Mornings - azriel
azriel x gn reader
warnings: a bit steamy, mentions of sex, cursing
azriel has been gone for a while and wants some alone time but cassian ruins it
The sun had only just begun to warm the morning air; the Sidra River far below us watching the city of Velaris come to life around it.
Stretching out in the bed big enough to fit at more than a few Illyrians, I let out a quiet sigh. There were no sounds from the other side of the bed. Hopefully Az was still asleep. He needed the rest—
“So, you’re finally awake.” Drowsy hazel eyes appeared at the edge of my vision.
I guess not.
He moved across the bed until his body covered mine, muscular arms braced against the soft mattress below me. Warm, calloused hands traced slow lines along my skin, heat blooming where they wandered, quickly replacing the morning chill.
But before things could get any further, a loud yawn slipped from my mouth – catching the both of us by surprise. Azriel’s head shot up, his quiet chuckle slipping through the moment. I let out a huff of air, squirming against his now motionless hands.
“Are you too tired?” He asked, eyes creasing with laughter even as his smirk tilted dangerously.
“Tired?” I question, his mouth ghosting along the curve of my neck making it difficult to connect words. “I seem to remember being the only one up for another round a few hours ago.” My fingers brush innocently against inside the arch of one of his wings and his mouth halts – a hot exhale igniting my senses. His whole body shivers at my touch, the gleam in those dark eyes as he looked up at me shooting my body temperature through the ceiling.
“I have some time to make up for it seems,” He murmured lowly, pressing a kiss to my jaw, the space underneath my ear, the hollow of my neck. Lowering himself slowly, his eyes drank in my features until his lips were only a few inches from mine.
Azriel’s head snapped away – his snarl crashing through the room like a cold wave of water to the face.
“Get your asses out of bed!” Cassian called in a sing-song voice, “No morning sex for you, Azriel, I want to see Y/N in the training ring.” The door handle moved like he was about to open it, and Azriel’s wings snapped open to hide our exposed bodies. Before the bedroom door could open more than a few centimeters, blue magic snaked across the room to slam it shut.
“For fucks sake,” Cassian laughed, “you didn’t even manage to lock the door last night?”
I began to snicker. Azriel looked away from the door long enough to toss a glare at me. It lacked any threat whatsoever, and I leaned up to press a kiss against his cheek before slipping out from under his arms – the sensual mood from earlier completely shattered.
His arms reached out to tug me back and no doubt finish what we started, but I danced out of his reach. Ignoring his growl of annoyance, I began searching through the strewn clothes for something to wear.
Cassian pounded on the door again. “Hurry up!”
Azriel groaned in irritation, sitting up to lean against the headboard. He watched me dress with a soft pout, shadows flickering around his shoulders.
I began tugging on my shoes, “Hold on, I’m changing.”
A pause. Then, “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
Azriel’s gaze snapped away from me, his growl low enough that I heard the door rattle.
“Shh,” I scolded, leaning over the blankets for a kiss.
He obliged eagerly, murmuring against my lips, “Kick his ass, my love.”
“Yeah, hurry up, my love,” Cassian mocked, scuffing his boots on the ground in impatience.
The look Azriel cut towards the door could have melted every snowcapped mountain on the continent.
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I have this headcanon that the House of Wind starts being extra nice to Cassian after officially mating with Nesta. Like making sure his weapons are polished. His leathers are clean. That when he comes back weary from a long day from the Illyrian war camps, there’s a plate of his favorite food and a hot bath waiting whether Nesta is there or not. Like a salute to “my girl loves you, so I’ll take care of you too.”
Alternatively, when Cassian and Nesta get into a fight, the house almost always sides with Nesta. You will hear multiple doors slamming from all the way at the other ends of hallways... Well, until it thinks they’ve taken it too far than you best believe that house is going to withhold all amenities until they make up and or lock them in a room together.
(Edited: More headcanon in the thread)
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CASSIAN CALMING NESTA AND HER POWER WITH A KISS INFRONT OF THE WHOLE INNER CIRCLE IS A SOMETHING THAT I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED SO BAD
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It still makes me laugh at how shocked my high school students are when I know things
“You mean Yamcha? If there was one character I’d be okay with not wishing back with the dragonballs it would be him. But Vegeta kicks ass.” - me overhearing students talking about dragonball z and not knowing the name of said character.
“Dumbledore!”-- me when students start the “snape, snape, severus snape” from puppet pals.
Me: sings and acts out “You’re Welcome” from Moana when students start singing it in class.
Me--Discusses the differences between marvel movies and the comics at length after over hearing students discussing comic books when they had no clue I knew comic books.
“Hugh Jackman’s character is the showman. I am not sure if that pun was intentional or not...let’s say, intention.” - me when discussing The Prestige with students who I know loved The Greatest Showman.
“I love your backpack, I love Fullmetal Alchemist brotherhood.”-- me commenting on a student’s backpack with flamel emblem.
“I love that book, I am so excited for the last book to be released. Have you read the author’s A Court of Thorns and Roses series?”-- me to a student who I notice reading the Throne of Glass series while subbing
Me-- sings the entire Pokemon theme song from memory when bet by a student that I couldn’t.
Me-- annihilating my students in Disney trivia...the whole class challenged me together and still couldn’t take me down.
Me-- who knows about fanfiction? You will all be writing it for a creative writing assignment.
Me--I am going to show you a Dan and Phil video that discusses shipping and fandom in fanfiction to help give you an idea.
Me-- uses Doctor Who and Sherlock (BBC) to teach genre in creative writing.
“I got front row seats! Its going to be so awesome! I can’t wait!” -- me overhearing students discuss Dan and Phil’s new tour (the same happened for the first one)
Me-- runs into a student at The Amazing Tour is Not on Fire.
The number of times I’ve come up behind a student who was reading manga online instead of working and specifically been able to tell them, “You can read...(insert title here) later,” and been able to know exactly which title to name is ridiculous...bleach and naruto are popular, but the titles are diverse and varied.
Me-- butts into a discussion on which characters students think are the best from naruto with specific details on my own thoughts. Just the fact that I know characters beyond team 7 seems to shock students.
“Your piece is not from A Very Potter Musical so please don’t read it like Professor Snape.”-- me when students try to get away with dramatizing a piece and suddenly keep adding in AVPM quotes.
Student--- “Ms. O, are you humming the Sailor Moon theme song?”
Me-- “Yes, I’ve had it in my head all day.”
Me-- chaperons every dance and dances the entire dance to Nsync’s “Bye Bye Bye”
Students (its gotten to the point students request the song before I get the chance just to see it):
Me-- maliciously enjoys rubbing my Hamilton tickets in my students faces.
Me-- teaches students how to play the pokemon card game when not a single one who collects the cards knows how to play.
Me-- gets into the habit of telling kids, “you know nothing Jon Snow,” when I disagree with them.
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Cassian: *holds up glass* When my time comes, I wanna be buried faced down..
Cassian: So that anyone who doesn’t like me can kiss my ass!
Amren and Mor:
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Feysand Mate Reveal AU
So I’ve always wondered how it would have gone if Rhysand had gotten the chance to tell Feyre about him being her mate himself. So this slight AU takes place the day after the Inn scene and assumes they had never been shot down and the Suriel wasn’t in the picture.
Rhysand grasped me tightly in his arms as he aimed us towards his Velaris townhouse below. The city was a canvas of lavender and orange in the fading light, the lanterns lining the winding Sidra like a chain of stars.
As he held onto me, I tried not to notice the way his torso was pressed up against mine, every contour of that strong body matching up with every soft curve of mine, the way his muscles eased and stretched with every flap of his enormous velvety wings.
I let my head lean in to the crook of his shoulder and jaw, resting there beneath. I could almost fall asleep, despite my usual terror at flying with the Illyrians. I was so comfortable in his arms. I let my eyes close for a moment, savoring the warmth between us.
My mind wandered, and maybe it was the closeness of our bodies, but my thoughts took me to the night before…remembering the way we had tangled and touched in that tiny bed at the Inn…the way he had felt propped up behind me as I yielded to him…the way he had run his hands over me…how much I had wanted him to just take me fully...it was enough to set me aflame right there in the sky.
I jerked my eyes back open and tried to focus on the leather detailing of the lapels of his Illyrian training jacket, anything to stem those traitorous thoughts. I counted the threads in the silver embroidering of his undershirt, counted the buttons below that, opened loosely over the russet skin of his tattooed chest. The chest that was broad and smooth with muscled strength…another wave of warmth ran down me, pooling at the core of me and I bit my lip hard, hoping he wouldn’t notice the strain across our bond.
I edged a glance upwards at his face, wondering if perhaps he too was remembering our night…but his dark brows were furrowed, his eyes faraway and focused. I swallowed, wanting to say something, address this thing between us, whatever it was.
We had scarcely spoken the entire way home after those hours training in the Steppes. I could sense he had wanted to say…something. I had indeed caught him several times opening and closing his mouth as if starting to speak before thinking better of it. I had shrugged it off, busying myself instead with my own training. But I wouldn’t be able to ignore it much longer, especially now that we had permanently crossed some invisible line that had been drawn in the sand between us these past few months.
As we touched down on the Townhouse roof terrace, I let out a relieved sigh at the reliable feeling of a steady surface below us. He set me down gently and removed his hands from me quickly, as if he were afraid of repeating last night so soon.
He straightened up, adjusting his elegant leather jacket as I tried to rearrange the tussled strands of my windswept hair. I watched his deft and graceful hands button the places his shirt it had gone loose from our day of travel, wanting so much to feel those nimble fingers in me again…
But no. I couldn’t let those thoughts in. I reinforced my mental walls of adamant, envisioning them wrapping in more vines of protection. Whether from his intruding thoughts or my own traitorous ones, I wasn’t sure.
