is yelling at him.

Donnie is strong enough to have picked Leo up off the ground, well enough to be on his feet without support, running tests and reading Leo the riot act over his latest boneheaded maneuver - in this case, forgetting he was missing an arm and falling out of bed.

Donnie is yelling at him, because Donnie is here to yell at him.

And Leo is smiling, because he couldn't be happier. He lets the words wash over him, draping over his shoulders like a favorite cozy blanket that he'd lost so many years ago, and he basks in the warmth that is his brother's voice and smiles.

It's enough to interrupt the yelling for a question, though he doesn't really hear it - just keeps smiling, and says Donnie's name, and it's so nice to be able to say it with a smile now, because Donnie is here-

-he is, right? This isn't just a dying hallucination on Leo's part, right?

(It couldn't be- he remembers his death, remembers breathing his last, remembers being trapped- but this-)

He reaches out, taking Donnie's wrist in hand, and pulls his brother closer to him. "You're…real…" It certainly feels real - skin and scales, softer than his own, and his fingers barely fit all the way around the wrist instead of encircling them with room to spare - and he stares down at it, tears rolling down his face as he finally looks back up at his twin. "You're real!"

The Krang show you what you want to see.

The thought strikes him unbidden, turning his joy and relief to ice. It's a well-known fact: a Krang infection can show its host what they want to see, visions of comfort and family and home, and extract intel from the host's reactions. He knows that- he knows that, and-

And he'd died surrounded by Krang- and even if he couldn't see or hear or feel, he knows he'd been held captive-

But it's Donnie- he wants this to be real- he needs this to be real- he wants his twin back so badly he can't think, and the idea that this could be a Krang hallucination is almost too much to bear-

"Are you?" He can hear how choked the words are as they leave his lips, but he needs to know-

And Donnie stops, and sits down next to him, and tells him everything he wants to hear - everything he could've ever wished for. They're alive. They're safe. The Krang are gone. It all sounds too good to be true.

And then Donnie offers him an apology and a sad half-smile, pulling him into a strong hug-

And the ice in Leo's mind shatters in a flood of warmth as his twin sense opens for the first time since Donnie's death. He feels his twin's irritation, and deep-seated exhaustion, and a choking wave of guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt-

And beneath it all, steady and strong as ever, the thrum of unending determination, powered by an unfathomably deep well of love. It's the backbeat to the melody of Leo's life, the point-counterpoint to his own heartbeat- it's something he'd never had to live without until he did, but it's back, rushing in to fill the silence he'd known with the strength to go on and the knowledge that he is loved loved loved, strong and overwhelming and all-encompassing in the way only Donnie can love-

It's something the Krang could never imitate.

This is real. This is all real-

He throws himself against his twin, toppling them both over on the bed as he clings to Donnie, unable to stand even a fraction of an inch of space between them, as though he could push their hearts together through their plastrons, and he cries, sobbing out worry and terror and grief and the slow, crushing exhaustion of a losing battle finally lost. He cries as though the world was ending - and it had, once when the Krang had invaded and again every time he'd lost a member of his family, over and over until he'd sent his last hope through a portal that had cost his littlest brother his life and succumbed to death himself.

And now he's alive. Here, wherever here is, with Donnie. Clinging to his twin, and being held in turn as Donnie gently sits them both up, never letting go as Leo cries himself out.

It takes a while - long enough for Leo's gaze to settle into a stare and his thoughts to settle into a comfortable static. He's alive, Donnie is alive, and he has no fucking idea what else is going on, but he's just going to be okay with that for now.

His thoughts rouse enough to inform him of something wrong - the line of tension Donnie is carrying down his neck and over his shoulders. That won't do. Leo could try to massage it out with one hand, maybe try to get Donnie to talk about it, but Donnie never likes to talk about it, and Leo isn't one for slowly soothing away tension when he can just take an axe to the release valve instead. Plus, it gives him something definite to focus on, instead of…this whole situation. Whatever 'this whole situation' actually is.

Donnie had mentioned his stupid jokes, right?

