#Not My Little Flower Anymore {Nesta and Elain} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nikethestatue · 10 months

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The Little Black Dress That Could

May the 4th Be with all of us! Today is my favorite holiday. 4th of July, Independence Day.

This is also for Caroline, whose birthday was yesterday. Happy birthday girl! You don't have to keep drinking virgin pina coladas anymore.

What happened during Winter Solstice at Hewn City between Elain and Azriel? What did he think of her ugly black dress? Read on and find out.

“By the Cauldron,” Nesta exhaled obnoxiously loudly. “It’s ugly.”

Elain made a face.

It was ugly.

“Fucking ugly,” Nesta added.

Fu-gly.

That’s what the dress was.

It was a fugly dress.

With that, Nesta left.

Well, good riddance.

It was fine.

She was fine.

Everything was fine.

Her sister hated her.

Elain had to wear this revoltingly ugly dress to a ball. Her first ball since she became Fae.

She had to stand there, in her ugly dress, allowing everyone else to shine…which would be fine. Normally, Elain Archeron wasn’t envious or petty. But she had to be dressed in this frumpy frock, knowing that he would be there. He would be resplendent in his elegant leathers, his siphons shining with their ethereal light, his handsome face perfect and grave. Ugh. He would be perfect. He always was. He could wear a potato sack, and still look like a Prince.

Rhysand tried to be like Azriel, but failed. No one could be like Azriel, the mysterious and deadly Shadowsinger. The quiet authority that he always conveyed. The darkness. The secretive nature of,

“Hey Elain!”

Cassian’s voice boomed behind her and startled out of her thoughts, she blurted out,

“I am not sleeping with Azriel!”

Cassian looked at her like she was drunk and yet, said calmly,

“I mean, no one would blame you for wanting to sleep with Azriel,”

“What?” she choked.

“What? He is handsome and stately, muscular, but compact, built like a,”

“I am not sleeping with Azriel,” she noted dryly, “but I am not sure about you.”

“What?” he glared at her.

She folded her arms on her chest.

“I am not! I haven’t,” he began muttering defensively. “We haven’t…I mean, there was that time when,”

“WHAT?!” she cried out.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

There was an awkward, strange silence and they just stared at one another.

“Why are you here?” she demanded at last.

“You seen Nes?”

“Maybe.”

“You gonna be all mad because I might have, like 300 years ago, kiss-”

“I don’t. Want. To. Know.” she snarled at him, pressing her hands to her ears.

He stepped back in fright and hissed through his teeth,

“Oh Mother…these Arecheron girls are rabid.”

“Oh rabid are we?” she yelled at him, and he actually took a step back, trying to avoid a physical altercation with the flower girl. Somehow, he feared her more than anyone–perhaps not physically, but somehow, he knew that he’d be torn to pieces by both Nesta, and probably Aziel. He wasn’t sure about Azriel, but there was…something. Some feelings that Cassian couldn't discern, but felt in his gut. Anyway, he wasn’t going to fight with Elain. Thought he couldn’t help himself and asked,

“You’re wearing this?” He raised his brow, glancing at the dress that hung on the hanger.

Elain sighed and said gloomily, “yes, I am wearing this dress.”

He whistled and murmured, “Mother’s tits…”

“Not helping, Cassian. Not helping.”

“Well, alright then. I guess I’ll see you at the Court of Nightmares. You know…” he paused, and then added softly, taking her hand in his giant bear paws, “you don’t have to go…”

Her expression softened and she murmured,

“I want to go, Cassian. I want to do my part.”

Cassian and Elain were milling about the foyer of the River Estate in awkward semi-silence. Both were waiting to be winnowed to Hewn City. Azriel was already there, and Mor was going to pick the two of them up. Nesta would travel with Feyre and Rhys.

“Are you excited to stand at Azriel’s side?” Cassian asked, trying to sound casual.

“Pardon?” Elain whirled to him, eyes wide.

“You know…By the throne? Nesta will be next to me, and you’ll be next to Az,”

“Why should I be excited about that?” she demanded, but her cheeks were awfully red for her to be simply angry.

Cassian smirked.

He was definitely picking on some vibes. He wasn’t going to be fooled.

And he was pretty sure that he was the only one to be catching these vibes between his brother and Elain. Yeah. He was always the first one to notice things, especially between couples. He was observant like that.

“I don’t know…I think Nesta is excited to stand next to me,” he shrugged.

Elain’s chin rose and she declared,

“Why shouldn’t he be excited to stand next to me?”

Pacifically, Cassian immediately assured her, “I am sure he is very excited.”

Hewn City was outfitted beautifully for the three day-long celebrations of the Winter Solstice. There were black candelabras, wreaths of holly, silver and gold ribbons wrapped around the obsidian columns, the floors were polished so brightly, they reflected all the attendees and the lights. Enormous arrangements of pine branches bedecked in faelights, white roses and night blooming jasmine were placed all around the ballroom in crystal vases.

Azriel, Shadowsinger of High Lord Rhysand’s Night Court felt quite at home here. He didn’t like it–or rather, he didn’t like the present Steward of Hewn City–but he’d spent enough time in these ancient, hallowed halls to have grown accustomed to the place. It needed some sprucing up and something cheerful around here, but overall, he didn’t mind it. It was always especially beautiful around Solstice.

It was especially beautiful right now, because Elain Archeron stepped into the ballroom.

Oh yes, he’d noticed them all–Morrigan in her usual red dress, Cassian, standing right across him, brooding and tense, awaiting Nesta’s arrival. When the darkness of Rhysand’s power poured out of the massive doors, which opened silently to reveal the High Lord and the High Lady, and their heir inside of her. There was an audible gasp when the attendees beheld Feyre’s pregnant belly, but Azriel was used to that as well. Nothing surprised him much anymore, other than…

Elain Archeron.

She looked like a goddess.

She looked like the Mother.

Her long golden brown hair was unbound, streaming like a bronze halo around her, pinned with two pearl combs. And her dress…Was the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. It fit her perfectly. It was simple and stunning.

Nesta was wearing something overly elaborate–tuile, and sequence, and gems and silver, and while it all looked very nice and all, his girl looked sublime. She didn’t need any extra ornamentation.

Well, maybe just the gift that he was planning to give her on Solstice night. The delicate necklace that he had designed and commissioned especially for her. It would look perfect in the little divot between her lovely slender collar bones.

It was Nesta’s night to shine, but Elain looked like a queen. His Lady. Though to him, she was always simply his girl. His Elain.

The two sisters stood by the dias of the two thrones, Nesta next to Cassian, and Elain next to Azriel. He couldn’t offer her a wink or a smile, not in front of all these people, but she stood close enough, for him to gently, covertly rub his pinkie against the side of her palm. She didn’t flinch and didn’t react, but a tiny sweet smile touched her full lips. His girl liked it when he touched her–when they exchanged glances, and brief brushes of fingers. When he skimmed his fingers over hers at breakfast, when she offered him his mug of tea. Or when he could place his palm on the small of her back for a few moments when he followed her into the room, or out of the house. Or even better, when she adjusted the lapels of his jacket, and stroked his chest. No. She never minded when he touched her.

Now he wished that he could place her small hand on his forearm so they could walk together–without hiding, without fears or accusations. It was impossible, but Azriel held onto hope. He had nothing else. Just hope, and his dreams of walking arm in arm with his girl, with Elain, who’d be his wife. He didn’t care about the bond at all–not hers, or a hypothetical one for the two of them. Did he wonder why the other two brothers received mate bonds with the two sisters, and she was given away like a sacrifice to Lucien Vanserra? Every day. But it was also pointless to ponder the ways of the Cauldron. He didn’t need a bond with Elain in order to love her. He liked her and loved her just because she was Elain–he loved her face, he adored her wit and her sense of humour, he admired her resilience, he enjoyed her mind and her intelligence. They fit each other like a pair of gloves–easily. What felt torturous with Morrigan for the past 500 years, felt absolutely natural with Elain. She took what he offered, and didn’t pressure him for more, and he gave bits of himself willingly and gladly.

One day, sweetheart. One day. You and I.

Rhys was gifting Eris a Made dagger, and everyone began dancing as the first notes of the waltz filled the vast space.

Elain stepped closer to him, and he lightly ran his knuckle over her spine. Her back was bare, the dress held together by thick ribbons, but it offered enough of her silky skin for him to observe that he was forced to bite the inside of his cheek just to hold back a groan.

“Do you want me to Make you a dagger too?” she whispered, without looking at him, pretending to be interested in the gift exchange.

“I already have one,” he murmured with a smile, his lips brushing the back of her head, inhaling the scent of jasmine.

“Hmmm…would you like me to Make you anything?”

Yes, I would like for you to make me your husband.

“Make me dinner, and I will be a happy male,” he decided.

“Then I will,” she promised simply.

Eris’s muddy eyes landed on Elain and she grunted through clenched teeth,

“Time for me to shine!”

“I can kill him for you, if you’d like,” Azriel offered calmly.

“Tempting, but you never know how others might look at the murder of the Heir to Autumn by the shadowsinger.”

Smart girl.

He stepped away, allowing another Vanserra’s eyes to skate over his woman.

It was intolerable.

But Elain made a good impression of pretending to be mildly interested in Eris.

And Eris, vain and predictable, was visibly disappointed by the modesty of Elain’s gown, by her demure appearance.

Azriel could only smile to himself.

Thank the Cauldron for the prideful son of Autumn, who did not see the diamond in front of his eyes.

No matter.

Yes, Azriel wanted everyone to admire Elain like he did, but he also wanted to keep her for himself–his secret, a thing of lovely beauty.

Eris offered Elain a bland smile, and then made a beeline towards Nesta.

His loss. Azriel’s gain.

Elain’s smile was finally genuine, and shining in his direction.

The guests were oohing and ahhing over Nesta and Eris in the dancefloor, and Azriel moved back to stand beside his beautiful girl, while they watched the other couple twirl and spin across the floor. They looked incredible–there was no doubt that in another life, in another world, Nesta and Eris would’ve made an excellent match.

But that thought quickly evaporated, when Azriel sensed the rage, disappointment and unhappiness of his brother, who was almost gnashing his teeth in frustration.

Elain wordlessly took Cassian’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.

“Cass, don’t cut in,” Azriel warned him.

Elain looked at the General with sympathy in her warm brown eyes and whispered,

“It’s not real, Cassian. They are not real.”

“But,” he began, and she cut him off,

“She is the one for you, Cassian. You know it. She is your girl.”

Azriel quickly looked at his own girl, and wondered how the Hel did she know? How did she always know?

“Give her the opportunity to complete all her spins,” Elain chuckled, “and then you can cut it.”

“Would you like to dance, Elain Archeron?”

Azriel had danced with Nesta, after Cassian swept her away from Eris and completed his own circle on the dancefloor. Cassian was not as good of a dancer as Eris, but he and Nesta looked…right. They looked like they belonged. And maybe he was stiff, and didn’t move with a courtier’s grace, but Cassian danced because he knew that tonight, Nesta needed him. She needed him, and his strength, and his support, and she needed to be in his arms almost as much as Cassian needed to take her into his own.

“She really is his girl,” Elain smiled softly, watching the two glide among the guests.

She turned and looked up at Azriel.

“And yes, I would love to dance with you.”

“Well then give me your little hand,” he ordered, smiling, as he extended his palm to her. She lay her fingers against his and he sighed with pleasure, as he wrapped his arm around her body, pulling him to him. Her head rested on his shoulder.

One day.

Soon.

Wife.

Not a bad Solstice celebration after all.

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel and elain #azriel #elain x azriel #cassian #elain #cassian and nesta #The Little Black Dress That Could #elriel fanfiction #my writing #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #Elriel fanfiction #Elriel fanfic

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snelbz · 10 months

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Better or Worse {18}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the late post! I had it queued for pm instead of am and just noticed. We’re almost to the end of Nesta and Cassian’s journey of growth, but we hope you’ve enjoyed reading this one as much as we’ve enjoyed writing it!

Almost every counseling appointment we’ve gone to, Nesta has been right there by my side. But Gwyn asked us to meet separately this week and that shouldn’t make me as nervous as it does. I know it’s common for therapists to want to talk to each person on their own, but even at the beginning, even when we weren’t speaking, having Nesta there was a balm to me. I was able to open up and talk about my thoughts, my feelings even if I wasn’t sure how I felt about them.

Now, sitting across from Gwyn, I feel like I’m back at square one. Rather than the usual couch, I’m sitting in an armchair identical to the one she’s in.

Her notepad is resting in her lap, but she doesn’t look down at it. She doesn’t even have a pen. “How are you doing this afternoon, Cass?”

“Good,” I say, but nothing more which makes her smile.

“Nervous?” She asks, not unkindly.

I sigh. “Yeah? Which is weird, right? Because we know each other fairly well by now.”

“True, but it’s not weird, it’s actually common,” she assures me. “You’re not used to doing this alone. It’s a big step.”

There was a time when her tone would piss me off, would make me feel like she thinks she’s talking to a child, but not anymore. I know she’s genuine in everything she says.

“I guess so,” I agree, and answer her question honestly. “I am good, though. Yes, nervous, but everything has been going really, really good. Great. Nesta and I are, uh, renewing our vows.”

“Oh?” Gwyn asks and she sounds happy about it, which is a good sign. “When?”

“A month. I actually asked her when we got back from our little vacation, after we left here.” I shrug. Since we’ve been doing so well in our marriage, we haven’t been coming to see Gwyn as much. “It felt like the right thing to do. I asked; she said yes.”

“I’m happy for you,” she says, and I know she means it.

My appointment goes on like that and after a few more minutes I actually start to fully relax. I told her everything, probably oversharing at some points but I can’t help it. I feel like I just fell in love again for the very first time, although this time feels much stronger than that. Nesta and I have a bond that can’t be broken, that can never be shaken again.

After telling Gwyn goodbye, I head to Nyx’s preschool to pick him up. He’s waiting for me with his backpack on and his lunchbox in hand, and the second I pull up to the curb, he’s jumping up and down.

“Hey buddy.” I hop out of the truck and give my nephew a hug while ignoring the wandering eyes of his teacher, as usual. She’s at least seventy, I swear, and I have no clue how she hasn’t retired yet.

“Uncle Cass, we learned about bugs today!”

So begins my rundown of his day, right down to his snacks and the lunch Feyre packed for him that morning.

My phone rings as I’m putting my car in park in the garage. When I see it’s Elain, my brows pull together. I love my sister-in-law, and would do anything for her at any time. But she doesn't usually call me. I answer as I round the truck to get Nyx out of his carseat.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cass.”

“Is everything okay?”

Her cheery laughter floats through the phone. “Everything is fine. I was seeing if Nesta was with you. I tried her cell but she didn’t answer and I wanted to get a final decision on the flowers for the ceremony.”

I’m a man of many talents. I pride myself on being knowledgeable about many things. Flowers sure as shit isn’t one of them.

Scratching at my beard, I head into the house, Nyx on my heels. “She had a meeting with Eris and the publishers this afternoon, but should be home around five if you can wait that long.”

I hear the telltale sounds of Nyx dropping his backpack. “Hi, Greg!”

“Alright, I’ll try her then. Thanks!”

We say our goodbyes and I toss my phone on the kitchen counter only to realize the kitchen has become far too quiet. When I turn around, Nyx is nowhere to be found.

Just before I can completely panic, Nyx comes back through the door, crying.

I frown. “What happened, buddy?”

“Greg,” he says, a sobbing mess. “Door…open…Greg.”

He can barely get the words out but I get the gist. With a sigh, I pick Nyx up and pat his back. “It’s okay. Greg gets out sometimes, I’ll find him.”

I set Nyx up on the couch with a juice box and a bowl of popcorn while he watches Bluey before finding myself going around the outside of the house, looking in all the bushes.

No Greg.

I call his name and all of my neighbors that don’t know me are probably wondering why I’m going around my house, yelling for a Greg, but I ignore any potential neighbor’s judgment. Every minute that passes that I can’t find him, I get worried. Nesta loves this cat like a child.

And I can’t find him.

When I finally head back inside, Nyx’s head pokes over the top of the couch. He’s still sniffling as he asks, “Did you find him?”

I hesitate for a second because I don’t want him to worry, I don’t want him to start crying again, and I definitely don’t want him telling Nesta about this. So I decide to go with a little white lie. “I did. He was having fun running around and asked to stay outside a little longer. I told him he could play outside until it gets dark.”

Thankfully, that perks him up and blessedly derails his toddler attention span. “Did you know that lightning bugs come out when it’s dark? And then their butts light up?”

For the rest of the afternoon, I’ve got one eye on Nyx and one on the window at the back deck. On multiple occasions, I run outside with the bag of treats and shake it as obnoxiously as I can.

The damn cat never comes back.

As the clock ticks closer and closer to five, I start to panic. How am I going to tell Nesta I let Greg get out? Better yet, how am I going to keep Nyx from saying something?

Before I can come up with a foolproof plan, the garage door opens and my beautiful wife comes strolling in. She gives me a smile and a kiss on the cheek before asking, “How was your appointment with Gwyn?”

“Fine,” I answer, and as soon as it’s out of my mouth I know that I’ve answered way too quickly. Her joyful demeanor falters and I hesitate, which makes her frown.

“What?” she asks, and there’s a bite to her voice which I know means I should tread carefully if I want to try and keep the peace.

“Look,” I say, and take a deep breath. I watch her eyes as they go from angry to concerned to confused. “I…there was...Nyx accidentally…Gre—”

Just as I’m about to say his name, the furry little bastard charges into the room and jumps up on the kitchen island to greet Nesta. My wife momentarily forgets about me and scratches the cat under his chin.

I stare, dumbfounded. “I…what the fuck?”

“Hmm?” Nesta asks, remembering I exist and crossing her arms. “Okay, what did you do?” “Nothing,” I say, and grab her face, bringing her mouth abruptly to mine. She’s surprised for a second, but melts into me as my lips keep moving.

“Ew!”

We pull apart to look at Nyx, who is standing in the doorway and covering his eyes. When he peeks through his fingers, he gasps. “GREG! I thought we lost you forever! I was soooooooooo scared! Uncle Cass, wasn’t I scared?”

I purse my lips and slowly bring my gaze back to Nesta’s. She’s watching me with narrowed eyes full of hellfire.

“So, we lost Greg,” I confess, quietly. Nyx doesn’t seem to notice the tension as he grabs the cat off the island and carries him into the living room. I open my mouth to give a long, pathetic story about what happened, but Nesta shakes her head and puts her fingers over my mouth.

“I don’t wanna know,” she says, and her eyes soften. “He’s here, he’s safe, do better next time.”

I blink, thinking it’s a trap and not wanting to curse it. “Yeah, okay.” Now I’m suspicious. “You’re taking this too well, it’s scaring me.”

She snorts and runs her hands down my chest and bundles my t-shirt in her hands. “I want tonight to be a good night. We’ve been a little stressed lately, planning this wedding so quickly…” She shrugs. “No more stress.”

I feel like there’s something she’s not telling me. Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve been married for a decade, but I feel like something’s off. “Nesta—”

She looks over my shoulder, into the living room at Nyx and Greg snuggling on the couch, then back to me.

“What?” I ask, and try not to let my worry creep in too far. “What happened? Are you okay? Did Eris piss you off? The fuck did that prick do now—”

“Eris didn’t do anything, for once,” she says, laughing quietly. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just…been thinking about something, but I thought we could wait until we’re alone tonight to talk about it.”

I hate that.

I hate when someone says we need to talk, especially my wife, then doesn’t tell me what it is we need to talk about.

“Now I’m going to spend the entire afternoon worrying about whatever it is you have to say,” I say, keeping my voice low.

“It’s nothing bad,” she whispers, and leans up on her toes to kiss me. I grab her ass and squeeze for comfort. “Just something I’ve been thinking about. A lot. Come on, let’s make dinner before Feyre gets here to pick him up.”

And that’s that. I throw together a quick meal of blackened chicken, green beans, and red potatoes, which Nyx devours as if he hasn’t eaten in weeks. More than once, Nesta has to remind him to take smaller bites, but he manages to clean his plate without choking. Nyx regales Nesta with his school day, as well, telling her all about his studies but conveniently forgetting the story he told me about the little girl on the playground who held his hand.

Nesta is in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, while Nyx and I are on the couch watching Bluey when I hear the door from the garage open. Nyx, engrossed in whatever shenanigans Bluey and Bingo have gotten into, doesn’t notice the quiet greetings or the hushed whispers and murmuring.

But I do.

It sets me on edge, immediately thinking of whatever Nesta wants to talk about when we’re alone. It sends my brain straight into “overthink” mode and I don’t notice that Nyx has said something until he calls my name a second time.

“What was that, bud?”

“I said that daddy said I could get a puppy just like Bluey.”

“Did he now?” Feyre asks, breezing in from the kitchen.

“Mama!” Nyx is off the couch in a flash and crashing into her legs.

His backpack is already slung over her elbow and she lifts Nyx into her arms, hugging his close. “Hi, bub. Ready to go home?”

“Yes! Me and Uncle Cass lost Greg.” Feyre’s smile falters but Nyx charges on. “Don’t worry, mama, we found him.”

We say our goodbyes and promise to see them soon, and when it’s just me and Nesta alone, I can’t control myself any longer.

“So.”

She chuckles as she sits next to me on the couch and turns off Bluey. “So.”

I wait for her to say something but when she doesn’t go on, I throw my hands in the air. “Damn it, Nesta, please just—”

“I think we should look into adoption.” The words rush out of her, quietly. “I think we should adopt.”