“Dinner,” was all Rhys murmured after a moment, gesturing to the stairwell to our right. His eyes did not meet mine as we quietly made our way down to the dining room, where I hoped to find Mor or Amren or…anyone really. Anyone to fill the heavy silence between us.
The corridor of the Townhouse was dark, the last bits of sunlight streaming in from the stained glass windows casting a low glow over the floorboards. I watched my boots as we descended each flight of stairs, marking each of his steps behind me, thinking about how much I wanted to just turn around and hide in one of the passing bedrooms.
When we finally reached the dining room, I was disappointed to find the large oak table spotless and empty, save for two steaming plates of chicken and vegetables flanked by a glass of wine each.
“Cerridwen and Nuala,” Rhysand said in answer to my questioning look, pulling out a chair for me. “I sent a request directly to their minds an hour ago while we were flying. I assumed you would be too tired to go out,”
Indeed he was right, and I tried to arrange my face into some semblance of graciousness as I took a seat. I jumped slightly as I felt his broad hands graze my shoulders, but he was only spreading the napkin out into my lap for me.
Ever the gentlemen, but it irked me for some reason. I shot him a mildly indignant look and snatched the napkin back.
“I can handle that myself, thank you,” I curtly unfolded it myself.
But Rhysand only smirked as he made his way around the table to the opposite side where his plate was set.
Damn you, and your damn smirking.
Surprise flashed across his face as he took his seat, before being replaced by that feline amusement I was so used to. I felt a wave of relief at that. Maybe we wouldn’t have to acknowledge last night at all. Maybe we could continue on as normal, unchanged after all.
But something told me that wasn’t going to happen as my body thrilled at the sound of his deep voice in my head, replying,
But that winning smirk worked so well for me last night.
I felt a hot flush creep into my cheeks, but I refused to look at him. I gingerly began cutting my chicken, trying not to let my knife and fork tremble in my hands.
You’ll end up cutting yourself that way, Feyre darling.
I shot my eyes back up to meet the crinkled violet of his as his smirk deepened. I scowled and ignored him, carrying on with my tenuous cutting.
The clock on the mantel chimed half past eight, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin at the sudden noise. My eyes caught on Rhys’s movement across the table, it seeming to jar him as well.
“Is it really that late already?” I said, in a lame attempt at small talk.
I watched his face, trying to read any reaction there. But it indecipherable was as he replied smoothly, “It’s been a long day, we should get some rest,”
“Yes, I want another good night’s rest,” I slyly hoped he would catch my intention behind the words. I had slept more restfully last night than I had in months. The fact that it was due to being in his arms was a small matter I wasn’t sure I could handle.
But he only cast his eyes down at my plate.
“Feyre, you’ve barely eaten anything,” he said, and I could see the veiled concern etched within his eyes. I looked glumly down at my barely-touched dinner, the food indeed more moved around on the plate than anything.
“What is it to you?” I asked casually, putting down my utensils on the smooth wood varnish.
A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Are you hurt? Sick?” he asked softly.
“No,” I replied, sitting back in my chair. “I’m fine,”
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked, lying his hands flat on the table, as if ready to spring to my aid at a second’s notice.
I resisted rolling my eyes as I said, “I’m just…not hungry. Really,” I hoped it would quay the emergent worry in his face. He relaxed, though I could tell he didn’t fully believe me.
“Well, then I suppose if I am just being a distraction,” he muttered curtly, swiftly standing and disappearing the plates with a wave of his hand.
I felt an unwelcome pang at the word. Distraction. What I had asked for last night…not friendship, not a bond…not even love. I internally cringed and watched his dark silhouette disappear up the stairs.
I instantly wanted to run after him…to apologize or flirt more, I didn’t know. But my legs would not move, and any words died in my throat as I heard the distinct click of his bedroom door shutting upstairs.
Ten minutes later, I found myself pacing outside his room, up and down the hallway, praying he couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see what a fool I was.
I nearly knocked once, but couldn’t bring myself to. Couldn’t think of what to say. I had too many questions for him. But I also felt a need to apologize. To explain. But the nerve never came.
Not knowing what else to do with myself, I hid in my room the rest of the evening, holed up in bed with a book in my lap. But I read without really comprehending anything, my hands mechanically turning the pages as my mind wandered elsewhere. These months I’d spent here…how he had taken me in, given me clothes and money and food and shelter and everything else. It had begun as a bargain, yes, but now?
I had had his tongue in my mouth and his fingers inside me last night. Yet I had stupidly told him it was just meaningless fun…but I knew, deep inside, that it wasn’t just fun. It wasn’t just a distraction.
And that terrified me.
I sat there in bed, trying to find the right words to say to him until the clock on my cherrywood dresser tolled eleven. So, I gave up and dressed for bed, though sleep sounded as equally unappealing to my racing mind.
After slipping on my satin nightgown and silky robe, I crawled underneath the plush green duvet and switched off the lantern at my bedside. Instantly, the darkness sweeping across the room seeming to gloat at me, yet another reminder of the High Lord no doubt sleeping peacefully down the hall.
But as I drifted, my mind wandered back to that cramped room in the Inn…to the feel of his hands on my breasts, his fingers moving in me, his lips devouring my neck…how I had wanted so badly just to yield fully to him, to let him have me completely. How much that meant to me. How much that frightened me to my very core.
I shivered and clamped my knees together, as if it could keep the wave of want at bay. My mind played the night over and over…the way he had spoken…the bits and pieces he had given me…Let me touch you…Because I was jealous and pissed off…She’s mine.
I stiffened. That was it.
I needed to know. Needed to know what it all meant. What I meant to him.
I clenched my jaw, let out a sharp breath and sent one word down the bond;
The seconds ticked on, and my heartbeat fluttered faster. Waiting.
We have one awkward meal and you’re back to calling me Rhysand?
I fought the tug of a smile that lifted my lips and I shot straight up in bed, though there was nothing in the darkness of my room. It was just his voice inside my head.
Please. I want to talk to you. In person.
Might as well address me as High Lord, while you’re at it.
I rolled my eyes and just sent one word back down the bond:
For a few horrible moments, I thought he wouldn’t come. Perhaps he had decided I was too indecisive, too spiteful, too soiled for him. I put my hands over my face, feeling shame creep in, and slumped down against my pillow.
“Well I suppose if you say ‘please’…”
I shot back up, throwing the covers off me as he appeared in the darkness, as if made from mist, silent and swift as the night. I clenched my bedsheets as I took him in; he was shirtless, loose silk sleeping pants the only thing covering his form, his velvet wings hanging unceremoniously behind him.
With some effort, I fought to keep my eyes from tracing the contours of his torso, the way the pattern of his tattoos tapered off towards his lower abdomen…the corded muscles of his forearms leading to strong hands now dipping into his pockets as he leaned against my bedpost.
“Feyre,” he said in a singsong voice, no doubt tracking where my eyes were. It snapped me from my observance and I flushed warmly.
I could see the slight amusement in his eyes as I met his eyes again.
“You wanted to see me?”
I rose quickly and rather shakily from my bed, the hem of my satin robe hitting the floor and opening the front, revealing the simple albeit very short nightgown I had put on underneath.
“Or perhaps you wanted another distraction,” he said as his eyes drank me in, not a question at all.
I watched Rhys watch me, saw the panic and lust and unsureness cross his face as he took me in, from toes to eyebrows. Saw the silent restraint in his body, the body I had become so used to seeing over these months of training together.
I took a slow step towards him. He stood unmoving, not taking his eyes from mine, though I could now see him grasping that bedpost like it was supporting him entirely.
“Not a distraction,” I said firmly, trying to convey everything I felt in those few words.
He did not hide his reaction to me as he again cast his eyes down my body. I tried to ignore the way my nightown rode up with each step, at the growing impulse to throw my legs around his waist right there and then.
“I need to know…” I hesitated as I finally closed the gap between us. My shoulders tensing, I continued, “…what there is between us,”
His face was unreadable and again he didn’t move, did not even flinch as he held steadfast onto that bedpost, as if one wrong move would send us spiraling into dangerous territory again.
“I need to understand this, Rhys,” I gestured to the small space between us.
I watched his face change again, into something hopeful, but hesitant. His hands finally let go of that post to grasp my arms, lightly running up and down them. It raised goosebumps in their path.
Something drew me into him, something I couldn’t name. Like a tether, ever shortening as the minutes passed…
“Feyre…” he voice was guttural as he angled his head to rest against mine. I heard him breath in. Breathe me in. I did the same, reveling in the citrus and sea that always hovered around him.
“You said you just wanted fun,”
I cringed, and swallowed thickly. “I know what I said, but that’s not what I want,”
“Then why am I here, Feyre?” There was the question. His hands left my arms. My lower lip trembled as I took in his beautiful face. So devastatingly beautiful.
“Rhys,” I steadied my voice, as I asked a question of my own, “Why do you bother?”
Confusion darkened his eyes.
“I happen to find you quite attractive, Feyre,” His hands resumed their exploration, this time running slowly over the curve of my hips, gently tugging the fabric of my gown upwards. “As I have told you many times,”
“Evidently,” I breathed, pushing my pelvis against the new hardness of his, wishing we could just throw away all that had been said and submit fully to this feeling. He gave my thighs a long squeeze as his mouth met my cheekbone, trailing kisses down towards my earlobe. I could feel the cool air kiss my now exposed upper thighs. He bunched the fabric up more, his own hips moving ever so slightly in to crush gently against mine. I stifled a groan, tried to ignore the melting feeling soaring across my body.
“But why bring me here? To Velaris?” I whispered against his jaw as his mouth roamed to my ear, placing a restrained kiss upon its point.
“I happen to find you quite interesting, darling,” Rhys breathed into my ear, but there was panic in his eyes as he straightened back around to face me. He couldn’t hide that, not from me.
“But why bring me here to your home?” I broke from him, taking a step back, stemming this flow of warmth before it consumed us fully. “Why let me sleep in your private rooms? Why introduce me to your family, your court, your—”
“I…care about you Feyre,” Rhys interjected, scanning my face.