"H-hey Dee?" His voice wavers from disuse, thick with tears, but he pushes through. "Why did- why did the tree buy a camera?"

"What?" Oh, Donnie is not going to see this coming. Excellent.

"To do a photosynthesis." It's nowhere near the level of pizazz he normally uses for a punchline delivery - he's still too tired and frazzled and clinging to Donnie entirely too hard for that - but that beautiful pause of a terrible joke sinking in tells him it had hit home nonetheless. Donnie moves - he can hear the telltale slap of face meeting palm - and then breaks down into helpless laughter, smacking the back of Leo's shell as the tension Leo had felt in his twin's shoulders abruptly relaxes. Good. It worked.

"This is so fucking stupid," is all Donnie manages as his laughter fades, and he slumps fully against Leo with a murmur. That's...abrupt. Sure, Leo had felt Donnie's exhaustion, but he hadn't realized it'd been that bad. He takes hold of Donnie, gently laying him down on the bed to rest-

Remember what happened last time Donnie fell asleep next to you.

He gasps sharply at the thought - not again NEVER again - and keeps his hand steady as he moves, laying both fingers gently against Donnie's neck and feeling for his pulse. It's easy to find, strong and steady and even, like it had been before the infection had taken Donnie's vitality and then his life.

But he's alive, and healthy, and sleeping. He's okay. And Leo-

Leo moves his hand to the side of his own neck. His pulse is also easy to find, quickened with the adrenaline of an unknown situation and multiple consecutive shocks to his system.

Okay. Take stock. Assess. Figure out a plan from there.

He's alive. Donnie's alive. The Krang are gone. And everything else…is a big fat question mark, with no easy answers and no indication as to where to begin looking for them.

Well.

Uh.