Out of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn’t it. I’m at a loss for words.

It’s not until I notice her eyes start to line with tears that I come back, my mind catching up with me.

“You don’t want—”

“I’m just surprised,” I say, before she can worry. “I mean, adoption is…that’s a lot. That’s big.”

“I’m ready to be a mom, babe,” she says, and a tear falls as her voice breaks. “We’ve been ready for a family for so long and I’m accepting that I’m not ever going to have a baby.” I want to protest, but I can’t. “So I thought we could have a baby, or a child, through adoption.”

I’m quiet for a moment, but Nesta doesn’t push me.

Adoption had never even crossed my mind and I’m a little ashamed of myself for not considering it. Growing up in the foster system, how many years did I dream of someone finally deciding I was worth the trouble, of a family adopting me and giving me the happy home I’d always dreamed of. But Nesta wanted to be a mother and I never thought farther than giving her that dream myself, of our child growing inside of her.

Who’s to say the child we’ve been dreaming of isn’t already out there?

“Do you want to quit trying?” I ask, carefully. “To have our own?”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffs, and I can tell she’s trying not to be emotional. She knows my past more intimately than anyone else on the planet. “You think after finally having sex after months of celibacy, I’ll be able to go back?”

I swallow and huff a laugh but stay quiet for a minute, allowing my thoughts to catch up with me. My thoughts that are all over the place.

“Okay,” I say, quietly, and her tears spill over. I wipe them away, carefully. “After the wedding…we can start the process, if it’s what you truly want.”

“It is,” she says, and there is no doubt. “But is it what you want?”

“A family with you is all I have ever wanted,” I say, and it is wholly the truth.

I can’t help my own consuming emotion as she kisses me. Every day I don’t know how my marriage can get better, how I can love this woman more, but then I do. I didn’t know this love, this excitement for the future could still be so strong, so evident after ten years.

I’m so ridiculously in love with this woman that I can’t believe it. I show her as much as I lay her down on the couch and take my sweet time with every beautiful, magnificent inch of her body.

We will have our family soon enough, one way or another, and I can’t wait.

#better or worse #nessian bow #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #ACOSF #nessian #snacmc collabs #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab

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thesistersarcheron · 1 year

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Pairing: Elriel Rating: E Tags: Canon Divergence - ACOMAF, Accidental Courtship, Secret Marriage, Human/Fae Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending Word Count: 6.2k Summary: After learning of her younger sister's fate Under the Mountain, Elain Archeron struggled to envision her future as the lady of the Nolan estate. Sometimes, when she woke in the night and the iron band of her engagement ring was cold as ice on her finger, she knew only dread. She had no such trouble with the fearsome Fae male who made a habit of checking on her every day. It might have been some trick, a faerie enchantment or thrall, but falling in love with him was the easiest thing she ever did.

Part seven of my @acotargiftexchange present for @ultadverb. Read the prologue and the first five chapters on AO3!

“When I was a little girl, I used to imagine my wedding day in shades of pink and white.”

Azriel’s shadows—always lighter around Elain, always calmer and quieter—perked up, and he watched as she idly twirled the stem of a tulip between her fingers. The bud was fuller than those from the mortal fields, the white petals bleeding into a soft shade of pink and then, at the delicate, ruffled edges of each, vibrant crimson.

He’d bought the clipping off a cart for a copper when the shadow beneath Elain’s hood whispered in his ear that she was admiring the blooms. When he’d checked, her lips were parted in quiet awe, a hand fisted over her heart.

The cart, which had been hawking flowers on the same corner of the Palace of Hoof and Leaf for hundreds of years, was one Azriel rarely noticed anymore; its riot of color blended into the nurseries and green grocers behind it, and the vendor was a small, mousy faerie who relied more on the business his regular customers generated than shoving his wares into the faces of unsuspecting passersby.

But the tulips wreathing his cart were bright, vibrant things in the early morning sunshine, and even Azriel, who had no more experience with tulips than kissing Elain in a field of them, had to admit that the variations in color were peculiar. The devastating smile she’d turned on him from beneath the hood of her robes had been more than worth the tiny sum.

Her foot tapped his beneath the delicate iron table where they sat now, one of a small mass of them perched on the northern bank of the Sidra, and the small, tentative touch reverberated up his leg and through his body.

He had been sitting in comfortable silence with her, monitoring the early-morning crowd shuffle through the street while she sipped the rich hot chocolate he’d bought her from his favorite cafe in Velaris. He chose their table at the edge of the flock, backed up to the wide retaining wall that bordered the river, where the crowd thinned and eavesdropping would be near impossible.

Though, watching the shoppers, he found that few heads turned toward them anyway; after fifty years trapped under Rhys’s shields together, the people of Velaris were so accustomed to his presence that even his wings and shadows were no longer a novelty to most.

Every so often, the shadows he’d sent out at dawn returned with a missive from an informant or quiet confirmation that all was well in the Night Court. The ones tailing the eldest Archeron reported that Nesta was still stewing, monitoring the front door of the massive chateau Elain called home, but had smirked with cold delight when she declined an invitation for her sisters to join Graysen for lunch at the Nolan estate.

And regardless of what news they reported, each one was still shot through with ecstatic echoes of Elain’s quiet I love you from the night before.

But now his eyes and ears and the silent, watchful shadows were fixed solely on her.

“There was a picture in a storybook I used to own… A princess and a prince, married under an arch of baby’s breath and peonies. Outdoors, of course, amongst the flowers.” A fingertip stroked one of the tulip’s velvety petals. “I loved it so much I kept the book beneath my pillow for years. Even after… After everything with Father, I dreamt of that page. All those blooms again against a clear blue sky… It was such a lovely image.”

Lovely as it may have been, her tone was as grim as Azriel felt at the thought of her wedded to another.

“It would suit you,” was all he managed to say. Her mouth curved in a small, insincere smile.

“Thank you,” she said as the smile melted. “But my wedding is to be yellow and brown. Lord Nolan’s colors.”

Azriel’s brows rose. “Not Graysen’s?”

Elain’s fingers curled at the sound of his name. “No.”

He knew he should probably speak, say something to soothe her, but she beat him to it.

“It won’t even be outside.” Her breath hitched, and his chest squeezed. Her throat bobbed, and she shook her head, blue silk slipping over golden curls. She laid the tulip down with heartbreaking care before fisting her hands together. “It will be held in the great hall of the keep.”

Still, he could not think of anything to say—anything reasonable, at the very least—so he kept silent.

She loved him.

Him.

Not Graysen. Not any longer.

But still she was planning her wedding. Still, vicious jealousy sliced at him as the shadows on the table beneath his hands darkened and warped, the few lingering at his shoulders hissing meanly about her fiance. There was outrage there, too, at the thought of her being the least bit unhappy on her wedding day.

“Did you ever imagine yours? When you were a boy?” she asked weakly, tipping her head up until he saw the pert silhouette of her nose as she gazed at him from beneath the hood.

Any lingering warmth in him vanished, replaced by frost. “No. In Illyria, bastards don’t have the right to marry. At least, they didn’t when I was...”

He trailed off. When he was what? A youngling? He had never felt like one. Had never heard his half-brothers laughing and running and teasing one another as—he now knew—normal younglings did through the cracks beneath his door and thought of himself as the same in any way.

The first time he’d felt young at all had been those first, flightless weeks in Windhaven, when the hardened warriors loomed tall and strong and terrifying over him, and he was painfully aware of the useless wings hanging off his back.

Elain let out a quiet, sympathetic sound, her shoulders hunching toward him over the table. “Then what did you dream of?”

The shadow beneath her hood was in a frenzy, darkening the line between her brows, and Azriel didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d rarely dreamed as a boy. That the mere concept of dreaming of anything but his mother’s face and the chipped stone bench where he sat with her every week and the cold walls of his cell was foreign to him until he’d become friends with an idealistic little lordling and the braggart bastard with delusions of grandeur that Rhys’s mother had already taken in years before Azriel joined the camp.

But he knew what she was asking, what she needed to hear to soften the blow of his childhood, and he was being honest when he said, “The garden.”

“Oh?” The tension in her limbs softened. “Really?”

“Hm. It was more a patch of weeds than anything,” he said quietly, lifting his cup to his lips to take a small sip, to distract from the urge to keep them shut, to frown. She loved him, he reminded himself. She loved him. She loved him, and she deserved to hear such things from him. “Hardy things that can only survive in the rocky soil and cold that far north, but I got to go out for an hour each day. I relished that time.”

“Just an hour?”

“Just an hour. Sometimes less.”

Oftentimes less. He remembered waiting by the door for days on end on more than one occasion, never knowing if the guards who’d been assigned to him were sent on weeks-long patrols of his sire’s territory elsewhere. Once, one had qualified for the Blood Rite—and hadn’t come back. It must have been weeks before his replacement realized his small charge was meant to go outside; the last of the frost had fully melted the next time he’d been taken to that patch of dirt, and his mother had wept when he’d appeared, peppering his filthy face with kisses until the moment the guards dragged him away again.

“Azriel?” She cut through the mire of his thoughts. It was colored with sympathy, with understanding. “What is it?”

He told her. He kept his voice hushed, so low that she strained to hear him… but he couldn’t bring himself to speak any louder. He doubted he could.

But he wanted—needed—to share that memory with her.

She was pale by the time he finished, the small flush that had risen to her cheeks during their walk through Velaris disappearing entirely. The shadow over her eyes told him that she was staring at him, long and considering, before she bowed her head. She picked up her tulip again, lifting it to her nose to take a shaking breath.

And then she whispered, “I don’t want to marry him.”

The words floated to Azriel on a breeze sweetened by her flower. By her scent.

His shadows went silent in response, and the flickering, ever-present darkness in his periphery stilled. Every lithe tendril went taut, listening intently.

She sniffled. “I can’t.”

The relief that swept through Azriel was immediate and all-consuming.

“Oh?”

Oh?

Oh?!

Such a stupid, restrained fucking question to ask when his wings were suddenly heavy on his back, every muscle in his body taut. The heavy memories of his youth melted away, and he was overcome with the desire to sweep her into his arms and fly.

Territorial male bullshit. That’s what Feyre or Mor might call that urge, complete with an eyeroll and a smirk. It was wrong, so wrong, to let himself care strongly enough for the human woman—the engaged human woman—in front of him to feel it.

He didn’t care.

“He and his father are so ruled by fear and hatred. I can’t—” Elain sighed and swallowed hard. “I can’t imagine being the same way. Committing myself to that. My family.”

She shrugged, as if that were that, and suddenly Azriel didn’t care what his friends might say, either. All he needed to know was where he and Elain would go, which field of flowers or pretty vista she wanted to see next, how they would spend the rest of their precious little time together.

He would go anywhere, do anything, as long as he got to keep talking to her, keep teasing her, keep touching and tasting her until she shattered for him, keep watching that wide, wonderstruck smile whenever he showed her something new.

As long as he got to keep her, this precious, perfect woman who loved him.

She loved him.

His Elain.

Perhaps a male like him had no business loving a woman like Elain Archeron, but he didn’t care.

He couldn’t care. He wouldn’t even try.

Now, the darkness hovering around the tips of his wings dipped down to his ears and sang, I don’t want to marry him. I can’t. I don’t want to marry him. I can’t.

Her foot tapped his again, and he could read the silent Well? in it.

So he took a long drag of his coffee as he considered his response, and let it coat his tongue. The filthy look Elain had given him when he’d offered her a taste when they’d first sat down and she’d cringed away from the unsweetened, tastebud-singeing bitterness made him want to grin. He’d chosen the drink to ground himself, so he didn’t do something foolish with her, something that might justify the legends of changeling children and faerie stealing away with pretty human girls that he knew she still gave some small weight to.

(The next time Azriel accompanied Rhys to a meeting with the High Lords, he just might risk a swing at Tamlin for cementing that fear in the back of Elain’s mind. He had no doubt that piece of shit was the reason she accepted Graysen’s proposal, the reason a walled estate and armory of ash arrows had first appealed to her.)

All the while, his heart pounded so hard it was sure to bruise against his sternum, and he took a moment to focus on it, to force himself into some easy, steady semblance of calm.

Her foot started jumping beneath the table, and he captured her ankle between both of his to still it.

He took another sip, staring at the bottom half of her face where it was visible beneath the hood of her robes. Her frown was as pretty as the rest of her, and it took every ounce of strength he could muster not to lean across the table and kiss it away in front of the whole of Velaris.

So instead he stood, giving into that all-consuming urge to spirit her away somewhere private, somewhere safe once more, and offered her an arm. “Come with me.”

Elain didn’t hesitate for a second. She rose from her seat, and the trust written into every line of her body nearly made Azriel stumble.

Instead of taking his arm, she laid her hand atop his. His pulse caught and dragged dangerously as her frown softened and her fingers, cool and soothing, stroked a vicious knot of scars atop one of his knuckles just like she had the tulip’s petals.

The world went still as she hummed and breathed a word to herself, so quiet the shadows had to amplify it for him.

“Beautiful.”

It was all he could do to keep himself together long enough to usher her far enough away from the tables to spread his wings. He wasted no time sweeping her off of her feet, trying to keep the movement polite and professional in case anyone was watching, but the warm, soft weight of her, the sweetness of her jasmine and honey layered with his own scent, and the fingers she curled into the strap of his scabbard threatened to undo him.

One strong wingbeat later, they were in the sky over the city. Elain made a happy sound despite herself, asking him to point out the small, whitewashed safehouse where he’d winnowed her last night in the distance, and Azriel’s stomach twisted with longing.

Would this be the only time he got to show her Velaris like this? He didn’t want it to be, nor did the ugly, possessive beast in his mind that was quite suddenly taken over by a quiet, dangerous calm.

So he flew ever upward, letting Elain look her fill. He flew over the riot of color that made up the Rainbow and wound a path along the glittering ribbon of the Sidra. The gilded domes and spires of the theater district made her gasp with delight, and when he guided her attention to the green roof of Rhys’s townhouse, she asked him to pass over it twice, as if assessing whether it was an appropriate home for her little sister.

When she nodded in approval, he smiled back and catching a breeze that took them higher and higher.

He waited until they were level with the House of Wind and her smile, though small, brightened her expression once more before he said, “I don’t want you to marry him, either.”

Her arms tightened around him. Her hood had fallen back during their flight, revealing wide doe-brown eyes and the small O of her mouth.

Then, she seemed to shake it off, frowning again as she averted her gaze to stare at the wide balconies and training ring below them. “You can’t just say—”

A thread of anxious anticipation wound itself around his heart, tangling with his veins, but he ignored it.

“Can’t I? You did,” Azriel said sharply, a tiny slip of composure that only she might witness, and banked so quickly that his wings joints ached. Elain held on tightly, burying her face in his shoulder as a balcony rose up to meet them.

“That’s different,” she mumbled into his collar after a long pause.

“Is it?” He landed smoothly on the widest of the balconies, but did not let go of her. “Did you expect me to tell you that you have some obligation to go through with a marriage that would make you miserable?”

“I…” She craned her neck, avoiding his gaze and baring her face toward the open sky above them, as if she were trying to scry for answers in the swirl of the clouds.

“What?”

She shook her head.

But Azriel wouldn’t allow that, couldn’t bear her silence. Not now.

He rustled the strain of their landing out of his still-outstretched wings. Almost instinctively, he curved them around himself, around her.

“What is it?”

“I just…” Her voice was smaller, and Azriel became very conscious of every strand of golden-brown hair brushing the membrane of his right wing. “He asked me to marry him, and I said yes. He loves me, and he’s expecting—” She choked on her words, naked guilt on her face. “He loves me.”

Like adding fuel to a flame, those words seared Azriel’s already raw nerves.

Agony. This was agony he knew well. Agony that, over the long course of his life, he’d endured, witnessed, inflicted—

His grip on Elain shifted, his hands suddenly hot and aching, and she took the opportunity to slip out of his arms. She landed on silent tiptoe, her hands braced on his chest even as she took a step back.

A step away.

He caught her before she could leave the cocoon of his wings.

A little voice—perhaps a shadow, or perhaps something more selfish, more intrinsic to his being—chanted, Don't let her go. Don't let her go. Don’t let her go.

Her hips were plush beneath her skirts, the softness of them safe and soothing under his ruined hands. He pulled her in, kept her close, and dipped his head to meet hers.

“I love you.”

It was the first time he’d said the words aloud. Last night, he had merely pressed his lips to Elain’s forehead as she burrowed closer into his chest, stunned into speechlessness. Those quiet words had unlocked something inside him, like bolts and tumblers clicking into place, and he knew that only Elain held the key to roll them back. Even then, perhaps the gears in his heart had seized in that moment; perhaps she had soldered them together with those words, freezing them in place where they were the moment she first told him she loved him.

No response had risen to his lips then, trapped beneath the worry haunting him as Elain trembled and sighed in his arms, still overstimulated and hurting. She hadn’t pressed him to share the sentiment, hadn’t indicated that she expected anything in return. She’d only slipped one cold, flawless hand beneath his tunic to clutch his waist without a barrier between them and pushed her icy nose against the hollow of his throat.

But the confession had kept him up all night, holding her close and trying to convey the way he felt without words.

Elain had been awake too, though the panic attack she’d had before he found her rendered her silent and shaky for hours afterward. In hindsight, he wondered if it wasn’t anxiety and Nesta’s prodding, but her nerves that kept her up fretting through the night as she tried to complete her thoughts. To admit the thing that was making her try to pull away from him now.

I don’t want to marry him. I can’t.

When they had risen before the sun, she had simply blinked her eyes open, brushed the hair out of them, and thanked him with a kiss before asking him to show her the city. He’d kissed back with such fervor and relief that she had giggled against his lips, climbing into his lap for a too-short moment before crawling out of bed.

So they’d set out, the matter of being in love seemingly settled, and he had walked her around Velaris—still bustling, even in the darkest hour before dawn—before buying her the tulip and settling at the cafe for breakfast. He’d brought her to Velaris thanks to that desperate instinct to get her somewhere safe when he’d found her curled in her bed and wracked with pain, and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

No, not now, as the words slipped from him easily, and her sweet, disbelieving laugh made the last of his shadows skitter away. The sudden burst of sunlight streaming through his wings gilded Elain’s long, loose curls.

Her hands rose, and she buried her face in her palms. “I love you, too.”

Azriel lifted one hand, pushing back the curtain of her hair. He skimmed over her neck to her nape, cupping the base of her head in his palm and savoring the velvet-soft touch of her skin as he always did, awed by the way she leaned into his touch as he tilted her head upward.

“And you no longer love him.”

Elain sighed, and he watched her press her fingertips into her eyes. “No.”

“So don’t marry him, Elain.”

Another sigh. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” He knew. Of course he knew, but he needed to hear her say it aloud. She needed to hear it herself, he suspected.

“I…” Again, she seemed at a loss for words, and Azriel tried to shove down the buoyant sense of triumph trying to rise up beneath his breast. Her head tilted, a golden-brown curl slipping over her ear and tangling in the casing of the Siphon on his hand. She swallowed, her shoulders slumping. “We already paid for everything. The modiste is supposed to have my dress ready by the end of the week.”

“I’ll pay you just as much not to wear it,” Azriel shot back, unbothered by the obvious evasion.

Hell, he’d pay double, triple. He hardly touched the small fortune Rhys deposited in his vault every month; he’d use it to buy every scrap of white fabric in the mortal realm if that’s what it took to keep her out of that wedding dress.

Elain’s nose wrinkled, and she let out a quiet growl of frustration. He had to tighten his mouth to keep from smiling.

Forget the dress. If she wanted to make him dig for information, then he would. That was his specialty, after all.

He thumbed the nape of her neck, bending his head to graze the tip of his nose down the column of her throat.

This would be the gentlest interrogation in his long, bloodied history of them.

She took a sharp breath, and then her hands were fisted at her sides, as if she were trying to beat back the instinct to grasp at him.

“Tell me, Elain,” he said against her pulse in a bedroom murmur.

When he pulled back, frustration and guilt were at war in her expression.

“What about Nesta? What happens to us if I end this engagement? We’ll be ruined.”

Azriel sank his fingers deeper into her hair, setting a languid pace as he scratched his nails along her scalp. “Will you? I was under the impression you were rather well-off for two unmarried young women.”

“Socially,” she gritted out, her eyelids fluttering with pleasure. His heart began to race again, and he willed his face into a solemn mask. “Socially, we will be ruined.”

“Is that so?”

“It i-is.” She whimpered as he tugged gently at her roots. “We’ll be pariahs. Outcasts.”

“But that’s not what bothers you, is it?” he asked. “Nesta couldn’t care less about her social standing. She spends most of her nights locked away in that study. And you spend yours with me now.”

Her eyes closed and her head fell backward, the full weight of it resting in Azriel’s palm. He cradled it tenderly, savoring the trust in that small gesture.

“What do you want? If you don’t want to marry him, but you can’t imagine breaking it off, then what are you going to do?”

He caught a glimpse of white teeth as she bit into her full bottom lip. The corners of her clenched-shut eyes shimmered with wetness, and he held her closer as it beaded beneath one before slipping down her cheek.

He kissed the tear away, licking the salt off his lips, and then kissed her damp cheek again.

“Say it, love.”

“It’s impossible,” she moaned, and he nearly swept her off of the balcony and into the sky again as that minuscule, perfect crack in her armor appeared when she opened her eyes again to gaze at him from beneath her lashes—and at the soul-wrenching longing within them.

It was an emotion he recognized all too well.