“Why?” My voice became strained. “Is it just petty revenge against Tamlin, still?”
“No,” Rhys hissed. “He has nothing to do with this, Feyre,”
“Is it our bargain then? Are you not able to break it or–”
“The bargain is nothing,” Rhys’ voice was flat as he placed both his broad hands on either side of my face. “Nothing,”
And I believed him, but still there was something missing. Something I couldn’t quite reconcile…
“Then why am I here?” Tears escaped my eyes, tears I had kept at bay for too long, tears of frustration, tears of hopelessness. I still didn’t understand. Why he had gone through all these pains to give me a place to be happy. Even if he now felt as strongly for me as I did for him, in the beginning we had been barely more than strangers. It still didn’t add up.
“What am I to you?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Rhys struggled for a moment, his jaw set, his eyes furiously scanning my face again, as if trying to read something within it.
“Feyre, I have to tell you something,” His voice sounded almost shaky, his lips near trembling. “Something I should have told you sooner,”
I had never seen him so…vulnerable. Not in this way.
I waited for him to go on. But he didn’t say anything for a long moment before he gently backed us up until my rear met edge of the mattress. I reached behind me and grasped onto it, anything to keep me steady, to keep my hands from grasping onto him and never letting go.
He leaned in and laid a soft kiss on each side of my neck, before lifting his mouth to my tear-stained cheeks. He gently kissed away my tears, as he once had done Under the Mountain.
“You’re not just a distraction,” I whispered against his face. “You’re…more than that, Rhys,”
I locked eyes with him, and before I could decide against it, I swiftly brought my face to his and kissed him deeply. There was hunger and desperation in that kiss, a kiss we had not truly shared yet.
His hands returned to my hips, running over the bend of them as I pressed myself fully into him, wanting to taste him and feel him and understand this pull between us. And from the way his lips drank mine in, the way his hands roamed my thighs, I knew he was trying desperately to understand, too.
“Rhys…” I said from behind his lips and broke us apart again.
He stood panting before me, eyes closed. His hands went slack at his sides, and he angled his body away again.
“Feyre, don’t…” he trailed off. “I don’t think I can handle it…not again,”
My heart broke for him as I took his hand back in mine.
“Rhys, I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Just…tell me, please,”
“Feyre…” He gave me another kiss, this time long and sweet, like it held all the words he was about to give me. “There is a story I need to tell you first,”
I imagine after this, Feyre reacts very much the same as in the original, with her fleeing to Mor and demanding to be taken away to think. So you can assume the cabin scene plays out the same in my AU :) Hope you all enjoyed!
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I didn't knew which one I should post so I'm posting both heh.
I had a really fun time doing Cassian's hair, hope u guys enjoy it ✨
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aelin galathynius and nesta archeron - olympic themed instagram
in celebration of the olympics, here are olympic themed instagrams for aelin (from we are young) and nesta (from whatever it takes).
i spent way too much time on this but oh well… hope you guys like it!
Sidenote: “και δεν θα φοβηθώ” is “and i will not be afaird” in greek and is the tattoo on aelins back in memory of sam.
click here to see aelins instagram
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Feyre and Rhys stood together on the small balcony just after Under the Mountain. What if the mating bond had snapped into place for Feyre as well?
Author’s Note: Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel
“Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.”
I couldn’t explain about the hole that had already formed in my soul—didn’t want to, so I just nodded.
“Well, good-bye for now,” he said, rolling his neck as if we hadn’t been talking about anything important at all. He bowed at the waist, those wings vanishing entirely, and had begun to fade into the nearest shadow when he went rigid.
His eyes locked on mine, wide and wild, and his nostrils flared. Shock—pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled.
“What is—” I began.” My knees buckled as a torrent of emotions coursed through me- disbelief, joy, and longing. Such profound longing. My heart ached at the intensity of the emotions, even as I struggled to make sense of them. The thread I had felt tugging deep within me earlier went taut, beckoning to me in a way I didn’t quite understand. Realization tore through me, insistent and overwhelming, like a physical blow to the head.
I tore my gaze away from his, taking in the tattoo that stood out in dark contrast to my now pale skin. Rhysand. It was his thoughts- no not his thoughts, but rather his emotions I was experiencing. How was that even possible? Was it because of the reckless bargain I had struck with him? Or rather, was it due to whatever power he possessed that allowed him access to others innermost thoughts? As he had done to me that day all those months ago? A shiver ran down my spine at the memory, at how utterly at his mercy I had been.
Rhysand let loose a growl, low and frustrated. My eyes snapped up to meet his. His pupils flared as I gave him a long, considering look. Tendrils of shadow kissed night writhed and thrashed around his body. And, as though he was no longer able to keep them hidden, great membranous wings erupted from his back. Curved, wicked looking talons were visible over his shoulders. My eyes trailed over the beautiful, brutal wings as they rustled in agitation. A small part of me marveled at the beauty and strength of them. What it must have cost him to keep them hidden all those years- my stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought.
The air suddenly became rife with magic. Rhysand began to fade, folding and twisting into little more than smoke and mist. I stumbled forward, nearly tripping over my newly elongated fae limbs. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, though I wasn’t wholly sure what had possessed me to reach out to him in the first place. He gazed at me, a look of wicked delight flashing across his features, as his fingers entwined with mine. That thing in my chest, the bargain tethering me to him, throbbed painfully as his thumb caressed my palm in a slow, sensuous circle.
Ignoring the little sparks of heat that had erupted all over my skin in the wake of his touch, I staggered back a step, wrenching my hand out of his grasp.
“What the hell did you do to me?” I hissed, wrapping my arms over my chest. I could have sworn hurt flashed across his features, but was gone so quickly that I thought I had imagined it.
“I did nothing, Feyre darling,” he purred, though his eyes were still wide as he took me in.
“Then how do you explain this,” I paused, my hands dropping to my stomach, gently rubbing at the spot where I could feel the inexplicable pull of the tether that binded me to him. My lips pulled back into a snarl as I continued, “This feeling, this pull I feel towards you. Make it stop.”
“Feyre,” he rasped, running a hand through his hair.
“Break the bargain,” I demanded, thrusting my tattooed arm out towards him.
“And why ever would I do that?” he asked, sliding his hands into his pockets. There was a gleam in his eyes, cold and calculating.
I took a step towards him, my voice heavy with desperation as I said, “I think that we can both agree that I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing. Prythian is finally free. What else could you want of me? Break this bond between us.” He flinched. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, flinched.
I arched a brow as I peered at him, utterly perplexed at his reaction to my plea. He must know how I felt about the bond…
I went utterly still as the word clanged through me, rattling me to my very core. No. No. No. No, it couldn’t be! I was in love with Tamlin- I had wrecked myself for that love, had died for that love. Surely, he was to be my mate. The mating bond simply hadn’t snapped into place yet. But it would, I was sure of it. Only… Rhysand. He was scrutinizing me, his expression shrewd and discerning, and yet, his eyes seemed to be burning with something akin to hope. No, this wasn’t right. I needed to get out of here, and back to Tamlin.
“Fine. I should have known that a little act of decency was beyond your capabilities,” I snarled, giving him a vulgar gesture as I twisted around, moving towards the doorway.
“Feyre, wait,” he called after me, his voice betraying none of the emotions I felt roiling in my gut- emotions that I was certain belonged to the High Lord behind me. I paid him no heed as I stalked towards the entrance. Gentle fingers grasped my arm, pulling me to a stop. I wrenched my arm out of his grasp, the desire to slap him across the face surged through me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled, whirling around to face him. He recoiled at my words, as though I had indeed struck him.
“I would never force myself on you, Feyre,” he said in a quiet voice, his words laced with rage. Instinctively, I took a step back. Rhysand was breathing heavily, his chest raising and falling rapidly. He turned to lean against the railing, peering out at the vast expanse before us. He ran a hand over his face roughly. I understood in that instant that it wasn’t anger at me, for what I had said, that clouded his features. I didn’t want to think too much about the cause, the reason that arrogant façade he so loved to wear had all but been washed away. If I could just get him to understand, to release me of this Cauldron damned bargain…
I took in a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as though I were about to face the Middengard Worm once again. If I were being honest with myself, I would have preferred the worm. I leaned against the railing next to him, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body seep deep into my bones.
“Rhysand, could we please just…”
“Just what, Feyre?” he rasped, pinching the bridge of his nose. Never before had I seen him looking so unhinged. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine. As his near violet eyes met mine, that thread that tethered us together grew taut, pulling and stretching almost painfully. I flinched imperceptibly as a loud crack sounded, reverberating through my very being. I gaped at him, as though I had never seen him properly until now. It was as though my very world had been tipped upside down. A single word roared through me, calling out to me- beckoning me to claim the male before me.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
I shook my head, as though in denial of what was in front of me. Rhysand eyed me warily, his nostrils flaring, no doubt sensing the shift in my demeanor.
“Feyre,” he began, his voice skittered across my skin, down my spine. I threw out a hand to stop him, not wanting to give him a chance to continue. Without a backwards glance towards my mate, I fled.
I tore down the corridor, wanting to put as much space between myself and him as I could. I didn’t want to think about what we were to each other, what that meant for Tamlin and I.
“He’s nothing to me,” I snarled, low and vicious. As I neared the room Tamlin and I had shared last night, I slowed my pace. I took in a shuddering breath, willing my wildly beating heart to slow. My fingers trembled slightly as I twisted the handle, hoping that Tam was still asleep. I couldn't tell him about… there was nothing to tell him. Nothing that mattered, anyway. All that mattered was that we were free. We could return to the Spring Court now. Together. I entered the room, feeling more sure of myself than I had just moments before.