"What the fuck," Leo whispers to the room at large, as though the walls could answer.

~~~~~~~

(A world away and still very close, a younger pair of twins cling to one another the way a drowning man clings to driftwood: desperately, clutching tight, as though letting go will spell their doom. Neither of them know where the emotions came from, or why; all they know is that each of them are damn glad the other is alive, and they'll do everything they can to make sure that continues to be the case.)

(What the fuck, indeed.)

#rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #future leo #future donnie #fic #writing #cw sibling death #mention of it at least #referencing the scrapped movie storyboards because it's too good a beat to pass up #we have fun here #no gods no betas we die like NOBODY BECAUSE DONNIE FUCKING FIXED IT #I GUESS #twin sense shit is my FUCKING JAM #inexplicable mystic bonds between two halves of a whole? sign me the FUCK up #I couldn't decide whose POV to write this from so I just did both #which is WHY it's 2K+ words #it's not perfect but it's Good Enough and therefore it's getting posted #fuck it we ball

1K notes · View notes

roselensedeyes · 9 months

Text

my house of stone, your ivy grows

Hello everyone!

I thought I'd share with you some of my writings, but also as an archive in case ao3 stops working like a couple of weeks ago! You can read it on ao3 here.

This is the first elriel fanfiction I've ever written, criticism is welcomed but please be kind! You can read it under the cut. Enjoy!

Elain Archeron was listening passively to the discussion between her brother-in-law, and the Nigh Court High Lord, Rhysand, and their unexpected visitor.

Well, not entirely unexpected, she had seen her coming a few weeks prior. Perhaps strange was a better word to describe her. The girl, whose name was Bryce Quinlan, had landed a couple of weeks ago on her younger sister’s, Feyre, front lawn, fallen through a portal meant to take her to Hel. Instead, it’d brought her to Prythian.

Elain had seen it a few hours before, while she was baking bread in the Town House she had recently moved into. After the birth of her nephew, Nyx, she’d decided she needed to let them have their own personal space, allow them to grow their bond with their son.

Said nephew was now sitting on her knees, bouncing while looking around with wide, curious eyes. His small fist was in his mouth, and Elain gently took it away. His first teeth would come in soon, Madja had said, which meant he might feel the urge to chew on everything he’d come across. Elain tried to focus back on the conversation taking place before her. In the past days, the Inner Circle and Bryce had tried to put together the pieces of knowledge they possessed, to understand their worlds’ histories and lore. Of what the Asteri—the Daglan, as they were known in Prythian—had been doing throughout the millennia. Of the worlds they had conquered and destroyed, of those people they had used until they had exhausted their purpose. Of what they were planning on doing to Elain’s world again, this time leaving no chances of losing. Of what they were already doing to Bryce’s world, Midgard, and the torture they were putting her mate and brother and loved ones through. Elain suppressed the shudder that threatened to overtake her as she thought of the agony in Bryce’s voice when she explained what the Asteri were most likely doing to her brother and mate in their dungeon, of those flashes she had seen in her vision.

She had never mastered her seer powers, not yet at least.

At first, they reminded her of what was done to her, of those months of suffering and heartache following that fateful day when she was turned into Fae. And that day when her fiancé, the man she thought was her soulmate and who she was going to spend the rest of her life with. But the life she knew had ended the night she and her older sister Nesta were kidnapped, no matter how hard she fought against it. In those months in which she would not, could not leave her room, she pretended all was well, as it was supposed to be. But one look in the mirror, a those pointed ears that replaced her rounded ones, shattered those pretenses. And then the visions came, and that was when she knew nothing would ever be the same again, that she would never go back to being the same person she’d been for her entire life.

So with the help of her family and her two friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, she had tried to find some normalcy in her new life. She’d learned how to grow vegetables and fruit, now that the soil allowed the seeds to grow, she had the shadow twins teach her how to bake and cook, and she’d even found a job to pay back her sister and her husband for all that they had done for her over the years. Helping the elderly by tending their gardens filled her with such sense of fulfillment that she had never thought possible.

Yet, Elain had never tapped into her powers again. At times, images would pop into her mind, but she’d always ignored them, pushing them to the back of her mind. Those visions would bring forward too many things she’d rather not face. Elain knew it also pained her sister Nesta, not being able to help her. That those flashes she’d see would also be a reminder to her of her failure in not protecting her, even though Elain also knew there was nothing Nesta could have done to prevent the attack. To avoid what had happened to them both. They had been betrayed, by Feyre’s captor and his friend, Lucien. Who happened to be Elain’s mate too. Another thing she would rather not face yet.