Instead, he released her hip with his other hand, wrapping that arm around her waist and pulling her into him until the thrum of her pulse resounded against his chest. Until he felt every beat of her heart as if it were his own.

“Then I’ll tell you what I want, shall I?” The words spilled out of him unbidden, but he didn’t try to stop them.

He had spent five hundred years denying himself the simple pleasure of loving a female and being loved by her in return—had foolishly, blindly hedged his bets and lost. Had held his tongue, rather than face rejection. Had chosen comfort and safety over honesty.

Perhaps that was what Mor had needed from him. Perhaps he had needed to hold onto the hope that someday, if he persisted, she would return his affections.

But Elain was mortal. Already, the clock was working against him, and he could feel every precious second tick by just as surely as Elain’s heartbeat. There was no time to waste on yearning from afar. There would be no epic, centuries-long tale of romance.

And he had not allowed himself to love this woman just to lose once again another arrogant, scheming lordling. To let her throw up her walls and lock herself away.

He would not waste five more centuries agonizing over what could be and what might have been when what little time he had with her was so precious and so finite.

He couldn’t.

And because he was Fae, and he was wicked, he did have wicked ways to get everything he wanted, just as he’d once told Elain.

He just needed her to agree. He needed her to admit that she wanted the same thing he did.

“I want you, Elain.”

He wanted her to be his.

His to protect.

His to cherish.

His to love.

A whispering shadow guided his to one of the fists she still clenched at her side, to the thumb rubbing her raw third finger.

And he wanted that, too.

“That’s all.” The words were like a cord tied to his wrist, tugging him forward, into a future he barely dared to dream of. He swallowed around the stone lodged in his throat and said, “I’m not good or decent. I have no title to give you. But you deserve to marry someone you love.”

Elain gasped, and finally, the anguish faded from her expression. The sound imprinted itself on his memory.

He watched as her eyes opened again. Raw, fearful hope shone in them when she lifted a hand to wrap it around his arm, squeezing hard. It was the only thing keeping him anchored.

“I can’t offer you a simple life.” He lowered his forehead to hers until all he knew was the warmth of her gaze and the jasmine-and-honey sweetness of her scent. “I’m the bastard-born son of a cruel male. In every court but my own, I am the nightmare—the monster—used to keep disobedient children in line.” His head was rushing, and for the first time in centuries, his training failed him as his entire world narrowed to the woman in his arms. “And I earned that reputation fairly, Elain.”

“Azriel,” she breathed, trembling like a fawn in his arms.

He freed the hand from her hair and held it between them, and she—

She followed the line of his arm, clasping that hand in her own.

“My hands were ruined when I was a boy,” he told her. His voice had been reduced to a broken murmur; if he’d been in his right mind, he might have been mortified by the loss of control, by the horrified What? she whispered as another tear followed the path of the first. “But the stain of what I do for my court and the people I love… that runs deeper than the surface.”

“Azriel, please.”

He shook his head. “I’m no storybook prince.”

No, he had been the dishonorable knave to sweep her off her feet and ravish her just under her betrothed’s nose, hadn’t he? He had no control where she was concerned. It took every bit of his rational mind to keep his cock in his pants each night, to show her the pleasure her Graysen was too naive to give.

He didn't know what he'd done to be worthy of her affection or, indeed, if he would ever be worthy of it. But he would try, gods damn him. He would wake up every morning and try to be deserving of her, to push down the fear that she was flower he might smother with his shadows and love her with abandon.

The tip of her nose was pink, and her chest heaved as a sob shredded its way out of her throat.

“A life with me will not be easy, but I will do everything in my power to make you happy because I love you. I love you.”

And last night, the first night he’d dared to lay beside her in a bed as he should have done all along, she’d fit perfectly in his arms, beneath his wing, and everything had slotted into place as he held her.

As much as he wanted her, he wanted to be hers. He wanted to be the face she sought out in a crowd. For his name to be the one she whispered, moaned, and screamed into the dark. For his hand to be the one she reached for when she was happy or scared or lost. To be the first she sought out when the first buds of spring bloomed in her garden, or when her latest loaf of bread fell flat, or when she needed someone to help her break off an engagement she no longer wanted.

He pressed his lips to the back of her pale, unblemished palm.

“Don’t marry him,” he begged. “Marry me.”

Elain froze.

The silence stretched.

And then she said, “No.”

“Elain—”

The light in her eyes guttered. “No. No, because you’re right. You’re no prince. You’re not a good, decent man.”

Was the balcony tilting? Was the stone beneath his feet crumbling?

Blindly, he drew her off of the balcony and into the cool embrace of the House.

Her voice was small when she said, “You’re Fae. And I’m human.”

"So?”

“So?!” Elain tried to push away again. When she didn’t shove at him in earnest—when she didn’t try to drop his hand—he tightened the arm around her waist. “What about the wall?”

“No border can keep a male from his bride. Not even the wall.” It was a technicality that Rhys rip him a new one for invoking when a war over his own stolen bride was imminent, if the reports coming out of the Spring Court were true, but Azriel still couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Even the Cauldron couldn’t keep us apart if we swore the right oaths to one another.”

“What about your High Lord? What will he have to say about a human living in his court?”

“Your new brother-in-law, you mean?” The shadows tittered, and Azriel had never been so grateful for the little beasts. For the secrets they whispered about the lengths to which Rhys would go to keep a smile on his new mate’s lips. “Your happiness means everything to Feyre, and Feyre’s happiness means everything to him. He wouldn’t dare.”

Elain cast a considering glance over her shoulder, the cloud of old guilt that passed through it revealing that she knew just how hard Feyre might fight for her.

When she glanced back at Azriel, it was gone, replaced by the cool practicality of a young woman who’d negotiated a marriage contract before.

“I’m human,” she sniffed next. “I’ll only live another thirty years. Fifty if I’m lucky.”

“Five years, fifty years, eighty,” he swore, “I want them with you, Elain.”

“In forty, I’ll be a wrinkled crone.”

Azriel couldn’t help it—he laughed, dragging her deeper into the belly of the House.

Into his home.

“Human or fae, sixty is young, my love.”

Elain flushed, but her grip on his hand tightened as she followed him, ushered closer by the wings still shrouding her from the world. She leaned in, and the challenge etched in the purse of her lips was so beautiful that Azriel did not have the heart to tell her that he rarely lost contests of will.

“And when I’m eighty? When I can’t get out of bed on my own, and I need help eating and bathing?”

“Then I will carry you and feed you and bathe you.”

She scoffed.

Azriel tried not to take offense. “I am five hundred and forty years old. I like to think that has instilled some appreciation for the passage of time. For aging. You humans look on our immortality with envy, sometimes pity, but whether or not most Fae will admit it, we envy you. Always growing, always changing, always rushing to build a legacy before your time is up. Maybe some human men might find it burdensome to have wives who grow old at the same rate they do.” He couldn’t resist the dig. “My only regret is that I can’t do that with you. But I would be honored to live alongside you while you make your mark, instead.”

Elain averted her gaze again, chewing on her lip. She glanced at him once, then twice. The third time, he caught her chin with their joined hands, lifting her face until she met his eyes.

“Ask it.”

“What will happen when I’m gone?”

He shrugged. “There’s a war coming. Who’s to say that you will die first?”

She reared back, her eyes going glassy. Her lip wobbled, but she shot back:

“That’s not an answer.”

His chest tightened, and he held her hand to it, pressing the back of her palm against sternum and the Siphon glimmering with premature grief above it. Its light cast her face in cold, sickly blue, and he shoved down his power until she was once again pink-cheeked and flush with life.

He held her close and skimmed a kiss over the top of her head.

“When you are gone, I will mourn my beloved wife.”

It would be his undoing. That much he already knew before the shadows darkened and reached for him when they sensed the needling pain of loss radiating out of him.

Already, he could see the years stretching before them—sitting with her in the garden, teasing her over tea, sorting through his reports at a kitchen bench as she kneaded dough, wringing pleasure from her every night until she begged him for a reprieve. Family dinners with Rhys and Feyre, Cassian and Amren and Mor. Winning Nesta over, however long it took, because they both loved Elain fiercely, both wanted nothing but happiness for her.

And one day—too soon—when those years came to an end…

Elain started to shake, and he guided her to one of the low, plush chairs scattered throughout the House just seconds before her knees gave way. She fell into it, and he fell to his knees before her.

“I would be your wife… Not your mate,” she protested weakly. “I’m not your mate.”

“No,” he agreed easily. “You’re not.”

It didn’t matter. Mates or not, he knew they were meant for this. For each other. He was meant to share his life with her, and perhaps he always had been. That much was written in the marrow of his bones, tattooed into the membrane of his wings, carved into the chambers of his heart—the basest, most integral parts of his being.

“It doesn’t matter what some sainted cooking pot decides my fate should be,” he told her. “You are my love, and I choose you. I want you.”

Finally, she smiled, and he reached up to hold her beautiful, beaming face in his ruined hands.

“Marry me, Elain. Please.”

His shadows were frantic now, tearing at his leathers.

And a gasp that wasn’t Elain’s tore apart the weighted silence.

Azriel’s attention speared across the room to the source of that noise, and he looked up.

Directly into Mor’s wide-eyed stare as she hissed, “What have you done?”

“No,” Feyre and Rhys said at the same time, in the same breath. Azriel’s eyes shuttered. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”

ACOSF, Chapter 41

Too many razor-sharp thoughts sliced him any time he grew still long enough for them to strike. Too many wants and needs left his skin overheated and pulling taut across his bones. So he only slept when his body gave out, and even then only for a few hours.

ACOSF, bonus chapter

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #acotar #acomaf #my fics #elain x azriel #mor #acotar fic #acomaf fic #visions of you

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 5 months

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A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part eighteen (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: Betrayal, arguing, mentions of possible memory loss o-o

Part seventeen Part nineteen

Tag list: @esposadomd

Sorry for being gone for so long! I was sick and was barely keeping up with life. Y/N goes back to find Eris, and secrets are revealed. After gathering some people together, they have to go find someone Y/N isn't exactly happy to go see.

I sit with the inner circle, awkwardly sipping a cup of coffee.

It was going to be a long night.

“I kind of have to get back- I may have told Eris I was going somewhere else and he’s probably getting worried.” I say, shifting uncomfortably.

Rhys had offered me a shower after we got in, and even after the rain, I was covered in blood, so I accepted.

He must have talked to the others while I did, because they were all… softer? They still seemed hurt, but not full of rage.

The problem was that it was easier to leave when people were angry with you.

“Well you can’t bring him here.” Cassian murmured, causing me to huff a laugh.

“I wouldn’t do that unless everyone here was comfortable with it, and I know you’re not.” I say, trying to sound comforting.

He shifts uncomfortably, and I see Nesta nudge him discreetly. “Thank you.” She says, shooting me a smile.

I sigh, placing the cup down. “I’ll be back after I find a place where Eris and I can stay that I’m absolutely sure is safe.”

Without another word, I stand.

“Wait.” My brother says, standing with me. “Let one of us come with you. With Amarantha out there, I don’t like the idea of you out there alone.”

I sighed, holding back an eye roll. “Fine, but I get to choose who comes with.” I say, eyeing Azriel.

He’s watching me just as closely.

Rhysands nods. “Of course.”

I blink, surprised at how easily he agreed.

I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth though.

And I already knew who I wanted.

“I would like you to come with me, if you are alright with that?” I ask, turning to face Nesta.

Here I was thinking I couldn’t shock the room anymore than I already had.

She blinks. “Me?”

I nod. “I know you can fight, and I would like to get to know you better.” I say, dipping my head slightly, the closest I would ever get to a bow.

Cassian opens his mouth, presumably to respond for her, but she nods, her face cool and unreadable as she says, “I’m perfectly fine with that.”

I grin. “Good. Please hurry, I’ll be waiting in the garden.” I announce, heading out in that direction.

As soon as I leave the room, I can hear the cacophony of voices start up.

In my time here, I had seen Nesta was a good fighter, and even if it was suppressed, she had magic flowing in her veins.

I had heard her story, enough that I know that her powers were taken back by the cauldron. But it had left her some, and I can’t help but feel she’s lowered everyone's expectations.

“Why do you want to take my sister with you?”

I whirl around, and I see Elain standing there, inspecting me with a quiet sort of suspicion.

“I think you know.” I say, narrowing my eyes.

She crosses her arms, standing her ground. “You’ve not exactly proved yourself to be trustworthy.”

I smile, my eyes darkening. “Oh, and may I ask what you’ve done?” I ask, letting my voice drop an octave.

“Excuse me?” She asked, sounding outraged.

I let out a small laugh, sauntering over to her. “I’m going to warn you now little girl. You can pretend you’re innocent for awhile, but eventually it will catch up for you Elain.”

I smile a little bit at her, the little bit of terror and rage in her face. “When it does, find me. I know what it’s like.”

Turning, I finally make my way out to the garden, the rain having calmed to a light drizzle.

After coming back, I hadn’t taken the time to go outside at night, to go around and actually explore the city on my own.

Now, I look up at the stars, and I release a long sigh, letting my shoulders slump. I needed to go see the Sidra at some point, see if it was as wonderful as I remembered.

“You ready to go?” Nesta asks, and I smile a little.

I turn to study the female, who only seems relaxed when my brother isn’t in the room. I honestly don’t blame her.

“I am if you are.” I say, extending my arm for her to grab onto.

She raised her eyebrows, her lips twitching upwards. “How gentlemanly of you.”

I give her a little wink as she takes my arm. “I have to admit, I’m not usually one to flirt with mated females, but you’re quite fun.”

She whipped her head around, opening her mouth to snap at me, but before she could get a word out, I was winnowing us to Eris’s cottage with a chuckle.

We landed with a small thud, and we were both silent for a moment, waiting for the sound of welcoming footsteps or the sound of swords being unsheathed, but none came.

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach as I took a cautious step away from Nesta, peering around to check for any threats.

“Stay here. I’m going to make sure everything’s alright.” I turn just enough to look at her, already holding her feet apart in a fighting stance. “I trust you have weapons?”

She gave a curt nod, and I turned back around, taking my time checking the whole cabin.

I shake my head when I finally come back, the message clear.

Nothing.

“Well, do you have any idea where he went, or do you just want to head back?” She asked, leaning against the fireplace.

I shake my head. “I’m not leaving until I find him. Worse case scenario, his father or Amarantha found him. More likely though, he went looking where I told him I was going to be.” I explain, biting my lip nervously.

I knew I had been awhile, but I wish he had just stayed here for once.

“Maybe-” Nesta starts, but is cut off by the front door opening, the two of us unsheathing our weapons as the figure steps in.

Eris.

I put away my dagger rushing over to him. “Are you okay?” I asked, worried that he was hurt.

He paused as I rushed towards him, looking over me. “Are you alright?” He asked, walking over to me, and inspecting me hesitantly.

I nod, confused by the way he was staying a few steps back.

Sam, Tamlin, and Lucien walked in, and I watched the way Nesta stiffened up at their entrance. Normally I would have questioned Eris and Nesta on why they both seemed to have sticks up their asses, but I didn’t have time.

I had no time.

“Why the hell did you bring these two back right now? We literally can’t go back-” I started, but Sam cut me off.

“We sure as hell can, and you’re coming with us.” He said, leveling a stare at me.

I gritted my teeth, and Eris turned to look at me. “They haven’t explained a lot, but what they have isn’t good.” He said, and I realized he was wearing his usual mask of the cruel lord.

A little taken aback, I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that we find a safe-”

“Y/N.” Lucien stopped me, crossing his arms. “They told us why people don’t just go back to their lives willy nilly. You need to come back with us.

Nesta comes closer, standing by my side. “She doesn’t have to go anywhere she doesn’t want to.”

Suddenly, the room is split in two, and my stomach churns. I knew why they wanted me to come back, but I couldn’t go back yet.

Not until I knew that Amarantha would be waiting in the afterlife, and I could make sure she never hurt anyone again.

I look to Eris, who’s looking back at me with a sort of distrust.

“Could we talk alone for a minute?” I ask him. I don’t want to explain this in front of everyone like this.

He crosses his arms, but nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Everyone else starts to protest, but before any of them can finish I grab his arm and winnow us outside, a little distance away.

He shrugs me off, crossing his arms and looking up at the night sky, taking deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” I ask him again, more forcefully this time.

“No! No, I’m not alright. First, you lied to me to go talk to your family, second, from what they told me, if you stay here too long, something bad is going to happen to you.” He snapped, turning to look at me with tired eyes.

I shake my head. “It’s not like that. I just didn’t want you to worry, I worked it out with my brother, and I’m going to be fine.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I know he sees through my words.

“Tell me what happens.”

I let my shoulders slump, biting my lip anxiously. “I- The reason you stay you is because souls have this essence which is you. Your memories, your personality, you.” I start to explain, shifting uncomfortably.

He relaxes slightly. “What does that have to do with all of this?” He asked, and I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to tell him this, because I know he will panic.

“Well, that essence is what the Asteri steal. When people make it to the afterlife after it is stolen, they have no memories of who they were. You can also lose that essence in a sort of gamble.” I explain, crossing my arms.

He suddenly looks nervous, asking, “What sort of gamble?”

I take a deep breath before telling him, “If I stay here for too long without stopping by the afterlife, or even just another world, I will lose all my memories, but I have another chance at my life."

“And you were… what? Going to let yourself lose your memories?” Eris asks me, and I try not to cringe away.

“If Amarantha finds out how we travel, and tells the Asteri, then there’s nothing stopping them from basically taking over the universe. So no, I wasn’t really willing to risk everyone’s lives so I could keep my memories.” I snap, half turning away from him.

I hear him stand, and I close my eyes, wishing this was over.

“What else aren’t you telling me?” He asks, and I can hear the pain in his voice.

I wrap my arms around myself, not saying anything.

We stand there for a few moments in silence before he asks, “What now?”

I shrug. “Now? Now we find a safe place for you and I try and help my brother prepare Velaris for Amarantha.” I say, spinning on my heel and heading back toward the cabin. I was too tired to talk any more about this.

“About that actually-”

I sit with Tamlin, Lucien, Sam, Eris, and Nesta at a large and fancy table.

“So in other words we are all screwed?” I ask as they finish laying out the extend of Amarantha’s army.

“It could be worse.” Tamlin tries. “It could be the king of Hybren leading them.”

Nesta scowls at him. “That’s not helping.”

I sigh. “I guess I should get Rhys here. This is not going to be fun.” I bemoan.

Eris has stayed quiet, and I can understand why, but my heart still feels like it’s cracking.

Maybe I should have told him about the possibility of losing my memories, but the rest of what I wasn’t telling him…

It wasn’t something anyone needed to hear about. It was stupid, and it didn’t matter.

I look at Nesta, meeting her stare. “Want to stay here while I get them?” She gives a single dip of her head in response, and I immediately winnow back to the house of Wind.

“Mother above-” Cassian curses as I appear in the middle of the room.

“There’s a problem, and we need to go talk to Tamlin, Eris, Lucien, and my friend Sam.” I list, not bothering to hide my irritation.

“I thought you said Tamlin was dead, and did you leave Nesta with them?” Cassian questioned, standing up.

I cross my arms, meeting his stare. “I trust them and her. And if something happens, I’m sure she can handle herself.” I snipe before turning to my brother, who’s giving me an evaluating look.

He nods. “Alright. Feyre?” He asks, and it’s clear what he’s asking. Does she want to face Tamlin?

She gives a subtle shake of her head and he nods, shooting Cassian and Azriel a look, both of them standing as he does.

“Let’s go.

Now all of us awkwardly sat at an even bigger table, and no one was happy.

“Is there anything we can do to send her back easily?” Rhys asks impatiently, we had already been going around and around for an hour or more.

“Nope.” I say, ignoring his glare.

Someone, *ahem* Lucien *ahem* had brought up earlier the side effects of my lingering here, causing an explosive argument.

I bite my lip. “We could try and add more defenses to Velaris’s shield.” I say, thinking it through.

“That would help, but we would still need help defending the city.” Rhys ponders, before nodding. “Yes, we should at least do that.”

I nod. “Well, I have an idea, but…” I put my hand out, creating a small sphere of darkness and tiny pin prick stars, sighing.

“But I’m going to need help.” I manage to say, seeing what I’m going to have to do if I want to protect the city I had grown up in.

Rhysand smiles a little bit, and I almost roll my eyes. “Of course you’ll have help.” He says, and I sigh.

“It can’t be anyone alive. Which means I need to go find someone.” I say, standing up.

Everyone else stands up with me, clambering for my attention.

I slam a fist on the table.

“You all try and sort this out, I’m going to go get them.” I say, turning away from the table.

“I’m going-” “Like hell you’re-” Rhys and Eris talk over each other, starting a staring match.

I groan. “I don’t have time for this shit. Both of you come on now or I’m leaving you both here and you can throw your temper tantrums.”

I hear Nesta snort, and I hide the smile that threatens to spread across my face.

They follow me a little distance from the cabin, and I look around. “Can you two provide me some cover so no one can see what I’m doing?”

I hear light grumbling, but I ignore it as I start to create the portal. “Thanks.”

After a minute, the portal is open.

I take a deep breath, and make sure Eris and Rhys are both ready. They both look pissed, but otherwise ready.

“Let’s go see dear old dad.” I mutter before stepping through the portal, not giving them a chance to comment.