“Feyre! Where the hell have you been?” Tamlin roared, enveloping me in a bone crushing hug. Every fiber of my being recoiled at his touch, cried out at the wrongness of it all. I bit down on my lower lip, fighting the urge to pull out of his grasp. I could do this. I loved Tamlin. For him, I could do this. I stepped out of the embrace and gave him a small smile.
“I was taking a walk. I wanted to stretch my legs,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the new fae body I now possessed.
His eyes narrowed as he ground out, “Please don’t wander off again. I was worried about you.” Though a small part of me balked at what he was saying, I nodded in agreement.
“I love you, Tamlin.” I said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He entwined his fingers with mine, his eyes bright with happiness.
“Let’s go home,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.
“Home,” I repeated, my voice sounding hollow even to me. I forced some semblance of a smile on my face, hoping he wouldn’t see it for the lie it was.
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ACOTAR Fic Masterlist
Here’s all of my fanfiction for the ACOTAR universe. Most what’s below links to my Tumblr, but all of it can also be found on my AO3 page. Enjoy!
Chapters 20-21: Calanmai - x
Chapter 36: The First Trial - x
Chapter 37: Feyre Makes the Bargain with Rhys - x
Chapter 39: Rhys Reveals the Bargain - x
Chapter 40: The Second Trial - x
Chapters 43-45: The Third Trial/Feyre Dies - x
Chapter 46: Rhys Sees the Mating Bond - x
Part 1 The House of Beasts: Chapters 1-13 - x
Part 2.1 The House of Wind: Chapters 14-27 - x
Part 2.2 The House of Wind: Chapters 28-40 - x
Part 2.3 The House of Wind: Chapters 41-51 - x
Part 3.3 The House of MIst: Chapters 52-56 - x
Shadowsinger: An Azriel/Moriel Fic
Chapters 1 & 2: The Burning of Az’s Hands - x
Chapter 3: Meeting Rhys & Cass - x
Chapter 4: The Blood Rite - x
Chapter 5: Meeting Morrigan - x
Chapter 6: Mor Sleeps with Cass - x
Chapter 7: Az Saves Mor in the Autumn Court - x
Chapter 8: Az & Co. Kill Keir - x
Chapter 9: Moriel Happens (NSFW) - x
Beneath the Stars: A Feysand High School AU
Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX XX XXI Epilogue Bonus Moriel I Bonus Moriel II
Feysand Hot Bath Post-Lingerie Shop Fantasy (NSFW/Rhys POV) - x
Feysand Universe Alternate: Mates at Starfall (NSFW) - x
Feysand One-Shot: The Wall (NSFW) - x
Feysand Dream Smut (NSFW) - x
Feysand Wing Smut (NSFW) - x
Feysand Mirror One-Shot (NSFW) - x
Feysand Wet Dream One-Shot (NSFW) - x
Feysand AU One-Shot Part I: Dinner for Two (NSFW) - x
Feysand AU One-Shot Part II: Dessert for Two (NSFW) - x
Feysand AU Paris Honeymoon (NSFW) - x
Nessian One-Shot: Fire & Brimstone (NSFW) - x
Nessian One-Shot (NSFW) - x
Moriel Comfort Almost One-Shot (NSFW) - x
Moriel Waking Up Together One-Shot (NSFW) - x
Moriel Cabin Smut (NSFW Light) - x
Moriel Smut Headcanons (NSFW) - x
Moriel Smut Drabble (NSFW) - x
Moriel Headcanons (Fluff & NSFW) - x
Elucien Calanmai (NSFW) - x
Elucien Headcanons (Fluff & NSFW) - x
Cazigan Smut [Cass/Az/Mor] (NSFW) - x
Cazigan Teasing Smut (NSW) - x
Cazigan Valentine’s Day AU (NSFW implied only) - x
Feysand Theater AU - x
Feysand Gym AU - x
Feysand Modern AU on a Plane - x
Feyre is Taught by Van Gogh - x
Moving Day: HS/College AU - x
Squad Goes to Disneyland - x
Squad Medieval AU - x
Feysand Coming Home Post-ACOWAR - x
Feysand Sleeping During 55 - x
Feysand Pregnancy Fic - x
Feysand Fluff Post ACOTAR3 - x
Feysand Feyre Thinking She Still Has to Hunt - x
Feysand Mating Anniversary - x
Feysand Feyre Sleeping on Rhys at Dinner - x
Moriel/Squad ACOWAR Reunion - x
Moriel Starfall I - x
Moriel Starfall II - x
Moriel Dancing - x
Moriel Babysitting & Shadow Puppets - x
Moriel Pregnancy Mini Fic - x
Nessian Wedding Drabble - x
Elucien Mating Fluff w/Squad - x
Squad When Rhys Comes Home - x
Squad Christmas at the Cabin Fic - x
Azriel x Feyre Friendship Sparring Fic - x
Flying Amren Mini Fic - x
905 notes · View notes
*** = smut
A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES (ACOTAR)
mad woman (nessian): part 2 part 3***
Hate You/Break You***
Fireworks: Outside // Inside***
A French Breakfast***
In His Calvins***
In Her Louboutins***
Closer: All Hallows Eve (Vampire!Shawn)***
Taking Me Back
Quarantine Day 26***
SMUT BLURBS (tagged smallerinfinitiessmut)
Seeing Double (Twin!Shawn AU): Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Meet the Teacher (Music!Teacher!Shawn AU): Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5*** Part 6 Part 7*** Part 8
O, Brawling Love (Fairy!Prince!Shawn AU): Part 1
Gin and Juice (College!Football!Shawn AU) Masterlist
Eleanor (blurb series): Eight Months Three Years Nine Years
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A Not So Chance Encounter: Masterlist
Rhys is persuaded to attend a fundraiser by his cousin Mor. He didn’t expect to meet the girl of his dreams.
Photo created by the amazing @mariamuses
Valentine’s Day Bonus: part 1 of 2
Valentine’s Day Bonus: part 2 of 2
Chapter 27- Coming Soon!
Find me on AO3 and Wattpad as FairyPrincessKjar
749 notes · View notes
“Bring Her Home”
Summary: After forty-nine years in hell, Rhysand has returned to Night. A piece of him will always belong to that human who saved Prythian- the fae female now poised to marry his sworn enemy. As the sun sets on that horrible day a plea goes out across the Courts- “please, save me. Get me out. End this,” and Rhysand is only too happy to oblige.
**Celebrating 7,000 followers with this special fic that serves as both a standalone addition to ACOMAF and a highly requested second epilogue to my series “Velaris”!!
Language Assistance: @urbisie
For my fanfiction library visit @rhysand-vs-rowan-vs-writing
Bring Her Home
Those rare moments when he was alone were precious beyond words.
Nuala and Cerridwen surrounded him as soon as he left Amarantha’s chambers, offering him strength in the journey back to his own. Most of the time they were the only reason he was able to force one foot in front of the other. The first night he spent with her… it felt as if a vital part of him had died. Perhaps that death gave Azriel’s spies some ability to direct his steps.
The twins always had a hot bath ready for him, and left their High Lord to scrub raw every last inch of skin she’d touched.
Well… at least early on they’d left him alone for the bath. After a few weeks he’d taken advantage of the solitude and-
-and now he knew they took turns guarding him as he bathed.
It was after the bath that they truly gave him time alone to cry, rage, go numb- whatever was necessary to pull back the male from where he hid while Someone Else was used by that monster. Only when Rhysand reached out to summon them would Nuala and Cerridwen open their minds and remind him who he endured it all for.
Under the Mountain was a continuous battle Rhys fought for his own sanity- and the only reason he won that battle time and again was because he knew after Someone Else went away again, the twins would show him the faces of his best friends. Nuala and Cerridwen’s memories of them all were a balm to heal a flayed soul.
During that time his spirit was crushed and shattered. It felt as if his heart had been ripped out, and every breath was a hell he could hardly endure. To live after so much humiliation and depravity- were Nuala and Cerridwen even his friends, or was their gift of memory just another torture arranged by the Crimson Whore?
Sometimes Amarantha arrived then, as if she knew his heart was exposed and raw. As if she knew Someone Else was away and it was Rhysand she would hurt. The fallout from those visits… afterwards, Nuala and Cerridwen were the ones who soothed him as he raged.
Instinct told him she was coming now, and a sob escaped before Rhys began forcing himself down.
But- this time was different. He couldn’t pull the mask up. He may never be able to again. His stomach roiled and bile rose in his throat. At even the sound of her shoes on the flagstone Rhys thought he would vomit. At her voice he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back his tears. He felt her enter the room and began to shake.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t-
A safe distance behind him, someone began to sing a slow, soft song.
Dandini dandini danalı bebek
Mini mini elleri kınalı bebek
Annesi babası çok sever
Uyur da büyür nazlı bebek
Eeeeeee Eeeeeee Eeeeeee Eee
Pışşşşş Pışşşşş Pışşşşş Pışş
Dandini dandini danadan
Bir ay doğmuş anadan
Mevlam korusun nazardan
Eeeeeee Eeeeeee Eeeeeee Eee
Pışşşşş Pışşşşş Pışşşşş Pışş
It was a lullaby in the old Illyrian tongue, one his mother used to sing to sooth him as a child. The female singing now had an accent, but it was the memory she inspired that gently washed over him, slowly relaxing his features, settling his stomach, and easing his ragged breath.
Dandini dandini danali bebek
Baby with tiny little henna hands
Loved by both his mother and father.
Let him sleep and grow up.
Eee eee eee e
Psss psss psss pss
Dandini dandini danadan
He is as beautiful as the shining moon.
God gave him all the beauty.
Let god protect him from the evil eye.
Eee eee eee e
Psss psss psss pss
Over and over she sang those ancient words, until Rhys felt the paper beneath his face, the books beneath his hands, and recognized at long last the scent of leather, ink, and musty tomes.
His heart remembered that the horrors had ended. Amarantha was dead. He was free… he was home.