So Elain had avoided her powers, of the truth they would whisper to her.

Yet when she was baking bread for her family weeks ago and the vision hit her, there was nothing she could have done to block out the images, the sounds of despair and agony that filled her ears. She had heard a woman—a female— with red hair sob as she hugged a male who murmured words of comfort to her, telling her he was going to find her, as another male, who looked eerily similar to Rhysand slipped something in her pockets. And then she saw that same female jump through a portal and land on a front lawn Elain knew well. Her breath had been knocked out of her lungs and she knew that what she had seen was too important to ignore.

Now, Bryce and Rhysand were discussing how to contact the former’s friends in Midgard. Bryce insisted that the information they came about was of great value, that her friends needed to be aware of it to be better prepared while she was stuck in this world. That she needed to tell them, to help them however she could.

Rhysand, on his part, argued that it was too risky to establish contact with the world where the parasites that were trying to conquer and enslave them again resided. That they needed more time to collect insights on how to defeat them before risking opening the gates between their worlds. Elain could understand both points of view.

“I’m telling you, I know a way to communicate with them that does not require opening the gates,” Bryce said in frustration.

The sole fact that Elain could now understand her was a feat on its own. Rhysand and Amren, his second-in-command, had conjured a sort of translation machine, allowing them to talk freely. Bryce used some terms they all didn’t understand, like gun or motorcycle, but they could still communicate and understand the other with little to no issue.

“If only I had brought the bloodsalt with me,” Bryce muttered under her breath. Rhysand stilled and exchanged a look with Amren.

“Bloodsalt?” He asked quietly, too quietly.

The female’s head whipped up. “You know what it is?” Her voice sounded so hopeful.

Elain’s heart squeezed a bit. For her sake, she sent a prayer to the Mother that it meant something positive.

“I’m not sure. The word does remind me of...” Rhys stopped talking, as if he was unsure on what to reveal to that strange, modern female standing before him. Although she had proved to not be deceiving them, it was still hard for them to trust her entirely. Especially for Rhysand, who had a mate, a son, and a Court to think about. “I don’t think it was ever used how you mean it.”

Bryce seemed to deflate a bit at that, but still took a deep breath before explaining how it was used on her planet.

“In Midgard there are… individuals who have been granted a great, yet terrible power. They’re called mystics, and they always work in a set of three. One female, one male, and one who is both. They can see the present—and other worlds.” She swallowed, as if talking about these creatures brought her great pain. “They’re usually born to poor families, and their parents sell them to another person, the Astronomer, he calls himself, and their lives are forfeited for the use of their abilities.” She shook her head, and Elain could feel the shift in the room, the horror everyone must be feeling. “They can travel to other worlds, understand and speak other languages. Thanks to a mind-reading machine, what they witness, what they say with other… people is transcribed and then analyzed by the Astronomer. Bloodsalt helps pinpoint their search.”

Silence had descended on the room. Elain’s blood had turned into ice in her veins. She shifted her focus on the babbling baby sitting on her knees, swiping a hand through his soft hair and pressing a kiss to his temple. She refused to look at anyone else.

“I believe in our world it’s called bloodbane. But nothing of the sorts has ever been attempted, not like how you described it. How does bloodsalt exactly help them?” Rhysand inquired.

Bryce shook her head once more. “I don’t know the logistics of it, not in detail, but what I do know is that the mystics live in a bathtub, filled with water and white salt. I once saw the Astronomer add the bloodsalt and they reached the intended location within seconds.”

Elain had to suppress another shudder.

She felt Rhysand’s gaze on her, and she knew before he even opened his mouth what he was going to say. “Are you sure this won’t open a gate into your world?”

Bryce nodded. “I’m positive. The mystics have been traveling through worlds without opening any gates for centuries.”

“And you’re sure this won’t help the Asteri gain entrance in Prythian.” Rhysand asked as a matter of fact, as though he already know the answer.

“I don’t see why it would.” Bryce replied honestly.

Elain took a deep breath. Rhysand’s next words sounded loud and clear, “Then I think we should attempt it.”

Elain’s gaze landed on her brother-in-law, though she did a quick sweep of the room. She set her shoulders and began to nod when two voices interrupted her. “Absolutely not!” one barked, while the other growled a simple “No.”