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queercontrarian · 1 year

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my first azris fanfic ehehe

feels like it was just hours ago i told @iftheshoef1tz about this idea (because it was literally hours ago and i just wanted to contribute something to romance week. i know it's not technically meetcute day, but it's whatever day so i can do what i want). anyways, have the unedited first chapter of my modern azris agegap au snippet bundle - that's a lot of words. i'll shut up now. enjoy.

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Azriel is already in pain when he wakes up, which is usually a bad omen. His knee feels tender, and he hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet. It doesn’t bode well for the day he has planned, and he wonders if he should just call Cassian and cancel their hike for today.

With a sigh he forces himself to throw the warm blanket to the side and at least get his feet on the ground. One small step towards starting this day. A coffee would be nice, he thinks, but Nesta has been on his ass to limit his consumption, which is ironic because his sister-in-law drinks much more coffee than he ever has, but if he has one now he won’t allow himself to have one at Cassian’s house later, and he definitely needs that one to make it through the afternoon and the evening without prematurely passing out on his couch.

With nothing else to do, Azriel stands and slowly makes his way to the kitchen, and yes, the knee is definitely going to cause problems. Once again he curses himself for deciding to walk home in the dark after getting shitfaced at Cassian’s and Nesta’s party, for not seeing that dumb root sticking from the ground and for getting his foot stuck under it. Most of all for having gotten to an age where the pain in his joints doesn’t disappear after a maximum of two days. He knows that he’s not twenty-five anymore, but it’s been more than a month since the party, and he can still feel it. Maybe someone should just shoot him, like a lame horse.

Standing in the kitchen he stares at the coffee pot on the stove, a fancy little espresso maker Rhys got him for his fifty-third birthday, along with a trip to Italy. He realises he hasn’t left these woods since that trip, except for his weekly trip to get groceries at the town’s supermarket, and visiting Rhys and Cassian at their homes located around that same forest he lives in. He’s been moving around, contained to that twenty-five mile radius, for two years.

On second thought, maybe he will have a coffee. While he reaches for the espresso box - another expensive gift from his friends - and both his knee and his shoulder pop this time, he remembers that he went to Greece for Feyre and Rhys’ wedding. That was last year, so he can still count that towards his “recently been active” list. Hanging out with family, travelling overseas. Suck on that, Cassian, he thinks. I’m going places, I’m not rotting away all alone in my cabin. I don’t need to “get out more”. I don’t need to “meet new people”. I’m perfectly fine where I am.

Granted, he is alone right now - he takes his eyes off the stove to look towards the window where Mr. Goggles used to sit. The cat had already been old - and named, as Az always feels the need to stress - when Feyre had given him into Azriel’s care because there was no space for him in Rhysand’s house. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the room - Rhysand’s mansion has more rooms than the two of them can possibly know what to do with - Rhys is just very allergic to cats. So Az had taken the grumpy old furball in and they had lived together for nearly three years. Now Mr. Goggles sleeps in the earth below his favourite window sill, under a small bush of white pansies that Elain says remind her of the fur pattern on his face. Azriel wonders what flowers she’ll put on his grave when he dies. Will they bury him next to the window behind his favourite armchair too? He wants to be cremated, but he’d be fine with a cardboard urn like Mr. Goggles’ casket.

The whistling and clattering of the espresso maker pulls him out of his thoughts. It’s not all that bad. Sure, maybe retiring so early was a mistake - he doesn’t need the money, he just misses having something to do - but when Cassian and Rhys left he hadn’t felt like being the only one to stay behind. Maybe he underestimated just how empty his cabin would feel once he spent more than just the nights and weekends there, with his brothers spending the majority of their time with their wives, ten miles through the forest in the homes they’d built for themselves. He’s not lonely, he doesn’t need or want anyone else in his house, or his life for that matter. The area feels crowded enough with just Old Man Schmidt down the street. Maybe he’ll get another cat. Nesta has mentioned occasionally seeing one roaming about where her office is.

While he sips his coffee he’s still debating whether to call the hike off - his body tells him yes but his brain says if he mentions it to Cassian he’ll come to his house to inspect the old injury himself, and he hasn’t even told him he fell in the first place, and he will undoubtedly notice the pathetic state of Azriel’s house. Everything is reasonably tidy, but it’s painfully obvious no other human being has stepped through the door in months, maybe even a year. The last time he had people over was for Mr. Goggles’ funeral, for Christ’s sake. Azriel shifts his weight onto the damaged knee and immediately regrets it. He bites back a pained groan, letting his head fall back against the cabinet.

Cass would tell him to see a physician. Az hates going to the doctor, and not only for the usual reasons - he hadn’t gotten the memo that it was a bad idea to sleep with, have a messy entanglement and then ditch the only medical professional for nearly 200 miles. He’s not gotten a check-up in almost four years. Neither of his brothers knows that though, and he would rather die than tell them, both about the problem and the reason behind it. Fifty-five feels like the worst age to come out to your life-long best friends.

Summer is already fading, but the sun is still warm on Azriel’s skin. He tilts his face up to the sky as he walks, before he quickly remembers he doesn’t want to sustain another injury and he concentrates on the dirt road under his feet again. He grits his teeth through the strain on his leg and keeps walking.

The quickest path to Cassian’s house leads him from the treeline where his cabin is straight through the clearing past Old Man Schmidt’s property and through the woods. He’s walked this path a thousand times, but something is off today. Old Man Schmidt never has guests over, but this morning there’s a new car in his driveway. When Azriel crosses the street he realises it’s not just the new car, there’s a moving van as well, and parts of the garden are ripped open from construction, old furniture and materials, tools and workers all over the lawn. Az has always been curious, and he’s a little perturbed that he hasn’t noticed what has apparently been going on for a few days already. Has he really been that disconnected from his surroundings? He wanders off the path and up to the fence, leaning against the gate. He tells himself it looks at least a little cool but really he’s just trying to take the weight off his knee. He doesn’t recognise the licence plate on the car, and he tries to look around for Schmidt but he’s nowhere to be found. The last time they spoke he hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting to sell his house. Then again, the last time they spoke was six months ago. Maybe things have changed.

“Can I help you?” Azriel turns his head so fast it almost gives him whiplash, his carefully combed hair immediately falling into his face, obstructing his view. He was so immersed in his snooping that he hadn't noticed the man stepping up to the fence.

“Um, yeah. I’m looking for Schmidt? Boris Schmidt, he lives here,” he manages to say, buying himself a minimal amount of valuable time as he sizes the other man up. He seems to be in his late twenties or early thirties, tall and muscular with silky short hair that is so red Azriel wonders if it’s dyed. None of Feyre’s attempts to colour her hair have turned out this perfect though, so he thinks it just might be real, or done by a very, very pricey stylist. Everything about the stranger screams expensive, from his hair to his crisp white shirt and leather boots. He even smells like it, and Azriel is suddenly very aware that out of all the things he has on, only the shirt and the underwear have been washed in the last three days, and he can’t even remember the last time he put on cologne.

“Mr. Schmidt doesn’t live here anymore. Hasn’t for over a month,” the stranger explains, and his voice is deep and smooth, feels like it wraps itself around Azriel, sliding through his ears and into his brain, muddling his thoughts.

“Oh,” is all he can get out. There’s a short pause where the stranger only stares at Az with his amber eyes, waiting for him to say something more.

Then he asks “Are you the neighbour?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “Yes I am. Are you moving in?” The stranger smiles, and good Lord above he is beautiful. Azriel swallows hard around the feeling suddenly bubbling up in his chest, through his throat and spilling into his mouth. He is too old to be reacting like this over a pretty boy.

“I am. Eris Vanserra,” the stranger introduces himself, reaching his hand over the gate. Azriel shakes it.

“Azriel,” he answers, then quickly adds, “Azriel Kantor.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Azriel nearly wishes Eris would stop talking because it is incredibly hard for him to concentrate on coming up with answers when his hand is burning where the man’s skin has touched his, and this is getting ridiculous. Just because he hasn’t gotten laid in one and a half years?

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he says, and means it for once. “I, uh, I live right down there. Can’t miss it.” He vaguely gestures behind himself with the burned hand, trying to shake that feeling off.

“Not like there’s many other houses around,” Eris replies smoothly, a faint smirk still on his lips, and Azriel has to pinch his arm to stop himself from staring.

“Yes. Only me. But my friends live south from here right through the forest. I’m actually going to visit them-” He trails off, and unfortunately the other man picks it up right where he left it.

“Azriel,” he says, embarrassingly breathless from forcing out that one word. Way too late he realises that maybe it was intentional, maybe Eris would prefer not calling him by his first name, and not having Azriel call him by his in turn. He’s being awfully presumptuous. But Vanserra only hesitates for a moment before giving him another smile.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you." Eris is already stepping away from the fence. "I guess I’ll see you around, Mr. Kantor.”

“Azriel,” he repeats, slowly, savouring every letter. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.” He lets a few seconds pass by silently where neither of them move. Then he turns and leaves him standing at the gate, glued to the spot like an idiot.

“You too,” Az calls dumbly after him, too late and too slow. Eris doesn’t look back, only lifts his hand with the smallest hint of a wave, and Azriel quickly looks away and returns to the dirt path, hands buried in the pockets of his pants.

Miles and hours later he can still hear the echo of his name from Eris’ lips in his mind when he raises his hand to ring Cassian’s doorbell.

Maybe he’ll walk back later instead of having Cassian drop him off at home after the hike. His knee doesn’t seem that bad anymore.

#modern azris au #old man azriel #has talked to eris once (1 time) and is already down horrendously bad #sjmromanceweek2023 #do not mention the picture #i needed something to mark the post #hashtag graphic design is my passion #kantor is about as close as i can get to calling azriel shadowsinger #sexy agegaps? we only know pain. physical and emotional #also rip mr goggles you will be missed

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acourtofthought · 2 years

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Elain and Lucien's Book Set up through Quotes

(in my opinion)

First............

“You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.”

“I can delay my father from allying with Briallyn and starting this war for a little while. But not forever. A few months, perhaps

Tamlin is already hanging by a thread. You and Lucien have made it clear that he’s barely improved. Learning of Feyre’s pregnancy might make him crumble again. With a new war possible and Briallyn up to her bullshit with Koschei, we need a strong ally. We need the Spring Court’s forces.”

And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability. Even his manor has fallen into disrepair, half-eaten by thorns, though rumors fly that he himself destroyed it.”

“Are these still your lands?” Nesta asked coolly, stepping out from behind Cassian. “Last I heard, you don’t bother to rule them anymore.”

"we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court

"But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her." "Nesta would have told Elain to visit this place."

"She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose" “He made this one for Elain". "the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel," "beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—

Spring bloomed fully around Velaris,

“They’re setting up bonfires - for Calanmai. It’s in two days.” “For what?” “Fire Night?”“It’s just a spring ceremony. We light bonfires, and … the magic that we create helps regenerate the land for the year ahead.” “There’s a ritual. But it’s … very faerie.”

I shook my head, trying not to imagine Elain subject to that … fire.

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood"

Then...............

He should have asked someone before coming here how much time remained before Vassa would be forced to return to the continent—to the sorcerer-lord at a remote lake who held her leash

Koschei said, “Tell my Vassa I’m waiting.”

“but they call him Koschei the Deathless, for he has no death awaiting him. He is truly immortal

There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything (not a quote but a little info - in folklore, a common feature of tales involving Koschei is a spell which prevents him from being killed. He hides his soul inside nested objects to protect it. So the onyx box may be what is needed to truly kill him)

"Elain had always wanted to visit the continent to study the tulips and other famed flowers, but her imagination had stretched no further. But that was all the western edge of it. Beyond that, the continent was vast. And to the south, another continent sprawled. Would she have gone?

“They sold her—to … to some darkness,

“Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.

His fire wouldn’t have withstood Koschei’s lake, I don’t think.”

Yes, it was Beron’s gift. The gift of the father who the world believed had sired him. But not the gift of Helion. His true father.

To summarize, Tamlin is no shape to get Spring up and running but Prythian needs Springs forces to be in fighting condition.

Lucien is now permanently stationed in Spring and there are hints that Elain will end up there too. Elain was also blessed by the Mother herself and a carving that is representative of Elain is placed next to a Goddess figure. To me, that is suggestive of Elain having the ability to restore Spring back to its former state.

I also think she and Lucien will partake in Calanmai to bring necessary magic back to the land (as it's currently in a state of disrepair).

It appears Vassa's freedom is drawing to a close and there seems to be hints that both Elain and Lucien will end up heading to the continent where Koschei is. Both to free Vassa from the curse and to locate the box which might be the key to defeating him. In Silver Flames, it's made known that the gift of fire might not stand up to Koschei's lake which could be when Lucien discovers he has another High Lords powers.

#elucien #elain archeron #elain x lucien #pro elucien #acotar #acotar theory #lucien and elain #lucien x elain #sarah j maas

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shallyne · 9 months

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SJM Crackshipmonth: Hurt Comfort

My Heart in your Hands

Day twenty-nine of crackshipmonth. Ship: Gwynlain! Enjoy! For @sjmcrackshipmonth

Words: 839

TW: mention of blood and injuries

Elain injures herself at the house of wind and during her search for her older sister, she bumps into Gwyneth, who's just coming from training.

Elain wandered through the red stone corridors of the House of Wind, quite disoriented. It's been almost two years since she had first resided here, right after she went into the cauldron and Feyre had sacrificed herself to get them out of the throne room, so Mor could bring Nesta and Elain right here. Then Feyre returned weeks later and from there on they moved to the town house. That was the last time Elain was longer than for a few, short visits in the House of Wind, although she didn't really explore the house when she lived there, either. Unfortunately for her because now she couldn't find her sister. "Nesta?" Elain called through the empty corridor, clutching her bloody hand.

Initially, she just wanted to pick up a gardening book from the library but then Elain found a plant that was in desperate need of her help and that turned into hours of gardening until she cut herself. Her Fae healing should have already stopped the bleeding and the blood should have coagulated already but unfortunately that wasn't the case. She didn't know if something was wrong with her or if it was the magic of the house but she didn't think too much about it, she just needed to find her sister or some bandages. "Nesta!" Elain called again, turning around a corner and almost crashing with someone who just walked down the stairs. The stairs. Great, Elain walked in a circle.

"Oh!" a surprised yelp echoed through the halls and Feyre snapped her eyes back to the girl. Her hair was a coppery brown and her wide teal eyes were fixed on Elain. Gwyn, Elain realized. She was Nesta's friend.

"I'm sorry." Elain said quickly. "I'm looking for Nesta, did you see her?" she should have, because Gwyn was wearing her training clothes.

"Nesta just left with Cassian." Gwyn explained, her eyes wandering to Elain’s hand. "Oh gods, are you okay? Of course not, you're bleeding. There's bandages in the bathroom, I'll show you." apparently, the question was written all over Elains face as Gwyn smiled sheepishly and said "I didn't snoop, I cut myself a few weeks ago during training."

Elain nodded at her and Gwyn took it as a gesture for her to lead the way. She followed Nesta's friend to a bathroom that was only a few feet away from the stairwell. Elain sat down on the edge of the bathtub as she was scrambling through a cabinet, making a satisfied sound as she found what she was looking for. Gwyn perched on the edge of the bathtub beside Elain, took a washcloth and held it under water for a few seconds. "May I?" Gwyn asked, pointing at Elain’s hand.

"Of course." Elain said, extending her hand for Gwyn to take. Her hands felt soft as they grabbed Elains calloused ones, because of all the gardening she did. For some reason it made Elain feel self conscious but she tried not to show it.

"This is going to hurt a little." Gwyn said quietly as she cleaned Elain’s hand. She only nodded and watched Gwyn as she cleaned her hand, applied salve and bandaged it. Her hair was bound in a ponytail and a white ribbon was wrapped around her forehead, a similar one that Nesta had braided into her hair sometimes, and she was wearing Illyrian leathers. Her brows were scrunched together as she focused on Elain’s hand. Her hair simmered copper when the sunlight illuminated it. When Gwyn looked up she smiled at Elain but they weren't in the bathroom anymore. They sat on a table in a garden, the garden in the River House, Elain’s flowers in full bloom and Gwyn was laughing about something. A female hand was tucking a flower behind her ear, Elain’s own hand she realized in shock.

"Elain?" Gwyn's soft voice sounded and Elain shook her head, getting rid of the remnants of her vision.

She looked down at her bandaged hand and wriggled her fingers. "It's perfect, thank you." Gwyn smiled brightly. "Did you do that before?"

"Once or twice." Gwyn sighed. "My friend, Lorelei, can be clumsy." she shrugged and stood up, extending her hand to help Elain. She accepted the hand with a smile and they both left the bathroom.

Before they could part ways, Elain blurted "You're working in the library, right?"

"Yes." Gwyn replied. "I do."

"Would you – Would you be able to help me find a book? My sister, Feyre, looks for a specific one."

Gwyn's eyes widened at Feyre's name but she nodded, her smile not leaving her face. "I would be honored to help the High Lady, and you."

Elain smiled in return. "Thank you so much, do you have time tomorrow morning?"

"Tomorrow morning would be perfect!" she said.

"Okay," Elain took a step back. "It was so nice to meet you, Gwyn. I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Goodbye, Elain." Gwyn called after her.

Now Elain only had to think of a book that Feyre would need.

Taglist: @timesconvert

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #sjmcrackshipmonth23 #sjmcrackshipmonth #elain kingslayer #elain archeron #elain acotar #Elain #gwyneth berdara #gwyn berdara #gwynlain #crackship #rare ship

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littlereds-fanfictions · 2 years

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Elucien Week- Day One: Masks

Elain sneaks into an autumn court ball in hopes of proving herself to the night court, only to bump into the person she least expected to see there. Her mate.

(I know this is a bit late but hopefully it still works! Happy Elucien week everyone!)

It was so much like back when she was a human... and not. The lavish hall was decorated in trimmings of gold and crimson. Something about the place resonated in Elain. Maybe it was the music that rang out reminding her of the days when Nesta would spin around ballrooms... human ball rooms with a smile on her face. Now however she did it across fae ballrooms.

While it's true Elain missed her human life, she did not morn it anymore. No instead she was going to adapt to her fae one, even if it meant sneaking out to prove she was good for more then just sitting in the garden and taking care of her plants.

The music hummed and twirled in the air as lavish gowns and intricately made shoes swiped and hissed across the glistening marble floors. For a moment, as Elain peered into the ball room her stomach dropped.

So many people-fae she didn't know. And while it was true barely anyone knew the way she looked, Elain, for a moment, worried someone might recognize her.

Reaching up to her face she let out a breath, her gloved hand brushed across the mask she wore, and she let out a sigh in relief. Masquerade ball, it was a masquerade ball. Even if someone would know her on sight because of the mask and gown she wore-completely different from her usual attire, no one would recognize her. Well almost no one.

The ballroom was even more lavish then the hall, with floating lights of varying shade- wait no those weren't lights... that was fire. Little balls of fire floated around the room in descending shades of orange red and gold.

Elain let out a breath, this was simple- easy even. The fae weren't used to being charmed like humans were. She could do as she had done in the past, smile and bat her eyes and anyone would give her all the information she wanted.

Stepping fully into the room she looked around. P-Fae were decked in elegant colors of rich autumn colors. Burnt oranges and crimsons, golds and burnished coppers. It made Elain feel as though she was stepping into a battlefield.

Her golden skirts swished as she glided across the edges of the ballroom, frothing flowers and butterflies shifting on her skirts making it seem as though she was being trailed by a cluster of glittering beauties.

Her mask, cupping the shape of her face and enhancing her cheekbones was dotted with small flowers, petals and butterfly wings on the sides.

As she walked, Elain felt eyes turning to her despite the music still playing and lively chatter racing around the room. This is exactly as she planned.

She was thankful, for her friendship with Nuala and Cerridwen but even more so for Azriel. Their friendship had become more of a friendship then before. Mainly due to Elain realizing Azriel and her were better as friends and because of a certain priestess her sister had befriended.

If it weren't for Nuala and Cerridwen, she wouldn't have been able to get all these clothes and if it were for Azriel she wouldn't have been able to come here.

She was surprised, to say the least, when he offered to help her. When Azriel offered to cover for her while she went to the autumn court to get information. Maybe, the priestess was helping Azriel change for the better. Truthfully Elain did not know, regardless she was thankful.

The music softened as the song came to an end and Elain watched as me-males stared at her for a moment. She pushed a smile on her face and tilted her head.

The song finally finished, and males said their goodbyes to their partners, slowly slinking over to see Elain. She smiled wider and suddenly a red-haired male in so dark a crimson it nearly looked black bowed before her.

"May I have this dance my lady?"

Elain began to nod and offer her hand when she felt something strange- no she heard it. A beating, steady and comforting, a beating familiar and gentle- the beating of a heart. Elain blinked and faltered with her hand.

He was here? No, no her could be here, could he? She swallowed, pushing back the mixture of so conflicting emotions. Relief and panic, worry and concern. Joy and-and fear.

"My lady?" The male began his voice lilting not in worry or concern but somewhat amusement and Elain blinked

She needed to focus, focus... while she was on the dance floor with this male she could look to see if she could find him. Then avoid him at all costs.

"My apologies," Elain said offering her hand, "You may."

The male took her hand and guided her to the dancefloor. The two stepped into frame and the music started once again. They began to spin and for a moment Elain looked around, not seeing anything or anyone new.

Maybe she was just imagining it- but it was still there, the beating getting louder and softer as she spun across the floor.

"So," The male holding her began, "how long are you going to pretended?"

Elain blinked and looked at the male in front of her, laughing slightly she tilted her head. He had to think she was silly and naive.

"Pretend what?"