A lead weight remained in place of his heart, but Rhys knew that was a weight he would carry the rest of his life. He stirred and let the calm, quiet voice lead him wholly out of his nightmare.
Mor stopped as he sat up, groaning. He’d fallen asleep at a library desk, and his entire upper body was stiff. He stretched, then nodded to his cousin to let her know it was safe to approach.
“Whenever you’re ready to talk, you know I’ll be there for you.” Mor sat on the arm of a couch a few feet away, giving Rhys the space and time to process where he was. “Whatever happened- it won’t change the way we look at you.”
Whatever happened- Rhys wasn’t even home a day before Azriel began gathering fifty years worth of reports from his spies and discovered exactly what happened Under the Mountain.
For Rhysand’s sake, until he was ready to talk about it, they feigned ignorance while offering sometimes overwhelming companionship. Even when he needed to hide himself away, one of them was never far. Rhys didn’t remember what it was to be respected and loved- it was up to them to remind him.
Rhys winced in apology, “I can’t talk about it. Not yet. After fifty years-“ he swallowed. I may never be ready.
“Today, fifty years from now, five hundred- it doesn’t matter. We’ll still be here.”
He still wasn’t sure he even wanted to be there in a week, let alone fifty years. Especially not after-
Ice filled his veins and for a few moments it felt as if the world spun away without him. His pulse raced and he grabbed the table.
“It hasn’t started yet,” Mor crossed her arms. “Tamlin isn’t even at the altar.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Rhys almost wished Mor left him to his nightmare instead of waking him. His heart wouldn’t ache so horribly when it was over. He’d prayed nightly to the Cauldron and the Mother both that once Feyre was married that gaping maw in his chest would at last fall quiet.
When an angel blesses the dreams of a damned soul, can he ever endure losing her? Feyre had been his greatest blessing in a darkness he never thought he would escape Under the Mountain. Three years of dreams, and if he only had those months of her hating him Under the Mountain, he may just go mad.
“The wedding doesn’t change anything.” Mor said, “Marriages end in the face of a mating bond. You’ll never stop wondering-“
Rhys growled low in warning.
“-what might have happened if you’d just been honest with Feyre. If you let her see though the mask.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “She died for Tamlin. I’m not going to complicate matters. She’s suffered enough. She’s too-“ he cut himself off.
She’s too good for me. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my hell.
Once he could face a married Feyre without his heart ripping in two, Rhysand would offer her a deal- the end of their bargain in exchange for his mother and sister’s wings. If she couldn’t find them… he would sever the link anyways and spend the rest of his days trying to cauterize the gaping hole in his chest.
Unless Hybern was kind enough to put him out of his misery first.
Mor knew the darkness in Rhys’ eyes, so for now- to respect what he was going through- she let it go. “I came because Cassian is looking for you. Evidently you two had plans?”
“We do,” Rhys swallowed. He’d intended to be thoroughly drunk by now. As it was, he wouldn’t even meet up with Cassian before the end of the Spring ceremony. Would he feel it? The moment she tied her soul to that monster? Would he feel the vow like a blow against the bond?
“Come on,” Mor jerked her chin to the door. “I’ll keep you company until it’s over. I can drink you and Cassian under the table easily enough.”
She looped an arm through his as Rhys passed, haggard and exhausted. His skin had reclaimed the golden-brown Illyrian hue with days on end spent outside, but Rhys’ hands still trembled slightly. Sun-kissed as his skin may be, it was still wan and drawn too tightly over his bones. His eyes were sunken and dull, and when he fell asleep on the books of the library he’d smeared away some of the makeup he applied to hide the physical manifestation of his sleepless nights. Blue-black skin sagged low.
Azriel saw Feyre once. He’d described a female more dead than alive. If that was still the case then Rhys and his mate were indeed two sides of the same coin. Her suffering was perfectly mirrored in Rhysand. If they had even a single week with one another, Mor knew both would begin to heal. Apart, there was no chance for either of them.
She heard the door open and close far above and her heart stumbled. Would Rhysand hate her when they stepped out of the library to a court nearly dark from sunset?
Truth be told, Mor knew exactly where Rhys was the moment Cassian mentioned their missed meeting. She also knew the Commander wouldn’t look in the library unless it was an emergency. Rhys ventured deeper each time one of them retrieved him- inching ever closer to the monster at the bottom. He was using it as a shield against his friends- and Cassian feared nothing as much as he feared that beast.
Mor went straight to the library and sat at a table far from Rhys’ private little alcove. She was several floors up and across the hollow mountain from him, but it was the only position from which he could be seen. Clotho was going to tell her when the sun set, and only then did she plan to wake him. Once the ceremony in Spring was over, and his mate was lost forever.
But then she saw him twitch, and darkness began to leak out from his form. She’d wanted to grant him the mercy of missing the ceremony, of not sitting there in sick horror waiting to see if he felt her vows. Still, no matter what she was waking him to face, Mor would never let Rhys go through those nightmares alone. Not if she could protect him.
She walked slowly with her arm wrapped around his, both offering support and slowing his pace. Her stomach churned in dread, but it was nothing compared to how he felt. His eyes were unfocused, sad. He sighed every few steps.
The sound carried more despair than any creature deserved to feel.
Somewhere around the seventh level, Rhys felt a stirring in his chest. He shoved it down and picked up his pace, pulling Mor along. Suspicion filled his heart as his cousin resisted, gently slowing him down.
What did she not want him to see?
He tugged his arm from hers and began walking faster.
His breath was ragged. It felt as if something small were trapped in his chest, fighting violently to get out. Panic consumed him, and that walk turned into a jog. Why didn’t Mor want him going outside?
Was it already too late?
Too late- too late for what? He couldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t do anything.
… but was it too late?
With a small, nervous sound, Rhysand began to run.
The breath was knocked form his lungs, and it was an effort to keep his legs moving up through the levels of the library. His vision was flashing as he forced himself to not reach for their bargain- to not look through Feyre’s eyes and confirm that the inevitable nightmare had come to pass.
His vision narrowed on the door, looming not far ahead. Rhys cast a wall of power out and threw it open.
Every step was too fast as he ran, propelling him forward to that horrible sunset.
Ten steps from the door, at the edge of the fading sunlight, he slowed.
His heart was beating so fast, too fast.
He was going to vomit.
Panic and loathing, humiliation, rage, and a fear nearly tangible overwhelmed him-
-and Rhys finally realized the feeling wasn’t his. Not entirely, at least.
It was coming from his bargain-link with Feyre.
He was too hot, the walls of the library were closing in. This hell was inescapable. The beast inside him was roiling now, his body shook with the building force of it as it hunted for a way out- and felt its equal thrashing at the other end of a slumbering bond.
“Rhys-“ Mor ran around him to grab his face. His eyes were unfocused and darted side to side as he tried to sort his feelings from Feyre’s- to see what was wrong.
Help me, help me, help me. Save me- please, save me. Get me out. End this.
“She needs help,” he said quickly, yanking Mor’s hands from his face and shoving past her, out into the sunset. “She’s begging someone to stop the wedding.”
A horrible, disgusting relief was filling his chest, but he couldn’t give in to the desire that plagued him every second he’d been away from Feyre’s side. He needed permission. He needed someone else to make the call, so that he knew the decision was rational and right, not born of grief, jealousy, or some sort of entitlement.
“Go,” Mor snarled. “She needs you- call in the bargain and get her out of there!”
“I can’t-“ if he had Feyre by his side for even a minute, would he ever be able to take her back to Spring? He could feel her fighting for air, just as he could feel his own lungs refusing to draw breath.
Mor dug her nails into Rhys’ wrists hard enough to draw his focus back, “Rhys, the Cauldron has given you another chance- rescue Feyre. Show her who you are. She’s alone and frightened, your mate needs you. None of those bastards in Spring will ever help her- it has to be you!”
Gratitude flickered in his eyes, even as rage began to build. He felt Feyre shattering on the other end of the bond, her own grief and agony had long since consumed her heart, and now it was feasting on what scraps remained.
The feeling- it was one Rhysand knew all too well.
I stayed away to give him the chance to heal you. That was the only thing that kept him from calling in their bargain- Feyre’s love for Tamlin. What he felt on the other end of that bond- it was a rotting of the heart and mind that only occured in those utterly abandoned after suffering horrific trauma. You saved him from the Crimson Whore- how has he not saved you too?
Rhysand vanished in a burst of darkness. He barely had the presence of mind to throw up a glamour and hide his rumpled clothing, sloppy hair, and fear-pale face before the roaring night cleared and he stood at the other end of the wedding aisle- behind a too-thin woman in a ridiculous gown.
Nothing more than a prize for the male who stood at the altar.
Padding had been sewn into Feyre’s dress to fill her out and hide just how emaciated she was. Every trick imaginable had been employed to hide her sunken eyes and even distract from every visible bone in her chest.
There was one thing they couldn’t cover up for this little show Tamlin was putting on before the fleeing crowd: the void in her eyes. She mimicked fear and terror with her face, but those beautiful blue-gray eyes were hollow and dead.
Rhysand’s grief was overwhelmed with rage as he forced the mask of the Lord of Nightmares back on. He was done giving that beast Tamlin any more chances. He was done giving Feyre her space in Spring and he was done with that ridiculous policy of non-involvement.
Tamlin had three months to save Feyre, and yet she looked infinitely worse.
He locked eyes with the female he loved so wholly and forced a bratty smile to his lips, “Hello, Feyre darling.”
It would take Feyre months to realize it, but as she looked into those violet eyes something pulsed through them both:
Two shattered hearts were beating at long last.
674 notes · View notes
74 + Feysand?
74: kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap
“Come here,” Rhys purred, gesturing to the chair where he now sat.
“Not a chance,” Feyre replied, “I have work to do.”
It was true. As High Lady, as well as a business owner, she was plenty busy these days. Between managing expenses for her and Ressina’s art studio and signing off on paperwork, she was a busy female.