She knew who those voices belonged to. Her older sister Nesta, and Azriel, Rhysand’s brother and the male who had rejected her months ago. She ignored both of them, instead kept her eyes on her brother-in-law, who had always encouraged her in her acceptance of her new life and body. She knew he’d come to love her as a sister, which she supposed she was for him. Growing up, Elain had never felt as though she had someone in her corner, silently cheering for her. Yes, Feyre had provided food and shelter for her, and Nesta would fight to the death for her safety, and for that she would always be grateful to her sisters. Yet she had never felt she could be her true self, only the version that would be most convenient to her family. To not be in their way, while they were starving and cold and mocked by people they thought friends. So she’d learned to be what they wanted, needed her to be, and stuck with it until everything she had come to know had changed so radically that she was forced to become another version. This time, she’d chosen something was similar to her true self. She wondered if the day ever came where she was allowed to be completely who she wanted to be, disregarding others’ expectations of her.

“I will do it.” She had never sounded so clear. She was certain of the decision she’d made.

Shadows flickered to the corner on her left, where that deep voice came from. Where Azriel stood. She looked his way, and when she found his stare already on herself, she glanced away. She didn’t have the time for this, not now.

As if he could sense his aunt had agreed to something reckless, Nyx turned around in her laps and grabbed her cheeks, before bursting into tears. Elain hugged him to her, murmuring words of comfort and laying her cheek on his head. She rubbed his tiny back, mindful of his even tinier wings, but his cries turned into sobs. She looked towards Feyre, who got up from the other end of the sofa and took him, soothing her son. Feyre was a great mother, watching her with Nyx always sent a pang through her chest. It reminded her too much of her father, who had always doted on her.

“Are you sure?” Feyre asked her.

Elain looked her in the eyes and nodded, willing the anxiety away. Feyre seemed to asses her, and when she deemed her to be truthful she nodded and turned toward Nesta.

“It’s her choice,” was all she said.

Nesta snarled. “I will not stand by while she’s throwing herself into harm’s way”.

“We cannot forbid her from doing the things she wants to do. She’s her own person. She can make her own choices.” Feyre replied calmly.

“I’m here, you know.” Elain said quietly. Apparently not as quiet as she thought, as several heads turned her way. Elain hunched her shoulders.

“Is anyone going to explain to me what the Hel is going on?” Bryce asked.

“I’m a seer. I can see future events— but I can also see the present.”

Bryce looked stunned, rightly so. They’d agreed not to tell her that she had seen her coming, not until they knew for certain that she was not a threat.

“We’ll work on finding a transcriber, or conjuring one, and then we’ll get you started on it.” Amren nodded to her. Then, she turned to Azriel. “Boy, you will need to retrieve the bloodbane. You know where to find it.”

Azriel’s face was dark, almost hidden in the shadows that swarmed him. It was clear as day he was not happy with this decision. Elain couldn’t phantom why. He had no right to act as though her safety mattered so dearly to him, when he had no qualms with breaking her heart months ago.

So she turned her gaze away from him and got up. She inclined her head toward the High Lord of the Night Court and his second-in-command. “You know where to find me when the time is right.” With that, she breezed past them, plopping a kiss on Nyx’ soft hair, ignoring Nesta’s sounds of protest and the lone shadow following her.

It took them a week to figure out how to create a transcriber without all the technology available in Midgard. Elain could still remember everyone’s reaction to the device Bryce had brought with herself, which she called smartphone. The males had drawn out their weapons, but the redhead had only rolled her eyes and showed them what it could do. It stored pictures, but it could also make calls and write to the digits stored in the phone, which belonged to friends and family members and anyone who you shared your own number with.

Her mind couldn’t wrap around it. Elain had always thought Velaris was the most magical, advanced place she’d ever been in, yet the single proof Bryce had brought with her made her wonder if such progress could be had in her world too.

Elain was sitting in the garden of the Town House, basking in the sun after a long day of tending to the flowers and vegetables. She felt something poke her shoulder, and she cracked an eye open to see a shadow in the process of curling itself around her arm. She smiled slightly, before raising her head and searching for its owner, for if the shadow was here, it meant Azriel had to be near.

Sure enough, he was leaning against the backdoor, silently watching her. She felt her cheeks grow warm and hated herself for it, for showing him that her feelings had not changed since that fateful Solstice night. She had no doubts he could hear her heartbeat picking up, or smell her nervousness.