"That you're not Elain Archaeon."

Elain froze and blinked looking at the male in front of her. Eyes glimmered and a smile flashed. A familiar smile on a familiar face. How could she have not realized it before.

"My brother doesn't know you're here, does he?" Eris Vanserra chuckled.

Elain kept a smile on her face but shot daggers through the mask at him.

"I don't understand why it matters. I haven't seen him in months."

Her tone shifted as she felt something bitter slip in, was she disappointed about not seeing him? Yes, but was it for the better yes!

"Yes, I know, he isn't acting at all the way I expected him to. No moping around hoping you'll ask for him to come, to see him." Eris began turning Elain in a spin, "instead he's off running around as Rhys's lap dog. Doing all and any work he can."

Grinding her teeth, Elain squeezed Eris's hand as she hissed.

"Lucien isn't a lap dog!"

Eris's smile widened and he pulled Elain in a bit closer.

"Yes, I know. But it is a bit surprising to see you defending him after the way you've been treating him."

She took in a breath, a faint image she could entirely make out flashing before her eyes. Danger... danger lied with him and her together. And being with him meant she was accepting what happened to her and she wasn't. No, she will never fully accept being fae, even if she gets accustomed to everything, she will always know that this wasn't her choice.

"It's for the best."

Eris snorted, a dark and bitter sound that seemed strange to Elain. He seemed upset but it didn't seem because right.

"For your lover or for him? Because as far as I can recall you and the spy master had begun a relationship. So, it seems you have no problems with fae, just Lucien."

Elain glared at Eris who raised an eyebrow and then laughed. He cared for Lucien... that much Elain could tell. Why else would he be pestering her with questions and getting upset she refused to be with him?

"I never expected to see such an expression on your face. Everyone says you're the innocent and harmless one..." Leaning in Eris whispered in her ear, "But I think you are far more dangerous then you let on. After all you got here, didn't you?"

Elain froze and the song came to an end. Eris released her and bowed. However, he retook her hand and began guiding her towards the edge of the ballroom.

"There is someone who wishes to meet you. And don't worry. It isn't my brother."

Elain's eyes narrowed, however she had heard Eris could be trusted, so she let him guide her. Out of the ballroom, into the hall and to a room. Releasing her hand Eris knocked softly, gently... even more uncharacteristic for him to do. Whoever-whatever was inside Eris cared about.

"Come in," A soft voice remarked.

Eris pushed the door open and gestured for Elain to enter. She gave him a suspicious look however he just sighed.

"I will stand watch; she does not want me to hear this conversation I assume."

With suspicious high and clenched fists Elain walked into the room. Sitting on a velvet couch was a startlingly beautiful woman with red hair and glimmering russet eyes. She was wearing green, a rich emerald green. She smiled when she saw Elain and gestured for her to sit down.

Elain sank into a seat nearby and looked the woman over. The woman just stared at her a soft, broken smile on her face.

"You are Elain," She whispered, and Elain nodded.

"You are as beautiful as he said- well wrote..."

Elain blinked and tilted her head before reaching up and removing her mask. A woman important to Eris, red hair and those eyes...

"You're Lucien's mother." Elain whispered.

The woman smiled and nodded, "Yes, however, you may call me Calida."

Elain smiled slightly, then felt a strange pang. She had been so rude to Lucien and yet Calida was still being kind.

"I'm sorry," Elain began but Calida waved a hand.

"You should not apologize, especially not to me. However," She sighed and reached out to take one Elain's hands, "if you do not wish to be with my son, please, just reject the bond. Let him be free, he cares for you so much and-"

Elain blinked as she realized something and pulled her hand from Calida's.

"How do you get letters from him? I thought he had been banished and was considered an enemy of autumn."

Calida looked to the door and smiled, "Help, let's just say I have help."

The heartbeat got louder, and Elain blinked, thinking about what Calida said. Reject the bond? Could she do that? When he was the comfort, she used as night terrors yanked her from sleep, when visions hit her and shook her to the core? Could she give that up? Could she give him up? When his heartbeat calmed her down and the mere sound of it, beat strong and steady made her feel safe? Could she give him up? When this entire time she never really thought she had him?

The heartbeat got louder, and Elain shook her head. Meeting Calida's eyes she side.

"I'm sorry Lady Calida, but I can't do that."

Calida tilted her head looking Elain over, watching as tears began to fill her eyes.

"Why not?"

"Because" Elain sniffed as she heard angry whispers outside the door, "I need him."

The door suddenly swung open, and Calida gasped, Elain turned to see standing in the doorway his face turning pale, Lucien. Dressed finely-so finely Elain's heart wanted to sing. He was handsome, she knew that but seeing him now. By the cauldron she couldn't breathe. He blinked his russet eyes and his metal one swirled.

"Elain?" He muttered in confusion and slight distress.

"Hello Lucien," She replied, tears slipping down her face as her soul found it didn't really have to fight to sing.

Hello mate

#elain x lucien #acotar #elucien #elucien week #day one #masks #elucienweek2022

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thesylphroad · 1 year

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Inner Monologue Shitpost Breakdown A.K.A. Review of Chapter 2 of "A Court of Thorns and Roses"

Commence Chapter Two

Even though just a few minutes ago narrator gave us that whole concerning spiel about how her world has no color in it anymore, the moment something good finally happened her world is "a living painting" once again. This is textbook catastrophizing, and I will say it again: protagonist absolutely has BPD. I love this, because it makes her more relatable as a heroine. But also...seek therapy, please. There is a less compelling counter-argument to be made for the possibility that she's simply suffering hallucinations in color due to starvation and/or hypothermia, but overall I'm feeling confident about my prognosis.

In chapter one narrator foreshadowed her two sisters as these sort of...2D villains...but now she's walking into the house and catches their muffled talking from inside and she's like (paraphrasingly), "I don't actually need to hear what they're saying to know it's something stupid about like boys or ribbons" which is so cunty but I love it. Like, this sort of knee-jerk condescension where she minimizes them to silly, shallow, frivolous little idiots without even HEARING them...chef's kiss. It's this implication that our protagonist isn't such a black and white instrument of morality that makes her character more likable in my mind.

She extends this same flavor of contempt to their father in the very next paragraph, because it turns out he's also wildly incompetent, and gullible to boot. We learn that this is a combination of their family's unfortunate financial situation, a smattering of PTSD (courtesy of some kind of evil banker crony guys attacking and crippling him), and what reeks of depression-induced executive dysfunction. Dad has basically fucked off and given up, sisters are essentially useless.

Verdict: there's definitely some weaponized incompetence going on in this household, and everyone just assumes narrator is going to pick up the slack (she does). She also vaguely hints at the fact that she's only DOING it because she has to. Reader (me) is not surprised to hear this. Narrator takes promises very seriously, and is constantly burdened by this promise she made to their dying mother. Their dying mother knew to place this burden on narrator, because...well...quite frankly the rest of the household fucking sucks. Dad is fruitlessly chasing the "someday I'll be rich" dragon, courtesy of the book's real-world parallel of our capitalistic brainwashed poverty regime; he is doing little wood carvings no one fucking wants because he's a freelance whittler in a destitute village where nobody can AFFORD HIS SILLY CURIO CURIOSITIES. Sister Elain is pretty and brainless and probably just needs to marry a rich man with a big garden (she loves flowers). Obviously this one is Dad's favorite, which is just an extra sting to the narrator's piling list of injustices. Sister Nesta is...a cunt? There's a line about how she deliberately places Dad's cane out of his reach, which is funny but also, what the fuck? This could also be some manifestation of her just being really unsatisfied with his mediocre parenting, which is pretty understandable in retrospect.

This chapter is...better than the first. Thank the forgotten gods. Author struggles with the concept of nuance. This is less of an issue for the narrator, because the author overtells everything the narrator thinks and feels (to an extreme degree); but once we are introduced to characters whose perspectives we aren't given directly, it becomes a problem. For example, I know I'm not supposed to hate the narrator's sisters. The only reason I know this is because the narrator has explained to me in exact words that SHE doesn't hate them. But are they WRITTEN as irredeemable villains? Yes, absolutely. Can I forgive the fact that they don't notice the narrator is covered in blood, or offer to help with any of the meal prep, but immediately both jump to what she can buy for them with the money she gets from the wolf pelt? No. But I get the sense that I'm supposed to, in that EVENTUALLY the narrator will insist that I root for them.

If the author had chosen to make the sisters CHILDREN, I would feel a lot differently here, because, despite being the youngest child, the narrator is shouldering the brunt of the household's emotional and financial needs. She promised her dying mother she would play mother once she was gone, which...is not fair to her, obviously...and now I SEE why she took 3 years to leave the forest and has a branching inner monologue that rivals Homer's Odyssey and a very pronounced, undiagnosed borderline personality disorder. They do SEE her as the mother of the household. But considering the narrator is 19, and they are both OLDER than she is, their lack of empathy just makes them look like fucking monsters. Do I hate them? Yes, I've been urging narrator to burn her house down with her entire family inside since I started reading this chapter.

I'm thinking there is probably some significance to the faerie wards on the threshold, but I also just generally like the implication that even in this world of forgotten gods you still get a bit of good old-fashioned fundamentalist inspired fear-mongering. I also like that this is lore-accurate based on the way Celtic fairy faith was very much driven by a similar fear. Families were constantly seeking ways to defend themselves against the fae, be it with religious symbols or iron or salt or open scissors above a newborn's crib. This is why you don't keep welcome mats on the doorstep, this is why you need protection runes and throw your infant in the fireplace if you suspect it might be a faerie changeling. Some of it seems so silly, yes, but it does conjure up a sense of real fear, and how it is deeply-ingrained into the MORTAL side of this book's world, but we also see where the protagonist deliberately separates herself from the DELUSION of it. She's like, "Yeah these wards are obviously fake, everyone knows we don't have magic, we can't even hope to defend ourselves against the power of the High Fae." Protagonist is a realist; she is not indoctrinated by the false sense of security provided by these carvings on the threshold. It is very significant that narrator CHOOSES not to weaponize this secular understanding of the world around her, she CHOOSES to let her father live in this naive bubble he's created for himself. Just like she acknowledges the blind, shallow, selfish nature of her sisters but CHOOSES not to confront and unpack those issues. It's the most multi-faceted element we've gotten of this heroine thus far, because we know now that only part of this is out of kindness and empathy. The other part of her ENJOYS the advantage she has over her family members. They ARE absolutely inept, incompetent, naive, shallow, blind, shackled sheep in a pen, and narrator gets some small satisfaction from that. She is smarter than they are. She is more responsible than they are. She spares them the burden of being held to a higher standard because it keeps her on this pedestal, and the resulting sense of self-worth is literally ALL she has, that is her ONLY sense of self-worth, no matter how she may resent it. These two halves of her personality are held together by obligation and guilt. It's not that she ENJOYS playing mother to a grown man and two grown women; she feels like she has to, and at this point, it's all she knows HOW to do.

Narrator’s name is Feyre. I had a hunch because I am both clever and wise, but it’s nice to finally receive confirmation. Author makes certain to include pronunciation directly after, because author realizes most readers will not skip to the pronunciation guide at the end of the book.

In short, things I do like: The deepening of the story’s morally gray protagonist, the impending burden of responsibility versus guilt, the name “Feyre,” a deeply fearful human settlement built on the outskirts of faerie territory, whose only line of defense from their hostile neighbors is…ineffectual carvings in the windows (and probably like bits of iron or something), details like the brassy hair narrator shares with her sisters—juxtaposed by the disparity of things like eye color, and how her sisters and father all have a “clean” face—while she comes home, the contrarian, covered in blood,

Things I don’t like: lack of effectual character development for narrator’s sisters and father, the way two people in the same two-room house asked narrator the same dumb question about “where she got” the two animals she very obviously hunted and skinned herself, author’s hyperbolic over-use of adjectives, and this sentence: “My father’s deep rumble came from the fire.”

#booktok #book tumbr #bookworm #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #book review #i'm reading the faerie smut #i'm reviewing the faerie smut #fantasybooktok #fantasy books #romance books #super candid super honest review of this book everyone else has already read

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legends-and-savages · 3 years

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Tag Dump

#Queen Without a Throne {Visage}#c;; Nesta Archeron #h;; Nesta Archeron #Nesta things #v; In Charge {Pre-Series}#v; Anger A Lifeline Cruelty A Release {ACOTAR}#v; Made It Give Something Back {ACOMAF}#v; Do Not Fit the Mold {ACOWAR}#v; Broken and Not Hiding it Well {ACOFAS}#v; Give it All Back {ACOSF}#v; Never Again Be Weak {AU}#Dresses as Weapons {Wardrobe}#Can't Say That I Love You But I Do with My Whole Being {Nessian}#Not My Little Flower Anymore {Nesta and Elain}#Sisters of Steel {Nesta and Feyre}#Rebirth of the Valkyries {Nesta Gwyn and Emerie}#Shares a Love of Books {Nesta and Gwyn}#Helped Each Other When We Needed It {Nesta and Emerie}#Understood Me First {Nesta and Amren}

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mc9798 · 3 years

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My Little Fire

Chapter 8

First < Previous > Next

I got back inside the mansion and went straight to my room, or at least I tried, because Nesta was waiting for me beside the stairs.

“What do you think you are doing?” She asked angrily.

“What are you talking about, Nesta?” I asked, faking innocence.

“You know pretty well what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you inviting that Fae to dine with us. They are dangerous, Aideen. They can act like normal people, but they aren’t.”

“Don’t talk like that about Azriel. He did nothing against you or any of us. Actually he was really polite, soothing you weren’t. So please, Nesta, don’t talk about something you know nothing about. You barely know him, you can’t judge him.”

“And you know?”

My blood was boiling inside my veins and I had to hold back my hand, avoiding slapping her face.

“No, I don’t know him. But Feyre does, and I trust her judgement. Otherwise she wouldn’t have sent him here.”

“Feyre is one of them now. I’m not sure I can trust her anymore, at least not yet.”

“She’s our sister, Nesta. You can’t be serious. She fed us for years, took care of us alone. How can you not trust her when it’s thanks to her that you’re still alive?”

I was almost screaming at her. She evaporated all of my patience, as always. I saw Elain with the corner of my eye when she entered the room.

“Nesta, please. Feyre asked for a restart, you said that you would accept, so at least try.” She begged sweetly.

Nesta, who was looking at Elain, turned to me again. I hadn’t even blinked. My face must have been as red as The blood that flowed underneath my skin, burning me from the inside, pure rage. Even after all this time, after Cassian’s words, after all she did for us, Nesta still didn’t trust Feyre. Fae or human, she was our sister. We should love her, because she would still love us.

Nesta didn’t say a word, as she turned her back to us, as straight as a tree, and climbed up the stairs to her room. I didn’t look away until she had disappeared from my sight. My jaw tense.

I saw Elain on my peripheral, coming closer. She put her hand on my shoulder, trying to calm my tempers.

I sighed loudly, tired. I gave her a look, trying to apologize for the mess I’ve made. She brushed it with a kind smile. I relaxed my tense shoulders and went to my room. All I wanted now was to spend some time alone, only with my own thoughts. That they could calm me down a little.

—————————————————————————

Azriel :

I have spent the whole flight back home thinking about Aideen. By the way she looked at me when I said that Cassian was the one coming for the next check up, I knew she was upset. And it only cheered me up more for my next visit. I would be going more times than my brother, since I had to do my work finding out what I could about the queens. He would be going only when I needed some time to rest and sleep, before continuing on my search for information.

I know I’m not good enough. She deserves only the best. Being so smart, prettier than anything I’ve ever seen and as sweet as a flower, she deserves someone better than me, someone that was not broken inside, or full of problems and scars, on the inside and outside. But I can’t keep myself away from her.

She must have a bunch of wooers on her door. And only thinking about it makes me sick, her in someone else’s arms.

I threw this thought to the back of my head before I went back there and took her to Velaris with me. I thought about her smile instead. It took my breath away just to remember. Her beautiful, dark brown eyes. I could lose myself in them for hours. Her silky wavy hair. Which smelled just like her. Her soft skin, that I got so close to touching with my lips I could feel her warmth.

She was perfect, in every way.

Her curiosity and intelligence. Everything in her attracted me. Even my shadows wanted to be with her. When away I felt like a part of me would always stay with her, keeping an eye on her, my shadows.

I was so caught up on my thoughts that I didn’t notice when Velaris came into sight. Almost passing the city.

Here above, seeing the shiny lights reflecting on the Sidra, I could only think about how I wanted Aideen in my arms. Flying over all this beauty that didn’t reach hers.

I arrived at Rhys’ state to find Cassian on the couch and Mor on the armchair in front of him. They took a good look at my body, searching for wounds. When they didn’t find any they smiled, relaxing.

“Welcome back, Az” said Mor sweetly.

After finding my mate I asked Rhys and Cass to keep the discovery a secret. They didn’t tell Mor, Amren and even Feyre. I didn’t want them to know, didn’t want their opinion and guesses. Just how I knew Rhys didn’t want them too about his mate. I had found out his bond with Aideen’s sister as soon as he brought her to Velaris. He had made everything to keep the city a secret for almost half a century, it wouldn’t be then that he would corrupt it.

When I stopped to demonstrate any kind of romantic feelings towards Mor, almost two weeks ago, she seemed to relax more when I was around.

“Welcome, brother. Where have you been? You were supposed to have arrived some hours ago. You left us waiting. They didn’t let me eat until they were sure you wouldn't be coming. Don’t tell me you were with the clever Archero.” Said Cassian. And all I wanted now was to punch his face until he bleeded for talking about Aideen in front of Mor.

She looked at him with curiosity and confusion in her eyes. Arching a brow. “Who?”

Cass' eyes became wide understanding his mistake. He looked at me and opened his mouth to answer, but I stopped him.

“Feyre’s sister. As it seems, she enjoys learning about different cultures and asked me about ours. That’s why I was late.” I said between clenched teeth looking straight at Cassian. He shrieked a little. He knew we would talk later. Or maybe use our swords.

“That’s so unfair.” Said Mor. And I looked at her confused. “You got to meet them while I had to stay here with Amren.”

Cass laughed at her complaining.

“Thank the mother you don’t know them, at least one of them I mean.” I knew he was talking about Nesta. It was true. The older sister wasn’t as gentle as the others. Even with Aideen’s temperament being unpredictable as I noticed.

Mor grimaced. “Well, now that Az is back, I’ll go to bed. Good night boys.”

We bid her good night. When her steps faded down the corridor upstairs I turned to Cassian and hit the back of his head.

“Hey! What was that for?” He exclaimed, massaging the back of his head.

“You know pretty well why I did this.” I murmured still afraid that someone would hear, even with my shadows keeping me informed.

“Yeah.” He said with his face scrunched. “Do tell now, you were with her, weren’t you?”

I let the silence reign while I thought if I should tell him.

“I was. She invited me for dinner and I didn’t want to be rude.” I ended saying.

“Okay, rude.” Said him with irony that I decided to ignore, only rolling my eyes at it. “Did you find anything about the queens though?” He asked. Changing the subject for my sake.

“No, nothing. I couldn’t even infiltrate my spies. Not even I could enter.” I sighed massaging my temples.

It irritated me more than anything. Not being able to do my job, be useful. It made me nervous.

Cassian moved closer and landed a hand on my shoulder.

“You will succeed, brother. But now you should sleep a little. Otherwise you will fall while flying.”

I followed his advice and went straight to the House of Wind. I got to my room and freed myself from all the leathers. And entered the tub to try and relax.

But as soon as I got in, and the hot water touched my skin, I couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t Aideen. My mind swirled, passing through every memory, every piece of her.

Until that moment in the kitchen. When I got so close I could smell it when her scent changed. Became sweeter. With desire.

Her scent changed something inside me, so strong that I had to take a step back. And only to remember it now made every muscle in my body become rigid. And when I looked down, I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping too soon if I didn’t calm myself down. So I changed the water to cold and prayed to the gods it would be enough.

At least then I would be able to sleep without making something I would regret later.

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Tag list: @mis-lil-red / @minnie-mitzel / @crimsonandwhiteprincess / @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 / @notquitehero / @miamoomoo

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meher-sumedha · 3 years

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Alright so a Gwynriel Fan Fic Cause.... I have been reading a lot of them and love them and it's time to give back to the world. @meher-sumedha.

Edited : I am so sorry for the way I have used this fic. I never meant to hurt any feelings and I didn't know. I didn't know so much and I really am sorry.

Gwynriel Headcanon : A dinner with the Inner Circle

Trigger Warning

Nesta had invited Gwyn to a dinner with the Inner Circle, something which she had started doing very often cause she saw how much Gwyn enjoyed herself. Today was supposed to be no different. But it was, because she had heard the conversation between Azriel and Elain that day.

"What's your condition? " Elain had asked him.

"You have to reject the bond with Lucien" He told her while tucking her hair behind her ear. An action which Gwyn thought was reserved only for herself. She was wrong.

"Done, but you can't talk to that Librarian-"

"Gwyn" Azriel corrected her.

"Whatever, but you can't talk to her"

"I am her trainer, I have to talk to her". He seemed uneasy with this condition.

"Fine, but no need to talk to her any more than needed" She said and grabbed his collar and kissed him. Gwyn had forced herself pulled herself away before she could see anymore.

Gwyn was in a light pink evening dress. She had stopped wearing her clothes to the townhouse now. "Gwyn we're gonna be late, and unless you wanna sneak food from the house at 2, hurry up". He said to Gwyn while standing outside her door in the House of Wind.