And she had no time for Rhys’s antics. Not today.
She wanted to, though. Wished she had the time. With her schedule, and Rhys’s utterly chaotic life, too, it was hard for them to spend any moments together aside from sleeping. Hell, every night before bed, they only managed to get out a few words about their day before passing out from sheer exhaustion.
So Rhys should’ve known she was busy, as she at at her desk signing paperwork and making lists of paints and brushes she needed to buy for her studio.
“But you’re always so good at multitasking,” Rhys crooned, “and I want to be with my mate.”
Feyre scowled. “You’re with your mate right now, and she has work to do. See?” She pointed to the list. And then to the stack of paperwork.
“We haven’t had any time together in weeks, Feyre Darling, I miss you. Please?”
“You miss me? You see me every day! We sleep together every night,” She joked, spinning around in her chair to look at him.
“We cuddle every night. We don’t sleep together,” Rhys said, wriggling his eyebrows.
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
Rhys sent an image down the bond, just for her. I miss…this, amongst other things.
Feyre rolled her eyes. But she missed it, too. Missed the times when exhaustion didn’t plague them every day and night…when time together didn’t just mean sleeping.
And Mother above, this paperwork was boring.
“Come here,” Rhys repeated.
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“Amongst other things,” he said.
Feyre raised her eyebrows.
Rhys raised his right back. Come here.
She shot to her feet, walking the few steps it took to get to her mate.
“Scoot,” Feyre said.
Oh, I have a better idea.
What– Feyre started, but Rhys’s hands were already on her hips, pulling her down onto his lap.
“See? Better,” he said, giving her a wicked smile.
“You won’t see me complaining,” she replied with giggle.
His violet eyes gleamed with delight at Feyre’s laugh, her smile, her scent.
“I love you,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers.
And then his lips were on hers, and he was kissing her.
He was gentle, his lips lightly brushing each corner of her mouth. But before Feyre could register what was happening, he pulled away, eyes dancing.
Rhys smiled, but then his eyes shot open, wide, as Feyre grabbed him by the collar, pulled him close, and crushed her lips against his, her tongue pressing at the space between his lips. His mouth opened for her, and her tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, tasting him.
Cauldron, she missed this. Missed him.
“Better than paperwork?” he asked, pulling away, his voice heavy.
“Much better,” she replied, and kissed him again, until her lips were red and swollen and she knew exactly where this was going to end.
Bed? Rhys nodded his head toward the door.
No, Feyre shot back, her eyes alight with mischief, I think here will do just fine.
Then allow me, Feyre Darling.
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Going Home: Part 2
Feyre and Rhys stood together on the small balcony just after Under the Mountain. What if the mating bond had snapped into place for Feyre as well?
Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all of the amazing support and feedback! I was truly blown away by the response to the first part! Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel
Every single one of my male instincts were roaring at me, demanding I touch her, taste her. The urge to follow Feyre as she fled through the doorway was so strong, nearly bringing me to my knees in its intensity. Mate. My mate. The words echoed through me, in sync with the wild beating of my heart. As she vanished from sight, my body trembled with restraint. The mating bond thrashed and writhed inside my chest, the distance between us already unbearable. If I took one step towards the door, just a single step, I would damn the consequences and take her with me to the Night Court. And she’d hate me for it. Well, more so than she already did.
I took in a shuddering breath, desperate to gain some semblance of control over the torrent of emotions coursing through me. An image of Feyre flashed through my mind, surprise and disbelief written so clearly across her delicate, newly made fae features. She had flinched, recoiled as though I had struck her. Her lilac and pear scent, which still teased my nostrils, had been laced with fear. Mother above, she had felt the mating bond snap into place and had been terrified. Whether is was fear of me or of the bond, I wasn’t sure. Nor did it really matter. Not anymore.
I leaned against the railing, the enormity of what I had just lost pressing down upon me, the weight of it causing my shoulders to sag. I gazed down at the mountain, its seemingly endless, barren expanse was bleak and uninviting. Nothing but an overwhelming sense of fury flooded my senses. Fighting the urge to bring the entire cursed mountain down around me, I ran a hand roughly through my hair.
Her reaction, the way she had run from me- It was clear she hadn’t wanted the mating bond, hadn't wanted me. Feyre had made her decision. She chose to go back to the Spring Court. Back to him. My lips pulled back as I loosed a snarl, low and vicious.
Mate. My mate. She was my mate.
Not your anything. I was the dark lord of Night. I was nothing to her, nothing but a horrifying reminder of what she’d had to endure these past few months. A nightmare made manifest. It was foolish of me to ever have hoped that she would accept the bond. She would never choose me, not when she had her golden prince whom she loved.
With all that had occurred Under the Mountain, everything that she had gone through, Feyre deserved to be loved. She deserved happiness. No matter what it cost me, I would respect her choice. Even if that choice was him. I fought down the bile that threatening to rise. My mate was in love with my worst enemy. A mirthless chuckle escaped me as I stood from the railing. What a Cauldron damned mess my life had become. I squared my shoulders, vanishing my wings again with half a thought. It was time for me to finally go home, back to Velaris.
I inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent one final time, before I let the darkness and shadow and envelope me, taking me back to the City of Starlight.
As eager as I was to see my family again, I opted to winnow directly into the townhouse as opposed to the House of Wind. They would become aware of my presence the moment I entered the city, especially Azriel. I had no doubt that the shadowsinger had already learned about the most recent turn of events. The details of Amarantha’s demise were most likely spreading throughout all of Prythian like a wildfire, High Fae and Lesser Faeries alike rejoicing at the news of their newfound freedom. With all the spies Az had stationed throughout the other courts, it probably hadn't taken long for the information to reach the Night Court. Knowing Az as I did, I assumed he had let the rest of the inner circle know I would be returning home soon. But I needed a moment to myself before they bombarded me with a string of endless questions, none of which I felt any desire to answer. I needed to reel myself back in somehow, to find a way to hide how truly and utterly broken I had become.
Gazing around the familiar room, my stomach lurched painfully. Someone, most likely at Mor’s behest, had kept the place in good repair in my absence. Every candlestick, picture frame, and piece of furniture was exactly as it had been the day I had left. Everything, down to the slightest detail, had remained untouched… unchanged. I, however, had not been so lucky. After all that had been done to me, all that I had been forced to do... I would never be the same again. My chest constricted painfully, that broken, ripped shard my soul had become... it fractured further. I ran a hand over my face, feeling the tears begin to pool in my eyes.
I squeezed my eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. Mor. I turned around slowly, sliding my hands deep into my pockets.
After a feeble attempt at a smile, I said, “Hello cousin.” Honey brown eyes met mine. For a time, we just stood there, taking in the sight of the other. Her hand trembled slightly as it wrapped around her throat, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Rhys,” she repeated, as though she didn’t quite believe her eyes, her voice was heavy with emotion.
“It’s me, Mor. I’m home,” I said, my voice wobbling with each and every word.
A tiny, broken sound escaped from her lips, and then she was closing the distance between us, enveloping me in a bone crushing hug.
She buried her face into my chest, clinging to me as though afraid to let me go- as though I’d disappear again as soon as she released me. My shirt soon became soaked with her tears. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around her. These gentle touches of affection were so foreign to me after so many years of servicing Amarantha. Nothing about Under the Mountain had been kind or caring. I rested my chin on the top of her head, her golden tresses tickled my chin as I pulled her closer to me.
“I’m home,” I said, more to myself than to her. Long ago, I had given up any and all hope of being reunited with my family. I suddenly had the feeling that this was all just a dream, that I would soon wake up, and find myself in bed next to Amarantha.
“I missed you. Every single day… I missed you,” she sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks, effectively stopping my thoughts from traveling down a dark, treacherous path.
“I missed you too, Mor,” I said, breathing in her familiar citrusy scent. But Mor’s was not the scent I longed for. Her’s was not the embrace I ached for. I wasn’t able to hold back the tears that began streaming down my face, nor the tremors that wracked my body.
“You’re free, Rhys. You’re home,” Mor croaked, making soothing strokes down my back.
I loved and appreciated Mor for wanting to help, to comfort me. But in that moment, she wasn’t the one whom I wanted with me, the one I wanted to be with. I wanted Feyre. My mate. My mate, who wanted nothing to do with me. She was probably already safely ensconced back in the Spring Court, her limbs entangled with Tamlin’s. I felt bile rising in my throat. I wrenched out of Mor’s embrace, staggering back a few steps.
“She’s my mate,” I roared, grasping fistfuls of my hair, nearly ripping them out in my rage. Mor’s eyes became owlish as she gaped at me, cleary taken aback by my outburst.
“A mate?” she gasped, her features clouded with confusion. Her eyes flickered around the room, only to confirm what she already knew. I had indeed returned to the Night Court alone.
“Yes, I have a mate,” I growled, my hands forming into fists at my side.
“Who is she, Rhys? Why isn’t she here?”
“Because she’s with him,” I bellowed, the tenuous hold I had on my temper a thing of the past. The glass vase shattered as it hit the floor, the table it had sat upon splintering apart under the force of my blow.
“Rhys!” Mor shrieked, grasping my arm and pulling my away from the wreckage. I knew she was only trying to help, but I was far too gone to care.
“She’s my mate. My mate! And she’s with him,” I cried, collapsing to the ground. My knees struck the floor with a resounding thud. Mor was instantly at my side, pulling my into a close embrace. She held onto me tightly, not releasing me until the tremors had subsided. Though she had a million questions burning in her eyes, she remained silent, waiting until I was ready. That was one of Mor’s specialties- she knew exactly when to pester someone until they finally gave in, and when to give them space.
“Her name is Feyre,” I began, the corners of my mouth twitching up at the thought of my fierce, brave huntress. Mor gave me a watery smile, encouraging me to continue. I took in a shuddering breath and began telling Mor the story of a human girl who had gone Under the Mountain.