He moved to her, his steps silent.

She swallowed, hard, but remained seated. Until he was standing directly in front of her and she had to crane her neck to look him in the face.

She made to stand, but he gripped her hand with the preternaturally speed of Faes and helped her up. Elain knew her blush had deepened. The last time they had touched they had almost kissed.

She forced the painful reminder away, and looked him in the eyes.

“Rhys has sent me to summon you. They’re ready,” Azriel’s voice was tight, telling her he had still not come around to this plan.

Her heart started beating faster for another reason this time, anxiety pouring over her like ice. She had volunteered for this, but she wasn’t foolish enough to pretend she wasn’t about to do the most dangerous thing she’d ever done in her life.

“I see,” she said, lamely. She shook her head and took a deep breath, and nodded. “Alright, I’m ready. Take me to him.”

Azriel scanned her face, searching for anything that told him she was rethinking the whole thing. But he wasn’t going to. Despite her unease, she was going through with it. The disappointed look on his face told her he’d read that on her face, too.

She had avoided her powers for so long, but she no longer could. It was now a matter of life or death, quite literally. Bryce’s friends needed to know what threat they were facing, but they needed to be told so they could help Elain’s family and world too. So many things had changed in her life so quickly, she was not ready for yet another change. She would not allow it. With that newfound conviction, she draped her arms around Azriel’s neck. He stilled, his shadows peeking from his shoulders. She smiled at them, right as Azriel scooped her up and began their flight to the House of Wind, where the Inner Circle and Bryce were waiting for them.

They arrived shortly after, and Elain’s breath caught as her eyes took in the large bathtub standing in front of her.

She had not taken that into account. How she would feel to submerge herself under the water, so similar to how she had been forced under it to turn her into Fae. Her baths since that day had been fast, and she had never gone underwater with her head.

Azriel stiffened at her side, his hand inching toward hers. As if he might offer her that kind of comfort. She almost caved in, but Amren’s curt voice made her forget about all that. “Come here, girl. Bryce will explain to you what will happen.”

Elain nodded, but her gaze remained fixed on that bathtub.

She took a step forward.

She almost turned around and fled.

No, she refused to let that fear win.

Her mind threatened to replay her those moments in which she was forever changed, but she forced them away.

She took a deep breath, and another, and another.

She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but she ignored them and forced a foot in front of the other, then did the same again.

And again, and again, and again.

Until she had covered the distance to the bathtub.

Her head was roaring with panic, her hands shaking and clammy.

“I don’t know how well this will work. As I said, there’s usually a set of three. You’re only one,” Bryce cautioned. “You will need to wear this mask,” Bryce said, handing her a carefully crafted mask. “And go all the way under the water. I will add the bloodsalt— or bloodbane, however you want to call it. It should take you to my world.” Bryce said, her voice breaking.

“If we see you’re struggling or not being able to reach them, we’ll get you out,” Azriel said, his voice too soft. From the look on Rhys’ face, Elain knew it wasn’t part of the plan. Still, her traitorous heart squeezed at his words. She put on the mask, it not being too constrictive.

Elain looked at her family, their anxious but supportive gazes telling her she was making the right decision, and finally glanced at Azriel. He had a dark look on his face, his jaw clenched tight, but when their eyes made contact it softened. The corners of his mouth tipped up, his smile tight, yet the pressure on her chest lessened, as though a weight had been lifted from it.

She went into the bathtub still looking at him.

At first, she couldn’t see anything.

She could hear the sound of the water, yet everything was as black as the bottom of the bathtub. She tried to relax her muscles, to trick her mind into thinking nothing was amiss. If Nesta had battled her fears, then so could she.

Slowly, Elain started seeing things better.

She was floating in a starry sky. So many stars and so many… worlds. She was seeing worlds!

Excitement threatened to burst over, but she did her best to contain it.

A strange sensation spilled over her skin, and she realized they must have put the bloodbane in the water.

Suddenly, she was being propelled forward, spinning so fast she became dizzy. She struggled against this invisible force, but just as it had begun, it stopped. She took a few moments to make sure the contents of her stomach wouldn’t spill over, and then opened her eyes that she did not remember closing.

Dark eyes were staring right into hers.

Elain suppressed a scream, her heart beating loudly.

She saw that those eyes belonged on gaunt, pale skin, framed by chestnut-brown hair. A female.