Nesta had given her Rhysand's room cause he barely stayed there now.

She had become pretty comfortable with the spymaster. It all started when he caught her eating a chocolate cake in the middle of the night. And since then, whenever one of them had nightmares, they would share a cake while looking at the stars.

"I'm coming, in a minute", She said and brushed her hair. She then walked out of the door.

Azriel took her in as always and one of his shadows started playing with her hair and she giggled. Azriel then extended his hand.

"We're gonna fly cause whenever I winnow with you, you get sick everytime".

She put her hand in his not flinching once when she touched his scars. "I swear if you free fall like last time and drop me, I will make your life a living hell". He just laughed at that and picked her bridal style, ready to fly. Azriel once took her flying and he free falled from the sky with shouting Gwyn. It was their happiest moment. At least for Azriel it was, Gwyn didn't talk to him for a week after that but it was worth her hanging on to him like dear life.

"I promise I won't drop you", "AND??? ", "ANDD, I won't free fall".

"Promise? ", "Promise".

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he walked to the skies and took off. "AZZ" Gwyn shouted while he took her as high as possible. "What? You said not to free fall, this is winged up" He replied while smirking. Gwyn hid her face in his neck but then finally looked up when they stopped, right above the clouds to see Azriel's laughing face.

She had never seen him laugh, not like this at least. His shadows were out of control and for a moment Gwyn just gazed at his face. All the feelings which she had stuffed down years ago started to resurface.

Azriel stopped laughing and looked at her face for a moment. He wished that moment could last forever because the way Gwyn was looking for him, was the look of desire and want, the look he had never recieved.

"We should go, we don't want to be late or Rhys will beat my ass". She smiled at that and simply nodded before hiding her face in his neck. He always wanted to protect someone, but never got the chance to. The fact that Gwyn trusted him with herself, was the greatest honor for him

He then flied down, free falling but Gwyn didn't shout. She just held on to him. She knew that he would never let her go.

They entered at the doorstep of the townhouse and knocked. There was smiling Feyre with her messed hair at the door. "Trouble with Nyx? " Gwyn asked while walking inside. "You have no idea" She said while smiling and closing the door when Azriel entered.

"Where is he? " She asked eagerly. She loved that kid. More than anything cause she had baptised him. It had formed a kind of bond between her and Nyx.

"Don't even want to meet the others? " Azriel asked cheekily and Gwyn glared at him. Amusement shown clearly in his eyes. They entered the dining room and saw Rhys trying to stop little Nyx from crying by making funny faces at him. Something that was definitely not working.

Feyre went straight up to him and took the baby in her arms. Rhys gave her a reassuring look before walking outside, nodding at Gwyn in his way. Feyre rocked Nyx side to side and he finally went to sleep.

Feyre looked pretty tired so Gwyn went up to her and asked. "May I? " Gesturing to Nyx. She nodded and Gwyn took the baby in her arms. So gently to make sure she didn't wake him up.

"BROTHER, I CAN'T WAIT TO TELL YOU ABOUT-" Cassian was cut off by Azriel pointing to his own throat and doing a signal and mouthing SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.

But the damage was already done, Nyx started rubbing his eyes and stir awake but then Gwyn started humming a tune which put him back to sleep. Nesta came up to her and slightly hugged her, slightly giving her an apologizing look before glaring at Cassian. Nesta was very protective of Nyx. Cassian just raised both of his hands in air in a surrender position.

Gwyn then took Nyx to his room to tuck him in his bed. Azriel's shadows followed close behind her. She tucked Nyx in the bed and kissed his forehead lightly.

She then went out of the room and closed his door behind her. She entered the dining room and took a seat beside Emerie, with Azriel on her right and to his right sat the high lord and high lady. In front of them were Cassian and Nesta and beside Emerie was Mor. They all were talking when someone walked in the dining room.

"Nesta", the girl said. Nesta stood up and said "Elain". Gwyn assumed it was the third Archeron sister, the one who had refused to come out of her room ever since Gwyn accidentally told the Inner Circle about Azriel and Elain's 'mishap' in the garden. She genuinely thought they knew.

Nesta had turned stone cold towards her sister, staring right back at her with her silver eyes. "Elain, we are happy that you decided to join us for dinner, would you like to take a seat? " Rhys asked her, trying to minimalize the tension in the room. Azriel was just speechless and was just staring at his lap instead.

"I see that the bird who can't fly and the bitchy librarian are still here" She said to Nesta. Everyone was surprised at her tone, no one had ever heard her talk like that, especially Azriel who finally looked at her.

"They are much better than you ever will be". Nesta replied, her gaze not faultering. Elain scoffed. "What have they done really except be a burden to all of us? They have not returned one thing we gave to them. They are never going to do so either. How can you choose them over your blood sister? " Elain replied.

"I was stuck with you, with your flowers and gardening and thinking that everything is perfect in the world. I never had a choice with you. If I did, I would never choose you. They are my sisters by choice. " Nesta replied, striking hard as ever.

"How can you call them your sisters? The crippled bird I can still understand but that pesky librarian. She gave her maidenhead to a person she never knew, she is a slut and an whore and a half breed. She isn't welcome anywhere else and she shouldn't be welcome here either. Why are we helping prostitutes now? How is she ever gonna be useful to us when she couldn't even save her own sister-", "ENOUGH". Feyre cut her off.

Gwyn's eyes were full of tears. She silently stared at Azriel for a moment before standing up and leaving.

Tears finally took the best of her when she walked out of the townhouse. She went straight to the stairs of the house of wind and cried her heart out. She finally let the darkness consume her.

#hehehehe #gwyneth berdara #gwyn #gwynriel #azriel #az #azriel shadowsinger #shadow singer #gwyneth #shadowsinger

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thesistersarcheron · 1 year

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Pairing: Elriel Rating: E Tags: Canon Divergence - ACOMAF, Accidental Courtship, Secret Marriage/Elopement, Human/Fae Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Angst Word Count: 2.3k Summary: After learning of her younger sister's fate Under the Mountain, Elain Archeron struggled to envision her future as the lady of the Nolan estate. Sometimes, when she woke in the night and the iron band of her engagement ring was cold as ice on her finger, she knew only dread. She had no such trouble with the fearsome Fae male who made a habit of checking on her nearly every day. It might have been some trick, a faerie enchantment or thrall, but falling in love with him was the easiest thing she ever did.

Part two of my @acotargiftexchange present for @ultadverb.

Read this fic on AO3 here!

Elain Archeron tread lightly over the thin blanket of snow covering her garden, inspecting the tarps covering her roses and checking for animal tracks. Every few steps, she felt the prickle of something—magic, eyes, or perhaps some sort of dark intent—latch onto her. Such had been the case for several days now, since Feyre and her cadre of Fae warriors had returned to Prythian and left silent, unseen sentries in their place.

Usually, the thought of them unnerved Elain. Men—males—that she didn’t know and that her father hadn’t vetted, standing watch outside of a house where she and Nesta were alone and defenseless…

Even if she had decided to crack on with her life and pretend they weren’t there, it was still enough to send shivers up her spine sometimes.

But today was different. The shadows beneath the arched lattice where she planned to grow beans in the spring were especially dark, and Elain recognized the way that darkness moved, she thought.

She hoped.

She’d only seen them once before, the morning after Feyre had shown up on their doorstep as a High Fae, but they made an impression, like those curling wisps of darkness unlocked some long-forgotten dream in a chamber deep in the far recesses of her mind. It was a strange feeling, but it happened often enough—when she stirred bones to make watery broth in their old iron pot or watched Nesta chop wood with murderous intent or followed the line of Feyre’s brush as she painted flowers on their stained, pocked table—that Elain hardly found it discomfiting anymore.

More often than not, on days like today, she decided to let that feeling lead her, to let the swirling eddies of it take her by the hand and spin her into its dance.

So she said to the thin layer of frost atop the birdbath beside the arch when she finished her rounds, “It’s still so cold for this time of year, isn’t it?”

No answer.

It took all her courage to lift her chin and continue. “Would you like to come in for tea?”

Then—there.

The shadows barely moved, save for a subtle shift in the darkness, as if a cloud drifted in front of the sun.

“We dismissed the servants,” she said to them quickly, “in case you’re worried about being seen.”

The silence stretched, and Elain felt foolish. Maybe she had simply begun to see things since the return of the Fae and their magic into her life. Maybe her head was rather stubbornly floating amongst the clouds, like Nesta sometimes snapped at her.

Still, the sight of those shadows made her think of her little sister. Elain’s throat tightened at the thought, as it always did these days—Feyre dying, Feyre alone, Feyre losing her storybook ending—so she clenched her fists beneath her cloak, taking a deep breath.

Once more. She would try once more.

“Please? I would like to know if my sister is well.”

The shadows shifted again, and snow crunched almost imperceptibly.

Step.

The Fae male that stepped into the light was just as tall and just as intimidating as he had been the first time she met him, those massive, talon-tipped wings looming high above his head, but his eyes… Those lovely green-and-gold eyes were still gentle when he looked at her. And his cheeks, a warm shade of brown in the sunlight, were flushed with the cold.

Azriel.

What a strange name, foreign and sharply edged, and yet… it still rolled gently off the tongue. Either way, it was one she would be hard-pressed to ever forget.

He gave her a polite smile, and it was almost easy to ignore the brutal leather armor he wore, the hilt of the sword over his shoulder, the knife sheathed at his side.

Elain had to work to keep her shoulders from falling with relief, though she did catch herself twisting her engagement ring round and round on her finger. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his eyes peering through the blinding winter sunshine toward the house. “Of course.”

Elain didn’t waste time, leading him back through the garden quickly. He might disappear, she feared, if she dallied too long.

"I assume you're here to check on the sentries?"

He nodded again and remained silent as she led the way through the garden, save for a quiet, “You’re welcome,” when she thanked him for holding the door to the servant’s entrance open for her.

It was a good thing Nesta was in the village, keeping up appearances and running the various wedding-planning errands she had taken over since they dismissed the butler and the housekeeper. Not just because Elain was inviting a faerie back into their home, but because the kettle on the stove was already screeching shrilly. It had been for some time, judging by the thick condensation coating the little stained-glass panel on the wall behind the range.

She waved at the chairs set along the wooden workbench that dominated the room. “Please, sit.”

Silence prevailed as Elain warmed the china teapot and filled it with boiling water, found the tin she wanted and measured out enough leaves for two, and pushed herself onto her toes to coax another teacup off the high shelf in the cupboard.

Azriel waited until she had everything she needed on a tray, sugar and milk and tea and yesterday’s misshapen and slightly undercooked biscuits, and slid it onto the workbench.

Elain slid into her seat. “My sister?”

He seemed to weigh each word before he said, “Your sister is doing well. She’s settling in nicely in the Night Court. She trains with Cassian every morning, and she’s getting stronger.”

“Training?” She set a cup and saucer before him, ignoring the spike of anxiety she felt. Another meal with the Fae, not one week after the first—Nesta could never know. “To fight, or to use… magic?”

“Both. She’s powerful.” Azriel didn’t hesitate this time, but Elain got the sense that he was not entirely sure he should share so much with her. Nevertheless, his lips quirked, and he said softly, “She got quite the hit on our High Lord yesterday morning. Straight to the jaw. I have no doubt she’ll soon be able to lay us all out.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Elain said, but she wasn’t sure of the truth of those words. “And she’s comfortable? I’m not quite sure what her arrangements are now, but if there are any expenses we could help her cover… food, housing, that sort of thing…?”

Her heart ached at the thought of Feyre beyond the Wall. It was bad enough the first time her sister was taken and terrifying the second time Feyre went and sent no word, but now… Now, Feyre was High Fae, and she truly belonged in the half of the world where Elain could no longer reach her.

And if war was on Prythian’s horizon, and Feyre was still tangled up with High Lords, Elain was certain that she would need funds of her own.

There was little she could do for her sister now, and too little she had done in the past, but money was the one thing she had in abundance. It hadn’t occurred to her during Feyre’s first visit, but once the shock had worn off, the worry that Feyre was going hungry again had gnawed at her gut.

“That won’t be necessary. She makes a generous salary as a member of our court, and I believe she’s comfortable in her current accommodations as well.” When Elain nodded, Azriel cast a glance around the kitchen—empty, but for the two of them. “You dismissed your servants?”

The warmth on Elain’s cheeks had nothing to do with her embarrassment at the way he looked at her lumpy little cookies. “Yes. The household staff, at least, not the groundskeeper or the stablehands. I— We just thought that if we’re going to get more Fae visitors, it would be dangerous for them to be here. If they saw us with you, or if someone from the village saw them with any of you. Well.”

Azriel only nodded. “That’s smart.”

“I hope so,” was all Elain could say.

Deciding the tea had steeped long enough, she distracted herself by pouring his cup and then her own. To her surprise, he nodded when she held a sugar cube out for him… and nodded twice more when she returned the tongs to the small bowl of them. On the fourth cube, she let out a breath, reluctant to add more and ruin the tea.

Those hazel eyes glittered with amusement, and Azriel ducked his head as he reached for a spoon to stir the sugar into his tea. His hands—Elain didn’t dare look too long.

“Too much?”

The clear humor in his voice startled a laugh out of her. “Perhaps. This blend is quite subtle. I would hate for a sweet tooth to ruin the experience.”

A handsome little smile bloomed on his lips, and for a moment, Elain wanted to pretend he wasn’t Fae, wasn’t an ancient warrior of legend, wasn’t a male alone in a room with an engaged, unchaperoned woman.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he warned her, the shadows curling around the tops of his wings. They looked almost playful, if ephemeral strands of magical darkness could be such a thing. “It’s my best kept secret.”

Funny—he was funny, too, albeit in a rather dry way. Elain added it to her small mental tally of things she’d learned about the male who was spending so much time with Feyre. She wondered if he was Feyre’s friend—if, indeed, she had any friends in her new court, or if these males were all just colleagues.

Or perhaps allies was a better word.

Azriel, as if he could see her thoughts, lifted an inquisitive brow. “You have another question.”

“I do,” she hedged. The shadows beneath his cup stretched, she noticed, clinging to him like spiderwebs as he lifted it to his lips.

She let her eyes flick toward the gleaming talons on his wings and then averted her gaze to her own cup, untainted by sugar or milk, and curled her cold fingers around it. The dark band of her ring…

She twisted her hand so she didn’t have to look at it. She didn’t want to think of Lord Nolan’s wall or his ash groves or the pointed way Feyre had held her hand with her strange, elongated fingers, whispering a reminder to her, when they said goodbye.

“About flying?”

“Is it that obvious?” she lied. “Did you fly all the way from the Night Court? It’s quite a distance.”

“I could have, but this time I winnowed to the Wall and flew the rest of the way.”

Elain tried not to feel too ignorant as she asked, “‘Winnowed’?”

“Another form of magical travel. We can travel great distances in just one or two steps. Like walking, but you take a step from one point on a map and your foot lands on another. Rhysand says it is like folding the fabric of the world together to join two points, for most—”

Her heart leapt again as a shadow swept down to his ear, and the skin around his eyes went tight as if it were whispering something to him. Seconds later, a clamor echoed down the stairwell, the front door creaking open and footsteps clicking across the foyer.

“Oh! That will be Nesta…” Azriel rose from his seat, but Elain waved him back down. “No, no, stay. Who knows how long you were out there. I’ll just go… head her off. Please, finish your tea.”

She sent a mournful glance at her own cup, still too warm to sip comfortably, and hurried for the stairs. It was only on the third or fourth step that she remembered her manners and spun on her toes to look back at him.

“You know, you’re always welcome to come inside. The range is usually lit, and it’s so cold out there...” Her voice was near to a whisper, her face freshly warm. “I just might try to avoid Nesta, if you could.”

Azriel blinked at her, and then his head tilted.

The shadows rippled again in a way that reminded Elain of laughter, but the pull at one corner of his lips… That seemed more like curiosity, assessment.

“And when it isn’t cold anymore?”

“You’d still be welcome.” Dangerous—such dangerous words to say to the Fae, but they had been instinctive, natural, and Elain decided right then that she wouldn’t mind seeing more of Azriel.

That she wouldn’t be frightened if he returned again.

The footsteps drew nearer to the stairs, and Azriel merely lifted a hand, curling it into a fist over his heart, and dipped his head in a silent, solemn show of gratitude.

Elain nodded back.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Nesta was perched on the edge of a bench in the foyer, removing snow-crusted boots. Her eyes were narrowed. “Elain? Were you talking to someone?”

“Just myself. I was sorting through the seeds I harvested in the fall.”

Her sister sighed, but relented easily. Elain let out a breath—one of relief, more than anything. She closed the door into the servant’s staircase tightly behind herself.

“Come, then. We need to get dressed if we’re going to dine with Graysen and Lord Nolan tonight. I told Zakary to wait for us outside with the carriage.”

The excitement she usually felt at the mention of her fiance was tainted by a sick curl of dread. “Yes, Nesta.”

Nesta stood and smoothed a hand over Elain’s hair as she passed. “Hurry and I’ll help you with your hair, frizzy.”

I hadn’t noticed the pearl-and-diamond ring on her finger, the dark metal band glinting in the firelight. Elain’s face was pale, though, as she looked at it. - ACOMAF, Chapter 23

Elain said, “It’s all very disorienting.” “I can imagine,” Azriel said... [His] attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit. I wondered if Rhys’s spymaster often got his information through stone-cold manners as much as stealth and shadows.

Rhys explained to me, "...I’m taking no chances. Especially in a house with a woman betrothed to a man who gave her an iron engagement ring.” Elain flushed a bit. - ACOMAF, Chapter 24

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #elain #azriel #acotar fics #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #my fics #acotar secret santa gift exchange 2022 #acotar secret santa 2022 #ultadverb

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justheretoreadsposts · 3 years

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Have you lost your mind?

summary: Azriel gets lectured by Rhysand and Cassian about his constant flirting with Elain, not knowing that she was hiding in the closet.

authors note: hello! This is my second one-shot (I might make this into a small series) This was inspired by a certain scene in The Office ;) and I’d like to thank @shedoessoshedoes for listening to my random ideas and giving me feedback and making this so much better!

Warning: English isn’t my first language.

Azriel didn’t like change.

He really didn’t. But something had changed about his mornings. He used to love to wake up to the smell of black coffee, but that had changed since he met her. His new favourite thing was waking up to find Elain tucked in between his shoulder and his chest, sound asleep.

He would never get bored of watching her sleep, he looked down at a sleeping Elain. He didn’t want to move and accidentally wake her up, even though he missed her big brown eyes looking up at him.

“What are you doing?” She asked, pulling Azriel out of his trance. She pushed herself up, sitting up against the headboard. She pushed her long honey-brown locks away from her face and threw it in a ponytail.

“Enjoying the scenery,” He simply responded before he sat up, leaning against the headboard.

Elain dipped her head, she was blushing a thousand shades of red. He hooked his index finger below her chin and gently tilted her head up, to look at him. He smiled, a loopy one nonetheless, and began to smother her face with light and tender kisses. “Az!” She squealed, squirming as he pulled Elain under him.

“I gotta show some love somehow, don’t I?” He murmured as he began to press kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

She giggled, a bright smile on her face. She found herself growing excited as his grip on her hips began to tighten as she began to tug off the shirt she was wearing which she had snagged from his closet. Before they went any further, a loud bang broke the silence that had occupied the house. He recognized the footsteps that marched up the stairs, it was Cass and Rhys, who had gotten married to Elain’s sisters recently and were Azriel’s college mates in Velaris University.

The fuck? What are they doing here?

Azriel kissed Elain’s cheek before he pulled his shirt over her shoulders and rolled off of her, hopping out of the bed with Elain close behind him. She realized it was her brothers in law when she saw Azriel’s eyes widen, she quickly pushed herself into his closet, hiding in between his hoodies before her brothers-in-law walked into Azriel’s room.

Two weeks ago, after Nesta and Cassian’s rehearsal dinner, Azriel confessed his feelings to Elain. God, it terrified him when he admitted his feelings to his best friend. He didn’t want to ruin what they had. They met in University, before Elain opened her flower shop, and had became very close friends.

What if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings? He worried, every rational fear flew through the window the minute Elain went on her tippy toes and kissed him.

Ever since that night, they have been together, in secret. Suspicions began to arise when Azriel and Elain to quietly flirt between themselves and began to sit next to each other every time the family went out. Small touches here and there, a hand on the small of her back, an arm around her shoulder.

One time when everyone went out for dinner, he slipped his hand under the table trying to tease her, but his hand landed on Amren’s thigh.

He didn’t know if he was going to make it alive tonight when Amren’s piercing gaze fell on Azriel’s face. One brow raised at him and he quickly retracted his hand in fear in fear while a small laugh erupted from across the table from Elain. They were a bit tipsy, but the mother, Azriel could've gotten drunk on the sound of Elain’s laugh.

He didn’t forget what she had done. He raised his brows, in challenge and nodded. Oh she was to pay for this, he would make sure of it.

Nesta Archeron was always the mama bear while Elain was the cub but it was Feyre who noticed the occasional hand around her waist, the sly smiles and winks that were thrown across the table. She talked to her husband, Rhysand, and told him of her suspicions, which led them to this moment.

Azriel shut the closet door, making sure Elain wasn’t visible and then quickly sat back on his bed before Rhysand and Cassian welcomed themselves into his room. “She is like my little sister!” Rhysand exclaimed as he glared at Azriel. “I don’t want to see you sniffing around her anymore. Boy, have you lost your mind? Cause I’ll help you find it.”