The woman who had stood her ground against Amarantha, who had the nerve to throw a bone javelin at her, despite her injuries.
Who had freed Prythian, had saved us all, and had died in the process.
I spoke in hushed tones about how Feyre, whom I was hopelessly in love with, had been brought back from death, had been remade as a high fae by the power of the High Lords. I told Mor about the beautiful, wonderful thing that had come into my life.
Feyre. My mate… who had learned about the bond.
And had walked away.
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Princess [Rowaelin]: Rowaelin meeting as 17-year-olds. COMPLETE.
I’ll Be Home [Rowaelin]: Christmas Fic. COMPLETE.
Give Me Love [Rowaelin + multi-ships]: High School AU. INCOMPLETE.
We Are Young [Rowaelin + multi-ships]: Figure Skating/Hockey AU. COMPLETE.
All Is Well [multi-ships]: ToG and ACOTAR Christmas Fic. COMPLETE.
The Lonely [Rowaelin + multi-ships]: High School AU. ON HIATUS.
Easy: Aelin and her court training.
Blood Oath: Aelin offers the cadre the blood oath.
Territorial Fae Bullshit: ToG and ACOTAR crossover.
Okay [Manorian]: Manon tells Dorian that she is pregnant.
Most-est [Malide]: Manon takes care of Elide after a drunken night.
Royals [Elorcan]: Songfic of Elorcan to Royals.
Halfway [Rowaelin]: Rowan feels like him and Aelin are drifting.
Halloween Birthday [Rowaelin]: Aelin helps Rowan’s little daughter find the perfect Halloween custom.
Restless [Rowaelin]: Aelin is restless because Rowan has been away for so long.
Tales [Rowaelin]: Rowan shares some tales from his lifetime with the court.
Not Too Drunk [Rowaelin]: Rowan comes home Aelin a bit too drunk.
From Afar [Rowaelin]: Aelin can’t stop staring at Rowan.
Friends [Rowaelin]: Whenever Aelin needs a friend, Rowan is always there for her.
Happy Birthday, Fireheart ([Rowaelin]: Rowan surprises Aelin on her birthday.
The Office [Rowaelin]: Aelin and Rowan work in a boring office together.
Mischief Managed [Rowaelin]: Aelin and Rowan try to keep their relationship a secret. HOGWARTS AU.
Marry Me [Samlaena/Rowaelin]: Sam has been in love with his best friend Aelin since they were kids, too bad she’s getting married to someone else.
Impossible [Rowaelin]: A tender moment of tranquility between Rowan and Aelin.
Whatever It Takes [Nessian]: Figure Skating AU. COMPLETE.
All Is Well [multi-ships]: ToG and ACOTAR Christmas Fic. COMPLETE.
Territorial Fae Bullshit: ToG and ACOTAR crossover where Rowan and Rhys can’t seem to put their territorial fae bullshit aside.
Mr. Brigthside [Nessian]: Songfic of Nessian to Mr. Brightside.
I Miss Him Too [Nessian]: Nesta sees Cassian for the first time since they broke up and realizes how much she misses him.
Promise [Nessian]: Nesta and Cassian realize being friends after they broke up just isn’t going to work.
What I Deserve [Nessian]: Cassian reflects on his broken relationship with Nesta.
Blame It On The Firewhisky [Nessian]: Nesta can’t stay away from Cassian. HOGWARTS AU.
Dusk Till Dawn [Feysand]: Songfic of Feysand to Dusk Till Dawn.
Hard To Forget [Feysand]: Feyre wakes up to a drunk phone from her ex-boyfriend Rhys.
The Elevator: Steve, Bucky, Nat, and Sam end up getting stuck in an elevator.
Nightmares: Bucky and Wanda meet for the first time.
I Don’t Want To Go: Infinity War Peter Parker ending AU (spoilers!!)
New Beginning: Bucky wakes up in Wakanda and meets Shuri for the first time.
Tears [Warnette]: Juliette doesn’t want Warren to leave.
Leave The Ocean Behind
Project X Blurb #1
Project X Blurb #2
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Rattled Star: Masterlist
Her older sisters would tease her endlessly. Her boyfriend, Tamlin, would tell her that she was being stupid. For those reasons, and also wanting a taste of freedom, Feyre Archeron didn’t tell anyone she was going to a book signing featuring her favorite author. After nearly missing the event entirely, she meets a violet eyed stranger. She knows she should forget all about him. After all, she’s in love with Tamlin, isn’t she?
Moodboard was created by the amazing @notesfromalabprincess
Find me on AO3 and Wattpad as FairyPrincessKjar
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We’re Fighting (Nessian fluff)
Ik I said I was coming out with Malorian, but when do I ever do anything I say? Anyway, here’s some wrote-in-five-minutes, total fluff/humor for Nessian.
I’ve been releasing a lot of little blurbs recently, so a multi-chapter fic is coming next!
Nesta was on her side, glaring at the wall, when she felt a very heavy, very familiar weight settle into the mattress behind her. The frigidity of her glare increased.
“Why are you in my bed?”
She heard that soft, sensuous chuckle she’d always loved a little too much. “Nesta baby, you’re a fucking nutcase. We live together.”
Rolling her eyes, she bit back, “We’re fighting. Sleep on the couch.”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, little lady,” he laughed, somehow sensing what she’d done. “And we aren’t fighting. You are pissed off, and won’t tell me what I did. I’m innocent.”
That got her attention.
“Innocent?” she yelled, whirling around and smacking his shoulder. “Innocent!”
Cassian smiled up at her, always happy to ruffle her feathers, and gripped his shoulder in mock pain. “Naughty, naughty.”
She ignored her body’s response to that and hit him again. He grinned.
“Innocent as freaking Mary.”
“Sleep on the couch.”
Her boyfriend of over four years scoffed at that idea. “Absolutely not. You bought that thing, which means it’s meant for fucking midgets. I can hardly fit a single butt cheek on it.”
A smile tugged at her lips, but she snuffed it out. “That sounds like a you problem, Cassian.”
“Actually, it sounds like a you problem, because I’m not leaving.” He reinforced his decision by closing his eyes and letting out a loud, obnoxious snore.
Despite herself, she laughed a bit. “If you think that’s going to annoy me, you should really hear yourself when you’re actually asleep. It’s even worse. You sound like a dying moose.”
His golden eyes opened again, bright with humor. “I don’t snore.”
“Yes, you do. Every single night. But it won’t bother me tonight, because you’re going to the couch!”
“I don’t think I am.”
She cursed him soundly, flopping back down to her pillow. He smiled, closing his eyes again, sure he’d won the argument. An idea formed, and she didn’t even caution herself before leaning over and squeezing his nostrils together tightly.
His eyes flew open, and he flicked her wrist until she let go. “What are you doing?”
“If you stay in the bed, you’re not going to get an ounce of sleep,” she told him, dead serious. She’d stay up all night if she had to.
He rolled his eyes, but instead of retorting, just looked at her, eyes drilling holes into her soul. “Why are you mad? Why is what I said at dinner such a big deal?”
Her anger and annoyance threatened to retreat at how soft his voice was. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Big enough for you to try and boot me out of the bed,” he commented.
Nesta rolled her eyes in deflection, turning on her back and looking up at the ceiling. It wasn’t a big deal.
At least it shouldn’t have been.
He hadn’t done anything different or unusual. Someone in their friend group had joked about how long they’d been together, and he’d given the company line they’d both said numerous times: “Least we’re not married.”
It was kind of a joke between them.
When they’d first met six years ago, they’d both decided against getting married. Cassian thought it was pointless, and Nesta had seen firsthand what a bad marriage could do to someone’s spirit.
Her sisters had even resigned themselves to never being bridesmaids. Everyone had accepted it.
But for some reason, when he’d said it earlier that night, something in her chest had crumpled. Especially since it was true.
They’d been together for so long, she couldn’t imagine her life without him. But she still called him her boyfriend. Not her husband, not her partner.
Which, given what she’d learned earlier this week, made it sound like they were in fucking high school.
“I’m waiting,” he reminded her, poking her in the arm.
“Just go to sleep, Cas.”
He did no such thing. Propping himself up on an elbow, her boyfriend looked down at her with questioning eyes. He was always so understanding with her, even when she acted insane. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing; you were right. I’m so happy, I’m shooting daisies out of my ass. Goodnight.”
Cassian laughed a little, but didn’t give up the chase.
“Have you changed your mind about getting married?” he asked, way too good at reading her face and emotions. “You’re upset that we’re not married?”
His gaze on her was too much, so she pressed her eyes shut and blocked it out. Despite not being able to see him, she knew he was still right there, waiting. And that he’d continue to wait until she gave in. So she sighed and let the words she’d been holding in loose.
“I’m eight weeks pregnant,” she whispered, ears going into overdrive to pick up his response.
They were met with nothing but silence.
For once in his lifetime, Cassian was silent.
She wanted to see him, wanted to know his every expression, but was too scared what it might be.
Curiosity won out in the end, and she peeked her eyes open, only to be stunned by what she saw.
Instead of nervousness or anger or dread, he was smiling from ear to ear, a look she’d never seen in his eyes. “You’re pregnant?”
Nesta nodded, confused.
They’d talked about having kids, but they always agreed to wait a few years before even seriously discussing it. But he looked... he looked thrilled.
Before she could ask, his head came towards hers, and he kissed her softly, then quickly ducked down to rest his head against her chest. She could feel his smile against her skin as his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight to him.
Then his hands snuck down to her still-flat belly, and he murmured, “I’m going to be a dad.”
“We’re getting married.”
That was a change in topic.
He glanced up at her, eyes still full of so much joy it took her breath away. “You clearly don’t like the idea of being a mom with a boyfriend, so you can have a husband instead.”
The stupid organ in her chest swelled so quickly she thought she might pass out, but she still muttered, “Great. Now all I have to do is find one.”
“You’re so very funny,” he said back, flicking her nose.