“Who-Who are you?” Elain asked, stumbling over her words.

“I’m a mystic,” the female simply said. Elain could have cried from joy. She could understand her, and the mystic could understand her.

Elain tried again. “What’s your name?”

The female blinked. “Who asks?”

Elain tried to assess the risks of revealing her name. But before she could come to a decision, the mystic spoke again. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Her voice didn’t sound mocking, only curious. Still, Elain blushed deeply. “I haven’t, no. I didn’t know I could do this. I’m only a seer, where I come from.”

When the mystic didn’t say anything, Elain said, “I need to send a warning to someone. To a certain Ithan Holstrom.” That was the name Bryce had given her.

The female seemed to freeze. Elain gasped. “You know him.”

The mystic assessed her, and then gave a tiny nod Elain might have missed if she hadn’t been looking for it.

“Tell him his friend, Bryce, has landed in the world I come from— we call it Prythian, but in your world it might have a different name.” She relayed all the necessary information in a succinct way, the female paling even more with each word she pronounced.

“Tell Bryce that he’s listening right now, that we’ll try whatever we can to help her from here.”

“Elain nodded. “I will.” She promised.

“Well, I better—” The mystic’s voice suddenly cut off, and her eyes started rolling in the back of her head, her body thrashing. Elain screamed then. Then a cruel, cold face came between them, a sinister smile painting it.

Elain’s breath was stolen from her lungs.

She needed to go back, back back.

She made to float away, but a freezing hand grabbed her wrist. It was squeezing her to the point of pain, and she tried to shake it off but his grip would not budge. Her thrashing became frantic, desperate to get away from this—this—

“Tell Bryce Quinlan that we’re coming for her. And that there’s nothing she can do to stop us,” said the deceivingly soft voice.

It was an Asteri. A Daglan.

Agitation overtook her and tried to break free from the grip of this parasite, but instead it squeezed harder, making it impossible for her to break free from it.

She started sobbing, and she tried to scream, but she couldn’t.

No matter how hard she tried, her lungs would not suck in any air.

She needed to get out, out, out of here—

She couldn’t breathe anymore, and black spots appeared in her line of vision.

She was crying as she started losing consciousness.

Elain opened her eyes again as she was being lifted by strong arms.

Blinding light made them close again.

She could hear raised voices, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

She took in a big gasp of air, savoring every moment of it.

Her wet clothes clung to her, her hair matted against the sides of her face. Someone was passing a hand through it, freeing her face. The feel of the air against her skin was the most beautiful feeling she’d ever had.

Soft lips pressed to her temple, leaving kisses and soothing words against it.

She took another steadying breath and opened her eyes again.

This time, the light wasn’t nearly as painful, and she managed to keep them open.

The first thing she saw was Cassian, her sister Nesta’s mate. She had on a worried face, and let out a small sigh of relief at seeing her sister breathe and alert. Her reaction seemed to lessen her other sister’s, Feyre, panic too, whose shoulders slumped as she leaned against her mate, Rhysand.

She couldn’t see Amren or Bryce, but she knew for certain the male holding her was Azriel.

“I’m fine,” she let out, her voice breathy, yet Azriel didn’t let her go.

No, he held her tighter to him.

He murmured something again, and this time she could make out “you’re alright you’re alright you’re alright” as though the words were a prayer.

She laid a hand on his big arm, and he laid his head on hers.

Her heart gave a squeeze.

Elain realized then that he needed to know she was okay. That nothing had befallen her.

So she caressed his arm, and nuzzled his cheek.

He gave a sigh of contentment.

She smiled.

“I’m fine, Azriel.” She said again, and this time he seemed to hear her. Still, he didn’t move.

She tried to shift, to catch his eyes, but he wouldn’t let her move, his hands gripping her waist as though she might disappear if he let go of her.

So she repeated, again and again, those three words, until at last he seemed to come back to the present and she was able to turn in his arms.

Elain pressed a kiss to his left cheek, then another on the other, and then met his eyes. And held onto them to convey that she was thoroughly alright.

He nodded, and shifted his gaze on Rhysand.

But it wasn’t the latter who spoke.

“Holy shit, you’re mates,” was all Bryce said.

Elain’s eyes widened as they landed on the redhead, but something in her chest shifted, a sense of rightness settling over her for the first time, and she could swear she heard a voice sing in her ear, finally, things are right.

Nothing had ever made more sense to her than those words.

With a smile, Elain leaned back against the chest of her mate.

#elain archeron #azriel #elriel #elriel fic #elriel fanfic #hosab spoilers #mystics #mating bond reveal #bryce quinlan #inner circle #acotar #acosf

49 notes · View notes