Azriel's gaze shifted to the closet, where the said sister, Elain, was hiding.

“What are you looking at? I’m not going to hold Nesta back when you cuts you to pieces, The Mother could come through that door and she’s not going to help you if you keep flirting with Elain!” Cassian exclaimed.

“Can I know what I did to earn a lovely lecture at-” He looked at the alarm that sat on his bedside table. “At nine in the morning?”

“Feyre talked to me and said that she thinks that something is going on between you and El.” Rhysand explained, his violet eyes glaring at him as his arms crossed across his chest.

“And if something was going on between us?”

“Then good luck, because Nesta will kill you in your sleep.” Cassian shrugged. “Nes and Feyre love Elain, and they will happily kill you if you dare break her heart. And Mother! I would help them do it!”

“God, I would never break her heart. I love her.” Azriel declared.

The two men stood in shock and a small gasp was heard from the closet. Rhysand’s brows flew to his hairline when he heard the gasp, he made his way across the room and opened the closet door to find Elain standing there.

Only in his shirt.

“The fuck?” Cassian exclaimed as he took in Elain.

Azriel clenched his jaw, not because their secret was now out, more like he didn’t like the way their relationship was exposed.

“You love me?” Elain whispered as she climbed out of his closet and towards him.

Azriel just nodded, he loved her. And Mother did he hope she loved him back. “I love you Elain, you have bewitched me body and soul, I love you.” He let out a shaky breath.

“Did he just quote pride and prejudice?” Rhysand whispered to Cassian, who nodded.

Elain ran to Azriel, who pressed a kiss on his lips. “I love you too,” She smiled as a happy tear escaped her. “I love you, and I’m never gonna stop.” She mumbled.

Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss. It wasn’t a tender kiss, it was the type of kiss where she felt devoured.

“That’s our cue to leave.” Cassian mumbled as he grabbed Rhysand’s wrist and dragged him out.

She let out a big laugh when they left. Azriel flashed Elain with a smile only she would have the privilege to see. Her heart melted as she looked at him and his big grin that rarely graced his face.

“I love you, Az.” She hugged him.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Azriel Knight.”

——————————————————————————

authors note: I’m a big office fan, if you can’t tell already ;) hope you enjoyed reading this, and don’t forget to share, like, and give feedback!

#elain x azriel #pro elain #elriel #fanfic #modern au #cassian x nesta #Azriel #rhysand #acotar #my fic #acotar fanfic #elriel fanfic

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julemmaes · 3 years

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honeybee

this is a following to my modern au nessian called drivers license (part one)

A/N: YOU REMEMBER WHEN I TOLD YOU I WASN'T SURE I WOULD'VE FINISHED DRIVERS LICENSE? CAUSE IT WAS LONG AND IT WAS TAKING A TOLL ON ME. WELL, FUCK ME. I DIDN'T KNOW REAL PAIN UNTIL I HAD TO FINISH THIS

the song this fic takes its name from is called honeybee and it's by the head and the heart

warnings: abusive household, description of violence, hospitalization

have fun I guess;)

Word count: 9,246

the day

When Nesta had broken up with Cassian in the middle of the night all those years ago, she had never imagined that her life would change so much.

Looking at the sparkling ring around her finger, with that delicate tiny diamond set in the equally fine and elegant silver band, she couldn't help but think that she had made the right choice when he had gotten up and decided to leave.

She had never regretted that call and she certainly wasn't starting to on her wedding day.

five years, three months and eighteen days before

Nesta had mentally prepared herself to see him once the door opened. She had prepared herself to see his dark hair tied back in a tousled bun and his thick eyelashes framing his equally dark eyes, still they would sparkle upon seeing her - as they had done every time since the day he had found her on that library's floor.

What she hadn't expected to find on his doorstep though, was the girl with blonde hair and long slender legs bare of any clothing and her torso covered by a t-shirt that Nesta recognised as one of Cassian's. A shirt she had worn several times over the months they had been together.

He looked into her face and it was hard not to notice the imprint left by the pillow on her cheek, her tired eyes still heavy with sleep. She had been sleeping.

Nesta glanced towards the living room, completely visible from where she was standing, and any hope she'd had at that moment that Mor was sleeping on the sofa vanished into thin air like smoke when she saw no pillows on the cushions. No blanket.

She looked back at Mor, who was now staring at her with a dumbfounded expression, as if she didn't believe she was standing there in front of Cassian's house. If she wasn't sleeping on the couch, it only meant she was sleeping in his bed.

He didn't have guest rooms, she knew that.

She was sleeping in his bed.

Her ears began to buzz and Nesta's vision fogged as she tried not to scream.

She had known.

Pursuing her lips into a thin line, she lifted her chin upwards a little, daring the girl in front of her to say something, and then turned, starting to walk towards her car, poised never to return.

She could feel her heart beating in her chest like a war drum and every step she took felt like her legs gave out a little more.

She was tired. She hadn't been able to sleep for weeks. To eat, study, read.

Nesta had died again under the unrelenting weight of the loneliness that had found peace the moment Cassian had set foot in her life and that had swept through her existence like a hurricane, turning upside down everything beautiful she had managed to find.

She felt the sting of emotion build in her throat, the ever-growing knot of tears that couldn't wait to be released, that Nesta knew would explode as soon as she stepped into the car and his house was out of sight.

She was sleeping in his bed.

She had just tightened her fingers around the keys when she heard it, Morrigan's ringing voice, calling her, and then her hurried footsteps behind her. Nesta turned.

"You're making a mistake."

Her eyebrows shot up, "Sorry?"

Mor seemed to flinch at the tone of her voice, "You're making a mistake." Nesta had to laugh and didn't hold back the stunned chuckle that escaped her control as the blonde continued, "You shouldn't leave."

She seethed, "You're wearing his clothes." she pointed out, taking a step forward and then another, forcing the other to walk backwards. She looked into her eyes, frowning, "You were sleeping in his bed only a few minutes ago," her words spoken in a whisper, but the poisonous emotion and hatred that laced the words conveyed everything Nesta was feeling, "why would I stay?"

Mor remained silent, studying her face, "Cass should be here any minute."

The way she said his name. Cass, like she had some kind of dominion over his person. Like she was the only one who knew him.

Nesta couldn't stop the words before they were out, "Why?"

And this time she wasn't asking her why she should stay, wait for him to come back. No.

She took another step forward, "Why did you let him lie to me? Why did youlie to me?"

The dull, dormant pain she'd felt that month woke up like a child pulled from sleep by a nightmare and hit her full in the chest. That emptiness that should have been filled with anger, jealousy, betrayal.

"Why not ask him to leave me? Why steal someone else's boyfriend?"

And at those words, she recoiled, because it wasn't true. Morrigan had never stolen Cassian from her.

Cassian had never been hers in the first place.

The girl opened her mouth to reply, but Nesta didn't give her time to speak and raised a hand, continuing, "Cause I ask myself that every night. I wonder what he sees in you," she laughed, letting out a choked breath as her eyes filled with tears, "What else do you have? You're older, it's true. You're prettier, blonder, taller. Perfect." she spat that word out in disgust.

"And you know what? I knew it. God, I knew it and I was pretending not to. The way his gaze would occasionally wander when we were talking or the mornings when he'd arrive at school in his clothes from the day before because he'd been to your place and hadn't slept." she clenched her hands into fists and smiled mischievously when she saw Mor swallow.

She was about to attack, to bite, to strike wherever she could to regain the dignity that had been stripped from her, but a deep, surprised voice interrupted her, "Nesta?"

She stiffened, turning around slowly. She didn't want to say anything, she just wanted to run to her car, get on and drive away, but what was in front of her knocked the breath out of her.

Nothing. There was nothing of the man she had loved in front of her now. The ghost of what Cassian had been no more than forty days before.

His eyes were slightly wide and that excited glint Nesta had hoped to see when he opened the door was just a miserable memory, because the hazel brown she loved so much was gone, covered by an opaque veil of sadness and pain she saw every day in the mirror.

Her gaze fell on the slightly hollowed cheeks and deep dark circles under his eyes, the messy, grimy hair, the dirty clothes that looked like they hadn't been changed in days, and finally to the cast around his left arm.

"What happened to you?" she asked in a weak voice.

He sighed and his eyebrows drew together. His shoulders visibly sagged and then the bag he held in his right hand fell to the ground as he took a step forward, "Nesta." he breathed.

She looked into his eyes, "What did you do?"

He gave a half-smile, bringing his free hand to his broken arm, "I-" then chuckled, "You're here."

"Cassian." Mor's voice made them both turn, but Nesta's eyes quickly went back to the man.

She needed to know if he was going to enter the house with her or listen to her, should she speak.

It was as if he hadn't even heard the blonde. "How are you?" he asked her, taking a step towards her.

Nesta couldn't connect her brain to her mouth, she was like a broken record when she asked, "What happened to you?" because Cassian wasn't well. And she wasn't talking about the broken arm or the dirty clothes, she was talking about the light that she saw was going out even now with every passing second.

She couldn't move, but she wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he came to his senses.

"Nothing," he said with that stupid weak smile on his lips, "you came here- do you want to talk? Can we talk?"

She heard Mor inhale sharply and then saw her walk around her until she was in front of him, and although they were close, Nesta couldn't hear what she said. She felt her heart break a little more and wondered how it was possible that it wasn't already sand in her chest. All she knew was that Cassian stiffened and swallowed twice when Morrigan finished talking to him.

"I should go." she managed to whisper, torturing her fingers.

He shook his head, taking a step forward and the blonde's hand snapped on his arm. Both their eyes fell on that touch and Nesta couldn't take it anymore, she had to go. The grip of her lacquered nails around his jacket was overbearing, possessive, but it was also familiar to his body and he wasn't retreating.

She took a step back, intending to run away and never return, and lost her balance, stumbling on the grass of the flowerbed. She opened her eyes wide and saw the way Cassian lunged forward to catch her, but Nesta was already on the ground. She cursed under her breath and the urge to cry only increased when she realised she had fallen onto a yellow rose bush.

Nesta burst out laughing at the irony of the picture they were composing at that moment.

"Nes, are you alright?"

If it hadn't been for Elain explaining to her the meaning of flowers every spare minute of her days, she would never have laughed, but the fact that she was now removing the thorns of a plant that represented jealousy and betrayal while standing in front of the man she loved and the girl who had managed to take him away from her was comical.

She stood up perhaps a bit too quickly as her head spun wildly and a myriad of black dots blurred her vision. She staggered a little and it didn't escape Cassian's attention as he moved even closer and wrapped his hand around her wrist. Nesta held her breath at the touch of his skin, so warm, so rough.

He was looking at her with a wrinkled expression and she just wanted the ground to swallow her whole when he asked, "Have you eaten today?"

She looked at him in amazement for a second, breathing out a laugh and then turned her head to the side, biting her lip. Because of course he was going to find out. That Nesta was no longer living.

After all, this Nesta, the Nesta who was now staggering around like a desperate drunk in his front yard, was the same Nesta he had met on that library floor.

She snatched her hand from his grasp and without looking at him walked towards the car, "Goodbye Cassian."

"Nesta, what- where are you going?" he asked her, following her, his hands raised as if he could grab her, keep her with him once he reached her.

She turned her head and caught him by surprise as he jerked back when she pointed a finger at him, too close. "I'm leaving and I have no intention of coming back. Don't follow me. I was wrong to come here in the first place."

The shock on his face was like receiving a punch in the gut. He lowered his arms, defeated.

"Why are you here?" he said softly. And it was as if he wasn't really asking the question. It was as if his mouth had finally decided to speak the words that had been rumbling around in his head until that moment.

Nesta shook her head and a weak sob broke her breath, "I can't."

Cassian stood there as she made her way to her car and when she finally touched the door and opened it, feeling the relief of freedom, he met her gaze from over the roof. She met Mor's gaze and felt the world crash down on her again. Heavier. More imposing.

Cassian took a step forward, "Why are you here?"

And Nesta exploded, "Cause I still fucking love you."

Her voice broke on the last word and she didn't even notice as tears began to stream down her face, "Because I still love you!" she screamed, slamming the door and spinning around the car, "Because I love you and I don't have-" a sob broke the sentence, "And I'm not okay! But you seem to be doing just fine without me!" she squealed even louder, bringing a hand to her chest. "I'm hurting! I'm hurting and I'm alone! And I miss you!"

She couldn't see it, but his eyes were glazed over too, and as he slowly approached her, a lone tear slid down his cheek.

"Fuck!" she cursed, turning around again and opening the door. She took a deep breath amidst the crying and looked at him, really looked at him, trying to memorize every detail, "Goodbye."

He shook his head, "No."

And Nesta waited no longer, got into the car and drove away.

five years, three months and seventeen days before

Nesta

"How did you find my house?" asked Nesta, clutching her sweatshirt to her chest.

Mor, in all her beauty and poise, stood at the door of her house, with her own clothes on this time.

"Hi Nesta." she said, biting her lip. Not out of embarrassment, to keep herself from saying anything else.

She didn't move, "How did you find my house?"

"I'd like to talk to you," she continued, still ignoring her question.

"It's hard to talk to a person if you keep ignoring what they say."

The blonde closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, "I know where you work, I followed you here."

Nesta's eyebrows shot up, "I could report you for stalking."

Mor gave a tight smile, "But you won't. Can we talk?"

Nesta felt the sudden urge to call the police, just to show her that she could, but she only said, "Why would we?"

"Because yesterday after you left, Cass tried to get in the car and follow you and he can't drive," Nesta found herself nodding thinking about his broken arm, weakened from the sleepless night, surely not because she wanted Mor to know she agreed with her. "I had to pull him out of the car by force to keep him from killing himself against a pole. I've never seen him so shaken up in my life and-"

Nesta interrupted her, "I don't know why you think it's my problem. You're his girlfriend now, the fact that you're coming to me for advice is concerning." then she stepped back, clasping her hand around the door to slam it in her face.

The audacity...

"Cassian still loves you."

She froze, holding her breath and looked Mor in the eye. She chuckled softly, shaking her head, "No, he doesn't."

The blonde huffed, bringing a hand to her forehead and moving a strand of hair, "I'm not his girlfriend anyway."

Nesta smiled sarcastically, "That too, the fact that you can't define your relationship, isn't my problem and I'd rather you leave."

Mor laughed in shock as her eyebrows shot up, "You're unbelievable," then she frowned, taking a step forward to push the door open, "Cassian and I aren't together. We never have been and I'm fucking lesbian."

Nesta's eyes widened in surprise, then she quickly recovered from her astonishment and shook her head, "It doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it?"

"No, Morrigan," it was the first time she'd said her full name. That she was saying it directly to her, "It doesn't change anything because he would still leave in the middle of the night to come to you," she shifted her weight on her left foot, "It doesn't change anything because he chose you every day and I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner. It would have saved everyone a lot more time and effort." then she held up a hand when she opened her mouth to retort, "And I don't care if you're lesbian or not. Cassian loves you and if he doesn't love you with words, he certainly does with actions."

Mor stared into her eyes for a while, silently, then nodded slowly, shifting her gaze to the houses around hers. She adjusted her sunglasses in her hair and then looked back at her, "Can I come in?"

"Why."

"Please, I just want to explain why what happened happened. And why things have changed or are changing, but I can't do that in half a minute and-" then she frowned, wincing, "Look, I'm not doing this because I particularly like you, but because Cassian has saved my life more times than he thinks and than he takes credit for. Talking to you is the least I can do to repay him in some way."

Nesta felt something tug at her heart and for a moment she thought about slamming the door in her face and going back to the couch to watch a black screen, but then she remembered the sleepless nights she'd spent thinking about what she could do. For her, for Cassian... to the person in front of her who was begging her to let her in, and she stepped aside.

The surprise on Mor's face was a small victory on Nesta's part, but she quickly recomposed herself, closing the door behind her once she was in the house and telling her to follow her into the living room.

And despite the situation, Mama Archeron had not raised her daughters to treat guests badly. She forced herself to say, "Can I get you anything? A drink, maybe water, I have wine if you want."

Mor gave the imitation of a smile, "I'd take something stronger, but I have to drive. Just water will do, thanks."

Nesta walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, and once inside she leaned against the table with both hands, breathing hard as if she had run a marathon. What was she doing?

She had let Morrigan, the reason for her break-up with the man she loved, into her house.

She closed her eyes, clenching her jaw, begging her body to relax, and then, when she realised it wouldn't take anyone that long to pick up two glasses and a bottle, she moved.

Walking back to the living room was like walking a thousand miles without ever eating, sleeping or drinking and by the time she sat down, she was exhausted. That conversation could have settled everything as well as confirmed any worries and erased any doubts Nesta had about leaving that city forever.

Mor drank a whole glass of water before she started talking and it didn't take long for her to realise that the girl was just as nervous as she was. The agitation evident only in the twirling motion of her ankle as she sat with her legs crossed.

She took a deep breath, "I've never talked about this with anyone but the boys." Nesta realized he was talking about Azriel and Rhysand, as well as Cassian. "So understand if I stop now and then, these aren't things I tell lightly."

She could only nod.

Mor cracked her fingers, then took a deep breath and brought one hand up to massage her right eyebrow, where Nesta had always noticed the small white scar that kept hair from growing there. It was the only thing that people could tell wasn't beautiful about the girl, but Nesta had never believed anything other than that it only added to her curiosity in getting to know the deity she actually was.

Every positive thought she'd ever had about that tiny scar disappeared as Mor began to speak and a horrible feeling clutched her stomach in an iron solid grip.

"My father is an alcoholic."

Nesta didn't react. She didn't know if she should say anything.

"He always has been. Even before I was born. I don't know how my mother ended up in a relationship with him, but she's a lost cause too. She started using drugs when I was around six. I still remember it like it was yesterday.

"Keir, my father, has also always been a violent man." Mor took a shaky breath, swallowing, "He did this to me," she whispered brushing the mark on her face, "when I was fourteen and got my period for the first time. He broke a bottle on my head-"

The fact she’d gotten her cycle so late only sprouted more doubts in Nesta’s mind while her thoughts ran wild, picturing a malnourished little girl in that broken home.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," Nesta interrupted her, looking her in the eye, "I know you're trying to help me understand, that you're trying to help Cassian, but-"

Mor put a hand on her arm, blocking her, "Don't worry about it." she gave her a weak, sad smile, "I know I said I didn't like you, but Cassian loves you." seeing that Nesta was about to interrupt her one more time, she tightened her grip on her arm, "He loves you. And if this conversation ends the way I want it to, you'll be around for a long time to come. So you'd better be aware of everything, don't you think?"

There was something in Mor's voice that Nesta couldn't identify. She remained silent, contemplating her words, but then nodded weakly.

"There have been so many other episodes and I still bear the marks of most." she lowered her voice, clenching her fists several times. "If I'm here to tell you about them now though, it's only because of Cassian."

Nesta braced herself for what was to come.

Mor bit the inside of her cheek, "All the times he came to me in the night, all the times he left you alone at the last minute or had to come away in the middle of your dates... he was coming to save me." she said with teary eyes, "For years, they took turns as to who should come each time, between him and Rhys and Az. But when the other two had to leave a couple of years ago and only Cass stayed here, well," she sighed, propping an elbow on her knee and resting her forehead on her hand, "I feel guilty every day for what they do, what he does. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay him for everything he's managed to save in my life. My life itself. So I need you to understand that it's not his fault."

She looked into her eyes and Nesta was so shocked by everything she had just been told that she couldn't respond.

"The night you broke up with him," she resumed after a few moments, bringing a hand up to the neck of her jumper and shifting the fabric, revealing a portion of jagged skin just below her collarbone. The only evidence of just how bad the cut she had suffered must have been. "-I was going to die. Literally. I called the police so many times, Nesta, they never did anything. I didn't even try that night."

A rush of anger raced through her body at that truth. She knew she wasn't lying.

"My dad found out I liked girls, somehow, and things escalated quickly. My mom was half passed out on the couch and he had just come home," she paused abruptly, frowning. "The boys came into the house after I managed to lock myself in my room and while Az and Rhys were thinking about me, Cassian tried to take Kier down, that's why the broken arm."

Nesta's eyes went wide. For it to come to breaking a bone... it must have been a long night for everyone, frightening and scarring. She looked up at Mor, placing one hand on the one still on Nesta's arm and smiled reassuringly at her, but with a serious expression.

Mor returned the squeeze.

"I'm staying at Cassian's now, at least until the others find proper accommodation. We're all looking for a flat together so Cass can finally be free of us all." she said, fixing her eyes in hers, "From me. From everything."

Nesta nodded, then cleared her throat, finding her throat dry, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Why didn’t he, were the unspoken words.

Mor bit her lip, "It's my fault," she said apologetically, "I've been dealing with the opinion and criticism of the rest of the world my whole life. I didn't know you and all the guys' exes were always very quick to judge me without knowing anything at all about me. By the time I realised you weren't like the others it was too late."

"You can flip me off if this question is too personal, but why didn't you move out sooner? Why stay in that house if..." she didn't know how to finish the sentence, but it was enough to make the other answer.

"They controlled all my money and I was in no position to ask for financial support from the boys. I couldn't find anyone willing to help me get back what was mine by right, but we're looking for a way now. Az just got a job at a law firm, he just needs to convince them to take the case on probono." she smiled tensely and Nesta could tell that even that small act of generosity from her friend was weighing heavily on her.

Nesta ran her hands over her face, taking a deep breath as each piece fell into place and each question mark disappeared. Now that she knew the truth, it all made more sense.