His hands were still on her belly. “So you’re not mad?”
“Mad?” He looked at her like she was crazy. “First of all, it takes two to make a baby, so I could never be mad at you. Second, I’ve always wanted to be a dad. And to see you barefoot and pregnant, yelling at me over something stupid.”
She didn’t have time to respond to how true that was likely going to become before he scooted down the bed and began to press kisses all over her stomach and abdomen.
“You’re giving me the greatest gift possible, Nesta,” he murmured in between kisses, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m so fucking excited.”
“Me, too,” she whispered back, finally admitting it to herself.
Because she was excited. He’d make a great dad, and she couldn’t wait to see the child they’d created.
His cheek against her stomach, Cassian asked, “City hall tomorrow, or a big, fancy wedding with you in a tulle gown and me with my hair slicked back?”
Nesta flicked the top of his head, even though she couldn’t stop smiling. “City hall tomorrow. It has to be in the afternoon, because I have a doctors appointment in the morning.”
“A baby-related doctors appointment?” he asked, coming back up to hover above her with a small smile on his lips. When she nodded, he said immediately, “I’m coming.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I’m coming to all of them.”
Something about that statement, and the fact that he was willing to marry her whenever and wherever she wanted, made another tear escape. He brushed it away with his thumb, looking a little concerned.
“I love you, Cassian.”
The concern vanished, replaced by nothing short of admiration and love and happiness. “I love you, too. I’ve wanted to marry your stubborn ass since the day I met you. I’ve just been waiting for you to realize you wanted it, too.”
Nesta rolled her eyes, a huge smile on her face. He knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.
He kissed her softly, both of them grinning like idiots. “Can I sleep in the bed, then?”
She nodded and laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and vowing to never let go.
This made me so happy to write. I’m such a sucker for cheesy fluff. Thanks for reading. Drop prompts/asks in the box :)
@maastrash @sjm-things @bamchickawowow @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life
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Going Home: Part 3
Feyre and Rhys stood together on the small balcony just after Under the Mountain. What if the mating bond had snapped into place for Feyre as well?
Author’s Note: Thank you so much for all of the amazing support and feedback! I was truly blown away by the response to the first two parts! Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel
A huge thank you to @nomattertheoceans for beta reading this for me!
“Nooo!” the High Fae youth sobbed, his eyes were wide and filled with terror as they held my gaze. I took a single step forward, my heart constricted painfully.
“I’m growing impatient, Feyre,” Amarantha tutted, her fingernails tapping impatiently along the side of her throne. I bristled at the sound, at what she was demanding of me. I risked a glance in Tamlin’s direction, immediately regretting the decision. Even now, after all that I had done, all that I was about to do, he refused to send even the smallest of smiles in my direction. The torn, shredded pieces of my heart crumbled as I turned back around, facing the quivering form of the High Fae before me.
“Please,” he pleaded, struggling in vain against the binds that held him down. I broke, fracturing bit by bit, with each step that closed the distance between us.
“I’m sorry,” I wailed, the hand in which I clutched the ashwood dagger trembled violently. He cowered from me, from the promise of death I held. Tears streamed down my face as I took ahold of his shoulder and thrust the dagger into his chest. His eyes widened in surprise, a strangled gasp escaped his lips. I watched silently, unable to move, as he slumped to the ground, the light in his eyes dimming until it was wholly extinguished.
Blood. There was so much blood. I coated my hands, pooled on the ground at my feet.
The dagger clattered to the ground, the sound reverberating through my bones, down my spine.
“Good,” Amarantha purred from her throne. “Again.”
A sob ripped through my chest as I reached for the second dagger. My hands, still wet and sticky with blood, shook uncontrollably as my fingers wrapped around its hilt.
Another dagger. Another innocent High Fae. This time female. I knew her, the words she’d say, the prayer she’d recite. For Tamlin, I would do this. For him, I would damn the tattered remnants of my soul straight to hell. To free his Court, to free all of Prythian, I would do this.
I turned and faced the kneeling female. Her expression was fierce, her dark eyes flashed with a deep resolve as they met mine. I knew I would never dare paint her, paint this moment. I would never be able to capture the fire that burned in her eyes, the way she held her head high as she met her death. Her death at my hands.
I gripped her slender shoulder, and plunged the dagger into her awaiting heart.
Murderer. Butcher. Monster. Liar. Deceiver.
“Excellent, my dear,” Amarantha said, gigging delightedly at the sight before her. This was just some sick, perverse sort of entertainment for the fae, and I was nothing more than the unwilling star in her show.
One last dagger. One last High Fae kneeling before me.
Murderer. Butcher. Monster. Liar. Deceiver.
One last innocent soul for me to slaughter. And then this nightmare would finally be over. One more death, and then I could finally turn the blade on myself… and end it all. I could feel myself falling apart, shattering into a million pieces. Tamlin. For Tamlin, I must do this. I took in a shuddering breath, and stepped in front of the awaiting figure. The cold hilt of the dagger bit into my hand, still warm with the blood of the High Fae female.
Another male. His broad shoulders were relaxed, without fear. I knew who was waiting beneath that hood. I knew what to expect- I had relieved this moment in my dreams often enough. I watched silently as the hood was ripped from his head. The fae surrounding me gasped, their confusion a tangible thing. I felt the world spinning, reality slipping away from me as I sank to the ground. It was not emerald green eyes that met mine. No, it was not Tamlin’s eyes that held my gaze, but rather, violet eyes kissed with starlight. Rhys’s eyes. Rhys. Mate. My mate.
My eyes flew open, the last remnants of a scream falling from my lips. I bolted upright in bed, my body still quaking in terror, aftershocks of the nightmare that had plagued me ever since my return to the Spring Court. The frilly pink nightgown I had slipped on after Tamlin and I had made love earlier that evening clung to my sweat slicked skin. My gaze flashed across the room, convinced that Amarantha or one of her henchmen would be lurking in the shadows, ready to drag me back to Under the Mountain.
I took in a shuddering breath, attempting to ease the ache that had been growing in my chest. A dream . It was just a dream , I assured myself, trying to reel myself back in. I tucked a damp strand of hair behind an ear, my fingers grazing the delicate edge of its newly pointed tip which marked me as High Fae. I ran my hands along the sheets, wiping off the sweat which clung to them, so similar to how the blood of the High Fae I had slaughtered had covered my hands, my body.
I clamped a hand over my mouth, fighting down the bile that threatened to rise, though I knew it would do little good. I bolted out of the bed, fumbling in the dark as I staggered towards the bathing room. I dropped to the ground, my knees jarring with the force of the impact. I knelt before the toilet on the cold, hard ground and emptied the contents of my stomach. This was the price that the Cauldron demanded I pay. There was no way to undo what I had done, no way to atone for the murders I had committed.
I spent my days pretending that I was fine, happy even, that I hadn't been utterly broken by what Amarantha had done to me, done to us. Night after night, I relived the worst of what I had endured Under the Mountain. Night after night, I was chased from my dreams by piercing, violet eyes. Night after night, I heaved up the contents of my dinner. And night after night, I suffered alone. Whether or not Tamlin was aware of the nightmares that plagued me, I didn’t know. I didn’t blame him though. Not really. He had his own demons to battle. When nightmares tore him from sleep, Tamlin was an explosion of fangs and fur. He would stand guard for the remainder of the night, pacing back and forth in front of the door and windows. The first few times this had happened, I had tried to comfort him, to be there for him. I had tried to pull him from the darkness that haunted us both. But every time I did, his eyes glinted dangerously, and he resumed guarding the door with a renewed vigor.
When I was sure the heaving had finally subsided, I flushed the toilet with a trembling hand. Leaning my head back against the tub, I squeezed my eyes shut. I got out. I’m free. It was just a dream , I murmured, trying to gain some semblance of control over my tumultuous emotions. The porcelain was cool against my hot, clammy skin. Breathe. Just breathe . A cry of surprise escaped my lips as pain tore through my palms. My eyes narrowed as I opened my hands, unclenched the fists I hadn’t even known had formed. Small, crescent shaped indentations ran along the length of both palms where my nails had dug deeply into my flesh.
My breath hitched. I could have sworn... no. It must have been a shadow, my eyes playing tricks on me. Magical or no, tattoos didn’t blink. I gazed warily at the catlike eye tattooed inked upon the palm of my hand. It seemed to be assessing me, considering me, and coming up short. My lips pulled back in a snarl, and I looked away in disgust. He had yet to call in the bargain I had so foolishly made, desperate to heal the wound that the Middengard wyrm had inflicted.
A cool breeze coming in from an open window caressed my cheek. Why hadn’t he called in the bargain? I gazed out of the window, into the endless night sky. While Tam tried not to show it, at least not in front of me, I knew that it made him uneasy, the uncertainty of it all… not knowing Rhysand’s game. Tam and Lucien were searching for ways to break the bargain, but hadn’t had any success. But in the months since Under the Mountain, we had yet to hear anything from the High Lord of the Night Court. Was it because he was my...
Not my anything!
I stood clumsily, still not wholly used to my new, elongated limbs. I walked to the window, the cool night air a balm on my otherwise jagged nerves. I rested my forearms along the window sill, content to stare out into the inky depths of the night.
He hadn’t wanted it any more than I had, that much was obvious. He hadn’t wanted this... bond between us. He hadn’t wanted me. For Cauldron’s sake, he would have winnowed away from me, had I not stopped him. No wonder he hadn’t called in the bargain. To him, I was a tool to be wielded against Tamlin, to piss him off. Nothing more, nothing less. Whatever his reasons, I was grateful he hadn’t called in the bargain, forced me to go to the Night Court against my will.
I slammed the window shut, the glass reverberated dangerously. Casting aside thoughts of a dresser drawer painted long ago, I walked back into my bedroom. I climbed back into the bed next to Tamlin, who was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the soul crushing guilt that was slowly consuming me day by day.
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