But did that change things between her and Cassian? Did it change the fact that he had lied to her, despite for good reason?

She didn't have an answer.

But she did understand Mor. She understood why she had asked him not to tell her anything. It was the same reason she had never told anyone about Tomas except Cassian.

Looking at her out of the corner of her eye, as she poured herself another glass of water and drank it in one go, she made a decision.

She owed it to the person sitting next to her, to give Mor something back for the trust she’d put in her, she’d tell her everything about Tomas, her mother. The way her family had managed to heal and left her behind, alone, until Cassian.

She was about to open her mouth when Mor's phone rang and an amused smile appeared on her face. She lifted the phone so Nesta could see the caller's name and wrinkled her nose, "His ears must have been ringing, hmm?"

Mor chuckled and then answered, "Hello?"

In the deathly silence of the house, Nesta clearly distinguished the man's words.

"Mor, I'm so sorry about last night, we didn't mean to get drunk like that, I promise it won't happen again. I didn't think about what you would-"

"Calm down you overbearing mother hen," Mor said harshly, "but yes, it won't happen again."

"Where are you? Come home so I can make it up to you somehow."

The blonde smiled wickedly and looked at her nails before saying, "I'm at Nesta's."

A pregnant silence made its way into the room.

"What do you mean?"

"We're talking," the girl continued undisturbed.

Nesta had to restrain herself from laughing because she could well imagine the expression on his face at that moment.

"Mor, stop bullshitting."

"I'm not bullshitting, I'm serious, listen," and then she pushed the phone towards Nesta, who's eyes went wide, shaking her head. Mor nodded at her and she murmured a weak, "Hello, Cassian." before the blonde retracted the phone, bringing it to her ear again. "See?"

"What the fuck."

"Don't worry, I'll be home in less than ten minutes. I think." then she eyed Nesta, covering the microphone with one hand as Cassian began to insult her in every way imaginable. "Do you want to come with me?" she asked her with a hint of hope in her tone, "To talk to Cass maybe? I understand if you don't want to come, maybe you need more time."

But Nesta knew the truth now, and that seemed to be enough, so she nodded and smiled slightly at her. She owed it to Cassian too, to let him explain everything too.

Mor let out a squeak of happiness and then interrupted the list of insults that kept flowing from the phone, "Correction, we will be home in ten minutes."

“Morrigan-”

“Take a shower, we’ll be there in the blink of an eye.”

And then she ended the call without even saying goodbye.

Nesta snorted, "You gave him a heart attack."

Mor smiled at her, clapping her hands, "Do you need to get ready too?"

She looked at her clothes and thought that yes, she should have showered too, but furrowed her brow and grimaced, looking at her, "Actually, I wanted to apologize first. I know what it's like not to have the courage to talk about your problems and I know it must have been hard to talk to me. So thank you and sorry for calling you a cheating bitch."

Mor's eyes went wide, "He never told me-"

"Oh no, he doesn't know, but I felt the need to apologise for that too." she smiled sweetly.

The other burst out laughing and then they stayed at Nesta's for another good half hour, talking about their own terrible experiences with men, shedding a few tears and offering words of comfort only when necessary. They didn't notice how much time had passed until Az called Mor, asking if everything was all right. Overbearing mother hens, the blonde had said once the call had ended, but Nesta had gone to get dressed and now they were going to Cassian's house together.

Something had changed and she no longer felt the urge to slam Morrigan's head against the edge of the table every time she saw her, but things with Cassian would take weeks, months, before they were back to normal.

Or at least she thought so.

Cassian

"Cassian, where did you put... what the fuck are you doing?" asked Azriel as he entered his room.

His head snapped up, only giving his older brother a glance before he returned with his fullest attention to the room. He was running from side to side, tidying up as fast as he could, but with a broken arm, swamped with dirty laundry and cans poised on his fingers, he probably looked crazy now.

"Nesta is on her way here."

Azriel's eyes went so wide that for a moment he thought they were going to pop out of his head, "Meaning what?"

"Meaning that Morrigan," he grunted his friend's full name, wrinkling his nose when he found a pair of dirty underwear under the bed, "went to Nesta's house to talk and now she's bringing her here to-" he threw his arms up, dropping everything he'd picked up and feeling a note of pain in his left, but he didn't pay attention to it, "I don't know what she's bringing her here for, but this house is a mess and I have to shower and tidy everything up and find a way not to go crazy and make her-"

He froze suddenly again, feeling a gag of vomit rise in his throat after the unreasonable evening where they had probably scared Mor with all the alcohol they had ingested.

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair, "How long did she say they'd be here?"

Cassian shook his head, "I have no idea. I stared at the phone for ages after she hung up." he narrowed his eyes. "I need to wash up."

The other nodded, "Why don't you go take a shower and I'll clean up here? Rhys went out this morning and I don't have a clue where he is." he warned him, pushing him towards the bathroom.

Cassian had only grunted a vague reply to him and then gone to get ready and was genuinely shocked when he had come out and the house was actually all clean. He imagined that the two years he'd spent in the house with Rhys had paid off. He remembered how dirty and messy their room had been when they all still lived together.

He was tucking a t-shirt over his head when he heard Mor's ringing laughter followed by Nesta's controlled, but still lovely, laugh. Then Azriel said something else and they both burst into louder laughter and Cassian felt his heart tighten in his chest.

These last few weeks had been devastating.

When Nesta had told him to leave and never return, he'd had no choice.

It had been a matter of deciding between Mor's life and his relationship with Nesta, and as much as he loved her, there would be no way to convince his girlfriend that she had to go, that she couldn't let her friend get beaten up again. Or worse.

When he'd arrived at Kier's house, it had taken all his self-control not to grab the man's head and slam it against the wall and get it over with once and for all.

He'd spent the week after the breakup in bed, eating and only taking care of his body when others reminded him. With a broken arm it had been easy to tell everyone he couldn't do anything about it, but they'd heard him the times he'd cried at night thinking about Nesta and it had been Rhysand who'd told him to call her after ten days. He had simply shaken his head.

He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't drag her back into a relationship where his head wasn't one hundred percent present.

He should have left her long ago, he just didn't have the courage.

He heard Nesta's laughter again and shook his head, now was not the time to think about what had happened in Mor's life. He needed to focus on his own now. He had to at least try.

And if nothing changed, if he couldn't win her back, he owed her an apology, an explanation.

He slipped on the first clean pair of trousers he could find and then, with steps far too fast to seem vague, hurried down the hallway until he found himself standing in front of his brother, his friend and the woman he had been convinced would never leave him.

Her eyes immediately found his and the smile she was wearing instantly dropped when she saw him, but she gave a small nod, "Cass, hi."

He felt something break inside him and his gaze misted over.

Azriel gave a cough then walked towards the door, tying one arm around Mor's and pulling her towards the exit, "We'll leave you two alone, text me later, alright?" he asked, but he didn't wait for an answer and suddenly Cassian and Nesta were alone.

Alone after all that time.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, opening his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Nesta lowered her arms along her sides and smiled weakly, "I think we should talk."

He couldn't get the lump in his throat down, so he just nodded, pointing to the living room.

She looked well.

Not well physically, but she seemed to be more relaxed, more at ease than the other day.

Her cheeks were still hollowed out and the dark circles under her eyes so deep that the temptation to ask her if they could go to bed and sleep, cuddled up like they used to, so they could both finally close their eyes for real without regrets and nightmares pulling them from sleep was so high that he felt something crack in his chest again, for the millionth time.

He only wished he could hold her one last time.

When they were both sitting up, mere inches between them, Nesta inspected him as he had inspected her up to that point and saw the way her throat moved when she swallowed air, probably trying not to burst into tears herself.

They must have looked pitiful.

"How are you?" she managed to say, in a weak voice.

Cassian looked at her face some more, deciding whether to lie or not. He took a deep breath before answering, "I've never been worse in my life."

The muscles in her face twitched as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. She nodded softly, shifting her gaze to the unlit television, "I've seen better days too," she murmured, torturing her fingers, "Even before you came into my life I didn't think I could ever be this bad."

"Nes..."

Her eyes closed tightly. Feeling the emotion attached to that single word, her name whispered with that clear desperation.

She tried to change the subject as quickly as she could, "Mor told me everything. Why you ran away every time like someone was holding a gun to your head," she began, getting straight to the point, not wanting to waste any more time. She couldn't look at him though, despite the fact that there was now nothing but truth between them. "It was because it was admittedly life and death situations."

Cassian took a sharp breath, "I shouldn't have-"

"You shouldn't have, no," she interrupted him. "You shouldn't have, and if we had communicated in any way - if you had even tried to explain to me what the hell was going on, you knew. God, you knew, I wouldn't have blamed Morrigan. That I would have offered her a home if I'd known how serious the matter was."

He felt his stomach clench so tightly he thought he was going to throw up.

"I just want to be able to trust you." she whispered after a few moments of silence.

"You can." he replied immediately, "You can." he repeated, trying to convince her.

Nesta looked up at him. She licked her bottom lip, biting into the skin there a moment later and then shifted her gaze to the floor, "I miss you."

Cassian had to swallow a breath before he could speak, "I miss you too."

She said nothing and he continued.

"I miss you every damn second of the day. And at night, when I can't sleep, thinking about you, I stay awake until I pass out from exhaustion." his voice became rougher as he tried not to think about the day they had met, when he had found her asleep on the floor of that filthy library. "And when sleep doesn't come I regret and blame myself for all the wrongs that have happened."

"Every unspoken thing. Every misstep, every broken promise." said Nesta in a trembling voice. When her eyes fixed on him one more time, he no longer knew how to breathe when she murmured, "Cassian you broke me."

And the single tear that rolled down her cheek broke the last whole part of him.

He couldn't stop the instinct when his hand reached up to her face, the tips of his fingers brushing against her cheek and they both sighed, locking gazes.

And in an instant, the second his palm clung completely to her skin and Nesta closed her eyes, reveling in that touch and thrusting against his hand, Cassian felt every broken piece, every splinter and shard of his soul return to its proper place.

"I'm sorry." he said, extending his other hand to cup her face as well. "I'm sorry, for everything. Please forgive me." I love you, Nesta, please forgive me.

And as if she had heard him, she opened her eyes and nodded slightly before they both let go of a breath of relief that still echoed through the room when she launched herself forward, crashing her mouth against his in a desperate kiss that tasted of salt and love.

five years, three months and two days before

When Cassian had invited her on a date, this was definitely not what she had expected. After all, she doubted it was even remotely close to what Cassian himself had expected.

Their second-first date wasn't supposed to take place in a hospital, yet there they were.

Cassian was lying on the bed when Nesta entered the room. A tight bandage around his head was the only sign of the actual blow he had taken when he had carelessly fallen down the stairs in his haste to leave the house.

As soon as he saw her, his mouth split open in a bright smile, "Love..."

Nesta, who had stopped in the doorway and replied with an equally dazzling smile, felt her heart tighten in her chest at that pet name. The morphine they had given him must have kicked in. She took a hesitant step forward, clasping her hands around her bag, "How are you feeling?"

Cassian chuckled, turning to the nurse who had accompanied Nesta all the way there - Gwyneth, she had read on the label attached to her scrubs - before saying, "She cares how I feel."

The flame-haired girl snorted a laugh, "No shit." she said in a mocking tone, this time turning to Nesta.

She had the decency to blush under the nurse's amused eyes. After all, she had come into the emergency room demanding to know what had happened and where he was at that moment.

Gwyneth had been the one to reach her first and tell her everything she needed to know about the physical state of Cassian, who had apparently lied about Nesta being his wife.

The nurse wasn't stupid, and she'd told her as much when she'd realised that neither of them were wearing wedding rings, but seeing how terrified Nesta had been as soon as she'd set foot in the emergency room, she'd turned a blind eye and assured them that after a quick check to make sure Cassian was okay, she'd give them some time alone.

"She cares how I feel," Cassian murmured again, almost not believing the fact that Nesta was there, for him. Then he turned back to her and opened his mouth wide when he realised what she was wearing. He brought his good hand to his chest, over his heart, and whispered, "You are killing me."

"Try not to die while I'm on duty, please," the nurse muttered, before warning them that everything looked fine and that if he passed out they should call her immediately. She walked past Nesta, brushing her shoulder and winking at her, but she hardly noticed.

She only had eyes for Cassian.

When Mor had called her, telling her there had been a little accident, the world had fallen in on her. She'd kept it together until her new found friend had told her that they'd taken Cassian to the hospital by ambulance after he'd passed out from a very hard blow to the head. She'd been vague about how it had happened, but Nesta suspected that Cassian had already been late and had been running down the stairs when he'd fallen.

She certainly wasn't going to ask him tonight, because her non-boyfriend was out of it and completely high on drugs. And the only thing she cared about at that moment was that constant sound of the machines monitoring his heart, assuring her that he was alive, breathing.

The second the door closed behind her, Nesta moved and it wasn't even five minutes before she found herself lying next to him on the bed, her heels forgotten on the floor as Cassian wrapped his good arm around her and intertwined their fingers.

She rested her head on his chest and felt the way his lungs released a sigh of relief at the contact of their bodies. She could feel the beat of his heart, rapid and steady, alive, beneath her fingers.

They weren't saying anything to each other, and Nesta knew there was no need to.

In the end, it had always been like that between them. Their mere companionship was more than enough.

It wasn't until an hour later, when she began to close her eyes, that Cassian moved his other arm up to touch her shoulder, drawing her attention.

She lifted her head enough to rest her chin on his chest, and when she met Cassian's eyes, she smiled faintly at the expression of pure love and devotion that shone on his face.

She saw the way his Adam's apple moved up and then down as he swallowed and the way his eyelids flickered and he hunched his shoulders, wrapping his arms around her body. Before Cassian could speak, she did, "I love you."

And maybe it was the moment, the emotion that had surely both built up in the weeks leading up to their date that had ended in ruin, the sheer desperation and loneliness they had felt in that long month away from each other, but Cassian closed his eyes, nodding softly, "I love you, Nesta."

She leaned higher, stretching her neck towards him and pressing their bodies together until her mouth brushed against his. The kiss was not hasty, not desperate like the emotions racing through their hearts. It was like a window to the future. Their lips moved slowly in harmony, without worry, without urgency in that infinite kiss.

Because they both knew that there would be no one else for the rest of their days and they had all the time in the world to show each other the strong emotions of life. In that moment, they were each other's calm and strength.

When they broke away, it was only because Gwyneth had brought them food. If cherry jelly could be considered food. Either way, they'd been forced to interrupt their make out session to stock up on some sweet, clear edible stuff, which Nesta had devoured like few things in her life. Cassian had left her half of his portion and then they had snuggled back under the covers, talking about this and that, happy just to be both alive in this cruel world.

four years, six months and twenty-one days earlier

"When did you say they were coming?"

Nesta shifted her gaze to Mor's face, who kept her head resting on her thighs while her very long, very smooth legs remained on display against the wall of their living room. The position couldn't have been the best, especially considering the amount of alcohol her friend had swallowed, but the blonde had promised not to vomit on her so Nesta had no choice but to accept her temporary role as a pillow.

She shrugged, taking a sip from her glass, realising that the wine had finished. "They said they'd be here around ten, so any minute now." Mor nodded absentmindedly, toying with a lock of Nesta's hair.

Someone took the glass from her hand and she lifted her head just in time for her lips to collide with Cassian's, who had intended to kiss her on the forehead. They both smiled into the kiss and when he made to pull away to go and refill her glass, Nesta grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to her mouth, making him laugh.

A cry of disgust came from down between them, "I preferred you when you weren't together."

Without taking his eyes off of Nesta's, Cassian told her to fuck off, adding shortly after, "Remind me who went to Nes' house to beg her to get back with me."

The blonde mumbled something not too nice and Rhys, who sat next to Azriel on the couch opposite to theirs, was about to retort, when the front door rang once and then twice. Az frowned, eyeing Nesta, "They're impatient."

Nesta shrugged again, a gesture she'd begun to pull too often and which Cassian said stemmed from her spending too much time with Mor.

That was going to be the night her sisters would meet her new group of friends from a few months back and Nesta knew it would go smoothly. Elain would be her usual kind and festive self and Feyre would have everyone in that room wrapped around her fingers in a matter of seconds. She didn't have to worry.

Besides, the only opinion she really cared about was her boyfriend's, and Cassian had had a chance to get to know his sisters well before their breakup.

Rhys had gotten up, staggering just enough to go answer the door, but Cassian had already done the honors, and when the youngest of the brothers looked up at the newcomers, he stumbled over his own steps for a completely different reason than the alcohol in his veins.

Feyre Archeron stood at the entrance to the living room in all her beauty. The tight black dress she had chosen to wear showed off everything the younger of the sisters had to offer and Rhysand looked more than ready to pick up every bit of whatever she threw at him.

Elain walked past her with nonchalance, greeting Cassian with a chaste kiss on the cheek, then introducing herself to Azriel and Mor, who had pulled herself up to hold her in a breathless hug.

Nesta felt Feyre's gaze on her and turned to her, waving whimsically. Feyre chuckled, shaking her head, "How much have you had to drink already?"

Nesta would have replied that she didn't know if Rhysand hadn't lunged forward towards her, risking bumping into Cassian, who was returning from the kitchen with a chalice full of wine for her and her sister.

Her boyfriend's eyes went wide, "What the fuck, Rhys, be careful."

But it was as if no one but Feyre existed for the man anymore.

Feyre stepped back, eyeing Cassian and taking the glass with a simple thank you. Az had approached as well, but as he tried to speak, Rhys interrupted him.

"Hello Feyre darling, I'm Rhysand."

Nesta rolled her eyes, just as Mor did beside her, and Elain chuckled.

Meanwhile, Feyre had never seemed so hesitant in her life. Nesta saw the moment she decided to let go and reached out to shake Rhysand's hand. And then Feyre used the voice that Nesta had only ever heard her use when her sister wanted to get something out of the evening and understood perfectly well how it was going to turn out in a few hours. "Feyre, but I assume you already knew that."

The look Rhys gave her and the nod of assent he did made her think that maybe they wouldn't even wait hours, but mere minutes before leaving the party to go find somewhere more secluded.

When the introductions were over, Cassian took a seat next to her, forcibly pushing Mor away until Nesta was clear of everyone else. Circling her shoulders with one arm and pulling her as close to him as possible, Nesta soon found herself sitting on his lap, sipping wine as one of his hands rested on her thigh, massaging circles with his thumb.

Hours passed between board games and indecent jokes exchanged between the younger in the room and Nesta thought she could never be happier than she was in that moment.

Relaxed as she was, it didn't take Nesta long to let herself go completely and when Elain and Azriel also started talking about their partners respectively, sharing funny stories on how they met, she closed her eyes as well, lulled by Cassian's breath on her face and the fleeting kisses he occasionally left on her cheek.

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn't find the strength to open hers, and it wasn't until Feyre and Rhys had left and Mor and Azriel had offered Elain a ride that Cassian held her tighter in his arms and carried her to their room, where a bed that had smelled like both of them for two months now remained unmade from that morning's activities.

And though exhaustion was at an all-time high, it wasn't until Cassian lay down behind her, pressing his chest against her back and wrapping himself around her, that sleep finally found them both.

the day

Nesta kept one hand on Cassian's shoulder and the other on his forearm as he rocked her on the dance floor of the venue they had chosen for their wedding.

A few feet away from them, over her husband's shoulder - husband, she was going to have to get used to that title from now on - she could see Elain by the buffet tables laughing carefree as she held onto Lucien, who was laying both hands on her ready-to-burst baby bump, talking to his girls. Nesta smiled as she thought of the countless times she had caught Lucien on his knees entertaining his two unborn twins with conversations about sports.

Moving her gaze to the other side of the runway, she saw Feyre clinging to Rhys, who was surely whispering to her about all the dirty things they could do in the wardrobe of that place judging by her sister's lost and giddy expression.

Trying not to think too much about Feyre in compromising positions, she found Mor and Emerie at the bar, drinking leaning against each other, exchanging jokes that Nesta knew had to do with the outfits of some of their relatives.

A little further on still, Azriel was pirouetting Gwyn so elegantly that she felt a note of jealousy. Az had a faint smile on his lips, but the way his eyes twinkled as he admired her friend's fiery red hair twirling as she spun and spun made her wonder how much longer he was going to wait before he proposed.

She was about to voice her doubts when Cassian's hands lightly squeezed her hips and she shifted her full attention to the man of her life.

Nesta's breath caught for the thousandth time that day when she looked into his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow in question. Cassian smiled, bringing a hand to her face and brushing her cheek, "You look beautiful." he whispered in a hoarse voice.

Her features relaxed and she smiled back, "You're not bad yourself, Mr. Archeron."

Cassian threw his head back, moaning awkwardly and drawing the attention of everyone present. Azriel gave them an amused look and Nesta waved a hand in mid-air, to say it was nothing fancy.

"Mr. Archeron." repeated Cassian, pulling her away from him for a second, as if expecting from that specific dance, only to pull her back against his chest a second later. "If I hear you call me any other name in bed from now on, I might file for divorce."

Nesta chuckled, moving a hand to his chest, "Of course, my love."

His eyes softened even more when they moved back to her face. And Nesta searched his expression for something to tell her that he regretted his decision. That he was lying to her and that in fact the idea of bearing her surname, of being linked to her, repulsed him.

She found nothing that day. Just as she would find nothing in the years to come.

Only adoration and love and respect for the woman she had become thanks to him.

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#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ansgt #modern au #acosf #acotar #acotar fic #nessian angst #julemmaes writing

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